"I Want to Hurt You..."

He took me into the bedroom a few days ago, led me by the hand.  Once inside, with the door closed, I looked at Him.  Did He need some 'attention', I asked, or did He want something more? 'Attention' is our code for a blowjob; 'Something More' is code for...something more than just a blowjob.

There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, and then He looked directly at me and said, softly, "I want to hurt you."

It's difficult to describe how those five little words made me feel.  I suppose it's best to say I swooned a little, maybe even a lot.  Those are the five best words a masochist can hear.

What happened next?  Well, He hurt me, naturally.  A nice long beating, complete with a warm-up to start.  He used different implements,  the paddle, the strap, his hand, and He kept a nice even tempo until my butt was toasty.  He finished with one incredibly sharp stroke with the cane.  It left the most amazing mark on my ass, but sadly we didn't take a picture.  Next time, hopefully.

Yesterday He took me into the bedroom again, but there wasn't time to ask Him what He wanted. He ordered me to my knees right away, and some rough oral sex ensued.  You know the kind where His cock makes it difficult to breath because it's shoved down your throat, and your eyes water and your nose runs?

Yeah, it was like that.

For a little while, it was like that, then He ordered me over the end of the bed.  Unlike the previous time, where He'd been kind enough to give me a warm-up, there was no warm-up.  He went straight to the cane.

Anyone out there know what it feels like to get hit with the cane sans warm-up?  If you don't know, it does NOT feel good.  It hurts like a m*****f*****.

Oh yes, I'd been swooning only a few days previous, but at this moment?  Not so much, in fact, not at all.  He wasn't gentle with the cane, He was serious, intent, and the strokes were hard.  It hurt, a lot.

He had a reason for this.  He wanted to leave stripes on my ass, and according to Him, if He gives me a warm-up first, the stripes do not appear.  M-type logic at it's finest, I must say.  But I digress...

My discomfort, my pain, pleased Him.  It excited Him, and His cock was rock hard.  He took great delight in fucking me after hitting me with the cane, grinding against the welts forming on my ass. Sadists...

Eventually, the pain ended, followed by good sex.  When it was all over, we mused about Mr. Cane, how long we'd had him (five and a half years, to be exact, but who's counting?).  I theorized (read:  secretly hoped) that Mr. Cane would be ready to break any time now, given his age.  I mean, seriously, how long do canes last, anyway?  Master remained unmoved, certain that Mr. Cane will continue to function for many years to come, and if not, then he will quickly be replaced with another version of Mr. Cane.

No matter my love/hate relationship with Mr. Cane, I do love it when Master tells me He wants to hurt me.  Even if Mr. Cane is involved.

Dream a Little Dream of Me...

Yesterday morning, right after we woke up, Master told me about a dream He had. In the dream, He and I were in a bar or restaurant, and He wanted me to leave with Him to go have sex.  I 'playfully' refused His request, in this dream, and this really excited Him, both in the dream and in real life, as He woke up in a state of arousal.

A little while later, after a few cups of coffee, He 'playfully' pushed me up against a wall in the kitchen, and scolded me for teasing Him in His dream.  "You might need a beating later on," He told me.

I didn't think that was fair, as I wasn't actually in His dream, and I started to say as much, but I shushed up when His fingers started to crush my nipples.  Besides, I'm not one to turn down a beating, am I?

The beating came much later in the day, after an afternoon of running errands.  He wasn't nice about it.  There was no ceremony, no ropes or restraints, no warm-up (grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr), just me bent over the end of the bed, while He went straight to the cane.

How cruel is that?  Seriously.  It.  Hurt.  And not in a good way.

And believe it or not, it got worse.  He pulled out the long handled shoe horn (which is not an approved* sex toy, btw), and used it on the sweet spot, and on the backs of my thighs.  Why?  Because He thought the marks it left looked "pretty."

Of course, in between creating welts with the cane and "pretty" marks with the shoe horn, He took the time to fuck me and grind against my stinging skin.  With each thrust I would cry out in pain, and He would moan in pleasure.

He's such a Sadist.

He continued this pattern, beating then fucking me, until I cried.  Once He had my tears, He told me to get up on the bed, and then He kissed everything and made it all better.

When it was all over, He really wanted me to see how the "pretty" mark from the shoe horn looked, so he whacked me on the top of my right thigh so I could easily see.  So kind, yep, that Master of mine is so thoughtful.

Sadly, I didn't really share in His appreciation of the "pretty" mark.  To me, it's an "OMG THAT F*ING HURTS!" mark, and I think it would be a real shame if the long handled shoe horn suddenly, and without warning, disappeared.

