Well I continue with the, so far very popular, posting of delectable comments I have received on posts on this blog, which most of you, it seems, will not have read.
A number of comments from another of my very, very favourite contributors, Christine M. Christine introduced me, or should I say, bitch-boy’s little birth defect, to the wonderful, fearsome product – Linnex!
I will write here the final sentence of her most recent comment on my previous post. Just wow!
Pitiless? Definitely! I simply don’t care about his suffering, feelings, pleadings, tears, frustrations, tiredness, etc. I adore it when he sheds real tears.
Here are Christine M’s most recent comments.
I think this very much covers the power dynamic, though to an extent, the choice of words may convey different aspects to each relationship.
Firstly, I think a key point was made when you wrote, “… things must happen they truly do not like.” This is what truly establishes a genuinely dominant relationship, the submissive doesn’t get a say in what happens.
In our case, my ‘boy’ would never choose to write hours and hours of lines when travelling, never drink alcohol, endure serious chastity, and be subject to all the restrictions of a strictly raised youth of Victorian times. But, he does sleep peacefully at night, as it provides a needed layer of deep security, which arises from being strictly controlled. Which is perhaps a rephrase of your note, “helplessly in the power of a dominant woman.”
At work, he is a senior manager responsible for many employees. He runs a budget of millions of dollars and must make decisions. At home, he does not even know what is in our bank account, he has no access to it and basically he has only one decision to make, to do as he is told, or not; and if he chooses the latter, he is severely punished! He is told how to do things and when to do them, and is permitted no input into the process.
Though I have never thought of myself as a sadist; I do enjoy such total power, and I live such a wonderful lifestyle, free of chores! So perhaps I am!
Pitiless? Definitely! I simply don’t care about his suffering, feelings, pleadings, tears, frustrations, tiredness, etc. I adore it when he sheds real tears.
I certainly do not have the frequency of orgasms you do, but I do achieve multiple orgasms at a time, and they are often cataclysmic, especially when compared to my long-ago ‘vanilla’ life.
More particularly, I feel an erotic upwelling, what might be called a warm swelling flowing from the loins that provides a pleasure that is not an orgasm, but is nonetheless a deep-seated pleasure that will lead to that later explosion. It pervades my whole body in the most pleasurable way imaginable.
This can come from the most simplistic acts of dominance.
I might link this to your previous topic ‘Sweet for her….”
I have written before how David travels a great deal in his work, and that to ensure he doesn’t have time to head ‘out-on-the-town’, browse inappropriate internet sites, watch ill-chosen television programs, or spoil himself with lavish hotel meals, I set him written assignments each evening. As I have explained to him, these are not punishments, just my way of keeping him well-occupied and out-of-trouble.
Setting him this work is something I find incredibly erotic, as I know how much he hates it, how tired he often is, and how tedious it must be. Yet knowing this excites me to be… well, quite frankly, at times, a real bitch!
E.g. On his last trip, he had a 28 hour travel time from home to his hotel room. He arrived in his room at 6-30 pm, in his new time zone, 1-30 am my time. His flight had been delayed but he had been instructed he must call me on arrival.
I was a little bleary-eyed, but pleased to hear from him and we had a really pleasant 30 minutes chat, talking about my prior day, his travel experience and general domestic matters. Finally I yawned and advised, I needed to go back to sleep and I felt sure he would be anxious to start his written assignment for the night.
Well, there was a stunned silence, following such a friendly chat and my knowing he was exhausted, he clearly expected to be ‘let-off’; not that that has ever happened before! I could hear his quiet sobs of anguish as I dictated his ‘line’ for the night.
Smiling at his obvious distress, I lightly advised, I had planned for him to write it out 50 times, since I knew he would be very tired on arrival and wanting an early night; “but since you woke me up, let’s make it 100 times.” He was stunned, and silly enough to stutter, “but that will take well over 2 hours, please…” His words tailed-off as I quietly, very gently, advised, “I am sorry David, you are correct, that is not appropriate, I am failing to show you how much I care for your well-being. You would still have time to get into trouble, we need to make it 200 times!”
