The Gift

We arrange our meeting lace and time. You know what it is I need from you. I am not in a good place, and need to purge my emotions from my mind..find serenity again.

Knock knock knock..per our agreement. I hesitate and wait. You answer, take my hand and bid me to enter. You ask if I am sure, and I reply..yes. My safe word shall be ..enough...when I have had enough. I am told to remove all my clothes and I do so at one, folding and putting everything on a neat pile and placing on a chair by the window.

I have requested no blindfold and no gagging. No needles or broken bones. And the only blood shall be the scar I have requested..to remind me of my mistakes and a visual reminder not to travel certain roads in my life anymore. It is to be places on my right buttock, not to be visible above my bikini..this is only for my eyes, I want to owe no explanations.

You tenderly stroke my hair back from my face, caress my cheek with the knuckle of your right pointer finger and lead me to the wall. You take my left arm and pull it up. You secure my wrist with a wide leather cuff. You do the same with my left wrist. You use a foot to kick my legs apart...and secure each ankle in more leather cuffs. I am comfortable but immobile..I can slightly move my butt..I am stretched to keep me still.

I am not familiar with the tools your have lined up in a row..but I recognize the whip. I have requested this be what leaves the mark of memories. A reminder of where I have been and where I want to go. And mistakes I do not want to repeat. A reminder that I am better than where I have been and to move forward and embrace who I can be.

I am ready, let us begin. You pick up a short handles leather tool..it has lots of leather strips on it...you call it a flogger. I have requested pain to help bleed the memories and anger out of me. I feel little pain when I am angry..the anger needs to go first. You begin swatting me with the flogger, sometimes its stings and others it just brushes my skin. You tell me it is making my skin a nice shade of pink...we are aiming for red or when I say my safe word.

A blow up on my shoulder blade actually hurts, and I feel myself relaxing. My anger is slowing draining away. You keep raining blows up and down my back, on my buttocks and now my thighs. They hurt and sting, especially my inner thighs. They are sensitive there. You soothe the sting with your hands..talking softly and asking if I am ok. I nod and you begin again. Now my skin is on fire and a leather ***** catches my ***** . My breath catches and I strain up on my toes. I tell you to keep going while grinding my teeth. That brought tears to my eyes and I hope no more blows land there.

I have marks everywhere..strips of red and you stop to rub my *****, my buttocks, thighs, shoulders and back. I t feels so good and soothes the burn. You warn that I need to use my safeword soon...I am red enough. I nod and tell you to continue. Each stroke now hurts, my skin is to sensitive and on fire. But the tension has washed away and now my body is languid and I realize my nipples are hard and another ache is starting between my legs.

You put down the flogger and I turn my head. You kiss me, long, slow and sexy. You reach down with your hand and you stroke my *****...tease my **** and pinch my nipples. You twist a nipple to keep the pain going while rubbing and circling my **** to keep me wanting, craving, needing. You put two fingers in me and start pounding hard..rubbing my button with your thumb. I explode, my ****** so intense I cannot breathe. You hold me for a moment..still rubbing my button to draw my climax out and then you move away.

You pick up the whip and before I can think..you draw your arm back and lay that whip across my back. The pain of that crack is more then I can comprehend and with that next stroke you slice my right buttock open.

You then place the whip back on the table and hurriedly uncuff me. You lay me on the bed, belly down and inspect my skin. You grab the first aid kit and clan the wound. The antiseptic stings worse than when it was cut. You hold me down while you clean and bandage it. I will not need stitches but I will definitely have my scar of memories.

I smile and you wipe the tears from my eyes. You gently crawl on the bed with me and hold me to you..belly to belly. You will spend the night with me to be sure I am ok.

What an incredible gift from a Master. You have asked for nothing darling man. You understood the darkness that needed to be released and and you helped me feel whole again. I am forever your servant and in your debt.
lacythrills lacythrills
46-50, F
2 Responses Nov 29, 2012

Undoubtedly you are a masochist, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. And your friend is a true sadist, administering pain with methodical precision, like a hairdresser. "Just a blow-wave, a cut and clan please". "Yes Ma'am". Few people trust their hairdresser this much. Hair dressing is an art form - so is sado- masochism.

Loved it.... you know what excites you for sure!!!