Page 38 of João
“….okay, Master,” I said, wondering where I was supposed to write this, but Master was prepared for everything. He left the room and came back trailing a transparent dry erase board on wheels.
“We use this with some of the littles at the club. I thought that would be a fit punishment for you handling this like a little girl instead of the queen you are. I understand when little girls don’t know how to use their words, but you? You do. You should never go through something you are not fully comfortable with. Remind me our safe word.”
“Treble clef.”
“Good. Now get to writing, boa menina,” Master said and swaggered toward one of the reclining leather chairs, turning it to face me. What I’d missed was the black remote in his hand, and then it all clicked.
“Master, please…”
“Nah, menina, you’re gonna take your punishment. And I’m gonna enjoy myself watching you.”
the punishment
GISELE
I’ll call my mom.
Fluorescent blue ink shined bright on the transparent board with a hundred lines, all written in very small cursive. The first couple of lines had been easy. Easy in the sense of completion but not easy in the sense of anticipation. My heart beat aggressively in my chest as I surreptitiously studied Master, who sat unbothered in his comfy armchair as if this was a normal Monday for him. And maybe it was.
After the first twenty lines, things got real. The microphone contraption turned on, except it wasn’t a microphone. It was a wand attached to a remote-controlled stick.
The buzz of the vibration of the wand was loud, and it startled me at first until I saw the line of Master’s shoulders, the only tell he was up to something. Every other muscle appeared relaxed. Our gazes connected as I wrote one more line and felt the whirl of the vibration inching closer to my exposed pussy. My skin tightened. My pussy started throbbing as the wand approached my center, inch by inch. Staring down, I saw how the custom-made toy worked much better now. There was noway to escape the upcoming vibration as the wand was nestled in the middle of the spreader bar.
Smart. Not good for me, though.
I’ll call my mom.
This was an item I should have negotiated out of the talks; I wasn’t ready to speak to her. Our communications were brief via text—her with her morning and night scriptures, me keeping her abreast of the minimal. I didn’t plan to stop completely talking to her and missed her presence, but my needs were more than just admonishment for not going to church. My needs were simple: to talk to my mama and get her thoughts, and only hers—and she wasn’t ready to give me that, so I wasn’t ready to act as if nothing happened.
Why did I agree with João that this could be part of my ritual? Because for just a second, I wanted to think outside of the box, outside of my patterns and coping mechanisms. I wanted to address things in a way that actually brought real change and not temporary fulfillment, hence why I didn’t remove it from his list when he suggested it.
And here I was, paying for that mistake.
The wand’s buzz warmed me between my legs, tempting me with its proximity. Holding my breath, I refused to look down and watch the stick disappearing under satin and lace. But the fact that that was what Master could see… Our gazes connected again, his impassive, mine submissive. I held the stare while I wrote another line, needing his touch. Needing a touch. Anything. Anything to remove this gap between reality and my desires.
Warm wetness touched my own, the tremor a low hum that made my thighs shake as delicious vibrations stimulated my labia, slowly inching to my clit.
Without much thought, I attempted to squat, needing more than the gentle vibration currently teasing me.
That was all he needed.
Emptiness greeted me instead, the buzz edging away from where it should be getting closer.
“Don’t stop writing, boa menina.” Master’s deep command startled me out of the pleasure fuzz I’d sunken into the last couple of minutes.
His hands. I studied his hands as I recommenced my writing, thankful for the transparent board that allowed me to still watch him. What would it be for his hands to be doing the punishment? Just like that day in the classroom, to feel his palm plumping my swollen, drenched lips. Yearning for his touch, a moan escaped me.
“Are you good?” The buzz of the toy stopped.
“Yes, Master, all good.” My voice came out steady, and thank the small mercies for that. The board started filling up, little squiggly lines reminding me of the one task I didn’t complete for my Master. It could have been so simple. Maybe he’d be rewarding me instead of torturing me right now.
“Good girl. Now erase everything and write:I will talk to my Master about anything.”
“Oh…” The hitch in my breath couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a full surprise. I hadn’t expected that. My unrestrained breasts swayed, my nipples brushing the satin as I energetically erased everything. All the lines I’d done before I removed, leaving the board clean of any ink. My ears filled with my loud choppy breath and the hum of the air conditioner until the sounds settled in my head, creating a song that soothed me.
I had nothing to do but write the lines my Master told me to write. How refreshing. How liberating. I wouldn’t want to disappoint him again, but this…this was what I needed.
The repetitive task kept my mind sufficiently occupied but not enough to remove the deep yearning that formed in mychest. My eyes blurred, swaths of blue and black and cream blending all together.
