Happy End or Angry End?

“Do you want the happy end or the angry end,” she asked.

I had to stop and think. I mean, we’re sitting watching TV, what in the world is she up to now? Not only that, but when questions like this come up, it’s usually not what I expect or can guess.

…and sometimes, the consequences of just picking are too much.

wooden spoon on white surface
Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com

But I look at her and she’s got this expectant look on her face. Like she’s just waiting for me to choose. And, of course, she’s got that air about her that says “… and don’t expect me to help you out here, you get to choose…”

“Happy end, I guess….” is all I can think of to say.

“Oh, great. Good choice,” she says. “Go get that spoon – the one with the engraving on it, and also bring the Roses…” Code for cat-o-nine-tails. Yikes.

I still have no idea what is the happy end or the angry end. And all the way back to pull them out, and then bring them to her, I’m trying to guess. On the one hand, I have to assume one of these is the “happy” candidate. On the other, why make me bring both, when I picked?

“Drop ’em.” she says, waving her hand at my jeans.

I know better. I don’t ask questions.

“All fours, please…” I oblige.

I hear, then feel the leather in the flogger-esque toy – it’s whistling through the air, then lands on me with a series of thuds. I feel the sting of each piece and the thud of each flower. Then again, and again.

A short pause…

And I don’t hear the spoon going through the air, all I feel is it connecting and the strong sting as it roars to my head. I have to catch my breath. I was totally not expecting that.

“Wait,” I say. “I said happy, isn’t that the ‘cat?”

“Yes, of course, I was curious which you’d pick blindly.”

“But… you’re using both???!!!”

“Yes, yes I am. I didn’t say I’d only do one of them. Heck, go back there, bring me my bag, and re-assume the position, this time without stopping me to talk back.”

I pause.

There’s no good response here. In fact, I know ANY response will not be pretty, at least other than getting the bag and bringing it back out. I head off and retrieve it, returning and giving it to her before getting back down as directed.

I brace a bit, and try to slow my head down – I know there are a good number of items in that bag and know better than to object at this point.

It’s better to just be ready to hold on for the ride…

Erotic Fiction

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