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....
"Ready?"
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
Showing posts with label belt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label belt. Show all posts
Tuesday, 20 September 2011
Tuesday, 22 February 2011
7x14 =98 ...a timely punishment
The next morning I had to go to more training, this time not so far away, but I was up early, but not before having my head pushed under the covers and being allowed to suck my owners cock before my breakfast. It really was a quicky before I shot out of the door.
I had to text him, on each hour until I got back, and if if was more than five minutes past the hour for any reason other than the outbreak of war or and earthquake there "Would be consequences".
I made 7am, 8.03, 9.01, 10.10,11.06, 12.00, and 13.14.
He was not impressed and I was worried.
As I drove back to him, I began to contemplate what the "consequences" may be, but, in the end I gave up, as there really is never any point.
I knocked on the door and waited for him to tell me to come in. I crept in sheepishly and knelt at his feet, near to where he was working, talking on the phone. He indicated that I should stand, and remove my clothes, all whilst he continued talking about work. He pointed to the corner of the room and continued his conversation. when he had finished I waited expectantly for him to call me, but he didn't.
"Well slave, I've checked and war has not been declared...so any good reason why some of the times you were so late?"
There was no reasons and so I mumbled into the corner of the room "No Sir".
He had me crawl over to him again and kneel at his feet.
I have been thinking of how to punish your bad manners slave, how's your maths?
Well he knows how my maths is , its good, very good and so I didn't say anything................
"Choose a number between five and ten slave...."
It's always a difficult one ....until you know the parameters of what they are planning, and then there is the whole choosing thing again, so I hesitated......he started to count from 5 backwards and I know when he gets to zero I have to have chosen..........
"Seven Sir, please, I choose seven..."
"Oh good choice slave...hows your seven times table....?"
"Not bad Sir.............".
He told me what times he had received the messages and told me to multiply the late minutes by seven...........................................
"14 times 7 Sir is 98 Sir"
"Very good slave,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,so 98 it is then."
98 what? oh how I wanted to ask him, 98 what...?all of a sudden it sounded like such a big number.
The bag was on the floor near his feet and he reached inside it.
He got out the hood, this is not a leather one or a rubber one, it is like a big dark magicians bag with a draw string..............and I hate it.
He pulled out the butt plug and laid it on the bed.
He pulled out the crop and laid it on the bed
He pulled out the belt and laid it on the bed
And he pulled out a clothes hanger, the type with the clips on for trousers or skirts and he laid that on the bed.
He pulled me up by my hair and put the hood on me pulling the drawstring tight, but not so tight I couldn't breath, and then he bend me forwards and with a little lube and big push he rammed the plug into my arse. and then he knelt me down again and said "98 minutes slave, 98".
And so for the next 98 minutes I knelt there while he watched television, made a cup of tea, called a friend and chatted about nothing significant , and "No I'm not doing anything at the moment, nothing important, of course I can talk...................yes she's here with me...no....she being punished.............." I wanted to curl up and die with shame, embarrassment and humiliation.
And after the 98 minutes when he let me out, I was like I am always, desperate to see him, to be able to touch him, to not feel isolated and alone...............but he wouldn't let me touch him. He got the cane and pointed at the hanger....................
"Pass it to me slave please."
So I picked it up and carefully passed it to him, on my hands with the hook bit facing him. he picked it up carefully and dangled it from his fingers.
He turned and went to the wardrobe, I could hear him inside and when he turned round he had something in his hands, and I realised it was the knickers I had worn under my jeans the day we went along the river. He pointed with the cane, indicating I should stand in front of him, and he put the knickers on the bed next to me. The hanger, in both hands, he moved the clips until they were lined up with my nipples. the first one he put on, closing it slowly over my nipple, the edge of the clip past my bars...........oh it hurt, that mind numbing hurt of initial pain, and then............he snapped the other one on, not gentle easing it closed............snap like a crocodile, with jaws of death.......................I cried out and as I did, he showed the knickers into my mouth. I sobbed and cried as the pain flooded from m nipple, I moaned and he stood and watched me; he just stood and watched me.
