Friday is Smutday!

"you are a fat pig slut whore... *slap* undisciplined... *slap* untrained *slap* and too much in control. *slap* Don't worry though *slap* I will break you *slap* and remake you... no matter how much I have to beat out of you"

He lectures me as the blows rain across my face and head, occasionally travelling lower to torture my tits...  I see stars and stagger at a particularly hard blow, trying my hardest to stay in position.

"What are you supposed to call me?" he suddenly asks.

"Sir" I mumble through my gag, drool escaping and making its slow, slimy journey down my chin and chest.  I pay it no mind - this is an important lesson that I have just fucked up.

"that's right, slut, 'yes, SIR' *slap*, 'I'm doing well, SIR' *slap* 'I would like to inform you that I am enjoying our evening, SIR' *slap* Do you understand?"

Tears start to form in the corners of my eyes.  Not from the pain, but from the anguish I am feeling at the disappointment I've caused both myself and Him.  I long to let go and let them pour down, to mingle with the drool that I am no longer capable of holding back. To become nothing but a weeping mess, grovelling for his forgiveness.  I am a strong and proud person though.  I regain my posture, look Him in the eye and enunciate as clearly as I can with a mouthful of rubber - "yes SIR"

He looks at me with disgust.  "You really are pathetic, whore.  You possess too much control, too much desire to be the one controlling.  You need to learn to let go.  You need to learn your place.  You need to learn to CALL ME SIR.  Do you not trust me?"

"Yes Sir, I do" I nod emphatically to make my point.

"Obviously you do not.  You have not trusted me enough to give up your control to me, now have you slut?"

"No Sir"

"Turn around and hold the chair"

On shaky legs I bend over and assume a position I know well.  A part of me is relieved that the beating will not be too bad.  If he meant to seriously whip me he would have me seated so that I would not collapse.

I hear the falls of the flogger cut through the air and the first blow to my back nearly knocks the breath out of me.  I grunt and gasp through the gag.  Blows begin to rain down on me... my back, my ass, my ribs, my thighs... no area is safe as he takes out my transgression on my hide.  Soon I am moaning and crying out, my flesh bright pink and hot to the touch, welts forming upon welts.  Soon it is all that I know... the outside world has ceased to exist and my entire focus is on the steady ebb and flow of pain.  Soon *I* cease to exist... I am nothing but a fiery ball of burning flesh, made up entirely of pain and His will.  A particularly strong blow makes me open my eyes and cry out. Three more blows in quick succession to the tender flesh under my arms has me let out one last scream and allow the tears to fall. 

My knees give out and I find myself sobbing on the floor, mumbling through the gag "I'm sorry Sir" as if it were a mantra that would deliver me from this pain.  Distantly, I hear the flogger drop to the floor and I am quickly wrapped up in strong arms, soothing me, telling me what a good girl I have been... With the floodgates open, thick black streaks of mascara run down my cheeks and I look up beseechingly at him, begging his forgiveness with my eyes.  He quickly undoes the gag and cocoons me in a nearby blanket, pulling me next to Him, murmuring sweet words and petting and kissing me wherever he can reach. A hand passes over my flank and I hiss as the residual pain.  "You were very good sweetheart.  I forgive you"

With those words, I sink once more back in to the ocean of endorphins and cuddle up closely to Him. Knowing that I am once more in his good graces, and one step closer to completely belonging to him, brings a smile to my face, even as the tears continue to fall.