Hours later.
It feels like mere seconds, and I can still sense the caress of the blade on my bare skin. I love it, the painful pleaure, the smile on my Master's face, knowing that I've pleased Him. I love the pain. I love the pain independently of my Master, and He knows it. But the way in which He inflicts it, so masterfully, with such art and skill, is a wonder to me. And I have come to need it. No, not it. Him. I need Him. I need Him to hurt me, to show me how much further I can go. I need Him to love me, to leave His mark on me and never let me go.
Hours later and I sit here, rubbing the smoothness of my freshly shaved crotch, licking my fingers and pressing them against my clit, stroking it lazily for a moment. Then I shift in my seat and another flash of pain brings me closer to the edge. The scratches on my back and chest and neck and legs and ass chafe And I remember my Master's face, His smile at that look on mine. Knowing His pleasure without His presence...takes me to the edge and over it. My fingers cease their directed course and now move away to resume their aimless wanderings.
God I love being female!
Laters