This is pretty much going to be pictures more than words. I don’t really know what to say about it all, to be honest.

This is an excellent example of why I don’t have, and don’t want, a safeword. Had I had one, I would have used it from the first squeeze. The pain was immense, overwhelming, exquisite. Had I had the option to end it, I would have taken it. I didn’t believe that I could take it.

But he did. He believed that not only could I, that I needed to.

Sometimes the mantra of “I’m not going to die” is the only thing that gets me through. That’s all I have to lean on and all I have to pull strength from.

I would miss out on so many things, so many realizations, so much ultimate pleasure, if I were given the power to stop it before he wanted it to stop. But worse than what I would miss out on? Is what HE would miss out on, and all because I don’t have the faith in me that he does.

There wasn’t a moment that he didn’t enjoy. From the anticipation of it to the climactic ending, he was thoroughly blissful, happy, powerful. I’d hate to have woken up this morning knowing that I had put even the slightest damper on that for him.

He enjoyed the dance. What bigger gift can I give him?

A short 5 minute clip is up at the clip store.

Pictures are behind the cut simply because there are so many of them.

I needed the gag. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to stay quiet.

Tied up.

He tied my hair so I wouldn’t be able to bend at the waist.

Punching was pretty fucking ouchie.

I liked how this picture showed his fingerprints. Indicative of how hard he was squeezing.

The cane was so much more painful than it looked. It was excruciating.

Just a little blood here and there.

The last three? Master’s idea of aftercare. *snicker*

I think in this case I was more turned on by the fact that he was so turned on by it. It’s weird huh? Sometimes he gets that same clinical sort of studying when he’s aware of how I react to pain, it’s rare though that I can step out of things and see how much HE gets turned on by causing me pain.

Sadists are funny creatures. Scary enigmas.

I’m sore today, of course. But there is still a disappointing lack of marks. Scabs and scratches but nothing indicative of how badly it hurt. I hate that, too. I want proof of my suffering dammit. Ah well. I’m feeling the proof anyway. :-)

~cunt

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