OVERCOMING THE TABOO – KOTW

Anal sex: taboo, dirty, unnatural, filthy. I am, more accurately I ‘was’, a bit of a prude with this. I struggled for years with the idea of what is a staple of many people’s Domme/Sub sessions and turned it down on many occasions in my early BDSM life.

However I hate to interrupt a session part way through so I started to accept the occasional mild excursion into anal play: a finger or small dildo used as part of a session; always as a sensual rather than painful component. Gradually I started to find it surprising, enjoyable, and intimate. I got over my inate reluctance and on a couple of occasions had enjoyed being penetrated with a smallish strap-on.

Last year I met Mistress Elita , an experienced and beautiful mistress and, anal play having by now been removed from my list of pre-session hard limits, she had decided I was fair game. She had decided in fact to show me the difference between ‘anal play’ and ‘hard fucking’ in an experience that left me shaken up for days. Here is how it played out:

We are two thirds of the way though our session and, recognising that I am in the hands of an expert, I feel relaxed and turned on. The session has switched backwards and forwards between the challenging and the sensual, exactly as I like it. She whispers in my ear, “Now I’m going to fuck you”. I enjoy the ritual of being tied down to a wide leather covered bench, then watching her prepare while feel a growing sense of anticipation. She starts with a finger and some lube. So far, so normal, so unthreatening. Then in stages she pushes her strap-on into me. I feel my body resisting and have to force myself to relax. “Take it,” she commands, “take it all,” moving in and out with increasing speed. This is new. This is unusual, scary and demanding. I can feel the end of the strap-on deep inside me. I let out a small moan as sensation turns to pain. Her response is to thrust harder, faster. Now I am moaning with each thrust, fighting to get on top of the sensation. I can feel her exertion, the physical effort of what she is doing. Her breathing, like mine, is short and fast. She adjusts her position so she can go deeper; it feels like she is deliberately pushing me to the safeword and I have it ready because I don’t think I can handle this. I am gripping the bench hard, fighting; each push taking me further beyond what I would have thought was my limit for this kind of treatment.

But this is not all about dominance, submission and pain. This feels like an intimate sex act; violent and aggressive, yes, but still intimate. We are both exerting ourselves to the limit for our mutual gratification. I sense that this is something she is doing for her pleasure as much as mine and I feel she is ‘in the moment’ in the same way that I am. The dynamic is very different from a normal session.

I don’t use the safe word and eventually she slows down and stops. We both get our breath back and the session continues. However Mistress Elita isn’t done with me yet. Later, when she leads me to the bed I assume that we are finished and I am in for a bit of after-care, a shower and home. She has me lie face down on the bed and before I realise that she has put it back on, her strap-on is inside me again thrusting hard. I am so sensitive from the first session that this feels brutal; feels, in fact, one of the most brutal things that has ever been done to me. I am gasping in exertion and pain. But through all the anguish I can feel her beautiful hands on my back. I can feel the front of her thighs moving against the back of mine. I want these sensations so I wrestle the safe word down once more, way over the pain/pleasure boundary but not wanting it to end.

When she stops I am wasted. I feel physically and emotionally raw and exposed. I am aware of having been taken to a new place: dark, difficult and incredibly intense and yet strangely rewarding. The session stays with me for days afterwards.

I saw Mistress Elita again, a couple of months later. In the middle of the session she offered me a choice: her strap-on or a caning. I had to think about it for a moment but chose the strap-on, swallowing nervously as I did so.

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