Punishable Offenses

A long-distance relationship is just difficult in general. The inability to see one's significant other, especially in times of sheer joy or utter distress, weighs heavily on both partners. When one is a very busy Ph.D. student and the other works in a job with a highly-demanding schedule, it is even more difficult for the lovers to see each other as often as they would like.

When a long-distance relationship also includes a BDSM component, there is one thing which is quite likely to occur first when the partners are able to be in the same geographical location: a punishment.

As the plane made its final approach to Oakland International Airport, My thoughts turned to loving slave's assignment since My last visit a few months earlier: she was to maintain a running tally of punishable offenses and present it to Me upon My arrival. As I watched the water creep closer and closer as the plane decreased in altitude, I wondered exactly what she would consider as punishable offenses - something neither she nor I had clarified - and considered various punishments for her, to have a selection of viable possibilities depending upon the punishable offenses she listed for Me.

At last, the rear wheels touched the tarmac. It felt good to be in California once again, especially in the Bay Area. Judging from the murmurs of the passengers around Me, many others felt the same way. The teenage girl sitting next to Me finally opened her eyes, glanced out the window, and gave a loud sigh of relief.

"Congratulations," I said softly to her, patting her sweat-covered hand as its iron grip on the armrest she and I shared finally began to loosen. "You just completed your first flight." She simply nodded and gave Me a weak smile.

Rookie. I wonder if John Madden would react the same way if he ever flies again.

I almost made a comment about how she just survived her first flight, only to be swallowed up by an earthquake in a few hours, but ultimately decided that she had been through enough anguish these past two hours.

Once off the plane, it took a moment to recognize the part of the terminal I was in and get My bearings. Seeing a small flower cart across the way, I made My way over to the young woman selling primarily roses. Never had I arrived and presented my slave with a rose before, so this would be a nice touch.

The agreement was that she would meet Me at the Terminal 2 baggage claim area, near where the passengers emerged into the public area of the terminal. So, I purposely made My way to Terminal 1 instead, ultimately stepping outside into the summer afternoon sunshine and relishing the cool ocean-scented breeze that I missed so desperately living in the Arizona desert. It was mid-afternoon, yet the temperature was cooler than it usually is when I leave to go to work at 6AM.

Taking My time and knowing that My slave's anticipation would be growing exponentially, I strolled along the sidewalk toward Terminal 2. A police officer noticed Me and the rose I carried and gave Me a smile and a wink. That was odd, as I did not remember having ever met him before, but I acknowledged him with a nod and continued on My way.

Entering Terminal 2, I stood amongst the ticket counters, drinking in the activity and the general noise around Me. I have always loved airports, especially the AirMall in Pittsburgh before 9/11, but for some reason, I particularly felt at "home" standing here.

Perhaps because I was back in the Bay Area, with the love of My life (unbeknownst to her) just a few hundred yards away.

After readjusting the strap of My lone carry-on, I made my way through the crowd, amazed that still there were so many people using the ticket counters and not the automated check-in kiosks. Passing the snaking line for the Security Checkpoint, I emerged into the baggage claim area itself, and saw her.

she stood amongst the other passengers from My flight at once of the baggage claim carousels, her back to Me. I noted her the strap of her favorite purse/bag crossed her body, the same way I wore My carry-on. As I approached her from behind, she seemed to be lost in thought.

There was no one standing immediately next to her, which was good, as neither of U/us really want the O/our Master-slave relationship to be public knowledge. So I walked silently up behind her, leaned close, and whispered into her right ear:

"Have you been a good slave in My absence?"

In one fluid motion, she spun and hugged Me fiercely - effectively, just another typical reunion scene played out repeatedly at airports around the world every day.

Once I finally extricated myself from her grasp and handed her the rose, W/we shared a brief kiss before making O/our way to the AirBART station. Fortunately, the shuttle was already waiting, and W/we found a quiet, secluded spot at the back of the bus. Once seated, she reached into her purse/bag and handed Me a small journal book with a gold inlay of the Golden Gate Bridge on the otherwise-black cover.

