My name is John, though I go by rgjohn, and I’ve written a few erotic books and some content for Literotica. When Emma read my work, she suggested I write about loving, female-led relationships—a genre she’s passionate about. It’s been a while since I’ve written, but a fan recently reignited my interest by asking me to turn his detailed journal into a story. Initially skeptical, I found myself captivated by his account of a Female-Led Relationship (FLR), a concept I hadn’t explored before. With a mix of curiosity and research, I’ve decided to craft a multi-part story spanning over 20 chapters. If you are just starting, you should begin your journey back at chapter 1.
Chapter 12: More Boundaries Dropping, Tease And Denial/Ruined, Demerits, Pee Sitting Down
Anna and I spent the next several days talking deeply about FLR—discussing discipline, boundaries, and my evolving role within our relationship. It became clear that I was no longer the head of the household… if I ever truly had been. There was a shift in her demeanor. She carried herself with a newfound confidence, her tone sharper, her instructions firmer. She was more demanding, more insistent on getting what she wanted… and that included me pleasuring her with my mouth.
Every night, sometimes twice, I eagerly fulfilled her desires. Her responsiveness amazed me; she climaxed quicker, with an intensity that left me breathless. Yet, even when she had finished, she rarely dismissed me right away. I would spend what felt like hours between her thighs, worshiping her, savoring every moment. And the truth was, I loved it.
True to her word, Anna teased and denied me daily. Her playful torment was relentless, but I never crossed the line. I resisted the urge to climax because I knew the consequences of failure would be far worse than the ache of denial.
What surprised me most, though, was how much I began to embrace this dynamic. With every step deeper into FLR, every turn of the proverbial dial, I felt a growing sense of… ‘rightness’. Was it enjoyment? Perhaps. But maybe a better word was ‘acceptance’.
It was as if I had finally surrendered to something I had always been seeking, even if I hadn’t known it before. And as Anna’s confidence in her role flourished, so did my devotion to her.
It was impossible not to notice that Anna had started wearing more provocative clothing around the house. Often, she would lounge in a cut-off tee shirt that hovered just below her breasts, leaving the soft curves of her lower breasts tantalizingly exposed. Pairing it with tiny panties, which barely covering her front and leaving her buttocks completely bare. She was a vision of effortless seduction.
At first, I thought her change in dress might have been coincidental, just a comfortable choice on her part. But the more I observed, the more obvious it became: this was intentional. She was dressing this way on purpose, a calculated effort to tease and distract me. And oh, how well it worked.
Whenever Anna was within my line of sight, my eyes were glued to her. The sway of her hips, the glimpse of smooth skin, the curve of her smile… it was near impossible to focus on anything else. She carried herself with an air of playful confidence, her every movement deliberate, her every glance knowing.
And that smile… that sexy, knowing smile. It spoke volumes. She knew exactly what she was doing to me. She knew the frustration, the hunger, the ache she was cultivating deep within me, and she reveled in it. It was as if she had found the perfect way to hypnotize me.
Anna wasn’t just testing me; she was enjoying herself. And as maddening as it was, I couldn’t help but admire her for it. She had me right where she wanted me, and she knew it.
Several mornings later, I was in the middle of a vivid dream when I woke up startled. Blinking my eyes open, I was surprised to see Anna sitting next to me on the sofa, her hand on me, stroking me gently. As typical, she was wearing a cut off tee shirt, and the tiny panties. It seemed to be her clothing of choice now.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said with a soft smile.
“Uh… what… what time is it?” I asked, still groggy. It had a particularity busy night pleasing Anna. She had become almost insatiable.
“Nearly nine,” she replied.
“I’m sorry. I guess I was tired. I’ll get up and make breakfast,” I said, sitting up quickly.
“It’s fine,” she said pushing me back down onto the sofa. “I’ve already had my coffee and spent the morning reading. I’m almost through all the documents you gave me, and I printed a few more. There’s so much information about FLR, and honestly, I’m going to like this concept a lot.”
I tried to respond, but her slow, deliberate movements distracted me completely.
“You didn’t shave last night,” she said casually.
“No,” I admitted. “I was exhausted and just crashed.”
“I like the stubble,” she said, studying me. “A lot of guys do that intentionally now—it looks rugged. And your dark beard makes your blue eyes sparkle.”
I smiled. “Do you want me to keep it?”
“Yes, I would like that,” she said simply.
“Okay,” I replied.
