I'd been nervous about getting home since I left this morning. Dreading it actually. It was half tempted to find some errand I needed to run, just to stall, delay the inevitable. But I knew what was good for me; keeping you waiting would only make it worse. Now, walking home from campus as slowly as I could justify, I replayed last night's events over and over in my head.
We'd made plans with a couple of mutual friends to meet for drinks at the bar just down the street. We'd both gotten home earlier than expected and found ourselves with a surplus of time and no obligations until eight o'clock. After a marathon fuck session we turned to the alarm clock, already ten minutes late. We threw on clothes and I rushed to the bathroom to slap on some makeup and pull my hair back.
"Dammit! You marked me!" Looking back now I couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. But the words were out of my mouth before I had a chance to censor myself. I'd been so dismayed to see the bite marks standing out burgundy on my pale neck. We were going to be late and everyone would know why.
You stalked into the bathroom. "What did you say?"
"Well...it's just... I'm embarrassed. Our friends will know what we were up to. They're going to tease us all night." One look at you and I knew I'd said the wrong thing entirely.
"Embarrassed?" You grabbed my chin in one strong hand and pulled my head up roughly, tilting my neck towards the lights above the mirror. "You should relish every opportunity to be reminded of me. But, since you're worried about what our friends will think, we might as well clear things up tonight. You're a little whore and it's time everyone knew it."
You'd riffled through my drawers until you'd found my best push-up bra and that purple dress you love so much. The one I normally wear over jeans and a camisole. The plunging neckline garishly displayed an indecent amount of cleavage and the color perfectly accented the bruises that were already darkening across my collarbone and breasts. You'd ordered me out the door in my highest heels, and gaudy makeup. No panties, no stockings.
But I knew that this was not even the beginning of your punishment. You'd brooded all evening, only acknowledging my presence to shoot me an angry glare at any attempt to cover myself. You'd made me sleep on the floor last night and you had been gone when I woke up for class. No chance to apologize, and all day to agonize over my stupidity. I knew you'd be waiting for me at home, preparing a fitting punishment.
One look at you as I enter the apartment shows me I was right. You are standing rigidly by the door, your arms folded, an impatient scowl on your face. You have obviously been waiting for me, and for too long. You point down the hall to one of our kitchen chairs. It has been moved and is now sitting facing a wall at the end of the corridor leading to the living room. I walk unsteadily there and begin to sit down when I feel you roughly grabbing my hair. You tangle your fingers in between my curls and pull me off the chair and unto the floor.
"Get naked, now." As soon as I am undressed you seem to relax. You walk slowly in a circle around me. Appraising what you see, taking mental note it seems. You stand silently in front of me for a moment or two before slowly trailing a finger down my stomach and slipping you hand between my legs. Without warning you twist your hand and I feel two fingers inside me. I am already ridiculously turned on, and you smile. Just as suddenly you pull away, wipe my own wetness across my thigh before forcing my legs apart. You pull a spreader bar from beside the chair and cuff me to it. You bend me over behind the chair and tie my hands to its back.
"Not bad" you say admiring my round ass and my glistening pussy. You rub your large hand on my naked ass before drawing it back and smacking me hard. You rub that cheek again and pull back for another slap. Smack. Smack. Smack. Soon I can feel the heat radiating from my ass where your handprint is beginning to glow red. I'm breathing heavily, trying my best not to squirm as you minister to my punished backside. I hear a familiar, musical, beep: the camera turning on. You step back and photograph me, my legs spread wide, my damp cunt, but most importantly the red glow on my left cheek.
You turn off the camera and I hear you walk down to the hall to our toy-closet and rummage around. I'm sure you're enjoying keeping me waiting. I hear your heavy steps behind me and then a zing as your cane cuts through the air and lands with a resounding crack against my thighs.
"Count," you command.
"One," another stroke lands squarely on top of the last "...two..." another painfully accurate blow, I bite my lip "...three..." The next hit is an inch or two lower than the last three "...four..." the next two land in quick succession on top of the fourth "five, six" The last three are a little lower again and I scramble to count them out "seveneightNINE!" I wince, and you give my clit a quick rub, chuckling to yourself. I hear the camera once again as you take a couple close-ups of the three red lines gracing my thighs. Then I feel you press against me, hard cock through your pants. You trace your hand along my slit
"God you're wet you little slut!"
You fuck me quick and hard your hands slamming my hips back against you with every thrust, digging your fingers into my flesh, leaving bruises there too, I can feel exactly where they'll be. As soon as you finish you strap my collar and leash around my neck and untie me from the chair. But you leave my legs wide, still hooked to the spreader bar.
"Follow me." You take my lead and pull me towards the living room, hobbling as fast as I can, trying to keep pace with my ankles locked open like that. I almost fall several times as you jerk the leash. Your cum, mixed with my wetness, is leaking out of me as I totter behind you, drizzling slowly down my thighs. I begin to cry softly, unbelieving that there is still more coming after the pain, and now this humiliation.
