Needing punishment

I am not a good girl.

I don’t say that to brag, but I don’t say it as a confession either. I am not writing this as punishment. I am just not a good girl.

I can be. For him, I make myself behave. I follow his rules, I call him sir, I crawl on the floor, I stay in the corner, I take my spanking quietly, for him. Because I like to make him proud and I love it when he calls me a good girl.

But I also love to be punished. I love the humiliation, I love going out of line even just a little (or a lot) and firmly being put in my place again.

It is hard when I am a good girl. I’ll behave for a week and two days and then I’ll get frustrated because I need his hand pulling my hair, words being whispered in my ear that make me a little afraid, but also make my panties wet. It’s not so much about the spanking; I get spanked all the time. My concept of punishment is not that I want him to spank me until I cry (and then some more), though I want that too. 

No, I want the humiliation of not being able to talk or look at him, because he has put me on my knees in the corner, or because he has put a gag in my mouth. I want to feel afraid of what he’ll do to me; something much worse than what I wanted. I want the little things; when he’s not angry at me, but he still makes me sit on a hard wooden chair all day. When he stops during a spanking, takes my panties off, and makes some embarrassing comment about how wet they are. When he makes me smell them, lick them; when he stuffs them in my mouth and digs his nails into the burning flesh of my ass.

I want the feeling of having utterly lost control. And the feeling when suddenly, my headspace shifts and I don’t want the punishment anymore, but I just want to please him. When I feel that he has made me a good girl, that is when I have been punished enough. That is when I want him to fuck my mouth and whisper that I look so sexy; something I’ll barely hear, because I am too deep in subspace to think of anything else than that I want to please him; obey him; serve him.

I am not naturally a good girl; cheeky comments come out of my mouth before I fully realize what I’ve said. I will often push him just to see how far I can go; just to see how bad he will let me be. I will sometimes be disappointed because he refuses to punish me, and when I ask him why and he says “because I want you to show me you can be a good girl without my control” that’s more embarrassing and punishing than I ever thought it would be. 

I am writing this because he gave me a deadline. I still have plenty of time, but I want to be early, earlier than he expects, so he’ll be proud of me. So maybe sometimes, I am a good girl. Or at the very least, I love to be made one.

Aftercare

I needed a spanking today. I made this clear to him by sticking my tongue out at him about 200 times while he was gaming. He made clear to me that I should not bother him when he is shooting mutants. He did this with his hands on my throat and then with a cane and a paddle on my bottom, and afterwards with a flogger on my breasts (yes, we bought a flogger - it’s beautiful).

After that I needed something else entirely. I sat on my knees in front of him and he asked me if I was going to be a good girl now. I nodded and with some encouragement said “yes, sir”. I lay my head in his lap and he comforted me. It felt like the most important part of all.

I need that part – the hug after the punishment. The kiss that says “it’s okay; I love you.” I love that: lying next to the man that just spanked me to tears and having him rub lotion on my bottom and kiss me.

 

It’s important to tell me after he’s stopped spanking me: “I forgive you, I love you, you’re a good girl.” Even when afterwards he’s still going to laugh every time I sit down and wince. It’s important to laugh; it is funny to see me in pain after I so thoroughly deserved it, I know. But I need the aftercare, too. I need to sit on a pillow at his feet and feel him softly stroke my hair. I also love it when he admires my bruises and takes pictures and kisses them. There’s nothing more important after a spanking as knowing you are loved.

I don’t need anything right now. I am in love, I am safe, I am happy. I’m going to fantasize about a long spanking with a hairbrush; not because I’ve been bad or because I need it, just because that’s one of the things I like. Just to be held and spanked and kissed; and then just as thoroughly fucked. He's not here this weekend, but that's okay. Tonight I will just go to bed on time and be thankful that such a wonderful man loves me.

Goodnight.

Wax play

A while ago we had one of those nights that we really didn't know what to do. We both wanted to have sex, but we didn't really know how to begin. I had undressed, we'd been making out, and he had already put me over his knee to spank me with his hand, but it wasn't really enough. He seemed insecure; I asked what was wrong, and he said: "I don't know...I don't just want to have sex or spank you tonight...I want to do something special, something new." I didn't really know how to deal with that; I tried to understand, but none of my suggestions were special or good enough. So we went on twitter.

I'm naked. We're bored. What should he do to me? Be creative and cruel and funny.

Someone suggested breast and nipple binding and we took out our ropes, but my breasts aren't really big enough for bondage (hey, I'm only a B cup...), so when that didn't work, I asked for more suggestions. The same person suggested ice play. We had ice - downstairs, in the freezer. And my father was downstairs. So that was crossed of the list too. Then I suddenly got an idea. "We can't get ice...but I do have candles." Thoughtfully, he looked at me and nodded. "Sure. Let's try that."