Well he was devastated, I was enervated… and had to pull out my wand immediately afterwards!
I mostly make use of domestic items as our ‘relationship’ to BDSM focuses around strict Victorian/ Edwardian times discipline for youths. I do consider tightly securing David for a thrashing to be essential. It is my firm opinion that, to quote, “the punishment does not really commence until the tears begin’; and that, if a punishment is to be delivered, it should be ‘impossible’ for the culprit to remain in place and stoic. A punishment is meant to to hurt abominably and I expect to hear screams and see tears. I want to hear screams and tears! Only then do I know I am achieving the desired effects: Correction, Contrition, Regret, and an earnest Desire for Self-improvement….. and I really enjoy knowing he is suffering!
I am glad to hear BB finds it so dreadful and sobs loudly too. I sometimes wonder if David might be exaggerating how bad it is in a bid for a bit of compassion. I don’t ‘do compassion’ though, it excites me so much to see him racked with pain.
I really wonder whether Andy and Will above have ever experienced Linnex, and if they would be so cavalier with their advice of using a condom to make it worse, had they done so.
But reading this again, it did remind me that I used to sometimes use a condom as it did seem to increase the level of the screaming, and burn for a bit longer.
I haven’t told David yet, but I just bought online a pack of Reusable Penis Sleeve Delay Elasticity Condoms. They look like they fit very tightly and are much thicker than usual condoms to trap the heat better. David will soon find out just how dispassionate I am of his plight,
I will bring them out after about 15 minutes of burning, gently stroke his nipples (that alone brings on extra screams as the blood engorges his inflamed gristle) and secure the condom. Wicked! I am excited thinking about it.
Dear Mistress Scarlet
I was doing a Google Search and I rediscovered this note from you. I was wondering how much have you escalated BB’s Linnex treatments?
Has he had a liberal, melted application over the entire shaft and head?
How did he cope?
No matter how many doses David has had, he still shows that same look of hope in his eyes during those 3-4 minutes after I have finished the application of the salve, and before the salve starts to burn. (Yes, I spend a good 2-3 minutes coating his penis with the melted Linnex!)
He still tries to convince himself that this time the fierce burning will not arise. Then, as always, the look of total abject fear crosses his face, as the first tendrils of warmth appear, before the pain rapidly builds to a crescendo that is unbearably excruciating. Secured as he is though, he has no choice but to bear it; though be bucks and writhes violently, and screams and shrieks in agony. Again, despite so many past doses, he still cannot cope with the fearsome burning.
How does BB go? Does he writhe violently and scream as if to wake the dead?
Or is David just a big baby like I tease him afterwards?
Dear Mistress Scarlet
Appropriate to this theme is a recent escalation my boy experienced.
Whenever his ego gets in the way, he is subject to a date with Nurse Linnex. This is rubbed thoroughly into his little william and elicits many howls and shrieks of agony. He really is a big baby over this. I have also frequently threatened to tie off his ball sac with a stocking and liberally coat his balls with melted Linnex too. The concept has long terrified him as he is well aware how bad the pain is when his penis just brushes against his testicles, and releases a little of the embrocation, when he writhes around. I have teased him by caressing him with a stocking while he waits for the Linnex, and taunted him of it occurring, but always the stocking has been put away.
Well, on the evening in question, he was scheduled for a Linnex treatment for some minor disobedience at a party we had attended the evening before. Since my friend Pam had messaged earlier in the day to say she was going to call me at seven; shortly before this time, my boy found himself standing by the bed, arms folded in front of him, with his hands clasping his shoulders, while I encased him like mummy in many revolutions of plastic wrap.
He looks so pathetic and helpless, his eyes pleading to be excused the torment to come. Begging tremulously to be forgiven. Needless to say this is met only with cold contempt. With his torso bound, he next lies on the bed, with his heels raised on a bolster, allowing me to wrap his legs from his ankles up to his lower thighs, leaving him immobile and very exposed.
