My Cross

He told me to kneel. Not something he typically requires of me but immediately I dropped to my knees and did not question him. I have come a long way in my submission. As I knelt there he walked around me. I enjoy having to look up at him from this position. I find it extremely erotic and submissive. I like the way my tender knees ache almost immediately. And I like the dampness I feel between my legs from such a submissive stance.

Behind me stood the cross he made me. It leaned against the shelving beside the bed. I have decided that I do not like my cross. The wood that I was once so enchanted with has now become a place that I dread. I have favorite positions, favorite ways that I like to be positioned to receive Richard’s attentions. I like to be bent over. I like to be on my hands and knees. I like to be on my knees and elbows and I love being on my knees with my chest and face pressed into the bed or the floor. That is a hard position to maintain yet one he insists upon. I sense his irritation when I fail to hold position for him. The other day I was struggling against the pain he was giving me and quite instinctively I lifted myself up. I felt his forearm press roughly in my back and I heard the dark sound of his voice telling me to arch my back. That was hard, that was nothing compared to the cross.

He told me that he wanted to suspend me. He had been thinking of it for awhile and felt it was time. He placed my cuffs on my wrists and ankles and made sure they were extra secure. I was softly trying to talk my way out of it. I was scared of this though I love being bound, love being tied tightly sometimes for long periods of time. I have teased Richard before by telling him that every time he releases me from my ties or my cuffs I feel it is too soon. I like the imagine of being tied and left to my own submissive mind for entertainment. Perhaps while he works on his computer or takes a call. That would make me feel very objectfied and toy-like. I like the idea of being used when needed and temporarily ignored when he is finished.

Anyway..I tend to lose track sometimes of one topic and bird walk into something else. I wondered how he was going to suspend me. We didn’t have any beams on the ceiling or any equipment that you would expect to need. He started by having me stand. He bent me over the bed and began hand spanking me quite hard. It was the type of spanking that I knew I would feel for days. He paused and reached around me and pulled roughly on my nipples. I remember moaning at the heat of his hands and feeling the familiar clenching deep inside me as his hands played with me. I felt cold metal on my nipples and then felt the biting pinch of the alligator like nipple clips. I went up on my toes with the pain. It was hard and unexpected. First one and then the other. He pulled on the linked chain connecting the two. I stumbled forward just a bit as I struggled to compose myself. He continued with the spanking. With every blow I felt my nipples ache more and more. He ordered me back down on my knees before having me stand against the cross facing outwards. He told me to life my arms high above my head. When I was almost on my tippy toes he attached metal clasps to my cuffs and then hooked me to the cross. I felt a stretching in my arms that I knew would turn painful sooner than later. He then told me to spread my legs…smacking me hard on each thigh when I didn’t respond quickly enough. I was doing my best.

After I was cuffed spread eagled against the cool wood of the cross. He told me that he was going to pull it forward. As he did so I leaned into him allowing him to carry the weight of my body as gravity made me hang forward from the cross. He maneuvered the furniture in the apartment so that each end of the cross was supported safely. He allowed me to hang there. I was suspended only inches from the ground at first. My wrists and ankles already ached. As I stretched there he played with my dripping cunt. I felt so vulnerable yet secure. I almost felt tortured. I was in a great deal of pain and he was somehow able to disassociate himself from it. I moaned and I hated the pleading tone of my voice asking him to let me up. He stood in front of me and lifted up on the cross. He allowed my body to hand from a higher elevation. I felt fumbly in my head and I knew I was drifting into subspace. Not so much from the pain as from my awareness of his right to do whatever he wishes to me. I felt him pull the clamps off of my nipples and swallowing my cry from the hot pain. I could take that for him quietly.

I do not know how long I was there. It was a difficult scene. I remember him allowing the cross to rest once again across the furniture. I remember him telling me that it would be different next time. He wanted me suspended from the ceiling… arms wrapped up and hanging from my wrists. He wants to cane me like that. I think I will like that. I can imagine swinging slightly with every blow. I imagine wanting more and him giving me more than I need.

I remember being untied and him allowing me to briefly lay on the floor. I felt the cross lift off of me and I remember him picking me up and placing me gently down on the bed. He covered me up and he laid beside me for a long time. I get drifty and a bit disoriented after a hard scene. Again not so much from the pain, there isn’t always pain involved but from the knowledge that comes with it. It is heady and heavy and it covers me like his hands. He takes it all yet always, always leaves me feeling safe, treasured and very, very owned.

One thought on “My Cross

  1. I think this is one of my favorite posts that you have done. Everything you feel about the cross I feel. I love it, I hate it. I need and want it but fear it to a degree. Yet I miss it when I have not been on it for some time. So conflicted are we yet so sure. Wonderful reading!!!

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