HOW WE SERVE MASTER

Gretchen is in trouble.

Serious trouble.

“Master, I am sorry. I am so sorry, Master.”

“Take those tits out of the cups.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Those tits belong to me.”

“Yes, Master. They’re your property, Master.”

“You want to explain why you did it?”

“Master, there is no excuse, Master.”

Smart move by Gretchen. Excuses only bring more punishment.

Gretchen reaches behind her back. Master snaps …

“No! You leave that fucking bra on until told otherwise.“

He gives her a long, hard stare.

His voice is icy.

“They’ll be tied and beaten. Then you’ll put the bra back on and wear it until you shower tomorrow morning. Then wear it all day and all night tomorrow.”

Gretchen shakes visibly.

“And the next day,“ he says.“And the day after that and the day after that and every day until I tell you otherwise, you fucking disobedient whore slut bitch.”

Gretchen had Master’s permission to have lunch with one of her aunts.

“Now take it off,” Master says. “Await me in the discipline room.”

What she didn’t have was permission to wear a bra.

Our default attire, whether we’re at home or out in public, is no bra.

The only exception is when one of us goes to our part-time job.

I suppose she was hoping to get home and take it off before Master got home.

But she didn’t. I can’t figure out why she would even take the chance. I guess she didn’t want her aunt to see her boobs swaying around under her dress.

Whatever reason she had for wearing it, she was going to pay.

Pay in the discipline room.

Wearing a bra is a pain in the ass and Master just ordered her to wear one a lot in the coming days.

But that punishment won’t seem like much compared to what Master is going to do to those big boobies with his leather strop.

After, of course, he ties those titties up.