I have a “work out boy” who is regularly punished with very vigorous physical exercise.
He comes to me because he’s repeatedly failed with gym memberships, personal trainers and various home work out aids – the motivation just doesn’t stick with him past the initial excitement of taking of something new. Certainly THIS will be the machine/program/person/video/aerobics class to help me lose those 50 pounds! He’s been playing this game for years – until he met me.
I have him on a diet and exercise program, one that’s strictly monitored and since I only see him twice a month, I do get to supervise his progress and drill him when he’s been slacking. Lately, he was slacking big time. Plenty of excuses about how it was too hard to resist this indulgence and that one…yada, yada, yada… After 23 pounds of progress, I’m not about to let him start backsliding now. No way!
So, what’s a Domme to do? Well, Emasculate him and work him until he’s entirely drained, of course!
Off to my treadmill we went – 30 minutes of a brisk walk, followed by a series of push ups and sit ups I did right along side him.
“If I can do this in a PVC dress and stilettos, you better damn well keep up you pussy” I taunted at him. Not that I’m in tremendous shape, but I’m stronger than I look – and this boy HATES that he can’t keep pace with me. Huffing and puffing until his resolve finally gives another 45 minutes later, he begs for rest and water, pointing to the ice-cold bottle of water he brought in with him.
“Piggies like you don’t deserve that kind of refreshment”, I grabbed his bottle and took a big swig. For him, I pointed to the dog bowl on the floor filled to the brim with room temperature water, not the most tantalizing sight. He sighed and pouted like a rejected little sap and crawled over to it with a huge huff. What a baby!!!!
He lapped at it greedily at the water, realizing it was his only option. I smacked his little round ass with my crop as he bent over to reach the bowl, bottom up in the air, face down in the water. It was all I could do from using the tip of my shoe on the back of his head to push his face into the water a bit. I don’t deal well with whiners!
I continued my own workout while he rested, building up a bit of sweat under the tight confines of my PVC dress.
I ordered him away from his bowl and onto the floor to catch his breath and rest a while, I couldn’t have him passing out now could I?
Watching him lay there like a weak little sack of dirt gave me an idea…I lunged over to him, hovering over his face, I continued my set of squats. He longed for me to come closer to him, let him touch my damp skin, inhale my scent. He begged and pleaded as I did my reps, but my only response was to taunt him for his failure in his work out – I had outlasted him, finished more reps than him, all in pair of 6 inch stilettos.
His apology fell on deaf ears and I, no longer willing to entertain his excuses, crouched down to cover his face with my sweaty thighs and ass. He struggled desperately to breathe through my dirty panties, longing to inhale any hint of me he could – but alas, I wasn’t hovering, I was smothering him…no air, no pleasure…just punishment for his failure. His face was chubby and rather comfortable. I took my time relaxing for a moment while the strain in my legs subsided. When I rose up to allow him to breathe, he was grinning ear to ear; apologies and promises to do better fell from his lips as they always do.
I removed my panties and allowed him to take them home under one strict condition. He must lose two pounds in the next two weeks – a very modest goal, but one that doesn’t allow much room for error. It’s strange I would offer him such strongly erotic encouragement, but should he fail having accepted in advance this reward, I will be whipping him while he runs naked on my treadmill on his next visit.
I’ll let you know how it goes….
Now goodnight dear ones!