Breaing the One Rule

Her face burned hot with shame. She had broken the only real rule that she and her Sir had. And she had broken it in public, surrounded by onlookers. She knew he couldn't let it slide. Not tonight, when he had the chance to humiliate her and punish her in new fun and exciting ways.

He chuckled darkly as his hand entwined in her hair. He wrenched her mouth away from his cock and then forced her to look up at him.

"I'm sorry, Sir." She whispered. She could feel tears beginning to well up; she hated to disappoint him.

"Sorry for what." He asked, his fingers tickling across her saliva-covered cheek.

"I'm sorry for letting your cock slip out of my mouth." She mumbled. She sat on her knees, her hands folded in her lap. Her hard nipples pointed towards her knees.

"I'm not sure you are. But you will be." His hand closed firmly around her throat, just under her jaw. He stood, his hands dragging her upward with him. He released her throat and picked up a small duffle bag from beside his chair. She didn't resist as he led her by the handful of ponytail through the playspace, his pace just a hair too fast for her to comfortably walk.

She was aware of how many onlookers glanced her way as they passed and she was mildly aroused by them. Slutwear always made her feel sexy and their looks were confirmation. She wore a bustless black corset and black thigh highs with black high heels. Compared to other women in the fetish club, she was dressed conservatively. The cuffs on her wrists and ankles marked her very clearly as a submissive. Without her Sir, her dominant, she would have felt vulnerable and exposed in her slutwear. Instead she felt like a trophy standing next to him.

They entered a large, gymnasium-sized room, filled with a variety of bondage furniture. A St. Andrew's cross stood in the corner; a number of spanking benches of different heights and varieties were scattered throughout; a few riggers' hooks hung from the ceiling. Tape on the floor labeled playspace and walkways. Dozens of scenes were going on simultaneously and the amount of action was overwhelming to her.

He led her through the multitude of live erotica and into a free playspace which contained a spanking bench. The duffle bag slid off his shoulder, landing next to the bench. He released her hair, his hand trailing down her back to rest on her butt. He squeezed a bit, then gave her a light tap. She stared at the bench, noticing a wooden frame at the head of the bench. Her cunt clenched in aroused anticipation as she recognized the set up - it was a stockade. Like old fashioned pillories.

He reached into the bag, wading through the excess of toys before pulling out a bit gag. She whimpered internally - he only pulled out the bit gag when he was planning on hurting her a lot. He stepped behind her, reaching around to put the bit in her mouth. She tentatively took it between her teeth and he tightened the leather strap behind her head, pulling her hair free as he did. She stood quietly as he pulled two more objects from the bag: a hair piece and a length of fine rope. He handed her the hair piece and she immediately used it to pull her hair into a very tight bun. Looping the rope multiple times around the base of her bun, he attached the rope to her head, leaving a few feet of dangles which she could feel gently hitting against her butt.

He walked to the front of the bench and opened the metal clasp which held the two wooden pieces of the pillory together. He beckoned her forward, tapping the padded leather bench. She climbed onto it, her knees on two supports that were lower than the center platform which supported her torso. She brought her shoulders downward, placing her neck and wrists into the carved cups of the stockade. He closed the wooden pieces, securing the metal latch. She tested the furniture's hold by trying to pull her wrists free or push the wood apart, but it didn't budge.

She felt his hand on her calf and a metal click met her ears. The same followed on her other side - he had connected her cuffs to the bench so she was even less mobile. A noise like a car jack, but softer, ratcheted as her hips began to lift in the air. Finally, he walked around to the front of the stockade, his semi-hard cock just in front of her face. He tied the rope in her hair to the stockade, forcing her to look straight ahead and leaving her throat unobstructed so he could fuck it later.

She trembled as he dug in the duffle back, pulling out a thick hickory paddle. It was the length of his forearm and hand combined, with 11 holes drilled through the wood to swing faster. Her eyes welled with tears in anticipation - last time her bottom was bruised for days. Biting down on the bit in her mouth, she tried to keep quiet as she felt the cool, finished wood against her buttock.

"Bad girls get punished." He said to her, giving her a warm up wop of the paddle. "And you fucked up." The paddle bounced off her ass with a satisfying smack.

