|
needithard0129 -> A lesson in paying attention. (6/11/2010 11:57:36 AM)
|
The view is very different from where I am, I can clearly see the floor as it is just inches from my face. I place my hands upon it to hold myself where he wants me. My world at this moment is confined to the legs of the chair, and the bottom half of the walls and the furniture. I am bent at my hips, my pelvis resting on his thigh. The denim of his jeans rubbing against my lower stomach, I can feel the muscles in his leg tense while he is talking to me. My mind has wandered, and I do not know what he is saying. This is why I am in the position I am in right now. I have this talent; no it is a curse that sometimes I just zone out. I am still doing it. I hear him ask me if I understand, but it sounds like he has said this once before, the tone of his voice is very stern. I squeak out “yes Sir”, he says, “good, now repeat it back to me.” As I hang with my head toward the floor, my ass raised up across his lap, completely at his mercy, I have no idea what I am supposed to repeat back to him. I am silent; my Master is very patient with me, Saint like I think sometimes, but only for a brief moment. “Well, I am waiting.” His voice rattles my entire body; I feel his hand upon my pale ass cheeks. His hands are warm, he makes a circle on my bottom, I don’t know if he does this for his pleasure, or if it some kind of warm up that men know about, and we never learn. Sometimes it feels so nice, his rough hands, one on my back, the other on my bottom. He can be so gent……OWWW!!! That first smack bites my cheek, “I was wondering if your mouth was only good for cock sucking, repeat back your instructions, NOW,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. From my position of embarrassment, I reply back, “Sir, I didn’t hear you, I am sorry.” I can imagine his face, looking at me with that look of disappointment that rips my very soul out. I am in no way prepared for him to take that disappointment out on my ass, but he does. I lost count after about 20, but the assault on my flesh continues. Of all the Dom’s in the state, I belong to the one with an arm like a pitcher on steroids. Over and over his opened hand hits my bottom, each time my pelvis slamming down on his thigh. The pain is so intense, I feel the tears welling up in my eyes, I cry out in pain each time his strong hand makes contact with my bottom, he confuses my body by intermittently slapping the tops of my thighs. In my mind I know what my bottom looks like, and this is only the beginning. I feel the release I crave coming, his assault continuing, I have no control anymore, the cries are coming without any effort.
I break down, just as this part of my punishment ends. I feel his hand reach under me and pull me to my feet. I know I am not allowed to touch my bottom, my hands are supposed to be clasped behind my head, and I am to be released to walk to my corner. My Master does like his petty little torments. Making me stand in a corner, on my knees naked on the pool deck, I am to do as he says unquestioningly. I am doing it again, my mind wandering, I don’t hear him release me to my corner. Reality hits me, when I feel his fingers grasp my nipple and squeeze. I am now being lead to my corner by my nipple. As the pressure increases, he has my full and total attention. We pass my corner; I look at him with a questioning face, not daring to actually open my mouth. He leads me to his garage, as he opens the door; I see what will become my nemesis. In the center of the room, there is a black wooden box, straps on two sides, and two large holes in the top. On the front, there is a door, two big silver hinges and a latch on the front. Still pinching my nipple, he leads me to the box. I can see now there is a vinyl covered pad where my hips would lay, he lets go and his eyes locked with mine now look to the box. I know he wants me to lay on it, to just be obedient and do as he wants, but I am stubborn and I just stand there.
A piece of advice to anyone wanting to experience the submissive life, never be stubborn, it just makes your bottom hurt more. My Master somehow has these catlike reflexes; I say this because one second I am standing on my own two feet, the next thing I know I am face down over the box and being held by my hair. “DO NOT MOVE,” this is the only thing he actually says. I feel straps going around each ankle, then what feels like leather straps pin my knees to this box. He walks around and is now in front of me, I feel him grab my arm and in a flash my arm is strapped into position then the other. Again, I am face down, this time over a wooden “lap,” it is at this moment I realize why there are two large holes in the top, my breasts are in these holes, and I am now getting an understanding of why. Master kneels down and opens the small door; I hear metal chains rattling and feel his hand on my breast. The metal teeth bit into my flesh and a scream found its way out of my mouth, which I could not control. When the scream stops, I am face to face with him. My Master is a handsome man, he has these eyes, they can be very sensitive, give me comfort when I am sad, but then at other times, they can look right through me, I feel like sometimes he can see all of me straight to my soul. Then, there are times like this, when with a simple look, his eyes can scare me. He never says much, he just uses those eyes. I know what he wants from me just by how he looks at me. Now he is face to face with me, without breaking the stare he grabs my other breast, I suck in air like it is the last breath I will ever take, raising his other hand to his face, his index finger to his lips, “shhhh, no screaming,” he smiled. I hear chains rattling again, my whole body tenses in anticipation of the pain, I try to lift myself away, his grip on my breast tightens, and then releases. He stands; his fingers touch my back, sliding slowly down my back, sending chills down my spine. Then nothing, laying over this box, my ass propped up, trapped here by straps on my legs and arms, and a clamp on my nipple which seems to be attached to the bottom of the box. I feel his body across my back, and then another strap is attached and tightened against me. I am now not able to move at all.
