Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Submission Therapy. You know you need it. #erotica #bdsm
Master Sweet brought the paddle up to my face and held it there. “Kiss it.” He saw my expression morph from fear to puzzlement. “Speak your question.”
“Be specific, slave.”
“Sorry, Master. Why would I kiss this object? It’s only going to hurt me.”
“Ask yourself how many kisses you’ve already spent on those who’ve wounded you.” He caressed my cheek with the paddle.
“You will learn so much from this implement. It will take you to places inside of you that you wish you could find alone. That is not an intimacy you wish to share with a stranger.”
For years now my only intimacy had been with strangers. Which further backed up Derek’s insistence that it was time for me to change. I puckered up and with my eyes squeezed shut, kissed the paddle. Surprisingly, I felt less stupid than I expected to.
“You have earned back the right of free, respectful speech. Good girl.”
It was the third time he’d said that to me. Those two little words – good girl – gave me chills on the back of my neck. I sought no praise in daily life, and that’s exactly what I got. The curious thrill it gave me made me want to hear it again. The idea that I had the power to make him say it, make him call me his good girl, simply through obedience, ignited a craving within me.
He switched the paddle back to his spanking hand and rested it against me, right where the base of my ass blended with the backs of my thighs.
“You are making progress, but you still have much to learn.”
“Yes, Master Sweet.” I resigned myself to the punishment, and even thought I might be beginning to understand it. I should have remained still. And next time, I knew I would. If only to hear him tell me I was good.
“Let us continue with that lesson. We will start with ten.”
I held my breath. He swatted the paddle against me, so swiftly that it felt like a bite. I couldn’t contain the small scream that leapt from my throat.
“One,” I squeaked.
Another swat. Another squeal. “T...two.”
Swat. “Three!” Fierce determination infused my voice with an animalistic frenzy.
With every blow that landed, I felt a brand new white flower of pain against my skin. This was a much more intense punishment than my warm-up. But for all that, I somehow knew I could take it. The Master had already found parts of me I never knew I’d lost, and I sensed he had much more strength than he was using right now. Letting go of control, allowing myself to be cared for and punished by the Master was already having an effect on my stress levels.
With every blow the weight on my shoulders – the money, the investments – seemed to lighten. As if the quakes running through my body were dislodging everything, sending it into some abyss. Stroke by stroke the world shrunk. By the seventh, my entire universe consisted of the stinging red skin on my ass and thighs.
There was peacefulness to that realization. Though painful for the moment, the simplicity of life within these walls was a pleasant relief. The tightness in my chest released with the eighth stroke, and I let out a long controlled breath. A smooth, involuntary moan rode out on it. Master’s voice pressed through the nothingness in my mind.
“You are a swift learner. Perhaps I will relieve you of the final two strokes.”
I swam back into full consciousness. “No, Master. Please.” Two hours ago I would have thought he was cutting me slack. Now it felt like I was being short-changed.
“Excellent. You will indeed make a fine sub.”