Suppressed tears

Master R sat down on the couch and patted His legs, looking at me. I smiled. I knew it meant I was going to be spanked and I just love that. Not directly at first, but I like the floaty feeling it eventually gives me, to find the inner rest I sometimes need. Once I was positioned across His legs, the spanking started. It hurt, as I knew it would. I moaned and writhed and tried to get away from His hand, but soon I was able to relax and just accept the blows of His hand. Once He brushed my hair away from my face to look at me. I smiled. I was in a happy place.

I seem to recall that Master R got up, but that I did not look to see what He was doing. I had to lie across His lap again and soon He the spanking started again. But then there was something else. A paddle of sorts and one that really hurt. It had me moaning and groaning and sometimes even screaming in pain. He alternated the paddle – I later learned it was a beach ball paddle – with His hand. I tried to get away from the pain, but He held me close and pulled me back into position if I managed to move away a bit. A couple of times Master R pushed His fingers deep into my soaking wet cunt.

Eventually He stood up again and told me to get on my knees, on the couch, my ass up in the air, my upper body pressed to the seating on the couch. I have difficulty to stand like this, supported by only me head, because it makes me feel like I might suffocate. I had my hands under my head, my ass up in the air. But soon I was moving away from the hurt again. The beach ball paddle, a flogger, His hand and eventually a very mean whip and a cane. Every time I tried to protect my ass, Master R told me to get it up in the air again. Somewhere I registered that Master T was spanking and whipping Dena too, but the hurt in my backside soon turned my attention back to my own situation. I had tears in my eyes, but I did not want to cry. I swallowed hard to keep my tears from streaming. A sob caught in my throat.

I have no idea how long it went on. Just that there was a moment where Master T and Master R swapped places. The new dragon tail was used on me. The moment came where the hurt in my arms was almost worse than the hurt in my backside and I tried to tell Master T. Eventually He understood and I was allowed to sit. I had to do this very carefully as my bottom felt quite tender.

I think I sat for about 20 minutes when Master R got up and told me to follow Him and get my blindfold. He tied cuffs around my wrists, while I put the blindfold on. He took my hand and lead me to the St. Andrews Cross. On our way there I could not help to think what a nice feeling it was to trust someone so completely to lead me to wherever He wanted me. Once my hands were tied to the cross using carbine hooks, Master R tied cuffs around my ankles. Two carbine hooks secured my feet to the cross too. The torture that started on the couch continued on the cross. The paddle, the whip, the flogger, the cane, another whip, His hands. It hurt and I tried to get away from it, tried to turn my body but with my feet tied this was almost impossible.

There was a moment when I went through a certain barrier and even though I heard the implements as they touched my backside, even though I felt the pain, I did not move. I just endured. I allowed it to happen. I allowed my body to process the pain, to just accept what was happening, but there were moments that it hurt so much and it had me turning and twisting again. I went in and out of it. One moment I was quiet and accepted what was happening, the next moment I fought. I felt the tears, tried to stop them but wasn’t very successful at it. Somehow I did not want to cry, because I did not want Master R to stop already. I did not want Him to take my tears as a sign to stop. It was only the next day that I realized He would not have stopped even if He did see my tears. He did not stop back on our Fifty Shades of Red date either.

He untied me from the cross, turned me around and held me. I was shivering, not from cold, but from trying to suppress my sobs. I just wanted to cry, to let go, to let all built-up tension from the preceding weeks flow from my body. I wanted to do that on the couch, but just like then I held my tears back again. I swallowed my sobs and smiled and moaned when Master R tied me back to the cross and used the cane on my breasts. Not for long, but long enough for it to really hurt. I had to be even more careful to sit back down on the couch than I had to be earlier.

 

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On our way home and the next day I constantly had the feeling that I wanted to cry. I knew this was because I did not let my tears run free the night before. Master T was very gentle with me, caring. And mean too, because He just loved lightly tapping my very bruised bottom.

© Rebel’s Notes