I picked the Linnex off the bedside table, suggesting, “Perhaps we should warm this up so we can apply a thicker coating?” He struggled and begged me not to warm the Linnex. Indeed he was still pleading forgiveness when Pam rang and I picked up the phone. My welcome greeting quite a contrast to the cold disciplinarian he was dealing with!
“Just a sec, Pam,” I continued, “I just have to get something out for David, and I’ll be right with you.” And on a whim, I took a black stocking out my top drawer and draped it over his thighs and little toy. The colour drained from his face and he trembled in terror, as I left the room brightly chatting away to Pam. His insignificance exemplified, compared to my chatting with a friend.
He was in a terrible state when I returned nearly an hour later, no doubt having heard my laughter in the background, and tears were now flowing as he begged for the Linnex, but pleaded desperately not to have his balls coated too. Of course I wouldn’t hear of this, we don’t do leniency in our house. “Right,” I coldly snapped, “it’s about time we put Nurse Linnex to work!”
Without further ado, I drew the stocking under his privates in a see-saw motion, finally stopping with it centred under his organ where it meets his groin, before very tightly wrapping the stocking twice round the base of his penis and ball sac; then, even more tightly, several times around the very top of his ball sack, so his scrotum was stretched tight with his balls totally exposed and bulging out like taut balloons. He was breathing deeply, big gasps, shivering and whispering aloud, “Oh my god, no…. please no… I can’t take this….. please no…. please this can’t be possible… I can’t believe you’re really going to do this… please… please spare me…”
His appendage, hard as a rock, balls ready to burst, I calmly advised, “I am sure you are anxious to get started, but I need a minute to prepare the Linnex.” I quickly returned with a bowl of steaming hot water covered by a towel, to keep the heat in, and my hair dryer. The Linnex was wrapped in some cling wrap and left to steam in the water, while I blow-dried his privates. He was soon squealing as I worked the hot air to open up all the pores.
Satisfied with my preparations, I put on a pair of rubber washing-up gloves and readied the Linnex. Gripping the base of his organ firmly in my left hand, I softly hummed “Here we go round the mulberry bush”, as I pressed firmly down and rubbed the melted stick slowly round and round the knob, again and again, round and round; then up and down the shaft, all around, up and down, and then in circles round and round, slowly descending to the base, and then slowly back up to the top, circling in the other direction, and around, and down again until it was coated in many layers of the nasty embrocation. I then smiled as we waited for the searing pain to commence.
It normally takes about eight minutes to reach a crescendo, and it is always so amusing to watch his face as he anxiously waits, ever hopeful the scorching pain will not come, then the look of dispair as the first warming effects arrive! It was a very hot, sultry evening so the effect was worse than normal. Coupled with the opened pores, and lengthy application, he was screaming and jerking helplessly on the bed within a few minutes. Conscious of little but the fiery agony enveloping and engorging his penis.
Smiling brightly I advised, “I’ll give you ten minutes to enjoy that, and then we’ll continue,” as I replaced the stick in the hot water bath.
When I returned he was till squealing and writhing like a stuck piglet, as I calmly donned the rubber gloves again. This time I firmly gripped him at the very base of the scrotum with my left hand, pulling the sac even tighter, so his testicles were as hard as a football, allowing me to press firmly down and thoroughly rub the Linnex in, ensuring it penetrated deeply and that the entire sac was liberally swathed in the pungent embrocation.
The escalation effect was marvellous, his screams were enough to wake the dead! I could hear him from the far end of the house. In fact after about five minutes I had to attend to him. He was coated in sweat, from his exertions and the sultry night only made it worse. Even I had a light sheen of perspiration on my brow. He was writhing and jerking and begging for some relief, “Please Ma’am, please, I need you to cool it down, I can’t take it, I can’t, it is too much. I need an ice-pack, the air-conditioner, anything, it’s too much, please, please, a cold flannel, ice…. Please?
