The new flogger

He has it.

My Master is now in possession of my new flogger.
Of his new flogger.
His new flogger made to his specifications.
His new flogger made to use on me.

He broke the first one on my butt last November. The tail section flew off the handle, and ever since he has been whipping me with the lashes held in his powerful hand. He's gotten plenty of pain out of it, at least as far as I could tell. Because as we all know, it doesn't take much to get a scream out of me. I see videos of other submissives being caned or flogged or tawsed, and for the longest time all you hear from them are grunts. Me? A big scream right off the bat, or at the very least a small scream for a mild potch in tukhes.

Still. A flogger... it draws me... he will hurt me and I want him to hurt me even though I don't actually crave the pain.

I crave his pleasure.
That is all that matters.
His pleasure.
And he wants to hurt me.

I will lie there on the bed, of my own free well, or else tightly bound because that will please him but still of my own free will. My eyes will be open and I will be looking up at him and at his grip on the flogger and I will know that he will hurt me. My arms will be spread and my legs will be spread, wide as they will go, and my tits will be the target and my cunt will be the target and I will struggle not to protect myself and I will scream and sob each time he strikes me and I will beg him to hurt me.

He will have the new flogger in his hand and I will beg him to hurt me.

Now that's a pretty dumb thing to beg a sadist to do, don't you think?

But my plea will be honest.

What, after all, can one give a sadist?
I give him my love.
I give him my body.
I give him obedience
and vulnerability.
And I give him my pain.
Willingly, lovingly,
I give him my pain.

I've said before that all that matters is what he wants. At the beginning, as I fell under his spell, I thought OK, right, whatever, the whole thing had me so turned on and beside myself that I just went along without really thinking about it. It took a while to sink in, and then it took a while to gain meaning, and then it took a while to become real.

And now it is.
It is very real.

The only thing that matters is his pleasure.
He owns me.
I obey.
I offered him my service.
I offered him my suffering.
And I learned that my greatest joy comes from his satisfaction.

I'm not worried about the flogger. I will suffer for him - he will enjoy my pain - but probably the greatest gift will be my willing acceptance of the torture. Tonight as we talked I was wishing I weren't sick, I was wishing he had been here with me, I was begging him to hurt me.

Because what can I give a man who has given me so much, who has taught me so much, who has freed me from my chains while wrapping me in his own?

I give him my love.
And I give him my trust - by giving him my pain.

The flogger was designed to be used on me,
based on an intimate knowledge of what I can handle.

I will struggle against the pain.
I will suffer from the pain.

And when it's all over,
and he calls me his good girl,
and I take his cock in my mouth,
and I swim in the sweet scent of him,
and I channel his orgasm...

I will know that he treasures the gift of my pain,
and that I am his treasured pet.

I love you, my Master.