When Pain Fails as Punishment

Posted by RaynecloseAuthor: Rayne Name: Rayne Millaray
Email: rayne@edenfantasys.com
Site: http://www.insatiabledesire.com/
About: A loving slave with sadistic tendencies and masochistic desires. Chaos incarnate. The girl your mother warned you about. Reviewer at Eden Fantasys and long time blogger.See Authors Posts (467)

Yesterday was pretty shitty. I got in trouble. And I got beat.

The beating is rarely the punishment. I mean, he always means for it to be, but neither of us can control what the beating does to our respective parts. And yesterday was no different.

The beating, regardless of how angry M is, often leaves me quivering, and sniffling, and sets me just barely this side of begging him to please, for the love of the Great Purple Cabbage, just fuck me already before I explode into a disgusting puddle of cunt goo. The only thing that stops me from doing just that is knowing I’m in trouble.

He did fuck me. After he made me suck his cock, and once he realized how wet I was. But it was all about him. Right down to finishing him off using solely my PC muscles (Which also moved Pfun around in my ass… I’m betting M enjoyed that as well.) while I sat on his bulging cock.

And when it was done, he said, “Maybe if you can be good the rest of the day, I’ll fuck you and let you cum.”, then proceeded to tease me until the moment we fell asleep, and well into the night.

This morning, while I was making breakfast, M talked about how he was still tired because he had trouble sleeping. I said, “Yeah, I didn’t sleep well, either. I couldn’t get comfortable.”

He laughed at me, and said, “You couldn’t get comfortable because you were so horny. All night long, you’d start moaning, and then whine, and flop over into another position. It was funny.”

…

It was funny?!

And make no mistake… M didn’t not fuck me last night because I was bad again. I was on my best behavior pretty much all day. He didn’t fuck me because he had a headache. Fucker.

After the beating, M told me to write about my transgression. And then it was over. We moved on. It’s almost like it never even happened.

Except…

There’s something different between us. A strange sort of tension mounting. Because in punishing me the way he did, M reminded us both how much we enjoy higher protocol, and more ritual. How much easier things go for both of us when I’m on a tight leash and kept focused.

And I wonder why I fight so hard. Is it because he’s so willing to let out my leash? A sort of “Give ‘er an inch…” situation? Or am I just that head strong? That strong-willed? That determined?

I rarely grab for the wheel unless I feel like the car’s spinning out of control. So am I fighting his control out of some fear that he can’t, or won’t, handle it? Do I think he’s so hell-bent on getting his way that he’ll let us careen into the gutter to get it, regardless the damage it does to us or the car? Or am I worried that he’s so distracted by work and other things that he can’t safely drive us where we’re going without a little nudge here… A push there…

And if I am thinking these things… How insulting. For a slave to think she can read her owner’s mind, and determine what’s going on, without even really asking. And then to find him wanting based solely on her own assumptions? Disrespectful, to say the least.

I don’t really think those things, though. I know he’s qualified, and he’ll steer us exactly where he wants us when he’s damn good and ready. And just because I don’t like the direction, or can’t see the destination, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have it all figured out. Mostly.

For so long, most of the things I did were intentionally testing my boundaries. I often compare myself to a wild mare just captured, kicking the fence with all her might in different places looking for a weak spot. I have tested this man to the very edges of what his soul can handle, and back again. And I won’t pretend things will always be perfect from here on in. It’s like my house alarm, and I’m a schizophrenic agoraphobic with OCD who’s constantly testing the windows to make sure the alarm will go off, and the police will respond.

When I think about the future, there is a bit of nervousness. But it’s always surrounding myself. What if I break? I mean, I’m strong as hell, but I’m sure even I have limits to my strength. What if he finds them, and I don’t notice and can’t communicate it to him, and I break?

What if I fail? What if he finds a regular training schedule, rather than this occasionally push and nudge, and brings structure down on my head like an anvil, and teaches me till there’s nothing left to teach, and I still can’t get it right? He says he’s not interested in perfection, but I would think it would get exhausting, after a while, repeating oneself until the end of time. And why isn’t he exhausted by it already? The weirdo.

This morning, he pulled me into a hug, and teased and tormented me, and when I finally turned on my side, facing away from him, he told me to get into position. I cocked my ass up, and he slid his dick in, and he rode my soaking wet pussy till I was quivering, and sniffling, and damn near biting Violet’s (the teddy bear I sleep with) head off to keep from letting the neighbors know what was going on in our room. And then he laughed as he pushed me off him and said, “I guess my baby’s waited long enough. You can get that cunt off, now.” And it was mere seconds before I was biting back shouts of pleasure.

But I think I’ll be tossing and turning all night, again. Cause he’s spent all day teasing, and tormenting. And I can’t stop thinking about that beating. And that damned chain is still hanging in the doorway. And I’m still on edge.

God damn.