A Special Father’s Day Gift Pt. 02

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I cannot believe how crazy this day has been. It all started when my stupid alarm went off when I was just about to cum. I knew I would be late for work if I did not get out of bed immediately so I did not have time to finish. My pent-up sexual frustration set me off on a naughty streak that had only escalated as the day went on.

I made my first poor decisions of the day while getting dressed. Working as a maid gave me a lot of freedom in how I dressed, but today I had really pushed the boundaries of acceptable attire. I chose not to wear a bra under my white tank top, which was already quite revealing and I substituted my typical boring white panties for a lacy red thong, which I positioned so it was plainly visible above the waist of my black leggings.

One of my clients, Mr. Jones, must have noticed my attire because he watched me intently as I cleaned. I caught him blatantly staring at my ass more than once and I am pretty sure I saw a bulge in his pants as I left. Normally, I would be offended by this sort of behavior, but in my aroused state it only turned me on more. I found myself bending at the waist and sticking my ass out to tease him. I was sure he would be fucking his hand dreaming of me as soon as I was gone.

The day had really taken a turn when my fifth and final client of the day, Mrs. Smith asked me to help her with a special Father’s Day gift for her husband. I had expected something dull to be added to my maid duties like cleaning his man cave after a raucous party, but to my surprise, Mrs. Smith had asked me to take part in Mr. Smith’s fetish. I was to arrive to clean the next week with a full bladder and an open mind. I am not sure how I would have responded on a normal day, but in my desperately horny state, I was eager to help. So eager that when Mrs. Smith told me she was going to hold it until her husband got home, I literally could not wait until next week. I decided to stay and I was not disappointed when Mr. Smith arrived.

It turned out that Mr. Smith, although considerably older than me, was an incredibly attractive man. Years of hard work in the gym had clearly paid off. After discovering his wife desperate to pee, he issued her an intriguing challenge. She had to attempt to hold it for an hour, which he knew was impossible. For the remainder of the hour after Mrs. Smith lost control, she was to be spanked. The first ten minutes would be a hand spanking, the next ten, a flogger, then ten with a paddle; any time after that would be one cane stroke per minute.

At the twenty-minute mark, Mrs. Smith added another wrinkle to the challenge. I was to do my best to get Mr. Smith off and if he came before Mrs. Smith wet herself, he was not allowed to cum again until I returned next week. However, If I was unable to make him explode before Mrs. Smith lost control then I would have to clean their house with a full bladder wearing nothing but a pair of tight jeans every week for a month. I sucked Mr. Smith’s enormous cock like my life depended on it. The challenge ended abruptly after thirty-three minutes when simultaneously Mr. Smith sprayed his hot cum down my throat and Mrs. Smith soaked her pants, which brings me to the current dilemma.

There was a long silence after the challenge ended, which I decided to break by asking, “So how do we treat a tie?”

“Why don’t you decide, Amanda?” Mr. Smith suggested.

I thought for a minute and then said, “If Mr. Smith agrees, I think we should both lose. He is not allowed to cum until I return and I will clean with a full bladder wearing only jeans for a month.”

“Sounds fair to me,” Mr. Smith said with a smile.

“I am going to take off these wet pants and take a shower,” Mrs. Smith said as she began walking towards the bedroom.

“Have you forgotten about your spanking?” Mr. Smith asked.

Mrs. Smith did not answer her husband’s question, but abruptly changed direction and walked resolutely into the kitchen. She returned with an armless wooden chair which she placed in the center of the living room. She proceeded to strip naked, fold her clothes, and lay them neatly under the chair. Meanwhile, Mr. Smith stood up and walked with the same resoluteness into their bedroom. He returned carrying a large wooden paddle, a flogger with a glass handle, and a large bottle of lube. He laid both of these implements and the lube in a line next to Mrs. Smith’s folded clothes and sat down in the chair. As soon as Mr. Smith was comfortable in the chair, Mrs. Smith lay across his lap and shortly thereafter, Mr. Smith began lovingly rubbing his wife’s ass.

I stood in front of them stunned by this clearly well-practiced ritual, which prompted a series of questions in my head: How often did Mrs. Smith go across her husband’s lap? Were the roles ever reversed? Did Mr. Smith ever get a spanking from his wife? What would it feel like to be spanked by one of these incredible people? Who would spank me harder?

