I lie, and wait, for punishment. You’re gonna use the belt. My love/hate relationship with that God awful thing makes you use it more often than you should. Since you told me to wait like this, I know you will use the belt. You don’t punish my ass anymore, because I like it. Too much. So the back it is. At least you haven’t discovered how sensitive my legs are. I don’t think you’d hit my legs anyway, knowing how much I love them.
Are you going to make me wait an hour? This is the worst part. Waiting. It’s part of the punishment, I know, because I’m so fucking impatient. You make me wait constantly. Do you think I’ll suddenly become more patient? I should ask you that sometime. …No, you’d probably slap me across the face. Hmm…
God, would you hurry up already? My knees hurt. Better not tell you that, you’ll keep me on them. That wouldn’t be so bad. I love having your cock in my throat. But I’d rather get fucked. I need it so badly.
That’s why I’m getting punished, you caught me masturbating in the shower. Like a one minute orgasm could compare to getting fucked. I wasn’t sure I’d see you. I needed release.
You NEED to learn. I’m tired of punishing you for the same thing, over and over.
It’s true. It’s probably the only thing I get punished for. I can’t remember another reason. I’ve never thought to ask you if I could rub one out. Maybe I want to get punished. I am a masochist. But back strappings fucking hurt.
Shit. This is going to hurt.
Tears? What the fuck?! I barely cry from an ass strapping and today I’m about to cry before I even get hit? I’m seriously messed up. Are you ever going to come in here and get this over with?
How much worse would it be if you came in to find me in another position? My knees are killing me. If I could touch myself, it wouldn’t be so bad. God. I just can’t leave well enough alone. I must be a punishment junkie.
Get in here, already! This sucks. I HATE waiting. Oh, wait… I hear you coming. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This is going to hurt. Stop crying, fucking pussy. It’s your own fault. Shit.
I hear the buckle. I hear you pulling it free. …Well, get it over with, already…
Are you going to hit me? Or just stare at me? Please, don’t make me count.