Milord exercised his right to choose my lingerie this evening. He handed me a lovely pair of leopard print panties complete with a wireless vibrator.

I looked at him, bit my lip, then put them on. After all, per our Updated House Rules, I couldn’t very well deny him a right I willing gave to him.

“You will make no outward sign of any kind, my love,” he said gravely, knowing full well there wasn’t a chance in hell of me being able to obey.

I reached for a bra and looked at him, but he shook his head. No bra. I slipped my dress, a simple shirtwaist, over my head, fixed my hair and make-up and we were off to, of all places, a general store three towns over, a throw back to the 1940s where you could buy a pound of flour, a quart of motor oil, shoes, or Christmas decorations all at the same place.

“You have $50.00 to spend on items that I can use on you. Don’t disappoint.”

I grabbed a shopping cart and the gasped caused two people to stare at me. Damn it! He’d hit full throttle on the remote! Luckily, the vibrator was also silent. I smiled at the people and said, “Sorry. Just twisted my ankle a bit.”

Three more times did I call attention to myself. I was actually proud of the 5 times I’d managed to keep walking and shopping gracefully.

Milord carried the purchases into the house and told me to go PREPARE. I had 30 minutes. I sprinted through my shower, shaving EVERYTHING and gave myself a quick, simple water enema. I thanked the gods that I was able to eliminate quickly. With one minute to spare, I was kneeling on the bed, my forehead on the mattress, ass in the air, thighs spread.

“Interesting choices of purchases, my love. I may not use all of them right now, but soon. First, you have a punishment coming. Four times by my count you brought attention to yourself.”

He ran his hand over my ass, then spread my cheeks. I smelled the spicy scent of ginger before I felt the burn of the rather large fig being pushed inside my anus.

“Four times. What is four times – what is the date?”

I shuddered. The 8th, Milord.

“So that would be 32.” He slapped my ass. Hard. “Correct?”

“Yes, Milord.”

“And you bought a lovely wham new wham ping pong paddle!”

He took his time. Waiting, making sure I felt every single blow. The sting of the ginger fig alone bring tears to my eyes. The bite of the paddle covering my entire ass and upper thighs. Thighs which I’m sure glistened with my own wetness.

Then, he pressed in a finger, then two, then three to my slick puss.

“You can handle more, can’t you?”

“Yes, Milord,” I sobbed.

And so a fourth was added. He continued the spanking while he finger fucked me, reminding me that I was not allowed to come during a punishment. Finally, when my will was broken and my soul was his, he gave one last almighty blow with the paddle, pushed deeply into my body, and said the word. “Come.”

And so I did.