Prescient

Every now and then my predictive skills are uncanny.... well not like Suzanne over at All Mine, but still pretty good.

And yesterday was a particularly good day.

First, there was the odd confluence of events. I mentioned running into a woman with the back story of having been involved with a former NFL QB. Low and behold, the local newspaper yesterday morning had a big feature story on this fellow, who had not played a snap since the early 1970's.

Then in our blog I predicted that the Jewish real estate developer who had sidled up to Mistress at the art opening would shortly pop up on her facebook friends list. 

That happened by around 2 pm, when Slave and Mistress settled into a little R & R in our executive suite.

"Funny Mistress... he didn't friend request me....."

"Does that surprise you, Slave...."

No, not particularly.

Finally, I predicted that our unexpected encounter with that local singer / songwriter would end up costing me a sore ass. This is the one who used to date my brother (I introduced them for God's sake), but who Mistress has insisted for the last 20 years that I secretly have the hots for.

Sure enough, once our cute Co-Ed daughter (who made a cameo appearance yesterday at around noon) headed off to a hair appointment, Mistress suggested it was time for me to pay the price for her paranoia.

"Get out my supplies, Slave.... including the riding crop."

Maybe I should have taken a little longer spreading pitch like goop on the flat part of our roof that had taken to leaking during a recent monsoon.  See.... I can be a "field slave" every now and then.



But I knew that further arguing would be fruitless.


"Yes, Mistress...."




I assembled her "supplies" -- strap-on harness, it's "accessory", lubricant, and of course her riding crop.



And I "took my position", after disrobing at her direction.

She commenced to thwack at me, while lecturing me on how obvious it was that somehow I had this long suppressed flame burning for  this particular object of her disdain.

And I must say it hurt like hell. My ass was bouncing off the bed, and I did not do a particularly good job of maintaining my position.

But at least Mistress was able to relieve herself of her concern. Let's hope its a long time before we run into this woman again.

When she was done, she took a photo of my well cropped buns. 

"I'm sending one copy to you for the blog, Slave.... and one to the WC, who advised me to give you a good cropping today...."

Gee, thanks, Miguel.  And I've been so lenient when reviewing your AmEx card expenses of late. I guess I need to use a sharper pencil the next time you submit a $350 bar tab for entertaining a "source".

Afterwords, Mistress was in a more compassionate mood though. She already had that harness on, and caressed the marks on my ass, before guiding her little projectile into my back door.

And once she taken an orgasm or two that way, she told me to insert my aneros, and come back to bed and fuck her. Which I did to my hearts content.

And while my ass stung like hell for those moments of torment, all that pain quickly turned into a little warming glow as I plunged into those clean shaven folds.

But I think I'll steer clear of the predictions department today.... you'll have to consult Suzanne if you want some reliable dope on next Sunday's Super Bowl.