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From: MarArch@ix.netcom.com
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Subject: The Punishment - D/s, bond., cons., MF/f

THE PUNISHMENT

	She was trembling as she read the note. It was very brief,
almost terse. It read simply...
	
	"I am very disappointed in you. If you wish to make amends for
your misdeeds, you will present yourself to me at 5PM today. Do not be
late."
	
	...and it was unsigned. She knew exactly what it meant, and
the thought chilled her.
	
	She scanned it over and over, searching for some sign of
forgiveness, some glimmer of gentleness, but there was none. She knew
she was going to suffer, and she trembled at the thought.
	She had disappointed him, of course. She understood that. They
had been at the restaurant, sitting side by side in the booth, eating
and chatting casually, and as he had turned away and scooped up his
glass, she saw his arm slip below the table and felt the brush of his
light fingertips on her thigh... moving slowly... stroking... The
fingers drifted up under her skirt and she had closed her eyes to
enjoy the sensation of the slow, methodical approach toward her sex...
and just as they left the material of her stocking, and began to
tickle lightly, high up, over the skin of her thigh, bare inches from
her sex, the waiter was suddenly there before them, asking if
everything was all right.
	It was a reflex, she told herself, not willfulness. She didn't
mean to close her legs so suddenly... didn't mean to dart her own hand
down and take his wrist, pulling it from her skin, forbiddingly...
didn't mean to push her skirt back into place... didn't mean to blush
and stammer a few confused words which sent the waiter away with a
puzzled but amused expression on his face... it had just happened.
	When the waiter had gone and he slowly turned to look at her,
his eyes were like ice. She had instantly realized what she'd done,
had denied him, and her stomach crawled into a tight knot in a moment.
It stayed knotted all the rest of that silent meal, and the even more
deadly silent drive home... He was still ever the gentleman, opening
her door to take her from the car, but having walked her safely to her
portal, he watched, passively, as she unlocked it, and when she turned
to beckon him inside, she had seen those cold eyes once more.
	"Not tonight" he had said, simply, turned and walked back
towards the car, leaving her standing heart-wrenched and sick on her
stoop.
	She had spent a restless night, desperate to pick up the
phone, to call and appologize, to weep and beg his forgiveness, to do
anything that would melt the icy glare she had seen in his
exression... but she knew that if she did, that would only anger him
more, so instead she resigned herself to a solitary night, and went to
bed, where she tossed and turned and whispered her appologies to the
darkness...
	The next morning... this morning... this bright, clear
Saturday morning, she had gone out to bring in the paper from the
stoop and had seen the envelop tucked into the doorjam. She had opened
it, removed the single folded page and scanned it... and felt her
breath catch in her throat... It had finally happened. After all their
months together... all their intimate moments, their soaring joy,
their bold explorations together... she had finally earned the dreaded
punishment he had been hinting she might someday bring down upon
herself...
	He had never said what, exactly, it would be. Only that it
would be something she would remember for a long, long time... and the
tone of his voice and the sparkle from the corner of his eye when he
mentioned it always sent a chill rushing down her spine... and now, at
last, it was upon her...
	
	She had dressed carefully, hoping that when she presented
herself, she would be so pleasing to him that he would forget all
about it and sweep her into his arms once more, lost in his natural
and abundant passion for her. She chose that "special" teddy he loved
so much.... the terribly naughty one, with the small openings which
allowed her nipples to peek through, and the split in the crotch...
The thigh high stockings that clung to her legs like a second skin,
and made her feel more erotic... more comfortable... more in
control... Over this wicked ensemble she donned a simple print dress
and low heeled shoes. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she had to
smile. No one who saw her would have a clue as to what lurked beneath
the terribly prim and proper, simple, sensible dress... But when she
stripped it off, and revealed herself and the treasures beneath.... he
would surely forgive her... surely...
	
