I’ve written of my caravan here. Yesterday, I became reminded of Milord’s rules regarding my sanctuary. Yesterday, I was reminded my I need Milord. Yesterday, I broke the rules. Today, I’m grateful for Milord’s strong hand, strong rules, and strong love. As per our agreement, I gave Milord his invitation asking him to come visit me at my caravan at 6:00 p.m.  I asked that he bring a light dinner and that I would have beverages for him. This was around 1:00 p.m. Knowing I was likely to become involved with my writing, I stacked the firewood by the pit, tidied everything and put on my dress as soon as I arrived. The clothing I had worn to the Caravan were folded and set on a fallen tree which serves nicely as a natural bench on the far side of the clearing. When Milord is coming, I am to have access to only this one piece of clothing. Sure enough, I lost track of time and before I knew it, Milord was standing in the clearing, a cloth covered basket on his arm and a thick, freshly cut switch in his hand. Rather than closing my laptop and getting into position, I said, “One minute!” Oops. Milord waited. When I finished my sentence, I hurriedly closed and put away the laptop and assumed my position, feet shoulder width apart, hands on the steps into the Car
avan. Milord set his basket down, raised my dress, and began the switching. Then, he clearly and slowly recited my broken rules.

You will be ready and in position when I arrive. All work will be put away before I arrive. You will welcome me upon arrival. While I am here, I am your Lord whom you will serve lovingly, obediently, and willing.

By the time the switch had broken, I was well aware of my infraction. Tears streamed down my face and I was begging for forgiveness. I knew I deserved this harshness, but a small part of me held out hope for mercy. Really, I should have known better. After all, I was the one who has always insisted on no mercy without the safe word. Milord always respects that word, and I knew well enough that I could have said it at any time. But, like I said, I truly did deserve this.

Once the switch had broken, Milord ordered me to kneel. He then removed my dress and told me that I would remain naked until further notice. I shivered a bit, the air taking on a slight chill. Then, Milord unleased his cock, hard and throbbing. I opened my mouth wide. This was no sweet greeting, but a fucking. He grasped my hair firmly, pushed his cock down my throat and fucked my mouth. I gagged, tears again springing to my eyes. Within minutes he shot his load not down my poor throat, but across my face, neck and breasts. Where it landed, that’s where it was to stay, he ordered. I could not touch it. It would dry on my skin in chalky white splotches. Then, he readjusted his trousers and told me to start the fire. He was hungry. I did as he said. Started the fire, took the basket, fixed him a plate of food and a glass of wine. I handed it to him and he pointed to the ground next to his chair. I knelt, head lowered, striped ass on my heels, as he ate. Occassionally, he fed me bits of cheese, cold meat, and fruit. The sun was setting by now and I was feeling quite humble. My bottom was no longer on fire, but still held residual heat from the switching. My skin was itchy beneath the dried cum and I was beginning to get chilled. Still, I’d made enough mistakes for one day, so I didn’t move. Milord stood and added more wood to the fire. He lifted my chin and I watched as he undressed, my mouth and pussy going wet at his beautiful body. He held out his hand and I took it. He walked me over to the fallen tree, wrapped my wrists in his belt and attached the end of the belt beneath the log somehow. Now I was bound, bent over, exposed. My nipples pressed against the rough bark. He talked then, telling me how disappointed he was in me. That we had agreed to the rules for a reason. That obviously I needed correction. That we both knew that he would be the enforcer if necessary, which it obviously was. The whole time he was running first one, the two, then three fingers over my clit and plunging inside of my wet, wet hole. Then he added a fourth finger. I cringed, cried out, but pushed back, wanting more. It was so big I thought I would split. Deeper and deeper he went. He told me what he was going to do moments before he did it. He added his thumb. I gasped at the width. “Like that?” he asked. Then with his other hand, he started to spank my upturned ass and all hell broke loose. I came. Violently. Shaking. Crying. Screaming. I became aware that his whole fist was inside of me. Fucking me hard while he continued to spank my already sore ass. I couldn’t stop coming. I pulled against the leather belt, squirmed, rubbed my nipples raw against the rough bark, but nothing could have stopped the waves crashing over me. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the bed in my caravan, Milord’s arms around me. My pussy, ass, and nipples tender and sore, but my soul clean and free.

“Do you feel properly Chastized?”

“Yes, Milord.”

“Good. I still plan on making love to you, but I think your poor pussy needs time to recover. So, for the next few days I’m going to use your ass and your mouth, not as punishment, but because I simply want to.”

Milord is strict, but he is also fair. I wouldn’t want it any other way.