| Title: Marnies Fitting Punishment
Keywords: mf, mdom, sm
A naughty slave with an angry master.
All characters are fictional and a figment of my imagination.
Constructive e-mail welcome.
Marnie's Fitting Punishment
by Caesar, copyright 1996-2002
$Revision: 1.2 $ $Date: 2002/07/08 16:12:06 $
Sometimes Marnie makes me so mad. The thing is, she knows exactly
what she does to me and I think she enjoys it. More often than not it
rarely gets on my nerves or even bothers me in the least. Each person
must follow their own path, I've always believed. Only in this case,
I'm able to punish Marnie when her path isn't going the direction I
wish it to go.
You see, Marnie is my Slave.
Oh, I know the stigma when someone hears that word "Slave". Yet don't
label either of us too harshly. In fact, I doubt any judgment that
you issue would make a difference in the way I live my life.
Contrary to the definition, Marnie has chosen her lifestyle with full
consent and can leave it at any moment. In fact, all she has to say
is "no" and I would stop whatever I'm doing. It is really that easy.
We both know it and live with that knowledge. Yet if that word is
ever uttered then our relationship could never continue as it had
been. Once that word is spoken, then she would no longer be my Slave.
It has yet to be uttered.
Oh, by the way, my name is Caesar. I'm Marnie's Master and, this may
surprise you, friend. A Slave is not simply a sexual object, though
at times I certainly use her in this fashion. It's a lifestyle
between two consenting adults. Out of the privacy of our lives, we
are two upper-middle-class individuals that hold jobs and do all that
other couples do.
In fact that is one reason why I'm writing this today. You see, right
now, my Slave Marnie is kneeling next to my seat waiting for my
attention. It's early Sunday morning - I don't normally sleep much,
and we had both just emerged from the small shower. She will stay
kneeling like that until I say otherwise. If you never enjoyed the
life of a submissive or dominant you would not understand.
Marnie doesn't know it yet, but I'm not mad at her any longer. In
fact, I'm feeling rather good. She, on the other hand, most probably
remembers the blows to her bottom that she received as punishment and
wonders if my quiet way of dealing with her this morning means I'm
still angry with her. On the contrary, actually.
I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
It all started last evening at a friend's party. Nothing special -
just that he wanted to show off his new girlfriend and his new
condominium. It's been a tough climb for him and he was deserving of
a small bash with a few friends.
Well, John had a bit much to drink and his mouth was speaking before
his brain gave the go ahead about an hour before midnight. I had been
talking with another friend about some business contracts coming up (I
always seem to end up talking business wherever I go) and excused
myself at an opportune moment in the conversation. I maneuvered
through the crowd and made my way to the tiny kitchen (worst part of
his apartment, actually). I saw that Marnie - yes the same one I was
referring to earlier - and John were talking about something while
three others crowded around, laughing.
Well, my Slave can be the life of the party or she may sit in the
corner and watch everyone else. Usually I found it took something to
bring the former out, and when I got within hearing range I found out
exactly what that was.
"...no details, mind you."
Marnie was leaning in towards John and pushed for more information.
"What else did he say?"
"Just that you're his Slave." Damn! Though this is the way we have
decided to live our private lives, it's not normally for public
consumption. Though nothing was agreed between my Slave and me, it
felt as if I had broken a confidence, which John just revealed to my
Slave and a few witnesses.
"Nothing else?" Just as I stood behind one of the onlookers who
noticed me and looked embarrassed, Marnie reached around and pulled
John's unstable drunk torso against her tiny frame. "Come on, you can
tell me anything, John."
He looked surprised at the contact and shook his head negatively. Yet
Marnie wasn't to be put off so fast. She didn't know him well enough
to see that he was actually speaking the truth, that John knew of her
submissive lifestyle with me but no details of any sort. I wondered
if her actions were for her own inquisitiveness or a show for the
"Come on, Johnny?" Just as she spoke this, Marnie lowered her hand
from his waist down to his buttock. From my position behind I could
see that she gained a good handhold and gave my friend a firm grasp.
