The punishment

She stood with her jeans and panties around her ankles. Her smooth, round bottom, pale and cold, on show for her Mistress to observe should she so desire. Her hands on her head, arms beginning to ache. Nose pressed into the corner, a familiar position. She could hear her beloved moving around the room behind her. She wanted to turn to her, say she was sorry, ask for forgiveness but she dared not move or speak, to do so would be to invite further punishment, further disapproval. Her duty now was to obey. To submit to whatever her Mistress thought she deserved. To accept and to be thankful that she was loved so much that time would be taken to decide and deliver her punishment, to correct her behaviour, to improve her.

 The increasing pain in her arms caused her to shift slightly. Immediately a deep, forbidding voice sounded from behind her, ‘Be still girl.’ The sound of the stern voice made her shiver. Her Mistress was angry with her. This would not be a playful time but one fraught with pain for both of them. She knew it hurt her lover to see her tears but she also knew that she would be resolute and determined in delivering a severe punishment. The torment of not knowing if it would be the cane, paddle, belt or flogger was part of her punishment. How long would it continue? Would it just be for tonight or did her Mistress have other punishments she would deliver to correct her over the coming days? Tears filled her eyes. The isolation of the corner was a part of the ritual she hated. When a spanking began the physical contact with her Mistress, however painful, was welcome. The hand on her back as she pushed her to the bed or altered her position over her knee. The fist in her hair as she spoke quietly but harshly into her ear. These were moments of pleasure within the ordeal of pain that she craved. She needed to be touched by her and in that touch was the declaration of ownership. The simple yet overwhelmingly powerful ‘You are mine Girl.’

‘Strip’ A single word. No question or clarification was needed. She took off her clothes, still facing the wall; she hadn’t been told she could move in any other way. She folded her garments and left them at her feet, quickly putting her nose back into the corner hands back on her head, as would be expected. Naked, vulnerable. Blind to the preparations taking place behind her. The movements stopped and she knew her Mistress was watching her. Her heart began to race, it would be soon. ‘Turn around’ Keeping her hands on her head she turned to see her love. She felt her face redden as her Mistress looked at her, slowly taking in every part of her nakedness. No matter how many times she had been in this position or how many times they had seen each other undress, to stand naked awaiting punishment brought its own exquisite humiliation and terror. ‘Come here and turn around. Spread your legs. Bend over for me’ Each command was obeyed without question and in silence. Bent at the waist her legs apart, there was no modesty left. Her sex was there for her Mistress to do with as she wished. She felt her hand stroke her bottom. Round and round each cheek. Down to the thigh and up into the crack between each globe, sliding forward until it reached the wetness she sought. Roughly her Mistress entered her, filling her, making her gasp. Causing her to moan and widen her legs further, trying to accept the fist that was entering her, claiming her. Trying to keep her balance, forcing herself not to cry out. Her hips moving in rhythm to the pummelling, her climax building quickly. ‘Don’t you dare come.’ The command, a seemingly impossible order. Her mind fought with her physical impulse to let go. Just as she thought she couldn’t hold on, her Mistress’s hand withdrew. The sense of emptiness it left tearing at her heart, the deep ache of a climax waiting to erupt throbbing deep within her. Still bent over, she waited.

Her Mistress walked slowly around her. She felt the tip of a cane being run across her shoulders and down her back to her bottom where it was then laid flat across both buttocks. She could feel the cool, smooth rattan. She knew the dreadful bite it would create when it was brought down hard and quickly by her skilful lover. She grasped her knees bracing herself for what she knew would come next. She heard the swish of the cane as it was flicked through the air. Heard the crack of its landing before she felt the searing burn of its deliverance. The cane which had been lovingly prepared. Sanded to perfection. A black leather handle and hanging cord attached to it making its sole purpose clear. This was an instrument of correction. Its function to bring pain and redemption to the recipient. Her Mistress caressed its length lovingly, as if it was a mere extension of her. Part of her that touched her errant Girl in a way that would bring her to a place of forgiveness. The second stroke landed just below the first. Its sting no less powerful than the latter. Its burn joining with that already started. She grasped her knees so hard her knuckles turned white. She bit down on her lip as she tried to endure without screaming out. The third, fourth and fifth strokes came in quick succession. No longer able to contain her agony, Girl cried out. ‘Ssh my darling Girl. You will suffer this and you will welcome it. You have angered me with your thoughtless and reckless behaviour. Now you are paying the price for that as you knew you would.’ ‘Yes Mistress. I’m sorry’ A moment passed and a sixth stroke fell diagonally across the other five strokes. Achieved easily by the well practised disciplinarian. Tears now fell freely down Girl’s face. Quiet sobbing could be heard in the stillness of the room. Undaunted her Mistress spoke; ‘This would have been the end of your punishment but you lied to me and I cannot allow that. I must teach you that you will NEVER do that again. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes Mistress’ ‘Good.

'Stand up and come over to the linen chest.’ She stood, painfully and walked to the pine chest which had been pulled away from its usual position by the wall. Pillows had been placed on top of the wood. Her Mistress took her by the arm and laid her across the box, her bottom in the air and her legs and arms on the floor in front and behind her. Her mistress came and knelt by her head. Lifting her chin she looked into the wet eyes of her Girl and said ‘Open your mouth’ in her hand she held a lathered bar of white soap. Girl did as she was told and her partner put the bar into her mouth. Moving it around and from side to side, scraping it along her teeth and running it over her tongue. ‘Bite down on that and do not let it fall or you will be punished again.’ She nodded her head, miserably, the foul tasting suds covering her mouth. Her mistress then reached behind her and brought forward a thick, leather, razor strap. Light brown, worn with age and use, the smell of its leather still discernable even after all that time. Girl groaned from deep inside. Suds escaping from her mouth. ’25. As you have your mouth full I won’t make you count.’ Her mistress smiled. Girl shut her eyes. 25 on top of the caning!

The first stroke hit making her throw her head back and bite down further onto the bar in her mouth. She gagged and tried not to swallow. Her hands holding the weight of her upper body became fists. The strokes came, each hard, each with a slight pause to allow the lick to be felt before the next one fell. The fire in her bottom was a raging inferno. She had never suffered a punishment as harsh as this one. She was sure she could not take it. She lost count of the number of strokes. ‘I am pleased with how you are accepting your correction. That was 20 strokes. If you accept the next 5 as well, we will end this. I want you to think about what you have done. To know that I will not allow you to hurt me or yourself like that again. You will submit to me and you will obey or you will suffer the consequences.’ Unable to speak, Girl nodded. Her face wet with tears and suds. If it was possible the next and last 5 strokes were even harder. She kicked her legs, threw her head back but remained in position. The next thing she knew her mistress was kneeling once again at her head. She removed the soap from her mouth and wiped her face with a soft towel. Drying her tears and wiping the suds from her face. Her mouth was full of the foul tasting soap but she knew she would not be allowed to rinse.

She was gently pulled from the chest and lead to the bed. She lay on her front and tried not to focus on the furnace that used to be her bottom. She tried not to think of for how long she would taste the soap. Her lover lay alongside her and gently stroked her back and hair. She traced her fingers along the tear tracks on her face. She gifted her Girl with a forgiving smile and opened her arms. Girl moved quickly but painfully into the welcoming embrace. She lay her head on her partner’s breast. She listened to her heart beat. She felt her love. She knew that all was well.