	Her finger was trembling as it reached out and pressed the
doorbell button. She straightened her back and drew in a deep breath,
to steady herself, expelling it slowly... and felt a bit calmer. He
was certainly not serious about all this. After all, it was such a
little thing... a reflex... He couldn't possibly blame her for having
a reflex...
	There was a long pause and then she heard the doorknob turned
and the door opened, revealing him... and when her eyes fell on his
face, her heart sank. There, behind those lovely, brown eyes was that
ice, as wintery and forbidding as before... not the slightest glimmer
of anything save the mere recognition that she had arrived and was on
time.
	He stood silently, his eyes drilling into hers, for a long
span of heartbeats, then he stepped back from the door to allow her
entrance.
	"Come in" he said, his voice dark and calm.
	She stepped through the door and turned to watch him close it
behind her, before moving past her, towards the kitchen, as if she
wasn't even there. She started to open her mouth to say something, but
he was through the doorway and gone from sight before the words had
even formed. She felt her heart sink even lower, all hope now fled.
This was a crystalizing moment between them, and she knew it. She knew
she could turn and walk out the door, get back into her car and drive
away... but that if she did so, she would never dare see or speak with
him again. Or she could swallow her pride and fear and submit to
whatever he had planned for her and know with equal certainty that
after this ordeal, whatever it was, had finished, they would go on, as
if nothing had occured. But she had gone over just these same thoughts
endless times since last evening, and always the same unshakable
conclusion appeared before her. She would do anything... anything, to
earn his forgiveness.
	He emerged from the kitchen carrying one of the large, heavy,
wooden chairs that ringed his kitchen table, and upon sighting her
immediately stopped, holding the chair before him, his gaze fixed on
her in a mix of surprise, coolness and disappointment.
	"And is this how you present yourself now" he said simply, and
stood, waiting for her reaction.
	At first she was confused. What did he mean? Was she not
there, as he had ordered? Was she not delivering herself into his
hands for God alone knew what sort of activity? And then it struck
her, like a thunderbolt, what he meant.
	Quickly she dropped her purse to the floor beside her and sank
down on her knees, pulling her back straight, her head erect, her arms
already moving to clasp behind her neck, her elbows splayed, knees
firmly planted wide apart.
	He stood a long moment, eyeing her, then simply gave an almost
imperceptible nod and moved into the center of the room, setting the
chair down where it would face the television nestled in the corner.
	Without a further look in her direction, he turned and moved
back toward the doorway, disappearing into the kitchen once more.
	She remained rooted, willing herself not to move, not to
tremble, not to make the smallest sound. And for the very first time
she suddenly realized that she didn't feel at all foolish in this
posture... even though there was no one to see her in it. Because it
had a purpose... to please him... to please him even if he was not
there to witness and enjoy it. And she began to realize that somehow
she was starting to understand their games a bit more deeply... that
perhaps what she had first taken for harmless fun and nonsense was,
after all, somehow important... had a meaning behind it... a
purpose... not just for his amusement... but for her as well... for
her soul...
	
