Punishment = Tender Loving Care

After having gone weeks with no punishments (although I definitely deserved them) I finally got what I needed.  Although presented in story form, this did occur 2 days ago.  Enjoy! (I swear that if you found joy in my pain then you are such a sadist!  If you empathize with me, you may be a masochist, I most assuredly am.)

“You know that you’ve been getting away with breaking a lot of rules lately.” Brandon spoke sternly as he gave me the look. You know, the look that Doms all use to make sure their subs know their place? Yeah, that look. I scooted back further on our king sized bed. I felt like I was shrinking in size. Surely such a sweet and innocent little girl such as I couldn’t be in too much trouble.



“Get up! On your knees, face the wall and put your hands on the wall in front of you.”


I dared to shake my head and whimper. There was no getting out of the punishment that I had been trying to provoke for weeks now. When life gets too busy and play gets put on the back burner it seems like such a good idea to break a few rules, and push a few buttons. Yet, when the desired punishment finally arrives my instinct is to run away as fast as I can.


“Alice,” growled the ever looming Brandon, “do it now.” His voice was low and commanding. I know that he meant business and although I hesitated a second more, I scurried to do as he said. This position was new to me; Brandon normally had me on all fours offering my very naked and very vulnerable posterior to him. This time I was fully clothed, protected, and my butt was not offered to him at all. It felt strange, and yet at the same time made me feel very small and vulnerable anyway.


I knew to keep my gaze forward, but I heard him pull his belt out of his pant loops. Oh, that swishing sound as it comes flying free always makes me quiver, knowing that soon the belt would land squarely on my buttocks and would soon have me whimpering and pleading for it to stop. I squeezed my eyes shut as the belt caressed its striking zone.


“Ah!” I couldn’t help but cry out with the first strike. I groaned as the next 3 came quickly and struck the exact same spot. My very unused bottom quickly started burning. I reached back to protect myself, foolishly.


“Get that hand back on the wall missy!”


I quickly did as commanded. Five more strokes covered my tender bottom. Ouch, ouch, ouch, was all I could think. Then nothing. I waited, and heard the belt placed behind me on the bed. I sank down, relieved that my punishment was over, but also growing disappointed that it had ended so early. Brandon came around and took my face in his hands.


“Are you going to listen to me now? Are we done with this foolishness, and disobedience?”


I swear that my response was controlled by a little devil inside me! An impish grin slowly came across my face. “No, probably not.” Wait! What had I done?! Brandon pulled me back up and put my hands back against the wall. Before I could plead with him, he’d pulled down my pants and underwear.


“No, no! I didn’t mean it, I’ll be good I promise!” I cried, knowing it would do no good.


The belt was picked back up and quickly came crashing down on my very exposed and red bottom. “Too late! You shouldn’t have egged me on. This is what you want so this is what you’ll get.”


I whimpered, groaned, and pleaded as 10 more strokes, each harder than the last, burned my poor behind. Just as I was about to start seriously begging, the belt lashing stopped. Ah, but Brandon wasn’t finished yet. He gently rubbed my sore bottom with his hand and just as I thought “okay, he’s done now” his hand started in on the assault.


“No, please! I can’t take it anymore.” Three, four, five strokes landed sharp and fast.


“Just three more, and I want you to ask me for each of them.”


Oh, cruel, cruel, cruel! I hate asking for my punishment! It is so humiliating.


I struggled to speak, “Please Sir, will you punish me.”


Whack!


“Two more. Ask!”


“Please Sir, will you punish me.”


Whack! Even harder than the last. Brandon always surprises me with how hard he can hit with just his hand. Just when I think that he’s reached his limit, he pulls back and strikes even harder.


I whimpered, and wiggled. I was stalling for time. My bottom was burning something fierce and I wanted time to let it cool a bit, just a bit.


“You’d better ask for that last one before I add five more.”


“Oh…” I groaned, “Please Sir, will you punish me.”


WHACK!


“Ow!” I cried as I quickly angled my body away from him. “That hurt!” Duh.


“Are you done playing games?”


“Yes.” I mumbled.


“Yes, what?”


“Yes Sir.” It isn’t often that Brandon wants me to call him Sir, but during and after a punishment he requires the term of respect.


He gathered me into his arms for a comforting hug and the punishment came to a close. I always find it rather odd that after such a painful ordeal I can curl up into his arms and seek the comfort I know I will find. He reaches up a hand to stroke a stray strand of hair back from my face and snuggle in closer. I love my husband very much, and I know he loves me.

I am not very good at writing stories like these, so I appreciate you suffering through the very mediocre storytelling.  I do consider myself a writer, and a good one, but these stories always seem to give me trouble.