Testing the Submissive(11)
“Did you regret being the martyr when the pain hit?”
“I didn’t regret my decision, but it did hurt beyond words. Tony swung that paddle like a baseball bat, the force of each blow sending me forward. My ass felt like it was being destroyed.”
“Meanwhile, you couldn’t exactly cry out, with your mouth still stuffed with the thong?”
“No, but the tears were flowing freely at that point.”
“What was next on the agenda, the spatula?”
“The spatula on my nipples, which might not have been too bad, except for how tender they were from the riding crop earlier. The spatula was very much a stinging pain, and by the end my nipples looked like Rudolph’s nose. Tony allowed me to spit out the thong, which was nice.”
“Why did he do that?”
“My crying had caused me to sniffle, and breathing out of my nose was getting more difficult. With the thong gone, I was able to take a few deep breaths. Then Trudy said something that made me shudder.”
“Good ole Trudy. What did she say?”
“She casually said that since there was only one punishment left, I was going to get something to really scream about.”
“He whipped your pussy, didn’t he?”
“Y..yes.”
“Where did the man whip you, slut?”
I guess Lewis wanted to hear me say it, “The man whipped me right on my open cunt, Sir.”
“What do you mean, your open cunt?”
“Trudy held my pussy lips open…with her fingertips, exposing my inner folds along with my pink clit. She held me open, my legs spread very wide, while Tony flogged me with the leather flogger.”
“Did you scream?”
“I couldn’t help it. I tried not to, but each whack sent me into orbit. I screamed involuntarily.”
“How long did they wait between strikes?”
“Funnily enough, after the first strike Trudy whined about how much it hurt her hands! I almost told her to fuck-off. She was rubbing her hands, looking for sympathy, while my insides burned. She actually went to her spare closet, in another room, to fetch a pair of winter leather gloves. All to say, it was about five minutes before the second one.”
“Ha! So, Trudy wore leather gloves to hold open your pussy lips so the flogger didn’t hurt her hands.”
“Yup. She also slapped my face at one point with the leather gloves.”
“Why did she slap you?”
“My pussy was wet. Despite the abuse, I was aroused and wet. This made it difficult for her to hold open my lips, as they were slippery against the leather. In frustration, at one point she slapped my face.”
“What did you do?”
“I think I apologized for my slutty nature, and told her I couldn’t help it.”
“And somehow you endured the remaining strikes.”
“Somehow I did. Even now, the memory is a bit blurry as it was so intense. I have a mental technique that I use, in those instances, whenever I fear I won’t have the resolve to withstand the punishment.”
“What is the technique?”
“Well, if I think about the fact that there are still three or four or five strikes left, I become overwhelmed. I can’t imagine how I will survive it. Instead, all I do is focus on the next one. I keep telling myself ‘one more, just one more’. I put all my mental strength into enduring one more strike. Then, after that one, I do it again. I know it sounds silly – but dealing with the strikes one at a time somehow makes it possible.”
“Were you glad when it was over?”
“I’m always glad when it’s over.”
“Yet you do this by choice. I’m not forcing you to do any of this. If you’re glad when it’s over, why do it at all?”
“As you know Sir, the entire week before I’m highly aroused. So much so, a few flicks of my clit and I’m cumming like crazy. Afterward, same thing. I can’t keep my fingers away. Even during, as much as I hate the pain, my pussy leaks like a faucet. I’m a pain whore. I hate the pain the moment it happens, but I love it every other second of the day.”
“Did you have much time to recover before heading home?”
“Barely Sir. They wanted to have sex again, so I got dressed as fast as possible to give them privacy. It wasn’t easy but I moved as quickly as I could.”
“Why do you say it wasn’t easy?”
“I was still crying. My legs were sore from being spread so wide. My pussy was still completely on fire. The slightest movement caused discomfort. When I tried to put my dress on, my ass hurt. I was still sniffling and crying, my mascara smeared a bit. My hair was disheveled from thrashing about. When I leave a Client’s house, I don’t want to raise any attention, for their benefit. I need to be fully composed. So, it was balancing act. I wanted to let them fuck each other in the heat of the moment – but I didn’t want to look like a rape victim leaving their condo. “