Did the Punishment Fit the Crime?

Did the Punishment Fit the Crime?


“Pull down your trousers and get on your hands and knees!”

Dressed in a smart business jacket and short, tailored skirt, you looked as if you’d just walked in from a high-powered board-room meeting. I’d just walked in from work myself and was looking forward to a stiff drink. I'd never seen you like this before, and couldn’t help but hesitate. Were you serious?

“On your hands and knees, trousers down. I’m not going to ask again.”

One hand was on your hip; the other held a long, black leather belt – one of my belts. You spoke with an edge to your voice. I obeyed, my fingers fumbling a little over my trousers, surprised at you assertiveness and confidence.

You walked around me in a slow, deliberate circle, the belt slapping regularly against your stockinged thigh.

“I have a bone to pick with you. You have misbehaved, and now you are to be punished. You know why, don't you? Tell me what you have done.”

“No. Nothing. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me.”

“Quiet! It wasn’t nothing… and it was you. First, on your last visit, you forced yourself on me, ripping the clothes from my body and burying your face in my crotch. No foreplay, just raw desire… your raw desire. Thinking only of yourself.”

The belt smacked hard against my right cheek. I yelped with pain. Your circling began again.

“Second, the time before, you pushed me up against the wall, and held me there while you plunged your hand up my dress and felt me up… pushing thumb and fingers inside my knickers and playing with yourself with your other hand – until you came all over me. You came. Thinking of yourself... again.”

The belt slapped hard against my tensed left cheek, as my cock hardened with the memory of the feeling of your moist, erect clit between my fingers.

“Third, you told me your fantasy, and now that image is in my head: my vibrating myself to orgasm while you wanked over my writhing body – in full view of the couple glued to the window across the street. This image keeps coming back to me, usually at the most inconvenient times, and it drives me to playing with myself in most inappropriate places.”

The slap was harder this time, and across both buttocks.

"So. I've decided that it is time you were punished."

You crouched before me, lifting my head up by the hair. I caught a glimpse of the red knickers beneath your miniskirt, barely covering your mound. I got still harder and a drop of honey oozed out.

“Sit up!” you ordered.

I sat on the rough carpet, my eyes devouring your tightly constrained breasts, pushed up by a lacy corset or bra. You pulled my trousers from my legs, yanked my shirt off, and ran your hands across my chest, lightly scratching me with sharp fingernails and pinching my nipples. They were already erect and a shudder went right through me, direct to the tip of my now straining penis.

You pointed to a dining room chair. Naked, I sat down on it, feeling the cool leather against my skin. You pulled my arms behind the back of the chair and used the belt to strap my hands together. Tethered like this, without the use of my hands, I felt more vulnerable than I could have imagined. My erection was exposed; my whole body was exposed – and defenceless.

“Now you will pay. Now I will have my way with you. Now I will implant some images to torment you. Nothing more or less than you deserve.”

You knelt down in front of me, so that I could see right down on your breasts, pushed up with a seductive cleavage. You bent down to slide your mouth down over my straining cock – right to the back of your throat. Your hand slid up between my thighs and squeezed my balls, slid down my perineum and encircled my anus. I moaned as I gave up any attempt at self-control, as I could feel the end of my cock engorging still more and twitches starting where your finger was circling.

Abruptly you stopped and sat bolt upright, surveying my body up and down as if calculating what your were going to do next. The twitching at the root of my cock started to subside – I’d been so close to coming – and instead several drops of precum honey slid down over the purple head of my cock.

You stood up. With hands on hips, you was regarding me dismissively, as if I were a criminal awaiting sentencing. With slow, deliberate moves, you peeled off your jacket and wriggled out of the miniskirt – revealing a black lace suspender belt, g-string and black stockings. You adjusted your breasts in the cups of the corset and your hands drifted down your front, caressing the edge of your g-string and feeling your mound through the silky material, toying with your clitoris and obviously enjoying the sensations.

You seemed to have decided what you were going to do next; or maybe you had it planned from the start and were just playing me along. You shoved me from the chair on to my knees. My sweaty skin peeled from the leather chair. With the flat of your hand in the middle of my bare back, you impelled me forward on my knees so my chest rested on the seat of the sofa, hands still tethered behind my back. I could see nothing and felt even more exposed and vulnerable.

