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Prove It

April 15th, 2006

Yesterday held an interesting revelation and a challenge I wasn’t sure I was up to.

Master went to lay down on the bed, which can be the start of almost anything: cuddling, wrestling, a nap, me licking and kissing Him all over, sex, play…anything. This time, He wanted His legs massaged. We’ve been hiking quite a bit lately and His legs have been bothering Him–pulled muscles, or perhaps simply overdoing it a bit…who knows? A few minutes into massaging His legs, He told me to lick His cock. I wriggled into position and began to lick.

After a while, as I usually do, I wrapped my lips around His head and started to suck. “I didn’t tell you to suck it, did I cunt?”

So I went back to licking. A little grudgingly, perhaps. In any case, He said to me, “It doesn’t feel like you appreciate me letting you lick my cock. Something you’d rather be doing right now?”

In response, I shook my head no and began to lick with fervor, and then began to think.

Where on Earth has my head been? Certainly not in the place it belongs. A slave should be grateful for any opportunity she is given to please her Master. Even if it’s something she doesn’t enjoy. Which isn’t the case with me and cock sucking–though it was before I met Master. Before I met Master I hated to suck cock. What do I get out of this? I thought.

Almost since the first time I sucked Master’s cock, I was hooked. Gets me incredibly wet and almost as horny as licking His ass.


A slave should leap at the chance to please her Master. She should love being allowed the honor of making Him happy. And she should be extremely grateful to Him for it. And no matter what it is that happens to please Him at that moment, she should enjoy it, if only because He is pleased. And I know this. I’ve known this for a very long time. So why haven’t I been following it?

Somewhere along the line I’ve become extremely selfabsorbed. I think not of what pleases Master, but what pleases me. Somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking “Is this the way a slave should behave?” and instead did things however I felt like doing them. Master (as He usually is) is right! I have been a slave when it suited my needs. And I should be a slave always, not just when I feel like it.

This is something I will have to work on.

Finally, Master allowed me to suck His cock and already my revelation had done its work. I was grateful.

At some point, He asked me if I like His cock in my pussy. I said I do, and He told me that I won’t get it anymore. Not until I prove to Him that I’m not a pussy. That I’m still a painslut and still want Him to beat me and humiliate me and use me for His bidding and not my own.

How on Earth can I do that?? I thought, and I began to panic. Realization started to sink in and then came that all too familiar fear of rejection. He’ll decide He wants pussy and forget. I thought as He came in my mouth, and then went to get dinner together.

As we sat down to watch TV while we ate, Master said, “It’s a shame. I wanted to fuck your pussy. I still want to fuck your pussy. How long are you going to make me wait?” and I froze.

He’s not going to forget! and I started to panic again. I mumbled “Not long.” and proceeded to eat dinner.

Shortly after dinner was finished, we ran to pay a bill, stopped and got milkshakes, and stood outside to talk to the neighbors for a few minutes while they were outside with their children. Then Master announced “It’s time for us to get to bed.” and ushered me inside.

We came inside and He sat down at His computer and suddenly I was struck with fear. I have to do this now, but how? And when the how came to me, I was even more frightened.

I stripped to nothing and put my bells on (we had been playing basketball earlier and I’m not allowed to wear my bells when hiking or playing basketball so they don’t get broken as easily as they used to). Then I knelt before Master’s toy trunk, key in hand and hands trembling. I pulled the ball gag out of the trunk and strapped it to my collar, then took out the cane, placed it between my teeth and slowly crawled to Master with it in my mouth.

When I got into the computer room, I saw Him smile, and then try to hide the smile when He noticed me looking up. And I kneeled up before Him, thighs parted, the backs of my hands resting on the tops of my thighs, and the cane in my mouth. He took the cane from me and swatted me a few times on the chest and inner thighs. He spoke to me, but to be honest, I was concentrating too hard on the pain (I hate the cane) to commit too much of it to memory. And eventually, He strapped the ball gag in my mouth and told me to go stand in the bedroom bent over with my hands resting on the dresser.

I wasn’t crying yet, but it wasn’t long before I was. As I cleared a spot on the dresser for my hands, I realized that this dresser was low enough to put my ass at the perfect level for spanking. I realized that I would be completely bent over with my ass in the air–completely vulnerable. I glanced at the larger of the two dressers with hope for slight reprieve, but realized that one was too high for me to bend over. With reluctance, I repeated in my mind You can do this, Rayne. and I bent over the dreser.

By the third stroke, I was crying. By the tenth, I was hysterical. By the fifteenth, the dresser was covered with my tears and saliva. And Master was only getting started. And it dawned on me that my pussy was dripping.

What do ya know? I am still a painslut!

After a while, Master told me to get on the bed on my hands and knees and I thought Reprieve!

Not a chance. He climbed onto the bed after me, began to fuck me, and whipped me with the cane throughout. It wasn’t long before my back and ass became numb to the strokes. And, as if He knew, Master began to hit me harder. I started to curl inward, as if trying to get into fetal position, and He told me not to move my pussy. I forced myself to be still and hold my cunt high so He could fuck it comfortably and have ample access to my ass and back with the cane.

I was sweating and crying. Burying my face in the mattress and clawing the sheets. He asked if I could take more, and I said that I could, but it wasn’t long before I couldn’t stay still and I was curling inward again. When He was ready, He told me to turn over so He could cum in me. Before He came, He told me to hold up my tits (“Good cunt.”) and He beat them (my nipples are still extremely sensitive) and then He laid the cane aside and came harder than I think I’ve ever seen or felt Him cum.

When He was finished, I had welts and bruises, but I came so hard and it felt so good. When I looked at my back in the mirror, I felt a peace I hven’t felt for some time. When He touched my bruises while I was doing the dishes, I winced but I was grateful for the pain. And I realized how much I’d missed His sadistic attentions.

And I was up to the challenge He laid before me. I suppose I always was, I just didn’t see it. But He did. He always sees what I don’t. And it’s still so strange to have someone capable of reading me like His favorite novel. He knows what comes next but never tires of turning the page. And I am so grateful to belong to Him.

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