As the craving continues, Maggie found herself looking for more and more things to experience in this new world the Cherished One introduced her to. So many feelings she has discovered from His influence. But then, she also experienced the backing off from regular social events that she thought were important to her. Now, the only important thing to her is to belong to someone — not in the traditional sense.

She discovered the sexual intensity of BDSM and as always she can hear the Cherished One’s words in her brain with each discovery, “once you cross the line, there is no turning back.” Funny, those words meant nothing when He said them and mean everything to her now. Now, Maggie feels the need to experience the darker side, the side she thought the Cherished One craved.

This story is a detailed account of that experience. There is no way to explain why she chose to do it except to understand she needed to do it. This is Maggie’s recount of that experience in first person; it is a true story with names changed of course to protect the identity of those involved.

“Now, where do I begin? I suppose I will start with a few days before I actually went through the punishment. Master X emailed me and told me that he could accommodate my punishment either Thursday or Friday that week, but he wanted me to call Wednesday night at 7pm to discuss the instructions, he had certain rules that any submissive/slave that enters his home must follow. I wrote back and told him I would call and said Thursday evening at 7pm was a good time for me for the punishment.

Wednesday was a wild day at work and my boss dropped a contract for bid on my desk at 2:30 in the afternoon. He told me if I would write the bid (apparently they had never had anyone with enough sense to do that) and we won the bid, then he would give me a commission on the total amount of the bid. I jumped right on it and before I knew it, it was time to go home, and so I packed up the bid and information packet, went home and made dinner, did the dishes and jumped online to search for the prices I needed to prepare the bid. The clincher here was the bid needed to be done and on his desk by 5pm the following evening.

I had turned on my Internet messengers and while I was working, I was talking to friends off and on. Then I saw a pop up message from hotmail with Master X’s name, right below was the time. My heart sank and I thought to myself, “crap, I have already fucked up.” The time was 9:05 p.m. I knew before opening the email I had not made much of an impression.

When I opened it, I saw where Master X said it was after 9 p.m., and I had not called and unless I had a good reason, my punishment would be more severe since I showed him nothing but disrespect by not calling on time. The tone was very authoritative and I felt his disapproval and impatience. After all, his time was valuable and he had agreed to do the punishment and I was showing, with not calling on time, that I was not as committed as he had thought earlier. It was that commitment that swayed his agreement to do the punishment.

I ran to the phone and dialed his number immediately, my heart pounding because I knew I was wrong. I may have had a legitimate reason because I was working, but I was still wrong — no excuse for that disrespect. I heard his voice on the other end say hello and then I told him it was Maggie. He immediately told me that I would be punished for not obeying his request

after I agreed to it in writing. He asked me what my excuse was and I told him there was no excuse that I was wrong and apologized. I told him what happened at work and then he said he understood that well and had no intention of interfering with my professional life and he forgave me and said because of that he would be merciful but I would still be punished, I still disobeyed.

The next part of the conversation was the instructions and rules he had that if I was to come over, I would need to agree too not only verbally then, but also in writing so that he would know I fully understood. He told me that I must arrive on time at 7 p.m., the next evening (Thursday). When I get there, I would find a black leather hood. I was to strip off my clothing and put the hood on, then ring the doorbell and he would come and get me.

When I heard that, I thought — oh my God, it would still be light outside, what about the neighbors — if someone saw me. But I thought I would deal with it when it happened and agreed. All said and done I said good night to him and immediately emailed my written consent before I changed my mind. I was excited, as a person who has a secret from the world. I had no concept

of what was going to occur, just a fantasy built in my mind.

Thursday morning I woke up excited with the anticipation of the evening. All day at work I kept my messenger on so that I could talk to “my people” for support and to share the excitement I was feeling. Now, also, I want to point out I knew I was in for a painful experience but somehow I equated it to the experience I had had with Master Allen, that had turned into an

intensely erotic few days. Because I was still busy with the bid, the day went by quickly, I even wrote to the Cherished One about the day but I didn’t have time to explain it fully, or ask what He thought — mostly because I never knew how quickly He would respond because He is a busy man with more important things to do.

