All is Forgiven

You knew as soon as you saw my face that you had said the wrong thing.

"What do you mean we don't do romantic dinners often?" I asked. "Didn't we have a romantic candle lit dinner just this weekend?"

And then you remembered our dinner. You naked and tightly bound. Candles the only light as I hand fed you. How could you have forgotten?

"Don't worry, I'll remind you of it in detail when we get home." Our vanilla friends had no idea what that meant. But you did.

The rest of the day was a fog for you. We mingled and chatted, but your mind kept wandering. Both to our dinner and to thoughts of what was in store for you later.

It didn't help that I would occasionally whisper little things in your ear. Other people probably thought I was just whispering sweet/dirty things in your ear as you blushed and flushed each time. But comments such as, "Enjoy sitting comfortably, this is going to be your last chance for a while" were having an impact on you.

Once we walk into the house, I grab your hair and spin you around to face me. Pulling up, you get up on tip toes to relieve a little pressure. "Bedroom. Naked. Present cane. Now." My voice soft, but with an edge that drives home this is going to be punishment, not play.

You all but run back to the bedroom, stripping as soon as you get through the door. You start to just throw your clothes on the floor, but realize this is no time to make a mess. You gather everything and throw the clothes in the closet hamper. Looking up, you gaze for a moment at the cane hanging there. Not sure how much time you have, you snap back to the present and pull it down.

Facing the door, you kneel. Legs very wide, head bowed, eyes down, arms up, presenting the cane. You haven't even finished going over your mental checklist to ensure proper position when you hear my foot steps and see my feet in front of you.

I pause for a few moments and then walk away, leaving you in position.

You hear me moving around the bed. You don't dare move your eyes to see what I'm doing though. Your thoughts alternate between checking your focus to ensure you don't lose position and anticipation/fear over what I'm about to do to you. Even knowing that it's going to hurt, your pussy is sopping.

After a few minutes, or hours, or days, I'm standing in front of you again. Even in your peripheral vision, you only see my knees. Reaching down, I take the cane from your hands. Without permission to relax your arms, you keep your hands up, presenting.

As I move to your left side, I say, "Hands closer together."

I lay the cane across both palms and start to tap, tap, tap with the cane. It takes all your effort to both keep your hands high and not ball them up into fists. After 20-30 little taps I pause. You feel the heat and throbbing in both your palms. You get your breathing under control and just as you take in a big breath, *smack*, I lay a solid blow across both palms.

You gasp and can't help but to start to drop your hands and ball them up. Recovery is quick though and you resume the position. A tear falling down a cheek.

A few more taps and then *smack* another blow comes. This time you do ball your hands up and bring them to you belly for several seconds. I'm about to take action about your movement when you uncurl your hands and resume position.

"Hands down," I say.

You want to rub your hands, but you just lower them to your thighs.

Stepping in front of you again, I grab your hair and pull your head up. I've opened my pants and pulled out my cock. I drag it up your face, collecting your tears and present it to your mouth. You open and take me into your mouth. Closing your eyes you nurse on me, tasting the salt from your tears and my precum. As I harden I pull out and get back into my pants.

"Stand up, time for those tits to feel the cane."

All the calmness you had gotten while sucking on me flees as you stand up. I position you to face the mirror.

"Hands on top of your head, don't close your eyes." You assume the new position and I begin the warm up strokes across your tits. Tears start flowing freely, especially as the little warm up strokes fall across your nipples.

"Grab your nipples and pull them up, I want to get to the undersides. If you drop them them, I'll secure them up and I promise you, you don't want that."

Keeping your already sore nipples pinched firmly, you hold them up and give me access to the soft flesh under the nipples. I resume the warm up and work on this new target. Once you're warmed up, I take a few aiming strokes, each one not quite connecting, each one eliciting a flinch from you. I draw back and swing up into the soft flesh with a solid *whack*.

You see the blow moving, you hear the impact and then you feel it. The soft undersides of both tits erupting in fire. Your knees and waist crouch down, but I'm shocked to see that your hands still have the nipples firmly grasped.

