A Reminder
It had been a long time since I’d taken a really hard beating.Â
Not that I haven’t been beaten at all. Sir does beat me sometimes, and even though he’s not really a sadist, he can go after me pretty hard when it’s time for that. But Sir is, at heart, more of a daddy with me than anything else. He beats me because he knows me and he understands it’s a thing that I need. And that’s wonderful. Those sessions are very bonding experiences for us. But there’s a difference in what he does and being beaten by a man who truly enjoys and gets off on watching you take pain for him, whose dick gets harder the more you squirm and yell as he hits you. It’s different when your suffering is truly service.Â
This man, whose implements I was carrying to the area of the play space where he was going to beat me, was a sadist. I had never served him before, but his reputation proceeded him in a good way. I knew he was experienced and skilled. And I knew, because he had told me very plainly beforehand, that what turned him on was to push a boy hard and take him to the breaking point.Â
So I knew exactly what I was in for when we got to the cross and he methodically strapped me to it. I lost count of the floggers I had been carrying, and there were also two cats, a truncheon, and some other strange thing made of rope which he swore was, regardless of how unassuming it looked, the most painful implement he owned. I knew he was going to use all of them on me before we were done. And it had been a while, so I’m out of practice. I knew it was going to be hard.Â
And it was. He gave me a little bit of warm up time, and he ramped up his implements from easiest to hardest over the course of the session. But it didn’t take much time for him to start laying into me hard. When he was getting ready for the hardest blows of each round he would tell me and then he would start counting down with each strike. For the last few of those, he would have me yell out “I am strong, Sir!” after each one, which I was usually doing through gritted teeth or after swallowing down a scream.Â
That was one of the most interesting things about the scene for me. I am very into degradation and humiliation and so are most of men I’ve served for long periods. So I’m accustomed to that being the fuel for this kind of scene and what’s driving my motivation to keep going. But that wasn’t this Sir’s style. He was supportive and encouraging, telling me how proud he was of what I was taking for him. He was telling me how strong I was, and making me say it myself to reinforce the message. It was different fuel, but just as effective. I wanted to please him and make him proud, so I was determined to take whatever he wanted to give me.Â
And he wanted to give me a lot. The floggers got increasingly more difficult to take as we progressed. The cats were both brutal. By the time we got to the truncheon I was already sore and tired, and the truncheon was immensely painful, leaving a trail of fire across my back that continued to grow deeper and more intense well after the blow itself had landed.Â
When he got to the last implement, the rope thing, he told me that he was going to go hard and fast, no break, that it was going to hurt a lot and I should not try to hold my reaction in. “Let it all out, boy. That’s what we’re here for. That’s why you do this. Just let go and let it all out“ he told me. And then he started.Â
The blows rained down on me unrelentingly, one right after the other. He was right, whatever this thing was it hurt like a motherfucker. It didn’t take long before I was overwhelmed by the pain. It was too much to process, too much to contain. My groans became a scream. Then that broke into an agonizing sob. I broke. I fucking broke all the way.Â
When Sir saw that he had taken me to where he wanted to, he stopped. He told me how proud of me was again as he released me from the cross and sat me in a chair. He stood beside me and told me to hold onto him and let it all out. And that’s exactly what I did. I wailed while I squeezed his strong body with my arms, tighter and tighter. Not cried. Wailed. He held me in that moment and told me what a good boy I had been for him.Â
I didn’t realized until that moment just how much I had needed that. How much I had missed it. All of it. Surrendering myself to the needs of a sadistic man, someone who needed to hurt me as much as I needed to be hurt. Being pushed to my limits and reminded that I am indeed strong. The incredible energy that is built when need meets need and you have a partner who you can trust to take you to the depths and back. The release, that powerful and cathartic release that comes at the end of enduring the ordeal you submitted to. The bliss of being comforted and held by a man who has hurt you.
I don’t know why this is a thing that I need. But that doesn’t change the fact that it is. I am built for this kind of service. It fulfills me in a way that nothing else does.Â
I needed this reminder. Since I separated from my Master a couple of years ago, I haven’t really pursued the kind of relationship that would include this kind of depth of service. There’s a lot of reasons for that, all valid. But at the end of the day, this is a part of who I am. For me to be my whole self, my best self, it’s a part of me that has to be fulfilled. And I can’t ignore that forever.Â
I don’t know exactly what to do about that yet. But I know something must be done. And that’s at least a start.Â











