Tuesday, January 03, 2006
"I can't. I should have told you as soon as I got off the plane, but I was just so excited about seeing you that it didn't seem to matter."
"But it does matter, now doesn't it? You're in no condition to drive, and I'm still upset with you. You don't think for a minute that your punishment is over, do you?"
"I did." "Well, Slut, you were wrong. You're sitting on your coat and skirt. I want them both up around your waist. And while you're at it, open up that blouse."
I do as I'm told, pulling the coat and skirt out from under me, and opening my blouse from top to bottom, hoping this is as bad as it will get.
"You always say you love wearing my marks, don't you, Slut?" "Yes, Sir, I do love wearing your marks." (Oh, God, what does he intend to do?)
"Well then, reach into your bag and hand over the lipstick." I grab the tube of Magenta and hand it to you. I'm not absolutely certain what is going to happen next, but whatever it is, the lipstick is far better than the permanent black marker that is usually the alternative.
"Face me, Slut."
I twist around in the seat so that I'm directly facing you and try to watch what you're doing. "Hold that hair back, and don't look down until I am finished."
I hold my hair, and try to make out the letters just by the way they feel. Two words. That is unusual. You have me mark myself with my name sometimes, but this is a first.
"Look at yourself, Slut. And tell me if I am done punishing you yet."
I look down and read the words "BAD SLUT" written across my tits. I look up at you, and you tell me to get settled in the seat, making sure the seatbelt doesn't interfere with what you've written and to finish my drink.
"But it does matter, now doesn't it? You're in no condition to drive, and I'm still upset with you. You don't think for a minute that your punishment is over, do you?"
"I did." "Well, Slut, you were wrong. You're sitting on your coat and skirt. I want them both up around your waist. And while you're at it, open up that blouse."
I do as I'm told, pulling the coat and skirt out from under me, and opening my blouse from top to bottom, hoping this is as bad as it will get.
"You always say you love wearing my marks, don't you, Slut?" "Yes, Sir, I do love wearing your marks." (Oh, God, what does he intend to do?)
"Well then, reach into your bag and hand over the lipstick." I grab the tube of Magenta and hand it to you. I'm not absolutely certain what is going to happen next, but whatever it is, the lipstick is far better than the permanent black marker that is usually the alternative.
"Face me, Slut."
I twist around in the seat so that I'm directly facing you and try to watch what you're doing. "Hold that hair back, and don't look down until I am finished."
I hold my hair, and try to make out the letters just by the way they feel. Two words. That is unusual. You have me mark myself with my name sometimes, but this is a first.
"Look at yourself, Slut. And tell me if I am done punishing you yet."
I look down and read the words "BAD SLUT" written across my tits. I look up at you, and you tell me to get settled in the seat, making sure the seatbelt doesn't interfere with what you've written and to finish my drink.
