Ya gotta admit – I’ve been good this summer. So far. Until last weekend. We all know that at time I screw up just because something in me needs, desperately, to be disciplined. that’s really the only explanation I have for what I did. My Summer Rules 201

8 are pretty basic and easy to follow, but I intentionally – there’s no other word for it – broke two of them. First, I threw on a sundress over my bare self then consciously decided that it would look better if the girls were supported, so I took it off, put on a bra, then re-dressed. Milord, of course, noticed right away, but didn’t say a word. He was, it turned out, giving me lots of metaphorical rope to hang myself with. I figured he either didn’t notice or didn’t care, so I kept the bra on all day – 16 hours to be exact. That night, I also went to bed – and to sleep – before Milord joined me, thereby breaking the cardinal rule of offering fellatio before going to bed. The next morning after my shower I went to my closet and grabbed another dress. That was when Milord stopped me. He sat on the end of the bed, pulled me over his lap and went to town. In between his slaps on my upturned bottom, he scolded me for being a brat tumblr_oeoh3tPT8U1vhrofao1_1280and breaking two of my rules. Every morning and every night for the next 8 days, he told me, I would be soundly spanked. I would then suck his cock until he came, sometimes down my throat (Yea!!!) and sometimes across my face (Boo!!). I’d spend some time facing the wall while he went about his business. He might then, or might not, fuck my ass. Not make love. Fuck. I was going disciplined after all. For the next 8 days, one day for every 2 hours I wore a bra, my pussy would be left empty. Not even his fingers would enter there. This was the point where I began to cry. Naturally, Milord ignored my sobs and continued with his heavy handed spanking. I would also remain in the house, grounded, and naked, for the next 8 days. Hopefully after that time, he reprimanded, I would remember what was and was not apppropriate attire. He finally stopped the spanking and rubbed my hot, stinging as soothingly. When I was ready, he said, I could slide down between his legs and thank him. A few minutes later, I did just that. I placed a hand beneath my chin and lifted my face so he could look down at me. “Do you agree to this discipline?” he asked earnestly. If I didn’t, I could easily have said so right then and we would have renegotiated. “Yes, Milord. I do.”

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