You were warned. How many times do we keep having to play the same game?  You love punishment and impact play but stil, I am the Dom. I am the one who sets the rules. While I am a Paternal Dom, and not sadistic by nature, there is only so far out of line you can be allowed to step. And so we find ourselves here. The coquettish grin on your face suggests to me that it's exactly where you knew and wanted that we would be.  Bratty is no way to go though life naughty girl.  

So, here we are. The twinkle of anticipation in your eye and the wetness of anticipation already begun. You, bound face down, ankles spread apart, eyes blindfolded, wrists tied, and a wide butt plug in your ass.

Me examining my now unlocked toy cabinet. Searching for inspiration from the instruments of discipline I use only for disobedient occasions. Riding crop, paddle clamps, nettles brush, clothespin collection, pinwheel, flogger, ahhhh......here we go. Just the thing. Well, two things. An anal hook with rigging and heavy riding crop. The fact they are your favorites is of no influence.  

Having found my choices my focus becomes clear. I set the rigging into the pulley and roll you beneath it. The sudden movement shocks you and you squirm and whimper. Locking you into place, I lower and attach the anal hook. I give it just enough slack that no tension remains and I can manipulate it however I want. I then remove your butt plug in one rough tug, and with no warning, hearing your stifled moan as your cavity empties. Taking advantage of your still gaping rectum, I immediately shove the ball joint of the hook into your hole and depress the lift button, and listen to the satisfying crank of the chains as the tether goes vertical. Realizing what is about to happen you begin to squirm even more, with your pussy dripping like a fish hauled out of water. Your noise becomes distracting so I ball-gag you as well. Then return to the lift, and watch with a satisfied eye as your body is lifted, ass first, into an inverted “V”.

I leave you there, your own weight and gravity beginning the lesson more forcefully than my words ever could. I turn to the music selector, crank bass, and choose to play the entirety of Pink Floyd’s The Wall. It’s length dictating the time of your punishment.  I look into your eyes and see that twinkle remain.  Pre-orgasmic bliss in your eyes.  

As you hang, suspended from your forbidden cavity, I wonder if this is enough to engender a behavioral change. Ten minutes in, as the music still plays, I lean to your ear and begin the words.

“Thirty,” I say, and you shiver in a good way. “Thirty violations in one day. You must have known I’d find out, even if you didn’t suspect the new nanny cam system.” The mere mention of video evidence seems to surprise you. Good, at least one of these aspects is new to you. "While I was away, and trusting you to take care, you disrespect me, my home, and yourself.” The wetting moans now overwhelm the ball gag. “I had to return early. Leave my colleagues to come clean up your mess. It will not stand. And as a lawyer I say, let the punishment fit the crime. Thirty for thirty."

And with that, I take the crop and land a full force of strikes against your hooked ass. Five severe blows in succession, the speed, and force of which crack the air, before they crack your bottom, and bring immediate straight-lined welts across you. Reversing angle I shift to the strap, and target your right cheek, much like a whip was brought down on a barnyard animal. Five direct hits with spotted red pricks dotting the raised welts. Then the left cheek with five for it. And then halt.

I wait for the work to take its effects. For the welts to raise, the dots to darken, the skin to purple.

The album continues to play. Our hour is drawing close. I reverse the order. Five leather hits on the left, five more on the right. As those take shape I lower you, the hook still tight, to the closest point of hover over your cart. Your eyes show we are approaching what your disobedient actions were all in aim for.  Your eyes show you are close to the sub-space you crave. 

I replay the video in my head. I relive your disobedience and resurface my disappointment and anger. And then, harder and with impact beyond any previously experienced in our sessions, you feel the full cropped force. Each hit with more airspeed and force than the last. You are owed five to get to our total of thirty. Not one is wasted. Straight across, with perfect angle, your ass hit like an anvil in a blacksmiths shop. The final strike so severe the crop actually breaks itself, as it breaks you. Sub space is reached and I can see in your eyes that your goal has been achieved.  Your soul is open to all as only impact play you desire can bring you. 

I look and you are twitching, deep in your own subspace. Disassociated from the severity. I wipe sweat from my brow as I lower you down. Your rear is pummeled and darkened and welted and raised in a purplish mess.

I remove your gag. I remove your blindfold. I release your ankles. I unblind your wrists. You are glassy-eyed and near-catatonic, though peaceful in your own way. I take cocoa butter and gently apply it as a salve on your battered bottom. Incomprehensible but satisfied moans loose from your lips. After a second and third application of the cream is applied, gently and tenderly, I reach for the final step. I let out the last link of slack, and remove the ball-jointed anal hook from within you. I lean back to your ear and say what you need to hear, “You are forgiven now little one, release what remains and come back to me, purified."

And with that, I kiss you, longingly and lovingly, as the flood of your orgasmic gush pools in the cart and you surface back to the safety of my protective embrace. We both are where we always want to be.