WALK IN, BEAT HIM, LEAVE.

Last week I booked into a hotel room, lay on the bed and waited for an unknown Mistress. My earlier Sinful Sunday post described the unnatural stillness of the moments before and after the beating she gave me.  As happens sometimes, it’s taken me a while for me to rationalise my responses to the session itself.

We’re no more than five or ten minutes into it, though long enough for me to know that this is going to be very hard, when a frightening thought pushes its way up from my subconscious:

“She wants to hurt me.”

I mean: of course she wants to hurt me! She’s a Dominatrix, I’m a masochist and this is a corporal punishment session. What is more, she’s been told she can leave marks on me.

But not all hurt is created equal.

She’s taken something long and thin but very dense (a delrin cane perhaps) and hit me hard, right on the patch of baby-soft skin under my buttocks. Last time Elita did this she said sorry and gave it a rub! With the mystery Mistress it is followed by another blow in exactly the same place then one even lower, directly onto the top of my thighs. Somehow, in 20 years of seeing Mistresses, I’ve never been hit there before.

“She wants to hurt me a lot!”

All my worst fears for this session resurface:

“Elita’s told her I can take a lot, but Elita doesn’t see many CP enthusiasts”.

“This Mistress sees those guys in the videos with blood running down their legs; she thinks I’m one of them”.

and, of course, the biggest fear of all: “I won’t be able to take it; I’ll have to wimp out”.

I bite into the pillow, eyes screwed tight under the blindfold. My subconscious pushes the loathed safe word into my head, and makes me promise to call a stop after the next blow. But as she hits me again I hear a noise from the back of her throat mixed with her out-breath. It’s not a moan exactly but it’s there for sure. I hear it with the stroke after that too.

Oh Jesus, she’s turned on. And, as with Elita, the hottest scenario for me, the scenario that will guarantee I let her take me to the very edge and push me over, is when it’s hot for her.

So of course I take it all. I take all the implements she’s brought to hurt me with.

I take her thick leather strap; I take her flogger; I take all kinds of canes. I take the heavy wooden clothes brush that was kindly left in the room by the hotel management. I even take the hideous short, thick whip (it’s called a sting – in the centre of the image) or at least I try to. It’s a truly brutal implement and I think she senses I’m really struggling with it.

But I take her sensuality too. She hits me quite softly between the shoulder blades with her weighty flogger then trails the tails slowly down my back and the over-sensitized skin of my backside. It’s a supremely sensual act. When she does it again I can’t stop myself arching into it.

At the end she canes me. She canes me and canes me again; hard, stinging blows, one after the other. But I’ve found the safe place inside myself, the place where I relish the pain rather than fear it. I raise my head and turn it towards her, letting my excitement sound in my breathing just as hers does. It feels more like sex then punishment and, as wave after wave of pain flows though me, I feel her sadism and my masochism connect and dance with each other.  

I’m actually sorry when it ends.

After she left I lay still for a long time, letting my breathing slow, relishing the delicious soreness and sensing the empty space created by her departure. She must, I thought to myself, be very experienced to have taken me so far, working only from Elita’s pre-session input and my own wordless responses.

I wonder if what I wrote chimes with the mystery Mistress at all, or if the eroticism and the sensuality of our interchange, the connection between us, was all in my head. Now I know who she was, I could call her and say: “Hey, you remember that big guy in the hotel bedroom last Friday? How was it for you?”

But then she would be just that bit less mysterious.

 

No name for the envelope!

I now know that the mystery Mistress was the very beautiful  The Lady Lola whom Mistress Elita had recently photographed. I find the idea of these two outstandingly beautiful women plotting my downfall as one photographs the other very enticing!

More Wednesday Wickedness here: