The Lesson

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!”

I nuzzle you awake, kissing your lips gently, then your neck, kissing your eyelids until they flutter open. You smile a bit dreamily, reaching for me, but I move away, laughing merrily.

“Nope, it’s time to get up!” I chirp, and you groan, rolling over and clinging to your pillow. I sit on the edge of the bed, and you glance over at me resentfully. Your face rises a little from the pillow, and the smell of baked goods wafts through the air. Still glaring, you sniff the air experimentally. I smile. “Popovers, fresh out of the oven. They’re best when still hot, so you’d better get up before I eat them all.” My eyes sparkle as I perch on the side of the bed.

“Gggngh…” you mumble, turning onto your side and propping your head on one elbow to look at me. “What time is it?” you ask me, still slightly sleepy.

I grin. “10 AM, hon! So it’s time to greet the day! It’s going by quick, don’t want to miss it!”

A glance over to the clock confirms the time. You shake your head, hair still a bit tousled. “You are such a brat, love,” you say. I smile sweetly, and you take the chance to look over what I’m wearing… the tank top… the fishnets… the short skirt… and to top it all off, ponytails perched perkily on my head. “You’re even dressed like a brat,” you comment, smiling back at me. You reach for me again, and this time I don’t expect it… I giggle as you pull me next to you, giving me a long, deep kiss. Your hands travel up my tank top, pulling it over my head, and you stroke the black velvet bra I wear.

“But… the popovers…” I protest, but not really protesting. In answer, you bite my neck, and I melt into your arms as you undo my bra… suddenly I realize you’ve cuffed my hands behind my back, and you sit up, pulling me up to a kneel by you.

You smile at my confused expression. “You didn’t think you could interrupt my sleep without some sort of punishment, did you?”

I swallow hard.

“Did you, my little slave?”

“N..n…no, Master,” I stammer, eyes going wide as you stroke your finger down, over my breasts, your fingers encircling my nipple. You pinch it experimentally, and I gasp.

“Good,” you reply, enjoying my fear, knowing it was tinged with curiousity. Running your fingertips over my collar, over the lock, you kiss my lips softly.

“But… but… the popovers…” I moan weakly.

You just laugh. “Well, here, let me do you a favor… so you won’t have to worry about reminding me about them…” You reach behind you and stand up, walking behind me and slipping the ballgag into my mouth. I struggle to protest, but all sounds are muffled now, and after a minute I give up.

You kiss the ballgag in my mouth, teasing me by not touching me. “You look quite lovely now, my sweet slave,” you whisper, hand smoothing over my ponytails. I close my eyes, moving my head into your hand for the stroking. “However, you’ve disturbed my rest, and I think that’s something that ought to be punished, don’t you?”

I look down and nod a little, my heart leaping as you say it. I feel you uncuff my hands, bringing them around to cuff in front of me. “On all fours, my pretty little slut,” you say softly into my ear. I comply instantly, and shiver to feel your hands pull my fishnets down, your hands stroking the pale skin of my ass… you pull the skirt off, and remove the fishnets, too, so I am naked except for my collar. I bite my lip gently as you move over to the chair where you had left your pants from the night before… I can hear you slide the belt out of the loops, and I jump when you give your hand an experimental whack.

“Very nice,” you murmur, and slap your hand again as I start. “Are you ready for it, then?”

I silently nod.

“Well then, we shall begin. I think 20 strokes for this offense, don’t you?”

I struggle to protest, beg for lower, but the gag stifles my cries and you cup a hand to your ear. “What? No protests? Good.”

*WHACK* The belt slaps my ass hard, and I groan.

“Count off, my dearest,” you tell me, massaging my pussy as you do so. I nod again.

“One,” I say, my voice muffled and distorted by the gag.

*WHACK* Your hand massages my ass, and I wince a little. “Two…”

*WHACK* I hesitate a little…

*WHACK* “I can’t hear you, my precious slave,” you say to me, and I moan around the gag.

“Three… four…”

You smile. “Better…”

*WHACK* I shudder with every slap of the belt against my skin, but the hesitation between blows is the worst part… the anticipation of the pain… Soon I am trembling for it, only feeling fulfilled when the belt kisses my reddened ass. I count off, and you tease me, saying, “I can’t hear you…” and “What was that number again?”

At last, I moan “20” and collapse onto the bed, you taking me into your arms and kissing my neck. My face is dreamy and far away, but when I look into your eyes there is a look of pure adoration within mine, and total love in yours. We cuddle for a while, and when at last I move my body tighter into yours, you whisper, “You did a marvelous job, my dearest slave…”

I smile, and we kiss softly at first, our arms wrapping around each other and our limbs entwining. The kiss becomes deeper as we share our bliss with each other, my lips telling you of subspace and yours pressing against them, showing me your dance of power in my dreamclouds…

We lay there for an hour or so… hands running over skin, your lips brushing over my nipples and sucking on them gently, reminding me of the here-and-now… I run my fingers through your hair, just looking at you quietly, admiring you, worshiping your shoulders, your neck, your back and arms… and you kiss every inch of my skin, telling me how beautiful I am, and how I belong to you, and only you…

And when at last we reluctantly settle down for popovers, they are cold and a bit deflated. You glance over at me apologetically. “Sorry about your popovers, here…”

I move to your side and kiss you, kneeling at your feet to offer you one. You bite into it, and smile, and offer me a bite as well. I stand and taste it… and I look into your eyes, only whispering, “They’re the best ones I’ve ever had.”