Punishment and an Ominous Chain
I got in trouble today. Apparently, there is such a thing as “too much joking around”. Who knew?
I shouldn’t be so glib. I did learn a valuable lesson today, even if, on the surface, it sounds a little silly. But my way of dealing with just about everything is tomfoolery and jokes.
M grabs my boobs a lot. Like… a lot, a lot.
I mean, I’ve always had oversensitive nipples, but since I’ve been with Him, they’re like… permanently hard, and the breeze makes me want to cum in my panties. That I’m not wearing. ANYway…
If I had to put it in to percentages, I’d say He grabs my boobs 75% of the time, my pussy 8% of the time, my ass 5% of the time, and the other 12% He’s grabbing some random body part, like my hair, or my thighs, or something.
I am not, in any way, shape or form, complaining about this. I know full well there are men and women who never get touched by their significant others. I know that my complaining about M never touching me (After making it abundantly clear that I wasn’t too keen on being touched… I have never once tried to hide how much of a pain in the ass I am.) is part of the reason He touches me so much now. I’m glad He touches me so much now.
Just… could He even it out a little?
But instead of asking, I slap His hands away, or make snide comments. Most of all, I joke. He calls it my “passive-aggressive bullshit”.
He calls it topping from the bottom.
(I just called this writing assignment a “stupid writing assignment”, more because my stupid brain isn’t managing to release many thoughts on the topic. M offered to “refresh my mammaries”, inadvertently making more puns than He’d intended. I laughed. He wasn’t amused.)
And I get what He’s saying. If M’s having trouble telling when I’m joking and when I’m not, or if I’m tacking a “Just kidding!” on the end to keep from getting in trouble, there’s a problem. And regardless, He said my jokes are unwelcome. Jokes about His ownership of me are unacceptable and unwelcome.
Besides that, if He were always making jokes about our relationship, I’d probably eventually come to the conclusion He mentioned coming to: That the relationship just wasn’t that important.
In a nutshell, I hurt His feelings, and I made it clear that I don’t respect His ownership of me by suggesting that He shouldn’t touch my boobs so much. I mean, shouldn’t a master be able to do whatever he wants with his property’s boobs?
I’m pretty sure this was the first time He strung me up this way. My hands were clipped together at the wrists and attached to a chain over head. He clipped my legs to the wall, spread wide. I can’t honestly say whether this is more comfortable than having my arms clipped to the wall.
I know it’s a normal BDSM position. M’s just always been partial to having me completely spread eagle.
I’m not really sure where it came from. And the chain’s still there, and still making me uncomfortable.
He hurt my tits the most. I have welts and bruises all over the side of one, and some that, strangely enough, aren’t anywhere near as bad as the other.
There was more than that, though. A paddling, and denial of orgasm. Kneeling in the corner waiting for Him to get to a stopping point with work while blindfolded and gagged. Unsure, at first, whether or not it was punishment. Was that pity in His voice as He tapped my ass?
Ya know, I’m not gonna lie. When M first told me what I was to write about, I sort of turned up my nose. “People are going to laugh.”, I thought. “Seriously? I’m supposed to write about how I was wrong for joking around?”
But I was wrong. He’s still not so sure it was a joke, and not my passive aggressive bullshit. I mean, I started this with, “Just… could He even it out?” After being punished, admitting I was wrong, apologizing a thousand times…
That chain is still there.
I noticed earlier that He padlocked it. I didn’t know that while I was hanging there.
He keeps threatening me with it.
All of this is very new. And I feel like an asshole.
I say that a lot.
But seriously, I am, because just today I was saying that He needed to be pushed. And here I am, needing this giant slap in the face to realize I’m being a gargantuan twatwaffle.
I shouldn’t be making jokes about His ownership. No matter how innocent. And I shouldn’t be telling Him He can’t touch parts of His property. Even if it’s not this giant deal, the fact remains that I am His to do with as He pleases. And trying to deny M that is denying parts of His ownership.