Patience Training (1)

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Sassy
An adjective, typically used to describe a playful, flirty, saucy woman, particularly in reference to her verbal remarks. Occasionally, women will be sassy in order to get a spanking for causing trouble. The best way to tell is if her eyes are bright with mischief.

I can be sassy. Sometimes too sassy. I like to joke, to make fun, to laugh, to be witty. I do this when I am in the same room as my Husband and I do this when we send each other emails during the day. But I also tend to be sassy when I am nervous or when things are new to me and I just don’t know how to react. I think I try to hide some feeling of insecurity behind sassiness. This means that I sometimes smile or say the wrong things at moments that I should be serious.

I went too far. My Husband decided that it was time to start my training, to learn that my sassiness is not always appreciated. A training in which he wants to teach me to think before I speak, which eventually will lead me to not being sassy during those important moments; to make him proud of me; to fully submit myself to His will. But at the same time the training was to learn me to be patient. Because, yes, I can be very impatient at times.

He told me my training would start that night. I had no idea what to expect.

I had to lie down on the bed, on my back. He wound rope around my wrists and tied it tightly to each other. I wondered whether He did not tie it too tight, but I said nothing. He ordered me to lift my legs and then He tied my ankles together too. Lastly He tied my wrists and my ankles to each other. I could bend my legs and when I did I could feel my pussy spreading wide. He slapped it. I straightened my legs again. Then I bent them again, because that was more comfortable. He slapped my pussy again. My collar was put around my neck and from that moment on I was not allowed to look at Him anymore.

“Take your time to think about your attitude, to reflect, to become aware of the proper way I want you to behave,” He said as He sat down in the recliner, watching me.

When I bent my legs, it felt more comfortable, but I felt the rope around my wrist tightening and soon I could see the color of my hands change as the blood flow was cut off. When I straightened my legs, keeping them up in the air, the rope around my wrists relaxed and I could see the natural color of my hands returned. Either my hands or my legs were okay, depending on the position of my legs. I alternated between the two positions, trying to keep a balance in it, feeling impatient. I was not in the mood to laugh anymore, to be sassy. I wanted to be untied, but I knew I would have to be patient.

He sat down with me again and slapped my pussy a couple of times. He wanted to know what I thought about while I was waiting. I told Him that I have decided to be more respectful from now on; that I would try to use better judgment about when I am sassy and when not.

“I don’t think that you will succeed after only one training,” He said.

He untied me and ordered me to stand in front of Him. First I had to put my high-heeled shoes on. Then He tied my arms behind my back. As I stood in front of Him, He pinched my nipples. Hard! Harder than He had ever done in the past. I told Him that it hurt, but He said nothing. He fingered my pussy and then pinched my nipples again. Again it hurt like hell. I bent forward, trying to protect my nipples. He waited until I stood up again and pinched my nipples again. The pain was almost too much to bear. Each time just before I thought I was going to scream out loud, He stopped the pinching. Alternating between fingering my pussy and torturing my nipples, my feelings bounced around between pleasure and pain.

And awe.

This was the first time ever that I experienced that my Husband did not “listen” to my pleas. No matter how many times I said that it hurt, He did not listen. The pinching was hard, torturous. I was standing with my legs spread on the high heels and my feet started to hurt. I moaned about this. He did not listen. I was totally subject to His will at that very moment. As I knew I would be subject to His will many times to follow. I wanted it. I needed it.

I don’t know for how long the nipple torture went on for, but eventually I felt the tears in my eyes. I could not hide it from Him, even though I tried. I felt the tears slowly role down my cheeks, but bit on my lower lip not to cry. Even though I wanted to. It was as if He was waiting for this moment – the nipple torture stopped soon after. He untied me and told me to lie down on my back. Sex followed and I fell asleep with my hand in His.

The next day I frequently thought about what happened the night before. We – my Husband and I – exchanged emails with each other during the day, as we always do. Many of those mails are of a slightly sexual nature. The subject of the previous night was touched. It was in one of my replies that for the very first time ever I called him “Master”.

To be continued… Patience Training (2)

© Rebel’s Notes