The other night I had the brilliant idea of asking Master if I had any little hairs left from when I had hurriedly shaved. I swear sometimes things pop out of my mouth bypassing my brain filter entirely.
I lay on the floor with my legs open for inspection.
He picked up his lighter. "You might regret asking that".
I lay still as he told me, "No whimpering, be quiet now".
I reminded myself that my cunt belongs to him and if he wants to burn it that is his decision. For some reason that makes me relax just enough that I can make myself hold still. At least until the first slight heat touches me and then I jump automatically. He burned off a few hairs, but it wasn't going fast enough so he began yanking them out with his fingers instead. I guess I did leave a few :(. We had to get back downstairs. I was good and quiet.
Later on that night, when our guests had gone, he told me to fetch him the cutting board paddle and be naked when I got back.
I started to turn around and bend over in front of him, but he told me, "No, face me. Arms straight out to the sides."
I stood as he directed and he used the paddle on my breasts, my thighs, my arms, all over pretty much, before he directed me to turn around and bend over. He gave me some solid whacks, then pulled me over his lap. His hand felt good after the hardness of the wooden paddle. Shortly he switched back to it though.
He had me stand and started lecturing me about my handling of a situation earlier in the evening in which I had lost my temper. How I should do better next time. Each of his statements hurt twice as much as the paddle strikes that interspersed them. I was crying when he stopped and tipped my chin up toward him. He slapped me, twice, then told me I was forgiven. One more tear, and I dried it up. Forgiven. Relief.
He sent me upstairs to wait for him. When he came in he ordered me to crawl to him and remove his shoes and socks. I did so, gratefully. I had been crying again, for the utterly stupid reason that there was a huge pile of clothes to sort sitting on the ironing board, and I just couldn't face the mess. My mother in law brought a huge suitcase of clothes for me. Some are the wrong color or size, and I just couldn't stand dealing with them or looking at them at that moment. The reason isn't always the reason, however.
After I had undressed him, he ordered me to lie on the floor face down. He beat me with the belt as I lay as still as I could. I love his belt. He got me once right between the cheeks, which stung for a good long time. He rolled me over and whipped my cunt lightly with the belt, then he got down on the floor with me and brought the flame of the lighter between my legs.
I was resigned to my fate by now. I was a bit out of my head, or something. Anyway, I barely remember what happened.
When he was done with that he told me go get my turquoise silk slip and put it on. That slip. It is pretty and comfortable and real silk, and I can still wear it over twenty years later. He told me he wanted me to think about the one who gave it to me. It wasn't him.
There is some history here, perfect for sadistic exploitation. Back in college he kind of a thing for this one girl that I
disliked. She tried to seduce him at least once. Also, she was dating our roommate for awhile, and spent a lot of nights over at our house. We lived in a three bedroom house with 2 or 3 others back then.
She gave me this silk
slip as a wedding shower present.
Later on she told my Master privately that every time I wore it she
wanted him to think of her. He told me about that incident, but not until twenty
years after the fact, and my thought was
"Ha, what a bitch! I knew
As he fucked me that night, I was wearing that slip for him, and he described going to see her, described in detail fucking her after she seduced him, then coming home to rub his cunt-smelling dick in my face. Rubbing my face in my status as property with no say, no rights. None of this ever happened, but as a emotionally masochistic fantasy it is disturbingly hot for me to imagine.
I feel so lowly, so owned, so powerless. It is a huge turn on.
Then he turns me over to fuck me from behind. It feels so good, hits so right on that one spot, I never want to stop, and he is getting close to coming, but asks me if I've had enough fucking.
I answer, as I have to, "Whatever you want, Master". He asks me again; then I'm allowed an opinion. I say I would like more fucking please, Master. He makes me beg. And beg some more.
He tells me there will be a price for more. Greedy cunt. I have a ruined orgasm. It's a set of contractions and release of tension without the pleasure. He doesn't tell me the price, he just goes on fucking for a long time and I don't find out what it will be until the next morning.
When I have to describe the above fantasy for him.
Worth it? Oh yeah.
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He took off his belt. I watched out of the corner of my eye. My mouth was busy. I was on my knees. I saw the belt doubled over....