Whipping Boi

I stood, bent over, my hands stretched straight and bound to the legs of the sawhorse, my legs spread and bound to the opposite legs of the sawhorse. I wasn't gagged. Ma'am never gags me. Always says she prefers to see me struggling not to cry out. Says it is hard to see it truly with something in my mouth. Plus, she says, I have the most exquisite lips and it would be a shame not to see them glistening wet and swollen from biting them.

My bottom was already stinging, just 10 minutes into the spanking, but, I knew better than to even think of asking for mercy. I knew from experience that as bad as it already was, it was about to get a whole lot worse. See, I am not a slave kept as a servant, and whipped only when I have done something to deserve it. I am kept for my mistresses pleasure and may be whipped any time it pleases her. I am her whipping boi.

A submissive butch boi bottom, there for one purpose and one purpose only. I have a soft butch mistress who wants what I can give her. My self.

So, as I was saying. I am bound over this thing, naked except for nipple clamps, a clit clamp, the metal handcuffs attached to my wrists and the ropes binding my ankles in place. She is swinging the paddle with a fury and I think she must have had a hard day at work. "Me too, baby," I think, "Swing it harder if it helps." After 45 minutes of straight paddling, just as I think I can't take anymore, she stops and walks around to stand in front of me. I feel her hand reach down, lift my chin, look into my eyes, "No tears. Never any tears from you. With all the others, they would cry. After 5 minutes of what I gave you, they would have tears rolling down their cheeks. Yet, after 5 years with you, not once have I ever drawn a tear. I have drawn blood, but, not drawn tears!"

I wince at her raised voice. Mistress never raises her voice ... ever. I Feel her run her hand over my shaved head, down my back. I hear her take something off the wall, hear the whistle as it sails through the air. Feel the thin leather belt as it lands on my back. Over and over I tense to bear the sting of it. Still, when the stinging changes to pain, I bear it. She stops sliding her fingers over the welts she has made. "Tears," I think to myself, "Why? Why in god's name does she want the one thing I can't give her. I just can't."

"All the others cried. Cried, and I never cared about those tears," She says over the "thwapping" sound of the belt kissing my back, "And then you come along, and you don't cry, and it drives me over the edge, because there is a core in you I can't get to. And, you're the only one with a core I care about getting to."

I put my head down between my arms, silent to the end. I know that if she wants me to say something, she will ask it of me.

"Never have I met a butch so willing to take this," she yells, "Never have I met a butch so wanting of this. So willing to be touched."

I feel my skin split just below my right shoulder blade. I can feel welts giving birth to welts and I wonder for a minute if maybe, just maybe, she's lost it.

"Then, you come along," She stops whipping me with the belt as she's talking, "And I discover something I never knew I was missing. A connection. A connection I found with you. You seem so perfect a sub, with not one boundary. Not any ... but one. I wonder why you have this one. Why do you have it, boi?"

I tremble, shake, "God, no," I think, "Please don't make me relive this again."

"Why boi? Why do you wake up sweating in the night? Why do you push me away in your sleep?"

I lift my head up slowly and she is kneeling in front of me. "Ma'am ... uh .. I don't .. uh ... I've ... I mean ..."

"Tell me!! I command you to tell me!"

"I've been hurt. Ma'am. I've been hurt, badly. I'm sorry for not crying. I haven't cried in years. Not for me, or for you, or for anyone. I haven't cried since it happened, when I was 14."

I'm still not crying, but she is. I'm not crying, but, I'm closer than I've been in 9 years. All of a sudden, she is unlocking my handcuffs and untying my feet. "Come here, Joey."

It's been a long time since she's used my name.

"Come down here with me ... please?"

I kneel slowly, with my head down, not looking her in the eye. Not so much as an act of submission now, but, I don't want to look in her eyes. I don't want to see pity. I just want to go back to before she knew.

She gently grabs my head between both hands and tilts it up, "Look at me, Joey."

I do, and it is hard. It is hard because I see what I was afraid of seeing. She is sorry, and I don't want her to be.

"Joey, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what happened to you, I'm sorry that I pushed, and I'm sorry that you've kept it in so long. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want to, ma'am. I didn't want you to treat me differently. You know, in our community, a domme finds out that a sub has been raped and they suddenly become fragile goods. Something everyone has to be careful with to keep them from breaking."

"I won't treat you that way. I want to tell you something, though. I want to tell you something, and I'm not sure how to tell you. It's hard for me."

I shifted slightly and looked at her face. Her brown eyes looks suddenly scared, vulnerable. That frightened me.

"Joey, I have had a lot of subs. I have never had one I wanted to make a permanent sub. Until now. I love you. I love your submission. I love how much you can take. Most of all, though, I love you. I want you to be mine. I want to put my mark on you. I hope that you'll say yes."

I thought hard for a moment. I took her in completely. Her tall hard body. Short brown hair, and knew in that moment that the feeling was mutual. I simply nodded my head yes. I didn't have any words, just that simple movement to let her know.

She did something she'd never done before. She took me in her arms and held me tight. We'd never touched like this before. I mean, sure, we'd fucked, but, it had never been intimate. She moved her hands slowly down my body and kissed my temple, sweaty from my beating.

"Joey, come with me."

She led me to a bed in the room. She keeps it there for various scenes. She lay me down, her on top of me, and kissed me long, slow, deep. It moved me in many ways. Her hips began a rotation against me, her denimed thigh rubbed the clamp between my legs.

I think I moaned then, because she became more predatory. Not the domme that I was used to. This wasn't a scene, this was much more like ... well ... sex. Her hand slipped between us, and she removed the clamp, sliding down and quickly taking my swollen nub between her lips and working feeling back into it. I thrashed beneath her but found that I was held fast at the hips by her hands.

My eyes rolled back into my head and I felt her gently roll me onto my stomach. The fingers of one hand still played with my clit, the other hand slid fingers into my opening. I heard her voice then, "Joey, will you trust me?"

No order, no command, just a simple request, "Joey, will you trust me?" how could I not? I lifted my head from the pillow, "Yes, Mel, I trust you."

I could feel her spread my cheeks ever so gently apart, and her velvet tongue tip played gingerly at my ass. I clenched up slightly, but, she said softly, "Shhh ... I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Her tongue rubbed, stroked, probed gently until I relaxed and she was in. Her hands worked exquisite pleasure and so did her mouth. Before I knew it, my body was absolutely wracked with pleasure. It felt like a tidal wave. My own private Tsunami inside.

As I came down, Mel came up and lay next to me, holding me impossibly close. I felt her finger stroke gently down my cheek and heard her begin to cry. I looked up at her and realized my vision was blurry, and my stomach was still convulsing. I also realized it wasn't from my orgasm. I was crying, sobbing, and what was on the tip of her finger was a tear. She leaned down, kissed my eyes, kissed my tears, and held me, rocking me, and as I felt myself sliding into sleep, I heard her say, "I love you ... my whipping boi."