"Kneel," He ordered.
I knelt in the center of the floor.
"Grasp the poles."
I took the cold steel poles, one in each hand and He secured my wrists to them, using the metal cuffs which dangled from them.
One of the first things He had done when I became His submissive was to have several additions made to the room in His house which had become where he kept me. The poles, which, when I knelt, kept my wrists just above my head, were one of those additions.
He stood and rummaged around in His box of goodies and came toward me carrying the biggest anal plug I had ever seen. He had never used this one before. It was tapered at the end, but it grew larger and larger, culminating in a bulbous end that I knew would tear right through me.
"This will remind you who is in charge." He slowly eased the unlubricated tip of the plug into my ass until it passed my sphincter, and then unceremoniously thrust the rest into my tight hole, twisting and turning it as it tore the tender flesh. I grunted against it, but it was no use.
"Now you must be punished," He said.
Only half an hour ago, I had been caught, red-handed, the evidence of my transgression still in my hands, with no where to hide it.
When I agreed to a life of full submissive, His first act was to dictate my daily life. I was to wear no undergarments, I was to dress each morning in whatever He laid at the foot of my bed, and I was to sleep with my hands bound together so that He was sure I would not pleasure myself while He slept. I never left the house and I remained ready to serve him whenever he demanded. It was much as we had agreed to when we met online.
The next thing He did was to restrict me from my most coveted possession---my hair. I had long, full golden locks that fell midway down my back in loose natural waves. It was beautiful and the source of much jealously when I lived in the outside world. By the end of the first week, He grew tired of my constant brushing and touching, and so He made me wear it in a tight bun at the base of my neck with no strands escaping the bobby pins that held it close. I was proud of my hair, it was my most beautiful trait, and giving it to Him was the ultimate sacrifice. I did it without question. That was my position.
I had done well, I wore it secured as He insisted, without fuss. On occasion He would let me wear it down, cascading over my shoulders, and on the most rarest of occasions, He would brush it for me as I sat naked on the bed as a source of foreplay. These nights pleased us both.
Tonight, when I was sure He was out, I had snuck into His bathroom, and in a moment of weakness, took the hairbrush from one of the drawers of His bathroom vanity. I stole back to my room and sat in the dark on my bed and brushed my hair until it shone and my scalp tingled. I had just placed the round end of the hairbrush against my clit, my hair covering my face, when He walked in.
Now I would be punished.
He moved a floor length mirror before me. "You will keep your eyes open the entire time and you will watch as your punishment is doled out. Understand?"
