The Gift

He came to see me today.
A brief lunchtime tryst.
And he brought me a present.

A flogger.
A beautiful flogger.
A beautiful flogger that he had made just for me.

Soft skin, of a soft light brown, with knots towards the ends of the tails for weight to increase the thud, and little serpent's tongues at the very ends of the tails to increase the sting. He took it out of the bag right after he came in the door and I melted.

Such a beautiful thing.
I'd never been flogged before.
I had told him that.
I had told him I wanted to be.
And he bought me this gift.
Made just for me.

It hurt.
But not as badly as when he canes me
with that awful cherry wood strip.
It hurt a lot when he flogged my breasts.
They still burn.
I love the burn.
He flogged my pussy, too, I think.
But first he flogged my ass.
Not so hard at first, and then harder.

None of it was all that bad.

He pulled back this time. I'd had an odd reaction to his previous visit, to all the brutal, continuing, repeated pain on his previous visit, and he rethought things and revised his plan and figured out a way to still hurt me without shutting me down. Perhaps that is when he ordered this beautiful flogger for me. I don't know. But this time he didn't use the nasty wooden strip at all. And even his torture of my nipples seemed subdued. And the one thing he used to do to me that not only hurt but scared me about the possibility of real damage - he pulled way back on that. He achieved what he wanted with words and just the right touch.

He says he knows things about me that I don't know about myself, things that no one else knows, and he is right. He hurt me less and now I speak of his building it back up so that he can hurt me more, I beg him to hurt me more, to satisfy the beast a bit more, though I am not a masochist and can never truly satisfy the beast and don't in fact want to encounter him in the woods at night. I am grateful he has his slave for that.

It was a joyous meeting, and if I have been in subspace for the rest of the day, it is a space filled with elation. He called me his pet, and said that I did well, he said that I pleased him, and I am rejoicing.

I felt that I disappeared into him. I knelt naked before him and looked into his eyes and he twisted my nipples and the pain rose through me and I spoke of my devotion, I spoke of my service, and I spoke of how I was melting into him.

I said I was his whore, I said I was his slave, and those words made me happy. But later I realized that I had it wrong. Because I'm not any of those things, or any other things.

All I am is his.
I am part of him.
And after that
I will serve him in any way he wishes.

And now I must get ready for bed, and then do my exercises for him. Lights out by 11:30. He spanked me for the nights I was late getting to bed. I must take his commands more seriously.

And there are 2 treats for me tonight.

1. I asked if I might sleep with the flogger tonight and he said yes - despite his concerns that he is being too indulgent.

2. I have been allowed 15 minutes of writing to him.

He may be evil - and do not doubt that he is evil. The handle of that beautiful flogger is ringed with upholstery tacks to hold on the trim, with which he cut 2 scratches into the side of my burning left breast. He always marks me when he is here. So yes, he is evil. But still, he is very good to me.

And so I have been snared.