Jingle Bells

Sylvia came home early from the club. The women, while nice and well meaning, were vacuous and she would rather be with her new husband, but the markets had just closed and she knew he would be staring at his computer screens intently. She could only hope the day's trading had gone well. What little she had heard of the markets on the radio news was mixed and she wanted to play.

She pulled into the driveway, but left the car out of the garage, thinking, "Maybe I can get him out to the Brown Pelican Restaurant on the beach and have a glass of wine in the waning light of a December day. The thought of seagulls soaring overhead above the ridge was peaceful, reassuring and yet exciting. She filled her chest and challenged her bra with firming breasts as thoughts of sex skirted the edges of her mind, and so she sighed.

"What's this?" she asked seeing the box in front of the door. "A UPS package from Michigan? Robert must have ignored the ring." Then she remembered, "Perfect!" she almost yelled in excitement recognizing the return address of the Sexy Shoe Company. She hurried toward the bedroom, skirting the hall to the office where Robert was working. She could hear the clicks of the keyboard as she quietly navigated her way on tip toes.

She opened the box in the bedroom and then the one inside, to see a spectacular pair of red patent pumps with five inch heels, "He'll love them." she said, "I'll hate them." she admitted, "What the Hell." she commented.

Sylvia loved Christmas and was going to make this one special with a spectacular feminine Santa Claus helper outfit and the shoes were the crowning touch. They were planning a party for their friends, and there would be open house afternoons. She could wear the red outfit several times, maybe annually, but vowed never to step out in those shoes. "They're strictly for the house." Particularly the bedroom. "They'll work well after the holidays." she thought.

In a moment she had changed into the white blouse, with red cravat, a short red jacket, skirt and finally, "The shoes." She said solemly as she slipped into the right pump, which drank her foot with authority and the sound of nylon sliding into leather, then the left and she stood.

"Not bad." she said in surprise, but then sat as there were two cute accessories she had planned to add and they were at hand. The small box contained two cat collars with two bells on each. She put one on each ankle, stood and took a few steps. The bells tinkled delightfully and she broke out in laughter, "Outrageous. The other women will think I'm nuts, but I don't care. The men will love it."

Now she took a deep breath, saying to herself, "Why am I worried if he likes it? I know this man and I am a woman!" and a flash of anger started to cross her face, then the acceptance she had every reason to expect put the anger out like campfire in a downpour. "There will be no negatives in this house." she declared, but still there was that little fear that is the curse of those who dare.

She walked over to the mirror, getting her gait right for such shoes, she would have to take much shorter steps, but soon she was strutting with the skill of a go-go girl who lived on "pencils," as she would say. Then she turned to the hall and marched to the office area, entering in a cascade of clopping and tinkling bells.

     "Oh my God!" he exclaimed. "What is this?"

     "Do you like it?"

      "Incredible."

     "Do you like it?" she said with emphasis.

     "Yes."

     "Do you really like it?"

     "Yes, yes, yes..." he said drawing her to him an onto his lap.

     "What's that?" she chortled as she reached down between his legs and grabbed his penis, with unerring accuracy.

     "That, my dear, is my dick, and it is getting very hard."

     "Would you like to do something about it?"

     "Yes, just let me crash out of here." and she hopped off his lap to step away, enjoying the fact that he followed her with his eyes as he fumbled exciting the Internet.

      "Where did you get the fantastic shoes and the bells?"

      "The shoes on Internet and the bells at the pet shop."

      "Really? And they fit OK."

      "Perfect." She replied, then asking, "How did we do today?"

      "About $10,000."

      "Profit?

      "Yes... But, it could be the other way tomorrow. The market's kind of nuts now..."

      "How about for the year?"

      "Oh... Half a million."

      "Fantastic."

      "I just wish I could keep it. Half of it has to go to taxes so Democrats can give it to lazy niggers."

      "Robert!!!"

      "Lazy Negroes."

      "Robert!"

      "All right... African Americans. Shit, we're all Americans and this "African" prefix thing is divisive, destructive and dumb."

      "I don't want to hear the "N" word again. I know lots of hard-working black people and 80% of the welfare goes to whites anyway."

       "I guess you're right. I just hate paying taxes."

       "Well," she said as she approached, placing one foot in front of the other, slithering sexually, tinkling all the way. "You've made a serious offense, but there are more important things now..."

        "Yes," he said as he stood and his erection was obvious. She smiled wondering how if must feel to have such a thing dangling from between your legs.

         "Shall we stop by the kitchen and get a bottle of Champagne?"

         "That would be nice." she said as she rose and twirled on her toes to change direction. Soon they were standing in front of the wood paneled Sub Zero. "Cook's or Dom Perignon?" he asked.

         "I think this is a good day for a bit of France."

          "I agree." he said, reaching deeply into the cooled cabinet. She grabbed him again between his legs.

          "Are we OK?" she asked as he was decidedly soft.

          "No problem." he assured, " it'll be there."

The bottle opened easily, no spray, no cork falling back into the wine and Robert observed the polite convention of taking the first glass to get whatever cork may be there as Sylvia stood by the great chopping block preparation table in the center of the expansive kitchen, perched on her pumps like a great, wonderful red bird ready to fly, but doing little numbers with her feet to ring her bells.

She was as aroused as she could be. The rich setting, the waning light. It was so quiet there she could feel Earth turning under her and knew that in a matter of minutes she was going feel him entering her, stroking places where only a man can go and giving her feelings that only a woman can have. By her own process she was dripping and had an overwhelming urge to get on her back and spread her legs then and there.

