mysweetkitty on Collarspace

1/27/2008 9:05:30 PM

I wait the same way every morning for my Master. I present my arse to him on my hands and knees. Sometimes I am on the bed next to my master. Or other times I wait kneeling on the floor. Most days my head face tilted down on the pillow with my knees spread wide... my backside raised. I pull my pajamas down enough to expose my unmarked backside. I thrust my hindquarters high awaiting my Master's pleasure.

It's been five years since I first found my Master. Even though this much time has passed I still shiver with anticipation. It is cold in the early morning, but that is not why I shiver. I know he will fetch a cane from the vase in a few minutes.

I recount my tasks for the morning. I made coffee, leaving his cup ready. Lucky for me he drinks it black. It isn't necessary for him to remember things like cream or sugar. I recall a previous master who whipped me because I didn't give him enough sugar. Then I empty my mind of the past. I make the rolls with sugar, butter and cinnamon. He likes them just so. I have never disappointed him. Once the bottom of one roll was a bit darker than he liked. Now I am careful to inspect each roll. I left a fresh towel next to the shower for him. Then I prepare myself. I put on the collar, wrist and ankle cuffs which are easy for him to chain together. He puts the lock in place, but because his time is precious in the morning I prepare the appropriate attire. It feels like I had prepared everything right this morning.

Master has been sick for the past week. He's been a bit grouchy, but that is the way it goes when one is sick. Since he is sick there will be no waking him up with a blowjob. He prefers I pleasure him orally every morning. When he is sick he feels no pleasure from it and therefore I am not allowed. It's been a long week as I have not been allowed to kiss him or pleasure him. I miss the taste of him and the way he grabs my hair forcing me down on it.

He wakes up and sees me waiting. The sight of my naked backside awaiting what he calls, "the morning ritual," always makes him smile. He feels lucky to have me. To most people, a typical morning would include a wife making breakfast, sack lunches for the kids and running errands. Some less than respectful spouses don't honor each other at all. They fall on top of each other, shag and go about their day. We are completely different than the average couple. They have rules, values, morals and really kinky sex. The latter is not the end all be all of their relationship. It couldn't exist without respect and love.

Master starts coughing as he is more or less awake now. I stay in my position with my eyes averted toward the pillow, but ask, "Sir, can I get you a glass of water?

Master answers, "No," and smacks my naked backside hard. He gets up and smacking me was his way of saying, don't go anywhere, I'll be back. I hear him shuffle across the wood floor and then the sounds of his feet on the tile floor. A little relief washes over my face as I hear the shower come on. I don't have a choice of implements he uses in the morning. Since I didn't hear him in the closet, it's probably the cane. The next 5 or ten minutes were filled with anticipation worries. Master talked about getting some new toys and breaking them in... quite literally. He has broken at least three wooden spoons. Imagine the pain I took to split an inch of wood.

Master usually puts a ball gag harness on me. It wasn't something used for the first two years of our relationship. He was careful to not push my limits to the extreme. But somewhere after the second year, I became his collared one. I agreed to wear the ball gag during rituals. I enjoy wearing this ball gag. It is embarrassing for me to cry out or scream. I feel and enjoy the sensations more when I can't scream or cry out loudly.

As fifteen minutes have passed, my anticipation is nearly over. I hear the shower turn off and can almost hear my heartbeat as Master towels off. I don't know how many seconds I have left before I'll feel the pain of some implement. I hear him moving across the tile, then across the wood floor to me. I hear the cane being drawn out of the vase. I think about how it sting and my backside tingles in response.

Master says, "Are we at at 5 lashes or up to 10 because of ... well... you know why?"

"10... sir," almost choking I reply.

Master says nothing as he takes the gag off the table. I open my mouth as I see the ball gag in front of my face. It is hard and fills my mouth with the taste of rubber. I welcome the taste of rubber versus my own screams.

Master smacks my backside a couple of times hard. Master is not into spanking me because it hurts his hand. Master is no masochist. He rubs my butt a bit. Although comforting to me as well, it's more so Master's hand doesn't sting. The stinging pain from a couple smacks is just an opener. I know whatever is next will sting worse. Master is a methodical man. He knows how to build my excitement.

Master rarely talks during rituals, but I clearly heard him say, "Remember the A."

I immediately raise my butt higher. Oh my gosh. I had let myself lean down too much. I heard him place the lock on my ankles. I arched my back giving it the best posture. I didn't even hear the woosh of the cane before I felt the sting and bite. The second and third stinging seemed to come too quickly. The pain was searing. Master noticed the redness of the three marks turning into welts. He smiled... impressed by his work. Each time he tried to strike a little harder. The fourth whack left me shaking. Before I could think about pain, the fifth stingiest lash was there. I knew I would be crying, "Please stop," but my scream would go unanswered. The anticipation never matches the rush you feel of the stingy pain. Even though I've never done drugs, I can't imagine a greater high or rush. I think Master reads my mind because the sixth lash didn't come as I heard him go the vase.

"I have a new cane to try," I hear him say.

Master can't see my face as he delivers the first blow with the new cane. If he had seen my face, he would have watched tears well up. The new cane was really made of two bamboo canes. Or so it felt like two canes hitting me at one time. I fought against the restraints as the second and third blow seemed to come at once. Bamboo has a heavier thud than the rattan, but the sting wasn't like something I had ever experienced.

The lashes had already overlapped causing the worst stinging pain to areas already struck. He was taking his time with the last lash. I didn't care... it was over. How bad could the last lash be? He was good at getting into my head. I thought maybe he had read my mind right this time. Gave me a break. Nope. As he shuffled back from the vase, he said, "I just have one more cane I want to try." I'm adding a lash because of the positioning slouch.
Normally submissive women don't argue, but I would given the chance. My behind was stinging and red, and two lashes were two too many.
Ow, ow ow, the next lash was like pins and needles I thought. I knew right away this cane was a cluster of elephant grass. It was worse than birches or anything I could remember being hit with. The stinging blow had left my whole behind aching. The next blow finished me. I was beyond pain now. The stinging blows had left my privates so wet. I would be left wanting. He unlocked my cuffs from my ankles and removed my gag. I thanked Master. He smiled and kissed my head. This concludes their morning ritual.