A Sorry Sub

Your outstretched body is taut with nervous anticipation, and I begin by taking stock of what's before me, eyeing the sight with disdain. You are naked and splayed between the two white Romanesque columns that are built into my own personal Chamber of Secrets. That reminds me, I need to send a bottle of wine to my decorator and thank her for making these pillars a reality. The chain bindings that subdue your arms and legs jingle at the slightest movement you make and it makes me think of Christmas.

The handle of my favorite flogger is nestled in the palm of my hand, and as I walk around you I drag it across your naked body. The leather fingers caress you and tickle...for now.

"Why are you here sub?" I demand as I round the side of your body and face you.

"I require discipline Domina." Your voice is quiet, even.

"Why?"

"Domina hates the word sorry."

"INCORRECT! I love words- all words. I hate the false comfort embedded in the word sorry. How many times have you said sorry to me this week?"

"At least three Domina—that I can remember."

"And what did I tell you?"

"You said I must own up to my short comings and not use sorry as an excuse to make myself feel better."

"And yet just a while ago you said the fucking thing didn't you?" I flick my wrist and the strands of the flogger land as a light threat against the back of your thigh. "It seems that you don't take instruction to heart, sub. Do you enjoy pissing me off?"

"No, Domina."

"Do you wish to be disciplined?"

"Yes, Domina. I need to learn from you."

"And so you will. Tell me now that you're sorry."

"I'm sorry Mistress." The chains jingle as your hands move in an effort to brace yourself for what you know is coming. "Christmas" my mind interjects cheerfully. I flick my wrist forward and the flanges of the flogger open and sting the breadth of your back. The sound of the leather on your flesh gives me goose bumps. You don't cry out, but your body flinches slightly.

"This is the last day you will say you're sorry as an apology to me, sub. Now say it! Get it out of your system once and for all."

"I'm sorry Domina. So sorry, really sorry," you say with a voice full of feigned sincerity. As the words echo in my ears, my arm swings forward and delivers a swift and stinging figure eight lash to your back. And then another. And then another. And a fourth. The penetrating sting takes the wind out of you—it makes my pulse race.

"You're sorry alright! This is sorry!" The flogger lands with targeted precision and the burning sensation repeatedly sears the same spot on the expanse of your back—wicked marks for vile behavior. I shift the blows to sweep across your bare ass, and this time you yelp like a sorry dog. The chains rustle loudly sounding as though Marley himself were shaking you, and their harsh jingle spurs me on to continue issuing stroke after stroke to your sorry ass. The lashes etch your skin and raise rosy red welts of disobedience. Your body is damp with sweat and your hands are balled into fists showing me your strength and will to feel and endure. I circle to the front of you and see that your cock is stiff. I shake the fingers of the flogger and let them skim over your erection.

"Are you enjoying your lesson, sub?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"Is this what sorry does to you?" I say as I flick the head of your swollen dick with my index finger. "Shall I see for myself?" I wrap my fingers around the shaft of your cock and begin to tug lightly. It lurches to life in my palm and unashamedly begs for more. I stroke you and teasingly whisper, "I'm sorry, oh so sorry...terribly sorry," as though offering condolences to a widower.

The stroking is getting faster and faster and the 'I'm sorry's' are getting louder and harsher.

"I'm sorry, sub. Look how sorry I am. Sorry, sorry, sorry!" My fist slides roughly up and down your dick—pounding it, making it throb, making it ache, making the sorry thing want to explode. You groan and your head rolls back. You tighten your groin muscles and in seconds I know you can feel the cum rising from your balls, it's ready. You're ready. It's coming—with each stroke I give it, it's coming. I can tell you're not going to be able to hold back much longer.

"It's coming, isn't it?" I coo. "Oh, I can feel your cock throbbing, wanting to shoot that cum that's rising up from your big, heavy balls."

I give your cock just a few more strokes and then squeeze the base of it.

"Oh no you don't!" I take my hand away and your cock bobs in unfulfilled agony. "S-o-o-o-r-r-y." I say facetiously, laughing while you writhe in anguish and pant like a dog.

"Do you see what I'm teaching you sub? Sorry can be painful. It is not a comfort. It is not a cure-all. It is meaningless and unacceptable."

"Thank you, Domina, for this instruction," you gasp as your rock hard dick now glistening with pre-cum begins to slowly soften after the edging you've just been treated to.

I take my place behind you once again and dole out several figure eights. The leather straps lap viciously and paint a vivid blotch of red against the canvas of your back. The skin is tender. I aim the leather fingers once more at the red mark and connect. Your body bows inward.

"Oh did that hurt? I'm so sorry."

"I'm sorry Domina...I'm a sorry sub...So very sorry."

I cock an eyebrow warily upon hearing your implied request for more, but I give your back a lash for each time you've spoken the contemptuous sentiment. Your threshold for pain is high, but by the third strike you cry out and the welts on your back are dark red. The skin is dangerously close to breaking. I circle your body which is now hanging limp against the chains. Tears streak your face. I run the flogger across your body gently letting it wrap around you in a mocking hug as I relish seeing you sweaty and half-smiling with exhaustion. You've had enough.

I toss the flogger aside and stride over to a nearby table to retrieve a large, damp, cool towel. I can feel the heat exuding from your back, and as I drape the bath sheet across you, you gasp at the coldness against your hot skin.

"Thank you Domina," you sigh in relief and then whisper, "Please forgive me."

My heart skips a beat as I feel the genuine sentiment in your last few words—so much better than a fucking I'm sorry.

"You did well," I say as I unchain you from the pillars and walk you to a soft, waiting bed.

You sit on the edge, and I hand you a large bottle of water to soothe your parched throat.

"Time to rest." I pat you on the head and kiss your cheek. "You have pleased me, sub."

"I do my best. Thank you Mistress for the lesson."