Choked and beaten

I’d long since stopped thinking. If it didn’t hurt so much I’d have thought I’d left my body.

My Owner almost kindly had told me that my training had progressed far enough for me to learn about real S&M.

I suspected I looked like the image of a demon’s human toy in Hell.

Blindfolded, gagged, earplugged I was deaf, dumb and blind.

The chain from my choke collar leg to the spreader bar holding my wrists in place.

Symmetrically there was a choke collar attached to a wide spreader bar between my ankles.

Finally a chain between the two spreader bars left me wholly helpless, vulnerable. I was left with just enough freedom of movement to add to my pain.

I was wishing I could keep track of the strokes of the whip. But I could barely remember I’d been promised ten sets of lashes with the whip consisting of ten blows each.

Vinegar let me know when each set hand ended. Vinegar is an antiseptic. It also makes welts sting. I never was prepared for the next set.

The pause between each round of ten might sound merciful. It wasn’t. The breaks assured I’d be able to suffer longer. And as my nerves readjusted the beginning of each set hurt even worse as whip cut into fresh wounds.

I’d learned to try to not move. But involuntarily I’d flinch and as I tried hopelessly to move out of the way I’d only tighten one or both of the choke collars.

Kneeling there helplessly I wished I knew if there were twenty or forty or however many more lashes to come.