I hate it. I want it. I need it. Please, Sir, whip away my sins!

My bruises disappoint me.
The brevity of my punishment disappoints me.
I expected more.
I expected worse.
I was relieved when it ended.
Scared and grateful when he beat me again.
It wasn't enough.
As a punishment it wasn't enough.
Cleanse me, Sir.
Whip my guilt away.
Tie down my arms so I can't
protect
my tits from your belt.
Make me suffer enough to atone.

I can never suffer enough to atone.

And it did do the job.
Even though you didn't choke me.
Even though the chain stayed out of your hands,
away from that most vulnerable
hole
between my legs.
You didn't bring a new
strip
of wood
to use as a
cane
in place of the one I angrily discarded
when I left you.

You were my Tam Lin
but I didn't hold on
as
enchanted
you changed from one
fearsome beast
to another.
I was scared.
I was angry.
So I ran.
And then looked for you in
every
other
man
I met.

Can your belt beat out of me that guilt?

Not really.
Not ever.

But spanking my pussy as you held my legs apart
Whipping with anger, with love and with lust
You slashed to shreds my stubborn will
As if with the knife you're
forbidden
to bring in the house
closing your ears and sadistic soul to the
siren song of
my belly.

I sobbed.
I suffered.
I surrendered my soul.
And offered myself to
everything

everything

I ran from before.

Oh Matron Saint of Foolish Vows,
please help me keep my word!