However, the saddest part of all is that after all that pain, there are no marks on my backside today.  Not a one.  There should at least be one bruise, or one left over welt, but nope, nada.  And I know when Master reads this, He will tell me, "Well, that just means I'll have to try harder."

Sadists...

*The long handled shoe horn is not approved for use as a sex-toy/implement of pain by the Official BDSM Committee Who Wrote the Rules of Proper BDSM Stuff, which I swear is all real, but Master insists is fake.

Clover Clamps Are No Bueno...

Our New Year started off the right way.

There was rope, slapping in the most sensitive of places, the purple suede flogger, clover clamps, and the Hitachi Wand.

It was great fun, until He removed the clover clamps from my nipples, right after He brought me to orgasm with the Hitachi Wand.  Then it wasn't fun.  It was "Watch the bound slave girl scream at the top of her lungs and start to sob."  The pain was immense, and my reaction was rather intense.

This freaked out both of us.  He was freaked because while He wanted to hurt me, He didn't want to hurt me like that.  I was freaked out because nipple-ectomies are on my hard-limit list.  End result: we both felt guilty and spent the next hour or so apologizing to each other for what happened.

Eventually we moved past it, and by bedtime things were back to normal with Master laying on His back, enjoying the first blowjob of the New Year from His slave girlie.

And, as a side note, should the clover clamps go missing, well, that would really, really, be a darn shame, now wouldn't it?

A Lesson About Warm-Ups...

Yesterday Master gave me a beating.  And believe it or not, He started with a warm-up.  It's true.  Oh, He will still be known as 'The Man Who Does Not Believe In Warm-Ups,' but yesterday, He started out nice and slow, no zero-to-100.

Of course, this was problematic.

Why?  Well, when He starts slow and gradually builds up the pain levels, I am able to tolerate more pain.  When He goes super fast, I am left moving and squirming and yelping and ready to stop as soon as He starts.

Not so yesterday.  That nice, slow build-up, punctuated by lovely breaks in which He would shove His cock in my pussy and fuck me hard, meant my ass was ready to take whatever He was giving.  He used Mr. Blister (the leather strap) and Mr. Cane (whom I hate), and I soaked up the pain like a sponge.

It was all good until He grabbed my hair, pulled my head back, and said, "Do you think I will stop before you cry?"

It took me a few seconds to respond.  And in those few seconds, a million thoughts flew through my endorphin-addled brain. 

"Tears?  He wants tears?  I'm not even close to crying...this could go on a long time...this could be bad...."

While my mind whirred, I managed to whisper, "I don't know."

His response?  "No, I won't."

He went back to work with the cane.  I went into a small state of panic.  He wanted my tears, and I really didn't think I had any to give Him.

However, He always gets what He wants.  And, giving up my tears really isn't up to me.  He knows what to do to make me cry.  He knows how much I hate when He hits my ass with Mr. Cane in a rapid-fire way.  So He used the cane and the leather strap, hitting me hard and fast, and it didn't take long before I was crying.

Big sobs, tears running down my face.

He likes to fuck me while I cry, which is just what He did, one hand wrapped around my hair, pulling my head back, while He thrust His cock into my pussy.

So what is the lesson to be learned from this?  That warm-ups, while normally beneficial, are decidedly detrimental when the Sadist wants His masochist to cry. 

"Do You Want More Pain?"

"Do you want more pain?"   This was the question the Sadist (Master) asked the masochist (me).  Such a loaded question, asked at such an inopportune moment, seeing as I was on teetering on the edge of an orgasm.  What's a greedy pain-slut to do?  Delay the orgasm while He rains down another round of stinging blows on my already swollen and aching pussy, or fore-go the pain and slip into orgasmic bliss?

Perhaps I should begin at the beginning...see, it started like this:

He took me in the bedroom and told me to lay face-up on the bed, legs spread wide.  Once I was in position, He fastened my wrists and ankles to the bed, leaving me open and exposed.  Satisfied that I wasn't going anywhere, He left me lying there, and went to gather some "toys."  He took His time, and I lay on the bed, bound and helpless, my pussy already throbbing from the anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, He came back to the bed, arranged the items He'd gathered, and moved next to me on the bed.  He was so gentle at the start.  His hand moved softly and slowly along the inside of my right thigh, a really light touch.   His fingertips moved from my thigh to my pussy lips, lightly brushing against the soft, smooth skin.   With a slow, deliberate motion, He teased me as His fingers circled the outside of my pussy, over and over and over.

