I Have An Idea Ch. 04

"It's okay," she repeated, her eyes shifting to notice the furtive gazes of the people around them. "It was just my sleeve. We didn't really make contact."

He nodded, looking like he'd just been saved from a fate worse than death.

She sent him off to look at pants and went back to browsing shoes. Two minutes after he left a woman approached her and asked her why he'd gotten so upset. Ella broke out in an embarrassed smile. "Oh, it's this little exercise we're doing to help with our relationship."

"Oh?" the woman asked. "What's the exercise?"

Ella's smile broadened. "We're not supposed to touch each other for three days. He's having a little bit of a hard time with it."

The woman closed in, whispering. "And he went for that?"

"Well," Ella started to reply "yes, of course," but she thought about it. Why had he gone for it? "I can touch him, but he can't touch me. It's supposed to make him more appreciative of our togetherness."

It was a fib, but she wasn't sure how else to describe it. There were words in the dim shadows of her mind, but the terms seemed unnatural. They seemed hard and unshapely to her tongue.

"I hope you don't mind me asking," the woman whispered, sidling up close enough for their arms to touch. "But why did he get so upset?"

Ella blinked, tried to rein in her blush, her involuntary smile. "If he does, he gets another day added to--" She almost said, "--his sentence," but then she would have to explain that as well. "--another day added to the time."

The woman grinned eagerly and let her eyes drift off toward the direction she'd last seen her husband. "How delicious. I could never get my husband to go along with that."

At the checkout line, his new slacks draped over his hands, slacks she'd picked out for him, he remained so far back from her that the other shoppers kept asking him if he was in line.

She turned and frowned, feeling her tone go accidentally stern again. "Jim. What are you doing?"

"I . . uh--" He glanced around him at the other curious shoppers.

She pointed at the floor beside her. "Come here. We're next."

He felt himself jerk forward, feeling small and ashamed. His erection was showing and he had to discreetly shift it to a more comfortable position. Thankfully, she didn't seem to notice. He resisted calling her Ma'am, but the word had been perched on his lips.

They checked out, made it to the parking lot, and he asked her if she was going to add another day to his sentence. He unlocked her car door and dropped her keys into her waiting palm, careful not to let their hands touch. She didn't like carrying them around because it was frustrating to search for them in her purse all the time.

"I don't know. Should I?" she wondered.

"It really was an accident."

"I know, Sweetheart. No foul, I suppose."

They got in the car and he laid the shopping bag across his lap and tucked his hands underneath. "I . . . I wanted to tell you I thought about the other day, about me getting so upset about when I asked you to move in with me."

"Not now, Jim."

"Yes, Ma'am." Now the word slid effortlessly out of his lips. "I just wanted to explain something."

She almost let her curiosity get the better of her. She almost asked what he was talking about, but instead, she buttoned her lip and let the silence answer for her.

When she said, "Not now", she meant it.

She recalled her conversation with her mentor: 'It's all about consistency. It's not just about him learning self control; it's also about you learning self control. You will have to learn a LOT of self control. The better you learn it and apply it, the better the results, the better his behavior.'

She shook her head, and typed her reaction. 'I feel like you're telling me how to train my dog.'

She got a smirking smiley face for that. 'You don't have kids, do you?'

'No.'

'I hate to break it to you, but training children and husbands is very similar to training dogs, except dogs learn faster.'

She laughed at that. 'I don't know though. This is Jim.'

'So the first step is what?'

Ella answered, feeling as if she were being asked to pass a pop quiz. 'Tell him what he did wrong and how it made me feel.'

'Yes, and the second step to a good punishment is. . . ."

'Tell him what he should've done instead.'

'Good!' her friend messaged. 'Men like to win. They are very goal oriented. If you show him how to do better next time, he'll most likely learn very well. Okay, third step.'

'Apply the punishment and make sure I stick to my guns.'

'Exactly!' Her friend gave her another smiley face. 'He'll look for a loophole. Even if he finds one, you make sure he understands that it would violate the spirit of the punishment. He'll ask for the punishment to end early or possibly hint at it because's he been good, time off for good behavior. It absolutely, positively must run its course. After a couple of times, he'll have learned his lesson and he won't bother you with such requests anymore. This is why it's so crucial to be so exacting in these early stages. A lot of good prep work in the beginning makes things so much easier later.'