      "I'll wait." she said aloud as nurture overtook nature.

      "What?"

       "Oh," she covered, "I was thinking about the wine..."

       "OK," he replied taking two tulip glasses from the cabinet. "Shall we?" he asked, pointing the way to the bedroom which was no more than 50 feet down the hall and she pranced to lead the way.

Sylvia had a very sexy strut in high heels. She walked like a model, placing one foot directly in front of the other, wiggling and ringing cat bells all the way. In what was no more than 20 steps Robert was again firm and ready for action. He knew she would do this and knew he would be ready.

On entering the room, she let him pass so she could close and lock the door. No one else was in the house, but it was a good precaution. He put the tray of wine bucket and glasses.

        "Before we have sex I think we should take care of something." she said. I read something very interesting on the Internet some time ago and I've done something about it.

         "What was that." he said.

         "There was an English psychologist, some time ago, named Dorothy Spencer who thought that the ideal way to take care of issues in a marriage was through corporal punishment." she said sweetly.

         "What?"

         "When either of us does something really wrong we should let the other one spank us in order that we won't do it again." and she grinned.

          "Well, I don't know about that."

          "I've done something about it." and she went to the dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a two-foot long paddle.

           "What?" he exclaimed.

           "You used the "N" word and I think you should associate that infraction with a good spanking.   But, I'll prove that I really love you afterwards." she said pursing her lips in a kissing gesture.

           "Oh my God! I don't believe this!"

           "I want to try it. You'll get it today and I'll get it when I do something wrong."

           "Like what?"

           "Buy something stupidly expensive?"

           "Or flirt with someone?"

           "I suppose, but now bend over and say the "N" word. I'm going to train you not to do that."

Robert was in a state of utter disbelief, but he complied bending over to put his forearms on the bed as Sylvia took her position with the paddle in hand.

            "Say it."

            "Nigger"

                                       "WHAP!"

The paddle struck with astounding force and Robert wasn't sure he felt anything for a moment, but then...

             "Again"

             "Nigger"

             "WHAP!"

This was a different story. Where the first swat awakened his pain sensors the second was felt instantly, like an electric shock. Suddenly his fanny was in flames.

             "Again."

             "Oh God no."

             "Again!"

             "Nigger" he virtually whispered.

              "WHAP!"

              "I don't ever want to hear that word again!

                       "WHAP!" "WHAP!" "WHAP!" "WHAP!"

And, poor Robert cried real tears of pain, but she put the paddle away and pulled him up. "I think it's time." She said offering her hand and helping hime to his feet. She took two steps to the "bean bag chair" they kept in the bedroom for these occasions, removed her jacket and skirt, sat on the beanbag and rolled back to present her complete welcoming posture. Robert knelt between her legs still with tears streaming from his eyes.

He came closer and she took him in hand to guide him to her "mountain of love," which was more like Vesuvius than Whitney. When he was at her lips she thought she was going to explode in anticipation and guided him in. He entered with ease slipping all the way into her as her perception turned into a doughnut with a great rod running through it, tickling and titillating with meaning that comes only from a mutual gift shared in an act of love. She raised her legs to draw him in more and the bells tinkled happily and she nearly laughed in joy.

Soon he was sliding out, paused, chilling the vulva wetting his penis. The insertion gave her a new sensation and she inhaled, moaning in surprise to bring her legs down and arch her back. Now the high heels were awkward and prevented her from getting good contact with the floor. She wanted to kick them off, but decided not to. They were part of her now.

His thrusting accelerated and his breathing deepened. She didn't want him to go off yet.

         "Honey?" she said.

         "Yes."

          "Not yet, OK?"

          "No dear, of course not." and he pulled back, stopping for a moment to cool off. When he pushed forward again she felt like he was putting an ice penis into her, but it was exciting and she could feel herself beginning to climax. Every stroke brought her closer, now she wanted it. She wanted his sperm. "Where is this coming from?" she asked herself as an animal instinct overwhelmed her and she found herself in a new place.

Suddenly she was transported to the day she took her orals and wanted to do this for the committee to show them what was really important in life. "All their damn silly questions..." and she thought she would giggle at the prospect of having "the faculty graduate committee" in the room watching this performance, but the giggle started in a different place. It radiated from between her legs, in the center of her universe, a real "Big Bang!"

         "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she started screaming as she lifted her legs to try to obtain some relief from the wonderful, but overwhelming sensation. The bells rang in frantically as she shook her legs and looking up she had to admire her bizarre shoes. Yes, they were silly, but now she knew why she would wear them again, and again.

On feeling her spasms and hearing her exclamations Robert let go with a charge that was so great he was surprised some of it didn't emerge from her mouth. He felt like someone had been drilling for oil between his legs. Half a dozen glands that were normally full were now on "Empty" and aching.

His penis shuddered and shimmered in the spasms of Sylvia's vagina, milking it for the last of his fluids. He fell between her breasts for a moment and she hugged him as she would a child. He was whimpering like a baby, his butt was still stinging mightily. In a few minutes he slipped a very limp penis out of her, smiled and crawled onto the bed. She threw a comforter over him and left the room quietly.

Normally she hated wearing high heels, the way they jammed her toes, slammed the ball of her foot with every step and made her swayback, but something was different, and entertaining as she went tinkling down the hall. She wondered if a belled cat would give Robert an erection now.

As he slept she took down a picture and hung the paddle in its' place. This would be their symbol of love and balance in their marriage. She could only wonder when it would be her turn and what it would be like.