I have mention the belt on my blog before. I even wrote a story about it.
“Tweet what item you’d want me to bring.”
Those were his instructions, which I might have almost forgotten. Maybe a part of me simply didn’t want to make decisions. I think we have already established that I don’t really like to make decisions, when he is involved.
But, the good Dom that he is, he reminded me. So I finally did my best, tried not to overthink it and tweeted the following:
Guess what. All my wishes were fullfilled.
He brought the armored snake cane and used it again. We saw what the results can look like, after our last time together.
He brought the wax and you will read about it soon.
And he also brought the belt. Well, he also had it with him last time. He always has it on him. Handy, isn’t it?
My feelings towards the belt are very similiar to my feelings for the cane.
I hate that fucking thing. And I love it.
The way the belt stings, it’s different from any other implement. But it’s more than that. It’s the whole experience.
The sound when he gets the belt out of his jeans. The leather as he runs it over my skin. The sound as the belt is in the air, just before it hits me.
That particular sting, the pain.
And then there is the moment when the stinging stops. That moment and feeling can only be described as sweet.
And just as this sweet moment passes the belt hits me again and again.
I fear the belt.
Not because I had bad experiences with the belt. It’s a good kind of fear.
I fear the belt, but I also enjoy the belt, I want the belt…
I loved feeling the belt again.
After a few blows he stopped and looked at me. The he looked at the belt and said: “You know, a belt makes really nice bruises on thighs.”
I looked at him, my eyes begged him not to prove that statement and he didn’t. It was enough.
Yet, the only thought was: “Really? I want that!”