Silent PunishmentBy Slave R
I'd pulled into this particular parking space several dozen times, so you could say I knew it well. And I knew the emotions that went with it. Disconnecting from my job, my life - emptying my pockets into the console - and getting myself into the right mindset. The mindset where I belonged, where I craved to be as often as feasible - where I was Hers. What has happened when I've walked through that door has taken so many forms, once I make that transition. She's so creative and able to blend Her desires with my needs...that I'm never sure what awaits me. A playful paddling over her lap...some time at the sink with that awful soap...being invaded by any number of her varied and devious toys...or some harsher punishment for something I haven't actually done wrong, but that I need and deserve. As She says, no matter that I'm a good pet to her, I'm always a bad boy inside. Always have been, always will be. But today's entrance into the parking spot and walk to Her door are different. It's because of the conversation we'd had recently, stewing in my mind until the time was right. Today was that time. We were talking about the nature of "real punishment." The reason didn't matter, it wasn't about the why. It was about the how.