Monday, February 14, 2011


He wanted to hurt me.
Oh my, how he wanted to hurt me.
He was nearly distraught with needing to hurt me.
He wanted to torture me.
He likes that word.
And it seems appropriate.

He enjoys inflicting pain.
He gets pleasure from inflicting pain.
And he gets special pleasure from inflicting it on me.
He enjoys making me suffer.
He gorges himself on my screams and squirms.

I screamed and squirmed a lot.
I don't know how many times he struck me.
Counting is not a task I've ever been assigned.
There is nothing to distract me from the pain.

He started right in.
No warm up.
He never eases into it.
This isn't a sex game.
There is no point in making it easier for me.
I take my position facing the wall, offering my butt, and he beats me.

The strip of cherry wood he uses as a cane.
The large wooden spoon.
The beautiful bi-color flogger that hurts like hell
when he swings it hard against already sore flesh.
His hand, large and hard and merciless.
And something else.
Something he took out of his bag.
I had no idea what it was.
He whipped me with it.
And it hurt.
It really hurt.

Everything hurt.
Everything still hurts.
A lot.

There are all sorts of marks on my butt. He examined it by the light from the window and noted the bruises and welts and who knows what else. Now I'm in my pyjamas, sitting up in bed, and the pain is even worse than it was earlier.

Plus my nipples are sore.
Sore and red.
He bound me to a straight-back chair and flogged my tits and torso.
Scared the shit out of me.
It actually didn't hurt that much.
But having my tits flogged is so scary that the only way he can really do it is by restraining me, and this was the first time he'd done it. He's actually not into bondage - more important to him is a willing offering, willing suffering no matter what he does.

There is so much more I could say.
About the chain.
About my fear.
About his fierceness.
About the special union that comes from the dance of torture and suffering.

But I'm going to stop now.
I'm not sure that I can go over it again.
Not tonight.
And I'm in a lot of pain.

Perhaps I'll feel better lying on my side...


_sub_girl said...

You lucky, lucky girl. How I miss the torment and pain a strong Sadist is capable of so lovingly applying.

If He'd be so kind, I would *love* to know what the implement was that he removed from his bag which hurt so much.


KellyRed said...

Was it worth it? That is the question. Were you able to watch his face? or were you too absorbed in the pain? I would love to be able to watch his face...

oatmeal girl said...

_sub_girl - I am lucky in general to have such a rich and challenging relationship. I don't know that I would think to call myself lucky to have been beaten. None of it was for me, and wouldn't call anything about it loving. What does reflect the way he treasures me is how he fights off the urge to hurt me VERY badly. In fact, he doesn't usually allow himself to use me in this way, for fear the beast will take over and inflict such severe harm that it would destroy us both.

Here, too, I am lucky in that he has others who he can torture most severely, including his masochist slave. I am NOT a masochist, but I am happy when he allows himself to beat me because of the pleasure it gives him and the relief from the pressure of his desires.

I did ask him what he whipped me with. It was nothing more than a pair of speaker cables for his computer. He specifically said I should point out that they were not coaxial cables, and then proceeded to discuss the efficacy of electric wire as an implement. He likes to sue everyday objects, although he did have his slave make the flogger for using on me. Through trial and error, it was designed especially to suit my low level of pain tolerance.

Kelly - was it worth it? Oh yes. Except that between the pain and the wind and the cats being restless (probably due to the wind), I can't sleep tonight and this am up replying to your comments.

It was worth it because I gave him what he needed. It was worth it because of the connection it creates. It was worth it because it was another way to show how fully I have given myself to him. And yes, although it hurt a lot (and I do NOT enjoy the pain) it results in an intensity that nothing else can achieve.

I cannot see his face. When he beats me I am standing facing the wall, or down on the ground on knees and forearms, or torso on the futon. Even when he flogged my breasts while I was bound to the chair, he was on standing to the side of me and I was looking straight forward.

I do get to see his face as he hurts me, though. Regularly. I kneel before him, my eyes linked with his, as he squeezes and twists my left nipple with his right thumb and forefinger. This happens every time we are together. He is looking deep inside me, to see how the pain is taking me to that place, and I see how he is seeing into me and how by hurting me he is pulling me to him, joining me with him... oh yes, it happened in another way this time. The chain was clipped tight around my neck the entire length of his visit and long after he left. I was kneeling before him, attending to his cock. He pulled the chain down my back, lodged it in the valley between my ass cheeks and settled it into my pussy, and then pulled up. Hard. This was the one pain I did like and it had an extraordinary effect on me. I had this intense sense of how he possesses me... the words don't do it justice... and it took me to an even deeper place than usual... he saw it in my eyes, and I saw the fierceness and satisfaction in his.

So yes, if for that alone, it was worth it. And it relates to what he ahs been teaching me since the first time he hurt me in the smallest way. The incredible intimacy between predator and prey.

Except that I am a willing victim, and therefore not a victim at all. I lay myself down on the altar and offer my throat to the knife. (Metaphor. That's a metaphor. The knife is no longer allowed in the house. For my safety.)

Paul said...

OG, you use metaphor beautifully.
Thank you for the explanation, it helps.

Liras said...

They say that there is profound clarity in the midst of pain.

If so, I hope you have found it.