Asking for it

Throwing myself under the bus is one thing, but sometimes I am just asking for it.  I mean literally, like last night.  We were all curled up on the couch watching The Assassination of Jesse James (second half- we both fell asleep for the first half) and I leaned over to Master and said "I would really like a hard beating tonight, would that be ok?"

Yes, slaves are allowed to ask for what they want here.  Doesn't mean I'll get it, but I can always ask.  He wanted to know if I thought I'd done something wrong, but no, I hadn't, I just had that nagging need to be in pain on the floor, crying.   Why?  Who knows? Who cares.

He told me to go get  the paddle and the wooden spoon.  And put on his zombie movie.  Why do zombie movies go with ass whackings?    I trembled a little,  just a little frisson, like cresting the top of the first hill on the roller coaster. 

He started out really lightly patting me with the spoon as I laid across his lap.  Pat pat pat.   Long pause.  Pat pat pat. Impatience and patience were warring in my head.   Gradually getting harder and harder.  He used the paddle some also.  Then the Same Damn Spot song came out.   Pretty soon a large welty thing was raised on the one damn spot.   I can still feel that spot now- it has a pretty good bruise on it. 

After about half an hour he said we should move upstairs and get serious about this.   I took off my clothes, put on my bed time collar and waited, kneeling on the bedroom floor, cold. 

Master came in and pushed me over backwards, thrusting into me and fucking me just a little, before getting up and telling me to get up and grab the dresser.

Flogging first, after draping it over my face and letting me smell the leather,  then the cane, and then he got the paddle again and made some serious dents with it.   It hurt, a lot, and I started crying.   I collapsed on the ground, and got a couple more very hard whacks on the butt with the paddle.   If this were an interrogation I would have confessed to the assassination plot by now, I know I would have.  But all I did was huddle on the floor and cry.   He turned me over, and started working my front with the cane.  My hands were in the way, so he told me to spread my arms on the floor and he stood above me, on my hands, so they couldn't move.  From there he caned my breasts, not so hard as to cause agony, just hard enough that I could feel it.  And the rest of me, especially inner thighs and very sensitive cunt, got some attention too. 

He switched positions and raised my legs up in the air, meaning to cane the backs of my thighs.  I was shaking my head no, no, no.  Whack, whack and some more whacks right in the most sensitive spots.  Really hard, or at least it seemed so to me.   I was shaking my head no,no and crying again.   Then he fucked me and I was completely flying.  That is the best, just simply the best, after all the pain and orgasms (I had a lot of orgasms during the beating) to be fucked hard from behind.