Erotica: A Fitting Punishment

cage photo

I read through my message, a mischievous smile playing on my lips.
“One more thing: I had a lovely cup of Earl Grey tea with my breakfast this morning :)”
I chuckled to myself as I pressed ‘send’. You see, Sir had forbidden me to drink my favorite teas, Earl Grey or English Breakfast, until I saw him again. My deliberate disobedience would undoubtedly earn me a punishment but how bad could it possibly be? Within a minute, my phone pinged.
“You drank Earl Grey tea??”
I typed out my triumphant response. “Yes. It was quite delicious!”
I didn’t hear anything else from him that day or evening and put it out of my mind. The next day I still hadn’t heard anything so decided to check in. I was still not too worried at this point.
“Am I in trouble?”
“You know you are…” And a few minutes later… “But that’s ok, because I will enjoy the consequences.”
The next day, Sir texted me. “Are you free tomorrow night?” I responded in the affirmative.
“Good. Be at my place by 8.” was the curt response.
Delighted, I sent my reply “Yes Sir.” In hindsight, perhaps I should have been more nervous.

Thursday afternoon Sir contacted me to request that I wear a dress and underwear that I wasn’t worried about getting damaged. And to bring a change of clothes. A delicious shiver of excitement ran through me. I dug through my closet and found a black dress that had been just waiting for a moment like this and an old bra and panties. I packed a pair of jeans, change of underwear and tank top into my bag and left the house, a whirlwind of thoughts racing around my head.

