today. This is my own fault really –
stacked the towels in the wrong order again.
You know how it is. Eighty minutes, eight strokes, then another eighty
minutes. Could be worse. I had quite a light shift, actually. A few with the strap and a couple of sesssions of kneeling punishment. Quite a relief after last time, I can tell you.
There’s some of her friend Julie’s laundry in, to be ready for
5.30. And she wanted me to do the
kitchen, so the bathroom’s still to do, OK?
try and go easy on it, will you? My
shift starts at 6am tomorrow, so I won’t have a chance to buy any more until
Thursday. Wouldn’t want to earn any more
demerit points, not this close to the end of the month. And you know how she is about the washing up, especially when she’s having a party.
I are doing maid service and clean up. House inspection 9am Sunday, then we get the rest of the day off if it’s all satisfactory. With two of us working overnight that should be all right. It’s the Saturday evening I’m worried about, to tell the truth. I
heard her mention that that vicious little cow Marianne’s going to be
there. You remember? The one who made us all dance with those
weights attached at New Year. So we
might be in for rather a rough time, I’m afraid. Glad it’s not just going to be
You couldn’t do me a favour and straighten my stocking tops could
you? You’d be saving me four strokes at
least. No need for her to know, eh?
I’d do the same for you, you know I would.
You’re probably right. She does always seem to find these things out,
doesn’t she? We’ll just forget I said anything.