When I had calmed down a little and got my breath back, he pulled the hook of the hanger towards him and upwards. I reacted by trying to get higher, onto my toes, he pulled higher and I yelped. He put his fingers in my mouth and then followed them with the hook.
He told me to stand up straight and look at him.
He lectured me; about being late, about manners, about how or why I could possibly imagine that my time would ever be more important than his time, he asked if I had any reasonable excuse, to which I shock my head.
"I am upset that you think so little of me that you cannot find the time to send a text, that is why I am punishing you, for your bad manners and thoughtlessness".
And with that ...........he bent me over and placed my hands on the bed.....................
"You will not move and you will count and if you let the hanger fall from your mouth we will start again."
And he picked up the belt and began to use it on my arse, on my legs and on my back....49 times it hit me and I counted each one and then he put it down and picked up the cane......................and I counted, some times it took me a long time to be able to say the number, some times I was frightened that the hook would fall from my mouth, sometimes I had to think hard which number I was on............but finally I said 98 ....................and it was over.
Not all of them had been hard, not all of them had stung or hurt, but each one I had felt and each one I had counted.
He removed the butt plug and then his hands were on my hips.
"Let go of the hanger slave, ...........................its over."
So I let go and knew that it was coming off and I was afraid, afraid of the pain,...................................He unclipped them at the same time and the rush of pain overwhelmed me, I felt my knees buckle, and he put his hands under my armpits and held me steady. his hands reached across to my nipples and he squeezed them tightly, very tightly, numbing them again, and then slowly , very slowly reducing the pressure on them.
He laid me on the bed, on my stomach, and examined the view...............
"How may times did I punish you slave?"
"98 Sir"
"How many minutes were you late slave?"
"14 Sir."
"Yes slave 14 minutes late................you will not forget that will you slave?"
"No Sir I wont forget."
And then I began to shake, and he wrapped the duvet around me, and pulled me close to him. He stroked my hair and wiped away my tears as I begged his forgiveness. he assured me it was all over now, I had been punished and it was finished, he expected me to remember what I had learned, but it as over.
He made me a drink and fed me some biscuits, he sat and watched me, talking to me, I don;t know what about, just soothing word. he made me eat some more and gave me a drink of water.
He laid me down on the bed and told me he would be watching me sleep, and he go my rope and put it around me my neck.
He got his work and laid next to me on the bed. I unraveled the duvet and crawled closer to him, trying to get as much of me touching him as possible, feeling the roughness of his jumper on my very sore , but not caring, needing to be close to be touching. he reached a hand towards by sore arse and pulled me close and told me to sleep.
'Tonight slave, when you are rested we will have some fun, now sleep"
And I did, I slept for hours, but always aware that he was next to me and I was next to him....naked and sore, but I was next to him.
I had to text him, on each hour until I got back, and if if was more than five minutes past the hour for any reason other than the outbreak of war or and earthquake there "Would be consequences".
I made 7am, 8.03, 9.01, 10.10,11.06, 12.00, and 13.14.
He was not impressed and I was worried.
As I drove back to him, I began to contemplate what the "consequences" may be, but, in the end I gave up, as there really is never any point.
I knocked on the door and waited for him to tell me to come in. I crept in sheepishly and knelt at his feet, near to where he was working, talking on the phone. He indicated that I should stand, and remove my clothes, all whilst he continued talking about work. He pointed to the corner of the room and continued his conversation. when he had finished I waited expectantly for him to call me, but he didn't.
"Well slave, I've checked and war has not been declared...so any good reason why some of the times you were so late?"
There was no reasons and so I mumbled into the corner of the room "No Sir".
He had me crawl over to him again and kneel at his feet.
I have been thinking of how to punish your bad manners slave, how's your maths?
Well he knows how my maths is , its good, very good and so I didn't say anything................
"Choose a number between five and ten slave...."