Finally it was quitting time but I stayed a little longer to do some other things, besides I had put driving directions and it was only 2.9 miles to Master X’s house from where I worked. To kill a little time, I went and explored the mall; I needed a new bra anyway. After a bit I became concerned what time it was, since I cannot wear a watch and couldn’t see a clock anywhere. I finally stopped someone with a watch and was told it was almost 6:30 pm.

I walked out to the car and drove somewhere to get something cold to drink; I was suddenly very thirsty. The line was long and I was starting to get panic flutters in my heart — there was no way I wanted to be late, I had to show Master X that I was not a flake.

I watched for the street names and found his street but at first passed his house because of a truck following close behind me. I went around the block and turned around. It worked out better cause I could park across the street facing the way to leave.

I took a drink of my tea, finished my cigarette and took a deep breath. Suddenly wishing I had gone home first and freshened up, my hair was a mess. But I was there, so I opened the door looking around the neighborhood.

For some reason, maybe I was wishing a lot, but I thought maybe his front porch would have been hidden from the street or something. But it wasn’t and the neighborhood was a lively one, the neighbor lady out mowing the lawn. I walked up to the door and looked for the black hood and I didn’t see it. I checked on the ground, up on the ledge, in the bushes and thought to myself that I was again going to screw up by not finding that hood. For a fleeting moment, I thought, maybe this isn’t the right door, so I started to walk away and the door opened. The man opening the door said I had the right house, after asking me if I was Maggie and then told me to come in.

I looked down immediately, thinking that was the proper thing to do, but his hand went to my chin and he lifted it for our eyes to meet and said I could look at him. Then he said I must have thought I had the wrong house, and I told him I thought perhaps I had the wrong door because I did not see the hood. He pointed to the couch where the hood was laying next to the door and said that he didn’t realize every neighbor and his or her dog would be outside that evening so he changed his mind on the porch thing. He told me to lay my stuff over the couch and I started walking in further and his hand went out and he said no, and then he told me to strip, that no submissive/slave walks into his house clothed. He pointed to the hood and said to put that on when I had my clothes off.

My heart was racing. He was fairly attractive, limping from a recent knee surgery and walking with a cane. He turned to walk away from me as my hand went to the top button of my dress and he walked over to a pulley thing in the middle of the living room attached to an eyelet on the ceiling. He told me I had one chance right now to leave, that I had come to him as a slave

and that meant I had no safe word or bullshit you hear on the internet, that he would not show me mercy and nothing I said or did would stop what was going to happen. He was not playing, I was there for punishment and that was what he would deliver to me. He asked me if I understood that. I told him I did and finished getting undressed, still excited, still having no

real clue what he was talking about, but as I turned to lay my dress over my purse on the couch I saw the whips, flogs and other things on the wall and fear, real fear started to creep into my heart, but I said nothing.

Before I put the hood on, his hand came down on my shoulder and shoved me toward the couch and he told me to bend over, I was going to receive the punishment for not calling on time. I bent over and he told me that I was to count each stroke on my ass, and say, “Thank You Sir, May I have another.” The first whack shocked me, my brain registered the pain and I

gasped, but afraid of what would happen if I said anything other than instructed, I counted and said what I was told to say. Another whack I felt, this one harder than the first, tears starting to form and I was ashamed of my tears after only 2 whacks. I continued to count and say what I was told, by the 8th whack, I was struggling to keep from crying and could hear the gulps in my answer to him, after the 10th one when I asked for another, he said no and told me to put the hood on.

I felt something running down my leg and instinctively my hand went to my ass and when I looked at my hand there was blood. I couldn’t believe it and thought to myself, well surely the worst is over, I mean he drew blood. All the stories I read when they drew blood they were very gentle after. Boy was I in wonderland or what???!!!

He had asked if I had any medical problem that would prevent him from suspending me with my arms over my head and I told him not really, if they were tied up there, that I probably couldn’t hold them up like that on my own due to a neurological condition. He then grabbed the back of my head and told me he would lead me. My thoughts were ok, don’t fight this, I had

to trust him to lead me wherever he was taking me because I could not see and I could barely hear him. The gag in my mouth I could not talk, for some reason when he asked me something I tried to answer and then I faintly heard him say to nod yes or no.

