Forgiven 27 times.

Well the kids are home so Master and I had to get dressed, which luckily for you all means I get to post pictures! Yay!

Master came bearing gifts, new cuffs and a new rattan cane. Isn’t He generous?…:) I’m also watching the mail for candles and lube. You can never have enough lube, right? Right.

So, earlier today, shortly after I made that last post in fact, Master was sitting on the couch and I was curled up in His arms (isn’t that the best spot in the world?..~sigh~). I touched His cheek to make Him look at me so I could see His eyes and I asked for the umpteenth time “Do You really forgive me?”

He closed His eyes and tilted His head to the heavens and sighed. In that very controlled, very firm, very you-are-so-trying-my-patience voice, He said “YES. How many times do I have to say it?”

Seeing that I was pushing my luck here, I smiled brightly and quipped, “27!” (Which was the first number that came to mind, thank GOD it wasn’t a thousand.) He nodded. “27 it is then. 27 with the new cane and you’ll repeat after each one, ‘I know I am forgiven, thank You Master.’”

And you know what? I AM forgiven! I do believe it now.

So we did alot today. Or rather, He did alot to me. It was fun fun fun. Even being in the closet with my arms stretched up high… and just when I thought I couldn’t stand the burn in my shoulders or the tingle in my hands anymore, He opened the door and pulled them higher. Even that was fun. Challenging. He talked to me from the other side of door every now and then.. just casual conversation.. to keep me from spacing too much maybe? Whatever the reason, it was very surreal. Was I really supposed to answer normally, naked, blindfolded, chained and locked in a closet??

Apparently so, because I did.

Later, He “showered” me and then we showered together. Each time we reconnect on what used to be an almost daily activity, I decide that’s the one I miss the most when He’s gone. I guess I just miss it all the most.

Master made another little video while He was playing around with His cane. If you want it, you’ll get to hear me cussing oh so politely…:) You know the drill.. email me at onlytess@hotmail.com.

Here are some pictures too.
Pics behind cut

Stuff

I was going to respond to all of you individually.. but I’d just be repeating myself so I’ll do it here instead.

Thank you. You all said things that I know.. and need only to apply. I don’t know yet what’s going to happen. I sort of plunked it all into Master’s lap with a “here.. YOU fix it”.. and as of yet, He hasn’t..lol.

He did jump on me about neglecting chores though. Always the strict one about the chores. It’s most decidedly NOT okay that I let the chores slide. Not a surprise though really, I knew it and was pretending I didn’t. He was pretty adamant that the chores get done before the computer gets touched.

That was like.. the least of the issues though. Oh well, we’ll see.

Here’s a few more pics.. and no, I’m not stoned in that one. High on life maybe, but nothing else..:)

The Bigger Picture

So.. things came to a head last night as they tend to do. He had put me in the closet again.. and took me out to beat me some more… and I cracked. Had I known that’s what He was waiting for, I might have tried to hurry it along.

I always crack.. or “wig out” as Master called it… after a big heavy push. And yesterday’s closeting adventure was a big heavy push. Being objectified is a mindfuck, through and through. I fight it.. and I try really really hard to hold onto myself. It’s not that I’m not submitting really because I AM.. but I’m keeping a tight hold on my psyche. And it’s not complete until I let that go.

That’s really hard to do.

The total breakdown of my will.. and my thoughts… complete surrender. From talking to other people, I get the idea that this is where most people feel they’ve gone too far. Where it was too hard of a push and they back up and regroup. What’s it mean when this is exactly Master’s goal? That I’ll remain in that place all the time someday is a very frightening thought.

I will say though, that once I get there it’s a fairly pleasant feeling. Once I’ve moved past the hysteria and the shakes and the incoherent babbling… and settled into *being* His object, it’s quite floaty and nice.

I went through a rather long episode (It felt long but it was probably only a few minutes. Time slowssss way down in my head sometimes) of asking questions that I know the answer to, but it seemed of utmost importance that I hear it. Out loud and decisively. From Him. I held up my tits and asked “Do You own these?” and of course He said yes. And so it proceeded with other things.. my hair, my ass, me, etc. And things of His… “is that my cock”.. no, it’s His. While today, thinking back on it, it all seems very childish and silly, I need to hear it. Every answer felt like a tiny door closing somewhere.. until all that was left was His. I can’t explain it anymore than that.

