I broke Rule
#3 of my Summer Rules 2017. Mister Man was going for two days and when he came home the first thing he did was check my bottom. Just before he got on his flight for home, he sent me a text telling me his ETA and that he expected me to be wearing a sexy skirt, stocking, and have balls up my cunt. He also expected me to worship his cock. After that we’d go out to dinner. If I behaved well, he’d bring me home and make my head spin around. (He likes to tell me exactly what to expect!) I was so excited that I forgot one little thing – the ben wah balls! As soon as he walked in the house, I remembered. By then, naturally, it was too late. He kisse
d me, then looked down at me, and knew I’d disobeyed. He bent me over the table and check. Sighing, he pulled out a kitchen chair. “Paddle.” One word. That’s all it took. I went into the bedroom, found the paddle, stripped (punishments are always administered with me totally naked), and returned to take my position. He didn’t ask for an explanation nor did I offer one. We both knew the crime and the punishment. If you’ve never been spanked with a ping pong paddle then you can’t really understand the sting, the thud, the immediate sense of submission such an implement bring about. From the first crack I was humbled, ashamed of my rushing forgetfulness, and grateful for his stern yet fair manner. Mister generally doesn’t speak during a punishment. Really, there’s no need. We both know what I did and why I deserve this. By the fifth crack, tears formed. By the tenth I had begun to squirm. By the fifteenth I was sobbing. By the twentieth I was a wilted mess of subdued, chastised, submissiveness. That was when he stopped, rubbed my bottom until my sobs calmed, and asked if I was ready to greet him. I gurgled that yes, yes, I was. Please. yes. babble, babble, babble. He laughed as I slid to the floor and began to paw at his trousers. Luckily, he helped and I eagerly began to suck his hard, glorious cock. It didn’t take long for both of us to orgasm – me making a mess of my freshly washed floor, and him feeding me the drink I had craved for two long days. He helped me to my feet and together we went into the bedroom. He bent me over the bed and inserted the largest set of ben wah balls into my cunt. I moaned, but didn’t complain. Then, I umped a bit and gasped. He was lubing up my anus. Again, I knew better than to complain. First, my body was his to fill as he chose. Second, I understood that this too was part of my punishment. He slowly but firmly pressed in a cold metal anal egg. I closed my eyes, forced my body to relax, and bit my lip as the large, uncomfortable plug became seated. Mister again helped me stand and kissed me. “White dress, I think,” he decided. I lowered my eyes and nodded. My newly pierced nipples would be very apparent, I was full to the point of being uncomfortable, my bottom hot and sore to the point that sitting would be mildly painful, and wet enough to leave a spot on any surface I sat on. It was good, very, very good, to have Mister back home.
2 thoughts on “Broken Rule #3”
Great story. Your writing is almost always about the strength of your marriage expressed through your mutual sexuality.