Quick note: So, this should have gone up Friday, but since you were good, or bad, you got it early. I most certainly did not forget what day it was. No way. 🙂 I did do a little more writing on it though, so there is a little bit of new stuff for Friday.
His skin was hot under her hands. She rubbed his legs some more, sighed, and snuggled against his chest.
He moved his head to get her hair out of his mouth, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight. “That was fun.”
“I know, right?” She enjoyed the sensation of warmth coming from his legs, and closed her eyes. “I enjoyed the bossing you around bit.” She threw it out there cautiously, and listened carefully for the tone of his response.
She felt the slight increase in pressure of his arms, and his cock twitch against the small of her back. “Me too. It was fun, not being in control. I like to take orders from you.”
She slid her back up and down against his cock. “We’ll have to do some more of that then. Why don’t you check the fridge tomorrow morning? In the mean time, I need to get in the shower and get to sleep.”
“You want company?” He let his hands slide off her body as she stood up, and ran his eyes up and back down her body.
She stretched. “This is a washing shower, not a fun shower. You can go after.”
He smiled and nodded, and she padded off to the bathroom.
The next morning he forgot until he was on his way out, and had to run back to check the refrigerator. There was a brightly colored notepad with a magnet on the back, stuck to the white enamel door.
“99 RULES” was written in multi-colored marker across the top, surrounded by girlish hearts and stars. Below that, in her normal, neat, precise script: Rule 1: Send me a picture of your cock at noon today, exactly. I want it hard and dripping pre-cum, but no orgasms.
He jerked his cock in the restroom as quietly as he could, hoping no one came in. When his cock was throbbing and drop of fluid were gathered at the tip, he took a careful picture, frowned, disabled the flash, and took another. He typed the email, attached the picture, and saved the draft. He sat in his cubicle, one eye always on the clock, until he took out the phone, waited for it to flip over to noon, and hit send.
Other rules followed.
Rule 5: You will carry in the groceries with a plug in your ass, one bag at a time.
He had told her it seemed awfully inefficient, launched into his usual talk about how he was the heaviest thing he had to move, and the fewer trips he made the fewer times he had to carry himself…
And she had added, You will then carry the bags back out to the car one at a time, insert a larger plug, and then carry them back in one at a time.
A tingling sensation had traveled from his cock up his spine, and he had silently nodded. He went to go find a butt plug.
Rule 19: You are now an “it.” It will refer to itself as such until told otherwise.
The texts had come throughout the day.
>>How are you?
>>It is okay, ma’am. Work is boring.
>>How was lunch?
>>It got stuck in a meeting ma’am, it is just now leaving.
Each message had come with a little jolt of warmth that traveled between the two of them.
Rule 33: If it is told or asked to perform any sexual act today, it will do so. No matter who requests it, or if they are joking. PS: Try not to get arrested, but really try to get them all off.
He had almost called her at work to ask what she meant, if she had something planned. Had she told someone he worked with, or saw every day on the way to work, to tell him to do something? He imagined being under the receptionist’s desk at work, licking the soles of her shoes as his co-workers filed by, imagined someone following him into the men’s room, and ordering him to…
Of the door to the conference room closing and all eyes turning to him. Of sweet, gray-haired Joan opening her old fashioned, battered brief case and showing him the blindfold, paddle, and leash inside it. Of being stripped, paraded around the room naked and blindfolded while they had their meeting. Of being beaten while they used his, no its, tongue and holes for their pleasure. Of the business being finished, and all eyes on it as it knelt in the middle of the conference room table and jerked off, then licked its filth off the polished surface.
The photos, the video, the blackmail.
Would only women from the office be there, or would men be there too? Would she tell it to have sex with another man? Would it be able to?
Every person he saw became another dominant, another person who could use him for their pleasure, if they only knew. Another person who could have him on his back, legs spread in the air, arms flat on the ground, his entire body their for their enjoyment. Another way for him to serve her by getting them off with his holes, his tongue, his cock.
Its holes, its tongue, its cock, he silently corrected himself.
It took him longer than usual to get home, he had to walk the long way around to avoid the schizophrenic homeless person who ranted on the corner. Last week he had been telling everyone to kiss his ass. It shuddered, and watched carefully.
Rule 46: It will write by hand two-hundred times “Orgasms are a privilege, not a right” and hand them to me the second it comes through the door.
It had spent its lunch hour frantically scribbling across a legal pad, hoping no one would notice it had never left its cubicle.
She had looked it over, taken a red marker from her pocket, and written, “Atrocious penmanship. Barely legible. Redo.”
The next day it had taken the bus, so it could write on the commute, written through lunch again, and carefully shielded the pad during a meeting, meticulously writing out the block letters.
She had looked over his lines, frowned but scribbled “Acceptable. Barely.” and handed them back to him. He noticed her own penmanship was atrocious, but didn’t say anything.
Rule 47: had appeared after he already left for work. It read, It will report every erection, and be punished for them as I decide appropriate.
The first erection had come from reading Rule 47, and he had spent the evening naked and in shackles.
Rule 69: You wish.
Rule 76: It will not drink anything until it has finished the glass of piss I have so thoughtfully provided for it.
He looked longingly at the fresh coffee in the pot, but picked up the glass. She must have set it out last night after he’d gone to bed, it had cooled. It was worse when it was cold.
Rule 84: During the party Tuesday, it will be allowed to place the rules in our bedroom drawer; however, it will be quizzed on them, and each one it gets wrong will result in one stroke of the cane.
It had tried to memorize them, but there hadn’t been enough time. She had eventually stopped asking, but it had still been howling well before the caning ended. Afterwards, she had held him in her arms, and told him to put the notepad back on the fridge. He had minced from the bedroom to the kitchen, then collapsed back into her arms.
Rule 99: It will buy a new notepad, write “New Rules” across the top, and put this one in our bedroom drawer with the photos and letters.
He had smiled, pulled the new notepad that he had been carrying for a week out of his pocket, and wrote “New Rules” across the top.
Preview: She grinned. “Hey, like my boots?”
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.
4 thoughts on “99 Rules and Something About a Bitch?”
Yes. I like. The little story has me all excited
OMG, this one was pretty much made for me. Love it. The first few rules especially got to me…and I adore the idea of him spending the day wondering if she’s going to have someone else do something sexual to him–anyone could be a potential dom in her scheme! Ha. 😀 And hot.
Glad it worked, I wanted to do something a little more d/s than usual. I know, and anytime there’s a group of people around, what if they’re all in on it? Thanks for commenting, glad you liked it. 😉