Earning My Stripes

Earning My Stripes Earning My Stripes

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica


A BDSM session with my Sir, and He introduces me to His newest toy.


A BDSM session with my Sir, and He introduces me to His newest toy.


Submitted: April 29, 2013

A A A | A A A


Submitted: April 29, 2013



Sir sends me a text at work, telling me to go straight home and to change into an outfit with garters. I am free to choose which one, but I am to remain panty-less, to wear my strappy fuck-me shoes, and to wait on the bed for Sir to arrive.

Hmm. Sir obviously has a plan. 

When my work shift ends, I do as I am told.  I select a red-and-black teddy set and black stockings; the garter nicely frames Sir's tattoo. Then I tug on my shoes, climb onto the bed, and wait. Sir arrives less than 10 minutes later, and enters the bedroom, carrying a long, relatively narrow box. He leans the box against the wall and orders me to sit on the edge of the bed. The spike heels of my shoes get tangled in the comforter, and I work to free them before swinging my legs off the bed. I sit there, my feet dangling, my heels bumping against the side rails. Sir comes and leans over me, His hand weaving into my hair, and He tilts my head back and kisses me, and quite thoroughly.

When the kiss ends I am slightly breathless. Sir lets go of my hair and pushes me back, so that I fall to my back. He plants my feet up on the bed, my knees sharply bent, so that my heels are digging into the edge of the mattress. In this position, His pussy is completely open to Him, and He drops to His knees beside the bed, wraps His hands around my hips, and buries His face into His property.

Now - have I mentioned that I absolutely love it when Sir eats me? His tongue is slick and wet, and hot, and oh, so talented.  He can make me cum in under a minute, if He chooses to, His mouth and teeth and tongue are magic, I swear. I would bronze His tongue and keep it forever, if that wouldn't absolutely ruin it.

Anyway - so Sir surprises me with His generous action, and almost before I know it, I am arching up and shrieking and cumming over His tongue, flooding His mouth, panting and trembling, and His pussy is almost too sensitive for Him to touch, but at the same time, I still want more, still crave more, still need more. Sir pulls away from me, and I whine in disappointment, but He merely laughs.

"So needy, Kitten," He says.

"Yes, Sir," I respond.

Sir tells me to follow Him, so I slide off the bed and walk on shaky legs to the foot of the bed. Sir has picked up the box, and holds it in front of Him. I can see now that one end has already been opened.

"Do you know what this is, Kitten?"  He asks. I shake my head. Instead of answering verbally, He turns the box on its end and shakes it until the contents slide out of the box and thump gently on the floor. He tells me to pick it up.

I reach down and retrieve a thin rattan cane. It is simple, yet strangely elegant, and I run my hands over it, feeling the satiny-smooth, golden finish gliding over my hands. I twirl it experimentally, then test it by gently bending it. It is pliable, not too stiff, but not so thin that it's too "whippy." I play with it for a minute or so, and then Sir takes it from me. There's a gleam in His eye that warns me I'm about to become intimately acquainted with this implement.

Sir commands me to place my hands on the footboard of the bed, bracing myself on it and leaning over. Once I'm situated, He flicks His wrist, and the cane connects with my bare ass with a soft 'crack.' I jump, because it stings - it's not exactly painful, but it definitely gets my attention. Sir hits me again, a sharper blow, and I flinch and gasp because this one really smarts. Sir strikes me twice more, each blow strong enough to leave a welt, and I grip the footboard and cry out with the pain. Sir is not being cruel, nor is He actually beating me; but this session is already becoming difficult for me to take.  

The next blow lands on my upper thigh; that one really hurts, and brings tears to my eyes. Damn.  Sir lands another strike, and I twist away, trying to avoid the cane. That's a mistake - and Sir is quick to correct me. He steps forward and grabs me by the hair, pulling me up to my toes and holding me there while He leans in so close we are nearly nose to nose.

"Who owns you?" He demands. He shakes His hand to emphasize His words, tugging my hair painfully, and bringing fresh tears to my eyes. "You do, Sir," I answer, my voice shaky with tears.

"Do I?" He says. "Are you My slut? My sub? My property?"

"Yes, Sir," I answer again. 
 "Then I can do with my property what I wish, correct?" He asks, and I can only swallow noisily and agree. Of course He can. 

He studies me for several long moments, then, seemingly satisfied, He releases my hair and steps back. Now I have a painfully tender scalp to go with my reddened, throbbing ass.

"Resume your position," He tells me. I grip the footboard again, lean over, and try to prepare myself.

He strikes my ass with the cane, crossing a welt He'd already placed there, and I flinch hard and cry out, but I don't move away. Instead, I suck in a deep breath and, with a shaky voice, say, "Thank you, Sir. May I have another?"

He complies with my request, and I shriek in pain, then repeat my question. We do this six times, the cane alternating between my ass and my legs. My whole bottom is on fire and throbbing, and it hurts so godddamn bad, and tears are streaming down my face and choking my voice when I speak. Sir lays one more stripe across my thighs, and I break. It's too much. I lay my head down on my arms and just sob. 

Sir steps beside me and lays a hand on my back, and I flinch violently. He leans down and murmurs, "You did well, Kitten."  I merely nod in response, still crying. God, this hurts so, so much. Sir takes me by the hand and leads me to the bathroom, where He runs a bath for me. As the tub fills, He gently helps me out of my outfit, unzipping my shoes and easing them off my feet, unclipping the stockings and tugging them down my legs, easing my teddy off. He helps me into the tub - oh, the water stings at first, and I can barely tolerate sitting down, but gradually I relax and let the warm water soothe my bottom. 

I soak in the tub for a good while, until the water cools. I wash my face, cleaning away the traces of my tears, and cleanse my body, then drain the tub and climb out. I am careful to merely pat my bottom gently with the towel, as I'm still very sore. I see that Sir has left a bottle of unscented lotion by the sink, so I apply that generously after i've dried off.  I dress in loose-fitting tap pants and a clean tank top, then wander out to the living room where Sir is. I sit down at His feet, gingerly, and lean my head against His knee. I'm feeling rather sleepy, truth be told, and I seek my comfort, as always, by being close to Sir.

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