Mistress Salem

Salem turned another page of Mirabella. This was so much better a magazine than Cosmo. Jessica Alba looks fat. Oh well.

There he was, naked, awash in slashes. Long welts up and down his back, buttocks, chest and potbelly. And of course up and down his back legs. Salem sat back and looked at her penitent husband, Wesley the Weasel.

But Wes now was staggering in the room, trembling after his flogging. In a way, the birch really brought some color to Wes's pallid structure.

"Da's right Mister Rewbush, you go on now. He took it better than usual, Miz R. He really did."

"Well, he still be a crybaby, but whachoo gonna do?"

Wes came quivering into the room, ever hesitant, and Salem beckoned.

It was a bit much, today's metrosexual. When Wesley's brothers, Neville, Quincy and Quentin came for a barbecue, they gabbled like hens, it was like being drowned in male estrogen.

On one hand, it did Wes good, but on the other there was all the shrieking of a panicky gelding.

"I-it was so horrible." Wes wailed.

Yes, the birch really did a number on her husband. There was also the trauma of having it administered by a male stranger, but Wes and DeLorean should be old friends by now, shouldn't they?

Salem's knout, created with rawhide thongs was a close competitor with the birch. And the knout had elicited satisfying screams from Wes the day before, when Salem had discovered a less than adequate trimming around the edge of the lawn.

The knout made a hard worker out of Wes...

A birch rod did not have to be made of birch but thorny long twigs made from rose bushes and willow branches (those neglected by Wesley)worked quite well.

She'd gone out to her rose bushes and cut off the sharpest branches, where the thorns were most prevalent.

And today, after DeLorean had done some of the other major yardwork, he'd taken Wes and the birch upstairs for the weekly Reminder!

God, look at all the scratches on his pale form. During the early part of the thrashing, just listening had made Salem want to run to the bathroom and frig herself, oh yes.

His wife cleaned thorns and branches from his armpits, his nipples, his rear and dozens from his gargantuan belly. Ugh, one in his navel.

"Wh-why do you do this, oh why, Salem?"

"Why do you have DeLorean put me through this?"

"No, of course not. But why have him whip me?"

Salem grinned and she dropped to her knees and began toying with Wes's cock, which was getting quite hard now. There were one or two thorns that had gotten stuck in his foreskin, and his wife deftly removed those.

"Look at that. Its a little plum, your little pee head there."

"Right after the whipping, DeLorean took me from behind."

Her dewy eyes gleamed up at him, and Wes blushed.

"I told DeLorean that he could enjoy himself, Wesley."

"DeLorean recently told me that one thing he misses from prison is a tight sphincter. He says women he dates are reluctant to take it up there."

"I figured that after my strap-on exercises and sending you to work with the Number 5 plug you could certainly absorb DeLorean, so to speak."

Recently she and a girlfriend had had a habaneras pepper party, where they'd coated Wes with the burning plants until he'd almost bounced out of the kitchen, but the birch might be even more effective, she thought as she showered him off.

"What's wrong, Wes? Don't you like it when our landscaper makes love to you? You'd rather I do it, right?"

"Oh, I love you, Salem."

Salem began absently stroking her breasts through her top, and then slowly unbuttoned it, showing them tightly encased in her burgundy brassiere.

Salem held down Wes's balls with one tiny hand and pumped the foreskin around his pulsating member with the other.

She stopped for a moment, shook her spiky hair around, and undid her bra.

"I bet you want to kiss them, don't you, Wesley?"

"You can watch, but I don't need a lot of drool on the girls, Wes."

"You'd like it if I took my scanties off, right, Wes? You think that might take your mind off that nasty little spanking you just had?"

"Delorean was such a bad guy to be so mean to my little Wesley!"

She gave a big pout.

Salem let go of Wes's cock and pulled her panties off, and wiggled her shaved crotch suggestively.

Wes bit his lip. Kyle was the lifeguard at the Buttermilk Country Club.

Salem rubbed her twat, running her long nail in and out of it, as she stood by the bed.

Salem climbed back on the bed.

Salem drummed Wes's stiff penis with her long fingers.

"Why-why don't you punish me with it, then?"

Salem stroked Wes's cock fast, and then very slow.

Salem lay Wes's penis flat on his stomach, and then swung her leg over, sitting on the recumbent cock.

Salem leaned over and put her little hands on Wes's shoulders, and it was something, having her sitting on top of him, on his flattened cock.

For Wes, this was incredible. Since the advent of their new BDSM lifestyle, and especially since Salem had caught Wes jerking off on her stockings eighteen months previous, her vaj had not met his dork often.

Wes adored Salem, and he understood why she was annoyed with him. He began working harder to clean up around the house, if that even compensated.

In the evenings, (when Salem was actually home) Wes would attempt to make love to his darling wife, but she'd generally just push him down to serve her nether region.

She'd turn from his vaginally fragrant mouth and go to sleep, and Wes would lay there, horny.

Sometimes she'd hang him from a hook in the basement ceiling for the rest of the night.

The howling and banging from upstairs seemed to have subdued. The door opened and the guys came bounding down the stairs. Male bonding, right?

