If you ever wondered how crazy some people are, but are afraid to ask because you know the answer even if it is not in your favor. Well, then, I have a nice little surprise for you.
Category: Tales from the Jessica Files DRAFTs
This is an early draft copy of Chapter 9, P9 nine Dom of The Jessica Files by Punis Russi. Much like we are doing with The Other Side by K.W. Turner, we will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story from time to time.
Please, enjoy.
==============
Part nine 9 of The Jessica Files, Dom. This week, we get caught up with Sir and Ma’am and learn a little more about The Department of Rules and Contracts, aka DORCs.
It was a beautiful Sunday in spring, which here in Arizona runs from February till it hits 100*. That’s anytime between the end of March and mid-May.
Jessica and I had gone out to a local bar one day to have a couple of drinks and watch the San Francisco Giants and the St. Louis Cardinals in a doubleheader.
We didn’t go out very often, mainly because of my desire to be home. We were having a great time, but then…
I noticed this lady who seemed to be eyeballing Jessica out of the corner of my eye. And it was kind of annoying, but it wasn’t harmful then.
As it got into the late afternoon, the lady decided that she would come over to our table. I wasn’t sure what to expect at first. She was of average height and weight, average looking.
Once she arrived at the table, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But then…
The lady points at Jessica and says, “I am claiming this woman as my own for contract.”
I chuckled, and Jessica slowly lowered her hand underneath the table to put it on my leg because she was nervous. But Jessica knew the rules and the procedures around something like this.
“Miss, I believe you are gravely mistaken and overstepping your bounds. I recommend that you leave immediately,” I forcefully stated to her.
Again, the lady proclaims, “I am claiming this woman as my own for contract.” But this time, she’s staring at me.
I calmly say to the lady, “You fancy yourself a Dom? Well, then, you know the rules about this, don’t you?” I stared at this lady, stupid enough to try to claim shit like this.
I mean, I’m sure as fuck of the contents of that section, as it was always crucial to me. So this is going to be interesting.
The lady looked back at Jessica, trying to stare her down, but Jessica just looked down at the table, squeezing my leg more and more as this shit continued.
“You’re a Dom, right? That takes precedence over gender orientation. I do not want to say this a second time… You need to turn around and walk away before I slap the ever-living shit out of you.”
“You can’t slap me. I’m a woman.”
I quickly stood up, and everything else stopped in the bar. You could hear a pin drop. I’m guessing they know what’s coming; ain’t nothing good is the answer.
I told the lady, “I will give you a choice of the outcome here. I offer to buy you a shot of whatever you would like up to $100.”
Damn, that’s a pretty generous offer right there in my book.
“Or I’m gonna slap you so hard the DORCs will be able to identify your body by my fingerprints.”
The lady freezes; I’m unsure if she was trying to calculate how hard I would hit her or what she wanted for a shot. I start a slow count in my head … one thousand and one, one thousand and two…
“I would like the Dalmore 18, please.”
As I was cocking my arm back to lay waste to this thing trying to circumvent the DORCs rules, I lowered my hand to my pocket and took the one hundred dollar bill out. I always kept a hundred-dollar bill in my wallet for shit like this.
I’ve had that hundred dollars in my wallet for many years now. Most people apparently like being slapped.
The waitress finally comes over now that things weren’t going to turn sour. “How would you like that, on the rocks, neat…?”
I turned to the waitress; I handed her the one hundred dollars I had initially noted and pulled out another hundred dollars. “I think she wanted a double, right?”
“Yes, that would be very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”
“Miss, you made the right choice. But, don’t ever let it happen again because some Doms are not as forgiving as I am.”
The lady looked down at the table in my direction while I presume Jessica was nearly panicking.
When the waitress returned, she handed the lady a colossal drink of whatever the fuck it was. The lady looked down at her drink, swirling it around in the glass.
Finally, the lady looks up at me directly, not quite in the eyes, and says, “I’m sorry, sir. She is just so amazing.”
And I replied, “I believe it’s time for you to go.”
Jessica and I finish our drinks, and as we are ready to go, we signal for the waitress, and she comes over again.
