We had been together for several days already. There had been opportunities, but I’d passed them up. It didn’t seem quite the moment. He was not in his usual happy mood. I was waiting. I had him do some cooking, which usually cheers him up. It seemed to bring back some of his usual cheerful demeanor, but it didn’t last. I had given him some chores. That helped temporarily as well. He even asked if there was more he could do. But eventually, I was tired of waiting for that perfect moment.
I stripped him. I bound him. I started biting and flogging him. He began crying with the flogging. I had been expecting that. He’d been in a melancholy mood. His emotions close to the surface. I soon gave up the flogger for the whips. I began to hurt him in earnest. He sobbed. I put a towel down at his feet so he could drool, spit, sputter, anything. And he did. I gave him tissues and sips of water. I continued to whip him til his legs were collapsing and his back was bloody.
As his legs gave out, it was starting to pull on his wrists. His arms stretched overhead to their limit. So I took the cuffs off. And kept going. I placed my foot near his hand so he could touch me if he wanted to. Or needed to. He did. Eventually I decided he’d had enough. He was sobbing on the ground in a small pile of beautiful, bloody, submissive flesh. I put the whip down and laid on the ground beside him. He reached for me with a sweet desperation. I probably shouldn’t love that. But I do. It’s one of my favorite parts of our play. He needs to feel me. Feel me surrounding him with my arms and my acceptance and my love. He needs it like air. And I love him all the more for his unabashed neediness.
This time was different though. His sobbing was less heaving and more choking tears. It felt different to me as well. I asked him about it and my suspicions were confirmed. He didn’t experience the same moving kind of catharsis he usually does when I whip him that hard. I was hoping for that catharsis for him. That letting go and purging of emotions. But it doesn’t seem to work that way for him. Actually, it’s never worked that way for anyone I’ve played with. I begin to wonder if that “I will beat you because you need to let go!” is just a myth. I think the thing that helped the most was our being together. But maybe his being able to serve me by cooking, cleaning, and meeting my sadistic needs was more help than I think. I’ll have to ask him after more time has passed and he has some distance from it.