	He returned from the kitchen, this time carrying the long
coils of rope that her body was so familiar with. He moved to where
the chair was placed and dropped them on the floor beside it, then
turned his attention to her, eyeing her once more.
	"Do you know why you're here tonight" he said simply.
	She nodded, and felt the blood rush into her face, causing a
deep blush. She wanted to lower her gaze from his, avoid his eyes, but
she willed herself to stare at him, as he had instructed her.
	For the first time she saw his face soften, the hard edge
fleeing to some quiet corner and he sighed, swinging a leg over the
chair and settling into it, facing it's back, his arms drapping across
the back, casually, as he leaned to rest his weary chin upon them.
	"I knew this would happen someday" he said, his voice distant,
as if musing. "You're only human. And you just don't understand, do
you. This has all been just a big game to you. A lot of pretending.
You like what I can do for you... to you... to your body. You like it
when I can make you cum, over and over... drive you crazy. Fuck your
brains out. But you just don't get it."
	He stared at her a long moment, then sighed and continued.
	"My love, when I gave you that collar, and you accepted it, I
wasn't just pretending. It wasn't just a game to me. It was something
like a marriage... more than that. It was a commitment. It was you,
giving your body and soul to me, and my agreement to take care them
and love them and cherish them. And all you had to do, all I ever
asked of you is that you obey me. That's it. Simple. And just because
I don't have you wearing your collar twenty-four hours a day, doesn't
mean that commitment suddenly stops."
	He stared at her in silence and she felt like something being
examined by a disinterested observer, as if she was a piece of fruit
that might be suddenly and instantly rejected if the slightest bruise
is noticed. He straightened up in the chair and his voice became
firmer, more business-like.
	"Last night, you rejected me... my touch. I understand we were
in public, and I understand that I hadn't done that before. And I also
know that you were simply reacting instinctively. You didn't think
about it. But I suddenly realized that I've neglected that part of
your training. Maybe I've been having a little too much fun myself...
been a little lax with you, I don't know. But I understand now that
you've still got those... instincts. Those reservations... and if
we're going to continue... if this is going to mean anything... then
we've got to break you of them. Who knows. Someday we may be walking
through a shopping mall, and I may suddenly become overwhelmed by my
love for you... I may want to push you against a store window and
ravage you, right there... in front of God and everybody. I can't have
you fighting me, now can I. What it all comes down to is this...
either I own you... or I don't. So, that's what we're both going to
have to decide. Right now."
	He rose from the chair and stepped away, stopping and turning
to her once more.
	"I'm going upstairs for a moment. When I come back... if
you're still here.... then we'll continue. If you're not... then I'll
understand."
	He turned and moved through the doorway and was gone from
sight.
	Her mind swam with the implications of his little speech. So,
this was it, finally... this was the threshhold moment that they'd
been building towards all these months. Now it was either time to end
it, or to make that commitment that they had both toyed with and
tickled but never truly embraced.
	Her body began to shake, torn with a mixture of terror,
excitement and dark confusion. Is this truly what she wanted? Stepping
through this dark doorway into some new life, new sense of herself and
her world... offering herself completely to him, in ways she could as
yet never imagine...
	And just as quickly, the answer rushed to the fore of her
brain... yes... oh God, yes...
	
	She rose and began unbuttoning her dress with trembling
fingers, practically ripping loose the last few buttons and pulling it
over her head, tossing it asside. She kicked off her shoes and stepped
further into the room, sinking down on her knees once more and
assuming the position he had taught her, feeling a rush of eagerness
well through her. She was ready now... at long last, after all the
teasing and toying... she was finally ready. And in the rush of the
thrill, she felt her sex begin to moisten.
	
