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Lockdown08
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run little bunny, run far far away. quick. run. |
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"Open your fucking mouth cunt." He had me by my hair, pulling back hard. Tears started to form before I could even respond. I looked up at him through my blurred vision only to seem him grinning. I opened my mouth wide, blinking back the tears as he continued to pull harder on my hair. "Good, now keep it fucking open." I was kneeling up now with my hands were tied behind my back in a way that both forearms were tightly bound together. My ankles were locked into a spreader bar that ensured me minimal movement. I couldn't defend him off even if I wanted to. He unzipped his pants only to tease me with the sight. I wanted his hard cock in my mouth, I wanted to gag on it as he fucked my mouth hard. He did not grant me this. Instead he sat down on one of his favorite chairs and began to jerk off.
I started to whimper, drool dripping down from my mouth, landing on my chest and stomach. He was teasing me. I could not even speak to beg. I stared at his hard cock as he stroked it, feeling myself get wetter with not only drool but want. His sudden laugh was the only thing that disconnected my eye line.
"Whats wrong pet? Did you want something?" He continued to laugh, standing up to move in front of me. I leaned forward in an effort to have his cock in my mouth. I was rewarded with a hard slap across my face instead. "Did I say you could move ?" His question was more of a statement. I shrunk back on my knees, staring at the floor in utter discomfort in response. Drool was now all me and the desire to beg was still there. He though, did not seem to notice or care. "Keep your mouth open and lay back slut." I fell back in the least graceful of manner, semi choking on my own saliva. He was smiling again as I looked up at him. How I wanted to suck on his cock, to please him. The thought of him cumming down my throat had only made me wetter. He stood back from me, but not far by any means. He had his cock in his hand and before I could even protest his intentions, I was rewarded with his piss all over my face and down my throat. I gagged on it, still keeping my mouth open however. It was over in what felt forever. I felt so humiliated and degraded to have been used for such a purpose. I could not even bring myself to look at him.
"On your knees." I obeyed quickly. He did not even acknowledge what he had done. My mind flipped through the self directed insults of what a dirty disgusting whore I must look like, that I must be. I could feel it still dripping off my me, slowly, as if I was to be enjoying this. He roughly shoved a ball gag two sizes too big into my mouth and pushed my head to the floor hard. I was pretty sure that my hands had to have fallen asleep, though what did it matter. He started whipping my ass with his belt, each sting only brought me closer to the edge. I wanted him to hurt me so badly. To continue making me feel like the pathetic whore I was. I was crying, but yet I wanted more. I needed more. He continued to whip me, stopping only here and there to feel how insanely dripping wet I was becoming. He did not comment, but I could feel him smile with sick amusement.
When he stopped, I continued to cry. He either did not seem to notice or care at this point. Between my legs I could see him moving behind me, he was hard. He harshly put himself inside me and I could not help but began to moan through my gag as he then worked himself in further. His huge cock filling me. I rocked my hips back and forth against him, only to be slapped hard on my ass. He grabbed a handful of my hair as he continued to fuck me. "Such a fucking whore. This is all you are good for cunt, don't you ever forget it."
He fucked me faster, bringing me to the brink of cumming, "You have no permission to cum either pet." He snarled at me, as if he could tell when I was about to beg for it. His fingers soon found my throat and he began to restrict my breathing. This only set me off further, the feel of his hands around my throat as he fucked me from behind had me streaming tears. I wanted to cum so badly on his cock and yet I could not. I gagged hard as he released my neck, causing my face to meet the floor. His nails dug into my ass as he fucked me harder and faster. He abruptly pulled out only to push me over. He found my face only to cum all over it.
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I was told to sit still; I could not. I could not concentrate on anything. His hand rested on my head as if I was a favorite pet pining to be touched. Was I not after all? I shifted where I knelt again, this time to be rewarded with a hard slap to my face as if told to behave. This not only made me grin but was also effective in settling me down. I wrapped an arm around his lower leg and rested my head against it.
My mouth still held the ring gag he had put in hours before. I was drooling all over myself by this point; my ankles were tied together with thin rope, it dug into my skin at weird angles causing my feet to fall asleep. I looked up as he sighed, standing. I pulled away from him, wrapping my arms around my knees. He cocked a smile as he reached down to grab my hair. My instinctive thought was to grab his wrist against his efforts to pull me into the next room; instead I crawled in silence. He stopped in his room. It was dark, no lights had been turned on yet, the burn from the carpet on my knees was starting to set in. I looked down, half expecting to see them on fire. "Why can't we sit still?" I did not have an answer for him, as if he would of been to understand me through the gag to begin with. "Hands behind your back." Obediently I grabbed opposite elbows from behind, kneeling up straight. He stood in front of me as I glanced upward. He was running his fingers through my hair, squatting down to be eye level. The first slap was not as hard as before, the next four had me seeing stars. With each continuing slap to my face, I was panting, wanting him to hit harder, to hurt me more. "How pathetic" he mumbled to himself; I moaned as he pulled away. "Face to the floor." I complied, turning my face sideways to look at him. What I saw made my heart skip ten beats faster. A two foot wooden cane laid between his hands.
I bit my tongue hard on the first strike, trying my best not to move. He hit again and again, working his way up and down my back. By the time I counted thirty or so hits I could feel the welts already forming. He was silent as he hurt me, enjoying my obvious struggle to remain still. "On your back." My nails were digging into my arms as I flipped over, instinctively opening my legs. I gritted my teeth as he continued his assault with the cane on my inner thighs and eventually my clit. I could not keep still. Every time I moved, he would only reward me with more hurt. Such a love hate relationship, pain; the thing to hate to love. By now I could tell his mood had changed to that of a sadist. He was not gentle as he continued to hit me, I counted at least twenty-five more before tears were streaming down my face. He stopped to turn on the light. I was breathing heavy, besides the pain, I was extremely wet. I could feel it dripping down my exposed body. He knelt down next to me, pulling on my nipples hard as he reached between my legs, not to touch, but to slap. My eyes clutched to darkness as he hit my throbbing pussy, I wanted to yell stop, beg him to stop, however I did not. Fingers invaded me as he kissed my face. I was crying, but the pain was not that intolerable.
He was on top of me the next time I opened my eyes. His fingers withdrew only to find their way to my neck. He wrapped them tight, squeezing. I gasped, trying to breath; I could not. My eyes widened as he continued to choke me. The feeling was indescribable. My body tingled as he stopped; slapping my face hard as he shoved his cock through the gag. I gagged on it as he pushed it down my throat. He plugged my nose as he fucked my mouth. My body was screaming for air and he moved in and out. I was panting between thrusts, once again I could feel my eyes watering. He pulled out before I could pass out; slapping me hard again, pulling on my hair, he shoved him cock in me hard. I moaned through the gag almost instantly.
I felt his hands around my throat again, this time however, I noticed a plastic black bag at his side. I suddenly felt my stomach drop. Before I could even protest the action which I knew I had no choice in, it was over my head. It was sudden pitch darkness; I started to panic. He was still fucking me fast, with one hand around my neck keeping the bag in place, the other was on top of my head, using me to push down on. I started to relax as the lack of oxygen took its effect on me. I felt my body to start to loosen its grip. I moaned a plead to cum. He rewarded me with such, then started to pull the bag tighter.
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I am in love with what doesn't exist.
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"Talk like a dumb bitch." I was sitting on the floor in front of the t.v sucking my thumb. They had dressed me in a white cut off shirt, no bra, a pink plaid skirt, white panties, my hair in pig tails and to complete the look; a vibrator and butt plug in. I sat there cross legged looking up at these men trying my hardest not to cum, I felt like a school girl who was being punished. They sat around me drinking their beer, pulling on my hair and laughing at the dumb things I would try to say to them. I have never felt so humiliated and degraded before. This kind of humiliation was not something I was use to, not something I had ever really experienced before as I am not use to so many people seeing me act like this. It made me want to cry with embarrassment. These men were here to use me for their enjoyment and I was to treat them as if they were him. I did what I was told, I acted like a dumb girl, I dumbed down my speech, I stumbled over words, I wanted to throw up. This went on for what seemed a few hours. They only left to go smoke, stating that stupid girls like me deserve to sit on the floor and suck on their thumbs. So I sat there, watching t.v, with a vibrator and butt plug in on the highest setting, on the edge of cumming, feeling like a complete and total idiot. And yet.. All I could think about was how I wanted to please these men, to beg, to be used by them, to be able to make him happy.
He pushed my face hard to the wood floor with his foot. I turned sideways to see his friends staring down at me as if they had never seen a naked girl tied up before. I wanted to smile. My hands were tied behind my back as well as my ankles tied together. I stared up at them in disbelief, they seemed so dumbfounded. "Go ahead, touch her. She will comply with whatever you desire." His words made me feel like a slut. I bit down on my panties that had been shoved into my mouth, I wanted to push them out, to protest his charge against me. But I did nothing. My eye line settled on the legs of the chair he was sitting in while three sets of hands found their way across my body.
I was roughly dragged to my feet by my hair only to look into the eyes of a total stranger. He smiled at me and lightly smacked my face. I began wondered if he knew how much I really enjoyed pain. Man one began kissing my face and neck, Man two had my legs spread and his face in between them. This made me want to drop to my knees. His tongue felt so foreign against my clit as he added a finger to my already dripping wet pussy. Surely this could not be real? What man wanted to eat a girl out? I will not deny my shameful pleasure from such an act, this was not something I was suppose to enjoy and here I was on the edge of cumming. He stopped short of pushing me over only to be shoved back down on the floor. Man three untied my hands only to retie them in front of me. They were lazy with their knots as I could easily get out if I tried. Instead I looked down, palms on the cold floor, back straight, waiting... waiting for something that never came. They did not hurt me, they would only go as far as a light tap or spank here or there. My mind was begging for this to be over and yet my body was wanting more. The confliction made my stomach twist. The only reason I am here was to please him. This was all for him. Those were soon the only thoughts racing through my head as I was picked up and seated on Man one's cock. He fucked me hard as I sat there on top of him, he did not allow me to move on my own. Behind me, Man three pushed me over so he would be able to get at my ass better. I wanted to cry, to run from what I knew was coming. This would be the first time two men would be using me at once like this and yet all I could think about was wanting to do this for him, wanting him to be proud of me for being a good girl. I wanted to scream as he shoved his thick cock into my ass.
Man two was more interested in my face than anything. He had squatted down as the two other men used me. He was kissing me through my gag telling me how pretty I looked. I wondered if he was being serious or partial to my situtation. Having two cocks inside of you at the same time is not a super great feeling, I wanted this to be over more than anything. Man two had decided he wanted to join in as well. He took my drooling wet panties out of my mouth to replace them with his cock. I complied and opened my mouth wide so he could throat fuck me. He was the first to cum all over my face. Second was Man three, pulling out, and Man one finished last, taking him time. He been the only one to play with my tits during, biting on them hard, pulling on them roughly. The most pain that particular evening was caused by him. There was a double mirror that had been facing us to the left as they used me, laying spent on the floor now, I stole a glance at my cum covered face and used body. I felt like a total whore.
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What does the word "no" mean again? I forget...
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What is a slave?
I am told a slave is obedient, well mannered, loyal, and honest. Kind of like a pet, no? I have a hard time understanding the different between the two. A slave is pet, you feed her, wash her, dress her, tell her what she can and can not do. Much like a beloved pet. And in return for everything you do for her, all the effort and time you put into her, she gives you her life.
I have found that many people that are in this kind of life are not like that. I have found submissive women with lists of demands that have to be met, I have found numerous dominants bragging about how they can bark orders and control this or that only to realize that this is just a sexual thing for them. I have seen countless women "top" from the "bottom" and countless men allow it. How these women set up limits or safewords to be used to their benefit. If you give yourself completely to another do you not think that it should be up to him? Does he not know you well enough to know when you can not take anymore or what you would be comfortable or able to do? I'm not ranting or complaining, just observing. I know what it is like to live as a slave twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty- five days a year. I have been there. I understand what it means to give up everything you are to another person, to let them control you completely, not just your body, but your mind as well. And to talk with these submissive women and slaves, I find it to be an utter waste of time. I have nothing in common with these girls. They complain about not being able to go out one night or to having to clean up after a party. I mean... seriously? Are you not a better slave than that. You should be thrilled, privileged even, to have a man who wants to be that involved, that focused in with your life. I'm not perfect, even though I know what acceptable behavior is, does not mean that I always choose to practice it. Which of course leads to being punished more often than not ;) But that is not the point I'm trying to make. Being a slave does not mean you are a doormat. I have feelings, I have opinions; do they matter? No. Is that the way it should be? I certainly think so. My mind is for him to play with, not me.
A slave without a master is not a slave at all. Just a girl who is incredibly indecisive and alone.
Thoughts?
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There is something strange about not being owned. You go so long wanting something you once had only to realize that could never be again. Instead you come to realize that you are not the same person you were a year ago, that everything you were taught, everything he had said or ever done to you, no longer is relevant. I guess you can say I have been putting off this kind of "realization" for while now. I had been looking for something that no longer existed. I never intended to find someone who I thought would even be remotely interested in someone who had been though well whatever it is I had done. Starting over is not easy, especially when all you want to do is please. Even a slave can't always be perfect. That is something I still don't understand.
I had been lax on answering his texts all day. I knew that he wasn't happy with my delayed responses and to be honest I knew he would not be pleased with my pathetic excuses that I gave him for it. I had been stressed all week thanks to final crit that was approaching way sooner than wanted. I was given a task halfway through the day to call a friend of his, introduce myself as his toy and answer any questions that were asked of me. Not hard, but yet somehow I was kind of terrified. I was told I would be shared, even swapped with his slave. I have never been really shared before, the thought of doing such a thing is beyond scary, and yet really really exciting. Instead of being a good girl, rather doing what I was told to do, I questioned him. I complained even and made excuses for not wanting to complete such a task. Big mistake. I'm unsure of what exactly what it was I was thinking while I did this. I knew what I was doing was wrong and yet I still followed through. Funny how everything I once thought I was perfect at suddenly did not seem so.