He then asked for my right hand out, palm up and I felt the restraints being placed on my right wrist, then he told me to do the same with the left hand. Next he told me to spread my legs and I heard clanking of metal, and the same kind of restraint on my ankles. I was fascinated at the speed in which he attached everything, again no concept of what was about to happen. He

placed a spreader bar between my legs attached to the ankle restraints and hooked the wrist restraints to something because I heard the hook snap and then felt and heard him hoist my arms up higher and higher. I was almost on my tiptoes and then he lowered it a bit until I was flat footed.

The next thing I felt was him binding my breasts and he pulled the rope tight and I kept thinking, yessssssss that is good. He then applied a press of some sort, screwing it down until I felt like I was having a mammogram. I had a fleeting thought of how gross that must look because I had thought it looked disgusting at the doctor’s office, but I liked the pressure. But then he clamped on something on my nipples and it surprised me and I moaned a bit, what ever they were, they were tight and I felt the burning tingling clear to my cunt, but that was a split second because the next thing I felt was a hard blow from something across the clamps and I screamed, thinking “oh fuck, that hurts,” but because I was gagged the scream was muffled.

He kept hitting them over and over and I was now beyond screaming I was sobbing, my mind rushing with the pain searing through me, frantically trying to figure a way to stop it. I twisted my body as much as I could and the blows came again, harder and faster and I heard him tell me to stop turning away or it would be worse. So I sucked in my breath and started

breathing rapidly. He stopped and asked if I was having trouble breathing and I shook my head yes, so he pulled the hood down a little so my mouth was where it was suppose to be. I guess I didn’t put the hood on well.

The respite from the blows to my breasts gave me just enough time to take another breath before I felt him whipping my ass furiously and I screamed again, but this time I felt intense anger, close to rage — and started tugging on the restraints and pulling hard until it broke away and he brought down the whip harder and faster telling me that my little show of

tantrum would only intensify the pain I would get and he would add time on due to that behavior. Immediately I stopped and tried with everything I had to stay still. Sobbing and screaming because the pain was unbearable and it had only been 10 minutes, but seemed an eternity. He stopped long enough to readjust the restraints and then I was being whipped on the breasts, then the ass, across my stomach, to the breast again, and then just the nipples, 5 little successive whacks on the nipples. I thought I was going to die and I was crying so hard.

My thoughts were self-disgust, for being such a whiney pussy, for acting like a spoiled brat and getting more time and more furious whacks. My mind kept thinking if I could just stand here and quit sobbing so, please God, just give me strength so I can make it through this without disgracing myself any further.

In my mind I had a visual of the Cherished One being the one with the whip and imagining the look of disgust on his face at my weakness. With that thought, I tried to straighten up and stop sobbing.

I felt the whip again on my burning and bleeding ass, I knew it was bleeding, I could feel the blood running down my leg and wondered, why doesn’t he stop, can’t he see I’m bleeding? I thought he was, because all of a sudden he stopped. But that wasn’t to be. I didn’t know it, but when he stopped for those few seconds between blows, he was taking pictures. But it

was still enough time to compose myself and straighten back up, and then I felt him attaching something else on my nipples, pulling them up and sticking the leather in my mouth and telling me not to drop it.

He had to move the gag and hood over to do that. I started to panic, the ball gag was saving me from screaming to wake the dead but before I could finish that thought, he attached more to the nipples and then I felt a searing horrible pain as whatever it was he had lifted up, he dropped it just as quickly and whatever it was dropped off my right nipple. I screamed again and could feel the warm trickle of blood rolling down my stomach and began sobbing. I couldn’t see what had happened, I could only imagine and I was imagining the worst. I felt him wipe at it and tell me that the clamp on the pendulum had fallen off and cut me a little but he did not feel it was serious. I was still crying and he told me to shut up, whacking me across my injured nipple.