I lighly remarked, “My my, you do carry on, I’ve never heard so much noise, it’s a good job we don’t have neighbours!” He continued to groan loudly, begging for relief, an ice-pack, anything to take the pain away.
Eventually I decided I would have to something about the all the complaints and loud bawling. “David, you are going to give me a headache with your histrionics. Give me a few minutes, I have an idea how to provide some relief and help you cope better.”
“Thank you, thank you,” he gasped, “quickly please, I simply can’t take it anymore.”
It was such a hot evening, that I returned with a some ice packs and a gag. The gag inserted, I smiled, down at him, “There, that’s a big relief from all the screaming, I couldn’t hear myself think. And you can bite down hard on the rubber to help cope with the pain.” He was still grunting and writhing, but I could see he was also biting down hard on the gag, and it was much, much quieter.
He looked on aghast then when I took the ice packs and wrapped them in a towel that I placed around my neck and shoulders. I burst out laughing, “You didn’t really think they were for you? What would be the point of going to all this trouble to maximise your suffering and then letting you off?
“Now, I realise the heat trapped in here helps enflame the Linnex, so you don’t want the air-conditioning turned on; but it is far too hot and stuffy for me, so I am going to leave you to enjoy the full effects of Nurse Linnex; while I relax and cool off in the lounge with my ice pack, a cold drink and the air-con turned up high.” He shook his head and jerked about as the reality of his ongoing suffering bit home.
His writhing and agonised groans lasted for over two hours! Most enjoyable. We will definitely do that again! NB Of course the stocking was released immediately following the application of the Linnex.
What about escalation potential? What could be worse? Not much I expect, except of course a hefty double or even triple dose of Linnex, two hours apart, and we could add a hot water bottle!
Dear Mistress Scarlet
So long since I wrote. I always mean to write more often, and I meant to write more promptly on your topic of ‘Tedium’, but it soon became an epic and took longer than expected. I must be honest, I wrote this for my own memories too as I did have such a good time! This also links to past topics on ignoring too. So better late than never I hope!
By the way, I was so pleased to see BB write that he fears the Linnex so much, a good example of sharing. I hope he get plenty of coatings now!
I too love the power providing total control and misery at the same time. It provides me a most wonderful sense of power; and deprives the submissive what they ultimately desire most, the Mistress’ attention. It shows so perfectly, “you are totally inconsequential, I will deprive you of your liberty, I will occupy you with the most mind-destroying, boring, and repetitious task, and not even notice you!
David is raised as ‘youth’ might have been reared in Victorian or Edwardian times, albeit with an exceedingly rigid and ultra-strict disciplinary code. One of my favoured punishments is a ‘strict detention’, the rules of which have, over the years, evolved and become ever more rigid and demanding.
Well a few weeks back, David was running late from work. He blamed heavier than normal traffic, but we don’t accept excuses in our household. He was placed on a Saturday night detention, which had him looking most morose. I had been going out that night with friends, and he had been promised that he could stay up late to watch a big football game. Well he would still be staying up late!
Detentions are very serious punishments in our household, and since Saturday’s always mean chores for David, the whole day becomes extremely arduous. We went to bed together Friday night, and after some light teasing, which had David crawling up the wall, I let him please me with his tongue, as only he can. We then cuddled up to fall asleep. This was when I warmly advised him, “Since you have a Saturday night detention tomorrow, you will need to set your alarm for 4-30 in the morning. I want you showered and dressed ready to start your chores no later than 5-00.” It felt delicious as he went so quiet, clearly numbed by my advice.
“You’ll find a full list of your chores for the day on the kitchen table. I want everything finished before 4-30 pm since you will need to shower, dress in your school uniform and be seated at your desk, hands on head, back straight, ready to start your detention promptly at 5-00. I suggest you make sure you are seated no later than ten to!” I then rolled over and ignored him, he was in punishment mode, but tomorrow would be far worse!
