We've Got Trouble
Well, we've got trouble...right here in River City... (Ten points if you know that reference)
I should have known by the look in Pura's eyes that she would try something, but never in a million years did I think she would completely lose her goddamn mind! Here's the story:
We were going to visit my father today. He loves Pura. Of course, he only knows her as Bethany, because to him we're a vanilla les couple, not a kinky M/s relationship. I am perfectly okay with that. He treats Bethany with the respect he would show anyone I love.
He and his new bride took us to see AVENGERS, and then out to dinner. Everything was lovely and going well. And then I ran to the restroom. Usually Pura follows me when I leave the table, (so much so that my father has often said he thinks she doesn't feel complete when I'm not in the room. Pura and I have laughed about that a time or two.) When she didn't follow, I should have known something was up.
When I got back to the table, there was an eerie quiet. My father is a jovial, laughing man, but for some reason he was still. I sat down, placed my napkin in my lap and looked around. When I finally looked at Pura, she looked as innocent as a babe, and I knew that meant she had done something naughty.
"What's going on?" I asked with a chuckle. "I walked up and you were all quiet. Is this like Junior High, and when I approach the group you stop talking because you were talking about me?"
My new step mother smiled at me. She and I have a great relationship, but there was something in her eyes. "We were talking about you. But it was nothing you can't hear."
My father spoke then. "Bethany was just talking about how much she loves and respects you. She said she calls you Mistress."
I was stunned. Stunned is too mild a word. I was so surprised, I think the hair on my head stood up on end.
"She does," I admitted, trying for nonchalance and missing.
My father cleared his throat. "I mean, I know you wrote those slave books awhile back and you were considering publication, but I did not think you were making a lifestyle statement." He was joking, but I did not laugh. Pura did, but my fingers by this time dug into her thigh, and she cut off.
"So... you don't just have a standard relationship," my step mother asked. She was much better at faking nonchalance than I.
I squeezed Pura's knee again, and I said, "No ma'am. Bethany is my pet, my play pretty, and my little doll." Pura squirmed under my hand and I let go. I did not want to hurt her. She snuggled against my arm and rested her head on my shoulder.
My dad laughed now, and he was back to his regular self. "Well, I am glad you have found a compatible partnership. I can't say as I need to know the details of my daughter's intimate relationships."
I laughed, too. "No, you don't," I said, but that was meant for Pura.
Nothing more was said about it and we had a lovely evening. When we got in the car to go home, I put the keys in the ignition, but I did not turn on the car. I turned and looked at Pura. She would not meet my eye.
"Wow," I said.
She bit her lip and looked in my general direction. "It turned out okay. It's out in the open. That should make you happy."
"I'm not pleased."
That was all she needed to know then. I pulled the car onto the road and drove away. It's a forty minute drive to my house, and I thought for sure my thoughts would occupy the entire drive, but we had not gone five minutes before I said, "What on earth were you thinking?"
I may have been slightly more colorful than that, but I do try to keep my violent language under control, since I require Pura to keep a civil tongue. I can't really expect more from her than I do from myself.
"I'm just tired of you having to hide who you are from everyone!" she answered.
"And this was your solution? Tell my parents while I am out of the room that you're my worshipful little slavegirl?"
"I am your worshipful little slavegirl. Why did you say that like it was a bad thing?"
"No," I replied coldly. "You do not get to be mad and turn this into a fight. This is not a fight. You violated my privacy and my trust, and that means we're not fighting. I'm talking and you're listening."
Pura is a master at diversion. And that's what she was trying to do. Right, little slave?
Yes, ma'am. If I could get you into a fight I knew I could divert the inevitable painful conversation.
Tell the nice readers how I handle being manipulated.
Sternly. *pouting* And usually with the Lexan.
