The realities of submission - the oath (2/3)

I have sat at the PC, like a woman, not a dog, with the whip marks on my left thigh and the marks of the clothespins lingering. I feel them all. My first message is off to you.

I open the next message, for the 'Second Session'. I am keen to go on. I like being active and dedicated, active with my body, dedicated to you.

Back at the mirror, forehead on the floor, in front of the mirror. I saw myself bending forward.

I kneel as before, knees apart. I remove my bra. Breasts are so naked and free! Bless them.

I place clothespins on my nipples. I am sure I was not intended to apply them before when I did, to achieve Level 3. I bite my lips when I apply them to my nipples again, one by one. I utter a guttural scream, mouth closed. Dear! Quick breathing; I fear hyperventilation. Manage to control my breath.

My voice is unsteady still. The pain in my nipples abates slowly.
"I, Vanna Vechian, will obey my Master in all ways for as long as he chooses me to be his slave.
"He may do as he wishes with me.
"He may sell me, let his friends use me as he sees fit. I have no rights.
"This I solemnly swear on the book of 'O'".

I get up in order to comply with Master's wish to display myself as if on a market. That gives me unequivocal pleasure, though a hint of embarrassment never leaves me. I stand hips forward, legs apart and open my vagina with both hands pulling the labia apart. I am a slut and whore. Buy me!

Down to the kitchen. I decide to descend backwards, so that I can go on all fours, carefully.

I wet my labia with the water in the bowl. (Oh, would my juices be enough!) Then rub sugar on them from the sugar pot. This hurts a little through the scraping of the sugar crystals on the locations where the clothespins where. The act of sweetening my lips does arouse me. I like being busy with my vagina. I am a slut. The vinegar I am to apply now stings slightly. Sweet and sour. I feel like a pig, to be served live on an oriental banquet. I imagine being displayed and perused by feasting eyes, in honour of you.

Back to the bed and the dog whip. I lie as before, very open. At five-minute intervals I apply five hard strikes with the whip to my right thigh. The mood is no longer punishment of myself for submitting to all this for a remote Master, you! It is purely your honour that drives me, and my own pleasure. I am a slave, taking pleasure in the pain and humiliation.

In front of the mirror, kneeling with open thighs, I read again from 'O'. I read the passages where Jacqueline and O have flirted with some men at a café terrace and O is peached on by J, then punished and forced to eat "for the first time" nude amongst her dressed group. It is perhaps not a key section, but it has always moved me.

Level 4 punishment - I am still embarrassed by not knowing its specification. I apply the same additional 16 pins, as well as one on my tongue and two on my earlobes. I know that cannot be fully as intended. I am beyond myself with pain meanwhile. Oh, will I ever get used to this? This second time is so much worse than the first. I don't like myself. Need punishment for accepting the punishment. A mad conundrum. A glimpse in the mirror shows a deranged woman, wet eyes, make-up spoilt, dribbling from her mouth. Can this be me? A sane corner of my mind is wondering.

In frenzy I remove all of the pins and rush to the bathroom, get in the tub and cool my all with cold water.

The order to play with my vibrator does not land on fertile ground. I feel frozen, alien to the concept of sex and arousal. To my surprise this changed within a few minutes, when as a light at the end of a tunnel a pinprick of pleasure reveals itself, which then like an unstoppable train at great speed washes over me. I have to force myself to stop playing lest I come.

Yin and yang.... Ice cubes to be inserted in my primary hole, four, quickly!, plugged by a tampon. Blinding pain again, which abates slowly.

I eat and drink like a fool of a dog, on the ground in the kitchen. I AM hungry, very hungry. I have over 30mins left, which I use to lounge on the sofa, listening to Mozart's Cosí fan tute, typing this message to you.