He told me to dress slutty, short skirt, heels, heavy make up. I looked like a total whore. I could tell that I was not going to enjoy whatever he intended to do with me. He asked me to put up a craigslist add, to find other men to suck off my punishment. The add was titled "Talented slave cocksucker for use" and included the following " I'm a stupid pathetic girl who does not know how to behave and needs to
be taught a lesson. I have foolishly questioned Sir and deserve to be
punished for it. I am looking for huge dicks to suck and deep throat so
that I never forget again that his word is final say, no questioning or
whining about it; I need to be shown that she can not talk out of turn
especially to complain. I'm 5'3, have brown eyes and hair, weigh
135lbs, and have 34b's. Please use me for his entertainment and my
punishment, I will be a good girl and suck your dick the very best I
can and more.
" I received a lot of messages as you can imagine, asking/telling me a variety of things. It was humiliating to say the least. I have never been put out there so publicly by someone else and dislike it so much. I did not want to suck some strangers cock, I wanted to suck his, to gag on his. The more I read, the more nervous I got, I wanted to hide from the embarrassment, and yet I could not look away from myself in the mirror. I was sitting alone in my room reading through all these emails waiting for him to come over, dressed the most slutty I could manage. I wanted to sink into a hole than face him and his disappointment.
As I walked down the stairs to greet him, I could not help but notice I was shaking. This would be the first time he would be punishing me. Just the anticipation of what he would do made me more than nervous, I could barely manage not falling flat on my face because of it. He did not seem overly upset with me at first, it was as if everything would be fine and I was just in the middle of a terrible joke. Back in my room, he told me to put on wrist and ankle cuffs and to sit on the floor with my hands behind my back. I did not know what to expect, that feeling of not knowing what was going to happen was more than enough to get me soaking wet. He slapped my face hard, over and over. Repeating till I did not flinch as he did. He had put a ball gag in so I could not even beg for him to stop if I wanted to. He grabbed my hair roughly, yanking it back hard, pushing my legs open. He started fingering me fast while pulling back hard on my hair that was becoming knotted with the torture. He stopped only to pull down my top and continue there. Kneeling up, he put clothespins all over my left breast and nipple. I had not been played with in so long, everything felt so new again, as if I had forgotten everything I once knew. I had focused my eyes on my floor in front of me, drooling all over myself as he started to whip the clothes pins with my own collar. How could I forget such pain? And yet that was nothing. It would be wrong of me to say that I did not miss it. He hit me not too hard a few times before tugging each clothespin off. He asked me to face him as he sat on the bed next to me. I turned, not wanting to face him. "Did you learn your lesson?" I mumbled through the gag, wanting him to bed to stop. He spat in my face instead. I was not convincing enough for him to stop. he pushed me over the bed, tying my hands to my ankles. I was shaking again, afraid even as to what he was going to do with me. The first blow of his belt that hit my back was a rude awaking back. It had been long time since I was punished, I was instantly regretting everything I had done to cause this to myself. I knew better than to question, what was thinking? Who am I to say no? A few more hits and I was in tears. I hated disappointing and that was all I could think of as he hit me each time. I wanted to beg him, to plead him to stop. But I deserved this, how could I of forgotten one of the most basic of rules?
It did not end there, and I choose not to write about the rest of evening yet. For as long as I can remember, since I had found about d/s, I had always wanted to find someone who could understand me better than myself. I love pleasing, love having someone else hold all the control over me. It's intoxicating. I don't do this just for me, this is not about me. This is doing what he wants of me, giving everything I can to make him happy, no matter how I feel about the subject. Why? Because d/s is not just about kinky sex or being in someones mind, its the greatest form of trust that I have ever seen. Last night something clicked, something I had not understood became a lot more apparent.
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Blind obedience. Does such a thing even exist? Can you obey without question, without thought?
No don't say anything, don't look up, keep your eyes on the ground. That was my train of thought as he tapped impatiently on the wall next to me. It was getting harder to breathe as he was slowly crushing my neck with his boot. I wanted to yell, scream for him to stop the pain, and yet I said nothing. He squatted down, grabbing my hair, entangling his fingers as he pushed harder, forcing me to look up. "What did I say about talking out of turn?" I looked into his eyes, gagged on my own saliva as he pushed down harder, forcing tears. "Well slut? Did you enjoy yourself?" I made a noise as if to speak, but thought better. I did not have an answer for him. He threw my face back to the floor as he got up, clearly disgusted. "Follow me."
I stared after his heels as I tried to catch my breath with my new ability to breathe again. I followed him out of the bedroom, crawling on my hands and knees, letting the heavy chain around my neck drag across the cool floor. He was walking slowly, as if he wanted me to enjoy this. Stopping at the third room on the left, he pointed into it. I could feel his hateful stare on me as I crawled past him and into a place much darker. This had to be one of my least favorite rooms; it was painted a dark navy blue with little lighting. There was no carpet and no furniture besides a bed and cage. He stood in the doorway watching me as I knelled up with my hands grabbing opposite elbows behind my back. The room was kept at a freezing temperature, I could see myself breathing heavily. I wanted to be far away from this place. I cringed at my own thoughts as his steps stopped short of behind me. Even his eyes on me were more than enough to make me wet with want. I thought about begging, begging to be forgiven, to be used, to be fucked. But I did not have a chance to voice such wants; his hands were around my throat, restricting my breathing.
"Now pretty pet, we don't speak unless spoken to or am I mistaken?" His voice was hard, there was no room for begging here. I was gasping for air only to be rewarded with him squeezing harder. I could barely speak, forcing a "no Master" before being dropped to floor like a used up doll. He walked around so that my face was level with his boots. "That's exactly what I was thinking." He said coyly, reaching down to slap my face hard. "Now slut, why don't you be a good girl and clean my boots." I nodded to him as he stood up. Hungrily I licked every inch of them. I did not want him to be anymore displeased with me. I thought back on the night, trying to forget my mistake. He stood in silence as I licked and slurped all the disgusting filth from what was in front of me. My hands where still behind my back as if they were tied by invisible rope, aching from the strenuous position. I had not been allowed to move them except to crawl. My tongue licked his rough leather boots, up and down, sideways and back. I was so invested in pleasing him with my mouth that I had not heard him take his belt off.
The first hit was a hard crack to my lower back, causing instant tears. I did not however stop cleaning his boots with my mouth. I winced at every coming blow, knowing it would hurt more than the last, practically panting like a pathetic whore. "Now slut, how does a good girl behave?" He expected a response from me. I could not even bring myself to speak, my back splitting, my mouth unable to become unglued. Another hit. "She doesn't speak unless spoken to Master" I mumbled downward as I gulped the frigid air. "That's right." A few more blows to my aching back. I was licking up my own tears more than anything as he continued to create havoc on me.
It had to be ten minuets or so before he finally stopped, backing away from me. I slouched over, breathing rather heavy as he dragged me to my feet and shoved me over the bed. I was freezing, my lips trembling as I felt him behind me, whispering awful things into my hair. I swallowed hard, feeling myself unable to control my breathing. "Good girls don't have opinions."
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He held my head under until I couldn't move anymore. The feeling of being so helpless was one of the most intoxicating experiences to date, it felt as if I did not have a care or thought in the world, as if time was forever suspended. His hands were on my neck, forcefully but yet gentle. He was not rushed. I could feel my hair being intertwined within his fingers. I looked at the milky green sway in front of me. I smiled, releasing bubbles that kissed my face. Yes, that is what drowning feels like.
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I ran as fast as I could, and yet that was not far enough....
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As
I kneel on the floor I shiver not with fear, but with dread. This
would be the first time he would punish me. It's not like I didn't
earn it, but that didn't make it any less scary. I didn't mean to be
disobedient, but my friends had taken me out and I was doing well,
first I had just a beer, then a gin and tonic, but then...well then my
friend Debbie brought out a Japanese whisky I had never heard of called
Hibiki. I know I was only allowed two drinks, but I'd been doing so
well, and he hardly ever checked up on what I had on any given day. He
didn't need to; I had gotten really drunk once and He decided then and
there I needed a definite limit. Although I didn't like it, I had been
very observant of this rule. This night however, I thought 'just this
once...' Needless to say, he did ask, and now here I was naked, my
forehead pressed to the floor, my largest ball gag seated in my mouth,
my back arched so that when He enters my bottom would be presented.
I
had already waxed that morning as per my usual routine, so i was smooth
and presentable and other than the visible dampness between my lips,
something I could not prevent, I was ready. My collar was locked in
place about my neck, and my hands were laced behind the back of my
head, my elbows resting on the floor. He told me the night before to
be ready and waiting by five o'clock. To be prepared to be punished;
that he hoped that that extra drink was really worth it as I was going
to 'pay for it.' So there I waited, my earplugs in, my eye mask over
my eyes, waiting for his arrival, to be 'punished', something that I
had worked so very hard to avoid. I kneeled there waiting, feeling
bad, knowing I had let him down, knowing I had let myself down. I felt
wretched, I had no idea what was in store...I would indeed be sorry.
I
did not hear him enter, but I felt the vibrations of his footsteps off
the cool floor. My body was already tense; my pulse started to race.
I waited for the touch, of his whip, cane, hand, but still nothing... I
knew he was observing me, seeing my involuntary flinch as the gentlest
breeze that brushed against my exposed body.
He grasped me by the hair lifting me up until I was kneeling up straight. He removed my earplugs...and so it began.
"I am disappointed in you slave."
I
shuddered, those words are more painful to me than anything he was
about to do... Why had I been so thoughtless, I never wanted to
disappoint Him... if I could of slumped with dejection, I would have,
but his hand was still entwined in my hair, keeping me ramrod straight.
"I
am disappointed not only because you broke one of your most basic
rules, but the reason why your punishment will be even more harsh, is
that you failed to come straight to me and confess your
transgression. You CHOSED to withhold information from me, you waited
until I asked to admit your failure; this is unacceptable behavior. For
this you will suffer greatly my pet. I will only teach this lesson to
you once, there will not be a second. Do you understand?"
Tears
had already started tracking down my cheeks, the first of many that
would cascade down my face that night. I did not dare turn my head to
look at him. I bit down hard on the gag, trying to retrieve some
comfort from the sudden shift of pressure. I nodded vigorously,
desperate to please him, to endure what was needed to be forgiven.
He
roughly pulled me up by my hair and helped me stumble out of his
bedroom and into the next room down the hall, this was not an area that
I had been allowed in before. The floor was ice cold against my naked
feet. He released my hair and ordered me to present my wrists in front
of him. Removing them from the back of my neck I offered them to him.
Each in turn was bound carefully in a hemp rope which was far coarser
than I had ever experienced before. I could already feel the burning
sensation mixed with sweat. I started shivering with dread, fearing not
for my safety, but that of not being able to take this punishment. I
let out a small sigh, not that I was going to have a choice. I wanted
to be able to accept the pain, not to fight it, to let it wash through
me.
He
made me stand up with my leg spread shoulder width apart on two wooden
blocks. He had me pulled up taught by my wrists. At least I was able
to stay balanced on the balls of my feet, I was thanking him silently
over and over again that it wasn't by tiptoe. A loud scraping sound
resonated through the room as something heavy was maneuvered between my
legs. I felt the lightest brush of wood between me. I started to
whimper quietly through my gag. We had talked of this, but I never
thought in a million years it would really happen. I was about to take
my first ride on 'the wooden pony.' How long was I going to be on it?
Did it really hurt as much as I'd read in the stories?
Cutting into my thoughts, he ordered "Sit"
I
very tentatively lowered my body onto the board before shooting back up
again, oh yes, this indeed was going to hurt. He spread my labia apart
and with gentle pressure, coaxed me back down onto the pony. With a
very fast "yank," removed the blocks I had been using to support
myself. I screamed loudly through my gag as my feet sought out the
floor. I could barely touch, only at extreme en-pointe. The rope
holding my wrist above me was taught and between that and my tip-toes I
couldn't totally relieve the pain shooting through my pussy. It did at
least reduce it temporarily. I knew from reading the stories that this
was futile as I would soon tired. More tears fell down my face; one
does not always think rationally when they are in pain. I started to
rock forwards and back, each spot becoming tenderer each time I moved,
but I still rocked. The most comfortable position leaning back and off
my now raw feeling clit. How long had it been? Seconds, minutes,
hours?? I had no idea. It was then I started to notice not only the
pain, but of a building heat between my legs. Tiger balm, he had always
threatened that he might do that to me one day. I could not stay
still, between the pain and the fire I could not stay still. He was
pacing around me, his eyes hot like fire on me. I could still feel his
agitation and disappointment. It was then that I tried to plea with
him, my mumbled words through my gag, to explain how sorry I was, but
He was not paying attention to my pathetic attempts. He started
kneading my breasts and tickling my nipples with his tounge. The
mixture of pain and pleasure was overwhelming. He then made me lean
forward, exposing my poor abused clit to being grounded into the
board, the tiger balm feeling like a branding iron against my sensitive
button. "SNAP" He snapped on the clover clamps onto my already erect
nipples. I suddenly felt as if my world swirling all around me as this
new dimension of pain was added. I instinctively started pulling away
from the pain, only to be met with grave despair- the clamps were on a
strong bungee, if I wanted to take pressure off of my clit and lean
back, it would feel as though my nipples were being ripped off. I
could not think, I could not function, I could barely breathe.
I
have no idea how long I rode 'the pony' and perhaps I drifted off at
some point but only to abruptly be returned to reality soon after. A
searing pain in my left nipple slammed into me and then a second time
as he released my right one. As the blood flow returned to my
nipples I keened loudly, but the sound was all but blocked by my gag.
