flogging

Originally posted on January 2, 2008. Retrieved from the Way Back Machine archive on December 1, 2008.

With my ass now red and burning, He tells me to stand before Him and to undress Him. I want Him more than ever, I want to serve Him, I want to have His cock in my mouth. He instructs me to turn around and He cuffs my hands behind me, then as I am standing before Him, He ties rope around my breasts, binding them and places clamps on both my nipples. After giving the clamps a quick tug, He retrieves the flogger from His bag. The rope is tied tightly around each breast and is also cinched up around my neck, lifting my breasts upwards. He takes the chain that is attached to the nipple clamps and places it in my mouth, stretching my nipples, instructing me not to drop it.

I hold the chain tightly in my teeth, careful not to let go. As He begins to strike my breasts, I raise my head more, increasing the tension on the clamps. His strokes are steady, each lash landing with a combined thud and sting, as the ends of the tails contact my breasts and strained nipples. Although my face is turned up, my eyes are cast down. The bondage, the position, the sound and sensation of the flogger all work together to bring my mind and my will to the place of surrender. My surrender of self, I am His, I exist for His use and His diversion. While my flagellation deepens my surrender, it also awakens me. Each stroke increases the pain, but also my pleasure. I relish the pain as it mixes with ecstacy, every lash sends a jolt through my cunt. My wrists pull hard at the cuffs, my body writhes under the assault, but my lust and yearning increase with the blows. I feel my wetness flow between my legs, I am electrified and alive. I step back and my shoulders round in to retreat, but at the same time I want more. The joining of pleasure and pain, the juxtaposition of my senses and sensablilities, has aroused and excited me. I feel so alive, so turned on, I want Him! I want Him to use me to sate His desires.

My breasts are taut from the bindings and red from His lashes. He directs me in front of the mirror. He tells me; Look at yourself, bound and clamped. I want you to see how beautiful you are. He removes the chain from my teeth and cupping my breasts in His hands, He unclamps my nipples. I gasp at the burn of the blood rushing back.

I am His possession, His toy, His pet. I am beautiful, because He tells me that I am. I am His canvas, His medium, to create and form as He envisions.

"All truth passes through three stages. First, it is ridiculed. Second, it is violently opposed. Third, it is accepted as being self-evident."
~ Arthur Schopenhauer