It was worse than she expected. Normally his punishments were swift and hard. He was drawing this out. Not just the bondage, but the hits. He was giving her body time to warm up to being hit, which he only did for very intense sessions.

"Are you sorry?" His voice called from behind her.

The tension between them was heavy... her whole body was set to flinch for his next strike. Through her gag, she called back "Yes, Sir."

The paddle connected with her right buttock, then again on her left. Her skin stung and she jostled in her restraints. Her torso was completely stuck in the stockade and the cuffs connected to the bench prevented her from escaping another twosome of smacks from the paddle.

"What are you sorry for?" His voice was mocking. It was humiliating to be patronized and spanked for her stupid error. Worse yet, a couple fellow kinksters had wandered over to watch her embarrassment.

Her face burned with shame as she responded. "I'm sorry for letting your cock pop out of my mouth, Sir." The bit made it hard to talk, but if she tried she could be understood. She gasped as he struck her harder than last time. He paddled the opposite side thrice in rapid succession and she had to grind her teeth into the silicone bit to prevent from yelling at him. The paddling continued on the next side, another quick three swats.

"What was that?" He punctuated his question with another very heavy blow. She yelped, her hands balling into fists. "Why are you sorry?" He paused, creating anticipation in both his submissive and the small crowd that looked on.

She spoke loudly, trying to make herself clearly her. "I'm sorry for letting your cock pop out of my mouth, Sir!" Then she yelped again as the paddle crashed against her skin on her final word.

"That's the only rule we have..." The paddle tapped against her inner thighs playfully, sending a shiver of fear through the girl. "You have one job: keep my cock in your mouth." The paddle ping-ponged threateningly between her thighs as he lectured. Her jaw was trembling and her ass felt overly warm as she listened to his every word. "And you fucked up." He paused, his eyes inspecting the red flesh in front of him.

"I'm sorry, Sir!" She whimpered, trying to please him.

A dark chuckle responded. "No. You do this all the time. You never learn. I guess I'll have to make your punishment more memorable." He announced, fixing his grip on the paddle.

And so it began - a series of swats from the paddle, moving in waves to give her delicate flesh time to recover. He would hit the left cheek repeatedly, then the right, then switch between them... He would pause to verbally humiliate her, checking her cunt for wetness or commenting on the excess of drool she created. Then the strikes began again, a crescendo of impacts on her ass and upper thighs.

Soon she was laughing maniacally - it was her coping mechanism when she couldn't control her outbursts. He swung the paddle repeatedly, eliciting laughter that could only be from a deranged masochist such as herself. Moaning and laughter mixed as her continued beating her bruised flesh.

"Are you sorry, slut?" He struck her hard, the shockwave forcing her shoulders against the stockade and rumbling the bench.

"Yes, Sir. I'm sorry, Sir!" She gasped between screeching laughter.

"Are you going to do it again?" Another devastating blow across the opposite cheek.

She squealed in a pained laughter. A deep breath prefaced her giggle-laden response. "Not intentionally, Sir!"

He smiled a little. That was her favorite response. He was in the middle of caning her when she first said it; he then confronted her about the vague nature of the line. He could hear the smile in her voice when she said that she didn't want to disrespect him by lying to him, and that her answer was the only truthful one she had. They both knew that every other session included punishment for breaking their cardinal rule. He secretly thought she might not try very hard to prevent such accidents because she enjoyed the punishment which ensued.

"Oh, 'not intentionally'" he mockingly repeated. He struck her twice more, then paused. "Are you going to do it again?"

Her voice wavered. "Not intentionally, Sir." She took the quiet moment to slurp the drool which hung off her bit into her mouth to swallow.

"You always say that. It's never a clean answer, like 'no,'" he mused. He delivered a few more swats, keeping her endorphins high but not causing her enough pain for her to cry... yet. "I think we're going to change that tonight."

She heard the unmistakable swish of the cane through the air. A lump formed in her throat - the paddle was painful, but the pain dulled after a few hits and she was left with pretty bruises for days. But the cane never stopped hurting. She'd have welts for days and bruises for over a week. She recalled a particular vicious strike he delivered down the length of her left thigh. It left a faint mark over 4 months later, with a darkened spot where the tip of the plastic bit into her flesh.

