The Art of Foot Torture and Bastinado Pain

Falaka was forgiving me

When I woke up, I saw my Master sitting in the terrace.

Gorgeous… It was an exceptionally warm and beautifully smelling spring day. I sat across him. I was thinking more transparently. The chaos residing in me was nodding off somewhere. The man I belong to… My Master… I didn’t know whether it was triumph or pride, but it was a very strong feeling that mingled in my soul. My life up to that moment was swiftly flashing before my eyes. But I didn’t care about any value or tragedy. The woman at the terrace across was persistently doing cleaning. It was as if a déjà vu coming from the past was sparking in my mind. This day was not the same as the previous one. Yet everything but that madly precise woman had changed. It was as if I had grown up between those two days. Actually it’s not the exact expression. My Master had carried me, healed my purulent wounds and created me all over again as an utterly different person.

In that moment, my eyes brimmed with tears but I had already cried enough. I wasn’t even panicked. I really liked the new me. I was sealed to my Master in a much stronger way. Now nothing in the world could withhold me from him. All these were swiftly crossing my mind. That day, I was going to get bastinado punishment for the second time. This time, I wasn’t excited. I was filled with desire. I was surprised with myself for this desire. My soles were asking for it very badly. But there was something different this time. I would talk to you during the shooting.

I wasn’t even able to put together the proper words. They were all in my mind but couldn’t reach to my mouth. I wish there were loudspeakers in me and you could hear me. We went to that room again. My feet would run to that place if they could.

I was still surprised at how much I liked bastinado…

But when the camera was turned on, I forgot how to talk. My Master told me to speak as if I was pouring my heart to a friend. But I couldn’t. My excitement was suppressing everything. In that moment, my soul was running to be forgiven in all that selfishness, to wear innocence. But just two days ago, my Master had rubbed my nose in the fact that I wasn’t innocent. I knew my true colors too. But falaka was forgiving me. You will see my pain while watching me. You will hear my voice turning childish because of the level of pain. Yet here there is an outcry far bigger than pain. I am returning to my Master the pain that I had been running from for years… Here there is a body being blessed, which will be forgiven at every step… I wouldn’t be punished that day, had I manage to tell you all these. I couldn’t talk. My Master would always express his anger about this. He tied me on a reversed coffee table. I asked for the mouth gag I had used the other day. There were marks of my lipstick on it. I embraced this gag, with which I shared my power. And I had told my Master where it hurts most.

I was shaking. It wasn’t because I was scared, but I couldn’t help it. It must have been the tone of my Master’s voice. In that position, you can think of neither food nor water. You are at the hands of your Master. He is the one who will bring in the verdict. He can even behead you if he desires. You are prepared for everything. You can do nothing but standing petrified. There are unfavorable probabilities in every moment of your life. And our bodies are full of ancestral instinctive doubts even when civilization, technology and science minimize these probabilities during evolution. Your id is surrounded by these doubts. Even if I didn’t give a chance to this primitive id of mine, it was possible for it to catch me. But I had so much faith in my Master that it wasn’t even possible for me to die.

I was astonished and stupid. I saw myself for the first time after many years. I felt pity for myself as I had turned my back on myself. As a matter of fact, I had inflicted pain on myself in helpless conditions.

My Master had apprehended my pain channels on my soles, especially right below my toes, where I was trying to protect. I was screaming but not because of pain but because of strange sensations that the pain confronted me with. On top of that, the reason of this punishment was that I hadn’t talked. I was angry at myself.

‘Did you lose your tongue? What was that about!’ (That’s how I was reprehending myself)

I had to count until 100.

Pomegranate had fallen into 1000 pieces. I loved a piece of myself that was far apart. On the other hand, I was killing a part of myself. A Pomegranate aril was counting with her agonized voice.

But I was dominating over 100 pieces of myself. There was so much of me. I was so much full of life… For a moment, the pain on my soles increased so much that it prevented the torment I suffered for my spiritual pain. My body, which has never bent or pleaded, just moved away.

Now I was begging… First you feel shame, but then you remember that he is everything you have and you no longer have that simple and vulgar incentive called shame. I was trying to move away my feet where it hurt most, but my Master was warning me. I decided to offer my pain to my Master. No matter how much it hurt, I was struggling to prevent my reflexes and hold those parts where it hurt most… And surprise…

The parts where it hurt most were associated with part which flied butterflies in my stomach as if I was in love. It was like a crazy little child was discovered there, falling in love. I couldn’t help crying. Who was crying was a different Pomegranate. It was the Pomegranate that sheltered us all…

The whole Pomegranate, sheltering Pınar…

When it was 90, my Master told me that the last 10 lashes would hurt terribly. He would count the lashes. When I heard ten, I saw a light at the size of a bird eye, at the end of my dark tunnel. We had come to the end of this time. I was like wise person who gained power, loved the dark but reached to light by ripping it apart. I wouldn’t even care if someone told me the secret of life. I got to know myself in all naked aspects. The last 10 lashes hurt more than I anticipated. The pain loved me so much… That the pain bundled me up created a strange landslip in me. Something in me was continuously flowing.

