AI art by me.

This story was written due to the inspiration of someone I was chatting with on Fet. It has some real elements to it from our conversation. She wished me to write it and also tag her as my muse on Fet.

I could smell it as soon as I came into the apartment.

Mazie had fixed margaritas.

“Mazie?” I asked with a tone that showed I was not pleased.

“Yes?” She called to me from the kitchen.

“Yes?  Yes, what?” I was losing patience.

“Oh, damn it.  Yes, Sir.  Sorry, Sir.”  Her “s” sounds were a little slurred.  She came hurriedly out to the living room, and her eyes looked a little worried.  “I wanted to make you a drink for when you got home, Sir.”

I raised an eyebrow, which she knew was not good.  Mazie bit her lower lip.

“And how many of my drinks did you already have, Little Girl?” I murmured in a low, unhappy voice.

“Um…three? Sir?” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

I glared at her.  “You know what you’ve done wrong.  I’m not even going to waste words on it right now.  Go to the kitchen, pour the rest of it out into the sink, and pour out all the alcohol in the house.  I’m going to shower and change.  It will give me a chance to cool down and make a better decision on your punishment.  Am I understood?”

She blinked.  “Yes, Sir, but all…?”

“Mazie.” I cut through her question.  “Who did you promise to obey?”

She sighed and deflated.  “You, Sir.”

“I know you test limits, but you also know what happens when you hit one, don’t you?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Words,” I commanded.

“Yes, Sir.  I get…the belt…over the…bed.”  She whimpered a little.

“You agreed to this, yes?” I asked.

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded, and her eyes were on the floor.

“You know how I expect to find you when I come out of the bedroom?” I asked, and I felt a little better having established the parameters once more; she knew I meant what I said.

“Yes, Sir.  Thong only, over the bed, waiting.” She whispered.

“When I come out, I’m going to check the kitchen first.  If you didn’t follow my commands, then things will go much worse for you, understood?” I asked.

“Yes, Sir.  I will obey.” She nodded and shuffled her feet.  Mazie was in a hurry to do what she had to do and get to the part she hated but needed: a good whipping.

“Go.” I pointed.

She shot off to the kitchen, and I heard her begin to sniffle already.  It pleased me to listen to it.  Firstly, I was pleased because she was feeling sorrow or heavy regret for what she’d done.  Lastly, I’m a sadist, and those tears fed my inner demons nicely as they smacked their lips while waiting for what came next.

It was always a good idea to take a pause or time out before rushing into a punishment.  I made a concerted effort to never punish in anger.  Mazie had her traumas, and I truly cared for her but knew she needed stiff, unrelenting discipline or she’d go off the rails.

Mazie took two different kinds of meds that did NOT mix well with alcohol.  She knew the rules.  She was not to make herself a drink.  If she’d been good and I allowed it, then she’d wait for me to make it so I’d be sure it didn’t have too much alcohol in it.

She didn’t have alcohol use disorder at all, but she had harmful side effects from doing a stunt like this, and one of them could be paralysis or death.  This was why I was very unhappy.  This is why I knew I had to make a strong point.

I stripped down, showered quickly, and toweled off slowly as I calmed down and got into the mindset of a disciplinarian.  There was a big difference between impact play and real discipline.  Some of it was due to severity, some to the implement used, and the rest was a thorough scolding as the punishment was administered.  The wording and attitude I used would be necessary.

Mazie did like to push buttons.  She’d warned me about it when we’d begun our dynamic.  She’d called herself a Brat, but I disagreed. Once she realized I meant business and didn’t back down, she never pushed that button again.  To me, that is not a brat.

So far in the three months we’d been together, I’d had to punish her twice already, and each time had been very effective.  I used the cane the first time.  Mazie didn’t mark all that well, but I put some nice welt lines up and down her ass and upper thighs until she was a sobbing mess.  The next time, I used the fraternity paddle with both hands.  I’d made her count and say she was sorry after each one.  She’d done her best but was blubbering too much towards the end, so I just finished her off with a flurry of swats before I knew she’d learned her lesson.

Since then, she’d confided in me that the belt held a particular significance for her since it had been what her father had used when she was a teen.  The sound of it coming off my belt loops and cracking in the air terrified her.  I had made sure I was understanding her.  Submissives tell on themselves all the time.  They can’t help it.  She was telling me what I needed to use for the most effective punishment.

“Yes, Sir.  The belt…your belt.  I…I won’t ever cross that again…ever.” She’d whispered to me.

I’d rewarded her honestly with three orgasms that night that she didn’t have to beg for…though she still did anyway.  I love submissives.

Putting on comfortable, ratty jeans, I added the best belt for the job.  A nice, supple, wide black one was my choice to use.  It would make a strong impression on her.  A plain white t-shirt went on next, as I knew she liked me in this kind of outfit when I was going to Dom her in a scene or when she was going to worship my feet or cock.

As I exited the shower, I could still hear the noise from the kitchen, where bottles were being moved quickly and liquid was flowing.  She was hard at work, I hoped, obeying me.  Mazie really was a good girl at heart.  She hated to disappoint me, and she hated it when I was angry with her.  

I paused in the hallway to make sure it was silent.  It was.  The only sound I could hear was the AC clicking on, along with some distant sniffles and little sobs.  Mazie was in the guest bedroom, positioned on the side of the bed.  We used that room for some of our scenes and all the punishments.  This way, our bedroom wasn’t an area with punishment memories in it.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and let it out.  I was ready.

