Punishment

Tues 3 January

My Queen is always busy, managing her work, keeping in touch with her special subs. She only stops when she wants to talk with me, or when something else demands her attention, or if we go out. Her work is her passion and it is consuming.

We stay in the room, she working, and taking care of her tongue, me resting. I am getting better, slowly, day by day. She draws my attention to her schedule, which has changed slightly. I note it, or so I think.

Later in the day she showers. After a while she comes out, glares at me, and says “Are you looking for a whipping?”  “Not understanding her meaning, I say “Yes, I can take it now.”  Then I realize that there is a problem. “You will be punished!”  “What have I done wrong?”  “Invading my privacy! Go, quickly!”  I obey, wondering what my latest mistake is. I wait downstairs, still acutely self conscious about my collar and wrist restraints. It is a torment, to be in the public wearing these.

I wait. Eventually her message comes “Come up now.”  I go, enter the room, and kneel. She is calm. She explains my transgression; I didn’t leave the room when I should have. At first I think I have misunderstood her earlier arrangements. Then I realize that, no, no misunderstanding. Just a stupid mistake.  She orders me to strip. Soon the whip falls on my back. It is hard this time. Very painful. It is short but intense. She finishes. I turn around, kneel again. Tears come, triggered by the pain, but expressing the difficulties and changes of the past week. I explain my tears. She goes through the schedule again so I am clear. We discuss the week. I tell her that the most difficult thing is public exposure. She says “You should be proud to show that you are owned by me.”  “When we are together, it is fine,” I say. “It is when I go out alone that it is so hard.”  “I haven’t told you to go out alone. You have chosen to. You chose to go to the pharmacy because you love me and don’t want me to suffer with my tongue.”  “Yes my Queen.”  “You are my slave, I own you, and I care for you too.”  I nod through my tears.

“Now you can dress, or not, whatever you like.”  “Ok.”  I get my clothes, surveying my body as I pass the mirror . Livid diagonal stripes cross my back. High on my chest where the tip of the whip curled over my shoulder is a small cut, slowly seeping blood. I clean it, it is nothing.  I am chastened, subdued, and wrung out at this culmination of a difficult week.

Later we order room service, we chat a little then she works on her phone. I clean up. I constantly check the schedule she gave me. I am afraid of unwittingly disobeying her and getting punished again.

Eventually we sleep.