Then, with a playful glint in her eye, she added, “I was surprised to see you slept naked.”
Embarrassed, I hesitated. I hadn’t intended for her to see me like that. I was usually up before her.
“I like that too,” she said, cutting through my awkwardness. “In fact, I think you should do it all the time.”
“Sleep naked?” I asked, surprised.
“Yes,” she said with a sly smile, “but also stay naked in the house. I read that some FLR wives prefer that for their ‘house’ husbands.”
House husband, I though… I guess that is what I was becoming. “Why do you want me naked all the time?” I asked cautiously.
“Because I can, and I like to see your body naked,” she said with a twinkle in her eye but also a look that told me that I should probably keep my mouth shut.
I couldn’t tell if she was joking or serious.
“Are you serious?” I asked hesitantly.
She gave me a sharp look and said, “You’d better not question me again, or you’ll earn the hairbrush.”
I swallowed nervously, realizing that she wasn’t teasing. “I’m sorry. I was just curious,” I said quickly.
Softening slightly, she explained, “If you must know, there’s something about having a man in the house without his clothes on. It creates a sense of vulnerability and submission. Maybe it’s a control thing. I’ll have to read more about it.” She smiled as she said this, her tone light again.
“Uh… okay,” I said, feeling a bit strange about the idea.
“When I came in this morning, I noticed you were already hard under the sheet,” she continued, her hand still moving slowly. “Were you having a sexy dream?”
“Actually, I was,” I admitted.
“Was the dream about me?” she asked, her expression curious.
“Yes,” I said honestly. “You were… um… well, you were sucking me.”
She smirked. “In your dreams only,” she teased.
I wished she was joking, but I knew that she wasn’t.
“What’s going to happen when you’re wearing a cage and it gets like this?” she asked, gesturing to my persistent arousal.
“I guess it’ll be hard, or too painful to get hard.”
“Aww, poor baby,” she said mockingly, her tone playful as she continued to stroke me.
“Uh… I’m getting close. Could you stop?” I said urgently.
“Oops,” she said, pulling her hand away. “I like teasing you. I have to be careful not to get carried away. I also love that you struggle so mightily not to spend your fluids. It really turns me on knowing that you are not allowed to climax… that your balls keep getting filled over and over with no relief… knowing that one mistake, one really long a hard stroke will send you over the edge.”
I moaned. “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” I said, half-joking.
“Not a chance,” she said with a smile, “that’s a thing of the past.”
I groaned in frustration as she changed the subject, but continued to stroke me.
“I thought we’d go to the farmer’s market this morning,” she said, resuming her casual stroking.
I moaned involuntarily, more because of the idea of going to the market than the stroking. “Don’t you usually go with Sally and your friends?” I asked, trying to mask my reaction.
“Yes, they’ll be there,” she said.
“But won’t I be a third wheel?” Hopping for a reprieve.
“Nope,” she said. “All the girls think you’re cute. They’ll be happy to see you.”
I groaned again, trying to mask my frustration with a sound that could be interpreted as pleasure. The thought of spending hours at the market made me want to beg off entirely.
“Stop!” I exclaimed instinctively.
Anna froze, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked down at me. “I don’t like that word, ‘stop,’ coming from you,” she said calmly but firmly. “It sounds too commanding. From now on, let’s use ‘hold,’ with a ‘please’ after it.”
“Uh… okay,” I replied, surprised but unable to argue with her reasoning. She resumed her slow, deliberate movements.
A moment later, the tension became too much again, and I stammered, “Hold, please.”
Anna’s hand stilled, and she smiled approvingly. “Good boy,” she said, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
“How long are we going to do this?” I asked, my voice tight with both anxiety and excitement. I wasn’t asking about our dynamic. I meant how many minutes of teasing I’d have to endure.
“You’ve got about ten more minutes,” she said thoughtfully. “You should use a timer. Otherwise, I might just keep going… indefinitely.”
Resigned, I sighed and picked up my phone, setting a timer for ten minutes. It already felt like an eternity, and we weren’t even halfway there.
As the minutes crept by, the “holds” came more frequently. Each pause heightened the tension, building a sharp edge of desperation in me. I could feel pre-cum pooling and dripping down her hand, my body betraying my arousal in the most obvious way.
“I love when you drool like that,” she said with a giggle, her smile wicked. “It’s almost like your little penis is crying for relief.”
