Begging

I moved out of the hotel. I didn't go for an apartment, but a condo. An apartment would be easier to move in and out of but I found a wonderful three bedroom condo with a partial view of a lake and fell in love with the place.

Moving in was rather quick and easy, as I have virtually nothing except for my clothes and personal items. The furniture was entirely provided by a rental place and went in a few days before I moved. One bedroom upstairs has been left mostly empty, though it has a single bed in it. It's a spacious room, ready for items which I may be able to acquire or retrieve.

The only real thing it is missing is a play partner. Estelle was great for a couple of days, but ... I need something. Someone.

The lawyers are handling the divorce. I hope they don't suck everything out of it.

The issue is... I have never had anyone that knew me, cared for me, gave me what I need and desire, like Jason. Some have come close, and to tell the truth there have been one or two girls that came close. But ultimately, there is a reason why I linked myself to Jason.

So after getting established in my condo, I went to see Jason.

I called first, made sure he would be there. He agreed to see me.

You must understand that while I am submissive, it isn't always that easy of a thing for me. Submission is something that grew out of a kink I developed as a very young teen-- being tied up and manipulated, even hurt, as part of sex. A submissive nature is necessarily part of that, but it isn't like I started out submissive and then let people tie me up because I was submitting to them. There's a subtle difference.

Yes, I am submissive, but I don't simply get off on kneeling and barking like a dog or whatever it is my master wants. No. I need to submit as part of a process of losing control, losing physical control of myself. I don't know how better to describe it.

So going to Jason was difficult for me. Describing what happened is a bit difficult. In fact, once I had moved into the condo and lived in it for a couple of days, I was spiraling into depression once again, and needed to do something, anything. I had to take action.

I went to my house, the one I used to live in, and stood at the front door. I removed my clothes, put on a collar and chain. You do have to realize the door is partially exposed to the street. Neighbors across the street know of my somewhat unusual relationship (we've actually played with them a few times). But I was still exposed to casual passers-by. It didn't matter to me.

I rang the doorbell, then knelt in a traditional submissive's pose, my back to the street, head bowed.

Jason answered the door quickly.

"Siobhan. What are you doing?"

"I'm here to beg, Jason. I... I need you. Somehow. Anyhow. Just... Take me."

Jason looked down at me, clearly concerned, clearly upset. I couldn't see what was going on in his mind. I was scared he would just push me back and close the door on me.

Finally he said, "Well, we can't do this in the street. Come in."

I stood and went in calmly, bringing my folded clothes with me.

"Siobhan, we can't undo what happened. You are no longer my slave."

"I know, Jason. But that doesn't mean I don't want and need you. You know me better than anyone in this world, and you know how I need what we had. I am not prepared to give up on that."

Jason sat in a chair with an exhausted sigh. I knelt before him in a submissive posture, trying hard to keep tears from flowing. He could not know how my weakness was emerging right then.

"What we had was predicated on your complete submission and trust in me. It was designed specifically to prevent topping from below, something you wanted to make sure did not happen. When you invoked the Safe Word, you broke that. You topped from below, you took control. You can't have it both ways, baby girl. The rules were yours as much as they were mine."

"I know, Jason. It was a mistake. I am sorry. My body craves you, and more importantly, my mind craves you."

I lay down before him, in a prone slave worship position.

I think Jason may have been crying at that point. He was extremely upset, I know. "Siobhan, don't do this. It isn't like this is fixable. What we had is simply broken. We can't crazy glue it together."

"Yes sir. I know this sir. I was just hoping... we could build something new. Maybe something different."

My face was plastered straight down on the carpet. He could have done anything to me at that moment and I would have accepted it willingly. He could have put a noose around my neck and strangled me to death. He could have invited in the entire block of men living in the neighborhood and passed me around. I was trying desperately to get this across to him.

The conversation went on like that for a while, with me talking with my face on the floor, and he sitting in his chair. At one point he leaned forward in his chair and played with my hair lovingly, and that's when I could stop it, I began sobbing, my tears wetting the carpet below me. But I held my slave worship position.

In the end, Jason did not take me back as slave, but did relent and see that perhaps we could continue our relationship in some way. Perhaps not man and wife, not as owned slave and owner, but ... something.

It was a long emotional discussion. The divorce would move forward. We'd split assets (which he didn't have to, according to the prenup most of it was his). We were both free to pursue other interests and people.

But we would also see how we could continue our relationship. He'd think of taking me back with some appropriate level of punishment (which made me shudder... it isn't going to be pretty, let me tell you).

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening in the penny punishment. For those that don't know how this works, I stand naked with my feet about two feet from the wall. I then lean in so my forehead touches. A penny is slipped in between my forehead and the wall, and I have to keep it there. Hands are kept behind my back, handcuffed if I am lucky. It's an endurance test, and if held long enough can be real torture. After several hours I was shaking.

When time was up Jason came in and caught the penny when I moved. I couldn't lean back, my body was cramping in ways that made straightening up difficult. Instead I just sort of sank to my knees and then to my side, laying on the floor.

Jason told me to get dressed and go home. I did, quietly. When I was dressed I moved to him and he took me in his arms and we kissed. When the kiss broke, I simply said, "thank you, Jason."

Jason gave me another goodbye peck and I left, heading out the door and back to my new condo.

Once back in the condo I unpacked several boxes that had arrived; mostly new bondage and punishment gear. I got undressed and tried out a few items, enjoying the feeling of leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, of the smooth curve of a butt plug, and the clink of handcuffs.

When it came down to it though, I used none of that stuff. Instead I got a simple hair brush from the bathroom, bent over the bed and began hitting my bare ass with it. As hard as I could. Spanking yourself is never as good or painful as when someone else does it, but I spanked myself for a good twenty minutes, grunting and heaving and panting all alone in my condo.

I went to bed, legs and back aching from the penny punishment, and my ass burning from the self-punishment. Once again I reassured myself that life would go on. Jason was not out of my life, though things had changed. I would find other partners, and explore new things. Life was all right.