The heat is on, Part 2

OK, so they got the A/C working again. But I got roasted anyway.

Seems ST took exception to my naked shower photo. "Don't you know that's how you get stalked and killed? Haven't you seen the movies? It always happens in the shower!"

I shrugged. "So, are you going to kill me?"

"No, but you'll wish I had!" Oh dear.

Would you believe that both he and John called me "Negative Nellie"? Of all the nerve! I am not negative, dammit. I am realistic. And OK, maybe a bit cynical. But negative? Meh. Misunderstood, once again.

"What do you want? You want me to be all full of sunshine, spouting positivity every minute?"

"No! Then I'd have to spank you for nauseating me!"

"Oh, fine! If I'm negative, that's no good. If I'm positive, that's no good either. Why don't you just admit that I can't do anything right and be done with it??"

"Ah, we're digging deep here tonight. You believe you can't do anything right."

Thank you, Dr. Fraud.

I wore such pretty panties for him, and he just yanked them down unceremoniously. Humph. When I complained, he said he was appreciating them -- he just appreciated them more in the down position. "It's all in the presentation," he insisted. "You know, like fine dining, like excellent cuisine. It's about presentation."

"Right," I grumbled. "What are you going to do, stick a sprig of parsley up my ass?"

"No-o-o-o..." he teased. "Maybe some ginger?"

"The HELL you will!" I screeched.

Actually, I was in good spirits tonight, no emotional agenda. Just wanted to have some fun and laughs, and play hard. ST was more than happy to oblige.

"You see, I'm digging deep, too, and learning things about myself."

"Yeah? And what might those be?"

"I'm mean! I'm a sadist!"

I could have told him that and spared him some digging.

He proudly announced that he had cleaned and oiled all his leather implements this weekend; did they feel different? Frankly, no. And I just wasn't reacting to leather tonight, not early on, anyway. I just propped my head in my hand and smiled at him over my shoulder, watching him and not even flinching.

"I'm not even getting a reaction out of you, am I?" I shrugged. "Not yet."

And then... I can't believe I said this. My fellow bottoms are going to shoot me. I'm going to be thrown out of the Spankee Association. But yup, I said, "I might react to the hairbrush."

Oh, @#$%, did I ever. Me and my big mouth. He gave me several hard flurries with it, leaving me breathless.

When he got up to get my canes out of the closet, I glanced at the hairbrush next to me on the bed. He saw me look at it and warned, "You keep your hands off that!" OK. So I pushed the brush off the edge of the bed... with my nose.

Well, I kept my hands off it! Right?

Meanie.

Even after the caning, he still wasn't done. He pulled out that big wooden paddle. Been a while since I've seen that fucking thing. Haven't missed it a bit.

It didn't miss me. Not once.

Ah, but it was all fun. Honest. For those who said they wanted to see me smiling again, here you go:

"You've never asked for the hairbrush before," he commented. "What was going on with you tonight?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I guess I just needed to feel a bit more." Not sure why. Maybe my tolerance has gone up to another level. Or maybe I'm simply in a place lately where I'm craving and welcoming pain. All the more reason to be in very trusted hands.

In other news -- John is feeling better. He was able to do some much-needed yard work on his days off, and he even went for a bike ride twice over the weekend. He hasn't been riding in months. So this was a great relief. He needs aerobic exercise to keep his heart strong, but he hasn't had the energy to do it in a very long time.

Onward with the week. Please hold a good thought for my building's antiquated A/C. As I write, the news is on and the weather guy is saying he's going to kick the predicted temps up a few notches higher than they were before. Isn't that special.

Thank you, ST. :-)