“It is,” I said wryly, the tension making it hard to speak without trembling.
“Poor baby,” she teased, her favorite term now, one she wielded with both affection and playful dominance.
Finally, just seconds before the timer was set to go off, I choked out, “Hold, please.”
But it was too late. A small amount of watery fluid, followed by some that was a bit thicker, dribbled out and slid down to her hand.
Anna’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. It was clear she hadn’t expected that, and honestly, neither had I.
“Well, I guess that’s what they call a ‘ruined orgasm.’ The literature said it wouldn’t feel satisfying, and your sperm wouldn’t spurt… it would just dribble out. Did it feel good?” She wiped the goo on her hands on my bare stomach.
“No, not at all,” I admitted honestly. “You can tell because I’m still hard.”
“Huh,” she said thoughtfully, her lips curling into a smirk. “I kind of like that. But since we agreed you weren’t supposed to climax at all, you’ve earned ten demerits.”
My stomach dropped slightly. “What does a demerit mean?” I asked cautiously.
“It means you’ll get one stroke of a cane, paddle, hairbrush—whatever I decide—for each demerit,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Okay,” I said softly, already bracing myself for what was to come.
“You’d better get a journal and keep a record of the demerits too,” she continued, her voice taking on that no-nonsense edge I was becoming so familiar with. “And it better be accurate. Because if it’s not…” She paused for effect. “…I’ll just pick a number myself. And trust me, you won’t like it.”
Her words hung heavy in the air, a mix of authority, excitement, and something else… something neither of us had fully articulated yet.
“And by the way, the demerits you get going forward do not count the punishment you are due for losing your job,” she said.
I moaned softly and said, “I really have to go to the bathroom.” And I truly did.
Anna glanced at my obvious arousal and said, “How are you going to manage with that sticking up?”
I shrugged. “That’s the problem. Normally, it goes down pretty quickly once I get up. But… not after all the stroking. I’ll have to sit down and wait for it to settle.” Then I thought about how she had managed to make it go down several times already and felt a cold shiver go down my spine.
I got up to head to the guest bathroom. Anna followed me. Surprised, I paused and looked back at her.
“Uh… I’m going to pee,” I said hesitantly.
“I know,” she said, smiling. “I want to watch again. It was interesting at the park when I held it. Besides, I want to know everything about you. And don’t argue,” she added, her tone firm.
I knew Anna had seen me pee, or at least had been in the bathroom when I did it. Then I hesitated, realizing she was testing boundaries again. I wanted to make a snarky comment but decided against it. Instead, I walked into the bathroom, lifted the toilet lid, and stood in front of it. Another boundary crumbled. I didn’t even have privacy in my own bathroom now.
Anna’s voice broke the silence. “You know, I’ve never liked that.”
“Liked what?” I asked, trying to focus on willing my body to relax.
“That you pee standing up,” she said.
“All guys do. It’s how we’re made,” I said, surprised.
“I still don’t like it,” she replied. “Like every other guy, you can’t aim properly, and you tend to get it all over the porcelain. It’s gross. I’ve cleaned enough toilets after ex-boyfriends to know how nasty it is.”
I bit back another comment and just nodded.
“From now on, you’ll sit when you pee,” she said decisively. “No more messes. If I ever find any, you’ll be in big trouble. Besides,” she added, “you’ll have to sit down once you’re wearing a cage anyway.”
She was right about that. I sighed and sat down, feeling a mix of embarrassment and maybe a little humiliation. After all, she was standing right there in front of me as I tried to do my business.
Anna leaned casually against the wall, wearing just her panties and the cut-off top. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her nipples pressed against the fabric. It made it that much harder for me to relax. I had to look away.
It took several minutes of effort before my arousal subsided enough for me to relieve myself. When she heard the sound, she glanced up from her phone.
I pushed to speed things along, knowing my arousal would quickly return. Sure enough, as soon as I finished, my erection began to stir again, cutting off the flow prematurely.
Anna laughed, clearly amused. “You really do get hard so quickly now. I love that. It makes me feel good.”
Despite my frustration, I couldn’t help but smile at her comment. “Well, have you looked in the mirror lately.”
“Hmmm,” she said as she turned and posed in the mirror, turning one way and then the other before finally until her ass was displayed.
I had to change the subject. I stood up and said, “How about some breakfast?”
“Okay,” she replied, heading back to the kitchen. “But don’t forget to wash your hands thoroughly first.”