Next He returned the blocks under my feet, but I found that I could not
stand up. Pulled up by my wrists, he was able to remove the pony, but
only before he let the wrist rope down slowly, allowing me to collapse
in an exhausted pile at his feet. He released the rope about my wrists
and checked that my hands were okay; I am almost positive he had also
done this several times as I 'rode the pony' but it was something
vaguely noted in the mists of pain I had been drifting in and out of.
"We are not done yet. On your hands and knees my darling, follow me into the shower room."
Fresh
tears streaked down my face, here I had thought I was done, that I had
been forgiven, but it was not yet so. I crawled behind him on limbs
shaking with fatigue. My pussy and anus screaming at me each time I
moved. Even toppling over onto my side at times, only to be sharply
told off. "Get up!" When we arrived in the bathroom I was led over to
what I call the "teapot" rack. I was lead up onto the knee pad, my
legs spread widely apart, my tits nestling between my thighs, and my
face resting in the horseshoe shaped padded area. He quickly
immobilized me with a strap over the back of my neck, a cinched over my
lower back, wrist and ankles cuffed on either side. What was truly
devilish about this device was that there was a twelve inch gap between
the base and my body; it could pivot me into a variety of angles up to
90 degrees. It was the perfect tool for giving enemas, caning, and ass
reaming.
"Your
punishment would have ended on the pony had it not been for the fact
that you withheld your transgression. Withholding is the same as
lying, I am sorry this is necessary, but I feel it is."
With
that I heard the snap of the lube bottle being opened and closed. I
knew what was coming as the enema plug tip touched my very exposed
anus. I hated enemas; I felt childish and humiliated by them, but of
course he knew this. I tried to bear down and allow the plug in as
painlessly as possible, but soon found myself to be screaming in pain.
With a quick push I gasped as the massive invader seated itself into my
lower bowel, then I heard the click and felt the water rushing
forcefully in. He was not going to take it easy on me. By letting it in
slowly, I could already feel a few minor cramps building. With the
speed at which it was flowing, I thought, at least the enema would be
done and over with quickly, how little I truly knew. The bottle was
empty, but he let me sit a while longer, my body shuddering as small
waves of cramps rippled within my tummy.
"Hold
it in" he ordered. And I tried, I really tired. I was no match for the
cramps and started leaking, he quickly tipped me into the 90 degree
position and I released my bowel contents down the awaiting drain,
taking the opportunity to relieve the pressure in my bladder at the
same time. I had not been able to ask permission, but nor could
I, so I was not overly surprised to feel the kiss of the cane, shortly
after being returned to the horizontal position.
"Did I not tell you to hold in your enema dirty whore?"
I tried unsuccessfully to nod.
"Did I give you permission to relieve yourself slut?"
Again I attempted to shake my head, only to be met with failure.
Again and again I felt the kiss of the cane, first on my backside, then
he went after my feet, even landing a few strokes to the throbbing mass
of pain that was my clit and anus. I was crying and screaming
uncontrollably behind my gag, begging helplessly.
"Let's try this again, shall we slut?"
Again,
I felt the end of the enema plug pushing against the bruised membrane
of my anus, again it was seated, not only seated, but he added in two
pumps of air to be SURE it would not escape. I knew it was going to be
bad, but nothing would of prepared me for just how bad. Would he add
more water? Cold water?...and then it hit me, first the memory and
then the vicious cramps -Castille Soap- I had been curious about what a
punishment enema felt like and had been told that "when the time is
right, you WILL find out" I now had NO sense of curiosity, just wave
after wave of cramps as my body tried to rid itself of this fluid. I
was coated in a cold sweat as I was begging and begging to make it
stop. Time passed as I shuddered and squirmed under this internal
assault of his. Finally I felt myself being 'tipped'. Without
releasing the air, he yanked out the plug. I was ashamed as the
contents of my bowel trumpeted out loudly and violently. As I started
to calm down, a small tube was inserted, thankfully it was only water
to clean out the soapy remnants. He had me expel this fluid quickly. I
smelled horrible and was utterly exhausted. I thought to myself "please
let this be over, please let this be over" as he took the cold hose to
me and rinsed away all my filth down the drain...
What
happened next I pray never to experience again. As soon as I felt his
hand working away under the board, again teasing my nipples, I
whimpered as I knew what was coming. He had attached nipple clamps down
there. He could adjust the severity of pull, but I knew I would feel
the max pull today, something He'd never done before. I felt as if I
could not breathe, each breath was pure agony as it lifted my breasts
further from the now already impossibly painful clamps. I felt him
towelling off my pussy and ass. I knew he was about to use me. What I
was not prepared for however, was the bite of a clamp, directly
clenching down on my clit. I screamed and yelled through my gag, all
movement was impossible, breathing seemed impossible, and yet it was
about to get much worse. Even as he added the lube to my anus I was
still deigning what he was about to do. I could not take the pain of
him entering me and rocking me back and forth until he came. Already
the claps on my nipples and clit had me in near hysteria, there was no
possible way I thought I could take any more pain... and yet I did.
He was not harsh or unnecessarily cruel as he reamed my ass. All I
could think about was how badly I never wanted to disappoint him again.
I think even I passed out while I was being removed from the 'tea pot'.
He touched me gently until I came to. I could feel a throbbing pain
throughout my clit and nipples. He smiled down at me and assured me
that I was no more than badly bruised and that I would be just fine. I
looked up at him as he held me close.
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A new year. A time to change everything that was wrong. Will I live up to these promises I set for myself? I'm unsure. I was shown the reason again for my submission, the reason why I am here. I had missed that feeling. Thank you to the man that has given me this. It was brief and I only wish it could of lasted forever.
"You look beautiful." He greeted me with a side hug and a kiss on the cheek. I smiled and mumbled a "thank you" to the ground. I could tell he was automatically looking me over, I could feel my palms sweating as if I was embarrassed. I was wearing a short blue dress that fell to mid thigh, my black five inch heels that complimented my outfit very well. I thought so anyway. He had his hand on my back, as if leading me. Dinner was nice, uneventful. Small talk about unimportant things; things I wouldn't remember no matter how hard I tried to recall. He was handsome. So very handsome. I did not belong next to him or within ten feet.
He lead me back to his car, he opened my door. I sat on the cool leather, unsure of what to do. I ended up crossing my legs then to only to stare out my window. I did not know where he was taking me nor did I have an idea as to what he wanted to do to me once we arrived, but yet I knew. I suddenly felt very warm. "You know why you are sitting here, don't you?" The question was easy enough, but all I could do was blink frantically at his cup holders. "You are curious, are you not? You want to know if you are still truly a slave, in the full meaning." I nodded. I knew what he was talking about. We talked for months in length over these feelings and wants. I needed him to show me my worth again. I started to bite my lip. It was not that I was uncomfortable, it was the anticipation for what I knew could happen, what will happen, what he wanted.
We arrived at his house about twenty or so minuets later. I was impressed to say the least. His house matched the color of my dress, with a white trim. The house seemed way to big for a single man. I noticed the number of cars as we pulled into his garage. I did not open my own door, yet he did. He grabbed my clammy hand and walked me inside. The front room was painted blood red and looked as if it was ripped out of a magazine. Standardized furniture and wall hangings filled the room. The house I soon found out, was all hardwood flooring. My heels tapped as I walked across, staring at the many pictures he had of himself with different people, of importance I could only guess, hung on almost every wall. He was watching my every move, I could feel his eyes on my back. I tried to breathe normally, yet I found I could not. He brought me upstairs to what I assumed as the master bedroom. It was a pale green, with a dresser, a four post bed, and a closet any girl would die for. I smiled nervously at him as he took off his jacket and sat on the navy blue bed. "Twirl for me Onye." It was more of a request than demand, I did not hesitate however, spinning like a girl who was wearing her first dress. He laughed telling me that was enough. I stopped on cue, looking down at the floor. "Take off your clothes Onye, let me see you." I gulped biting my lip again.
I did what he asked, taking off my dress, bra, and panties. I left my heels on. He started walking around me, I instinctively spread my legs shoulder width apart as well as grabbing each elbow with a hand behind my back. A habit I never could shake. He seemed unfazed by this, only to continue to circle stopping every now and then. I was starting to count the lines in the hardwood floor. "You have a gorgeous body Onye." His words startled me. I looked up to meet his eye, only to feel my face turn red. "What good is your body for?" I bit the inside of my cheek. "To please man Sir." "What good is your mind for?" I could feel myself starting to get wet with each question. " To please man Sir." He was smiling at me. "On your knees in front of the bed Onye." I knelt, hands behind my head. I was breathing heavier now, I felt the brush of a whip on my back. "Now Onye, what good is a slave to her Master?" I felt as if I was choking, these questions shouldn't be this hard. "Just tell me the first thing that enters your head" he coaxed. "A slave is the most important thing a Master could obtain. She is the reflection of her owner, by what she does, how she acts; shows how well she is obedient to her Master." Smack. The whip stung on my back, but I did not utter a sound. "Why do you want to be owned?" Smack, smack, smack, smack. I was leaning over, breaking my kneel in order to remain soundless to the whip. "I want to give up total control to another, I want the feeling of being helpless, of needing that structure and guidance. I want to please and obey, to show them why I am worth their time. To do the things other women would not." I was panting, thirty more strikes of the whip before I was almost crying. "Good girl."
He picked me up and laid me on his bed. He was smiling still as he removed my heels. I was so lost in his touch that I did not even realize what he was doing until I was completely tied spread eagle. I felt very exposed to him, almost ashamed with how much I was enjoying this. He gaged me with a red ball gag. I was already soaking wet, I could feel it starting to dampen the bed. He took off his shirt to reveal a very nice set of hip bones. Yes, I think the most sexiest part of a man is his hip bones. I could not keep my eyes from his, I felt intoxicated as he started kissing my neck and stomach, only stopping to laugh at my drooling face. He continued his assault on my body till he reached my clit. He started doing something then, that I had never truly experienced. His mouth, his tongue on my throbbing pussy, his fingers in me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge. I begged to cum behind my gag only to refused. His tongue movements became more rapid, only to make me pull and twist against my binds. He stopped suddenly only to continue my pleasurable torture with three clips on my pussy lips and clit. I bit down hard on the gag as he started to flick and pull them. He laughed and decided it was time to remove my gag.
"Keep your mouth open Onye." I managed to get a "yes Sir" out in return before he rewarded me with his cock down my throat. I did my best to please him. He face fucked me hard, grabbing my hair hard as he thrusted down my throat. He was slapping my breasts, pinching and twisting my nipples far from my body. I felt like I was going to vomit, yet I did not. I wanted to please him, to take whatever he gave me. I wanted to cum from his cock almost all the way down my throat. I was sucking on it hard, careful not to use my teeth. I could tell he was enjoying my mouth, though I did not dare look up at him. He stopped then to look at me. I must of been a site, my hair a mess, my make up all over my face, face red. He untied me then, only to retie my ankles to a bar so they were still spread apart. My arms went underneath me, also locking to bar. I could feel myself opening up, automatically spread for him. I did not resist him, no did I ask him to stop. I wanted to make him happy, to satisfy him in every way. He took my hips then, smacking my ass hard as he slipped a few fingers in. I was ready for him, for anything he wanted. After pulling the clips that still remained on my pussy off, I knew I what he was planning. He slide his cock in to replace his fingers. The pain and shock of it made me cry into the bed, my ass had not been touched in a very long time. He showed it no mercy. Rhythmic, back and forth pounding, felt more and more like my heartbeat. It was not long before I was begging him permission to cum yet again.
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"Pretty girl." He was practically shouting from the room across the hall. I looked up as if I expected to see him in front of me. My arms where grabbing my knees to my chest; even then as the cold chains fell across my arms and legs I did not mind. I was out of breath. I made a motion to stand only to fall back down to my knees, stupid I thought, slaves do not walk. I began to crawl to the room that seemed miles away. I could hear the chains start to hit the floor though I was trying to be careful not to. I winced at the sound they made hoping he would not hear my mistake. Once I managed into the hallway, vibrant yellow light flooded my heavy eye lids. I wanted to sleep, not crawl. I did not get a chance to glance at the time, though I had to imagine it to be early morning.
I nudged the dark wooden door open with my head, now carrying the chains with my mouth. His room was warm and inviting, the red carpet did not even burn my knees as I scraped by on it. He was watching t.v facing away from my entrance. I could see a movie was playing, but I would not mention it. I did not stop until I was kneeling in front of him panting like a dog. "Good girl." He smiled at me as I stole a few glances. "Stand, turn around, and touch your toes." It was a simple enough command, yet one that always left me feeling self conscious. The chains attached around my neck and wrists felt heavy as I bent over; I grabbed my ankles as if I were hanging on for dear life. He did not speak as he looked me over, I kept my eye to red carpet in front of me, not wanting to see his expression. He picked up something a few feet away from me and cleared his throat. I was not ready for the first blow, the braided whip hit my back hard forcing a small cry. The next hit was harder, a reminder I was sure, to keep quiet. He remained behind me until I had tears rolling down my face, he had bent down as if to make sure I was reciving the full effect of his torture. "Kneel." The familiar command made be jump as I quickly fell to my knees in a turn. My back, ass, and legs felt as if they were on fire. He told me to look up, as I did he let my face fall into his hands. He was grinning again, commenting on how beautiful my ruined make up made me look. I mumbled a "thank you Master" and adverted my eyes to the chair legs.
