Second Sabbatical in Slave Land: It's real! - A nasty whipping from a suddenly sadistic wife

"I'll bring my Christmas boots."

"I'll bring my Christmas boots," said Xena, meaning the knee-length ones she picked up in the Christmas sales, the ones that give me a hard on just contemplating.

We were planning our romantic weekend, and that was her way of telling me that it would be a Femdom one. I wasn't complaining.

Now weeks later, I'm kneeling with my arms stretched out and pinned to the high foot of bed in our holiday cottage. If I strain my ears, I can hear the sea and the wind, and the rain on the windowpane. Mostly, though, I can hear my own pulse.

We already had a finale for our one-week Femdom sabbatical. I had forty or so demerits, which Xena administered in blocks of ten. She was tired and more amused than turned on. It also amused her to give me a chance to get off by pegging myself, and then announcing that that was it until the next weekend.

"...it was a kind of sea change with her
sadistic side emerging into the light."
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Looking back, it was a kind of sea change with her sadistic side emerging into the light. However it wasn't really a peak experience for either of us.

Now, on my 28th day of denial, I wanted this time to be different. I'd racked up a few demerits over the previous week, and then, with Xena's agreement, added one for each upwards fluctuation in my weight (I am on a diet). That took me to 40 demerits.

Earlier, as I rubbed her feet I asked permission to make a suggestion and then said, "It occurred to me that whippings are only really interesting to you when I'm outside my limits."

"It's all the same to me," she said offhandedly, still not rushing to hold her sadism up to the light.

"Fair enough," I said, "But how about you give them all to me at one go, anyway?"

"OK," she said and went back to her book.

Now, an hour later, she sweeps into the room in a feminine skirt, knee-length boots clopping on the thin carpet.

I mewl and lick my lips.

"Don't do that. It's disgusting," she says. Then she raises her hem, exposing first the warm thigh length socks and then her neatly trimmed bush - no underwear tonight.

It would be enough that she looks delicious. However it's even more amazing that she's actually visually teasing me. My vulnerable chaste state has given her back her sexual aggression. Groaning, I lose control of my Kegel muscles which twitch wildly, making my penis inflate painfully inside its cage.

Xena strides over to the bed, picks up the dressage whip I bought years ago, and then beats the hell out of me.

It hurt.
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Thinking about it as I type this turns me on. And the prospect of it gave an edge to the preceding week. However it was not an erotic experience right then.

It hurt.

Really hurt.

I strained against the bonds, whimpered, almost wept, and it still hurt.

All the while she gave a running commentary in a playful mocking voice. "That's ten. Just think. only thirty more... Oh I lost count. Start again... tee-he..."

Finally Xena stopped, flopped on the bed so I could admire her boots, then finally released me. She had me take off the boots off, alas, but then got under the covers and had me go down on her.

This was the first time I'd got to serve her orally after a proper beating, and I burrowed under the covers with glee.

She was already hot and wet. Beating me, I realized with a dark thrill, had turned her on.

Later as I stroke her hair and she teases me about how many days I must to wait before an orgasm, I say, "Just so you know, that whipping was wasn't remotely erotic. I really wanted it to end..."

Xena interrupts with a laugh. "I know."

"...but nothing on earth would have made me ask you to stop," I complete.

That was four days ago, and I still haven't been
permitted an orgasm.
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"And if you had asked, I still wouldn't have stopped," says Xena sweetly, and I know instantly that she means it.

"Oh Christ," I say. "This is real! You never were any good at role play."

She tilts her chin. "Of course it's real! How else did you want me to approach this? Are you complaining?"

"No, no," I say. "I'm just outside my comfort zone. I've always tried to keep this limited. But you're an all or nothing person... I guess I'm trapped by my own fetish..."

"You are, aren't you?" she says with a note of glee.

I squirm, hard again inside my chastity device.

That was four days ago, and I still haven't been permitted an orgasm.

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