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From: cymbidia <cymbidia@my-deja.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} b's punishment (D/s, pain, bond)
Date: Thu, 1 Jun 2000 01:11:26 -0400
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this is a story i wrote for someone named Master Redhand .. he knows
why .. and i offer it to him, and to you, with humility.
punishment is not the same as fun.
~~~~~~~~~~
b's Punishment
"Strip", you say, standing, watching me.
I obey, just a little shy; we've been apart so long. I fold each piece
of clothing with care as it comes off and set it to the side, out of
the way. My black bra and panties come off last, slowly, and then i'm
standing naked in front of you. Again.
"Turn", you tell me, your voice cool, your forefinger sketching a
circle in the air between us. A blush heats my body as i obey, my feet
shuffling, my breasts and ass and mound open to your eyes. You beckon
me toward you and then reach between my legs, testing my heat, and i
shake a little at your touch. It's been so long since you've touched
me, way too long, that time a thing of my doing, my fault, and my
responsibility.
You kiss me softly then, with tenderness, lightly brushing over my
lips, then turn me around, my back toward you. Reaching from behind,
you press a moist finger between my lips and i taste myself on you as i
suck. After a moment, you draw my arms back and i feel the smooth
coolness of the leather cuffs binding them firmly. Tears prick into my
eyes as i surrender into the restraints, pulling slightly to test
them. I know from long experience that my only way out is via your
will.
You direct me to the bed, pushing me onto my back, standing over me,
looking, assessing, and reacquainting yourself with my body. You drag
the end of the whip we bought one cold winter's day over my skin. I
remember the humiliation and wild excitement i felt in that rough
livestock supply store as i purchased the whip, sure the clerk knew i
didn't have a pony to use it on, you watching from across the store as
i struggled for calm. You slap at the V of my legs. "Open." I do,
widely, immediately. You flick the whip then, quickly, several times.
It hits my mound lightly and smoothly, barely touching my skin. I gasp
at the sensation and heat floods my mind. Before you've begun, you
stop, dropping the whip to the floor.
You shift me then, your hands moving over me almost impersonally as you
unfasten my arms from behind my back. Immediately, without haste, you
refasten them up and over my head, slipping the chain that links my
cuffs through a sturdy hook set into the headboard. Need begins to
cloud my mind, my coherent thoughts collapse and becoming wordless and
primal urgings toward the flooding pain and wild pleasure I expect will
come. You know what I'm feeling. You can see it. You know my needs.
You slide onto the bed next to me. Your hand strokes over my body
lightly while i quiver a little beneath it. Leaning over, you kiss me
again, softly, with care and concern. I moan into your mouth, melting
into you. Your mouth moves down my neck, rough now, licking and
biting, and i bend my head back further, exposing my throat to your
teeth and lips. I moan quietly, unresisting, feeling your mouth on my
skin, your body against mine, accepting, needing.
Suddenly you cruelly twist one of my nipples. I cry out and you lean
back, watching me, your fingers still pulling and twisting my sensitive
skin. I look up at you, eyes bright with long-repressed need and the
silence flows between us.
"Please ..", i whisper, and stop as you twist more tightly.
Meeting my eyes, your face closed and cold, you whisper back, "Please?
Please what? I can fuck your cunt or your ass or your throat. I can
give you pleasure or not. I can spank you, beat you, or mark you. I
can apply that brand we talked about. You are mine." He lifted his
hand to stroke my face gently, and then slapped me, hard. The sound
rang into the silence of the room and crimson heat bloomed across my
cheek. "You violated the trust between us when you left but, still,
you are mine. That's not changed, can't change, won't change."
Gently, easily, your fingers stroke over the skin you just twisted,
touching the nipple that continues to harden. "Lift your legs," you
tell me, pinching again, and i do. You move to fasten cuffs to my
ankles, the leather smooth and solidly strong on my skin, and then
fasten the cuffs together with a short chain. Pulling hard, you haul
my legs over my head, affixing them to a hook in the wall above the one
that holds my hands. I burn with the stretch; my body is bent almost
double, my ass and cunt are open and exposed. Only my head, shoulders,
and upper back still touch the bed. I strain against the bonds and
moan, then murmur softly, "Please, please, this hurts."
You say nothing but reach to caress my ass. Softly, you stroke over my
skin, touching my brown hole lightly, arousing me. Then come a swift
SWAT against one cheek followed immediately by another against the
other cheek. Then another, and another, on and on and on, alternating
sides, up on my hips, lower on the tops of my legs, your hands hard and
heavy against my skin. On and on it goes, my whimpering turning to
pleading and becoming louder and more frantic, until my ass is burning
and bright red. You stop, spreading my cunt lips and press against my
wet clit. I gasp at the heat that spears through me. I try to buck
against your fingers but can't move. I want to shove your fingers
against my clit, into my body, into my ass or my cunt, but i can't
move. As always, the control is yours.
You pause and look down at me, watching me squirm. "I think my little
slave likes this. You like this, don't you?" I only moan in
response. Spearing into my cunt with three fingers you fuck them into
and out of me roughly while i shake and gasp. "Don't you?" you ask.
Words tumble from me then, moanings and pleadings for more, faster,
harder, more more more please .. Master, please ..
