topthemonkey

A few weeks ago, the monkey made mention of one of her past sexual partners. One whom she had cheated with on others before. I was unaware of this person (specifically, I was unaware that I knew them -- in reality I had met them on several occasions, but only knew them by face, not by name). I discovered this recently, when we again met face to face, and I was able to put the nickname with the face.

I later remarked that "I'd probably have no problem with you playing with xxxxxxx". Or something similar. It was off the cuff, and didn't have a lot of thought behind it. Saying such was a mistake on my part.

The monkey claims herself to be a sex addict. I am not qualified to diagnose whether this is true or not. She also claims her sex addiction to be tied to a self-harm addiction, since when she does such, it's often unprotected. I can see the logic in this, I suppose (although I can't condone it.)

So, three days after saying that, the monkey confessed to me that she had, since my assent, gone down on this person. I was pretty devastated. I was angry. I was hurt. I'd be lying if I said I didn't think of dismissing the monkey -- doing so crossed my mind, but was not a serious consideration.

But I made the level of hurt and shock pretty clear.

Of late, I've been trying to get the monkey to take care of herself -- to do certain things each day, and/or week that are good for her. To eat well, to keep on track with her homework, to try to exercise herself, and since I've been relatively afraid of using pain as a motivator, I've simply told her that I'm stepping back slightly until she demonstrates an ability to do these things. Not having her stay with me *quite* as much (this is as much to allow me to focus on my own responsibilities, as it is to her).

So last night, as she knelt, nearly naked, before me, I questioned her.

"Have you done anything you aren't supposed to?"

"No."

"Have you gotten yourself off without permission?"

"Have I ever done that, Sir?"

*a brief touch of the cane* "Answer the question, Pet."

"No, sir."

Then it came up that she had committed a minor infraction: She had left her bulb-gag at home, and had *lost* her blindfold. For a while more, we did some play: her, in nothing more than a collar, on her hands and knees while I stood over her, holding her by the back of it so she couldn't drop out from under me, delivering a series of gentle strokes with the acrylic wand I have, until she tearfully called yellow, and I put the rod down.

She hates calling yellow. It makes her feel like a failure. She even apologized for it. I lovingly told her that I was proud of her for doing it, and that she should *never* be sorry for calling yellow (although in retrospect, there's the "I'm sorry I missed out on the activity I would have missed had the scene gone on" aspect, but I wouldn't call that "apologetic" so much as "regretful".

So, in the course of talking to her, that evening, after her interrogation, she confessed it to me: She had performed on him (gone down on) again, that evening. I told her, outright:

"The last time, I was 100 percent hurt and shocked. This time, I'm just 95 percent pissed off."

I told her that I felt like a complete ass for feeling bad about certain other things *I* had done wrong in the relationship, that I felt bad for being overly sensitive and overly cautious about her feelings and concerns instead of simply laying down the law (for example, when she felt uncomfortable when we had a third person sleeping with us, and she expressed concern so I sent the third party out without-question, or for the time when I was near-suicidal because I had pushed for sex when "I thought it was pretty clear I didn't want it", I felt silly for feeling guilty for having other people out in the wild, with collars I had given them, even when both they and I knew it was a platonic collar (yes, such a thing exists in my brain!).

I felt like an joke for having been *that* sensitive and concerned for her feelings over what amounted to simple mistakes, or innocent actions on my part, but that she was able to repeat-offend acts that she KNEW would hurt me.

She followed it up, teary-eyed, with another fun-fact.

"Afterwards, I masturbated."

That did it. I attached a padlock to the collar she was wearing, and told her to lay face-down on the bed. I fitted her with a ball-gag (not her favorite, but it's part of the punishment protocol), as well as putting her hands behind her back with a set of police cuffs (mainly because hard play makes her want to react violently, against herself).

I delivered five strokes to her ass. About as hard as I could do with the rod and wrist-action-only (putting my whole arm into it could have made it more painful). At the end of the five strokes, I held her, and whisperingly told her: "That was for lying. You've got more coming, but you've paid your penance for your dishonesty."

