Next to Godliness.

On that Friday morning after you left, I was so exhausted that I crawled back into bed and shut my eyes and began to drift back to sleep. In that space between lucidity and unconsciousness, thoughts began to ebb in and out of my mind. I was back on my knees again, trying to hold your gaze because you had told me to do so, even though I find it difficult. My mouth was open, and I had momentarily fogotten how much I wanted you to grab me by the hair and fuck me, because I wanted the taste of you in my mouth just as much... And then your cum was dribbling down my chin, it was on my tongue and in my hair...I had that terrible and wonderful sensation of feeling utterly used and filthy. But then your expression hardened, you wound my hair tightly around your fist, told me I was a slut, and then dragged me out of the room. You pulled me into the bathroom and forced me into the bath, and with your cum all over my face still, you told me what a dirty fucking whore I am. As you spoke, you were switching the shower on, and I cried out as the cold water sprayed over me. In this half-dream I was having, there was a wooden scrubbing brush on the shelf to the side, and you immediately took hold of it and began to scrub my skin roughly until I was almost crying, all the while telling me exactly what I was, and all the while, the cold water was making me shiver.

Save me from myself...

On Friday night, I dressed in my black corset, little navy feathered hat and veil, with navy stockings and peep toe heels to match. I kept my hair loose more for practical reasons than aesthetics...

I must confess that I have never played so much at a party before, and I very much hope that this does not displease you, it was simply one of those occasions where the atmosphere was perfect, everybody knew each other, and I felt extremely comfortable. The first time I played was in the dungeon. My friend persuaded me that it was a good idea to let him strap me to a bench. I was flogged, spanked, and attacked with a violet wand...I love electricity, but people always turn it too low. My friend has a good memory, and spent a lot of time tormenting my feet. The sole of the foot is such a sensitive thing, and it doesn't take much to make a person squeal. When I was released, I looked around and realised that at some point, the dungeon had almost emptied of people, which left me somewhat irked. One of the few times that I feel happy enough to play in a prominent area, and everybody leaves the room...

Perhaps it was something to do with the powder on my nose, but I suddenly felt the need to charge upstairs and inform people that they had clearly missed out. This caused me to be threatened with molestation by other friends, and I may have responded with something encouraging, but I don't quite remember. All I know is that at some point later, I was quietly minding my own business downstairs, when I was set upon and whisked into a private bedroom. My clothes were removed and I was placed horizontally across the bed, they stretched my arms as far as they would go without breaking and secured them with rope. My legs were left free, but were repeatedly pulled so that at times my entire body was stretched painfully. I had never played with any of these men before, except for the one previously in the basement. I had seen one of them play with his sub several times, and knew full well just how severe he can be. He is also rather good at inspiring fear, and yet his voice is always soft and he never says anything unkind. I am sure he knew exactly what I was thinking, and at one moment, when my legs were splayed apart, he casually walked around the bed with a riding crop. Suddenly, he brought it down close enough to my pussy that it appeared as if it would actually hit me, and with such force that I thought it would take my clitoris off. I screamed. As it goes, I was not particularly hurt at all, but each time he was about to hit me hard, he would ask me if I was ready and I would have to look at him, and each time I was bracing myself for somethng much worse than I got.

Later on, after most people had left, Michael and another friend pulled me onto the floor of the lounge, bound my wrists and ankles, flipped me over and hogtied me. My hair was plaited and attached to ropes, and with every jerk I made, my hair was pulled. Michael was very gentle with me, but my friend is an experienced submissive with a sadistic streak and seemed to have a penchant for smothering my face for long enough to actually frighten me.

(25/05/09: How funny I did not say much about the friend in the paragraph above. Perhaps instinct was telling me something that I ignored. Now look at the mess I am in.)

The rest of the weekend was pretty much a chaotic orgy of chemicals and chit-chat, punctuated with short intervals of sleep and takeaway...