Last week over lunch, I remarked to Jennifer, “So you want to punish and humiliate your husband and he has no such inclinations. Aren’t you the lucky one. Mine wants to wear plastic baby pants and have his bottom smacked. Maybe I should lend him to you.”
I was only slightly surprised when Jennifer responded, “When can I borrow him?”
I was more startled by my reply. “Yesterday!”
Friday night arrived and like every Friday night, my husband whined, pleaded and begged for his weekly dose of humiliation. As usual, this resulted in him attired in plastic baby pants, wrists secured to the front of his clear vinyl baby reins. A large bow tied rubber dummy completed the package.
Before I could get to the customary spanking, the prearranged, door bell rang. Grabbing the reins, I said, “Let’s answer this together. Shall we?” He tried to pull back but the reins held as I opened the door.
Seeing Jennifer, he jerked free from my grasp and headed for the false safety of the bedroom. We simultaneously remarked, “Guess he wants to play hard to get.”
Jennifer was wearing, skin tight brown leather pants, tucked into matching leather boots. She looked like an equestrian who had just dismounted her horse. Her attire and the fact that she stood a good nine inches taller than my husband, made her quite a formidable sight. She followed him into the bedroom and began to wail on his bottom. My hand on his bottom was one thing, her riding crop was quite another.
Squealing into the dummy, he scurried back into the living room, hiding at my side. Following him out of the bedroom, Jennifer barked, “O.K mister you have five seconds to crawl back over here. One, two, three……”
“If I were you, I’d get a move on it!” I advised.
Reluctantly, he crawled over to Jennifer, whereupon she pinioned his neck between her ankles. The riding crop landed ten times on his plastic covered bottom. Mercifully, she stopped, the baby reins and dummy, holding strong.
“See you in a few hours,” Jennifer said to me. Hubby wanted to protest, but still held helpless between her ankles, he knew better than to even moan through the plastic dummy. Jennifer loosened her hold on hubby’s neck, and began to stalk around his prone body. Light flicks from the riding crop on the front of his plastic pants really got his undivided attention. She was quite something.
“Fine. I’ll be back in a few hours. Have fun!” With that I put on my black leather trench coat and left the apartment, closing the door behind me.
* * *
I hadn’t noticed that Jennifer carried a tote bag when she first arrived. Guess, I was too busy trying to hide. Suddenly, she picked up the tote and placing it on her lap, unzipped it. Out popped a one piece pink vinyl onesie.
“Every self respecting baby should have their own pink vinyl onesie.”
Shaking open the onesie, she gestured for me to approach. Fearfully, I jumped up and inserted one leg and then the other. Sitting down on the highback chair, Jennifer spun me around, pulling me to the carpet, so that I now sat at her feet with my back pinioned between her booted calves, the back of my head resting on her crotch.
Digging her elbows into my shoulders, Jennifer reached over and untied the rope from my wrists and unclasped the back of the plastic baby reins, pulling them over my head.
With my upper body freed, I made the mistake of trying to stand. Quickly she threw a choker dog chain around my neck and yanked me back into my sitting position, gasping for breath.
Without raising her voice, as if unsurprised by my feeble rebellion, Jennifer said, “Slide your hands all the way into the sleeves. The closed ends were designed for especially bad babies. Nice touch, don’t you think?”
Keeping the choker taught with one hand, Jennifer used the other to lift the vinyl onesie up my chest, over my shoulders, and then proceeded to pull the back zipper at my waist to the nape of my neck.
“We’re almost finished, but first I need to upgrade your pathetic choice of baby reins.”
“Plastic vinyl reins with handmade nylon wrist restraints will never do. Will they? How about black patent leather ones with firmly attached wrist cuffs? There‘s no reason for you to have to choose between form and function.”
As directed, I raised my arms so that she could drop the black patent leather reins onto my shoulders. Still short of breath , I offered no resistance as she closed the back clasp and buckled the wrist cuffs.
“One final thing to update.” Jennifer said, as she pulled a massive baby dummy from the tote. Untying the bow and removing my dummy, she proceeded to cram hers into my mouth. “Open wide. Wider. Wider.” she shouted, while pinching my nose. The enormous rubber dummy plopped past my teeth.
Grabbing the riding crop, Jennifer resumed her brutal attack on my bottom, with an occasional flick to the genital area. Tears and whimpering were all I could muster during Susan’s absence.
I awoke a few hours later. Jennifer and Susan were gone. So too was the baby regalia.
The following Monday at lunch, Jennifer reassured me. “Trust me. He’ll be back for more. It’s in the genes. He may hold out for awhile, but in the end he’ll need a Special Friday. You‘ll see.”
Exactly four weeks later, over lunch, “Jennifer he’s still holding out.”
