Pain slut!

One thing I love about Master, is that he knows how not to let life win over play. It wasn't easy to find the opportunity for my flogging today, and we almost ran out of time. I knelt beside him, becoming anxious that I would miss out on the pain I'd been so badly looking forward to. But he was calm and confident, and would not be rushed. And I know he was right to take his time - a hurried flogging would be worse than none at all.

He selected his instruments and placed them on the bed, then told me to lie face down. He secured rope to the bedposts, and I watched while he tied the first end to my right wrist, already drifting towards a blissful daze. I think I have mentioned before that I have a rope fetish... *smile*... The sight and sensation of him wrapping the binding around my wrist removed all concerns with the outside world for me, erased in the thought of rope.... mmmm..... I will have to blog more about rope some other time :)

After tying both my wrists, he used leather cuffs to attach my ankles to a spreader. I do love his spreader. He fastens my feet and already I feel open, and vulnerable. But then he makes an adjustment, and the bar lengthens, forcing my feet even further apart... just far enough so that I feel my lips part and the cool air between them. It's one thing to have your legs secured open, but another, more erotic experience altogether to have them secured, and then opened, having already become helpless.

I love the way he will secure me, then walk away. He is silent at those times, and all I am aware of, face down on the bed, are soft, busy sounds. I hear his footsteps back and forth, a drawer opening and closing, a quiet rustling... just enough so that I know he is there, but not enough to tell whether he is preparing to do something to me, or if I am simply being ignored. Both options are arousing. Of course, this time I knew something would come before too long. He told me to raise my head, and firmly stuck two layers of heavy tape over my mouth, ready to begin.

He started with the leather paddle - and for me, a paddle is the hardest pain to take. He stroked my cheeks with the fur-covered side first, letting me anticipate the hard stroke I was about to feel. I am used to him building up the sensuality of it before getting started on the real pain. But today he simply went about covering my ass with a shade that would satisfy him. I started squirming and yelling against the tape quickly, but he didn't pause - he was methodical. And I felt deeply that this was because it is his body he was hurting, and he intended simply to extract the reaction he wanted from its skin.

It feels freeing to know that. If there is an audience watching me be flogged, I feel an obligation to exercise self-control over my reactions, to take as much as I can, and that gives a sense of pride. But alone, just Master and I, my hands and feet secured and my voice suitably muffled, there is no need to control myself to please him - I am already controlled. I will take as much as he chooses to give me - what other option do I have? All power, even to beg him to stop, is taken from me.

When my skin was raw, so that when he ran a hand over it I could feel some of it had been stripped away, he switched to the flogger. What is usually a soft, warm thud now felt like a sharp, hot sting and I loved it. But before I got too comfortable he used the cane. I don't know what it is that makes a cane feel so good when I'm bent over, with my skin taught, and so agonising when I'm stretched out flat, face down. But I screamed.

I always feel unsure about making so much noise. So many seem to find it a sign of a better sub, to be silent and take the pain... perhaps because screaming is assumed to mean wanting it to stop. For me, the experience is all the more intense and intoxicating if I can let out a sound and express how it feels. It doesn't mean I don't enjoy the agony - I am quite likely to scream and even try to escape the blows, then still beg Master for more. Pain always comes with ambivalence, and to release it in sound is like letting go of my demons.

So today, I was grateful for the tape over my mouth, so that I could scream... and grateful for the ropes around my wrists and the cuffs around my ankles so that I could struggle, and know that Master would continue anyway, until he was satisfied. At one point he climbed over me and pushed his cock inside me, and I melted, both with the pleasure of feeling him there, and also of knowing that, despite him already having fucked me earlier, he was thoroughly enjoying doing this to me. Several times he ordered me to cum while he hurt me, and I did. Several more times he paused to photograph his handiwork. And at the end, while tears rolled down my face and I panted through my nose, he rubbed oil on my ass, and then let me lie there shaking and feeling the heat radiating from my cheeks... so relaxed, and feeling so beautiful...

I had asked him, when I had thought we had more time, to do my back, tits, cunt and legs just as hard. He asked me afterwards how I felt about that now. I hesitated, but then he suggested, "A little ambitious?" and I suddenly felt a surge of determination. If we'd had the whole afternoon, at that moment I would have begged him to do it all. Is that too much pride, for a slave? Perhaps I need it beaten out of me ;)