Global Warming

So, I won’t let you in on my politics, because there’s enough of that as is on the Internet and you certainly don’t need it here from a ditz like me, but I will admit that being of a Dommy nature I do have a bit of a… weakness… for the blond-haired, blue-eyed, conservative down south type gal.

I mean, I’m in Canada, and they won’t let us do this down here, but if I could…

That’s right, I got a gun and YOU DON’T. Got a problem with it, bitch?

I can see some benefits…

Sarah Palin (R) on Thursday condemned sexual harassment in the workplace, adding that she has not personally experienced it because people know she carries a weapon. “I think a whole lot of people know I’m probably packing so I don’t think there’s a whole lot of people who would necessarily mess with me,” Palin said.

What’s not to like? 😉 Is that a Chastity Key around her neck???

My husband follows some of the Fox News conservative woman commentators on TV. Why? Because he wants a spanking from them, that’s why!

His favourite new up and comer is a woman named Tomi Lahren. When Ms. Lahren gets all angry at the TV screen, he gets a boner.

Oh boy! You’re in trouble now, Mister!

(I hate having to roleplay Tomi Lahren belt whipping a “libtard”! ;-)

Well, I teased a fan/e-friend of mine in an email exchange (who by his preference we shall call Joey). He made an offhand comment about how millions of people are going to be underwater from climate change. I thought that was perhaps just a tad overwrought, and got to wondering how a gal like Tomi would deal with a liberal mate. Maybe a gal like that, aided and abetted by a sturdy leather belt, could turn a subby boy towards the right? Even vote for Trump???

Hi Joey,

I read a statistic the other day that says sea level is only rising very slowly, so I think they are pretty safe from flooding for the next little while anyways!

“Joey, are you going on about that global warming again? Get your butt over here and give me that belt – you know what I think about you spreading nonsense like that!”

I’d have you voting for Trump in no time ;-)

Well this tongue-in-cheek exchange inspired Joey, so he wrote me a story and allowed me to publish it, and contributed to the visuals to go along with it. I enjoyed it a lot, I hope you will too!

“Joey, are you going on about that global warming again? Get your butt over here and give me that belt – you know what I think about you spreading nonsense like that!”

“Yes ma’am,” he said with a tremble in his voice, taking the leather punishment belt from its honored place on the wall.

He handed it to her, then his thumbs hooked into the waistline of his pants. She was quite pleased with these trousers. He is not allowed any underpants, of course, so that any sins of his imagination will show as little damp spots on the front of his pants. They have an elasticized waist so that they can be pulled down quickly when she wanted to overwhelm him with sudden punishment; but they have a normal button and fly when she wants to take control, reinforce his helplessness, and occasionally catch his naughty little penis in the zipper – it makes a perfect reminder when he thinks his punishment and reflective time in the corner is all done.

There was a brief, forlorn hesitancy (which she noted and mentally added a dozen strokes), before he slid them down and bent his bare bottom over the edge of the sofa.

Julie looked at the bottom waiting for her, and nudged the thighs further apart with the doubled up belt. God, she was sick of his whining about a non-issue like climate change. She drew back and swung hard and low, drawing a cry which he tried to stifle in the sofa cushion.

“I think…” another hard stroke,

“… I see…” another, and another,

“…the reason…” this blow wrapped around to Joey’s inner thigh, causing some really extreme gurgles into the cushion,

“…for your stupid idea.”

Julie walked around to the right side and evened up the treatment on the other thigh.

Then she started walking the strokes up his cheeks as Joey started to to lose control of his crying.

“I heat your bottom up” >Crack!<

“when you annoy me,” >Crack!<

“and you think it’s the climate.” >Crack!<

“Can you feel the temperature rising?” >Crack!<   >Crack!<

“Well?? Do you?”

She pulled back just a little so the belt would curl into the crack and ignite his anus. >CRACK!<

“Yes ma’am! Please, I’m sorry!!” Joey shrieked.

Sorry or not, though, his bottom was going to get a lot hotter. Julie spent another ten minutes whipping the lies out of him, first directing five more into the crevice, then laboring to get the same deep crimson hue on every inch of backside before finishing with two dozen strokes concentrated at the junction of thigh and bottom.

She pinched the puffy black and purple results of her handy work, then ordered Joey to the corner.