My bursa escort daydream ended when Mr. Smith spoke, “You held it for thirty-three minutes, so this will be a twenty-seven-minute spanking. Ten minutes using my hand, followed by another ten using the flogger, and finally seven more with the paddle.”

“Wait, may I use the bathroom before you start, sir?” I interjected.

He got this look on his face as if in deep contemplation, which was followed by a devious smile. He looked directly into my eyes and said, “No. you may not.” The dominant tone of his voice sent shivers down my spine. He spoke again, “Spread your legs.” I hesitated for a minute. “Now!” he barked at me and I instantly spread my legs. He stared at me as if trying to assess how desperate I was. “Wider,” he said and my legs drifted further apart. Had I moved them? It felt as if I was hypnotized. “Wider,” he said again and I felt my legs inch apart. I had been dominated before, but never this easily. Something about Mr. Smith compelled me to follow his orders.

Twenty-seven minutes was not a long time to hold a full bladder, but with my legs now spread at least double-shoulder-width, I started to worry about my ability to hold it through the spanking. I reached my hands towards my crotch to take some of the strain off my bladder muscles, but before I got that far I heard Mr. Smith’s voice, “Arms behind your back.” My arms moved almost instinctively and folded themselves neatly on top of one another behind my back.

Mr. Smith stared at me for what felt like hours, but I am sure only a minute or two passed before he spoke again, apparently satisfied with my positioning. “Honey,” he said turning his attention to his naked wife laid across his lap, “there has been a change of plans. Instead of twenty-seven minutes, this spanking is going to be administered until Amanda wets herself. With her legs spread and her hands behind her back, I don’t think she will last too long, but we shall see.”

Mrs. Smith looked at me hopefully and said, “Just let it go, Amanda, I can give you some pants to wear home.” Mr. Smith looked horrified by his wife’s clever loophole, but when he saw the devious smile on my face looking back at him he knew I was not going to let her off that easy.

“Absolutely not! I’m enjoying myself. Why end the fun now?” I said. The hopeful look on Mrs. Smith’s face disappeared; she knew this was not going to be a short spanking.

“Are you ready?” Mr. Smith asked his wife as he continued lovingly rubbing his wife’s ass.

“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Smith answered, but by the time she finished, Mr. Smith’s hand was already headed towards her backside. The sound of his hand impacting her ass surprised me and I jumped a bit. I felt a squirt of pee shoot into my pants, but not enough to be seen from the outside. As he raised his hand again, I could see a faint outline of his hand on his wife’s ass.

When the second spank landed I jumped again and felt another small stream of pee leak into my pants. I had expected a pause between each spank, but Mr. Smith’s hand moved in one continuous motion. I still flinched after each spank, but I was able to prevent any more leaks.

He must have landed at least thirty spanks in the first minute alone and I saw no indication that he planned on slowing down. In fact, I think the spanks were getting harder and faster. After only a few minutes, Mrs. Smith’s entire ass was a shade of pink. Luckily, the spectacle was distracting me from the pressure building between my legs.

At the ten minute mark, Mr. Smith stopped his relentless barrage of spanks and began lovingly rubbing his wife’s ass again, which was now a deep red color. Mrs. Smith took a deep breath, looked over at me, and said, “How are you doing, Amanda?”

At first, I was confused by her question. Shouldn’t I be asking her that question? My ass was not the one changing color, but then I felt it. Without the spanking to distract me, an intense surge of desperation hit me forcing me to clench my teeth to stay in control. I immediately remembered why Mrs. Smith was so concerned with how I was doing.

“I don’t think our maid is going to last much longer,” Mrs. Smith said confidently still lying across her husband’s lap. I wanted so badly to prove her wrong.

“I think you’re right. She is not as well practiced as you are,” Mr. Smith said shifting his hand from his wife’s ass to between her legs. Mrs. Smith gasped as her husband’s fingers slid inside her. While still fingering his wife’s cunt, he looked over at me and started talking, “My naughty wife loves to be spanked, if you couldn’t tell by how ready she was for my fingers. I love edging her in the middle of a spanking. She gets so horny, she would do anything for an orgasm.” Mrs. Smith’s moans were getting louder by the second. After a particularly loud one, Mr. Smith said, “Watch what happens if I do this.” Mr. Smith repositioned bursa escort bayan his hand and I started hearing a slurping sound coming from between Mrs. Smith’s legs.

