We played on Friday, although I'm not sure "play" is the right word. "Play" tends to denote fun, and what we did was anything but fun.
For me. It was not fun for me.
Master thoroughly enjoyed himself, however.
He took me in the bedroom and told me to put on my purple wrist cuffs. Then He placed me where He wanted me, at the end of our bed, standing upright, facing away from the bed. He looped purple rope through the D-rings on the wrist cuffs and tied my wrists to the upper cross bar of the bed frame. My arms were outstretched and tied tight.
This was a different position for me. Usually, when He ties me to the bed, I'm bent over the end of the bed, face down in the mattress. Not this time. I was upright and facing Him. Despite the radical change in position, I remained unaware of what was about to happen. I was fairly relaxed, and my *guess* was that He was going to pinch and slap my breasts and pussy.
And I was right about that. He did indeed do those things.
But after He lulled me into a false sense of security, He slapped my face. Hard. He slapped it more than once. It stung; my face burned. I was stunned.
After the first round, things started to blur. He was everywhere, pinching, slapping, probing (yes, I was wet, which added to my distress), and He would slap me, then pull me close and kiss me, deeply. It was overwhelming.
Perhaps that's why, when He slapped my face in rapid succession for a second time, I started to cry. This surprised me; the tears came on so suddenly, and of course, I tried to fight them.
But He wanted them. Not so soon, as He told me afterward, but He did want them. So He continued. More slapping, pinching, probing, and at one point He pushed me back as far as I could go, climbed onto the bed and shoved His rock-hard cock down my throat.
All of this was followed my more slaps to the face, and at this point, the sobs broke through. Tears flowed, and I cried.
And as I cried, He circled His arms around me, pulled me close, and then He licked the tears that ran down my face. "Your tears taste so sweet," He murmured as He ran His tongue along my cheek. That made me cry even more.
After getting His fill of my tears, He untied me and ordered me onto the bed. He fucked me; He brought me to orgasm, and then I sucked His cock until He came.
Even now, two days later, I am not really sure how I feel about what happened. We've talked about it, about how quickly I was moved to tears, how I felt immediately after (I did not feel like I normally do; no "floating" on endorphins), how He felt about it.
Clearly, I do not like having my face slapped. I don't think I ever will. It's not a type of action/pain that I can eroticise or sexualise. I find it demeaning and humiliating. But at the same time, I don't expect Him to not do it. He likes it; it turns him on. He's a sadist. And He's in charge.
In case anyone was wondering, it did leave a mark on my left cheek. A small, quarter sized mark, not a bruise, but a red-patch. If you didn't know any better, you would simply think that I'd been outside in the cold and my face was wind-chapped.
And yes, the mark pleased Him, too.