She ducked into the bathroom and retrieved a tube from the medicine cabinet, then rejoined her wayward charge.

He was standing with his hands at his sides as he ought to, sobs only now calming down.

“So, is global warming going to destroy us all?” Julie asked him.

“No, ma’am, no, that’s all a made up issue! I’m sorry I told those lies, ma’am, I’m sorry, thank you for teaching me the truth….” Joey was babbling in fear of a further lesson.

“That’s right, Joey. You remember, the heat from ‘the greenhouse effect’ is fake, the heat from the belt is real. Wasn’t that a good lesson about real and fake?”

Joey nodded fervently.

“And I have one other example for you. What’s the heat from ‘the greenhouse effect’?”

“F..f.fake,” Joey said anxiously, trying to keep his eyes forward where they belonged.

“Yes. And this heat is real.”

Julie squeezed a handful of extra strength Icy Hot from the tube, reached around, and spread it thickly on Joey’s penis and scrotum.

She then trailed her hand up his bottom crack and pushed a big glob deep into his little hole.

As it took effect and he began to cry and dance foot to foot, she leaned in close and told him, “I hope this sinks in, Joey. If you don’t really learn your lesson, I’ll be asking your Uncle John to come over and discuss it with us.

 
“For the next week, Joey seemed to have reformed. No tiresome comments about Donald Trump or the American Environmental Protection Agency, no self-righteous comparisons of Quebec’s hydroelectric and Alberta’s wind power. Occasionally Julie would pull down his pants to see how the colors were fading, and tease him.

“Hmm, this bottom looks cooler than it was yesterday. But that can’t be right if global warming is true, can it Joey? Shouldn’t it just keep getting hotter?”

Joey would smile very nervously and say, “No, ma’am, that’s all just political crap. Local, umm, effects are what makes my bottom hot or cold.”

Julie would grin at his discomfort and give him a little bare-handed smack, “That’s right. I’m glad you’re remembering.”

Oh, but boys are stubborn, and ones who think they’re smart especially so.

The weather hit a warm spell. Days stretched on, reaching 33 C six days in a row and cresting at 38 C one day, 39 C the next. Joey was sweating over his chores around 3 p.m., outside and in the nude as Julie insisted.

That’s when Julie, stepping out from the house for a moment, heard him mutter disgustedly, “and it’s just going to keep getting worse.”

“What was that?” she asked, very sharply.

Startled, Joey whirled around. Blood drained from his face. “Oh, ummm, the weather report, Ma’am, it says it’s not going to cool down for at least three more days.”

Julie stared at him. “And why would that be, Joey?” she asked evenly.

“It’s just the weather, Ma’am, it’s a random hot summer thing, you know what they say, if you don’t like the weather in Toronto wait a minute…” Joey was babbling in fear again.

Julie stared at him another couple seconds, then turned without further word and went back into the house.

She knew that smug disgusted tone he’d used, and she knew his fear. He wasn’t just afraid, as he should be. He was afraid of being caught. He’d done something, and he hadn’t hidden it well.

“Again,” Julie thought, with a smirk.

She went to the computer, logged on to “his” account, and checked his browsing history. It had been cleared, which was against the rules all by itself. The trash was empty, too; she ran Recovery, and there it was! A folder with Sierra Club articles about California drought, NOAA studies of ocean temperatures, and electronic petitions to both the House of Commons and the U.S. House of Representatives, calling for drastic decreases in carbon dioxide emissions. She counted 10, her foot tapping.

She heard Joey come back in downstairs, and head for the shower. Shaking her head a little, she picked up the phone and pushed the 2nd speed dial number. While it hummed she glanced at the clock; 3:30.

“Hello, John, how are you? Good. Would you be available for some drinks and discussion this evening? Maybe around 6:30? Wonderful. Make sure you bring Sammie, Joey really understands him. All right, I’ll see you then.”

Back downstairs, and Joey was just getting out of the shower. He was not allowed physical privacy in the house, naturally, so he wasn’t surprised to see Julie staring at him, but he still reflexively started to cover his penis before remembering the rules. He smiled, tentatively and nervously. Julie didn’t return the smile, but continued to watch him as he dried off and moved toward the dresser. He had just put one foot in a clean pair of trousers when she stopped him.

