Eva Monroe
18 mins read
Published over 2 years ago

Walking into the living room, kicking off my heels, and setting down my purse, I start absentmindedly talking about my day before bothering to look up.

“If I never give another presentation again, it’ll be too soon-” I stop short, noticing for the first time that you’re lounging on the couch flipping through a magazine, next to a hamper piled high with unfolded laundry. Across the room, I can see dirty dishes in the kitchen, spilling over from the counter into the sink. My exhaustion swiftly turns to annoyance.

“Babe. Seriously?”

You look up at me, all wide-eyed innocence.


I gesture to the mess around you.

“You had the whole day off. What have you been doing?”

“Um… Relaxing?” you reply.

“I know you had a long week-”

“It’s my first day off in eight days,” you interrupt, with just a hint of whining. “And I was at the restaurant late every night.”

Taking off my coat, I roll my eyes.

“Totally. And when I have a day off from work, do you know what I do? I clean, and organize, and run errands-”

Looking sheepish now, you sigh and sit up a little straighter.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. I was being selfish. Can I make it up to you? Pour you some wine… rub your feet?”

I thought about it for a minute, and while all of that sounded nice…

“You can pour me some wine, and then you can take care of this mess. But first, you can help me relax. On your knees.”

With the slightest grin, you raise your eyebrows, watching to see what I’ll do next. When I lean back against the wall... and slowly lift my skirt over my waist… you hurriedly slide off the couch, making your way over to me on your knees, as instructed.

As you place your hands on either side of my lace panties, I run my fingers through your hair. You look up at me, awaiting further instruction.

“Take your time. I want to feel how much you love using your mouth to make me come.”

“Yes, ma'am. Thank you for letting me tend to you. You deserve it.”

“You’re damn right I do.” I start to rest my head against the wall, but notice you’re still waiting expectantly. I smile down at you. “You may proceed.”

Sliding my thong down the length of my bare legs, you slip them off over one ankle at a time and gently set them aside. Kissing a trail up the inside of my left thigh, your hands find their way to my bare ass. You squeeze my cheeks, giving them a little mini-massage, and I moan a little, spreading my legs wider to give you better access.

With a masterful tongue, you lick gently and deliberately along the length of me, tasting between the delicate folds of my labia… In a moment of frustration, I long for you to give my clit some attention, and then I remember that - for once - you’re the one doing my bidding.

“Not that much time,” I lightly scold you, gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “Are you sorry for not lifting a finger around here all day?”

“Yes, I am…”

“Show me how sorry. Give me the orgasm I deserve.”

The instant I release my grip, your tongue is on my clit. Expertly alternating between light licks and perfect pressure, subtle teasing and direct concentration, you moan into me. The vibrations send a shiver coursing through my body… 

Your right hand starts to caress my ass in the tender cue you give me right before a spanking, but we both know who’s in charge here. My ass will remain unmarked unless I ask for it.

Without thinking, I start enthusiastically writhing against you, making it hard for you to focus your efforts… Grabbing my hips, you hold me steady and work me over until I am moaning, panting, coming in waves of delirium.

As the rapture subsides, every muscle in my body relaxes, even the ones I didn’t realize were tense. Catching my breath, I lazily run my fingers through your hair, your face resting against my thigh.

“Thank you. That was exactly what I needed.”

“It was my pleasure.” You smile up and me, and I caress your cheek.

“Now finish your chores,” I say with a wink. You laugh, standing up to your full height. 

“Yes, ma'am…” 

Wrapping your arms around my waist, you nuzzle my neck, treating me to light nibbles and kisses.

“Nice try,” I tease, gently pushing you back. Squeezing out from between you and the wall, I head to the bathroom to freshen up while you get to work.

After cleaning myself up I put on fresh panties, then change out of my blouse into a light, cozy sweater. The skirt I wore to work is actually pretty comfy, so I decide to leave it on, basking in the feeling of hiking it over my waist and commanding you to your knees… 

Back in the main room, I find you wiping down counters, the dishes all cleared and loaded into the dishwasher. I settle into the couch, relaxing with my phone while you start in on folding the laundry.

After a while, you clear your throat. I look up to find you watching me with a sheepish look on your face.

“I really am sorry,” you say.

“I know. As soon as you’re done with that you can give me a foot rub, and all will be forgiven.”

With a small smile, you buckle down on your folding.

“As you wish,” you reply, and it’s my turn to grin.

When all the clothes are folded neatly in the basket, you sit at the other end of the couch, taking my feet in your lap and surprise me with your words.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” I set my phone down to focus on your hands kneading my tender soles. My eyes start blinking sleepily.

“For being lenient, and letting me make it up to you when I’m an ass. You work really hard, and you still find time to get so much done - keeping things tidy, running errands, picking up groceries on your way home…”

At the word ‘groceries’ my eyes fly all the way open. You stop mid-sentence, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, no. Babe. Did you forget?”