We had never tried wax play. While he was lighting candles, I looked it up on the internet: if we were going to do this, I wanted to do it in a safe way. I found some articles on BDSM sites, basically saying all the same things - be careful, if there's more distance between skin and candle it hurts less, use good wax (we only had cheap, white candles - someone told me later cheap is usually best for wax play because it burns less), start with less sensitive body parts, and...have fun.

I lay down on the bed and smiled nervously. He was very careful. He asked me where I wanted it first and I said I'd read that my back wouldn't hurt much - he doubted that, because I have a very bad back, but he did it anyway. It hurt - a lot. It actually hurt a little too much, so he decided to stay away from my back and moved to my bottom. It was an amazing feeling. It still hurt, but in a good way. I smiled and moaned. He also covered my nipples and breasts and even moved down eventually- I stopped him as soon as he got to right below my belly button. I wasn't quite ready for wax in those very private, sensitive parts. We took pictures and I posted them on twitter afterwards. It was absolutely lovely.

The next day we went out for lunch with my parents. As we were sitting down in the restaurant he smiled and said: "oh look, a candle" - my parents didn't ask why that made me blush. I am very happy we tried it. It was an absolutely amazing and incredibly erotic experience, and I hope it's not the last time we play with candles :-)

My first caning

I picked them out myself. Two rattan canes: a junior cane, 5mm thick, 60cm long, and a senior cane, 10mm thick, 70 cm long. “They don’t look scary at all”, I told him (and Twitter), pouting. Stories of others had led me to believe that canes were scary, awful, intense…they told me it would probably hurt more than any spanking ever did. The two pieces of wood that came in the mail were almost a disappointment – but I took pictures and proudly showed them to my boyfriend. I had picked them out and bought them myself, and I had begged for the same beautiful stripes that I had seen in pictures online. There was no turning back.

We got lucky that evening and had the whole house to ourselves. We had dinner and watched his new favorite show. I was as scared as I was excited, and he noticed I couldn’t focus, but he let me wait. And then his show was over, and he got up and got the canes out. “Which one do you want me to use first?” he asked with a big smile. I blushed. “Will you…just…spank me with your hand…first? Please?” He smiled. “Sure. Get over my knee.” It was probably the sweetest tone of voice that he had ever used right before a spanking. It made me feel safe.

The hand spanking didn’t last long. After a minute or two I put my hand back and he asked me if it hurt. I laughed and said yes, and he replied: “good, then we’re done. Your warm-up is over, get up!” I blushed and smiled. He sounded a little too excited and that made me only more nervous. I lay down on the bed – he gave me a pillow to hold and, if necessary, to cry in. And then he asked me the same question as before: “which one do you want me to use first?” Honestly, I didn’t want to be given the choice – I wanted him to decide, I wanted him to do what he wanted. I had bought them, the least he could do was use them like he wanted to. I shrugged. “I dunno, you choose,” I said, trying to sound indifferent. “Okay…this one then.” He picked the junior cane. I think I was relieved – it was smaller, so it had to hurt less, right?

Wrong. He started slow, soft, building up the pace and intensity. The first real stroke made me gasp. It was an unbelievably intense pain. People had warned me 5mm would deliver an immense sting, and they were right. It’s why I bought the senior cane – thud has always been more my preference. Sting can feel nice too, but it breaks me very quickly.

I don’t know how many times he hit me with the junior cane until he switched to the senior cane – a lot. He didn’t cane me hard at all, but hard enough to made me hold my breath, moan, kick my legs – he threatened to cane my thighs if I didn’t lie still, so I tried to be calmer.

After too many strokes to count or to remember he switched to the senior cane. It still hurt a lot, but it was a more welcome pain. Lovely but still intense pain. It didn’t take me that long to start crying.

For a few strokes, he also had me bend over the desk. During a short break he tried to make me smile and suggested trying a different position. “Canings are supposed to happen standing up, right? Bending over a desk like a naughty schoolgirl?” I smiled and nodded. “Well, get up then.” It felt nice too, but the pain was too intense to stand up straight and I couldn’t stop myself from bending my knees, so after a few (hard!) strokes he let me lie on the bed again.

He stopped often to stroke my hair or rub my back, or to wipe my tears away and kiss me. Through the entire caning (which lasted a long time) he kept talking to me, saying things like “it’s okay sweetie…you can take it…you’re doing great. I’m so proud of you. Try to be strong, you can take this, you’ve had much worse…”

Eventually, I broke. I was crying my heart out and I was sure I couldn’t take anymore. He had said I could say stop anytime – just for that evening we were using the wonderfully original safe word: “stop”. Anytime I said stop, he paused, kissed me, wiped my tears away, and asked if I just wanted a break or if I actually wanted to stop. I asked for a few breaks. Eventually I asked him to stop. And he did. He held me and softly stroked my bottom while I laid in his arms and cried. It was one of the most intense spankings I’ve ever had.