“He‘s cheating. Must have moved Special Friday to a different day. Probably, in the afternoon. Wouldn’t surprise me if Happy Days weren’t Monday, at this exact hour.”
Without ordering, we rushed from the restaurant, hailed a cab, arriving just in time to see our baby, dummied and reined, rubbing himself on the sofa arm, trying to complete his nefarious deed.
Yanking him to the carpet, Jennifer spoke. “I left my reins and my dummy in your wife’s closet. I don’t remember giving permission for your private use.”
Susan queried, “How was he planning on getting out of the reins after….?”
Jennifer smiled , “Like that.” Just as he wiggled his left wrist back through the cuff on the baby reins. “He didn’t completely buckle it.”
In a flash, Jennifer was on him like a cougar, straddling his waist. Seizing the freed wrist, she pushed it back through the cuff, this time, tightening the buckle to the last notch.
Rolling him over, she pointed out that the back buckle was likewise inadequately closed. Fixing it, she stood up.
“What next? I asked.
Jennifer responded. “I thought I had beaten the bottom topping out of him, last time.”
“Bottom? Topping?” Susan asked quizzically.
“Your husband, the bottom, loves to be controlled. However, he also wants to control the scenario. That’s topping from the bottom.”
“What’s the solution?” I queried. “Another beating? Longer and harder?”
Hubby’s was all ears as Jennifer wrapped the choker chain around his neck. “No. I have a better idea.”
Quickly, she dragged him on all fours, moaning loudly, to the apartment door.
Opening the door, Jennifer pushed him out into the hallway, slamming it. Our apartment was 50 feet from the elevator, down an L shaped corridor. Somewhat secluded, but in no way secure from discovery.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. Went the doorbell. Hubby wasn’t going down without a fight.
Jennifer joked. “Must be Avon calling.”
Opening the door, she regrabbed the choker that still hung around his neck. “I tried to play nice.” Tightening it, she started to pull him on all fours towards the elevator.
Hearing the yelping, sobbing, and overall frantic commotion, I rushed out into the hallway to see what was happening. Jennifer had him by the proverbial balls. Sobbing and moaning, he pleaded with his eyes for mercy. Approaching the elevator, the sobbing increased. When she pushed the down button, the sobbing went hysterical. I’ve never heard such squealing. She pushed him into the empty elevator. Alone, he became suddenly silent as the door closed, behind him.
The elevator headed down. Luckily, it arrived non-stop at an empty lobby, and headed back-up, stopping at our landing. Hubby, stepped out, meekly following us into the apartment, collapsing on the carpet. He looked worse than when Jennifer had physically whipped the crap out of him.
I loosened the back buckle and one wrist, leaving him like we found him.
“Let’s get back to the restaurant. I’m famished.”
“Me, too. ’’ Jennifer added.
* * *
Several months later, Jennifer asked me. “Aren‘t you the least bit interested in what he‘s been doing, without us?”
I responded. “Very much. Do you have any ideas?”
Jennifer continued. “Only one.”
“I hired a detective. Cost me $1,000.”
“That quite an itch you had to scratch.”
“Well worth every cent.” Jennifer replied with a smile.
Jennifer elaborated. “Every Tuesday he stays in room number 786 at the Plaza Hotel from 11:00am to 5:00pm.”
“He pays the morning maid $200 to strap him into his baby reins.”
“He does, does he!” I said in astonishment.
“Furthermore, he pays the afternoon maid an additional $200 to unbuckle him, leaving just enough time to get home, undetected for dinner. Clever?”
“Yes, very. Have a plan?”
“Certainly. Tomorrow is Tuesday. We’ll drop stop by the Plaza just before his check out time.”
Nearing room 786, we spotted the afternoon maid.
Jennifer spoke first. “Excuse me, are you the maid for room 786?”
The maid answered, “Yes. How may I help you?”
Jennifer began. “Let me get straight to the point. The gentleman in 786 is in a great deal of trouble, as are you, unless you open his door and let us pay him a surprise visit.”
The maid, Jennifer, and I entered his room.
Grabbing the $200 off the dresser, I said to the maid. “The $200 is yours. Consider it a tip. We’ll tidy things up in here.”
“As you wish, madam.” she curtsied and left.
You could cut the air with a knife. There stood hubby, all decked out. He was wearing, black patent leather, baby reins, with attaching cuffs, identical to the ones hanging in the closet at home. Additionally, the huge dummy in his mouth, was an exact duplicate of Jennifer’s.
Jennifer broke the silence. “It’s seems you like my equipment but not our participation. Rather rude, isn’t it.”
With that, she proceeded to march him, in full baby regalia, out the room, into the elevator, through the hotel lobby, to the utter amazement of staff, guests, and most of all hubby, himself.
It’s been three months. Jennifer asks fondly, of him. He however, never mentions her name. I was therefore quite surprised when she remarked. “It’s not over.”