Now I know why I've been so needy, lately. I have been in heat!
I realize this as my husband clips the leash to my collar once again. There could be only one reason that a husband would clip a leash to his wife's collar inside the house, and Elsa screams a lady-like scream and turns to blush, looking scandalized. "Must you? Mr. Shepherd?" she asks, in obviously feigned horror.
Handy laughs and cuffs his wife playfully on the shoulder. "Now, Elsa! I didn't hear you complaining when we was making the younguns!" Ignoring Elsa's scowl, he winks at my husband. "You do whatever you're going to do, Mr...erm, I mean Charles."
I can't help myself. All four of my legs are weak, and I'm flushing all over as I meekly follow my husband, who walks upright because he is a man, upstairs. As a lady, I know I'm supposed to be shy about such...carnal matters. It's a woman's shame, after all. It's the original sin that weakens the moral resolve of men. Well, perhaps my sinful body weakens the minds of men, but at least I know that I can be redeemed by childbirth. I say a prayer in hopes for a child as I follow my husband up the stairs, and as I hold that hope in mind, I feel a little bit better as I follow my husband up the stairs, although I am still tense with trepidation.
"Up, Matilda!" my husband growls as we approach our bedroom, and he closes the door.
I hop up on up the bed, and I look back at him beseechingly, knowing he'll punish me first for being a sinner but somehow hoping he won't treat me too harshly.
Indeed, once he has undressed, he pulls the razor strop down off the door where it hangs, and he snaps it in his paws. My husband, a war-veteran, is huge and muscular, his orange-and-black fur shining brightly over the rippling form underneath. He's quite an imposing figure, and his erection is standing out as hard as I have ever seen it. I jump a little bit as he snaps the razor-strop in his hands, and I sniffle a little in anticipation.
"Whore!" he snarls as the razor-strop comes down on my backside, the weapon making a horrible crack as it connects with my body.
I cry out, and I try to hold back a sob. I must hold back the tears. I deserve this, and I'm a sinner. I must not cry.
The test of my repentance is long and great, though. He bears down all the more as his punishment of me continues, and I almost lose control and cry a few times. Before long, though, I enter a state of holy bliss, and my guilt is erased from my mind as the pain from my punishment goes away. I'm...elsewhere. No...elsewhat.
Is that a word? It should be. It's my word.
And...