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Master Knows Best

Krystenah is punished after violating bedtime and backsassing Master over text.
I got the text on Thursday. It read: "the next time I see you I am going to spank you like never before and leave marks with the belt.”

A shiver went through me at the thought. I knew I had a spanking coming when I had messaged Master after my bedtime the night before, but I had planned to charm my way out of a harsh spanking by telling him I violated his rule for a good reason--I missed him. While this was true, it was irrelevant to my master. My plan appeared to be crumbling before I had had a chance to use it! I texted him back, anyway to try to lessen my punishment.

I said, “I know I violated my bedtime, Sir, but it was just so I could wish you a good night.” I hit send and hoped this would spare me from an extended punishment session.

His reply came quickly. “I know, pet, but you know when you break my rules, you have to be punished. No more discussion on this.”

My next two texts, (“I’m scared, Sir.” And "Does it have to be the belt, Sir?”) did not get replies. I knew I was making it worse for myself, not better, but I felt almost compelled to argue my case or try to get sympathy.

All day Friday I thought about my Master's text:” I will spank you like never before and I will leave marks with the belt”....”you have to be punished”...”marks with the belt”...”like never before...”I found it very hard to concentrate at work. I also found that by lunchtime, I had to change my panties because the thought was getting me so aroused, I had soaked through the crotch of my panties.

At home, I took off my clothes and feverishly cleaned the apartment. Ever since the day Master had had me re-clean the apartment to his specifications in the nude, I had found that nude was the only way I could clean it. In the kitchen, on all fours crawling backward, as I wiped away the spills and scuffmarks, I thought again about the punishment that was waiting for me.

I showered and dressed as Master had specified: the blue tank top with spaghetti straps and the brown mini skirt--no panties. I fussed as I waited and wondered, "Would it sting? Would it burn? How would it compare to the spoon or hairbrush or hand?" I heard the key in the lock and I rushed to the foyer and kneeled. Master walked in and patted my head. He took a brief tour of the apartment and settled on the couch.

"Come here," he said.

I crawled across the room and laid my head in his lap. Master stroked my hair and then pulled out his phone. He placed the screen next to my face.

"Do you recognize this, slave?" It was our conversation over text.

I swallowed. "Yes. Sir," I said.

"Read to me my last message to you." I looked up at him with pleading eyes. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. I knew what it said, but I looked at the screen. 

“I know, pet, but you know when you break my rules, you have to be punished. No more discussion on this.” I read.

"And yet...you sent me two more texts, didn't you? Read them to me."

My voice shook as I read, “'I’m scared, Sir.'”

“AND?" Master prompted.

I look back to the screen and read,” 'does it have to be the belt, Sir?'” "I'm sorry, Sir, I--"

"Shhh," he said. "After I told you you were to be punished in the way I deemed the most fit and after I said 'No more discussion', you decided you knew better than your Master. It appears that you need a reminder about who knows best, my slut.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I am going to spank your ass and then I am going to whip your ass with the belt. Since you are going to cry, I am going to gag you. I want you to memorize what you wrote to me on the text. I am going to get your gag. Wait here."

He got up and went into the bedroom to get the gag. My mind was swimming and I had a sinking feeling. I had known I was compounding my punishment when I wrote the texts, but I had done it anyway. Why had I done it? Did I crave a whipping that much? I didn’t know why I pushed my Master this way. What I did know was that now all I wanted was to be punished to please and appease my Master.

He came into the room with the gag in his hand and sat back down on the couch.
"Open that slutty, naughty mouth, slave," he said, and pushed the ball into my mouth. He attached the strap around my head and pulled me over his knee. He told me to place my hands together at the small of my back and he clamped my legs in his. He lifted my skirt and folded it over my hands. For good measure, he held my upturned skirt and hands in one of his hands as he raised the other over his head and brought it down savagely on my right cheek. Immobilized, I surrendered to his strokes, which were hard, deliberate, and quick. Within moments, my ass was stinging and I was moaning against the gag.

Master was not pausing to caress or scratch my ass, but continued to assail it with strike after strike. After covering the area of both cheeks, he landed some fierce slaps on my thighs. I tensed and struggled, but he continued with renewed passion. When he was finished, he set me on the floor. He told me to turn away from him and kneel with my head on the floor. He said he wanted to admire his work.

