Cam's Confession

Dear listeners, I am a wanker.  Not in the common British vernacular of jerk, asshole or jackass. What I mean is that I masturbate. A lot.  I've been doing it since...well, since puberty.  Every day. Several times a day.  It's not particularly a thing I do just for the pleasure of it.  It's more a compulsion; a way of waking up in the morning, and a way to relax before falling asleep at night.  When I don't do it, I miss it. It's like...not having your morning coffee, or not having your favourite pillow.  When its not there, there's a hole. Its an itch you just have to scratch.  Well, maybe not an itch - you don't really want to be itching down there, but you know what I mean.

So when I met Lady Pere, it was a bit of a wake-up call to me.  She insists, as do many other Ladies, that her boy doesn't simply fling his seed all over the place.  It is her material; to do as she pleases with.  My pleasure is Hers to give.  More importantly, self-denial is a key way to show devotion to Her.  To prove that I can be trusted, that I am worthy of Her time and attention.

The first time Lady Pere kept me chaste was frustrating, infuriating, erotic and unbearable.  I would be walking down the street and feel pre-cum leak involuntarily from my cock.  It was only a few days, and she let me have a ruined orgasm at the end of it.  Release, after a fashion, but not relief.

You wont be surprised to know though, dear listeners, that my desperate, slutty ways got the better of me.  A few days later, I failed her for the first time.  I touched myself.  I woke up with an erection and started to play with myself.  I knew it was wrong, and stopped fairly quickly.  But the damage was done.  Worse, I didn't know what to do.  I didn't tell her right away, but somehow, Lady Pere knew.  She was mad at me.  Not I'm going to chop off your dick off and feed it to the dog" mad.  Worse than that - the "I'm going to kick you out of my life and never talk to you again" mad.  She promised me that I'd end up kneeling on a board. On dry, uncooked rice if I continued.  She was kind to me that time, though.  I only got denial for a week.

Everything went fine for a while.  Still mostly denied, and still mostly keeping myself chaste, I had my first ever wet dream.  I always thought they were something of a myth, but there you go.  That's what happens when you masturbate as often as I have for years on end and then suddenly stop - your body starts to do all sorts of odd things.

A few days later, though, and I succumbed again. And this was on a morning after She let me cum.  Once Her initial rage subsided, Lady Pere started out by sentencing me to two weeks' chastity.  After thinking it through, though, she came up with a punishment.  The Rule of 13.  13 slaps to the balls to be administered for a transgression, with the addition of one slap /for every second/ I continued.

Its the best thing that could've happened to me.  Lady Pere loves to hear me suffer as I slap my balls for her.  My pain carried by the magic of the Internet to distant shores; packets of agony pinging across the Atlantic Ocean, delivered directly to Her ears.  I hate it.  I'd do almost anything to avoid having to slap my balls.  I stopped touching myself instantly.  And I didn't touch myself at all again (at least, not without being told to) for two weeks.  Well, that's not quite true.  24 hours less than two weeks.  For me, that's geological eons of self-denial.

But a leopard never changes its spots and this morning, after waking up and opening my eyes to see the green soulless stare of the alarm clock reading "6:39 am", I did it.  I failed.  I failed Her and I failed myself.  I touched myself. And it felt so damn good.  I should've stopped.  I knew I should stop. I didn't want to.  I stopped when the clock hit "6:40 am" and my alarm buzzed - I had to, I needed that hand to hit the button to make it stop.  Less than 60 seconds.  I had to summon up every ounce of willpower to haul my sorry ass out of bed.  I'd failed, and I was going to have to take the rap for this.  But this was not the time; I had to get to work.

Now, I'm a pretty honest guy.  Really, I am.  Once, I got one of those Playstation hand-held consoles as a gift from a supplier.  We weren't supposed to take 'inducements', but no-one would've known had I just slipped the box in my bag and taken it home.  Did I do that?  Dear listeners, no.  I put it in the Christmas raffle (along with a couple of bottles of wine and a diary - a diary, wow!)

The colleague who won it took it home and, since he already had one, sold it to a mate.  I got a lot of kudos with my staff for doing that.  So, what do you think I would do having failed Lady Pere a third time?  Would I simply report everything was fine; that I'd been a good boy (yet again) and get away with it?

No way.  Not only would it not occur to me to lie about it, it would break the bond of trust between us.  That bond was already severely damaged by my disobeying Her orders.  I did, though, wonder what the best way to tell her might be.  How could I curry favour and lessen her inevitable wrath?

I decided to write a scene and email it to her.  I won't bore you with the details - you're probably bored enough already. Suffice it to say that I hope she enjoyed reading it.  It didn't make any difference, though.  You can put lipstick on a pig and it's still a pig.  I can't varnish the truth.  So here I am, writing this confession as part of my punishment.

Just a part of my punishment, of course.  The rest of my punishment consisted of kneeling on a bed of dry rice and spanking myself with a wooden spoon while spraying "Deep Heat" (my American listeners will know it as "Icy Hot") on my balls; with my nipples and cock pegged.  Yes, I had to rip them off at the end.  I don't know how many times I spanked myself with the spoon, but it still stung the following afternoon.

But those punishments were as nothing compared to having to endure Lady Pere's ire; the knowledge that I'd failed Her was worse than any punishment she could mete out.  I'm here to ask not for your forgiveness, but for your understanding.  I am a wanker.  But worse than that, I failed you Lady Pere and I am more sorry than words can say.