Wes had been called that since his days as a hall monitor at Buttermilk Southside Elementary, where he'd take fivers not to report late comers and truants...Now as a tax accountant who moonlighted as local IRS rep, Wes hadn't gotten much better.

Behind Wes was DeLorean Mines, who grinned. and waved a muscular arm. DeLorean was quite the bodybuilder, gleaming ebony, clad in a torn tank top and khakis.

"He stayed still even when you whipped his upper thighs?" Salem smiled in approval.

Salem coughed, and ran a manicured claw through her spiky blonde hair

Wes ran to her and began sobbing into Salem's neck.

Perhaps that was why she had mixed feelings about punishment, the corporal sort.

"Oh Wes, oh sweetness" Salem loved her husband but having his chubby, sweating hulk pushed into her own delicate form was a bit much.

"Calm down, honey. Salem said as she wiped his flooding eyes with a demure forefinger. "Blow your nose, Wes. That's right."

Salem regularly thrashed Wesley with canes, switches, belts, paint paddles, wooden spoons, straightened coat haangers, frying pans, electrical cords, and whatever else was at hand, but the birch was the best.

Wes could mow, but was bad with detail. Whenever the edge of the lawn needed trimming, or the hedges needed cutting, she had to follow him around the yard as he clipped in the nude, and encourage him with a few friendly whacks...

But still, a birch even outclassed that.

After chasing Wes around the edge of the lawn with the knout yesterday, Salem had locked him in the dog kennel and put on her dainty little gardening gloves.

Salem had then taken stinging nettles, mailed her by a nice dominant wife in Ontario, Canada, and had interspersed them with the rose branches, and tied it all together...

And now poor Wes had to recover. "Stand up, darling, let me pull some of the stickies out of your butt and your stomach. You know Wes, if-hold your hands above your head, do I have to lock them in the neck pillory?-if you lost some weight your flab wouldn't catch so many of these sharpies."

Wes stood obediently with his hands on his head, as if he were just about to be arrested.

"Now then, you look so much better. At ease, dear."

"Why what, hon?" Although she knew most certainly what he was talking about.

"Do you object to his race? That's not very-"

"Wes, sweetie, the weekly birching is not like a punishment spanking. It just seems to improve your overall attitude."

And his penis began growing hard. Having it manipulated after having been humiliated in front of his elegantly clad wife, was quite stimulating for Wesley the Weasel.

Salem looked around back and clucked. "Did you get a little pounding, babe?"

"Sodomized you?" Salem asked, looking up at her husband with youthful innocence.

"Usually after the thrashing he makes me suck-you know. It's so, so awful but this was so-" Wes looked dangerously close tot ears again.

Salem shook her head with slight annoyance.

Trying not to laugh at Wes's look of horror, she continued.

Salem took Wes into the bathroom and showered off the remainder of the nettles and thorns.

Then she guided Wes into the bedroom, and lay him gingerly on the bed.

Salem leaned down and gave Wes a penetrating kiss

"Oh, am I forgiven now?"

Wes stared hypnotically at the ruffles around the bra's cleavage, and breathed heavily as his wife began jerking his cock.

As Wes was approaching an orgasm, she stopped pumping and began encircling his glans with her forefinger, and Wes gasped again with true frustration.

Watching her pendulous 34DD breasts fall out was paradise to Wes's squinty, myopic eyes.

Salem shook her tits and grinned, and Wes got up on his elbows, and instantly Salem's hand shot out, decking his forehead and he went back down on the bed.

Salem still had her left hand holding down Wes's balls, rubbing them surreptitiously, and she used her right forefinger to touch his urethra and then go down slowly on his rigid penis.

"Oh, Salem..."

Salem took her right hand off his penis and stroked his cheek.

"I can't believe what a brave boy you were. You did cry and scream like a little bitch, but I know you're learning to man up."

"You like what I did to my clit? My friend Kyle suggested it."

Kyle was a boyfriend of sorts, but of course Salem didn't do an exclusive with anyone.

"You likee, Wes-lee? I bet you do."

"Keep your hands behind your head, Wes. Just relax. I'm aware that DeLorean's attention isn't easy for my baby."

"But the birch is like a good dose of castor oil."

"No, it would ruin my hands, and they wouldn't be pretty, and I couldn't do this-"

"You know, before I moved to your shitty little town, I was a hand model in New York."

She rubbed her damp crotch on it, and, giggling, began sliding back and forth on the now swelling organ.

Sliding up and down, and laughing lightly, this was almost compensation for the vicious whipping he'd ignored.

And could he blame Salem? How many women are really going to be attracted to a wussy little laundry pervert? Salem almost immediately began finding other men to fuck, and bringing Wes's tongue her nasty creampies.

Wes also began giving his princess long massages and lots of physical affection.

Wes would bring her to a number of happy finishes, but then when he came up for his term, she'd wrinkle her little pug nose, as his mouth smelled like fish now.

Now and then, he tried to touch himself, to relieve the tension, and Salem would awake, enraged and disgusted, and she'd turn him over her knee and whip him with one of her bedroom slippers.

Most of Wes's masturbation releases came in the lavatory at work.