It's always a difficult one ....until you know the parameters of what they are planning, and then there is the whole choosing thing again, so I hesitated......he started to count from 5 backwards and I know when he gets to zero I have to have chosen..........
"Seven Sir, please, I choose seven..."
"Oh good choice slave...hows your seven times table....?"
"Not bad Sir.............".
He told me what times he had received the messages and told me to multiply the late minutes by seven...........................................
"14 times 7 Sir is 98 Sir"
"Very good slave,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,so 98 it is then."
98 what? oh how I wanted to ask him, 98 what...?all of a sudden it sounded like such a big number.
The bag was on the floor near his feet and he reached inside it.
He got out the hood, this is not a leather one or a rubber one, it is like a big dark magicians bag with a draw string..............and I hate it.
He pulled out the butt plug and laid it on the bed.
He pulled out the crop and laid it on the bed
He pulled out the belt and laid it on the bed
And he pulled out a clothes hanger, the type with the clips on for trousers or skirts and he laid that on the bed.
He pulled me up by my hair and put the hood on me pulling the drawstring tight, but not so tight I couldn't breath, and then he bend me forwards and with a little lube and big push he rammed the plug into my arse. and then he knelt me down again and said "98 minutes slave, 98".
And so for the next 98 minutes I knelt there while he watched television, made a cup of tea, called a friend and chatted about nothing significant , and "No I'm not doing anything at the moment, nothing important, of course I can talk...................yes she's here with me...no....she being punished.............." I wanted to curl up and die with shame, embarrassment and humiliation.
And after the 98 minutes when he let me out, I was like I am always, desperate to see him, to be able to touch him, to not feel isolated and alone...............but he wouldn't let me touch him. He got the cane and pointed at the hanger....................
"Pass it to me slave please."
So I picked it up and carefully passed it to him, on my hands with the hook bit facing him. he picked it up carefully and dangled it from his fingers.
He turned and went to the wardrobe, I could hear him inside and when he turned round he had something in his hands, and I realised it was the knickers I had worn under my jeans the day we went along the river. He pointed with the cane, indicating I should stand in front of him, and he put the knickers on the bed next to me. The hanger, in both hands, he moved the clips until they were lined up with my nipples. the first one he put on, closing it slowly over my nipple, the edge of the clip past my bars...........oh it hurt, that mind numbing hurt of initial pain, and then............he snapped the other one on, not gentle easing it closed............snap like a crocodile, with jaws of death.......................I cried out and as I did, he showed the knickers into my mouth. I sobbed and cried as the pain flooded from m nipple, I moaned and he stood and watched me; he just stood and watched me.
When I had calmed down a little and got my breath back, he pulled the hook of the hanger towards him and upwards. I reacted by trying to get higher, onto my toes, he pulled higher and I yelped. He put his fingers in my mouth and then followed them with the hook.
He told me to stand up straight and look at him.
He lectured me; about being late, about manners, about how or why I could possibly imagine that my time would ever be more important than his time, he asked if I had any reasonable excuse, to which I shock my head.
"I am upset that you think so little of me that you cannot find the time to send a text, that is why I am punishing you, for your bad manners and thoughtlessness".
And with that ...........he bent me over and placed my hands on the bed.....................
"You will not move and you will count and if you let the hanger fall from your mouth we will start again."
And he picked up the belt and began to use it on my arse, on my legs and on my back....49 times it hit me and I counted each one and then he put it down and picked up the cane......................and I counted, some times it took me a long time to be able to say the number, some times I was frightened that the hook would fall from my mouth, sometimes I had to think hard which number I was on............but finally I said 98 ....................and it was over.
Not all of them had been hard, not all of them had stung or hurt, but each one I had felt and each one I had counted.
He removed the butt plug and then his hands were on my hips.
"Let go of the hanger slave, ...........................its over."
So I let go and knew that it was coming off and I was afraid, afraid of the pain,...................................He unclipped them at the same time and the rush of pain overwhelmed me, I felt my knees buckle, and he put his hands under my armpits and held me steady. his hands reached across to my nipples and he squeezed them tightly, very tightly, numbing them again, and then slowly , very slowly reducing the pressure on them.