Yes, that's true. As I may have mentioned before, I prefer hand-spanking over all. I feel it connects us better as a couple and it usually gives me the results I want without leaving much of a mark. Pink fades quickly. But there are a few implements in our house that are used occasionally. The hairbrush I mentioned before. It's a lovely antique ivory-handled brush that once belonged to my grandmother. I have often wondered if she used it for the same purpose. *wicked smile*
Doubtful. She's the most vanilla person in the world.
Not the most, little slave. You know who is the most? My father. Anyway, readers, awhile back Pura ordered the Lexan paddle, the nasty one with the holes, as a present for me on the anniversary of her first submission. It's been used three times since it was purchased. Pura, tell them when.
*Really pouting now* I got that as a symbolic gesture, not a... I mean, Yes Mistress! Readers, the paddle has been used once when I outright lied to Mistress and tried to manipulate her out of her anger. Another time it was because I *squirming* gave some guy my phone number when I went out with friends and got a little rowdy and drunk. I wasn't interested in him! It was a challenge extended my my friends, and...
*SWAT*
*rubbing, and pouting more* Story for another time, I guess. The third time was tonight. And ouchie! Never again!
I sincerely hope that's true. Readers, I don't enjoy inflicting pain. I cried the first time I found marks on Pura's bottom the day after a spanking. If she had not treasured them so much (which makes me throw up in my mouth a little) I would never have spanked her again.
Maybe I changed my mind about bruises tonight.
Maybe I did, too.
Booooo! Boooooooooooooo! (Fifteen points if you know that reference) Mistress, can I give the readers points?
Yes. And I'm going on with the story now.
I talked all the way home. She listened. I lectured. She cried. It wasn't so much that my dad knew about us. I could have shrugged it all off as a kinky fetish and he would have shook his head and not loved me any less. I was upset because it was mine to tell my father, not hers. If I wasn't ready, she should have respected that.
She does now.
The second reason I was upset was because she had contrived of this deviant naughtiness yesterday! This was premeditated misbehavior, which irks me beyond words. Thirdly, she had tried to manipulate me.
My apartment is on the third floor. I smacked her bottom a couple times on the way up the stairs, but when we got into the house, I turned her straight over the couch. Usually I like the OTK position, but I was pretty upset, and that seemed like more work than I wanted at the moment.
When I had warmed her over her clothes, I stripped her and sent her for the paddle. She came back right away, already crying and extremely penitent. Back over the couch for the paddle. I winced with every strike of that nasty, stingy paddle, especially when my Pura practically jumped out of her skin with each strike.
Pura did not actually give in until the paddle had reddened her pretty well. Then she relaxed (as much as one can during a paddling) and I knew she had submitted completely. A few strikes later, I was finished. But I left her there while I returned the paddle to the bottom drawer of the cabinet in the back of my closet. I came back with the aftercare lotion.
I found Pura on her knees when I came back, begging for my forgiveness and saying she knew she had violated all her rules and she was glad I had beaten her for it. I winced then, because it was such a harsh term. I knelt in front of her, pulled her to me, and held her for a long time.
We finally had a sweet conversation, and I told her that everything was fine now, and it was probably better my dad knew, since I did occasionally slip and call her by her slave name when I'm with him. I assured her everything would be alright. Then I made her lay down on the carpet so I could care for her properly.
But I think she will think twice about premeditated disobedience again. What say you, Pura?
I say, no more Lexan! I will be a very good, obedient, lovely slave from now on. I will even behave when we go out of town to see your mother.
Oh dear Lord! I certainly hope there won't be a repeat of this next month with my mother, Pura! FYI, if you tell my mother without my permission, then I will feel free to punish you while I am at her house. Did you think about that?
No.
I thought not. The more people who know, the more places there are where I can pull you over my knee.
Readers, Pura solemnly swears she will be a good girl and will not give her mistress cause to punish her in public. Pura will be a good slave from now on. *puts out her lower lip* Please encourage her to go easy on me. It's hard for me to be away from home.