	He stepped through the doorway and stopped upon seeing her in
that favorite of her wicked garments... and she saw the smile spread
on his lips... a smile of relief, of satisfaction and of pride. But
quickly he stifled it, pulling on the mask of sternness once more and
moving toward the chair.
	"Come here" he said simply.
	She rose, keeping her hands clasped behind her neck and moving
toward him. He nodded at the chair.
	"Sit down".
	She lowered herself onto the soft upholstered seat, sitting
well forward, her back straight, now desperate to please him.
	"Lean back".
	She let her back curve until she felt the high, strong support
of the chair behind her. The angle was awkward, but she tensed her
stomach and held it, waiting for his further direction. Instead he
turned, picked up the rope from beside the chair, extracted a single,
long strand and reached to pick up her thigh, drapping it over the arm
of chair and setting to work, lashing it in place there.
	She suddenly felt her sex clench and a fresh flow of excited
fluids begin to run inside her. It throbbed once more when he lifted
her other thigh and drapped it over the other arm, carefully securing
it as well.
	The gap between her lower back and the chair put a strain on
her stomach muscles and she consciencely tightened them, though she
could feel herself beginning to sag a bit... bending just a touch, the
pressure on her shoulders and neck becoming harder as they were
forced, harder, against the high back of the chair.
	But she watched, fascinated and excited, as he took up another
strand of the fine, thick, soft rope and felt it wound around her
ankle, and her leg being drawn inwards, until it touched the chair leg
and was tied, tighly, in place. In short order, her other ankle was
likewise secured, and she was sure that he could smell her excitement,
even as the first drops of it leaked from between the bare lips of her
sex.
	Moments later, he was standing behind her, buckling the
restraints, first around one wrist, and then the other, carefully
lifting her hair out of the way so that he could slip the link between
the rings and secure them together.
	This was a pleasantly new sensation, since before he had
always bound her hands together behind her back, and she had been a
bit worried that the wide back of the chair would bite into her
elbows. But her relief was short-lived, as she felt the rope fed
through the link between the wrist cuffs, and slowly pulled downwards,
causing her arms to be drawn down, slowly, between her shoulders. Her
back arched to compensate, but the way her legs were pinned so firmly,
the upper portion of her spine merely bowed slightly and the aching in
her stretched shoulders began. Now her breasts were thrust up and
forward, her body drawn tight, like a tensed bow as he tied the wrist
rope off to the lower rung of the chair behind her and stood back to
survey his handiwork.
	She could already feel the beginnings of the aching... in her
shoulders, in her spine and in her legs... it was not pain, exactly...
merely the first dull complaints of joints and muscles stretched and
pulled into unfamiliar and odd configurations... but she knew that it
would grow... as each moment passed, the compaint would turn angry and
soon her body would be throbbing from a hundred places, sending those
strange and oddly delicious waves through her.
	She felt her mind begin to detach, as it tended to do in these
situations, crawling down inside her flesh and toying with each of the
sensations, closely examining it and feeding on it. But before she
could focus on them, she felt him step behind her once more and saw
the ball gag lowered before her face and moved against her lips.
	She used to hate the thing... it, more than anything else,
made her feel truly helpless, for while she could speak, she always
had a sense of some power... power to use her mind, to say
something... to break the spell with a joke or a comment. Once this
thing was fastened into her mouth, that power was gone and all that
was left to her were the moans and whimpers of a totally helpless
creature.
	She closed her eyes and willed herself to open her lips,
feeling the acrid taste of the ball as it slipped between them and was
pulled deep, forcing her jaws wider than was comfortable as it was
buckled behind her head.
	She sighed and opened her eyes, watching as he moved around in
front of her, the clamps dangling from his fingertips. She looked up
into his face, and saw there a strange and unfamiliar glow in his
eyes... a kind of possession... and suddenly she was frightened. Was
he in control? Would he remember her limits? Would he honor them?
	He reached down and a single fingertip brushed against her
nipple, which poked through the opening in her silky garment...
teasing it. Instantly it responded, drawing up into a tight knot and
sending a tingle through her throbbing chest. But before she could
close her eyes and enjoy the sensation, his hands moved and she felt
the bite of the clamp as it slid around the nub of flesh, capturing it
and beginning to constrict. A wave of pressure from the pressed and
delicate nerve-endings rippled through her breast and then, abruptly,
was chased away by the rush of pain as he pressed the clamp tighter,
and tighter... She moaned in alarm, hoping that he would relent but
the wave continued to flow from the tormented nipple, like a dull
electric current suddenly coursing from the point of contact.
	Her other nipple had already responded, tightening to an angry
red knot and when that, too, was clamped the entire front of her body
erupted in throbs of overwhelming feelings.
	She could feel her back beginning to twitch, tightening and
loosening, as if attempting to shake off the grip of the clamps, but