She says, “Thank you so much for not hitting that person. We don’t want any trouble here, and we appreciate the lengths you went to prevent an incident.”
I chuckled … Incident. The bigger problem, and she and I knew it, wasn’t any violence; it was the fact that the DORCs would be here really fast, and everybody would have to endure dealing with them.
“Could you bring us our bill or tell me what I owe to save time?” I asked
“Call it $40 out the door, tip included, fair?” she stated with much uncertainty. A LOT.
I handed the waitress forty dollars and said, “Thank you, have a wonderful evening.”
I turn to Jessica. “Are you OK, my love?”
“Yes, Sir. But Sir, were you going to hit her?”
“Jessica, she was a Dom. Do you know what the rules are?” I paused.
“I think so, Sir,” she said in a very deflated way.
“Jessica, U.S. Code 14, The Department of Rules and Contracts, Section 4, subsection 6, paragraphs 3-5, clearly note that another Dom is not allowed to poach a sub at any time, anywhere, for any reason, ever.
“Paragraphs 6 and 7 outline that I am within my rights as a Dom to take the necessary actions to protect myself and my sub, in that order, by whatever legal means necessary.”
Jessica perked up. “Yes, Sir. I remember now, Sir.”
Usually, Jessica waits for my hand to be out before she grabs mine, sometimes palm-in-palm, but pinky hooks are our favorite. Of course, it helps since we live in Hell. OK, fine… Phoenix, Arizona
As we left, Jessica held my hand tighter than I thought she had ever done before. I thought I knew why but would be surprised by the events.
As soon as we got outside, I ordered a RydemNow. While we stood there, Jessica turned towards me, kissed me on the cheek, and said, “Thank you, Sir.”
I turned towards her, not saying anything but curious about what she was thinking.
“But, Sir, your hands belong on me and no one else!”
I smiled at Jessica.
“Sir, as per U.S. Code 14, The Department of Rules and Contracts, Section 4, subsection 6, Addendum R that was dually agreed to and signed by us….”
Wow! She knows her shit. Damn, I love this woman through and through.
“Sir, that addendum says that I am yours, and you are mine, and we shalt never touch another.”
“Yes, Jessica. That’s for threesomes or for either of us to fool around on the side. It’s not for this.” ”Oh, I see, Sir. So is that why we didn’t hook up with ‘eXXa’ when we had the chance?”
I thought about how the spelling of her name, using the letter X instead of the letter M, made it so annoying to pronounce. And to be honest, it just irked the shit out of me.
I stared intensely at Jessica, happy with her thoughts but unsure of where she was going. I wanted to bring out more and have a happy yum-yum time.
“Jessica, I love you. I only ever, EVER, want to be with you. You and only you. Aside from the Gatos, you are the only thing that matters to me. I love you. You are mine as I am yours.”
Jessica squeezed my fingers again, a little more complex, more joyous. “Thank you, Sir. I only want to be yours, for now, and always.”
“Well, my love, when we get home, we’ll swap your collar and ….”
I noticed her hand again rise up and gently clutch her outside collar. I know it means the world to her, as I know it fucking means the world to me. That collar is my love for her.
I often was disappointed when she did that, but I’d never said a word about it as best as I could remember.
It was something I had crafted for her, something no one else could or would ever have. It was unique, like her, and meant the world to me, like myself to her. She was just so amazing.
“Jessica, once we’ve swapped your collars, I will put my hands all over you!”
This is an early draft copy of Chapter 3, P3 three Contracts of The Jessica Files by Punis Russi. Much like we are doing with The Other Side by K.W. Turner, we will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming weeks.
Please, enjoy.
==============
Part three 3 of the Jessica Files, Contracts. This week, we get caught up with Sir and Ma’am and what the framework of contract life is like.
Every day with Jessica is a treasure. I can’t express how much I love her, I can’t express how much I know she loves me. Through action, statement, and known intent, I know how she feels.
I mean, she has signed many contracts with me as my love, as my subservient. As I have done with her. Without a doubt, we both know where the other stands on almost everything.
It’s in the contract, stupid.
