This blog contains information that is adult in nature. If you are underage please leave at once.

Monday, November 2, 2015

Hand Wringing

A couple of weeks ago, Daddy remarked that mouse was getting a little sloppy about certain things. More than once she got a little lippy with him and not in that playful way she's got and then there's the household duty. Yes, we've got the most wonderful housekeeper in the whole world, but three rooms in our home are completely mouse's responsibility. The master bed and bath, Daddy's study, and the guest room his mother keeps.

The guest room isn't used very often, so it's really not an issue, just dust, vacuum, freshen the bedding. But Daddy slept in that room one night and noticed some dust on a picture frame and cobwebs. -- he wasn't happy. The only reason he went in there was that he had to leave in the middle of the night to catch a plane and he didn't want to bother mouse. That's the other problem, mouse was feeling very unwell. Just a snotty head cold, but enough to keep him out of the room.

Daddy didn't mention it while she was feeling sickly, but waited until she was feeling better. Then he waited a few more days before checking the room and found it largely unchanged. More days passed and really mouse just forgot all about. Then one night he mentioned it and mouse's reaction was to become bitchy. Daddy issued a warning and mouse got out of bed, went downstairs and cleaned the room then returned to the bed an hour later.

Several days later mouse was moody and lippy.

So on Wednesday Daddy announced that on Thursday we'd be discussing demerits, mouse just said nothing. Mentally, instead of listening to him mouse thought about all the times she had mouthed off, been bitchy, argued with him, willfully ignored something he wanted...really mouse wasn't sure rhe room was a willful thing or really an accident.

The list felt endless.

So the next day, mouse sat wringing her hands and waited for him to call her into the study. Like a kid waiting to see the school principal, mouse contemplated what he might do. Part of her hoped he'd just dismiss the punishment, but part of her knew that would not be fair to either of us or our relationship.

At last, inside his study he told mouse to remove her clothing and kneel, then he leaned back in his chair and said nothing for several minutes. Or so it felt. Then he began to go over the demerits, all the little things she thought he wasn't noticing or cared about were itemized. He was kind enough to pause the list, when mouse began to cry. He knew if she was crying she wasn't listening. He determined we had both made errors. That bit was surprising.

He said we needed to go back to who we were -- in the months since the our trip to the lake we'd gotten busy and forgot we need us. For a moment mouse was hopeful that he'd just wipe the slate clean and both just start fresh.

Daddy said he didn't want to punish mouse, he wanted to hold her and love her. That he'd been going back and forth in his own mind. This was one of those times where the punishment was his to follow through and punish his slave harshly.

He told her bluntly to remove the nipple rings and handed her clamps. The ones she hates, then he had her stand while he placed them. He went to the locked wardrobe, slowly unlocked it and took out the leather strap, the riding crop and the cane.

He used the riding crop on each breast, those were warmups. Then he had her kiss it and bend over -- not over the desk, but to just bend. He added a weight to the chain attached to the clamps and made it swing. He had mouse count the blows 15 in all. Then he picked up the leather strap, again had mouse kiss it, added another weight and again had mouse count off the blows. The cane was last, and added more weight to the chain, he had her again kiss it, and began. With her bottom already painfully marked the cane was just awful and she moved forward with each blow. When the nipple clamp released one side she screamed and whimpered out the number (6), and he just continued without mercy.

When it was over he held her and allowed to puddle on the floor, and listened to the sobs, and thank you's splilling from mouse. He had removed the other clamp and was rubbing her breasts as he spoke of she was again his good girl. He wrapped her up in her soft bathrobe, gathered her clothing and helped her up the stairs.

In our bedroom, he drew a bath and put the still sniffling mouse into the tub. He tenderly washed her, applied some salve to her bottom and thighs. In bed, he wrapped her up into his arms and held her longer. He spoke a little about us as a couple, parents and Master and slave. It might have been a good discussion but mouse was truly exhausted, just mentally vacant. Everything was hurting.

The next morning was of course busy. The housekeeper came and we worked in concert to get the house ready for Shabbat. Honestly, mouse didn't want to sit. In the morning Daddy inserted the large plug and mouse just felt invaded -- the corset didn't help. He did allow mouse to wear jeans while she cleaned and a shirt, but told her she must change into a dress before he got home. He also said that she should remove the plug then.

By the time the marathon cleaning was finished, mouse was sweaty and gross feeling and sent him a text begging permission to shower. This would mean she would have to remove the corset and put on the other corset that is generally worn when he's out of town. A few minutes later he replied that he preferred she didn't touch the strings of the corset.

Honestly, mouse felt a bit crushed by that. Never before did she want the corset off more. It felt suffocating to her.

But he came home early, passing the housekeeper as he entered the clean house. Now mouse thought she was in trouble because she wasn't yet dressed. He kissed her and said all was fine, his day was quite light and decided to end it early was all. He appreciated the tears and untied the corset strings himself, then told her to shower, he said he would run the late errands.

After the shower, mouse felt better, the clean dress and lack of corset didn't hurt either. The table was set, things were in order, and under control. The chickens came out wonderful. The kugel was yummy, the veggies weren't overcooked, and the table was full of laughter and fun. It hurt to sit, but that was just the reminder that it was behind (pun intended) us.

The weekend just flew passed, with all the usual things being done. But Sunday morning all the emotions caught up with mouse, as she was pleasuring Daddy with her mouth she was overcome. Tears fell but they were the good kind she needed the most.

After Daddy held her and all was again right in her world.

Today. Her bottom still hurts to sit, but it's not a reminder of her mistakes, instead it's a renewed promise that he's there watching and guiding her.



Anonymous said...

Good to see a post from you, mouse. I'm sure it was amazing to realize that Omega was paying attention to all those little demerits, even if you initially thought he didn't notice.

Roz said...

Hi Mouse, oh ouch! As hard as this was though, it seems it was exactly what you both needed. Wonderful aftercare, I love how attentive and reassuring Omega was.

How awesome to realise Omega was paying attention, even when you thought he wasn't. I love your last sentence!


Butterfly Slave said...

So Beautiful!!!! You are such an inspiration for this Butterfly!!! I have followed your blog off and on, under different names, and I am so glad to see you are still around!!!