He laid me on the bed, on my stomach, and examined the view...............
"How may times did I punish you slave?"
"98 Sir"
"How many minutes were you late slave?"
"14 Sir."
"Yes slave 14 minutes late................you will not forget that will you slave?"
"No Sir I wont forget."
And then I began to shake, and he wrapped the duvet around me, and pulled me close to him. He stroked my hair and wiped away my tears as I begged his forgiveness. he assured me it was all over now, I had been punished and it was finished, he expected me to remember what I had learned, but it as over.
He made me a drink and fed me some biscuits, he sat and watched me, talking to me, I don;t know what about, just soothing word. he made me eat some more and gave me a drink of water.
He laid me down on the bed and told me he would be watching me sleep, and he go my rope and put it around me my neck.
He got his work and laid next to me on the bed. I unraveled the duvet and crawled closer to him, trying to get as much of me touching him as possible, feeling the roughness of his jumper on my very sore , but not caring, needing to be close to be touching. he reached a hand towards by sore arse and pulled me close and told me to sleep.
'Tonight slave, when you are rested we will have some fun, now sleep"
And I did, I slept for hours, but always aware that he was next to me and I was next to him....naked and sore, but I was next to him.
Sunday, 20 February 2011
Taking your slave outside
I went off to my work thing, leaving him alone in the hotel, he told me he had lots of work to do and I hoped that was true, because if I was leaving him alone; with little or nothing to do, then his mind would be coming up with devious plans....................
Work was intense, hard, exhausting; in a stuffy dark room, too much information in too short a time, and my head was spinning and I wanted to go back to him.
By the time I arrived back I was tired, grumpy and hungry and I knew he would be expecting something different.
I opened the door very tentatively and stepped inside the room; he wasn't at the desk, he wasn't lying on the bed and he wasn't in the bedroom either.
I was sort of tempted to look under the bed and in the wardrobe, but knew that was just one step too silly.
I felt my phone buzz in the bottom of my bag, and delved deep to find it.....there was a message. He told me which pub he was in and the postcode. I went back out to the car, put the information into the sat nav and set off across the countryside through the cold, wind and a slight drizzle.
I walked into the pub, my heart was pounding in my chest, I looked around and there he was sitting in front of the fire with a pint of beer in his hand and a small brandy on the table for me.
I sat down next to him and he asked about my day, he asked how the work had been and then in the middle of the normal conversation he asked how my cunt was. He does this and it completely throws me ever time, I looked around to see if anyone had heard, if they had they were showing no interest.
I mumbled an answer and he insisted I answered clearly and politely, "My cunt is sore Sir, thank you".
He smiled and passed me my drink. We sat in silence and then he told me to drink up, we were going for a walk.
I had struggled to stay warm on my visit, the temperature was about 30 degrees colder than I was used to, and I didn't have the best coat in the world, but, he had decided ........... we were going for a walk.
We set off, him holding my hand, leading the way, along the river. The path was clear, a little slippy in places, the sun came out and the day was beautiful. The scenery was stunning; fast flowing dark water, made black by the peat from the moors, limestone cliffs, green grass cropped short by hungry sheep and bare, skeletal stunted trees along the rivers edge.
We must have walked for about an hour, sharing the beauty, but sharing no words. We walked through one more kissing gate and he stopped and pulled me towards him. We had a good view of the path in both directions...I say we...He had a good view, I had my eyes closed, that's what he told me to do, so of course I did it.
It became a reenactment of being fifteen again, him rubbing my cunt through my jeans, squeezing my nipples, his hand inside my clothes, up my back, stroking the top of my bum...it made me smile, and then it made me giggle. He stopped kissing me and asked me what was so funny. When I told him, he laughed too , and then in a flash, he opened my jacket and pulled my top up, exposing my tits to the cold wind, to the outside world, to everything. The wind found the metal of the bars and seemed to freeze them instantly. "Bet this didn't happen when you were fifteen slave".
