Rejoice! At least that is how I feel. Last summer I had some time for some scribblings. I could only work on an old computer and I saved my text on an old floppy disk. When I got home I could find some of my scribblings but not all. A friend said that her stories and texts were like her children and although I don't completely share that feeling I felt quite bereaved when I thought I had lost what I had written. A couple of days ago I found all the texts, they were sitting there on a flash drive and I had just missed them. I am chuffed. And because I am so happy having found those texts I will post some here on my blog. This one is just a monologue with some thoughts about fantasies of this kind.
You could whip me. You should whip me. I think you should. Wouldn't you like it? Have me at your mercy, have the complete power over my body? The power to give me pain. You could decide if I should suffer or if I should not. Complete power, yes, that is true. You would have the power to give me pleasure as well. Of course you would. You could touch me or caress me and make me squirm with pleasure if you wanted to. But you could also use it to whip me, to make me scream and cry in agony.
I think you should whip me. I mean, really whip me. You decide of course but I think you should do it. Not just smack me, not pretend to make me suffer. I mean you should whip me, really hard, make the pain real for me.
On a sunny morning you could take me out of the house. Yes, I think it should be done outdoors. But why should I think? Well, you haven't said I shouldn't so I will allow myself to think. Until you tell me not to I will think. But when you do I will stop. That is how it should be, how I want it to be.
On that glorious morning, that sunny promise of a wonderful, beautiful day you should take me out of the house and whip me. Maybe you take me by the hand and lead me there, drag me there, with me in one hand and the whip in the other. I would know what was to happen to me, I would know I was to be whipped. You don't have to be angry, not even stern. You just have to want it.
Or you just tell me to follow and I would. Of course I would. Maybe you even tell me, no ask me, to bring the whip. Maybe you want to let me know I am to be whipped, make me help you in whipping me, make me bring the instrument of torture, the tool, the implement that is to be used on me, that is to touch my body.
You know the pole, the sturdy pole that is standing by the shed? It strikes me as a perfect whipping post. The time we arrive there, if we arrive there, it is on your command and you will have decided where and how I am to be whipped but since you haven't said anything I will think about how I imagine it.
You could bring me to the pole, the sturdy pole, the whipping post. That is a perfect place to whip me. It seems made for whippings. It just needs some preparations, a metal hook, a ring or even just a big nail will do. It has to be put high on the pole, above the height of my head, even above the height of my extended arms. That is easy. On that hook you need to hang a rope. Or maybe, even better, I could do it. What preparation, to have me prepare the whipping post? It will make me aware of its use, it will make me have to think of my upcoming whipping. I would prepare it, hang the rope on it while I was thinking, all the time, that soon would this rope be applied to my body, to hold me to this whipping post for my whipping. I would shudder and think of it, knowing that I was to be whipped.
Then, when you have brought me to the pole, the prepared and waiting whipping post you would stand me there, letting me see what awaited me. You would not have to be angry or stern. You could just tell me that it was time for it.
Then I should prepare myself, make myself ready for to be whipped. I think you should whip me for real, on my naked skin. That would be a real whipping, a whipping with no mercy, a whipping on my naked skin.
Maybe you have decided to whip my back. I would have to take my top off, baring my upper body for you. Or perhaps you want to whip my bottom. That seem suitable in a way. Having me expose my bottom. That would be even more degrading. It would bring home my vulnerability to me. Maybe you want to whip me all over my back and bottom. You could tell me to strip naked. That seems appropriate, the right thing to do, to have me naked at the whipping post.
Maybe you have told me to strip naked before, even before you walk me or drag me to the post. So that I would follow you naked and vulnerable on our way to my whipping. I would have images in my head of a walk of shame, in public, in front of the crowd, naked and on my way to my whipping, to a punishment, my punishment.
It doesn't have to be a punishment, you don't need an excuse to whip me. You can just do it. It is just that I may think of it as a punishment or that it is like a punishment. I don't have to provide you with a cause, I don't have to have sinned or been naughty. I don't have to deserve a punishment, a whipping. You just have to want it and I just have to let you.
Then it is time to tie me to the pole. I think you should do that, tie me to the whipping post. Not that I would ever try to escape, to flee from you. I am staying, that is true, so no real need for it but to a whipping post you should be tied. Tying me would be a help, a help for me. It would make it easier for me to stay put when the whipping becomes really painful and I would reconsider letting you do it, when my resolve becomes weak, when you make it weak. Maybe this will make you more reluctant to tie me to the post, the thought that I do no longer want it, that I have to be tied to endure.
This is the crucial point. I want you to weaken my resolve, I want you to overwhelm me. I want you to make me want to flee.
But there and then, when you have brought me to the whipping post and I am naked, it is for you, not for me to decide those things. You may want to test my resolve and think that tying me really is too easy for me.
If you should tie me, if you would decide to be kind to me, make it easy for me, then you should tell me to extend my arms, one on each side of the pole. Then I am to cross my wrists while you tie them together, with the rope that is hanging from the nail or hook or ring. I would be facing the pole. That is the old fashioned proper way of tying someone to the whipping post.
Then you should pull at the rope and I would have to lift my arms, to extend them and stretch my body. This would bring my body closer to the pole, even force me to press my belly, my breasts and my thighs to the pole. That would bring home my nudity to me, make me feel vulnerable and helpless. That is a part of it, me feeling weak and helpless.
I would sense the thrill then. I think I would be in a strange state of mind then. All the things before this would have brought it on, heightened the sense of it. The bringing me there, the whip in your hand, the preparations, the taking off of clothes, the nudity, your looking at me, the tying and all that. But the sensation of the rough surface of the pole against my naked body would make it very real and I would feel the thrill, the thrill I wouldn't know if it was fear or anticipation or even lust and arousal. Maybe because it was a little of everything.