Driving through the city streets, I wondered what Sir could possibly have in store for me. I knew he had somewhat of a sadistic streak but this was a minor infraction, just a storm in a teacup really…
I pulled up in front of his house almost thirty minutes early in my haste to not to get there late. The last time I was two minutes late, which he was not too pleased with. I sat and played on my phone while I waited, the nervousness creeping up on me almost imperceptibly until my hands were damp and my heart was beating just a little too fast.
Five minutes to eight or so and I couldn’t wait any longer. Perhaps showing eagerness would gain me some points. I gathered my things and walked up the path. I paused, then rang the doorbell and glanced around nervously. After a few minutes, the door swung open.
“Hello Sir…” I said, smiling. The words hung in the air, unanswered. He waved me in, I stepped over the threshold and into the interior hall.
“You’re four minutes early”.
“Uh, sorry. I thought as I was late last time you might appreciate me being early this…time…” my words trailed off as I realized I was talking to the back of his head.
“Put your purse down and go face the wall.” Sir called over his shoulder. I did as requested and stood there feeling not unlike a naughty schoolgirl. I couldn’t fail to notice the large black metal cage on the floor to my left. I knew he didn’t own a dog, so it didn’t take too much to figure out who would be going in there…
Several minutes passed and I had to fight the urge to turn around. I stared at the immaculately smooth wall – like the rest of his house – my uneasiness growing by the second. And yes, excitement. But before I could process that thought: footsteps, then a hand in my hair, pulling on the roots, dragging me to the middle of the room. He twirled me around to face him. His face was hard.
“Why did you disobey me?”
“I – uh -”
A hard slap across my face stunned me.
“Answer me. Why did you drink tea when I told you not to?”
“I thought it would be funny…” I said in a small voice.
The grip in my hair became tighter.
“You thought it would be funny?”
“Yes Sir. I’m sorry.”
“Not so funny now is it?”
He slapped my face. Then again, and again, all the while keeping a painfully tight grip on my hair.
I winced from each blow.
“Is it?” Slap.
“No Sir.”
“Not laughing now, are you?” Slap
“No Sir.” I said meekly, eyes downcast.
I was not to look at Sir’s eyes directly unless instructed to specifically and I kept my eyes down for the entire exchange.
“Over to the couch.”
Sir marched me across the room, my hair still wrapped around his hand and sat down.
“Over my knee. Now.”
I leaned over Sir’s lap, ready to get my punishment over with. He lifted my dress up and began to spank me on my ass, bare but for the lacy thong I wore. Hard. This wasn’t a playful, fun spanking and I realized for the first time just how furious he must be with me. I squealed and wriggled around in an effort to get away from his hand, which he noticed and remarked on angrily. The blows came down again and again on my ass and the backs of my thighs.
Finally he stopped and I was able to catch my breath. But only for a moment. He forced me to back down onto my knees and took my hair in his hand again.
“Let’s go for a walk…”
He yanked me by my hair and I struggled to keep up with him on my hands and knees as I was led into the kitchen. My pained whines fell on deaf ears.
Sir roughly walked me around the kitchen then around the lower part of the house while I scrabbled to keep up with him and to to keep the pressure off my knees on the unforgiving wood floor. We made a few rounds of the house before going into the dining room. He bent me over the dining table and began to spank me again, this time even harder than before. I yelped and tried to push his hand away, which seemed to only fuel his anger further. He slapped my hands out of the way and held them with one hand while he continued to whack me with the other, my cries ringing in my ears. On and on until I thought I wouldn’t be able to take any more.
Without warning he stopped, wrestled me to the floor and began to pull me along by my hair again, out of the room. I lost my balance trying to keep up and stumbled. My hairs felt like they were being ripped out of my head and I couldn’t tell which was more sore, my ass, my knees or my pride. I reached up to him, a sob escaping from my lips. No, no, don’t cry, whatever you do, don’t let him see you cry.
“Please….”
Tears only seconds away, he crouched down and looked at me. I averted my eyes.
“Are you crying?”
I didn’t respond. After a couple of minutes, I composed myself and he pulled on my hair again and moved in the direction of the door. With a newfound resolve and determination, I followed him back to the living room on all fours, ignoring the pain in my knees.
“Get up”.
He yanked me up in front of the ottoman, upon which lay several items of restraint, cuffs both leather and metal, and what looked like a spreader bar for the head and arms. Sir lifted it up in front of me. “Seen one of these before?”
I nodded.
“Where?”
I mumbled something about Tumblr and he asked where else.
“The film, Secretary.”
This seemed to please Him. He placed a cold metal ring around my neck and locked it, then did the same to my hands, so that my arms were held wide apart and completely immobilized. I immediately felt the urge to scratch my nose.
“You’re going to go into the kitchen and make four cups of Earl Grey tea. You will find everything you need in there. Kettle, teapot, mugs, teabags and milk. You have five minutes to perform this task. Go.”
I hesitated.
“May I go to the bathroom?”
“No.” And with that, he dismissed me.
I hurried into the kitchen and immediately wasted about a minute opening cupboards when I could have had the water on to boil, wincing as they banged noisily. I awkwardly switched the faucet on, and held the kettle under the water, flicked it to on and went to find the rest of the items. Mugs: check – FOUR cups? Who were the other two for? Were we expecting company? But there was no time to ponder this further. Next: teabags. Again I banged my way through the cupboards, but no teabags… Stop. Think. My gaze fell on the ajar pantry door. I slid in sideways, careful not to knock anything and scoured the shelves. I spotted the box of Earl Grey. Grabbing it and maneuvering back out of the pantry, I scrabbled to open the box and shook it to empty the contents. They were the individually wrapped kind and I groaned. Spotting a pair of scissors laying on the counter helpfully, I laid a teabag over the edge of the counter and prepared to slice its head off, like a hapless monarch during the French Revolution. I had been unsuccessful in my search for the teapot and decided to just make them in the mugs rather than waste any more time.
It was a fiddly job but somehow I got all four teabags into their mugs. The kettle clicked off and I carefully poured the boiling water onto the teabags just as Sir walked in.
“Your time is up. You didn’t find the teapot?”
I shook my head. “No Sir.”
He laughed. “It’s ok. I don’t have one.” I smiled nervously.