of course it did no good. Finally it seemed to give up the struggle
and relaxed, her body sagging even deeper into the gap between her
spine and the upright of the chair. Her pelvis was rolled flatter now,
and she could see obscene opening in the crotch of her teddy splayed
wide, her hairless mons bulging through it, the lips of her sex
glistening with the droplets of her excitement.
	It was with a kind of fascination that she watched him take up
the chain that ran between the nipple clamps and hold it against the
exposed curve of the gag in her mouth... and she realized that there
must be some sort of loop there, for she would feel the vibration of
the links as they were fed through the hole and pulled...
	The slack was quickly removed from the chain and she could
just sense the first additional pressure on her nipples when his
fingers made small, delicate movements before her mouth and tied the
chain in place. She knew that she could raise her head and the chain
would pull up on her nipples, sending even more ripples through her...
but with all the other sensations assaulting her, she did not know if
she would be able to stand it, so she resolved to keep her head bent
forward. That, however, was not what he had planned.
	He moved behind her once more and she whimpered in sudden
alarm when she felt the headband slip down over her forehead and
secured behind her. Surely he didn't mean to... to...
	Then she felt her head being pulled slowly back and up, the
taut scraping of the rope attached to the headband against the back of
her neck as it was fed down through the top of the chairback, one slow
coiled strand at a time. Her head tilted upwards and the chain
attached to the gag drew her nipples along with it, stretching them,
lifting her breasts even further, pulling them tight. Just as the pain
rolled through her and she felt that she would have to scream behind
the tormenting gag, all movement ceased, and she felt the brush of his
fingers as he tied off the rope behind her.
	She was now bound more tightly, more securely and more
uncomfortably than she had even been in any of their previous games...
Every muscle hung, tense, knowing that if they should relax, that
would only send greater pressure into some tormented part of her
elsewhere. But in spite of the discomfort, in spite of the potential
that her own body might inadvertantly add to her suffering, the
overwhelming sense of it, the wickedness, the helplessness, the
sensation of being part of this inanimate collection of objects... a
piece of some diabolical work of art... caused her sex to clench
tightly and squeeze a small gush of fluids from her... which she felt
leak down and trickle over her naked lips and ass, pooling in the
fabric of the chair beneath her.
	He stepped around in front of her once more and crossed his
arms, like a craftsman surveying a nearly completed labor. Casually,
he reached out and let a finger curl around the chain which ran from
one nipple to the gag, and lightly plucked it, like a violin string.
	A shot of pain rippled through her, first from the nipple
closest to the touch, rushing through the gag and into the other
nipple. She even felt the faint sympathetic vibration of the rope from
the back of the headband.
	Jesus God, she thought, marveling... feeling her body now a
part of this monstrous contrivance... a conducting coil for the
slightest movement in any of its' parts.
	He nodded slowly to himself, satisfied, and turned to the
television set, flipping it on. The screen glowed blue and blank as he
reached up and turned on the VCR next to it, picking up a video tape
and feeding it into the door where it sank out of sight with a series
of clicks. He pressed the play button and stepped back, taking a place
beside her, his attention focused on the screen.
	The set leapt to life with a burst of snow, then a picture
quickly formed... and she instantly recognized it... it was this very
room... the curtains drawn tight over the windows... and there, on the
screen, she saw herself from... when was it.... two months ago?...
kneeling, facing the camera as he stepped from behind it, the
restraints dangling from his hand as he approached her.
	She moaned in remembrance of that sweet moment, the first time
he had slipped the same restraints over her wrists that now held her
tormented arms up and back over her head.
	She watched, fascinated, as the scene from that long ago night
was displayed before her... her slow, gentle binding... the gathering
of her limps together... the rolling over onto her stomach... the
pulling up and hogtieing.... his kneeling beside her and beginning his
slow, gentle, insesant exploration of her body...
	She wanted to turn to him, see his face as he shared this
memory with her, but the slight flinch of her head towards him shot a
new wash of pain through her nipples and she froze, allowing it to
ease. She was trapped, daring not to move.
	The scene suddenly flickered and changed... now she was tied,
spread eagle, on his four poster bed, and he was atop her, kneeling
beside her, his hand reaching down to stroke her sex while with the
other he firmly and steadily flicked the short flogger at her chest,
so that it's loose strands stung and tickled her breasts and
stomach....
	She could feel her sex throbbing now, with the memory of the
pleasure he had given her that night... working itself, straining to
find a climax...
	Again, the scene changed... and she saw herself suspended, her
arms pulled high up over her head, her legs held wide by the long
spreader bar. And behind her swaying body she could see the outline of
his own, and recalled that at this moment, his cock was slowly
slipping into her ass for the very first time... filling and
stretching her...
	
