Tears for Master

It was an eventful playtime. And I’m jumping all around on the timeline because…well because things come into my head and I want to explore them here. So think of this as my talking to myself, with you all overhearing me 🙂 !

I spent a lot of time on the Wall this visit. Was pacing around the room feeling nervous. He came into the room, saw me, and put me on the Wall, firmly (head-bang-wall).  A few ass swats. And pinching. And armpit tickling.

In short, torture.

And then He walked into the adjoining room and talked to my Pusy Date, leaving me to stew on the wall. It was neat, to be there on the Wall, just a thing. An object d’art, so to speak. I was deep in subspace when He was gone…it is it’s own form of containment, although I am not secured in any way. I’m allowed to lift my feet to ease my aching toes in the 6″ heels. I can bring my hands down for brief periods to relieve my shoulders, but mostly, forehead on the Wall, hands just about headheight, palms on the Wall.

I made the mistake of thinking He’d left once, and brought my hands down, and rubbed the sore spot on my ass.


The solid whack on my ass startled the fuck outta me! He was still in the room! Fake-out!

Then He is right behind me, pushing against me, pushing me into the wall. Grabbing my wrists, one in each hand, He slaps them up onto the wall over my head.

“You fucking keep those hands up on the wall, capiche?”

I don’t know if I said “Yes Sir,” or if I nodded, or what, because my heart was racing from the firm tone. He is never mad at me, but He watches me way more than I ever give Him credit for. And I love it. Love every fucking minute of it.

And eventually He does go to see PD. And I don’t move, except for the occasional shuffling of my feet.

Time shifts in my head, tho I swear, I promise myself that I won’t forget, that I’m in the moment and aware…but I can’t tell you now, whether it was during that, or before that, or later, after Sir P has gone, that I’m on the Wall, and He decides to try out Wolf and wordwitches “gift” to Him.

Wolf? I fucking hate you.

Just, yanno, in the true spirit of things.

You’re devious and mean and make the most awful toys.

That thin whippy thing with the “spaghetti noodle” falls? Holy fuckity fuck!!

Fuckity FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!

That bastard wrapped around my body and “kissed” my wrist. It’s twin did the same up over my shoulder. I have long thin bruises all over my back and wrist and shoulder. I fucking hated that one.

You know Master beats me hard. I like it that way. But this time? It was brutal. I so very much needed it. The days leading up to this meet were wicked and intense and stressful in my vanilla life…and now I am…


Calm in mind and body.

At peace.

It’s a breath of fresh air, even as my body creaks through all the aches and pains. Every movement hurts, and reminds me of what He did to cause it. It connects us, the pain Giver, and the pain receiver. And even now I grow wet as I move and feel the ache in my muscles, my skin.

He took out the flail with the wicked “S” curves cut into the heavy rubber falls. That thing? Wicked. Wicked. Evil. Painful. It’s mate has straight falls, but it makes no matter. They carry an intense heavy blow that leaves a deep and violent sting. I felt like I was being flayed alive.

O wait. I was being flayed. 🙂

And it hurt so intensely. And my wrists were cuffed to my thighs, all I could do at this point was take it.

And cry.

It’s rare for Him to drive me through pain and into tears. I was sobbing quietly against the wall, the pain just so intense. He stopped, after a bit. Came to my side, and wiped the tear that was dangling from the tip of my nose, but didn’t touch me other than that.

It was ….I don’t think I can put words on the emotions swirling in that memory. Gratitude that He was beating me so hard. Grateful for the tears. (He’d told me He could bring me to tears quite easily, a long while ago, but that I needed to grow before He’d ever do it.) Grateful for a Dom that knows me well enough to push me through this, and was caring enough to take the tear, without saying anything about it.

And as odd as it sounds? It is one of my strongest memories thus far, one of pain and tenderness.