You little… (talking dirty)

“I’m going to hurt you and you’re going to ask for more, like the submissive little pain slut you are.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir. That’s what I want, Sir.”

American submissive Katie was kneeling in front of me at the start of our hotel bedroom session, added to the calendar to replace a session she had to cancel due to a leaky bathroom.

I already knew she liked me to talk this way to her, but it doesn’t come naturally. My upbringing, my reserve, my natural bloody niceness always get in the way. But Katie’s reaction to these words was strong, all wide eyes and open mouth. Having rushed into the session all work-hassled and without a plan, it now formed in my mind.

I was going to talk dirty to her.

I was going to be the badass, vicious Dom, the one that wanted to hurt her and didn’t really care how she was feeling about it.

This was going to be a consensual non-consent session, and it was going to be edgy as fuck.

Katie still kneeling, I pull her forward and sideways so she’s leaning against my thighs, bend her over them and spank her, slowly at first then harder and faster. I spank her till she is vocalising the pain of each blow. Pausing, I touch the front of her knickers. Feeling the wet heat of her through the thin material, I run my finger through the valley of her labia and over her clitoris. Just once. She moans and, as I take my finger away, she chases after it with her needy cunt.

Katie is always so fucking responsive. So wanting. 

“Thank you, Sir!”

“You can thank me when I’ve fucking finished.”

I pull her over again and spank her some more.

By these actions the tenor for the session was firmly set. This was how it would be; no quarter given, none asked for. I was going to hurt her; I was going to make her come like making her come was a punishment and then I was going to hurt her again. I was all adrenaline now, scared by the knowledge of what I was going to do; scared by the fact that I had this session in me.

I make her stand and push her back up against the wall. I put bitey little pegs on her nipples, and grab her flogger. I mean, only a real shit would flog the breasts  of someone wearing pegs on her nipples, right? I stare into Katie’s eyes the whole time, relying on my peripheral vision for the aim. She holds my gaze when she isn’t trying to shake away the impact. She lets me see the pain of it in her eyes, but it’s mixed with defiance, daring me to hit her again. And I do hit her again, one side then the other. It’s fucking intense to do this and my heart’s in my mouth. I’ve been where she is and I know it fucking hurts. Eventually I drop the whip, grab her collar and tighten it onto her throat, using it to hold her against the wall while my fingers slip into her knickers and fuck her.

“Come for me you fucking little tart. Show me what a little slut you are and fucking come all over my hand.” And she does come, writhing and twisting until, as she orgasms, her legs collapse and I’m holding her whole weight by the hand at her throat and the one in her cunt. 

“You little slut” I breathe in her ear.

“You’re a slut” she comes back to me with.

“So that’s the game you want to play is it? You should be careful what you fucking wish for.”

I turn her round, grab the flogger and beat her with it, as hard as I can again and again then spin her round and put her back up against the wall and wrestle another orgasm out of her. She comes fast and hard, legs buckling again.

This was all so much that I  felt I had to check in with her. I passed her a glass of wine so she could sip it.

“You having fun yet”

“Oh, fuck, are you kidding? That was so fucking hot.”

She’s over the bed, a pillow under her stomach. A length of leather strap, bit of weight to it; heavy, thick leather. Back over my shoulder and the length of it falls hard across her buttocks. Twice. She yells. I run a finger over her clitoris just once, like before. Other side of the bed. Wrap the strap across her arse again, leaving a thick red stripe each time. Touch her clitoris again, just enough to make her moan with need. Next two are harder; really hard. Touch her. Two more. Touch her. Two more. She’s so desperate to come, writhing each time I touch her. Instead of letting her do so, I give her a proper beating with the strap, ten, twelve, fifteen strokes in quick succession, laying one mark on top of the other, concentrating the impact; hurting her because, today, I am one mean son of a bitch, and that’s what I want to do. 

Then I’m inside her, fucking her, taking what’s mine, hand pulling her collar tight round her neck. It’s a punishment fuck, no sensitivity to it; harsh, violent; slapping her sore, bruised arse as I do. I rip one last orgasm out of her, as is entirely my fucking due. 

Katie’s reaction to this? She was laughing, smiling, grateful. She took my cock in her mouth and helped me to my own gasping, shuddering orgasm and lay with me through the aftershocks. We laughed and touched and marvelled at what we had done.

Consensual non-consent. Edgy as fuck.

It might seem that there is no intimacy in this kind of play but, for me, the intimacy is in the trust, and there was so much trust in this:

Katie has to trust me, that much is obvious; she really has to trust me.

But I have to trust Katie too. I have to trust her to let me know where she is, to tell me if she’s in trouble.

And I have to trust myself. I have to know that, lost in the scene as I was, 10% of me was left standing by the door, watching, just making sure we were all still OK with what was happening.

I messaged Katie later: “Thank you so much, Katie. It always feels like you give me all of yourself in our sessions and I love that.

She came back: “I do always give you all of myself. I feel safe with you, so I can, and I adore it.”

She’s a special case, Katie ….. the submissive little pain slut.