So there I was standing on the path my tits out wondering what was going to happen next..........he grabbed one of my bars and led me towards the tree, pulling me hard by the nipple, he pushed me back against it, he unbuttoned my jeans..........very slowly, pulled then down around my ankles, turned me round, pulled off his belt and whooped me good and proper, the crack of the belt filled the air, the bark of the tree pressed into my flesh and my humiliation filled me............He kept at my arse with his belt for ever, or so it seemed and just when I was getting to the point when I couldn't bear it any more, when I was beginning to think surely another walker would appear round the bend and he was too intent of my arse and wouldn't see them, he turned me around again, and told me to pull up my jeans, not to do them up and to make myslef cum. But first I was to stick my fingers in my cunt and show him how wet they were.
Oh dear........a slight give away !
He stood back and said "Well my wanton harlot , off you go, make yourself cum" and within second I was begging him to cum, begging to be allowed to cum, and he let me. And there on the path, By the river, I came for my owner, with my tits out in the cold, exposed, vulnerable and trusting that he would keep me safe.
My legs were shaking, my heart was pounding and my head was somewhere completely different, I could feel the week sun on my face and that was it, I didn't know if he was talking to me, i was unsure of what was happening. I felt him pull my top down, do up my jacket and jeans, turned my around and I felt his hand hold mine and he wrapped his arm around me, pulled me towards him and we walked in silence back to to the pub.
As we walked in the door the heat from the fire hit me, and brought me back to earth. The woman behind the bar looked at me and said......
"I see you have blown the cobwebs away then"
I am not sure that she understood why I blushed, laughed and muttered, "Yes thank you, it was a lovely walk".
He sat down, and I got us a drink.
We sat in silence for a while and then he said ..."Check your phone".
I looked in my bag, he had, at some point in the day, turned it to silent, but there was a message on it..............
"Thank you slave, thank you for giving me your trust".
He put his hand in my bag and got the keys out, put them on the table and told me I had one hour to get back to the hotel, clean myself up and be ready for him.
I stood up, picked up my bag, put my phone in it again and waited for him to tell me to leave.....
"Tick tock slave, tick tock" . He smacked my arse and pointed at the door.
I walked a little sheepishly towards the door, turned round to look back at him, and caught the eye of the woman behind the bar, and I could swear she winked at me.
Work was intense, hard, exhausting; in a stuffy dark room, too much information in too short a time, and my head was spinning and I wanted to go back to him.
By the time I arrived back I was tired, grumpy and hungry and I knew he would be expecting something different.
I opened the door very tentatively and stepped inside the room; he wasn't at the desk, he wasn't lying on the bed and he wasn't in the bedroom either.
I was sort of tempted to look under the bed and in the wardrobe, but knew that was just one step too silly.
I felt my phone buzz in the bottom of my bag, and delved deep to find it.....there was a message. He told me which pub he was in and the postcode. I went back out to the car, put the information into the sat nav and set off across the countryside through the cold, wind and a slight drizzle.
I walked into the pub, my heart was pounding in my chest, I looked around and there he was sitting in front of the fire with a pint of beer in his hand and a small brandy on the table for me.
I sat down next to him and he asked about my day, he asked how the work had been and then in the middle of the normal conversation he asked how my cunt was. He does this and it completely throws me ever time, I looked around to see if anyone had heard, if they had they were showing no interest.
I mumbled an answer and he insisted I answered clearly and politely, "My cunt is sore Sir, thank you".
He smiled and passed me my drink. We sat in silence and then he told me to drink up, we were going for a walk.
I had struggled to stay warm on my visit, the temperature was about 30 degrees colder than I was used to, and I didn't have the best coat in the world, but, he had decided ........... we were going for a walk.
We set off, him holding my hand, leading the way, along the river. The path was clear, a little slippy in places, the sun came out and the day was beautiful. The scenery was stunning; fast flowing dark water, made black by the peat from the moors, limestone cliffs, green grass cropped short by hungry sheep and bare, skeletal stunted trees along the rivers edge.
