A Crooked Mile

Yesterday, on waking, I had this fantasy:
I was with a lover, male or female I do
not know except they were tall and slender with long dark
hair and long pale hands without visible scars or
markings. And it was a lover; someone I knew well.
They had a whip like the one I have, with long
leather lashes that feel soft rubbing against your
skin and stinging like a hand slap of saltwater
on striking it. They asked if they could whip me and I
assented and lay down on the bed on my
stomach; I was wearing a full, long
skirt of some soft fabric, silk perhaps, and a
similar blouse. I stretched my arms way out in front
of me so that I could grip the edge of the
mattress when they hit hard and suddenly I felt them
take my wrists and fasten them together, I don't remember
if it was with bondage bracelets or bare
chain, and then chained them to the bedpost.
And I said "You don't have to do that, I can hold
myself still."
They simply finished locking the chain in place
and said "Yes, and now you won't have to."
I squirmed but didn't say anything because I
thought I must trust them enough to let them do this or
I wouldn't be here, and I must trust someone to
this extent. Then they lifted my head, cupping my
chin in their palm and pushing my hair back
from my face which was comforting, and told
me "I am going to whip you until you are
crying, until you are begging me to hold you." And they
set my face back against the pillow. And I
understood that it was going to continue
for a long time because there was no way I could
bring myself to do that until it got to the point
where I absolutely meant it. And I was
half-dreaming so I could half-feel the tickling
fingers of the lash lifting my skirts higher over
my legs, the stinging warmth of the softer blows
and how the harder ones felt as though someone had
thrown very cold water over my lungs. And I could
feel myself squirming against the mattress and I
think in my dreaming I was squirming against my
blankets. But I couldn't imagine actually crying or
begging to be held, so the fantasy sort of
unraveled and I woke up and lay in my blankets
for a long time, thinking about it. Because these
are the sort of things I usually imagine doing to
others, and I enjoy the thought of doing this to
someone; how their bodies would jerk at the blows,
the sensual wetness of their arousal and tears and
of comforting them after. But this was something I
had imagined as someone doing to me. And I am discomforted by it.