Chronicles of Indianpilot

My eyes struggle to focus but I force them to. I need to watch him, be aware, try and anticipate his next move. His marvelous blue eyes bore into me, almost defying me to disobey his instructions. It is with a strange detachment, almost out of body, that I watch him stroke the tangled weave of his favorite flogger over my skin.

Any moment now I know I will taste the wonderful sting of the flogger. Through the pain I know I have to thank him, then slowly count to five. Count to fast, or forget the words, and the ordeal will begin over.

Some may think it cruel, and sure such experiences are not for everyone. For me however it is the ultimate place. I crave the discipline of such exercise, my body sings as the boundary between pleasure and pain blurs into some erotic dream state.

Waiting for the next lash my mind drifts. I see his face, all smiles and full of softness when kneeling before him, I present him with the flogger. Not just any flogger, it was one made by my own hands.

Through a chance encounter I discovered how easily they could be made. A friend emailed me detailed instructions, and I took it from there. Master knew there was something up, but as he explains, “sometimes it is better to let a girl get away with the occasional secret.”

Each day after my tasks were complete I would lock myself away and work on my new toy. Thinking back I am sure Master allowed me more free time than usual, his instructions a little less demanding than usual, but I suspect he enjoyed the excited mood I was in for the whole week it took to complete.

The day came to present him with his gift. I was almost beside myself by the time he was due home. I’d prepared myself as usual, naked, with hair, make-up and scent all perfect. The only thing that would not be perfect was my position. Master likes my hands behind my head, thighs spread slightly, eyes down. Today I held my hands in front of me, with the flogger draped over my forearms.

I didn’t dare look up as he entered, and there was silence for the longest time. Any moment I expected a sign of disappointment or slap across my breast for not performing to expectation.

Then he said the words, “Little one, it is beautiful.” My heart nearly exploded through my chest as he leaned down and gave me a long drawn out ‘I love you’ kiss. It was then that I realized I’d done the right thing.

Thwack!

“Oh fuck” I yell as my eyes shoot wide open, suddenly brought back to the present. I could feel the burn on white flesh as vivid pink stripes erupted across my breast.

One… Two… I count slowly as the sting ebbs away.

Three…

My body tenses, as I suck in the next breath, and prepare for the blow.

“Whose slut are you?” He whispers into my ear.

“Yours Master, for as long as you will have me.” I wonder at how I am able to answer him.

“And who owns you my lovely cunt?” His voice is strong and self-assured.

“Sir, you own this cunt” He steps back as I resume the count.

“Four… Five…”

His arm arches back. I close my eyes as I wait for the slap of the long tendrils. I hear the sound of them hitting my body. For a second I wonder what happened, where’s the pain?

Then it hits. My eyes clamp shut, my body convulses as I scream. “Oh God it hurts.” Out of no where a new sensation enveloped me. I feel his mouth surround my wounded nipple, his teeth nipping and drawing the flesh deeper into him. In disbelief, my body reacts again. Withering, thrusting, my cunt spasms. “Pleaaaase,” I howl as I try to get more of my tit into his mouth. “Please don’t stop.” I beg.

“Your body is betraying you, my little bitch. Your juices run down your leg. Tell me, what is it your body is saying?” He pulls back, to wait for my answer.

“Master, it tells me it wants to cum.” I admit, a wave of disappointment washing through me.

“But shouldn’t it be the other way around, shouldn’t your mind be controlling the body?”

“Yes sir.” My face burns with shame.

“And what is your mind’s answer to the same question?”

“Master, this girl wants… she needs you to hit her again. She needs the hurt.”

“Why?” The word hangs like a gunshot in the air.

“So this body can prove it is owned by you. To be used by you.” I see him smile, but I know I am rambling. It amazes me how Master can open me up this way. I am sure he always knows the answers to the questions before I do. Moving the furniture in the mind he calls it. Makes me think, in ways no other has before. And no matter what occurs during a scene, I always feel I have grown as a person when it is all done. Perhaps more than anything, that’s what draws me to him, to accept, even crave these things he does. To wake tomorrow knowing I am a better person than I was the day before is a powerful force in anybody’s terms.

Before I can think anymore or prepare for anything else, he gives me four very hard swats on the arse, then drives his tongue down my throat.

I’ve been kissed before, by others, but never like this. He takes possession of me, rapes my spirit when he kisses me. I feel him grip my hair, forcing my head back, making me feel even more exposed than I did.

I want badly to wrap my arms around him, but they are tethered, I want to lock my legs around his waist and draw him into me, but the spreader bar refuses to yield. He knows I am borderline now, ready to slip into that special place were space and time stop. I moan unspoken words into his mouth as I feel myself slip further. Reality shifts, drifts away. I am a slut, his slut. Totally abandoning normality. It is the place my animalistic sexuality lives. Where my darkest secrets and fears lay exposed. I offer them all to him, for inspection, for his approval. I know I need not fear his reaction, or my need to be his bitch in heat.