“Just carry on.”
Now for the milk. I crossed to the fridge and lifted a cardboard carton of milk from the shelf. With a little bit of help from the scissors again, and after making a right pigs ear of the top of the carton, I got it open enough to splash some milk into the mugs.
I stirred the milk and removed the teabags. There was a puddle of water and milk and discarded tea bags and wrappers on the counter. I suspected that Sir would not be happy if I left a mess so I gathered them up, threw them in the trash and wiped up with some napkins.
I carried the mugs carefully, one in each hand into the living room. Sir was sitting with his feet up, looking quite relaxed. He didn’t look up.
“Put them on the coffee table.”
I crossed the room and placed them down, one of the mugs splashing but thankfully none escaping.
“You’d better not get any tea on my carpet” came the stern warning. My heart thumping in my chest, I returned to the kitchen for the other two mugs and gingerly set them down. I straightened up, wondering if this could possibly be the end of my punishment or was there still more to come? But what about the cage?
“Let’s try this tea then…. Hmm, not bad. You Brits know how to make a cup of tea…” he laughed. “It’s ok, you can laugh too.”
Relaxing slightly, I joined in. I needed the bathroom but he had already refused permission, and I didn’t feel like asking again. Once my hands and neck were liberated from the spreader bar, he beckoned for me to take a cup of tea.
“You’ve probably noticed the cage? ”
“Yes Sir” I said, sipping my tea.
“You’re going to be going in there. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
“Yes Sir.”
This was my most often used phrase and the one that seemed to please him the most.
“Ok, put the tea down, and come over here.” I complied.
“Hold out your hands.”
Sir placed leather cuffs over my wrists and ankles and led me to the cage.
“Wait there.”
A few moments later he returned with the scissors and proceeded to cut my dress and bra off.
“You won’t be needing these again….In the cage.”
I got onto my knees and crawled into the cage as Sir berated me for my slowness. He had put down a blanket and soft rubber mat, which my knees were thankful for.
He crouched down in front of the bars. “Face me and put your legs through the bars”
I wriggled into a seated position and slid my ankles through. He frowned. “You can get them wider…”
Finally happy with my position, Sir moved around to the back of the cage.
“Put your left hand through the bars behind you.”
I did as requested and he clipped the cuff to the bar.
Sir pulled over a side table and placed the four mugs of tea upon it. “Drink up.”
I reached through the bars and picked up the mug I had been drinking from before. I hesitated. I could feel the pressure building up; I really needed to use the bathroom. He tapped on my shoulder. “Drink your tea.”
I sipped the hot liquid, as I shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position, but I was held fast. Sir left the room. I tensed my thighs, wishing I could squeeze them together for some relief, having finally figured out the reason behind the the four cups of tea. I was impressed. Sir was very creative. He certainly ensured that the punishment fit the crime.
The music that had been playing in the background since I arrived abruptly ceased and the living room was aurally transformed into a tropical rainforest, complete with the sound of rushing waterfalls. I rested my mug on my knee and shook my head; I had to laugh.
“Did I tell you to stop drinking?”
Sir rapped the bars of the cage from behind with some metal implement and I jumped, almost spilling hot tea on my knee. I quickly raised the mug to my lips and took a long gulp.
“I asked you a question.”
“No Sir. You did not.”
“And what is so funny?”
“Nothing, Sir.”
“Enjoying the change of music?”
I swallowed a giggle. “Yes Sir.”
“Thought you might. How are you doing with that tea? Nearly finished? ”
“Halfway, Sir” I replied, and drank deeply.
“When you have finished that, there are three more.”
I remained silent. I was only given permission to speak if a question was addressed to me, which this was not. I had been caught out before, but I was learning. I finished the tea, returned it to the table and picked up the second mug.
Sir straightened up. “I’m going to be in the other room. When you have finished all the mugs of tea, let me know.”
I was starting to feel very uncomfortable indeed and was only on my second mug of tea. I gulped the rest of it down and immediately reached for mug number 3; there was no sense in prolonging things. The sooner I finished up, the sooner I would get to relieve myself, or so I hoped. By the time I finished number 4, I was positively squirming.
“Finished, Sir!” I called out, straining to look over my shoulder. There was no response. Did he not hear me?
“Sir-”
“I heard you the first time” he said, sauntering into the room. “You finished all the tea?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Do you need to ask me something?”