'Well,' she typed, 'at least I'm not having to do some weird thing like spank him or something.'

Her friend sent her a 'LOL', then added, 'Actually, some day you might. You'd be surprised at where you might end up, but for now, since he's all ramped up from two months of no orgasms, he might actually consider that something exciting. A true punishment should never involve him getting aroused. The one thing he wants most of all right now is you, your attention, your touch, the feel of your fingers on him, your approval, so that's the one thing he's deprived himself of. And did you see what I did there? It's not you punishing him; it's him punishing himself when he doesn't behave in a way that pleases you.'

Ella shook her head. The more she learned, the more right her friend proved herself, the more her plan worked on Jim, the more she realized she didn't know anything about the one man in her life she'd come to love more than any other.

When his sentence had been served, he presented himself to her like an eager puppy. "So, is my punishment over yet?"

She noted the excitement in his voice, the blushing smile on his face. "Almost."

"I'm truly sorry, Ella--"

"Not yet," she said, cutting him off. His mouth snapped shut. He waited patiently.

She walked to the couch and crooked her finger at him. He hurried over with a spring in his step. At the last minute, almost without thinking she pointed at the floor.

She went lightheaded when he dropped to his knees before her, head bowed, looking every bit like a worshiping subject. "Okay." Her voice wavered. There was an energy inside her rolling at full boil. She was almost trembling with it. It was like an electric current running between them, connecting them, invisible but incredibly powerful. She felt there were certain things she could say that would send the current into overdrive. She felt almost instinctively that a certain inflection of her voice would push certain buttons, his button, her button, their collective sexual overdrive button. She wanted to press those buttons. It was beginning to excite her in a way that nothing else in life had. "Begin."

"Yes, Ma'am," he whispered softly. "I wanted to apologize for hurting you, but I also wanted to explain."

"I did give you the chance before," she interrupted. She expected an argument. His head bobbed up slightly, then lowered again.

"Yes, Ma'am. You did."

He knelt silently for a moment.

She crossed her legs at the knee and watched as his eyes were drawn helplessly to her foot. She could feel his desire. He was practically salivating at the sight of her black heel, bouncing before him. The last three days of not being able to touch her in any way had thrown his desire into a peak that had threatened to overwhelm him. It had arose to a level that was indescribable. He had never wanted her or anything in his life the way he wanted her right now, but it wasn't even a physical desire. He wanted . . . no . . . he needed her approval, her pleasure. He craved that soft tone of acceptance from her, and the more harsh she was with him, the less he got it, the more powerful and sought after it became.

"Go on," she ordered, and her order was like magic, electrifying them both with desire. She felt so powerful; she felt she could tell him to do almost anything and he would. This man who stood a foot taller than her, who could've pinned her down effortlessly and had his way with her, was hanging on her every word, obedient to her every whim. He was giving her everything she wanted, not out of obligation, but because he wanted nothing more than for her to be pleased. It was almost ridiculously erotic.

"I got hurt. When you didn't say right away that you wanted to live with me, I thought I'd fucked up. I thought you didn't love me."

"But I do love you," she whispered.

His eyes flashed up and caught hers. She couldn't be certain, but if she hadn't known better, she might have thought those were tears in his eyes. "I love you, too, Ella. I freaked out, and I'm sorry."

She tapped her chin, bounced the pointy toe of her shoe before him, enjoying the way his eyes bounced with it. "Hmm, okay, but what could you have done instead?"

He swallowed, shook his head. "Not been an idiot."

She opened her mouth, but didn't get a word out before he caught himself.

"I know, I know! I'm not an idiot. I should've just told you how it made me feel. I should've just said that I was, y'know, hurt, and I thought you'd be happy and we should've talked about it and everything probably would've been okay if I had."

"Probably?" she asked and felt him cave before her.

"It all would've been okay. And I'll remember that next time. I won't let it happen again."

She sat silently, studying him. Peculiar new feelings were coursing through her, accompanied by peculiar new thoughts. She would have to talk to her friend about it, but for now, she had business with her little Jim. "Good boy, but you're not done yet. Are you?"