Yes, that’s a term that gets thrown around in this household. We used to find ourselves pulling out the thick document known as, umm yeah? “The Contract”. If it weren’t in there, we needed to negotiate.
And that is something we did from time to time. Something would come up, we’d identify it. To the contract, we’d go. Was it something that needed to be amended? A new entry?
We’d negotiated so many times in the past, that it was so easy now. Fuck, Jessica and I had done so many addendums that it was often a difficult time to ensure they were merged forward.
But we always got it, Jessica and I. We always did. Why? Love. And the threat of legal bullshit.
But mainly it was respected. We were in this together, legally, and we loved the fuck out of each other. I can never recall a negative comment I’ve ever made about her that wasn’t to her.
And she would say the same, over and over, to me. She was my “Ma’am” and I was her “Sir”. I’d have it no other way. I’d kill for her, I’d defend her like anyone who loved anything. And she’d do the same.
I know this because while not violent, Jessica has staked her territory a time or two. Oh, how I loved that. Non-violent, stick her flag in me, fuck you bitches he’s mine.
I’d look at her in awe, smiling the whole way, thinking to myself “How fucking lucky am I? How do I have such an amazing woman in my life? I am blessed. Also, she’s mine. Mine!”
Make no mistake, she was mine as I was hers. There were no third parties in this unless it was one of the cats. All of them.
She loved the boys as if they were hers, which also warmed my heart with love. But like me, she loved the fuck out of Takao. He was something very, very special. I’ve known this for a long time now.
She was everything. And I know I was her everything. I know this because she’d always follow the rituals, live the rules, knowing both by heart. She was a lot smarter than most thought. Typical.
My Jessica was as devoted as you could imagine. When I said “jump”, she said, “for how long?”. She was a smart cookie, and that made managing our lives a lot easier. A lot!
And that made ritual time so much more fun for me, exciting for her, and just a lot of fun that the average person would not see or comprehend. This lifestyle, living on contract, is a challenge.
You had your own expectations of the relationship, and…. you had the legal ones. The ones you agreed to with legal representation, notarized, and filed. That kind of love, if you will.
I can only tell my side of our relationship, but I never doubted from the hug till now, that my Jessica loved her kastle. She loved her “Sir”. I can only lay this out in PG terms.
And I will do this as we progress, but I wanted to denote a few things that I’ve gotten mail about, about some of the contexts of the contract.
- Yes, she is to do what I say, when I say, so long as it is within the purview of the law.
- Yes, anything and everything (again, legal speak).
- Yes, she is a wonderful cook, absolutely amazing in her skills. Jessica might as well have gone to the Culinary.
- Yes, she hated dusting the house as much as I did and it was in the contract that neither of us was required to do so. Unless the rest of the tasks were completed.
- Yes, we would play rock/paper/scissors to see who “got” to dust.
- Yes, she has piercings that I requested of her, as per the contract.
- And yes, she really has wanted to murder my knees. Sadly, on more than one occasion.
I am so thankful to have her in my life, and…. that brings us to today’s topic. It’s called “Do what I say, period.” Yes, there are parts of contracts that we know exist but hope we don’t deal with.
I’m not talking about the “Clean the toilet with your tongue.” type of stupidity. No, this is literally telling someone what you want them to do in clear, concise language. Nope, it’s more interesting.
As with the ritual of exchange inside and outside collars, there are things that you are supposed to do in a relationship, non-sexually, and not in a slave-like manner. Unless it’s a Slave Lea thing.
Not like that doesn’t happen every year on 5/4… Sorry, what was I saying? I got lost in an outfit I had gotten her some years ago, one that can only be worn on that date.
contracts contracts contracts contracts contracts
This is an early draft copy of Chapter 2, P1 two Sleep of The Jessica Files by Punis Russi. Much like we are doing with The Other Side by K.W. Turner, we will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming weeks.
Please, enjoy.
==============
Part two 2 of the Jessica Files. This week, we get caught up with Sir and Ma’am and see what chicanery they get themselves into, and how things get solved.
