Double Trouble. . . . . AEG 3

What a shoot! Jess and I started off this morning on the wrong foot. . . . . we were completely at each other's throats. We didn't get much sleep last night, what between playing delivery service, and then debating all night about whether or not to go back and abort Mission 3:16. :-D We were dragging, and EXTREMELY pissy this morning. . . . if there was ever a time when we could have killed each other, it would have been then. So, we rumble around this morning, getting ready, and then we headed to the studio. Now, we walked in the studio, and Mr. M says, “What's wrong? You guys can break in on a nightly basis, but you can't come in the unlocked door?” I swear to God, I almost sprang. I, however, kept my personal feelings under control. . . . . “You girls are dragging a bit. . . . you two hung-over?” “No, sir.” Said in unison, exact same, flat, tone. “In and out, head back and get ready, you two.” Jess and I stormed off to the model room, still trying not to actively kill each other, and changed. We then headed to the set. Now, the first thing Mr. M did was start arm exercises. . . . . I guess trying to warm up? I noticed this out of the corner of my eye, because my active attention was on the strap laying on the couch. . . . This did NOT serve to improve my mood. Now, about the only the only thing he said about our gift last night was, “I tried that energy drink, and it was HORRIBLE. My camera guy tried it, too, and he also thought it tasted like shit.” We informed him that the only reason we got that one was because it was called, “NO FEAR.” Out of the goodness of my heart, I volunteered to let Jess go first. For her, I would make that sacrifice. . . . . Mr. M announced, “Oh, don't worry. You'll both have plenty of time to switch off. I'm thinking three sets, each. One for the original crime, one for hiding my sign yesterday, and one for the stunt you pulled this morning.”My thought? “Oh, shit.” I've FELT that strap. . . . .three trips? Damn. Of course, because my morning had been SO great thus far. . . . . Mr. M calls me up. “Keagen, stand up, and come over here. Bare your bottom.” I gave him one quick glare out of the corner of my eye as I went over the back of the couch. He made Jess kneel in front of the couch, and hold my hands. *rolls eyes* Once again, we did the crime the together, and we paid together. Holding hands like that is horrendous, and it's the second time we've been made to do it. You're so connected to the other person, and can feel every flinch, every cringe, and can feel the tension as your hands are almost tore off. She grabbed my hands, and buried her head in our hands. Mr. M put his hand on my back, and I immediately tensed up. I waited. . . . .and then that first stroke fell. OUCH. That was some SERIOUSLY intense pain. There was one point when he hit my sit spot three times in a row, and that almost put my over the edge. I was on the brink of tears. . . . but I wasn't quite there. The edge of that strap is hard, and the most intense pain is along the right side of the bottom and thigh. A straight line, all the way down. . . . . *shakes head* It was incredibly intense, but nothing I couldn't handle. I got REALLY vocal during that one. I lost count at sixty. . . . and it kept on. Then, I heard, “Stand up. Trade places.” Jessa slowly walked around the couch and came over the back. I offered my hands to her, and she gripped them tight. She had already heard me start yelping from the second stroke, and she was slightly nervous, to say the least. Believe me, by this point, my attitude was GONE, and I was dreading going back over that couch. I felt Jessa jerk as the first stroke fell. . . . . she made it to stroke four before she began yelping. She lost count at 55. . . . She describes the sensation of that strap as having, “The sting of the cane, and the thuddiness of a paddle.” I would have to agree with the stingy part, but the thud, for me, was a bit less, I guess. It DEFINITELY had some seriously bite. I don't remember many of the details of her strapping. . . . I whispering to her the entire time. “Come on, chickie. . . . you're ok. Hang in there. Stick with me. . . . . come on, you're ok.” Her hair hit me in the face a lot lol. He wrapped up with her, and I took in a deep breath. . . . I expected to go back over the back of the couch. Instead, he asked, “Either of you have something sarcastic to say? Did that get the point across?” We looked at each other, “Yes, sir.” What was honestly running through our heads was, “That's all we got for that? That's it? He's done?” We expected a LOT worse, honestly. At this point, we were both back to being a giggly and happy selves. When we were doing the pictures, we were laughing SO hard. While that strapping was hard, and intense, it wasn't