“Now!” he growled, tapping his foot impatiently. She crawled onto the bed quickl
“Now!” he growled, tapping his foot impatiently. She crawled onto the bed quickly. That tone always shot fear through her. She knew she had been wrong, but somehow felt justified in her actions. But he was her Master. She only wished to please him. He turned to face away from her in the bed, rummaging through his toy box. He rose with a slender black flogger in his hand. The new one. The handle shimmered brightly despite the low light. He always insisted on a single lamp lighting her room during her punishments. He swung it around a bit, listening for the muted whoosh of the air around it, and smiled to himself. This wasn’t the first time she would feel the sting of the leather across her back, and she was sure it wouldn’t be the last. She had displeased him yet again, and felt unending remorse for it. But part of her craved this contact. Through her fear she could feel herself becoming moist between her legs. And she knew he could smell it. Her mind begged for him to taste it, but she knew better than to ask. He would take his time as he always did. It was torture to wait so long. Endure so much just to get the release she craved, but he always made it well worth it. As he approached the bed he shook his head in genuine dismay. “Do you know why I have to do this to you, girl?” he asked in a steady, solemn tone. “I displeased you, sir. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I swear,” she pleaded, her fear apparent in her voice. She pulled against the white, silky ropes again, but could not begin to break free. Her alabaster skin now beginning to shimmer with sweat. She was always completely exposed for her punishments. He had said that it pleased him to see her so exposed and vulnerable. He was gracious this time, leaving her face down, only her back and bottom clearly exposed, her sensitive sex somewhat hidden. She let her head fall to the bed in defeat. “Why am I so stupid?” she thought silently. “Because you want it,” came a reply from the back of her mind. She smiled slightly at the voice. It was his. It has always been his. Even before they met, it was his voice telling her things like this. Instructing her. “I don’t like to do this to you, girl,” he said shaking his head. “But I have to. You need to be put in your place. To remember who you belong to. Understood?” She nodded the best she could. “Yes, sir.” She tensed. She knew it was coming now. It was a familiar pain, but she could never say it was comfortable. He always kept her guessing on just how hard and fast the blows would come, always landing at seemingly random intervals. He mind swam recalling the times she had been in this position before, bringing up another twinge of fear, coupled with a growing desire. Maybe it wasn’t the punishment she craved, but the way he cared for her after. So strong get gentle. So rough yet sweet. The dichotomy of his love would always amaze her. “Are you ready?” He spoke gently. Calmly. The calm before the storm. She could hear the many-tailed instrument lightly popping against itself as he swished it against his hand. She took in a deep breath and tried to clear her mind, unsuccessfully. “This is what you’re waiting for,” his voice called silently in her mind. “Yes, sir.” His pacing stopped as he met her at the side of the bed. The first blow landed. It was always the worst. It wouldn’t be if he didn’t insist on speaking to her throughout. The pain in his voice was subtle but she could feel it radiating out from him in a wavelength only she could detect. “I’m disappointed in you, girl. I expect better from you.” He spoke slowly. Deliberately. His instrument connected with her flesh once again, this time harder, the air rushing around it as it fell. The pain of his words was far greater than that of the leather against her skin. She didn’t know if she was grateful for that fact or not. The first flow of tears began to well up in her eyes. It was such a strange sensation. The pain was so great. Both physically and emotionally. But the rush she gets when she disobeys, knowing what’s to come. The burning desire that builds, behind all the anguish of her punishment. It always left her sex a dripping mess. As the next blow landed, she cried out for the first time. “This pain is not my own. It is yours. You caused it. Only you. But it is just a reminder. The marks on your skin a badge to wear. To show the world that you want to be a good girl for me.” His words were slow and steady. She couldn’t quite understand how he kept so cool while giving such torture, but a part of her was thankful for it. His voice was soothing, even in such intense acts. He was never one to raise his voice. It was erotic in a way, his demeanor during her punishments. She let out another cry as another blow whipped across her back, now red, welts raising from the thin strips of leather she endured. Heaves of breath and tears now flowed freely. Her skin burned. Her heart sank. This was the moment when she felt the full effect of her actions. She tried to speak softly, but her body wouldn’t allow it. “Please!” she cried, barely able to lift her head enough to make the words audible. Her body had given out, leaving only the grip of the ropes to comfort her. Her mind had gone blank, only the sting on her flesh and the pain in her heart left. He brought the instrument down once again, but this time life a feather. It grazed her skin lightly. Each strand suddenly felt like a silken string, caressing her skin as it slid across her body. He angled the handle and slid it up and down her back, the leather making tiny kisses all over her flesh. “I love you, ” he said, and addressed her with her name. “I hate doing this to you. You know that, don’t you?” Through her heaves she just mustered out the words, “Yes, Daddy. I know.” As she spoke she heard the flogger drop to the floor. Her ropes became lose, then released their grip on her limbs. She heard the shuffling of clothing, then the creak of the bedsprings. She felt his flesh against hers, guiding her onto her side, curling her into a ball, wrapping the very arms that had just caused her pain around her body. All of his flesh now contacted hers. She winced slightly from his skin against her wounds, but quickly relaxed. “I love you, too, Daddy,” she whimpered, sniffing and wiping away tears. “Thank you.” She wriggled slightly to push herself deeper into his grasp. She felt his sex against her bottom. He was not aroused. His hand moved to her head, slowly stroking her hair. “I’m proud of you, girl. And now I wish to reward you.” As he spoke, she could feel his sex growing against her…. -- source link
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