Complaints, and where they get me

Thursday (see my last blog entry) was a big day.  I was soundly satisfied, exhausted, and completely beat. 

Later that evening I complained some (ok, a lot) about being sore.  Hey, I thought he'd want to know the condition of my body, right?   And how much fun I had is usually  (almost always) reflected in how sore I am later. 

It makes sense that  lots of fun = very sore= happy Master.   Right?

In a seemingly unrelated incident, Master asked me if I could name any Japanese aircraft carriers.   You probably didn't know that he is very much into history, especially WWII history.  

I listed off the four that I could think of, which were the Midway four:  Kaga, Akagi, Hiryu, and Soryu.

He was so happy!   He said I deserved a spanking for that.  Of course I do; I love spankings!

Bent over the couch, skirt lifted... WHACK!   With the pvc pipe.   Oh ouch, that bit was still sore from earlier. 

Just for fun he started listing off the Japanese Imperial Navy and having me repeat the names after him, punctuating each name with a solid WHACK! on my butt.   If my pronunciation was off I had to repeat the name, with extra whacks, until I got it right. 

Yam(whack)-at(whack)-o(whack).   One whack for each syllable for the long names.
Musashi (whack),
Mutsu (whack),
 Nagato (whack),
Fuso (whack),
Ise (whack),
Heie (whack),
Haruna (whack),
 Hyuga (whack),
Kirishima (whack),
Kongo (whack),
Yamashiro (whack).

I guess all this battleship stuff got him really excited because next thing I knew I was getting fucked from behind again.   Yeah, those parts were still sore too.  

Now I'm wondering if wearing grandma panties would provide any immunity to his enthusiastic affections.

 Not that I'm complaining.