That sounds an awful lot like an excuse, slave.
Eeek!
I should have known by the look in Pura's eyes that she would try something, but never in a million years did I think she would completely lose her goddamn mind! Here's the story:
We were going to visit my father today. He loves Pura. Of course, he only knows her as Bethany, because to him we're a vanilla les couple, not a kinky M/s relationship. I am perfectly okay with that. He treats Bethany with the respect he would show anyone I love.
He and his new bride took us to see AVENGERS, and then out to dinner. Everything was lovely and going well. And then I ran to the restroom. Usually Pura follows me when I leave the table, (so much so that my father has often said he thinks she doesn't feel complete when I'm not in the room. Pura and I have laughed about that a time or two.) When she didn't follow, I should have known something was up.
When I got back to the table, there was an eerie quiet. My father is a jovial, laughing man, but for some reason he was still. I sat down, placed my napkin in my lap and looked around. When I finally looked at Pura, she looked as innocent as a babe, and I knew that meant she had done something naughty.
"What's going on?" I asked with a chuckle. "I walked up and you were all quiet. Is this like Junior High, and when I approach the group you stop talking because you were talking about me?"
My new step mother smiled at me. She and I have a great relationship, but there was something in her eyes. "We were talking about you. But it was nothing you can't hear."
My father spoke then. "Bethany was just talking about how much she loves and respects you. She said she calls you Mistress."
I was stunned. Stunned is too mild a word. I was so surprised, I think the hair on my head stood up on end.
"She does," I admitted, trying for nonchalance and missing.
My father cleared his throat. "I mean, I know you wrote those slave books awhile back and you were considering publication, but I did not think you were making a lifestyle statement." He was joking, but I did not laugh. Pura did, but my fingers by this time dug into her thigh, and she cut off.
"So... you don't just have a standard relationship," my step mother asked. She was much better at faking nonchalance than I.
I squeezed Pura's knee again, and I said, "No ma'am. Bethany is my pet, my play pretty, and my little doll." Pura squirmed under my hand and I let go. I did not want to hurt her. She snuggled against my arm and rested her head on my shoulder.
My dad laughed now, and he was back to his regular self. "Well, I am glad you have found a compatible partnership. I can't say as I need to know the details of my daughter's intimate relationships."
I laughed, too. "No, you don't," I said, but that was meant for Pura.
Nothing more was said about it and we had a lovely evening. When we got in the car to go home, I put the keys in the ignition, but I did not turn on the car. I turned and looked at Pura. She would not meet my eye.
"Wow," I said.
She bit her lip and looked in my general direction. "It turned out okay. It's out in the open. That should make you happy."
"I'm not pleased."
That was all she needed to know then. I pulled the car onto the road and drove away. It's a forty minute drive to my house, and I thought for sure my thoughts would occupy the entire drive, but we had not gone five minutes before I said, "What on earth were you thinking?"
I may have been slightly more colorful than that, but I do try to keep my violent language under control, since I require Pura to keep a civil tongue. I can't really expect more from her than I do from myself.
"I'm just tired of you having to hide who you are from everyone!" she answered.
"And this was your solution? Tell my parents while I am out of the room that you're my worshipful little slavegirl?"
"I am your worshipful little slavegirl. Why did you say that like it was a bad thing?"
"No," I replied coldly. "You do not get to be mad and turn this into a fight. This is not a fight. You violated my privacy and my trust, and that means we're not fighting. I'm talking and you're listening."
Pura is a master at diversion. And that's what she was trying to do. Right, little slave?
Yes, ma'am. If I could get you into a fight I knew I could divert the inevitable painful conversation.
Tell the nice readers how I handle being manipulated.
Sternly. *pouting* And usually with the Lexan.