“Please, sir,” Mrs. Smith said between moans so quietly it was hard to hear her over the slurping sounds.

“Please, what?” Mr. Smith said in the same dominant tone he used with me earlier.

“Please, sir, may I cum?” Mrs. Smith said once again, barely audible over the sounds emanating from her soaking wet pussy.

“No,” Mr. Smith said very matter of factly as he removed his hand from between his wife’s legs. “It’s time for your flogging.”

Their transition into the flogging was just as seamless and ritualistic as the setup for the hand spanking. When they were done, Mrs. Smith was standing, bending forward at the waist with her hands on the chair for support. Mr. Smith was standing behind her off to one side with the flogger in his hand. I was still standing facing both of them with my legs spread and arms behind my back. I had not moved a muscle except for my quivering bladder since Mr. Smith ordered me into this position.

“Are you ready?” Mr. Smith asked his wife just as he had before the hand spanking.

“Yes, sir!” Mrs. Smith said more excitedly than she had previously. Apparently, being left on the brink of orgasm had prepared her for the second part of her spanking.

Mr. Smith did not ease back into the spanking at all. His first strike came down just as hard if not harder than the proceeding strikes. From my position, I did not get to see how the color of Mrs. Smith’s ass developed throughout the flogging, but I imagine each strike left deep red stripes across her ass with little welts at the end.

My position, however, did give me an excellent view of Mrs. Smith’s breasts and Mr. Smith’s cock. I was torn between watching Mr. Smith’s enormous cock swing back and forth as he twisted his body on every strike or watching Mrs. Smith’s tits bounce up and down as the flogger made contact.

By the time the flogging was almost over, Mrs. Smith was grunting in pain after each strike, but each grunt was followed by a moan. Clearly, she was enjoying her flogging. Mr. Smith gave a warning before the last strike and brought the flogger down with immense force one final time. Just as Mrs. Smith’s final grunt transitioned into a moan, a wave of intense desperation came over me. I was barely able to hold on, but I knew if I could hold it until the paddling started the distraction would get me through for a while longer. For now, my desire to see Mrs. Smith spanked overshadowed my desire to relieve my bursting bladder.

Mr. Smith stepped closer to his wife so his erect cock hovered just below her dripping cunt and said, “Technically, it’s time for your paddling, but I have a better idea. I am going to fuck this juicy pussy of yours-“

“Thank you, Sir! You know what a hard spanking like that does to me,” Mrs. Smith interrupted.

A smile spread across Mr. Smith’s face. He began teasing his wife’s slit with the tip of his cock as he said, “Yes, I do know what a hard spanking does to you and that is why I know this is going to be incredibly difficult for you.”

“What is going to be difficult for me?” Mrs. Smith asked with a concerned look on her face.

Mr. Smith continued as if he had not heard his wife’s question, “I am going to fuck this juicy pussy of yours, but Amanda’s ability to control her bladder will determine if you get to cum today or if you have to wait until she returns next week, just like me.”

“Please, sir. I can’t go a week without cumming. I am already so sensitive,” Mrs. Smith pleaded.

Mr. Smith completely ignored his wife’s begging. He just continued to slide his cock up and down the entrance to her greedy hole. After a few seconds he turned to me without stopping his torturous teasing and said, “Amanda, all you have to do is hold it for seven more minutes while I fuck my wife. If you can do that, I will give her permission to cum, but if I see even the smallest wet spot on your leggings before seven minutes are up, then I will leave her on the edge and she will not be allowed to cum until you return next week. Got it?”

“I have a question, Sir. What happens if she cums before you give her permission?” I asked through gritted teeth straining to keep my poor bladder in control.

Mr. Smith laughed and said, “She knows better than to cum without permission. Isn’t that right, honey?”

“Yes, Sir! I would never cum without your permission. No matter how badly I desire release,” Mrs. Smith answered with pride.

“Then let’s begin,” Mr. Smith said excitedly.

“Wait!” Mrs. Smith yelled.

“What?!” Mr. Smith asked, frustrated.

“I think Amanda needs a little bit more motivation. If I am not allowed to cum until next week then neither is she,” Mrs. Smith said quickly looking directly at me.

I shook escort bursa my head yes without thinking. Without any distraction, my bladder felt like it was going to explode. I needed the fucking to start now or I was going to lose control.

