God, yesterday was a terrible day. So let me explain why I couldn’t possibly concentrate on writing this Kinky Tuesday piece on a Tuesday. As you all know, there was a loooong break between this little subbie and her Dom Sir Sade. The frustration, the stress, the subdroppiness gathered during the break had never quite been dealt with, and that is completely my own fault. Although I’ve promised myself and long time ago to Sir Sade too, that I would not bottle things up, I did it anyways. And yesterday, upon a teeny tiny meaningless trigger, I finally exploded. During work hours. And this time not so internally. I exploded on everyone in range, mostly on Sir Sade who is having a nightmarish stressful work week. I actually made the most patient person I know annoyed with me. 😦 I went through the phases of being ultra depressed and sad, to extreme self-doubt, to being pissed at the world in the matter of hours. After the dust settled, and it dawned on me what I had just done, I apologized furiously. And as gracious as ever, Sir forgave me. Even though I probably didn’t deserve the forgiveness. I kept feeling restless, and disappointed in myself, mainly because I felt that I made Him disappointed at me too. I got this choking sensation all evening, like I couldn’t breathe properly. I felt terrible at the way I behaved. I was a very bad submissive. And the whole thing tucked at my chest making me feel like shit. So finally, in a long hot shower, I figured out what I needed to do…
After the shower, I didn’t even bother to dry my hair or put on any clothes. I took out the little notebook in which I always write down my punishments. For the first time, I wrote down a punishment I assigned for myself. Seventy strikes of the cane had been my worst punishment. But this time I felt seventy wasn’t nearly enough to redeem myself. So I wrote down the round hundred. One hundred strikes of the cane, with no warm up. After that, I knelt down on the floor, with my head bowed in regret, my cell phone camera took a photo of me like that with my hands holding out the punishment notebook as an offering. Then I took a closeup photo of the notebook where the punishment I wrote could be seen clearly. Then I sent the two photos over to Sir Sade plus the question “Please, Sir?” The wait for the reply wasn’t very long, but it was torturous nonetheless. Million thoughts went through my mind, mainly circling the theme ‘maybe Sir wouldn’t care enough anymore to give me punishment’. It was getting harder and harder to breathe by the second when I waited for the reply. When it finally came, with a simple reply “Granted”, the choke hold was released from my neck, and I nearly fell down over my ottoman/toy chest. I braced myself on the soft surfaced, and a relief that washed through me was so strong that I half heaved and half teared up for a good half minute.
To say that I was exhausted by yesterday was an understatement. No way I could concentrate on writing anything. But after a good night sleep, I felt much better today already. I know I wouldn’t be feeling completely okay until I actually get the 100 cane strikes. But there are other things, quite exciting things to concentrate on as of right now, things I might share later this week or the next. Sorry for the long ass intro again. Now, let’s move on to the matter at hand that is dressage whip.
During the Christmas holiday, as an impulse buy, Sir Sade got Himself a dressage whip from a sport’s shop’s riding department. It’s a long wicked looking thing, thin and extremely bendy. It’s so long that an immediately fearful respect was born in me, cos the longer the equipment, the harder it was to control, but once mastered, longer instruments usually dealt more painful damage. Like the canes, or bullwhips and single tails. Then the break came with Sir Sade, and I seriously completely forgot the existence of the dressage whip. Until I was painfully reminded of it during my disciplinary restoration session few weeks ago.
The first brush-in with the whip was with my breasts. I have very sensitive breasts and nipples, that’s why nipple clamps are on my hard limit list. I have always hated breast flogging and caning. With the first touch of the dressage whip, I knew I have met my new nemesis: breast whipping. The whip was so long and flexible, that whenever strike with proper force, it created two pain points. The first pain point of the rod part of the whip that usually first come into contact with the skin. But because it’s so bendy, the tip will wrap around the skin and the tip of the whip with hit another point and that pain feels like a stab of the knife. Sounds familiar? Yes, it felt exactly like a well-soaked thin cane, except even worse. After all, the dressage whip is wrapped around in fabric, so it doesn’t break the delicate skin of the breast as easily as the cane. Meaning Sir Sade could hit harder without breaking my skin, or even needing to use as much force. With an almost effortless flip of His wrist, the whip landed on me with frightening impact. But the worst that a dressage whip can do to this little subbie’s breasts was not the whipping. It was the nipple torture. With a tiny movement of Sir Sade’s wrist, He flicked the whip up and down in a fast pace on my nipple. The pain was so bad that ‘yellow’ actually entered my mind, and I yet again found myself balancing on the edge of my pain tolerance. Just as I was about to say the safe word, against all of my will, it blissfully stopped. By then I was already sobbing, all of the brattiness broken into million pieces.
But the dressage whip was not over with me. Even if I hate breast whipping, I usually could stay in place pretty well. I am not good when it comes to pussy flogging. My legs would on reflex close up to protect my vajayjay from the torture, I could hardly help it. So when it was time for my very first pussy whipping, not flogging, Sir Sade tied my legs down on the table. I was lying on the big dining table, my thighs and legs spread wide open and tied down to the table in two different places. Then a thick rope came around my waist, and another one around my neck. I was not completely immobile, but it was pretty damn close. That did not stop me from struggling feverishly against the ropes once the whipping began, and you know I never struggle against bondage. But that time I did, I couldn’t help it. It hurt so much. Sir Sade concentrated on my thighs, upper side, inner side, and my pussy. Always two weeks had gone by, and the bruises are still on my thigh and some still visible on my pussy. Yes, I got bruises on my pussy. Stunning strikes of bright red surrounded with blueish bruises. Something like the ones seen on the photo above of my whipped breasts.
Marks from the dressage whip are simply beautiful, the prettiest ones I’ve ever seen on myself. They were long and lean and so colorful. The pattern reminds me of the cane, except more beautiful. Why such beauty had to hide behind such great pain? 😀 My fear for the dressage whip is almost there along with the canes, cos the whip is more suitable for torturing delicate places like the pussy and the breasts, so in some sense, I dread the whip even more than the canes. The kind of pain that the dressage whip delivers is not quite there along side with the canes, or even parallel to the blunt force of the riding crop. But the dressage whip delivers meaner and more menacing kind of pain, carries a greater sting and less burn afterwards. Aka not my favorite kind of pain. But it definitely made quite a first impression on me. The kind I would hardly forget, ever. And I already dread the next time…