It takes a few seconds, but you manage to resume position, tears falling freely down your face. "I'll give you a choice. Two more to the undersides or one across the nipples. Which?"

You pause, thinking about these each option. "Two seconds or you get both," I say, seeing you're hesitation.

"One mississippi, two mississ..."

"Nipples. Please cane my nipples, Sir," you blurt out. You're immediately shocked by your own choice, but it's too late to back out now.

"Hands back on top of your head."

You resume the position and I immediately line up the cane with your nipples and resume the warm up. After several warm ups I line up the cane with your nipples. Your face is beautiful as you watch yourself in the mirror.

I leave the cane gently pressing across your nipples for a few seconds. Pulling back for the stroke you tense and close your eyes. I hold until you open your eyes and relax.

*whack*

Again, the sound hits your ears before the pain registers. This time, both nipples explode in pain. As you crouch down, you feel me press you down to your knees.

Again, I wipe your tears away with my cock and let you nurse for several minutes to calm down.

"Ok, enough of that, let get to work on that ass."

This time, I bend you over the far side of the bed so that you can still face the mirror.

"Hmm, we need to get an ass hook so I can keep that head propped up," I muse.

"You are due three good strokes. If your feet move the stroke doesn't count. If your feet move two times I'll secure them so they can't move."

Moving to the side I go straight into the warm up. I take my time, making sure your whole ass and upper thighs are well covered and pink. I rub my hand over your ass a few times to feel the warmth radiating off you. Normally, this would just turn you on. Now, knowing the severity of your punishment, it's not comforting.

After a few more minutes of "warm up" I pull back and deliver the first full stroke. As usual, you hear the swish of the cane and the thwack of the hit before the pain hit you as well.

Try as you might, your leg came up. You tried to get it back down quickly, but I saw it.

"Stroke doesn't count, prepare for re-stroke."

Without giving you time to gather yourself, I go right back to lining up the next stroke. Swish! Thwack! Pain! This stroke just below the prior strike. Your leg comes up, your hands grasp the sheets and you bury your face as you cry out.

"Stroke doesn't count."

I go into the closet and grab my rope bag. Taking 3 short pieces, I tie your ankles, legs just above the knees, and your hands wrist to wrist. I run a longer piece from your wrists under the bed and to your ankles, cinching you firmly to the bed.

"First stroke, third attempt."

Firmly secured you feel more vulnerable. Normally a turn on, but you know this isn't going to end with you coming. The punishment is not just the cane, but the denial of release as well. Fresh tears fall down your face.

Several more warm up strokes. Swish! Thwack! Red hot pain as you feel the cane strike below the last, this time on the tender crease between ass and thigh.

The remaining two strokes come fairly quickly, each much harder than my normal when we play with canes. You are desperate for a soothing touch on your back side. But after the final stroke, I just lay the cane along your back.

"Contemplate why you were punished," is all I say as I walk out of the room.

Still secured to the bed, your hands still sting, but they are nothing compared to the throbbing in your tits. Your nipples feel swollen and the pressure as you lay on them. Your ass still on fire.

You look and see the girl in the mirror. Eyes tearful and red. Nose runny. Sweat plastering her hair to her face. You drop your head and wait for me.

Later. I come back in and untie you from the bed. "Step back and lean forward. Hands on the edge of the bed."

Panic strikes you for a second, afraid of what might follow. But you comply. Your panic is replaced by relief as you see the bottle of lotion and I spread it over your ass. It's not the anesthetic kind I sometimes use after our normal rough play, but it feels good anyway.

"Stand up, hands behind your head."

Taking the new position, you wince as the skin slightly tightens on your tits. Again, the lotion feels good even if I'm less gentle than normal when massaging it into your tit flesh.

Moving in front of you, I ask, "Do you have something to tell me?"

You get on your knees, wincing slightly as your ass rests on your heels. You spread your legs wide and lower your head and eyes. "Sir. I apologize for so thoughtlessly forgetting our romantic dinner. I apologize for embarrassing you in front of others. Thank you so much for correcting me and I beg you for forgiveness, Sir."

Stepping into you, I pull you against my legs and stroke your face and hair. "All is forgiven pet."