View attachment 868975
Oh.
I truly did not know this was the Sacred Blade of the Forefathers.
Yes of course I shall return it to its rightful custodian.
Here it is. Take it.
I regret my sacrilege.
What will be ... my punishment?
Yes Sir I do try to be good,Good girl, you recognise your offence, and you come before us in penitence and correctly dressed for your punishment. Come, spread your limbs on the Frame of Sorrow so we may bind you, and begin your ordeal.
Yes Sir I do try to be good,
but I realize I've gotten myself into trouble.
The kind of trouble I can't talk my way out of by just saying sorry.
I'll have to be made to show I'm really sorry,
in a way that I can't really achieve on my own ...
I'll need help with that ...
someone to help me along the way to show,
to prove to all I'm sorry,
not say sorry but be sorry,
to show that my penitence is firstmost,
more important now than anything else about me.
Here are my wrists, could you please bind them?
Not that I would think to run or fight,
otherwise I wouldn't have handed you the sword, you know.
I do submit,
but it is easier for me if you bind me,
it makes me feel secure,
it stops the fidgeting and nervousness.
Otherwise I don't know what I'll do,
because yes, I'm anxious.
So here are my wrists,
crossed,
will you bind them for me?
Now lead me to you know where,
and show me what I've earned,
It's not something you can tell me about...
it has to be learned.
The Frame of Sorrows will present me,
I'll step in,
be the picture that it shows,
The frame of Sorrows to hold me firm,
I'll try my best to make my image,
a lesson for anyone who follows.
Do you want, a woman, a man or a machine!Yes Sir I do try to be good,
but I realize I've gotten myself into trouble.
The kind of trouble I can't talk my way out of by just saying sorry.
I'll have to be made to show I'm really sorry,
in a way that I can't really achieve on my own ...
I'll need help with that ...
someone to help me along the way to show,
to prove to all I'm sorry,
not say sorry but be sorry,
to show that my penitence is firstmost,
more important now than anything else about me.
Here are my wrists, could you please bind them?
Not that I would think to run or fight,
otherwise I wouldn't have handed you the sword, you know.
I do submit,
but it is easier for me if you bind me,
it makes me feel secure,
it stops the fidgeting and nervousness.
Otherwise I don't know what I'll do,
because yes, I'm anxious.
So here are my wrists,
crossed,
will you bind them for me?
Now lead me to you know where,
and show me what I've earned,
It's not something you can tell me about...
it has to be learned.
The Frame of Sorrows will present me,
I'll step in,
be the picture that it shows,
The frame of Sorrows to hold me firm,
I'll try my best to make my image,
a lesson for anyone who follows.
My hands are free for a brief moment
Breathe in, breathe out,
my head feels light,
and spinning
(Don't want to faint here)
You seem to know,
Steady yourself you say,
you give me that moment
to find myself again
Then your fingers close round my left wrist
You're not pulling, you let me raise my arm
You guide me to place it where it belongs
That far out!
The rope is familiar now
The knot is new
I tug a bit, then turn my head
so eyes can meet
and I can signal yes
It's firm, it's right, it holds me good
Your hands slide down along my arm,
gently probing, feeling, assessing,
into my armpit, around and back again,
taking my measure, now digging in a bit,
over and under my shoulder blade
feeling for muscle, tendon,
judging what this girl can bear
so you'll know how far you can strain me.
Your hand at rest now, on the nape of my neck,
I lower my head, for a moment I hide
My hair cascades
covers my face
drapes my my breasts,
Heavy and warm, rough but kind,
your hand on the nape of my neck,
For a little I cry
for a little you let me.
Frame of Sorrows.
Pain and sorrow
earned and well-deserved.
Back again I throw my head and hair, and
feel my features slip
on my tear-stained face
Yes,
you people,
that is a smile you saw
on trembling lips
You let your hand slide to the small of my back
Push me out a little
I'm a bit wobbly and weak-kneed
So you catch me a little
Your other hand low on my belly
And in between, my fire's kindled
For now I stifle my moan
But my shudder you feel
I follow you with a quick sidestep
As my right arm goes up
This time it's quicker
You know me
As girls go I'm tall,
but this girl is on her tiptoes now.
Oh! this will hurt.
Soon I'll be stretched. To the limit and beyond.
Your hands course down, contouring me,
Over waist, hip, thigh,
(In between, I get a quick smack)
Back of the knee.
Calf.
Ankle.
Lift. Position. Rope.
A bit ungracefully I hop sideways again, one-legged now.
It is happening.
No, it's not just happening...
you are doing it ...
because I am needing it...
And then ... up I go.
Stretched and spread and strained.
But I am not just hanging there,
there is a little give in the ropes
I fall forward, till they go taut
Now they dig in.
I need to shift
move my center of gravity,
strain my arms, arch my back,
'Oh yeah I bet she's a squirmer and a squealer' one had said
Well now I'm squirming
Till I can hold myself right.
It's just moments but already muscles tremble and my breath is sharp
Soon the sweat sheen shows
But I hold myself still
Tall and proud stands the Frame
Stretched and humble I am held
All my bareness to be seen
My small breasts high and wide apart
Aching to be be touched, to be mauled,
to be hurt, to be ... anything
Thighs spread wide, quivering,
my nether lips spread
The air is crisp and cold
against my heated folds
Oh my heart bursts with shame
This time I release my moan,
I sag, I crumble, fall forward
Head down again, I discover
what might await me ...