I can already hear the disappointment in your voice, and it makes my insides go all twisty.

“I… I did. I’m so sorry-”

“Oh, no! Damn it. You insisted-”

“I know-”

“I could’ve gone myself, but you insisted.”

I know, I wanted to help!”

“And I appreciate that…” you sighed, clearly checking your frustration. “But now I have my investors coming for brunch in the morning, and only about half of what I need to cook for them.”

“I am so so sorry.” I tuck my feet under me and slide closer to you. “I’ll go to the store right now.”

Looking me over, a mischievous glint flashes in your eyes. 

“It was very careless of you to forget,” your voice is full of playful reproach.

Fully aware of my mistake, and eager to make it up to you, I lower my lashes and try to look as remorseful as I feel.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“We’ve talked before about what happens when you forget things. How inconvenient it is for other people.”

I nod, and look up at you with wide eyes. My self-satisfied smugness from moments ago is gone, as I am suddenly all too eager to earn your forgiveness.

“Let me fix it. I’ll go to the store and get everything you need, and I’ll get you any bottle of wine you want. My treat.”

Shifting back a little, you study me, deciding my fate.

“That’s a good start, but since you keep forgetting things, I think we should make this little trip to the grocery… extra memorable, don’t you?”

My cheeks flush, not knowing exactly what you have in store, but knowing that you’re right all the same. I nod, biting my lip.

“Yes… I do. I need some help, learning my lesson.”

With a smirk, you stand up and offer me your hand, which I accept with humility.

“Damn right you do.”

Leading me into the bedroom, you sit on the edge of the bed and look me over again, scrutinizing the current state of my outfit.

“The skirt is good… Did you put on clean panties?” you ask.


“Take them off.”

I do as I’m told, sliding my panties down to my ankles and stepping out of them… just as I did before, but with far more contrition.

Next, you tell me to take off my sweater, and put on the tiny white t-shirt of mine that you like so much. Once I’ve obeyed, you contemplate the change.

“Lose the bra,” you command.

I do as I’m told, unhooking the clasp and sliding out of the straps, pulling the bra off and out from under my shirt. As soon as I do, my nipples perk up, plainly visible through the tight, white cotton. Inadvertently, I let out a small whimper.

“Is something wrong?” you ask.

“Um, everyone will be able to… see my nipples.” I blush furiously as I finish the sentence.


“So, um, I mean…”

Before I can complete the thought, you stand up and pull me over to you. Lifting my skirt, you spank my bare ass three times in rapid succession.

“You need to learn your lesson, right?”

“Y-yes… I do. I need to learn my lesson.”

Straightening my skirt, you take hold of my nipples, pinching and squeezing them. Then you step back and admire your handiwork.

“I think shopping in this slutty little outfit without panties on and your perky nipples on display will be really memorable, don’t you?”

Properly chastened, I nod in agreement.

“Yes, very memorable.”

“Good girl.”

When we reach the front door, you point toward a pair of my flats. I’m surprised, having been sure you would put me in heels.

“Flats?” I ask.

“I thought about heels, but the point is for you to look a little risque, nothing more. I don’t want anyone propositioning you at the grocery store.”

I smile and slip into the flats, leaning in to embrace you.

“Thank you,” I murmur into your neck.

“For what?” you ask.

“For asserting your ownership over me.”

With a sly grin, you lean back give me a quick, sharp smack on the ass.

“Just trying to return the favor.”

I laugh, remembering how less than an hour ago you were on your knees in service of my forgiveness, and enjoying how seamlessly our roles had flipped.

“And doing a damn good job of it,” I purr, moving in to nuzzle your neck.

“All right, all right… None of that you naughty girl. Not until after you take care of the shopping.”

And with that, you usher me out the door.

The summer heat has cooled into a warm and breezy evening. As the wind gently wafts through my hair, I’m thankful to be wearing a tight skirt over my absolutely nothing else.

When we get to the store, you put the car in park and do one last appraisal of my outfit, then reach over to pinch both my nipples. I squirm in my seat as they stand at attention for you, and feel my cheeks flushing a bright pink.

“I know we’re here to teach you about not being forgetful, but just as a little reminder, tell me what the rule is about all this?” You gesture to my tight skirt and hard nipples.

This is a rule I know well. “It’s only okay to show off my body because I’m with you,” I answer.

“That’s right,” you give my thigh a little squeeze of possession. “That’s my girl.”

“And you’re my beau,” I slide closer to you, giving your neck light kisses and flicks of my tongue.

You respond, slipping your hand into my hair and tilting my head back, kissing me deeply. I moan into you, craning my body toward yours… 

Pulling away abruptly, you open the car door.

