Self-Control

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Alana keeps her master waiting.
952 words
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Maybe he is asleep. Maybe he decided this was nothing to be angry about. Maybe he is waiting for you in bed, happy you're are home safely. Maybe...

It's not entirely your fault, you know that is not true, but he may have the patience to hear excuses. You knew your curfew. There is no getting pass that, so just maybe he will be fast asleep. Only as if the world is trying to defy you, you trip on the pile of plush towels you know you were told to put away. You land square on your face, and you weren't quiet about it either.

"Alana?" His voice questions from the floor above. You try to shrink into the inky darkness. One drink, that's all you wanted, but your friends wanted more. You had smiled, and then you threw down enough money for three more unaware of the hour. A simple glance at the clock could have saved you from all this trouble. Self-control could have been your hero.

"Alana are you down there?" He asks again flicking on a light. You sigh in defeat lifting yourself off the ground.

"Yes Sir, I am down here." You call to him, voice trembling.

He stomps down the stairs without another word. You know him well enough to know he is furious. You're frozen in place, but what else can you do? No point in trying to explain, you'd never run from your loving master, and you surely would not resist from the punishment you so badly deserved.

"Alana Anne! Where the hell have you been?" He bellows grabbing your face in between his thumb and index fingers. No reason to lie.

"I was at the bar. I didn't mean to stay out so late Sir." You whimper. You hadn't intended on giving excuses, but they roll off your tongue without consent.

"I called you, three times." He growls releasing your face. Fat tears roll down your stinging cheeks.

"My phone died..." You admit hesitantly. He told you not to leave if your phone wasn't going to last. You had ignored him too busy with your hair.

"You go to your room and get ready for me." He spits turning away from you. You're completely ashamed of your irresponsible behavior.

Slowly you creep up the stairs, and into your room. A punishment awaits you, but again you deserve whatever is coming.

You know just how he wants you. You strip yourself of your clothing and kneel in the corner, thighs open slightly. There is nothing arousing in the thought of your master being angry at you, yet even though the thought of him being angry at you is one of the worst feelings, the thought of him being disappointed causes hot tears to stream down your face.

You hear him walk in. He sits on your bed without a word. You don't dare to speak or move.

"Come here." He sighs, disappointment coating his tone. You crawl over to him eyes casted on the ground; you can't bare to look at his face. He pats his lap.

"Come on, I don't have all night."

You crawl into his lap quickly not wanting to upset him any further. His hand rest on your bottom for a moment, then it's pulled away, only to come back down against your behind. His hand slaps across your bottom leaving stingy, red blotches.

"You could have called, told me you were going to stay later, that is all you had to do." He began. You know he is right; all you had to do was call. You try not to squirm or interfere, but your hands shoot back involuntarily. He simply grabs them and continues spanking you.

"I was worried sick. Do you EVEN care?" He chastises.

More tears roll down your flushed cheeks.

"Please Sir! I'm so sorry!" You plead knowing it's no use. He gives one final slap before putting you on the ground in front of him. You look up at him with sad eyes. He ignores you, and pulls out his semi hard member. He knots his hand in your hair and pushes you down. You gag as he slides down your throat cutting off your airway. He thrust his self in and out of your mouth groaning. Only momentarily does he pull out, giving you few seconds to gasp for air.

"You deserve this." You remind yourself as he face fucks you.

He lets out a deep moan before he coats the inside of your mouth with his cum. You resist the urge to swallow.

"Spit it out." He orders harshly. You let out a small cry before letting his seed dribble down your chin. You think this might be the end of your punishment. You thought wrong.

"You don't deserve this." He says sternly reaching to remove the choker you wore to replace your leather collar.

"No! No, no, no! Sir please, no!" You sob as he pulls it off harshly.

"I won't have you represent me until you learn how to behave. Go to bed." He growls leaving your room.

You reach to touch your neck. Your heart aches with pain. He took away your collar. You would take any kind of punishment in the world over this. Your sobs turn into hushed hiccups. In the morning you will kneel at your master's feet naked. You will beg for forgiveness, and he will look at your sternly preparing to lecture you. When he's done he will scoop you into his arms and reassure you on his love for you. On this lighter note, you fall asleep, clutching your bare neck.

Maybe now you have learned self-control can be your best friend. Maybe...

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AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
I enjoy "dominating" males.

I believe males are "hard-wired" to love "dominant" women. It starts when they are in their mother's womb.

Then, usually, their mother teaches them.

I mean "dominant" in a domestic way; not as a fetish.

Men can't help it.

They act "dominant" because they think girls/women want this.

But the males really want to be--lovingly--dominated by a woman.

This is true in all the world cultures I admire. Matriarchy (sp?) rules. Especially in the world cultures I love most.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
There is no other "group" that

I have as much difficulty overcoming the fear and prejudice of than--males.

That's the main reason, I guess, why I feel a certain joy when this happens.

Like--this couldn't happen. But it does.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
I love loving men because--

they're evil, disgusting, slimey, sexist, perverted, sick, mean, stupid* ...

so I get a sort of ecstatic feeling when I feel love for these--

weird people.

*Of course, they're not really all these things. But they're shown this way in very much of our culture.

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
"Cross the river to the Jersey side"

"take my baby to the carnival, and I'll take you on all the rides ...

don't you know when my dreams come true, when I'm walking down the street with you ..." Tom Waits, natch

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KX-IyEfLZt4

AnonymousAnonymousabout 11 years ago
Just Sick

People don't have to be tolerant of just anything--

and people who want to be "abused" have a responsibility to other people,

to not want anyone you love/care about to be what you are

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