Punishing Anabelle

The first time I punished Anabelle, I didn't really want to. I knew she was different. I knew she could take it. And I didn't know if I could dish out more than she could take.

But her transgression could not be ignored. And her punishment could not wait. I opened the door and went in.

She was standing at attention in the middle of the room, legs spread wide and hands clasped behind her collared neck. "Kneel," I commanded. She dropped to her knees and repositioned her hands, still staring down between her spread thighs. "What were slave's commands?"

"Master's slave was given three commands. Command One: stand at attention while alone. Command Two: permit entry to anyone who wished to enter. Command Three: assume usage position while not alone." Good. She had understood perfectly.

"Was slave commanded to look at anyone who entered? Or to speak?" Of course not. Or else I'd be rewarding her rather than punishing her.

"No, Master," she replied instantly. She knew what was coming. And she was ready.

"And did slave look at someone who entered? And speak?" I already knew the answers. Unbeknownst to her, I had been watching. When he had finished using her, just like Frank and Ken before him, she had turned around, looked at Tim and practically begged him to make her cum.

"Yes, Master," she answered.

"Yes," I said. "Yes indeed. And who did slave look at?"

"Master's slave looked at the third person who entered," she said.

"Yes, slave looked at Master's friend, Tim." She should know his name, the one she violated her contract over and the one she was about to be punished over. Severely. "And slave spoke to Tim. What did slave say?"

She said nothing. She knew I knew, and nothing would make it any better or worse. "Master's slave requests punishment to assuage slave's guilt."

Letting the lack of a possessive go, I laid the riding crop between her knees, dropped the short length of rope on the carpet in front of her, and set the paddle across her hands and thighs before pulling the blindfold out of my back pocket and placing it over her eyes. "Kneel to the whip," I commanded. She instantly crossed her arms at the wrists and slid them forward across the carpet while leaning ever forward, until her crossed arms were extended fully above her head and her entire upper torso was almost flat against the carpet between her thighs. Jeezus, was she limber.

I looked her over for any signs of imperfection in her position. Finding none, but wanting to make a point, I raised my voice: "Slave can't even obey the simplest command! Bracelets! Behind the back!" She understood, quickly crossing her wrists behind the back. I grabbed the rope and bound her, then moved around behind her, pulling the black permanent marker out of my back pocket. Afterward, she would be unable to wash the targets off, not only due to the marker being permanent, but also because of the raw, painful skin. The targets would remain as reminders of her insolence and the painful punishment it brought for many days after the pain subsided and the skin healed.

Mentally I divided her ass into quadrants and quickly drew four targets, then reached down between her thighs and, unable to see, attempted to draw a fifth set of three concentric circles on her shaved vulva. Capping the marker and tossing it on the floor, I stepped back and admired my work. "Such perfect targets," I said to nobody in particular.

I quickly knelt beside her, and began with my hand and the upper right quadrant. SMACK! I felt a bit of sting and heat in my hand. Precisely five seconds later I moved on to the upper left: SMACK! Five seconds later I reddened the lower left, and five seconds after that, the lower right. For the next five minutes, I rotated through the quadrants every five seconds, reddening her ass with slaps of ever increasing intensity until my hand was on fire.

Then I switched hands.

Several minutes later, I began to get responses out of her: moans. She was telling me she could take it.

That was fine. I knew that already. I alternated hands twice more, each time stopping only when the pain in my hands became intolerable. Her moans subsided, and I could tell she was starting to pay attention to the pain, focusing more and more on it with each round. I stopped and looked: every quadrant was bright red, and I could already see a few welts forming. It was painful. My cock was starting to get hard.

But I knew she could take more.

I walked around and retrieved the paddle, then dragged it down her back as I returned behind her. I had only ever used this paddle as a prop, as an implicit threat of what might happen to her were she to disobey a command. It was intimidatingly solid. I picked it up and began extracting cries from her.

When her cries turned to sobbing and, occasionally, screams, and the bright red spots on her ass cheeks turned to solid patches of welts, I stopped. My cock was throbbing.

"Offer your Master pleasure! Raised sulu!" She did as commanded, rolling onto her back, spreading her legs wide and raising her hips as far off the carpet as she could, given her wrists were bound behind her back. I removed the blindfold. It was wet on the inside. I looked at her eyes. They were red and wet.

"Master's slave wishes to pleasure Master!" she cried out.

I grabbed my cock. "Slave has already pleasured Master. But Master could always use some more pleasure." I smiled at her, then grabbed the riding crop.

I slapped the inside of her thigh. "Wider!" I commanded. She complied.

I slapped the inside of her other thigh. "Wider!" I commanded again. She complied again.

I walked around and sat between her legs, examining the target I had drawn earlier. It was far from perfect. I grabbed the marker and touched it up. "That's better," I said, standing and stepping back.

"Time for slave to pleasure Master!"

I dropped the pen, walked over to her head and knelt above it, facing her feet. "The only way an insolent slave can pleasure her Master is by receiving her punishment properly." I grabbed my cock with my left hand, and began stroking it while slapping her pussy with the riding crop every five seconds. I had to be careful not to hit her too hard, so that I could take my time. I didn't want to raise welts. Not long after I noticed her mons starting to get bright red, she started whimpering, and occasionally crying out. I knew it was time to cum. I dropped the riding crop, switched my cock to my right hand, backed up just the right amount and seconds later dumped a huge load all over her face.

I continued stroking for another minute or so, then slapped her face with my cock while stroking it to make sure it was completely drained. Then I stood.

"Slave has received her punishment properly, and must be rewarded appropriately." I saw the faintest glimpse of a smile on her face.

Bad move. I could not let her get away with the slightest thing.

"Leash!" I commanded. She rolled over as quickly as she could with her hands still cuffed behind her back, then struggled to the proper kneeling position. I went to find her leash, then returned, clipping it to her collar.

"Stand!" I commanded. "Slave's reward is to spend the night with the symbol of Master's pleasure on her face." I looked at her, the faintest glimpse of a smile now on my face. "Chained in the basement. With bracelets."

I led her to the basement.