The Education of A Blonde
Ah, the simple pleasures of a quiet evening at home, a cane, and a blonde who is having trouble learning her lines:
Sir decided to help me learn my rule, the one that says that i must say Sir. Well, i wasn’t learning that rule very well so he decided the only way i wouldn’t be confused is if i said Sir, or Master, with every sentence. i love to be obedient but saying it with every sentence sounds retarded, so i groaned inwardly when he informed me of the new game plan.
From the time he got home last night until we went to bed i lost count of the number of strokes of the cane i received. i think most people threatened with a stroke of the cane would have learned alot sooner than i. At one point, we were discussing how embarassed i was that i was having so much trouble remembering and i didn’t even remember to say Sir with that sentence! i was mortified!
i felt even dumber then dumb and dumber when every time i forgot i had to hand him the cane and i had a stupid grin on my face that i couldn’t get rid of for the life of me. i don’t know what was more embarrassing; the dumb grin that i couldn’t hide everytime i had to hand him the cane or the fact that it seemed impossible that, over and over, i could forget something i was caned for only moments before. One would think that i like being elevated off the floor by the sheer pain of a cane stroke. Not the force mind you, the little hop that i do after impact. Allow me to assure you that i do not like the cane no matter how the grin on my face would speak otherwise. i think it must be that i can’t help grinning when i’m nervous and feeling dopey.
He must have been amused last night because he was much more interested in asking me questions than ever before. He just kept me talking and talking and talking…. Finally, i caught on to the unusual amount of chatter. He was enjoying this!
Of course he was! What’s not to like? Besides, I bet that little hop is hella cute.
