A beating and a new beginning

I didn´t feel like writing here for a long time. The last summer post was about sleeplessness, and that part only got worse during the fall. It got so bad it was like torture. Hard to describe, hard to live with, very hard to write anything or want to write anything. And very little to write about. The brain does funny things when you don't sleep.

In some miraculous way, we have stayed together. We still, or all over again, like eachother. Love eachother. I'm hers, she's my Owner, my Mistress. And we're beginning to get an idea about how our life will be, as a family, without absolutely everything focusing on sleep. Babygirl sleeps through the night nowadays, at least most of the time, and even though it took us awhile, we are beginning to resemble human beings again.

She beat me, this morning. I begged for it yesterday, but if it's one thing I've learned the last year it's not to have expectations. She'll do what she wants to when she wants to, and really, that's the only way that works. But I can beg, and I did, and she said something like "no, I'll wait 'til the baby is at daycare".

And it turned out that she really meant this morning, when I've gotten back home again after leaving the baby. I didn't really think she would do it, mostly because I didn't want to be disappointed. But of course she did. She almost always do what she says she will. And now she ordered me to lay down on the bed, handcuffed me and chained me to the bed, and beat me. At first with her leather belt, than with the whip. The belt missed it's mark a couple of times, and landed at my small back in a frightening, painful way that made me cry. She hugged me, but didn't stop, and somehow that felt so right. Exactly as it's supposed to be. This beating wasn't about my pleasure, even though I needed it and had begged for it. It was about her, wanting to beat me.

With the whip for awhile I got that floaty feeling, it felt good and I was in subspace. But then she changed to her cane, a big, thuddy, heavy cane, one of the few implements that gives me bruises. And I love how obvious it was what she was doing - she wanted to mark me, plain and simple. It wasn't about what I felt or thought, it was about making pretty stripes on my ass. It was hard, actually, to lie still like she wants me to, but it helped that I know she sees when I'm struggling. She knew it was hard, it was supposed to be. It didn't get any easier when she switched to the rattan. The rattan makes me bleed, eventually. She had to tell me to lie still and take it, and that helped.

Afterwards, she fucked me, still handcuffed to the bed. It's the coolest feeling. I'm not really horny, I don't feel like that. But I think I'm wet. And I'm just so grateful to belong to her, to be taken by her. It simply feels right.I just want to belong to her, always and all the time.