“Nope, not until after shopping,” you declare, and I follow you out of the car, suppressing my pout. No need to get myself into even more trouble.

I pull out the shopping list that I made earlier that morning, and review it with you on our way across the parking lot.

“So first we need to grab the creme fraiche, and then-”

You stop me before I can finish.

“Actually, I figured we would divide and conquer.”

My eyes widen. “Really? Even with me…” I look down at my tawdry ensemble.

“Mhmm… I think I’d like to watch you walk around the store like that from afar, and enjoy seeing how people react to you.”

A warm tingle fills me from top to toe. It’s like I’d almost forgotten we were going to be in public. Then as if on cue, the automatic doors open and an older couple walks out. The man doesn’t notice me, but his wife gives me a disapproving once over.

“See? Like that,” you grin.

I nod, and dutifully tear the list in half, handing you one and taking the other. Putting your hand on the small of my back, you lead me into the store.

I’ve also apparently developed amnesia around how freezing grocery stores are in the summertime. I hadn’t even thought to ask about bringing a cardigan… though certainly that would’ve run counter to your plan of giving everyone a full view of my pert nipples. Walking around in this frigid air will surely keep them nice and firm.

Sending me off with a light pat on the butt, you go one way and I go the other, small baskets crooked over our arms. It takes mere moments for me to notice people openly staring at my chest. The teenage kid bagging groceries… the dad pushing a stroller past me… the woman stocking the shelves with soup cans… It’s like my nipples are little flashlights, signaling everyone I pass - ‘Hey! Over here! Look at me!’

My eyes search the store until I see you over by the deli, just as I walk past a few twenty-something guys who all pretty shamelessly ogle me. One can hardly blame them, considering my nipples are as perky as ever. Meeting your gaze, you give me smile and a wave. I sigh, smile, and wave back, then go about filling my basket.

The most overt encounter is a guy in the produce section, who sidles up a little too close to me. I work hard to avoid making eye contact, but he stretches his arm out right in front of me to grab some tomatoes, muttering a quiet “‘Scuse me.”

I instinctively glance at him to reply, but before I can say anything he looks up from staring at my tits and says, “Nice shirt,” with a lascivious grin.

I tense and take a step back, and you are by my side in an instant, wrapping your arm protectively around my waist.

“There you are, babe. How’s your list coming?”

I relax into you, turning away from the sleazy guy. From then on you stick by my side, having decided that last “appreciation” of my nipples was a little too sordid.

Nonetheless, plenty of people make no effort to hide their staring while we finish our shopping together. Occasionally you reach across me to grab something off the shelves, “accidentally” grazing my breasts. Once you even manage to angle your body in such a way that allows you to secretly tweak each of my nipples in turn. I have to bite my lip to keep from crying out.

Between all the strangers gawking and your subtle caressing, I am getting crazy turned on. And without panties, I feel increasingly in danger of walking around with slippery juices running down my legs.

When I mention it to you, as I feel is only right, you smirk and give my ass a squeeze.

“Sounds about right,” you murmur into my ear. “Maybe we should go home and end this lesson with a really, really memorable orgasm?” 

“That sounds perfect, I would love one,” I smile and look up, practically batting my eyelashes.

You lean down again, giving my earlobe a lick and a nibble. I almost let out a moan as your breath warms my skin, and you whisper… 

“Who says I was talking about you?”

Laughing, I playfully swat you away. You pull me closer and lead me toward the front of the store so we can checkout and get home.

“What?” you shrug, all innocence. “It’s my turn.”

And to be fair, I certainly can’t argue with that.

On our way to the register, I grab the bottle of wine I promised you. As the cashier rings up our purchases, you make small talk with him. I can tell that we’ve both noticed him trying really hard to not stare at my nipples, straining against my t-shirt.

With our shopping finished, you lead me back through the parking lot, your arm draped across my shoulder. Making our way toward home, my body on display for you and my lesson almost complete, I remember how willing you were to make amends to me, and I vow to do the same for you. 

Nothing fills me with more warmth and happiness than the assured thought that you are mine, as I am yours.

More by Eva Monroe:

After Hours
Alone Time
The Art of Seduction
At Your Service

Coming Home

The Consequences of Misbehavior
Dream Come True

Girls Night Out
How to Treat a Naughty Girl
In The Morning

The Personal Trainer
Punished at the Office

Slave Training

To Sir, With Lust
Where I Belong

Written by
Eva Monroe

Eva Monroe is a gal’s gal, guy’s gal, gal about town. She has a very active imagination and lots of opinions and frequently writes those things down. From screenplays to news articles to academic essays, Eva loves taking on the challenge of writing in new mediums, and her smut-tastic adventures with Bellesa are some of the most fun she’s ever had. Eva also co-produced two award-winning short films and has an MFA in screenwriting. Eva Monroe is not her real name.