“I want you in the corner. Now.” Joey looked uncertain, then folded the pants and put them away, walked with small steps to his corner, and took his position.

Oh, god, what was this, he wondered nervously. Maybe she was just playing, she liked to surprise him with a good scene, maybe a paddling, maybe even letting him come if she was feeling happy. Maybe he’d done a good job on his chores, or she was feeling sympathy for him working out in the heat. But he remembered her tone… why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut? No need to speak out loud, no need at all, he just had to hear himself talk. Asshole! he told himself. Still, maybe that wasn’t what was going on. Or at least she was just mad at his grumbling.

Time went by. And more time. Joey couldn’t see a clock from his corner, but could tell from how his arms and thighs were getting tired he’d been there quite a while. He’d almost stopped wondering about it, getting in the sort of Zen state of accepting the moment, when he heard Julie sit down in the squeaky chair at the computer upstairs. Oh. Oh shit. He’d taken care of everything, hadn’t he? But… but he hadn’t browsed more after clearing, he’d gone out to his chores! Shit. shit shit shit shit. He’d hit the button by accident, that was all. Oh, god. Sweat had sprung out on his forehead and in his armpits. More time went by. He heard Julie get up from the chair and come down the stairs. Trembling both with fear and with fatigue, Joey kept waiting. Not that there was anything else to do…

Julie approached him, aware of all that was going on in his head. She was amused by the little fuckup, but angry at him too. He ought to suffer.

“Did you sign those petitions?” she snapped out at him, breaking the silence suddenly.

He jumped a little and instantly answered, “No, ma’am! No, I wouldn’t ever….” before realizing what he’d just admitted.

Julie shook her head again. Joey was not very challenging in his misbehavior, for all that he thought he was “intellectual.”

“Your Uncle John is coming over to discuss this,” she told him.

Joey swallowed hard, tears springing to his eyes, struggling not to turn and plead. Pleading only ever made it worse. He wondered if Sammie were coming too. Julie knew he was wondering this. Let him wonder, Julie thought. She set out a pair of nice Scotch glasses.

There came a knock at the door. She told Joey, “Answer.”

Slender and naked, Joey wet to the front door to open it.

As he opened the front door he revealed a man who would have looked right at home in Boss Tweed’s Tammany Hall, or even the court of Henry VIII. Broad shouldered, barrel-chested, expensive shirt stretched over an expanse of belly, he towered over Joey and absolutely dominated him, and any room he was in, with his presence.

“H..h..hello, Uncle John,” Joey said in a very small voice. “It..it’s nice to see you.”

“Get out of my way, miserable little bugger.” John strode in, pushing Joey aside while hardly seeming to touch him.

In his right hand Joey saw Sammie, Uncle John’s 42″ sjambok “walking stick”.

He started to cry silently (well, almost silently) as he followed behind.

“Julie!” John cried out happily. He embraced her with his left hand on her ass, kissing her on the mouth. “What about a Scotch?”

Julie already had the bottle of Glenfiddich in her hand as she enjoyed his hand and the kiss.

“Good Girl!” said John, “You know how I like partying with an eighteen-year-old! Ha Ha! So tell me, what’s this pathetic little twat done now?”

Pouring, she told him, “He had been going on about that climate change nonsense and got whipped for it, but since then he’s not only kept on believing it, he’s been lying and hiding it from me. If you and Sammie taught him the error of his ways for that, then we could all discuss the ridiculous fake science openly and honestly. I was thinking there must be a dozen reasons…”

“TWO dozen!” John boomed out delightedly. “Do you hear that, boy? You’re going to get a hiding for hiding! Two dozen of the best! Get yourself in there, then.”

Breath coming short and tears coursing down his cheeks, Joey walked down the hall to the study, the room where his most severe punishments were doled out. He could not believe this was happening to him again! There was the horse with its straps. Feeling almost unreal, Joey got on all fours above it, the top running the length of his torso. Its width forced his legs wide apart and put tension in his buttocks while exposing his penis and testicles. Uncle John strapped his wrists and knees to the horse’s legs, and contemplated the job ahead of him. He was a small-cocked runt and By God he would learn to respect Julie before they were even half done.

He then took a big swallow of his Scotch, and started whistling Sammie through the air. After three or four swings to limber up, he turned to his target.

