“Oh, I’m not done. It’s going to take a lot more than that to loosen you up.” She stands in front of me and pushes me back on the bed before straddling my lap. “I know–.” She leans forward and kisses my kneck. “How to–.” Her mouth moves down my chest following her fingers as they unbutton my shirt. “Get you–.” She unbuckles my belt. “To relax.”

As she pulls my pants and boxer briefs from my hips and off my legs to land on the floor, I’m surprised that I feel nothing. No surge of blood flow to my genitals. No anticipation of what she will do next. Nothing. From the waist down, I am…numb.

Meisha lays between my legs and kisses her way up one thigh and then the other. Her mouth brushes against each testicle when she gets to the top. Normally, this would cause me to twitch in pleasure. I felt more aroused by her kissing my neck moments before than I do now.

She puts her mouth around my flaccid member and begins sucking.

Nothing.

My wife is engaging in my favorite sex act, and I feel absolutely nothing.

I’m too warm now. Flustered. Embarrassed. What is going on? Why did I agree to stay even another night in this house?

For the first time, I gently push my wife away from pleasuring me.

She looks up at me with concerned eyes and pursed lips. “What’s wrong, John?”

I sit up and cover my crotch with a pillow. She notices and can’t hide the hurt it causes her.

“I think I’m just tired, you know? Maybe a little too much to drink.” I chuckle as the name for that comes to my mind. “Whiskey dick, right?”

When she sits on the bed next to me, I pull my underpants back on and place a gentle, reassuring hand on her thigh. “I’ll make it up to you in the morning.”

She takes my hand. “You don’t have to make anything up to me. I was trying to take care of you.”

You are mine now, John. You will never again climax without me. Mother’s words come unbidden to mind.

I shake my head. She isn’t real, you idiot. You’re having some psychotic episode or something. Are psychotic episodes this sexy, though?

“Let’s just get some sleep. I’ll feel better in the morning.”

Meisha and I snuggle together under the covers, her head on my shoulder. Within a few minutes, she’s softly snoring, and I’m wide awake.

With an erection.

Oh, now you want to get hard? I scold my traitorous body and sigh internally, scowling at the ceiling. The scotch in the study is calling me. If I can’t sleep, I might as well drink until I’m ready to pass out.

With as much stealth as I can muster, I roll my wife over and slip from the bed. Meisha has mommy ears, though.

“Where are you going?” She turns to look up at me.

“I need to take a dump,” I lie.

When her head drops back against the pillow, and I think it’s safe, I slip from the room. Miraculously, the door doesn’t make a sound.

My bare feet pad over the cold wooden floors. My cock is still mostly at attention. I have half a mind to try to jack off in the study, but the memory of the efforts of the day before is still fresh in my mind, and my arm has gotten sorer throughout the day. It would tire me out though.

And maybe conjure a visit from Her.

I glare down at the traitor, never having felt this much animosity at my favorite body part, and scrub my face.

If I can’t have an orgasm, I might as well have scotch. When I reach the entrance to the study, a voice behind me makes me freeze.

“John.”

I close my eyes and groan. My wife is in this house. Whatever’s going on between me and Mother needs to end.

Who is Mother? What is Mother? She can’t be real, can she? Was I just drunk and delirious when I watched her walk around with Johnny in her arms?

I run my hands up into my hair and squeeze my head in frustration.

“John.” Her voice carries a touch of sternness this time. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Who knows what the repercussions from that will be?

I turn back and find her in the hallway just a few feet from the door to the master bedroom.

“Don’t make me go in there, John.”

My heart leaps into my throat. “No,” I manage. “Please, don’t go in there.”

Mother wears a black corset with black garters, black stockings, and black knee-high leather boots with the tallest stiletto heels I’ve ever seen. Her hair is pulled up in a high ponytail. In one hand, she holds a black crop. In the other is a pair of metal handcuffs.

“It’s time for you to learn some discipline, John.”

Her words cause my body to stiffen with trepidation while my little John stiffens with desire.

I glance behind her at the door beyond in which my family sleeps. I lick my dry lips and think about the scotch in the study.

“I’ve got something else for you to drink, John. I think you’ll find it just as intoxicating.”

I’m confused but listening.

“Hands behind your back, John.” She holds up the cuffs.

My breathing has been too shallow, and I deepen it to avoid hyperventilating. Meisha and I have never played with handcuffs before. I always assumed that if we did, I would be the one putting cuffs on her, not the other way around.

I hesitate. These don’t look like the fluffy play cuffs that one could break if needed. They look like a real police set. If I accept them on my wrists, I’ll be at Mother’s mercy.

What will She have me do? What can be worse than what I’ve done already?

Something sharp assaults my cheek with a slapping sound. I raise my hand to cover the burning sensation as I raise my eyes to Mother’s. She’d struck me with the crop.

“You test my patience, John. You will learn to obey without question.”

If it gets her to stop whipping me, I guess I can acquiesce to the cuffs. I step forward and hold out my clammy hands.

Her eyes narrow with delight as her mouth widens in approval. “Good boy.”

Mother puts the cold steel over one wrist and locks it into place, close to the skin but not too tight. She stalks behind me, pulling my arm with her. My feet stay planted to the ground.