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It was New Year's morning, and you were badly hungover after entertaining into the early morning hours, but I couldn't help teasing you.

"HOW'S YOUR HEAD THIS MORNING, MASTER? FEELIN' REEEAALLL GOOD?"

I giggled as you cringed and pulled a pillow over your head, so I tugged at the pillow, full of the devil, laughing, and the tug-of-war was on!

We both gripped an end, wrestling, pulling and yanking, until the pillow split open. Thousands of feathers littered the air, and you shot me a glare as you reached for my hairbrush. I beat a hasty exit from the room, praying you would go back to bed, and remember none of it.

Hours later, I crashed on the couch for a few extra hours of sleep, until your touch summoned me into a waking dream.

You cupped and stroked my bare bottom, kissed by the crisp winter air, my pussy moist and available to you, with need growing in my body and soul.

"Yeeesss," I whispered softly, as you dragged fingers up my spine, stroking my skin seductively. My eyes were not open yet, and I wasn't ready to let go of the sensations you were causing, but then you stopped.

"Nooo, don't stop. Not yet, okay?"

Your hand caressing my cheeks was suddenly replaced with hard, cool ivory, stiff bristles. Realization!

It was the unmistakable feel of my antique, ivory hairbrush, sliding over my exposed ass, and my entire being tensed with the thought of your retribution. Then you spoke, for the first time, and raised the brush high into the air.

"My love, we need to talk about the way you woke me this morning!" Swoosh! Crack! You brought the brush down hard on my cheeks, and I shrieked.

"Stand behind the couch and bend over, legs apart, face down."

"Oh, come on," I argued, "I was just having a bit of fun."

"Do as I've asked, Cora"

I followed your instructions, seething, "Fucking can't take a joke. It's gonna be a looong fucking year!"

You turned away and sat down, and I couldn't look at you. I knew better than to lead with anger, but I didn't trust your judgment, thinking, I didn't do anything wrong! I was just teasing!

I knew you were shaking your head in disbelief, but I was blind-angry, and cursing you silently. I held my breath and waited, while you slapped my brush against your palm rhythmically. Then you laid your head back on the couch and locked your eyes with mine.

"You know better than to second guess me, love. My place is to lead. Your place is to follow and submit to me. You know this, baby love, but I believe you need a stern reminder."

I swallowed the angry insults I wanted to hurl at you, and focused on the back of the couch. Though your voice dripped with disdain, I thought I had detected a small degree of amusement, and I clung to that hope.

You moved to stand behind me and I risked a look back.

"Eyes forward. Head down," you insisted.

I was in no position to argue, and I held my breath, waiting.

You dragged the flat side of the brush down my back, over my buttocks, and slid it across my anxious pussy, caressing me, and then stroked one

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