We must have walked for about an hour, sharing the beauty, but sharing no words. We walked through one more kissing gate and he stopped and pulled me towards him. We had a good view of the path in both directions...I say we...He had a good view, I had my eyes closed, that's what he told me to do, so of course I did it.
It became a reenactment of being fifteen again, him rubbing my cunt through my jeans, squeezing my nipples, his hand inside my clothes, up my back, stroking the top of my bum...it made me smile, and then it made me giggle. He stopped kissing me and asked me what was so funny. When I told him, he laughed too , and then in a flash, he opened my jacket and pulled my top up, exposing my tits to the cold wind, to the outside world, to everything. The wind found the metal of the bars and seemed to freeze them instantly. "Bet this didn't happen when you were fifteen slave".
So there I was standing on the path my tits out wondering what was going to happen next..........he grabbed one of my bars and led me towards the tree, pulling me hard by the nipple, he pushed me back against it, he unbuttoned my jeans..........very slowly, pulled then down around my ankles, turned me round, pulled off his belt and whooped me good and proper, the crack of the belt filled the air, the bark of the tree pressed into my flesh and my humiliation filled me............He kept at my arse with his belt for ever, or so it seemed and just when I was getting to the point when I couldn't bear it any more, when I was beginning to think surely another walker would appear round the bend and he was too intent of my arse and wouldn't see them, he turned me around again, and told me to pull up my jeans, not to do them up and to make myslef cum. But first I was to stick my fingers in my cunt and show him how wet they were.
Oh dear........a slight give away !
He stood back and said "Well my wanton harlot , off you go, make yourself cum" and within second I was begging him to cum, begging to be allowed to cum, and he let me. And there on the path, By the river, I came for my owner, with my tits out in the cold, exposed, vulnerable and trusting that he would keep me safe.
My legs were shaking, my heart was pounding and my head was somewhere completely different, I could feel the week sun on my face and that was it, I didn't know if he was talking to me, i was unsure of what was happening. I felt him pull my top down, do up my jacket and jeans, turned my around and I felt his hand hold mine and he wrapped his arm around me, pulled me towards him and we walked in silence back to to the pub.
As we walked in the door the heat from the fire hit me, and brought me back to earth. The woman behind the bar looked at me and said......
"I see you have blown the cobwebs away then"
I am not sure that she understood why I blushed, laughed and muttered, "Yes thank you, it was a lovely walk".
He sat down, and I got us a drink.
We sat in silence for a while and then he said ..."Check your phone".
I looked in my bag, he had, at some point in the day, turned it to silent, but there was a message on it..............
"Thank you slave, thank you for giving me your trust".
He put his hand in my bag and got the keys out, put them on the table and told me I had one hour to get back to the hotel, clean myself up and be ready for him.
I stood up, picked up my bag, put my phone in it again and waited for him to tell me to leave.....
"Tick tock slave, tick tock" . He smacked my arse and pointed at the door.
I walked a little sheepishly towards the door, turned round to look back at him, and caught the eye of the woman behind the bar, and I could swear she winked at me.
Monday, 14 February 2011
Exposed and learning to accept what I am given
He took the new rope from my hands, and tied a noose at one end.
I watched him, this was the noose knot he once gave me a remote lesson on how to tie by typing instructions only to have me falling about laughing at my inability to do it, but this time I was not laughing. I was mesmerised by his fingers tying the knot, turning the new rope over in his hands, and fell very still.
He stood and walked behind me, placed the rope over my wrists and pulled it tight, , wrapping the rope between my hands, checking how tight it was.
He led me to the bed and laid me face down, pulled the rope up my back, wrapped it once round my neck, tied my feet behind me and then once more round my neck.
He returned to the chair and sat there, not moving, not speaking, just sitting and looking, watching me studying me. My face was turned towards him and I could no longer look directly at him.
I was helpless, completely at his mercy, unable to move.
He stood, walked towards the bed, never taking his eyes off my face, I sensed this rather than saw it. He rolled me over so I was on my back and now I was completely vulnerable, completely exposed.