Julie sat in the living room, sipping her own glass of Scotch. She didn’t often drink it, but an evening with John seemed almost to necessitate the more potent beverage. She listened, but as always the swishing sounds were too faint to hear. Then she heard the first >THWUCK< of impact, and heard Joey’s scream. She smiled and took another sip. Sometimes a man’s touch with discipline was a good thing. About 20 seconds later there was a second scream. So, she had seven or eight minutes until discussion could begin. Just right. She finished her drink, then walked to the bedroom (another few screams). She undressed slowly, enjoying how Joey’s screams were growing hoarser. Then she fastened Adam into place. What was that, eighteen, then nineteen? She moved toward the study, Adam’s weight bobbing in front of her.

John was enjoying his work, though he would need another Scotch. Twenty two! The helpless bottom summoned just a little strength to writhe, then collapsed on the horse. John’s cock strained within his pants. God, but he loved thrashing a deserving backside like this one! Twenty three! Miserable little sod! Needed every bit of this, and more. Julie was a fine woman, a damn fine woman, and she understood discipline. He was happy to help. Taking three strides back, he drew back Sammie (good old Sammie!), expertly eyed the distance, and leapt forward with the hardest stroke of the two dozen. Joey had thought his voice was absolutely rubbed raw and gone, but number 24 brought out another scream, or rather croak, like 24 crows cawing in unison.

John looked up from his target to see Julie standing in the door, naked but for the bottle of Scotch and Adam. Grinning, he grabbed his glass for a refill, then quickly shifted his braces and took off his own trousers, shorts, and shirt. His cock, a match for Adam in length and perhaps even outdoing him in girth, sprang out and up. Any Greek satyr would have been happy to claim it. Julie grinned back, then began an inspection of Joey.

Oh, his bottom! A jumble of purple weals crossed it, as thick and three dimensional as her forefinger, some almost like sausages. Blood oozed from seven or eight different breaks in Joey’s skin, and looked like it could spring forth at any number of other ultra tender spots.

By contrast, his face was pale, eyes closed, tears puddled on the floor below. Well, Julie thought. Half done.

She slapped his face, nearly full force. His head rocked to the side as his eyes snapped opened again, all the panic returning, mouth hanging open to pull in more air.

“Do you need to confer further with Sammie about lying and hiding? Or are you ready to discuss your climate change nonsense with me and Uncle John now?”

Joey could hardly form words, but tried mightily to say “discuss, please please discuss.”

Julie got right down at his level, face in his face. “There are two problems. You expect us to swallow this nonsense. And you are absolutely full of it. So,” she continued, straightening, “You are going to swallow this.” She shoved Adam into Joey’s mouth and pressed it down his throat, relishing the gagging and choking sounds. “And, we’re going to keep you absolutely full of what’s best for you.”

John roughly spread Joey’s cheeks, spit on his little rosebud, and forced his mighty erection in to the hilt. It might have brought still another crow’s scream, but it was hard to tell with Adam’s muffling.

For the next twenty minutes Julie and John took turns at Joey’s two ends, plunging in and out in rhythm or in syncopation. John’s cock happened to be in Joey’s mouth when it erupted, forcing Joey truly to swallow what seemed like a cup of semen.

Julie pounded his ass another minute while John squeezed the last trickles onto the waiting tongue. At last Julie drew back out. She took Adam out of his harness, untied Joey’s right wrist, and handed Adam to him for cleaning.

“What do you say, Joey?”

Joey paused in his dutiful licking and sucking. Keeping eyes downcast, he said, “Thank you, Uncle John.”

Julie smiled at the repentant young man. “Now that you’ve had your lesson, I want you back in the corner with Adam in your mouth.”

She turned to her guest, running her fingers lightly along his thick cock. It shifted beneath her hand, already coming back to life. “John, dear, come with me. I want filling too.”

John grinned again, took a last swig of Scotch, and followed her out the study door.

Joey reached across to untie his other wrist, then back to untie his legs. Moving very gingerly, he stood and stretched, then walked slowly to his corner. He could already hear Julie’s moans. Imagining Uncle John’s cock pounding her beautiful pussy, he took Adam in his mouth, placed his hands on his head, and accepted the ache of his bottom and the throaty cries of lust from his wife’s bedroom.
Source: Strict Julie

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