Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Knots and lashes

A flogger lives in my bed.
The flogger my Master had ordered be made for him to use on me.

He has rarely used it on me.

This was the first time. When I struggled to keep from protecting my breasts from the knotted ends of the strips of leather. When I struggled to keep my legs open so that he could flog my tender cunt.

And this was the last time, when he gave me a taste of what he could do, as I stood facing the wall, my bottom thrust towards him, my buttocks presented for flogging, feeling the pain of the flogging which was as nothing to what I felt when he slashed at my pussy.

I am not a masochist.
I don't need pain, not the way some speak of needing pain.
But there is something about the pain of being flogged...

I told him that I am drawn to the flogger... that I don't quite know why, but there is something about it... something about this particular type of pain...

I will admit here that I want it, although I know that he has given me only a taste of what it can do. Something in me wants it. Something in me wants it for more than 2 minutes. I think it will do something to me... for me... if we had time... and he flogged me enough for the pain to possess me...

No. Not the pain. Not so much the pain as the experience of being flogged. Do you understand the difference? Can you explain to me the difference?

Something about an extended flogging... I think it would be another way for him to impress on me the absoluteness of his ownership of me. And to teach me - by demonstrating how willingly I suffer for him - how deep and pure is my submission.

What I said to him (minus typos) was:

i'm drawn to it
i don't quite know why
again, i don't LIKE pain
but there are certain kinds of pain
certain implements...
they reach something.
i will give myself to it, my Lord.
for you.
i'm not sure how to say this...
i think it will draw things out of me, my Lord.
that you will draw things out of me with it.
i remember that first time...
how i automatically protected my breasts...
you had to physically open me up...
and keep reminding me to spread my legs...
there's that balance of fear and trust.
not trusting that you won't hurt me.
because you WILL hurt me.
but trusting that you are my Master and i must submit.

Hurt me, my Lord.
Let me suffer for you.
Read my pain in my eyes.
Read my love in my eyes.
Then send me back to work
with my butt covered in welts
and my face wincing with pain
from the flogger's sadistic kisses.
I will squirm in my seat
blessing the burning
and blossoming bruises
that remind me I'm yours.


mamacrow said...

I do understand the difference. I'm not sure I can explain it either.. except - maybe - part of loving my hubby spanking, for me, is to do with the particular kind of intamcy...

not sure I can be more articulate than that...

Paul said...

OG, do you feel that the floggings are like the hallmark's the Artist places on his best work.
You say that it makes you even more submissive, and more His.
Love and warm hugs,

Danger Girl said...

I think floggings are like a heavy caress. Its a thuddy pain (well, can be stingy but usually thuddy) and seems to rock my whole body. It overwhelms me and makes me feel helpless.

Whips are a caress, a hiss, a sting. Canes are sharp and firey and wicked. But none of them move through your entire body the way floggers do.

nancy said...

I can't explain the difference but there is one.

Longer time spent does impress upon one the total submission that is given...( if that makes sense)

And oh.. to have a flogger living in your bed.. deliciously intimate and in your face~