July 5, 2013

The Helper

Posted in stories at 4:52 am by littlesubmissions

“I. Am. Such. A. Helper. I really hope you appreciate all the things I do for you.”

He smiled at her, and kicked off his shoes. “I do. Sometimes even before the bruises have healed.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, and sighed loudly. “Sarcasm. And me spending all afternoon, not getting any work done, figuring out how to help you with your diet. You know I’m going to have bust my ass tomorrow morning because I am such a helpful person?”

He crossed the room and flopped down on the floor in front of her, leaning back and looking up at her. She wrapped her feet around his chest and pulled him close, then began playing with his hair. He caught her hands, pulling them down in front of him and kissing the insides of her wrists.

“Thank you. So how have you helped me, or is the dread of finding out part of the helping?”

She giggled as her arms rubbed against the side of his face, his stubble harsh against her smooth skin. “Only some of the helping is the dreading, this time. You keep saying how hard it sticking to your diet, so I decided to help.”

“Oh?” He tried to turn his head, but she grabbed ahold of his hair again and held his face rigidly forward. “I thought about asking, but I’d hate to fuck up my diet and my d/s all at the same time…”

She pushed his hair in patterns, making it stand straight up, then scooping the sides into a broad, short mohawk. “That.” She hit the word hard, enunciating carefully. “Is precisely why you are so fortunate to have my help. Because I am smerter than you is.”

She wapped him on the head when he started to speak again, and continued. “I call it counting calories, except it’s not so much food calories, as punishment calories. You can eat whatever you want, but many foods have certain… consequences.”

“Consequences? Sexy consequences? Because I might like some of those sexy consequences.”

“But will you like these sexy consequences?” She put her hands flat against the side of his head, and shook it no for him. “I seriously doubt it, and if you do, I’ll change the rules. I get to do that.”

He closed his eyes and thought it over for a second. “Could I get an example of some of these consequences?”

She shrugged down at him. “I’d hate to ruin the surprise, suffice to say I had to stop on the way home to get the consequences for the pint of ice cream I also bought. They don’t really make an ‘epic enema’ kit, but I managed to put one together.”

He flinched a little, and she laughed.

“The words ‘no warmup’ also appear in several consequences.”

“Do they?” He frowned. “I’m just not sure, it seems like a good way to get frustrated with our sex life and dieting at the same time.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. “There are also incentives, not for losing weight, but for doing certain amounts of exercise and eating certain foods. And not eating other foods.”

He winced. She knew exactly what buttons to push to get what she wanted. “Incentives?”

“Those are secret, I’m afraid. But I promise to play fair, except for the first time. I kind of really want to use that epic enema kit, and I feel like you’ve been working hard and deserve a treat before we start this.” She leaned down and wrapped her arms around him, resting her chin on his head. “If you want to try it, that is.”

He grinned and held very still, not wanting to dislodge her. “Let’s give it a try… but what if I want to skip the ice cream and start working right on rewards?”

She patted his head. “Good boy.” She leaned back and picked up her phone, fingers flitting across the screen. “And if you want to skip the ice cream that’s fine.” She turned the volume up and put it down on the couch beside her.

Music started to play from it, and he laughed as he recognized the ice cream truck song. He grinned at her and got up as she looked back at him with mock innocence. He walked into the kitchen without a word, and got the ice cream out of the freezer.

Then he got two spoons out of the drawer, and walked back to her.

Preview: “Blue means bruising, in this case.”

Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.

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