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Sunday, 27 November 2011

Silent Treatment

I am being given the silent treatment - the worst kind of punishment of all in my opinion.  Not only is He not speaking to me but I've been told that I am not to make a sound for the next 24 hours.  Anyone that knows me will also know how difficult both of these things are for me to cope with.  It wouldn't be so bad if it were a work day because I don't hear from Him throughout the day anyway, but today is Saturday and we usually spend the day together.  He explained that I should do my chores and then join Him in whichever room He was in and kneel in silence.

So I find myself here, on my knees in the middle of the kitchen floor, watching Him as He potters about.  I'm sure He's given me permission to watch Him because He knows that being able to see Him properly will just make it all the more difficult for me to deal with His silence, and likewise, for me to remain silent - I like to ask Him questions as He cooks or when He's working usually. He doesn't glance in my direction or acknowledge my existence in anyway; I've been knelt here for over an hour.  He takes a beer from the fridge and I try not to sulk inside - I'd kill for a beer right now but I know the only thing I'll be drinking today will be water.  I watch Him, mesmorised by the motion of His hands and arms as He kneads at some dough.  I smile to myself as I notice He has flour on His face. 

He brings me a glass of water and watches as I drink.  As I look into my Master's intense brown eyes I feel like He can see right through me - there's no hiding any of myself from Him.  My eyes drop to His mouth for a fraction of a second and my mind is filled with images of His lips pressing against the flesh of my breast as He embraces my nipple with His mouth, using His teeth to tease it.  Despite the knowledge that He's angry with me at the moment I can't stave off the arousal that I feel buidling.  As His hand reaches out to takes the glass from me a flash of the night before runs through my mind - His hands exploring my body, squeezing my breasts, His fingers inside me bringing on the first of that night's orgasms.  That's done it; as I watch Him take the glass to the sink I feel my pussy throbbing with need.  It's going to be a very long day if I can't successfully distract my mind.  My meagre attempt at distraction is futile though, my desire too strong.  He wraps the dough and places it in the fridge then washes up after Himself.  My arousal steadily increases as my mind wanders and I find myself reliving the time He fucked me from behind over the kitchen sink one Wednesday night when He came home after having drinks with friends.

I'm yanked back to reality as He lifts me to my feet by my hair.  He walks me to the sitting room and stands me in the corner that is usually used as my naughty corner.  He walks to the cupboard in the adjacent corner and I'm wondering what He's going to pull from there.  The cupboard is neat, as is everything in the house - He'd have it no other way.  He takes out a pair of hand cuffs and a riding crop.  Placing the crop on the coffee table He cuffs my wrists then lifts me by them off my feet to hook the cuffs onto the hook in the ceiling.  The extra long chain on these cuffs means that I am stood with my toes just bearly being able to touch the floor. He leaves the room and returns with a pair of scissors and I feel the cold metal of the blade on my neck, a shiver runs through my body and my nipples stiffen as I hear the sound of the blades cutting the material of my vest.  He cuts each strap at the shoulder and pulls my vest down until it bunched at my waist revealing my black lace bra.  He slides an arm of the scissors up between my breasts and cuts my bra between the cups; it's a strapless bra so falls immediately to the floor.  I notice a flicker of desire in His eyes as He catches sight of my stiff nipples.  I feel His breath on my left nipple as He holds His mouth just millimetres away from it as He unfastens my jeans.  Remaining silent at this moment is torturous and He's not even got started yet.  I can hear how turned on I am in my breathing.  I want to beg Him for it or lean forward so that my nipple brushes against His lips but I remain silent and still.  He pulls my jeans down and I lift my legs one at a time so that He can remove them completely.  He takes the scissors and cuts my underwear from my body, one snip to each side of the waist. He scrunches them up in His fist before stuffing them in my mouth. They'd become quite damp over the last half hour and I can taste myself on the lace. He leaves the room and I'm left to the sound of my shaky breathing and the throbbing in my pussy as I try to anticipate what's coming next.

I'm disappointed to hear the vacuum cleaner switch on upstairs - this signals at least an hour wait for me as I know He'll clean the bathroom straight afterwards too.  I glance at the riding crop; the last time I'd laid eyes on that was months ago - Master had me pinned against the wall and had tanned my ass good with it.  I'd screamed and cried at the time but afterwards He fucked; it was slow and sensual...I didn't want it to end.  I wish my mind hadn't wandered there.  If He decides to test my pussy He's going to mistake my wetness as excitement for the crop.

Finally He comes back downstairs.  He sits on the settee and looks at me. His eyes scan my whole body from the tips of my toes to my hands clasping onto the chain of the hand cuffs for support. He slowly rubs His crotch as His eyes roam over me and after a short while I can see the outline of His cock pressing at the front of His trousers. I silently plead with Him to let me see it and hope more than anything that I'll get to have it inside me at some point. It doesn't happen often but occasionally Master will decide not to use me at all during a punishment - I really hope this isn't one of those times because my pussy's not ached with need this badly for a long time. 

He stands and picks up the crop, my eyes are focused downwards on His erection.  I swallow uncomfortably, my mouth feels a bit dry after having held my panties for so long. He taps at my inner thighs with the crop signalling for me to spread my legs and I part my feet as wide as the restriction of my hands being suspended above me will allow.  I lift my head as the crop presses under my chin and shiver as it traces a line down over my throat and breasts.  I give a muffled gasp as the end of the crop strikes me directly on the nipple; He gives me a warning glance.  He pauses for a moment before striking the other breast and catches my nipple perfectly again.  He strikes each breast alternately, taking His time, avoiding my nipples for the next few and then catching them again when I'm not expecting it.  Rapidly flicking His wrists I grit my teeth to prevent any sound leaving my mouth.  My breasts are on fire, my nipples can't take another strike but He keeps them coming.  My eyes, filled with tears, beg Him to stop but He doesn't notice because His eyes are completely focused on my breasts. 

He slips the crop between my legs and I feel it sliding between my lips and pressing against my swollen clit.  It amazes me that my pussy is soaking wet despite the fact that my breasts have just taken a beating.  I grit my teeth as He flicks His wrist and the first strike of the crop on my clit is made.  I squeeze my eyes shut tight and take a deep breath.  I quickly realise that what I'd just felt on my breasts was nothing compared to what I was about to get if He attacks my clit in the same way He did them - I'm correct of course.  It's not too bad at first as He follows each flick of the crop with a long, slow stroke of the length against my clit; I welcome the much needed attention.  Soon though the gentle strokes are forgotten and my clit is on fire and numb.  He eventually looks at my face and I can only assume that my expression shows a satisfactory level of remorse because He stops His assault.

He taps the side of my face with the crop and I open my mouth for Him.  He takes out my panties and leaves the room with them and the crop in hand.  Just one touch of His hand, a brush of His lips, a flick of His tongue, I would have been grateful for one of those things - needed them all.  I feel my wetness on my inner thigh as I stand in silence longing for a word from Him; desperate for my Master's cock.

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