I don’t care what you have ever seen or read about Fifty Shades of Grey, it’s all bullshit. At the outset, all I want is to please and want to do what he says and all that; I guess it IS like that. And I suppose in the beginning maybe I would’ve eaten a piece of dog-shit or something for him.
But this was 3 years in. And the lashings with his cane and whip or hand or paddle had grown kind of old . And the formality of saying “yes, daddy” had worn me thin.
One particular night, he had bragged he wanted to make me bark like a dog.
One of his fucked-up whims I guess.
Like any good girl I told him to fuck off that I wasn’t going to bark like any dog . He insisted and dragged me to the bed and said,” then I will make you.”
I quipped ,”no matter how many times you take the cane to me, or the flogger, or the paddle, you will not make me bark like a dog. It’s just not going to happen. You will not break me.”
The proverbial gauntlet had been thrown and I knew it. But I was confident that I would be the victor. That he would tire before I.
He threw down lash after lash. Each time stopping long enough to pause and ask, “are you going to bark now?”
With each blow I tried to deal with the pain by biting into the comforter hard, as he bore down into my flesh. Now, some submissives are masochists but I am not. Some go to a dissociative place and leave their body, I did not. I just bit down and braced for it. Maybe I’ll write Submissives for Dummies as a helpful guide on how to take a lashing and more. I’m certain it would be a bestseller….Pffft.
I was already bruised from his blows and felt it but didn’t want him to win. I hate losing. I despise weakness. At the next go round, I’d grown angry. I asked, “If our roles were reversed I wonder how many lashings you could take? Oh that’s right you would have pussied out by now.”
Then he hit me harder and atop of the bruises he had just inflicted. Dirty….dirty…. underhanded bastard I thought.
I knew in that moment he would win.
He leaned in and asked for the final time, “are you ready to bark yet?”
“Woof.” I said quietly.
He said, “say it louder.”
“WOOF!” I yelled.
“That’s my good girl, ” he replied.
Initially I wanted to be him that day, the one with all the power; the one wielding the implements. But then I realized that I had power of a different sort. That this sexual sadist craved me. I was his canvas and he needed to mainline me. By me pushing his buttons and challenging him, I created how this entire night went.
Good girl indeed.