Let the Punishment…

She remembered each transgression. She let them scroll through her mind as she waited. Nervously, she bit her lip. Stopped herself. Outwardly, at least, she wanted to project a calm demeanor. Inwardly, she was quaking.

There was the time she’d messed up the laundry. Didn’t realize the little one had left her red crayon in her pocket, and it came out all over His crisp white work shirt, his light gray socks, and his jockey shorts. He’d been pretty steamed about the shirt, but was even more annoyed about his white jockeys covered with pinky-red dots. She’d thought they were hilarious. Until he’d had her hold her arms out, and he pegged every ruined piece onto her flesh. Each nipple held a sock, held there tightly by clothes pins. On her back, his shirt was pegged, the flesh at her shoulders pulled tightly and clipped, the shirt hanging by the shoulder seams.  Her legs had been pulled wide apart and held with the spreader bar he rarely used, and the two pair of underwear were hung one to each of her cuntlips. He made her stand there for the length of a dryer load, his living, breathing clothing rack, wracked with the dual pains of failure and pinched flesh. After the load was ‘done’ he pulled each garment firmly, eliciting a sharp tug of pain and a permanent reminder…always check the pockets.

Then there was the time she’d forgotten to fill the gas tank before his trip. He’d dressed her like a pony girl, something she hated with a passion, and taken her to a play party at a private estate, where she was forced to provide  rides. Holding the side bars of the special cart, she ‘pranced’ around the courtyard, to the amusement of the guests. He, of course, was last, and demanded a very long ride…both in the cart, and in her ass, afterwards.

The little things, he would instruct, help with, or simply ignore, so her life was not one of expected perfection. No, it really was the biggest things he would be upset with.

The phone rang. With a nervous jump in her belly, she answered it.

“Yes?”

“So, you forgot to call the van lines and have the limo come get me at the airport?”

“Yes. I-I had the dates confused, I-”

He cut her off.

“Is the baby with your Mother as I asked?”

“Yes. She said she would be happy to take care of her all weekend. She even took today off of work …she said Friday was her slow day anyway…” she ran out of steam, and listening to the silence on the other end of the phone, she shut up.

“Come down and open the door, cunt.”

She flew down the stairs, opened the door. There He stood, his bags on the front stoop. Beside him, his best friends, Tom and Nathan. They looked at her nude body in open appreciation.

“You really fucked up, you know,” He said quietly  as he moved into the house, his friends right behind.

Patting her on the ass as he passed her in the hall, he sent her back upstairs to wait for her punishment. 

It would fit the crime.

She was fucked.