Sunday, August 5, 2012

St. Andrew's Cross in a Condo Dungeon

Boys do have their fantasies.

The fiend has had this one for years.
To watch me being beaten.

I'm going to hurt you, he said.
I know, I said.
We were at the condo of one of the Others.
We had met a couple of years ago.
Since then, her dominant side had been blossoming.
She was a domme-in-training.
And he had offered me as a guinea pig.
He had offered me to her Saint Andrew's Cross.

She lives with 2 well-established dominants, one male, one female. The woman was training her. It  was her equipment. And her dungeons.

We...

I'm having trouble writing... I'm being besieged by contractions in my womb, and pulsing, squeezing, screaming of my pussy muscles.

The dungeon.
We went upstairs.
To a tiny room the size of a walk-in closet next to her bedroom.
The bedroom held her king-size bed and not much more.

The Dungeon...
It had the needed equipment.
But shouldn't it have some atmosphere?

It served the purpose.

The fiend settled himself down into a chair.
Observing.
I stood obediently facing the cross.
I was very calm.
I held on as told,
presented wrists and ankles to be nominally bound,
leaned forward into the empty triangle above where the beams crossed
and thrust out my ass the way I know Daddy likes it.

It began feeling like a warm-up. Mostly it never got much worse. Or it didn't feel much worse. The endorphins were kicking in and it must have been worse because even tonight my butt hurts and bruises have blossomed and there are neat parallel welts from the canes and later, when I'd been released and told to lie on the bed on my belly, Daddy took up a single-tail and brought it down just a few times on my butt and ohmigod the cut of the graceful tail end was so delicious. I looked back, I saw him with it in his hand, preparing to again bring it down on my ass and it looked so beautiful... And there was joy because now he was the one hurting me.

Still, it was good the way it was.
It was safer.
If he had taken me to a dungeon,
whatever the atmosphere,
and caned and flogged and whipped me all on his own,
he might easily have lost control
and hurt me in a way he would have regretted after.
This way,
watching,
directing,
rejoicing in the sight of me,
in the sound of me,
I was safe,
and he was fed,
and I enjoyed the variety of sensations,
and especally,
most of all,
delighted in the experience,
knowing,
always knowing,
that it was for his pleasure.

That I was making him happy.

And that I was with him on a Saturday night just hours after he returned from his vacation when I had thought we'd be apart for weeks more. Back from a vacation in a hotel, where he felt me, expected to see me, and wished... oh yes, he did say this... he wished I had been there with him.

He missed me.
He said so.
In words.

And now he is planning some special trips.
For the two of us.
Overnight.
In a hotel.

As for the pain.
The flogging.
The whipping.
The cross.
I suspect it will happen again.
And maybe,
then,
he will take me a little further.
Maybe he will allow himself to hurt me himself.
Maybe...
please...
my ass...
the whip...

Girls have their fantasies, too.

2 comments:

billierosie said...

So completely and utterly arousingly sexy! Wow! You are blessed to have such a Master...

mamacrow said...

wow. you've come a long way if something that left wealts and marks and bruising didn't really HURT at the the time!

overnight trips? Hotels? Special trips for the two of you? *happy dancing*