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I could feel the cool summer air of the morning drift in and caress my exposed skin, bringing my sense back from slumber. I lay there at the foot of the bed, my eyes still closed, breathing in the sweet scent of the fresh morning. The sheer, white material that draped down from the poster bed, began to float into view, as my eyes opened. The sunlight that streamed into the room created a warm, renewing feeling. I glanced from my given position, following the lines of the form that laid beneath the sheets. Cautiously I stretched. A glint of polished metal caught my attention. I turned to my side to look upon the contrast of silver cuffs against the black iron head board. My eyes shut again and visions of the previous night popped in and out behind my eyelids. Just remembering the past events warmed my tender skin as my body felt the memory of stinging leather.
Had I purposely forgotten to remove my panties before serving him dinner, or was it truly a mistake, I was no longer sure anymore. His disappointment with me was evident right away, although his correction for my action was not as swift as I would have hoped, so as to have it over with. He was the type that did not deliver a quick slap or a hastened demand in the heat of anger, rather he chose to draw out his corrections over the course of the evening to make me truly know I had offended his wishes. I knew this well, yet at that moment I had not remembered his ways.
I sat there knowing my mistake. I tried to correct it, only to be given a stern look of warning. I was not to remove the item of clothing. He remained silent through the entire meal, not even looking up at me as I rose to serve him. My heart was in the pit of my stomach at this point, it was not fear that was building in me, but disappointment in myself for having failed.
The filmy bed curtains brushed against my bare skin, bringing my thoughts back to the present. He had asked me to awaken him at a specific time. He always seemed to add or subtract a few extra minutes so no two specified times were alike. I watched the second hand turn on the face of bedside clock. The feeling of awareness this method had set in me was strong now. Months ago I had such trouble setting my own internal clock to his way of timing but now it seemed natural. I crawled carefully from the foot of the bed, up the side of his resting body. My finger tips glided up over the smooth surface of the fabric that covered his leg, lingering at the area where his upper thigh had become uncovered. Being beside him in the mornings while he slept peacefully were treasured times for me. I could look upon him and honestly know what my feelings were. I leaned in, my cheek almost touching his exposed thigh. Breathing in the scent of his skin I could feel my small frame ache as I inhaled deeply. His strong fingers touched my ankle and then rested once more, still upon the bed. It amazed me how those powerful fingers could be so gentle.
His fingers had held my upper arm tightly the night before as he led me from the table to the bedroom. He still had not spoken to me. I think this bothered me more than the physical punishment I knew was coming. It forced me to fill my own mind with thoughts and questions about my actions. He stood me by the bedside table and spoke his first words since before dinner. His instructions were to remove the dress I wore. This command itself does not make me fearful or ashamed, it is the way his eyes watch me perform this task. His eyes demand that I do this as pleasingly as possible.
The simple black dress he had chosen for me the night before slipped from my body. The material pooled around my feet on the floor. I was quick about picking it up and folding it neatly, placing it on a near by chair. I stood there now before him in nothing but the loathsome forbidden garment, my eyes had dropped to my feet, my hands to my sides. I felt worse now than when he had me in his silence at the table.
What I did next remains a flaw in my personality to this day. I don't know exactly what the look is, but according to him, it is a mere shimmer of defiance that comes across my face. I raised my eyes and it happened, that look. A single word came from his mouth. A command he knew I would follow without hesitation and brought instant subservience from me. He did not bark it or say it in a demanding manner. He merely spoke it in an even tone.
I quickly fell to my knees, opening them wide, back straight, eyes down, and my palms resting upward upon my thighs. I could sense him moving about the room. A shiver ran down my spine as I heard the clink of metal upon metal. He opened the bedroom window and an instant cool breeze made the warmth that was building within me and upon my skin more noticeable. Sitting and anticipating brought tingles into my lower stomach, like excited butterflies.
Those same butterflies filled my stomach now as I woke him with my mouth. His hand moved up my body, over my shoulder and into my hair, entangling it into his fingers. Again, I was in awe of the gentleness I felt from them. Last night they had pulled harshly back on my hair to make me pay attention.
He had uttered another word to me as he rested upon the edge of the bed. "Lap" was all he said. Without hesitation I moved. I crossed my arms and folded my hands around the sides of my waist, then laid across his legs. My arms were pinned between my own body and his legs. The feelings of complete submission washed over me. He knew that the act of having to purposely put my self in this position, without the aid of his own hands binding me, was a true test of my servitude to him. I felt my hair slip from my back and shoulders and spill around my face as I lay there, my ankles crossed and my bare back exposed to him. I shuddered as cold metal touched my thigh. I heard a snip and felt the lace of the undesired article fall away from my hip. I controlled the urge to tremble again as the opposite side was also cut away. The scissors fell to the floor into my line of sight. The lace panties laid at my feet.
His fingers grasped my hair, tightening into the soft curls. He held my head firm. I inhaled deeply and bit my bottom lip as the first strike of the strap hit my flesh. My mind focused not on the mistake I had made, but on the slap sound of the leather and the delivering sting it brought. After three more blows I could feel my head being brought back up by my hair. His voice although low in tone was powerful, controlling. He asked if I deserved this. I nodded in affirmation. His grip tightened.
"Use your voice, pet." he commanded.
"Yes, I deserve this and more, Sir." My words fell meekly from my lips.
His hand pushed my head back down and he swiftly delivered the strap down upon my bottom and lower back again. My body could not help but quiver. I felt his palm move over my burning skin, almost as if soothing it. Helping me to my feet he held me up and looked down upon my shaking body. I made sure not to look up this time.
He addressed me as "little one" and asked if I understood his corrections. I quickly and quietly assured him that I did and then thanked him for showing me my error.