Then came the 100th lash. It was like there was hot water bag, tied to my ankles. I was feeling my feet like two enormous limbs. I tried to stand up, but my master ordered me to crouch.

‘Come after me on all fours! Just like a dog…’

He started to walk towards the room.

I followed my Master like a happy dog, wiping my tears. He ordered me to take off underwear, get up and put my arms on the bed.

My legs were shaking as I was trying to stand on my feet. My Master started to fuck my contracted pussy. It hurt, because I was so tense. Meanwhile, he was lashing my back with the strap of the bag.

He would get one of my legs up, grab my ankle and poke my sole with his nails. I was so close to orgasm that I started shaking. My contractions would push my Master out of me.

My Master hit the strap so hard that my happiness was deleted from my memory. I psychologically got myself closer to orgasm until my Master cum. I was thinking about my soles. During this intercourse, blood came out of my pussy. I think it was because I contracted myself. I couldn’t make out what it happened. My soles had the feeling of touching sea water after waking on hot sand. I took fetus position and slept for a long time. My Master went out during this time. I had been so tired that I couldn’t hear the phone even though he called many times.

My Master woke me up when he came back. He thought that my fatigue and deep sleep stemmed from the fact that I couldn’t eat much for days because of my stomachache. Time to go out, Pınar.

We went out to streets of X city where there were very interesting license plates… where there were interesting statues in the parks. I really loved that place.

I was grateful to my Master. That house was private for him and he showed kindness to take me in there. I can’t tell how proud I felt. I thought I should be more worthy of this. He never hurt me. Even when I behaved spoiled because of my involuntary female incentives, he warned me without crushing and exhausting me. I belong to such a great-hearted Master and my dear soles were hearting as I was walking. My soles that belong to my Master…

These beautiful days would end a day after. Chaos of life would separate us for a while. But my soul? It wasn’t possible for my soul to be away from my Master. As my tongue got loose, we had quite a chat while eating hamburger. I wanted to tell my Master how much I liked bastinado. What I experienced with him really impressed me. I kept telling him how astonished I was.

I was trying to present my Master the new me that I had met.

Though, he already knew that me ever since he first met me…

I admired my Master because he was the one who knew me the most… knew who I am and who I am going to be. My family, my siblings and friends. What they knew was the other Pınar. Maybe they were blind. I was ready for years. But they never got to know me. If there is one thing I want to acquire from my Master, it is humanity. He is so benevolent that he loves people without categorizing, distinguishing or discriminating them. I had never managed to do that and sulked against everything… even myself.

Now, it was the beginning of a new era. Dark ages would end for me. Maybe people are actually nice. I saw a very beautiful statue in the park. There was a wind instrument in its hands. It was sculptured by an Italian artist. It impressed me a lot.

Then we started to walk home.

My Master allowed me to touch his warm body and massage him. But I repeated same usual mistakes and deserved bastinado. He would lash my soles with the iron side of the strap. I was smiling at first but it wasn’t possible to keep that way. I started to cry like a baby again. I think what cleansed me most was the fact that I could cry when I was with my Master. My master ordered me to count the lashes and then say “I am sorry Master.” As the iron side of the strap inflicted that pain, I was screaming with the pain of my soles and shame of my mistakes. And this caused my Master to start all over again. Moving my feet away was another reason. I begged my Master to clean his feet and be his toilet paper. My punishment continued but then he accepted my pleading and I started cleaning his feet. When I cleaned his feet up, I started serving as a toilet paper and I licked my Master with my tongue.

Now it was 5 o’clock.

I never liked the clocks.

Stupid hours were passing by. I would ask for another bastinado session if I thought it wouldn’t tire my Master.

Bastinado could even stop the time. But there was no need for impudence. What my Master constantly tried to teach me was PATIENCE. I nestled up against him and feel asleep. Sometimes I woke up and watched him. I lolled against him when back was cold. I covered myself with my Master. It’s horrible but I wanted to eat him just over there (I am so sorry, my Master).

These feelings that I just experienced were affecting me in a very distinctive way.

I put my nose on my Master’s chin. I regulated my breath in a way that I would inhale as he did and keep his wine-smelling breath living inside my lungs. I fell asleep just like that.
 
 

 
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