I’ve always tried so hard to behave myself. My mother always said I was a people-pleaser, and I guess she’s not wrong. I try to look smart. I try to be helpful. I try to listen and to learn. The trouble is I just can’t seem to get things right. Sometimes I feel that the harder I try, the more likely I am to end up in trouble. To make matters worse, most of the time I just don’t know what I’ve done wrong, and it’s impossible to learn from your mistakes if you don’t know what those mistakes are.
I was informed yesterday evening that disciplinary action was required as a result of my recent behavior. No more information was given. I was simply told to report to Master Stone at 9pm. Of course, I spent the whole night and all of the day today worrying about what I’d done, trying to replay every darned conversation I’d ever had with Master Stone in an attempt to figure out why I’d been summoned. By the time I reached the chamber, I was a mess.
Master Stone, unsurprisingly, said nothing. He just sat on a red chair in the darkened room and beckoned me over to him, deep disappointment etched all over his handsome face. He immediately told me to remove my pants and I did so, obediently, trying to control my nerves because my hands just wouldn’t stop shaking. I stood for a moment or two, rigid with fear, as the master looked up at me, assessing my punishment.
Then he told me to lie across his lap. For a split second I couldn’t make myself move. I instantly realized that he was going to smack me—just like they did in the olden days. The thought of his giant hands pelting down on my body was terrifying beyond words.
I took a deep breath and tentatively moved towards his lap, somewhat clumsily lying face down on top of it. I was instantly engulfed by wafts of a beautiful scent which was coming from underneath his clothes. I was so profoundly sorry that it was Master Stone whom I’d let down. I have so much respect for him. It sounds crazy because the man was about to discipline me, but there was something comforting about the prospect. He’s so tall and important and I felt so small and insignificant, I just wanted to hold him.
He ran his huge hand over my ass cheeks. It felt as though he were sizing me up, trying to work out where to land his blows. My body began to tense up as I started to imagine just how painful it was going to be. He was wearing large rings on his fingers. Would they cut into me? Make me bleed? I felt his dick stiffening in his pants and beginning to push into my belly. It was clear that he was turned on by the thought of punishing me and I was unsure about how to process that information.
He then spent what seemed like an age running his hand over my butt and down onto my thighs. His movements felt inquisitive, like he was somehow fascinated by the shape of my body. Terrified as I was, I can’t deny that the experience was also a little arousing, and that sensation brought with it a deep sense of shame. I heard myself letting out a series of groans, wishing all of this could be happening in different circumstances; but, simultaneously aware that it was the nature of this particular circumstance which was oddly fuelling my sexual excitement. I’ve seldom felt so conflicted.
Every time I tried to look up, he pushed me back down. I longed to undo my tie. I felt like I was about to pass out. There was a pause. And then, thwack, his hand made contact with my ass. It wasn’t against bare flesh. Thank God I was still in my garments. But it sent a shockwave through my body. I don’t think it hurt. To be honest, too much adrenaline was surging through me to be able to tell. It certainly tingled afterwards.
I tensed up waiting for another hit, but instead, he pushed his hand beneath my garments and soothingly ran it over my naked ass cheeks. The sensation was wonderful. It instantly made me feel safe, despite what had just happened. I tightly held onto Master Stone’s leg, realizing that I could neither predict what was going to happen next, nor anticipate how I would react to it.
He pushed a finger hard into my hole. It made me yelp; more, I suspect, out of shock, than because it hurt. At the same time, I felt his dick twitching against my stomach again. It was large—very large—and I suddenly found myself obsessing over the thought of it entering me. If he wanted me, he could have me. I would follow a giant of a man like Master Stone to the end of the world if he asked me to.
He smacked me again. Then again, harder this time. My body began to hum with anticipation. He instructed me to stand and to remove my shirt and tie. I jumped to my feet, instantly obeying his orders, aware, for the first time, that I was rock hard and tenting like crazy in my semi-see-through garments. I instantly became engulfed with shame again. Surely I wasn’t meant to be getting off on this punishment? He would be horrified to think that it had that effect on me, right?
I stood in my garmets as he glanced down at my dick. I was about to apologize, when he reached out and prodded it with his finger, stating what seemed so horribly obvious, that I was getting aroused. I told him that I was sorry. He nodded, too deep in thought to reply. Then he instructed me to get back down over his lap and I did as asked.
I felt him picking something up from the floor. I didn’t dare to look around to see what it was, but it felt cold as he ran it over my butt. Then he struck me with it. It must have been made from wood. It was hard and it hurt, but in a good way. Then he pushed my garments down and my blood started to run cold. The thought of whatever he was holding striking naked flesh was one I wasn’t at all sure about. I felt his dick tenting against my stomach and then the weight of the object slamming against my butt cheek. It stung. It shocked me. But as soon as the initial surprise had dissipated, I was ready for it to happen again. I did not have to wait long. He hit me–harder this time, and as he struck me for a third time, I realized my dick had started to squirt pre-cum onto his suit pants.
He ordered me to stand once again and to remove all of my clothes, before commanding me to lie back down on his lap. He held my neck with one of his hands and used the other to grab me by my balls. He squeezed and tugged me until I was gasping uncontrollably, my whole body writhing in intense spasms of both pain and ecstasy, my dick still twitching jets of pre-cum into his thigh. He continued to smack me with increasing intensity, but then changed his tactic and began to rub me with oil. It felt soothing as he ran it into the areas which were somewhat sore from the smacking, but then he began to push his fingers into my hole again.
Master Stone then told me to sit on his lap facing him, my naked legs wrapped around his body. Then he tilted me backwards, so my head was on the floor. He carefully removed his ring before covering his hand in oil which he dripped all over my rock hard penis, absentmindedly toying with it before pushing his fat finger deep into my hole.
Then he very carefully removed a clear toy from a black velvet bag. I instantly knew he was going to push it into me and he did so casually and without warning. It was thrilling. Intense. Beautiful. I submitted, entirely to him. He could do whatever he wanted to me.
He jerked me off with one hand as he continued to thrust the object in and out of my twitching hole with increasing speed. I looked up at him, smart as a button in his suit and tie, barely breaking into a sweat as I writhed and snaked about underneath him. He told me that he wanted me to cum for him. I grabbed my oil-covered dick and started to tug at it, desperate to extend the feelings of deep satisfaction for as long as I could before reaching orgasm.
Then, just like that, I exploded. I felt a rush of absolute bliss surging through my body as the semen shot out of me, all over my chest, my legs quivering uncontrollably. I lay on the floor, trying to comprehend what had just happened, trying to understand if I’d been punished or rewarded, trying to fathom why I was now feeling so intensely connected to Master Stone and so, so desperate to be with him again.
