A psychologist would probably explain my desires by some traumatic experiences in my childhood. I can honestly say that my childhood was one of happiness and harmony without any serious problems. But my secret desires have been with me for as long as I can remember. At first I discovered how much I enjoyed playing Indians and Cowboys with the boys, being captured, tied and "tortured". many times I would wish that they had gone further but they probably neither had the nerve nor the imagination. We were actually starting to unleash feelings that many would think would have been better off being suppressed. Our games gave us a perfect alibi. You can imagine that I was dreaming of our games many a night and how they could advance further. At the same time, I had to restrain myself not to go to far. Already then, I realized that I had to be very discreet and as I grew up, my obsession became a very secret part of myself. Dating boys I found just boring as nobody realized what I was longing for and I had no one to talk to about it. Sex in some way felt like a half measure without what I was dreaming of. In all secrecy, I started practising self discipline in my early teens and afterwards, everything felt just so much more meaningless and empty. It was not just a dream. It developed into a craving for pain and humiliation that I neither could or wanted to control. I realized that it had to surface some day. I read everything I could on the subject and when I found 'The Story of O' it was like a revelation to me. I also wrote down many of my secret dreams and desires and mostly I destroyed my notes so that nobody would see them. My entire teens were filled with casual sex contacts that left me cold and a constant feeling of emptiness.
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I feel so utterly sinful as I sense the dew fresh grass under my bare feet with the soft morning breeze caressing my bare sex. The birds are greeting me with their happy chirping, greeting me for a new wonderful day. The mere sight of the huge, old birch tree and shrubs of switches and branches fills me with lust and anticipation and I am already wet. I have with me a pair of pruning shears and I collect switches and birch rods, from very slim ones to long and thick ones with sharp, elastic tips. My breathing becomes very heavy as I break one switch after another from the old weeping birch and in my mind I can visualize what is to come. My nipples are stiff and hard and protrudes through the fabric of my thin summer dress. I feel safe that nobody will disturb us.
Although I have collected loads of rods and switches, I know that it will be the birch rods from the weeping birch that will hurt the most. As usual you will start birching me with light strokes and long intervals between each stroke, letting the heat spread through my body before you slowly increase the intensity of the birching. The weeping birches have very slender but strong and sharp switches with lots of rock hard buds that have not yet burst into leafs. While the rods and wickers leave good, hard welts and cause a persistent pain, the fine switches of the weeping birch bite sharply into my skin and as you increase the strength and intensity with each stroke, they leave thin bloody streaks on my buttocks and thighs. And I am really burning with lust!
Your strokes ignite a fire passion within me and like an athlete high on endorphins, I feel so excited and lusty that I wish this could go on forever. I only want you to chastise me harder…
But you do feel when I have had enough. There comes a time when I am totally high from the pain and excitement and desperate with lust. Then you will want to own me. All of a sudden you enter me, your hard thick lance of flesh penetrating me, with the strength of a beast. You take me very hard and brutally. You drive me over the edge to climax again and again while sinking your teeth into my neck, conquering your female. I feel your huge tool pulsating and swelling within me as you are sucking my flesh into your mouth, biting, leaving vivid sucking marks on my neck. I lose all conscience of time and when you finally comes within me, we both collapse on the bed, totally exhausted. Now we only want to lay together, enjoying each others nearness, caressing each others bodies. We have all the time in the world. It is just us and we are happy. I feel purified and content.
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- Tina, my naughty, naughty girl!
I put down all the switches and rods I have collected and get down on my knees before you. A firm grip of my hair and two swift, hard slaps on my cheeks. You are wearing your beautifully ornamented ring which I know will leave marks. You like putting marks on my body and I love you for it. How often am I not standing in front of the mirror, admiring your marks on my skin, longing desperately for you. When we are out on the town together I have to have my shoulders and neck exposed to show the marks of your teeth and lips. It must be shown that this slut has been used thoroughly. You generally will also give me some vivid stripes with a birch rod or a riding crop across my thighs before we go out. I must wear very short skirts to give the stripes and welts maximum exposure.
The tattoo on my left upper arm was actually there before, but all the other marks on my body have been made by you. When we are taking a bus ride, I must sit in the middle of the seat at the very back row with my legs far apart so that everybody can see my exposed sex. Panties and bras are strictly forbidden when we are out together. Even though most people quickly shy away their eyes there are some, especially older people, who cannot disguise their disgust. Sofar, nobody has said anything, though. There may even be those who find the sight exciting, as they lay their eyes upon my welts and marks.
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Now I am in a state of ecstacy. I am standing on all fours, swaying my back and you are wearing out one switch after another from the beautiful weeping birch on my nude bottom and thighs. You whip me faster and harder all the time so that your arm soon looks totally blurred. I feel the switches biting through my skin, sobs, cries and beg you not to stop, to continue chastising me. When I finally feel your strong hands gripping my hips and your hard tool penetrating me, I can feel blood trickle down my thighs. You thrust into me hard and deep, like a piston. When your warm semen is spurting into me, I feel your teeth biting into my neck, as a final conquering gesture. When I lay on my stomach with your body upon me, I am totally exhausted by all the orgasms I have had and the enormous strain. My body is burning with pain and yet I am longing for a good taste of your birch again. I am yours and I beg you to use me as much as you want and can.
A thorough birching is the best way to teach a slut how to behave...
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4 comments:
Tina,
Firstly I must tell you how much I enjoy reading your blog. You write so eloquently, which is especially impressive as I assume English is not your first language.
I've put a link to your blog on the Yahoo Group I created for enthusiasts of self-imposed discipline:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/selfimposeddiscipline/
I was 12 when I realised I was a submissive, but then I could see lots of incidents from a younger age which showed that this tendency had been there even then. One of them has such resonance with your latest post that I wanted to share it. I lived on a farm and my cousin came to stay for a few weeks in the summer when I was about 9 or 10. She was 6 months younger than me and I had a real crush on her. One day we were playing in an old stable and she showed me how to plait the twine used to tie straw bales into thicker ropes. The she decided to act out a scene from a cowboy film we'd watched the previous day, by tying me to a wooden post in the barn. I suppose she only left me there for about 10 minutes but I found it really thrilling. I knew I wanted her to do something more (the character in the film had been tortured, too), but I didn't know what. I canr ecall this event vividly 45 years later.
William
~~Great post.
("The Story of O" was an early read for me, also. I've got copies of each movie version also.)
This was well written, and very insightful. Thanks, for sharing this.
~x~bill
I feel so much like you...
As a child I did everything to get a proper beating from my mates... but it was never enough... so I started punishing myself very early.
As a teen I had a punishment book where I listed all possible transgressions and how they had to be punished. Smoking, masturbating, bad marks in school and so on - and every weekend (if I as home alone) I added everything together and punished myself. So I've spent 10+ every week kneeling in the corner of my room with a sore ass. And I was writing books full of punishment lines.
Copying pages over pages from my schoolbooks made me a very good pupil and so I had only the best marks in school. Of course the better I got, the stricter I put my rules.
Needless to say that I was bored by "normal" girls and boys.
I love your blog, Tina, please post more often ;) If I was a top, I'd set you a scedule of min. 1 post a week. If you'd fail, you'd get a caning that leaves you unable to sit for a couple of days, and you'd write you following post kneeling on dry peas.
Very lucky to have a slut like you. To be able to keep using beating.
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