I hung there from the rope that suspended my wrists from the decorative hook in the middle of our tray ceiling. This session had been long and harrowing and almost excruciatingly pleasurable, even though now my entire body quivered with exhaustion and I was in pain in several tender places. You had said that today had not been about punishment, it had been about discipline, but to someone who did not understand our world, it would have looked medieval.

I looked up at the twin ceiling fans that twirled on either side of the ceiling and remembered. I remembered you bringing me into the room after I rose from the tub, still scented with lavender and vanilla from the bath, my skin damp and glowing with the oil that I had used to rub myself with afterward. I remembered you taking my silently offered wrists and tying them with the rope that already hung from the hook. I had begun to moisten as soon as you tenderly placed the spreader between my legs and then gasped when you pulled the rope up higher, high enough that my feet were almost "en point" as in my old ballerina days. The room was too cool; you always turned the temperature down before a session, knowing that I am a creature of warmth; this has always been the preamble to my torments.

You touched my breasts tenderly while staring into my eyes, caressing them and weighing them in each hand. Your eyes were luminous and filled with intensity, as though you were trying to feel every sensation with me. You twisted my nipples suddenly and harshly, the sensation making my eyes water. You were still fully dressed, and I became aware of you reaching into your pocket. I felt the nipple clamps snap sharply on each breast at the same time and my back arched as I cried out. You looked into my eyes with chastisement then; the first rule of training is silent, stoic acceptance of discipline. I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on a fixed point in my mind, repeating the word "submit" silently. I felt you watching me, allowing me to settle myself. "Open your eyes."

I opened them, looking up at you tranquilly, the need to resist at abeyance for now. You tightened the clamps a bit more, and I felt the bite of the third clamp on my clitoris, and the tranquility wavered as the pain flared. You slid your hand into my hair and pulled me to you, kissing me hungrily and lavishly, and I adjusted to the bite of the clamps on my breasts and my sex, even as I felt myself grow embarrassingly wet. As if you had picked up my scent, you reached down and cupped my pussy, sliding a finger up and down my cleft and pausing to tug the clamp just enough to make me writhe. You walked away from me then and out of the room and let me hang there.

I slipped in and out of languor for the time that I hung there, somewhere between a quarter to half an hour. My arms were just beginning to get uncomfortably numb when you returned. You lifted a bottle of water to my lips and poured slowly, but when I moved away as if I had had enough you stopped my movement and continued to pour. I complied, drinking the entire bottle, smiling at you slightly for your solicitousness to my well being. You moved to the armoire then and pulled out something that I could not see because of your position behind me and slightly to the right, just out of my visual range. I was still hanging languidly when the flogger struck me viciously on my left side, startling me, since I had expected a much softer blow coming from the right, and I had expected to be struck with something that I find easier to take, the crop for instance. Before I could gather all of these thoughts fully you had struck me at least three more times, methodically switching sides each time. I flinched and writhed under the blows which seemed to increase in intensity and struggled to see your eyes; looking for reassurance. You held my look with an utter lack of expression, and I watched the muscles in your forearms flex as you drew back again and again to strike me. I struggled to remember if I had done something to turn this from discipline to punishment and I could think of nothing; you were always very clear with me at the beginning of a session as to its purpose, if not its actual "scenario". I took comfort in this level of structure; it allowed me to prepare myself for the scene both physically and emotionally. Today seemed to be a breach of the normal order.

I decided to test the parameters a bit. My movements became more unrestrained, and I began to make soft sounds of protest, thinking that perhaps you were unaware of the level of ferocity that you were delivering. Your eyebrow rose dispassionately at all of this, and at the pleading in my eyes, and you drew back and struck me twice as hard, catching my vulva cruelly and absolutely deliberately. The force of the blow was enough to snap the clamp off my clitoris, and the pain was so great that I thought I would faint with it. I let out a wail which I tried to bite back unsuccessfully, and an equally hard blow caught me on the other side of my body, again brutally licking my sex. You had taken your shirt off by then, and I saw a sheen of sweat on your torso. I wept then silently, my body shaking with sobs and the blows stopped. I flinched as your fingers ran over the livid welts that covered me, but I did not make a sound. You brushed my sweat soaked hair back from my face and held my cheeks in your hands, looking into my eyes intently. "Beautifully done."

I realized dimly that this had been a test that I had passed, but I was confused, because you had always been so careful to prepare me for any major increase in intensity that you had planned. You reached for another bottle of water and fed it to me slowly, and this time I drank the whole thing gratefully without attempting to stop. When I was finished, you reached between my legs and began to stroke my cunt insistently, your finger finding my clit engorged and straining, the wetness flooding out of me. You rubbed intently, looking into my eyes the entire time, communicating silently that I was not to close my own eyes, but to hold your gaze. I felt my orgasm building and just as the first spasm shook me you took your hand away. I wanted to sob again; it seemed so unfair to deny me release after putting me through such an ordeal, an ordeal that you had said I had handled well. I closed my eyes and cried helplessly, and then I felt the rope slackening and your hand on my shoulder pushing me to my knees. You unclamped my nipples suddenly and simultaneously, and the blood rushing back into them was almost more than I could stand without screaming, but I did not scream. I opened my eyes and looked up at you; your eyes looked utterly unlike your eyes at that moment, as though my dearly loved and familiar Master had been replaced by some entirely different man, a man I did not know at all. You had freed your cock by now and forced it violently into my mouth, using my hair to control me as you raped my throat. In spite of the violence I relaxed a bit mentally; this was familiar territory. I focused on your flesh and your pleasure, and then you convulsed in my throat, your cum spilling in a sticky sweet rush into my mouth. Your hand in my hair softened to a slow stroking and your other hand caressed my shoulder gently.

