SEX AND VIOLENCE – violence as sex

By | 17th May 2016

This session was never really meant to happen. It was, after all, only a week since an outrageously kinky threesome. However, that session had left me highly charged and wanting to push myself. Also I had the perfect opportunity; an afternoon flight to a week of overseas business meetings. If I was to end up with physical or mental bruises, I would be away from home.

Mistress Elita agreed to a short ‘on the way to the airport’ session. I had suggested her beautiful apartment but she gave me an address. At the allotted time I stood, nerves dancing, outside an anonymous door waiting for instructions.

dungeon dark

I was feeling …….. well, this is how I was feeling:

I am scared, slightly sick. A strong black Americano coffee is running through my veins, mixing with a Venti Adrenalino with an extra shot of Adrenaline. The combination has me nervous and twitchy.

 I walk up a flight of stairs and through a door that opens as I approach. The room is black, not just dark but totally black. Strong hands grab me and push me hard back against a wall. I am in the scene immediately, breathing fast, dislocated, fear spiking. I am stripped. A totally enclosing face mask is put on, I guess so she can turn on the lights, but I see nothing. Just blackness. I pick up a metallic smell like a garage workshop, that mixes with the smell of my own fear. The hands guide me to a leather covered bench and push me onto it. Straps are pulled tight across my calves and thighs. More straps over my body. My hands are pulled backwards and strapped near my thighs. My heart is pounding. I try to take deep breaths to steady myself, close to panic. This is full-on bondage; any attempt to move is met only with the creak of a tight leather strap. Everything is still totally black. I am disorientated and have no sense of where I am. I hear the unmistakable swish of a cane in the air. So she’s going to cane me.  Cold. In all this blackness. Oh Shit!

She did cane me, and it was very difficult to cope with. The fact that my other senses, my sight, my hearing, were almost dormant seemed to leave my whole consciousness to focus on the shafts of pain as they penetrated the dark. I tried to soak it up, to breathe with it, but it was too soon in the session, the disorientation was too extreme. I lost control of my reactions and cried out, wanting to bite into the leather of the bench.

She moved me to a leather covered, metal flogging frame and locked my hands to it, above my shoulders. Her 9 tailed leather whip, a fearsome weapon, shot across my backside, harder and harder as she got the measure of it. Then something sharper with even more bite. Incredibly demanding, it had me gasping and pushing into the frame to get away from it. It could only have been a bullwhip

With almost no pause she started on a prolonged whipping with a heavy, leather tailed flogger on the thin, sensitive skin of my back. The force she used built and built until I was sure she must be swinging the whip with her whole body. The weight of it thudded across my back, feeling as though she was removing a layer of skin with each stroke. My body crashed into the leather covered frame each time she hit me.

She built the pain in layers, like an artist adding layers to a painting; keeping me just one layer below what would be intolerable. Only a few months ago this treatment would have been way beyond my limits.

But through it all I am becoming very conscious of Elita herself, as much as of what she is doing. Her breathing has changed. She is working hard but I sense something beyond mere exertion. She is turned on. This extreme violence is her thing as well as mine and she is finding this hot. I, who surely can have no power here, find this empowering. So when I hear her reach, one final time, for her cane I push my bruised and sore backside away from the frame, showing that I am ready for her. Using every last vestige of self-control, I barely move as Elita lands stroke after stroke; swinging her cane so hard that I can hear her effort. I just want to suck up everything she throws at me…

Because now, I feel strong and powerful.

Because now, I know there will be no safe word.

Because now, I will let her cane me and cane and cane me again.


And although I hurt all over and rivers of pain run through my body, I feel in control.  I know what she wants and I’m giving it to her. I’m going to keep on giving it to her until she’s a sweaty mess and her body runs with adrenaline. I’m going to give it to her until she can’t take any bloody more!

When she had finally had enough, and I was panting and gasping into the leather of the flogging frame, she came up behind me and leant her body along the length of mine, touching me everywhere from my calves to my shoulders. She was a light, soothing pressure against my aching backside and the hot, sensitive skin of my back. She stayed still there for a while and I knew – I knew for sure – that it had all been worth it.

Because this was MY Mistress and I had truly satisfied her.

At that moment I felt deeply connected to Elita. As her submissive? Yes, totally. But being her submissive had not meant demeaning myself, or sacrificing my needs in order to satisfy hers. This had felt like an act of mutual gratification. Her dominance and my submission had meshed perfectly in this session, each of us taking from it what we needed. It had been an amazing experience.

For all its electric intensity, not a single word had been spoken during the whole session.

It had all taken just 30 minutes! Within a couple more minutes, I was dressed, out of the door and into a pre-ordered cab.

But it is not so easy to walk away from something so intense.

We had planned not to communicate until I landed at my destination but, when I was at the airport, she reached out to me by text to see if I was alright. I felt a damn of pent up emotion burst somewhere inside me and I caught myself shaking and crying big silent tears. Six foot, 50 something, business man that I am, I was sat in the airport lounge crying like a baby as the intensity of it all came flooding back.

I’m swallowing hard and blinking a bit now.

One thought on “SEX AND VIOLENCE – violence as sex

  1. Mr Fantasy

    Wow. Just wow. I can only dream of this. One day, maybe, one day.


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