I bent over my Owner's lap and closed my eyes. I touched my fingertips to the ground to steady myself, but I needn't have bothered. My Owner had his arm gripped tightly around my waist. He had the paddle in his hand - I knew because I had brought it over to him - and he was ready. Her Master sat across from me on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward intently as we got ready. She was across the room, in the corner, facing the wall.
My Owner started paddling me and I took a deep breath with every blow. I felt her Master lean closer. He began to speak to me.
He told me that I was an inconsiderate bitch for what I had done. He called me those names. He punished me with his words as my Owner punished me with the paddle. They formed this united force - one dominant field of energy, working together on my punishment. I knew that I was wrong, I knew that I deserved this. I was only shocked that her Master knew exactly what to say...that he said exactly what my Owner had said the week before when I got into trouble in the first place. He knew. Her Master just knew.
I managed not to cry, I'm not sure how. A beating like that should easily reduce me to a sobbing mess. She thinks it was because she was there to take some of my pain. She might be right. The strength of her kneeling there, hearing each blow and my attempts not to cry out, she absorbed all of the energy coming off of me. Just as my Owner and her Master were channeling each other, she and I were right there together, slaves in pain.
Showing posts with label paddle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label paddle. Show all posts
Paddles
I know that many of you understand what a joyful experience a paddling can be. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it, but I know you understand. I recently heard someone say that any man who gets turned on by making a woman cry is sick and I nodded for a second, but then I changed my mind. He is not sick but I cannot explain why. The fact that sadism is not bad, that love blossoms here when it looks like hate...I know that you understand that.
Anyway: the paddling. It's been a quiet few months with us. We continue to work on our relationship and spend time together. We continue to spend significant time in bed, but the kink has been limited to some light choking during sex and the more psychological aspects of things. Last weekend, we were getting ready for bed when I think our hard physical kink came back full-force.
He picked the paddle up off of the shelf and told me to come over to Him. I quailed. It had been so long. I wasn't confident enough in my ability to take pain, so I crouched on the bed rather than remain on all fours and hold my head up high. I curled around a pillow and tucked my head under.
He started and I didn't cry, not until almost the very end. I was quiet, I was focused on breathing. He went easy on me, to be sure, but I was handling it quite well. I murmured, "Daddy" over and over again when things got intense, but it wasn't out of fear or an immediate need for him to stop. It became more like a mantra, like I was naming him and calling out for his strength. At one point, I reached my hand back so he could hold it as he hit me. He curled his body around me briefly, stroking my hand and running the fuzzy side of the paddle over my pink ass cheeks. Then he stood again, still holding my hand, and resumed the paddling.
Each blow was getting harder. I could tell it was almost the end when he paused. He crouched next to me and looked at my face. There were some tears there, but I hadn't fallen apart. "Maybe just six more," I thought, hoping that he would have mercy on me.
"Kitten, how many more? Pick a number between 1 and 10."
"Six," I said immediately.
He gasped and lifted my face by my chin. "You're amazing. How did you know that I was thinking six?"
I smiled. "The number was in my head before you asked me to pick." I was full of such joy at that moment, I was practically giddy. I wanted those last six paddles so badly that I could hardly wait for them. This was the most perfect moment. We were both smiling, there was so much synchronicity. The whole universe was spinning just for us, around us, at that moment.
I know you understand that moment, that feeling. It is the most wonderful thing in the world, it is the reason that we all got into S&M to begin with. It is the epitome of all the good that submission brings. It is the peak. No orgasm, no amount of pain, no money or love or anything could top that feeling.
And the part of this feeling? It can happen over and over again. The possibilities are limitless.
Anyway: the paddling. It's been a quiet few months with us. We continue to work on our relationship and spend time together. We continue to spend significant time in bed, but the kink has been limited to some light choking during sex and the more psychological aspects of things. Last weekend, we were getting ready for bed when I think our hard physical kink came back full-force.
He picked the paddle up off of the shelf and told me to come over to Him. I quailed. It had been so long. I wasn't confident enough in my ability to take pain, so I crouched on the bed rather than remain on all fours and hold my head up high. I curled around a pillow and tucked my head under.
He started and I didn't cry, not until almost the very end. I was quiet, I was focused on breathing. He went easy on me, to be sure, but I was handling it quite well. I murmured, "Daddy" over and over again when things got intense, but it wasn't out of fear or an immediate need for him to stop. It became more like a mantra, like I was naming him and calling out for his strength. At one point, I reached my hand back so he could hold it as he hit me. He curled his body around me briefly, stroking my hand and running the fuzzy side of the paddle over my pink ass cheeks. Then he stood again, still holding my hand, and resumed the paddling.
Each blow was getting harder. I could tell it was almost the end when he paused. He crouched next to me and looked at my face. There were some tears there, but I hadn't fallen apart. "Maybe just six more," I thought, hoping that he would have mercy on me.
"Kitten, how many more? Pick a number between 1 and 10."
"Six," I said immediately.
He gasped and lifted my face by my chin. "You're amazing. How did you know that I was thinking six?"
I smiled. "The number was in my head before you asked me to pick." I was full of such joy at that moment, I was practically giddy. I wanted those last six paddles so badly that I could hardly wait for them. This was the most perfect moment. We were both smiling, there was so much synchronicity. The whole universe was spinning just for us, around us, at that moment.