"What is this?" I asked.

"my list of punishable offenses, Master," she replied quietly, her eyes noticeably downcast.

"There are so many offenses that you needed an entire book to list them?" I queried, an accusatory edge to My voice.

"No, Sir," she replied, leaning against My shoulder and gently stroking My thigh. "i simply wanted to present them to You in a nice manner, instead of handing You a crumpled sheet of paper."

"Very thoughtful, princess," I praised her, placing a kiss at the crown of her head. "Thank you."

she held Me tightly in her grasp, and it was clear she had truly missed Me these past few months. With one arm around the young beauty, I simply held her close, My nose buried in her hair to inhale her sweet girly scent.

Eventually, the shuttle bus began to move, and My sweet beautiful girlfriend released her hold on Me. I then opened the journal book.

The title page stated simply, "Punishable Offenses," in her elegant handwriting. Beneath the title, she had taped a small photo of a bullwhip, apparently taken from a catalogue or fetish magazine. "Nice touch," I noted with a smile, squeezing her thigh briefly before turning the page.

Each following page was dedicated to a separate day, beginning with the day following My previous visit several months earlier. The date was beautifully written at the top of a page, with that day's punishable offenses listed underneath. These were mostly mundane things - overslept, stayed up too late watching TV, spent too long with PlayStation2 games, ate out too often in a given week - but also a few more serious offenses - drank too much at Colleen's (a friend's) birthday party, went to class without having fully read the assigned chapters, disobeyed one of My orders.

This last one really caught My eye, especially since there was no elaboration given on that page. I simply pointed to it and quietly asked which order she had refused to obey. "Your order to sleep on the floor for a week, Sir," she nearly whispered.

The rest of the trip to the BART station was conducted in silence, although I kept a hand on her thigh as she leaned her head against My shoulder. Once off the AirBART, we chatted happily the rest of the way to her apartment.

Once inside her apartment with the door closed, I dropped my carry-on, grabbed the young slave by the shoulders, spun her and backed her somewhat roughly against one wall of the entry corridor, and kissed her fiercely as I groped her roughly. From her initial squeal, this was quite a surprise to her, but she quickly responded in kind; sometime during the frenzy, she dropped the rose, as I suddenly felt both her hands upon Me.

To a random observer, she and I must have looked like W/we were devouring each other, and it indeed felt that way to some extent. As O/our hands roughly groped, each of U/us emitted grunts and squeals and moans as O/our teeth clashed and O/our tongues battled. Even if W/we were to have suddenly been blasted with a fire hose, the powerful torrent of cold water would not have been able to dilute the intense heat building in the corridor.

Just as quickly as the intense interaction had begun, it ended as I suddenly walked away, both of U/us breathless. Certainly, My young beautiful slave must have been confused at My suddenly leaving her, but she did not complain or question My action. Instead, as I sat on the sofa out of her view, it sounded as if she slid down the wall to sit on the floor and recuperate.

Several minutes passed, and My erection subsided as My breathing and heart rate returned to normal. No longer did I feel so warm, but it was clear that the windows needed to be opened. So I stood and opened the windows in the room to let in a cool ocean-scented breeze, noting as I returned toward the sofa that my disheveled slave was crawling toward Me in a sultry manner, wearing regular everyday clothing yet still reminding Me of the girl in Billy Idol's "Cradle of Love" video, her favorite purse/bag discarded behind her near by carry-on and the seemingly-forgotten rose.

I sat again on the sofa, and she crawled up on the furniture with Me, laying across My lap, her denim-clad rear high in the air. Silently, I caressed her ass, feeling her relax at My touch. But then I suddenly used My free hand to grab a fistful of her long hair and pull back, causing her head to raise involuntarily and a hiss of minor pain to escape her clenched teeth.

