Punishment Enema Stories Novels & Stories

I have to wait some time, I knew she wouldn't call me right away, she'll take some time, to work things out, but I decided to give her a small push, I went back to Brianna's bots, our score isn't settled yet, every time I think about the reason I'm sitting here instead of being with my two bots, revenge sounds even better than ever. Hooking up with her bots system, I could have a clear visual of what's going on, she was completely naked, getting a spanking, her bum was full on red, looks like she got herself more than one spanking this morning. I felt a feeling of satisfaction, although what I did was a bad thing, some would say unethical, but I believe in punishment of bad act. The show was

Permission. I scramble to obey. I unhook the short chain between my wrists just enough to reach the table of toys you laid out for me. My hands shake as I select the first punishment: a heavy stainless-steel plug, cold and unforgiving. I coat it in my own slick, then reach back and press the icy tip to my tight asshole. I don’t ease it in. I force it, grunting around the gag as the widest part stretches me open, burning, claiming. The base settles between my cheeks with a final cruel pop. My eyes water. Drool pours from the corners of my stretched mouth.

lower lip. “Well then I suppose you should be punished accordingly. Those are very naughty thoughts, Megan. And those very naughty thoughts...” his voice trailed off as he looked me over. “Yes Father, “ I whispered. “Very naughty thoughts deserve to be punished.” Father Michaels went to his desk and opened the shoebox with the toys I’d brought. “To punish you I am going to put this in your anus.” He pulled out the large butt plug with the wireless remote. Clicking it, it came to life. “We don’t have any lubricant, Father,” I protested. I honestly hadn’t thought to grab the bottle of lube from the drawer of my nightstand. “Oh yes we do,” he said, looking straight at my wet cunt. “Get up and

Rafe banged his head so many times that he was sure the voices making fun of him had stopped echoing in his head. He then walked over to his desk drawer. He took out a box containing a whip with a brown leather-covered handle. It was a tool to punish him every time he finished doing something wrong and his guilt was unbearable. Today he had made many mistakes that made his soul thrash with unbearable guilt. The only way to reduce that guilt and keep his mind sane is to punish himself.

Close enough to smell their blood and sweat and piss. One of them wet himself. Pathetic. "So tell me," I say conversationally, spinning the knife between my fingers. "What punishment do you think is fitting for people like you?" They start babbling immediately—apologies, excuses, promises they'll do anything, they'll change, they'll never do it again, please just let them go, please, please, please— The sound grates against my skull like nails on a chalkboard. I move before I can think about it.

“There are rules to being a dominant, you will always do as I say, you will never say no to whatever I say during this three days or there will be purnishment. “ Purnishment? I asked. “ Yes, purnishments like flogging, cane or not even making you come when you are at your climax and you dare not try to masturbate except I tell you to. If you try it, you might be starve for doing that” “ What? She open her eyes wide? Are telling me all of this to discourage me? I asked.

He threw her to the floor, looming over her like a beast. "Where's my money, you whore? Been gone days, probably spreading your legs for cash! I'll kill you, you hear me? Beat you black and blue till you crawl back begging! That's life's truth for scum like you, no happy endings, just pain!" Kyra curled into a ball, pitiful sobs escaping as blows landed, kicks to her ribs, slaps that split her lip. "Please, Dad... no more..." Her vulnerability was heart-wrenching, a broken girl reliving years of hell, her bitter life a litany of wrongs: endless abuse, stolen childhood, dreams crushed under his boot.

There is only what is fun and what is not. The psychiatrist flipped the report shut and said in a heavy tone, "According to our investigation, Thomas Werther had long discovered the loophole in the reward and disciplinary system Ronald Werther established. "He knew that whenever he misbehaved, Benjamin Werther would be punished. And for him, watching his brother suffer and struggle stimulated the underdeveloped part of his brain to produce pleasure. So, he constantly and deliberately created incidents. "Including the fire. He clearly knew that spilling water on a power strip could cause a fire. He also clearly knew that the fire would burn Benjamin Werther, who was tied up. But he felt no gu

* She moaned softly, thighs pressing together around her hand, the pressure coiling tight. Jax's parting words echoed *Drop your dirtiest reading experience* and she did, typing one-handed: *This story? Made me cum reading it on the toilet at work, panties in my mouth to stay quiet. Now living it. Your turn.* Submissions poured in: a woman detailing her first anal in a club bathroom, the burn and fullness making Zelda's untouched ass clench in curiosity; a guy confessing to jerking off in the car to a similar tale, cumming so hard he stained the seat; couples sharing how they'd role-played it, her riding him reverse while reading aloud, both shattering together.

"Today, he yelled at me again because of Celine. I feel so wronged. I never bullied her, but he refuses to believe me. "Baby, Mommy played music for you today. Did you hear it? I’m so excited for your birth, for the day our family can live happily together. "He locked me in the room. I’m so hungry, and I’m so scared. Baby, you have to be strong. Mommy will protect you. "I’ve been locked in the ice cellar. It’s so cold. Baby, I don’t think she can hold on much longer. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. Ronan, I hate you. I will never forgive you."