The Retribution

She was a little disappointed and a lot angry. He was behaving like a child. A spoilt rotten child. And that morning, he had crossed his limits. It was almost as if his subconscious was trying to assert whatever that was left of his neglected masculine control.

She knew that behavior on his part was mostly momentary and the next minute he had figured his folly. Still, it was not tolerable. Not punishing him then would set a wrong example for future conduct. She took training of her subs pretty seriously and it was his time to pay.

He was already kneeling beside the entrance for quite too long to be uncomfortable. She smiled slight as she noticed that for once he had assumed a perfect position. His body trembled slightly when he felt her eyes on him. She was a little proud that she had trained him well, in spite of the recent tragedy.

She instructed him to stand facing the huge ceiling to floor mirror that was a witness to many a good time between them. He was quick on his feet and assumed the required position again – facing the mirror, hands behind his back and feet shoulder width apart.

She pulled out her cane from the wardrobe, the one that usually never came out to play unless it was for punishment. The cane was tapered from a thick hand-grip at one end to a point at another, almost three feet long. She swished the cane through air as she walked closer to him. The cane made a wicked sound and his body gave an involuntary shudder as he remembered its feel on his body. He knew the cane’s fiery touch, knew how unforgiving it was.

She traced his sharp jaw line with the tip of the cane, dragging it down to his neck and chest. His body tensed, anticipating the absolute agony that would soon follow. She complied by flicking the tip against his right nipple and he flinched with delicious yet painful sting.

His flesh was beautifully turning red. He was so easy to mark.

She stepped forward, standing close yet not touching, whispering in his ear as her warm breath tickled his earlobe, “Tell me, what you are”

“I’m your servant, your slave, your slut… I’m your property to do with as you see fit. I’m nothing but a fucking piece of meat for you to use, however you choose.” He exhaled a sigh as he replied, feeling evidently excited by this self-abuse, and her enticing warmth, attracting him like a prey to his predator.

She pulled away, taking two steps back, asking loudly with a swish of cane in air, “Perfect. Now Tell me what I am to you”

“You are my lady, my master, my owner… Someone who has the power to punish me, fuck me, and torture me… any way you want. I exist only for your pleasure.” He screwed close his eyes at the sound of the cane cutting through air. Although scared, yet he was squirming with a craving that only she can fulfill.

She dragged the tip of the cane down from his torso to his groin, pausing only to tease him a little. She rubbed the tip of the cane on his hard member, he moaned and his hips gave a small thrust forward, subconsciously. She sharply flicked the cane on the underside of his balls. He groaned loudly, that blow was way harder than her usual.

She asked with a little contempt in her voice, “Haven’t I been sweet and gentle?”
Without giving him time to respond, she smacked his right thigh on the outside hard and continued, “Haven’t I given you pleasure?”

He nodded his head, with tears in his eyes. He was a bit confused as to where she was going with this string of questions.

Swish , A hard lash was delivered on his ass as she walked around him; “If I’m sweet and gentle it doesn’t mean that you could break any of MY RULES.”

Swish , another lash on the same burning section of his skin, “If I’m giving you pleasure it doesn’t mean that you could have at it when YOU WANT.”

The emphasis on the words in those two statements – he noticed and he understood. It wasn’t because of his act that morning; it was because of his aggression. He could very well have requested, or asked for permission before attempting anything with her.

He said quickly, clasping his hands behind his back tighter, pulling them up to his lower back, keeping them out of the way for her easy access to his ass, “yes, ma’am. I understand. I am sorry, it will not happen again, I swear.” For a moment he opened his eyes, looking at her reflection in the mirror, standing behind him – tall, firm and all business like. Their eyes met and he swiftly closed his, praying to her silently, to not be too harsh.

She asked, slowly but sternly, “Now tell me, what you deserve?”

“Anything you wish, Master”, He sounded scared, obvious to her calm anger.
“Correct. And that IS what you are always going to have… Everything I WISH to give you.” She said it in an icy voice.

“Turn around and bend over, Open your legs wide so that you can witness in the mirror what’s going to happen. Hold your knees with your palms for better support.” The instructions burst from her lips and he followed as soon as he heard them.

She continued. “You are going to have thirty lashes from this cane. Count each one and thank me for giving you this attention.” By now he had started feeling that numbness in his nerves that happened whenever she was super sadistic. But he complied immediately anyway, nodding his head, speaking softly, “Yes Master”

As he waited for the first blow, he tensed up, his teeth gritted in preparation, wondering how was he going to survive 30 lashes when last time 10 from the same cane had brought him to tears and he had promised her the world, to just stop with the cane.

She started his punishment. First lash was calculated, moderately hard, right across his buttocks. He breathed deep and started counting, “ONE. Thank you Master.”

He was determined to take his punishment bravely this time and not utter a syllable other than what he was supposed to. Though after the first 10 lashes, he was shuddering every time he saw her in the mirror, twisting her hand back to administer the cane’s strike. He closed his eyes, not braving to look at her, to feel the pain of the cane even before it touched him. His counting also became quieter and more drawn out. The colossal pain was affecting him.

She didn’t let up though. Just as she saw his eyes shut, she yelled, “Open your eyes and Speak Louder!” He shocked them open as she continued further, “I want to be able to hear you counting each stroke!”

“SIXTEEN. Thank you Master!” he screamed. “SEVENTEEN. Thank you Master!” The beatings were much harsher, making him shudder and yelp the count every time. She kept hitting, in a slow but firm rhythm, as the count finally reached 30 and his body relaxed briefly.

When she ordered him to kneel before her again, she noticed his lower lip was bleeding. She had seen that before, that was his reaction to the unbearable pain, the biting of his own lip to stop from screaming out loud.

She put the cane aside, and pulled him close, cradling him in her arms. He broke down in sobs at the intimacy and whispered, “Thank you for training this slave with the cane, Master.”

“Good boy,” She kissed him tenderly on his forehead and he cried quietly on her shoulder. “Now I know you won’t let me down again!!”


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