This is not for the faint at heart. Explicit content.
Last Saturday began quite normal. After work I went home and Love and I had breakfast, then he needed to work again and I met with Andrea, a crossdressing friend of mine. When I returned home, I made pasta for dinner. All very normal so far. After dinner, Love wanted to take a shower, because we had planned to go to the cinema with W and M. When he entered the shower, John saw some dirt which wasn’t supposed to be there. You know, there are some things that he wants to have done daily, some even more than once daily, and I use to check on them each time I walk past them. One of that is a neat and tidy bathroom. Hair clippings, dust, make up stains and things like that are an absolute no go for him. So he barked me over to him and had me clean the shower while he waited impatiently beside it, telling me to go to our bed and await my punishment.
Well, that’s always the critical point for people in 24/7-relationships, isn’t it? It’s actually very easy to trick your Dom into punishing you if you know his “weaknesses”. Just act against his rules, and there you go and get your happy time, right? Not quite right. Because I am strictly forbidden to trick John into punishing me, and to be honest, doing so would feel completely unsatisfying for me, because I strive to make my Master happy by giving my best. But anyway. We were getting a little short of time and so after getting dressed he rushed a bit forward to my punishment. He commanded me to lie on the bed with naked feet that were stretched over the side. I could hear him taking off his belt and he told me to count to 25.
I’m certainly not really into bastinado, but of course I accept it as an effective punishment. It hurts, most times nobody sees the bruises (because nobody actually pays attention to the bottom of your feet) and you can feel the pain for days when wearing shoes or walking. But bastinado might even be a bit more tricky to administer to your sub than a normal spanking. You know, properly warmed up tissue can endure a lot, so usually bodyparts that are not used to hits should get a proper warm up by softer strikes so that the blood rush increases, the bodyparts get warm and are then ready for real pain. Well, when he hit me for the eighth time, I knew something went tremendously wrong. It hurt so bad, I yelled, but John didn’t get that something was wrong right away, and I was stupid and didn’t remember the safe word in an instance. I usually never use it, so when severe pain distracts me from thinking, I’m lost LOL All in all, I earned three more hits before I could make him stop. I was so much in pain, I could not even really talk, just fell from the bed and screamed.
Cinema? Done. That much was clear right away. My first toe on the right side hurt so much I thought it was going to fall off. When John realized what had happened, he brought me ice, but after about an hour it got clear that I needed to see a doc. Walking wasn’t fun, but we managed to get me to his car. He drove me to the hospital. Hospitals on Saturday evening are amazingly full and we needed to wait almost 3 hours with my toe getting bigger and bigger and hurting like stupid.
When I finally saw a doc, he had me x-rayed. The good thing is that nothing’s broken. The bad thing is that the articular capsule wasn’t able to stand the hits. I think it’s because the tissue wasn’t warmed up. I got a mighty bandage and crutches and now see my GP every second day. A great way to spend my spare time, as I’m not able to work that way. Oh boy. If there’ll be no real healing going on in the next 10 to 14 days, they’ll have me the MRT, then we’ll see. Did I mention I’m going to the U.S. next month or that running is one of the best ways to cope with anxiety and stress? Ugh!
Well, as my husband is a loving Dom, I got the missing hits on my buttocks on Sunday morning. He didn’t apologise for wrecking my toe, he just told me that if the shower had been clean, there had been no problems. That’s for sure, but I’m ok with that. I’m his possession and can handle that pain, even though it puts stress upon me. To be honest, even though I know it’s just been an accident, it made me very horny to hear John tell the doctor that he hit me and it happened then, because he gave him a look as if he wanted to ask John whether he was serious… My GPs reaction was not as interesting, he just told me again that this abusive relationship blah blah.
When John left for work this morning, he told me pracmatically: “…but that way you have enough time to check on the bathroom…nothing wrong with your hands, right?”. Right, sweetheart. And I know that’s awful, but it gives me a very wet spot in my panty to regard myself as his rightless slave-fucktoy-playthingy he can even injure, because nobody cares about it. Love it.