Yes, that's true. As I may have mentioned before, I prefer hand-spanking over all. I feel it connects us better as a couple and it usually gives me the results I want without leaving much of a mark. Pink fades quickly. But there are a few implements in our house that are used occasionally. The hairbrush I mentioned before. It's a lovely antique ivory-handled brush that once belonged to my grandmother. I have often wondered if she used it for the same purpose. *wicked smile*
Doubtful. She's the most vanilla person in the world.
Not the most, little slave. You know who is the most? My father. Anyway, readers, awhile back Pura ordered the Lexan paddle, the nasty one with the holes, as a present for me on the anniversary of her first submission. It's been used three times since it was purchased. Pura, tell them when.
*Really pouting now* I got that as a symbolic gesture, not a... I mean, Yes Mistress! Readers, the paddle has been used once when I outright lied to Mistress and tried to manipulate her out of her anger. Another time it was because I *squirming* gave some guy my phone number when I went out with friends and got a little rowdy and drunk. I wasn't interested in him! It was a challenge extended my my friends, and...
*SWAT*
*rubbing, and pouting more* Story for another time, I guess. The third time was tonight. And ouchie! Never again!
I sincerely hope that's true. Readers, I don't enjoy inflicting pain. I cried the first time I found marks on Pura's bottom the day after a spanking. If she had not treasured them so much (which makes me throw up in my mouth a little) I would never have spanked her again.
Maybe I changed my mind about bruises tonight.
Maybe I did, too.
Booooo! Boooooooooooooo! (Fifteen points if you know that reference) Mistress, can I give the readers points?
Yes. And I'm going on with the story now.
I talked all the way home. She listened. I lectured. She cried. It wasn't so much that my dad knew about us. I could have shrugged it all off as a kinky fetish and he would have shook his head and not loved me any less. I was upset because it was mine to tell my father, not hers. If I wasn't ready, she should have respected that.
She does now.
The second reason I was upset was because she had contrived of this deviant naughtiness yesterday! This was premeditated misbehavior, which irks me beyond words. Thirdly, she had tried to manipulate me.
My apartment is on the third floor. I smacked her bottom a couple times on the way up the stairs, but when we got into the house, I turned her straight over the couch. Usually I like the OTK position, but I was pretty upset, and that seemed like more work than I wanted at the moment.
When I had warmed her over her clothes, I stripped her and sent her for the paddle. She came back right away, already crying and extremely penitent. Back over the couch for the paddle. I winced with every strike of that nasty, stingy paddle, especially when my Pura practically jumped out of her skin with each strike.
Pura did not actually give in until the paddle had reddened her pretty well. Then she relaxed (as much as one can during a paddling) and I knew she had submitted completely. A few strikes later, I was finished. But I left her there while I returned the paddle to the bottom drawer of the cabinet in the back of my closet. I came back with the aftercare lotion.
I found Pura on her knees when I came back, begging for my forgiveness and saying she knew she had violated all her rules and she was glad I had beaten her for it. I winced then, because it was such a harsh term. I knelt in front of her, pulled her to me, and held her for a long time.
We finally had a sweet conversation, and I told her that everything was fine now, and it was probably better my dad knew, since I did occasionally slip and call her by her slave name when I'm with him. I assured her everything would be alright. Then I made her lay down on the carpet so I could care for her properly.
But I think she will think twice about premeditated disobedience again. What say you, Pura?
I say, no more Lexan! I will be a very good, obedient, lovely slave from now on. I will even behave when we go out of town to see your mother.
Oh dear Lord! I certainly hope there won't be a repeat of this next month with my mother, Pura! FYI, if you tell my mother without my permission, then I will feel free to punish you while I am at her house. Did you think about that?
No.
I thought not. The more people who know, the more places there are where I can pull you over my knee.
Readers, Pura solemnly swears she will be a good girl and will not give her mistress cause to punish her in public. Pura will be a good slave from now on. *puts out her lower lip* Please encourage her to go easy on me. It's hard for me to be away from home.
That sounds an awful lot like an excuse, slave.
Eeek!
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