I did as I was told and positioned my punished, throbbing ass toward him. My cunt was sopping wet from the spanking and my asshole was on full display. I could never be this vulnerable in front of any other person.

I don’t know how long I lay there, but I prayed that somehow I was pleasing Master and that he was enjoying the sight of his slave's punished ass in the air, her face against the floor. He stood up and walked over to me. He stood in front of me and told me to kneel. I did it. He told me to take off his belt. I carefully unbuckled it and began pulling it out of its loops. I handed it up to him. He doubled it ran it along my face, over my shoulders, across my tits.

“Are you ready for your whipping, slave?” He asked me. I nodded my eyes hungry with desire. He pulled me up and led me to the wall. He told me to press my hands against it and to press my ass out. He told me to spread my legs wider. My skirt fell over my ass and he began striking me with the belt. The sensation was not unpleasant. I felt like a naughty girl being punished by daddy. My own father had never used a belt on me, but now that Master was using it, I felt as if I were transported back to my childhood, to the first power differential, and that I was being punished for forgetting my place. I tilted my ass up so that I could meet the belt with my ass. But then Master removed my skirt.

The air hitting my ass startled me back to the reality that my Master was whipping his slave’s ass as punishment for disobedience. I shrank away from the stripes which stung with an intensity that sent shivers through my legs and I had to concentrate to keep from shaking. Master beat me on my back and legs and ass. As he whipped me, he asked me, “how many words were in the first text you sent me after I said ‘no more discussion on this’, slut?” my mind groped for the answer, I shook my head, trying to remember, but then the words flashed in front of my eyes. He paused and removed the gag to get my answer.

“Three, Sir?” I asked.

“Correct,” he said, and replaced the gag. “So you are going to get three hard ones on the left, three on the right and three across both.”

I said, Yes, Sir, against the gag, but it came out distorted and mangled.

The stripes cracked against the walls and I howled as they landed. I feared the next question.

“And how many words were in the second text you sent me after I had told you, ‘No more discussion on this?'” He removed the gag once more.

“Eight, Sir,” my voice cracked. I had no idea how I could take any more. My eyes were stinging, sweat was beading along my hairline and I felt like I was on the verge of collapse.

“I am going to leave your gag off so you can count these, slave,” he said and I counted as he laid the stripes across my right cheek and then my left and then across both. I was crying at the end, as Master had promised. He pulled me off the wall and spun me into his arms. He wiped my eyes and kissed me hard.

I felt his erection pressing against me and I fumbled to unbutton his jeans. I pushed them down, not waiting for permission. He kissed me as he crab-walked me into the bedroom. As he sat me on the bed, I flinched and he pushed me back. He began fingering my cunt, which was now completely flooded and dripping. “Slave enjoys getting punished I see,” he said and bent down to kiss my throbbing clit. I moaned at the mixture of pain and intense pleasure as Master licked my bead with tiny quick strokes as he continued to finger my cunt. I was tossing my head back and forth, riding the crest of an orgasm I did not have permission to have. Master looked up at me and said, “don’t you dare cum.” He stood up and thrust his cock deep into my cunt.

He rocked me against the blanket and friction intensified the burn from the spanking. I grasped Master around his hips and drew him closer as he stared into my eyes and fucked his slave’s pussy as deep as he could. I began pleading as I felt the waves inside me threaten to crest.

“Please let me cum, Master. Please cum inside your slave’s pussy. Please, Master, I need your cum. I need to feel your cum fill my slutty pussy. Please Master, please!” He pulled almost all the way out and then thrust roughly deep inside me again. He continued to tease me until I was pulling at my hair and panting as I continued to beg.

Finally, he tensed and whispered, “cum, slut,” as he released his cream inside me. The walls of my cunt began to spasm as I let myself fall over the edge of the orgasm. He lay across my body and kissed my neck and face and ear. "Will you listen to me next time, slave?" he asked me.

"Yes, Master," I answered and we both chose to believe that lie if only for the time it took him to ask me and for me to answer.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than Lushstories.com with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.


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