Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
From: lmartell@nyx.cs.du.edu (Laylah Martelli)
Subject: the whip and my scar
Date: Sun, 3 Jan 93 19:56:06 GMT

Saturday night, about eleven p.m.  My beloved is writing at our
computer.  I go kneel in front of him, my long, soft, blonde hair
obscuring my sight as I bow my head, and crossing my wrists behind
my back. "My Lord - so I beg my husband - please, please..."

"Please, what, slut of a slave?"  "Please, whip me on my fresh
cutting, open the scar, enlarge it... please, my Lord, my life..."

Alex leads me into the bedroom. I undress, quickly, and lie on the
bed, my stomach raised on two cushions, my back totally exposed.
"Laylah - my Master says - the scar is in relief, it's beautiful!"
And he begins to beat me with the little red plastic whip. The
first blow hits my cutting at its base, burning my flesh like a
hot embrace. I moan, shaken by pain and pleasure together, and I
look at the eyes of my Lord, putting in this look all the love and
devotion that is enflaming my soul and body.

He beats me, and hits and hits. My cutting is so hurt by the
lashes that I feel my skin in flames.  Waves and waves of pleasure
engulf me, and I feel my pussy wet and ready. Now my Master hits
more lightly, he kisses me with his whip, while I moan and  moan,
lost in sensations too beautiful to describe... Then, abruptly:
"Laylah, now I will hit you strongly.  Bite down on this - he puts
a clean handherchief in my mouth - you have the normal safewords,
or, if you just spit this out from your mouth, I'll stop and check."

I see, as in a dream, Alex taking a step backwards... then a savage
blow burns me in the upper part of my cutting. I feel my eyes full
of tears, and I try to offer myself again. Two blows more, another,
another, and abundant tears are streaming down my face: a yet more
painful one, and, "Yellow!" I cry, after freeing my mouth from the
handkerchief.

Immediately my Lord diminishes the force of the beating.  I continue
to weep, but more softly, now. The burning pain that I perceived,
in this moment, becomes again pure pleasure, sweet, refined. I caress
my pussy with one hand, and I play for a moment with my new nipple
ring with the other... then the ecstasy again gets too intense
for words... I realize an orgasm is shaking this body I'm in - its
muscles clench, then tremble, then relax in abandon, while blood
rushes to the skin of chest and cheeks, making them blush violently -
but the sensations I myself are feeling don't really correspond;
they're even better, my pleasure growing and growing and building
up to its highest plateau, not deflating in release...
"Now, go to sleep, honey", my Master orders.  I obey, and I sleep
well and deeply.

Sunday morning, after breakfast. "Please, Master, whip me again on
my cutting... oh, you'll think I must be crazy to ask for that..."
"Yes, yes, I _know_ you are crazy, darling, but I love you as you
are, I'm crazy like you...". 
This time my flesh is in a sense more prepared, and the pain is
even better, sweeter, than yesterday...  "Laylah, your back is all
covered with wonderful marks..." "And the scar? - I ask - is the
scar redder, and swollen?" "Yes, you slut, it's swollen..." After
an exciting, heavy rain of blows on my back, I'm so terribly excited
that I ask my Master for release: "Use me, Master, use me now, I
beg you, I humbly beg you..."

My prayer is heard. We make love intensely, beautifully, and when
I come, My Lord comes too, embracing me fiercely.  "Laylah, it has
been snowing heavily tonight; you'll have to shovel some snow off
the car to use it, beloved.  Shall I get dressed, and come help
you out? You're a bit shaken..."  "O no, my Master, please; let me
serve you with hard physical work, too".

Outside, the cold is biting, but each movement of my arms sends
hot pleasure to my cutting. I breathe the clean white air, happy
as a bird in the woods.

Sunday afternoon, after lunch. The kids are playing in the living
room.  I join my husband, who is  waiting for me in our bedroom.
"You must not scream, now, Laylah."  "I'm very good at this game,
Master, as you know: you've given me plenty of practice...  I will
not scream, I promise you."
I am wearing a red pullover embroidered with small red pearls, a
short black leather skirt, and stockings with black garters. 
Without taking it off, I raise my pullover from the waist, baring
my back, offering myself. My nipple ring, oscillating deliciously,
sends, straight to my pussy, waves of intense pleasure.

The red whip kisses my cutting again, bites it, enflames it.  The
pain is so good, so good, so wonderful and holy... I'm wet, and
overjoyed.  I almost come.  "Slave, change position, offer your
breast and belly now." I look at my Master, sweetly. Sweetly he
looks back at me, then, lightly, he whips my left tit, with its
newly pierced, ringed nipple. I do manage not to scream.  From my
piercing, so intensely stimulated, waves of pleasure are sent to
all parts of my body, as ripples are formed in a clear pond when
a child throws a stone.

"Laylah, cover your eyes." I immediately perform. He whips my
cheeks, my mouth, my neck, lightly, carefully, skillfully. I smile
between my tears, and I thank him: "Thank you, Master, you gave me
so much pleasure, thank you..."

But I feel the kids clamoring in the living room, bickering with
each other - they want to change a video-cassette.
"Master, I must go now. It was absolutely wonderful!" Quickly I
kiss his hands, and I go to my children: our children, my love's
children, my absolute Lord's children.

Later in the afternoon, their quarrels solved; I'm in the kitchen.
I prepare for them a tasty snack, singing softly. "Thank you, my
Goddess", I say, from the deep of my heart.


Blessed be,
    Laylah
--
    You bite my slender wrists, my frail and fiery flesh,
    You drink the cutting taste of lips and breached sunsets
 
Laylah Martelli: lela@am.sublink.org,lmartell@nyx.cs.du.edu,an1826@anon.penet.f
i