I felt your hands roaming lightly over my buttocks. I tensed as a single finger strayed over my anus. Then there was a shock of something cold dripping down from my back into the crack of my bum. Several slippery fingers started circling my anus and kneading my balls; very slippery and now warm. Then one finger slid inside me, insistently pushing against my instinctive, clenching resistance until it gave way.

Then another finger joined, and it was as if your whole hand was massaging, teasing, pressing and slipping inside. And my buttocks, balls, cock and bum were smeared and dripping, with your fingers circling, probing, sliding and my body engulfing, absorbing, accommodating.

A thick strap-on dildo was suddenly dangling before my eyes. My throat dried. I swallowed hard. That’s large. I closed my eyes tight shut, trying to block out the size of the phallus I’d just seen. I could feel its cool, smooth surface becoming part of the warm slippery massaging of my buttocks, inner thighs, balls, cock and anus.

I could no longer detect what was finger, what was thumb, what was fist, palm or dildo against my skin. It was all merging into one extreme sensation. But when the dildo started to push inside me, I could tell what that was alright! I clenched closed instinctively.

You pulled out a little… dripped more cold lube, and then pushed in again - firmly, slowly, insistently – a little further this time. Again I clenched involuntarily.

Out again, and then back in again ever so slowly, inch by inch, even further than before. I could feel myself starting to give in to the pressure. Perspiration spread across my chest and forehead as I was stretched wider than I’d ever been before. I cried out, but it wasn’t really discomfort. It was a warm pleasure-pain, a deep, all-absorbing sensation. I was shocked by how much I liked it.

I had no defences left. Just complete abandonment. An incredibly warm, vulnerable, absorbing out-of body experience, with honey dripping all over the place from the tip of my throbbing cock.

“Take me! Fuck me!” I don’t know if I was saying this over and over, or just thinking it.  With the dildo still pushed deep inside me, I could feel you wriggling in to the harness and adjusting it to your hips. The fronts of your thighs were pushing against the backs of my legs, and your suspenders brushed against my bum and my tethered hands in the small of my back as you gyrated your hips.

I felt your cock moving inside me as you started slowly, rhythmically pulling out just a little and pushing insistently back in. A bit further each time. I felt one hand on my back, pushing my chest down on to the sofa, and the other hand slide between my legs. I was pinned down, immobilized, and completely in your power.

Holding my penis in your palm, you collected the dripping honey and smeared it over my cock and balls. Sweat broke out on the back of my neck and the top of my head! I was dangerously close to ejaculating all over the sofa cushions. Then you bent forward over my back. I could feel your breasts brushing against my back, and the slightly scratchy lace of your bra. You circled your hands round my chest and latched on to both my nipples, pinching and tweaking, as your hips continued to plunge with firm regular strokes.

With a great groan of release, I let go all at once, coming in a rapid crash of sensations as your thighs thumped against mine, and your hips against my buttocks. I couldn’t move for a moment, catching my breath as you carefully pulled away. I shuddered as your dildo slid out past my stretched sphincter. I remained draped over the sofa, waiting for my head to stop spinning.

After a while, you broke the silence: “I am nearly satisfied with that punishment. You may kneel up now.”

You stood before me, crotch right up in front of my face, my hands still tethered behind me, as you unclipped your stockings and peeled down your g-string, to reveal a completely naked mound. You held my head and rubbed your pubic bone and lips against my lips and nose, tantalizing me with the feel, taste and smell of you. You lay back on the sofa and spread your legs to reveal an engorged clitoris; dark, erect, exposed.

“Now suck me off!” you ordered.

I should have been getting used to your assertiveness by now, but it still came as a shock. I started, and then bent down obediently, my hands still behind my back. You clasped my head between you hands and pulled me down between your legs, pushing my face in hard against your grinding hips. Your hands held tight to the back of my head, to keep it in position as your grinding hips moved your clit firmly against my lips, nose and chin. I strained my tongue to probe deep inside you as I felt your muscles tensing up, and then the wonderful throbbing as your pulsating contractions encircled and squeezed my tongue.

My punishment had finally been discharged.

For now.