Another Tuesday, another day here at home alone with the boys (cats) while I work the day away. Typically those are ten to twelve hours every day, but I’m at work before 6 AM local.
And in all of this time, in candid moments or in those free pass situations, Jessica had never complained or led me to believe the extra time one bed was an issue. I think I know why.
Yes, I have covered this in another post, I have knee problems, and sleep for me is often difficult. I may be something else in bed, but sleeping because of my knees isn’t it.
I have long suspected, but I never bothered to ask Jessica about the three or four hours in the morning that she gets to have the bed to herself.
Is it the snoring? The shuddering of my body in pain? Was it the trips to the shower and back? Yeah, I’d rather not fucking know than poke at that shit.
Just saying, if you regularly slept with another person for whom you were sleeping incompatible (ish) for years on end, how about them a couple of hours in the morning, am I right?
I’m just saying, I feel like Jessica needs those extra couple of hours without me shitting in her cheerios all night whenever possible.
Not because she needs more sleep, she just needs better sleep. This leads to an interesting topic.
Jessica and I were talking one night as I tossed and turned from the pain, she put her hand on my shoulder to help steady me more.
She slid in next to me, and sweetly whispered to me “I’m going to sleep in the guest room tonight. If I don’t, I will murder your knees. And then where would we be?”
She was adorable. I loved that about her. She always was finding new ways to make me fall in love with her over and over. It was enrichening my soul.
But notice, it was Jessica who went to the guest room and not myself, he who is the problem. And there is perfectly cromulent reasoning to it. Really.
It was in the contract. Yup, we negotiated some lines in the contract a few years back. Per the new contract, we got a really, really nice bed for the guest room.
She got to choose the bed, the size, the style, the sheets, everything!. She knew she was to be the only one to sleep on it, aside from visitors.
I was not to sully her bed, and I initialed on that line without blinking. It was almost as important to me that she was sleeping better as me sleeping not in pain.
It’s funny what kind of love and happiness can flourish between two people who were under a contract. It’s liberating. Maybe.
Lights out laying naked together, the air temp perfect. I’ve been there before.
This is an early draft copy of Chapter 1, P1 one Entropy of The Jessica Files by Punis Russi. Much like we are doing with The Other Side by K.W. Turner, we will be releasing a good amount of the chapters of this story over the coming weeks.
To note about this chapter, this was from the second day of writing the series, already this far in. Entropy, folks.
Please, enjoy.
==============
Part one 1 of the Jessica Files. This week, we are introduced to this redic couple, and see what chicanery they get themselves into, and how things get solved.
I sat at my desk in the den, waiting patiently for Jessica to get home. I often found myself lost in my thoughts on Tuesday evenings since she worked a late shift at her day job. The rest of the time, it was a more standardized day shift.
I knew that she would follow the same routine like any other day when Jessica got home. But Tuesdays were memorable for me. I could think out what I wanted more than any other day. Due to that fact, my level of enthusiasm was higher.
Jessica and I have been together now for a while, and it has always been on long-term contracts. That worked for both of us as it provided a level of stability that we both craved.
Two cerebral introverts, and you’d think there’d be problems. Nope.
The contract was always super tight, expressing the limits of the relationship is clearly defined words and well-understood language. Setting those limits is paramount to the success, short-term or long-term, of such an endeavor.
I’ve been enthralled with her for a long time now; she makes me smile just thinking about her. Her smile, her jovial nature towards me, and the beauty of her personage were remarkable and awe-inspiring. Then as well as now.
Oh, plus she was super hot as fuck.
I made sure that she took proper care of herself; we indicated that in the contract: nutrition and diet, mental and physical exercise, and grooming at a top-notch level.
Jessica never indicated it to be an issue, for if she did, she would have crossed off the appropriate lines in the contract we’d negotiated. She was always so eager when it came to renewal time.
That’s one of the best aspects of contract life; every time it’s up for renewal is another chance to adjust the expectations. Luckily there’s not been any changes over the last five contract renewals. Phew.
It’s also fantastic for parties of the contract to be so happy with the terms that they are re-up without even reviewing it. Jessica and I felt the same way with the words, a glossy, comfortable look in each of our own eyes.
