mark January 2009 It was 24 hours before i was going to board a flight, ultimately connecting to Glasgow where i was once again to be at my Owner’s feet -- submitting to Her in person, after three long months since Our/our last visit together and three more months of Our/our unique long-distance Master/slave relationship. i was joyfully going to Purple Passion (a fetish store in lower Manhattan) to complete a task She had given me, namely the purchase of a male butt-plug harness and a set of 17 suction cups both of which i could only assume would be put to good use in the upcoming session and beyond.
Unfortunately, when i arrived and sought the help of Diane, the warm and helpful shop attendant who had helped me before in picking out some unique items for my Lord and Master Fhionna, both items were not available and i felt crestfallen that i would not be able to complete my task. But then i decided to call Her and see if there were other replacement items that would give Her comparable pleasure. After hearing my confusion at Her request for a "Folsom gobbledly gook with connectors," She laughed over the phone and i could envision Her broad mischievous smile. “slave, u are so useless when it comes to mechanical things... just hand over your phone and I will explain what I require." Diane took the phone and then quickly proceeded to a glass case with mechanical and medical items, nodding with confidence and also smiling knowingly. i briskly paid for the item and quickly exited the shop. Such is the nature of my submission to and trust of my Owner that i hardly gave the item another thought. |
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But then i was clearing security at the airport, naively looking at the confusion of a couple of security personnel as they asked to search my carry-on bag -- yes, with my slave bag containing punishment book, nipple clamps, butt plug, and collar (none of which ever seem to raise a question when going through the carry-on x-ray machine) --and it dawned on me that i had no idea what was in that 12-inch tube labelled "Folsom." When a grey-haired man in his 50's unsheathed the item, forklike with parallel pinwheels and electrical connectors, and asked me it's purpose, i calmly and matter of factly said that the friend whom i was going to visit liked to play with it. When he frowned at me i went further and boldly said it was a 'sex toy'. Looking a bit shocked, the man said he would have to consult with his supervisor... clearly a folsom was not an item they had ever encountered before. At this point, i noticed no fewer than four security people searching my bag and the various other intriguing items while i decided to nonchalantly get through my work emails on my blackberry and did my best to blend into the background.
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A few minutes later, a male supervisor appeared and cleared me to go. Once on the way to my flight, i laughed so hard i had to go to the bathroom. But then, in a calmer moment, now boarded, i reflected the true and beautiful character of my submission to my Owner -- my trust and obedience was such that i relaxed all of my "normal" worries and simply and happily obeyed. While not a laughing matter, it is the same feeling that pervades me as We/we begin to session/play together as i kneel naked, collared, head on the floor and await my Lord and Master’s use and abuse of my body, mind and soul for Her pleasure. All i know is that at some point, i will receive the punishment i have "earned" for poor behaviour in the months apart... in this case a relatively few six strokes with the cane but in the hands of my owner, i know that these six may be much more painful than the 29 i have received before. Besides, my Owner frequently enjoys giving me reasonably heavy CP with Her favorite strap, which is distinctly NOT punishment but just for Her enjoyment. So breathing deeply, i await Her ministrations. Master challenges me on this occasion with a new level of sensory deprivation through a thickly padded hood with two tiny nose holes to breathe through. She binds me to a cross (i think), attaching the hood firmly so i can barely move my head at all. My breathing is labored as i feel my member and balls constrained as well. Then i feel a "heavy' pain from an extreme pulling downward of my maleness as my slave brain slowly works out that some type of heavy weight is now dangling and the more i move, the more painful the weight's effect. |
As i still myself, i feel sharp bites on my shaft starting at the base and climbing dangerously toward the head of my penis. At this point, i am writhing and whimpering, causing the weight attached to my balls to sway. Master tells me to be silent as i can sense Her deciding how much more i can "take." Then She plucks whatever the clamps were from my penis, showing me Her prescient mercy by not clampling my penis head... at least for now. Within the very isolating hood, i found even Her corrective voice very soothing and comforting.
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i do not enjoy pain other than on my nipple which are very large after thirty plus years of intense training. It is an interesting question how and why a non-pain-slut like me can accept an ever-increasing infliction of pain in this way. How can i have such a sense of pure joy in anticipation of being with Her again when i fully know that there will be moments of such intense pain that i will weep? The answer is really quite simple… i know that my Owner is a loving sadist and therefore a unique paradox. She derives great enjoyment and pleasure from torturing and testing me, and a few carefully chosen other slaves. i want to please my Owner so intensely and give Her that pure pleasure that only comes from hurting me physically, seeing me writhe with pain, that i strive to accept the new and greater degrees of pain She wants to give me. But at least equal to the sadist part of my Lord and Master is the "loving" part. i know that all i must do is entrust myself to Her and do my best and Our/our play together will give Her great pleasure... nothing would cause me greater "real" pain than to fail Her and She knows this. |
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Our/our time together continues with my formal punishment (after i was asked to select the cane for it's deliverance -- a tricky little predicament for a slave), with me being put in a stock sitting cross-legged, with me tolerating a high degree of electrical torment on my nipples, penis and balls while being tightly bound AND with my Owner gleefully photographing Her slave throughout. i am allowed to admire the welts, bruises and cuts from my punishment, something that always excites and pleases me after the fact.
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Thank You so much, Your slave, always. |
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