Marked

There was a misunderstanding before lunch yesterday and I almost did not go to see Mr.Aloof. The error was in an interpretation of comments about sadism and dominance. He thought I was being put off by what he was suggesting and I was merely thinking and sharing my thoughts on the matter in a more objective way. Luckily we cleared it up and the plan to see him was still on, but I knew I was in for a hard evening.

Power exchange does not have to include the delivery of pain. It's a frequently used option, however. It's used to different degrees and in different ways by different folks. There can be pain as punishment or correction and there can be pain simply because one likes to give and the other likes to receive.

To date, while there has obviously been some pain involved in my meetings with Mr.Aloof, it has stayed on what I would consider the lighter side. Ever so slight bruising and a hint of a mark here or there from the tip of one of the lashes of his whip. Our meetings have had more of a D/s dynamic rather than s&m dynamic, which is cool, as I am obviously having fun.

But upon his return, he sent the text as mentioned recently and I was surprised as it was a different side to his character he had yet to express. There was no doubt about the way the evening would go, and though excited to see this new aspect and have a more physically extreme evening, I was terribly nervous when leaving my house to head to his.

I got there at 9, and he let me in. We went to the kitchen to talk for a bit, have a drink, sit quietly. He left a couple times to do this or that, eventually coming back and taking me by the hand and leading me to the elevator. He hit the button for the third floor and told me he would be up to come get me.

Emerging from the elevator I saw the yukata and green leather laid out on the chair (and two keys on a ring which become important later). I used the toilet and proceeded to change. I could hear the elevator go past and his footsteps on the floor above me. I finished dressing and sat and waited, playing with the keys. Not having to wait too long, he appeared and grabbed the front of the robe slowly and pulled me up to my feet. He took me by the hand and led me upstairs, where the loft was very dark, only lit by three candles. He stood me under the beam and rafters closest to the door and turned me so I faced away from the centre of the room. Taking some rope, he secured the wrist cuffs together and throwing the rope over the beam, secured my hands above my head with not too much slack. He then left me there while he continued to go about whatever he was going about- taking the elevator to another floor, coming back, doing things behind me. He occasionally checked on me but for the most part ignored me. I have no concept of how long this was.

Eventually he finished with whatever he'd been doing and returned his attentions to me. Releasing my wrists from the beam, he undid the rope holding them together and then quickly, and efficiently removed the yukata. Taking one wrist, he reattached the rope and pulled it out to attach to the column on one side holding up the rafter. Producing a second length of rope he repeated the process with my other arm, making them tight. Standing with my feet flat there was pressure on the cuffs and the only way to relieve it was to stand on tiptoe. Not very much flexibility of movement. He gave me some water and then produced the bar gag. The gag was secured, and I do not remember so well what happened exactly, except after a bit he left me again to do something, though first releasing the catch on the gag so that I was holding it in place, but if distressed could simply drop it (though I wasn't and didn't).

More time passed. The tie was restrictive and I could feel the pressure in my arms and wiggled my fingers to keep my circulation. Up on toes until my legs shook then flat footed again. Of course I wanted to endure it as well, a complicated thing, submission. He came back and removed the bar gag producing the larger and more intrusive ball gag. More sips of water in between the change and then he got his whip.

What followed was what seemed like a very long time of whipping, touching, and resting. From all angles the whip could reach me as he struck, the multitude of tails curling around my body, wrapping and snapping at my skin. Or more direct hits where the mass and weight of all the strands thudded into me across broader areas. He would build in intensity, starting more gently and quickly increasing strength until they were forceful hits. I would take it and then, when it got to me, try to shuffle or lean away, perhaps cry out behind the gag, and then, perhaps, he would pause.

Around the halfway point he produced another length of rope and did a tie around my upper body which was tight and made it so I could not take deep breaths. The remainder of that rope trailed down my back and legs to the floor, brushing against my reddening skin. And then the whipping continued. At another break two more lengths were produced and attached to my ankle cuffs which were then attached to the respective columns that my wrists were attached to. My small freedom of movement was lost, it was all closing in. There were now certain areas which had been struck repeatedly, and particularly if they had also been marked by wrapping, that were particularly tender. I was tiring. My arms and legs trembled occasionally, my skin stung.

"Prideful and stubborn." Mr.Aloof said quietly to me during a pause between. "You will have trouble sitting tomorrow I think. You just need to give in K."

I turned my head away. I knew what he said was true. The keys, which I still held in my hand were a signal. That I had reached a limit. All I had to do was drop them. Another round- but this one did not hit the sore spots and so I did not feel my limit even though the whip burned new sore spots into my skin. Another break. And then another round but this one was hiting the sorest spots, hard. Tied as I was I could not move or twist away. The strokes were relentless coming quick and strong. I could barely think or catch my breath. The point is not to suffer pain for the sake of pain, I did not have anything to prove. I was tired and sore and I knew that I could end it. I threw the keys and they clinked as they hit the floor.

Still, it's hard to give in, especially if one is prideful and stubborn. He stopped and went to retrieve the keys as I hung my head and caught my breath. He softly ran his hands along my back and bottom. I could feel the heat on my skin and his softest touch burned. He put the keys back into my hand and circled me again. This I also knew would happen from prior arrangement. I dropped the keys when I wanted it to end, but there would be more. Not much more, but still more. Though I barely registered it, my mind already elsewhere from having conceded.

And then he released me. My arms and hands tingled as the blood came back, my jaw sore from the ball gag and likely my biting down on it. I was afraid to move, to find out the full extent of what I had endured. He gave me more water and after some time, led me to the bed and gently pulled me to lie down. He touched me then, holding me down to the mattress, and when I was sated he lay back on the bed and I curled into his arms and we slept.

Sleeping with Mr.Aloof is always somewhat nice as he desires physical contact throughout the night. So do I, normally, but I also sleep very hot. So normally I get annoyed with being too close with someone while I sleep, but with him it seems to work well. Whenever one of us shifts in sleep, we adjust to always be touching again, and it's rather nice. Of course, when these moments happen, I partially wake, and take note of it before drifting off. At one point I woke wanting to change position, and turned my back to him, pressing into his side and he moved more to spoon. I thought nothing of it until I felt his hand run lightly along my hip and then up my back. This was new. I became more alert as his fingertips brushed lightly over bruises and welts igniting them.

He pulled on my shoulder rolling me to facing him (over my back, ouchie!) and then guided my hand down, under the duvet (I usually sleep out while he sleeps under). He was hard. I had thought, while drifting off to sleep that it seemed terribly unfair that I seemingly got all the attention for the evening, and of course worried about it. So here was the clear opportunity to improve upon that situation. And I did. Getting better, well, maybe not better- at least more comfortable with such things. And then that fun and games led to sex, which I always tend to enjoy. And then we really slept.

Today however, I bear the result of my pride. I look as though I've been attacked by a strange beast or have some sort of pox. At least a hundred red marks from the tips of the whip biting my skin. And the bruising has started. Of course it's all hidden under my clothes. Sitting is reasonable but not entirely comfortable. Don't get me wrong- I don't say these things in shame or remorse. I love the marks, the soreness, the physical reminder of my evening blazoned into my skin. Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this sort of thing.