Well I set him an exceptionally full on day of strenuous chores, scrubbing clean two bathrooms and a third toilet, a full clean of the kitchen, all windows inside and outside spotlessly cleaned, several loads of washing and ironing, the outside courtyard to scrub, the whole house vacuumed, living room furniture polished to perfection, bed linen changed and my car washed, waxed and vacuumed. Believe me, he had to work hard and fast; he well knows chores are not to be done leisurely. I expect to see him sweating and puffing for breath, as if doing a full gym workout, he is expected to move quickly and continuously, woe betide taking a ‘smoko’.
I am sure you can imagine that after close to eleven hours of such gruelling toil, the last thing he wanted to be doing was one of my detentions. Nevertheless, there he was at a ten to five, when I entered the room, seated at his desk, looking exhausted and clearly very fretful, in full school uniform, hands on head.
Full school uniform means ‘schoolgirl uniform’, navy blue cotton knickers; white cotton vest; Navy blue girdle, navy blue stockings with rear seam razor-straight; navy blue box-pleat gym-slip, meticulously ironed, ending four inches above the knees; pink school house sash, neatly tied on the right-side; white socks, the pattern razor straight; heavy, black, lace-up shoes; white, long-sleeved blouse; school-tie; grey V-neck school jumper; navy blazer; hair bryl-creamed back with a straight side part and a straw boater secured with a big pink ribbon under the chin. He hates the ribbon as it is so uncomfortable and ‘in-the-way’. He is a school-boy clearly undergoing petticoat discipline.
I had laid out on his desk, three pens, each symmetrically placed parallel to the top of the desk, together with a wooden ruler; a thick A4 notepad, also placed square, in the centre of the desk; face-down (exam style) to the side of this were 15 typewritten pages; and above these pages, a sealed envelope.
My tone was terse, frigid, dripping cold venom, and served to leave him literally trembling with fearful anxiety. “Full detention rules apply starting now!” This means he is to maintain total silence and an exacting posture. He is seated at a school desk with a rubber mat placed under him and anchored just under the front legs of the desk. The desk legs are fitted over two marked squares so everything lines up for his discomfort.
There are three circles precisely placed into which the three legs of his small wooden stool are placed, and they must not move throughout the Detention. Two further white outlines have been applied wherein he must place his feet and again, his feet must remain firmly placed flat on the floor within the marks, throughout the detention. He must sit upright and he is not allowed to rest his head in his hand, he must not ‘fidget’, scratch, rub his eyes, etc.; he must write continuously without pause, and his hands must only be used for his assignment. There are no clocks and he must write unaware of the time and take only one authorised break. The desk top must be maintained meticulously as it was now, and pens and rulers placed down without sound.
“You will write for three hours. There will be a 30 minute meal break at 8-00 pm, and you will then continue for a further three hours!” I advised with my frosty demeanour.
“Your punishment assignment is on the desk. Your quota for the night is in the sealed envelope. If you do not meet your quota, you will be caned. You will then continue writing until you reach your original quota; plus an additional punishment quota that I will allocate. You will also earn punishment if you break any detention rules or uniform rules. You may now read your assignment.”
I sat at my comfortable desk nearby, in a plush office chair and relaxed with a glass of wine, smiling as I watched the colour drain from his face as he read his instructions, becoming ever more agitated. I could tell he wished to protest, beg for a less demanding assignment, frustrated in his knowledge that it would not turn out well for him if he spoke. He glanced forlornly over at me, his eyes beseeching me, he was on the verge of tears. I was delighted, his tiredness and the challenging work I had provided were going to drain him mentally, emotionally and physically.
His instruction sheet read as follows:
Copy out the following pages.
Keep writing until instructed otherwise.
Assign each letter of the alphabet a sequential number, excluding vowels.
I.e. B=1, C=2, D=4 F=5, …
Each word commencing with an even numbered letter is written in BLUE.
Each word commencing with an odd numbered letter is written in BLACK.
Each word commencing with a vowel is written in RED.
You MUST NOT make a written key!
