Rule of Thumb Pt. 01 - Sex Stories

Rule of Thumb Pt. 01

... door blind.

"Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes Sir." Kay was weeping quietly. She was mortified. She'd not truly confronted the realization before that that she'd been breaking His rule almost casually. She had no particular interest in the facial appearance of the men sent to her. She didn't really know why she'd begun breaking His rule so casually. But it was undeniable that this had happened.

She mourned the loss of her hair, certainly. But even more, she mourned the loss of his trust in her. But deeper than her shame and loss, deepest of all, she felt secure that He'd corrected her so unequivocally. More than the beating she knew she was about to receive, the strength of His will upon her; the strength he'd demonstrated in summarily cutting off her hair; that strength touched her in a manner so deep she couldn't even really articulate its power.

Her hair would grow back, or not. It depended on Him. She was His slave. His property. His to do with as He chose. He'd just demonstrated her status in a deeply intimate manner by removing her hair. His rules were what they were. Their fairness wasn't the issue. The only issue was that she would obey them or be punished. Or cease being his slave. Only that was certain.

And it was certain. His rules were clear. When she broke them, he always made sure she understood her transgression; made sure she understood how her actions tarnished his trust in her and challenged his authority over her. Then she was punished and the ...

... transgression was forgiven. Her punishment was a small price to pay to have that kind of stability at the core of her every waking moment.

Mr. Lester roughly brushed the last clumps of hair off Kay's breasts; slapping each tit forcefully several times to shake off the last stands. He reached to the kitchen table and picked up the leather hood. He "plumped" it out. He twisted the key and popped the hasp on the lock and unzipped the hood. He picked it up and put it over his wife's head, zipped it closed and reset the lock so the hood could not be removed.

"Apply the eye patches, slave."

Kay reached forward. Her elbows were sore from the tension of holding them in place throughout her ordeal. Stiffly, she reached to her forehead and fumbled for the patches. They each made a small ripping sound as she freed them from the Velcro stays. She fit first one and then the other patch over her eyes, the Velcro flaps sealing onto a second set of mated patches. Now only her mouth was visible through the mask. She put her arms back in position as her husband's fingers again hooked her throat ring and pulled. She followed him from the kitchen, blind.

To her surprise she was led not to the St. Andrew's Cross but instead, was set with her forehead pressed to a wall, back arched, breasts swaying in the space between herself and the wall. She waited quietly, her arms still held out from her shoulders, fingers laced behind her head.

With a whistling crack the single-tail whip traced a ...