It was a delicious torture, and it seemed to go on forever.  He swirled His fingers around and around, ignoring my moans and the fact that my hips were raised in a vain attempt to get Him to press just a little harder.  He teased me right to the brink of orgasm without ever parting my pussy lips or touching my clit.  That soft, gentle, teasing touch was all it took, and as I was oh-so-close to cumming, He stopped.

The gentle, swirling touches were replaced by a hard smack as the palm of His hand landed squarely on my pussy.  Once, twice, three times, over and over, all hard, all sharp, all showing no mercy.  The orgasm that had been looming instead receded.  Now my pussy throbbed from the pain of His stinging blows, and He spanked me there until I started to twist against the ropes holding me in place and yelp in pain.

Then He stopped.  Apparently we had reached the end of round one.

While I lay there, trying to catch my breath, He moved His hand back between my legs.  He rubbed my pussy, softly, as if to make it feel better.  This time, however, He parted my pussy lips, His fingers exploring the wetness.

His touch remained gentle, and now He traced soft, slow circles around my clit, and it didn't take long for the pre-orgasmic levels of excitement to return.  Once again, He brought me right back to the brink of orgasm.

And stopped.

He shifted His position on the bed, moved so that he was kneeling next me.  He picked something up off the bed, from where He'd set the "toys" He'd gathered up before we started.  I felt something cool rubbing against my pussy, and I knew what it was:  the long-handled plastic shoe horn.  He loves that thing, because, as He says, it gives great aim.

This was going to hurt.

And it did.  It hurt a lot.  He smacked my bare pussy with the shoe horn for what seemed like an eternity.  He enjoyed Himself, too, because at one point, I twisted my head to the right and I could see He had His left hand on his cock, stroking Himself while He spanked me.

Once again, He hit me down there until I was twisting against the rope, begging Him to stop.  After a few more hits, He stopped.  This was the end of round two, and my pussy felt like it was on fire.

He put down the shoe horn and moved His hand back between my legs.  Yet again, His touch was so gentle, fingers lightly swirling around my clit, teasing my pussy right back to the edge of orgasm.  I was ready to cum.  I wanted to cum.


But it wasn't time for me to cum.  It was time for round three.

He grabbed the shoe horn and landed several rapid shots, right on target, right on my clit.  The pain was exquisite.  And as with rounds one and two, round three continued until I pulled against the restraints and cried out, "It hurts!"

The shoe horn was set aside, and He moved in between my legs.  He commented on how my pussy was swollen and puffy.  This seemed to please Him.  He grabbed another "toy," and once again I felt a cool sensation in between my legs.  When it buzzed to life, I knew it was a vibrator, and He rubbed it over my clit and teased me with it, bringing me right back to the border of an orgasm.

Then He asked, "Do you want more pain?"

And I said, "Yes, Master."

Back Scratch Fever...

He likes to rake His fingernails down my back, slowly, digging in deep, marking the delicate skin with a series of angry red lines.  The sensation this creates is electric, and the pain lingers long after He stops.  I quite like it.

This is what it looks like, after one pass down my back:

About Last Night...

Yes, last night saw the return of kink.  All I needed to do was blog that it was missing, and lo and behold, it was found.  Amazing how that works.

But before I continue, I want to thank Ara for giving me The One Lovely Blog Award.  She is too sweet and kind, and I appreciate her thinking of my little blog.  There are some responsibilities that come with the award, and I will attend to those in tomorrow's post.  Master has already deemed that the topic of today's post is what happened last night, so tomorrow I will blog about the award.

So, back to last night....

He dressed me up in my purple leather wrist and ankle cuffs, grabbed some rope, and tied me spread-eagle to the bed.

Then He spent a little time hurting me.  He employed the leather flogger, used His hands, bit hard with His teeth on sensitive places.  Me?  I just sank down into the pain, floated along with it, cried out when it seemed too much, and got really, really turned on.

(Except for the moments when He would touch my feet.  I cannot stand that.  He knows it, which is why He does it.  Sadists...always doing the one thing you just can't handle).

Eventually, all good pain must come to an end, as it was time to get down to the business of fucking.  Which we did. 

This time was different, though, as we used a new toy we recently acquired:  a vibrating cock ring.  This is no cheap novelty item.  It's made of black silicone, is rechargable, and the vibrating portion is quite large, so it covers a large area of my anatomy when He presses against me.  The vibrations are fairly strong...it feels really good.

