Happy Are They Who Thirst For Justice

From Trishymouse’s Journal:

Last night Christopher comes into my bedroom as I sit here in front of my computer. He takes two pillows and places them on the bed, then walks to the coat-tree and removes the cane and stands by my side…waiting. I pause my typing and ask, “What?!” and nervously smile up…way up…at him. He calmly stares at me, and I say, “I have to pee!” and scamper off…

I return, and ask, “What now?” “Get yourself comfortable.” “What are we doing?” “Just get yourself comfortable.” “What are you going to do? Don’t you think I should know?” “A bit of…” (what did he say now…?) “A bit of justice…”

Oh, dear…

I had allowed someone to use me at a recent event I attended alone without…asking. Christopher was not amused.

I bend over, he doesn’t warm me up…not really. Even the smaller strikes HURT. I make many ‘ouches’, and whimpers, and am asked “Why are you crossing your ankles?” and suddenly realize I am, not realizing before, and I respond, “To help cope?” Several tap, tap, taps of the cane, then sudden strikes…OH…MY…GOOOOD I think as I cry out. One strike where the tip land centered catches part of my inner thigh, where I am most sensitive and it’s what I imagine a red hot poker feeling like. I realize as I calm down seconds later, my ass is now warmed, and the next few strikes feel quite different than the first ones. I settle and relax more, and think to myself, “I could really get into an extended session like this…Mmmmmm….”

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