He is back in front of me, from my position, all I can see are his legs, and he kneels down, his hand back to my breast. He wastes no time attaching the clamp to my other nipple. I do my best to obey him now, hoping he will realize my efforts, this time no scream, it is more of a moan of pain. The metal clamps are now biting me, he rattles some more chain, and then I feel the clamps tighten, pulling. He stands, closes the door to the box. I hear him walking around behind me but I cannot see him. A cabinet door opens somewhere in the distance, then closes, his footsteps get nearer. Something cool and long is laid on my back, and then he is in front of me again. In his hands he is holding a ball gag, he touches the ball to my lips, in silence I obey, the ball now in my mouth, and he is securing it behind my head. He stands and removes what he had placed on my back. Walking around me now, I see what before I could only feel. A small leather strap around his wrist, attached to a wooden paddle, smooth and shiny, he taps it against his other hand, as he walks around me, the only sounds in the room, his tennis shoes on the cement floor with each step, and the light tapping of the paddle against his hand. It is at times like this, I regret being stubborn, I realize at times like this that when my Master speaks, I should make it a priority to hang on every word. It is at times like this, I wish I could turn my brain to mute. As he circles me, I can feel my heart pounding, the fear within me growing, I know that this is going to be a beating, he never ties me down. He knows what is best for me and he knows what I need, I trust him with all of me. Because I am bound, helpless, I know this is not going to be good for me.
As I truly begin to grasp my situation, he speaks. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer, when I give you an order, I expect you to follow it, do you understand?” My answer was quick, not real clear but quick, “eh ir.” I hear him laugh a little, “your answers are so much faster now, amazing what a few leather straps can do, isn’t it?” I wasn’t sure if I should answer or not, “eh ir.” I don’t hear him walking, and I can’t see him now, he is standing somewhere behind me. I know that he will make his presence known soon, and for once I was not wrong. **SMACK**, the paddle hit my ass with so much force that the clamps on my nipples pulled and tightened, I screamed. My ass was burning but my nipples felt as if they were being ripped off. “I am a very patient man, but you are testing my patients on a daily basis, when you are given a direction, I expect you to complete it quickly and efficiently.” With tears streaming down my face, I answer, “eh ir.” He is standing in front me now; he kneels so he is looking right in my face. “I should not have to tie you down to get your attention, but I will, and today, I am going to break your stubborn streak.” Before I could get a word out to answer him and he was back at my ass, the paddle assaulting me. The pain was more intense than anything my Master had ever done to me. Each time the paddle sunk into my flesh, my body was pushed forward, the clamps pulling at my nipples, biting into my skin. I knew by the way he was hitting me that nothing I could do would make it stop; he was teaching me a lesson, showing me what happens when I take advantage of his kindness, his patients. I wanted to scream, I wanted to break the straps that held me, to get away from the pain of the assault, but I could not. The tears were flowing, my body sweating, in my mind I could see the cheeks of my ass, burning bright red. I have no idea how many times the paddle struck, but when it stopped, a wave of relief came over me. Then the throbbing, the burning got worse, I realized my eyes were closed when I heard the door open and close and he was gone.
