One step, two step, getting closer…

He watched as I approached from across the room. He’d been kneeling in that contraption for hours, and the body was showing fatigue. The shaking and quivering of the muscles amused Me. “Thirsty, slave?”  I asked, holding a glass of merlot to My lips. “Care for a sip?” I didn’t wait for an answer. Whatever he had to say was irrelevant, since I wasn’t in a sharing mood.

Walking about the room, relighting the candles that had burned out since I left My slave in the contraption, I asked how he was feeling, if in fact he was ready to confess his sin. “Slave, you have been in here for hours, now, unless you have a desire to spend the remainder of the evening in that position, do tell Me what I want to hear.” To further emphasize the seriousness of the present situation, I raked My nails across his nipples, and down his left arm. The muscle strained and flexed and convulsed. Squatting close to his face, My lips no more than an inch from his, I whispered, “tell Me.”

Now, him saying anything at that particular moment was an impossibility. He had been holding a grape poised between his top and bottom teeth for the last 3 hours. The puddle of drool at his knees was proof that his mouth had been open the entire time.

He knew better that to speak around the grape, for I detest mumbling. He also knew better that to swallow it, or spit it out. This was presently a lesson in rhetoric. I wanted no answer to My questions at this time. Soon enough for that… Standing full height in front of my kneeling slave, glaring down at him, I backhanded him across the face, using My right hand, sending his head reeling to one side. The scream that was birthed from his mouth was magnificent. The slap was not enough to warrant such noise, to was the fact that his muscles had ceased to exist, except in a painful blur. The effort it took to keep from toppling over must have been great, for the sound was the proof. It also had the desired effect of sending the grape flying across the room.

“Now then, close your mouth for a moment. Allow the muscles to relax. Breathe through your nose if you can. You must calm down, or this will take longer than it has to. You are uncomfortable, I know this. However, several hours ago, when I asked you to confess to Me, you steadfastly denied any wrongdoing on your part. Perhaps you need further disciplinary action, or perhaps…another slap?” With that, another slap, this time across the other cheek, and a similar howl of agony echoed the room. “Much better. I think now you are ready to proceed.”

Slinking to the table, taking My time, I retrieved the keys that would release his wrists and ankles from the metal X that held him kneeling. Knowing the condition his body would be in from holding that humble position for so long, I was prepared to allow him a moment or two to enjoy the sensation of blood rushing into the extremities, of oxygen flowing into the stiffened muscles. He would enjoy those sensations, however, with his face firmly embedded in the carpet.

“Thank you, Madame, is always appropriate, slave, when given a reprieve from punishment”, I casually mentioned to him. Through his gasps of breath, as I shoved him to the floor with My booted foot, I did hear him thank Me.

“Now, stretch out your arms and open your legs wide, work some life back into your muscles.” Climbing onto his back, knowing My heels were digging into his flesh, I let him understand that he was merely an object, nothing more than space beneath My feet. “There now. Feeling better?” “Yes, Madame,” he grunted. “Thank You, Madame.”

I stepped off his back and began to circle him. “Now, three hours ago I asked you why you had opened My private armoire, why you had invaded My privacy. Your response that you wanted to gaze upon My wardrobe is inappropriate, in fact, you are inappropriate. You have every opportunity to see My wardrobe when you replace the garments I have worn. I suggest there is another reason. You were not prepared to answer these charges now earlier this evening…are you ready now?”

“Please, Madame, really, I just wanted to look at the garments, I wanted to see them, nothing more. I promise you, I meant no disrespect.” This pathetic reply brought a swift kick to his thigh. “Then why were items not in their original resting place? Tell Me that?” This was accentuated by another kick to the thigh. “I only want to look…” “Enough! This is getting us nowhere.”

Dragging him by his collar, he was placed at the post, hands shackled above his head. His feet were placed in cuffs, and attached to the spreader bar. He knew he was about to be whipped, it was the only possible course I had to follow. He knew this position was for whipping, knew it very well. It had been a long time since he has displeased Me enough to earn him a whipping, and the fear of the past, mingled with his fear of the moment was present in his eyes. “Madame, please, I’ll confess. I’ll tell you what I did, please, let me tell you everything.”

“Oh, yes, you are going to tell Me everything, but you will take the whipping as well. You had time enough to speak earlier. Now, we do it My way.” Moving purposefully to the wall where the whips hung, I chose wisely for the occasion. A heavy 4 foot length of coiled black leather, ending in a 4 inch pointed tongue.

Stepping close to his back, pressing My breasts into his spine, caressing his nipple with My right hand, running the nails back and forth across the flesh, I whispered in his ear to cry out, scream, yell, if he felt the urge. Hold nothing back, just remember to breathe. “I will stay My hand when you are sufficiently chaste, and not a moment sooner.”

