Of course, he readily agreed to these conditions but I don't think even he knew quite what was in store for him. I wanted him to be absolutely clear on what I meant and expected. He would be subject to my will (since he had none of his own) and he would do my bidding, regardless of the circumstances. In effect, I would be the head of the house as well as our marriage.
I would agree to marry him only if he was willing to abide by all my decisions.
While most women in my position would have probably laughed in his face, I actually gave it some careful consideration and then came back with my own counter proposal. This had the effect of giving him the impression that I had a serious interest in him, and before long, he went so far as to ask me to marry him. It goes without saying that Bob didn't fall into that particular category, but on the other hand, I didn't mind getting a steady stream of gifts including jewelry, clothes and eventually a new car, so for the time being, I decided to keep stringing him on for a while. I was also enjoying dating several men at once, sleeping with those that I thought were the sexiest and best looking. I was getting plenty of notice doing my modeling and if that were not enough, the skimpy outfits I liked wearing certainly got me more than just looks. Still, my girlfriends told me to dump the wimp (who they thought was nothing but a big sissy) and get one of the hot studs that were beating a path to my doorway every day. Now, a girl needs security, and even though I, as a lingerie model, was being bombarded with propositions from plenty of hunky men, none had the financial backing that Bob did. He was quick to brag about how much money he had inherited and sure enough, he proved to be a big spender in the time we were together. Finally one day, I relented and we went out on a first date. I more or less tolerated him, since we worked together and he pestered me continually about dating him. I can't say that he impressed me, either with his looks, or his physique, which I thought were rather pathetic, actually. It all started three years ago when I met Bob. Why would a 23 year old man require a babysitter, you ask? Because I don't always have the time or inclination to change his wet diapers or put him to bed in his nursery, so I hired Julie to help out on occasions like today. It is especially well known to his babysitter, Julie, a girl just out of high school that is five years junior to him. I say everybody, because Bobby's unique situation is well known to all our friends, as well as my mother. I pulled his diapers down and put him over my lap as I would any misbehaving child, and paddled his bottom until he was bawling like the big crybaby everyone knows he is. It could be the fact that I arbitrarily extended his sentence of chastity for another month, or it could be that he was upset about the date I was going on this evening. I'm not sure what it was that finally sent Bobby over the edge today. His sobbing is due to a very sore bottom, for which I take credit foróalthough to be fair, my favorite wooden paddle should also take some of the credit too. My husband, Bobby, is standing with his nose in the corner, quietly sobbing, as he contemplates the ill-advised temper tantrum that he threw this afternoon.