HNT / NOT WHAT YOU WANT TO SEE.

On Thursdays, I usually share a revealing photo of my Mistress (with her approval of course). The private (via email) and public comments I get are often quite appreciative. Mistress has some lovely parts and her fans like to see them.

Sadly, today I am sharing something else. Yes, that’s my reddened bottom. Mistress figured that the spanking she gave me, coupled by the embarrassment of having to post the evidence would teach me a lesson.

And while it’s a lesson I had already learned, repetition can be a good re-enforcement, like the way the nuns in 7th grade made us recite those damned multiplication tables every morning. I am never at a loss when it comes to the question: “What is 6 x 7”.

Yesterday started well until Mistress perused the twitter page of the woman I mistakenly became involved with about 2 years ago, while we were doing that whole commuter marriage thing. Our readers know that is what led to our “contract”, and my agreement to become Mistress’s slave. That woman (TW) is someone I have left behind as part of ancient history.

But Mistress continues to have a morbid curiosity about her. She can’t resist the urge to keep track of her. And since TW is the type of person Twitter was made for: so narcissistic that she likes to share the banal details of her daily life for the world to marvel over. So it’s almost too easy for Mistress to “follow” her.

What Mistress found yesterday was a posting of a photo of a movie star to whom it has been said I bear an uncanny resemblance. There was one word attached by TW : “handsome”. Ugh.

When Mistress showed this to me, we both were aghast. Mistress does not like the thought that someone out there is a “menace” to us. I don’t like the thought that TW is intentionally trying to annoy or provoke us, since she likely assumes that we and thousands of others out there in twitter-land are breathlessly following her exploits.

So Mistress was pissed, and deservedly so.

When we got in the car for the ride home at the end of the workday, I could tell that this subject had been gnawing at her. It made me feel badly.

“Maybe I should be punished, Mistress.”

I knew it would be better for her to vent her anger in a constructive, physical way, rather than internalize it.

“Yes, Slave. That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

After a robust bike ride on a beautifully cool but sunny day, we went up to our room. The surly teens were at a soccer game. So there was no reason to “stifle”. That turned out to be a good thing.

Mistress told me to strip and stretch out on our bed, face down. She reached for the riding crop.

“You know why you are being punished, don’t you Slave.”

“Yes Mistress. For mistakenly bringing that woman into our life.”

“She is a menace, Slave.”

“Yes, Mistress, I agree.”

She lit into me with purpose. More fiercely than I can recall.

As the thwacks increased in tempo and number, I began to squirm. I almost wished that she had tied me down. But then maybe she likes to test me this way. I resisted the powerful urge, prompted by the pain, to roll away, or off ,the bed. That would not have been well received.

“Owww….That hurts, Mistress.”

“It’s supposed to Slave.”

When she finally was done – after maybe 15-20 strokes of the crop - she told me to be still and reached for her I-phone / camera.

“You are going to post this in the morning, Slave.”

“But I don’t think our readers want to see my ugly bottom, Mistress. They like you much better.”

I thought some flattery might earn me a reprieve. But I was wrong.

“No. I want you to be embarrassed. That’s a part of your punishment.”

So there you have me. In all my puffy, late 50’s glory. Yuck.

Fortunately, Mistress was in the mood for some sexual release after my punishment.

After I used my mouth to give her a first orgasm, she toyed with my cock with her fingers, making me very hard, and even more desperate for her. But we had not resolved the issue of Abstinence Day.

“Can I fuck you Mistress?”

“I probably should make you wait until morning, Slave.”

Her fingers did that light stroking thing to my fully engorged cock as I lay there. It took a great deal of will power to resist the urge to mount her without permission, or yank away that tormenting hand.

“But … you… are… driving … me … crazy, Mistress.”

I did not want to embarrass myself further my shooting my wad into the air. But I was close. So very close.

“Alright, Slave….you may fuck me.”

Ahhhh.

As we made love we talked a bit about her plans to meet with Sir M next week.

“You miss that extra cock, don’t you Mistress.”

“Yes, Slave. The variety is nice.”

Fortunately, mine was the cock de jour. And despite the (by then) fading pain in my bottom, I hoped that Mistress also felt better after a rude start to our day.