I honestly thought at this time he would stop, but I was wrong again. I jumped at the pressure of clamps again on my nipple, this time I knew he was attaching weights and then he attached the other clamp to the bleeding nipple and I moaned and tried to twist away. He told me to hold still or he’d add more time to this and I only had a few more minutes left, so I sucked in my breath, started doing Lamaze breathing. I thought it helped during childbirth; perhaps it would help me endure the rest of this


I wondered what the Cherished One would be seeing if he were looking at me now. I pulled something from deep within me, a strength I did not know I had and I stood there silent and not moving while I guess he was taking more pictures while this thing with those heavy weights was hanging on my nipples. My mind trying desperately to block the pain, but I couldn’t but

in short spurts, but long enough for the pictures to be taken and oh my God the relief I felt when he pulled them off, again short lived because he started beating my breasts and nipples again and my ass alternating. I was crying, but no longer sobbing and jerking, just crying.

But then I felt more pressure on my nipples, and could not distinguish what it was, but it was piercing me and I uttered pleaaaaaaaase, pleasssseeee, trying to beg him to stop. The whip came fast, hard and furious, as he was angered at that outburst. He mocked me and asked me who the hell I thought I was and that outburst would get me nothing but more and it did and my ass hurt so badly I forgot about my breasts and he paused again for more pictures I presume, I gathered my breath and then heard him say very gently, which shocked me, “Hang on baby, just a few minutes more.”

Just that, just that hint of compassion gave me the strength to endure the next succession of blows without screaming. I was crying, but I had slumped my head to my arm and I was hanging on. Then he said, “ok baby, that’s it” and the blows stopped.

I tried to stop the tears, but I couldn’t, nor could I stop the loud sob that escaped me as well as the next succession of sobs. I was still hanging there, still had arms over my head, and my hands I could not feel. I started clenching my fists and panic struck. I was afraid they would stay that way because of the RSD, and I spoke up and asked if he could lower my arms because my hands had gone dead and I was afraid of that.

He did that and then left the room I think for a few minutes and when he came back, he undid my ankles from the bar and unclipped my hands and the restraints. He pulled me to him and held me, pulling the hood from me, stroking my face and softly moving the hair from my tear stained eyes.

“You are a good girl, and did very well,” he said gently. All of a sudden, I felt the pain subside, my sobbing slowed and a calm filled me. I couldn’t understand that, why would I care what this man said after what he did to me. But I did, I cared very much. I stood there for a moment and then he motioned for me to sit in front of him on the table — not the couch, he

didn’t want blood on the couch. He told me to kneel on the table and he started cleaning the wounds on my ass. He washed them and then applied an antibiotic ointment. He said he wanted me to be sure and keep an eye on my nipple and my ass, and if I had any problems from them, to call him immediately.

He then asked me to sit down so he could talk to me. He asked me why I called myself a slave. I told him basically that perhaps I was confused about the difference, but I knew what I was.

He talked to me at length about being a slave and about being a sub. He said he saw me more as a sub. As I listened to him, I thought of my Cherished One and our many conversations where that very thing was brought up. I wanted it to be him talking to me like that face to face, even if it meant it was he that had welded the cane, whip, needles — all that.

Master X told me about how he works with his sub, how he warms her up. He said he would never, unless she was being punished, start on her like he did me, that even she would have had the same distress as I had. He told me how she would zone into subspace and then he could do all he needed to her and she would become excited about it. For a fleeting moment, I wanted to ask him to show me, but I knew I could not go there at that moment.

I left his home at 10 pm or maybe a little later. On the way home, I started feeling happiness inside, like I had reached for another level and made it. I argued with myself, part of me was very upset over how I was feeling. It was completely contradictory to what I believed about myself. But what was it making me feel the happiness? I don’t know. Where is the

calming peace coming from? What do I do with this information now? I don’t know how to process it. Should I process it? Will the Cherished One help me as he always does?

Now, a few days later, the wounds healing, the pain feels so far removed from me. Internally, I am excited, I want to be touched. So, which is more torturous, the whip which delivers the searing pain and then subsides, or the constant craving, throbbing of my body?

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