I was standing in front of the the wishing tree feeling emotional.
I had just put my second wish on it and was pondering vaguely on Saturday afternoon.
Master turned to look at someone coming up behind us, but when he didn't say anything my mind dismissed those footstep noises as not relevant to me. If it was someone we knew, he'd say something, right?
Unless they were planning a sneaky surprise attack, that is!
I found myself being dragged off by the hair to a hitching post. I reached up to touch Shep's hand. My fluttering wet-leaf hand laid on top of his rock hard one. The instinctive begging motion was ignored. At the post he let go and I grabbed on to it to brace myself for several hard, deeply thuddy impacts.
Unfortunately, there was already someone at the post- kneeling quietly behind it from the end of her scene, none of us saw her, and now it was too late to take back the disrupted headspace she suffered. I started to apologize but don't know if anyone heard. She and her Dom moved away.
I was being pounded from behind again, hard. I protested, tried to turn and even defend myself, but was quickly shoved back into place by a grip in my hair. I have no idea what he was using, but the impacts felt like they were going to break me in half at times. Soon I was crying and snotting all down my face. I had to ask to have it not so hard on my upper back, which was really frightening to me. He then worked over my ass good and hard, and then it was over, we shared hugs all around and Master gave me his handkerchief. Master is the only person I know who has a white linen handkerchief on his person at all times- even while camping.
I am still poking my many delightful bruises from this beating!
Ah, masochism. I'm pretty sure getting beaten by the Wishing Tree is extra insurance of wishes coming true. Sacrifice, it is traditional.
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