The first week I was ordered to masturbate to the edge of orgasm at least once every day, and then stop. It was frustrating as all hell and I posted in various places in my distress about how hard it was. I was nearly in tears a couple of times and I was almost constantly imagining either disobeying him, or begging him for permission. But I didn't do either. I lasted the whole week and my orgasm on the Friday night, kneeling in the middle of the room with his cock gently fucking my face while my fingers urgently scrabbled around my clitoris and his voice rolled all around me telling me how proud he was of me and how good I'd been, and in the most possessive and degrading language urging me to come for him - well, it was definitely memorable :-) I felt thoroughly owned.
The second week, to make a contrast, I was ordered to masturbate to orgasm twice a day, twelve hours apart. And if I had to be late with one for some reason, that re-set the clock so the next time would be twelve hours after that. This really stressed me out as, to both our surprise and my dismay, I found it really hard to obey - I could be masturbating for more than half an hour and still not be close to orgasm. I'd vaguely had the idea before that my libido comes in cycles, and I really think this proved it! Also my job got really stressful around the same time, which never helps. Master forgave me the failures and I was extremely grateful, but determined to do better the next week.
This last week, Master ordered me to wear rubber knickers every day. This, again, turned out to be slightly harder than anticipated. The rubber pants I have are seamed and by the end of each day the parts of my skin under those seams was red and sore, and unfortunately I couldn't really set the knickers to rest in other places without them just slipping back to the original spots. I also tried wearing rubber pants to bed a few times (more time wearing rubber = more obedient, said my brain) but each time I wound up taking them off in my sleep - I guess they can't have been particularly comfortable. But we calculated I spent over 80 hours in rubber over 5 days, which is a pleasing thought.
This week has also been extremely tiring and stressful - work is very stressful at the moment and will continue so until I go on Christmas break, I've been staying up way later than I should have (mostly surfing the net), there've been money worries and I've been out most nights of the week which hasn't helped with either the late bedtimes or the money worries. I've also felt my mood starting to go - I've been wishing I could throw a kicking, screaming tantrum for a while, and then be thoroughly spanked for it. I've been tearful and anxious and clingy and when Master decided the other day that I needed a caning, I burst into tears just at the thougth of it, which really isn't like me! I still got my whacks, eight I think and certainly not the hardest he's ever caned me although from my howls you would've thought he was killing me. And then he held me while I cried and stroked my hair, and I was a calmer when we were done. But the tensions, stresses and anxiety were still bubbling underneath. And part of this is due to the tiredness, I tend to regress in age when I get tired until I wind up like a tearful three year old.
So this next week, Master's set me a bed time. It's embarrassing and humiliating and made worse by the fact that it's set at half past eleven which is a good couple of hours earlier than I've been going to bed this past week! When he told me this, as I buried my face in his shirt and frantically shook my head, he told me that if I couldn't get myself to bed on time and get enough rest, he was going to do it for me. And the head shaking turned to sad nodding - Master was right, his girl hadn't been very responsible. It's right in so many ways - it's re-setting my boundaries and restricting me a bit and reminding me of his control over my life. It's humiliating and embarrassing and a little girl's punishment, which is how I need to be treated when I'm overwrought. I managed to tell him that I will expect to be punished if I break the rule, and he said of course - but to make sure that I don't break the rule because I want to be punished, I'll be getting a caning mid-week regardless. Because he knows I need to cry and let all the bad feelings out.
Master knows me so well. I feel like a naughty little girl who's been slipping one toe across the line one time too many and is firmly being told that enough is enough. I love/hate knowing that I'm going to get corner time on Tuesday, just as I love/hate knowing that I'll be reporting my bed time to him every night this week. It makes my skin flush, I can feel my face heating and the pricklings on my arms and chest.
Unfortunately, I failed on just the second night. Monday night I was in bed at 11pm and reading and when half eleven rolled round I was lying down, lights out, text to let Master know I'd obeyed sent, and I was falling asleep feeling like the best girl in the world.
Last night after work I travelled across London to visit a friend, the trains were all delayed and/or cancelled and I knew it'd be time-consuming to get back agin. I looked up the train times, made a few calculations and figured I should get the train just before 10pm. So of course as 10pm was rolling round I was only just leaving the house (and feeling guilty because I'd only been there ~2.5 hours) and I had to get the twenty past train instead. So I didn't get home until quarter to midnight. I was in bed and light off at 11.52pm, ruefully reflecting that at least it was the same day but 22 minutes late isn't exactly a sterling effort.
When I arrived at Master's this evening, he laid out my punishment. I'm still getting the "just because" corner time and caning tonight that he promised me on Sunday, and he's going to leave my punishment for breaking the rules until the weekend and we'll see how many more minutes I accumulate. Then he's going to put me over his knee and spank me for that many minutes. Which means I've already got a 22 minute spanking to look forward to.
Apparently I can have some effect on how fast and hard I get spanked, by how many more minutes I'm late to bed for the rest of this week. But generally I feel guitly and ashamed and naughty. I could have been home on time last night. Probably. Or at least only late by a couple of minutes. If I'd only caught the train instead of lingering for one last giggle and cuddle! And now I've got a 22 minute long spanking - at least - to look forward to.