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Submissive guys might ask a Top to beat them but slaves will beg a Master to whip them. The word whip has a lot of resonance, from Ancient Rome and galley slaves to the enslavement of blacks in America, to the practices of Sadists and masochists in the 21st century. I was a slave and I needed to be whipped, even though on one level I hated it.
I used to see an ex-soldier on a regular basis. He was a tough, macho guy. Very natural and at home in his masculinity. I'd go to him and there was no case of pleasantries between us but rather straight into the scene. I was slave from the moment I crossed the threshold and this was maintained until he decided he had had enough. Then I was dismissed. I assume he enjoyed it. He never said he did. I was just summoned, then used, then dismissed. But it continued and became a regular occurrence. What happened depended on his mood. He had been a dog handler in the army so often I was his dogslave. He treated it seriously and was devoted to detail.
The whole dogslave thing has become very different these days. I'm talking about 20 years ago. Nowadays the `dogslaves' are in control and it's all very much BDSM light where it's cute and friendly. They call themselves pups or puppies. Back then, the focus was on humiliation, degradation and total control from the Master, not someone getting a cute boy to shoot on the boy's terms. Well, I learned from my many sessions with him. He was used to dealing with dogs and treated me as one. And he was strict, so beating was involved though I am sure he had never beaten his army dogs.
I had long fantasised about pain but hated it in actuality. He changed that. I guess he sensed it in me. I resisted and protested it but needed it all the same. I was a slave only in my mind. He led me to accept the physical reality of being a slave where my protests were useless and little by little I learned to accept that I had no choice and simply took on board whatever he threw at me. And yes, I was beaten. On the slightest pretext. And I hated it from the physical feeling point of view and yet...something in me loved it. It was simply that I had no choice in the matter. If he wanted to beat me then he beat me and if I protested that was neither here nor there. I just had to endure it.
He always used a belt to beat me. Yet in my mind I transformed it into a whip as it made me that much more submissive. And I would say it too. Sir, whip this slave, whip it!' But he never reacted to that signal I was throwing out. I'd accept that and rationalise it always by thinking I was in danger of becoming one of those horrible, pushy submissives who, no matter what the outer action suggested, was always trying to get what he wanted, the way he wanted. In effect, a slave' who wanted to control the scene.
Little by little I realised that it was not about me at all but about the Master and His needs, His desires, His choices. And it was that feeling of having no choice that led me deeper into pain. I remember so many beatings and whippings I had on Hampstead Heath... where being whipped in public turned me on even more. Yet, being turned on was neither here nor there - I was being whipped and the guy whipping me didn't give a damn whether I was turned on or not. HE was sexually excited and that was the whole point and that became the point for me. I was used for His pleasure.
The sound of a belt on an arse used to be a magnet on the Heath. Guys would gather round to watch and jerk off. The sound of a whip was even more powerful. A public beating is powerful for everyone involved. But a whipping goes deeper. On the Heath I was naked and tied to a tree and then whipped. The sound is so different from a belt or strap. A whip unlocks the past. It brings so much into play in the mind of the guy doing the whipping, the slave receiving the whipping, the spectators witnessing the whipping. I know this from the things guys have said to me. But mostly I know from what I myself have gone through as slave. It's those two levels again.
On one level, I hated being whipped; on another level, I wanted it, more - needed it. I once had a Master who disapproved of a slave having, wants, needs, desires. A slave existed solely for the pleasure of its Master. So it was of central importance that I had no control over the severity of the whipping. It used to be that I expected a Master to watch my reactions and respond to them. But I came to see that, even in my passivity, I was attempting to control the whipping. And in doing that I was not being a slave. Occasionally, I'd meet someone who disregarded my feelings and would go beyond what I thought I wanted. In doing so, he would open new doors and deepen my submission.
My ex-soldier, as an exercise of his power over me, sent me to someone he knew who was organising a Master/slave session on a Sunday afternoon. The idea was that each slave would show up at a designated time and be used (how was unknown). Then at the end of the afternoon the Master would choose which slave had performed best and would fuck him.
