11th January 2012
Nothing seems to be enough at the moment yet I am satisfied beyond what words can describe. How can these 2 opposites exist in me at the same time? I sleep that restful sleep of a woman well used and loved yet during my waking hours I think about; more. I am haunted by the memories of last time whilst at the same I wonder how far he will take me next time. My mind skips between the past and the possible. Yet I am quiet. I have not told him what it is that haunts me, even though I can’t seem to get it out of my head the words stay unspoken
The heat of the flogger on my skin and the sound it makes as it connects with my flesh still rings in my ears. If I close my eyes I can feel the grip of the cuffs on my wrists as they hold me in place before him and when I look down I remember seeing my shoes laying there, empty and forgotten for the time being. The room is busy, people are talking and laughing, but even though my eyes see them my ears seems to switch off to the background noise. For me the only sound I can hear is the paddle or crop or whip as it cuts through the air and finds me. I am its intended target, the recipient of its affections and with each touch I learn to fear it less and want it more.
On the wall hangs a clock, it has a large white face but it is lit from behind with soft iridescent lighting that slowly changes colour. My eye is constantly drawn to it, not to watch time itself but as a focus point, a place for my eyes to rest and see nothing. I don’t need my eyes now.
The flogging stops and it is replaced by the paddle, my skin is hot and raw but the paddle cuts through that and seems to find new different nerves to excite. The change in sensation makes my body jerk and dance as it attempt to fight the growing throb. It is now when it would be so easy to say the word, to make it stop. I can even feeling it leap about inside my brain trying to find its way to my tongue but I bite it back and turn to look at him. I don’t say anything but he knows me well enough and I can only assume the pleading look in my eye tells him everything he needs to know because he reaches out to me and caresses the underside of my arm as he whispers into my ear.
“Breathe Slutmine, slowly.”
The sound of his voice gives me something to focus on and I can feel the panic and fight in me starting to subside and the muscles in my back relax just enough to allow me to absorb each touch into my core rather than pushing it away by creating a tense field of muscles to protect me. The tension only serves to exhaust me and make the fight between pain and pleasure an easy victory for pain and an unsatisfying defeat for pleasure yet my body tends to instinctively do this and it often takes a conscious effort to fight against it because when I do then pleasure will defeat pain and take me by the hand and draw me deep into my own hazy adrenaline filled cloud of heaven.
He whips me then, a sensation I usually abhor but tonight, even as the tears prickle into my eyes and I beg him not too I am also secretly willing him on, hungry for more, desperate to be marked. In the end he returns to the flogger and sets about finding the edge; the place where I can finally take no more. He moves around me, exploring my thighs and the back of my legs, before return his attention to the red raw flesh of my behind. Over and over he pounds at me, slowly but surely increasing the power behind each strike until the sweat pours from his brow and I finally say it. The word slips from my lips in a whisper but he must have known it was coming because instantly he stops and steps in close behind me. The touch of his cool finger tips on my red-hot skin is almost more than I can stand.
He unbuckled my wrists now and leads me to a chair, wrapping me a blanket and finding me a drink he holds me in his arms. I love being used like this in a public setting but then come these moments when all I want to do is suck him. Don’t ask me why but when he uses me like this I can almost taste him on my tongue. I want to kneel at his feet and hold his cock in my mouth, feeling it grow thick and hard until it is choking me and then finally cumming into my throat but for now that is an urge I have to fight and anyway it soon becomes apparent that although he has let me down of the cross that doesn’t mean that he is done with me just yet.
He doesn’t tie me up this time, maybe he knows I am more docile now that he has beaten me like this, instead he stands me to one side and holds my wrists tightly in front of me and sets about my bottom with the vampire gloves. I can feel them digging into my already red raw skin but my judgement is gone, and I am flying high now. I close my eyes and sink deeper into the sensation, there is no pain now, no flinching or twisting, no fighting or moaning just silent tears of release.
I am surprised when he stops it seems like only moments have gone by but he is pulling the gloves from his hands and turning me round so that he can see his handy work. I hear someone gasp, a small exclamation of surprise and I turn to try to see who it is. She is looking straight at me, I don’t know who she is but in her eyes I see a question. He has a tissue in his hand and is wiping the back of my thigh, I am surprised and I reach round behind me and dab at the damp sticky wetness that clings to my skin. As I bring my hand back to face it is then that I see it. He has made me bleed. It is running down the back of my thighs, there are a few droplets on the floor and just over there the girl still watches us. I smile at her, I hope that answers her unspoken question but I doubt she can really see it, the rush of excitement and the almost overwhelming joy I feel at knowing I have bled for him. I study the red smear of blood on the palm of my hand. My heart races as I look at it. I am bleeding and I love it.
There I said it, not out loud I know, but I am sure I will soon. I bled for him and it made me feel more alive and more submissive and more loved and cherish and horny and dirty and happy then I could ever have possible imaged that it would. I relive that moment over and over again in my mind, the vampire gloves, the spanking, the noise, the room, the people and the blood and it haunts me. I once wrote that I was scared of my submission, not of being submissive and certainly not of him but of me and how far into a pit of darkness it might possibly take me. I am not scared of it any more but I do know that it is like a hungry beast within me and that the more it is fed the more it wants to consume.
Ps… The word this week for Wank Wednesday is ‘blanket’. Make sure you click on the icons below to see who else is Wanton or Wanking