I don’t know how long I lay there, when you are tied down, when you can’t move, you have no idea of time. I do know that he left me there for a reason. He was a very creative Dom, I was learning. I heard the door knob turn, he had been gone long enough to shower, and change. He was now wearing a pair of shorts, and he was barefoot, in his hand a large glass of what looked to be water. He kneels in front of me, grabs my hair and pulls my face up so I am looking at him. Letting go, he takes a sip of water from his glass; he is so close I can feel the coolness. “You want some water” he says, I nod “eh ir.” He stands and walks toward my ass, it is cold, shocking against my hot skin. “Better?” he says as I hear the glass being placed on the counter. I can hear noise behind me, but when you are stubborn, when you don’t listen, you lose your opportunity to just bend over a lap, or a chair. I learned this today. His bare feet are quiet on the cement floor, I don’t hear him approaching, then he is there, from my vantage point, I see his legs, strong, from years of construction work, those thighs that I have spent so much time laying across. He kneels to face me, as I cannot lift my head to look up from my position. His eyes even with mine, I know I should again be listening to each syllable that leaves his lips, but my brain defies me again, I am lost in a moment we shared, he was feeling generous, he was almost romantic, a day when he didn’t make me take his cock, he allowed me to enjoy it. His lips gently caressed my clit, his tongue dancing around it, sending shock waves through my body. I remember the feel of his weight on my body as his cock found its way into my pussy, feeling the length of it sliding in and out, his balls slapping my ass with each thrust. A sharp slap to the side of my face quickly reminded me that he was talking. I could tell by the look on his face that he knew I was somewhere else mentally, not paying attention to him, AGAIN. I wanted to scream out that I couldn’t help it, that I wanted to pay attention, but his eyes, the smell of him, the memory of his body on mine sent me off to another time. That is not acceptable, not to him, I guess not to any Dom. I should hang on his every word. My current position should make me concentrate on him. I am going to try harder. Forcing my brain to silence itself, I held eye contact with him, my renewed vow to concentrate, came a little too late, “Repeat your instructions.” Aside from the ball gag in my mouth, I want to do as he says, but I was lost in that moment, and I didn’t hear him. I look up at him, as if to say, can’t talk with ball gag, he knows me too well. “You didn’t hear me did you?” I stare up at him, blinking; fighting back tears, knowing this is not going to be good for me, not at all. Again, he is face to face, eye to eye, he raises his hand, expecting another slap to my cheek, I wince. He reaches around my head, removing the ball gag, “I am going to say this, one last time, and no more, do you understand?” “Yes Sir.” Focusing on his face, concentrating hard, don’t lose focus. “I will not tolerate your forgetfulness; your lack of attention, your behavior is disrespectful.” “Do you understand me?” “Yes Sir.” “When you are punished from now on, it will be on this box, each time the chains attached to your nipples will be shortened.” “Do you understand?” “Yes Sir.” “Today’s lesson, AGAIN, will be on focusing, I do not like repeating myself to my whore.” “Do you understand?” “Yes Sir.” He stood and walked behind me. I was concentrating on the sounds he was making, his shorts rustling, the cabinet behind me squeaking as he opened and closed it, attempting to stay focused, I have to stay focused.
He is in front of me again. Though I can only see his legs, it is what is in his hand that has my full attention. A belt, a paddle, a whip, his hand, he has used all of these on me, this, I am not even sure what to call it. Over his wrist is a thin piece of leather, in his hand he holds a leather covered handle, at the end of the handle, there are strips of leather, lots of strips of leather. This is new, like the box, I knew my behavior was annoying to him; I guess I mistook how annoying it was. “From now on, this is what you will be whipped with, it is called a flogger,” kneeling down, holding the flogger right in front of my face, “if this does nothing else, it will get your attention.” The flogger now dangling from his wrist, he removed the ball gag from his pocket and placed it back to my lips, I should have just opened and accepted it. He pushed it to my lips, not being patient at this point; he grabbed my hair, pulling it hard so I was looking up at him. “You Will Open Your Mouth, NOW!” My jaw dropped open; he placed the ball in my mouth, hooking it around the back of my head. He said nothing else, what else was there to say. Here I lay, across the box, my ass perched up, legs slightly spread, my nipples attached to the box with nipple clamps attached to chains screwed into this “discipline box,” I am secured, arms, knees, ankles, and a strap across my back. I cannot move, even if I wanted to, which I did. I wanted to run, or get on my knees and beg him to forgive me, offer my body to him, anything to make him change his mind. His words, coming back to me now, that I didn’t really hear earlier, his voice in my head, “I am going to break your stubborn streak today.” The sound trailing off, replaced by a new sound, I wasn’t sure what it was at first, and then it hit me literally. I heard the sound of myself screaming through the