Cleaned 11 By timos111@hotmail.com After the shoe-shop episode they went back to his apartment. There was no more sex that night - whatever dark desires she'd needed his assistance with had been well and truly sated by the performance he'd put on for her and the sales lady Susan. Janelle had a typically manlike tendency to just roll over and go to sleep as soon as her sexual needs had been fulfilled. Tonight was no different. She smooched his cheek, whispered "Thanks!" and next moment was away in the Land of Nod. He stared at the ceiling for quite a while. He'd have liked to talk things over. He felt miffed at being abandoned by her in this state of fully-conscious solitude, and he envied her blissful slumber. He wondered how on earth he'd landed himself in this situation. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine he'd ever do anything like what he'd done tonight. Suffer humiliation. Get down before a total stranger and lick their footwear. Wank himself to orgasm while they watched. Normally he wasn't even comfortable doing that in private! What shocked him most was that he wasn't shocked. Not any more. If Janelle wanted it, then Janelle got it. He'd willingly make sure of that. Of course, he'd had a lot of difficulty with the bootlicking idea at the moment she'd first sprung it on him. But it was seeing the look she had in her eye that made him give it serious consideration. Although she'd looked intimidating, he hadn't acted purely out of fear of her. She had no hold on him really, other than to never see him again. He suspected that would be as hard on her as it would be on him, though he didn't doubt that she meant it. No, he'd definitely volunteered for this latest mission. The look in her eye that'd spurred him on most had not been the one of dread. It was the underlying look of lust. He'd seen in her face how turned on she was getting - first by his resistance, and then his acquiescence. He liked being able to turn her on. Lets face it, so far she'd been the one with all the ideas. So far, they'd all been good ideas. At least, with the benefit of hindsight. He supposed he was coming to trust her judgement. Though he did wonder how far she could push him - indeed, how far she'd want to push him - before he cried "Enough!" That'd be a tricky question, and one with big consequences. He didn't think he could continue to respect her, if she made him lose respect for himself. He glanced across at her sleeping form in the dim light, her dark face at peace, long lashes curving upward, her big tits rising and falling with steady breathing. This line of thought was giving him an inkling of just how difficult a position she must be in. The delicate balancing act she had to go through, to get what she wanted without pushing him over the brink. And why exactly would he even want to give her what she wanted? Ask him about it two months ago, and he'd have said "Go to hell" - he'd never've had the patience for such mind-games. Now, though, it was different. It gladdened him that he had the ability to please her. This did not give the complete picture, though - his motives were not totally altruistic. Firstly and most importantly, she utterly turned him on. Why argue with a hard-on? But he had another reason for wanting to play along with her. Because far from being complicated mind- games, his dealings with Janelle were simplicity itself when compared with his ex-wife. Talk about wheels within wheels! He never knew from one day to the next which agenda she was following this time. She expected him to be a mind-reader, but each time he thought he was on target she'd go and move the goalposts. Sure Janelle was capable of springing surprises, but she never left him in any doubt as to what it was she wanted. He wondered whether, in her thoughts, she subjected their situation to the kind of analysis he was trying to bring to bear? Was she following some carefully- worked out strategy here? Or had events so far just been the result of happy accident? He finally lapsed into unconsciousness, dimly aware of having uncovered more questions than answers. And with a nagging feeling that he wouldn't feel completely at ease about what'd happened, until he could talk some of it through with her. On awakening next day she also found herself feeling vulnerable, just as he had done earlier before falling asleep. Not normally a "morning person" in the physical sense, she nevertheless snuggled up to him and held him close. One big soft boob overflowed onto his upper arm. His eyes flickered open to the sight of a dark nipple at fairly close range, her breath gently fanning his cheek. He was aware of her brown eyes gazing dreamily at his face. "You okay, hon?" she enquired gently. "Sure. Never better. Why?" "Just checking you're okay. About last night." "Why?" "I didn't stop to consider your feelings." "Yes you did. For all of 5 milliseconds." "And then I just charged ahead, huh?" "You were pretty unstoppable." "You upset by that?" "Nah. Not now, anyway." "But at the time ...?" "Hey, by the finish I was glad to do it. Your getting a thrill always gives me a thrill." "Thanks, hon. You're the best." "I know." He felt reassured by this sign that she valued his pride-denting efforts on her behalf. But again he felt awkward about receiving compliments. He swiftly changed the subject. "Hey, you really going to give that lady a call?" "Yeah, sure." "What will you tell her?" "Dunno yet. I'm not sure what she wants. And I'm not sure I can give it to her." "Why not?" "I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm more into practical than theory." "Wait! Don't tell me! You're from the BDSM School of Hard Knocks?" She found this hugely funny. "Yeah, you got it!" she chortled. "So what will you tell her?" "Tell her to surf the Net, like you did." "You didn't like me surfing the Net, remember?" "You were unsupervised. That's like a child playing with a loaded gun." "You're the one that's the bomb. And last night you went off, right in her store!" "It was a night to remember, huh?" "Fuck, it