This morning was not a good one. I had to be up early to join my husband on a video call. He’s traveling for business, but we needed to meet with our attorneys to finalize the sale of some property. First off, I’m not happy that he scheduled this so early for me—trust me, he’ll be paying for that soon enough.

But the chaos didn’t stop there. The boys forgot to set an alarm, so there was no coffee ready for me. I tried making it myself, only to discover that houseboy hadn’t cleaned the filter last night. As I was trying to deal with that, I accidentally knocked my coffee cup off the counter, shattering it into pieces.

By the time thing1 finally emerged, I was already fuming, and unfortunately for him, he took the brunt of my anger. I ended up having to meet with the lawyer without coffee. It wasn’t until ten minutes into the call that thing2 sheepishly brought me a fresh cup.

Now, as a responsible Domme, I have a rule: Never administer corporal punishment when angry. That’s why all three boys are spending the day in the outbuilding—a small shack heated by a space heater. No screens, no creature comforts, just time to reflect on their mistakes. Meanwhile, I’m going to spend the day with a little me-time relaxing, calming myself, and regaining control.

This evening, I’ll administer their punishment and then send them off to bed. The only question is: what form should the punishment take?

• 20 lashings each with my new bullwhip?
• Or is this offense severe enough to merit a harsh caning?

Decisions, decisions…

Warmly,
Mizz Geena