He had read my journals.
I want nothing more than for his strong hands to grab my tender flesh, feel the wet smoothness of his serpent nibbling on my breasts, after going so long without his touch I found myself craving his touch. Tell me I want it, force me to take it, make me hurt. Cleanse me off this filter mind
Every page, every paragraph, every revealing sentence describing in detail all of the things I wanted him to do to me.
I know I am no longer his, as he throw me away, I became undesirable. But my body craves for his touch, as every inch of my chocolate skin is his sweet possession. I miss the feeling of being impaled on his cock. He told me once that I would have all the dick I could stand, that he would buy toys and play with my body. Play with me. God I miss him. I again want to be on my knees as your slut, your bitch, your whore. Being whatever you say I am.
And I was embarrassed. a few months ago my loving “Daddy” throw me away, he stopped talking to me and removed himself from my life permanently. The loneliness was hard enough on its own, but what was worse was the feelings that followed. In the middle of the night I would long for his touch, and as the guilt would creep in I would remember how it felt to have my ass filled to the brim with the heat of his throbbing cock, and tears would roll down my face as I craved to feel my scandalous pleasure.
No matter how long I tried to stay away, no matter how much I tried to run away, the inevitable truth was that I was a slave to his cock, held captive by memories of ecstasy.
So when I found that he had read my journals, came looking for me again, I fell weak, and came crawling back to him.
And that is how I wound up standing here, hands tied together, hanging off the ceiling.
There were goosebumps up and down my body, as I waited for him to make his move. He sat in the corner, watching me stand there, presented in front of him like a feast.
I came back, to clean my mind of those thoughts of him, hoping that if he inflicted enhance pain, that I could become pure.
After ten minutes of silence, he stood on his feet and walked over, using his fingertips to dance across my skin. “Good.”
He ran his fingers through my hair, then closed his fist, pulling my hair back in his grap. He moved closer, so that I could feel his hardness in between my ass. “You want this.” He hissed, breathing hot air onto my neck, “You want me.”
“Yes…” I said weakly.
“I knew you’d be back….” he said molesting my body, “I knew you were mine.”
“Yes…”
He yanked my hair once more, “Yes what?”
“Yes Daddy…”
His hand fell from my hair and he moved away, picking up a small whip from his chair. He ran his hands over rough leather, thinking about how this situation would play out. He did not want to cause me any physical pain, he only considered it now because it was my wish. Damage his toy? Ripenmy flesh? Leave me bruised and batteryed? He had his doubts about this. As much as he wanted to please his slut and exert his dominance, this was something he had never explored. The experience would be as new for him as it would be for me, and this I knew to be true.
“Through pain comes healing,” he told me.
And with that final statement he pulled back his hand, and with all his might swung his arm forward, cracking his whip on his slave. I felt the harsh sing on my skin, and to my surprise I didn’t know what to make of it. The whip stung, yes, but when the pain subsided all I could feel was the sensing of pleasure from my throbbing loins.
He hit me again, and I bit my lip, trying to hold back my screams, trying to be strong and not give into the sensings. As the whip met my tender ass, my thoughts began to vanish and all I could do was focus on the sounds of the whip meeting my flesh, echoing throughout the room.
SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK. SMACK.
Five hits. Six hits. Seven hits. Eight.
This pain had unearthed a new pleasure to me, as my rosebud began to bloom, and my pussy began to drip.
“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” He taunted.
I bit down on my lip even harder, trying to fight the urge to respond. Dirty. I am so dirty. Enjoying this pain. Thinking of his cock. Ohh, it feels good. It hurts so bad, yet feels so good.
He brought the whip down harder, “Answer me!”
SMACK.
“Do you like it?”
SMACK.
“Is this what you wanted?”
SMACK.
I cried out from a mixture of pain and pleasure, no longer able to conceal my feelings. “Yes…yes Daddy.”
“Say it.”
“I want this Daddy…I want you to hurt me.”
“Why.”
“Because…” his whipping was becoming rougher, each sting more painful than the last, and my cries soon became screams. “Because I’m dirty. Because I’m a whore.”
He stopped for a moment, “Is that so?”
Tears began to flow down my cheeses, “Yes…I’m a whore. You throw me away, yet here I am in front of you.”
“Do you know why you’re here.”
I let out a small whimper, so he responded for me. “Because you are mine. You are my submissive. Mine to own.”
“I missed you Daddy…I missed you.” I closed my eyes, crying dirty tears, ashamed of my need for him. I wanted to be cleansed of my filter, and instead I found myself wanting more of him, surrendering myself to him, kneeing before him, presenting myself for approval.
I was truly his whore.
He placed the whip on the ground and approached. With a careful sincerity, he ran his hands over my sore body. I let out a hiss of pain. “Did this help you?”
“No,” I whispered.
“You still want me…”
“Yes.”
He gently kissed from my supposed blades down to my ass, then he came around the front, and kissed up from my rosebud, to my breasts. He took my brown nipples into his mouth and chewed gently, easy some of my pain. He continued this for a few moments before looking at me tear stained face.
“Look at me.”
I looked into his kind eyes, and he stared back into mine, “Don’t be ashamed of what you are. You are mine.”
And he was right.
He took my face into his hands, and very quickly confirmed his words with a loving kiss. He waited to watch me again fall in love before he pulled away, and turned his back to me.
“This changes nothing between us pet.”
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