Good News / Bad News

On Sunday morning, as I made scrambled eggs, the OH walked into the kitchen and asked me, “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

I opted for the bad news first and, from behind his back, he produced his leather belt.

I love this belt. It was one of the first presents I ever bought him when we were students. The softest brown leather you could imagine. And there it was in his hands… in two pieces.


My eyes went directly to the culprit… Poppy the Cavachon, (AKA The Destroyer), who immediately ran for cover under the dining table. She is not only incredibly naughty; she KNOWS it and doesn’t give one shit about it, until she gets caught.

The OH had found his belt, eaten in half on the floor of his room. (No we don’t have separate bedrooms! He uses the spare as his ‘dressing room’… long story…)

Only days previously, I had enjoyed the sensation of this belt wrapped tightly around my throat as he lead me, blindfolded, around our house.

On other occasions, the chocolate leather had left delicious marks on my thighs that I captured and used as a Sinful Sunday one week.

Processed with Moldiv

It had bound my ankles, restraining me for his pleasure.


I was mad as hell at Poppy for destroying the belt.

“So, you want to know the good news?” he asked. I nodded.

A wicked grin spread across his face, he flicked the shorter end of the torn belt in my direction, “Looks like we have a new toy!”, making me giggle and forget my anger at once.



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