I do not know where to start. Tonight was different. I spent the evening with Richard at the apartment. Right away he put me on my knees….well almost. He couldn’t help but to admire my skirt and tights….the lacy white panties beneath. Then he put me on my knees. I could (and may already have) describe an entire post to what it feels like to kneel in front of him. It is everywhere I have ever been and everywhere I want to continue to go. Richard scared me tonight. My scary Richard made an appearance. I think I saw first hand how close he comes to losing control sometimes. The idea both frightens me and arouses me. The risk has always been there. I like that, I like that there is an element of danger behind his touch. It adds something to our dynamic knowing that he can get to the point where he can truly scare me, where he can scare even himself. Richard’s favorite implement to hurt me with is the cane. Or at least it was…I suspect that there is another item that is a close second. My crafty Dominant made me a small paddle. It is a thin board about twelve inches long. Innocuous enough, right? Flip it over. On the backside of it he pressed about a dozen tacks through the thin wood. The wood is thick enough to secure the tacks and just thin enough to allow the tips of the tacks poke through. He made initially for my breasts….he thought it would be great fun to have me lay across this thin tortuous device and force the small tips of the tacks into my tender skin. Somewhere between construction and tonight and decided that it was much better to use it as a paddle. He had me over his knee and began to spank me with it. It was right away a most difficult sort of pain. I dislike the paddle anyway…I prefer the thin wispy cane to the flatness and solidity of a paddle. This paddle stung but then it ‘really stung’ as the small tips pierced the superficial layer of my skin. He hit me with it five or six times as I literally writhed across his lap asking him to stop already. Of course he didn’t. He wanted to know how it felt….if I could feel the tacks? “Yes Sir, I can feel them. Please stop.” I was tempted to ask to be caned. To beg him to use anything except for the small torture tool he was using.
He told me to get into position on the bed. ‘Position’ for me is on my knees and elbows, forehead down back arched. He loves this and puts me here quite often. Once in position he began to hit me with the paddle, again and again. I felt sweaty and I wanted to roll away from it, from him and refuse to take anymore. I asked him over and over if he was finished….if he was done.
He told me no…he said he hadn’t made me bleed yet. He wanted to hurt me, he wanted to make me bleed. He told me he Owned me and I would take what he expected. As the paddle continued to come down I held on tight to the blankets and buried my head in the covers. I could feel him, sense his need and I knew tonight would be a night where he needed to hurt me more than I needed to be hurt. At this point was not afraid of him yet only afraid of this new pain and my own reaction to it. What a difference that makes…..being afraid of what he can do, what he is able and capable of doing and being afraid of him as a person, as a Dominant.The paddle truly stung and he smacked it on my bottom and the backs of my legs. He would pause and touch my cunt…telling me how wet I was for him. I knew I was, I could feel it on the tops of my thighs. He made me lie flat and he continued to paddle me…hard strokes. I knew somehow in my head he was breaking the skin. I could feel the sting of the tack tips and closed my eyes tight against the pain. I tried to focus on his breathing…I heard him, I tried to focus on his pleasure. I felt his hand in my hair and it yanked my head around to face him. He showed me the paddle…the thin pale wood was splattered with crimson. My blood covered the wood. He talked to me…said so many things in my ear….
Before we get to those things that I was whispering in your ear (they were awful, vile things, weren’t they? You must tell everyone as many of them as you can remember), I must explain that Scary Richard was so very much in evidence but he seemed melded into that Dom Space part of me. Do you remember me pressing myself into you, my face couldn’t get enough of your neck your face, your hair; your back; I just kept stopping and grasping you, and putting my hands all over you, and pulling you close to me. I couldn’t get close enough, I couldn’t get inside you, my brain was trying to be inside your head, it was like nothing I have ever felt – at least not for such an extended period of time. And the longer it lasted, the scarier that Scary Richard got. When I couldn’t get inside of you, Scary Richard tried harder and harder to demonstrate his Ownership, his total dominion over you, he tried to consume you as a way of making us one. And each time he paused and realized there were still two bodies there, two separate minds, he tried harder, he asked – no, demanded – more of you, take more pain, hear more words of humiliation, say these things, give me all of you, I am taking all of you, I am hurting you more, and harder, and more, I am making you bleed, and all that before the cane came out…..
That is just how I remember you. I remember when you tied me down. This was after you made me bleed with the paddle. Isn’t that funny how the part of our evening that resulted in blood shed is not remembered as the most intense part? I remember kneeling on the bed. On my knees and elbows…face down. I know you were spanking me hard with the paddle. I wasn’t scared yet. I was still there. Scary Richard was just lurking there at the egde, a shadow.
