He began to slowly unbutton my Denim Vest and, once He had freed it from my left arm, took it and hooked it up over my right hand.  He then pinched my nipples hard, still not realizing that I had my filmy little bra on.  I turned away from Him in that moment, ashamed of my so far undiscovered disobedience, and wished that I had not been so resistant to His Instructions.  He began to unbutton my blouse and when He saw that I had the forbidden undergarment on, He froze in His tracks.  He then shook His head and clucked His tongue at me, all the while undoing the rest of my buttons.  My blouse was then paired up with my vest, hanging over my wrist as a testament to His Mastery over me.

Coming in close to me and reaching for the knife He always carried in His waistband, Daddy growled, “I guess I am going to have to cut this off of you and teach you that you must not disobey me.”

It was then that I nearly lost it with Him.  I begged Him, “Please Daddy.  Don’t cut this off me.  This is one of my absolute, all time favorite bras.  Please, Daddy.  No.  I promise I will never disobey You again.”   He had his finger hooked on my bra in between my breasts and as I started to back away from Him, He was immensely displeased and yanked me toward Him.

The very next sound I heard was the tearing of fabric as my beautiful bra parted in the middle and my breasts tumbled from their restraint.  Instantly, I began to cry and wail before Him, however my tears had absolutely no effect on my Daddy.  He calmly took my tattered piece of lingerie and added it to the other garments hanging about my wrist and I thought to myself that it must have been a peculiarly erotic looking sight for anyone viewing it.

Daddy was a little pissed with me, I could tell, and even though my tears ran hotly down my cheeks, He was not moved.  He stalked over to His four foot Bull Whip and picked it up.  I gasped in horror, realizing with sickening clarity that He was not going to spend any time at all warming me up with either His Hands or His Flogger, as was His usual practice.

Of course, part of my Daddy’s plan is to always provide me with the “edge of terror” I constantly beg for Him to exercise with me, but I am usually so caught up in the reality of the event that I completely forget that we are just “playing or acting” out a scene.  He is such a Master, in what I call “Scene Production”, that I for all intents and purposes, am completely at His Mercy.