So, after I got home in all that unicorn afterglow last Saturday, I spent the day in bed reading (and being alternately horrified and inspired by) The Game, snoozing, and getting handsy with myself to dreamy mental images of Cute Master and Pretty Slave. That night, there was a choice between two parties—the one PS had invited me to, (where I’d been promised dancing and maybe a setup with a cute boy) and the Regular Dungeon (where I was hoping to run into the Boss of Me and Her Boy again). Dancing won since I had a hankering for it, and also for more time with PS.
The munch with the dancing was in the suburbs, in the kind of festive, wholesome venue where one’s family might throw an anniversary party. The cute boy was a nonstarter, but I had the best time jumping around on the dance floor with PS and belting out “Call Me Maybe”—that really is exactly how I feel about her.
I didn’t feel like I was quite fitting there, and I wanted to give them some space to schmooze other girls if they wanted to, so I decided to say my goodbyes and drive over to the Regular Dungeon. The drive over was dreamy, just listening to whatever shuffled on and scrolling through all of the lovely new sensations that the last 48 hours had brought.
Since I hadn’t been planning on going to the dungeon, I didn’t have my suitcase or even cute underpants on! I guess that’s a lesson—I should stop pretending I want to be anywhere else on those particular Saturdays.
When I got there, I saw who I’d been looking for right away. The Boss of Me and Her Boy were standing around being adorable and watching several entranced couples who were in the midst of doing rope on blankets spread out on the floor. I’d sent her a note (with my phone number) explaining that I might not make it, but she hadn’t gotten the note and said they’d been looking for me. That gave me a little *squee* in my heart. He was in an adorable pastel rope collar and I said I wanted one too.
We went to the seating area at the back of the room, where we found Old-Timey Guy, Punk Rock Girl, and The Puncher. I was superhappy to see them and apologized for being such a ninny at their party a few weeks before.
The Boss instructed me to sit down and proceeded to make me a pretty pink rope collar. Boy, pink ropes really didn’t take too long to find their way back into my life! She petted me and hugged me, felt so soothing and her hair smelled so good. She said mine did too: “Good job taking a shower,” she said.
She shoved the leash part down my cleavage and suggested to The Puncher that he root around in there and get it out. He didn’t take her up on it, but he did sit down and chat and agree to flog me once The Boss was done with me. The four of us kind of sat there in a sleepy heap, taking in the sights and shrieks of the scenes going on around us. The Boss was so warm and snuggly that I would have fallen asleep on her, had Old-Timey Guy, who was demoing all of his toys for a new friend, not brandished the star-cane at me. I jumped up at the sight of it; I love/hate that thing so much. I pulled my pants down a little bit and grinned at the folks who were watching, suddenly as awake as can be. When he whacked me it did hurt, but I noted that it wasn’t as bad as it used to be.
“Well, you’re much more resilient than you were before!” he said.
Indeed! Go me.
After he was done showing off the star I was delivered back into The Boss’s arms—she really is such a good kisser and she’s so nicely rough with my boobs. Her Boy sat by, rosy-cheeked and smiling, and whenever I did something bratty (which was often) she told him he’d pay for it later. Don’t quite understand the math on that one, but it works for me.
I wanted a good, hard slap across the face, but she was a little hesitant and told me she’d only do it if I really pissed her off. She was in the process of binding me up but I still had my hands fee enough to grab the end of her long blond hair and pull hard. That made her mad enough, and she cuffed me hard across the left side of my face, grabbed my chin, squished up my face and told me I’d been a very bad girl, then slapped again.
“You’re laughing too hard, I don’t think you learned your lesson.”
She went behind me to finish binding my arms, and since my hands were right there I grabbed her crotch.
Just as I was saying “Who wears Spanx to the dungeon?” she was getting livid and forcing me to kneel and put my face against the wall.
“Why would you DO that? Did anyone TELL you you could?”
She pulled down my pants exposing my not-cute undies to the room and started to spank hard.
“You’re just going to have to tell me you’re sorry!”
I laughed and wiggled my ass until she forced me to lie on my belly on the flat bench. Her spanks were quick and stingy and I screamed and hollered and fussed.
When it was done, we snuggled for a moment but it was getting close to the end of the evening so I ran right over to The Puncher next—he is as handy with his flogger as he is with his fists, applying the pressure in such a way that it goes straight through to my hoo-ha. He’s an excellent cuddler too—I must’ve given him fifty hugs after.
I walked The Boss of Me and Her Boy to her car and they drove me back to mine, telling me their real names in the process. I’m excited that she’s in my phone now and is a fan of this emoticon: <3 Can never get too many of those!