He fucked me for a long time, slowly working me towards an orgasm, teasing my clit with the vibrating portion of the ring.  It was heaven, and finally, with one big thrust, His cock deep inside of me, He pressed hard against me, and I came.  A huge orgasm washed over me...and He kept on fucking.

You ladies know how sensitive your pussy gets when it's in that post-orgasm state, that place where pleasure can tip over into discomfort if there is prolonged stimulation....well, He just LOVES that place.  He loves to take me from ecstasy into agony; I think it's a control thing, but don't tell Him I said so.

He kept fucking me, with the vibrating cock ring still buzzing against me, until I basically just could not take it any more.  Satisfied with His evil ways, He rolled over and let me suck His cock. Which I did, and I did well.

When it was all over, everyone was satisfied.  The Sadist got His fill, the masochist got her fill, and it was all good.

Better Late than Never...

Although I realize I am a day late and a dollar short, I hope everyone enjoyed Mother's Day.  It's a difficult day for me---I lost my mom over 8 years ago to cancer.  We were very close, and she was a big part of my life.  Not a day goes by that I don't think of her and miss her in some way.  I keep waiting for it to get easier, but for some reason, it never really does.

So, given all of this, we spent a rather quiet weekend alone.  Our college student went to visit their mother, and we just stayed home and chilled.  No kinky-freaky-sexy type stuff to report, I'm afraid.  There was sexy stuff, and some of it was rather rough---nipple chewing was the preferred method of pain delivery this weekend---and it was all really good, just not really kinky.

On Sunday I received phone calls from each of my kids wishing me Happy Mother's Day, and that made me feel good.  So overall it was an enjoyable weekend, if not an overly kinky one. 

Sunday's Update...Read About It Here!

Yesterday ended as it began, with a combination of pain and pleasure.  Shortly after climbing into bed, Master started to gnaw on my left nipple while He spanked my pussy.  That was the pain part...the pleasure part was the huge orgasm He gave me, followed by more fucking.

A lovely way to end the day.

Now let's update tranquility's list of strongly suggested activities for the weekend:

• A beating.  A good, long ass- beating, the kind that takes my breath away and leaves me all snotty and sobbing.

• A spanking.  On my pussy.  Last time He did that, He briefly (too briefly) parted my labia and got me right on the clit.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

•  A fucking.  More than one.

•  A facial.  He's mentioned wanting to cum on my face while I'm crying.  Maybe we can do that this weekend.

• An orgasm.  Maybe two.  Three?  I've been a good girl this past week, really I have.

Not too bad.  The only item left standing is the facial, and even though I've already given Him a blowjob this morning, the day's not over yet.

Oh, and my butt still hurts.  Black and blue and purple marks are starting to surface.  It's gonna hurt for a while, or as Master was kind enough to point out this morning, "It's going to hurt all week."

An Update on the Update

FYI:

Early morning beatings mean that your butt hurts all day long.  All. Day. Long.

And, when He smacks your ass as you walk by, it hurts even more.

(This will be on the test.)

Saturday Morning Update

He read the post I wrote yesterday.  He read it late in the evening, with little comment other than to point out that it was the last day of my period, so we really could not have done much kinky-sexy-type stuff anyway.  This was true, so I agreed with Him.  We spent the rest of the evening watching fighting shows, then went to bed.

Around 7am or so, He got up.  I did not.  He dressed and went to the kitchen and made coffee.  He closed the bedroom door behind Him, so I took that as a sign I could snuggle back into the bed and grab some more sleep.

Hah!

He came back, I think around 8:15.  I was in fact snuggled into the bed, curled up with His body pillow, and I'd dozed off while He'd been gone.  The crack of His hand on my bare ass woke me up right quick, however.  And He kept going.  He gave me the longest hand-spanking ever, and He managed to pinch my nipple while spanking my ass.  (Multi-tasking for the win!)

Eventually, He let me up so I could go pee, but when I came back He was ready for more.  He bent me over the end of the bed and went back to work on my backside with Mr. Blister and Mr. Cane.

It.  Hurt.

Finally, it hurt enough that I cried.  My tears ended the beating, and they earned me an orgasm.  Such are the benefits of sobbing when shut in a room with a Sadist wielding a cane and a paddle.  Oh and no worries, He had an orgasm, too. 

At this point, in the interest of fairness, I will add that when it was over, He commented on how much it took to make me cry.  He said He kept doing things He thought would bring out the tears, but I just kept on taking it.

And He found that exciting.  It excited Him that He had to hit my ass longer and harder.  Imagine that.  Sadists...

