I had been bad. I had been very bad. I hadn't trusted him, I thought that I knew better than he. What fool I can be. The weight of my trespasses was nearly crushing me, I needed to be punished. He was displeased, and with good reason. He warned me if it happened again, there would be consequences, but I couldn't bear the guilt of it already having happened. I was ignored, denied the affection I crave so dearly, and it ate me up inside. Only through unconcious habit did he hold me at night while we slept.
"I'll be back some time before dark." He said, and he took the dog to go bird hunting, leaving me alone for an undetermined amount of time. To sit and wait, like a dog for its master. I of course was expected to do more than sit, if I did only that, my punishment would surely continue.
I had cleaned the house, worked on projects, tried to busy myself as I must for myself, but also because it pleases him to see me be productive. I am worth more than just a slut, even if I am that too. Even though I tried to busy myself and distract my mind, the guilt still wore away at me. Something needed to be done.
When his truck pulled up, I was ready. I knelt on the floor, waiting with his belt lain out in front of me, hands folded meekly in my lap, my head down. He walked up to me and his dirty, heavy work boots came into my sight. I slowly looked up, fearing his gaze. Pricker burs stuck to his well-worn black overalls, the sleeves of his red flannel were rolled up, showing his strong, capable forearms crossed over his barrel chest. I looked into his eyes and tired to wordlessly plead with him. He raised an eyebrow at the belt.
He was waiting. If I wanted it, I'd have to beg.
"Please. Please, I need this, I deserve this."
He looked away and grunted to clear his throat. "Yeah, you do, don't you? But you don't deserve it if you're going to enjoy it."
"I won't, I swear I won't, please punish me."
"Get up."
He snatched up the belt and steered me by the back of my neck into the bedroom, where he pushed me toward the bed.
"Take your clothes off, elbows on the mattress."
I did as I was told and bent over, practically at a 45 degree angle. He kicked my legs further apart, and my breathing started to quicken.
"I don't want to do this, I don't like doing this. You've made me though, you ask for it, remember that."
He placed his hand on my ass and squeezed, pulling the cheek to the side as if to get a nice view of the "before" image. His touch excited me, but I tried my best not to get aroused. I was not to enjoy this.
CRACK Without warning, he laid the first blow. I had forgotten how much that hurts, and it seems to hurt even more in the light of day. I could tell he was just warming up. He meant it when he said he didn't want to do it, he worries about how much my small frame can handle. He always has my best interests in mind, I don't know how I can ever doubt him.
Again, and again, some sharp, some solid, all seemingly with more force than the one before. I gasped and struggled to keep from crying out too much. I could handle it, and I needed to.
Just as suddenly as he started, he stopped.
"What's this?" He slid his hand along my pussy and stuck in it my face, to rub my nose in what I'd done. I could see the sheen of my wetness, the smell of it mixed with the smell of gun powder and metal on his hands.
"You swore, you little liar, you swore you wouldn't enjoy this. How can I punish you if just get off on it? Is there
