surrendering to who I am…

punishment day

p

“There are many things on my agenda today. First, go sit on the bed,” He says.

I go into the bedroom and sit on the bed. He enters the room with a bag, sets it down and starts to open it while he declares. “Today is punishment day.”

My pussy immediately tingles. Punishing a masochist with pain is an interesting paradox.

He blindfolds me, and then tells me to lay face down on the bed with my hands just at the edge of the bed. I hear him jingling items around until he walks to my hands and starts to cuff them. He also places a bar in between the cuffs.

The tail of the blindfold has fallen over my mouth. With my head close to the bed, I start to have a bit of trouble breathing. He asks me if I can breathe, but I manage to move the blindfold away from my mouth with a few strategic open and closings of my mouth.

He spreads my legs. He lubes my ass and works an object into it. Many things can remind me that I’m owned, but having Him play with or fuck my ass is near – if not at the top – of the list. In order to let Him in fully, I have to let go. Relaxing my sphincter puts my whole body into a very receptive state.

He caresses my body while He tells me a bit of His thinking. He was trying to decide how many lashes: 25 seemed like too few and 100 seemed a bit much. He suggests the number will be something in between…and tells me that I don’t have to keep count because He predicts I’ll be too overwhelmed to do so.

The first lashes start. I want to keep count, but lose my place after about 4. I know it is important to keep my legs spread, and I feel grateful for the bar between my arms to help me keep them in place. I’m writhing, and the lashes are painful. Then one hits right at the small of my back and top of my buttocks. It’s the one that sends me over the edge to crying.

He alternates between what feels like a flogger and what feels like a cane (although I’m not sure exactly what instruments He’s using). The stings on top of the tender skin from the flogger feels almost unbearable. I grab the bedding with my fists and mouth, trying to diffuse the pain. When I let the bedding out of my mouth and gasp for breath, I feel the drool running out of my mouth.

He tells me to turn over, and helps me maneuver the spreader bar to do so. I keep my legs open although I fear that my pussy is next. Instead, He starts swatting my nipples. I don’t have time to warn Him that something is wrong with my left nipple. He hits it and I scream while starting to curl up into a ball. He commands, “Keep your legs open!” In between sobs and trying to catch my breath, I say that I have to tell Him something. It’s hard to put together the words, but I manage to spit out that the left one has a small tear or something near the nipple ring. I’ve been soaking it in salt water, but it is not healed yet. He works around it with subsequent lashes, although he does end up hitting it again. These are the only two times I move my hands and legs from their assigned positions.

Before I know it, He is lashing my pussy. He’s using the cane-like device, and the pain is intense. He comments that I like it, and I do in way that I’m still trying to comprehend.

As He finishes, he asks, “The next time…will you talk instead of reacting?”

I say yes but it kind of eeks out and doesn’t match my conviction, so I repeat louder, “Yes.”

He has me sit up. I hear rustling. He then comes up behind me on the bed, and pulls my hair to the side. I feel the collar around my neck and take a deep breath. I take several more as he works to lock it. I feel His hand brush my hair lightly in circular motions as he turns the wrench. I couldn’t be happier.

I looked in the mirror as I was cleaning myself up after sex. I just smiled. I’ve often told Master that when I look in the mirror, the person I see isn’t how I see myself in my mind. Wearing His collar starts to change that. I look and feel more of who I am when wearing it.

Sitting on the couch in the living room afterwards, I asked, “Did you count?”

“Yes,” He replied.

“How many?”

“115”

Add comment

surrendering to who I am…

archives

Categories

Tags

recent comments