“Do you still need me to lay hands on you?”
“Yes, Sir, but it can wait til this evening if y…”
“No”, he cut me off abruptly. “We will do it this morning”.
He moved to the bench and sat down, motioning for me to bend over his knee. I’d asked for a reset spanking the night before, and the truth is I think we both really needed it. So, that’s how I ended up over his knee, my panties pulled up into my butt crack at 7am on Friday morning. Afterwards, he pulled me gently by my hair into the kitchen and pushed me up against the pantry door, holding me there with his hand on my neck. He wrote something on my chest in permanent marker before reminding me that I would face the consequences for my actions later that evening. This rough treatment may be considered punishment to some, but to me it is like having an aphrodisiac straight piped into my blood stream. The dirty words written in black ink across the soft whiteness of my breast only increased the heat between my legs.
I was bad, not disobedient or unruly, I just let my emotions get ahold of me, which isn’t uncommon. I’ve talked before about how easily and often I cry, well it’s really no joke. I got my feelings hurt over something stupid, a joke Sir made, and I cried and then I stopped, and I told Sir that I was over it, but I wasn’t. I lied to him. I lied right to his face, and then instead of seeking comfort or guidance from him, I separated myself and shut myself off and kept on crying. It’s hard to stop the deluge once the tears start flowing. All of this emotion was completely unnecessary, and I knew that, but I just couldn’t turn it off, even though I said I could, said I did. I wasn’t honest, and even worse I shrunk away, I physically removed myself so that I wasn’t a bother. I went into the guest room, and cried myself to sleep, insisting that I wanted to be alone. He gave me some space to gather myself, and I needed that. But, my actions weren’t without consequence.
We talk a lot about punishment vs. “funishment”, and it’s been hard for Sir to find appropriate punishment for me because I seem to often enjoy any punishment he dishes out which can be, obviously, unproductive. He’s recently begun to channel any punishment towards my goal to get stronger and more flexible for any rope bondage he puts me in. (Note: Most any body type can be tied or suspended depending on the skill and comfort level of a potential rigger and the experience of the bottom.) Even these punishments can be enjoyable for me because I like a physical challenge, did I mention that I’m competitive? I don’t know how he does it, but he came up with a very creative and fitting punishment for my transgressions the previous evening, one that was drawn out the entire day with tasks and detailed instructions and lasted well into the evening.
“At some point, when you are not at home, I need you to send my a photograph of my marking from this morning. It will help remind you who you belong to”.
I received this text late in the morning, and my heart jumped a little in my chest. He knows that I struggle with tasks like this, being a public exhibitionist is not something I’m comfortable with at all, even though in order to complete this task, I’d probably be showing less skin than many girls do in public on a regular basis. I found myself at Target looking for a new day planner, popping my cleavage out for a photo of the words written on my chest, blushing as I did so and hoping no one saw. Later, leaving the gym, I received another text.
“You need to fully prepare yourself. Wear your large butt plug and nipple clamps. I haven’t decided where we will meet, but I need you not to dilly dally!”
I rushed home to get ready, excited and nervous, wanting to leave the house by five o’clock. I met him for drinks at the one restaurant near our house that serves beer, a small BBQ joint with a very cute manager with dimples and a bubbly southern accent, who Sir has had a secret crush on for years. I joked with him about “his girlfriend”, and he lamented that he’d heard her say the “B Word”.
“Bitch?” I asked confusedly.
“No! Boyfriend!” We laughed. I think so literally sometimes!
I remarked on how much I enjoyed my new nipple clamps, how wearable they were, and he reached over and playfully flicked one. Hissing through my teeth, I grinned and swatted his arm. Punishment and my emotional outburst were far from either of our minds, or so I thought.
“Come on, let’s finish up. We still have errands to run, and I’m tired. And I’m ready to get home!”
He nudged my beer and gave me a playful look. My heart fluttered with excitement thinking he was going to give me an orgasm or two later. I should have known better! A trip to the vitamin store, a quick dinner and the grocery store, and we were on our way home meandering the winding mountain roads my hand on his thigh.
“Go get undressed and wait for me in your room” he said as soon as we’d arrived home.
I did as I was told and kneeled, eyes cast down, waiting for him, wondering what I had in store. Punishment or funishment? He entered the room, and stroked my hair with his hands, clasping my collar and leash around my neck.
“For the rest of the evening, you will not be permitted to speak.”, he pulled my chin up so that I was looking in his eyes. I nodded my assent, and he continued on with his speech. “You will only be allowed to crawl on your hands and knees”.
I nodded again as I felt the growing tickle in my pussy. He pulled me by my leash and led me out to the living room where he had a towel laid down next to his chair.
“You will have to sit here for the rest of the night, understood?” I nodded again, and settled into a semi-comfortable position.
“Would you like an explaination?”, he gestured towards my unclothed body shifting back and forth on the floor. Of course I did.
“Last night you lied to me, so I’ve taken away your privilege of speech. You decided to sleep in the guest room where you were uncomfortable instead of sleeping with me in our nice bed, so you will have to sit here on the floor where you will be uncomfortable for the rest of the night.”
