Bath time

You think you deserve a treat after being spanked, teased and denied all afternoon and decide to run yourself a bubble bath. You deliberately ignore the fact that from now on, every afternoon (and every morning, too) is likely to involve these three elements, to a greater or lesser extent. One thing's for sure: being aroused twenty-four hours a day and pleasuring multiple men and women during that time is going to require a more intensive hygiene regimen, unless you want to stink of sex half the time.

Whilst waiting for the bath to fill, you take a good look at yourself in the mirror. From the front, not much has changed, apart from being obviously and intensely aroused, but looking over your shoulder, your bum is quite rosy and very slightly bruised. Your soles are cleaner than you would expect after going barefoot all day and show no signs of abrasion. They're still soft, supple and sensitive, despite walking over rough tarmac and sharp-edged flagstones without causing you any pain worth mentioning. You tie up your hair so it doesn't get wet in the bath. Washing it is fine, but the drying is a chore you'd rather avoid for tonight.

Once the water is deep enough, you sink into it gratefully, the warmth easing the last remaining soreness in your buttocks. You luxuriate for a while before even picking up the soap, but then take the time to thoroughly scrub every inch of exposed skin. When you finish, you feel as clean as you've ever been. You're also incredibly horny.

A dildo is propped up on the side of the bath. This is not a change wrought by the Rulebook; you left it there after washing it a few nights ago. A spiral glass ridge runs the length of the straight glass cylinder. It's not a great shape for finding the G-spot, but certainly does the job when it comes to filling your sex with overwhelming sensations. You believe it would have been eye-wateringly expensive, but this one was a gift from a former lover.

You slide your crotch under the waterfall tap and set it on a gentle trickle, justifying yourself that the bathwater is starting to feel a little cool, anyway. You only tease your labia with the tip of the dildo for a few seconds before you can't resist impaling yourself. It's not too thick and you can usually take the full length fairly quickly, but tonight you're so wet it slips in all the way on the first thrust. Your eyes roll back in your head at the intensity of the pleasure and you start to pound yourself with overpowering urgency, water streaming over your engorged clitoris. Aching with desire after the day's frustrations, you reach the brink of orgasm in moments and whimper aloud as you ride the edge, so close to a mind-blowing climax your skin is tingling.

One more thrust and you would cum, you know it, but suddenly your hand stops, the dildo arrested in its cyclic motion. You try to **** yourself to continue, your sex throbbing around the rigid shaft, but your body won't respond. Then, you realize you're so horny you can climax even without moving, just by clenching your pelvic muscles. The peak you've been denied is there, within your grasp and then you yank the phallus from your vagina and push yourself away from the tap, howling in frustration as you deny yourself.

You thrash around in the water, digging your nails into your palms with the effort not to cum, even though cumming is what you want most in all the world right now. You know the only thing preventing you from experiencing the greatest pleasure known to woman is a few words written in pencil in a book mere paces away, but although you know it's arbitrary and unenforceable, you can't bring yourself to defy the rule you wrote down.

It doesn't stop you trying, though. Twice more, you fuck yourself to the edge of orgasm and twice more, your hopes are dashed at the last possible moment. It's too much. You drag yourself out of the bath, not even bothering with a towel, stumbling through your flat, leaving wet footprints in your wake. You pull the Rulebook from your bag, frantically leaf through it and put your eraser to the rule preventing you from giving yourself release. You try to rub out the words.

Your hand won't move.

Panic engulfs you. You try harder, but just like with the dildo, your body won't obey. You move to a different rule at random, and this one you can change easily. Unfortunately, the one you actually want to alter remains stubbornly in ****. Desperately, you go through the book cover to cover, checking you didn't miss a rule left over from the previous owner, but there's nothing. Then you reread every rule, both those you've written and the ones that were there before, explaining how the book works. You can't find anything that would explain your difficulty.

Finally, after trying everything else you can think of, you attempt to erase the offending rule again.

It works.

