Richard does not believe in punishment. I have explained before that he sees no reason why he should ever feel the need to punish me. I’ll just obey him without question, without hesitation. Right? Arrogant? Uh…yes. Can I even say that? 🙂But he is right. More now than ever I strive daily to obey him the very best I can. Pleasing him has become a primary goal of mine in the context of this relationship. I feel I am meeting most of his expectations. I am not perfect though. Wouldn’t that be boring?
I think I am doing a better job of meeting his expectations and really just becoming a better submissive overall now that Richard has made it clear that although punishment is not a huge part of this for him he will not hesitate in providing it if warranted. Punishment from Richard isn’t about the pain of whatever he does or the humiliation of whatever he decides is my punishment. He can hurt me and humiliate me for no other reason than his own pleasure. We both know that. It is more of the fact that I know it takes a lot to get him at that point. He is a patient man.
Yet something happened and I do not think it was just one thing. I think it was the combination of a few comments or my inability to focus on him totally that made him say something that shocked me. He told me that he was going to punish me. Enough said. We weren’t going to discuss it anymore. To me this was bad. Very bad. The one other time he felt the need to punish me he made me sit in a closet all alone for what seemed like forever. It was truly the longest three minutes of my life. 🙂 https://pixiepie.wordpress.com/2007/07/09/nopart-2/ Remember?
Knowing him the way I do I knew that he would follow through. It was Friday night and I was at the apartment waiting for him not at all thinking about his earlier comment. Just excited to see him and needing some time to unwind from what had been a pretty hard, emotional day. When he finally arrived I was just finishing up my shower. I am always a bit shy when I see him. It had only been a day or two since we had seen each other so I am not sure why the first half hour or so I am with him I revert back to being modest.
Did I tell you he built me a cross? He has it perfectly measured so it stretches me just right. It has hooks in all the perfect places. I love it. Right away it seemed he had me secured to the cross… my back to him. I love the way the restraints feel so tight on my wrists as the leather presses my body against the cool sweet smelling wood of the cross. The bottom part of the cross secures each of my feet in another set of cuffs forcing my legs to stay spread and opened for him. “I bet you are already wet, aren’t you? I haven’t even touched you yet.” Of course I was. “Yes Sir.” I replied to him even though I knew the question was rhetorical. He knew I was wet, he knew I was wet the moment he called from five minutes away telling me to be ready for him. I like how he runs his hands across my skin, down my back and across my bottom. He inspects my body for bruising and residual marks each time we see each other. He is able to reach around the wood of the cross and pull and twist on my nipples. It really is a clever design and it leaves me totally helpless. It is a comfortable position to be in. Leaning into the wood, both feet on the ground supporting me, it is a good place to be.He began to flog me. I knew this was not my punishment. He gave me the most amazing white doeskin flogger as a gift. It is lovely. And the smell is perfection. He ran it over my face and wrapped it around my neck before starting to flog me. I am entranced by it, everything about it pulls me into a wonderful, cooperative submissive head space. He started flogging me slowly, almost caressing my skin with the softness of the leather. Every once in awhile he would make it harder stopping every minute or so to stroke me with his hand or run his fingers through the wetness between my legs.“You are so wet. Do you know your juice is running down your legs?” He always talks to me. Soft and low, down close to my ear. As the intensity of the flogging increased so did the bite of his words. He called me a slut, a cunt and made me do the same. ‘Tell me you are my cunt.” he would say. I can almost effortlessly repeat everything he tells me to now. He trips me up every once in awhile but not often anymore. It was hard saying I am an ass licking cunt. Something about that….wonderfully erotic but hard to say. 🙂 Still, even as his words got rougher and the flogging started thudding instead of caressing I knew I was not being punished.
I do not think he has ever flogged me as hard as he did Friday night. It was perfect. Typically once he is finished with me on the cross he takes me down right away. This night he didn’t.
He walked around to my side and turned my head to face him. He told me that it was time for my punishment. I was already breathing quite heavy from the flogging so the threat of punishment didn’t help. A million things went through my mind. I am a masochist so of course my first assumption would be a physical pain free punishment. No…not quite what he had planned. What Richard showed me is there are different types of pain…some tolerable, some enjoyable and others almost impossible to make it through. He unclasped one of my ankles from the cross and looped a rope in the metal buckle. Using the rope he pulled my ankle up as high as my knee and tied it tight so I was standing on one foot. He is a genius with knots and was able to adjust it just high enough to make me incredibly uncomfortable. Almost right away the pain in my other leg wrapped around my mind and blended with the scary pre-punishment feeling. I also realized right away how vulnerable this left my body to him. Having one leg pulled up also meant having one leg totally exposed.
Reaching into the drawer he pulled out a thin cane and began to tap it up and down my leg. The muscle of my leg was pulled tight and it made the quick tapping blows sting even more. Almost immediately the taps became hard swinging blows up and down the tender skin on the back of my thigh. One of the very worst places to be caned. I was trying to spin and pull away from the cane but it was no use. The cross is unforgiving and I had no place to go.
I am shocked at how intolerable the pain was when your mind’s focus is on balance and muscle pain. I am also shocked at how hard is was to have pain concentrated on such a small part of my body. He focused in on the back of my thigh. He punished that one area over and over until I was pleading with him to stop. Sometimes he placed a stroke in the same place twice. It was hard. It was punishment and I found no pleasure in this caning.
When it was finally over I felt..well for lack of a better word…. punished. I don’t like making him want to punish me. I want him to hurt me, I like feeling used but punished doesn’t work quite the same way in my head as it used to. I have come farther than that and have learned to really accept the pain and in the height of my pain allow it to be pleasure. When he hurts me I want him to know I want it, that I accept it. That he gives it to me because I am worthy of it and of him. Pain from punishment provides no happy feelings for me. The pain is a hundred times worse and a thousand times harder to take.