Dear TP Lupa,
I am in distress. My turd of a mate has left me and I don’t know what to do. After one hundred and fifteen years together, an obscene number of eggs left on the beach and letting the bastard win every race so as not to hurt his fragile ego, he left me for a stinking hare named Buns. I gave him the best years of my life and he gave me the boot. What do I do?
Shattered in her Shell
“Scat!” Nick pushed away from the computer, grabbed the keyboard and threw it against the wall.
When he’d conceived of and added this new column to the website it was in the hopes of pissing off Ziva. He’d hoped to encourage her to punish him again, but not appearing to be begging at his bitch’s feet. That didn’t happen though.
“Penelope, Nicholas. My name is Penelope or Mistress if you’d like to go there.” His secretary, though she’d probably complain about that title as well, came into the office and sat in front of the desk. “What do you want, desk humper?”
“Answer these letters and post them on the site.”
Nick panicked as Penny rose to leave. He couldn’t answer all these whiners and Ziva had just growled at him when he told her it was an addition to her job. No punishment, no biting or arousing skirmish—nothing but a growl and her back as she went to her office. Having to answer these letters was not his idea of a punishment, it was pure torture.
“Come on, Penelope, I’m the boss…you do what I say. Here’s an easy one:
Dear TP Lupa,
This wily coyote and I spent the last three days groovin’ the nasty. He promised to call, but hasn’t. What do I do?
“In your dreams, woodman. I’m more likely to tell those people to take up a flogger, or better yet a single tail and let the training begin.”
“Have Z do it, she’s at least got some compassion…”
Yeah, Ziva was compassionate to everyone but him. All he wanted was another session on the leash, but no. “She won’t do it. How about this one?
Dear TP Lupa,
I just received a marriage proposal, but before I answer I’d like to know how to meld a largely dissimilar family?
“That one sounds familiar, but no thanks. Guess that leaves you, Big Guy.”
“But, there’s got to be at least a thousand emails…”
“Not that many, Nick.”
“Nope. Better get started—website updates are at three…”
Fuck! It was two fifteen and no one would do this. Plus, he had a broken keyboard. “Get me a new keyboard, Penny.” He screamed through the door before grabbing a pen and note pad to jot down his answers.
Shattered: Start a fire, grab a spike and have you some dogs and Buns.
R. Runner: He’s not calling back. Next time, rub one out.
Grazing Granola: I better not know you!
“Is he doing it?” Ziva stood next to her mate’s door twirling the choke chain around one finger.
“So cruel, Z…God you make me hot.” Penelope slid back into her seat after delivering a new keyboard to
Nick. Yes, he’s doing it, begrudgingly, but it’s getting done.”
“Damn.” She pocketed the metal links and turned to head back to her office. She’d hoped to have the luxury of going in and delivering a punishment to get him to do the job, but he caved to fast. Now she needed to find another opportunity.
“Hey Z, you sure you don’t want to play sometime? I’ve got the perfect crop picked out just for you.”
With a wink and a smile she kept moving down the hall answering the beautiful Domme the same way she always did—with no answer.
May we all have 115 years with our loves and never once have to write to the TP Lupa!