He lifted his head and met her gaze and the sparks flew between them. "I'm very, very sorry, Ella. I truly am, from the bottom of my heart."

She smiled and watched the blood rush into his cheeks. "I forgive you, Baby."

His eyes dropped, fell to her foot, bouncing before him, and he licked his lips, raising his hands to get a hold on it. She pulled it away at the last second, enjoying how his eyes flitted back up with confusion.

"Uh uh uh," she admonished playfully. "You still haven't thanked me for teaching you this valuable lesson."

She wondered why she was drawing this out. If anything, she probably owed him an apology for not explaining how she felt at the time, though she'd been advised to the contrary. No, the reason she was letting this moment of contrition stretch on was very simple: it was delicious and it was making her bones quiver with intense pleasure, the pleasure of a woman ever slowly, ever so seductively, wrapping a man around her finger.

His sincerity was profound. "Ella, thank you for helping me to be a better guy. You deserve so much better than me, and I truly want you to be happy and I'm truly sorry I made you unhappy. Thank you for showing me how to do that in the future."

She smiled and blushed. "You're welcome, Sweetheart."

She was about to push her heel toward him, when he spoke again. "There was something else though."

She paused, thinking to herself, 'Oh, Jim, Darling, please don't blow it now. I need you inside me like you wouldn't believe!'

"Go on."

He licked his lips, considered his words carefully. "The last week or so, maybe the last two weeks, something happened."

She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, enjoying the scent of his cologne, and she couldn't be sure, but she thought she got a little whiff of his sweat mixed with it. It made her hungry for him. "What?"

His eyes met hers. She nearly recoiled from them. There was something in them she hadn't seen before. She was afraid to even consider what it might mean. "Peace. This profound . . . peace came over me. It was . . . I was just completely and totally content. I'm not sure exactly when, but maybe when we were talking on the phone that Sunday. I remember calling you hoping for phone sex, then about half way into the conversation I realized I probably wasn't going to get it. Then, I realized I didn't care."

He laughed aloud at some private joke. "You were chattering away about your friend, Cindy, and I . . . I felt this amazing feeling of total happiness. It really was like being drunk, almost, or stoned. I figured it would go away, but it didn't. For the last two weeks, as horny as I've been, as badly as I've wanted you, this other thing overshadowed everything else. I just . . . I just wanted you to be happy. I wanted to please you, not with my dick, but just. . . . I don't know. I'm not sure I can describe it. I was on that high when I asked you to move in with me. I guess I sort of crashed, but it was still there. I mean, I was hurt and upset, but I still found myself thinking about you all day. I still raced here after work to take out the trash and get dinner ready for you. All I want to do is to do things for you and. . . ."

His head bowed; he hugged himself; he shuddered slightly, his face beet red, and what he whispered, she realized at once, was a game changer.

"Ella," he admitted quietly, "all I can think about is doing everything you tell me to do. I want--" He paused to swallow and catch his breath. "I want to obey you."

She blinked and stared at him for a long time, wondering to herself, 'What does this mean?', but it was a question to which she already had the answer.

* * *

With absolute certainty, she messaged her friend. 'He's ready.'

Her friend messaged back. 'Yes? Why do you say that?'

Ella explained about Jim's apology and all that he'd said.

Her friend sent her a smiley face. 'He certainly is ready, but are you?'

'I have one question,' Ella typed. 'Where does this end?'

There was a long pause. 'I'll be honest. I don't know. You'll know. For me it came to a gradual plateau. It never stopped, but we came to a point where we were both happy with the arrangement. But that was me. Each relationship is different. I think it will do the same for you though. But beware, men are very focused creatures. You may have to be the one to apply the brakes. Don't let him badger you into giving him anything more than you're comfortable with.'

Ella thought about it. Would Jim really want to go further than her? And what was the definition of "further"? She had glimpses of where this could all end up, kinky, whipping him in some leather Dominatrix outfit, but she was extremely uncomfortable with those images.

'What's the next step?' she asked in a hurry, because she didn't want to think about it anymore.

She got a smiley face and an explanation.

* * *

Their Sunday discussions became less . . . equal.

