Lost Trac of Time

Waiting for his orders always unnerves me. I never know from what direction he will come. Standing quietly, arms locked in chains, legs spread wide, chained to hooks in the floor. The blindfold is never a good thing.

Hearing Master clink and clang metal sends shivers throughout my body. His touch comes softly, rubbing my shoulders.

"Relax, little one, this will be a day you will not forget soon. Next time I give you a certain time to be somewhere, you will not be late. Remember, I like my slut to be punctual."

All I can do is prepare mentally. The cold steel of Máster's knife shredding my clothes, his hands ripping the shredded remains off my body. His hands pinching and probing my body, sending shivers throughout, making my body come alive. Slowly those wonderfully evil hands move up my body, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Reaching up, grabbing my hair, pulling my head back, his hand slides up, wrapping itself around my neck, slowly squeezing. Stronger and stronger he squeezes. If only I could see his eyes, to see the excitement and joy shine, knowing he is the one that decides if I breathe or not. Feeling the fog start to come over me, I reach for it, wanting to be free. Master knows the happiness this freedom brings. Releasing my neck, air rushes back into my starving lungs, clearing the fog. Wanting to scream the unfairness of it, but knowing this punishment is deserved. Hearing Máster's words makes me feel like such a bad girl .

"Tell me, little one, did you really believe there would be no consequences? You were given specific instructions to be here at 6:00 P.M., yet you show up at 9:00 with the excuse that you "lost track of time". Let's hope today's punishment will help you keep track of time better."

Listening to Master admonish me once again, only serves to fill me with the need to please more. As he walks away, the cold seeps into me, missing the heat of his body.

The first strike was hard, the pain slicing into my ass, the sound of the whip makes me tense up even more. Each strike to my ass and thighs hits true, precise. Moving as much as my body can, trying to be strong, but failing. just as Master knew I would. Not fighting the pain, letting it wash over me, my tears falling like rivers, my mind a storm of pain, regret and excitement. Strike after strike, my ass, thighs are burning. My mind is begging for him to end this, to let me fall into a black hole of numbness. Master is too smart, knows me way too well to allow me that reprieve.

His fingers tracing every strike he made, pushing, scraping the welts, making them scream and burn louder in my body. I try hard to move from his touch. Master grabs my hair pulling me close to his lips. Wanting his kiss after such a hard punishment will make it all worth it, but, no, once again he denies me that comfort. His lips brush my ear.

"No my Sweet, the whip was just a prelude to your true punishment."

Nothing could prepare me for what Master has in mind. He had always threatened that one day he would use the paddle on me. My tolerance for pain is so low, my mind screams "NO! NO! NO!!"

Too late. There is no changing his mind, The paddle was one of his prize possessions, He had made it himself, a solid wood paddle covered in red leather, with very sharp tack-like points sticking through the leather. He has three, each paddle with sharp, painful points spelling some word. One hit from those paddles, and a person will remember whatever misdeed they did for weeks.

Master's hands, so warm and soft, start to rub my shoulders, trying to relax me, to drop my guard. I know it's coming. Waiting and waiting, my mind yells "Do it! End this torturous waiting already!"

Suddenly it came, the hit, so hard, so fast, It stole the very breath I tried for, forcing my body forward. My mind is full, a red haze of pain, I am so deep into my pain, I did not realize Master had unchained me, was standing there holding me, my legs not wanting to work. Máster's warmth seeps into my very cold body, he removes the blindfold. Meeting his eyes, I knew right then I would suffer almost anything to see his smile, his happiness. Guiding me over to the bed, he makes sure to lay me on my stomach. So tired, so hurt, all I need is to feel Master and hear him say, "Good girl, my girl. All will be fine."

As he lays on the bed wrapping one arm around me, pulling out his phone, he shows me which paddle he had chosen. The wounds were still seeping blood, but the message stood out very clear, Bad Whore.

Smiling is all I can do. Thank you Master, your whore will strive to be better.