He reached into his bag and took from it his favourite crop, the one we had bought together one sunny day last year, one he had made me carry through the shopping mall, in my hand, my face red with shame.
He laid the crop on the bed beside me.
He took the hood from the bag and laid it next to my head.
I closed my eyes and I heard the sound of him undoing his belt.
My eyes shot open.
He laid the belt across my stomach.
His hand reached towards my breasts, and he slapped them, hard, he pinched he pulled, he twisted, he flicked, he pulled some more.
He lent down and I felt his hot breath on them, his lips closing over my nipples, his tongue licking, sucking, while his hand squeezed and pinched and twisted the other one. he swapped between the two.
The pleasure of his tongue, his kisses followed by the pain and torment of his fingers.
He picked up the belt and moved it.
He picked up the crop.
He began tracing the end of the crop over my nipples; teasing them, tapping gently, down my thighs , up the inside of each leg till I almost longer to feel it on my wet and now desperate cunt.
I closed my eyes and let the feelings of vulnerability of openness flood over me, fill me with happiness.
Whack
He brought the crop down over one tit.
and again over the other.
I struggled, the rope tightening round my neck, realizing that his hand held the other end, I knew that he could feel exactly how tight it was, he was watching , looking and checking.
Again and again I watched him raise the crop, again and again I felt it crash into me; biting pain, hot searing pain, head filling, crying sobbing pain.
The rope around my neck felt tight, I began to panic I bit, i tried to tell him it was too tight, he looked and shook his head. I had to focus on being calm, not fighting,...on accepting what he was giving me, accepting the pain from him, accepting ...........
I remember him putting the crop between my teeth as he picked up his belt. I watched him hold the buckle and wrap it round his hand
I remember the noise, the crack it made as he pulled it.......... and I remember the first time it hit me...................and I remember watching his arm, not the belt, just his arm.......................
His hands gently lifted my head and unwound the rope from my neck, I felt his hands on mine as he untied the knots, his arms as he carefully moved my arms to my sides and as he lifted me from the bed, and wrapped my favourite blanket from home around me. He wiped the tears from my eyes, kissed them away, he told me he loved me, he told me I was a good girl, that he was proud of me.
He held me close, talking about what he had done to me: about the rope, how he had tied it, how it looked behind my back. He described how the crop had marked me across my stomach, my tits, how my thighs were marked by the crop and the belt, he talked to me about how my cunt had dripped after he had used the crop on it and the belt. He talked about how I had cried out, moaned and whimpered, how he had watched me struggle and how I had fallen silent, by body open to him, my cunt exposed, my nipples hard and erect, and how I had become still............... and how I had accepted what he had given me.
He touched me so gentley where he had hurt me, kissing each welt, slowly undoing the blanket, laying me out once more on the bed.
His fingers tracing along the marks he had made, his fingers exploring my cunt , probing, thrusting, opening, and this time allowing me to feel pleasure, holding me on the edge of orgasm, and once more he wrapped me in his arms, and held me tight as he made me cum......a deep, all encompassing, all over body and mind , flashing lights, music in the ears orgasm.
I had a complete overwhelming submissive feeling come over me and begged to be allowed to be at his feet once more, so smiling me released me from his arms and more or less poured me onto the floor, he covered me with my blanket and there I drifted off to sleep, wrapped around his feet, holding onto his leg, my hand inside his jeans touching him, while he finished some work.
When I woke a few hours later, he once more put my rope on, took the other end in his hand, and pulled me into bed, and there we fell asleep...................... together .........me on the end of his rope .......... where I belong...
I watched him, this was the noose knot he once gave me a remote lesson on how to tie by typing instructions only to have me falling about laughing at my inability to do it, but this time I was not laughing. I was mesmerised by his fingers tying the knot, turning the new rope over in his hands, and fell very still.
He stood and walked behind me, placed the rope over my wrists and pulled it tight, , wrapping the rope between my hands, checking how tight it was.