Feeling Me so close, his breath deepened, slowed just a bit. When I was sure I hade his complete attention, I moved back to striking distance, and the first crack landed on his upper back, leaving a welt which glowed red instantly. Bring My arm back a second time, another welt was raised, this next to the first.

Watching his head Jerk about with each new assault on the flesh assured Me he was still with Me, still focusing on each stroke. However, no sound was leaving his lips, barely and intake of air. Facing him, he looked deeply into My eyes for some sign of forgiveness. Too soon for that, and I thrust my forefinger deeply into his mouth. “Darling, you are so silent, and yet a moment ago, you were begging to speak volumes to Me…have you changed your mind already?” I withdrew My finger, just as he was beginning to greedily suck upon it. “No, Madame. I thought you would prefer if I took Your whip silently.”

Moving in closer, inches from his face, feeling his breath on My forehead, trailing My nails from his ear to his throat, across his cheek, lightly checking his lips…”Why do you thing that?”

To see him merely shake his head, not having an adequate response, I returned to My previous position. Five perfectly laid strokes in rapid succession hit his back. The sweat was beading on his skin, and the sheen was glistening in the candlelight. “I know when you are lying to Me, slave. Your eyes do not meet Mine. You were caught in the act of fondling My clothing. I know you well enough to realize you were not thinking of them on. Still, you were in a place that, at that moment, you had no reason to be.” Through this inquisition, the whip continually makes its mark, the welts – numerous and tingling now with blood. “Unless you are laying out fresh garments, or returning what I have worn, you do not belong in that armoire. Since you did not ask permission to open the doors, I assume you were hoping not to be caught. I trusted you with My privacy…and you betrayed Me.”

As the whip continued to rain down upon his raped flesh, he was openly sobbing, but the word ‘mercy’ never left his lips. A betrayal of trust is distressing at the least, and heartbreaking at worst. He was aware I could have easily terminated his service, rather than expend this energy. His punishment was because I care enough to correct his errant behavior. I am always fair when administering a punishment. He knows I will end it in due time. Punishment taken on the back is a punishment for a man, not a boy, like a spanking or paddling. My slave knows I see him as a man, a servant, yes – but still a man. A whipping must be delivered with respect to the person receiving it. As My own breath comes heavier now, My own cleavage moistened with My perspiration, My face glowing almost as much as his back, I steady My arm. One step, two step…facing him again, encouraging him to speak.

“Please Madame, may I now speak to you? Please allow me to tell You why I opened Your armoire.” His face was dripping with a combination of swear and tears of pain and remorse. Remorse at having broken My trust, and surely not remorse at being caught. No, this was a look of repentance.

Sinking into an overstuffed chair directly across from him, draping the whip across my lap, I allowed a moment for each of us to compose ourselves. All the while, he continued to quietly plead, “please Madame,” over and over again.

I finally rose, released his hands and feet, and bade him to crawl to My chair. Upon seating Myself again, I offered him a drink of water. Watching him drink hastily, with shaking hands, I waited for him to show signs he was ready to confess. His head lowered, his naked flesh shining, his hand beginning to flutter about nervously, he begins…

“Yes, Madame, I was in Your armoire, in a place I had no right to be. I know when I am allowed and not allowed in there. I didn’t ask permission to open the doors. I couldn’t help myself.” Ahh, now it comes. I will sit silently and witness it spill from his mouth. He looked up to see My reaction to his last sentence, and saw none. He continued. “I couldn’t, You have been so busy lately, so busy. It has been days since we had a meal together.” Although it was beginning to seem like he was placing blame on Me for his indiscretion, I did not interrupt him at this time. I could tell there was ever so much more to come. “I was lonely, and missed spending time with You. I couldn’t help it, but I needed to smell You, to feel the lace, caress the silk and feathers, needed to breathe deeply of You, to feel You close, even if only in my mind. I’m not saying You have neglected me, not at all, I just wanted more. Please forgive me, although I understand You may not. Please, please, I am sorry. I did not mean to offend You”

Tick tock, tick tock. What a loud sound from Madame’s clock. Naturally, he was forgiven, all that was left was the saying of it. My thumb to wipe the remains of the tears from his eyes, bringing My  palm towards his lips, encouraging him to kiss gently, I speak the words he longs to hear. “With a promise that this will never happen again, you are forgiven, and we shall not speak on this incident again.” Through his kisses to My hands, he promised, as I knew he would.

Gently pushing his head towards My feet, watching him kiss the boot, the toe, the heel, the instep, the ankle, I knew he worshipped Me. Watching him move up towards the calf, the knee, slowly up, very slowly, I urged him to breathe deeply, to enjoy what he had been seeking while it was being offered.

One step, two step, getting closer….