Drive of Punishment

This story is a true account of a punishment that took place this past weekend. While I do regret my behavior that led to it, I can’t say I regret the outcome.

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After snapping at Mister K for the third time in a day (half of one really); the last biting remark causing his eyebrows to raise into his receding hairline, a look of surprise lining his face. I watched as fury fill his masculine features, his eyes turning a shade of steel grey instead of the sky blue I am accustomed to.

“Go get into some tights, and a tank top, no panties, no bra and get your ass in the car. Bring a coat and boots in case we have to walk in the snow, but do not wear anything more than I have told you. You have ten minutes and if you’re not ready, I’ll drag you out, naked if I have to. Now go!”

“NO!”

Time stopped. We stood staring at each other, both of us shocked in equal measure. I don’t know the last time I said no to a direct order. I can tell that he doesn’t either. He takes one step closer; I take one step back. I know he’s angry, it’s written in every fiber of his being. His fists and jaw are clenched, veins bulge from his arms. The tendons in his neck are standing out starkly, and I can all but feel him vibrate.

I know I’ve caused it with my flippant remarks and defiance. My snarkiness and bad attitude. A part of me could care less. Let him be mad. Let him punish me and do his worst. But the rational part of me, no matter how small, knows I have gone too far, that there will be consequences. Not listening to his demands now will just infuriate him further and then, who knows what will happen. Nothing good, the dark look on his usually jovial face says, nothing good at all.

“I’m on my period, Sir,” I say meekly, averting my eyes, suddenly finding a spot on the floor fascinating.

“I know, and I don’t care. Figure it out! And Jesus Christ, do as your bloody well told! It wasn’t a request and no is not your safeword. Are you using your safeword? Well, are you?”

Holy shit. He hasn’t spoken to me like this in years. If ever. I’ve really made him mad. His anger seems to sate mine and instead of being angry, now I’m sulking. The pout is so pronounced, I can feel my lip jutting out.

“No, Sir. I’m not safewording. I’ll be ready in ten.” I say meekly.

“Be sure you are. Your list of punishable transgressions is getting longer. Keep it up and we’ll still be dealing with today’s shit next week.”

He turns and says nothing else. I know I now have approximately eight minutes to be as requested. Not wanting to annoy him further, I keep my head down and my mouth shut. Packing a few essentials, just in case, I slip some flip-flops on my feet and make my way to the car. Where we’re going, I have no clue. How long we’ll be, nope, I don’t know that either. Right now, it doesn’t matter. Before long, I’ll find out.

He gets in the car without so much as a glance my way. The tension is thick, I can feel it pushing on me, tugging at me. My irritation has lessened but not fully vanished. I’m now dealing with a mix of emotions, instead of being able to focus on one. While my mood hasn’t been improved, at least I can enjoy my thoughts for the time being. If only they weren’t full of chaotic energy and thoughts of what if’s and where are we’s.

We’ve been outside city limits for not more than a few minutes when he pulls over and wordlessly climbs into the backseat. I can hear him fumbling with a zipper and then the distinguishable sound of rope being uncoiled.

“Shirt off, arms behind the seat.”

No courtesies, or pleasantries, so I know he’s still pissed. Not even bothering to look around and see if anyone is watching, I tease my shirt off and place my arms behind me. The seat in the car is larger than I am accustomed to and I can feel the strain on my shoulders, but make no complaints, simply placing my hands where he wants them.

Within seconds my arms are secured, the ropes pulling them tightly. The strain causes me to press my chest out to keep my spine straight, to relax the muscles in my neck. Seeing that I’m arched, he pulls a bit tighter. It’s not needed, he knows this, I know this, but nothing is said, I simply tolerate the extreme binding and continue to keep my mouth shut.

We’re moving again, the car filled with the sound of rubber on concrete and nothing else. Neither of us has said a word besides niceties, and even those are limited. The sun is shining warmly through the window and my chilly demeanor melts away as the warmth covers my naked flesh, heating me gently. I place my head on the window to allow the sun to soak my face as well and close my eyes as I bask in the glory of it. I’d forgotten how nice the sun felt on my nude skin, to be infused with a dose of vitamin D straight from the source. The sun eases my tensions and I can’t help it, I release an audible moan.

“That sunshine feels pretty good, doesn’t it little girl?”

I’m back to being his little girl again. Okay, this is good. I may not like the term, I am definitely not a girl, but we’ve moved past anger. And yet, I know better than to let my guard down. My punishment is still coming, he’s just warming up. This is a typical distraction, a way to make me pliant and docile.

“Yes, Sir. It feels marvelous. I’ve missed the sun. I’m really looking forward to spring.”

“Good, enjoy it. We’ll be at our destination soon.”

The hardness of the cordless wand interrupts my reverie, and then its vibrations fill the air. He presses it firmly against my center.

“Can you feel this?”

“Of course, Sir.”

Changing the setting to what I have termed morse code, he tells me to close my legs and hold the vibrator in place.

I hate this setting. It does nothing but alerts my libido that it’s go time. It teases and pulses, threatens, and creates a myriad of noises to be released from my throat, but it never makes me come. Or anyone for that matter. I’ve often wondered what this useless setting was for, and now I know. A sadist invented it, knowing it would never be enough to get someone off. I hate it already and it’s been mere seconds.

The minutes tick by with neither of us saying anything. My hips have started moving of their own accord, chasing the climax that the vibrator refuses to give. My back is strained in my arched position and sweat has formed on my brow. I know better, but I can’t take it, I start to beg.

