A blog from a woman on a journey of discovery.

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Tuesday, 20 September 2011

He counted the marks from his belt

What he was fixing up was a a selection of ropes. In the ceiling of the bedroom, was an old oak  beam, with the roof exposed above the beam. He called me upstairs, and looked at the ropes. He had arranged them so there were two loops to go over my wrists and another one for my neck, they were tied so that they wouldn't tighten or loosen if I moved, but as I stood while he tied them, I could feel them snug against my skin.

He talked to me while he was tying them, talked about our day and how much he had enjoyed it, he talked about eh ropes,a nd he talked about what was going to happen to me. He told me that he would be downstairs while i was upstairs waiting, and he would be up in a while to see that I was ok. He turned the small television on and left.

The television programme was boring, it was about antiques, but mainly it was people having their ego massaged by the  specialist confirming what they already knew, and most of them left with smug smiles on their faces, only a few genuine surprises. The volume was loud enough for me to hear it, but not so loud as to fill my head. I soon lost interest in the programme and began to think about the week ahead, hoping for things that we would do, places we may visit. I thought about what had happened so far, I smiled to myself remembering and also knowing that there would be bits that I would never remember.

My arms began to ache a little, but by shifting I could change the pull on them so as to make it bearable and the rope around my neck was fine. I found by moving my head I could actually rest it against my ear and lean on it.

I remember drifting off a little and going into a daydreaming like state, not for any other reasons than I could.

I remember thinking that he hadn't come up to see my and knowing how long the television programme was on for, I knew I had been there about an hour. It crossed my mind that maybe he had fallen asleep downstairs and had forgotten me, or maybe he was eating the dinner I had prepared,, but I couldn't smell it.
Time seemed to seep away, seeping out from under the door, and this time, I did really did drift off, not to sleep, but to that place where the control runs through you,fills your head, empties your head of other things and you know that the waiting is the important part, because it is the start of what is to come.

The next thing I recall is his hands undoing the rope around my neck and his standing behind me, his hand gently rubbing my arse................and the word floated in the air....


I didn't speak...I just nodded.....and his hand came down on my arse cheek, hard and fast, full on, making a  loud loud noise, immediately filling my head, taking away all other thoughts. I began to focus on the feel of his hand on my skin, not the pain, but the feel of him...if it was his whole hand, or if it was a glancing blow; stinging, or the full hand. Feeling the warmth of his skin.

The spanking continued for a long time, and I began to cry. He stopped and stood in front of me, looking deep into my eyes.

"Why are you crying slave, does it hurt?"
I nodded and replied that yes, it did hurt.
He smiled again, "No floating off slave, now you are to count"

And with each spank, I counted and thanked him , aroud the sixty mark I was struggling, so he stopped for a while and told me there would be ten more...and there were...ten of the hardest he has ever given me.
But I continued to count, because I have found from experience, if I don't it will all start again. There were moments when he had to wait for me to say the number, but we got there in the end.

 And then he took his belt off..........................I felt the first one, I didnt count.................................

His hands reached up to me and he undid the rope from the beam and carefully lowered my arms and moved me to the end of the bed, bent me over the bed and used the rope to tie my arms to the bedhead and he fucked me; ramming himself hard into me,until he was spent.

My arse was on fire, my arms hurt, my chest was heaving and my cunt was bruised and battered from his use.

He undid my hands once more, untying the ropes and rubbing my wrists and he held me in his arms, stroking my hair, telling me he was pleased with me, that he was happy, that I was his girl, his good girl and that from now until I went back, he would use me like this, one way or another.

He wrapped me in the blanket he had brought from home, and lead me downstairs to eat.
I wasn't hungry and didn't want to eat, but he fed me bits of the meal, making me eat and then telling me I could clear up later, he sat me at his feet, still wrapped in the blanket and I fell asleep.

Later, as cleaned my teeth before going to bed he showed me my arse and my back. My arse was turning blue with deep bruises, and across my arse and back you could see the marks of the edge of the belt where he had whipped it across me.

He rubbed the cream into them , , running his finger along them, and counting them..."next time slave you will count the belt as well" and he pulled me close to him and  we drifted off tosleep

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