Those words, "thank you", run through my mind over and over as his body tenses upon the bed in the morning light, and my mouth is given reward. For this reward I would have quietly excepted several corrective actions before hand. He whispers sleepily to go fix him coffee. I rise from the soft warmth of our bodies and the bed covers. As I slip on my robe from off the back of the door I hear the audible "clink" of metal behind me, and he clears his throat. I swallow hard.
Had I purposely forgotten to remove my panties before serving him dinner, or was it truly a mistake, I was no longer sure anymore. His disappointment with me was evident right away, although his correction for my action was not as swift as I would have hoped, so as to have it over with. He was the type that did not deliver a quick slap or a hastened demand in the heat of anger, rather he chose to draw out his corrections over the course of the evening to make me truly know I had offended his wishes. I knew this well, yet at that moment I had not remembered his ways.
I sat there knowing my mistake. I tried to correct it, only to be given a stern look of warning. I was not to remove the item of clothing. He remained silent through the entire meal, not even looking up at me as I rose to serve him. My heart was in the pit of my stomach at this point, it was not fear that was building in me, but disappointment in myself for having failed.
The filmy bed curtains brushed against my bare skin, bringing my thoughts back to the present. He had asked me to awaken him at a specific time. He always seemed to add or subtract a few extra minutes so no two specified times were alike. I watched the second hand turn on the face of bedside clock. The feeling of awareness this method had set in me was strong now. Months ago I had such trouble setting my own internal clock to his way of timing but now it seemed natural. I crawled carefully from the foot of the bed, up the side of his resting body. My finger tips glided up over the smooth surface of the fabric that covered his leg, lingering at the area where his upper thigh had become uncovered. Being beside him in the mornings while he slept peacefully were treasured times for me. I could look upon him and honestly know what my feelings were. I leaned in, my cheek almost touching his exposed thigh. Breathing in the scent of his skin I could feel my small frame ache as I inhaled deeply. His strong fingers touched my ankle and then rested once more, still upon the bed. It amazed me how those powerful fingers could be so gentle.
His fingers had held my upper arm tightly the night before as he led me from the table to the bedroom. He still had not spoken to me. I think this bothered me more than the physical punishment I knew was coming. It forced me to fill my own mind with thoughts and questions about my actions. He stood me by the bedside table and spoke his first words since before dinner. His instructions were to remove the dress I wore. This command itself does not make me fearful or ashamed, it is the way his eyes watch me perform this task. His eyes demand that I do this as pleasingly as possible.
The simple black dress he had chosen for me the night before slipped from my body. The material pooled around my feet on the floor. I was quick about picking it up and folding it neatly, placing it on a near by chair. I stood there now before him in nothing but the loathsome forbidden garment, my eyes had dropped to my feet, my hands to my sides. I felt worse now than when he had me in his silence at the table.
What I did next remains a flaw in my personality to this day. I don't know exactly what the look is, but according to him, it is a mere shimmer of defiance that comes across my face. I raised my eyes and it happened, that look. A single word came from his mouth. A command he knew I would follow without hesitation and brought instant subservience from me. He did not bark it or say it in a demanding manner. He merely spoke it in an even tone.
I quickly fell to my knees, opening them wide, back straight, eyes down, and my palms resting upward upon my thighs. I could sense him moving about the room. A shiver ran down my spine as I heard the clink of metal upon metal. He opened the bedroom window and an instant cool breeze made the warmth that was building within me and upon my skin more noticeable. Sitting and anticipating brought tingles into my lower stomach, like excited butterflies.
Those same butterflies filled my stomach now as I woke him with my mouth. His hand moved up my body, over my shoulder and into my hair, entangling it into his fingers. Again, I was in awe of the gentleness I felt from them. Last night they had pulled harshly back on my hair to make me pay attention.
He had uttered another word to me as he rested upon the edge of the bed. "Lap" was all he said. Without hesitation I moved. I crossed my arms and folded my hands around the sides of my waist, then laid across his legs. My arms were pinned between my own body and his legs. The feelings of complete submission washed over me. He knew that the act of having to purposely put my self in this position, without the aid of his own hands binding me, was a true test of my servitude to him. I felt my hair slip from my back and shoulders and spill around my face as I lay there, my ankles crossed and my bare back exposed to him. I shuddered as cold metal touched my thigh. I heard a snip and felt the lace of the undesired article fall away from my hip. I controlled the urge to tremble again as the opposite side was also cut away. The scissors fell to the floor into my line of sight. The lace panties laid at my feet.
His fingers grasped my hair, tightening into the soft curls. He held my head firm. I inhaled deeply and bit my bottom lip as the first strike of the strap hit my flesh. My mind focused not on the mistake I had made, but on the slap sound of the leather and the delivering sting it brought. After three more blows I could feel my head being brought back up by my hair. His voice although low in tone was powerful, controlling. He asked if I deserved this. I nodded in affirmation. His grip tightened.
"Use your voice, pet." he commanded.
"Yes, I deserve this and more, Sir." My words fell meekly from my lips.
His hand pushed my head back down and he swiftly delivered the strap down upon my bottom and lower back again. My body could not help but quiver. I felt his palm move over my burning skin, almost as if soothing it. Helping me to my feet he held me up and looked down upon my shaking body. I made sure not to look up this time.
He addressed me as "little one" and asked if I understood his corrections. I quickly and quietly assured him that I did and then thanked him for showing me my error.
Those words, "thank you", run through my mind over and over as his body tenses upon the bed in the morning light, and my mouth is given reward. For this reward I would have quietly excepted several corrective actions before hand. He whispers sleepily to go fix him coffee. I rise from the soft warmth of our bodies and the bed covers. As I slip on my robe from off the back of the door I hear the audible "clink" of metal behind me, and he clears his throat. I swallow hard.