What happened next went very fast. John dropped the beer bottle in
his grasp (Canadians love their beer) and it fell on the overcrowded
counter, the crash thunderous as several empty and half-filled alcohol
bottles began a domino effect. Then he jerked forward into the edge
of the counter and tried to get away from that tiny but strong hand.
In his drunken haze he simply slipped on the bottles about his feet to
land comically upon his ass. It was obvious he was not except
maybe his pride. There were a few screams and a couple of hands
reached for John as he fell between the three onlookers. Yet it was
Marnie that I saw and watched.
Marnie had lost her grip when John felt down upon the floor, and
hearing the laughs and screams, the loudest of which came from the
woman I stood behind, my Slave turned her head. I could see her
playful mischievous smile and she played the last few seconds up to
the credit of her acting abilities.
Yet that smile immediately ended when her eyes found my own glaring
towards her. Marnie could see my displeasure at her game. To be
truthful, I wasn't sure if I was mad at her free hands or the way she
made one of my friends look pathetic.
That's what started it.
I'll not go into details about the minutes before we finally left the
party or how I became very cold towards her. It was only a fifteen
minute drive, when not in midday traffic, to my boat and my home.
With the top down on my Jeep she had to raise her voice, as she
attempted to laugh and then excuse what I had witnessed. Finally,
just as I pulled into my parking space, her voice turned angry as she
tried to place the blame onto me.
Of course, I was partially at fault. The fact that I had told John
anything about our relationship was breaking a confidence of sorts,
though I was too angry at what I saw to even think straight about
that. Those thoughts would come later. It happens rarely, but logic
sometimes escapes me.
I took quick long steps down to the wharf and to my sloop. Marnie
half-ran and walked to keep up to me. I ignored her completely. I'm
not even sure if she had ever seen me angry before, how I become cold
and very distant. It was definitely a new side to her Master, a side
that must have convinced her this was not a game, and that my anger
was more than just a desire to paddle her bottom or as a prelude to a
hot passionate sexual encounter.
No, in fact I didn't desire her at all at that moment. When I finally
entered my boat and Marnie silently came down the ladder behind me, I
felt like I was about to lose my temper. I couldn't look at her, I
couldn't even settle my own breathing. I knew that I had to get away
or I may do something I would regret.
I pushed passed her as I started for the ladder. She looked
Immediately I interrupted her. "Wait for me in the bedroom." I
escaped into the night and walked for some distance, barely noticing
the spray of water crashing the sea wall and soaking my casual
Don't get me wrong - she can and often does get me mad, yet never to
the point where I had to leave to regain my composure. If there was
anything in life I feared it was losing my temper. When it happened,
nothing good ever came about it. It had not happened in years - long
before I ever met my Slave. Oh, I definitely planned on punishing
Marnie, though I have never, nor will I ever, raise a hand to her in
anger. That, simply, was what the walk was for.
I'm not even sure how long it took before I returned to my sailboat. A
dim light from a port was evidence that Marnie was still awake
and awaiting me. I found her as I had requested, in the stern cabin
upon the comfortable raised bed.
She sat wearing only a translucent white teddy that I had purchased
for her some time ago and matching white stockings. Marnie looked
lovely and I knew that this was a way for her to appease me. It
I stood at the foot of the bed and coldly spoke. "I want you naked."
It wasn't usual that Marnie was silent, yet I knew the look in my eye
told of the dangerous mood I was in. She took the revealing and very
sexy lingerie off, all the while keeping my eye. She sat kneeling
waiting for me to say something else.
Coming around I pulled her firmly down upon her stomach and pulled her
wrists to the corner of the bed. In a small drawer there were some
silken cords that had seen recent use and I again used then to bind
her wrists together and then to the corner of the bed.
"Master, please, it is too tight." I ignored her but made a note to
watch the skin of her hands for discolouration.
Then I did the same to her ankles, binding them with a gentle touch of
the silk scarf, tying the silk to the opposite corner of the bed. She
was effectively bound, stretched diagonally across the bed, helpless
to my whim.
