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The Homecoming, Part 2 of 3
This is Part 2 of a 3 Part story.`
“Who do you belong to, sub?”
“You, Sir. All that I am belongs to you.” I respond quickly, knowing a delayed response will result in a quick, painful slap to my bottom. I am still standing where you left me with my back to you and my hands firmly gripping the railing of our hotel room balcony. My body quivers lightly with nerves and anticipation.
“Good girl,” you praise me, and then spin me around, pull my head back by my hair and take my mouth with yours. Your deep, penetrating kiss leaves me breathless. I had been waiting so long for this kiss, and I melt into your arms; nearly falling to tears as you possess me, claim me, and make me feel your dominance to the very core of my being. Weak-kneed and wanting, I look up at you, and see the passion that I have longed for fill your blue eyes as they rake over me. With a thick, commanding tone that leaves my belly doing flip-flops, you direct me to my knees before you. I drop immediately, and just as quickly pull my knees apart, drop my head in a graceful bow, and offer my crossed wrists up to you as you follow the command to kneel immediately with one of my position commands, “Surrender.”
You take my outstretched wrists, wrap one of my hair scrunchies around them and secure them together in front of me by running a knee-high stocking in between my wrists around the scrunchie, and tying it in a knot. I giggle at your creativity in using every day items that I had packed for this completely “vanilla” trip to watch our daughter compete. I couldn’t be happier when she asked to spend the night with a friend at a different hotel. Smiling, you brush my cheek lovingly with the back of your hand and then tell me to stand and face the railing again. As I do so, you use the loose ends of the stocking to tie my wrists securely to the railing. I feel my pulse quicken and my legs begin to shake as my mind races through all of the possible reasons you may have bound me outside to the railing, in a potentially public place. I wonder what you have planned for me. I am nervous. I am elated. I am yours. Confusion and clarity, excitement and fear all meld together into a joyful abandon that only a submissive whose heart beats in total surrender would understand. I fear what will come, but I crave it more than anything I have ever known. Will it be pain or pleasure? Likely, it will be both. I test the binding around my wrists, and realize that I really can not move them. I am helpless. Bound. Owned. I know I have a safe word, but it is up to you if you choose to respect it’s plea or not. I feel the warm, wet tingle between my legs as I realize I am truly at your mercy now.
You tap my feet with yours as you tell me to move them back. I shuffle my feet back further and further from the railing until I am bent at the waist with my hands tied to the rail and my bottom extended vulnerably outward. I close my eyes as your hands begin to run slowly from one end of my body to the other. I melt under the tenderness of your touch, and a whimper of surprise escapes as you suddenly grab my hair again and pull my head back to look at you. You run through the questions you have taught me to memorize, expecting precise and immediate responses. My mind races to recall the correct answers. The mind game of knowing I will be punished for stumbling over the words or giving the wrong answers leaves me humbled, surrendered, and fully ready to allow you complete access to my body as well as my mind. You have carefully designed the questions to remind me of who I am and to whom I owe every sensation of pleasure and pain. I feel my last bit of control slip away as I answer each question, already hot and aroused by the overwhelming desire to please my Sir. We both feel the change between us. The frustration and emotional distance of weeks apart fade away as we comfortably slip back into our natural roles with one another. I am yours. You will use me as you please. I am fully surrendered and in desperate need of your complete control over me. If I wasn’t tied to the railing, I would be at your feet begging to submit to you with every fiber of my being.
Satisfied that I am ready to surrender all control to you, you reach around me to the silk pajama top I am wearing and slowly begin to unbutton it. My eyes widen in fear of being bound naked outside. This is something new, and I am not sure I can do it. Anxiety overtakes my desire to please you and I self consciously squeak out, “Sir! NO! Someone might see me!” I feel several hard, resounding slaps on my bottom in response, and I snap my mouth closed. I know better than to speak to you that way, and my cheeks flush with the swift correction. I pause to think, and you allow me the moment to process my thoughts. Do I want to safe out? No, I realize. No. I want to do this. I want to please you. I need this. I offer a contrite apology for my outburst, which you acknowledge with an approving, “That’s better, Little One. Do you trust me?” I close my eyes and nod, ready to move on in obedience to whatever you have planned. You are my Sir. I am yours.