He led me to the bed and laid me face down, pulled the rope up my back, wrapped it once round my neck, tied my feet behind me and then once more round my neck.
He returned to the chair and sat there, not moving, not speaking, just sitting and looking, watching me studying me. My face was turned towards him and I could no longer look directly at him.
I was helpless, completely at his mercy, unable to move.
He stood, walked towards the bed, never taking his eyes off my face, I sensed this rather than saw it. He rolled me over so I was on my back and now I was completely vulnerable, completely exposed.
He reached into his bag and took from it his favourite crop, the one we had bought together one sunny day last year, one he had made me carry through the shopping mall, in my hand, my face red with shame.
He laid the crop on the bed beside me.
He took the hood from the bag and laid it next to my head.
I closed my eyes and I heard the sound of him undoing his belt.
My eyes shot open.
He laid the belt across my stomach.
His hand reached towards my breasts, and he slapped them, hard, he pinched he pulled, he twisted, he flicked, he pulled some more.
He lent down and I felt his hot breath on them, his lips closing over my nipples, his tongue licking, sucking, while his hand squeezed and pinched and twisted the other one. he swapped between the two.
The pleasure of his tongue, his kisses followed by the pain and torment of his fingers.
He picked up the belt and moved it.
He picked up the crop.
He began tracing the end of the crop over my nipples; teasing them, tapping gently, down my thighs , up the inside of each leg till I almost longer to feel it on my wet and now desperate cunt.
I closed my eyes and let the feelings of vulnerability of openness flood over me, fill me with happiness.
Whack
He brought the crop down over one tit.
and again over the other.
I struggled, the rope tightening round my neck, realizing that his hand held the other end, I knew that he could feel exactly how tight it was, he was watching , looking and checking.
Again and again I watched him raise the crop, again and again I felt it crash into me; biting pain, hot searing pain, head filling, crying sobbing pain.
The rope around my neck felt tight, I began to panic I bit, i tried to tell him it was too tight, he looked and shook his head. I had to focus on being calm, not fighting,...on accepting what he was giving me, accepting the pain from him, accepting ...........
I remember him putting the crop between my teeth as he picked up his belt. I watched him hold the buckle and wrap it round his hand
I remember the noise, the crack it made as he pulled it.......... and I remember the first time it hit me...................and I remember watching his arm, not the belt, just his arm.......................
His hands gently lifted my head and unwound the rope from my neck, I felt his hands on mine as he untied the knots, his arms as he carefully moved my arms to my sides and as he lifted me from the bed, and wrapped my favourite blanket from home around me. He wiped the tears from my eyes, kissed them away, he told me he loved me, he told me I was a good girl, that he was proud of me.
He held me close, talking about what he had done to me: about the rope, how he had tied it, how it looked behind my back. He described how the crop had marked me across my stomach, my tits, how my thighs were marked by the crop and the belt, he talked to me about how my cunt had dripped after he had used the crop on it and the belt. He talked about how I had cried out, moaned and whimpered, how he had watched me struggle and how I had fallen silent, by body open to him, my cunt exposed, my nipples hard and erect, and how I had become still............... and how I had accepted what he had given me.
He touched me so gentley where he had hurt me, kissing each welt, slowly undoing the blanket, laying me out once more on the bed.
His fingers tracing along the marks he had made, his fingers exploring my cunt , probing, thrusting, opening, and this time allowing me to feel pleasure, holding me on the edge of orgasm, and once more he wrapped me in his arms, and held me tight as he made me cum......a deep, all encompassing, all over body and mind , flashing lights, music in the ears orgasm.
I had a complete overwhelming submissive feeling come over me and begged to be allowed to be at his feet once more, so smiling me released me from his arms and more or less poured me onto the floor, he covered me with my blanket and there I drifted off to sleep, wrapped around his feet, holding onto his leg, my hand inside his jeans touching him, while he finished some work.
When I woke a few hours later, he once more put my rope on, took the other end in his hand, and pulled me into bed, and there we fell asleep...................... together .........me on the end of his rope .......... where I belong...
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