As I fussed a lot about my thoughts on what it meant to be punished without just cause, worried about my Master's distrust and felt that there might be a growing rift, I paced back and forth restlessly in my Master's house, trying this way and that to approach him, to restore what was. He grew increasingly irritated as he was trying to simply enjoy a meal in peace.
With a grunt, he thew aside the bone he was knawing on, shoved the table to the side and approached me swiftly. With one hand on my hair, he pushed me into the position of the submissive bitch on all fours, then reached and bent one arm painfully behind me.
He let go of my hair only long enough to unlace himself and pull up my camisk. Before I could think a coherent thought his maleness was deep inside me, painfully penetrating me in the absence of any advance preparation, moisture or heat.
He said little to me as he took me swiftly, but I gentled slowly under the relentless pounding of his cock. He furiously and passionately reminded me that I was his, that he found me desirable, and that he would have me when and how he pleased. He came into me with a yowl of the triumphant animal. Jumping up, he casually booted me over onto my back and collapsed into my arms where I covered him with the kisses and tears of the repented kajira that understands who her Master is.
Sometimes it is just that easy to restore what is true.
