Yes, he flogged my pussy

There, does that excite you? The thought of me lying there, lying on my back, knees up, knees parted, holding my legs open as he brought the falls down on my inner thighs and my outer labia and then right on my clitoris, does that excite you?

It hurt.
It definitely hurt.
But it could have hurt a whole lot more.

He flogged my ass first, and my back, hard. I could tell there was force in the swing of his arm. He flogged my buttocks and up over my ass and down onto the backs of my thighs and even some on my back, and yes. It hurt. But not that much. He flogged me but he didn't have to hold back to protect me because he had already taken the steps to protect me when he designed this beautiful, gentle, soft brown and bright turquoise flogger.

Before he left, my beloved Master said that I could blog about his visit. So take the above as my blogging about the visit. Because honestly, I have no desire to say anything more than that.

Yesterday, not for the first time, I wrote that he is not my lover. But today... I'll happily put on display his sadism and my submission and his manipulations and my capitulations. But our intimacy?

I can't even dance around my memories of our hour together without choking on tears that rise in my throat and sting my eyes like sweet, intoxicating Cointreau. These belong to me. To me and to him. To us, for there is an Us, however unconventional our form of us-ness may be.

I said to him - I belonged to you from the moment you discovered me.
I said - I had no choice.
I said - neither one of us had a choice.

He didn't argue.