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alwayzron -> Nail Polish and endorphins ..... (12/12/2004 2:25:04 PM)
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I felt my pulse quicken and my breathing increase as my body struggled with the inability to flee or stand and fight. My heart pounded within my chest as it sent oxygenated blood to my brain, causing my face to redden, my head to swim, and my senses to heighten. The pain from the ropes cutting into my wrists began to burn. Were it not for the blindfold I was wearing, evolutionary reflexes would have me scanning the room looking for an escape. But I neither wanted to fight nor to flee. What I wanted was to remain tied across the coffee table and to await whatever punishment my Lady deemed appropriate.
My crime? I was directed to bring Garnet Red nail polish for my Lady’s toenails, and I brought plain, ordinary red. “Any Domme could have Red as a favorite color”, she stormed at me, “but I’m not any Domme! And my color is Garnet Red! Not Red!” Forced to undress and lay across the coffee table, I began to wonder if my forgetfulness would cost me more than I had originally thought. My Lady seethed in her anger as she tied my wrists to the legs of the table and snapped my ankle cuffs into the leg spreader. Forcing my legs apart, I was now utterly helpless and at her mercy. Sitting on the couch, she slapped my ass with her bare hand, causing me to wince. She slapped it a couple more times, alternating hands. Grasping my cock between her toes, she forced it down and behind me. As it grew hard from the touch of her foot, it made my predicament even more painful. When the phone rang – mercifully - she left the room, promising to deal with my insolence when she returned.
My brain continued its attempts to decode the signals from my periphery while I awaited my punishment. Vibrations from the floor become earthquakes. The sound of my Lady’s feet on the carpet in the next room became a cacophony. Even the swishing of the ceiling fan above me was detectable. As my senses become more acute, I became aware of the White Lavendar cologne my Lady had sprayed on her wrists earlier. And the pungent smell of nail polish. Red nail polish … not Garnett Red - filled my nostrils. I wondered how my toes must look painted red. Worse, I wonder how silly I must have looked sitting on the floor polishing my own toenails. “You bought the damned stuff” she scolded, “so you wear it”. Humiliation was not one of my Lady’s weapons … but I feared that it soon would be.
Suddenly ….silence. No sound … no smells … no sensation. With the exception of the muffled voice of my Lady on the phone in the next room, I could hear, see, and sense nothing. My brain had surrendered in its struggle to remove my body from the danger. I was resigned to my fate. A fate which I both dreaded and desired.
I didn’t hear the swish of the crop as it sliced through the air – but I felt it instantly. I hadn’t realized that my Lady had finished her phone call and had walked back into the room. I let out a surprised yelp and my body flinched as my brain came to life once again. But now, instead of being on the offensive, my brain took the defensive and began generating endorphins in response to the signals from my pain receptors. The crop struck again and I cried out once more. A third and fourth blow found their mark as my ass began to sting, and then grow warm. With each blow, my Lady chastised me further for my lack of carelessness. As the blows came, so did the ensuing rush of endorphins. Sweet, wonderful, merciful endorphins rushing from my brain through my blood stream and performing their opiate like miracle work. Soon, as her crop gave way to her cane, I found myself floating away from the discipline I was receiving, and beginning to look forward to each lash. She laughed as I arched my back slightly, welcoming the next blow. Slowly, the cane began working its way up my back and across my shoulders.
Feeling that I had been punished sufficiently, she removed me from the constraints of the coffee table and positioned me at her feet. Trained to know what she wanted, I gently took her foot in my hands and began kissing it. Softly, tenderly, lovingly I kissed the feet of the woman I adored. As my love for her flowed freely, I promised that I would never again forget Garnet Red. She smiled and pulled my head and torso into her lap, embracing me and running her hands across the welts on my back. My world was at peace and I could ask for nothing more than her nurturing touch. Meanwhile, behind me in my back pack, sat the unopened bottle of Garnet Red nail polish that I said I’d forgotten to buy.
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