Re-Upping the Stakes

Since you won't let me leave comments (even as an administrator I'm apparently powerless) I'll just post here. Anyway, two lovely posts down, and two more to go. How is the probation part of the punishment going? I'd say you should really give our readers an update, but let's face it, we don't really have any readers any more.

With that thought in mind, I'm upping your punishment slightly. Not that I need reasons, but here are several: 1) there's not much point in forcing your exhibitionism to an empty room, and this will help remedy that; 2) your last post was unreasonably short (If you hadn't asked me how long you had to write, I wouldn't care. But you did, I said 400 words, and you give me barely half that!?); and 3) you really haven't quite been following directions.

As I'd said:

And, to up the stakes a little bit... you must post here at least four different times, telling me something that you want us to do when we get home.

So far, none of your stories even involve getting to the driveway, let alone making it home. What's next, sex in the baggage claim? I've no doubt you're antsy, but as I've already assured you, you're not going to get to cum until at least Thursday night, even though I do plan to drive you into mild dehydration from how long I'll be keeping you dripping wet. So while you're welcome to pull off in a rest area, you're just going to end up torturing yourself--which is really my job.

So anyway, I be mean and just not count the stories so far, and make you churn out two new ones. But I think I've got some different tasks in mind. So to update your new chore list, you must do the following tasks, in any order, before I land:

1. Finish writing and posting the other two essays of things you want to do when we get home. And I know you want to fuck, so be creative. And since you short changed the last one, make sure the next two are at least 500 words.
   
2. Post on craigslist Columbus Casual Encounters. I haven't posted there in a while, and it would at least make some honesty of the blog. Doesn't really matter what you post. You can either explain that the posting there is part of a punishment of exhibitionism, or you can just share your (2nd person) fantasy there with a link back here. Of course, as a follow up, I expect you to post here the most interesting replies (funny, insulting, horribly written, etc.) Since people can email you directly, I'll let you keep the comments off. Oh, and of course link here to the post.
   
3. Post on a few other quality sex or D/s blogs. Or just leave comments and links back (I know you know enough html). And of course leave links back here.
   
4. Post something about not cumming. For as much as you'd complained about the last two tasks, I'd figure you'd be whining your head off about this one. So either you've suddenly decided to play the stoic, or you've just been masturbating as much as you damned well please (bad choice, by the way). In any event, you should write at least something about it. It's not much fun punishing you if I don't get to hear you whimper.
   

And as a reminder, in case I haven't been explicit the penalty for any failure begins with a severe paddling with the spoon. And in case I've not now made it abundantly clear, I'm a stickler for details.

Punishment 2

Normally I don't mind when you drive. "Mind" is a bit of an understatement. The main reason I'm looking forward for you to come back is so I can stop pulling on the shoulder to hyperventilate on the way home.

On a few, rather, on most of the long drives we've gone on, the conversation invariably turns to sex because I have a one-track mind like that. Knowing that we can steam up the windows in the car, without even touching each other, simply by talking about the depraved things we want to do to each other, is fairly satisfying. When we arrive to wherever we're going, I'm already turned on just by talking.

That said. When we drive home on Friday, I'm kind of looking forward to being the person driving. I'm not going to be as stoic as you can be when you have control of the car. Don't be particularly surprised if, after a conversation about how fantastic you are at licking my pussy or how much I missed playing with my clamps or the amount of fun we're going to have playing with the wheel, I pull into a secluded rest area, climb over you, and fuck you for all you're worth before starting on our journey again.

If nothing at all, it'll at least keep me from getting cranky because I'm driving.

Punishment 1

Right. Like I can think about anything but my clitoris right now anyway.

I don't know if I've ever told you, but in high school, I was pretty impressed with myself and considered myself way superior to all the other teenagers who were so cliche as to make out in cars so I didn't do it that often. (Remind me to tell you about this one time, though....) The result is a grown woman who is relatively obsessed with the idea of fucking in my car, preferably in a semi-secluded, semi-public area.