It was not long before he told me to go upstairs to wait in bed for him. It took me several minuets to make my way up the long staircase. Each step that I crawled my knees were begging to stop. I did not until I was at his bedside. I rested my head there letting the rest of me fall to the floor. He appeared in the doorway soon after; still fully clothed and did not seem to be tired one bit. "Up on the bed girl," He patted the soft comforter as if to coax me on. He undid the lanky and uncomfortable chains from my neck and wrists leaving me wanting to rub them with my new freedom. He laughed at my apparent struggle as he replaced them with a black collar and blind fold. I was on all fours facing the bed frame, that much I was allowed to know. The noise of rustling and things being moved soon followed. I was preoccupied with the noise that I did not notice the ankle cuffs being placed on me, no spreader bar. I bit my lip hard. I could hear locks being clicked as if they were sealing my bounding fate. My wrists were taken out from under me, leaving my head to be resting on the bed in a most awkward position. They too were to be put in cuffs and locked. I felt very exposed like this, I was opened wide as if someone were to examine me. I started to shiver.
"Relax girl, your body is mine to do with as I please," he reminded me. I could feel how wet I was already as it started to drip down my leg, but he did not concentrate on my wet pussy, I could feel fingers touching my ass and back. He only stopped to gag me with my own panties before he continued his exam of my body, no his body. He had managed to fit one finger into my tight ass, I moaned through my gag, making pleas that could not be heard. He was moving his finger in and out, slapping my pussy hard as he did so. When he began to push another finger in I started to cry, not only from the pain he was causing but from how degraded and disgusted I felt. It was not long before a third finger joined him. This went on for what seemed extra long minuets before he withdrew his invading hands. And then it was over, or I thought it was, he had left me feeling open with his fingers gone, as if something else should take their place. I of course thought too soon. He had taken his fingers out only to replace them with a butt plug. I moaned as he shoved it inside of me, even turning on a low humming vibrator with it. "Look at you, dirty slut. Your pussy is like a facet." He was now rubbing my pussy with his two fingers, concentrating on my clit. It was not long before I was begging like the pathetic slut that I am to cum. He denied me only to continue to play with me. I was moaning loud, rocking back and forth against his fingers, begging for release. He gave me none.
"Do not move," he laughed as he withdrew his hand. I did not know were he went, but when he returned he was still chuckling to himself. "Now we are going to be a good girl and not cum all night, aren't we?" I nodded to the bed. "Good girl I will come back to check on you later. Remember, you are never allowed to cum without permission." He side a vibrator inside of my pussy only to turn the butt plug and it on high. He left me there as I rocked back and forth on the vibrator. The urge to cum was unbearable, the feeling of disappointing him however, was on my mind more. I did not want to fail his task. He left me there for hours. Only to return at what seemed to be sun rise. He removed my blindfold to see a trembling girl who was still crying. I looked up to see him wiping the tears away. My body was shaking, trembling. I still did not cum and was on edge for the last few hours. He removed both objects from me, ungagging me so I could clean them with my mouth.
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He was rough with putting the collar around my neck. I could feel his fingers practically digging at my throat. I did not move however, I knelt perfectly straight non flinching. He was in a strange mood tonight as I could not place the tone of the evening. It did not matter I finally decided though, lowering my eyes back down to the floor. I was kneeling next to his chair in the second living room of the first floor. We did not usually come into this room unless we were entertaining guests. I sighed, readjusting my cramping arms behind my back. I wish he would not tease my mind like this.
"Move slave." He was tugging on my hair again, which he had so reasonably put into a pony tail. It almost reached the back of my neck now. Soon I was positioned in front of him, on all fours, still concentrating my sight to the floor. He put his heavy boots across my back and took a long swig of his drink. I shivered from the sudden draft I felt on my naked body. He was simply ignoring me. With book in hand, he drifted off to places I will never get to read or even know about; slaves do not read. Time crept by and I did not say a word. My legs hurt from the constant stress of his weight as well as the palms of my hands. I wondered if he knew how painful it was to stay in one positioned unbound. My guess was no. His sudden movement redirected my attention back to reality. He stood up, his shadow hovering over me. I heard a SNAP and felt a sharp tug. He had decided to take me for a walk.
I followed his lead up the stairs and down the hall. I was shivering at this point since he always enjoyed a cold house, I was sure I could almost see my breath if I tried. He brought me into a room I hardly ever went into, the last room on the left down the right hallway. He stopped in front of it to unlock the door. The room was painted a pale green with hardwood flooring. There was one widow to the right with maroon colored curtains. Besides a four post bed and a chest at the foot of it, the room was empty. I knelt in front of him as he finished the bottle of whatever it was he was drinking. He unsnapped the leash and left. The room was dark and I could not readjust my eyes in time before a blindfold was placed over them. He pulled me up from my knees by my wrists and positioned me back on all fours on the bed. He did not speak to me or make much noise. He put cuffs around my wrists and ankles only to attach them to a bar. I was now not only unable to move, but very exposed. I felt self conscious as he was staring at me, which is a silly thing for a slave to feel. Her body is not hers; after all he decides what I eat, what I do for exercise, when I shower, he controls all aspects of it. I soon felt his fingers again fumbling with a ring gag which he hastily shoved into my mouth. I tensed up knowing I would soon be drooling all over the place, however I did not raise objection. He moved down my body, placing clothes pin after clothes pin on my breasts. I knew with each pinch the ending pull off of me would be more painful then the last. I started to squirm.
It was not long before he reached my dripping wet pussy. I moaned as his fingers moved across it. I could not close my legs, I could not hide from him. SMACK. He started spanking my pussy hard, I tried my best to muffle my unforgiving screams and moans with no avail. I flinched at each passing one, only to be rewarded with laughter. "Aren't we the little pathetic slut?" He was humiliating me with my own wet cunt, I wanted to cry. "Look at how wet you are pet, like a waterfall" SMACK. He did not stop, only to check my shameful pleasure every ten or so hits. I was crying, drooling, panting, moaning. He did not stop for what seemed forever. I knew he was watching me, studying my every move no matter how small.
His fingers inside me startled me. He could barely fit two though I was extremely wet. He continued to fuck me like this, stretching me out one finger at a time. I was yelling into the bed, to no one who could help even if I wanted it. "You're going to be a good whore for me aren't you pet? I want to see how good." More laughter followed by a forth finger. I was moaning, arching my back for him. So he was going to fist me, a secret dirty want I had, something I had only mentioned to him on a few occasions that he had me bring up to him. This was one of my darkest wants, darkest curiosities. My pussy was aching, burning, his large fingers in me felt good however, as I was denied the pleasure of cumming repeatedly. He stopped short of getting past his knuckles, only to pull out leaving me panting like a dog in heat. He took off my blindfold, bidding me to look at him. He was smiling, undressed as well. His expression made me uneasy as he slid two fingers into my much tighter ass, I screamed. A quick slap to my face fixed that however. I knew better than to make unpermitted noise. I bit my lip hard as tears started to roll down my face, taking my makeup with them.
He did not speak as he thrusted his huge cock in my tight ass, his grunting reminded me of what I was, my silent crying only made him fuck me faster. He pulled out of my ass only to flip me over. He came all over my chest, face, and hair. He grinned, looking at me as if he was a great painter and I was his finest work to date. He began to tug on the clothes pins that he had placed all over me, slowly removing each one. I am sure he enjoyed the horrid facial expressions I was making. I counted clothes to forty pins. He left the room then, leaving me in the dark once more.
He returned to untie me what seemed like hours after, though his cum was not dry yet. He left me crawl after him back down the stairs to the main entrance room. He had my clothes on a chair for me. He allowed me to dress and remain standing. "I'm starving and I feel as if you deserve a night off for cooking." Oh no.... "we are going to your favorite restaurant girl."
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I have been absent for some time, trying to make sense of all that has happened. For starters I do not EVER see myself in a regular relationship, with a regular man. Found that out not too long ago. It was silly to begin with, to think that I could be happy in that type of situation. My only regret is that I let it carry on as long as it did. I am amazed at how little he effected me, all the kind gestures and excitement he thought he was bringing to my life. How sadly mistaken he truly was. So I am here, back on this ridiculous site, unsure of what I am going to find on here. Pretty insane that I "missed" it so much. Kinda makes me want to vomit how I have such a connection to being here. Wish I felt this accepted other places as well...
No I don't see myself reaching my goal weight of 115lbs by December either. So I think it's a safe bet to move it to February 13th. Thought that would be a cutesy date. Gives me plenty of time and I honestly have been working hard not to gain anything. So starting all over there if you will (starting weight of 135lbs). I am also excited to report that my hair has been getting longer, as you all know it was chopped off last December, almost a year ago. Quite pleased with it now actually; I want long hair all the way down to my butt. Yup. So in a few years I think it will be. Other than those few insignificant things, nothing much else has been happening in the life of this slave. School and work have been busy and I have been sick as well for what seems like forever. My pessimistic view is still here, not changing. Surprise!
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115lbs by December. Think that's possible? We'll see.
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He complimented me on my outfit, pointing out that he adored my heels. I glanced down as if I had forgotten what they looked like. We were at a rather fancy restaurant, a place he had taken me to before. I looked over at him across the table. He did not appear to be any different. He was speaking, talking of work and some other things; to be honest I was not paying attention to his words. I was looking around, staring at faces of people I never will see again. His touch on my face brought my attention crashing back down to him again. I allowed my face to rest against his hand, it felt good for him to touch me. Dinner was drawn out and long. My eyes were half lidded I was sure, though a tight grip on my arm reminded me that tonight was far from over.
He let me walk next to him down the busy street. He grabbed my hand and I let him hold it as if it was his most treasured prize. He brought me into this very fancy, very expensive dress shop, allowing me to buy anything I wanted. I fell short of words and ended up walking around aimlessly. I was glad when he decided to just pick something out for me. A gorgeous short satin purple dress with a yellow bow on the back. It cost more than all the money in my bank account and I soon realized what he was trying to do. I sighed taking the dress with "thank you's" and smiles. I never did wear that dress.
He grabbed my arm again as we walked back to his car. He had decided to stop short of it, pulling me close to his chest. I laid my head against him as he played with my hair. My legs were rather freezing at this point. He murmured how much he had missed me, how great it was to see me again. I wanted to scream at him, yell, but I did not. I cased my gaze to the ground and let him feel better in his apologies. When we arrived back to his house, I was a bit surprised that he would take me back here. I did not comment nor raise any voice though. He lead me in through the side door which fell into a small den. This had to be my favorite room. I had decorated it with all my favorite things. The wall facing the garden to the right was pure glass, the other held mirrors and various objects. The marble floor was a light cream color that complimented the pale yellow walls. My heels made a tapping sound as I walked across the floor. He was telling me about work, a subject that I vaguely found interesting. He of course did not know that.
He took off my coat and hung it up near the kitchen, escorting me towards the downstairs. Here the room was much larger and much more stunning. A pale white covered the walls, almost the same color as the couch which made an L shape in the middle of the room. He had gotten a new television, much larger than the last. He told me to sit, so I sat in front of the couch on floor. The carpet was so soft, just like I had remembered. He sat behind me, taking off his suit jacket and tie. I laid back against his legs looking up at him. He was just as I remembered, perfect. I dared to look him in his eyes, beautiful pale blue eyes. He had my face in his hands again, asking me to sit in his lap; no, telling me to.
I complied, being careful to not place my shoes on the couch. He filled the silence with compliments; I had to remind him that he was the one who picked out the black dress I was wearing as well as the shoes. I felt his hands running through my hair again continuing on to my back. He bid me to stand in front of him, I did. He told me to take off my dress, I did. I stood before him wear a pair of pink lacy panties and a black bra, with my heels still on. He stood up, walking around me silently. My gaze was to the floor, unable to even look at him. My mind was turning, running back to what seemed forever ago. It was so hard to forget him, forget everything there ever was to do with him. I let him take my hair down, I let him spread my legs further apart with his hands, I let him unsnap my bra and discard it to the left. He stood behind me now, facing the couch. He pulled both my wrists back, tying them together. I opened my mouth as if to protest several times, only to be seen as a fish out of water. My words were not there, and he of course did not notice. He bid me to kneel down straight. A gag was placed in my mouth, and I wondered why I did not bite him. I did not consent to him doing this, but then he never needed my permission. I saw him take a whip out from behind the closet. How predictable.
My eyes were glued to the grand clock in the corner, begging for time to creep faster. He had to be on lash 120 before he stopped; He did not ask me to keep count. He commented on how well I stayed still, it meant nothing to me. He sat back down on the couch, motioning me to kneel next to him. I laid my head in his lap as he slapped me face over and over until it was a nice shade of red. He pulled nipple clamps from his pocket, placing them on me. I had to hold the chain between them in my mouth. He threatened me with more lashes if I dropped it. He smiled at me, petting me as if I was his pet. He pulled me up over his lap and began to spank me rather hard. I was crying, my make up running down my face. No sounds escaped me. He stood up suddenly, watching me drop to the floor. "Very good, girl. I can see how well I had trained you." The chain had still not left my mouth. My eyes again adverted his, finding the floor a common place. He pulled me up and I found it hard to stand in my shoes. He walked me upstairs to his bedroom. Having me sit on the bed. His floor was still white, it reminded me of walking on clouds. He retied my hands and ankles to the bed, leaving my body very exposed. He started to spank my cunt hard, making me wince in agony after each blow. He rubbed it through my already ashamedly wet panties. He had taken off his shirt and pants. I could not help myself my to stare at his amazingly gorgeous body in front of me. He was flawless. How could somebody so beautiful, be so sadistic? He was over me, taking the gag out of my mouth. " You know how much I have missed you girl? It has been very lonely around here without you." He gestured to his room as if that is what was empty.
I did not have a reply to give, all the better because it was not long before he had his huge cock already opening my lips. He fucked my face hard, having me gag over and over. I was careful not to vomit, past experiences kept me from doing so. I wanted to please him, to make him happy. I could not comprehend why I wanted to. I should be fighting him, trying to get away. And yet, he still held power over me in a way I can not describe. Ownership did not matter, I am a slave and he took whatever he wanted from me.
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Oh sweet irony, you make me smile in a way no one else can. Thank you :)
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How do you know when someone is interested in you? Hmmmm. Does kissing you show you? Does biting you show you? Does cuddling show you? Does the ability to carry on a conversation show you? Does the fact that they have similar interests show you?
