| Straight: BDSM: A New Era (1/10) |
 20 votes |
|||
Share This Story: BlinkList - del.icio.us - Furl - ma.gnolia - Spurl - Yahoo MyWeb - StumbleUpon |
||||
|
Chapter 1 Every other Thursday afternoon is my time to clean Mistress Anne’s house. I am expected to be there at 2:00 pm sharp, with my panties, white stockings and garter, and bra on. By 2:05 I am to be in my maid’s dress and high heels, ready to start. Some days Mistress Anne is there when I arrive, and my first task is to take detailed notes as to what she wants done, in addition to my normal routine. Other days she simply leaves a list on the kitchen counter, with no indication when she will return. I am expected to finish by 7:00, after which we usually cook dinner together, have a drink, and then one of several things happens. About half the time, I am expected to help her get ready to go out on a date, and then I am put to bed at 9:00 sharp. Mistress Anne believes sissy little boys should be in bed early. Occasionally we simply visit until 8:45, and then the evening comes to a close with, “It’s 8:45 - 15 minutes for all little sissies to be in bed. I don’t want to have to tan your bottom - better get moving.” About one time in four, Mistress Anne uses me as her sex toy (more on that in a moment), and once or twice a year she actually rides my dick until I have an orgasm, primarily, I believe, so she can spend the rest of the year reminding me how inadequate I am to be her lover. Of course being shamed is a major turn on for me, and besides, my wife has always found me to more than adequate sexually, so this has just been part of our fun and games. And every so often, either as a result of accumulated misdeeds (recorded in a book I never get to see) or some grievous error, she tells me while we make dinner that I have a “lesson” coming after dinner. Once a year or so, the “lesson” comes as a result of a call from my wife Joyce to Mistress Anne regarding something I’ve done to really make her mad, but Joyce is reluctant to use this method. (If Mistress Anne is feeling particularly uncharitable, I get Brussels sprouts and liver for dinner before my lesson.) So I have to endure dinner, trying to swallow my food, knowing what’s coming next. “Lessons” are never fun or erotic at Mistress Anne’s house; they aren’t meant to be, but by the same token, she doesn’t make up reasons. They are always well deserved. After dinner I have to strip down to my bra and hose (she, of course, is completely dressed). Then it’s a lecture on what I’ve done wrong. I have to explain why I did what I did, why it’s wrong, and what I’m going to do to prevent it in the future. Then it’s over her knee for a true ass blistering with a hairbrush, then into the corner with tears streaming down my face. If I’m lucky, I’ll be there for 45 minutes, then off to bed. If I’m not, she pulls me out, ties me over a chair with my legs spread, and uses a handful of birch switches to turn the backs and insides of my thighs into a mass of welts. Then it’s back into the corner for 30 minutes or so, and off to bed. (I’ll be sleeping on my stomach for a week.) But I should digress |
  |
ah hell...