The Punishment

Your instructions, always simple.
I should be able to follow them.
Yet I didn't.


I consistently disregard your instructions.


"Do what I ask you to do."
"No more, no less."
"Do not anticipate what I may desire."
"Follow instructions."
"Simple."


Yes.
Simple.


I was to leave the crop at the office.
Yet I didn't.
I brought it home.
Anticipating that you may need it there.


A major error in my judgment.


Now, a Punishment would follow.


It is always your decision on how to Correct me.
I felt it should be your decision on the Punishment.


Your instructions, simple.
"I want you naked."
"Standing."
"Looking down."
"Hair braided."
"Wrist cuffs on, linked together, behind your back."
"Facing away from me when I come in."
"Lay out three items for me to punish you with."
"The three you find the least pleasurable."


Then you added another phrase.
One which puzzled me at the time.
One which I now fear.


"This will not count as a Correction."


You have only given me Corrections.
Never a Punishment.
I did not know what to expect.
Yet, actually, somehow I knew.
I knew it would be severe.


I feared it.
I feared you.


My mind frantic with thoughts.
Anticipating your actions.
Anticipating the pain.
Fearing your anger.


I arrived in plenty of time to prepare.
I didn't want to forget anything on your list.
I checked your message; three times.
I wanted everything perfect.


I prepared my braid, making it tight, down my back.
I undressed.
Naked.
Helpless.
I shaved my pussy.
Smooth.
Not wanting you to find fault in my appearance.
I took the bag of toys from the closet.
The wrist cuffs on top.
Dumping everything out on the bed.
Frantically looking for the brass clip.
Unable to find it.
It was still attached to the wrist cuff.
I shoved everything back in the bag.
Smoothed the bed covers.
Placed the bag back in the closet.
I looked at the clock.
I had four minutes.
I hurried.
I easily applied the left wrist cuff.
I struggled with the right wrist cuff.
Unable to get it tight.
I started to cry.
I thought you would walk in at any moment.
Find me.
Not ready.


I already knew the three items.
The one’s I feared the most.
The one’s that always give me pain.
And rarely give me pleasure.


I selected the crop first.
The source of the punishment.
I selected the whip next.
Afraid of the pain from the tip as it whips around striking my body.
Finally, I selected the dowel.
The intensity of its pain as it strikes my thighs.
The sound breaking the air.
The instant fear it brings.
The item I dislike the most.
I laid these out on the floor.
You would see them when you came in.


I stood.
I waited.
Not knowing if you would get in downstairs.
Not knowing if I had to buzz you in.
I waited.
The phone rang.
I jumped.
I buzzed you in.
I took a deep breath.
I latched my wrists together behind my back.
I stood.
I waited.


My breathing was fast.
I anticipated your arrival.
I heard the door open, close and lock.
Your footsteps hard against the wood floor.
My head bent down.
I closed my eyes.
Afraid.
If I had them open I would look at you.
Afraid.
If I looked at you, you would slap my face.
Afraid.


I heard you walking around me.
Inspecting me.
I heard you sighing.
As if in disgust.
Your displeasure in me quite evident.


Your words from the other day.
Still haunting my mind.

“In denying yourself pleasure, you have also denied me pleasure.”


I hoped that I had everything to your liking.
Your voice; strong, stern.
Your voice, echoing in my ears.
Your voice, angry.
I was afraid.
My voice, whispering answers to your questions.
Yes, I knew you told me to bring the crop to the office.
Yes, I used the crop to slap my pussy.
No, you did not tell me to bring it home.
Yes, I made the decision to bring it home.
I’m sorry, I thought you would need it here.
No, I am not perfect.
Yes, I want to fall down at your feet.


I wanted to beg your forgiveness.
I wanted to promise to you it would never happen again.
Yet somehow, I knew it would happen again.
I wouldn’t learn.
I’m not perfect.


I could smell you as you stood in front of me.
I wondered if you could hear my heart beating.
I wondered if you knew my fear.
I expected your hand to slap across my face.
I braced myself.
"Lick my chest."
I breathed a quiet sigh.
Maybe you weren’t that angry.
Maybe you would be gentle.
Hungrily, I did as requested.
Lapping up the pools of sweat on your chest.
My mouth ventured toward your nipples
Gently sucking them.
Biting them.
My body relaxed a bit.
Becoming aroused.
You raised your arm.
Your hand on the back of my head.
Forcing my mouth toward your armpits.
My nose buried deep in your skin.
Breathing in your body.
Sweaty.
My tongue, lapping the wetness.
I licked your salty armpits.
Your hand holding my face against your skin.
Your arm pinching my nose.
I gasped for breaths.
I licked your armpits.