I nodded again, a slight blush of shame flitted across my face.
“Will you get me a drink? You can get one for yourself as well” he added. “Oh and will you put the groceries away too?”
I shuffled about awkwardly completing my task, the hard floors digging into my knees. I brought his drink over first, put away the groceries, and then came back to my towel with my own drink, setting it on the table next to us. He reached over and opened it for me, inserting a straw.
“You may not touch the drink with your hands”, I nodded again and settled down to watch the movie he’d chosen, occasionally kneeling up to sip my drink from the straw.
It’s amazing the closeness I felt, not being able to communicate verbally meant that I had to touch him if I needed something. If I wanted to express some kind of gratitude or happiness, I’d nudge his knee with my face. If I needed something, I’d have to gesture. We’ve never done any kind of puppy play, but now I can see the fun and intimacy of that kind of act, not being able to use your words can really be hot!
“Grab your towel and follow me”, he interjected sometime later.
I followed him into the bathroom, my leash flailing clumsily between my legs, and laid my towel down while he took a shower. Before getting in he set my blue vibrator on my mat in front of me.
“I want you to make yourself cum, but let me know before you do!”
My blue vibrator is a dinosaur, and I don’t know why I haven’t thrown it in the garbage. I think I’ve had it for almost thirteen years, and it’s a miracle that it even still works, if you can even say that it works because the vibrations are so dull and lifeless! He knew this, he chose that one on purpose, no detail too small. I’d been on simmer all day long, from the spanking first thing, the sexy texts, the nice dinner, so I got there. I worked the tip of the vibrator has hard as I could and I was ready to burst, shouting out loud, asking permission.
I jerked it away from my pussy, groaning, and crying out, “I did it! Ugh! I didn’t cum. I was good, I was good, uuhhnnnn!”
“Good job, blue”, he said as he turned the water off and opened the shower curtain to see me huddled on the bathroom floor, vibrator still clutched in my shaking hand.
“Did you just use your words”, he looked at me with a grin.
I shook my head, a small smile creeping.
“Good, that ‘s what I thought!”
Once again, we settled into the living room to finish the movie. And, once more, he interrupted the movie.
“Find a porno for me to watch, something different”.
He knows I’m not that into porn, but I do like to watch it with him. And the one I found was really quite sexy. It was a compilation of slow deep penetrations, large cocks in eager wet vaginas. He began to stroke himself, ordering me to touch myself as well. It wasn’t long before I heard him getting close, desperate sighs followed by more urgent grunts. I looked up in time to see him cum on to a small plate, the breath releasing from his chest in a loud huff. He then dropped four M&Ms onto the messy plate, and placed it on the floor in front of me.
“I have a treat for you”, his face was serious as he looked down at me.
I leaned down and took one M&M, caramel, one of my favorite varieties. The humiliation of having to eat from the floor on hands and knees, not to mention the contents of my snack, had me soaring, and I actually enjoyed my treat, finishing off every last drop.
Later, we turned the movie back on, I have my head resting on his thigh and we are sitting in comfortable silence. I realize I need to use the bathroom. I gesture awkwardly, but he gets the gist.
“You need to go to the bathroom?” I nod and he grabs my leash and leads me… outside!
I live in the woods, I’m no stranger to popping a squat when I’m on a hike or camping, or even if we’re sitting out at the fire pit and I don’t want to walk all the way inside. But, it is cold, I’m in a bra and panties, and I’m on hands and knees. I look up at him with momentary hesitation, and then shrugged my shoulders. I’d been enjoying myself so far in my punishment, so I thought I could handle a little more discomfort. He led me out the back door and I paused again. How was I going to accomplish this on hands and knees and on our gravel driveway?
“I’ll allow you to stand on two feet for this”, I heard the words and was instantly so grateful.
I squatted, and did my business as he stood behind me holding my leash, and then I turned expectantly back to him. I was looking to see if he had tissue for me. He just looked back at me, a blank stare on his face. I do not like to drip dry, not ever, and he knows that. I turned away considering it, pausing, and finally turned back towards him again, a question written across my furrowed brow. He chuckled and handed me a tissue, and I let out a sigh of relief.
We made our way back into the house and finished the movie, a cheesy zombie movie that we both had seen before, so it didn’t matter that we’d missed most of it. We were still able to laugh and poke fun at the terrible decisions the characters made. When it was over, he led me back into the bathroom and ordered me into the bathtub on my back. I went to remove my panties, but he stopped me. He stood over me, holding my leash tightly, jerking his cock until he splashed his cum all over my chest and belly, soiling my lacy underwear. I absolutely love being under him like this when he cums. Being able to see his stomach flex and twitch as he gets closer, the powerful look in his eyes as he watches me from above, the stream of silky cum as it lands on me. It encapsulates my submission to him, the power he has over me, and the enjoyment he gets from me sexually.
“Get cleaned up, and meet me back in the living room. Your punishment is over”, he said this casually as he pulled up his pajama pants.
So, punishment or funishment? I think a little bit of both!