He hurt me.
A lot.
But then I hurt him.
So I suppose that's fair.
If only we all had such a direct, physical way to respond to those who hurt us emotionally.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
And that, aside from a few jotted notes, was as much as I wrote on Tuesday about the sadist's visit.
And sadistic it was.
Sadistic and cruel and painful and deserved.
He did beat the shit out of me.
Well, maybe some of you wouldn't have felt it as such.
But for me?
Definitely.
And I'm still in pain.
He beat me again and again with the strip of cherry wood he uses as a cane. There are impressive bruises forming on both butt cheeks, with noticeable swelling on the right one. He scratched his initial into the soft, pale skin of my belly with the tines of the fork from the delicious and healthy salad lunch I prepared for him. He went over and over on the same spot, scraping, digging, marking. There are bruises there, too, as well as remaining marks from the fork.
He beat my pussy.
I lay on my back with my head hanging over the end of the bed
and he beat my pussy.
My head hung over the end of the bed
and I sucked his cock
and he beat my pussy.
Hard.
Repeatedly.
Not with my lovely flogger.
But with the wooden spoon.
The back of the wooden spoon
smashing down again and again
so that bruises have formed there, too.
He beat the shit out of my pussy
and it hurt like hell
and after a while I could not keep my legs open
and he kept beating me
and I was told "No frozen peas."
He abused me emotionally.
He said so himself.
He deliberately said things to hurt me
and he did hurt me
and I deserved it
because of how I hurt him.
And now?
We're talking.
He's trying to help me.
He's being cautious,
convinced that if he is too nice to me
I'll see him as weak
and lose respect.
I don't think it's that.
Or maybe mostly not that.
I don't know any more.
I'm not liking myself all that much.
Yesterday I hated myself.
I'm seeing things...
But we are talking.
I'm trying to understand.
Trying to learn.
Not because he beat the shit out of me.
But because I belong to him.
And because I love him.
And because the only way I want to live is on the end of his chain.
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3 comments:
Do you hurt him on purpose, o.g.? So that you will be repaid in kind? Or is it unintentional? Or spiteful? Or what?
It was emotional pain, not physical pain, as referred to in recent posts. And it was not at all intentional. I love him. I wouldn't hurt him for the world. But I did. Just when he had opened himself and his affections to me, and made himself vulnerable.
I am working at trying to understand why. To understand what happened. Because as it stands, it limits the way he can conduct this relationship - and the way he can enjoy me.
It hurts us both, far worse than an strip of wood possibly could.
o.g.
i wish there was a magic potion i could offer to remove your fear and self-doubt.
you are worthy to love, you know.
i can feel it, sense it, and i've never even met you.
Trust Him. Fully releasing Yourself, to be open to the possiblity of being loved that much, so much that He is free to give you as much pain as He chooses?
That's a huge, huge gift for and from *both* of You.
Some times...you just have to...leap.
i did.
scared the fuck outta me.
it was the stupidest thing i ever did.
but like Peter Pan, and Tinkerbell...i believed in Him.
and it's so much better than good.
i so wish that for you, and your Master.
Hugs,
nilla
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