It always makes me think back to the first time I saw her. God damn, she made my jaw drop when she looked over at me and gave me that smile. You know the smile, where you realize you are butter and being melted.
I didn’t engage with her aside from shenanigans that I’d pull while shopping, and our paths crossed. I so looked forward to that, but I never really let on that I intended to make her a part of my life.
And I did, and I am ever so fucking thankful for that Christmas Eve Day event. It was glorious. Jessica was stocking a refrigerated case and had turned around to get some more of the product that she was restocking.
She saw me out of the corner of her eye, as she has told me a time or two, and proceeded to make a beeline to me. I wasn’t expecting anything, to be honest, but the next five minutes changed both our lives.
As she got closer, her smile got seemingly wider. Her cheeks had a slight flush look to them. And her eyes, well fuck, I don’t know if I can express how I felt when I looked into her eyes.
What happened next was utterly unexpected. Her arms started to reach out to me. I didn’t know what the fuck was happening. I felt like a panic attack was coming on, not like that was anything new.
And then, Jessica hugged me. This was no pansy-ass hug; this was two humans’ bodies pressed together in a non-sexual manner. I could feel her against me, like transforming two into one.
We did that explorative dance with our eyes, darting from one focus point to another. I wished we had just kissed then in so many ways rather than waiting the next night, Christmas Night.
She was my gift from all that is above and below. She was the gift sent to ease, perhaps stop, all of the pain that I had.
Jessica wasn’t the solution; she was just a part of the puzzle that allowed me to become one with myself, my existence, all that is, and all that will become.
Jessica made me a human being again, and we both knew and celebrated that. I owe her my life, as I know in other timelines I wouldn’t have managed that.
I am getting ahead of myself here. How uncommon of me.
After the hug, the hug of eternity, we stood in front of each other, not three feet (arm’s length) apart. Jessica was taller than any other woman (IIRC) I had been with.
I had tended to date tiny gals, oh man, the tiny gals. 5’1″, 100lbs with a towel. Stuff like that, it had been my wheelhouse except for the odd bird of Ms. J.
Oh, Ms. J was unique. Like no other that I’ve met. Smart, fuck uber smart. She’s fucking doctor (medical) for the love of Zeus. And she was so much more. And we’ll save that for another day.
Jessica was 5’9 ½,” and I stood a mere 5’11” (on a good day). I’m much more accustomed to a different frame. But that did not matter because, in that moment, I changed.
That was the first of many changes that her presence, essence, gave to me. She was so fantastic as a person; it made you want to be a better human because of her.
We were nearly at eye level, looking at one another as we had a conversation. The type of conversation you typically both remember and forget at the same time.
It was glorious. We discussed our holiday plans, whom we had (in general) in our lives, and the sadness we both held onto at the time. Family. Well, parents.
I won’t divulge it here, but we both have our own shit, just like everyone else. Jessica made me believe that she was trying to own it,
and as we all know, I own my own shit.
That meandered the discussion into our holiday plans. I didn’t have any, for I was on call for some stupid fucking reason. But then again, those clowns…
Jessica told me that she didn’t have any plans, and boom, lightbulb for later. Hindbrain at work, I swear to Zeus that mofo takes excellent care of me. The hindbrain, Zeus ain’t no mofo.
Just as the conversation was getting to be rather interesting, the PA came on asking for her to go to the service desk. In some lives, I let her walk away; in others…
I stopped her as we parted and said, “By the way, my name is kastle. And you are?” as I gestured my hand for a formal introduction. In all this time, we’d never exchanged that.
She stopped in her tracks without my touch; she slowly spun around and said, “My name is Jessica, and it’s my pleasure to meet you.”. With that, I was fucking sold.
I retorted, “It’s nice to meet you, Jessica. Say, since you don’t have any plans tomorrow night, would you like to get together and talk about our fortunes?”.
I don’t think I’d even finished that sentence before she said, “Yes, I would like that. Give me your phone.” And with that, she created a contact entry for herself.