I took my light jacket off and opened a discrete shelf below the
raised bed. I withdrew a stern leather crop that I had purchased for
our mutual amusement and perhaps enjoyment, though it had been used
more than once upon her, never as a serious punishment. Each kiss of
that oiled leather had been for pleasure and perhaps experimentation.
How much could Marnie endure? I had learned the limits some time ago
and knew that would now be tested.
I haven't ever explained what my Slave looks like, have I? Now may be
a good time. Why? Well, it was her bottom that most of her
punishments were applied to, and last evening had been no different.
Yet that bottom, that smooth white round skin as without flaw or
marks...I had spent many a moment fondling, kissing, and even spanking
that flesh. It was so fine that a firm squeeze with a hand left a
mark for several minutes. A spanking would last for hours. And the
crop - well, this morning in the shower Marnie still sported welts
from her punishment.
Marnie was a tiny woman, in every way. She was petite, and had cute
facial features. She could be called attractive and even sexy at her
best moments, yet Marnie would only settle for "cute". She was also a
few years than me and sometimes I wondered if that held some of
the attraction between us. The younger Master and the submissive.
It was obvious to her what I was about to do and perhaps why, since
she never once questioned me on my anger. Normally she could talk up
a storm and even get me to change my mood into something else. I
guess that was what the white lingerie had been for, to change my
mood. It didn't work. You see, my Slave wore different colors to
match her, or sometimes my, mood. White gave off a message that I
didn't mistake, though this time I did ignore.
"Master" - she dare not call me by my name while I was in this frame
of mind, I had guessed - "please read my journal?"
I barked back, "Quiet!"
On my instructions, my Slave had kept a literary journal on the laptop
I had loaned her. It was the journal of a submissive, about her
thoughts, emotions, and desires. It was an idea I had formulated some
time ago and she seemed to enjoy it. We both very much liked to
express ourselves in the written word. It was sometimes a way for us
to tell each other what our real thoughts actually were, though I had
some time ago made the decision that anything in her journal could
never be used against her, that it was for me, and I could not turn
that part of her to my benefit. It was a way for me to learn more
about what was in the mind and heart of the woman that knelt to me.
It had always worked.
The laptop sat on the ledge above the bed, closed, but that meant
nothing. After a few seconds wondering if I even should try reading
it, I decided and reached for the tiny computer. I took it out to the
table and sat down before turning up the lid and waited as the power
I read the lengthy admission of her anger, embarrassment and then her
wish for atonement. Normally this would have turned my mood - this
coupled with those sexy white could get my blood boiling
easier than a teenager's first blow job. Yet I was cold, my heart
turned to stone, and I knew that she had to be punished, if for no
other reason than my desire to complete something that I had decided
in heated emotion. Thinking back, it may have been a test of my own
She is a wonderful woman. Strange that I write that now just before I
explain how I finally punished her. Perhaps I would not have even
bothered with a punishment if I did not care for her so much. Does
that make sense? Perhaps you must be a dominant or just taste a piece
of my life to understand.
I returned to the cabin and my patient Slave.
"I apologize for telling John that you are my Slave. It was wrong of
me, lass." She turned her head to look hopefully at me. Then I
watched her eyes as she saw me pick the leather crop back up where it
lay next to her hip.
There would be no reprieve.
I felt its long, firm, ridged surface and ignored her fearful looks.
I think she knew it wasn't going to be a punishment that precluded one
of our hot lovemaking sessions; rather, it was a Master punishing his
Slave, as base and simple as that. I like to think that Masters have
been punishing their Slaves in this way for thousands of years. It
was times like this that her resolve to be the submissive was tested
to the fullest.
The first strike startled even me. It wasn't very graceful and some
of the power was lost in the awkwardness of its strike, though Marnie
jerked against the silk and grunted in surprise. Already that
tantalizing white skin was turning red.
"Master!" she screamed, watching my arm raise for another strike.
The next was much harsher and her body jerked in pain. I was ethereal
in that I felt somehow distant from what I was doing to the body that
I had so often enjoyed. Now, as I sit here remembering all that
happened only hours before, I can't seem to remember how many strikes
I pressed to that wonderful bottom or if Marnie had even used that
magic word to stop me. I do remember the last blow, as I muttered,
"One for the Queen!" as it struck her bottom for the last time.
