WARNING: This is a BDSM chapter. There is pain and pleasure involved, but no sex. Don't read of it's going to make you uncomfortable.

It was intoxicating being hit so many times with so many different items. It hurt, thudded, stung. I was in an abyss of pain and pleasure. I may have been blind and deaf, but I was living, stars and diamonds was I living.

With each stinging blow to my back, ass and breasts, I yelped and shifted. I groaned and moaned and squealed with confusion. What was I doing? Why was I doing it? And how did I end up in such an unorthodox situation? It hurt. But still instead of pulling away, I found myself goading him with my ass, leaning into his firm touch and grinning to myself. "Harder."

I was lifting when the first vision came to me.

[It was my ex and I in front of me. I could see both of us. He was cooking, moving around as if he was in real time. Meanwhile, I was topless and restrained on a rack, and flogged, paddled, spanked. My ex had a red string connected from his heart, directly to mine. Curiously, I edged toward the both of us.]

Then came the laughing. The pain became hilarious to me. I laughed and chuckled and giggled at such a silly sensation. How could such a normally unwanted touch be so pleasurable and wonderful? I didn't care who thought I was crazy for laughing, because I was doing it anyways. I could faintly hear my own tinkling chortles and the whispers of everyone else around me. Were there others around me? Was there anyone around me? Was I alone? The thought made me laugh again.

[I tentatively reach out to the string connecting our souls and gently pulled on it with my finger. Shockwaves of thoughts flooded the dark abyss around us.

'Is he thinking about me, even right now?'

'Why did she leave when she said she would tolerate me being too busy for her?'

'Does he realize I tried so hard for 3 years and still got the same result?'

'Does she still love me?'

'Does he still love me? Did he ever love me, or was it really all a lie like he said?'

I stumble back, surprised at the intensity of the thoughts from me. Did I really think about him that much subconsciously? The idea disgusted me.]

It was here that my eyes started to water. Harder, repeated raps on my ass made it hard not to fly into subspace. Everything faded away except the pain, and the ultimate pleasure I got from the pain. My head was falling, but my legs were steady. Not only was I determined to finish my first scene completely and totally, I wanted to. More than anything else. Finishing it early, calling red, was not what I wanted, or needed by any means. So when he asked my color, I said, "Green."

The watering of my eyes turned into actual tears. I was high, but not off drugs. I was drunk but not off alcohol. It was freeing. I remember thinking, "I feel so free," just before he used a stingier paddle or something. I don't remember much but the intense pain of it all. All I knew was it hurt. Badly. And it was skimming over the last hits, crossing over the heated strips of freshly hit skin. Tears started overflowing from my blinded eyes and down my cheeks. I started sobbing. I couldn't stop sobbing. I could see them again now, clearly. I could see us again.

[I tugged on the string firmly, braced for the flood of thoughts and emotions that came with it. As he hit me again and my body started to be aware of nothing but pain, I couldn't help but think, "God this is so much better than emotional pain." I looked over at my naked body and when I saw my half of the string loosen a little, my heart ached inside my chest, pounding at my ribcage as if it wanted to escape, run away. A heavy flogger was placed on my shoulder. I could say it was maybe 7 pounds, but I'd probably be wrong. I remember inspecting it beforehand, it was purple with a golden chunk of metal holding it together at the end, and of course a handle. He raised it off of me and I tensed, and then relaxed. The blow still took me by surprise. It felt more like a swift kick in the ass, which was exactly what I needed. I marched up to the string, careful not to disturb it, and pulled out a pair of comically large golden scissors. Upon looking closer, it didn't surprise me to know there were strands of thinly wound metal within the string, making it impossible to cut unless one was determined. Which I was. I raised the scissors.]

The tears stopped. I was mostly silent I believe at this point. I felt droplets down my back, and briefly considered it to be blood. I was unconcerned with it. In retrospect, it must have been sweat, but in all honesty, I was so high that it could have been my entrails falling out, and I would have cared so little that it would surprise everyone. They saw a small, innocent Little with a dirty side, a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. They questioned about my tolerance for my own sake. But bound up and getting beaten, my own mind whispered for just a little longer. Just a little more.

[Slowly but surely, I started cutting away at the red string. Thoughts and intense feelings flooded my head and it became apparent that cutting this string was not going to be as simple as cutting paper. After all, I was breaking a trauma bond so powerful that it was laced with metal. He looked as if he was in emotional pain as I cut at the string while my own common state of emotional pain over him was fading rapidly. I was high, so very high. I was in space, subspace, and I felt the sensations going straight to my clit. I whimpered quietly as my pain overflowed into my panties in a surprisingly intense orgasm. I had no energy to react, but my body knew. I knew. God himself knew. And that was enough.

He cried out as the first small strand of the string fell coldly to the ground. Fluttering down and lying to rest forever. There was no repairing it.]

Peace flooded my body. I was safe. I was happy. And weak. And the strongest I've ever been. I loved myself so much. I wanted to give myself a hug. And then he was giving me spankings with his hand. I knew it was close to over. I squeezed my hands and yelped a few more time before there was a lull, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I had done it.

My hands were massaged for a moment and the restrains were loosened and undone so I could rest my right arm back to my side. He guided me so carefully. Gently. I was intoxicated, so I needed the guidance. My shoulder was next. And then he repeated the same actions on my left side. As soon as the blindfold was off, he guided me to a seat and wrapped a blanket around me. I shivered like a leaf but I was warm. So warm.

The water was gone in 9 seconds flat. I needed it to bring me back down. I closed my eyes again, for a moment.

[I was still there, trying to cut the string. But I was weakening, and my mind was fading from that part of my consciousness. I groaned in frustration, but then came the peace flooding into my subconscious world as well. And I remember smiling. Two tiny twines were on the ground. And I remember smiling down at them, and then at our bodies and saying seriously, "I'll be back."]

So, I actually did this. This is a true story. I did this on March 5th and I never want to forget. As you can see, this was very therapeutic.