Forgiven

Without question, if my parents were to ever see me voluntarily in such a painful and compromising situation, they would first kill my Master, then kill me.

Despite the eleven inches of snow covering the mountainside, i wore only my black thigh-high laced-up boots and my collar. The moon was full and very bright on the absolutely-clear night, reflecting nicely off the snow to provide adequate illumination even though W/we were about ten feet inside the tree line above the cabin's clearing.

This was the tree W/we had selected as "O/our tree" when W/we moved here five years earlier following my Master's glorious windfall when His company was bought by an international media conglomerate. Now retired save for the occasional consulting call or requested interview, He was able to devote His full attention to me, His lifelong best friend and longtime devoted slave. i had long ago lost count of how many occasions i had been chained to this very tree – often for pleasure or for putting some new "tools" through their paces, but sometimes for punishment.

On that particular night, i was once again secured to the tree. As often occurs, the thick, padlocked wrist cuffs were connected by a heavy chain, forcing me to "hug" the thick tree, its bark cold and sharp and raw against the front of my shivering body. The spreader bar and its attached padlocked cuffs ensured my legs remained separated at an odd angle.

my voice rang out across the mountainside, screams of intense pain and agony certain to be heard a long distance away from "O/our tree" in the cold, still night air. Again and again, my Master applied the bullwhip to me, making absolutely no effort to reign in His displeasure. Three days beforehand, i had broken one of His favorite AD&D statuettes, and it had taken all three days for His anger to finally dissipate to a point where He could be truly rational enough to properly punish me without giving me more than He knew i could handle.

From my upper shoulder blades down to just above the tops of my boots, the back of my body was pummeled severely. The intense punishment created an equally intense burning sensation, a significant counterpoint to the cold air and the cold hard bark of the tree. It felt as if my back and rear and legs were actually on fire. The screams pouring forth from my lips were as much a result of the punishment itself as from the juxtaposition of hot and cold on either side of my body. Even the hot tears carved rapidly-cooling streaks in the skin of my upper cheeks, presenting a microcosm of the battle of hot and cold upon my body as a whole.

i heard the bullwhip slice the air again, then felt it slice across my unprotected skin yet again, biting me exactly where buttock meets leg on both sides of my body. i heard my own scream and felt sorry for myself – both from the pain i was enduring, and from the obvious need to be punished for my lack of care with one of my Master's prized possessions.

Yet there was also a deep need which was being satisfied in this brutal battering of my well-reddened flesh. Several months had passed since my last experience with corporal punishment, and – as much as i hated to admit it to my Master, let alone to myself – i had a secret, deep desire – perhaps even a secret, deeper need – to feel intense pain on occasion. Despite my loud screams, despite my futile struggles despite my deluge of tears, i felt satisfied, sated, as if i was just finishing the finest lobster dinner imaginable at a cozy Boston restaurant.

The final bite of the bullwhip was the most vicious kiss of the night, and my resultant scream was by far the loudest to pierce the otherwise-calm night. For several long, agonizing seconds, my body flailed about as much as the restraints would allow the heavy chain once again cutting into the bark on the other side of the tree.

The excruciating onslaught finally at an end, i was suddenly aware that i was trembling – partially due to the cold, certainly, but primarily due to the relief that the punishment had finally ended. Then i screamed again as my Master pressed Himself against my raw backside, His full weight grinding me into "O/our tree" as i screamed from the physical contact with my agonizing wounds. Then, He bit my shoulder fiercely as His gloved hands snaked between me and the tree. One hand on my left breast and the other between my legs, He worked quickly to give me a new sensation upon which to focus my attention even as He continued to bite my shoulders and neck. i continued to cry from the pain, yet scream from the growing pleasure, highly conscious of His solid erection constantly being pressed into the crease between my lower cheeks as – fully clothed – He humped me vigorously.

O/our lewd dance continued through first one, then two blessed torrents of finger-curling pleasure. Then, with one final and brutal thrust, He growled loudly into my ear, and i knew that He had just used my body to provide His own pleasure as His fingers curled into my breast and between my labia.

Several long minutes passed as He lay heavily against me, His fingers gently massaging me intimately. It allowed U/us to rest, calm, descend from the sexual peaks. And, as the residual afterglow of the second climax faded, i became more and more aware of the powerful discomfort of my body.

"My sweet, sweet slave," He whispered. And that was when i knew that i had been forgiven.