was intense." "Just thinking about it makes me horny." She was looking at him meaningfully. He became aware that she was almost imperceptibly teasing his nipple slightly with one fingernail. "Don't tell me you're about to get all "vanilla" on me?" "Not necessarily." To prove her point she suddenly sank her teeth into his upper arm, hard enough to leave marks. "Ow! That hurts!" "Good" she replied softly, resuming her tickling of his nipple. She leaned over and flicked her tongue over it, getting a bit tangled in his chest hair in the process. Felt good to him. She glanced down and saw his burgeoning prick twitching its way up to full hardness. She delicately ran a fingertip along the full length of his shaft and felt it quiver in response. "How 'bout giving it a little suck for me?" he enquired huskily. She quickly took her hand away. "Absolutely not!" Her voice was suddenly frosty, and her expression sorely displeased. "What ... what's wrong?" he asked in surprise. She broke off body contact and rolled away from him, sitting up on the edge of the bed. She said nothing , but sat there fuming. He could see her lips pressed tightly together, her face hard. "Please, what'd I do wrong?" "You really know how to spoil the ambulance!" "Uh ... isn't that "ambience"?" "You know what I mean, asshole." "Why so upset?" "I thought we were making such good progress here! I thought you were well on the way to understanding! Then you have to say a dumb thing like that!" "Hey, I was only asking!" "Don't. Don't ask for stuff. I'm the one who comes first here." "Is that a double-entendre, as they say in France?" She rolled her eyes upwards in exasperation. "You attend to me first. First and foremost. If you play your cards right, I'll see to it you get some satisfaction. But it's totally at my discretion - got it?" "Oh." He was chastened. She was really reading him the riot act here. "Now I'm horny, and mad at you, all at the same time!" "Sorry." "Don't worry - you will be." She reached down for her bag of tricks. Oh-oh! Here comes the webbing! He obligingly held his arms out and got them securely fastened to the bed's headboard. She sat with her knees up and leaned against the headboard on her side of the bed. With pillows in the way, he had to crane his neck around to look at her. From that angle, it made his eye-muscles ache. He couldn't quite see what she was doing. He soon felt it though. The bed started joggling slightly. Twisting around as far as he could, he caught a glimpse of her left hand at her breast, playing with the nipple. Her right hand was down between her legs, gently swirling. Her gaze was fixed upon his still-twitching prick, lasciviously taking in the sight of him lying there with a raging hard-on but unable to do a damn thing about it. This for him was an excruciating pleasure. A sweet torture. Because nothing thrilled him more than the sights and sounds of her passion. And nothing upset him more than being forced into the role of a helpless bystander, unable to contribute in any way. She obviously wanted to demonstrate that she could go it alone without him. She had no use for him right now, other than to watch him vainly wriggle for a better look at her. Her breath started coming in short gasps, and then he felt her foot kick against him as her open legs jerked out even wider. A long, low, guttural moan in the back of her throat, and then calm descended once more upon their bed. She was up, and heading for the bathroom. He heard her pee, then flush. "Hey, what about me?" "What about you?" she called back. Next the shower was running. She seemed to take ages. Then she was back. He could see her brown nakedness in full-frontal as she reached for clothes. Damn, she looked good! Softly sculpted body, hour-glass figure with round bum, wasp-waist and big pointy tits, all he could do was watch wistfully as it all got covered up by panties, bra, jeans and a sweater. "I'll let you up after I've cooked breakfast" she informed him. "Meanwhile, think on what I've said to you." Normally it was he that cooked their breakfast. Now she didn't even want him for that! Well, she cooked it, and then she ate it, and had two leisurely coffees afterwards while taking her time reading the newspaper. He had ample opportunity to consider the full import of what she'd said, and how it might tie in with those femdomme websites that preached about "Queen" and "knight", "vassalage", "chivalry", and "sacrifice". An internet phrase "topping from the bottom" kept bubbling to the top of his swirling thoughts. Not in the sense of that hackneyed "Master/slave' thing, though. It was more like royal protocol, where there are certain lines one simply doesn't cross. Obviously, he'd just crossed one. And now, she was cross. Finally she came and released him. "You probably want to cum as badly as I did, huh?" "You bet!" Had she forgiven him? Apparently not. "Well, I don't want you to. You're not to masturbate yourself, or try to touch me, until I say so. Okay?" "Okay." Naturally he thought he'd be able to slip away to the bathroom at the earliest opportunity, to surreptitiously relieve his aching balls under the guise of taking his ease. But she was on to it. She came and stood with him while he had a pee, to make sure there was no hanky-panky. He had some financial reports to look over that day, so he sat in an armchair in his study and spent a couple of hours getting to grips with them. She sat at his computer using Google to check out sites with keywords like "male submission" and "femdomme". She had a few issues of her own to get to grips with, before she could respond to Susan's request to call and meet up for a little chat. If he went to any other part of the apartment, she'd either accompany him, or let him out of her sight for only a minute before materialising by his side. It was like she were the Cum Police. He felt too numb to cum by now anyway, but wondered for how long she'd keep him in disgrace like this. Today, they'd had their first major tiff. Another milestone in their relationship. Wow.