I'm afraid it has all been make-believe.
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"Happiness is ideal, it is the work of the imagination."
-Marquis de Sade |
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He grabbed my hair roughly, entwining his fingers as he forced me to turn in order to face him. My heart was pounding and I couldn't help but wonder if even he could hear it. I tried to catch my breath as I spun on my toes. He had dressed me in a way I had been before; a dark red lace up corset, a beautiful leather skirt, thigh high stocking, and of course ballet heels. Now for those who had not yet experienced these horrific, can barely walk in, toe crushing heels, then you may not understand my inability to move in a fast manner. My "outfit" of course was not complete with out his steel collar. He had taken off my regular one only to replace it with a much heavier, harder to turn in one.
My hands were tied behind my back in such a way that hurt to even think about them. The palms of my hands were facing each other, in almost a reversed prayer position. My gaze was at the floor holding the tiles with my eyes, panting. I saw him steal glances down at me as we began to walk through the long hallway. I was nervous even shaking. He always loved to dress me up, to have me on display for him. What awaited me in the room down the hall I had no idea. I heard the television, loud. There was a football game on, one of my favorite things to watch and even for a split second I was getting overly excited. We stopped short of the room. He stood back from me, letting his hard grip on my hair finally go. He looked me over, pulling down my skirt, adjusting my top. He pulled out a blindfold from his pocket covering my sight with it. This never bothered me, though I soon realized that any football I would be experiencing would be through sound only. He bid me to open my mouth and was rewarded with an oversized ball gag. I bit down hard on it, trying to relax my growing anxiety.
He walked me into the room and told me to get on all fours, with my nose touching the carpet. I did as I was told, rather clumsily. My hands were starting to turn numb, begging to be untied. It was not until a few minuets later that I realized we weren't alone. He must of invited a few friends over to watch the game with him. I suddenly felt very exposed and very insecure. As I mulled over my own thoughts and fears while I was strangely brought back to reality with the weight of his feet on my back. He was using me as a footstool and I felt a grin start to form under my gag. I loved being furniture, being useful to him. I was not payed much attention and sooner than later I had almost dozed off it had not been for the incredibly painful position he had commanded me into. A sift drop of feet redirected my focus. He pulled me up from the floor, helping me stand on my feet or rather toes. I was walked around the room until I felt him gently push me over a chair. My legs were spread as I was bending over, exposing everything. I was embarrassed, ashamed. I knew there was other people in the room, as they were giving him compliments of what they saw before them. I felt like a display, something to be used and shown. He began touching me, fingering my already wet cunt. I felt another pair of hands on me, circling my ass, wet. I moaned out of turn, unable to control it anymore. I was rewarded with hard spanks, turning my ass to red. I pushed it out more, in a begging gesture. The stings felt good against my sweat stricken flesh.
The sets of hands on me grew, I felt my already partially exposed breasts being touched and licked. My ass was starting to be fingered as well as more fingers being added to my soaking cunt. The gag could not hold my pleasure. I felt them using me, in me, touching me. I wanted more in a way I never thought I had. I wanted him to fuck me, to take me in front of all these people. To show them how I was his property, his slave. The touching and probing continued and it was not long before I was drooling hopelessly all over myself. Comments were made; of my body, my service, my parts. Strange how a slave could feel like the center of attention, how that attention could make one feel like a used slut and nothing more.
I felt them pull away, one by one, leaving me the most aroused I had ever been. He pulled me away from them, away from their eyes. In a way I felt glad to be alone with him, but also a little disappointed. That did not last for long however. He brought me into one of the bedrooms, kissing my hands as he untied them. I smiled at him, though I am sure he did not see it. My hands felt weighted, weak, only to be retied to the bed posts along with my legs. He proceeded to put clamps on my nipples and clit, making me squirm with madness. Then he left me, to rejoin his company I am sure.
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Why work when you can vote Democrat?
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I was dressed up like a school girl; plaid skirt, white top (see through of course), bright pink bra and matching thong, knee high white tights, black high heels, and my hair up in pigtails. This was the usual attire for my catholic high school. I was in a lecture hall ("stage" in the front, about 300 seats facing it ). My English professor was present, commenting on a poorly written paper I had handed in the week earlier.
Mr. Matthews, who I enjoyed calling Mr.M, was a very attractive man; about 6'', short blonde hair, and gorgeous blue eyes. He was about a medium build and in fantastic shape.I couldn't stop staring. I was not paying attention to a thing Mr.M was telling me. He often held me back after class since I have a known history of day-dreaming. I knew that if this lecture dragged this out any longer I was going to miss lunch.I interrupted him.
"Please may I go now Sir, I won't hand in such garbage ever again.. I promise."
I knew that he wasn't going to let me of the hook this easily. This was the fifth time this semester that I was asked to say behind.
"No Onye, I am afraid I can not let this paper go. You need to understand what you did wrong. Please come stand in front of my desk."
I was hesitant, only because my stomach was about to put up a fight. In the end however I opted for a much easier route. I wanted this to be over with as soon as possible. I was facing Mr.M's desk.
"Very good Onye. Now why can't you follow simple directions in class? Hmm?"
"I don't know Sir." That was a lie. His class was so boring I wanted to suffocate myself. I only decided to take his class because of how disgustingly gorgeous he was. Of course I could never say that out loud.
"Not good enough girl." His tone had changed suddenly. He was not the same approachable Mr.M that I knew.
"Place your hands on the desk, palm down. Spread your legs so that your toes are almost touching the corners of the desk. Understand little Onye?"
I was in shock as to what Mr.M was telling me to do. Here was my professor basically telling me to display myself for him. I could feel a rush sensation run down the center of my back. I took a deep breath.
"Yes Sir."
My legs spread easily. I was bent over. My ass was showing for sure. I could feel a breeze starting to hit my clothed pussy. I wanted to moan.
"Very Good. Now, what do you think is a good punishment for not paying attention?"
My mind was in a world wind. What was he having me do? Why is he asking me these questions?
"No Sir." I replied.
"Well Onye, I think you deserve to be spanked."
Just as soon as those words had left his mouth, Mr.M lifted up my already revealing skirt to land a nice big *SMACK* on my poor ass. I let out a yell.
"SHHH! Be quite. You deserve this, Don't you Onye? You we're bad and now you need to be punished."
Mr.M continued to spank me. He didn't ask me to count and I didn't bother keeping track. Tears started to roll down my cheek. It hurt. A lot.
"148, 149, 150." Mr.M's voice broke my thoughts.
"Very good Onye Please sit on my desk facing me, legs spread of course."
My stomach was in knots. What was he having me do know? Wasn't that enough? Enough humiliation for one day? My pussy was wet, soaking wet. I wanted him to touch me. To spank me me again.. I can't believe I just thought that! I want my English professor to spank me, harder and harder.
"Onye, are you paying attention?"
I wasn't. I was lost in my thoughts to even have been noticing what had been going on around me.
"Sorry Sir." I blurted out.
"Not good enough Onye."
* SMACK*
"Owwwwwwwwwww." Mr.M slapped my pussy. I couldn't think. My body was already reacting to the stinging that was left. He started to rub my pussy back and forth before finally tugging down my thong to get a better feel. I moaned. It felt so good to be touched down there. I knew I was drenched. Mr.M continued to explore me. I felt a finger enter my dripping cunt. I started to move back and forth, wanting it deeper in me. I leaned back on his desk, spreading my legs wider for him.
"My, my what a little slut you are Onye." He started to work his finger in deeper, adding two more to his assault. I felt like putty in his hands. My body was on fire. He started rubbing my ass with one of his fingers before settling it in. I started to moan again.
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The bars felt cold against my already wet skin. The space was small, tiny; something I never was able to get use to. It had been what seemed forever since he put me in here. My hands were tied above my head, to the top of the freezing cage. He had wasted no time in putting me in there, not taking much care to my comfort. I was already gagged, drooling all over myself. My legs were spread apart and tied in such a way that made it difficult, even hurtful to close them. He had left me here, panting and moaning, begging for him to touch me with his hand, to spack my face with it, to hit me hard. It did not take me long to get lost in my own thoughts. I did not even see him enter the room. He stood before me, looking down at me as if I was some kind of caged animals to be gawked at.. and I was.
"So this is what a little slut looks like, huh?" His voice startled me, making me feel undeserving and pitiful. "Someone wants to come out and play." He laughed at me, crouching down so I could see his face. I looked up at him seeing his face twist in a sick smile, betraying his dark desires. It was in plain sight what he wanted from me. He open the door to the cage, unhooking my hands from their tiring position. He pulled me out by my hair, shoving me on the hard floor in front of him. I was on my back, my legs still spread, arms above my head, panting behind my gag. What I sight I must be I thought. He knelt down only to abruptly shove a finger or two into my already wet pussy. The action made me gasp, wanting more. "What a pathetic whore you are pet, look at how wet you are already. Hmmm. Lets see if I can have you begging to be put back into that nice cage of yours by the end of the night." I moaned at those words, only wondering what my fate had in store for me.
He lifted me up easily from my place on the floor to a rather uncomfortable chair. I figured as much, what I wanted did not matter. He retied my hands behind the chair, as well as my ankles to the legs. I was thankful that he decided to let me sit rather than stand or kneel. At least my body would be able to get some kind of rest, or so I thought anyway. He blindfolded me, leaving me to only imagine what he was going to do to me next by the sounds he would make. I heard the rustling of bags only to be then rewarded with silence. The sudden pressure being applied to my already hard nipples made me scream behind my gag. How did I some how know he was going put clothes pins there? He was quiet as he placed clothes pin after clothes pin all over my breasts, arms, and even up my sides. The only noise coming from the small room we were in was from me, panting and squirming from every pinch I felt. When he was done there, he proceed to run his hands over them, moving them with every touch. The feeling was intoxicating, before I knew it was I was dripping wet. He snickered as he worked he way down me, finally settling on my pussy. "My arn't we excited slut? It doesn't take much to make you ready cum does it now?" His words made me cheeks burn with shame. He was right, his simplest of looks made me turn into a whimpering little whore.
He placed one final clothes pin right on my clit, an action I was not prepared for. I screamed only to be slapped hard. "Master does not like it when you scream, does he?" He hit me again and again; flicking the lonely clothes pin over and over. I bit down hard on the gag mumbling yes through the thick rubber. He tore off my blindfold to reveal my tear stricken face. He grinned tugging on the clothes pin on my clit. My eyes widen, looking straight into his. I knew better than to make eye contact.. But I could not help myself. I wanted him to hurt me more, to make me cry, to make me beg for more. He stopped for a moment, only to check my pussy for what he already suspected- "What a wet whore you are pet, could fill a pitcher with all of this." He slapped my pussy hard, holding my face in his hands. "I am going to take this gag out pet, I do not want to hear a sound from you." I nodded, drool still spilling out of my mouth. He removed my gag, all I could do was thank him before I swallowed hard. He loved to make me yell, to torment me with sweet pain. He stood up straight in front of me, it was then that I was able to get a good look at my Master. He was his normal black boots, jeans and black shirt; he looked amazing. I stared at him in awe, almost smiling. He owns me I though, I am his property. A swift painful "swoosh" brought me crashing back down. The pain was almost unbearable. He was whipping each individual clothes pin slowly. "I want you to count pet." His words sunk into me like water to a paper towel. The pain left me breathless, a small voice emerged from me with a faint "One Master." Another quick smack of his whip, "Two Master." He continued to do this forever, savoring each painful beautiful hit again and again. It was not long before he was setting his sights on the last clothes pin on my clit. I was crying, tears running down my face, I am sure I was wearing my make up all over myself. "One more beautiful girl." He smiled looking down at my pathetic self. He lifted his hand rewarding me with it hitting it's mark. I grit my teeth hard, panting, moaning even. I looked down at the floor, at my Masters feet. "You want to cum don't you pet?" He cooed at me. I nodded unable to find my voice. He bent down, slapping my pussy hard, "Then cum slut." He laughed as I cam hard, hard from his hand simply hitting me over and over again.
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"Little girl.." His voice had woken me. I was hardly sleeping to begin with though I found myself wide awake now. It had to be around three in the morning. I was having a hard time breathing, eventually my body gave out to exhaustion. I could see him from where I was placed, down the narrow hallway. I figured he had awoken to merely laugh at me, to tell me what a horrible failure I was. I tried to stretch my arms, already numb from the position they had been in the better half of the night. I could hear his boots smacking on the marble floor. I began to shiver. What more could he possibly want with me?
He stood in the doorway smiling at me. I had never seen a man grin at me so wildly before. I knew the meaning behind it, the thought made me let out a small sigh. This was my life, what I was reduced down to. " My my, don't you look so beautiful." The words caught me off guard. "Look at what I have made you into girl, you are the spitting image of what I have always desired, and yet I find myself wondering what more can you possibly endure." My eyes widened. I did not enjoy these kinds of guessing games. He snickered at my obvious discomfort and began to untie me. My arms fell first, hitting the floor in front of me with a thud. I could see the rope marks around my pale purple hands. When he was finished untying the rest of me, he bid me to fallow him, crawling of course. The floor felt freezing on my knees, being forced to move after such a long time of stillness felt less than good. I stole a look up at him, he was oblivious to me it seemed. He was mumbling to himself again, more than likely going over what he planned to do to me next. The pure unknowing scared me. We stopped short of his bedroom, facing the study.
