“Maggot,” she says, barely even looking at her husband, “go upstairs and sit on your hands until I call for you.”
This is a surprise and perhaps a bit of a disappointment since I’d expected to enjoy seeing some of those nastier weapons of torture in use upon him. However, I’m here to learn and so I note the words she uses; the task she sets him to keep him from snatching a tension-relieving wank in his absence. He could always disobey, of course, but what is the point of that? The thrill comes in doing what one is told, whatever the frustration, pain or humiliation of it. Just like that she has caused him all three. She has robbed him of seeing us in action, stopped him from emptying his aching balls, and essentially told me that he is a persistent and sneaky wanker, all in that one sent