So now let's update tranquility's list of demands suggestions for the weekend:

• A beating.  A good, long ass- beating, the kind that takes my breath away and leaves me all snotty and sobbing.

• A spanking.  On my pussy.  Last time He did that, He briefly (too briefly) parted my labia and got me right on the clit.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

•  A fucking.  Preferably while bound in some way.

•  A facial.  He's mentioned wanting to cum on my face while I'm crying.  Maybe we can do that this weekend.

• An orgasm.  Maybe two.  Three?  I've been a good girl this past week, really I have.

Sweet!  The day isn't even half over and look how much has been accomplished. 

Just a few ideas...

It's Friday, the start of the weekend, our College Student is staying at the college, and that means we are home alone.  So, at the risk of topping from the bottom, here is what I want are some suggested activities for the next few days:

• A beating.  A good, long ass- beating, the kind that takes my breath away and leaves me all snotty and sobbing.

• A spanking.  On my pussy.  Last time He did that, He briefly (too briefly) parted my labia and got me right on the clit.  I thought I'd died and gone to heaven.

•  A fucking.  Preferably while bound in some way.

•  A facial.  He's mentioned wanting to cum on my face while I'm crying.  Maybe we can do that this weekend.

• An orgasm.  Maybe two.  Three?  I've been a good girl this past week, really I have.

I'm not asking for much, am I?  Of course, when He reads this, He might think so...

EDIT:  I wrote this a few hours ago.  He still hasn't read it, although He knows I wrote it.  But if you're keeping score, so far it's Blowjob for Master 1, item from tranquility's suggestion list 0.  

Forgive me Master, for I have sinned...

Last night He told me I was "Topping from the Bottom."

Who, me?  Would I dare to commit the cardinal sin of slavitude?  (That's not a word--I just made it up.  Feel free to use it if you like it.)

The answer is yes, yes I would.

He told me I was TFTB (I just made up that acronym, too--again, feel free to use any time) in the middle a beating.  To be honest, the beating was not going well.  This was not due to any fault of His.  His application of pain was spot on, so no problem there.

The problem was me.  My mind wasn't where it should be.  I didn't like how I was tied up, and that's all I could think about.  Yes, I know, I can hear you saying it:  "Don't like how you are tied up?  Too bad, suck it up, buttercup."  I tried to suck it up, I did, but I failed.  Epically.  All I could do was obsess on how I was tied up.

So, in the middle of the beating, He brought out Mr. Cane.  Unfortunately, I was in no mood for an encounter with Mr. Cane.  And I told Him so.  I believe I said something like, "Not the cane. Isn't it broken by now?  Where's Mr. Blister?"  (Mr. Blister, for those who don't know, is a leather paddle.)

Not very slavey (hey, another new word--I'm on a roll this morning!) of me, and I am surprised He didn't just end the beating right then and there.  But no...He obliged me.  He put Mr. Cane away, and He grabbed Mr. Blister.

Ominously,  He said, "Look at you, topping from the bottom."  Then He and Mr. Blister proceeded to show me the error of my ways.  For the record, Mr. Blister hurt just as much as Mr. Cane.  I have the marks on my ass to prove it.

                                                                              *****

When it was over, we talked about what went wrong.  I apologized and tried to explain where I was at during the beating, and why I derailed.  He reassured me that everything was OK.  He said, "We are good 99.99% of the time.  It's natural that every once in a while, things wont quite work out the way we want."

I love how understanding He is.  But, I wouldn't be surprised if He puts a gag in my mouth the next time He decides to beat me.  That would be one way to prevent the dreaded TFTB.

Tip on the Tightrope

The fine line between pleasure and pain; it's the tightrope upon which I balance so precariously...a daring game to see how long I can maintain equilibrium before He knocks me off the wire.

He is on top of me and inside of me, pinning me in place; His thick, hard cock thrusting deep.
Ah, there's the pleasure.  I close my eyes and let it wash over me.

Still thrusting, His right hand mauls my left breast, grabbing, squeezing, pinching. 
Ah, there's the pain.  I keep my eyes closed, and I balance on the tightrope.

Then He grabs my nipple with His teeth, biting, chewing, tugging, pulling, HARD.  His cock in my pussy feels so, so good, but His teeth feel like they are going to bite right through the tender flesh of my nipple and tear it right off my body.

I try to stay balanced on the tight rope, but I start to tip.  The pain is greater; my arms start to flail at my sides.  I notice this and fight the urge to grab Him, to push Him away, to protect my breast.

