Remember 1960? Look back at that year with awe. Women knew how to dress, and let there be no mistake about it. Proper suits, prim pillbox hats, black high heels, nylons (sometimes with seams) and GLOVES. Long white gloves, long black gloves, long brown gloves, white or black gauntlets. The list goes on and on. It was the era of powerfully gloved women. But today it was long black leather gloves. That's what Betty was wearing as the top feature of her tweed suit. Shoulder-length black leather gloves that disappeared right up the elbow-length sleeves of her smart jacket. And you'd better believe Betty was never, ever, to be seen without a fine pair of long gloves. Betty was a powerfully gloved woman. Oh, yes. There was her pet man, Henry. A little plump man with enlarged ears. It was important for Henry to be with Betty. He had to open the door before she even thought of walking through it. He had to wait to be seated before she was, making absolutely certain that he had pulled the chair out for her in an unobtrusive way. He had to do everything with her in mind. If he didn’t.... But this story begins before she had put on her tweed suit, before she had put on her high heels. This story begins with the gloves she had on that morning. Henry's morning had begun pleasantly enough. Betty and Henry were always clad the way she insisted, and this naturally extended to the bedroom. She was clad only in black silk stockings and powerful black silk opera gloves. He in a striped nightshirt with matching stocking nightcap and a pair of argyle socks (and certainly no gloves!). He looked silly. She looked powerful. This morning he had awakened to find Betty, in those gorgeous gloves and stockings, sitting on his chest, facing his crotch. She had pulled back his nightshirt to reveal his genitals, which were just starting to come into bloom. She formed a ring with her silken black gloved index finger and thumb to stroke and stroke his penis to a throbbing full erection. Mmmmm, the aroma of that man's sex was getting her moist. Then she did what she did best: "box." That’s what she called it. She boxed his penis left and right with the open palms of those long black silk gloves, slapping it around like a little punching bag that kept returning back to rigid attention. She alternated between penis boxing and penis pulling as Henry was straining to the point of muscular pain in the pelvis. Betty would shift her weight as she sat to get additional stimulation to her crotch. Mmmmmm, box that man's sex! What a view from Henry's perspective! That back of that woman in those long black gloves rocking back and forth on his chest as she boxed his straining cock right and left! But if he blew before permission was given, she would get angry. And she never gave permission...ever. Oh, he could feel the semen begin it's journey up his shaft to toward the bulbous purple head. No. Hold it in! Not yet! She didn't say! She didn't say I could! Oh, those Gloves of Hers!! She never says he can; she never said he could. He exploded in vast globby spurts to the right side of the room. To the left side of the room. To the right. His cock had been slamming right and left like a vertical pendulum as if it were yelling "Yang! Yang! Yang! Yang!" while ecstatically lobbing grand blobs of mayonnaise randomly but rhythmically around the bedroom.
  -- You big, fat TURKEY!! she screamed.
  She had managed to pull herself and her gloved hands away just in time to avoid being caught in the eruption.
  -- I never gave you permission to do *anything* like that! How *dare* you! After doing all this for you, you ridicule me with this mess you've made? Do you have any *idea* what you would have done to these beautiful gloves? Any idea?
  -- I'm sorry, dear, he cowered.
  -- And who gave you permission to talk to me? Well? WELL??
  Henry wanted to apologize. But, of course, he wasn't allowed to speak.
  --You big fat tom turkey! All you men ever do is think of yourselves and how to degrade fine Ladies like me! Slopping that semen all over the room as if we lived in a pig sty.
  Although he couldn’t see her face, he could feel her eyes narrowing in constrained rage.
  -- It's high time I make proper use of these long black gloves of mine.
  He knew all too well what she was going to say next. She said it slowly, clearly, distinctly. Every word carefully articulated.
  -- I'm going to BOX YOUR EARS!!!
  Henry emitted some high-pitched whimpering as she spun around to sit on his belly. She looked him in the eye with fury as she methodically pulled up and smoothed back her long black silk gloves. Then she leaned forward and quickly spanked the sides of his head about five times each. His ears rang.
  -- No, she said. I'm not going to ruin these beautiful gloves on that silly unshaven face of yours. You come with me!
  It was impossible not to come with her; she had leapt off him and was pulling him mercilessly by the ear over to one of her many chests of drawers reserved exclusively for gloves. This is it, he thought. We're into Phase Two. Out of the top drawer she pulled out a pair of "strikingly" soft black leather gloves. They were long. They were *very* long. They were so long that while the ventral inseam reached all the way to the arm pit, the dorsal exterior reached at least an inch above the shoulder. These were *serious* gloves! She strode to the corner of the room opposing the bed and slid the door open to the closet. Inside was a 16mm camera on a tripod. She removed the lens cap and set the focus, all the while with a firm well-gloved grip on Henry's stretching ear.   -- I think maybe today we'll film this lesson. We can call it: ‘Bad Boys Need To Have Their Ears Boxed - Volume One.’
  There was a smooth mechanical clacking as the film started rolling. She pulled him back by the ear to sit down on the floor next to the bed at the opposite corner of the room, his funny argyle socks sticking out from under the nightshirt and his big ears flapping against his striped stocking nightcap.
