“The belt, the tie, the tea,” I repeat to myself. The belt, the tie, the tea.

Master says I get distracted when I get home from work. My mind starts racing about all the things that might need to be done, which causes me to miss key instructions. Luckily, tonight’s plan is simple. I am to meet Master in his study fully naked, with a belt, one of his ties, and his tea in hand. I know I can please him this time.

I take off my coat at the door, along with my tights, dress and boots. I’m rarely ever in more than my bra and panties around the house- he says I’m in the best headspace to serve when I’m exposed. I think it’s also because Master enjoys copping a feel every once in a while, but he’s too proud of a man to admit it.

I neatly place today’s clothes in the hamper, then grab the belt and tie from Master’s dresser. Following orders like this is the best de-stressor, as I can make the proper transition from corporate professional to devoted slave. Every boring, disheartening, or scary detail from my vanilla life slowly washes away with each order I follow. I don’t have to be burdened with making the right decisions, because I don’t make any decisions at all. Master takes the weight of control off my shoulders. I never feel more free than when I’m serving the one I love.

When I go to the kitchen to put the water on, I hear a stir from Master’s study. He works remotely, meaning he spends his days locked up our apartment’s guest-bedroom-turned-makeshift-home-office. When he’s finishing up a project late at night, I am often ordered to kneel under his desk, and serve him whatever beverage or snack he desires. Tonight, he should be finishing up early. This could be either wonderful or detrimental for me.

It isn’t until I reach the door, with the three items in tow, when I realize I’ve missed the most basic of instructions. Just as I’m about to make a run for it, the wooden door swings open.

“Little one,” Master begins. “Are we forgetting something?”

I drop to my knees. “I’m sorry, Master. I have your three items,” I say, bashfully holding up my full hands. “But I forgot…about being fully naked, Sir.”

Master sighs. I’m screwed.

“You have ten seconds to return your bra and panties to our bedroom. Don’t keep me waiting.”

I hand over the three items, then bolt. I count down the seconds, but I know I’m rushing. I reach the office door when I’m down to two.

“I apologize for my negligence, Master. How can I make it up to you?” I say, while kneeling in Nadu. It’s his favourite position for a submissive, because he can see every inch of my breasts and pussy. Our protocol is for me to assume it whenever I enter his study, and remain in it until he chooses to address me.

“Kneel under my desk, little one,” he says.

I rush under the table.

“Now,” Master begins, “We’ll get to that consequence soon enough. I want you to tell me all about your day, kitten.”

This is the usual routine. I tell him every detail of what happened at work, even the most mundane. He wants all of it.

I describe the project I’m working on, my Excel troubles, the office politics. Master just quietly listens and nods, occasionally chiming in with a witty remark. I love the intimacy of it all, and how it’s become a ritual in our lives.

Master then rebutes with stories of his own, while I lean my head on his knee and take in every word. When he’s finished, he asks me if I’ve done everything I can to obey his rules today. I pause, for a moment.

“Well, other than the underwear-“

“Yes, my slave. Other than your blatant disregard for my instructions,” he interrupts while grinning down at me.

“I guess…there’s one other thing,” I reply, lowering my gaze.

“Oh?”

“I had to stay late at the office, and really wanted to come home, so I skipped out on the gym and forgot to tell you…”

Master took a deep breath.

“I’m so sorry, Master, I promise I won’t-“

“Bend over the desk,” he said, interrupting me.

I stood up, and felt the smooth, hard wood against my breasts. I braced myself for impact.

“Not only are you disregarding a part of your daily schedule, but you also lied to me,” Master began. “Clearly, I’ve been too lax with you lately. You’re about to be held on a much tighter leash.”

“I didn’t really lie,” I responded in a whisper.

“We both agreed that any changes in your schedule would be approved by me. You withheld information, which is equivalent to lying,” Master leaned down to speak in my ear. “You need to understand that your actions have serious consequences, little girl. And that you are in no position to deny me anything.”

I felt the leather belt brush against my thigh.

“How many am I getting, Sir?” I ask meekly.

“As many as I goddamn please.”

The first strike sends a shock of pain through my spine. As the second and third roll in, I feel myself falling apart. Master stops momentarily, to rub gentle circles on the small of my back.

“With every spank, I want you to remember why you’re here. I want you to picture yourself fixing your wrongdoings, so we don’t end up in this position again. If there is any sign of resistance,” Master held his tie in front of my face, “This will be used as a gag. Understood?”

I nodded.

The strikes continued. I could only hold onto a few more before I started tearing up. The shame of being spanked so harshly for my mistakes always brings out the waterworks.

I lose track of time. All I can focus on is my shaking hands, buckling knees, and the red-hot pain shooting through my entire lower body. When I start to feel that I can’t take any more, Master stops.

Usually, he collects me in his arms after a spanking like that. He’ll sit in the office chair, with me in his lap, and gently bring me back down to earth. Instead, he snapped his fingers, expecting me to look back at him.

“Your punishment is not over, slave. Crawl to the bedroom. You have one minute. I have far, far more in store for you, little one.”