Curiosity killed the pussy cat.

If you’ve been reading my blog lately, you’ll have noticed I haven’t been in the best head space. I am pushing through, and Master is making me new rules to get me back into place. They are very basic; 1) Make him coffee every morning by nine, 2) Get dressed – or more specifically be hot, 3) Always use his honorific of Sir or Master without fail.

The simplicity is certainly needed.

Lately, I have gotten so far off track coffee came whenever I felt like it, and I may or may not have worn anything more then pajamas for the day. At one particular low point I made coffee mid-day sometime. While sipping mine, I strolled out of the room, and threw back a comment that his was in the microwave. There may have been a glare in there, or a ‘tone.’ Though I refuse to speak on that, because any more details might incriminate me.

So, the exact rule is actually to serve him coffee by 9 am, hot and smiling. I can still take a shower after that, but the coffee must be hot, and I must be smiling when I serve it. With these rules there is also a new punishment; spankings – hard ones.

It has not yet been a week, and I already slipped up once. It did not go unnoticed. He bent me over the bed, and I prepared for the worst. Three times he swatted me. The shame filled me, and I apologized for my carelessness.

Though, I have to admit, they weren’t very hard. It certainly wasn’t enough for me to feel it even a minute later. He admitted he had pulled back, let me off slightly. My tardiness wasn’t great, so maybe he didn’t feel severity was needed. He did, however, promise to not be light again, not even a little, not even for 3 minutes of tardiness. Late was late, and that would be the end of it. (I had on that particular day, been up for hours, but he did not get coffee until reminding me just after nine.)

The negotiated terms are up to 5 firm swats without warm up at all, the exact strength and number to be determined by him and according to the severity of my misstep. His warning that morning was upping the expectations and the possible severity. I foolishly admitted his first set of 3 swats was not enough for me to care about. Clearly, I’m too bold and brass for my own good.

One swat, he said, as hard as he could swing with his short wooden paddle, would bruise me instantly, and I would regret it fiercely. Something like that, I told him, is what it would take for a spanking to make me regret my actions.

Now, I am caught by curiosity. What would a single swat – at his absolute hardest – feel like?

I have not slipped up again, not yet anyway.

xoxoxo minnie

4 thoughts on “Curiosity killed the pussy cat.

    1. 😉 I don’t know. I should ask. He has certainly swatted me without a warmup, on the ass only of course – which can take quite a wallop. I’d guess he’s at around 75%.

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