Jim used to sit with her on the couch and rub her feet while they talked about what was working and what wasn't, but now without her even suggesting it, he presented himself on his knees before her. She had an urge to motion him up beside her, but a hot flush coursed through her. He was on his knees. He was obedient and under her control and on his knees before her. She couldn't believe how much that excited her.

Her throat clinched up. She felt nervous, tense, so incredibly turned on she almost couldn't stand it. "I'd . . . like some wine. Would--"

He was on his feet, hurrying to the kitchen. She heard him banging around, heard the pop of the cork, heard the clink of a glass and in a flash he was back before her, handing her a glass of wine. She looked at it, then up at him. "Didn't you want any?"

He blushed and laughed. "I, uh, y'know, it didn't even occur to me."

He stood, waiting. She sipped and watched him curiously, wondering what he was waiting for. Finally, he said, "I'm sorry. Did you want me to ask permission?"

She blinked and giggled. "No. That's okay. Let's just talk. You can have a glass later if you'd like."

He smiled and nodded and dropped to his knees. "Or if you want me to have one."

She crossed her legs at the knee and pushed her foot toward him. He kissed it and began to rub it tenderly. The way he looked down at it . . . it was almost as if he wanted to make love to her foot, such reverence, such lust. "So, did you have anything you wanted to bring up?"

He swallowed and shook his head. "I'd like a day or two at home next week. I haven't taken good care of my house. I've been having to stop there and bring clothes over here and do laundry over here. Not that I mind, but it would be nice to have one or two days where I could get things done at home."

She pretended to think about, to consider it. "I'll give you one day next week. Wednesday. And that might change, depending on how I feel."

He blinked, smiled, blushed and whispered softly, "Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."

She felt the tension in her body driving her crazy with arousal. "Anything else?"

He shook his head. "No, Ma'am."

He began to focus on her toes, the red polish, his fingers rolling around the joints, his eyes darting up to see if he was having an effect. He wanted to kiss her toes, but resisted. He wanted so much more than just her foot.

"Well," Ella told him, "I have a question."

His eyes met hers. "Okay."

"Have you been good? Have you been touching yourself?" She was curious to see if her friend was right, that men truly did have their own way of defining things of this nature.

He shook his head, blanched a little. "No, of course not. That would ruin everything. Jesus, I've wanted to, but I've been good."

She considered his response, crossed her arms, tapped her chin with her finger. "Hmm, what about in the shower?"

His face tightened slightly. "Well . . . just to clean myself though."

"I see. So you do touch yourself in the shower, to clean yourself?"

He blinked. "Well, yes, Ella, I have to clean it."

"And," she continued, still wondering if her friend was going to be right yet again, "and do you ever take a little more time than necessary . . . to 'clean' yourself?"

His jaw dropped slightly. "Well . . . I don't know. I mean, I'm just soaping it up and--"

"Giving it a stroke or two?"

His face turned beet red. "I don't . . . I never mean to stroke it exactly--"

"Or ten?" she continued, noticing that harsh tone sneak back into her voice.

"I'm just cleaning it though. I'm not jerking off." She couldn't tell if he was ashamed or angry.

"It's okay, Sweetheart, and I'm sure there are other times where maybe you hand lingers a little too long. Maybe you feel the lump in your pants and give it a little squeeze?"

He knelt with his head bowed, utterly silent.

"I see."

Softly, he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ella. I didn't think of it like that. I really have tried. You have no idea how hard it is."

She giggled at that, noticing his tenting pants. "I have some idea."

He glanced up and laughed. "Yeah. Really!"

She leaned forward and caressed his cheek. "It just means we might have to resort to other means the next time we play.

He blinked. His eyes went wide. "The next time?"

She smiled. "Well, yes, Sweetheart. Your sixty days is up on Saturday. I promised you a break."

"But--but I don't want a break. I want to continue. I mean, I want very much to cum on Saturday . . . with you . . . in you. Jesus, all over you. I can't stand it anymore. But--but--let's continue after that."

She put on her best patronizing smile. "Oh, Sweetheart, remember? It's not about what you want. It's about what pleases me."

He smiled the broadest smile he could manage. "Yes, and I was hoping that you'd want more of it, too."