Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Little Glass Marbles...

If we could live in the fantasy that fills our hearts and minds, then jenpet would live in a perpetual state of metal restraints and chains, kept in a concrete cell or iron cage until needed to serve any of the infinite desires of my heart.
The realities of life however allow for very little. Even the most basic and practical of matters must, by necessity, be simplified to the utmost.

In our fantasy life, punishments would be a serious matter, punctuated by time for the naughty slave to contemplate the seriousness of her situation, preferably chained by a short length to the wall sharing quality time with the intimate implement of her coming punishment just out of reach yet imposing. The bondage, slow and methodical, each strap inescapably sealing her fate. The infractions laid out, each counted and addressed, her knowing full well the why of her correction. Then the punishment itself, harsh, measured, each strike counted by the girl with tearful sobs. There would be an aftermath, jenpet on her knees, kissing the implement and my feet in gratitude for the TLC (tender loving caning) and the chance to be corrected to become better. Then swept up into my arms to be held and reassured that she is a good girl and that all is forgiven. Ah fantasy, my dear friend and frequently absent companion.

The reality of our punishments are far less impressive. Quick swats taken in stolen moments of the child's naps, a frantic attempt to maintain some semblance of correction for forgotten infractions.
Nothing like telling the slave, "now, you've been a naughty girl."
"What have i done, Master?"
"Oh... you know... that thing the other day... Yeah that." SWAT!

Yet, we find a way. A simple method for marking infractions to be dealt with later? A glass cup filled with glass marbles, one marble for each infraction. Tonight, we had the opportunity to catch up on some of these marbles. With the little one down, we rushed upstairs, quickly bound the girl up, and got a start. Oh there was tearful counting and the loud slap of the paddle. Thirteen strikes to bring the girl back in line and empty the cup.

We do what we can and though its not easy, if it were would it be worth doing?

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