Winter Discipline

I look out the window, tears falling unheeded from my face, snot running into my mouth, yet I do not break my position. I do not raise my hands to wipe my face. I could. Despite the cuffs He has buckled onto my wrists and ankles, I am not attached to the small but sturdy table on which I kneel. I could be, though, if I request it. I will not be punished more than I already am if I request this, but I want to make him proud. I want to make myself proud and redeem myself for breaking rules which I myself wrote down.

I will, however, be further punished if I break position. If I do that, He will bind me, finish today’s punishment, and then repeat the entire punishment tomorrow, despite how tender I know my ass will be.

I wrote the rules, but He decides on the punishment when I break them. I have agreed to this as well. He has told me what to expect so that I can prepare myself. Stage one, which He has completed, involved warming up my ass with his hand until it was a bright scarlet color.

He has now moved on to Stage two. Six FIRM lines with His cane. We are on the fifth stroke. I look out at the pristine whiteness of the new fallen snow, unafraid that anyone will see me. My apartment is higher than any other and the windows tinted so that while we can see out, no one can see in, even at night with the lights on.

I screamed when the sixth stroke came down, hitting my sit spot perfectly. Now, I will be able to enjoy a ten minute break while still remaining in position so that I can fully absorb the fire that is my bum.

No words are spoken. He has already explained what my punishment will be and I have already accepted and agreed to my fate. Still, I sniff hard, trying to breathe through my nose. My knees ache as do my hands from gripping the edge of the table.

After ten minutes, He helps me to stand then presses my body against the cold window. I spread my arms and feet as He has instructed. My nipples feel like they could freeze off my body even though I know the temperature is high enough not to harm my skin. I must turn my face, one cheek, my tits, my belly, my mound, my front thighs must all touch the cold glass. Here I will stay until He releases me.

Eventually, He says one word. “Position three.”

I peel my body from the window, kneel, facing Him, ass up and head down. He presses two fingers into my ass, filling it with cold lube. I hear Him unzip his jeans and kick them aside. He gives my body no time to adjust but plunges in deeply, grunting at my tightness.

Yes, it hurts, but it doesn’t harm me. I’m far too prepared for Him as he plugs and stretches me daily. He fucks me without mercy and I bite my lip in an effort not come. This is PUNISHMENT, not pleasure. He comes quickly, and I am grateful.

Finally, he pushes in a large, locking plug and opens the petals. It is hard, unyielding, and uncomfortable. Again, I know it will not harm me, but I will not be able to sit with it in, only lie down, kneel, stand, or perch precariously forward on any seat.

I’m sniffling, but accepting, despite the discomfort. I may as well get used to the discomfort. I cannot ask Him how long this will be locked inside of me nor can I ask to have it removed. If I need it removed for biological functions, I will need to say that and pay the price – the plug coated with ginger paste when it is reinserted.

I stay in position as I hear Him sit on the sofa and grab the remote. Luckily, this position is quite comfortable if humiliating. I’m sure my ass is a sight! I can feel the welts from the cane as well as the deep burn from the spanking, so I know the skin is bright red just as I know the lock is clearly visible on the plug.

After He finishes watching the news, He says, “All right. Up here and lie across my lap.”

This is the final stage of my punishment. He will continue to spank my ass, sit spot and thighs at His discretion all evening. Whenever He becomes aroused, I am, with His permission, to slide onto the floor, kneel, and, using only my mouth, either attend to Him until He finds release or He instructs me to return to His lap.

Three hours later, my ass is even hotter than it was after the caning and I have attended to Him four times, drinking His essence once. I am now tucked into bed – the single bed in the hidden room – with mittens on my hands and my wrists clipped together so that I do not touch myself. I hate this part probably worse than all the rest combined – sleeping alone. He did, though, kiss me and tell me that He was impressed with how well I took my punishment. Tomorrow morning He would come for me, unlock my plug, fuck my ass, and, if I’m good (still no orgasm for me!), my punishment would be complete.

Have I learned my lesson? Absolutely. Did I break my rules intentionally? Well, maybe!

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