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Evilmommie On Punctuality -- by Justin Benedict

John must be at home every night at seven o'clock. His practice generally ends at five-thirty...he's a dentist and the work is over then. We live twenty minutes away. Allowing him half an hour to do a bit of paper work and fifteen minutes or so to play grab-ass with his nurse (that is a joke, John) He should be in the house EASILY by six-forty-five.

John does enjoy gabbing with his neighbors in the medical building, and occasionally harassing the metermaids in the parking lot. He can do that in the ten to twenty minutes after leaving his office.

True, he doesn't have lunch hours to do that, because he has to come home and make my lunch, and pleasure me a bit (I worry that I am a sex addict) and perhaps do a bit of vacuuming before heading back to work, but I am somewhat kinder in the evenings.

As John is quite a social man, he was saddened when I requested him, as a condition of his slavery, so many years ago, to relinquish his poker night, golf outings with his partners, tennis matches, and hunting trips.

But he was desperate for me to enslave him, and he agreed to these terms, so I give him a good 20 minutes to talk to one or two people after leaving his office.

I keep hoping he'll try and have an affair, and when the girl sees his chastity belt, she kicks him off the motel waterbed!

One evening, about a year ago, I had to wait til 7:04 for him to walk into the house. There was a kitchen and living room to clean, a roast chicken cooling in the fridge, my spot to be pleasured while I watched the news, and this is a tough time for me... no real sex as Raul revoked his parole!!!

I need John now. I demand that dinner be on at seven-thirty... how was that to happen? So I sat there. Me. The blonde that he begged for a dance at a Wellesley mixer in 1978.

What do you think? Of COURSE I took his pants down and whipped his rear end when he got in.

Did he try to fight it? Of course he did. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway, I could see him rehearsing his pathetic speech. Then he ran into the yard and up the steps and opened the door. And there I was, angry and implacable in a formidable black dress, tapping my Spencer paddle into my hand.

"Take off your jacket and pull down your pants."

John shook his head, "Helen...Evilmommie, what's wrong? Have I upset you?"

I stood up. and swung the paddle a few times.

"Now John, you were four minutes late...I've been sitting here for FOUR MINUTES. The house isn't cleaned, are you going to cook the chicken?." John looked haplessly at me as he took off his white dentist's jacket and placed it on the chair.

"Helen, I...I was just stopping to talk with Officer Melinda for a moment.

And I did discuss an important ticketing issue with her...it's my lot you know," he added importantly. This is true. John has a half interest in the medical building.

I pretended to relent, and I smiled. John is so easy to flatter, and he loves to strut about.

" You are a good looking devil, even after over twenty years of marriage! Really, did you enjoy talking with her, you old scoundrel?" John preened and said "Yes, she told me that my tie was quite debonair. I complimented her on her skirt and..."

"So you wasted my time. MY TIME. Take down your pants." John began pouting and his lip trembled. "But, I don't feel l

ike I spent that much time out, I'm home nearly every night on time, and I clean and cook, please..."

"Down with the pants, John. I was just going to give you 20 with the paddle, but now I'm thinking of the razor strop as well."

John pulled his pants and undies down, mumbling weakly to himself.

I unlocked the chastity belt to see if his penis looked like it had been getting hard, which would mean a long conversation with the metermaid. Yes. He'd had quite a conversation. She thinks he's debonair.

I stroked and toyed with John's little member for a bit, my long French nails tickling the head unmercifully.

I was wearing one of those tight white negligee-ish tops, with a plunging neckline embroidered in little roses, as I stroked Johnnie, he kept gazing into my glorious cleavage,which of course was just bursting out of the snug top. I scolded him and breathed heavily, and he watched my boobs in the embroidered frame, and they bounced up and down.

"Evilmommie doesn't like her big boy to show up whenever he likes..." I whispered, gently nudging John's head closer to my cleavage. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, and I think it was appearing around John's lips as well.

John is not often allowed to touch my breasts, and I truly enjoy wearing these ridiculous tops (for an old lady like me!) as they make him quite attentive. "Baby boy...Mommie is going to cane you hard for all this tardiness, you know. Are you listening to Mommie or just staring at her boobies?"

John got harder and harder, though he was clearly humiliated, standing there with his pants down to his ankles.

"Don't you think, honey, that you should focus your superb conversational abilities on your loving wife?" As I said wife, I quit teasing his frenum and pinched it quite hard between my long nails, and John shrieked.

"Bend over the goddam couch..." John looked hopelessly unhappy, and bent over the couch. I got my Evilmommie Bamboo Special #2, the whippiest cane in my arsenal and whacked away, as I lectured him.

