The Punishment

I had fallen asleep that night, exhausted from crying most of the evening before. You had told me to go to bed, so I had, although not before doing some things I'm sure you wouldn't approve of, given my state of mind. During the middle of the night, I had woken up and remembered my conversation with you. I vaguely remembered behaving badly, so I scrolled through our text conversation. It was bad — worse than I remember. My mind raced. How was I going to recover from this? I could explain that there was more going on that what you realised. That I had found out yet another dom had lied to me, but that was really just another excuse. I know better than to ever argue with you, deliberately disobey you, or tell you many of the things I had told you. I fell back asleep, tossing and turning, worrying about what to do.

I woke up the next morning and slowly moved down the hallway, having decided to go into the office despite it being my day off. "Where are you going?"

I jumped and stared at you. You were sitting on my couch, quite comfortable. You had helped yourself to one of the books on my bookshelf. From the looks of it, you'd either read the book before and had started at your favourite spot, or you'd been in my house for quite awhile.

"Sir?"

"A few things, Submissive. You wear too many clothes to bed. You're standing in my presence. And I'm too old to baby-sit."

I took my clothes, fell to my hands and knees, casting my eyes to your feet. I considered pointing out that I hadn't asked you to come over, but then I remembered some of the things I said last night. It was a fair point, and I deserved your words.

"Come over here."

I crawled over to you, wondering what would happen next. I was surprised when you started gently stroking my hair. "I'm sorry, Submissive, that you're going through a hard time. But here's the thing. No matter what happens in your life, you still have to remember your place. You forgot that last night, and it's my job to remind you."

As you spoke, your fingers slowly stopped stroking my hair and began to find a handful of hair painfully twist until I was looking into your eyes. "Do you understand me, you stupid, pathetic, shovelhead bitchcunt?"

When I didn't answer immediately, you twisted harder, making me gasp. Tears shone in my eyes when I whispered, "Yes, Sir."

"Louder."

"Yes, Sir," I replied more firmly. "I'm sorry, Sir."

"Not yet. But you will be."

I had no doubt, especially as I heard the all-too-familiar sounds of a belt being taken off and folded in half. "You were quite bad last night. And bad girls need to be punished. Do you disagree?"

"No, Sir."

"Then get across my knees."

I put myself across your lap and awaited the inevitable, wondering how bad it would be. Every time the belt hit my naked ass, I managed a "Thank You, Sir," then silently prayed that it would be the last one. When they finally stopped, you presented the belt, and I kissed it.

"Thank You, Sir. I'm sorry for being so bad. It won't

happen again."

"We'll see. For now, though, I'll accept your apology. Now,

get on the floor where you belong."

I took my position in front of you, kneeling again.

"Close your eyes and open your mouth."

I complied and felt your warm piss cover my face. I felt you aiming most of it into my mouth, and I let it fall into my mouth and then wash back out, falling down the rest of my naked body. When you were done pissing on me, you spit on my face a few times.

"Clean my cock off."

I knelt between your legs, putting my hands on either side of your legs.

"No hands, slut."

I put my hands behind my back, holding one wrist with the other hand. I took your cock in my mouth and began to suck it, tasting the last remnants of your warm piss. You grabbed my hair again and began controlling my head, face fucking me, controlling the rhythm. Soon your cock was so far back in my mouth, I was gagging.

You laughed, "Pathetic, slant-eyed whore. I love it when you gag on my cock. Keep going."

I moaned as I struggled to breathe, loving the delicious mix of emotions I felt. Few things made me feel more content than serving you. Few things were scarier than when I felt out of control. But I loved serving you because I loved giving up that control.

Every time I gagged and filled my mouth, you pulled your cock out, and laughed as I instinctually spit things out, and my naked body got messier and nastier as it was covered now with my bodily fluids, rather than yours.

My mind took in the combination of words you reigned down on me, the way you laughed at me, the way you used me as nothing but a vessel to fuck your cock, the way you forced me to soil my own body over and over... and I sank so deeply into subspace.

You shoved my face deep and hard against you and I felt you cum inside my mouth. You pulled my face away and ordered me to spit that out, too. I did, but all I could think about was wanting your cock back inside my mouth, wanting to please you more. And again.

You stood up and walked around me, cleaning yourself off in my hair and on my back, which hadn't yet been marred.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Submissive?"

"Did I please You?"

"Yes."

"And I served You well?"

"Yes."

You made me stay kneeling on the floor with the various combinations of fluids drying on my body while you cleaned up. After you were clean, you laid a sheet on my couch and helped me onto it. I laid down on it while we talked for a few minutes. You came over and sat on the couch, putting my head on your lap. I turned to my side, and you stroked my hair. Every once in awhile, you hand strayed to my shoulder or my hip, lightly stroking it as you brought me back down, grounding me, talking to me all the while.