It seems like me and @Joschek are clicking like crazy these days. Joschek (love you so dang much!) wrote a really fun and shockingly accurate story about me being punished by a Master for some non specific offense. Totally a fiction because, as Y’all know, I’m always on my best behavior. Right? Right!
Anyway, I took his great story and inserted my own thought bubbles to go along. My parts are intended. Hope Y’all aren’t sick of my Literature posts yet. Tee Hee!
—-—-
Josephine had to be punished.
For real this time.
She would just continue to act up otherwise—to test boundaries. Any form of corporal punishment wouldn’t suffice as a lesson, or worse: she might just enjoy it in the end.
Luckily, he knew her well enough by now.
“Master had been looking at me with that sneaky pre-punishment look that he always makes and doesn’t know he does it. I know I’m supposed to tell him when I become aware of things that could affect my training, and knowing his “tells” surely fits into that category. But I’m not telling! I mean, that’s more of a guideline than a rule, right? And besides, anticipating my Master makes me a better submissive. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. Tee Hee!”
He’d told her to find her old cheerleader’s uniform, and when she returned and was told to put it on, he saw her hesitation with delight. That reaction was exactly what he had been hoping for. It meant she felt uncomfortable wearing it now. Maybe she thought she was too old for those ridiculous pleated skirts and crop tops.
“I hate this fucking uniform. I hate everything about it, except for the word Kentucky printed across the chest. Kentucky is, as everyone knows, the most perfect place on God’s green Earth. But cheerleading and this uniform can both go to hell. They’re a symbol to me of my captivity. And before you say it, yeah, I’m all about captivity if you’re talking about ropes and chain and dog crates and stuff. In fact, those kinds of captivity actually release me to be myself. My TRUE self. Cheerleading and beauty pageants and polite society’s stick up its ass about BDSM is captivity. But Master gave an order, so I comply like a good girl.”
That absolutely wasn’t true.
After she was done changing, she stood before him—a perfect specimen of this feminine archetype, like the distilled essence of every American dad who, returning with a beer at halftime, suddenly remembers he has a dick and that college girls exist.
In other words: she looked amazing.
But this wasn’t the time to tell her that. This time, he wanted her uncomfortable above all else.
He simply gave the instruction he expected her to follow:
“Be still and follow me. Clear?”
Tina thought, “Yes, Master, I’m crystal clear. This fucking costume sucks, which you KNOW. But I really like field trips and the last one had me strung up in a tree with my massage wand attached to my pussy, so I’m totally good to go on this one with you.”
“Lead the way Master!” Tina grinned.
Those kinds of orders weren’t new to her. He didn’t expect any response other than the one he got:
“Yes, Master.”
He didn’t care for this honorific; it rang hollow to him. But some people attached strong meaning to it, and Josephine was one of them. You could almost see her snap into her preferred role, as if she had put a spell on herself just by uttering the word.
And he liked few things more in the world than watching her perform this magic on herself—lowering her eyes to the floor before her and simply being: His.
“I love that face he makes when I respond to him as my Master. At first, I thought he was smug. Then I decided he was satisfied. But lately, I don’t know if it’s either of those. The weirdest thing. It’s like he’s happy for ME.”
As he left the house, he knew she’d follow him without hesitation to his car. As he got into the driver’s seat and drove away, he knew she’d get in behind him without question. He watched her in the mirror as she sat still. He wondered at what point hesitation would creep in.
“ADHA is the worst. I gotta focus. MASTER might expect me to notice something on the way. He’s always giving me fun ways to challenge myself and expand my potential. I am such a lucky subbie!”
So far, everything was perfectly aligned with her tastes: being taken on an adventure, not knowing what would happen to her—she had told him before, that was almost her favorite thing in the world.
But at what point would hesitation set in? He had to be prepared for that.
“Maybe he’s going to show me off to his friends. I absolutely LOVE meeting Master’s friends. Although less so in this outfit. Oh well. Wherever we’re going, I’m sure it’s somewhere fun!”
Arriving at the stadium, he scanned for Mark, who worked security there. Soon, they were ushered through back doors and backstage hallways. Josephine didn’t seem too bothered—after all, she was just a cheerleader in a football stadium. Perfectly plausible.
But when he opened the door and led her inside, he saw the first flicker of reluctance.
She had realized they were in the home team’s locker room.
“Haven’t been to the stadium since college. Are we doing a photo shoot? Maybe a bondage photo shoot! Hell yes! I bet we’ll do a suspension on the goal posts. Jesus. That’s going to be fabulous. No wonder he had me wear this terrible outfit. Thank you Master. My Master is the best!”
He didn’t give her time to dwell on the feeling. He firmly took both her arms, wound red jute rope around them, and guided her into a kneeling position. Then, he did the same to her ankles and thighs, connecting those bindings to her arms, completing the hogtie. It was minimal, but it would suffice.
“Or not, I guess. I haven’t gotten tied up in a locker room since high school. And that was with athletic training tape and not ropes. Fucking bitch Gloria was so jealous that she wasn’t captain. Nobody let me out until the janitor found me after the weekend. But I didn’t tell on Gloria. I heard she would up opening a dungeon as a professional Dominatrix. Good for Gloria!”
Lifting her up by the connecting ropes like a slightly oversized handbag, he set her down on her stomach on the bench in the middle of the room. He had been so focused on the ropework that this was the first time he truly looked at her.
She was about to say something.
To keep her from breaking her silence—and to speed things along—he simply ordered:
“Open your mouth wide.”
The realization of what was in store for her at the end of this particular adventure was visibly taking hold, but still, she complied.
“Hang on. There’s Master’s ‘punishment face’ again. Oh Fuck! Don’t be what I think this is. Don’t be what I think this is.”
With vehemence, he placed the metal ringgag in her mouth, forcing it open even wider, and buckled the strap firmly behind her head.
Now she was trying to speak, starting to strain against the ropes.
That was fine. They were almost done.
Tina thought, “I’ve been meaning to tell you about this thing you do, Master. I just haven’t really had the chance. I totally should have found time. Things just keep getting in the way. Can we go back home, you can lock me in that awful cage under the bed that you think I can’t stand, and we can just deal with it that way? Does that work, Master?”
He took the prepared cardboard sign and hung it around her neck. He had second-guessed himself about whether the sign was really necessary—but they absolutely needed to be sure no one thought Josephine was here by accident.
As he stood up, he took one last good look at her as her panic peaked into desperation.
“Let this be a lesson to you,” he said neutrally, while internally savoring the sight of Josephine—now the embodiment of agony.
“Dang it, this is going to suck. Freaking football players! All they want is the 2-hole. Probably because it’s small enough that their steroid-shrunken peckers feel bigger. Master! Please! I’m sorry. Come on Master! Master! Grrrrrr!”
He made his way to the door.
With the last ounce of her energy, her muffled screams pushed through the gag:
“Ghlease don’t go!”
He just closed the door.
The sound of the stadium swelled.
The game was over. Any second now, the players would return to their locker room.