I had always marveled at his collection of books, I never had the chance to peek at what laid on the shelves, but I did imagine the stories and lives other people must be living. He told me to stay and to close my eyes. I obeyed, kneeling back with my hands clasped to each elbow behind my back. I wasn't nervous, nothing he did to me could command that emotion anymore. After long moments I felt a blindfold beginning to cover my eyes, as well as cuffs locking my hands in place. I felt foolish with these cuffs on. He still did not trust me not to stay in place. He allowed me to stand and began to guild me to who knows where. My legs felt weak and I was glad he was there for the extra support as I stumbled along. It was not long before I figured out where he was leading me. I knew the layout of his house very well and of course used it to avoid the most brutal of beatings. He stopped abruptly turning me around to face him. He unlocked my arms, though that had no effect on my stance. He took off my blindfold only to hear me gasp. We were in his bedroom as I had predicted, though we were standing on the edge of his master bathroom. I knew he was getting it remodeled but the end result was so stunning. "For you little girl. You have commented on having a place to call your own in this house." The bathroom that was in this place before was gone. The room was now filled with all of my favorite things. I was in utter shock. He had put in a wall of solid glass the overlooked his courtyard. The walls were painted the most beautiful shad of purple as well as the gorgeous lighting fixtures that hung from the ceiling.
I felt him behind me, holding me in what was almost a hug. I felt his hands begin to slid over my body, settling on my waist, softly touching me. He whispered such beautiful things in my ear, of promises I am sure he would not keep. He allowed me to relax, to allow myself to be at ease. " Little girl, go lay on my bed, make yourself comfortable." He coaxed. My mind was sending me warning signals as I am sure as my face betrayed me. Though when I looked up to meet his gaze, he did nothing more than smile and push me along in that direction. I settled into his huge bed, pushing the sheets all the way down and cuddling up with the super comfy comforter. I was tired, beat. He had worked me hard today, cleaning his whole house, on top of being tied up for the past five hours or so. My body was sore, I hardly felt attractive. It was not long before he turned off the lights only to flick on a few more dim ones before settling into bed. It was a small gesture, but he knew I was terrified of the dark...
He pulled me close, holding me in such a way I was not familiar with. He mumbled sweet things into my hair as his fingertips grazed my arm back and forth. He gave me goosebumps as well as sweet satisfaction of being wanted. He then slid his hand a bit downward on my body, stroking my leg in the same soft manner. I knew what he wanted.. I was more than happy to give him anything and everything he wanted from me. He kissed my neck as his other hand soon found my already dripping wet pussy. He began playing with my clit, rubbing it fast then slow, teasing me. The movements made me moan loudly, pressing myself further into him. I found myself begging, pleading with him to be able to suck on his already hard cock. I wanted it in my mouth, to taste it. He laughed as he turned me around to face him, only to push me further under the covers. I took it, I began to stroke it, lick it. I knew this was driving him crazy. It didn't take long at all before he grabbed the back of my head in an effort to push himself into my already drooling mouth. He began pumping himself, having my deep throat his huge cock to the point of gagging me. He pulled back on my hair, moaning. After what seem like forever, I could tell he was getting close. I stopped sucking on his cock only to turn my attention to his balls, which I gladly licked and kissed. I began to stroke his cock with my hand. He grabbed a new fistful of my hair and returned my attention to his throbbing cock. He shoved it all the way down my throat and fucked my face hard. It was not long after that I was rewarded with his delicious cum down my throat.
Maybe...
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I hate being sick.. I have been delaying writing in here for a bit now and I am unsure of where this will leave me when I am done. I turned to someone I would not normally would of gone to for advice. What I was told did not surprise me or shock me. I am not a person who gets overly excited at news they already knew. It is true. I am able to do and love things most other women would not. I adore having someone else control me, take me for everything I am. Does this make me less of a person? Less than most submissives just because I am able to and wanting to submit to another so completely. I have a mind, I know I am not just some stupid doormat nor would I ever want to be. But I do love being micromanaged, having my clothes chosen for me, what I do chosen for me, even what food I eat. No I am not like most girls nor do I ever want to be.
I went hiking yesterday. Despite being sick I really enjoyed myself. For those of you who are familiar with the adks, I hiked Prospect Mt. It wasn't too bad, I must say the view at the top was beautiful. I want someone who would want to do these kinds of things with me. I love being outside, I love to do anything active. I really wish I had the chance to go camping for a week or so this summer. I am kinda bummed that it didn't happen. Oh well... Maybe next summer.
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Sick.
No thoughts on this past weekend.
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My mind is racing. I can not form my thoughts clearly and it has been driving me insane for the past two hours or so. Why do I find it so difficult to answer the most simplest of questions? Why do I find it impossible to express my feelings? Have I been that removed from my own emotional side for that long? I guess so. I have been in the mindset that what I think and feel does not matter, it has no place of ever being discussed. So now, when pressed to I have no idea how to respond. I turn into this little girl who has forgotten how to speak. I am sure he gets frustrated with me, even mad. But I really have no idea what to say. I have no idea how to even express myself out loud. I guess thats why I like to write so much, gives me a way of saying all I want to say without the words leaving my mouth and making sounds. I can't help but get upset with myself for it though. This morning I have never been so unsure of my place as a slave. I adore being hit, slapped, pinched, played with, toyed. But I didn't want to play. That thought flashed in my head! I actually thought it. I didn't want to do something that I knew would of pleased him. I wanted to refuse, fight, anything. It made me sick to my stomach when I realize what had just crossed my mind. I never would of dared thought such a thing before, so why now? Why am I feeling all these horrible things?
He had me sit alone, in his room. I am unsure of why I was here, why I was by myself. I knew my behavior this morning and last night was not good. I had acted out, not listened and was just mean. Though I didn't mean anything by what I had said the night before... I am so sorry I even opened my mouth. I should really think before I speak. I never had a problem not talking, though now I am not so sure how to start again I guess you would say. My dry humor is not received too well. I hate being alone, being isolated and left there. Its such a horrible punishment. Makes me want to cry just thinking about it.
Having my hands tied, my arms tied, gagged, unable to really move or do anything to stop it for that matter made me realize something... How much I enjoy it. How much I enjoy having my face slapped, my ass spanked, and even my pussy being hit... As much as I rather not admit it. It hurts, its so very very painful. All the things he does to torture me and play with me. It's all soo very intoxicating believe it or not. I'm a pain slut. There. I said it. I love pain. I love to pushed and hurt. It makes me insanely wet whenever he puts nipple clamps on me, clothes pins, when he ties me up and spanks me. He made me cum from just hitting my face. It felt so amazing, I mean I didn't even think that was possible. To be able to cum from pain, even that hurts to an extreme after a while. I wanted to beg for more, to plead to be hit harder.. But I wanted to wait, wait until I was able to feel his huge hard cock inside of me... I do not know why I find myself wet even now just thinking about all the horrible things he did to me, how much more it will hurt. My ass hurts, my face hurts, my nipples hurt. And yet, I want to beg on my knees and hands for more. Why do love pain so much?
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Strange how some things can change you, can alter your perspective.
I don't think my stay here is much longer, I come back not sure of what I want or what I seek. He has made it clear that I am not his, though I never thought I was to begin with... Dinner was lovely. His house was lovely. Expensive and luring, any woman would of loved all this lavishness. I am not one for such luxury, but this was amazing. A huge house in the middle of almost no where, surrounded by land I am sure he owned. He had known my former Master, had been very good friends with him up until a a year and a half ago, for reasons I do not know of. He found me, upset and unsteady. Allowing me the comfort of everything he could offer. I took it, I did not question his motives nor did I have the strength to do so. He was something I have never experienced before...
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I was called late last night. I was not expecting his call, though I should of known better than that. I had not spoken with him in over a month and thought for sure he had forgotten me like the others...
However this time it was a tad different. It took a while to realize who I was actually talking to, since well he had just woken me up. I had went to bed early and it was only 12:30am or so. He asked me what has happened in his absence, I fell short of telling him everything that had transpired. I told him of who I had saw and what had happened. He did ask me if I wanted to go back to sleep, I remember answering with a "No Sir, I rather speak with you." I am unsure why I said that.
I wish I had something better to say that, but I did not. He asked me to tell him a story, something humiliating that had happened to me. It took me a while to register all he had asked of me, in addition to having me tell the story in a dumb little girls voice; something that was overly degrading to do so. I complied to his order, I am unsure why I did not protest, though it did not take long for the words to start forming. I told him of the time I spent the day shopping with my previous Master. I told him how I was wearing the shortest skirt I owned, a tube top two sizes too small and about five inch heels. I commented on how much of a whore I felt, how everyone around me could see up my skirt, how they could seem how my breasts were basically popping out of top. I told him how he made me walk into a store with my arms behind my back, how he grabbed something arbitrarily from a shelf. How he pushed me towards the almost full dressing room. I spoke of how silly I felt, how embarrassed I was. I told him how he went into the changing room with me and demanded that I strip and place my hands on the wall behind me. How my then Master began fucking my ass, making me moan and scream, how he showed me no mercy. He had made me turn to face him when he was about done with me, only to fall to my knees to receive his cum on my face. I told him how degrading it was to walk out of there after, how helpless and embarrassed but dripping wet it had made me.
He said that he was pleased with my story. He commented on what a filthy whore he must of made me feel. I could only nod silently over the phone. He asked me if I remembered what we spoke of before, I did. I do not know where this will take me, what will happen to me. He then spoke of my future as a slave, something I do not even know of yet. He again asked if I was tired, I mumbled a "yes Sir." He informed me that I was to call him before I went to bed tomorrow and that I was allowed to go to sleep now. He bid me a goodnight and hung up.
What does this mean for me now? How can somebody so suddenly walk into my life like this...
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Can you place blame on the slave or rather is it the fault of the Master?
A slave is the reflection of her Master, he has taught her and built her in his image. If she fails, Has her Master fallen before her? I am unsure of the answers. A slave is property owned by her Master. He controls what she wears, does, says, ect. She can still have a mind, a place that is no longer hers, but still allowed to have free thoughts and feelings. A strange concept that I have been thinking about. A slave without a Master is nothing, but what is a Master without a slave? Is he too nothing? One can not happen/work without the other. They both need each other in the opposite ways. Strange. Is it even possible for a slave to not be codependent on her Master? He has everything she wants, everything she craves, things she won't even tell friends. How can something that is such a big part of her life fall silent in simple conversation with others.
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What a way to end an exhausting day...
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I am in a bit of an odd mood this morning. I don't plan on staying long today. I am hoping to go to the lake this afternoon for some much needed R&R.
I have been asked if I had done any public play before. Now, I am all for sharing (as you all know by now) so I thought I would take you all down memory lane again and share what happened almost a year ago.
I knew I looked beyond slutty. I was wearing the shortest black skirt I owned, a barely there top that stopped halfway down my stomach, thigh high fish nets, two inch steel collar that rarely ever left my neck and of course five inch heels. I knew he would be pleased with how I put myself together, hell, even I would of done me on the spot. I walked out to his car as he had ordered me to do so, this had always made me nervous, the chance of other people seeing me like this, I knew he could care less, I on the other hand, was a little more cautious. He smiled when he saw me and asked me to do a twirl for me which made my skirt hike up even further revealing my bare pussy underneath. He had me take off my heels before I got into the car. He knew I was already wet, he never had to do much for that to happen. He opened the back car door for me as I plopped down. He had my hands tied above me to the head rest as well as a lovely black blindfold found its way across my eyes. I was excited, and he knew it. He shut my door closed and our little adventure began.
He did not pay much attention to me for the next half hour or so. I drifted in and out of sleep, my pussy still dripping wet. I could smell how it was mixing with his beautiful leather seats in the car. I wanted to be touched, I was on the edge of begging for it, though I knew better than to ask. I must of drifted off to sleep for longer than a few minuets for when I woke it was to a vibrator being shoved in my pussy. When I tried to yell out, I soon found a gag residing in my mouth. How sneaky of him I thought. He teased me over and over again, going between the use of his fingers and the vibrator. he had pulled my shirt down so that my breasts were exposed. He sucked on them here and there, finally deciding to put a few clothespins on my nipples. I was drooling, the gag was serving it's purpose. I wanted to beg to cum, to plead to my Master to allow me. I was close, so very close. I could here him laughing as he held the vibrator to my clit and started slapping my pussy, ordering me to keep my legs spread. The feeling was amazing. The mixture of pain and pleasure was making me pant with desire. And then he stopped. He told me that "good girls don't get to cum before their Masters, that it wouldn't be fair now would it." All I could do was mumble a yes behind my gag before he shoved a vibrating dildo in my pussy and started up the car again.
It wasn't before long I could feel myself almost losing control, he had taught me well on how to not, how to please him with my torture. I was more than glad when he saw I couldn't handle anymore and turned off the vibrating. A small victory had been won. I was almost grinning behind my gag. It was a while before we stopped again. This time I was a bit more nervous. He had kept his door open as he came around to mine. He commented on how good I looked as he removed my blindfold. To my horror we were at a public rest stop on the thruway. He had taken me to this place where everyone could so clearly see me. His removal of the dildo inside of me snapped me back to reality. I sat there looking terrified. I could see people driving by. He untied my hands and started putting my heels back on for me. I was not looking at him though, my eyes fluttered to the scene outside, the people walking by, the cars parked close to his. A slap to my face refocus my attention back. He did not look pleased. I suddenly realized I had broken a rule, a rule I would surely be punished for. He stared at me and told me my crime. "They are more important than I, I see. Other people take prior importance than me, girl? They deserve attention?" I almost started to cry. He shoved my other foot in my heel and ordered me to stand up. He pulled my top slightly over my exposed breasts and tied my hands behind my back. I looked like a whore, I could see my reflection in the car. He grabbed my arm and walked me through the little park that was provided before us. My eyes were kept down. I could see the stares, my face was flushed red. He was commenting on the pleasant afternoon, how nice the weather was. I thought I was going to die from all of the unwanted attention that he drew to us. I was more than relieved when he stopped at a park bench.
