Continued from… Playdate 4-3: Rope, wheel & more whips
I always fight harder when Master T is the one whipping me. As I stood there, bound to the cross and hurting from the whipping, these thoughts rushed through my mind. Why do I fight Him so hard? Do I think I would get His sympathy and He would stop hurting me? Do I have difficulty submitting to Him and is it easier to submit to Master R? I never find it difficult to submit to Master T, but I always test my boundaries. Being bound to the cross and blindfolded meant that I could not test those boundaries. That was new for me. I did not only want to submit to Him, but here I was forced to do so. I also knew that there was no way that I would get His sympathy. Nothing would make Him stop from whipping me except when He decided that it was enough. That much I knew. These thoughts rushed through my mind while I writhed and tried to turn a way from the whip, which was difficult since my feet were bound to the cross too.
I was about to surrender to the whipping when Master T suddenly stopped. He untied my feet, but I did not realize that the whipping had stopped. It was only when He untied my hands too that I realized that it was over. I felt disappointed. He hugged me and kissed me. I leaned against Him, still listening to Dena’s grunting.
The evening had ended all too soon. Master T and I were home just before 1am. We relaxed and talked some and just before 3am we went to bed. I was still feeling incredibly happy and even more so when I saw the marks the Masters had left on my body. I suspect that this time Master T has left more marks on my body than Master R. He really is getting better and better with the whip, something I am both happy with and ‘fear’ a bit.
Master T made some pictures of my bruised bottom. I was much hornier than I was tired. He told me that I should stay on my stomach, as He liked the view. It must have been more than an hour later that we finally went to sleep. I had numerous squirting orgasms while on my stomach with my ass up in the air, legs spread. I felt whorish and privileged to be with someone who knows my body so incredibly well. Our sex play and the evening of fun was ended with a huge anal-induced orgasm. The top of the duvet cover was quite wet but I did not care. I fell asleep in Master T’s arms with a smile on my face.
On Saturday morning I woke up with the smile still plastered on my face and a deliciously tender bottom. Thoughts about the previous night kept on whirling around in my mind and I frequently caught myself staring out of the window, thinking about the night before. It took days to process some of the feelings that I had felt on the Friday night. I was still in awe with the floaty feeling during the first whipping. I could not help to wonder whether I would have experienced that same floaty feeling with the second whipping, had Master T not stopped.
We just needed an hour more… just an hour…
In the weekend after the playdate I had a task to perform. This task was not set by Master T, but by M and it was already the 5th one (story to follow) he had ordered me to do. This task had me excited all of Saturday and on Sunday, when I executed it, I was still flying high. The happy bouncy feeling continued throughout Monday and Tuesday and most of Wednesday. It was on Wednesday night that I was out with some colleagues that the drop hit me. We entered a restaurant with a medieval theme and there, right in the corner of the room where we were seated was a pillory.
I suddenly felt an incredible pull towards it. I wanted to be naked, I wanted the Masters and Dena to be there, I wanted to be beaten, I wanted to be used. But I had to behave because of the company I was in. Tears stung my eyes. I recognized the drop and fought hard against it. That night I did not sleep well. The next day my mood shifted from feeling okay to feeling down. Master T was very kind and comforting and by the time Friday arrived, I felt better.
Only one thing remained: the intense feeling of wanting to be back at the venue and to feel the pain and pleasure all over again.
© Rebel’s Notes