I feel the cool mountain air caress my exposed nipples, and I bite my lip in pleasure as you lightly stroke and pinch each one in turn, occasionally stroking your hands down over my bottom and down my thighs, carefully avoiding the area between my legs. Before long, I am moaning and rocking my hips, desperately wanting to feel your hand move down to my throbbing clit. Noticing my obvious discomfort, you chuckle slightly as you elicit another pouting whimper by moving your hand torturously over every inch of my body, except the wet, throbbing mound that is begging for your attention.
“Not yet, Doll. I think we have some misbehavior to deal with, don’t we?”
My stomach drops, and my heart thuds in my chest. I knew this moment would come. It’s not a surprise. You are consistent and swift in doling out earned correction, and yet I never seem to be prepared for it when it comes. Punishment. Correction. Paying the Piper, so to speak. I fear it, yet I know I need it. I want it just as much as I don’t. Apprehension gives way to relief. It will be dealt with, and it will be over. I can finally let go of the guilt at having so displeased you. I am ready to accept your decision, and I nod my consent as I force myself to answer with the humility you have taught me to practice before you begin my correction.
“Yes, Sir. I have disobeyed you and I need to be punished.”
Because I have learned it isn’t worth letting you find out on your own, I had already confessed to my misdeeds before you returned home. Even though you and I both know the nature of my sins, you always make me recite them again, anyway… a series of quick slaps to my upturned bottom encouraging a quick, sincere answer. Tears prick at the back of my eyes at having disappointed you, but I am not able to release them yet. Your tone is grave as you begin to lecture me. Knowing I need this talking to in order to truly embrace my punishment, you remind me that you are my Master, and that you expect to be obeyed. You tell me that you won’t tolerate a rebellious sub, and you fully intend to see to it that I will not want to disobey you again. I shudder slightly as your fingers slip into the waistband of my pajama pants and I feel them slowly slip down to my knees. You instruct me that I am not to allow them to fall to the ground, and I know I will have to endure my punishment with great self-control in order to keep the silky pants at knee level. I swallow and try to wrangle my thoughts and pay attention to what you are saying. My mind returns quickly to sharp focus when I hear, “…twenty-five strokes…..belt….” The rest of the words are lost in the rising panic. Twenty-five?!? Without even a warm up? That’s too many! Tears well up. I know that my mistake was a big one, and that I deserve this spanking and more; but fear sets in and I start to beg.
“Sir..please! I’m sorry. Master? Please don’t. I won’t do it again. I’m sorry!”
You run your hand gently over my head and my back, soothing yet strong.
“I know you’re sorry, my Little One, and you will be sorrier yet, but we will talk about that when your punishment is over.” Compassionate, but firm, you remind me, “Remember, do not kick your legs and allow your pajamas to fall to the ground, or I will have to start over.” I hear the resolve in your voice, and I know there is no point to continued argument. Short of using my safeword, there is nothing that will deter you once you have set a correction in motion. Oddly, it occurs to me that it is this quality that draws me to you and makes me want to submit to your authority as my husband. You are fair, you know what I need, and you are trustworthy. I know how grave my mistake was this time, and I tremble as I realize that this punishment will be a serious one.
Without delay, your hands are gone from my back and I feel the crack of your belt landing across my bare bottom. The sting is intense on the first stroke, and I gasp. I think to myself that it is only the first one…how will I get through the rest? The task seems impossible, and I feel my body rising up to my toes in protest. Gratefully, I hear you count, “one” for me. It is a mercy that you are offering in not forcing me to count my own punishment strokes this time. I take a deep breath and focus on keeping my legs still. If I don’t have to count, I can allow my mind to be lost in feeling the pain of correction, the pain that will allow me to finally shed the guilt and move forward with the freedom that comes as my submission is encouraged to grow and flourish under my Master’s correction.
