When She Is Strict (Femdom, Domination, Discipline, Bondage)

As much as his mistress appreciates Richard's inviting, submissive body, his behavior can leave something to be desired. On a morning when Richard oversleeps and goes to his mistress later than expected, her interrogation reveals that he often touches himself after their sessions together when she has not allowed him release. His disobedience, his mistress informs him, reveals not only that he does not understand what it is to obey, but that he does not understand the great pleasure and gratitude that lie within true submission. But lest he worry, his mistress is here to instruct him.

Excerpt:

"I'm sorry, mistress," I say, more to fill the silence than out of any hope that she will forgive so easily. I can feel a bit of saliva pooling in my mouth as I watch her toying with the whip. I am simultaneously chagrined and excited by what is about to happen. But this waiting, this anticipation as I try to watch her without moving my head, is not a good thing. I do not like waiting this way, and I know she can tell.

"I keep you on a regular schedule," she muses at last. "I don't see why you would have difficulty waking up at the proper time, provided that you sleep at the proper time."

I stay silent, as she wants me to be.

"Were you asleep at your proper time last night?" she asks.

"No, mistress," I admit, trying not to count as my sins accumulate and with them the impending punishments.

"You were told to be asleep before midnight," she goes on. "How far beyond that were you awake?"

I resist the compulsion to answer truthfully as long as I can. "Until two, mistress," I say at last.

"Two?" she repeats. "And yet I finished with you before eleven thirty. What were you doing that was so pressing? Or were you just trying to be disobedient?"

I feel a flush rise in my cheeks and hesitate before answering.

"Tell me, Richard." She almost purrs as she says it, like a cat trying to coax a mouse out of its hole. She can tell just by my reaction that she won't like my answer.

"I got distracted, mistress," I say.

Her hands pass through my field of vision again. The strip of leather is taught in her fingers. "I see. And what was that distraction?"

I swallow and the blush on my cheeks deepens. "I was masturbating, mistress."

"Masturbating?"

"Yes, mistress."

"I see."

She nudges at my groin with the toe of her shoe. The polished leather feels incredible as it rubs against my balls and along my swelling cock. The contact makes me noticeably harder.

"Whose cock is that, Richard?" she asks, very quietly. "Is it yours or is it mine?"

"It's yours, mistress."

"I see. And what purpose do you serve, Richard? You are just the caretaker of that cock, aren't you?"

"Yes, mistress."

"You maintain that cock for me. You make sure that it is ready for me when I want it, isn't that the way it is?"

"Yes, mistress."

I hear a swish in the air and I feel a scorching pain across my lower belly as the whip strikes it directly. I double over involuntarily, my wrists straining tightly against the rope that binds them behind my back.

"Tell me, then, Richard. What the fuck are you doing using my cock without my permission?" Her tone no longer implies danger. The danger is present. The tone itself is danger.

I breathe deeply and straighten myself back onto my knees. "I'm sorry, mistress."

The whip bites again.

"Don't tell me you're sorry," she says while I am still bent over and gasping. "You're not sorry yet. You are not sorry until I have made you sorry, until I have seen for myself that you are sorry, and until I say you are sorry."

"Yes, mistress."

"So tell me. Were you being deliberately disobedient? You knew how I would feel about it, didn't you?"

"I knew you would be upset with me if you found out, mistress."

"And that is why you did it?"

"No, mistress," I say. "I couldn't help it." The humiliation is evident on my face. My blush extends all the way down my body. Or is that my arousal? My skin feels very hot in the cool air of the room.