It would not be arousal alone, not excitement and satisfying desires alone. Then it would be a game, a nice pastime. Then my ordeal would be only to overcome my sense of shame, my prudence. Then you would just indulge me, help me to reach a new level of excitement.
There is nothing wrong with you indulging me. Love can make you want that. But bringing me to the whipping post is about something else as well, it is about my devotion to you, my desire to give myself to you, to let you decide, to let you do whatever you want. If I let you make me suffer then I know I am yours, completely yours.
Maybe there is another, deeper, more profound motive. Maybe I want you to bring me there, strip me naked and tie me to the pole to make me feel, to make sure I feel something profound. To make me real. Naked, bound, my body pressed to the pole, being whipped I would be real and maybe that is, really, what I desire.
When you have tied me to the pole, facing it, embracing it you should pull the rope, raise my arms and press my body to the pole. You could just have me stand or you could even stretch my body further make me stand on my toes, almost hang in my bonds. That would be painful, bring my ordeal home to me. Maybe you would enjoy the sight of my body better then, outstretched, naked and vulnerable, at your command. Maybe that would be a way for me to indulge you, to be beautiful and desirable for you. I would be something for you to look at and feel you have power over.
With your strength you could even hoist me in the air, make my feet leave the ground and make me hang, cruelly, by my bound wrists. That would make my whipping to a real ordeal, make it worse, make it complete. I would stop thinking then. I would think only of the pain in my body. But I would be completely at your mercy and I would know that you wanted it, that my suffering was giving you pleasure.
Whatever you would do, have me stand on my feet, on tip toe or hang, the time would be near for my whipping. Tied naked to the pole I would be completely at your mercy, in your hands and forced to trust you. I would have to be really sure you wouldn't harm me. I would be yours to harm and be without protection.
Then you could whip me. You should whip me. I think you should. I would be naked and vulnerable and at your mercy and you should whip me. Because you could do it, because you wanted it or even because I wanted it.
It is an immensely cruel thing to do, to whip the naked body of someone tied to a whipping post. There is no struggle, no battle and no honour in whipping a helpless body, only cruelty. But you are not cruel and I don't want you to be cruel to me. Still I suggest you whip me. No, I ask you to whip me, want you to whip me.
It has to be something else than the mere cruelty of it. It has to be something beyond that. Perhaps it is the devotion, the dedication that makes it meaningful? It could be the trust, the knowledge that I am safe. Maybe it is about giving myself up to you, to let you do it and cruelty is the ultimate evidence that my surrender is complete, my belonging is profound.
Maybe it is something black, that I want to be obliterated, to be nothing, to be humiliated and punished, just to satisfy some kind of deep and hidden guilt, that I think I deserve it.
Or maybe it is just the nudity and that I think that I would look sexy, tied to a pole and writhing in pain under your whip, that you would find me attractive being at your mercy, that I would feel attractive and aroused by being naked for you, for anyone looking at me. That my vulnerability, somehow is awakening the lust in you. Maybe that I would want to be beautiful in your eyes and being naked means being me, being whipped means showing my feelings unhindered.
You should whip me, I am prepared for it and at you mercy. I think you should take the opportunity of whipping me. Maybe it would be easy for you, that you would truly enjoy it or maybe you will find it hard and you are reluctant to hurt me, make me suffer. I think you should whip me, let me have it. While I am there you should let me have it.
The whip is a cruel thing and it would hurt. Applying the whip to my naked skin would hurt. There is no doubt about that and it would hurt immensely. I would not think I could endure it. Maybe I would break down and cry and beg for mercy.
That would be a hard moment for you, hearing me begging for mercy. Or maybe you would enjoy that. Maybe that is your moment of glory. Maybe you want me to beg for mercy so that you know you have the power of granting it or not. Maybe you would grant it but not until you have made me suffer some more. Maybe you would deny me mercy and still whip me. I think, perhaps, you should. That being the whole point of it.
That could be the crucial point, where the ropes come into it. I am bound and helpless and the pain is so immense that I really, want it to stop. I can do nothing to make it stop but to plead. I may have some resolve not to plead, some pride in enduring but at that moment when I break down and plead I show you that I am really at your mercy, I acknowledge that I am yours, that I can do nothing and that you decide. I scream my plea for not having to endure. I cast away my pride and my resolve to endure and beg for mercy. That is the moment when you can decide to show me you are in charge, that I really have given you power over me, that I have really surrendered to you. If you hear my pleas and how I have thrown away my pride and still show me that you are in charge then I will know.
Then afterwards, when I am untied, unbound and it is all over, my body aching, burning with the whip marks, then I need some comforting. I need softness, need to know that there is not all pain but sweetness as well. Then I want you to hold me, close to your body. I would be unarmed, vulnerable, naked and helpless but I need your comforting, your sweetness and your love. I have surrendered to you and I would not hate you for being cruel, I would not even think of how I love you. I would be in pain and in need of comforting.
At that moment it is better if there is no sin, no guilt, no wrongdoing and no forgiveness. I have surrendered to you, I have given myself to you but I need to know that I can be proud of it. I don't want to have to forgive you for being cruel or confirming that I deserve it. I want you to be close to me and love me because I need it and want it. I want you to touch me out of love. I don't want to have to say to you that you were right. You should be strong for me and know it yourself. You should only think of me then, how proud you are of my devotion and endurance and how strong I am for you. You should admire me then as I admire your strength as you whip me.
Yes, that is how I think of it. You should whip me, I think you should. If you want it.