The Punishment

She entered her bedroom, dropping her purse and jacket in the chair. Leaning in toward the dresser mirror, she removed her earrings and the clips that held up her hair when something in the reflection caught her eye. She felt a knot in the pit of her stomach as she turned around to see his belt coiled up on her pillow.

She fell back against the dresser, her knees suddenly weak. "What did I do?" she thought, her mind racing through the events of the day searching for anything that would have displeased him. The sudden beep from her phone made her jump and she nervously reached into her purse to read his text.

STRIP. KNEEL. WAIT.

Her hands shakily unfastened the buttons of her blouse, lowered the zipper of her skirt. She clumsily folded her clothes and placed them in the basket in the floor of the closet. Taking a deep breath, she positioned herself on her knees in the middle of the area rug beside the bed, head down, confused and waiting.

He had a key to her house so he could come and go as he pleased. She knelt there waiting for what seemed like an eternity until she finally heard the sound of his boots on the hardwood floor. She saw his imposing shadow on the floor in front of her.

"Do you know why I am here?"

"You are going to punish me, Sir," she replied meekly, picturing the belt laying on the bed.

"And why do you need punished?"

She shook her head slowly. "I don't know, Sir. I'm sorry. I don't know what I did wrong."

"I found this on your computer today," he said, flinging a piece of paper down on the floor. "Pick it up. Read it!"

She reached for the paper with a trembling hand, a print out of an email time-stamped earlier that day. When she saw who it was from she flinched, a letter from a former lover inviting her out for drinks and describing in detail what he would like to do to her. "Sir, please, I did not invite this. I will tell him not to write again."

"That will not be necessary. I've already taken care of that, and blocked him from ever sending you anything again." His voice was slow and deliberate. "Get up, whore."

As she started to stand, he pushed her down across the bed. One hand on the back of her neck pressing her face down in the mattress, the other came down hard across her ass. "Didn't I tell you that you would never be able to escape your past?" Another hard smack. "Once a whore, always a whore." He released his hold on her neck and moved to the head of the bed to retrieve his belt. "Get in position. Spread your legs like the slut you are."

She rolled her body over, her ass cheeks stinging as they touched the comforter. Laying on the bed, she stretched her arms over her head and separated her legs. When he was truly punishing her, he did not tie her down. He expected her to hold her position perfectly still or she would suffer more. Her eyes closed, she tried to steady her breathing. She had not seen him this upset with her in a long time.

"Open your eyes!" he ordered.

She knew better than to look at his face. Her eyes settled on the belt in his hand, his fingers stroking down the length of the black leather. The buckle end was wrapped around his hand. She watched his arm raise and her body jumped as the end of the belt struck between her legs. A loud gasp escaped her lips. His aim was always perfect, she thought.

Her eyes were wide open as she watched the belt come down again. Her hands above her head grasped tightly at the bed covers. Again and again the tip of the belt met it's target. Five times...six times... The sting of the leather took her breath away, but she knew if she moved or closed her eyes he would start over.

He didn't speak as he struck her repeatedly. He didn't need to. She knew the thoughts that were in his head. Eight times...nine times... The pain at this point was nearly unbearable. He hadn't given her a lashing this hard in months. She focused on watching the belt...knowing the exact moment it would hit her burning skin each time. Eleven times...twelve times...

Pausing, he stood and stared at her for a long time. She knew there would be one more blow. Thirteen was his favorite number. The waiting was almost as excruciating as the pain. She fought to keep her now watering eyes open. Her heart raced as she concentrated on counting the seconds, her eyes never leaving that strip of black leather.

Thirteen times...

"Look at me," he commanded. She raised her wet eyes to his, seeing the torment on his face. Without another word, he set the belt down on the bed and left the room.

She hadn't meant to, but she had broken his trust. That knowledge hurt worse than any physical pain he could inflict on her. She laid there not moving, tears streaming down her cheeks. Hearing the front door close, she knew he would not be back to comfort her that night.

She remained in the same position on the bed, staring blindly at the ceiling, as all the light in the room faded. Eventually the tears dried up and in the darkness her exhausted body demanded sleep.

