humiliation station

Actually, I don't love humiliation... it's humiliating and I hate it. I don't know why I crave it when I hate it, I just know that I do. But, my cunt loves it. I don't know why that is either. But it's not hurting anyone (apart from me, hopefully), so it doesn't really matter 'why'. It just is, and that's that.

I got smacked about with a flogger at the weekend. Reason? Being a gobby bitch - can you believe it?! Anyway, I was. Jeans pulled off, leg-spreaders attached (to my legs), hands cuffed behind my back, and my knickers pulled down just enough to expose my arse.

Humiliation number one: he left my socks on!

Humiliation number two: I had no make-up on!

Humiliation number three: I was lying face down with my legs spread very wide and my arse out!

God knows what I looked like, but I felt *this* stupid. And sorry, of course. But not as sorry as I was when the flogger made contact with my bum. Over and over again. I was even more sorry when he decided to use the studded spanker instead.

Humiliation number four: I cried and whinged like a baby.

Humiliation number five: He just mocked me for it.

It carried on like this for a couple of hours, my arse and my thighs stinging more and more with every strike, my screams probably entertaining the whole street. Several years ago, I would've begged for more I was that much of a pain slut, but now I just cry and beg for it to stop. I'm such a bloody wimp.

There was nothing sexual about this little session (for me, anyway); it was there purely to 'teach me a lesson'. His actions were calm, his voice stern, and his manner sadistic. The names he called me would have made me cry even if I wasn't taking a beating. So the biggest humiliation came when he reached in between my legs, and felt how utterly soaked my knickers were.

Like I said, I don't know why. I ain't fucking complaining though - I daren't! ;)