It was no sooner than I thought I was going to be allowed to sit down was I then tossed over the back of it. I was bent over the bench in such a way that anyone could see up my skirt. He tied my legs apart to each side of it and well as my hands to the front. I was protesting through my gag, though he paid me no mind. Then he left. Left me there with my dripping wet pussy for the world to see. as I looked straight ahead I could see a man walking his dog. He was looking in my direction, I could not hold his gaze. I was begging silently for him to come back, to take me away from all of these people. I learned my lesson, I felt excited and sick all at once. When he did return he did not waste any time. It was not before long I felt his cock being shoved in my soaking wet cunt. He told me of my wrong doings, said that all he wanted to do was have a pleasant afternoon with his property. I felt ashamed. He was right. All I had to do was be a good girl for him. He commented on the people walking by, told me that everyone could see what a slut I was. He started to fuck me harder, pounding me against the bench, I wanted to cum so bad at this point. My focus was on him, how he felt, what he was saying. He pulled out and walked around to my face. He took my gag out and started to fuck my mouth, hard. I was gagging badly before he decided that I will be allowed to wear his cum. I was panting, moaning.
I did not acre if anyone else saw me. He smiled at me and commented on how well I took his punishment and asked me what I learned.
I responded with "my eyes are for Master only." He then patted me on the head and bit out a "good."
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I can't help but feel rejected. I know he is right. I just wish he wouldn't be. I will find someone else I'm sure, just wish... I do not even know what to say. I was about to beg to plead to cry for his collar. I am glad I didn't, I would of looked most silly. I hate myself. Hate for even thinking such thoughts. I am not yours. Why would you say I was? Makes me all the more confused :(
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He came to my house several times from Thursday till Friday. I knew this would happen, I was foolish to have thought otherwise. I never felt safe and for a good reason... I did not expect him to actually have the nerve to follow through on his threats, of course I was wrong. It started with driving by, slowly, calls being made to both my cell phone and house. I was praying that my mother would not have to walk in on such a spectacle. When he did pull into my driveway, when he did walk up to my door, I could not feel anything besides panic. I knew what he wanted and I certainly did not want him to get it. The pure sight of him made me sick. He looked the same, same hair, same clothes, same body, same piercing eyes. I wanted to run, to get far away as possible from such a monster. He knew where the spare key was kept, he knew how to let himself in. I was frozen with fear, I couldn't move even if I had wanted to. It did not take long for him to find me sitting on the couch. He smiled at me in a sickly fashion that almost make me vomit. Here he was, the man that ruled by life for three miserable years, standing in front of me as if he just won a prize.
It happened fast. Something that even I was not expecting. I found myself on the floor again, I knew what he expected me to do. No. Why would I plead for mercy to a man I wished death upon? No. He did not deserve my words, my pity, my thoughts. So I stood up, I defied every single natural impulse in my body and stood up to him. I wanted to coward, to kneel and beg. But I didn't. The look on his face was priceless, it almost brought a grin to my face to see him standing there in confusion. It did not take long for him to realize my blind courage. He hit me again and again, something I knew I could take. Blow after blow... It hurt but I soon became numb. All my feelings all my hurt and anguish came gushing out. He had never seen me upset before, seen me express anything besides pain. It did not take much longer before it hurt to stand, I merely sat on the couch looking at him, staring. He made no noises, no words. He had grabbed my arms and started shoving me towards the door. There was no way I would go with him, no way I would let him take me. The thought was laughable. Who did he think he was? Somebody who could just get whatever he wanted, whatever he pleased without any consequence? He was wrong. Of course I fought back, of course I got away. Well... long enough to call the police. I do not think he will be bothering me again...
It's Sunday.. and I sit here after all of this alone. My body hurts, it aches. I have bruises on my arms and knees. I am surprised that I am not sporting a lovely black eye. I do not feel lucky or happy. I can not put an emotion to how I feel. I should of went to his house, went and told him everything last night. But I didn't... I know I could of, I didn't need to see her. But I'm ashamed. Ashamed of what happened to me.. what he did. I want to hide. To dig a hole and just sit in it. I don't want to myself anymore. I look in a mirror and spit at the person looking back. She makes me sick. I let him hurt me, I should of done things differently. It should of never gotten to that point. And yet I couldn't.. I was scared to call him, to talk to him, to see him. I did not want him to know what had been done to me. I am unsure of where we stand, and I know I deserve that. In reality I don't deserve someone as nice as he. I deserve to be alone. To walk this earth unchained.
I do not wish to speak more of what happened. I much sooner forget it has ever happened. My stomach is sick with knots from even writing about it. I just wish he would know how sorry I am, how much I did not want any of this to happen.. I feel like its all my fault, as it should be. I let him do this to me and was not strong enough... I will not be re reading this post for I am afraid I will just simply decide to delete it all... I want to share what has happened... But I am honestly still scared ...
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In all honesty I did not want to leave his bed. I left early this morning, a drive that was difficult to make to say the least. I am sure though, if I had stayed it would of been that much harder to drive the few hours later. I am tired, but awake. I can not sleep for my dreams are filled with horrible memories. I feel terrible for leaving, for waking him up. I debated just going without saying anything, somehow that just didn't seem right. I couldn't stay still in bed and felt bad for constantly moving. I feel guilty for being the reason he hasn't gotten enough sleep these past few nights. I hope he isn't mad at me...
I guess you can say that I am torn. Torn between what I thought I knew and what has been laid out in front of me now. I knew how to be a doormat, to be emotionless, no feeling, no thoughts, to just obey. Its strange, to go from that to what I have found with him. I never even thought it was possible to feel this way. A strange concept that many of you find hard to believe, but I am amazed. He is not the first person to talk/tell me that my feelings matter, my thoughts matter. He is however, the first person who I feel has actually taken an interest in knowing me, like actually sitting down and talking to me like a normal person not just a slave. I have never felt so well special I guess you would call it. He treated me like a princess these past few days and I am left here speechless. I feel like I matter. What the heck, slaves matter? Its such a new concept to me, to have a "normal" night. I loved it. I have never enjoyed myself as much as I did with him. I can't believe it. I am still getting use to making some decisions or even being asked for my opinion. He won't say if it annoys him to have to keep asking over and over (I think it does, though he won't admit it!). I do not know what he thinks of me, but I am scared to have feelings for him, to open myself up too much. I don't want to be just thrown to the side again, like used garbage.
He had me play for him yesterday; had me put painful clamps on both my nipples and pussy. Oh did I mention I was on the edge of cumming the entire time? He had me play with myself, standing in front of him. When I was allowed to cum at last, I couldn't stop. He made me cum over and over and over and over. My pussy was basically throbbing the whole time for what seemed ever. He had slapped my face, hard. I loved that. I think its one of my favorite things, the feeling is quite delicious. He had been tugging on the clamps that were attached to my pussy, now that hurt, bad. I was more than happy when he decided to take them off only to be traded with slaps. Mmmm then he let me take pleasure from having his huge cock shoved in my tight dripping wet cunt. It felt sooooooo goood. By the end I was pretty much out of breath from cumming continuously. I felt so drained. We did take a shower after... Now, usually showers are pretty uneventful and relaxing, this one however, was different. He decided that he was going to try to fuck my tight ass again (it hurt something fierce the first time... 2nd times a charm?) And he did manage to fit it..I was pretty impressed with that. It hurt and felt disgustingly good all at once. I couldn't believe I could even cum anymore! But I did.. And it was amazing! I wanted to be fucked all night, what I would give to be sucking on his cock right now.. mmmm yummmy...
I can't pick the right words to describe how he makes me feel. There is a time and place for everything, even to be considered an equal as he put it. He makes me laugh and smile. I can't believe how safe I feel with him, how much I adore his company. I enjoy every minuet I spend with him, hopefully he feels the same.
I like him, I like him a lot... I think...
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Saturday night. I was told to wear nothing but my panties, to put on the cuffs, collar, gag, nipple clamps, and blindfold. I was then to kneel, hands on my knees, legs spread apart. I wouldn't call it nerves that got to me, I guess the anticipation and excitement combo would be a better fit. I could hear him coming before he touched me and set me on my feet. He guided me to his room where he then proceeded to tie my hands above my head. He then tied a loop around my collar, also pulling it up, forcing me to stand on my tipie toes to keep from choking myself. Not too overly painful, a bit difficult at the most. Though I wasn't too ready for what he did next. I had rope loops tied around my toes which then lead up to my nipple clamps. Of course this made me tug on them, pretty hard. Every slight move I made to readjust on my feet or even try to put my whole foot down, a sharp lovely tug to my nipples would prevent me from doing so. Not to mention I would also be choking myself a little bit. My arms would start to slouch and the painful pinches would be a sweet reminder not to. I was drooling all over myself. My slightly choking collar did not help in the least. I was also dripping wet, I could feel it trickling down my legs, the pain had felt that good. He left me like this to go shower I believe and do whatever else.
It had to be twenty minuets or so before he came back to where I was hung. The feeling in my hands was still there, but barely. They had been the prime supporter of my weight for the most part. He started to tickle me; Ohhh was it hard for me to not move!!! I knew if I did I would be tugging even more on my poor nipples. Quite the evil game don't you think? He untied my arms and toes soon after and laid me on the bed. He took off my pretty panties and had me spread my legs. It had felt so very good to lay down, to not have that strain on my body. He started to play with my already wet cunt, bringing me to the edge of cumming over and over. This was not one of my favorite things, to be teased so badly that all I had to do was feel the slightest touch or rub against my pussy and I would cum. I soon realized what he was trying to do, fit his whole hand in me! Now I can barely take two fingers of his, so when he had told me he managed to fit four I was shocked. I did want to try fisting so badly and it was such an intoxicating feeling. Mmmm to be so helpless and wet. I couldn't handle more than four, but I am pretty impressed he was even able to do that. I would love to be totally fisted, to have it all in me...
The wax came next and I should of been more ready for when it started to hit my body. I guess you would call it a love hate kind of thing. It hurts soo bad to have it dripped on my pussy and nipples but it in turn feels amazing! Oh how it feels good. I was not particularly ready for when he started to slap my pussy. It hurt something fierce. All the wax play and finger fucking had made it extra sensitive. I tried my best not to yell or scream through my gag, which was unsuccessful to my horror. I knew how much he hated it when I yelled like that, I honestly don't mean to. I do want to work on that, I know I can be better than screaming out of turn. No good!
I was tired from all the fun torture and toying he had done with me. I enjoyed everything, even though some it was painful to no end. He let me take a shower with him to get all the wax off of me. This had to be one of my favorite things. To just feel close and comforted with another. It had made me smile.
Today is such a dreary day. I am sick of all this rain that we have been getting. I wish the weather would act like its summer for once, but I'm afraid that it is a bit too late. I do not have a lot planned for the week, hopefully less eventful than the last.
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I can not sleep. My bed is cold and uninviting, no amount of pillows or blankets can hide that fact. My mind races to late yesterday, I do not feel good about such events. I feel used. Its no ones fault but the feeling is all the same. I am alone.
I think of when I was in a tub of ice cold water, having ice poured on me. I think of when I had such better control of my emotions. It had been terribly cold, enough for my body to shake and turn colors. I was not being punished rather being pushed. He had blindfolded me so he did not have to look at my eyes, hiding himself with a sheet of black. I do not remember much of that night, nor the next day when the feeling in my legs finally returned. But he had let me sleep in bed that night. He had played with my hair and held me close like a child's favorite toy. I often felt like this, just a toy to be used and put away when play was done. I felt like this tonight, unintentionally I know.
So many have questioned me, have wondered why I stayed with someone who caused me so much pain. In some twisted way it was all I knew, what I called "home." A place of very little feeling, of very little sharing. I can count on one hand how many times he asked me if it was too much. And I can also count how many times my head would be screaming yes and my mouth would utter no. I would ache from beating after beating, a mere curled heap on the floor as he would hum happily and go about his business. He would allow me to stay, to be near him hurting. He never paid me any mind, a simple pat on my head here and there was all the attention I would receive for the remainder of the night. These thoughts made me unsettled, made me feel cheap and used.
I am afraid to talk openly, to speak out. I much rather be timid and quiet, holding my gaze to the floor.
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Last night turned out as uneventful as any other night- except for the amazing bonfire and drinks. I have been thinking ( big surprise ) about what life has thrown at me thus far. I can not help but crack a small smile. Sure I have been through some interesting things to say the least, but I do not think I would trade any of my experiences for the world. They have helped shaped who I am today and I very much like me. A little condescending? Perhaps. I have done and accomplished things that most women aren't even able to fathom doing. Does that make me better than them? No, that's not what I'm saying. Maybe just an edge they will never know about, hehe.
Today is Saturday, oh how I love the weekend. I do not have much planned for the day, though I think that is likely to change. I am thinking about investing in an mp3 player, any suggestions? I love music and it's a bummer that its only on my computer and cd's.
My thoughts this morning had brought me to events that happened earlier in the week. My father is still in the hospital, should make a full recovery- oh joy. I have no doubt he now fully understands my feelings about him, a lovely voicemail indicated so. I can do nothing more than shrug it off. I can not do anymore nor do I wish to invest any more emotion with him. So I'm done. Its more of a sigh of relief than anything else. There is happiness in my life, it is not all horrid and dreadful memories. I guess it would come across so since well, that's all I seem to talk about here. Honestly, I have never told anyone about what has happened to me, its more of just getting it out of my mind and dumping it somewhere else.
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I was called again. It had to be about 2:30 in the morning. It was raw, cold, emotion. I lay there listening to him slur his words as he tried to explain himself. He was drunk. Strange, he never drank whenever I had been with him. He has demanded that I see him, if nothing more than to just talk. I tried to imagine him, what he must be thinking, where he must be inside his house. The thoughts made me shutter. What did he want with me again?