Now, being fucked was neither here nor there with me. I just liked to be controlled. But I went along. I was the first to show up. One o'clock on the dot. An alpha slave prepared me. I was naked, strung up, blindfolded and the Master came in and without any interaction or any talk simply beat me. I had never been in anything but an interactive scenario before. There had always been a sense of give and take, of mutual needs being understood and satisfied. This was new to me. This was simply TAKE. I was just meat to be whipped. He beat me and then left the room.
The alpha slave removed the blindfold and gave me water. He chatted a bit but mostly just let me process what was happening to me. So, after this first assault - with a belt - I rested for a bit. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I thought that my session was over. But this became the pattern for the afternoon. Blindfolded, strung up, beaten, rest.
So a second beating but this time with a paddle. Rest. Then the same - but this time with a cat o'nine tails on my back which definitely led me deeper into submission. Suddenly I was a slave being flogged and this made a huge difference to me and my reactions. I began to lose any sense of how much I was being beaten or for how long. Also, until the cat appeared, I had been beaten on the arse. With the cat it was on my back and suddenly in my mind I was no longer being beaten but being flogged and that sent me deeper into submission and acceptance.
More rest. And again more flogging. Then someone else turned up. I was still blindfolded but he was beaten, wordlessly and without interaction as I had been. After two minutes or so, he called a halt and left. So I was whipped instead. Another showed. Same thing - and he left too. It was back to me.
I had been told that each slave would have a session and then wait until the result was announced. But it didn't pan out. There was supposed to be a whole series of slaves but it was just three and two had quickly given up. I was flogged more, then finally fucked.
I never saw the Master, just his alpha slave. I didn't want to be fucked. Yet being fucked was this Master's present to me. But of course I accepted being fucked. I feel I would have accepted anything. It was a really intense mental journey for me. I was excited by it. But my excitement was neither noticed or commented on. I was there to be used. I got off even more in the knowledge that others couldn't hack it. But most of all, it took me to a new level of submission. I really felt like a depersonalised object, just existing to be used. A slave.
A whipping hurts. The pain is intense. And as it goes on it gets worse and then it passes as you enter a deeper state of submission. The early strokes are in some ways the worst. They arrive with instant pain. Anticipation plays a part too. How heavy will the first blow be? Will the blows vary in intensity? I always wanted to cry out but so early in a whipping I wanted to appear brave and stoic. I bit back any verbal reaction.
I'm Irish. I drew on my country's history. Id say we are a stoic nation. You accept pain, you accept suffering. But the whipping went on no matter how I reacted. My mind went into supercharge. I tried to accept it through thole' (an Irish word for stoic endurance) but I had to pass beyond that to seeing that I deserved it. And then beyond that to knowing I can't stop it. It was not up to me. I was a slave and my Master wanted to do it and I had no choice. I accepted what He gave. And occasionally, I went beyond that to where it was an offering and I offered my pain and suffering to my Master and the pain became the most intense pleasure and I wanted more. And by this time I was verbalising fully. I'd gone from silent to groaning to crying to screaming, from please stop' to thank you, Sir' to please, Sir, more, please whip this slave more, Sir'.
I saw my ex-soldier a few days later. He freaked when he saw my back and arse. I tried to convince him that I loved the welts and bruises but he couldn't go there. It was way beyond what he had ever administered to me. And it shocked him. I know it's fucked up from an outsider's point of view. And I'm sure psychiatrists could have a field day with me. But although I responded to beatings, even severe beatings, nothing plunged me more to the depth of my slave being than being whipped. The word `whip' still draws a Pavlovian reaction from me. And the sound of the whip before it hits is the most erotic sound in the world. It presages the feel of the whip hitting a body, making a slave scream with pain but taking it deep into its mind where it accepts this is as it must be.
I used to agonise over my need to be whipped but now it's just a case of this is me'. All those years ago, it wasn't even a case of me saying, I need to be whipped'. My needs were irrelevant. I just wanted a Master to feel that HIS needs were being fulfilled. I am a slave still. I know I used to be a sub, with too many needs and desires. I'm so much better as a result of being whipped. I wasn't a good slave when I thought I was. Too manipulative and controlling. I'm still not a perfect slave but I do work on my attitude constantly. Too much BDSM is acting. Posing and playing. But some of us want something deeper. I'm glad I have been trained to accept a different reality. And that really helps me now.