After a while, my youngest brother Steve knocked on the door."Paul, do you want do to something?" No," I called out in way too high voice. I tried to ...ower it. "No, I'mnot feeling well."Wow, my voice didn't sound right and Steve knew it."Paul, are you ok?"I tried a very husky voice, like I had a bad throat. "No, I think I'msick. I've been in bed all afternoon. Just leave me."Steve didn't seem entirely convinced, and opened the door. I was in bed,lying on my side with the covers up around the. Ileft the room and returned with a suitcase and some plastic. Ispread the plastic under her."Mistress Dyvia what is that for?" she questioned.I knew that in her post-orgasmic bliss that she would not havebeen as sexually receptive to my punishments. It would not havebeen erotic to her or for her. "My paint ball gun." Mistress?" she asked almost desperately. Knowing the welts onecan get from a shot like that, I can only imagine how nervousshe was. I had a pair of scissors in my hand and I. More

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