The Punishment

In my fantasy, i’m kneeling.   Hands resting lightly on my thighs, palms up.  Thighs slightly parted.

i keep my eyes lowered.  At other times, we might be equals, laughing together.  Not now.  Now, i am forbidden to look him in the eye without permission.

i am naked, except for the collar and cuffs.

i wait for a long time, while he works on his computer.  i wait with some anxiety, wanting this to be over, but not wanting it to start.

i don’t know how long i wait.

At last, i hear the computer close, and then he says, “Look at me.”

i raise my eyes, and feel tears well up.  i love him so much, and hate that i’ve disappointed him.  His eyes are kind.  I can tell he’s not angry, but I know he’s resolved to do what needs to be done.

He leans forward, touches my face, raising my chin with one hand.  “We’ll talk later,” he says, “About how this happened.  I want to understand.  But you need to be punished first.  Do I have your agreement that I should punish you as I see fit?”

My lips are so dry I can barely speak, but I manage to stutter, “Yes, yes, Sir, I agree.”

He releases my face and leans back.  “Go to the cabinet,” he says, “And pick out a crop and a paddle.  Bring them here and present them to me, with a willing heart.  Take your time, I want to be sure you do it with willingness.”

My heart is beating so fast I think it might explode, and I know that I have to slow down if I’m going to be what he calls “willing.”  Not just passively accepting my punishment, but welcoming it.

Sometimes, he will caress me, or pinch my nipples to relax me, to make me more receptive to his demands.  I see that is not going to happen today. It will be up to me to open my self for him.

 

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