"Why are you laying across My lap, naughty slave?" I challenged.

"Because i deserve punishment, Master," she replied.

"True enough," I noted, swatting her ass once, hard, feeling her jump slightly. "However, have you ever been permitted to dictate a punishment?"

"No, Master," she replied quietly, a tone of remorse in her voice.

"Exactly." I released her hair, certainly to her relief as I continued to caress her lower cheeks. "I definitely enjoy having you in this position, and I certainly am admiring the view, but stand and strip anyhow."

"Yes, Sir." Slowly, she stood, obviously reluctant to move from the prone position, and moved to the center of the room. Turning to Me, she closed her eyes and began to caress herself, taking pleasure in touching herself as I watched.

I could feel My erection growing as she cupped her breasts, and I wished those hands were Mine. On the other hand, I would be here for a long four-day weekend - longer than usual - so there would be plenty of time for My hands to caress and fondle her sexy form. As I watched, her hands gradually moved down her body, eventually grabbing the base of her powder-blue flowery t-shirt and lifting the garment slowly, deliberately, revealing a lacy black front-hook bra which instantly attracted My eyes and practically caused My mouth to water in anticipation.

As the t-shirt cleared her head, she opened her eyes and smiled at Me, clearly aware of the effect she was having upon Me. she approached Me again, knelt on the sofa with her knees on either side of My thighs, and draped her t-shirt across My shoulders while thrusting her wonderful cleavage toward My face. Reaching up, I took a breast in each hand, squeezing gently, enjoying the expression on her face as her eyes fluttered closed and her lips parted in a silent sigh.

Then I suddenly squeezed each breast fiercely, her expression turning from pleasure to pain. "I told you to stand and strip, not come and seduce Me." I finally released her twin protrusions and leaned back in the sofa again.

"Sorry, Sir," she replied quietly and almost sheepishly. "i guess i've just been too naughty in Your absence and need to be punished."

"you will indeed be punished, wayward slave," I admonished with a slight smile. "Now, you have just thirty seconds to remove the rest of those hindering clothes."

That was the end of the seductive strip-tease. she quickly, deftly removed her bra, then the sandals and jeans and her favorite black thong. she stood in the center of the room in a parade-rest position, now wearing only the silver waist chain which was her constant reminder of her status in relation to Me.

After a long moment simply drinking in her natural beauty, I stood and approached. "Kneel." she complied.

"Remove My belt." As she worked, I added, "This will be the source of your coming punishment." she hesitated momentarily as that statement took hold in her mind, then continued her task. Once the belt was removed, she held it in both hands and offered it to Me, saying softly, "Please punish me, Master, so that i may be a better, more obedient slave for You."

"I will, naughty girl," I assured her, "I will. But first, retrieve the punishment book and go to the bedroom. Crawl"

"Yes, Master." Placing the belt in her small mouth, she crawled away from Me as I watched momentarily before going to the kitchen. I took My time, preparing two tall glasses of ice water, knowing one would be needed to help calm her following her coming punishment.

Arriving in the bedroom, she already lay face-down on the bed, her arms and legs each pointed toward the nearest bedpost where cuffs and chains already awaited use. The belt lay across of sweet rear, with the punishment book resting at the small of her back. I set down the glasses of water, moved the punishment book from her back and placed it before her, and took the belt in My hand, doubling it.

"you will read each infraction," I instructed, "and be punished for each. For a minor infraction, I will beat you twice. For a major infraction, you will be struck five times. I noticed one day last week with some fifteen or so punishable offenses; if they were all minor offenses, you will only be hit about thirty times. The punishment will continue until you use your safeword, but you will be punished for each offense before I return to Arizona. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Give Me a rough guess: How many times do you think I will need to beat your ass?"

she thought, and thought, and thought. "Oh, no..." she suddenly gasped, burying her face in a pillow.

"Then let the punishment begin."