The early morning sunlight streaming through the windows woke her. Sometime in the night she had curled up into a tiny ball. As she stretched, the soreness brought back every painful memory of the night before. She rose from the bed and walked slowly through the house, hoping to find him there waiting for her. Dismayed at his absence, she moved almost in a trance to the bathroom to shower and prepare her body in the manner he preferred. When she finished, she dried off but did not dress. She gathered a pen and paper and sat down to write him a letter...

Dear Sir,

I'm a sorry to be a disappointment to you. You are correct, I can not ever completely escape from my past. But I can become a better person if you will help me. Please teach me. Help me to grow and become whole again.

She placed the note perfectly centered on the small table just inside the front door. In the living room, she arranged herself in the middle of the hardwood floor, kneeling, hands clasped behind her back, head down. She would wait there patiently, determined that whatever moment he returned he would find her exactly that way.

She had no idea how much time passed. She was lost in a torrent of thought when the key turned in the door. He paused in the foyer and she knew he was reading the letter. Breathing deeply she fought back the tears that were trying to form. She did not want to cry in front of him again today. She wanted to be strong for him, to not break down. His footsteps approached and he stopped before her, looking down at her kneeling frame, before moving to sit in a chair.

"Come here," he said.

On her hands and knees, she crawled across the floor and knelt by his feet. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, craving the comfort of contact, but she knew better. He would let her know when, or if, that was allowed.

In silence they sat. She did not notice the pain in her knees from the floor, the hunger in her belly from not eating since the afternoon before, the soreness from her lashing. She simply remained beside the chair, oblivious to her every discomfort except one...the void in her soul.

She listened to his breathing, so deep and steady that she almost thought that he had fallen asleep, but resisted the urge to look up at him to check. Head still bowed, she did not see his hand as he reached over and gently brushed a piece of fallen hair from her cheek. He stroked her hair as she remained perfectly still next to him. Eventually, his hand rested on the back of her neck, where last night he had used it to hold her face down on the bed. This time, instead, he used it to pull her to him. He tilted up her chin so she could look at him and she saw a calmness in his eyes. Throwing her arms around his leg, she buried her face against him, her body finally relaxing. It was not over, but he was offering her the chance to gain back his trust again.

He rested his hand on the back of her head as she clung to his leg, silent tears daring to escape her eyes. Leaning forward, he took her face in his hands, gently brushing the wetness from her cheeks. Staring into her eyes for a long moment, he finally nodded and took his hands away. With his assistance she rose to her feet and walked to the kitchen.

She had never enjoyed cooking, but had carefully studied to be able to make his favorite meals. She fixed his drink and delivered it to where he sat. In the kitchen she could now move easily through the motions of preparing his dinner, as he watched from the other room. In the beginning she had struggled with this task, burning more than one meal before she was finally able to present him with a dinner she was truly proud of. As the food cooked, she set one place at the head of the table. She never dined with him unless he allowed it. Once he was seated at the table, she would serve his meal, then take her position in the corner of the room watching diligently for anything he might need...refreshing his drink, refilling his plate, knowing by instinct what he wanted before he had to ask.

"Would you like dessert, Sir?"

"No," he responded, pausing before adding, "You did well tonight, little one."

She couldn't help but smile at his compliment. He did not dole them out freely and she relished every single one she received from him. She cleared the dishes from the table as he stood.

"Would you like for me to draw your bath now, Sir?"

"You may do so."

One thing she had always loved about this house was the huge old-fashioned claw foot tub in the large master bath. She carefully adjusted the water to the perfect temperature, knowing he preferred it much hotter than she did herself. She had just laid out the things she would need as he entered the room. He stood before her and she reached to remove his tie, laying it gently on the counter. She loved being allowed to undress him, exposing his skin to her eyes. She unbuttoned his shirt slowly, daring to let her hand linger on his bare chest for a brief moment. She didn't care if he punished her for it later...she needed this contact with his flesh. Carefully folding his shirt she laid it with the tie, then knelt down before him. She paused, hands trembling slightly as she reached for his belt, the punishment of the night before flashing through her mind. It wasn't the same belt, though...that one was still laying on the floor beside the bed where she had knocking it off in her restless sleep. Once the belt was removed, she confidently undid the fastenings of his pants, releasing that part of him which she craved. As much as she wished to touch him, she knew it was not the proper time yet. He stepped into the steaming water and dismissed her for the moment as he relaxed.