I stared at Jessica, awash with feelings about another human I had not felt in a < strong>very, very long time. And that made me happy, very, very happy.
Jessica then sent herself a text that said one word, “kastle.” I could feel like we’d both hooked each other. I felt like Britt Baker in Pittsburg. (look it up)
And with that, she turned to walk away. Having taken a step or two, she paused and turned around, totally catching me staring at her ass. And it’s fine now as it was then.
And I don’t have to say that because the contract favors me in this regard.
She paused and said, “I’ll call you tonight, ok?”. There was no other answer that I could come up with other than “Yes, ma’am.”
And like that, she walked away, sashaying her ass like she had just won the lottery, and she was riding the wave of emotions that came with it. She’s told me as much a time or two.
I recall wondering if that was the end like it had been with my friend “Andrea” from Florida. That “ass walking away moment,” if you will. Hmm, I wonder if that’ll catch on.
Once I had come back to earth, seemingly hours later, but in reality, a few moments, I texted a friend of mine who was familiar with the Sapphire Chronicles.
She was enthusiastic for me but hesitant to be all in pending that following conversation. I agreed, but I felt like I knew what would come to pass.
I told her, “Dana, this is it. For real. This is a win of epic proportions. With just a hug, I am hooked on a human I have respectfully admired from a safe distance”.
“Dana” knew the quality of the person I was (and am), and she knew I wasn’t about changing the integrity that I value so highly on something so dumb as a piece of ass.
No, Jessica was worth so much more than that now. And then, in a blink of an eye, I heard the garage door open. And yes, her car had an interior parking spot next to mine.
I stood up, moved to the kitchen where she knew I’d be, and counted the paces of how long it typically took for her to come in. It wasn’t bad or anything, just that I couldn’t wait.
I could hear the turning of the doorknob, knowing I would always have it unlocked for her. Except like two times, and you just heard a thud. That was my work-related.
“Sir, I’m home!” she proclaimed as if I weren’t waiting for her in our agreed-upon place.
As she came into the kitchen, I saw that beam in her eyes as I did so many years ago on Christmas Eve. I was lit up like a Festivus pole or some shit.
Jessica put down her jacket and purse, where she was approved to do so (again, contract). I just watched, amazed that this fantastic human was here for me.
“Sir? Shall I…?”
I looked and smiled, knowing that this would be one of the joys that I got out of the day. I paused as she came back around the kitchen island to me.
“Jessica, you shalt.” And with that, she moved the anti-fatigue mat that I had gotten her moons ago to a position in front of me. She knew the drill; she knew the routine.
She stood just in front of me and turned away from me, bowing her head so slightly with her hair pulled up. This is the part that I loved the most. Oh man, just oh man.
I gently reached over to her exposed neck and unhooked the clasp on her necklace, the one I had personally handcrafted for her from things of my past.
That is the way. Sorry, no dopy Mandalorian shit here.
I pulled the necklace off, guiding it above her and then reclasping it.
She said, “Sir, would you put my inside collar on me, please?”. And so I did—Ahh, contracts, how they do things for all parties involved.
With her collar in place, I asked her quietly to please turn around. I checked the fitment to ensure she wasn’t being harmed; that’s very important when doing shit like that.
Lord knows I don’t want to be texting “Larry” or “Debo” to come to help me disappear a dead hooker’s body or anything. Yes, that’s a joke. No, it’s not a joke. My friends would do that with me.
I looked her in the eyes, just staring into them as I had many years ago. I was in love with her as much now as I was then. Time had not changed any of it. Perhaps it made it sweeter.
It felt like 15 minutes, if only 30 seconds. I slowly grasped the well-placed protruding ring on her collar into my thumb and pointer finger.
I always drew great pleasure from our ritual. Remember, contracts and agreements by both parties.
Jessica smiled at me; she always smiled at me. It always made me feel so special, so important to at least another human and not just my cats.
I pulled her close to me, not making a move against the movements. She knew I’d never let harm come to her; that too was in the contract I took so seriously.
She knew what was coming. We both looked forward to it. It always started with a kiss like the first one, love and hope. That never changed between us; that first kiss was memorable.