"But before the grand finale... we have the second act." He sliced through the air again, reveling in the way she trembled. He watched her toes curl in anticipation of the strike.

He spanked her instead. His hand slapped against the tender meat of her inner thigh, then doled out the same punishment to the opposite side. He heard her breath catch in her throat as he slapped twice more. His hand came away from her thighs, damp from the juices that leaked from her cunt. He walked to the front of the bench and wiped his hand on her mouth.

"Look how fucking wet you are." He stared down at her. "You like being punished."

She tried to nod her head, but the rope in her hair prevented her. "Yes, Sir," she whispered. Her eyes were on his cock but she stole a glance to the black plastic cane in his hand.

He brought the tip of the cane to her face. He could see how uncomfortable it made her to have the implement so close to her cheek and eyes. He would never strike her across the face with such a damaging tool and somewhere in her head she knew that but she was clearly far from that somewhere. Her breathing was shallow and her eyes were trained on the cane as if she expected to be hit any moment. He caressed her cheek with the tip of the cane, moving in slow, sure movements. He watched a tear fall down her cheek, catching on the leather strap of her gag.

He pulled away, moving behind the bench again. The battered flesh of her ass was an angry red; inflammation made her normally soft, jiggly butt tense and very firm. Her thighs were mostly unmarked, making a perfectly blank canvas for his meanest toy.

He tapped the tip against her right hamstring. The anticipation was too high - she flinched and whimpered even though it wouldn't have hurt before all the endorphins flooded her body. He rested his hand on her lower back, in part to soothe her but mostly to keep her still as he tapped her again on the same thigh. She whimpered again but didn't move.

He used the middle section of the cane to create paralleling red lines down her leg. He could see the tension in her body - her toes were curled and her calf muscles defined under her skin. She was distinctly quiet, which meant she was struggling more than usual. He adjusted his position to attack her other leg, giving it a few quick strokes. He listened as she let out a large breath.

He began flicking the cane against her legs, switching sides as he pleased. "Breathe." He ordered, and she began panting and swearing behind her gag. He continued his work, pausing to let her recover for a few seconds before beginning again with nastier hits. Her legs soon became striped; raised white welts contrasted against her angry red skin.

"Are you sorry?" He taunted her again. She was on the verge of crying, as he could tell from her laughter and profanity use. He struck her hard across the thigh before she could respond.

"Yes, Sir!" She yelped. Her voice wavered. "I'm sorry, Sir!"

He striped down one leg, adding a few bouncing taps across her calf. "What are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry" she squealed as the cane bit into her upper thigh. "... for letting!" A wordless scream as he struck her again. She was openly crying now. He continued hitting her as she finished her line. "Your cock pop out of my mouth, Sir!" She was barely intelligible between the crying and the gag.

He used the tip of the cane to draw down the side of her thigh, moving towards her quadriceps. She was clearly hyperventilating, terrified of how he would abuse her next.

Tracing back towards her ass, he asked softly, "Are you going to do it again?" he tapped the full length of the cane against her spread backside insistently.

"Not... intentionally, Sir." She moaned, making a slurping noise as she swallowed the extra spit around her gag.

He flicked the cane cruelly against her upper thighs, right below the edge of her full buttocks. She squealed and the stockade clunked as it restrained her writhing. Her legs trembled as she panted.

"Are you going to do it again?" He asked in the same tone.

He could make out her head shaking from one side to the other, as much as the rope would let her. "Not intentionally, Sir."

He struck her again, in the same spot; her body lunged forward as she shrieked. Another swish and she was bawling. Her labored breathing resounded in the area and tears fell into the pool of drool below her. The call and response repeated thrice more, and each time he doubled the number of strikes to her thighs. By eight strikes, she had run out of breath with which to scream. She no longer struggled or whined. Her only response was low moans.

Pausing, he rubbed the palm of his hand over her abused skin. She quieted - he watched her shoulders drop and her toes uncurl as her breath slowed. He tucked the cane under his arms, gently massaging her ass with his hands. Firm, inflamed, and welted tissue was soothed under his fingertips. He recognized that her mind was slowly slipping away and he gave her a minute to come back to him. Walking to the front of the stockade, he unlocked the buckle of the gag. She spit out the bit, stretching her jaw a little. He crouched so he was looking into her tear-stained eyes.

