The smarting in my bottom faded after a
bit. When I checked it in the mirror
last night before turning in at my curfew time I couldn’t see any bruises. PS has said she was going to make it blue to
match my lips. To my mind it did look like
I had rosy cheeks and I wiggled my bottom to make it jiggle. It was almost as if I was happy.
No, no, no.
Today I found out that the physical effects of
being spanked might have faded, but the mental ones, the emotional ones did
not. I felt more subservient to Mistress
Eleanor, PS and all women than ever before.
I had been disciplined.
Corrected. Instructed. It was almost as if I felt proud.
No, no, no.
Thinking about it, and mindlessly doing Twitter
tasks or housework gives me plenty of time to think, my constant attempts to
deny what I was truly feeling, trying to hide my submissive, sissy nature, was
foolish. But I did enjoy it.
Yes, yes, yes.
No, no, no.
I mean the attempts to deny. That I enjoyed. Pretending to be a man. Giggle.
That was fun. Maybe impossible,
but still a real challenge.
Being a Sunday the house was quiet. Mistress had a leisurely start to the
day. I served as best I could,
effectively being invisible, which I felt would be what would please Mistress
Eleanor. PS was busy planning the week
ahead. I helped where I could. I am sure she could sense my increased level
of obedience, perhaps even recognising that I would attempt to do tasks
unbidden. That these went, I felt,
unnoticed, well, that just increased the humiliation, the frustration. And I sure am frustrated.
Yes, yes, yes!
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