You shake your head in disapproval and point to the ground in front of you. I scurry over and stand in front of you with my head bowed, and my eyes down, trying not to fidget while you stare silently at me. The silence makes me more nervous and I blurt out "I'm sorry Sir."
You grab my hair in your fist pulling down and forcing me to look up at you. I meet your gaze and the intensity is unnerving. I've never seen you look so upset with me. I swallow hard and try to slow my breathing. I wish you would just get on with it, hit me, yell at me, something. Anything would be better than the silence and the look of disgust on your face. I can't stand the quiet any longer so I beg you "please forgive me Sir."
You shake your head slowly. "You need to be punished first, then perhaps you can earn forgiveness."
You release your grasp on my hair and sit down in your chair, then order me to strip. I comply quickly, trying to be graceful and sexy. You show no amusement though and the cool look on your face makes me feel ashamed. I stand naked before you anxiously awaiting your next command.
"Turn around, i don't want to look at you. Now kneel."
I kneel with my back towards you. I hear you grabbing items behind me. Then I feel a leather collar placed tightly around my neck and a leash clipped to it.
"Hands and knees."
I do as I'm told and await whatever pain you have in store for me. I'm preparing myself for your hand, a paddle or even the cane. To my surprise you turn on the TV, lean back in the chair and put your feet up on top of me, using my back as a footstool. I'm confused as this is not at all what I was expecting, but I don't want to upset you so I do my best to remain still. You flip the tv to the football game that's just starting. The first 15 minutes or so isn't too bad but by the beginning of the second quarter I'm becoming very uncomfortable. Your legs are heavy and my knees are sore. I'm thankful when you remove your feet and order me to get you a drink. I mix you a rum and coke and hurry back with the glass. You take your drink and motion for me to resume my position. I am surprised when instead of resting your feet on me once again you balance your drink in the middle of my back. I flinch when the cold glass touches my skin.
"Don't spill," you warn.
I hear you remove your belt and I flinch when I hear it whistle as you take a swing. The ice in your drink rattles when your strike lands. I try to focus on being absolutely still. Your belt comes down again and again and my ass is on fire. The pain has me in tears by the 7th strike. The ice rattles more but I manage not to spill the drink. After 12 strikes you drop the belt and I breath a sigh of relief as you remove the glass.
You stand, and tug on my leash and I have no choice but crawl after you. You pull me to the bedroom and loop my leash over the bedpost then a take a pair of handcuffs and fasten my wrists together behind my back. I sit back on my heels and you stand in front of me. Out of habit I open my mouth wide when you pull your cock out. Instead of feeding me your hard cock, you lean down close to me and spit into my open mouth.
"Close your whore mouth, you don't deserve my cock tonight."
I close my mouth and hang my head in shame.
"No slut, look up. You are going to watch me stroke my cock."
