Saturday, December 5, 2009

More Sex. But Not As Most Men Know It

When I walk by her she often grabs something: a tit, a ball, a cock, an ass cheek or whatever is in her reach. Since I am in uniform whenever we are together, it is as easy as reaching for a ripe fruit on a low hanging branch. I could complain, but I won’t for a couple of reasons: she has a right to reach and grab, and I love it when she does it even if it is occasionally painful.

During the last couple of days she has commented on the lack of ownership marks on my cheeks. She hinted that I need to be re-marked just to be sure that if I run into that sort of company, he or she would know that I am owned. I know what all that is about, but I can’t justify responding to her remark in any way that would cause her to accelerate or stop the time scale of her action. Generally I just smile, and she knows how I feel.

Yesterday I think she planned to work on my ass. I figured that, because the riding crop was there as I made the bed in the morning. By evening, we had been up for close to 24 hours already, so after we finished watching a movie she said, “I could re-mark you now, or do it tomorrow.”

I was already half asleep, and thinking that having my ass whipped would get me out of the pleasant drowsy mood, I said, “Tomorrow, if you please.”

Well, today is the “tomorrow” mentioned above. This time she selected her instrument with care and with purpose. Yes, she needs the thrill, but she also wants to leave her mark. She is not cruel or sadistic, but she makes sure that I know my place. She chose a bath brush for the occasion. Its length is 14 inches, and its weight is substantial.

She had me in the bedroom this morning. “Assume the position,” she ordered. I did. “How many?” she wanted me to choose.


“Choose again.”

“Two.” I really did not know whether choosing any number over another would make a difference since she would give me whatever she decided was a good number. Hell, I could have chosen 56, and still not know what she had in mind. She began, and continued until twelve. Then when I thought she was done, she whacked my poor ass once again.

She must have been pleased with re result, for she said, “Stay there while I take some pictures.” I did, and she did. About an hour later as I finished some chores and for the first time I had a sore ass she stopped me again to capture another development of the temporary alteration of my anatomy. I am sure all that will look different later, and she will probably preserve that too. Hold your breath until I report on it. Meanwhile there may be other things going on.

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