After that slow, PG-13 kiss (aka no tongue), I slowly released her from my grasp, knowing she knew the rules.
Jessica asked, “Sir, may I?”. She was a veteran of the game; she knew the rituals and the decorum.
I replied, “You may.”
With that, she slid down her pants, doing, “No, these aren’t too tight for me to shuffle.” I took note of that as if I were going to change some part of her regime.
I took the quick, fearful gaze back to me to be precisely that. I had to make sure she knew the rules, and I was going to.
But she didn’t need to lose any weight or exercise more. Nothing like that. It’s just what happens to adults as we age; you can’t stop entropy.
Her pants now down at her ankles, she fixed back on my eyes as she stood in front of me. It wasn’t a showdown; she was waiting on my command.
I smirked and said, “Assume the position, ma’am.” And with that command, she was on all fours with her pants down around her ankles while resting on the anti-fatigue pad”.
“Sir, I was bad today. I left the house without you, and I accept the punishment that comes with it.”
We both damn well knew she left the house for her job, but it’s a ritual that we live by and many others in the contract world.
I replied with my typically “How many times over were we bad, ma’am?”
Jessica softly replied, as she always did, with some arbitrary number of spanks she could take without crying even if she knew she’d had a hard time sitting later.
I used to think of her as a trooper, but as the years moved on, I knew she was as sadist as myself, which is why we were together. Not just on contract but because of absolute love.
Jessica replied, “3?”. I laughed inside at the response like she was phishing for the correct number. And like always, I gave her a “Go fish…”
“Fine, be it 4. But I don’t know why I should have to chan….”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can not allow you to continue like that. You know the rules. You are not allowed to talk to me in such a manner. You should be so lucky not to get slapped in the face.”
She knew I meant it, too, although the idea was gross and appalling. I’d never raised my hand to her like that; I pray that I never will.
Sure, it’s covered in the contract, but that doesn’t allow me to abuse another person. Ever. Even if it’s legal. Legal doesn’t always mean right.
“Sir, I believe I deserve another 4. Please ensure that I get all of them.” I felt like I could have gotten an erection for just that sentence.
“Get up, now!” I proclaimed in an aggressive faux voice. I could see the welts from my slap, so I knew she was all ears.
“Yes, sir!.” And in a jiffy, she was back in front of me, pants still down.
I gave her a deep sigh.
“Jessica, do you believe inside of yourself that I love you?” I hate saying shit like that, but there was a point.
Immediately she responded, “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir. Since day 1.”
“Jessica, should I administer the rest of your discipline?”
Almost as quickly, she responded, “Yes, sir. Absolutely, sir.”
I looked her deep in her eyes; I grabbed her once again by the collar, pulling her in towards me slightly more stiffly. I asked, “Jessica, why should I continue with your discipline?”
And as quickly as the other two responses she had given, “Sir, I love you with all of my life. Whatever your decision is, I respect that, and I love you more.”
How the fuck am I supposed to do my job when I have to contend with that?
“Jessica, thank you. Now… assume the position.” And she did so, albeit a little slower this time. I smirked because I knew the game I was playing and wasn’t for right now.
I knew I wouldn’t spank her again, even if she were due three more. Nope, not going to happen. I took a few steps to the side and opened the freezer to grab one of my knee ice packs.
I grabbed a clean dishtowel and wrapped the ice pack with it. I knelt next to her, adjacent to what was my swollen handprint on her ass. I quietly set the timer on my watch for 15 minutes.
I couldn’t see my fingerprints, so I knew we were good.
I kissed where I had slapped her gently and lovingly. It bothered me how things had gone this evening. It wasn’t the first, and it wouldn’t be the last.
I sat down on the mat while she remained on all fours. I did not say a word; I gently applied the icepack to the swelling. She knew my compassion; I think that’s another reason she loved me.
And we sat there for 15 min, with me taking the icepack off every few minutes to rotate it. All the while, she stayed in her position. And you see, that was the actual punishment.
I knew that she would rather take the smacks to her ass than be made to sit there for however long I determined she should, knowing she was not supposed to move. Like furniture.