My body wants to fight the pain at first, and you pause after the first few strokes with a stern warning, “You may cry. You may beg, but DO NOT kick your legs or try to move away from your punishment. Do you understand me clearly, Little One?” I nod my head and mumble out a regretful, “Yes Sir.”
As your belt falls again and again across my quivering, tender globes, I finally feel the wall of resistance begin to crack. Already I am contrite and thoroughly chastised. All that is left is the surrendered pain that will allow my complete submission to flow freely with my repentant tears. As the spanking resumes, my body’s urge to fight wanes, and I am finally able to just relax into acceptance of the punishment. I begin to sob out my regret and disappointment, each tear releasing a bit more of the self-disgust and disgrace at what I have done. It wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t an accident or an oversight. I had willfully chosen to disobey one of our most sacred agreements. The painful realization of how much I had hurt our trust washes over me and then finally begins to fade away as I sob out my apology. Finally, I hear the last stroke counted, and you drop the belt to the ground next to me. The tender, gentle way you stroke my face releases more tears as you soothingly croon, “Shhh, Little One. It’s OK. You’re my good girl. It’s OK.” You stand by my side and continue to comfort me as the last of my regret falls to the floor with my tears. Your hands run comfortingly over my back and then gently over my sore, hot bottom. I yelp lightly as your fingers caress my well punished flesh. I know I will have welts tonight and bruises for days to come, but I will wear them with the pride of having endured my chastisement well.
With surprise and pleasure, I feel your hands slide over my bottom toward my thighs. Several of the strokes of your belt hand been well placed on the sensitive “sit spot” where my thighs connect to my bottom, and I shudder slightly as your nails tease over that area. Your gentle, grazing touch moves down over the back of my thighs and then up again, and you allow your fingers to just barely touch the outer edges of my dripping wet mound. My cheeks, already pink from the exertion of crying, flush an ever darker red as you discover the evidence of my arousal at having been so thoroughly punished. This is not a new discovery, but it only adds to my embarrassment that you you so easily elicit this response in my body. Unable to hide my wanton need, I moan as your fingers slip into the dampness between my legs and gently seek out my throbbing clit. Only you, my Master, can truly understand the baffling confusion of arousal and regret that is born in the pain of a harsh spanking. I am not usually allowed to cum after a punishment spanking, your rule to further curb unwanted and unacceptable behaviors. My mind is a confusion of emotion and arousal as I push my hips back to meet your hand, begging for release from the pressure that is building beneath your skilled fingers.
Quiet and low, your stern, no-nonsense voice reaches my ears….that grim, controlling voice that you set aside for serious lectures and the most unrelenting of corrections.
“We are not done yet, my sweet sub. There is still much that you need to learn tonight.”
My blood runs cold as the no-nonsense, dominant voice you are using resonates deep within to my innermost submissive self.
“S..Sir?”, I manage to stammer, my words catching in the stuttering, involuntary hiccups that I always get after crying.
You don’t answer me, but only continue to lightly, deliciously and deliberately stroke my pearl of arousal, using my own pool of moisture to slide your fingers in slow, painfully erotic circles. I moan and shift my hips back, the pain of my well whipped ass melding with the increasingly burning fire of need between my legs until I can no longer tell them apart. My mind reels at this unexpected turn of events. What is he doing? What does he want me to do? Does he want me to cum? I don’t understand this game, and it leaves me feeling off balance and confused.
`I am not allowed to cum after punishment. What does he want me to do? Soon, all reason and control have left me, and I can think of nothing but the painful, growing need between my legs. I begin to buck my hips up and down, riding your hand wildly until I am afraid I can’t take any more. I begin to beg because I don’t know what else to do.
“Please, Sir? Please may I cum?”
Suddenly, your fingers are gone. I am left panting and wanting, frustrated and dazed by the sudden absence of your excruciating touch. I involuntarily pull at my bonds, as if to finish the job myself, if I could only get free! I moan and beg in complete desperation, and am met with only one telling word.
“No.”
My eyes fly open in horror as it dawns on me what he intends to teach me tonight. Oh, no…nononono! I suddenly realize that my punishment has only just begun.To be continued in Part 3…
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