You're stunned. For a moment, you think you must have imagined not being able to delete the rule, but it did happen, you're sure of it. Your first instinct is to cum now you can, but the panic and terror has diminished your arousal to the point that it is no longer unbearably urgent, so instead you take a moment to think.

If you had been able to rub out the rule first time, you would have given yourself an orgasm, of that you have no doubt. Now, you could choose to bring yourself to climax, but you've regained enough control to be able to refuse, if you wish. Maybe that's the difference. You can't erase a rule if doing so will inevitably cause you to break it, but you can if it just gives you the option.

Thoughtfully, you write back in everything you rubbed out and immediately, your clit starts to throb with arousal again. You want to cum so badly, but you won't, not tonight, at least. You want to see this through.

While you have the Rulebook open, you add a line to the rule about reciprocating orgasms to make it clear this is not cheating and does not cause jealousy. Also, you feel a bit sorry for the wannabe Asian sluts, so you pick an Asian country at random and head up a new page, writing a rule that any woman applying for dual citizenship out of a desire to be bound by Asian clothing customs will have her wish granted. For good measure, you make sure this policy is publicized internationally.

On wobbly legs, you stand up and belatedly grab towels to dry both yourself and the floor, turn off the tap (which you're ashamed to realize was trickling this whole time) and empty the bath, making sure to rinse down the sides. Cleaning the dildo, it takes all your willpower not to thrust it back inside yourself, but that was what got you into trouble in the first place. Finally, you decide to go to bed, although you don't expect to get much sleep, aroused and frustrated as you are.

However, something else you are is exhausted and before you know it, your alarm is startling you awake. You normally stir before it goes off, but you stayed up far too late last night. For a moment, you wonder why you slept in the nude, then you remember: you can't wear any clothes unless somebody picks them for you. You can't really believe the yesterday truly happened, but a quick look in the wardrobe confirms that it was no dream and dashes any plans you might have had of knocking up a neighbour and asking them to dress you. There is so little actual clothing in your flat that whatever they chose would almost certainly be more risqué than complete nudity. Still, not needing to get dressed gives you plenty of time to wash and style your hair, in addition to making breakfast and your usual morning tasks.

Whilst eating, you have the television on and are pleased to see that on your usual choice of breakfast news show, all the female presenters are completely topless. The ones sitting behind desks might even be naked, for all you know. You wouldn't say they were very petite or small breasted, but they're certainly not big girls and their exposure might well be mandatory rather than voluntary. Their guests and male colleagues show no reticence in copping a feel in front of the cameras and the sports correspondent and female anchor openly grope each other's breasts throughout the former's report on international cricket, which in your opinion, makes it decidedly more watchable.

As the time to leave for work approaches, you find yourself standing at the door, naked (of course), handbag over your shoulder containing the Rulebook in addition to its usual contents. You're shaking a little at the thought of going out again in the nude, but take a deep breath and step across the threshold. Thankfully, you meet none of your neighbours on your way to the bus stop. You often used to walk to work, but although your feet seem to cope well with being barefoot all day, you don't want to push your luck and decide on public transport.

At the early hour, there are few pedestrians, but at least half go out of their way to slap your bottom as they pass. Now that you know why they're doing it, you enjoy it a lot more and make sure to always flash them a smile of gratitude for accommodating your fetish. Your usual stop is much closer than the one you used yesterday and you arrive in just a few minutes. You recognize a couple of the people waiting as regulars, including a middle-aged businessman wearing a slightly out of fashion grey suit. You've never spoken to him before, but to your surprise, he greets you by name.

"Hi, Jenna. I didn't see you last night. Do you fancy a hard spanking or would you like me to rub your clitty today?"

You usually get the same bus in the opposite direction on your way home, but of course you were on a much later one last night. Starting the day with a hard spanking may not leave your bum in the best shape, but going over his knee might stop other people groping you and arousal is possibly harder for you to bear than pain at the moment. Frankly, you're just grateful he's giving you the choice when he's perfectly within his rights to do whichever he prefers.