“Yes Sir, I do.” I said, grimacing.
“Go ahead.”
“May I go to the bathroom? ”
“No. You can wait a bit longer.”
He walked out as I stared after him in disbelief. I looked down at the floor of the cage. Did he want me to go right here? Perhaps that was part of the punishment? I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to be able to hold it.
After a few painfully long minutes, he returned. He sat down in the chair opposite me and folded his legs.
“I want you to beg me to go.”
I almost blurted out “What?!” But I knew I hadn’t misheard him.
“Please Sir, may I go to the bathroom?”
He laughed. “You call that begging? I know you can beg better than that…”
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Please. I BEG you Sir. I really really need to go. PLEASE. PLEASE.”
He pondered this for a while, as I waited desperately.
“Alright. You can go.”
I sighed audibly. Thank you Sir.”
He crouched down in front of the bars and released my left hand, followed by both ankles, then I heard a bolt being shot back.
“Out.”
I was stiff from being in the cramped, confined space and it took me a minute or two to unravel myself. I crawled out ungracefully, and was immediately taken roughly by the arm and pulled to my feet. I tottered insteadily. Sir led me to the stairs with his fingers digging into my arm, which would probably bruise tomorrow. We ascended. He guided me forcefully into the bathroom then brought me to a stop. There was a metal bucket standing on the floor in front of the cabinet and a couple of items on the countertop
“Into the shower. Against the wall. Face me.”
I stepped inside and got into position. Sir picked up the bucket and placed it into the shower. I looked at him curiously.
“Well? What are you waiting for? You wanted to go, didn’t you?”
I took a deep breath and approached the bucket. I began to remove my underwear but Sir grabbed my hand.
“No. Leave them on.”
My eyes widened but I sat over the bucket, and gripped the edges with my palms. Sheer relief overshadowed any embarrassment I felt and I began to go while Sir watched. It went on for an excruciatingly long time and I felt like a pet sitting in a litter tray with its owner looking on. After a couple of false stops, I looked at him.
“Done?”
“Yes Sir.”
“Good. Stand up”. I did as he asked and he sliced my underwear off with the scissors from the counter. “Open your mouth.”
I just looked at him, incredulous. Then, a hard slap across the face. “Did I stutter?”
My mouth opened wide. Sir stuffed my pee soaked panties in my mouth, and as I moaned, reached behind him on the cabinet and pulled a reel of electrical tape, and proceeded to wrap it around my mouth and the back of my head. He stood back, looking satisfied. “Back against the shower.”
I stepped back and pressed myself against the back wall as Sir picked up the bucket and loomed over me. I shook my head, making indecipherable noises through my stuffed mouth. He approached me as I cowered there, and tipped up the bucket. The contents showered over the lower half of my body, running down my stomach, thighs and calves. I grunted in disgust through my gag, naked and humiliated, dripping with my special brew: Earl Grey infused urine.
“That was the end of your punishment. Relieved?”
“I nodded and grunted a response.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
I nodded thankfully. The electrical tape was rubbing the sides of my mouth and I couldn’t wait to get it off. Sir removed the tape and the underwear from my mouth, then switched on the shower head, as I waited gratefully for the cleansing water to hit me. It was freezing cold. I shrieked. I thought this was the end of my punishment, but I didn’t dare point this out.
“Straighten up.” He directed the shower at me as I tried not to flinch, failing miserably. “Too cold?”
“Yes Sir! It’s freezing!”
“Haha. Let’s see if we can warm it up a bit.” He fiddled with the knob and the hot water came on. I relaxed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sir washed my hair and body for me.
When I was completely clean, he handed me a soft, towel.
“Have you learned your lesson?”
I nodded. “You won’t be disobeying me again anytime soon?”
“No Sir.”
“Good. Dry yourself off.” He left the bathroom. As I patted myself down, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Cheeks flushed, makeup smeared, hair a mess. I smiled slyly, certain that this wouldn’t be my last punishment.

Erotica/smut writer and submissive pet, Jenna dabbled in kink over the years but didn’t fully embrace it until her submissive desires were awakened more recently. She enjoys every letter in the BDSM acronym. When not being a good, obedient pet she enjoys hiking the beautiful trails around LA and painting. You can purchase the full collection of short stories The Monster Within to which Jenna is a contributing author.

Comments

  1. Beautifully written and descriptive! Well done, Jenny!

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