anything like what we expected. It was DEFINITE attitude adjuster, though. *sigh* At this point, Jessa was done shooting. . . . . and we moved on to me. I was shooting RSI today. It took us a little while to get the uniforms sorted out. . . . . Let me tell you. . . . .I've rarely felt so retarded in my entire life. *shrugs* Go with the flow lol. :-D Jess was allowed to observe this scene, and she sat in the background. I looked at her, and prepared to get her laughing. Mr. M looked at me and said, “She's being good. Don't get her started.” I looked at him, and SERIOUSLY debated continuing with my original plan. He looked at me, and watched. I could see the wheels turning. . . . . I looked back at Jess, and looked at him again. He said, “Keagen, do you see those canes over there?” I nodded, and decided to keep my mouth shut. He drug me into the classroom, and bent me over a desk. He stormed to the front of the classroom, and took his sweet time selecting a paddle. I was lying there, thinking, “Oh boy.” He finally made his choice, and came back beside me. He flipped my skirt up across my back, and started in. It was over my panties, and then, of course, *rolls eyes* bare bottom. This one was painful, but not particularly memorable. Not much of a vocal reaction, but I did react physically. I had to be told to stay in position a couple of times, and he threatened to start over once. THAT got my attention. I gripped the edge of that desk and hung on. He then took his paddle back up to the front , and drug me out of the room. During the picture shoot, Jessa was standing right outside the door. I stuck my tongue out at her, and Mr. M thought I had stuck it out at the photographer. He didn't pop me really good, but the swats for the recreation got noticeably harder. At one point in time, I arched my back, hissed, and asked him, “What was that for?!??” “To get a reaction” as the photographer said, “For sticking your tongue out at me.” I did not hesitate to inform him that that particular gesture wasn't meant for him. My third scene was also RSI. For this one, Jess' voice was involved, and, unfortunately, my hands. Mr. M even allowed me the liberty of picking my own strap. I chose one that I had THOUGHT he had used on me before, one that was stingy, but not particularly bad. I THOUGHT it was the same one. . . . I definitely thought wrong. The scene started out with Mr. M lecturing, and quickly moved to a question and answer session. He asked Jess a question, and I jumped in with the answer. That, apparently, is the wrong thing to do at the Institute. “Stand up. Step over here. . . . . hold out your hands.” I snapped off this cocky look, and flipped my hand out. The first stroke with that strap IMMEDIATELY caught my attention. . . . . It was NOT the same strap that was used last time, by ANY means. I was like, “Oh, shit, damn, hell. . . . . Ut oh. Ut oh. Ut OUCH!” And that was the first stroke into the second. I got six on one hand, and six on the other. Seriously, that hand strapping was VERY memorable. . . . . I would have rather gone back over the back of that couch than have that strap taken to my hands again. After the six on my left hand, he asked for my right hand back. I shook my hands out, and reluctantly held my right hand out again. Stroke 13. . . . . “FUCK!” (That was NOT a safeword. . . . that was a totally natural reaction.) I shook my hand out as he drug me into the bathroom. My hands were hot and throbbing. . . . . that was one INTENSE strap, and NOTHING like the one he used on my hands last time. I stood in the bathroom, alternately rubbing my hands together and laying them flat on the cool countertop as he lathered up soap. We discussed proper language use at the Institute, as the soap was inserted and removed several times. He kept asking me, “What did you say?” (As if I, and he, wasn't perfectly aware of EXACTLY what I said.” The entire time, I'm giving him a death glare. “You'd better change that look you're giving me.” My scowl darkened upon hearing, “And, young lady, since you weren't able to make it through your strapping without cussing, we'll start it over at the beginning, and hope you do better next time.” The second he left the bathroom, I spent a good 3 minutes rinsing. *shakes head* Yuck. Jessa and I headed back to the model room, talking and laughing all the way. Jessa had HORRIBLE marks. . . . .and I had almost none. I had a bit of marking high on my right leg, and a the line along the right side of my bottom where the edge of the strap connected was red. *shakes head* Kinda glad I don't mark much, though. . . . . My hands look a little interesting, though. They fleshy parts are bright red, and the very center is white as white can be. . . . . It was a whole lot of fun driving today, lemme tell ya. *rolls eyes*