37: A Fantasy [May 10]

This is the very first time I've tried to write a fantasy and actually put down in writing what I think about… @Queenswolf requested (read: ordered) that I write down what my "dirty little mind" was thinking about when I suggested plans for my birthday. And this is it (slightly edited version).

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I hear your footsteps on the gravel outside. My heart is beating fast, I am short of breath, and I've only been sat waiting for you… I jump up to open the door, but I'm not fast enough, you've already knocked. I open it, I'm in your arms, my lips on your's… Suddenly you grab a handful of my hair, and tip my neck backwards. You push me back toward the wall, your other hand grabs at my crotch. Roughly I feel you feel me… “I bet your slutty cunt is wet already, isn't it?” you growl into my ear. I try to nod but your hand is still on my hair, and my neck isn't free. “Yes Sir”, I manage to gasp, mortified that you're right. And you've been here exactly 5 seconds.

You close the door and push me towards the bedroom. “Strip” you order. I comply as quickly as I can. I'm a mess of emotion, I've missed you so much, I want you to kiss me, I've needed your arms about me, making me feel safe. But I can tell it's going to be a while before I feel that way. You want to use me, to hurt me, to control me. Not to comfort me. My comfort has to be that I can be done to what you want. I am shaking, shivering, suddenly cold, suddenly scared.

Before I know it, I'm naked, and cuffed, ankles and wrists. You are threading the rope through the D-links, stringing my arms up high, and I know you are going to beat me against the door. You tie the rope around my breasts tight, making them protrude, you tie it around my crotch, putting a knot just where I'm wet. Your fingers are probing and I feel so humiliated at my wetness. “whore” you say, “Yes Sir” I say… “I'm sorry” I say… I don't notice your hand rising, but I feel the sting on my cheek. “Don't apologise for being my slut”, “Sorry” I say, and as soon as I realise what I've done I feel the sting again, this time the other cheek. “No more words from you, slut. You just lost the right to speak.” I nod, bleakly, my breathing is fast, I'm so angry at myself, I shouldn't have done that, I should have known better.

I know now that if the beating had been because you felt like beating me, or because you knew I needed to feel pain; I know now that it's going to be something more, that it's going to be really hard to take. You pull the rope tight, my arms above my head. You spend some time fingering my wetness, squeezing my nipples; the pain is intense, and coupled with the way you're making my pussy feel, I want to cum; I try to rub against you, but you push me toward the door, and I know to stand still. You position me, bottom slightly protruded, legs apart, and I know it's about to start.

“You're 37 today, aren't you?” you say… “So… 37 then…” Your hand is on my bottom, your other one at my neck. “Hmmm… I think as well as not saying anything, you shouldn't be allowed to move, or to yelp… If I think you are complaining about what you get in any way, I will start again. But with a harder implement. I'll start with the smaller rubber paddle. If you're brave, you'll only receive 37 with it. But if you fail, I will finish, and then I will pick up the next instrument, and I will start again. On a different part of your body. Do you understand slut?” I nod. I don't dare speak, not even to say “yes Sir”. You grab my head back, “I said, do you understand, slut?” your voice is insistent, and I know to answer you “yes Sir”. “Good.”

I try to focus on my breathing. I try to relax. I try to breathe through it. Not being able to move, or to make a sound, but not being gagged, not being tightly bound down, my legs still being free. I know this is going to be so hard, the self-control I am going to have to show, through such pain. But I am determined to do it. I know I'll fail in the end, I know that at some point you will move on and it will get worse. But I am determined to make you proud, to take more than you think I can. I breathe. I hear you fumbling around in the bag, and moving around the room. I feel the air move near me as you take a practice swing. I know there's no warm up. It's starting.

Jesus! The first one took my breath away, I almost blew it on the first one. You let me absorb it, and you put your hand on the flesh which is red hot already. I'm grateful for it. You're going to let me acclimatise. I almost thank you but remember in time not to.

Fuck! The second one is worse! and then comes the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, in quick succession. You're not letting me acclimatise at all. You misled me. I want to yell at you, tell you it's not fair, its too much, but somehow I stay still, I don't make a sound, I let you. I'm your's, and you do what you want. I focus on the pain, I focus on making the pain my normal, and I breathe into it. 6, 7, 8, 9, I know that more and more are raining down on my bottom. Maybe I can do this, maybe I can make it all it is. Because this is the lightest you're going to use, and this is my bottom. Any other part of me will hurt more…

I've lost count… I lose control, my leg lifts up. You don't appear to notice. Another hard swipe and you come into my ear… “I saw that you slut, don't try to hide that from me. And you were so close too… 3 more…” I feel the tears well up, I was close, I was that close to doing as you'd asked. Those last 3 hurt, they hurt the worst because I was a failure.

“Hmmm… backs of thighs… breasts…. back… inside of thighs…. pussy…?” You are whispering in my ear. I moan. I moan loudly at that last one. Please, no, you wouldn't… “There's the rubber flogger, the big rubber paddle, the wooden stick, and both your canes… and you have a wooden spoon in your kitchen, I know how you hate those… You see, if you can't learn how to keep still, you see how many lessons you are going to have to take…?” You've pulled my face around to your's, and I nod briefly, looking into your eyes, my eyes full of tears… “You can cry, slut, it won't stop what's going to happen. You knew the rules.” And I nod. And it starts again…

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This was part one. When this was over you held me…. I knelt at your feet, with my head on your knees and I felt so peaceful, my body of welts throbbing with my heartbeat. You took my egg and you put it inside me. You told me to get dressed, and we went out. You held my hand, and you made sure the roads were safe to cross, and you bought me popcorn at the cinema. We went to dinner and I had wine. You let me talk again at dinner, without a direct question being asked first. I'd earned it back. I was so proud of myself. Every so often you'd use the remote and I was grateful that you had that power over me. But you wouldn't let me cum.

I knew this was all just an intermission. I knew that when we went back home, you would make me learn another lesson. I was going to have to learn to trust you, entirely. I knew that you were going to break me down, that the pain might be over, but the fear wasn't. Sitting at dinner I couldn't quite imagine being scared of you, but I knew it would come. And I wanted it to. I hoped you'd fuck me later, use me, make me your toy, your thing, I hoped you'd cum inside me. All these things I was thinking about at dinner, sipping at my wine, chewing my food. The egg buzzed again, and I look at your cheeky smile, you seem happy with me. And I smile. Happy.

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Of course, it didn't quite happen that way. As I said at the start, this was the fantasy. Reality is always so much better  It was a good day  Thank you Sir.