Rough love


If you follow me on Twitter, you might know that yesterday was not a great day for me. It was almost serendipty when the following tweet appeared in my timeline.

I won’t lie, by mid morning yesterday, I was fully in agreement with the poster in that I definitely needed the full spectrum of responses.

It wasn’t quite a “caging” event, I’d had one of those recently and I don’t want to overuse that particular form of “therapy” but it was one of those days where I needed a fucking that would help me forget just how horrible a day it had been.

One of the great things about my relationship with Master C is His near instinctive ability to know just what kind of attention I need in any given circumstances; although, to be fair, given that as soon as He was able to attend to me, He found me naked, on all fours, with a paddle and a butt-plug on the table beside me, was possibly something of a giveaway. However, even my fairly blatant statement of intent didn’t prevent Master C from adding his own embellishments.

Clamps were tightened around my nipples. My wrists were cuffed to my ankles. My legs were forced apart by the spreader bar. My mouth strained around the ball-gag which was fastened tightly around my neck. A small glob of lube was squirted on my arsehole. I was in that most wonderfully agonising state of discomfort and then I felt the cold, glassy smoothness of the plug being pushed, not into my arse, but into my cunt.

Master C fucked me with it for a few wonderful moments, coating it with my wetness before slowly, but firmly inserting it into my back passage. I moaned around the ball in my mouth as He worked it in, feeling it stretching me, opening me up.

I flinched as I heard the crack of wood on skin; Master C testing the paddle against the heal of his palm. “Are you ready?” He asked.

I squirmed, trying to nod to confirm. Master C laughed. “And so let it commence,” He announced.

I waited.  I waited to feel the contact of the wood on my buttocks. I waited and the anticipation grew, becoming unbearable. I waited; my nipples throbbing against the clamps, my cunt hot and wet, my arse so deliciously stretched and full. I waited…

And then the wait was over. That first resounding blow to my buttocks send a pulse of pain and pleasure through me. I cried out, but the ball in my mouth muted the sound.

A second blow, a third, each one alternating from side to side, left then right. Each blow delivered with a force that made my eyes water and with a timing that allowed the intensity of the pain to build, maximising the burning sensation across both buttocks.

Twelve blows in all. Twelve wonderfully, deliciously, painful blows in alternation, six to the left and six to the right.

Master C stroked His fingers over my clit. I came instantly.

The plug was removed from my arse and for a few fleeting moments, I felt empty; but not for long. The plug was replaced by Master C’s cock. He gripped my hips and fucked my arse hard. After every few thrusts, He would smack His hand down hard on one buttock or the other, a sharp stinging slap, reigniting the fire of my paddling.

“Dirty slut loves getting her arse fucked, doesn’t she?” I heard Him growl. “My filthy slut loves having her Master’s cock in her arse, doesn’t she?” I wanted to cry out yes, I wanted to let Him know how much His filthy slut was enjoying having her arse fucked. I creamed the words in my mind, but the ball in my mouth reduced my moans to a muffled, incomprehensible  mumble.

Suddenly I felt a buzzing against my clit and that was my undoing. I came hard as His cock pounded my arse and the finger stim pressed against my clit.

I was still coming when Master C pulled His cock from my arse and, second later, I felt the sticky heat of His cum on my skin.

Master C released the spreader, unclasped the nipple clamps and undid the cuffs around my wrists.  As I collapsed, spent and drained on to the floor, He undid the gag and removed the ball from my mouth and kissed me. Pausing to spread a blanket over the couch, Master C gathered me up then laid me out on in it, wrapping the blanket over me. He kissed me again. “Would you like me to run you a bath and get you a glass of wine?” He asked.

I smiled and nodded.

Master C really does know my needs so well.

Cadged, benched and the sweet release of subspace


I’ve mentioned the cage before; about how it can be a place of punishment, and how it can be a place of retreat where I communicate my need of support. Last night, for reasons I won’t bore you with, it was most definitely the latter.

The process is simple: I finished work, logged off from my PC, undressed, closed myself into the cage, curled up and waited for Master C to discover me there.

I don’t know how long I was confined; time within the cage has its own special duration, it’s a kind of limbo where time has no meaning until I’m released.

“Is my little one feeling delicate?” Master C enquired softly on finding me confined.

I nodded. “Yes Sir,” I replied meekly, eyes downcast.

He left momentarily before returning; my collar and lead in one hand and a pair of cuffs on the other. “I think I know exactly what might help,” He said as He opened the cage and helped me out.

“Turn around!” a gentle command. I did as Master C bid me. The cuffs fastened around my wrists behind my back. The collar went around my neck and he fastened it tight. Attaching the lead. He turned me around, kissed me tenderly on the lips. “You know where to go,” He said.