Well, that was her punishment. Or maybe it was deeper than that,
maybe it was some mental and emotion crisis that was overcome. Yet it
doesn't matter any longer - my Slave is now kneeling next to me and
that is what really matters.
Her bottom, which I inspected this morning as she still slept, was raw
and most probably will be sore for days to come. No pernament harm
would ever come to that tender skin, as long as I'm her Master, though
it may be temporarily marked at my whim.
Pardon me - I was about to leave this short at this point, and
had. In fact, I had showed my Slave my true feelings this wonderful
morning and now as I type her experienced and very pleasurable lips
are my cock back into hardness. I can look down right now and
see the pleasure in her eyes, possibly even mirroring my own.
So, as her mouth works upon me I thought I would finish this by
telling what happened after I dropped the crop.
Originally I was just going to write about the punishment my Slave
underwent and why. Yet, somehow, the punishment isn't what this few
lines of text are about. Its about the interaction and our
relationship as a couple, the Master and his Slave.
Afterwards, I stood staring with my mind in a cloud at her cheeks.
Slowly reality returned and I could see its glowing surface and heard
her sobs. It was finished - the pain was finished and though I
regretted what had happened, somehow I thought it was necessary on a
deep mental level. It was a very base thought, the Master punishing
his Slave. I went to the head and removed my clothing and quickly
showered to clear my thoughts and to allow my Slave time with her own.
Upon entering my cabin once again, I carried a large soft towel and
several soaking cold cloths. Still bound, I began to gently place the
cloth over the raised globes of her bottom. She hissed as the fabric
touched her; surely it must have hurt. I then gave her body a sponge
bath, doing the whole of her exposed skin. The both of us were silent
and I felt some tension still in the room but ignored it.
Removing the silken bindings I rolled her over onto her side, knowing
the sensitive skin of her ass would be too much to lay upon her back.
Then I continued with her quick bath and finished her front. Finally
I gently dried her with the towel and rolled her back onto her front.
All this time she was silent, trying to avoid my eyes. Did she feel
like a punished little or like a woman betrayed? I hoped for the
former, for I still desired her as a companion and would treat her as
my desirable possession as long as I am able.
I then found and rubbed a generous amount of her body cream into her
skin, paying special attention to the hot, almost throbbing skin of
her ass. It took me a very long time as I tried to reach every inch
of her body, between the toes and even behind her ears. I was very
familiar with her body and used that knowledge to only use soft
attentive touches that caressed her body for our mutual pleasure.
Don't mistake my ministrations as guilt for what I had just done to my
Slave's body; rather, it was my pleasure at comforting her and without
words, telling her that the worst was over. Often I had tended to her
body, bound or not, enjoying my hands upon her. It's something I like
and it's something that I will continue to do. I think she always
enjoyed the attention I gave her, almost worshiping my Slave as she
does at times for me.
I pulled the light sheet up to her shoulders and started to retreat
from the room.
"Master?" Her voice was hoarse, most probably from screaming out in
Finally she found my eyes with her own, the question obvious. "I'll
sleep in the fore cabin tonight, Marnie. Sleep tight, lass."
"Good night, Master." Those three words held several emotions that I
couldn't place but wasn't about to investigate further. She would be
alone with her thoughts and her glowing hot ass tonight. We both had
time to think.
That next morning, hours later, today, she had tended to my morning
rituals and joined me in the shower, as she often did in the early
hours. With gentle submissive moves she washed and dried my body
before following me back to my corner and my computer.
For whatever reason, I wanted to write this with that image of her ass still in my mind, to explain that I wasn't proud or pleased at
what I had done, but that I took heart that I could do it again if
need be. My dominance, at least to myself, was strengthened.
Now it's time to finish this little excerpt into my life, as I'm
feeling less able to write. My Slave has a wonderful mouth which she
knows how to use upon me with great effect. Afterwards, I'm planning
to return the pleasure she gave me, and give her a slow, torturous
orgasm. Maybe several.
It's bound to be a long enjoyable Sunday.