	And as the image of that heady night poured into her eyes and
filled her soul, she suddenly felt the press of something against the
tight bud of her ass. She dropped her eyes, straining to look down and
could see that his hand was now there, holding the long, thin, jelly
vibrator, pressing it against her opening... and it was ice cold.
Instinctively, her eyes flicked back to the screen and as she watched
her own violation, her own surrender... she felt the vibrator nuzzle
between the tight muscles and sink, steadily, into her, sending a rush
of chills and excitement deep into her body. When it was fully seated,
she felt it leap to life, a dull tingle from it's sweet dance rippling
through her insides and causing her entire frame to begin to tremble.
	She closed her eyes, drinking in the waves of pleasure,
seasoned with the aches of her bindings, and when she opened them
again, the scene before her had changed once again... Now she was
kneeling on the bed, above his prone body, her wrists cuffed behind
her, her body rising and falling, his cock sinking into her sex and
reappearing with each thrust of her legs as she fucked him, rode him,
swallowed him into herself... And his hand, reaching around behind her
slapping down hard upon her ass, his flat palm sending a resounding
crack into her delicate skin and driving her up with every blow....
	And she felt the press of something large and hard against the
swollen lips of her sex, and knew without looking that he was impaling
her there as well... and felt the wide head of the device parting her
glistening, moist lips and sliding into her... and then the shock as
it too began to vibrate deep inside her.
	Her whole body was alive with sensation now, tingling and
aching and flashing and buffetted by sharp twinges and dull throbs...
and still the scenes continued to assault her eyes... every wicked
game they had ever played... every heady experiment upon her flesh...
every new and diabolical binding... all stripped of any subtlty and
reduced to their essense before her... her tearing apart... the
flaying of her soul... the rape of her heart and mind... the surrender
of each tiny portion of her... her slow, steady, deliberate, wonderful
transformation....
	Her body was screaming now, aching and longing to cum..
needing to explode, to burst, to erupt from the unceasing tension in
her limbs and mind... But it could not. Instead it hung, suspended,
over a firey, fluid pit, feeling the waves of its' heat, scorching
her, but she could not shake herself loose, tumble down, splash its
surface and be consumed...
	She was moaning now, a low, constant keening sound of
frustration and helplessness, like a whimpering animal... and tears
were welling in her eyes, overflowing and rolling down her cheeks...
This was agony, beyond her imagination... and ecstacy past all
understanding... a blend of the two poles of her sexuality, swirling
together inside her, washing over her and staining every nerve.
	Oh master, she thought as she felt her soul tearing free and
beginning to rise, drift and float above her trembling, sobbing,
bound, helpless, tormented body... Oh my beloved master...
	
	She only vaguely focused on him as he rose from where he knelt
beside her and turned toward the doorway behind and to her left... and
nodded. She was too distracted to make any sense of the gesture, until
the woman stepped around her other side and stood staring down at her.
	Oh God, she suddenly realized.... Jen.... Her best friend...
the lover of her forbidden fantasies on many lonely nights... 
	He looked down at her for a long moment, the only sounds now
those of her low, constant moan punctuated by the shrill cries of her
past orgasms echoing from the television...
	Then, very quietly, he spoke.
	"One full hour. And remember... don't let her cum."
	And then he stepped around behind her and she could sense him
settling into the easy chair off in the corner of the room, as Jen
smiled wickedly down at her, and raised her hands... one of which
contained the long, thin candle... and the other, in which her fingers
toyed with the lighter...
E-mail with comments: MarArch@ix.netcom.com

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