Warning: This Post Contains More Red Flags Than Communist China

Let me preface this post by first saying I love my Owner to death.  There is nothing I would deny him.  This is what I feel, deep down in my core.  The behaviors I exhibit from time to time do not contradict this most basic fact:  I am utterly devoted to that man.

We are on a little road trip.  But it’s not as fun as it sounds, it’s mostly business and very little pleasure.  My purpose joining Master on these trips is very utilitarian.  I drive so he can work.  I also provide for him a little company and, sure, much-needed sexual diversion. 

Well, last evening we arrived at our hotel only to find that the reservation, booked online, hadn’t fully processed and that the wait for our room may run as long as half an hour. Since we’d only snacked in the car in lieu of stopping to lunch, Master decided we’d spend the waiting time having dinner.  He drove us to a nearby outdoor mall of sorts, and we found a trendy old place to wait, eat, and enjoy one another.

We started with red wine, a favorite of ours, and Master confided some bit of work-related frustration he was facing.  I listened and asked questions to try and help him sort through his difficulties.  Soon, one glass of wine led to another, and another.  One buffalo-burger and side salad later, we were laughing and he was telling me about my great eyes, body, and mind.  I was thoroughly enjoying myself. 

He ordered a fourth glass of wine and cut me off.  A wise move.  I was a bit fuzzy and fully admit my recollection of the events which followed is quite sketchy.  He’d steered the conversation toward my lack of submissiveness, I think, because he was talking about how rare the instances of my kneeling for him were; or rather, suggesting instances wherein some kneeling on my part should be taking place.  I was fully prepared for him to make me kneel right there in the bar, but thankfully, he did not do that.  He was talking about kneeling while serving him, and I admit, it was getting me wet.  I don’t often kneel for him as he doesn’t require it.  I have spontaneously knelt for him at varying times, though humility is definitely NOT my forte in this relationship. 

Soon, he was leading me out of the restaurant toward the car.  He was still going on about my would-be submissive muscles needing much work, and I do remember being pulled by the hair to lean quite far over as we walked, causing me to become off-balance and dizzy.  When he finally let go of my hair, I purposely meandered away from him. When I finally reached the car, I found my door locked.  I knocked, and he just sort of half smiled at me but would not unlock the door.  I leaned back against the car a few moments and then tried the door again.  Still locked.  Miffed, I walked around the front of the car back toward the restaurant figuring I’d get myself a cab back to the hotel. 

I felt a car slowly follow me as I walked up the road.  When I got to the sidewalk, the car stopped and I turned to find Master waiting there for me.  This time the door was unlocked.  I got in, and Master asked where I was going.  I told him truthfully that I was going to get a cab back to the hotel.  I am not sure his response, other than arguing with me that no, I was not going to do that and why would I even think to do that in the first place.  I said because he wouldn’t let me in.  I remember feeling abandoned and somehow lost my sense of humor about the whole thing.  I asked why he didn’t open the door when I knocked.  He said I wasn’t trying hard enough to get in.  I am pretty sure he meant for me to beg him to let me in; something I sure as hell wasn’t prepared to do.  I had my uppity-shoes on, and he knew it.

Evidently, in my little fit of incredulity and would-be independence I blurted out, “If you don’t want me, I’ll go find another Master who does!”  (I had no recollection of saying this until pressing Master for the reason I’m finding my ass in its current state this morning.  I vaguely remember being kind of bratty.  I also remember sort of asking for it.  I often contribute to my own demise.)

He drove us the short distance back to the hotel, took his laptop and ordered me to get his suitcase.  That would have been two suitcases on rollers, his and mine, plus my laptop bag, and my purse.  As I struggled to heft my bag from the back of his car I yelled to him that I wasn’t taking his bag.  I made my way to the hotel entrance with some difficulty, feeling all too-well the effects of three glasses of wine.  Master was checking in.  I was fully-prepared to get my own room. 

It was taking a little while for the room.  There was someone else ahead of Master.  I suddenly felt the need to sit down and found my way to a table and chairs.  I slumped into one of the chairs and closed my eyes, just for a moment. 

Soon, I felt Master touching my head and telling me to go with him.  I just wanted to sleep.  I managed to follow him, albeit not very well.  I was feeling pretty tipsy. 

Master helped me find my way into the room, and I toppled into bed wanting nothing more than to sleep.  Master said something about needing to get his bag and ordered me to “Stay here.”  I had no intention of doing otherwise. 

My memory is pretty fuzzy after that.  I remember him coming back and ordering me to get my pajamas on.  I managed to find my way to the bathroom, whereupon I stripped off my tights and panties and left them in a puddle on the bathroom floor.  I stumbled back into the bed while Master worked on his laptop for an undetermined amount of time. At some point, he helped me put my nightgown on.

I lay there, not quite awake, but certainly not asleep either.  I do remember feeling guilty.  I outright refused an order.  I tried to go my own way.  I was being a total brat, really.  I said maybe he should beat me for it.  He heartily agreed, as evidenced by the beating that ensued.

His strap lashed down and bit into my conveniently upturned ass over and over and over again.  He was whaling on me with a lot of force; I could see this from the corner of one bleary eye.  He asked me something that I couldn’t seem to answer, the result of which was more intense beating.  He beat me with a gusto unleashed I’ve not seen or felt from him before.  It was cathartic for us both, I am sure. 

When it finally was over, he told me to put on my panties; something I was very reluctant to do, given the state of my ass.  I rolled over and he pointed out the blood stain I’d made on the sheet.  So, tentatively, I put my panties back on. 

He cuffed and chained me, linking my ankles together.  I fussed slightly and whimpered at the state of my ass and thighs.  I remember sobbing briefly about feeling abandoned and woe is me how could you do this to me, inwardly happy he was buying into none of it.  I deserved every bit of it and what’s more, I knew it, too. 

This morning he reminded me what I had said to tick him off (going to find another Master) and added that about 60% of the beating was earned, 30% was him taking out his frustrations with his team at work, and the rest was me asking for it and his pure enjoyment. 

I always told him his beatings never stick with me because I can’t feel them the next day.  Well, a few of them have smarted afterward, but not because of bruises, but more because he took my skin off, lol.  This one left deep, lasting bruises.  I am going to be hurtin’ for certain on the long drive home later today. 

(And who said I wasn’t a service slave?!)