Mr. Smith positioned his cock at the entrance to his wife’s cunt and said, “Time starts now,” as he slid his full length into Mrs. Smith’s pussy with ease. Her eyes rolled back and her neck flexed. I watched Mr. Smith’s massive cock slide in and out of Mrs. Smith’s cunt, relishing in the distraction it provided. I tried desperately to focus on the sexual display in front of me. Mr. Smith’s rhythm was consistent and slow, but deep. With every thrust, he pulled out until only the head of his cock remained inside his wife and then thrust until his balls were pressed up against her ass. Mrs. Smith was moaning continuously as her pussy gushed all over her husband’s cock.

For a few brief moments, I forgot all about my aching bladder, but I was acutely reminded of my role in this game as an intense surge of pain erupted in my bladder. No distraction was powerful enough to alleviate my desperation anymore. I was not sure how much longer I could hold on. Not being allowed to cross my legs or press my hands to my crotch made it next to impossible to hold it.

Two minutes into the fucking and Mrs. Smith was already on the edge, but Mr. Smith continued just slow enough to prevent her from cumming. There were a few close calls where I thought Mrs. Smith was going to cum, but she always held it back. As Mrs. Smith held back her orgasm, I tried to hold back the flood of urine waiting to pour out of me. I wanted so badly to hop from foot to foot. Anything that would let me hold on just a bit longer.

“Two minutes left!” Mr. Smith announced. My bladder muscles were so fatigued I thought I would lose control any second, but I was determined to hold on as long as possible.

“One minute left!” Mr. Smith announced. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably. I was on the brink of losing control.

“Thirty seconds to go!” Mr. Smith screamed as he increased his pace, now fucking his wife hard and fast. Her face was contorted as she tried to contain her orgasm. I should have felt sympathy for her, but instead, I was overcome with a desire to torment her.

“Ten seconds!” Mr. Smith announced. I had to pee so bad it felt like my bladder might pop like a balloon, but all I could think about was denying Mrs. Smith.

“Five! Four! Three! Two!”

I looked directly into Mrs. Smith’s eyes and let go. Hot piss poured out of me like a waterfall immediately soaking my thong. Mr. Smith saw the wet spot on my leggings just before he counted one. I heard Mrs. Smith whimper as he yanked his cock out of her, leaving her hovering just short of an earth-shattering orgasm. She plunged her hands between her legs trying to finish the job, but Mr. Smith grabbed her hands and held them at her side.

The relief I felt finally allowing my poor bladder muscles to relax was pure ecstasy. I peed longer than I ever have in my life. By the time my bladder was completely empty, my leggings and even the carpet beneath me were soaking wet.

This time Mr. Smith broke the silence. “I have a feeling this is going to be a very hard week for all of us,” he said releasing his wife’s hands.

“It will be a hard week for you and a wet one for us,” Mrs. Smith joked as she turned and walked towards the bedroom. I finally got to see the results of the flogging. The hand spanking had left a consistent red base, but the flogging scattered red stripes that terminated in tiny purple welts all across her ass. I was impressed that she was still conducting herself so well. I would have been feverishly rubbing my ass and screaming in pain if my ass looked like that.

Mrs. Smith returned from the bedroom with a pair of sweatpants and handed them to me. Then, she walked over to her husband and kissed him before saying, “I am going to go put some lotion on my sore ass and take a nap. Can you tell Amanda how we handle orgasm denial in this house? I do not think she would have intentionally let go if she fully understood what was at stake.”

What more could there possibly be? I am not allowed to cum for a week. That seems pretty simple.

Mr. Smith waited until Mrs. Smith was out of the room before explaining, “In this house, orgasm denial is taken very seriously. Obviously, you are not allowed to cum, but you are also required to maintain at least your normal sex life. For my wife and I, that means we will have sex of some kind at least once a day this week. I am not familiar with your sexual habits, but at a bare minimum, you should edge yourself once a day. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“Good. See you next week,” Mr. Smith said before turning to join his wife in the bedroom.

I was a bit shaken by the abrupt ending to what had been by far the wildest afternoon of my life. Slowly, I gathered my things and got in my car, but before pulling out of the driveway I sat and thought about what this week would be like. If one day of denial had led to this, what on Earth would a whole week lead to?

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