Sabbatical in Slave Land: Finale - A Damn Good Whipping (and not 'Funishment') Part 2

...will Xena follow through
with gusto...?

So, I'm due at least 28 lashes, but will Xena follow through with gusto, or will it be a lack-luster perfunctory couple of flicks with the flogger? Or is my Vanilla wife too irritated to beat me?

I dither over whether the preparations I have in mind will make things better or worse. Then I realize she's in the mood to do this properly, or she's not.

I'll take the chance and go for the full fantasy.

I unpack the restraints and attach them to the foot of the bed. They're cheap Velcro webbing off Amazon but they have a massive advantage: no work for Xena - I can get in and out of them with ease, as long as I'm not distracted by, perhaps - I don't know... - somebody hitting me with a whip.

I've added a bit of chain and a luggage strap belt so that they keep me kneeling bent across the foot of the bed.

Now I won't have to use willpower to stay still for the beating. I'll be able to let go and writhe, and Xena may enjoy my helplessness and feel... empowered by it.

...tweaks an old
fantasy...

I put on an iron collar. I'm more excited by chastity belts these days. However it tweaks an old fantasy and distinguishes between me in low-key submission mode, and me as a prisoner awaiting punishment.

There's a chance it will put Xena in the right mood. (It will also protect the back of my neck from collateral damage - Xena isn't noted for her accuracy with any kind of whip.)

I remove my wedding ring and put it somewhere safe. This is not  a moment for any kind of tenderness. (Did she notice? I don't know.)

...knotted leather thongs that hurt like hailstones...

I lay out the whips. There are four of them; a short riding whip that smarts, a long dressage whip that stings like hell, a nasty home-made scourge with knotted leather thongs that hurt like hailstones... and a wonderfully crafted Fred Norman flogger.

I hesitate over the Fred Norman because it doesn't make me flinch; it's more erotic than painful. However, I'm a little unfocused in my thinking and have a vague idea Xena might use it towards the end when I am too tender for the other implements.

The demerit counter goes next to the whips. This has been a great way to let Xena hand out punishment in situations when she doesn't want to think about whips and chains. (But will she follow through....?)

Finally, the butt plug. Yes, something totally for me, and not in the spirit of punishment. However, I'm really keen to introduce it to our menu, and I know the idea intrigues and amuses her. She can always order me to it out. Ironically, as soon as I slide it in, I go limp inside my chastity cage!

I'm running out of time, so I put on the restraints and clip myself into position, waiting for my whipping. Theme music drifts over from the den. Xena's program is over. Now I'm frantically clenching and unclenching my muscles, trying to muster up the protective hardness. Nothing! Now I am scared of the beating.

More theme music - she's watching another episode. My feelings orbit between outraged and cross, to helpless and turned on--

It's her!  Not a role, or a
character she's taken on.
She really is angry..!

--until my shoulders begin to hurt. The restraints are adjustable so, panicking in case she comes in, I unclip my wrists and reattach them with the chain less taut. It's better but the the discomfort soon returns. I can only wriggle up onto the bed, and listen tensely for footfalls on the landing.

An eternity later, I hear Xena's coming towards the bedroom door. I slide back onto my knees just as it opens and she sweeps in. She's wearing a comfy T-shirt dress and sports leggings; nothing fetishistic or even elegant, though it does let me admire her curves.

Xena  glances at me, shows no surprise or particular emotion, and pads around to where I laid out the whips.

I crane my neck to see.

Xena has the demerit counter. "Twenty eight demerits, Giles! How did you earn that many?"

"I'm very irritating, mistress," I say, which is the truth.

Xena's eyes blaze.

I feel a wave or relief, followed by a delicious panic.

It's her!

Not a role, or a character she's taken on. She really is angry, and that anger is trapped inside our mistress-slave relationship. It has nowhere to go except into me!

"Yes you are, Giles," she says, and picks up the riding whip.

Oh shit, I think, straining against my bonds. She is going to follow through.

If you'd like to experience something similar, take a look at my Femdom self-help guides....

 Part 2