“Please, Sir. Please let me come. Just once, then you can continue, but please don’t leave me like this all day. Please.” He just chuckles, winks at me, and turns away.

I groan as I accept my fate.

It’s been minutes or hours. I don’t know anymore. My breath is choppy, my throat dry, and my voice hoarse. He’s whistling a tune, filling the silence with a cheerfulness I do not feel or agree with. I see a small town coming into view and think that maybe now he’ll give me a reprieve. Maybe he’ll take mercy on me and let me come, or at least let me cover myself before our speed is slowed within the town’s limits.

Nope, he does neither of those things. The signs tell us that the speed limit is dropping to 50 km and he shifts gears, decreasing speed, but keeps his eyes on the road like I’m not in the car at all. My arms are starting to ache from the position, the strain of pulling on them as I try to push my clit harder into the vibrator. My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw.

The middle of the town has a stop sign and momentarily I forget about the woes of my body as I see it’s a four-way stop. Apparently church has just let out because the town square seems rather busy for a Sunday. He comes to a stop at the sign, another car coming up beside us. The car stops and I’m hoping the driver won’t look our way. But of course, he does.

His eyes go wide, and I feel a blush spread up my naked chest to my hairline. I’m suddenly much warmer than the march air should allow. The man stares, apparently forgetting he’s waiting for his chance to turn. Maybe he doesn’t care. Mister K smiles at him and waves. The man smiles back, but it isn’t really a smile, more of a recognition that he needs to keep some sort of small-town courtesy. Laughing Mister K speeds away, then looks over at me.

“You just made his day, I’m sure.”

“Or gave him a heart attack,” I can’t help rebutting.

The temporary distraction gone, I feel the fatigue in my arms take over. I’m exhausted and can’t fight the position or the vibrations any longer. I resign to my fate and slump as much as the position will allow me. My eyes have started to droop. The sun is starting to set, and I know it’s been hours of being tied up and teased.

Mister K pulls over at the next side turnout and turns off the ignition. The last rays of the sun making their way under the horizon, a fiery glow bathing us in dusky light.

“Open.” He says as he takes the vibrator away. I don’t know whether to be relieved or panic that he won’t let me come. But as the vibrations turn to continuous hum, I sigh, knowing he’d going to take mercy on me.

“I’m giving you one full minute to come, slut. If you don’t, oh well. My turn. Understood?”

I nod but don’t say anything else. I’m not even sure that I can, I’m so tired.

Pressing the wand heavily into the apex of my thighs, I’m suddenly relieved that he choose the wand. The power of the toy is enough that it doesn’t need to be directly placed, just approximate.

The vibrations roll through me and I feel the climax I had been chasing for so long trot to the surface as if it too had waited too long to be released. I faintly recognise Mister K telling me I have 30 seconds left, but I’m concentrating on orgasming and not really listening. My hips are pressed forward as firmly as possible into the vibrating tip, and I hear his countdown begin.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3”, and I feel the first burst of climax rush through me.

“2, 1.”

The roar that leaves me as I surrender to the crescendo is otherworldly. I’m sure I’ve never come so loudly in all my life. My hips are bucking off the seat and my eyes have rolled fully into the back of my head, only slits of white exposed. The climax goes on for what seems to be an eternity. I ride it out as wave after wave of ecstasy overtakes me, then fall limp as I bask in satiated bliss.

“Thank you, Sir.” I slur, trying to regain some form of composure.

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Getting out of the car, he comes around and pulls a single strand of rope. The knots fall away in a tangle and suddenly my arms are free. He takes a moment to rub some feeling back into them, then grasping the back of my neck, pulls me out of the car, still topless. March evening air circles my overly heated skin and I shudder, stifling the shiver that wants to lead the way.

The sun is gone, the first stars twinkling in the not yet black sky. Mister K stops and turns, pushing me to my knees. Opening his fly, he pulls his cock out and rubs it along my lips, over each cheek before telling me to open and sliding his rod all the way into my wet mouth.

I relax my throat as I know this is a punishment and not for pleasure. He will not take it easy on me. Thrusting gently to bring himself to full mast and to lubricate my throat, he grabs both sides of my head and then says, “be ready.”

That’s all the warning I get before he’s fucking my face at a fever pitch. I’m doing my best to swallow around his crown with each thrust, but every few plunges, I gag. Giving me no time to accustom to his hard shaft, he takes what he wants, pushing me harder and faster. My hands are on his thighs, trying to control the movement when he growls.

“Hands behind your back, I control this, only me.”

I do as I’m bid and relax my jaw. I feel his length stiffen, and he pushes to the crest of my throat. His pubic hair tickles my lips, his balls are tucked firmly against my chin. I sense them tighten and pull up before he grabs my hair in a vice-like grip and releases a long-drawn-out groan. Stream after stream of thick seminal fluid fills my throat. Mister K’s cock is blocking my airways, inhibiting my ability to swallow, so I simply hold his come in my mouth, for an extremely long time. When I’m finally out of breath and can take no more, stars swimming before my eyes, he pulls back and allows me a chance to swallow and take a new breath of air.

I lick him clean, as is expected of me, and sit back on my heels. The night air is brisk now that the adrenaline of moments before has faded. I start to shiver. Mister K tugs me up and pulls me close, wrapping his arms around me. I look up and gasp. Above us and all around is nothing but a dark expanse littered with a million stars, twinkling as they take their place in the night sky.

“I guess we should go home, little girl.” Mister K says, all the heat of the days anger gone.

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To see who else is making us say MMM, lick the lips.

For more true accounts of life with Mister K, see Room with a View, 7 Days of Sucking, or Role-Play with Mister K.

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