#Wipitup – Those pesky rituals

Welcome to Wip it Up.

I’m sharing from my current work in progress Cherished by Him.  It’s the third and final part of the Sublime Trust series about Dominant Jason and his submissive wife. The last two snippets I shared involved some unfortunate interruptions. Now, after a few days, they’re finally getting back on track.  Except…..  (warning, some mild anal play coming up)

***

I scanned through the Sunday paper, sipping my steaming coffee. The monitor had activated once when Joshua had stirred then gone back to sleep. We’d sighed collectively. I hummed to myself, planning a leisurely morning, perhaps a bath. My period had started on Friday. However, Jason had other ideas. Sex had been off the agenda for four nights, and as he eyed me, I dismissed my cosy bath idea – Jason was about to shift into action.

He removed the empty mug from my hands and unlike Wednesday evening, he skipped over foreplay. I rose, a little perturbed, because certain areas of my body were off limit. Which meant… A whoosh of adrenaline flared in my stomach. Did I tell him? As I pondered my dilemma, Jason discarded my dressing gown to unveil my nudity and with a hand about the back of my neck, bent me over the kitchen table.

“Sir. My period—”

“Yes. I know. I’m going to use this.” He put a finger against my puckered anus and I tensed, clenching my cheeks, squeezing his digit. Jason tut-tutted.

I bent my knees, lowering my bottom. Another indication of my reticence to engage. The reason would have to be given. “I haven’t prepared myself for you.” Which meant I hadn’t used the cleansing douche.

“You’re not ready? When did you last do it?” He leaned over me as I squished my face into the pine surface, avoiding his looming figure.

“Umm, Tuesday,” I mumbled.

He heard. “Tuesday!”

“With Josh being ill I didn’t think—”

“Do I stop shaving when Josh was ill, Gemma? Did I decide not to brush my teeth? Preparations, hygiene. They’re in the rules, which you agreed to. Be ready for me. I can understand if you’d not done it since yesterday but five days!” He sounded more annoyed than I’d anticipated. I mean, it’s a ritual, not a laborious cleansing. Did it matter that much?

“We were tired. I didn’t think you would care…”

Wrong words! As soon as they slipped out of my disgruntled mouth, I’d over-stepped into a new area of disobedience.

“You get to decide, do you?”

No. No! I didn’t mean that.

I kept my mouth shut. I had dug a hole and words were not going to be sufficient to clamber out of it.

Stupid, stupid!

“Go and do it now. You better show me your apologies.” Jason gave my departing bottom a hard slap as I scampered towards the door, leaving behind my dressing gown.

Stomping up the stairs, I blamed my hormones, lack of sleep, the weather, anything but my neglect. The man was impossible to please sometimes. Slamming the bedroom door, I inhaled deeply. The truth was I’d fucked up, because I could have asked permission to forgo the cleansing ritual for the duration of Joshua’s illness and Jason would have probably consented to my proposal. For two nights, he’d looked exhausted and other than a kiss good-night, he’d showed no interested in me sexually.

I dithered, circling the bedroom for a few seconds before accepting my fate.  I went into the bathroom and did what I should have done days earlier.

He walked into the master bedroom ten minutes later to find me lying on the floor in the classic, ‘I’m really sorry slave position’ – arms and legs outstretched, head tucked down, hands pressed together as if in prayer.

With me lying at his feet, I heard a familiar swoosh.  I braced myself for the chastising suede flogger.

The knotted tips swept across my bottom, leaving a trail of stings. “Pigs roll around in their own muck, Gemma. That’s what you are, a dirty piggy. So let’s make you pink, shall we?”

I cursed, muttering under my breath. Unfair. Turning me into a pet pig was right at the bottom of my kinky list of fun things. The flogging would be nothing compared to the humiliation. For once, I wanted Joshua to interrupt our impromptu scene. However, I uttered the appropriate response, “Yes, Sir. I’m a pig,” and embraced the stinging tails of his flogger.

He swung back and forth, working across my bottom and back in a figure of eight pattern. I jerked with each swish and thud. I scrunched my hands in the carpet pile as I tried hard not to cry out or release unshed tears. Disappointment raged inside me as I tried to understand why I had pushed my daily routine aside and hidden my carelessness from Jason.

He turned me over so he could targeted my breasts, tummy and inner thighs. By the time he’d finished I’d turned pink and my skin prickled with soreness and unwanted heat. Instructed by Jason to kneel and rest on my forearms, I waited.

Cold lubricant trickled down my crack and he smeared it about my puckered hole. Flinching, I buried my head in my arms. He poked a finger inside, testing my readiness. I gasped at the intrusion, then with a pop, he extracted his digit.

I risked a peek over my shoulder and I shrivelled with mortification. He’d been to the lair and fetched the damn butt plug with a pig’s curly tail stuck on the end of it.

“Eyes front,” he snapped, sergeant major style.

***

Oh, dear… perhaps things may perk up for Gemma… next week?