We arrived here mid-afternoon on Friday, ready for some R & R. The teens hit the Avenue for a shopping expedition . with some well husbanded Christmas cash, and the plan was for Mick and Molly to hit the bed in our suite.
Necessity being the mother of invention, Mistress was happy to discover a useful tool in our suite, one of those oversized shoehorns that she displayed to me, smacking it across her palm.
Slave had already shed his jeans and briefs, and Mistress told me to roll over and prepare for my punishment. I had the temerity to ask what I was being punished for, and was told that I had failed to be vocal enough in describing my love and devotion for her in recent days. Sadly, she was right. It’s been a crazy week with work and a family health crisis. My priorities have been a little skewed.
The hard wooden shoehorn made a very efficient tool when it came time for her to have me focus better on my devotion. She smacked me about a dozen times, pretty darn hard. I did a better than usual job of maintaining my composure, squirming and whining a bit. Crying out as she hit her crescendo. And of course the blood flowing to the wounded area also seemed to flow to my hardening cock.
When she was done, Mistress rolled me over and used the long wooden rod to poke at my cock, helping it stretch out before her fingers completed the task of converting it to a tool that would serve her own purposes.
Before she exploited me further, she picked up her I-phone and made me roll over again, laying the rod across my red ass. The snap of her camera only re-enforced my humiliation. And then she ordered me to post it for our readers to see what happens when a Slave fails to make her Mistress the focus of his attention at all times.
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