The heat is on

I got the call from the propane company that the driver was on his way so I drove home – a benefit of the new place – it’s less than ten minutes from the office, sometimes as little as six!

To my surprise, Mistress was home, having dropped in to change and shower before an appointment. It seems that all the warm clothes she was wearing became too much when it turned into a gorgeous fall day!

Having met with the “gas man” (snicker!) and confirmed that the heater was working, I went back inside to tell Mistress the good news. She was happy it was done and happy that things were finally set up properly. But it was obvious she had not been happy Monday morning. Or this morning.

“You know what’s next, pup?”


“You failed me pup. I’m upset that you failed me and our roommate. Put away those clothes on the floor and I’ll be right back.”

I put away her morning clothes as she finished some post shower items and returned to the bedroom.

“Drop your pants.” I did.

“Lay on the bed.” I did, my thighs, cock and balls laying upon the heavy wool blanket – the blanket I had to put there because I failed to attend to the propane tank – the reason I was in the doghouse.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw her slide the sjambok from the toy bag. “Oh, fuck!” She stood to the side of the bed and after a few strokes to calibrate her distance and the weight of the stroke, she lit into me with a few zingers. I grabbed a pillow and yelled into it. She hit me again. I yelled again. She hit me a few more times, thighs, ass, wherever she wanted.

She then found a cane and started striking me with that. Lighter, yes, but it felt as though the cane was slicing into my flesh, the thin rattan stick able to cut such a fine line across my ass and thighs.

He is caned

He is caned


She tried to take a picture but the light of the room didn’t let it happen. “Turn over!” she barked. “Keep that leg flat!” I covered up my cock and balls to protect them “Put those down”, she said as she struck my hand with the cane. I forced my leg down to flatten it out and she came down with a cane stroke, right across my right thigh and my balls. I squealed out in pain and collapsed my body into a fetal position. I swear I heard her smile.

And then we both heard the house door open and close. Our roommate was home for a lunch break.

“You’re lucky… ” she said in a quieter tone as she motioned to me to start putting myself back together.

“Yes Ma’am, I know.” And I am.

As I left the bedroom our roommate greeted me with a smile “So, a little afternoon delight?” she laughed.

“Something like that, sure!” I smiled. “The heat is fixed!” I deflected. And vanilla conversation ensued.

Mistress promises more beatings. And not just for punishment, but because she wants to. Hey, roommate, any chance you can leave the country a week or three earlier?

2 thoughts on “The heat is on

  1. I suspect you give Madam precious few opportunities to punish you, so She is inclined to make the most of them. It’ll do you good to be beaten more often just because it pleases Her. Wouldn’t want you screwing up on purpose now, would We?

    • It is my goal to give her no reason to punish me for actual failures. But sometimes I slip. And on important things, never on purpose.

      Forgetting something like a lightbulb on the way home might be somewhere that I might make a purposeful error to see what kind of punishment might be meted out. But I still brought home a lightbulb last night as ordered. ;)

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