For each new page, commence by:
” ruling a 2 cm margin down the left side of the page, and top and bottom, in red;
” write your name above the margin on the left-hand side of every page in blue;
” write the date in full above the top margin on the right-hand side. Day, date, month (in full) and year, in black.
” write the page number below the bottom margin on the right-hand side, in red.
Each verse is numbered in blue in the left margin.
Each new chapter is centred, written in upper case black ink and underlined in red, e.g.:
LIBER GENESIS I
LIBER GENESIS II
Leave a blank line above and below the chapter.
You are allowed one error per page, which is to be ruled through neatly in red.
If you make a second error, the page is to be removed and discarded. If you try to conceal or ignore an error, I will remove two or more pages.
This first page was followed by the first ten chapters of the Book of Genesis from the Vulgate Bible, in Latin!
Not only was the exercise mind-numbingly difficult, especially given how tired he was, it was a mentally and physically exhausting task that would get harder as the night wore on, made worse by his strict posture controls, and the fact that he must not change his position nor stop writing.
He also faces a terrible quandary, made worse by not knowing how many lines he must write. If he writes slowly and carefully, so he makes no mistakes, he risks not reaching his quota. If he writes quickly to reach his quota, he risks making errors and having to tear out pages!
“Begin” I curtly advised at 5 o’clock precisely. I then drew all the curtains in the office, picked up my wine and moved over to a leather couch where I relaxed and revelled in his misery. He was ignored as I read my book and then chatted with a friend by phone. After thirty minutes I checked over his shoulder, he sighed pathetically, teary-eyed, struggling not to sob. It was a pathetic attempt to garner sympathy or leniency.
He was up to verse 20 in chapter one, and about half-way down the second page of his note pad. I was struggling not to order him to serve me I was so hot. First I set up the security camera to watch over him, before returning to his desk, my icy demeanour, a stark contrast to the light-hearted banter of my earlier phone conversation. I leaned over, took hold of the bottom of the page he was half-way through, and gently tore it out.
“Detention rules are silence at all times, that means no sighs!” He was aghast as I ripped it into four pieces and threw them in the bin. I then hurried upstairs to get ready for a night out with friends, but not before pulling out my vibrator!
The security camera is just wonderful. It is linked to the Wi-Fi in the house, and I can view the feed on my iPhone or iPad wherever I am, provided I am connected to the internet. I see a bright, full colour, real-time, video image. It is very clear and shows a complete image of David, his stool, desk, etc., and I can zoom in to check he is complying with his posture rules. The beauty is, he never knows when I am watching, or if I even bother to watch him. The camera records to a card so I can check back on him too, and even view the feed at fast rewind or fast forward! He dare not break a Detention rule, it even picks up sound!
When I came back down I was dressed glamorously, my hair back in a severe pony-tail, stockings and heels, lightly perfumed and very desirable. He would have been aching to be with me. He didn’t need to know my plans though, he was in detention and being ignored.
My phone rang, it was my friend Carole advising she was five minutes away. I spoke with her in good-humour, before returning to David and snapping, “Your phone is in airplane mode, facedown on my desk. I have set an alarm for 8-00 pm. When it rings, you may take a 30 minute break. Your dinner and a drink are in the kitchen. Make sure you go to the toilet as it is your only break of the night. Do not enter any other room. When you cancel the alarm, place the phone in my desk drawer, I have covered all other clocks. Make sure you are back at your desk, writing, no later than 8-30; I will be checking!”
Again a dilemma for him. He has a thirty minute break, but no way to time it. So he needs to make sure he is back early. As I said earlier, this is a punishment, it is not meant to be pleasant. I would later be enjoying my meal at a swanky new restaurant with a few friends, a few glasses of wine and having a wonderful time. He would be miserable, ‘enjoying’ an overly generous serving of watery, over-boiled squash and aubergine with boiled calves’ liver, served cold, and accompanied by a glass of the water the vegetables had been cooked in. He would struggle to eat it, but there is a security camera in the kitchen too, so eat it he will, and quickly if he is to be at his desk in time! it is not pleasant for him! And all this time he is isolated, alone, ignored, forgotten about.
