The Punishment
GISELE
I ’ll call my mom.
Fluorescent blue ink shined bright on the transparent board with a hundred lines, all written in very small cursive.
The first couple of lines had been easy.
Easy in the sense of completion but not easy in the sense of anticipation.
My heart beat aggressively in my chest as I surreptitiously studied Master, who sat unbothered in his comfy armchair as if this was a normal Monday for him. And maybe it was.
After the first twenty lines, things got real. The microphone contraption turned on, except it wasn’t a microphone. It was a wand attached to a remote-controlled stick.
The buzz of the vibration of the wand was loud, and it startled me at first until I saw the line of Master’s shoulders, the only tell he was up to something.
Every other muscle appeared relaxed. Our gazes connected as I wrote one more line and felt the whirl of the vibration inching closer to my exposed pussy.
My skin tightened. My pussy started throbbing as the wand approached my center, inch by inch.
Staring down, I saw how the custom-made toy worked much better now.
There was no way to escape the upcoming vibration as the wand was nestled in the middle of the spreader bar.
Smart. Not good for me, though.
I’ll call my mom.
This was an item I should have negotiated out of the talks; I wasn’t ready to speak to her.
Our communications were brief via text—her with her morning and night scriptures, me keeping her abreast of the minimal.
I didn’t plan to stop completely talking to her and missed her presence, but my needs were more than just admonishment for not going to church.
My needs were simple: to talk to my mama and get her thoughts, and only hers—and she wasn’t ready to give me that, so I wasn’t ready to act as if nothing happened.
Why did I agree with Jo?o that this could be part of my ritual?
Because for just a second, I wanted to think outside of the box, outside of my patterns and coping mechanisms. I wanted to address things in a way that actually brought real change and not temporary fulfillment, hence why I didn’t remove it from his list when he suggested it.
And here I was, paying for that mistake.
The wand’s buzz warmed me between my legs, tempting me with its proximity.
Holding my breath, I refused to look down and watch the stick disappearing under satin and lace.
But the fact that that was what Master could see…
Our gazes connected again, his impassive, mine submissive.
I held the stare while I wrote another line, needing his touch.
Needing a touch. Anything. Anything to remove this gap between reality and my desires.
Warm wetness touched my own, the tremor a low hum that made my thighs shake as delicious vibrations stimulated my labia, slowly inching to my clit.
Without much thought, I attempted to squat, needing more than the gentle vibration currently teasing me.
That was all he needed.
Emptiness greeted me instead, the buzz edging away from where it should be getting closer.
“Don’t stop writing, boa menina.” Master’s deep command startled me out of the pleasure fuzz I’d sunken into the last couple of minutes.
His hands. I studied his hands as I recommenced my writing, thankful for the transparent board that allowed me to still watch him.
What would it be for his hands to be doing the punishment?
Just like that day in the classroom, to feel his palm plumping my swollen, drenched lips.
Yearning for his touch, a moan escaped me.
“Are you good?” The buzz of the toy stopped.
“Yes, Master, all good.” My voice came out steady, and thank the small mercies for that. The board started filling up, little squiggly lines reminding me of the one task I didn’t complete for my Master. It could have been so simple. Maybe he’d be rewarding me instead of torturing me right now.
“Good girl. Now erase everything and write: I will talk to my Master about anything. ”
“Oh…” The hitch in my breath couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a full surprise.
I hadn’t expected that. My unrestrained breasts swayed, my nipples brushing the satin as I energetically erased everything.
All the lines I’d done before I removed, leaving the board clean of any ink.
My ears filled with my loud choppy breath and the hum of the air conditioner until the sounds settled in my head, creating a song that soothed me.
I had nothing to do but write the lines my Master told me to write. How refreshing. How liberating. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him again, but this…this was what I needed.
The repetitive task kept my mind sufficiently occupied but not enough to remove the deep yearning that formed in my chest. My eyes blurred, swaths of blue and black and cream blending all together.
In a faraway place, the buzz started again, and I welcomed and dreaded what came next.
“What do you want, minha rainha?” The thread of desperation in Master’s question granted me the boldness I needed.
“I want your touch. I want you to spank me for being bad.”
“Nah, you’d like that too much. How is that punishment?”
“But the lines…I like doing them. I…”
“You do, I guessed you would, but you hate not being touched, don’t you?” Master flexed his leg, stretching one over the other. So much beautiful dark thickness in front of me. So close, but so far away. His touch would make this right. His touch would make this whole.
“I hate it, Master. Please, can you please come touch me?”
“No,” Master said with such finality I whimpered. The wand caught me by surprise, the vibration stronger than before. This time he let me have it.
“Ahhhh! Master, I…ohhhh…”
The contact triggered full-body shivers as my pussy lips became a slippery mess against the wand.
Master, finding the perfect rhythm, moved the stick up and down in little jerks that stimulated my clit.
The head of the wand slipped and slid, heating me up, making me moan.
My lines became a mess of smudged ink as I held onto the board, needing its support as the wand castigated me with unrelenting pleasure.
“Master, I want to come, please. Master…”
The chuckle that reverberated in the room made the hairs of my arms lift in attention. The air grew tangible, holding me upward in a cloud of gas. Master became a blur. The marker slipped from my slack hand to the floor. I could only hold onto the board and let him tease me to death.
“You won’t come right now. Not here, at least,” he taunted, the unmitigated delight in his voice unmistakable.
“Please, I won’t do it again. I’ll talk to you, I will.”
“I know you will because I’m making certain tonight you get what it means to not follow my rules. You want to come, menina?” Jo?o stood up with the remote in his hand, a prowler ready to play with his prey.
“I do, please, Master.” Maybe pressing my forehead to the board would help. The wand went up in intensity, and the obscene noises coming from between my legs would have made me blush but I was past caring about anything but my orgasm. I needed it so bad.
“Oh, I know you need it so bad,” he growled, and I realized I’d said that out loud.
My brain functioned in a different format that I couldn’t recognize.
Everything expanded in sight, smell, touch, sound.
Matter became a mere concept; everything was interconnected.
My flesh, the soft floor, the vibrating wand—all one ball of energy that threatened to explode into a thousand particles.
When the wand stopped and the buzz cut off, accentuating my desperate moans, I didn’t cry out.
I floated away, my body denied that sweet release of wetness and pressure, power and carnality.
I wouldn’t get to feel that tonight, but my brain?
My brain bloomed, all the energy coalescing together as I took my punishment as I should.
Finally, I fully submitted, accepting that my Master knew better.
At this moment, he knew better, and I trusted him a thousand percent.