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Curing Cynthia’s Monthly Misbehavior

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Curing Cynthia’s Monthly Misbehavior: Imposing Periodic Punishment

I was getting tired of Cynthia’s whining and of her leaving the place in a mess every day. You know how you just get totally riled when something stirs you up every single day and there’s no way to let the steam out? I was getting to that place amazingly fast.

Today I left work early and after a quick shop at Ralph’s, came right back and planned on planting myself on my bed and reading. I unpacked the stuff from the store, loaded it into the fridge and the cupboards, and was in my room faster than ever, my skirt unzipped and my blouse unbuttoned. I like to lie under the covers and read. Last thing to do as I walked in was to unhook my bra.

But I saw instantly that the bedroom was a total disaster. She had put on her makeup and gotten it all over the place. Dirty clothes—pullovers, hose, slacks, panties—were strewn on the floor. But what sent me totally off was lying right there on the sheet by my side of the bed: the little bitch had left her used tampax there. Forget about the toilet, she hadn’t even managed to throw it in the trashcan.

I knew she was having her period but between us, that never was an excuse for this kind of behavior. She even knew how much I enjoyed making out with her then, when I would taste the metallic flavor of her insides as we licked each other’s cunts. It always bothered me a little that she didn’t seem to like licking me as much during those days of the month.

I carefully put the slightly soiled bit of evidence on my night table and finally was able to lie down and pick up my book. It was hard now to get into it because what she had done remained on my mind. It gnawed at me. What kind of person, forget person—woman, does something like that?

I began wondering if this was a subtle form of rebellion. After all, I clearly was the one in charge around here. I paid the bills and I had the income. Yes, she kicked in some but it was small change. I’m a switch but in this relationship, I made the decisions and I let her know what would go down.

Usually she was a happy little submissive. Our lovemaking was tender, too. Of course, I disciplined her but it was a remarkably sweet sort of power that I exuded. I fondled her, enjoyed playing with her little nipples and teasing her cute little clit. She liked being treated this way and called me Mommy when she was being spanked.

I relaxed a bit and managed to read some before I felt myself tiring. Seven o’clock came but I wasn’t even hungry. It was not the normal situation for me and I wasn’t sure what I’d be like when she finally appeared. Just then I heard the footsteps on the stoop and the door swing open.

Cynthia whirled into the bedroom and saw me lying there with book in hand. “I’ve had a killer day, darling,” she sighed, as she unzipped her clingy navy knit and slid it off her shoulders and bothered to hang it up. Now that was a real surprise. I liked seeing her in her plain white bra and white cotton undies, with pale thigh-his running up her petite legs in those nasty little fuck-me slings.

I stared at her in the way she had come to fear. I could see the expression change on her face and she knew she was in for it. “Cynthia, you left a present here this morning, and it was on my side of the bed,” I said blankly. Then I reached over and held up the soiled tampax.

Cynthia’s surprise flashed across her Kartal Escort face. Repressing her instant shock, she tried to recover her cool. “All right,” she spit out the words, “I was in a hurry and I guess I knew I needed to change it then because I wouldn’t get a chance at work. But I’m sorry, Louise, it was awfully inconsiderate of me and I know you get upset about that kind of thing.”

“You’re damned right I do,” I said equally coolly despite my inner fury. “And I’m also tired of all these clothes on the floor.”

She gazed at her side and saw all of her stuff there, flung every which way. Then she reached down to pick something up and I decided to confront her. “Bring that to me,” I said with just the necessary sternness in my voice.

Cynthia faltered for a moment and said, “Louise, I’m just cleaning it up” but she knew she couldn’t avoid my order so she handed me what she had wanted to get out of the way, a cute pair of hicut pink panties, but with a rather prominent skidmark in the back. Her face reddened as I stared into the fetid crotch of the panties.

“It appears, my dear, that I will need to resume regular panty inspections for you,” I said without a trace of a smile. “I can see that I have been quite negligent in enforcing some elementary rules about cleanliness around here.”

She cringed at my decision, knowing better than to begin to question it, and merely murmured that she knew she had been bad and probably deserved the spanking she knew I was about to give her.

“Yes, you will be spanked, sweetie,” I declared, now smiling in a way that she knew would not mean good news for her. “But we are going to have some other discipline so that you start behaving more like a big girl.”

This always floored her because she absolutely hated the punishments I imposed that reduced her to a childish state. The one she whined about the most was my insistence that she remove her bra before a spanking and that it not be put back on until I allowed her to do so. Sometimes I made her go without it all day, even at work, and it often produced good behavior for a while.

She would spend the day horribly self-conscious because although Cynthia was no Dolly Parton out front, she did have lovely full 34Bs. My referring to her not behaving like a big girl made her realize I was truly angry, because she knew that this meant these kinds of childish punishments. She was hoping I would not go on much about the skidmark because in the past, I had made her sit backwards on the toilet and show me how she wiped after completing her business. She had once confessed to me that the most humiliating moment in her life with me had been when I ordered her to show me the tissue after she had wiped.

Right now, however, Cynthia had something else on her mind as she thought about just what was in store for her. I had once told her after a spanking, “Bras are for big girls, not little ones who get spanked.” That was when she began crying, undoubtedly from the humiliation of her punishment, certainly not from the spanking, which rarely induced those kinds of tears.

My next step was to demonstrate in rather graphic fashion the extent of her misconduct. I was only in my panties but she could see my determination since without even putting a robe on, I walked over to the closet and came back with the open box of maxipads. She realized what was going to happen and Tuzla Escort put her hand over her mouth in abject fear.

