Crime and Punishment

There's a sharp whistle, then a crack, and I cry out as the cane stripes my ass cheek. Damn, that hurts! Tears leak from my eyes at the lingering pain. That makes six strikes, and Master told me there would be an even dozen as payment for my transgression. We are halfway there.....

(2 hours earlier)

Master and I were in session, and I had been looking forward to it. His first word to me, on this day, when he walked through the door was "Down." I complied immediately, and his fingers combed through my hair as he said hello. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the caress, and then he grasped my chin and tipped my head back. When I met his eyes, he smiled. 

"I'm very glad to see you, Master. I've missed you," I told him.

"Have you?" he asked. 

"Yes, Master, I have," I said.

I assumed Position 2 at his command (sitting up tall on my knees, my fingers laced together behind my head) while he walked around me, inspecting me, making sure I had obeyed his directive. I was freshly shaved, clad in my black mesh, crotchless body stocking. The opening nicely frames Master's tattoo, proclaiming my position as a submissive. I passed inspection, and Master took me by the hand and led me to the bed. There I sucked his cock, gagging and choking but doing my best to take him, to please him, and he rewarded me by allowing me to have and swallow his cum. The day was off to a great start.

Once he'd caught his breath, he pushed me to my back and used his mouth to drive me to the edge of orgasm. His teeth nipped my skin; his tongue licked and lapped and traced trails up and down my body; his lips laid kisses on my chest, my ribs, my inner thighs. I sighed and squirmed and moaned and pleaded, and then he added his fingers, pressing them inside my pussy, twisting and thrusting and pumping, and then he ordered me not to cum. Not! God damn, I was so close! But I bit my lip, and tightened my muscles, and writhed with the effort to deny my body the release it was so near to achieving, all to earn my Master's continued approval. 

And as I lay there, panting and squirming and fighting so hard to obey, my Master began talking to me, laying out his claim and his ownership of me. He has taken this tack with me before, so I wasn't exactly caught off guard. But it does make it damned difficult to fully hear what he's saying, when so much of my focus is wrapped up in staving off my climax.

"Who owns you?" he asked me.  "Who is your Master? Who brings you this pleasure, allows you to serve him? who do you belong to?"

"You! You, Master. You own me."

"Yes, I do, don't I, Kitten? I own you, wholly, completely, and you will do what I say, won't you? Won't my sub obey what her Master says?"

I gave a choked cry and swallowed hard, sucking in a deep breath before I answered. I was trembling right on that knife's edge, right there, and I was afraid I would not be able to hold off any longer. But before I could get a word out, he was speaking.

"And since I do own you, own this body, I can do with it as I please, correct? Use it, mark it, bruise it, share it, isn't that right?"

Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. SHARE it? No. No no, no. We have had this discussion before, and no. I am vehemently opposed to the sharing of this body. I have said, over and over, that I will not be passed around like a bag of chips at a party, thank you very much. I am willing to be a whore to him, but only to him.

I can only describe what happened next as, I lost it. Big time. Instead of respectfully voicing a concern, and waiting for acknowledgement of a legitimate objection,  I dared to knock his hand away and scramble off the bed, then stood there, panting, all angry and defiant.

"Absolutely not! Not gonna happen." And I went so far as to cross my arms and glare. 

Oh, boy. Big, BIG, mistake. He lunged up, grabbed my arm, and yanked me back down to the bed so fast I yelped in surprise. And then he leaned over me, and his face was so close, and so thunderous, that my heart began to pound in fright. For the first time, I was afraid of him. He was furious with me.

"Don't you ever, EVER, do that again, do you hear me?" he hissed. I could only stare at him, wide-eyed, my heart beating frantically. "If you have a concern, you bring it up in a respectful way. Was what you did respectful?"

I swallowed, then shook my head. "No, Master," I whispered.

"No, it was not," he said. "You chose this, don't forget. You willingly gave yourself to me, and you asked me to teach you."

I nodded, ashamed of myself. Yes, I could have - and should have - waited to address my objections. Instead, I was a brat. And I am in big trouble. I drop my eyes, and twist my head to the side. 

"I'm sorry, Master," I said, quietly. "We have been over this before, and I was angry that you were forcing it on me."

"Angry or not, you behaved badly," he said. I could only nod and apologize, again. We stayed in silence for several  minutes, perhaps 10, maybe as many as 15. It grew uncomfortable, but I didn't dare say anything.

"We will definitely be discussing this, have no doubt," he said. I nodded, again. I was beginning to feel like a bobble-head doll. Now that my initial anger and outrage were fading, I felt like a fool. I'm a grown-up, for God's sake; I don't have to throw a tantrum to be heard. 

He pulled away from me a little bit, pinning me with his eyes. "You do realize you've earned a punishment, don't you." It was not a question. Oh, yes, I know.

"Go retrieve my cane."



And so here we are, halfway through my punishment of 12 lashes. I am in Position 3, standing with my back to Master, while he lets the cane fly and lays stripes on my ass. Now to be very fair, he is not just beating me; he has promised to never cause me true harm, and I have not lost that trust in his word. He IS, however, making very sure to let the heavy sting of the rattan strike me in the most tender of places. God, this hurts so much! And I brought it all on myself. 

Thwack! There's number seven. I flinch and groan, but I don't break my stance. I have 5 to go, and I am determined to accept my punishment with grace. It's difficult, though, when my ass feels like it's on fire, and the burning shame of his disapproval hurts nearly as much as my bruising flesh. With the next blow, the tears come faster, flowing down my face to drip from my chin. My nose is starting to run, too, which just adds to my misery.

Two more blows assault my skin, and I am sobbing in earnest. This is so, so hard! Two to go, I tell myself, but it is small consolation at this point. I want nothing more than to curl up on my bed and cry. The eleventh stripe lands on my upper thigh, and I shriek, because fuck, that hurts so much. I bounce on my toes a little, wanting him to just hurry up and be done, already, please. And then, finally, at last, the twelfth and final strike lands, crossing at least one earlier stripe, and I drop my head to my chin and just cry and cry. 

His hand touches my ass, and a flare of such pain courses through me that I flinch violently, almost losing my balance. He tells me to relax my stance, and turn to face him, so I drop my hands to my sides and turn, slowly, to stand before him, chastised and sore and repentant. I scrub at my face with my hands to wipe away the tears, and sniffle. 

His voice is gentle. "Look at me."

I very nearly can't; I am so ashamed, and in such pain, and feeling so very small and stupid and wrong-footed. 

"Are you done with this behavior? That -" he indicates the cane, now lying innocently at his feet - "that was not fun for me, either."

I have no response for that, so I remain quiet, and sniffle again.

"This cannot happen again, do you understand me?" He is not threatening me, just very matter-of-fact. I know I was out of control, and I feel so lost and uncertain. And then he takes my hand.

"It's over now," he says. "Come lie down, and we'll see where we go from here."

I walk, slowly, gingerly, to the side of the bed and carefully position myself on my side. He reaches over and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear, and I take his hand, and kiss it. We will get past my misdeed, and I have learned a lesson. I have no doubt we will disagree in the future - it's inevitable - but I know what will happen if I act out instead of being respectful and courteous. It's a painful lesson, to be sure, but one which I will remember for a very long time.