  -- Yes, there you are. Like Wee Willie Winkie with argyles and great yawling oversized ears!
  She smiled menacingly as she teased him by flapping his left ear with her gloved fingers. He whimpered a bit, whereupon she gave him a resounding Smack!!! across the face. It was good leather.
  -- Be quiet!
  He obeyed.
  She crouched down beside him. Again she looked him straight in the eye.
  -- Now, help me on with my gloves.
  He did so very cautiously. He unfurled her left long black leather glove. A splendid aroma unfurled with the leather, wafting up to mingle with the smell of hot sex. The glove made a fleshy plopping sound on the bed as the glove’s hand fell onto its surface. He oh-so-carefully pulled the leather glove up up up over her left hand and arm with a "sft-sft-sft" sound as it rode over the silk glove she already had on. He gave her a look that said "Is that all right? Did I do well?" She smiled approvingly. He unfurled and pulled up the other glove over her remaining gloved arm. That smell of leather and sex, and in a short time he knew he was going to get his ears boxed by those long long black leather gloves.
  -- Very well done. But just because you did one thing right doesn't mean you're getting away with your vile behavior. Once a turkey, always a turkey. And it's time to show me what a turkey you really are. I want you to 'gobble' for me.
  Not that! She only asked that when she was exceptionally horny, when she was determined to go all the way! A thrill of fear shot through him; his erection re-hardened as he saw those luxurious black leather gloves of hers preparing to do their business.
  -- I said 'Gobble'!
  She slapped him hard across the face: "Gobble!!"
  Could that leather spank!
  -- Gobble-Gobble-Gobble!
  She slapped him again: "Gobble!!!"
  -- Gobble-Gobble-Gobble-Gobble!
  -- Can't you do *anything* right? When I tell you to 'Gobble,' I mean I want you to gobble like the brainless turkey you make yourself out to be! A silly high-pitched gobbling turkey!
  First she smoothed back the leather on her fingers, then interlaced them for that supremely tight, comfortably encasing fit. They squeaked. Good leather. She smartly boxed him on the ears. Box! Box! Box! Box!
  -- I’m not going to have you humiliate me, especially while I'm recording this on expensive film!   She boxed him again, once on each ear. His ears were beginning to pinken.
  But dearest, I'm trying to 'gobble' for you but you keep interrupting me!
  That did it. Now she was *really* mad. She leapt to her feet and quickly dragged him out by the legs to make his torso plop onto the floor. Then she jumped on top of him so that his arms were trapped under her firm legs. His head stuck out from his shoulders like a punching bag with a nightcap and flapping ears.
  --I'm going to give your ears such a boxing that they'll sing like divas. They don't call these 'opera gloves' for nothing!
  And with that, she boxed him on the left ear. Then she boxed him on the right ear. Then the left. And the right. She set up a slow but steady rhythm with her glove leather giving a resounding spank! on one ear as the other rebounded to receive its box from her other beautiful black leather gloved hand. She grabbed his punching bag head by both of those deep pink ears.
  -- I can't hear you. What do you say?
  Her leather clad fingers massaged and manipulated those ears with adeptness.
  -- Gobble-Gobble.
  She boxed him left.
  -- Gobble-Gobble-Gobble!
  She boxed him right.
  -- GobbleGobbleGobbleGobble!!!
  This was what she had been waiting for. Get that man utterly helpless and gobbling like a turkey! She had been watching The Three Stooges the night before. She knew that when Curly would get fearful or sexually aroused, he had a tendency to start gobbling like a turkey. This is working out as a fine way to get some obedience and respect from your pet man. *This* is the way to box a man's ears!
  -- All right, you gobbler. Gobble louder!
  -- GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE!
  -- Not good enough.
  She boxed him.
  -- Gobble faster!
  -- GOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLEGOBBLE
  And all the while she picked up her rhythm, Boxing His Ears right and left, gaining speed up to that wonderful fleshy rhythm of a punching bag in a gym: BudadaBudadaBudadaBudada, but with that exquisite "smack" that only fine kid leather can achieve. And him gobbling like a turkey, approaching fever pitch! She picked up tremendous speed as she alternated left-right-left-right, Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! His wild gobbling was nearly incoherent. She arched in glorious orgasm right there on his fat belly. Oh, did she love boxing! And today the adventure was being captured on film. Seen from behind she could imagine the view: Henry with in his striped nightshirt and those ridiculous argyle socks sticking out from underneath. She nude except for black silk stockings and greater-than-shoulder-length black leather gloves, seen from behind with upper arms and elbows always in view, muscles flexing rhythmically, beautiful black gloved hands flashing and spanking right and left at a remarkable velocity. And let's not forget the sound that was going into the camera's microphone! BOX BOX BOX BOX BOX BOX BOX BOX! GobbleGobbleGobbleGobbleGobbleGobble! Oh, did she ever Box His Ears as in her imagination his head transformed itself into a punching bag for her long black leather Boxing Gloves to practice on!! Yes, this was a fine first film for Betty to begin her series on keeping a man properly trained. And the day had hardly yet begun.