I know you understand that moment, that feeling. It is the most wonderful thing in the world, it is the reason that we all got into S&M to begin with. It is the epitome of all the good that submission brings. It is the peak. No orgasm, no amount of pain, no money or love or anything could top that feeling.
And the part of this feeling? It can happen over and over again. The possibilities are limitless.
Trouble, Part III
He put me up against the wall as soon as we were alone together. He groped me roughly and taunted me - did my guests know what He was doing to me as soon as they left? What would they think of me if they knew?
He forced me down to my knees and fucked my face roughly, bruising my upper lip with the force of his thrusts. I tried to pull away, but he just pulled my hair harder and kept me on his cock.
"Up," he said as he used my hair to pull me to a standing position. He led me into the bedroom, detouring through the dining room to pick up the paddle from where I had placed it on the table. As we entered the bedroom, he shoved me hard and I went flying forward onto the bed. I was surprised, and as I hesitated with fear he pulled my dress up over my head and my panties down to my ankles.
"Do you want your punishment now, or later at my house?," he asked diplomatically.
"Now, please," I said immediately. I had been waiting all week. I had to get this over with.
"All of it now?"
"Yes, sir."
He stood back and I braced myself. I gripped the sheets on the bed and squeezed my eyes shut. He started paddling me, slowly building up the force he was using, until I was crying and writhing on the bed. He came over and laid next to me, petting my already-sore ass with the furry side of the paddle. I was taking large, gulping breaths and trying not to sob too loudly. I wanted to take my punishment like a good girl.
"What did you learn this week, Kitten?," he asked. I looked up at him through my hair.
"To tell you everything. To trust you. To think of you first always."
"That's right, what else?"
"That you control everything and that I'm not free."
"Yes," he sighed and he got up to start paddling me again. He hit me in time with his words. "And...no...more...lunches...without...asking...me...first."
"Yes sir, yes," I cried. He pulled me up off of the bed by my hair and deposited me in a pile at his feet. I was woozy from the paddling. I clung to his legs, unable to kneel on my own.
He picked up something off of my dresser and held his hands behind my back. He told me to pick a hand - one would mean 10 more hits and the other would mean 20 more. I reached out my hand and lightly tapped his right hand before sinking to the ground.
"Ten more, Kitten, then you're done." He helped me back onto the bed and I laid there like a rag doll. I just needed to breathe to be able to get through this. If I could just keep breathing...
He gave me ten more hits with the paddle. Then he curled up next to me, lightly tracing his fingers over the bruises blooming on my ass. I felt safe and comforted by him, and any doubts that I had about my transgressions and my rules were gone. My mind was clear and we were starting a new day.
An hour later, in the car to his house, I dozed lightly in the front seat of the car. He kept his hand on my leg and, when we got to the house, he picked me up and carried me inside.
Office
I sit in my office and try to work, but I am distracted. I am thinking about the paddle that I bought this morning. It is my bag, nestled there where no one can see it. I am thinking about my new rules and how I will handle them in the future.
My cheeks are already burning in anticipation of the punishment that I will face tomorrow night. The anticipation is the worst. He has grown calm and determined about my punishment in the last few days. He is not angry, but he is serious about what happened and ensuring that it never happens again. He is serious that I learn my lesson and that I take on the new burdens that he has set out for me.
I wonder how many hits with the paddle I will receive, then I quickly put this thought out of my mind. I must remember to breathe, I must repeat my rules to myself to keep calm, but I cannot panic. I cannot worry about how much more of the pain I will have to bear.
I receive an e-mail from my friend Anne, who wants to meet me for drinks after work next week. I am ready for this. I do not respond right away. Instead, I forward her e-mail to Him and ask if it is okay for me to meet with her. I wait impatiently, drumming my fingers on my desk as I will him to respond that I may.
I sit there, waiting, wondering, worrying, anticipating, fretting, dreaming.
My assistant comes into my office from the outer office area with a file for my meeting and I put all of these thoughts away. I close my e-mail and hope that there will be a response from him when I return. I stand up behind my desk and straighten my hair in an attempt to look pulled together, like the serious businesswoman that I am supposed to be. I take the file and, stepping over my bag with the paddle in it, I head toward my meeting.
My cheeks are already burning in anticipation of the punishment that I will face tomorrow night. The anticipation is the worst. He has grown calm and determined about my punishment in the last few days. He is not angry, but he is serious about what happened and ensuring that it never happens again. He is serious that I learn my lesson and that I take on the new burdens that he has set out for me.
I wonder how many hits with the paddle I will receive, then I quickly put this thought out of my mind. I must remember to breathe, I must repeat my rules to myself to keep calm, but I cannot panic. I cannot worry about how much more of the pain I will have to bear.
I receive an e-mail from my friend Anne, who wants to meet me for drinks after work next week. I am ready for this. I do not respond right away. Instead, I forward her e-mail to Him and ask if it is okay for me to meet with her. I wait impatiently, drumming my fingers on my desk as I will him to respond that I may.
I sit there, waiting, wondering, worrying, anticipating, fretting, dreaming.
My assistant comes into my office from the outer office area with a file for my meeting and I put all of these thoughts away. I close my e-mail and hope that there will be a response from him when I return. I stand up behind my desk and straighten my hair in an attempt to look pulled together, like the serious businesswoman that I am supposed to be. I take the file and, stepping over my bag with the paddle in it, I head toward my meeting.
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