Yes, after the paddle, I got a cold washcloth and cleaned up the blood to make sure you weren’t seriously bleeding. I stopped to take pictures, do you remember that? I also took one of the bloody board. God that sounds horrible – the bloody board. But you liked looking at it, and knowing you had bled for me. You remember me tying your arms and legs to the four corners of the bed. I didn’t put your cuffs on, I just tied the rope to your wrists and ankles. I suppose subconsciously I wanted the rope to hurt you more than the cuffs would. No, that is not honest. It wasn’t subconscious – I am just hiding it from myself. I wanted it to hurt you more. I wanted you to feel the raw rope rubbing your tender skin when you struggled against the pain I was going to give you. I wanted it and I knew I wanted it when I did it. Do you remember the next day when you were showing me your marks I checked your wrists to see if there were rope burns there? I didn’t tell you, but I was disappointed that there weren’t any. That was the residual Scary Richard, lurking just beneath the surface, 18 hours later. I began to cane you, slowly at first, with the small cane – up and down from your shoulders to your thighs. You love the cane on your back. Even as much as it hurts there with no real padding. After a while I gave you two hard strokes across your back, around your shoulder blades. You gasped and tried to turn to look at me. Two red marks appeared immediately. I laid down on top of you, pressing you to the bed, again burying my face in your neck and hair, suppressing your complaint about the force of the blows, making you accept them. Again, I whispered to you what a cunt you were, how totally I owned you, that I was going to take everything from you, use you, hurt you, humiliate you, pleasure you. Do you remember? Do you? Tell your readers what you remember, pixie, then I will fill in the details, because I remember it all. It is burned in my brain – what I said to you, what I made you say, what I did to you.
I remember you on top of me. And that I could hardly breath but I welcomed it. I also remember your breath tickling my ear and my neck. I was not really scared yet but I sensed a difference feeling in the air. I sensed that you were leading me to a place that wasn’t too frequently visited outside fantasies and daydreams. That is part of what makes ‘us’ so special. You make what used to be a daydream come true.I remember some of what you said. I remember you using a word with me that you never have before. You made me say it and it was hard for me. It was horrible. But you were there above me when I said it….hurting me and I can say anything to you then. I don’t want to even type it.
You are remembering some of it, aren’t you? First I told you that you were my cunt, but you are used to that. I made you tell me you were my fucktoy – you said it, “I am your fucktoy.” Then it got worse. I made you tell me you were my whore, didn’t I? You fought that, you didn’t want to say it. But Scary Richard was there so you said it. Then what? I told you that all you were was 3 holes, and that I was going to fill every one of them. It may have been about then that I pulled out of your cunt and cruelly pushed my cock into your ass, fulfilling your fantasy that I take you “back there” without preparing you first. I know that hurt you, with just the juice from your cunt, although as usual there was plenty of that, but without any preliminary stretching or internal lube. I just pushed it in, and continue whispering vile things into your ear. I asked you if I should spit on you and you said yes, and I spit on the side of your face and then rubbed my face in it, until both of us were covered in my spit. I kept pulling out and caning your ass, in pairs, always two hard strokes, then back to fucking you, then more strokes, in pairs, sometimes two or three pairs, harder each time, then more fucking. I know you can take more caning when I fuck you between strokes. By now we both knew that Scary Richard was in charge, at least for a while, and the caning was very intense. I think you were slipping away a little, but the cane continued to cause a reaction. You squirmed away from it, then you would push your ass back in the air for more. I told you that you were in the zone, do you remember me saying that? You were in the zone where you could take anything I gave you. I lost track of the number of strokes, of the minutes that went by, I just kept on caning and fucking you, occasionally stopping to bury my face in you, trying again to meld into you. Finally, I pulled out and went around to the side of the bed. I wanted to cane you from the other side, to even out the effect I was having on your ass. My right-hand blows were falling hardest on your left cheek. As I began to cane you again, you almost immediately went away. I gave you a pair of hard strokes and you did not even move a muscle, and I knew you were gone. Usually I stop then, and wait for your return. But Scary Richard said to himself, “good, now I can really do anything I want.” I gave you another two hard strokes, and then did it again. At the third pair, you picked up your head and looked at me blankly. I pressed you down and told you to go back to where it was safe, that I was there with you. I neglected to tell you that Scary Richard was there with you. You went away and I gave you three more pairs of hard strokes before you opened your eyes again. Again I comforted you. Again I caned you. I finally got Scary Richard to back off and I untied you. While you were still gone, I quickly slipped into the bathroom to wash my hands – I wasn’t gone 30 seconds. When I returned you were sitting up in bed with the comforter around your shoulders, looking blankly around the room. I thought, Oh no, she isn’t supposed to come back when I’m not there with her, and I quickly laid you down and covered you and held you. You were away a long time, gradually coming back like you always do, with a smile and squirming into me and enjoying the residual pain and pleasure. But what did I say to you? I said we needed to do something to get Scary Richard back in his cage. I said this as I cruelly grabbed and twisted your breasts, and as I nearly picked you up off the bed by grabbing your cunt lips and the skin around your pudendum, just grabbing it and pulling up and twisting. I said, we need to get him back in his cage, and buried my head in you again. Rubbing my face all over you, biting your entire breast, leaving teeth marks in you. You said, “I like Scary Richard.” I wonder if you remember that. I wonder if you remember any of this. You keep having small flashbacks of just pieces of it. Come, dear pixie, and tell us what you remember. Have I taken you far enough along that it is coming back to you? What did I tell you to do to take care of Scary Richard and send him away? Tell us what happened next, if you can.