I am overly tired again this morning, that seems to be a reoccurring pattern for me now. My dreams where scattered and unpleasant. It was silly of me to think that he had called out of the goodness of his heart. I knew his motive- If he didn't have me, no one else would either. The thought made me queasy. I know what he is capable of. But he had said it. He had said that he missed me and that he loves me. Even writing the words here makes me sick with fear. What game is he trying to push onto me now? I am sure as day that he does not wish to have me back in his house, even if he did I would never agree to such a thing. So that leaves me where? He might try to take me. That scares me. He does know where I live, knows everything about me. But I still do not understand the bizarreness of it all.
My mind has gone back to the time when he was kicking me on the floor. I had failed his most simple obedient test that he had placed on me. He had me bent over the desk in his office with a glass of water on each hand, pinning me down. He had told me not to move, to stay still has he reeked havoc on my back, ass, and legs. I was not strong then, I could not stand still; the water was spilled. It had not taken him much to shove me on the ground after. I was bleeding, my back had been torn open from his whip. Those boots, those horrible steel toed boots where the nightmare to every dream I have had those proceeding three years. A few swift kicks and I was doubled over on the ground in pain. Only the blackness that I had always welcomed had been my only friend then. He had broken two ribs.
That was one of my first introductions to the dark life I would then lead. Not the great first impression many try to conceive. My heart aches for him, it does. I have no desire to be shoved around like a rag doll again. No desire to hurt for a man I never truly knew. He is all but a memory I so desperately wish would fade away now. I choke back tears when I say this, it's hard for me to say "no, enough, I can't take it anymore." Many have told me that what he has done would of surely killed me in the end. The thought had crossed my mind before, though I was never scared of such a thing. If he had wished it so I would most likely not be here today. I think of helpless deer who are hunted and then hung and gutted.
I wonder what my death will be the result of.
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My mind is not at ease. He has read what I wrote about him, He has viewed our experiences that I have so willingly shown others. He called me. An actual phone call to me. I was shocked to see the number pop up on my phone to say the least. He had my number still. He spoke to me of my father mostly, once a subject he had only known about. It did not bring me any emotion to hear his voice again. After four months one would think it would perhaps still effect me. I felt nothing, numb. He spoke casually, as if I was a friend he had not heard from in a while. Filling the rest of the conversation about himself as always, I sat quietly grabbing the bits and pieces that my mind would allow. He had said something about seeing me, meeting me for coffee or something of the sort. I was unsure if my head was playing tricks on me or if the words had actually been spoken. It took several repeats for the words to have been registered. It was not a lengthy call. It was however, long enough for me to sit here confused as to why I was contacted in the first place. He had said that he missed me. He missed me. Me. I can not comprehend such a thing.
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I was barely six when my childhood was lost to me. I sit here unsure of what to feel, if I should feel anything at all. My father is in the hospital, a heart attack to have been the cause. I was there yesterday to see him. I was surrounded by his family, his daughters, his sons, his wife. I did not belong there, nor did I ever intended on staying long. This man was responsible for my most hellish of dreams, my most unforgiving memories. I did not "grow up" in a loving home. An alcoholic father and in denial mother. What a perfect living situation. He was not a kind man. Nightly beatings, the inappropriate touching, and calling the basement my living space, were my only true sense of feeling. I wish I could connect with what he did to what I am now.
But I can not. I look at him and I see another person's life, something separate from my own. I have always felt guilty for these feelings of hate and resentment, even after replaying it all in my head. I make excuses for him, as if he ever deserved my pardon. I was not yet six when he took my world from me. When he forced me to do unthinkable acts that I to this day can not fully bring myself to speak of. I remember not knowing, not understanding until years later what he was doing, what had been done. What he was violating as if he was entitled to do so. I remember everything. Clear as day. My mother and he on the other hand, seem to have forgotten, drunkenness can do that to a person I suppose. And yet I went to see him, laying there in the hospital bed, so weak and frail. How much joy it brought me to see him in pain and suffering. I had to check my smile however, out of respect for his new family. He was not doing well. Years of substance and drug abuse have taken a toll on his body. Even the doctors have warned us that he may not wake up. I left as quickly as I came, not wanting to be around a bunch of people who felt sympathy for such a man. I had gotten him a thank you card as if he would ever wake up to read it. I put it amongst the numerous others of get well wishes. A thank you card that read " Thank you, Thank you for finally being out of my life." What a horrible thing to say. What his family must think of me now. I however, do not care. I could not of been more happy to have been there to give it to him. Perhaps he will recover, he will get better. My many attempts to forgive and forget no longer exist.
I was not alone last night and I am so grateful for that. I did not speak what was on my mind per say, but just being next to another felt more than satisfying. My mind was taken away from the events that had happened during the day, away to familiar ground. I am glad I was able to sleep last night, much better in fact, in a very long long time.
I have been mulling over the possibility that my childhood has a connection to my present state of mind. I have concluded though, this is not the case. I did not discover D/s until years after the abuse had stopped. I went through the normal phases of wanting to belong, searching for my place in this silly little world. When I had stumbled onto D/s, it had been by accident, a mere mistake. The more I read about it, though, the more I felt like I had finally found who I was. Like this is where I was suppose to have been all along. I have never felt a better sense of direction. I can not see myself ever in a "normal" relationship. My need to please and satisfy others is way too strong.
I am a slave. A submissive female who thoroughly takes pride in her abilities to serve and obey a dominate man. There is nothing wrong with this. Nothing wrong these desires. I keep my life a secret from many. I do hope one day to be freed from such secrets, to be allowed openly be who I know I am.
Maybe when I am more brave.. and not such a wuss.
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A night filled of scattered dreams and constant waking up are to thank for my lovely groggy mood I now own. I slept in a bed last night, by myself. It was odd to say the least. I have been accustom to the floor for years now, why stop? My stomach is in knots this morning, feeling less than appealing. My mind wanders, looking over my arms at scars that are barely there anymore. I am happy to seem them fade and leave me. They were not a happy memory reminder.
I was told to stay still. In a squatting like position on the balls of my feet. Very painful. My hands were tied in front of me, my back straight as if an invisible pole was holding my head up. I was being whipped again, not a strange occurrence, however the broken glass filled floor where he put me was. The sharp pieces digging into my feet left me feeling woozy and unbalanced. I began to sway after twenty minuets or so, a bad action on my part. He had ordered me still, no matter what element he decided to add to his sick game. I wanted nothing more than to happily oblige to his every demand. The strain had began to make me cry uncontrollably. I stayed in place of course, though my echoing sobs did less than bring a smile to his face. He uttered horrible words and phrases at me, long forgotten in my mind. He was not pleased, he never seemed to be. That was my downfall. My ultimate failure. No matter what I did for him, I could never quite seem to prove my worth. He pushed me over, leaving me sprawled on top of broken glass. My arms took most of the blow off balance, leaving large gashes and bits and pieces stuck in. I was left there, laying like that for what seemed hours, I did not have the strength to move nor did I dare look up to see him staring right back at me. When he did move me, he was silent, dangerously quiet. He grabbed me by my hair and lead me to a room I called my salvation. In here he would usually fix up whatever intense hurt he had done to my body, in silence of course. He removed all the glass from my hands, arms, feet, legs and bandaged me up. I never understood this man, no matter how much I tried to, he was lost to me.
Many things brought on this memory, I suppose the most obvious would be his profile I came across on here this morning. He has a simple picture up, a simple profile not really explaining anything that he is. I was hurt and devastated when he told me I was leaving his house. Now I am glad to have escaped such an unforgiving human. One who never showed me any emotion besides pain.
Today is wednesday. Oh happy wednesday. the week is half over. A few more and I will be back at school, away from everything that has burdened me here. To say the least I am more than excited.
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I stared at myself in the mirror. Something I rarely ever did. And I mean, really stared, looked myself over. I did not see anything different, nothing more appealing than the last time I looked. My hair was getting long, something I welcomed for it had all but been chopped off months and months ago. It made me smile to be able to touch it again without wincing at the memory. My eyes looked empty, dead. Dark holes that lead nowhere and showed nothing. Even pounds of disgusting make-up could never help conceal the numerous sleepless nights I endure alone. The person looking back me made me sick. I want nothing to do with her, so I simply took the mirror down and hid it in the depths of a closet I shall never reopen again.
I am not a depressed person. I am not continually sad nor do I give off the impression of such. Its hard to express my feelings openly, since well, I have never been asked. I have never been questioned as to when enough was enough for me. When asked "does this hurt, are you okay with this, can you handle more?" I do not have the answers, Instead all I can do is just look at them, quietly, soundless, no response to such easy questions. I simply do not poses such a skill.. yet. I look around my room and find myself surrounded by smiling pictures, things that hold some kind of sentimental value to a girl I no longer recognize. It does not make me sad to see them. It makes me grin to see such a girl pretending to be content. I was alone last night, sleeping on the floor. My mind was not still and for that I am rather exhausted. Funny how sometimes we can not just turn them off, our minds that is. I use to be able to, to be able to clear my head in an instant. I am afraid that is now lost to me, among many other things.
I have been thinking about when I was with my very first Master. I was not yet even fifteen. The memory of him is a sweet one, one I will never forget. He showed me things that I never thought even existed. He broke me in ways I can not thank him enough for. He showed me how my submission is the most and only precious thing I can call my own. He did brake me, he did hurt me , oh did he hurt me. Imaginable pain for this had been my first experience with such things. He showed me what being a slave really means. A long week of changing every single thought and piece of knowledge that I thought was mine. Bending and molding me into his version of the perfect slave. And after, after all the tears and pain, he was still there, touching and smiling at me. He made me feel loved and adored, even after all the harsh and unforgiving things he put me through. For that, I can not even begin to thank him.
For showing me the path that has ultimately lead me here, now today.
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I am tired today. I wish I was able to sleep longer, but yet I find myself here shifting through profiles and responding to emails from people I will never meet. My body is sore, exhausted, spent. I still ache from injuries long gone, wounds that have been healed months and months before. I sit here smiling feeling proud of myself. Something that is a very rare occurrence indeed.
It takes a lot of work to be able to control an orgasm. A lot of practice and tears to be able to get to that point for your owner. To be able to cum on command, to be able to be on the verge of cumming and stop suddenly, to be able to stop cumming once you have started. Yes, many would say I have accomplished a skill very few submissives have or "want" to have. Only the sudden realization that I have not been allowed to feel such feelings have snapped me back to reality. I am a slave after all, boasting is not a trait I poses.
I am quiet, still. Reading profiles and lists of demands many submissives place on their future Master. I am not like them, I have come to realize. I have nothing in common with these women. Their friendship would not be realistic. I feel alone in this world. Alone and used up. So young yet I feel so old. I did not wish for this, like little children wish to be older or taller in order to ride at the carnival. I wish the opposite. I wish I was younger, innocent, unknowing of the world I now live in. But that is a silly thing to wish for or even think. I was never innocent.
I had thought I would find happiness in being around others who seem to be "like-minded" and yet all I feel is disgust and sadness. They will never know of blind obedience or to be more exact, the life a slave leads. I sit among a sea of people. Normal, deviant, kinky, people. And yet I am the odd one out, the thing that does not belong. I crave attention, a dangerous line to walk on as I have before. Attention- the need to be recognized, the need to feel accepted and wanted, the attention I crave is from one Master and only one. It is limited to me. Not simply given, but earned.
A reward I will gladly do anything for.
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Torture. When is the line crossed? I have been thinking this over and I am a tad confused as to what to believe. I have never thought that a slave would have a voice in what happens to her, no matter what horrible things her Master does to her. To be beaten and pushed to the brink of passing out from pain does not seem odd to me. As it has happened many times before. Is this wrong? Do I have the right to say no to my owner when he is hurting me in the most painful ways imaginable? My head is screaming no, I have no right, no place to even utter the words. My previous Master was indeed sadistic and cruel, but I had trusted him with my life, everything I had. I did spend a lot of time getting to know the ER doctors during those 3 years and yet I do not feel like he did anything wrong.
Its a hard line to distinguish and I am sure it differs from Master to Master. I know many would call me foolish for ever letting a man hurt me in such ways, but I did it for him. I endured all the pain and hurt to make him happy. No matter what sick and twisted game he wanted to play with me. I allowed him to use my body for his own amusement. How does it please me? How does getting hurt to the point of passing out make me happy? Well the simple answer is because in end my Master was. His pleasure was more important than my own and I always put him first. I know some of you must think I am mad for even suggesting such things. But this is how I always thought it was suppose to be.
I guess I am more confused as to how to place what has happened to me in the past. Many would call it torture and abuse. Would a "good" Master emotionally and physically abuse/torture his slave? I have no doubt that my previous owner did not care about my feelings, how good things felt for me, my pleasure was not even on his list. I endured a lot for this man; numerous bruised ribs, dislocated joints, black eyes, cuts, bruises, starvation, burns. Was I just being abused? When does it stop being about D/s and become something much more dark. Just something he was going to eventually do away with in the end? He did leave me, he did throw me to the curb after he was done. I guess that's one of the reasons why I am unsure of myself. I don't know what I did wrong to deserve this. I gave him everything, never complained, never questioned. When does a slave have the right to question her own safety? I had given him my trust, my submission, my heart and soul. And now when I look back on his relationship I feel lost.
I don't want to hurt like that. I don't want to be beaten unconscious again, I don't want to be on edge waiting to see what horrible things would happen to me next. Is it wrong for a slave to want such things?
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Is it so wrong for me to have the want of being loved? To be considered a prized possession? Apparently so. I have found it difficult to move on from the past to present myself now. Not many would take an already broken slave; where is the fun in that they would whisper. I'm afraid blind obedience is my best friend and worst enemy.
I hear them, I understand them. I am stuck wondering when the next big thing will happen to me, when it will it be my turn to be happy... But it isn't about my happiness, my wants, my desires... is it? I live for my owner who does not yet own me, I kneel for a man that has not yet hit me, I beg to be touched and touched with things that I have not even seen yet.
For a slave, there is no better place than in her Master's heart.
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| Age: 21 |
| New York,
New York |
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