Your voice.
Angry.
“Hold your braid."
My hands reached for my hair.
Holding tightly.
Twisting my hair between my fingers.
Nervous.


I waited.
Anticipating the pain.
Listening to your voice.
Never have I heard your voice so angry.
Tears in my eyes.
I was weak.


I heard you select something from the floor.
I hoped I had placed the proper items for you.
I hoped you would start out slow.
Build up the pain.
Build up the heat.
You paused.
Holding the object in your hand.
Positioning yourself.
I felt the leather crop land hard against my right ass cheek.
Stinging.
I sucked in my breath.
Holding it.
Immediate intense pain.
Quickly, the crop landed against my left ass cheek.
I drew in more air.
Holding it.
You were not going to be slow.
You were angry.
Your actions showed your displeasure.
Your fingernails digging into my nipple.
Twisting the ends.
Intense pain.
My fingers entwined in the braid.
Trying not to move.
Repeatedly, the leather tip of the crop landed on my ass.
My skin turning hot, red.
Your fingers tighter on my nipples.
Wanting to scream out.
I held my breath.
Intense pain.
Burning pain.


The sound breaking the air.
The sound I was familiar with.
I knew the pain that would follow.
The whip striking my ass.
My knees buckled.
I cried out.
Extreme pain.
Tears streaming down my face.
Uncontrollably crying.
Holding my hair tighter.
The strikes against my ass.
Growing hotter.
Welts.
Against my thighs.
As I cried in pain.
Your voice, instructing me to stand.
Uncontrollably crying.
Intense pain.
As the whip struck my ass.
You asked for a number.
Silent.
You asked again.
Sobbing, I whispered.
Twenty.
Afraid.
Wondering if I selected the right number.
You began.
The strikes hard against my ass.
Against my thighs.
As I counted.
Slowly at first.
Then, rapidly.
I lost count.
No, I cried.
I didn’t want to start again.
Please.
I hurt.
You started from one again.
I concentrated.
My mouth open.
Silently crying.
Whispering the numbers.
Unable to feel my skin.
The pain incredible.
Twenty.


The dowel slapped hard against my hips.
My back stiffened as needles of pain penetrated.
Your anger flowing with each slap against my ass.
My body numb from pain.
Unfeeling.


You had used all three items.
I thought you were finished.
I thought you would untie me.
I thought you would caress me.
I thought you would kiss me.


Sobbing uncontrollably.
I felt you move in front of me.
Cold, sharp against my skin.
The knife blade.
Your voice.
Angry.
“How easy it would be to cut you.”
Terror rushed through my body.
I tried to stand still.
The cold blade circling around my nipple.
Drawing across my breast.
Over to the other nipple.
Terror intensified.
You pushed the tip of the blade against my nipple.
Sharp pain stabbed through my nipple.
You urged me to watch.
My tear filled eyes focusing on the blade.
Afraid to move.
Afraid you would cut me.
Terror.
Circling the blade around the nipple.
The sharp point tracing my skin.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
My eyes closed.
Begging you to stop.


Your hand slapped hard against my ass.
Again and again.
Harder each time.
Holding your hand against my skin.
Holding in the pain.
Hot intense pain.
Uncontrollable sobbing.
My mind screamed at you to stop.
Yet no words were coming from my voice.
I tried to get away from you.
You held me in place against your body.
Struggling.
Silently screaming against you.
Your hand repeatedly slapping my ass.


Your hands against my face.
My head down.
Anticipating.
Knowing.
The first slap.
Stinging.
I tried to bury my face.
I tried to prevent you from slapping me again.
Your hands slapping my face.
Repeatedly.
Uncontrollable sobbing.
Begging you to stop.


I felt you unlatch the clip at my wrists.
I felt you take the left wrist cuff off.
I felt you take the right wrist cuff off.
I felt my arms hanging limp at my side.
I felt my face, swollen, hot.
I felt my ass, swollen, hot.
I felt you guide me to the bed.
I felt the bedcovers cool against my skin.
I felt your cock in my mouth.
I felt your hand lifting my head.
I felt your cock getting harder in my mouth.
I felt your body thrusting against the bed.
I felt your cock deeper in my mouth.
I felt your cum down my throat.
I felt you pat the top of my head.
I felt my body curl up.
I felt broken.
I felt alone.