I did. I know how this goes, but I still get a thrill of anticipation. “Yes Sir!” I replied.

“Well, lead the way then,” He said, giving my arse a playful swat.

I walked slowly thought to our playroom. In the middle of the room stood the bench. I glanced a coy look back of my shoulder. He nodded.

I walked up to the bench then bent over, my legs spread. Master C fastened the leather restraints around my ankles and then the side restraints went over my arms and fastened between my shoulder blades, holding me tightly in place. and then, I waited.

I waited while he pondered what implement to use. I flinched each time I heard a swoosh of air, only for flogger, or His belt, or the cane to land on the desk. I didn’t care which He used on me; any of them would hurt, any of them would begin my journey. I waited.

I waited, and the anticipation grew. I waited as he walked around me, scrutinising me, flexing the cane, or snapping the folds of his belt together in front of my face. I waited.

Again, that state of limbo, the passage of time meaningless. I waited.

SMACK! his belt struck across my arse. I cried out, as the stinging heat spread across my buttocks. SMACK! harder this time, or so it seemed. SMACK! harder still. His belt crisscrossed my buttocks; the intensity of each kiss adding to the fire of those that preceded it.

Hot tears fell from my eyes. Cries of pain were torn from my throat. His belt was merciless, His belt was harsh, His belt was unrelenting, His belt was just what I needed.

I didn’t count the lashes. This wasn’t a punishment where I needed to keep track, this was a centring, a rebalancing. My tears, my cries and my reddening skin were all that Master C needed to determine when I had reached the next stage.

Mt restraints were briefly undone. Master C repositioned me on my back, my head tilted back over the edge of the bench. The restraints were refastened, tighter; the one around my chest squashing my boobs and constricting my breathing. Slowly, Master C buckled his belt around my neck between my chin and my collar.

Tears still stung in my eyes, but I could see his lovely thick cock was hard. He slapped my face. “Open your mouth, slut! I’m going to fuck your throat.”

The words were what I needed to hear, and His cock was what I wanted to have. This wasn’t a blow-job, this wasn’t me worshiping His cock, lavishing attention on it; this was Master C fucking my throat, treating my mouth like just another hole.

He fucked me hard, rough, without mercy. I chocked and spluttered as He drove His cock down my neck; gasping for breath as He tightened His belt around neck. In… Out… In… Out… Again and again, over and over. The pressure around my neck making it almost impossible to breath around his cock.

Occasionally he would pull out fully, allowing me a few gasping breaths down my tortured throat before beginning again.

I was losing myself. I was become nothing more than something for Him to use.

Time stopped. The pain in my buttocks seemed to melt away, my jaw no longer ached. Tears still streamed from my eyes, but I barely noticed. This was it. This was that transcendent moment where nothing mattered, I just let myself go and get carried along on the current.

He came. Not down my throat, but across my boobs. I barely felt it, the fire burning in my veins was all consuming.

And then… And then… and then His tongue on my clit, His hands rubbing His cim into my boobs as He feasted on me.

My back tried to arch as I came for the first time. The restraints holding me firmly in place seemed to intensify the power of my climax. I cried a long, silent scream of release, my raw throat unable to produce sound. His fingers inside my cunt, His tongue on my clit, the pain, the power of my release. I was lost, powerless to respond. My consciousness seemed to float outside my body; I was a disembodied observer, watching on with fascination as Master C’s tongue and fingers relentlessly pushed my body beyond any last remaining iota of endurance.

Again, that timeless limbo, accompanied this time by a detachment from reality. How long had He kept me there? I’ve no idea.

The restraints were gone, soothing balm applied to my buttocks numbed the sensation of the soft sheets beneath me, the soft pillow beneath my head as Master C stroked my hair from my face, kissed me tenderly on the lips and slid into me.

He took me, slowly, languidly, but thoroughly. Never losing control, never allowing Himself to surrender to His inner primal animal self. This fuck was for me, to restore me, to bring me back to myself. I found my body responding to His, increasingly moving in harmony. I found the strength to raise my arms, to lift my hands to his buttocks, to slowly squeeze my fingers into his taut, firm flesh to let Him know that He didn’t need to be quite so considerate. I managed a very hoarse whisper. “Fuck me Sir! Your little slut needs to be fucked.”

He smiled down at me and thrust harder. I smiled back then closed my eyes, savouring His firmness inside me, His body on mine. Firm, yet gentle, strong, yet sensual, considerate, but always Dominant, He took me, He fucked me, He rebuilt me and made me whole again.

I came, feeling sore but secure beneath Him. And then, at last Master C came inside me and my worries and cares were banished again.

We had another slow, leisurely fuck this morning and, sore arse and slightly raw throat not withstanding, I’m feeling much more positive today.

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