ball gag, the flogger was biting into my skin, like a hundred belts hitting me at once. Some landed on my ass, some on my back, others tore at my thighs. He landed each strike with precision, covering all of my back side. He didn’t count them out loud, nor did he ask me to. This wasn’t a punishment about numbers; it was about making an impression, to change me, to show me a fault that he wanted to correct. I can’t tell you how long he swung the flogger, all I can tell you is when he stopped, I could barely breathe, the pain in my ass was more than I had ever felt before, he had never whipped me like this before. I could only imagine that from his point of view, my ass looked like a round road map to nowhere. Tears streaming down my cheeks, saliva dripping from my mouth, my body covered in sweat, I laid very still, afraid to move, I didn’t want any more of that. Normally, a good spanking from my Dom left me sloppy wet, my clit echoing each strike of his hand, belt or paddle, my nipples hard enough to cut diamonds, wanting him to take me, spank me and then use me for his pleasure. Whatever he wanted, just take me. Not today, I felt his hand rubbing my ass, pain shot up my body as his rough hands slid across the welts left behind by his flogger. Then he was gone. In the distance behind me, I could hear the glass of water, being picked up, ice clicking against the glass, then being set on the counter. I mentally braced myself. The flogger bit in, hitting a place that had already been brutalized. The welt left the first time, now doubling in size. Screaming through the ball gag, I held nothing back. I was trying to beg him to stop, my muffled words trying to force past the gag, only to escape my mouth as unintelligible noise. He continued to beat me, harder than before, the leather straps feeling as if they were removing the flesh from the bone. I was screaming at him, but the words were just noise. In my head they were full sentences, begging him, promising that I would never be stubborn again, I would never disrespect his authority again, please stop this.
In my head, I called him names I would never say out loud in his presence, he had accomplished what he set out to do, he had my full attention. The pain was shooting through my body each time the straps spread out across my ass, legs, and back. I was on the verge of passing out from the pain. My body spent, my voice disappearing from the screams, but my mind was clear. The voices, pictures, little videos that played and distracted my attention, gone, he was my sole focus now, him and his flogger. One last strike and he was done. He could tell I had had enough. I heard the flogger being laid on the counter. The ice in his glass clinking, I would give anything right now for a sip of water, I felt as if I was on fire, my face, my eyes, throat, my ass it was all burning, like a volcano across the skin of my back and on the tops of my thighs. I said nothing, I couldn’t the ball gag prevented any understandable words, the most I could do was whimper, moan, continue to cry. When his hand touched my ass, the cold sensation, against my hot welted skin; it was almost as painful as the beating. His other hand went to my back, I felt pressure, and then a warm wet sensation on my left cheek, his day old growth of beard gave away what he was doing, his tongue tracing a welt. Goosebumps traveled up my spine, thinking of him, his tongue so close to my pussy. Normally after I have been spanked, I have to stand in the corner, hands clasped behind my head. He will approach me from behind, his hand will dip into my pussy, a finger to my clit, and he nearly takes me off my feet, his fingers probing, circling, and flicking at my little electric button. My legs buckling under me, his finger on my clit, the only thing holding me up, keeping me from hitting the floor is his skilled fingers. I don’t know what he is going to do now, there is no corner, no clasping my hands, and he has me bound to my punishment box. My ass, pussy or mouth at the perfect height, for him to do with as he pleases, yet, he isn’t doing anything, I can only imagine he is standing back admiring his work.
Though I am on fire, I am calming down; there is an amazing calm that takes over after you have received discipline. Knowing that someone cares enough for you to accept your surrender, and wants you to be a better person, then takes steps to help you achieve that. I wish I could say that he made love to me that day, or that he pleasured himself with my body, but he didn’t. Today was about punishment and redemption. I don’t know how long I lay there, but when he came to get me it was dark outside. He undid my bounds, released my tits from their torture device, he helped me to my feet. When we went back into the house from the garage, he told me to get a drink, and come to bed. I must have drunk 6 glasses of water, all the fluid from my body had been drained during the beating. I staggered to the bedroom, wanting to snuggle up to him, and feel his body. He had placed my pillow and blanket on the floor. The beating was bad, but to be denied his bed, was worse. I took my place on the floor, trying to sleep on my side as it hurt too much to lay on my back, and my nipples hurt too much to lay on my stomach, I drifted off at some point, hoping that tomorrow, the pain would be less, and he would let me prove to him that I could be respectful, that my focus is improved. I hoped as I fell into a restless sleep, that tomorrow he would use me, take me, to let me feel him inside me.
To be continued…
|
|
|
|