I laid in his arms a long time. I was absolutely exhausted and my bottom hurt a lot. I was strangely emotional afterwards. The rest of the evening was spent watching a movie, playing games and trying to come out of subspace. I dropped hard – the fear and anxiety I had felt before and the intense pain and love and emotions I had felt during the caning were just too much. But he took care of me. I knew he got a little annoyed because I was so emotional, but he dealt with it and told me he loved me anyway, and I absolutely adore him for that.

 I looked in the mirror afterwards and my bottom was still red, but I only had a few stripes. He said he hadn’t hit me that hard, and that he had to cane me a lot harder if I wanted stripes like in the pictures. I couldn’t take anymore at that moment, but I do hope he will cane me a lot harder next time. I want stripes like in the pictures, even though it hurts.

Conclusion: caning is intense, and I think I love it. I have only had one caning, but I want one again soon. It hurts like hell…but it makes me feel very strong too.

His pet: part one

It was one of the hardest tasks he had ever given me. That morning he seemed mischievous and rather horny. I thought he might have dreamt well, and his thoughts were still flooded with naughty fantasies. I am not a morning person, but that morning one of the first things he said was to give him a morning blowjob. I felt flattered to have been given permission – I always wanted to do it, but either I was too tired, or too scared he would reject me. So I did as I was told, and breakfast was his delicious cum. It was the perfect start to a very hot day.

“What are your plans for today?” he asked me.

“Studying.”

He barely responded, but went to the closet and got out my collar and leash. I held up my hair for him, not wanting to question his intentions – it seems his cum makes me all the more compliant.

“You will study today…but you will not sit at your desk. You will crawl, sit and lie on the floor.”

“Why? What did I do?” I asked, worried. This seemed like a rather harsh punishment, denying me to walk like a human being all day.

He smiled and softly stroked my face. “Nothing. But today you are my pet. And you will act and walk like a pet. Understood?”

I blushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. I will see you tonight. And I will know if you have disobeyed my orders.”

And with that he kissed me, and left to do whatever he had to do that day.

It was definitely one of the hardest tasks he had ever given me. The thing is that if I would disobey, he really would know. Not because of any secret cameras, but because if he would ask me If I had been a good girl and I wouldn’t have been, he would see it in my face – and I could never lie to him. I didn’t want to disobey either.

It was harder than I could have ever guessed to constantly act like a pet, though. A thousand things kept going through my mind: among them things like “I should really vacuum more” – “This is turning me on a little” – “I wonder if a pet can open the fridge.” When I did go to the kitchen to eat, however, I found he had put a plate with yoghurt and sandwiches and a cup of milk on the ground. I felt completely adored and taken care of.

My knees hurt and it was tiring, trying to focus when I was being “degraded” so much. I wasn’t a human, just a dog – studying kind of disrupted the fantasy, because obviously pets didn’t concern themselves with behavioral neurosciences, but it was exciting nonetheless. Pets didn’t wear clothes, so I was naked the whole time except for my collar. My pussy became more wet every hour, and I couldn’t text him for permission to masturbate – pets didn’t texts. He hadn’t said I couldn’t get dressed, or that I couldn’t masturbate, but it were obvious rules – if he wanted me to act like a pet, I at least had to try to do as few “human” things as possible.

I felt even more like a dog when he finally came back that evening – the joy of seeing the man that owned me, that had collared me, that had left me all day with nothing but my thoughts and my books. He seemed glad to see me too – stroking my hair and laughing at my excitement. I asked him about his day while taking of his shoes. “It was good, I had fun. Were you a good girl today?” I blushed. “Yes, sir.” The grin on his face made me shy.

Suddenly, he pulled my hair hard and threw me over his lap. I squealed, surprised. I had been good all day, there was no reason at all to spank me. “I swear, I was a good girl!” “Were you?” “Yeah!” With one hand he was still pulling my hair, and with the other he went to my wet pussy. “I think you are too wet to be a good girl…” I couldn’t really say anything to that. I had been horny all day. “But…that’s your fault! You made me horny!”, I pouted. He laughed. “And blaming me, too. You really are a bad girl.” He started spanking me hard – I whimpered a little bit, more out of helplessness than pain. Everything was completely out of my control today – and that idea made me only more wet, which made him want to spank me more.