"I'm going to hit you ten times with the cane," he smiled at her, gently caressing her cheek and running his thumb over her lower lip. "Can you count them for me?" His tone was soft but still full of authority.

"Yes, Sir." She whispered to him. Counting made it easier. The anticipation was lessened and she could count her way down to freedom.

"Good girl." He tapped his palm against her face as he stood, his half-hard cock just inches from her face.

She smiled to herself. She wanted to be his good girl. She wanted to be his prized slut, to be shown off and valued. When the ten hits rained down on her thighs, she counted them clearly for him, ending each count with "Sir" just like a good girl should. Relief flooded over her at the last strike; her punishment was over.

He returned the cane to the bag before walking to the front of the stockades. "Let's see what you've learned." He announced, stepping into range of her mouth.

Pleased to have earned another chance, she enthusiastically licked his cock. Little movement was afforded by her restraints, but she tried her hardest to please him. She took the head of his cock into her mouth, quickly coaxing him to a full erection. He began rocking his hips, fucking her mouth slowly as her tongue danced across the shaft. Saliva quickly covered his length and rubbed on to her lips and chin as he thrust into her mouth. She tightened her lips, forming a tight ring on his cock so her lips would stroke him as he moved. The sensation was wonderful - she loved having his cock in her mouth.

Suddenly he plunged his cock down her open throat, holding her by the hair as he did so. Her tight, wet throat engulfed his full length. He felt her gag but she didn't struggle. He bucked his hips a few times before pulling out. A thick rope of saliva hung between her lower lip and the head of his cock. She smiled as she gasped for air, but opened her mouth wide again. He thrust into her mouth again, thrusting vigorously. Her throat spasmed, making him moan quietly in pleasure. Her lips were pressed against his pelvis as he choked her on his cock. She began to fidget in her restrains as her need for oxygen increased, but she didn't struggle against him. He felt her gag, involuntarily trying to clear her throat so she could breathe, but he refused to release her.

She forced herself to relax. Her hands unclenched and went limp, her tense shoulders loosened, and she opened her mouth wider so he could slide into her throat another half inch. He groaned in appreciation and approval, then pulled free of her mouth. She panted loudly, drool hanging from her lips.

"That's a good slut. Trying to make it up to me, aren't you?" he taunted, rubbing his saliva-coated dick across her cheek. She nodded slightly, and tried to turn towards his length. "That's my greedy cockhungry slut," she could hear his grin in his voice as he began fucking her slutty mouth again.

He gripped her throat, making a tighter fit for his cock. He felt her gag repeatedly, saliva dripping from her mouth to his balls and finally to the dungeon floor. Her body was built to take his cock - it fit so perfectly in her throat. It took a number of weeks to train her gag reflex and her fear response to properly deepthroat, but he was satisfied with her progress. He could almost fuck her mouth as he would fuck any of her other holes. Best of all, fucking her mouth and forcing her to gag made her pussy gush immediately.

He pulled his cock free from the girl, wiping it clean on her face. "You look so good with my cock down your throat. I like how red you get when you can't breathe." He shoved his dick back into her gasping mouth, giving her a light slap on the cheek as she eagerly sucked him.

She was frustrated in her bondage now - she wanted to please him but couldn't move in order to do so. Her own arousal was distracting her from her task. Bondage, being watched by the crowd, and getting facefucked - all she needed was a finger on her clit and she'd climax easily. She grinded her vulva into the padded spanking bench, frustrated that it wasn't enough stimulation for her.

He noticed her fidgeting and pulled his cock from her mouth. He wiped it again on her face and then walked behind the bench, chuckling at the obvious wet spot she had left on the leather. His fingers brushed through her dripping slit. "What a wet, sloppy slut you are." His fingers dove into her folds, thrusting vigorously for a few seconds. She moaned in appreciation, still panting.

He pulled his glistening digits from her and then returned to the front of the bench. His fingers invaded her mouth and she responded by zealously swirling her tongue on them. "Look how fucking wet you are... Do you like tasting yourself?" She moaned, nodding her head as his digits reached for her throat. "Yes, yes you do. Such a good sloppy slut."