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Shell Shocked
I must have really pissed him off this time because he’s cuffed me to the bed for my punishment. We don’t normally bother with restraints; I willingly lie still.
He strokes my butt, reassuringly. “It will only be six. Can you be brave?”
He always asks if I’ll be brave, like I must have been foolhardy to taunt him and now I’ll need to be courageous to accept the cane. In his mind, I’m fragile, like a delicate seashell.
I love him, and with my guidance he’s becoming a competent Dom, but he can be so obtuse. I enjoy the cane. I wind him up because I want the cane. I need the shock, the electric passion shooting through my veins; I need the heat, the shame, the bruises, the pain: I need the cane.
But maybe he needs my feigned timidity, so I play my part. “Please, Sir, I’m scared. Six is so many! Can they be gentle?”
“I don’t know. Some of them might be, I suppose. You’ll find out when they arrive.”
What?
“Ah, there’s the doorbell. The first one’s here; I’ll go let him in. Will you be my brave girl?”
Linked to Wicked Wednesday