"Yes sir (whack) I just love (whack) having you lollygag (whack whack) around the parking lot (whack) near your office(whack whack) talking to some pathetic little bimbo ticket writer..." I flailed at Johnnie's bottom until it was rather purple, and then

I ordered him to stand up and turn around. I resumed my massage of his little weiner, and it began getting quite stiff again. I leaned into John and whispered huskily in his ear."I know a tough,sexy guy like you has a lot of needs, Johnny...what a handsome fellow you are, a big stud with the metermaids..."

Johnnie was crying from the beating he'd just endured, but his penis grew large and stiff in my soft pink fingers. "Do you know why I get so upset...it's because I'm jealous, darling. I have a plan for you...why don't you run into the bedroom, and strip and come out with the handcuffs and a blindfold."

John stumbled into the bedroom excitedly and burst back out naked with one of my scarves and the handcuffs. I tied the blindfold around his neck and cuffed his hands. "I know it's been a long time since you came, John."

I crooned, rubbing my velvety hands across his straining shaft. John looked rather pitifuil standing with his legs spread and his cock sticking out moving his head back and forth, trying to see under the scarf. "It's been such a long time, and I know you want to cum badly...I feel generous tonight." John's breathing became ragged with this bit of information. "Tell me, do you want to cum now?" I stroked around his balls with my nails, and John gritted his teeth.

He knew there were dire penalties for cumming without permission. "Yes ma'am..if that's what you want." John added diplomatically. "I'm...so horny...it's been a long time...and I am so sorry I'm late..but maybe if I'd cum, I wouldn't be so horny and want to talk to the metermaid."

John smiled cleverly when he said this, and I was amazed at his stupidity. Yes, that's going to make your middle-aged wife very happy, the idea that you are sexually enthralled by the metermaid..."Well, Johnny.."

I kissed his neck, and pulled on his cock a bit more "I can see your point, babe. It's rough being so celibate, isn't it? I can see why you'd get so horny by the metermaid, rather than poor, fat old me."

Now John said his brilliant point...this one was precious. "Oh, you don't need to lose that much weight, babe." Can you believe he said that? The proper response, not that I would've relented and let him cum was, "you are beautiful just as you are, Evilmommie."

But I bit my tongue and kissed his ear. "That's great advice, darling. Maybe I'll find out where the metermaid does her aerobics, and do them with her. Are you ready to cum? Stick out your dickie, honey." John smiled confidently under his blindfold and stuck his dick out as far as it could go, and I raised the whippy cane and lashed WHACK WHACK WHACK "Think I'm fat, do you?"

I screamed WHACK WHACK WHACK John began running blindly around the room, stumbling over a footstool, I caught up with him and gave his squirming bottom a few cuts, and he rolled away from me. "You don't mind a little criticism from old fatso, do you Johnnie? You should be late as often as possible, obviously!"

The cane landed again and again leaving welts all over John's body, it was almost impossible for him to rise, as his hands were cuffed behind him, so there was no balance, and of course he couldn't see anything. He bumped his head hard on the coffee table as I slammed the cane down repeatedly on his cock and balls.

John's legs were shaking about like a baby's about to be diapered, and I whacked away at his genitals, as he continued to squirm on the floor. Finally, I picked him up by the ear and kicked him down the basement steps and shut the door.

Later on, after he cleaned the house, cleaned me and given me my dinner, I locked John in the bathroom, putting him in the bathtub bound up with his penis in a large, secured plastic bag.

I made John drink six quarts of water, and went to bed. I left the bright light on so he could consider his sins, and took all the "Barrons" magazines out of the bathroom so he had nothing to read.

For John, this is real torture, sitting for hours, to say nothing of peeing in a bag. and he really couldn't read anyway, as his hands were tied.

At two a.m., I got up and there he was, crying, exhausted and the bag was quite full to bursting with his urine. And I'm afraid there was a little Hershey squirt beneath my debonair husband! "Belly up, my debonair prince." I said as I bent down in my sexy negligee and lay the bag precariously in his arms... then I poked it with a kitchen knife and stood back and the urine splashed all over the poor darling, who burst into fresh tears.

"What do you think Officer Melinda would think of you now?" I said sweetly, and went back to bed. I did turn the light off in the bathroom at that point so he could get some sleep in the tub, in all that stinking piss...

Do you know that he's not been late coming in since then? Not even two minutes (we see what happened when it was four minutes, eh ?) Yes, Punctuality is important to me, I'm afraid.