I lay over his lap, anticipation causing my nipples to harden and my labia to soften. I know what is to come, and I eagerly embrace it. No, this is not play or even foreplay. It’s preparation. It’s a reprisal. It’s absolutely consensual.

This afternoon Clark sent me a text: “Wear something modest. We are having cocktails with an important client at 8:00 tonight. Be ready by 6:30.”

I giggled and slipped into a sexy little dress with virtually no back and certainly no bra or panties. The minute he walked into our home, he sat on the couch and patted his lap. Giving a huge, teenager style sigh and eye roll, I lay across his muscular thighs. He flipped my ridiculously short skirt up and began.

I counted allowed, per his order: 1, 2, 3. . . . 10, 11, 12. . . 20, 21, 22. . .(by this time I was beginning to regret my rashness) 35, 36, 37. . . (the tears began to flow). . . 48, 49, 50.

He helped me to stand and walked me over to my corner. He took scissors and cut the straps on the my back, removing the offending dress from my body.

He left for a few minutes and then returned, helping me to put on a bra. I gasped. This was no ordinary bra. This was a reprisal bra. It was also slightly too small for me, so when he hooked it in place, it was TIGHT around my rib cage. The plastic pokies were hard, but not sharp, so they did not pierce my skin, but rather pressed into the delicate flesh abominably.

Next, he helped me slide on a pair of panties which had been similarly designed. The plastic pokies covering my ass but, thankfully, left my lady parts free. Still the spikes gently pressing against the newly spanked and tender skin was excruciating.

Next, he helped me slide a dress over my my head and step into low heeled pumps. He kissed me, patted my ass, and instructed me to go fix my hair and wash my face. No make up except a bit of lip gloss.

Seated in the car, I wiggled and winced. He frowned over at me at told me that he was having none of that when we were with his clients. I would smile and make small talk. I was to give absolutely no indication of any discomfort. After all, I had chosen to ignore his request and this was the Reprisal.

I nodded He was right. I had known what would happen, just not to this extent. Still, this isn’t the first time I’ve deliberately disobeyed after promising to obey.

Luckily, for me any way, all the seats were taken, so Clark and I along with his clients stood at a tall table. Still, my breasts and ass felt every movement I made. Still, I stood there, smiling and chatting for over an hour. The clients invited us to dinner with them, but Clark, placing his hand on my bottom and gently squeezing, declined. We all shook hands and went our separate ways.

Clark stopped on the way home to pick up a pizza. When we got there, I was near tears. Standing in the kitchen, I gobbled down two slices of veggie pizza and sipped a glass of water. Only then did Clark order me into the bedroom to undress.

“You redeemed yourself well tonight, Lucy. I’m proud of you. Ready for your reward,” he murmured as he ran his hands over the indentations on my breasts.

Slowly, deliberately, he made love to me. I lost count of the number of times I came under his gentle yet firm power. When he finally allowed himself to come inside of my hot, welcoming body, I cried. The cacophony of emotions overwhelmed me and shame, regret, love, respect, need, and desire all merged as tears flooded my face.

He held me, kissing me, whispering words of comfort.

And what did I learn from this? Clark is no one’s fool. He will not be manipulated or played with. He will deliver swift, effective, and fair (I absolutely could have used my safeword and stopped the reprisal) in his lessons. He is also kind, loving, and generous.

Today, I feel relieved of all stress. I no longer feel the need to be a brat. I feel loved.

.