Once, He told me to lay up next to Him and I started crying again, said I didn’t want to lay there and I turned over to where I wanted to be, kept asking ‘ok?’ ‘i want to lay here ok?’.. He reached around me and tugged me to His side. He wasn’t mean about it, He was firm and also very loving. But it made me stop crying.

It’s the oddest thing.. I fight it so hard. I don’t want to break or crack or wig out. I squeeze that bit of myself as hard as I can and make Him pry it out of me… I can’t for the life of me see Him wanting me that way, that open and exposed, that needy and clingy… but once I’m there, the evidence of His loving me there is so much more present than when I’m not there.

Master is still home and I don’t know what today holds. Maybe nothing, maybe everything. I’m still there though, still open.. I want to keep it, as long as I can. It was hell getting here.

Last night, after we got home from dropping the kids off, Master stuck me under the desk. That’s really becoming the bane of my existence. I’m starting to make evil plans for dismantling the desk when He’s gone. Sometimes, He’ll let me grab my pocket rocket before I get under there, which at least gives me something to do.. rocketing my way to several orgasms….but wouldn’t you know, all three of my rockets are broken (don’t know WHAT happened, honest..;) He let me get the magic wand this time but the angle was off or something.. and the thing just hurt. (Is it just me, or do any of you other magic wand users get that quick pinch feeling, like an epilady would feel? It’s bad sometimes, I end up bleeding actually. The wand will be smeared with blood though it’s only on my clit and there is no evidence of an open, bloody spot. Weird.) Anyway, He had fucked my brains out the night before, so I was already a bit tender and He was going for all He was worth again. I ended up just shutting off the wand, couldn’t handle that pain on top of everything else. He did finally cum but jesus h. christ, it HURT.

After that, He put in some star wars movie.. something.. I wasn’t really watching it because I was across His lap receiving 2,006 spankings. That should be a typo. 2,006. It’s not. In increments of 50 or 100, with 3 or 4 minute breathers in between sets. He used His hand, a crop, His belt, the paddle, something else I think but I can’t think of it now. At somewhere around 700 I complained that He wasn’t hitting hard enough. Yes.. I really AM that stupid.

I stopped being capable of counting after the 1,000 mark. I cried sometimes. My ass bled a few times. I remember at 1,350 getting this overwhelming sense of despair at the number remaining.. and putting my head down and crying. Several times I asked to stop (it seems to me if it’s something that was MY idea, I should get the option of quitting, right?) but what I figured out, quickly, was that asking to stop only pushed Him into the next set with no real break… so I stopped asking and just enjoyed the 3 or 4 minutes then. The last six were the hardest six strokes of the belt EVER.

My ass has retained that beet red, mottled, striped look that it has after a fresh spanking for 24 hours now. It’s swollen I think. And sore as all fucking hell. Master always aims just a tad bit higher than the sit-spot so I’m sitting ok… but don’t fucking lean back. Christ.

I was a basket case by the 2,006 stroke.. (oh, I almost forgot, Master dumped a load of hot wax on my ass somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000.. just to keep the heat going you know… and it seriously was the worst pain ever. I’d rather give birth. I thought I was dying.) and right after that He wanted to cover my front in wax. Maybe I was just at the end of myself, or the candles were boiling, but either way, I broke down and sobbed. And while He still dumped a damn good amount of wax on my front, He did back off of that. Thank You for that, Master.

But back under the desk I went, sobbing and sore didn’t matter. It just plain hurt. Sometimes your crotch is just plumb wore out and mine is. And He’s big, yanno? And He’s aiming for it come out my throat I swear…. and again, I just cried. That’s something I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to.. not only that He can still fuck me while I cry.. but that I’ll still cum while I’m crying.

From under the desk to into the closet. I was never so glad to be locked up somewhere as I was then. I had a few brief moments of panic when my mind strayed to the closet scenes from The Grudge movie. It’s absolutely pitch black in this closet.. and that damn woman’s face kept leering up.. plus Master had put on The House of Wax and it was all creepy music and screams… but the terror inside the closet was less frightening to me then what was outside it at that time. How twisted is that? At some point I fell asleep, curled into a tight little ball on the floor. I know Master opened the door when that movie was over, I don’t know if He talked to me or what, I was pretty fried. Some time later though I woke up, freezing cold and cramped and just scared to death.. I opened the door myself and remember just saying “out”. He let me, held me close to Him in bed until I got warm again.

