Before every session I send an email letter to the Mistress. It’s main purpose is to lay out any thoughts I might have about the session; things I might like to try, things I might like to avoid. It might be a detailed description of a scene I would like to enact or it might simply say: “I am in your hands.” Sometimes I want her to assault me as soon as I walk in the door; sometimes I want it to be slow and erotic. Whatever it says, the letter always starts the countdown to the session itself.
I’ve decided to write the letter for my next session as a blog post. Here it is:
I would like to confirm our meeting on Thursday afternoon. As we agreed, this is just going to be a short session in the hotel. I would like to revisit the “man lying on a bed, she walks in, beats him, leaves” session; the session without any communication. We both got such a kick out of this scene last time we played it out. This type of session has been much in my mind lately as I posted a story based on it, but adding a submissive, making it a very switchy set-up. I had thought I might recruit a submissive so we could play out that exact scene, but decided just to focus on the one to one dynamic.
This session has the added frisson that an hour after you’ve gone I will be at a black tie dinner. I relish the challenge of dealing with the sudden change of setting and conversing with a bunch of city types through the haze of subspace, feeling your marks as I move in my chair.
So what am I looking for? It’s been a while since our “kicking the hornets’ nest” session and the caning you gave me then. I’ve thought about that scene and my reactions to it a great deal. So, while I could dress this up, what I think I need is a beating. I always find it difficult to ask for this as the wimp in me gets in the way but I would like you to beat me out of my current somewhat lethargic mood and into the clear-minded subspace that I reached last time.
I want you to feel free to beat me until either you’ve had enough, you think I’ve had enough, or I bale out, whichever comes first.
After all, Mistress, if you’ve been dragged across London for just half an hour, it would be a shame for you to leave thinking you could have given me more. That would be a real shame.
Now of course the countdown begins, my mind switching from ‘everyday’ mode to ‘pre-session’ mode as soon as I have pressed ‘send’ on the email. I’m going to go through stages with it, each stage recognisable and with it’s own symptoms:
Regret: Why would I ask for something so extreme. What was I thinking?
Resignation: Well I can’t cancel now; it’s too close, not fair on her. Might as well try and be ready for it
Excitement: Shit! This is really going to happen. Adrenaline starting to build up as my body prepares for what is now inevitable, certain, unavoidable. The session dominates my thoughts. I feel wide awake, hyper sensitive to what is happening around me. I feel alive.
Preparation: The journey to the hotel. Book in. Check the time. Something to eat. Money in the envelope. Check the time. Leave a key at reception so she can walk straight in. Shower. Get the bed ready. Check the time.
Fear: Mind on the extreme sensations coming my way. NO, forget ‘sensations;’ this isn’t going to be ‘sensations’, extreme or otherwise. This is going to pain. Lots of pain. Waves of pain. I know she’s going to push me. I know I’m going to push myself. It will be close to the edge, this one. Limits explored. All without feedback. How will she know when I’ve had enough?
Fight or flight: Lying on the bed, pillows raising my backside. Waiting. The body’s ancient defence mechanisms all up and running, blood drawn into the centre, heart pounding; my breathing deep to maximise the oxygen available for the ordeal. It’s primeval, visceral to be this much in touch with my body.
Three: Text saying she’s on her way to the lift. Blindfold on
Two: The sound of her key in the door
One: Deep breath; let it out slowly
Will I be ready?
More, though perhaps less terrifying, wickedness here: