Not meeting Goals

I said no. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was HOW I said no. It had been several days since Sir had come to visit me so when he called and said he’d like to stop by my apartment, I should have told him the truth. I should have told him that it was a mess, that I hadn’t kept it neat and orderly as I promised to do, that I hadn’t done any writing despite setting a goal of 1,000 words a day. What I did instead was tell him No. This wasn’t a good time. I had errands to run. However, I’d be back in about 2 hours if he’d like to visit then. I raced around the three bedroom apartment like a maniac cleaning everything I could. Putting away laundry, dishes, mopping the floor, changing the sheets on my bed and the bed in the gubrushest room. Two hours later, the doorbell rings. I open it and find a very stern looking Sir. Apparently, when he texted me, he’d been en route to me. When he arrived at my building, he noticed my car in the lot and thought it strange since I’d specifically said I had to run errands. I hung my head and fessed up. Sighing, Sir pointed towards the bathroom, which is quite large. He pulled out the stool to my vanity, patted his lap, and grabbed my brush. Shamed at my lie, I didn’t bother to deny anything. I pulled off my jeans, my t-shirt, and my bra and lay across his knees. As he used the brush on my rear end, he scolded me for not keeping my goals. He scolded me for lying. He scolded me for keeping him waiting. When he finished, he gently rubbed my blistered bottom until I’d stopped crying then held me in his arms, kissed me and comforted me. When I was calm, he then informed me that I still needed to learn my lesson. He had me stand then grabbed a leather belt. I paled, but said nothing. I’d agreed long ago to abide by whatever he felt was a fair punishment and I’d never regretted that decision. Rather than whip me with it, though, he put it around my waist and cinched it tightly. Then, he pulled out one of our toy boxes and grabbed the ball gag. I opened my mouth, but he shook his head. He told me to spread my legs.

“You said you needed to do some errands, so errands we will do. The Post Office, bank, and grocery store.” He looped the end of the gag through the front of the belt, tying it securely. “Maybe between your blistered bottom and this” He took the other side of the gag and secured it to the back of the belt, the ball pressed uncomfortably between my labia “you’ll remember the imp410476-_sy540_ortance of honesty and meeting your goals.”

He stood back and surveyed his work. I’d broken out into a sweat. The ball was pressed tightly against my clit. He nodded and handed me a dress. I slipped it over my head and stepped into a pair of mules. Every movement I made caused the ball to rub against me. I was sure it was already coated with my cream. I had no idea how I’d be able to stand this for an hour or more. I looked at Sir and saw he’d not relent in his decision. In truth, I didn’t really want him to. I had been lazy in his absence and this is what happened when I lied.

An hour and a half later, we were back in my apartment. The groceries were put away. Sir held out his hand and I went to him eagerly. He kissed me then told me to go to the bedroom and undress. I did so. then, I knelt on the floor, my head bowed. My bottom was still tender and I was sure my clit was bruised, but I had been very properly chastised. When he walked in, I told him this. How sorry I was that I had failed to meet even one of the goals I’d set for myself. That I had lied to him and tried to cover up my mistakes. That I as grateful for his correction. He smiled at me, removed the belt and the gag. I signed with relief. He took me into his arms, held me and said, “It’s all forgotten. But now, I’d really like to make love to you for a very long time.” I sobbed, “Yes. Please, Sir. Please.”comfort

2 thoughts on “Not meeting Goals

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s