21st March 2012
When he tied me to the new spanking bench and used the bonded armoured cable rod to beat the ropes into my skin I cried out as they bit into my flesh. I wanted to move around to try to deflect the blows but I was completely helpless, tied so firmly to the bench that even drawing in my breath caused the ropes to tighten into me and so I had no choice but to give myself up to this new torture. The fighting it is often the worse bit, when I finally let go and just savour the sensations that is when I start to fly high on the adrenalin and my mind stops trying to tell my body to get away but instead seems to start craving each and every strike.
I don’t remember clearly, when it stopped, how it stopped or why it stopped. I remember tears of release and calling out his name when he left me alone in the room. I remember the soft caress of his fingers over the fire of my skin and I remember him whispering into my ear something about the marks but I don’t remember him taking these pictures, untying me or being led upstairs to bed…. but I do vividly remember the heat and sting of these beautiful marks beneath me as he spread my legs and fucked me and in the morning I remembered it all over again as I stood in front of the mirror and nursed my marks, lovingly caressing them and wondering just how long it would be before they are joined by some more.
Ps… To really appreciate the marks you will need to click on the second image and see it full size…. and yes, I spent ages last night looking at this picture and sitting here wriggling around in a little pool of my own juices.
Pps… Click on the icon below to see who else is joining in with Wanton Wednesday