“Now listen my pet.” His voice draws me back slightly, stopping me from slipping forever. “Tonight we are going to try something different. From this moment you have permission to release whenever you want, however the only stimulation you will get is from the flogger. Do you understand?” He asks softly in an almost hypnotic tone.

I worry, can this be real, to use the pain only, to convert it to pleasure, but what if I fail?

“Princess there will be no dishonor or punishment if you fail, only if you don’t try.” How does he do that? How does he know what I am going to ask before I do? The idea should scare me, instead it drives my desire even further.

Suddenly I realize he is waiting for an answer. “Yes Master, your slut understands completely.”

The flogger finds its first target on my arse. I begin to count. He strikes the same place again. Then begins to slowly circle my body, choosing carefully where to strike me.

He reddens my upper thighs, then directly onto my pussy. I can see the sweat pouring from him. The sheer lust in his eyes. Inside I smile. I realize just how badly he wants to fuck me. Many times he’s told me how much the pain arouses him, how hard he has to fight to stop the lust from taking over. For both of us, these types of scenes are dangerous, exciting, erotic on a level no one can understand.

The slaps continue, as I jump and twist, not to avoid them, but to meet them. My whole body is becoming stippled with welts. I’m screaming continuously, arms pulling savagely at the restraints, tears pouring from my eyes.

I’m on the verge of failure, giving up and using my safe word when it happens. Something small, almost a tingling sensation starts in my lower stomach. My body seems to erupt through every nerve as I throw my head back and go rigid.

“Cum my pretty bitch, show your Master you are his slut!” He hits me even harder, driving me deeper into my body’s reaction.

Blow after blow connects with my blazing flesh, as the first twinge of orgasm shakes me violently. I can’t move, yet I feel I am all over the place. Blackness envelops me, the outside world, except for my Master’s voice, lost.

“Cum! Cum now! Show your owner your true self.” He is almost screaming at me, trying to tie me to his voice.

Then it happens, an orgasm I can’t begin to describe. Normal orgasms seem to center around specific places like my clitoris, arse or cunt. This one seemed to explode from my entire body. To ask me later, I’d have admitted time stopped. It seemed like I hung there on the brink for days. Master even worried I was going to pull the eyebolt clean out of the beam.

It was then that it happened. Master was aiming for my upper breast. At that exact second I threw my head forward with violence even I didn’t think I possessed. My face and the flogger met in a cloud of pain and blood.

As I reared back our eyes met. Later Master told me he was genuinely frightened by what he saw. He went to drop the flogger, to end the scene, to get me care.

“No! I screamed. Don’t stop. Please hit me, make me hurt. I want to cum again.” I could see the indecision on his face. Sometimes submissives go to places that are dangerous. They lose reality, lose the ability to know when the danger out weighs the gain. It is then that Master has to step in and say enough is enough. We had two golden rules. Never to hit the face, never to draw blood, Both these rules had just been broken. And I didn’t care.

I threw my body at him straining against the bonds. “Plleeeeease.” I wailed. “Do it to me!”

“Forgive me little one.” He hit me harder than I could ever remember. Driving the flogger up through my legs. It felt as if my clit had been amputated, my cunt sliced open, some of the fronds lashed against my anus.

The single blow took me over the edge. I screamed incoherently, “Fuckkkkkkk yes… I’m cumming Master!” I bucked in front of him, not caring how I looked. Lights flashed in my eyes, ears set up a painful ringing. Then as quickly as it started, it stopped.

I collapsed, dangling hard against the chain. .

There was something cool, wet, wrapped around my body, soothing the inferno burning in my skin. I was in Masters arms, being held close. His voice cooing lovingly in my ears. I reached up to put my aching arms around his shoulders as the velvet softness of his lips graze over mine.

I wake a little more, bringing my mind to focus. I must have passed out during the scene because I am now in our bathtub. Master is using the tepid water to clean and ease my welts. The whole time he keeps physical contact with me. After care he calls it. I sometimes wonder what it is really meant to do. Some tell me it is romantic, tender even. For me, it just drives my desire to new heights. I sometimes think I go through scenes of this intensity just to experience this magic moment afterwards.

It’s this tenderness that proves to me just how much he loves and needs to cares for me. Sure I am his slut, bitch, or rutting wild beast, but at the end of the day, I know more than anything, I am his love, his life… and he is mine.