She took the opportunity to quickly clean up the kitchen and eat a few bites of food herself. Just because she did not eat with him did not mean he wished her to starve herself. He would certainly not be pleased if she was too weak to perform her duties. The kitchen spotless, she went back and knocked gently on the door, waiting for permission to enter.

Her pulse raced as she saw him laying naked in the tub. This was one of her favorite times with her Master...when she was freely allowed to touch his body, washing every inch of his skin. She checked the water temperature, adding more hot until the heat stung her hands. Kneeling beside the tub, she lathered up the cloth. As he leaned back with his eyes closed, she gently moved her hands over his body, enjoying the feel of his muscled flesh beneath her fingers. She washed his hair, her hands massaging his scalp, carefully rinsing out the bubbles so the water did not get in his eyes.

The final act was one she had done many times now, but which still made her slightly nervous. The first time he had presented her with the straight razor she had nearly panicked. The tiniest of nicks and she would face the belt. Once she had cut him so badly that he caned her, the marks remaining on her ass for a week, his face healed before she did. A deep breath and she applied the shaving cream, her hands delicately moving the razor across his face as he had taught her. As anxious as doing this made her, she was honored that he permitted her to do something that was so risky and was determined to do it perfectly. After the final stroke of the blade, she rinsed his face and smiled at her work.

Moving away from the tub, she gathered up a large towel and waiting for him to step out. She dried him off slowly, moving the towel down his body. On her knees as she finished, she leaned down and gently kissed his feet. With the towel wrapped around his waist he left the room while she cleaned up.

She found him standing naked in the bedroom. On the floor before him, she assumed the position he had taught her early on...sitting back on her heels, legs spread apart, back arched, her face raised. Taking his cock in her mouth, she felt his hand grip her hair, gathering it in his fist as he pulled her head closer. She lived for these acts of his pleasure, and grew excited as she worked her mouth on him. Her tongue moved along the vein on the underside and she felt his body stiffen. He forced himself further into her, touching the back of her throat, fucking her mouth. He was rough with her, twisting her hair tightly in his hands, until he released himself in her mouth. Holding her head in place, she could do nothing but swallow every drop as she knew he expected her to do.

Reaching for her hand, he helped her move to bend over the edge of the bed. She heard the drawer in the bedside table open and knew what he was going for. The plug was crystal clear glass, smooth and cool to the touch. He rubbed it back and forth between her legs, getting it slick with her own wetness. Even after so many times, she still cringed slightly as he inserted it into her, but found it to her liking once it was in place. His hand struck her ass hard, leaving a stinging hand print that she knew represented her impertinence for touching his chest as she had undressed him. She would proudly wear it as a prize.

He motioned for her to climb up on the bed. She was on her knees, ass raised and face down. She couldn't help but squirm slightly as she felt his fingers enter her, working in and out. She moaned, her breathing becoming more rapid, but then he stopped suddenly as she knew he would. It was not her time yet...if he allowed it tonight. He entered her from behind, long slow strokes at first, before grabbing a handful of her hair and pulling her head back. He took her roughly, pounding into her until she thought her still sore body couldn't take anymore. Pulling out of her, he rolled her over on her back. Grabbing her breasts, he squeezed and pinched with one hand, the other hand working between her legs. He knew when she was getting close and would stop, torturing her with pleasure and no release, before building it up again.

"Tell me what you want," he ordered.

"Please, Sir," she said breathlessly.

"Not until you say it. Beg for it, little one."

"Please, Sir, please let me cum," she begged, her eyes pleading and her heart racing.

He roughly twisted her nipple and worked his hand faster. She was biting her lip, waiting...and he nodded. She cried out as her whole body shuddered in orgasm. She was still shaking as he threw her legs up over her head and entered her again, feeling her pulsing around his cock. When he finished, he lay down beside her gathering her into his arms. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the beating of his heart.

After a while he sat up, pulling her into his lap. He then positioned her arms behind her back, fastening on the set of leather cuffs. He helped her away from the bed and she moved on her knees back to the center of that rug next to it. As Sir pulled back the blankets and climbed into her bed, turning out the light, she lay on her side curling into a ball on the rug where she would sleep that night.