I had a major meltdown yesterday morning while we were playing, that I had to mull over... my main lesson being that punching him only leads to bruising my hand. Also, a slave can run, but where ya gonna go when it is 10 degrees and you're naked?
I need to start back at the beginning I guess.
We started out with a long session of sucking cock. For the first few hours (ok, I may be exaggerating here) it was so good to be between his knees on the floor. He'd allowed me to turn up the heat in the house so we could play without freezing. I was enjoying his hard cock, and pleasing him, and being warm for a change.
Then my lips began to go numb, my legs were aching from kneeling and a cock sucking callous was growing in my mouth. Still, I kept on. He told me to go get him an implement. I brought down the cane and he used it on me as I sucked more. It is difficult to concentrate that way, but I did my best.
He told me to get his foot between my legs and he allowed me to hump on it. This is fairly humiliating, but by then I was so horny I didn't care, I just wanted something, anything, rubbing my cunt. Even his foot.
I begged to cum. He made me wait. And wait. It was agonizing, and even more distracting than the cane, which was still coming down on me at irregular intervals. He chided me a bit for not sucking as well, so I tried harder, sucked harder, tighter. I guess it was good enough, because he told me to cum then. That rocked my world.
After a few more hours (or so) he took me upstairs and fucked me. I started giving him teasing looks and asked playfully if he wanted me to struggle and try to get away. He said if I managed to get away he was going to fuck my ass.
That caused a dilemma in my mind. Sure, ass sex is fun. But it hurts. But it is fun. But it hurts. I did some minor, not very convincing, struggling. I flipped over on my stomach, which is always a mistake, because that is the easiest way for him to pin my arms behind my back, and I now couldn't even pretend to struggle, merely to wave my feet uselessly. With all his weight pressing down on me, his cock buried deep in my cunt, fucking me, I was truly stuck. He orgasmed. I orgasmed. We rolled apart.
After a while of lying together I asked if I could have a teeny bit more spanking. He thought that would be fun. He got the paddle and a few different canes and began to work over both sides of me.
At one point he had me on my back as he poised the paddle to strike and told me to raise up my legs. I did. He gave the back of my thigh a great smack. I was deep in happy sub land.
He said "That was a stupid thing to do". I was shocked. I had only obeyed him. Isn't that what he wanted?
My brain was flashing "Danger Will Robinson" signs all over the place.
I asked him to explain what he meant. He said it was stupid to raise up my legs and expose my tender thighs when I could see he was all set to hit me. I guess he only meant to humiliate me, the same as when he calls me a dumb cunt while we play, but his words struck into my heart and hurt me bad. My flashing danger signs turned into red anger.
Again, he told me to raise my legs. I said no.
Rational thought left my mind. There was only red anger: fear/humiliation/anger took over and I leaped out of bed and ran.
"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!" I shouted over and over at him as I bolted. "FUCK THIS SHIT!"
He might have been saying some things too, but I didn't hear them.
I ran down stairs and he chased me. I headed for the back door, then realized it was 10 degrees F out there, and I was totally naked. I tried to hide behind a chair, running around in circles to avoid him. He caught me anyway, grabbed me, and held me as I fought like a rabid badger against him, still shouting at him. That is when I punched him and hurt my hand. I also stomped down hard on his foot once. Then I tried to do it again to make him let go of me, but he merely moved his feet out of my way and held on.
He pushed me up against the couch to pin me. I realized with shock what I was doing. What I had done. The fight went out of me as suddenly as it had come in. I went limp and collapsed on the floor.
I cried, groveled, sniveling out abject apologies for what I had done. There was no excuse. I was hyperventilating and he was telling me to breathe. When I could do that he led me back up to bed.
We talked about what was going on in my crazy brain, why I had flipped out. He was sorry that I had taken his words the way I did. He does demand obedience. Always. Even when he uses it to hurt me more. He doesn't think I am stupid. I'm not sure I agree with him there, after this episode.
He wasn't going to punish me for this because he knew I was just hurting. I explained how I had taken his words as a direct stab into the heart of my slavery, my self. He explained that he only meant to humiliate me a little.
Forgive, not forget.
But there was still the matter of catharsis. Paying for sins.
He had me roll over on my stomach. He began beating me methodically. For a long time. It got harder and harder. He shattered one cane. He used another. Then the paddle, which made me sob and squeak and cry all the harder. I just can't take that damn paddle.
I was alternately flying and crying. Then he took a leather strap, doubled over, and I could see out of the corner of my eye, it was coming down hard across my butt and thighs. His arm was swinging down at full strength but I don't know that I could feel it much. I had a "This is going to really hurt later" feeling. And it did.
And then much later, after it was all done, after I got the piss beat out of me, in the cold, cold shower, misted only by the cold overspray as he enjoyed the hot water, I knelt willingly and happily at his feet:
"Does that taste sweet to you?"
"Oh good, I'm not getting diabetic."
Now, all my anger and fear and confusion gone, I'm left only with a profound gratitude to this man who is my Master, who will come after and catch me and hold me when I'm freaking out. He will come for me. He will keep me. He will make me obey. No matter what.
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