Punishing The Service Slut

I'm still processing what happened. And sometimes writing helps me so you, the lucky reader, get to come along for the ride.

Perhaps I should begin by outlining what prompted the punishment. For about a week, I touched myself. Our contract states that I must ask Mistress for permission before doing so. I pleasured myself without telling her. I came clean about it. I knew I had to. Not doing so would further damage the integrity of our relationship. The initial punishment consisted of not being allowed to masturbate for a week, no Tumblr time and no physical contact from Mistress except by her crop. That first weekend she teased me with the adult version of "I'm not touching you". When I did beg for her touch, I was promptly met with a slap across the face. One time, she harshly reached into my panties to see how wet I was. It was no surprise that I was drenched. It was playful though my clit was aching and yearning for her touch. A caress on my cheek or even a hug. But I got nothing.

This was particularly hard for me. I live off of physical contact. Hand holding, hugs, petting. It is the very air I breathe. I didn't think it could get worse.

But I dug my hole deeper. During this portion of my punishment, misbehaved further. I found a loophole and looked for dirty images on a place other than Tumblr. I didn't understand why I did this but I knew it was bad. I was terrified to tell her.

Mistress was angry. So angry that punishment wasn't discussed for a couple of days. I chained smoked the entire week. I was to be punished at the end of the week. She said the punishment would be multi-tiered and that I would be confused about whether to hate it or love it.

The week dragged on and all I wanted was to gain her forgiveness. I felt horrible that I had violated her trust and angered like this. Note that I had never done anything to prompt punishment.

I arrived at her house and watched as she slowly prepared for my impending doom. She took out rope, cuffs and a couple of implements. I kept my head down, not wanting to see what she was doing. She asked me to strip completely and I complied. She wrapped duct tape around my face to muffle any noise I might make. Mistress pushed me towards the bed and had me bend over. She binds me tightly- arms and legs spread eagle. I started whimpering. Scared shitless because I had never experienced Mistress' wrath in this way. There was no escape. I heard her walking around behind me. Snapping pictures.

I knew the strike was coming. I sensed Mistress behind me. She instructed me to count out each strike and I was not permitted to scream. No touch. No closeness. Just cold. And then THWACK! The pain traveled through my body and to my heart. Why had I misbehaved? Why had I violated her trust? I counted as best I could while simultaneously losing my shit. I trembled. The pain seemed endless and my cries did nothing to ease her strike. She came up close to my face, my tear-stained, snot-nosed face, and asked if I knew why I had misbehaved. I struggled to get out the words. "I don't know." She went back behind me and proceeded to violate my pussy. I cried through the pleasure, unsure of my wetness and how I could possibly be enjoying this. The pleasure faded and I felt a crop against my pussy. The pain started radiating everywhere. It was sweet delicious pain. Almost addicting. I cried some more, though I hadn't really stopped at all. A blanket was thrown over me and the restraints were loosened. I brought my arms in and held myself. I knew there would be no aftercare. I was left to my own devices to comfort myself and all I could muster was to hug myself loosely. I heard her voice instructing me to finish crying and beg her for forgiveness on my knees. I waited to feel like I could stand on my own and made my way over to her. My knees felt weak and I could barely lift my face to look at her. I pleaded for forgiveness and for her insight on why I had misbehaved. She gave me the simplest explanation: I sought her attention. I felt crushed. How could I have failed to communicate my needs to her? Between sobs, I asked how I could prevent this from occurring again. She held my face and said that I should tell her when I have the urge to misbehave. In the moment, I couldn't understand what it meant to have been so starved for attention.

All I could feel was the sunshine that was her forgiveness and embrace the years that continued to roll down my face.

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