One of the reasons I enjoy being such a bad girl is that I love being punished. There’s something about the prospect of getting my arse well and truly paddled until the tears flow from my eyes, followed by a brutal, merciless fuck.
Fortunately for me, Master C is always ready to chastise me for my misdeeds. If I’m being brutally honest, I regularly give Him reasons for disciplining me.
Of course, the most severe, and of course deserving, punishment comes from those times that I am “unfaithful” to Him with “The Girl ” or one of my other girlfriends.
Being unable to lie to Master C, I automatically have to admit to these indiscretions, knowing full well that I will be deservedly punished for them.
Usually, I am ordered to strip, to stand there naked and vulnerable as Master C interrogates me thoroughly; gleaning ever last sordid detail of my illicit encounter. As I recount my guilt, He gives no indication of what my punishment will be. Will He let me off with nothing more than sound spanking? Will He use the the paddle with its grooves that bite into my flesh? Or will He decide that my guilt deserves nothing less than the biting kiss of His belt? There is no way of knowing until I have fully admitted my guilt. Because I’m such a depraved little slut, the very uncertainty around my punishment makes my cunt tingle.
When I have fully unburdoned, I take my position, bent over the arm of the sofa and I bite my trembling lower lip in anticipation of what is to come next.
A spanking, a paddling or a thrashing, it ultimately makes no difference. Sometimes Master C will make me count out the strokes as my arse cheeks redden and sting and tears begin to well in my eyes.
Each slap, each stroke hurts more than the last, my sobs become increasingly pain filled, my cunt grows increasingly wet.
Eventually He stops, but the punishment has not finished. Master C begins to fuck me. There is no foreplay. There is no need, my cunt is already soaked. The is no tenderness; Master C simply grabs my hips and fucks me at full force.
As He fucks me, rough and hard, Master C pulls my hair and reminds me that “The Girl” couldn’t give me what He’s giving me now; how she can’t give me a cock, she can’t fuck me, she can’t abuse my cunt or arse the way He is doing.
Of course, Master C is right; my girlfriends can’t fuck me the way He does, they can’t use my body like He does, they have no cock to fill me, stretch me, abuse me with. And, as Master C punishes me, I become grateful for His reminders, I am grateful for His cock, I am grateful that His punishment has made me realise I need a man, I need Him, to fuck me.
Suddenly His cock is withdrawn. Feeling painfully abused and empty, I kneel on the floor before him to await my final humiliation.
“Have you learned your lesson, slut?” Master C demands, slapping my face firmly, yet tenderly with His hand.
“Yes,” I sob, my eyes filled with tears once more.
Master C doesn’t ask me if this is the last time I will stray with a woman, we both know I will; to suggest otherwise would be a lie and we both know it. Instead He strokes His cock, His breathing becomes laboured until finally He erupts, covering my face in a thick load of cum.
Sitting down, Master C watches me as I gather as much of His cum as I can with my fingers before licking them clean.
As I kneel there before Him, punished, abused and humiliated, Master C smiles and gently pats the cushion beside Him, inviting me next to Him.
As I snuggle, still naked, against Him, Master C puts His arm around me and holds me tight and I know I am forgiven, until the next time.
All relationships have their “traditions”; the unburdening of my various transgressions and accepting the appropriate punishment for them is very much one of the central traditions of ours.