“Yes, you know what this means,” I said. Then the first excruciating order issued from my lips: “Take out your tampax and hand it to me.”

“Louise, please, I really didn’t mean to leave that there, I promise,” she wailed.

I stared at her and she slowly lowered her panties and tugged on the string. The tampax that emerged was somewhat more soiled than the one she had left behind. I took a tissue and allowed her to drop it in the tissue as she handed it to me. I took a maxipad out of the box and told her to put it in her panties and pull them back up.

She grimaced but did what she was told, for fear of worse to come. I watched as she pulled the paper strip off and stuck the pad onto the crotch of her undies. Indeed, I was intent on making it worse right away. “You’re restricted to maxipads for the rest of this period,” I told her. “Until you show me that you’ve started to behave like a grown-up and clean both the room and yourself, you are off tampons.”

Once again I got no argument. “Tomorrow you will put the lycra control panties on with your maxipad,” I told her, knowing that this would prove even more embarrassing because it would take her quite a while to pull those tight control undies down whenever she needed to go pee. “And I will resume inspecting your panties, at any time I decide you need that,” I added.

“Louise, you’re not still going to spank me?” she asked with a halting fear in her voice. I looked at her with a soft smile and said, “Cynthia, you can’t be serious. You have earned some serious punishment.”

I motioned with my finger for her to assume the position and pointed to the small hassock. I knew this would immediately send her the signal that this was serious. Normally, I take Cyn across my lap and give her a warm, almost maternal kind of spanking. Going over the hassock meant that this would be entirely for punishment.

Watching her as she moved over to place her frame over the hassock, I joined her on what I had come to call my spanking stool right next to her. It put me at just the right level to apply my strong right arm to her naughty cheeks. Cynthia also knew that she would be required to keep her legs well spread in this position.

As she assumed the position, she looked at me with pleading eyes. “Louise…you know that lying over this like this….I don’t have any protection…down there,” she said in a small, scared voice. I looked at the pad in her panties lying next to the hassock. It already had a small reddish stain from being in use against her quim for only a few moments.

I walked over to the sideboard and from a drawer, took out a small white hand towel and prodding Cynthia to lift her hips, placed it under her split. She grimaced as she saw that the evidence of her flow would be quite visible to me after the spanking concluded. But my little sub also understood that any protest would result in more dire consequences for her.

The spanking commenced then in earnest as I re-positioned myself and began applying strong slaps to her cheeks alternately, watching them slowly turn rosy and then deep pink and finally start showing crimson flashes. My artistic sensibility was struck by the marvelous appropriateness of the color red to this situation.

As I spanked Cynthia, Anadolu Yakası Escort I noticed that she was moving more rhythmically in response to the spanks. Both of us grew exceedingly horny during our periods and she was clearly on her way to a pleasant little orgasm from my ministrations. As I saw her hips grinding their way to this climax, I suddenly stopped spanking. Her hips kept moving and I wanted her to realize that I was watching her self-pleasuring.

She turned to look at me and her face turned as red as her bottom cheeks when she saw that I had obviously noticed her excitement. I had stopped her cum dead in its tracks. Now I saw the sadness in her eyes and began to melt myself a little. I had punished her enough.

At my silent signal, she rose from the hassock. She picked up her little undies with the maxi in them and pulled them up her legs into position in a charming natural manner. “I hope you have learned from this, darling,” I began. “From now on, I shall inspect your pants at different times. You also will be responsible for keeping your part of the room tidy and your things put away.” She nodded quite agreeably and even smiled as she indicated her willingness to comply with my orders.

“The maxipad use will be in force for the rest of your period,” I went on. This was no surprise because Cynthia knew that once I imposed discipline, I did not suspend it. This is my firm view because to do otherwise is to weaken any imposition before it even goes into effect. She was trying her best to look both serious and friendly because she was waiting for what she usually saw as the determinative decision. I also left the towel across the hassock as a reminder to her. There was a large red stain right under where her quim had been.

I was feeling better about her, as I mentioned, so I didn’t keep her waiting very long. “And because you took your discipline well, sweetie, you are permitted to put your bra back on this time,” I said with a smile, adding quickly, “once you have thanked me appropriately for taking the trouble to correct you.”

Seeing the trace of a frown begin to spread across her momentarily happy visage, I lifted my skirt to signal to her that our traditional show of appreciation would be expected now. I turned to face the hassock, with my skirt up, and as I bent over it, lowered my own pale blue panties to beneath my knees. Leaning on the hassock, I slowly placed myself on it while allowing my legs to open as far as the lowered panties would permit.

Knowing that my rear divide was now spread and my puckered rosebud in clear view, I sensed Cynthia dropping to her knees behind me. She leaned forward and I felt her breasts press into my frame before she slid down until her face was between my cheeks. Finally I felt her lips extend around the pucker and softly kiss me there and then the loveliest feelings as her tongue extended into my rear channel.

Although Cynthia approached this traditional conclusion to any punishment with trepidation from her not knowing just what her tongue might find as it explored past my anal ring, I had always made certain that I was scrupulously clean back there on these occasions. She knew to maintain her show of affection until I attained my own orgasm, which normally occurred quite quickly owing to my delightful sensitivity back there.

As I felt myself become warm just before the emanations from deep inside my pelvic region began to grow in intensity until they crested and I writhed in delight, I forgot all my restraint, at least in my mind, that strongest of all sexual organs, as I evilly thought about surprising Cynthia sometime soon when she bent down to perform this classic task of body worship.

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