This morning… It stared out bad, He sent me off to do coffee and told me I could mess around online if I wanted… and damn if that didn’t hit me the wrong way. I mean.. I mess around online the whole damn time He’s gone.. why the hell would I want to do it when He’s home?? I was immediately pissy and pouty. He ignored me for a little while… then He snatched me up and tethered me to the corner with my nipples in the clovers. He did something funky with my arms and the spreader bar, put some clamps on my pussy and then tied my legs together. He went after my ass with the dragon’s tongue thing, my ass was still on fire, I couldn’t move and He was just being mean. When He yanked the clovers off I lost it again.. and stood there crying while He used the flogger on my tits and pussy. I just felt like I was being punished for feeling ignored…. when it seems to me that I *should* be wanting His attention, even if pouting maybe isn’t the best way to get it. But He’s only home once every two weeks, and the kids were gone… and it seemed to me the whole day was being wasted… so yes, I freaked.

What’s the alternative though? That I don’t care? That I don’t WANT to be beaten. Isn’t it a sadists wet dream to have a little pain toy lying around? I used to think so.

Anyway, after the flogging I was put back in the closet. And it wasn’t sitting well with me AT ALL. I was complaining, loudly. So He stuck a bunch of clothespins on my tongue. Which worked for a little while..lol. I remember that He got me out once to go make Him something to eat and then right back in I went. I know I asked for, and was allowed out to use the bathroom once and then right back in. He got me out again to make Him another something to eat and yep, right back in. At one point, I was again, loudly demanding to “get out!” and He pulled me out and caned me until I begged to go back in. Sure seems like I was taken out and smacked or beat on more than that though…lol

This was the first extensive use of the closet. It wasn’t really the boredom that got to me like I thought it would, it was just being ignored. I felt like He had put me in there so that I wouldn’t “bother” Him… so that He wouldn’t feel guilty about not playing with me… I didn’t make the connection of being in the closet as part of playtime. It felt like pure punishment. Once again, punished for being a needy masochist. And who made me this needy masochist? Right.

I dozed off several times while I was in there… and that was exactly the mindfuck I knew it would be. I woke up with no idea of how much time had passed, no idea of how much longer I would be there… I might have slept for 30 seconds or 30 minutes.. I cried.. and begged.. and promised to be good, promised to leave Him alone… and got no response. Was He ignoring me or couldn’t He hear me? I didn’t know! I can’t even describe exactly how it felt…. despair and defeat. And I think it would be somewhat different if the whole thing hadn’t of had the anger and punishment *feel* to it.

I had finally curled back up on the floor.. literally feeling like I was going to start drooling and babbling at any minute, was beginning to zone out.. and He pulled me out again. He wanted a blow job and I was in no mind to be giving a damn blow job. All I kept thinking as I was half-heartedly sucking was that I was putting out as much effort as I felt I was getting. He didn’t stop what He was doing.. not once.. all damn day long.. I am not as far along in being objectified as He might like me to be. Or else I lost a whole damn lot of it since He’s been gone because I was simply irritated and pissed off.. and I didn’t care WHAT He did or said.. I wasn’t going to cooperate. At most, I submitted but enthusiasm? Nope. Not from me.

Naturally He wasn’t pleased with the blow job effort so He put me back under the desk. Again. And again.. fucked me while I cried. Since then.. I’ve pretty well been dismissed. He seems content to let me do whatever as long as I leave Him alone. Part of me thinks about it all and feels like we DID play and wtf am I complaining about and isn’t it His choice to play or read or sleep or play games or do whatever He wants? But than a bigger part of me feels that He’ll be leaving in the morning, the kids are still gone, I won’t see Him for another two weeks and games and TV and computer can all be done at any time during the next two weeks.

I’m just going back and forth on “whatever” and “leave it alone, ya stupid cunt”……. and since He apparently isn’t interested in telling me what to think… I’ll just keep see-sawing.