Suddenly you pull out of me, away from me. I cry out wordlessly,
almost peaking, as you move away from the bed. You take a length of
black lace from a drawer and move back to the bed, smiling a little.
Gently, you lift and hold my head while you wind the lace around and
around my head, covering my eyes. After my sight is blocked, i feel
the cool hardness of my leather gag nudging my mouth. I open, obeying
your wordless command, knowing you'll simply force my mouth open, force
the gag into my mouth and down my throat, if i don't obey on my
own. "Good girl," i hear, and i glow at the approval i hear in your
voice.
Your hands run softly over my ass and i flinch, the skin still tender
and hot. "We're not done, slave," you tell me, and i scream around the
gag as a clamp bites into my nipple. Searing spikey pain radiates
through my nipples and into my breasts as the other is clamped. I
scream wildly into my gag as you flick the clamps a couple times. Your
hand moves down my body and tests the moisture collecting between my
legs. You knew it would be there.
Again, your hands move on my ass, smoothing, touching, and caressing.
A quick kiss, your beard scratchy and tickly against my hot skin.
Again you move away from me and i can hear the movement of items as you
sort through the extensive collection of whips and paddles and belts
and slappers you've collected or made over the years. I shake a
little, understanding the disappointment and hurt and anger that stains
the respect and love between us, knowing i caused it all, knowing i
hurt you more than you've been hurt in a very long time.
I hear you move back to the bed, standing at its side. "Punishment,"
you say soberly, "isn't fun. It isn't erotic. It's not a thing I want
to do to you but a thing that must be done. Nod if you understand
that, b." I nod, feeling tears leaking from my eyes at the heavy
sorrow and despair i can hear in your voice. Oh gods! Why did i hurt
him like this?
"Ass, thighs, and hips," you say, "Cane. 30 strokes." You paused as i
began to wiggle and scream around the gag, protesting, scared. "10 for
each month you've been gone," you say firmly, "and then we'll put this
behind us."
You step back and i still, tense. In all our time together, you'd
never really had to punish me for anything. you'd had to be firm, of
course, but i was always "good", a willing masochist and slave to you.
I'd always tried hard to please you, well, until I left so abruptly and
hurt you so deeply in the doing.
I heard the hot tight SWISH of the thin supple cane a fraction of a
second before pain exploded across my butt. I arced, tensing,
screaming into the gag. "One," you said.
Another stroke lands high on my hips, welting my skin and sending me
spinning into screaming denial. "Two." Another, across my thighs,
burning the mark of the vicious supple cane into my sensitive
skin. "Three." Garbled, keening noises were coming from my throat,
gagged as i was, while the blows continued, raining over my skin, hot
and hard, demanding my immediate focus. Pain, not erotic, not fun, but
real pain, intense and terrible, stabbed into my soul, across my skin,
as the punishment continued.
The caning went on. I screamed my voice away behind my gag, but the
strokes continued. "Fifteen."
I felt the cane tear my skin, felt the blood splatter under another
blow. "Eighteen."
Lost in the pain, i urinated and the acid pee ran down over my the
welts and cuts and caused me more agony. "Twenty-seven," you said,
sounding drained.
My screaming was all in my head now; my vocal chords hadn't issued any
sound in a long while. Another atomic burst of pain, across the welts
and bruises and cuts of the former cane strokes. "Twenty-eight."
I felt light-headed as the incredible pain continued to rob me anything
but the reality of that cane and my skin. I prayed for blackness, i
prayed to faint, i prayed for mercy. I sobbed until i had no more
tears and then sobbed some more. Another stroke. Lightning pain
flaying me open, the stroke hard hard too hard against already beaten
skin. "Twenty-nine."
I was shaking and sick, torn and welted and bloody. Waiting. The last
stroke. The cane whistled down and .. stopped. He touched it gently
against my skin. "Thirty," you said, sounding ill.
I sagged in my bindings, crying into the already-soaking lace. You
removed my gag and i tried to form sounds but was far too hoarse.
Short, deep moans were all i could manage. You removed the clamps
you'd fastened to my nipples before the caning, rubbing lightly over
the hard, bloodless nubs as you did. I moaned at the return of
sensation but it was nothing compared to the incredible pain from the
strokes of the cane that still burned white-hot against my skin. You
removed my cuffs and turned me to lie on to my tummy. I smelled
something medicinal as you touched over my welts and cuts and bruises
with wet cool cloth. It stung and burned and I tried to move away from
it but you held me firmly as you worked. Finally, you smoothed a cool
salve over my skin and then stood, looking down at me.
"Stand up," you told me, "over here, off the bed."
Slowly, made clumsy by the pain from the caning, I moved off the bed
and stood before you, trying not to droop. Gently you unwound the lace
from my eyes, permitting me light and sight for the first time since
the punishment began. You framed my face with your hands, lifting my
chin, forcing my eyes to meet yours. Your thumbs stroked my face. You
bent to kiss me tenderly and I could hear pain in your voice when you
spoke.
"Don't do that again."
~~~~~~~~~~
"All joy emphasizes our status; always reminds, beckons, awakens
desire. Our best havings are wantings."
.. C.S.Lewis
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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