Walking into the spare bedroom, I spied her bent over the side of the bed.  She’d already stacked the pillows under her hips so her ass was nice and high in the air.  I smiled to myself because she was wearing the sheer thong she knew I loved since it was hardly there.  Mazie had also brushed her hair, and I caught a hint of the jasmine lotion she used that turned me on.

As I drew closer, I could see she had lotioned her bottom up so it was moist, which would make the belt hurt all the more.  This was her way of saying she was very sorry, but knew she had to take this.

“Good girl, Mazie,” I whispered.

A sob erupted from her, but she turned to give me a little smile.  “Thank you for noticing, Sir.  I’m so very sorry.”

“I know.  Position, please.” I told her.

She turned to face away, her arms reaching out and above her head.  She rose on tiptoes and arched her lower back.  My Mazie had a fantastic ass.  Her ebony skin was beautifully dark brown.  Bruises on her appeared as very dark marks and were gorgeous to me.

I undid my belt and slowly pulled it off.  Her body shuddered, and she began to whimper and squirm slightly.

“You know what this is,” I stated more than asked.

“Yes, Sir…your…your belt.” She stammered.

“And what am I going to do with it?” I asked.

She groaned and wrung her hands together above her head.  “You’re gonna whip my ass…hard, Sir.”

“That’s right.  Why am I doing it?” I asked as I doubled up the belt.

“Because…” She stopped because I had loosened the belt enough to pull it closed with a loud CRACK!

“Oh, God.  Because I broke the rule about drinks, Sir.” Her voice was trembling.  

“That’s right.  Am I going to ask about color zones? Green, yellow, red?” I asked.

“No, Sir.  I don’t get those as a punishment.  I don’t get my safewords either.” She added this because she knew it was my next question.

“Good girl.  Yes.  Who decides I’m done?”  I asked as I tapped the strap of the belt across her upturned bottom.

She shook like a leaf now but held her position.  “You do, Sir.  When you decide, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“That’s right.  If I see those hands move, what happens?” I checked.

“You whip my thighs until I move them back in place.” She groaned.

“Same for legs going up or you squirming too much.  Understood?” I checked.

“Yes, Sir.” She barely whispered and put her head down on the bed.  She knew this was it.

I reached back and I delivered a hard, loud strike across both cheeks.

Mazie squealed, but I delivered the next before she could even finish.  

This wasn’t a slow, counting kind of punishment.  Mazie needs her ass whipped, and I was going to give her that.

Over and over and over and over and over, I struck her.  Her cries were shrill, then her sobs were wet and messy.  After about a dozen strokes, she moved her right hand into the way.

“GET THAT HAND BACK UP!” I bellowed and whipped her upper thighs just under her ass.

“OW! OW! OW!  Ssssssorry, Sir!” She jerked her hand back, and I continued on her ass.

Mazie was incoherent now, and I’d purposely not gotten into a rhythm so she didn’t have the luxury of subspace.  Now I slowed a little and moved into a steady, longer beat.  Her breathing grew less stressed, and her sobs were now moans and groans.  I knew she was entering subspace when she arched her ass up more.  

I finished with some strong ones to her sit-spots that would guarantee she sat at work very gingerly for the next day or so.  Mazie liked having the reminder of her punishment.  I wanted her to remember what not to do.  It worked for us.

Finally, I put the belt across the small of her back.  The weight and pressure of it would sink into her, and she’d know it was over.

I walked up next to her and very gently reached out and rubbed her well-welted ass.  “Mazie, can you hear me?” I asked.

She slowly nodded.  Words were hard right now, so I didn’t require them.  

“I’ll be in the living room.  When you’re ready, you know what to do?”  I asked.

She nodded once more.  “Yes…I do……..Sir.” She murmured with effort.

I patted her softly.  “Very, very good girl.”

She purred slightly, and I walked into the living room.

Directly afterwards, Mazie preferred to come to herself on her own.  She didn’t want cuddling or soft words after a real punishment.  Aftercare was different for a scene when she preferred softer, more tender actions.  Right now, she was letting her sin and her absolution sink into her until she felt right again.

I turned on the TV and watched some YouTube videos to pass the time.  After about ten minutes, I heard her get up and use the bathroom to freshen up.

She was out soon and walked towards me with her head bowed.  Stopping just short of my recliner, she knelt and presented the belt, then kissed it before handing it to me.

“Thank you for my whipping, Sir.” She murmured.

“Would you like to sit on my lap?” I asked.

Her eyes came up, and she gave me a look.  “Sitting would not be pleasing to me if you are asking me, Sir.  I will obey, of course.”  She smiled slightly.  “I’d prefer to kneel at your feet for a few minutes.”

“That will be just fine,” I told her.

She rose and got two of the kneeling pillows we kept on the couch.  Placing them to my left, she knelt and hugged my shin as she put her right cheek on my knee to rest her head.

I reached down and began to stroke my fingers through her curly hair.  I massaged her scalp.  “You did well, my good girl,” I told her.

She sighed in contentment.  “Thank you, Sir.”

“Would you prefer a movie or a show?” I asked.

“Hmm…a show, please?  The funny one we’ve been binging?” She asked.

“Sure.” I started to move it over to it.

“After the episode, then I will make us some dinner, Sir.  May I eat here, too?” She begged.

And thus we passed a pleasant night after all the punishment was over and done.  She knew I wouldn’t bring it up again.  She’d paid her price for it.  It was over.  It was past.