"I'll be right back to let you loose."

I smiled at you tentatively, and you gave me a look that was wistful and filled with tenderness. "I love you," you said, and were gone.

I hung there looking up at the slowly turning fans remembering all of this, in a comfortable kneel, my body aroused but relaxed in spite of the stinging welts and my tingling arms, which were still stretched over my head. I considered the intent of your... discipline...Had I been slack or careless in my tasks? Had I been inattentive to your needs? I didn't think so, and it would be so unlike you to punish me without thinking it through and telling me what I was being punished for. This was...something else, but I hardly knew what. In any case, I thought I had passed the test, and that you would reward me when you returned. I relaxed, concentrating on a spot on the carpet and slipping into a silent meditation.

After another 10 minutes, I was getting slightly uncomfortable, more from the growing fullness in my bladder than anything else. I shifted a bit, and then I became suddenly aware of your eyes on me. You were leaning naked against the door frame watching me; I wondered how long you had been there. "Uncomfortable?"

I smiled. "A little bit."

"What's bothering you?"

"I...my arms are getting numb and I'm stinging a little from my pun-, disciplining, sir"

You looked seriously at me. "Did you think it was a punishment?"

"No...yes, I don't know, "I said softly.

"I would never punish you without telling you the reason, you know that."

"I...yes sir, I know but..." I trailed off before finishing my sentence.

"But you weren't ready for the intensity, you thought that I was really going to hurt you, and that I had lost sight of remembering to take care of you even while disciplining you."

You looked genuinely saddened while you spoke, and I found myself wanting to make it better. "No, I knew you wouldn't really hurt me but..."

"But you didn't trust me."

You walked over and let my arms down, rubbing my shoulders and my forearms tenderly, bringing the warmth and feeling back. You slipped the spreader from between my legs and laid it to the side.

"When we decided to build a life together we talked about our needs and commitments to each other in great detail. We agreed that discipline and punishment were a necessary part of our way of life, and I promised to honor your trust in me with your flesh with the utmost care and seriousness."

You stopped for a moment and picked up a jar of ointment which you began to apply tenderly to my welts.

"You promised to entrust your body and mind to me absolutely."

I bit my lip; I wanted to say "yes but..." But you looked so pensive that I let you continue without interruption, even though at this point I felt that I was free to speak.

"You don't trust me with yourself entirely."

"But you said I handled it beautifully..."

"You did, but only after fighting to convince yourself that I was still myself, and not a stranger who was going to damage you carelessly."

I thought back to the moment when I had thought that you seemed like someone else entirely and blushed; sure that you had read my thoughts. You sighed. "I love you, I don't want some of you, I want all of you."

You stood up and looked down at me. "Are you uncomfortable?"

I squirmed, suddenly aware of my body again. My bladder was starting to protest more loudly. "A little."

"What's wrong?"

"My skin is stinging a little, and I'd like to cum..."

"Hmmm, you look like you need to go to the bathroom the way you're squirming."

I blushed again, I don't like to discuss bodily functions directly, and you know that. "I do, a little," I said, looking down.

You squatted down next to me and tilted my face up to yours. "Look at me." I looked into your eyes uncertainly. "I poured 2 bottles of water into you more than 45 minutes ago, and you're telling me 'a little'?" You shook your head, "you don't trust me with everything."

I looked into your eyes and understood. The flogging had been intended as discipline, not punishment, but it was only meant to be the first phase of my discipline today.

"I don't, I can't..." I looked into your eyes again and saw the question there.

"What does your submission mean?"

We stared at each other for long minutes and then I stood up unsteadily. I held out my hand.

"All right."

You led me into the bathroom, past the sunken tub where I had taken my lavender and vanilla scented bath an eternity ago, and into the shower at the end of the room. I stepped in uncertainly, shaking violently, my heart pounding in my ears. I knelt; my legs slightly parted and looked up at you. You stood outside, arms folded, studying my face with more intensity than I had ever seen in you. I wanted to look away, to run away, but I could not; this was my discipline, and this was my vow. My body struggled with the need to release itself, while everything conscious in me fought to control that need, to keep this part of myself secret and private. My mind flew through the scenes of our life together in rapid play back; the love, the need, the desire and above all, the trust. I started to let go; my warm piss flowing out of me slowly at first, then faster, I almost fell with the waves of emotion that swept through me. Your eyes were hot on mine and we were locked on each other in a moment of absolute intimacy. The flow slowed and you knelt beside me, slipping your hand between my legs, letting the last few drops flow through your fingers. I laid my head on your shoulder and you held me, kissing my hair and stroking me, careful not to hurt my welted flesh.

With a sudden groan you stood and lifted me, pressing me against the wall of the shower and sliding into me with a smooth thrust. You fucked me as though you were having me for the first time, and it was savage and sweet at the same time. You cock impaled me deeply and your tongue ravaged my mouth. I came hard against you, your mouth muffling my scream, and before the first orgasm finished another ripped through me, just as I felt your cock throbbing your orgasm into the depths of my body.

My legs slid down and I leaned against you, our breathing and heartbeats synchronized. You turned on the shower and washed me gently, the smell of lavender and vanilla filling the air again.

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