So. Although I won't actually do this because I have a neurotic fear of getting arrested, I like the idea of greeting you at the baggage claim, getting your bags, and walking back to my car. You unlock the door and toss your bags in. Turning back to me, you pull me closer to you and start kissing me roughly. You grip my wrist and twist the opposite way so that my chest is pressed against my car while your other hand reaches under my skirt and cups my pussy to cause my ass to grind into your hardening cock. "I can't wait until I have you naked and begging for my touch," you whisper in my ear, making me gasp with need. With a quick glance around to ensure that no one is watching, or, perhaps, to welcome the gaze of a passer-by wandering through, I move out from under you and get in the car. You get in on the passenger side and pluck the keys from my hand so I can't start the engine. I stare at you indignantly until I hear the sound of your zipper being released and my cunt responds as though she was trained by Pavlov himself. I look over at you and my eyes widen in shock at how hard you are. I giggle, "Give me my keys, you can wait till we get home." "You overestimate my ability to wait," you respond. You hold me by the back of my neck and bring me closer to you for a kiss. I reach out and start fondling you until you moan in my mouth. Your hand on my neck grasps tighter and tighter and starts moving up towards the base of my skull, squeezing it and pulling on my hair by its roots. Eventually and without a word, you press down on my skull towards your cock until it rests upon my closed lips. "Come on, honey, I need it so badly," you beg. I do nothing as your grip on my hair pulls tighter. "Please Mabel, open your mouth, just a little bit." I still do nothing; rare is the moment when I hear you plead with me. "Do you think you're in control here, you little slut?" you ask with fury in your voice before pushing even harder on my head and forcing your cock past my lips, past my teeth, and into my mouth. I start sucking as you pull my head back up and almost before I can gasp a breath of air, you push me back down again and hold me down with my tongue rubbing against your shaft. I start struggling for air and fighting with you to let me up but you let me exert myself for a few moments while you mutter to me, "Do you feel bad for earlier? Do you think you should have opened your mouth when I first told you to? Do you think you have a right to withhold the use of your mouth when I want it? Do you apologize for refusing me? Don't you think I'm entitled to make up for lost time with your mouth? Keep sucking like the slut you are." Breathing heavily through my nose I put a renewed vigor into the activities at hand until you suddenly pull me up, straight up, and through the window I make eye contact with a set of shocked parents walking their kids who are screaming about Disney World through the parking garage. We laugh and you had me my keys so I can drive home.

Probation

So you haven't either done the last two things I asked. I know, they were kinda hard and kinda mean, so I'm mildly sympathetic. And you did kinda almost try to do one of them--which I guess should count for something.

But you're right, there's no way you're off the hook. So I'm going to give you one last chore--okay, more like punishment. It's simple enough, but plenty difficult. It's direct and it's mandatory. It is simply this: You may not cum until you next see me. And, to up the stakes a little bit (wouldn't want you just to just occupy your time and not think about sex) you must post here at least four different times, telling me something that you want us to do when we get home.

You've wanted me to do more with orgasm control, well there you are. It's only five days, so it's nothing too cruel. And even though I know you're already looking forward to seeing me again, this will help to make it all the sweeter. I know I run the risk of you buying so many sex toys in those few days that we won't be able to shut the door (you really shouldn't shop when you're hungry), but it's a risk I'm willing to take.

Of course, if this seems totally unattainable, you can do both of the last two chores in lieu.

And remember, this is already a punishment, so you really don't want to find out what happens if you back out the third time, but it will make melting ice cubes with your tummy feel like a backrub. See you soon!

I'm a naughty girl

I couldn't do it. I tried.

I laid the towel on my bed with the ice cube try next to me and started counting my blessings that it's been insanely humid and the the moment I took the ice out of the freezer, they started melting. I turned on my sex playlist, started imagining my favorite fantasy, and touching myself. After getting sufficiently turned on, I tentatively plucked out an ice cube and touched it to my nipple.

It wasn't the ice itself that was the problem but the ice cold thin droplet that ran down the curve of my breast, down the side of my body, and puddled in a pool of frostbite next to my armpit. I almost cried. So I held the ice in the palm of my hand to melt it faster and make it smaller and tried it again. Still no.

So I figured I'd rush through and see if I could handle a spot better than another. I couldn't. I got to my belly button and realized I'd never been more miserable in my life. The sanctity of Rule 1 had been trampled on to the point where it was a bare memory of what it once was.

I've now dismissed two demands of yours and offered you nothing in return. I do have a couple of ideas in mind that I'll try to write over the weekend but I'm simply too tired to write anything interesting.

I anticipate that you're going to punish me severely when you get back, as well you should. With that in mind, which would you prefer to punish me with? Do you see something else you want me to get?

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