Thou shalt not laugh at thy top
Or else thine ass is grass.
On FetLife, one of New Guy’s friends was teasing him on his wall, scolding him for not saying “thank you” to a compliment, calling him “young man,” etc. And he was all “Yes ma’am, sorry ma’am.” So of course, I had to give him a bunch of noise about that, didn’t I?
Seems he took umbrage at that, saying I was spying on his page and making fun of him. I protested that he follows MY activity, and he said, “It’s OK when I do it.” Top logic at its finest, folks. Anyway, he deemed that I was lacking in manners, laughing at him. But I couldn’t seem to help myself. Even after a very long OTK session.
He did take a break in the middle of it — but only to send me to the kitchen to fetch the wooden spoon. After I got up, he said, “Those panties stay down and that dress stays up.” I yanked the dress back down anyway. “Pull that dress back up or it comes off,” he threatened. I pulled it back up.
I’d forgotten how much that @#$%ing spoon hurts. Makes those lovely ovals, too. But that was just the beginning.
Down on all fours on the carpet I went, for his belt and the strap. Had to switch things up, he said. Couldn’t have my readers getting bored, could we? Nahhhhh…
I still couldn’t stop giggling though. So he moved me to the ottoman, where he could really lay into me. I thought for a brief moment I was finally settling down… then “We Are The Champions” came on. When Freddie Mercury sang, “No time for losers…” I started cracking up again. But I didn’t want to tell NG what I was laughing at.
He managed to coax it out of me, however. So I told him that when I heard that “no time for losers” line, I’d wanted to say, “Yeah! So go home!”
“Oh, I’m a loser now, huh?” The strap suddenly got much faster and much heavier. OK, I asked for that.
“I think you need 15 more good ones with this — you’re going to count them and say after each one: ‘You are a winner!’ ” (groan)
We managed to get up to eight when he started critiquing the enthusiasm of my delivery. Wanted more sincerity, he said. Arrggh. He liked my tone after the count of nine, but after ten, he started up with that “Nope, I’m not hearing the enthusiasm” sh*t again.
So after stroke eleven, I hollered with all the energy I could muster: “Eleven — you are a wiener!!”
He started over at number one. OK, I guess I asked for that too.
But finally, he prevailed, I stopped my giggling and mouthing off. “It really isn’t wise to say stuff like that when someone is spanking you,” he reminded me.
Guess I’m not all that wise. A wise-ass, maybe.
Hey! Aren’t my VS Cheekies cute?
Of course, they didn’t stay up long.
Geeeez… why do I bother wearing nice panties for this guy…
Think I was done laughing? Think again. Just before he left, he accidentally knocked a glass of water over, and I went to get some paper towels. I mopped up until a wad of them was saturated… and as he bent over his toy bag putting things away, I stuffed the wet towels down the back of his shirt. 😀
It was cute to watch him dance. He made me dance after that, but it was so worth it.
He won’t be able to make it next Monday, unfortunately. Already I feel a little melancholy, thinking how I’ll miss him next week. Damn, am I spoiled, or what?
Thanks for another great night, sweetie… and for being such a good sport. You know I think you’re the bestest. ♥