I returned home late, slightly inebriated, and feeling incredibly horny from the total power-rush of his suffering. I changed for bed before finally entering the office.
“Stop writing NOW!” I coldly announced. He is required to immediately stop writing, if he so much as tries to finish the word he is writing, I will rip out the entire page. He must then immediately place his hands on his head. He was bleary eyed, his face was tear-streaked, the result of crying when he had to tear out pages where he had made mistakes, there were more than a dozen such pages neatly stacked on his desk. I was relaxed in satin pyjamas, my long hair loose over my shoulders, and wearing high-heel mules, ‘Oh how he would have adored to caress my body!’
He sat there, shaking, disconsolate, exhausted.
“How many chapters have you completed?”
I promise you this next bit is the truth, “Pretty well five chapters, Ma’am,” he politely replied.
“What do you mean ‘pretty well five chapters’?” I coldly snapped.
“I am half-way through verse 31, the last verse in chapter 5, Ma’am.”
“That means you have only completed four chapters!” I replied with frosty callousness, “Open your envelope read out your target for the night.”
He nervously opened the envelope, struggling to stop his hands shaking, he really was at his limits, as he nervously read out, “Five chapters, Ma’am.” He was sobbing, he knew what was coming, made worse from being so close, would be praying for leniency.
I remained silent for a minute or more as he nervously fretted, I maintained my frigid demeanour though I was aching to orgasm at the power dynamic in play. I ignored him and left the room for a few minutes before returning with my dragon cane. It is 39 inches long, as thick as my little finger and an very dark brown colour, it is formidably painful. His entire body was shivering and convulsing uncontollaby in trepidation when I finally returned.
I stood beside him, flexing my cane gently in both hands. It is quite a stiff cane, and only bends a little. It is an implement that understandably terrifies him. I looked stonily at him before finally addressing him calmly, matter-of-factly, “I set a target that you should have easily reached if you applied yourself to your task diligently. I have timed your writing and assessed that you can write 1100 – 1200 words in an hour. I usually set your target at 900 – 1000 words an hour depending upon the complexity of the task. Your target this evening was 2514 words! It was 11-50 pm when you stopped writing, so you had an extra twenty minutes, a total writing time of 6 hours and twenty minutes. To achieve your target you didn’t even have to write 400 words an hour! And, you had a break in which to refresh and relax.”
I paused, placed the cane on his desk and slowly paced behind him, as he started, to speak, I angrily snapped, “SILENCE! I do not want to hear a word from you, not even an apology.” I let him stew a while longer before I leaned over him from behind, my mouth close to his ear so he could smell my soft feminine fragrance, my hands resting gently on his shoulders, he could hear the soft rustle of my satin pyjamas as I quietly intoned, “You have clearly been lazy, careless and disrespectful, and now you are going to pay the price…. ”
Standing up I picked up the cane, strode over to the leather sofa and smashed the cane down on the arm, the whir and crack where frightening and he jumped in terror, I was displaying controlled rage to enhance his respect and fear.
“There will be no break. You will remain in detention and complete chapter five. You will also copy out chapters six and seven before you retire for the night.” I didn’t think it possible for him to look more morose and sorrowful, but he did, in fact he almost collapsed, sobbing loudly in despair and self-pity, real tears flowing. It was all ignored.
“But first, you are going to receive 12 strokes of the cane across your bare buttocks!”
it was 12-20 before a very tired, sore and dishevelled ‘school-girl’, got back to his detention, and it was almost four in the morning before he finished and retired to bed.
I was in bed exploding in orgasms at the imagery of the evening, and woke several times to play with my vibrator before falling into a deep sleep, I didn’t even hear him enter the room.”
Below is a blog post of mine from 2017, giving links to access earlier posts on which she has commented, previous to those above.
More from Christine M
Well my last post seems to have created many admirers of Christine M. Admirers who have clearly not been reading the comments to posts; as her comments on posts are so often indicative of her amazing, merciless, dominance.