It hurts, it really hurts, I'm losing the battle, panic threatens to set in...I am going to fall off of the tightrope.

Then He lets go. 

Relief engulfs me.

My nipple continues to throb with pain, but balance is restored.  I stay on the tightrope, for  now.  It's only a matter of time until He manages to push me off, in one direction or the other.  

It's a game He always wins.

"Warm-ups? We don't need no stinking warm-ups..."

It's Monday morning, early.  The house is quiet, just me, the two cats, and a nice hot cup of coffee.  Quiet time for me to reflect on the first of our three weekends alone...

The beating came Saturday afternoon.  To begin, He unlocked the suitcase that houses our toys, then selected which instruments of pain He wanted to use. 

He picked just about every single one.  I think only the poor Wartenburg Wheel got left behind.

Next He bent me over the end of the bed and went about His business.  No ropes to hold me in place, just me, expected to hold position, His hand at the ready to push me back down if I didn't.

Now, keep in mind that several days prior to this, we had a discussion.  This discussion centered around how long it had been since my last beating, how important a "warm-up" would be, etc.  Those are the things I said to Him.  Clearly, this is what He heard:  blah blah blah "warm-up" blah blah blah, etc.

Because there was no "warm-up."  This should not have surprised me---there is almost never a "warm-up."  There is just "His" speed, and my ass has to work to catch up to it.

So, He worked over my backside pretty good.  He used His hand, the suede flogger, the leather flogger, Mr. Cane, Mr. Blister, His belt, and the long-handled plastic shoe horn that bites.  He also raked His nails down my back, and He whipped my pussy with the tips of the flogger.

When He finished, my ass was bright red.  Glowing.  And sore.  Sadly, there was no bruising, no marks save for the two outlines of the tip of the cane where He wrapped it around the side of my hip. If you ask He will tell you He only wrapped the tip once.  If you ask me, I will show you the TWO marks and rest my case.

Tip-wrapping aside, it was a good beating.  It was followed by good sex.  And my ass is still sore.

Can't wait until next weekend to do it again.

Antici-pation

Something is about to happen, something we have been hoping and waiting for.  I've known about it for a few days now, but I've been afraid to write about it.  Afraid I'll jinx it.

But this morning I feel brave, so I will share the news:

We have the next three (3) weekends to ourselves.  All alone, just the two of us. 

He's already let it be known that there will be pain.  That's a good thing; it's been so long since I've had a beating that my butt is way out of practice.

I can't wait.  I feel like a little kid at Christmas time.

A not-so-gentle reminder

It seems The Man felt I needed a little reminder last night, a reminder of who is in charge, a reminder that pain isn't really foreplay as I mentioned in my last post.  Pain, as He so clearly demonstrated, is His.  He gives it, I take it, whether I like it or not.

As we lay in bed,  He moved close to me.  I knew we were going to have sex-we had already talked about it.  He reached for me, caressed my breasts, then found a nipple.  He squeezed, no, He CRUSHED it between His thumb and index finger, and my pain level went from 0 to 100 in about half a second.  I stifled a cry.  Instinctively, my hands flew up to my breasts.  That's a no-no, but I wasn't thinking clearly.  IT HURT.

He moved to the other breast and did the same thing. I was aware of the pain, and aware of my hands fluttering around at my sides like butterflies.  He brought His head close to mine and growled softly into my ear, "We don't want people thinking I'm soft on you, do we?" 

I managed to get the word "No" to come out, but that wasn't enough.  He leaned even closer and said, "No?"  Apparently I needed to finish the sentence.  "No, Master," I whispered, and then He let go. 

There was more pain after that, followed by good sex.  But His point was made, His ownership reinforced.  He doesn't hurt me because I like it; He hurts me because He likes it.

"It's like you are in real pain."

Him:  "I was so horny last night.  I think it's the noises you make when I hurt you.  It's like you are in real pain."

Me:  "Um, maybe that's because I am in real pain..."

Him:  Laughter, "Oh you are so funny."

This was part of our discussion over last night's pre-bedtime sex.  We were both tired, and sex wasn't really in the cards.  Once He found my nipple, though, His plans changed.  Not only did He work over my nipple, He also teased and spanked my pussy something fierce.  All of this culminated in some amazing orgasms,  followed by some very deep sleep.

He mentioned another session with Mr. Blister today, but I am not feeling well, so no play-time today.  Not sure what's wrong with me, and I am hoping that after another good night's sleep, I will feel better tomorrow.