Nothing to fear but fear itself

An odd quote.  If I feared fear, I wouldn't pay to endure it, now, would I?  Anyway, anyone who really thinks there's nothing to fear but fear itself hasn't had a tawsing session with Miss Hunter, or been hand-smothered by Mistress Eleise de Lacey, to name just two among many ladies who can strike fear into me and have done so most delightfuly.

Don't worry - she's a very accomplished cook and will have a wide range of things for you to kneel on over time.  Pasta, pulses, various grains... And when you're done kneeling on them, she can boil them up to mush, add a few flavourings and voila - your feeding bowl will be full for a week.

Ooh - what a lovely game!  I just want to rain a flurry of kisses down on her shoe in a never-ending display of adoration... and as that's what she wants too, that's what will happen.

I don't specifically remember agreeing that.  If anything, I try not to think too much about the evening when we 'discussed' it, as it brings me out into a cold sweat.  But I'm sure she's right, she usually is.  Always, come to think of it.

Time of the month, eh?  Always a bit difficult for the man of the house, especially if he's a due a whipping anyway.  As I always seem to be, during her periods, for some weird reason.

The worst of is when they're all sweaty and they're grinding and pumping away and one of them looks up to discover she got bored and is watching TV.  Still: best not to stop. You know how she is about these things.