A wooden bucket.
To wake me with a splash of water if I faint?
(Or to catch my guts?)
Would I not deserve it?
And there is, also, the knife
I stole a blade should I not feel a blade?
It could cut my hair? Cut my breast? Flay my skin?
Tapers and hooks,
and barbs and pliers
and things unknown
I take them in, unafraid
It is the artist's palette
Every hue must be there
To paint the full picture
of my punishment
how broad each brush, how deep each hue
That, to choose, is for you
What I don't see, that is the whip.
That is in your hand.
Tell me now, you say
What is fair payment for your sin?
Oh you make things hard for me!
(As you should)
I should say what is fair for me?
I am an evildoer, but still,
I have this arrogance to believe
that if you peel away the layers of deceit
like from an onion
at the very end there should be a rightful part
and that tells me
What is fair payment? - I can neither ask for little because I deserve much
Nor can I ask for death - it's a childish flight
like a little girl in trouble pulling the sheet over her head
What I must ask is
The lash must go everywhere
make me cry, make me beg, make me break,
make me forget myself
make me lose my voice
make me find my guilt
make me faint and wake me and do it again.
And then,
there is the secret,
that so far only the two of us know.
You caught me with a crime completed, and I surrendered
but when the others arrived
You said, 'I believe she was sent for the sword, but I secured it'
You did not lie
but so far they believe
that I did not so much as lay a hand on the sacred blade
But Gods I had it in my hand
took it with my filthy thievish fingers
You know
You have that truth of me
You have that power over me
What good is truth unknown
What good is power gone to waste
You will know when to reveal
the fullness of my crimes
But now Sir
I am ready
So strike when you wish
where you wish
how you wish
I draw my breath
'I bet she's a squirmer and a squealer' one had said
don't make me squeal
make me howl
Oh how things have turned for me...Now we hear you sing and see you dance
A fine show
Be strong girl, I will not ask
What you cannot give
You have done well girl
Answered every question
Given yourself wholly
To the dance
This touches you deeply
This is not marks on your skin
This reaches inside, tugs
Your spirit, your desire
Your sense of self
Who are you?
This is the question
We both explore
I have seen you flinch
I have heard your cries
Yet also, I know
I feel, sense, your need
You want this
You need this
And more, much more
Sweat runs down your arms
Streaks your belly
Muscles tighten as you grip your bonds
Soft flesh jiggles with each blow
And I see, in your breathing
In your face
I see what you have not admitted to yourself
You want this, and more
Now, not my whip but my hand
Reaches around and cups your soft breast
My breath, on the back of your neck
Rough fabric brushes your wounds
My whip runs down your under arm
Along your side, caressing now
Your breath catches, what is this?
Sensations on your skin
Warmth in your core
Does your body respond to this
As readily as to the lashing?
Let us see now
If you are ready
My hand holds you
The whip slides over your thigh, under
You shiver as the handle travels
Up your inner thigh, slowly
Plenty of time to think about
Where it is going
A gasp as it finds
That place between your legs
Sliding along your parted lips
Well lubricated, very smooth
Back and forward
Nudging that knob of flesh
That centre of your sensation
Your full attention is here
The outside world closed off
You breathe faster
Head back
Hips moving in answer
You cannot help yourself
Sliding, parting
Slowly
The handle finds its way inside
I'm a bit bonkers to begin with so yes I might go quite madIf she does not get it she will go mad for the pain/pleasure
I'm a bit bonkers to begin with so yes I might go quite mad
Okay for anyone who knows me that's not so hard to guess.Do you want, a woman, a man or a machine!
Crucify this woman at onceOkay for anyone who knows me that's not so hard to guess.
Machines!?!? -- Nothing I'd ever want!
However if I'm captured, my wanting may not matter much ...
in fact, me even unconsciously radiating the impression I 'want' this or that might lead a harsh, destructive punisher to confront me with my irrelevance ....
... I'd of course like to think that I mean something to my captor, that it's worth it taking me, punishing me, probing my reactions and seeing what can be done with me.
If humiliation is the goal, having me punished by machine would send the signal that my reactions to any punishment, any possible interplay between me and my captor, are completely irrelevant and worthless. Nobody is even interested in watching how I cope with and process my punishment. I am nothing. I would suffer from the absence of that connection but if my torturer's specific intent is to grind me down that way ...
... it's up to them. I'd hate it but maybe that's the point!
Men?
For sure, of course what I respond best to is a man with strength and natural authority.
The latter is one of those things where, I know it when I see it (and it's not impossible, that a guy develops it before being fully aware of it, and learns to use it fully in, well, you guess what kind of situation).
Yes, the physical aspect is an important precondition, it should be clear that he can physically dominate me in any conceivable situation though he will use that capacity in the right time and right way. How it manifests can be in different ways, there's not one type, and for instance a guy does not need to be taller than me, to dominate me.
But the physical part will fail if he doesn't have the personality and charisma.
Women?
hmmm of course I react to them differently than I react to men, but I'd guess also very very differently than you guys react to them.
Any woman attempting to dominate me in the way a man might, would of course fail grotesquely -- should she want to play that game we'll be making up the rules as we go along.
Who are you?
This is the question
We both explore