When my butt was sore and all red, he stopped and told me to get off his lap. I immediately moved and sat back down on the floor again. He unzipped his pants, stood up, and exposed his hard cock to me. I moved closed to put it in my mouth but he grabbed my hair and pulled me away. “Did I say you could?” “No, sir…” He enjoyed teasing me. “You’re a slut, you know that?” “Yes, sir.” “Say it.” “I’m a slut.” “Louder.” “I’m a slut!” “Whose slut?” “Your slut, sir.” “Good. Come here.” He shoved his cock in my throat. “My dirty little cumslut. You can’t even behave for one day.” Oh, the humiliation. I’d been craving it for a while – to suck his cock while he insults me and embarrasses me. It’s weird that I like it, but I do.

Suddenly he pulled me off his cock. “Crawl upstairs, my little pet. I have a fun night planned for you…” 

Roleplay

It wasn’t planned, but when he told me to put my schoolgirl skirt on, I didn’t say no. He wanted me to have two ponytails in my hair too, and made me call him sir. “You are…the naughty schoolgirl, brought before the headmaster.” I smiled and kissed him. “And what am I being punished for?” “Being…a slut.” It was a spur of the moment thing – we hadn’t planned this, but suddenly we were roleplaying. I smiled the whole time as he told me off about the short skirt – blushed as he asked “and…why aren’t you wearing any underwear?!” “Because…I didn’t feel like it.” He hit me in the face and grabbed my hair. “You are such a dirty whore. I will not have this in my school.” He made me bend over and spanked me with his hand while I laughed. “But…sir…don’t you think it’s sexy?” He pulled me up by my hair so he could look at me. “It doesn’t matter if I think it’s sexy or not, it’s against school rules.” He made me nervous, but I was the slutty schoolgirl, and I couldn’t – wouldn’t – fall out of character. I stroked his crotch, feeling his hard cock through his pants. “I just wanted to please you, sir…” He hit me in the face again. “Did you? Too bad you didn’t know I would spank you.”

 He spanked me for a long time, until the slutty little schoolgirl actually felt a little bad. Eventually he stopped and I thought my punishment was over, but he just looked at me and said: “You don’t deserve to get spanked with my hand anymore…” For a moment I felt terrible that I hadn’t bought a cane yet (I just ordered them today, they will be in 3 to 5 days), but he found the leather paddle in my bag and just punished me with that. Eventually, I was close to tears – and incredibly turned on. I was lying face down on the bed while he undressed en slid a finger in me. I gasped. He put a condom on. “Have you ever been fucked before, little girl?” I blushed and smiled. “No, sir…” For a moment, we both fell out of character, laughing. He hit me in the face, then pushed me down, lay on top of me, and fucked me like the whore I was. Eventually he turned me around, kissed me, and we fucked again – this time I whispered “I love you”. Our role play was over.

Or so I thought. Afterwards he pulled me off the bed and threw me on the ground. I immediately sat up again, on my knees, looking at him. He grabbed my face. “You see what happens when you act like a slut?” I was exhausted and actually felt very punished. “I…get punished, sir.” “That’s right. And you get treated like a slut.” I smiled. “Will you ever dress like that again, young lady?” “Only if you want me to, sir.” He laughed. “Good girl.”

It was perfect. Spontaneous, unplanned, role play – so beautiful, so lovely. A couple of days ago I asked for him to cum on my face. I got everything I wanted. Yesterday he hit me a couple of times with the riding crop and I got the most beautiful stripes. Today I ordered two canes – a thin one and a pretty thick one. I have had a couple of perfect days. I am a very happy sub.

Balance

When he takes me like this, I am thrown off balance. There's a part of me that panics, because in that single moment when he throws me over his lap, I suddenly lose all control. It's easier when he sits on the bed and I am well supported. Sometimes, I don't want it to be easy.

It's thrilling, really, losing control, and feeling before he has even hit me once, that I have lost control. He holds me, makes sure I don't fall, and I am so thrown off balance that I don't even struggle (at first). When I do start to struggle, it's awkward, an uncomfortable position for both of us. But then he has other ways of taking me.

I can feel my hormones acting up today. I have been wearing my collar all day - it keeps me calm. I am alone today, which is good, because I think I would be a bitch if anyone complained to me today. I may be having fantasies that calm me down too.

I think if he would be here he could stop me from pmsing. He could push me into a cold shower, drag me out when I have calmed down, pin me up against the wall and spank me, beat me, fuck me. He could kiss me and slap me, tell me, "you're mine - you will behave - shut up - don't be such a damn dramaqueen". He'd make me a good girl, a bruised, but compliant girl. The kind of girl that doesn't get upset because we're out of milk.

Or he could give me chocolate, massage my neck and shoulders, and tell me he loves me. That sounds good too.