There was a caption with this image:
Her mind raced thinking back over the entire week, trying to calculate how many times she teased, or backtalked or let her inner brat free. Because she was going to pay for it now.
“There’s one weight for every trangression, YBG,” he said as her caressed her cheek. ”And look how many weights are in this jar!”
His words and the first weight pulling on her clamped nipples made her whimper then gush, made her clit tingle.
He was watching her carefully, adding each weight slowly.
“What a nasty girl you are, liking your punishment. Incorrigible! We’ll see if you still like it when all the weights are in that bucket and I’m belting your sweet ass and pussy. Will that help you learn? Will you be sorry then?”
A tear slipped down her cheek. How did she keep ending up here? She knew she’d be sorry, very sorry. But somehow she doubted she’d learn because her cunt would be sending her too many delicious messages, messages that would drown out any other thoughts in her brain, other than, “Please let me cum, Sir! Please!”