You’ve never really been beaten unless you’ve begged him to stop

Stroke after stroke, scoring the flesh, scarring the flesh.The burning heat. The jagged sting. The screams, the moans, the tears.

Culminating in a desperate plea, repeated over and over again,

“Have mercy, Master…”

It’s such a hot fantasy, isn’t it?

In my fantasy, the beating is usually followed by several earth-shaking orgasms and my domly one wrapping me up tightly in his arms and telling me how proud he is of me.

However, my reality post-beating usually consists of a bonus nipple-cripple, thigh-slap or face-licking session and an order to fuck off and make him coffee.

Mmmm…the realities of the modern-day slave girl.

My pain never comes with a side of sex. He doesn’t service me or provide me with pleasure, I’m here for his pleasure and his needs. Instead, I can have a release (on those very rare occasions that I’m granted one) but only because he acknowledges the fact that too much pressure can make a dam(sel) burst. He grants them grudgingly and exacts as much humiliation out of it as possible i.e. the writing up of the granted release on the fridge door chart including Β the date, the reason it was granted and the gory details of how it was carried out.

I scored myself a release out of my Cirque de kitten performance on Sunday night and it has been duly written up on the fridge door chart. I haven’t used it yet, hoping for a seemingly impossible hour or two at home alone where I can indulge in a bit of self-bondage and associated porn viewing. Privacy is also not something that slave girls are supposed to enjoy so I can’t exactly go to Master and say, “Can you go somewhere for a couple of hours and call me before you reach the driveway??”

I’ve always found it interesting that 99% of M/s couples tend to incorporate some sort of pain play – regardless of whether there’s a masochist or sadist in the relationship. I’m not a masochist and Master isn’t a sadist. And although he tells me the shape of my ass just begs for a beating, sometimes I just think he goes through the motions because it’s somehow expected that he beat me.

I understand that taking pain is one of the easiest/most accessible ways of showing submission. It’s pretty much something you can do anywhere, anytime and if you’ve got a hand and some flesh, you don’t even need an implement. It also generally doesn’t involve the threat of being arrested like walking through your local hardware store in nothing but a pair of boots does, and generally speaking, it doesn’t require a degree in nuclear physics to carry out. I get that that’s why it’s probably on the menu of most couples, but aren’t there other less painful ways of showing submission??

We used to go play parties where there was a couple who did nothing but different poses. He directed her movements with a crop, minutely adjusting the position of her body until he was satisfied with her presentation. They’d be doing that for 20 or 30 minutes, silently, while the sound of other couples playing with paddles and floggers echoed all around them. At the time, I was privately thinking, ‘Pfffffttt!!’ but now I’m kind of understanding what they were doing and thinking it was powerful that they were breaking away from the traditional beatings and pain play that everyone does.

I can’t say I’ve ever been beaten to the point that I begged for it to stop. I’ve been very close to thinking, ‘Fuck, I can’t take this anymore!’ on a couple of occasions, but never to the extent that I was writhing around in excruciating pain asking for mercy. It’s also been the case on a couple of occasions that I’ve fainted before I’ve ever gotten to the point of it being too much. Generally speaking, if I don’t faint, I cry and because tears flip Master’s horny switch like nothing else can, before I know it, I’m being ravished and there’s a wet spot on the bed.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to be pushed that far Β – to be pushed to the point that there’s just the pain and you. I have a feeling though that the fantasy is a lot hotter than the reality ever would be, because, let’s face it, pain hurts πŸ™‚

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10 thoughts on “You’ve never really been beaten unless you’ve begged him to stop”

    1. Well, Sephi, you’ve got a bit of the maso-bug in you, so you might like the reality as much as the fantasy. Lucky you πŸ™‚

  1. It doesn’t take too much to get to the point where I’m yelling and hollering and crying and telling him to stop. Since he’s not really sadistic, he usually doesn’t take me much past that point. I wish he would. I’m just a wuss who likes to tap out early.

    One thing that I absolutely can’t handle for very long is a belt to the back of the thighs. I don’t think I’ve ever handled more than about 20 of those.

    1. Back of the thighs=bad place.

      Sometimes i wonder if it would be better if I yelled and hollered. Part of me doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of eliciting a response from me, and the other half of me thinks I should be giving him some sort of reaction so I’m not laying there like a piece of tuna.

      1. hehe I definitely got my fair share of the maso-bug.

        maybe if you just tried once doing an all out scream and holler while He inflicts pain….yanno…try it out. you might like it πŸ™‚

        1. @Sephi

          I dunno it still makes me feel like an uber wimp…
          And I’ve got this other thing about overly vocal people annoying me – I understand that’s their thing and all, but sometimes I want to slap them around and say, “STFU!”

      2. The funny thing is that I used to be able to take it like a champ. Then he started the “no going away in your head” rule and now I’m a big bag of wimp.

        Sheesh, they’re called COPING mechanisms for a reason.

        1. What do you mean about the ‘going away in your head’ thing? You can control going to that happy space where things don’t hurt?

        2. I have something of a phobia about needles. I can take worse pains fairly well, but something about being penetrated by needles is just… no frickin’ way. Of course I have to deal with syringes for shots and blood tests on rare occasions, and while I don’t have a “happy place”, I can make it bearable by simply denying the reality as it happens. If someone said I couldn’t do that, and had a way of enforcing it – I’m going to have to make them sign a release form stating that I am *not* responsible for whatever happens as a result. (Which is likely to be a mental breakdown on my part if I am completely restrained or a physical breakdown on their part if I’m not.)

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