Malled

Poor Mistress.

Due to some problems with her relatively new laptop, she had to spend way too many hours at the local mall over the weekend at the Apple Store. Our whole family has been hooked on Apple for many years. I can't even count how many table and lap-top computers we've bought over the years. Then there are the I-pods, and I-phones. Our kids seem to go through those all too quickly, so Mistress has gotten used to working the system at the Apple Store to fix and (often) replace products on the fritz.

Somehow she talked the folks at the Apple Store over the weekend to replace her 3 month old laptop with a new one because the spacer key was not working. Of course, that also required moving all her "stuff" from her "old" computer to the brand new one.

And that doesn't happen instantaneously.... so last evening Mistress and Slave had to go back to the Apple Store one more time to pick up that new computer with all of the important stuff (you know, pictures of the WC's special occasion cock) moved onto it. 

Now Slave does not do well in Malls.  They may be the one place that clearly raises my blood pressure. And this Mall is a real monster. There were the people lined up to force feed at the Cheese Cake Factory (is there any less appealing name for a restaurant?) the packed parking lot (why are folks packing a mall two weeks after Christmas?) and all the usual suspect merchandisers (do people still buy stuff at Eddie Bauer).

And the Apple Store was absolute chaos. Didn't those places used to have a soothing Jobsian feel to them. Cool people looking at cool stuff with cool helpful (if geeky) staff to help you?

Now the place is filled to the rafters with cranky consumers, arrogant staffers specializing in putting you off, all attached to an I-pad to explain you are too early or too late for your appointment.

It was driving me crazy. So I adjourned to the "Mall-way" with my Times and let Mistress struggle with the Apple-acracy.

Mistress was not pleased, either about my disappearing act or my sarcasm.

"I'm a little tired of your grousing, Slave."

Nonetheless, Mistress was pretty indulgent when we got home. We deferred dinner to allow for some worship, and then some robust end of the day sex in the Executive Suite. Of course, Mistress kept those special peek-a-boo tights on, which presses some buttons for me.

But it became clear that a punishment is coming.

"I'm glad we have that riding crop in our  Mountain Hideaway, Slave....  because it's going to be put to good use...."

Oops.