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.
