Monday, September 1, 2008

You called me a WHAT?

I was so satisfied with the overall effect binding my girl's arms to my pull-up bar had on her, that when Friday's ritual came along, i decided to employ this method once more. I could tell she was in a feisty mood, and not at all really interested in the correction that was about to be administered. As a result, i made some alterations in my head to the design i'd been fiddling with all week. I originally planned on binding her legs together at the knees so as to throw off her balance, but in receiving the bit of attitude from her, i abandoned that plan for another, more scheming.

I told her to remove all of her clothing, to place foam earplugs into her ears, and come into the den. I put on some music which i knew would throw her off. Even though the plugs would dampen what sound she heard, she'd still be able to hear when i spoke to her. When she came into my den, she showed a bit of defiance by leaving her house slippers on.

"Take those off!"

"Oh...", was all she simply said. Instantly, we simultaneously reacted to the use of the earplugs by using few, if any, words. This continued throughout the arrangement. I produced her black, leather posture collar, and instead of telling her to hold onto the front as i laced up the back, i grabbed her hand and placed it on her throat. I lifted her other hand onto her ebony hair gathered into a mound atop her head. I positioned her in front of the full-length mirror, and laced up the neck corset rigidly tight. I like to have her looking at herself in the mirror, to watch her slow transformation from dignified lady with ample autonomy to my submissive plaything. But even then, this drew up more of her defiant posture. I pointed at the mirror, to indicate that she stay focused on her image in it, and instead of simply abiding this direction, she widened her eyes as if to say: Yeah! I get it!

Much, much to be addressed, i could see. I pulled her body to right beneath the black bar spanning my doorframe. Instead of lassoing her hands together like before, i individually bound each to the horizontal bar with its own coil of jute. Satisfied that should she see fit to try to wiggle out of the binding (more defiance), i proceeded to the next stage.

Taking another coil, i ran the bitter ends through the o-rings attached on both sides of the collar, wrapped this around the front of her neck, pulling the two lengths over her mouth. Even with the presence of the rope right at her lips, the petulant girl needed illustration by my own mouth what she was to do. Opening her lips, i drafted the rope tightly through them and continued around to the back of her head. Following the high line of the corset, i criss-crossed the rope again, and pulled it sternly over her eyes, wrapping it several times to ensure her vision was impaired. I knew i'd tugged it tight, and could see that it would tax her. I wanted more. She deserved more. I knew that this whole episode would reach a point that had her in that realm where she wasn't enjoying the predicament. Put simply: i wasn't doing it for her enjoyment.

Not completely satisfied with her immobility, i took one more coil of jute and at her elevated elbows, began another wrap, which would be led over her face, at her eyes. In the empty spaces between her extended arms and her rigidly held head, i slowly coiled the rope, effectively vicing her head to her static arms. Any movements she should make while being flogged would be commuted to her entire upper torso, thus reducing any potential movement. Sighing with satisfaction, i proceeded.

Awhile back, rummaging through some old possessions in storage, i came across a mini replica wooden hockey stick that i used to play with all the time as a kid. I knew immediately when my hand found its 18 inch trunk, that i had to add it to my arsenal. It goes without saying that i enjoyed the perversity of me using a toy from my childhood to corporally punish my girl. And boy, can that thing smack!

I flailed on her backside with great force, as she cried out through the rope gag. I would jerk her body back into position, only to beat the ivory flesh of her buttocks again. Repeatedly, i pounded the flat, wooden blade on her ass, on her thighs, in between her legs, and each time, she disobediently twisted away from me. I told her that should she wish this to stop, that she might want to find a way to hold as still as she could. No matter how much i slapped with the stick, her stubbornness saw fit to remain as high as her hands above her head. I decided to take much more drastic measures.

My girl (and don't tell anybody) is incredibly, and i mean incredibly with an emphasis on the "incredible" part, ticklish. All up and down her entire body. Usually, just to be playful, i will tickle her sides to get her to squirm and giggle, but i rarely do so in a scene. It can be quite torture for her to have to endure a tickling barrage and not be able to squirm away. I started slowly, drawing the tip of the stick's handle gracefully up and down her vulnerable naked sides. She immediately sensed my motives and began to plead very vocally through the rope that i desist (doesn't she know that's precisely what i want to hear?). In response, i poked the stick into her sides, to which she writhed, leaning as far away from me as her aloft binds would allow. And then the deluge burst upon her.

Without any remorse i attacked her sides with the stick, arousing tormented guffaws from this naked bound creature's mouth. I stopped suddenly, allowing her to get her bearings, only to slap her rotund cheeks viciously with the blade. I cycled like this between the two tortures for a minute or so. During a lull, whilst gathering her breath, i heard her say something through the ropes, but i couldn't make it out exactly.

"Repeat that?"

"You aw in ath ho."

"Did you just call me an asshole?"


"It's not the smartest thing to call the person who tied you to a pole and has a wooden weapon in his hand an 'asshole'."

"I dow keh."

"We'll see. Pick a number."


"Try again."


"Pick a real number."


Thirteen it was.


Anonymous said...

She's a brave girl, but then, she needs to be to handle a man like you. You'd be bored without a challenge.


goodgirl said...

Deity, Sir

My choice word is far harsher than your girls, although the response I receive is a snap of His fingers which brings forth an orgasm.

My reaction can be slightly embarrassing, depending on where we are at the time and so I have learned, the hard way, to be highly cautious of uttering said a word.

I am still in awe at what words escape my lips in moments of vulnerability and willfulness.

While reading your entry I felt great compassion for your girl and I could not help but hear a wicked gleam of satisfaction lingering in your gaze as you executed your rights upon her flesh.


Anonymous said...

Since I loathe to be tickled, I would say that your girl's assessment was about right. I would not have held back either, though at about 4 or 5, I would be wishing I had. Did she?


Mac K. said...

There's nothing, nothing, half so much worth doing as simply messing around with your bottom's senses. And when there's the creative application of rope involved, well, I just get all... affected.



doll said...

I think the wicked gleam of satisfaction might have been in her eyes if Diety could have seen them. There is nothing better than feeling shitty and taking it all as it comes.

Deity said...

she makes me brave, and with her i could NEVER be bored.

very well phrased:

" you executed your rights upon her flesh.

she's much too proud to admit she'd gone too far. much, much too proud.

withholding them their abilities to sense their surrounding is so perfectly psychotic, pungent and playful.

too bad she couldn't turn her head around to give me that look. i would've relished it had she been able to wiggle out of her ties.

littlegirl said...

someone came over to my blog from this post, and i couldn't remember what it was about.

i remember it, now.

it's really and excellent piece. it makes me love your girl and you just a little bit more :)