I see the worry in his face, what happened is eating him up inside. Drawing blood and blows to the face are such strong taboos for him. “One must respect their property.” I remembered him explaining one day. By becoming my submissive, you remove a lot of the choice from your life. I must respect that by never dishonoring or damaging you.” People may think it strange a man can inflict pain the way he does without concern, yet react this way over one single blow. It is to do with consent. I offer myself to him on these terms. He accepts that choice, along with the limits I place. I almost want to smile at him and stroke his face. So many times in the past he’d lifted me up when I fretted or despaired about something. Now it was my turn to repay the favor in kind

“Master, I’m okay, honest. I think it looks worse than it is.” Trying to comfort him.

“Baby, your face… its marked and bleeding and I caused it.” His voice was soft and distant. Gently I lift his hand to my cheek, turning my face to press my lips into his palm. I lift myself from the tub, trying to lead him to the bedroom.

“Not tonight my girl. Your skin is far to raw.”

“Yes sir.” I feel dreadful. In our time together this is the first time he has ever refused me.

“Get some sleep, we’ll see how you feel in the morning.” I want to argue, tell him what I need, but something deep inside says not to. Accept what he has asked of me, be pleased with what I accomplished. I go to the bedroom, alone. A terrible loneliness hanging over me. I climb into bed, knowing this is the first time he has not been there to comfort, to hold me. Maybe I argue with myself, it will be better, clearer in the morning.

The alarm goes of, I’m surprised how quickly I fell asleep last night. I reach over for him; he’s not there. Judging by the sheets he’s not been to bed at all. It’s a half-hour before dawn. I usually get up very early to have everything ready for Master, then to wake him at the agreed time.

I pad through the house, maybe he’s asleep on the sofa, or having an all night writing session. No, he’s nowhere. I want to stay calm, fight the panic beginning to well deep down. Then I find him. Looking out the kitchen window I see him on the back porch. He’s sitting in our swing, smoking.

I go to the door, get down on all fours and slowly crawl out onto the porch. “Master.” I say softly. He turns to look at me, he looks dreadful and I know he’s not slept all night. As I get closer the puffiness around his eyes tells me he’s been crying.

He pats the seat beside me, I ignore the instruction, instead curling up at his feet. There are times when a girl must walk beside her Master, even in front of him. I know Master is wrong this time, I can not be an equal.

“Sleep well?” He sounds so tired.

I nod. “Yes thank you sir.” His hand drifts down to stroke my hair.

“I’m sorry.” He gives a sigh.

“Don’t be.” I nuzzle closer to him. “Things happen, accidents are a part of life.”

He shakes his head. “No, I have a duty of care for you, I broke that promise last night.” He looks down at me, a small tear forming. “What if it had been worse, say I caught your eye or something.”

“Master I place myself here by choice. I trust you.”

“And what if it was a serious injury.”

“Then I know you would do all in your power to help me, get me to medical care. Do whatever was needed for my full recovery.”

He shakes his head at what I am saying. I look him in the eye, draw a deep breath. “Master I am here because it is the only place in the world I can be. We began a journey, one that will consume most of our lives. We knew there would be risks, fears, so far we have done so well on that journey. Maybe this is a time when I have to lead you sir.” I reach for his zipper. “To repay you in some small way the things you have done for me.”

“But I hurt you, not the way we enjoy or need, but plain hurt. Chances are you will have a small scar.”

I free his cock, and begin running my finger along the base till it begins to stiffen. “If that be the case.” I sigh. “Then I will wear it as a badge, a sign of what you are to me.” Not waiting for him to answer I slide my mouth over him, sucking him deep down into my throat.

It is not a sexual thing, what was happening here was far beyond that. I needed to be joined to my Master. To show him the submissive he has created. To show him how proud I am of him. Too many people think it only the sub that gives in relationships, that’s not true. Submissives can suck a Master dry of all their emotion, their energy. By nature, we are extremely needy creatures, and it happens a lot. This time I needed to give him something back. To make him understand he is my true Master, to show him his place in the perfect O/one.

I sensed his mood change. He didn’t make a sound or move. Time seemed to stop, just like a scene, and perhaps that’s what this was. Unlike a scene, I was in charge, my Master was hurting far more than I could ever remember in the past. I needed to make it right, make him understand.

With little effort on my part he came. The pent up arousal of the night before, the sudden lifting of the emotional pall, all combined to drive his seed down my throat. Even when he finished I didn’t let go. I needed to reinforce that this was not about the sex. It was about love, about us.

I looked up to study his face, to understand what he was feeling. His eyes were closed, asleep, I decided from the even tempo of his breathing. However, it was the expression that proved I’d succeeded. A small smile just in the corner of his mouth, the rest of his face a mask of contentment.

I crawled inside the house and gathered blankets and pillow. Returning I fussed in silence to make him warm and comfortable. Satisfied, I curled up under the swing to wait for my owner to wake, to resume his place in my life. “Its gonna be alright.” I smiled to myself as dawn broke across the gray landscape.