Discipline and Obedience: The Lesson (Shame for Sassing)

For the week between the first lesson and this last, I had decided, in my cocky, sassy way to test Sir's limits. Why not? What was he going to do to me? He had told me that I was in for quite a different lesson than before, that he had seen the need to rewrite his plans for me, as discipline and obedience were areas in which I needed much help. As the school day ended, I got nervous. I had had my fun with him: sassing him, mocking him online, talking to O without permission, taking too long to complete homework assignment #2... All in all, I had managed to accumulate 12 strikes total, and he had advised me strongly to contemplate these offenses before he arrived at my house. I was to be dressed and waiting for him by 430 p.m., sitting with my legs spread as far apart as possible. Too late, I had decided to be a good girl.

Sir arrived bearing gifts and new tools to use in my instruction. He bought me a beautiful velvet and rhinestone collar, complete with a name tag, my name on one side, "property of" on the other (the commitment-phobe in me flinched, just a bit, but I remind myself that it is not a wedding band). He also bought a new memory card for my camera, to be used only to document my instruction, my shame. To round out his purchases, there was on the bed a riding crop and a ball gag. These, it seems, were to be my punishment.

Adorned with my new collar, stripped of jeans, my red and pink satin panties wedged just so - to keep my ass cheeks bare and the lips of my cunt separated (sweet torture), I was commanded to bend over the bed... Crop in hand, Sir enumerated my sins from the previous week, each slice of the leather a delightful pain. Yes, I enjoyed my punishment. Did it hurt? Like hell. My ass is still covered in black and blue marks, raw marks that the denim grinds into with each slight motion today.

With my punishment out of the way, we moved on to the lesson of the day. Sir gently wrapped my wrists and ankles in leather cuffs. At his command, I crawled up onto the bed, face in the mattress, ass in the air, as he painted a brilliant red on my ass cheeks, first with my paddle, then his hand, then a few strokes of the crop, and then even a nearby slipper and a copy of a Sookie Stackhouse novel (a detail too delicious to leave out). From time to time, he would pause to photograph me. Each time I heard the camera, I cringed. The knowledge that my imperfect body was being recorded shamed me.

Later, with butt plug in, Sir marched me out to the garage on a leash, bade me to sit in a chair, and bound my wrists and ankles to the garage door behind me. He clamped little clamps to my nipples, joined together with a chain. For fun, he lifted the chain a few times, letting it drop suddenly. The pull and pressure sent jolts through my body. I was told that if I let the clamps fall off, I would be punished. Then he left me, tied up, naked, in a cold dark garage. I admit, I did whimper when the nipple clamp slipped off. It wasn't my fault. My nipples were hard little pebbles, especially in the cold. However, despite the uncomfortable position, I was not afraid, and actually found myself relaxing, relaxing much more than I had been able to the entire week. I am not sure how long I was out there. When Sir returned, I was told to stand. He reversed my bindings, so I stood facing the garage door, arms in a "Y" in the air, hips thrust behind me. He removed the butt plug and sought his pleasure.

I was determined to be a good girl. I wanted to please Sir. And I did. Because I was such a good pupil, after the cuffs and the ball gag were removed, he took off my collar and soothed my aching body with a full body massage - complete with oil. As much fun as I've had testing Sir this past week, and as much as I've enjoyed the consequences (even though they were pretty intense, I did enjoy them), I learned that pleasing Sir brings some really amazing benefits. With oil-slick hands, he smoothed over welted buttocks, stiff shoulders. His fingers grazed over my oh-so-sensitive nipples, and delved into the impossibly wet flesh between my thighs. As he teased my clit, over and over and over, he commanded me "be a good girl, cum for me."

Like I said, pleasing Sir brings some really amazing benefits.