Another five strokes came, for her bringing herself off without permission, followed by a minute or two of cooldown.

Then, I had her switch positions, so she was laying perpendicular to me, with her head on my *left* (it had been on the right before), so I could take hold of her collar with my left hand.

"This is it, Pet. After this it's all over. But you're going to get ten -- five for the last time and five for this time, and they're going to be a little harder than the last ones were."

I delivered them, and they were hard.

Afterward, I checked her out, made sure she wasn't feeling any danger to herself, before removing her cuffs and gag. And I did feel a bit better. I let her know that any repeat performances of the things she had been punished for, would double the associated number of strokes as this time. As we went to sleep, I ordered her to go down on me. She did, without question. She swallowed, as well.

The next day, she thanked me for doing what had to be done. She said she's going to tell this person that she can't do this anymore, that she can't lie to me, and that if she continues doing this, she'll be hurt.

She's wandering around school today, still wearing a locked collar. I'd have made her do this anyway, as a reminder of who she belonged to, but she may get *slightly* fewer stares, considering it's Halloween and all. I almost made her wear the shock collar around her ankle (locked as well), but it's largely pointless as long as the batteries in it are dead (they'll be replaced, today) and as long as she's wearing jeans, since only she would see it anyway.

I believe I've built enough of an emotional connection with the monkey by now: I haven't "thrown her away" as she feared I might, but I am going to tighten my grip on her, start taking more control over her. There's still a tiny part of me that believes a tiny part of *her* did this to get me to react, but it's not going to be the kind of attention she wants. If I start seeing a trend in her doing things that earn her pain, I'll simply do other things to her: I know she wants her hair to grow out, and I can take that away, now that she's more reluctant to lose it (after all, it made sense to shave it in the summer, but we're a day away from november (some 80-degree october days we've had, notwithstanding)).

I've threatened as well, to have her tongue pierced (as while I can't fit her with an oral chastity device, it would be too painful to perform, orally, for a few weeks with that healing, and proper piercing care would warrant an almost obsessive-compulsive oral-hygiene habit that's not bad for a sub anyway). I may still do this, I'm not sure; If I do, she'll be dragged down to the piercing studio in *full* gear, on a leash.

She's not going to be permitted an orgasm for a while, either. I'm still debating whether I'll make her beg for it, or simply mentally add time onto her restriction if I see her begging. I know the Monkey will be reading this, so I'll let *her* figure that one out on her own.

But regardless of it all. I'm in love with a Space Monkey. And she will know love. Tough love, on occasion when warranted, but she will know it.

My monkey confessed to me yesterday that she's not had a bowel movement in six days.  I suggested the time might be right for an enema, but due to various and sundry and quite vanilla circumstances, we wound up not having the time for it last night, with me promising that she'd receive it first thing in the morning.

When we woke up, I told her to strip, and she quickly called.  "Yellow!  Red!".  I called her by her given name, told her she had nothing to worry about, and went back to sleep.

A few hours later, when I was more awake, we discussed it a little bit more.  She asked if it was important to me.  I explained that for reasons of trust, as well as reasons of obedience, (to say nothing of the health reasons) she should take it, and I would be right there holding her paw the entire time.

I spread a shower curtain across the bed, and had her lay down, and filled the enema.  Now, the monkey had only taken a couple of fleet enemas before.  This is a hospital grade 1500ML industrial-hose enema.  Basically, it was more of a high colonic than anything (warm water, not hot, and a small amount of castille soap).

She took the entire thing in, and was still for about fifteen minutes before I removed the hose and escorted her to the bathroom.

I stood there for a while, letting her grip my hand tightly while it came out.  Mostly liquid but there was (and not to be gross) sound evidence that other things were coming out.  Finally, after about ten minutes she suggested she might be more relaxed if she do it alone.

At that point, I came in here and created this journal.  I'm going to make some backdated entries, so to the casual start-to-end reader it won't be the first.

My name is Dan, and I've fallen for a space monkey.