Mistress Salem

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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 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.

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.

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...

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

But still, a birch even outclassed that.

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.

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.

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

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

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."

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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

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

"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.

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

Salem shook her head with slight annoyance.

"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."

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

"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."

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

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.

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

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

Salem leaned down and gave Wes a penetrating kiss

"Oh, I love you, Salem."

"Oh, am I forgiven now?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

"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?"

"Oh, Salem..."

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

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

She gave a big pout.

"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."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Salem climbed back on the bed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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.

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 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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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

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

It was fortunate that Salem was no longer employed there, considering.

Wes had been fascinated by the enchanting new receptionist and how bored and contemptuous she seemed to be.

Piper and Amethyst, the two previous girls had left, one had been impregnated by Wes after he'd blackmailed her into coitus, and the other had run after the first time he'd felt her up by the water cooler.

Wes probably should have been fired from the firm, but he was brilliant at discovering tax dodges for his scummy clients, none of whom knew he was also employed by the Internal Revenue Service, and often found ways to send them to jail.

So Wes had been just so overcome by Salem, and when bigger partners at the firm had tried to sidle up to Salem, she'd laughed cruelly in their faces.

She'd taken up with Wes after discovering Wes was embezzling from the firm.

She could have blackmailed him, but he'd asked her out so many times, that Salem decided Wes was just sleazy enough to be interesting.

When one of the other partners had discovered Wes's malfeasance, Salem had told Mr. Voostenwalbert that if he didn't lay off her boyfriend, she'd tell all the staff that he'd given her Chlamydia.

Voost took the hint, and seeing the writing on the wall, had taken his share out of the firm and moved to the Caribbean.

And Wes hung on, even when Salem got sick of her. He read that his hero, Richard Nixon had driven Pat and her dates around in his car until Pat had given up and married Dick.

So Wes had done a bit of that, and taken any opportunity to rub oil on her bikini'd form as Salem lay out at Wes's parent's pool.

Wes also bought her little trinkets, and gave her a credit card to use when she went to Ann Taylor, and of course Frederick's of Hollywood. (Wes was too scummy to have credit at Victoria's Secret.)

Wes asked Salem to marry him five or six times over a two year period, and amazingly she finally accepted.

This, after she'd had an affair with Wesley, Senior, and convinced him to put his oldest son as the only beneficiary of his will...

The other siblings never figured out why later on, after Senior's heart attack...how could Dad cut them out in favor of the Weasel?

Now, perhaps Wes was realizing that there was an evil lining in this silver cloud...

He was with a woman more mercurial than he'd ever been, and she'd gotten much of the finances turned over, and still, he was just happy to have her.

Shame she'd found his BDSM porn, wasn't it?

Tonight, would she let him?

Salem began sliding faster up and down his horizontal penis, and she was getting more and more juicy.

Would she fuck Wes? Would she let his dick into her Heaven? Was she really in the mood?

"You do have a big, veiny cock, Wes." Salem suddenly said. She lifted her hips and carefully guided Wes's penis into her hole, where it had not been in some time.

Salem began sliding up and down Wes's cock vertically this time., motioning for him to stay still.

"I don't want you to get too excited, Wesley. It wouldn't be a good idea for you to have an accident."

"But you're my wife? I think I..."

"That's right, baby. I am your spouse of sorts."

Salem laughed lightly.

"But let's face it, you're an obese, creepy little weirdo. You look at leather and femdom sites on the Internet, and fantasize about dressing in drag."

Wes blanched.

"I read that ridiculous thing you wrote about wanting to be forced to jump rope nude but for pink stockings in our driveway."

She laughed again. "Do you think normal men think about such disgusting things?"

Wes began crying a bit in such humiliation.

Salem slid up and down Wes's pole just a little faster.

"I was telling Priscilla next door about how I finally got you to stop going to church, which you only do to please your mother-"

Wes didn't correct her assumptions, he actually raided the collection plate.

"Prissy was laughing when I told her about how I played with your dick through your suit pants in the pew until you had a nasty little accident, and made your white pants all nasty."

Wes closed his eyes in horror after the shame of that. Salem had then played a little more with his dick until he also peed his pants, and no, he would never grace Buttermilk Presbyterian with his face again.

But, as Wes cried in remembered humiliation, his dick got much, much harder, and it looked like he might be in danger of cumming.

Yes, in her Sacred Place.

Downstairs, a door slammed.

"Oh shit, who's that?" Wes asked. "We may have a prowler."

"No, that's DeLorean. I just texted him."

"What's he doing here?"

"Well, Wesley, you have warmed me up, you little weasel, you."

Salem slid off Wes's bulging missile and hopped off the bed.

"Bring me a beer, D.L., did you get some weed?"

"Yeah, honey, nice gold from Humboldt County in California." DeLorean's voice boomed.

Wes vaguely recalled that he used to sell parsley and oregano in little Baggies back in college and claim it was from Humboldt County.

"But, I want to fuck you some more, Salem. I'm so hard!"

"Calm yourself, my horny hubby" Salem leaned over and slapped Wes's cock, as hard as she could.

But of course. Wes was even more excited now, although he hated this.

He loathed Delorean, but the idea, oh the crushing humiliation was driving him mad with desire.

But he had to at least try to get his girl back.

"We're having a tender moment, Salem."

"No, not really, We're not intimate, babe. I love you, you get me great stuff, but...Hey DeLorean!"

And of course Wesley the Weasel ended up lying just behind the two humping lovers.

He was holding Delorean's scrotum in his mouth bobbing his head as Delorean rose and lowered on Salem, who was screaming in ecstasy.

Later, as Wes jacked off in front of his pot-smoking wife and her lover, he realized that he might be seen as Wimpy Wesley, but he'd get his own back at DeLorean somehow, because he also was, THE WEASEL!