I like to switch. My masochism is what really drives my kink but playing the other way is exciting, erotic and emotionally rewarding. This is why I came to be in the kinky theme park that is London Dungeon Hire, planning to introduce Miss S* to the delights of sensual submission and spanking. It turned into quite an experience; certainly for me and I think possibly for both of us.
I sent her to find a strap, a wooden paddle and a cane. Her concerned look said: “Woah! I didn’t agree to this!” but she was happier when I told her they were for me. However, when I explained that I planned to spank her three times, each spanking earning her the chance to beat me with one implement, she became nervous again.
The following couple of hours were a sensual, sexual, emotional experience of coruscating intensity. Here is an imaginary letter to Miss S thanking her for the session (there is a link to her wonderful reply at the end of the post):
Dear S
I can see you now, so beautiful when you enter The Throne Room, so nervous. I love that you meekly kneel in front of me, allowing me to put cuffs on your wrists and ankles, while I explain the session and its rules. You seem to slip naturally into submission, giving no sense of this being a performance, giving me confidence in what I have planned.
I can see you now, kneeling with your head in my chest, trying to handle the unfamiliar pain of the nipple clips. I reach behind to smack your bottom, your little yelps an inducement to continue. I feel your kisses then your teeth at my nipples. Your first orgasm comes fast and hard, taking me by surprise.
I can see you now, stretched by the ropes, blindfolded. My hands are touching, squeezing, stroking then giving stinging taps with a crop. My suede flogger moves the air across your backside before smacking it hard. Denied the warning that sight would give you, your reactions to the sensations are sudden and panicked. I flog your back lightly, exploring the boundary between your pleasure and your pain. I let it wrap onto your perfect breasts, watching intently for your reactions, knowing this will be alarming, needing to know you can deal with it. Your whole body stiffens when I let it float up between your legs to kiss you lightly in the most sensitive place of all. I let you sip champagne and pop fresh raspberries and chocolate into your mouth.
I can see you now, when I announce Spanking No 2, your body shaking in anticipation of it. It’s intensely erotic to see you this nervous but I feel so responsible for you. To push forwards or pull back? I place a reassuring hand on your shoulder and push on, spanking you firmly until you are twisting and turning against the rope. I slip my hand into your panties, rubbing your clitoris with one hand, spanking you with the other until your orgasm breaks over you like a wave and pulls you under. Eventually I circle you in my arms and kick us both to the surface, where we gasp in the reviving air, laughing as only survivors laugh. There is more Champagne, raspberries and chocolate.
I can see you now, the tension in the room mounting as I strap you down hard to the bench. I’m as nervous as you are. This is spanking No 3 and to make any sense it has to be more, but your reactions to No 2 were so strong, on the edge of distress. You’re so scared. “You OK to go on?” I whisper in your ear. You nod but your eyes are wide. You fight the pain of my spanking all the way through, never giving in but never winning. I regret promising six with the strap. Lining up the first blow with it, your breathing still fast from the spanking, your fear a palpable thing, I have a sick feeling in my stomach as if it were me on the bench.
And suddenly I understand. I understand all of it.
My need to hurt you…. My need to protect you
Your fear of the strap….Your trust in me
In this still moment these conflicting forces stand in perfect balance, like a ball resting, impossibly, on a spike.
Might this be the very essence of Dominance and Submission?
I pause for a few seconds, enjoying the perfection of the moment, then hit you with the strap. You yell. I hit you again. You yell louder. A third blow. I can see this is your limit just as it is mine but we make it to six. Then I’m all wonder and praise; touching, kissing, stroking; bringing us both down slowly. Leaving you over the bench I make love to you, your final orgasm, with me inside you, feeling like a gift.
To introduce you to these things was such a privilege. Although you were a relative novice in BDSM, I’d spanked you and flogged you; I’d hurt you and even left marks on your beautiful skin. And yet what you said afterwards, as we drank wine and chatted, touched me deeply.
What you said was: “Thank you for looking after me”.
Thank you for your trust and for the gift of your submission.
Yours affectionately and in wonder,
B1
After all the spanking and flogging I had meted out, Miss S’ words: “Thank you for looking after me” might seem a bizarre paradox to many. Yet some of my own most emotionally effecting BDSM experiences have come from being hurt to the limits of my endurance by someone who is simultaneously taking great care of me. I love the thought that, in my hands, she may have found her way to that same place.
*Note: I have played with Miss S a couple of times with Mistress Elita, but this was the first time we had played alone and the first time she had fully experienced the submissive role. She has written a very personal piece on her experience (which is here, along with a very special Sinful Sunday image) and doesn’t want to be booked as a submissive. For this reason she has asked my not to use her real name on this post.
“Thank you for looking after me”
These words are so beautiful and so striking and makes this piece of writing even more special than it already was. I loved reading about the interaction between you and S.
Rebel xox
I think for me the ‘fear’ element is not about him but about the implement itself and pain it will bring and I look to him to help me through it, to manage it, to take it, knowing he will look after me and so I can totally understand Miss S’ response
Mollyx
Molly, your comment is on the money, as always; to the extent that I have changed ‘fear of me’ to ‘fear of the strap’ because I do believe that, in that moment her fear was of the pain, not of the giver of it.
xx