JUST A BEATING

My last session with Mistress Elita won’t leave me, popping into my mind at unexpected moments.

What was it that made it so special?

It was as simple a session as you could imagine. She picked up a key I’d left at reception and rode the lift to the fourth floor. Coming into my room, she found me on the bed, naked and blindfolded, took her implements out of her bag and beat me with them until she decided I had had enough. Afterwards, we shared a hug and a cup of tea and she left.

Surely anyone could have delivered that session! “Walk in and whack him with some CP implements!” Mistressing doesn’t get easier than that, does it? But it was more, much more than that. It had  rhythm and flow, it had intimacy and connection, it had agony and ecstasy.

She followed a beating on my arse with one on my back.

She followed a heavy, thuddy implement with a sharp stingy one.

She followed a whipping that had taken me to the very limits of my endurance, with a gentle massage with a light oil until I settled again.

She followed a caning that was hard, fast and violent, and that I could barely process, with another identical caning. She knew, she absolutely knew, that the second caning would push me over the edge and she absolutely knew, as only my Mistress could possibly know, that in this session, in this moment, 18 months after the first time she made me cry, that was the right thing to do.

She followed all the pain with time to recover from it. “Relax and enjoy it” she said, “let it go!” barely touching me as I cried my tears of release into the pillow and took whole minutes to come back from the distant place where she had sent me. 

After that period of stillness, she gave me a long, body to body hug. She offered me praise and congratulations, mixing in light chat full of memories of past sessions and ideas for new ones. I felt so close to her; my Mistress, my Dominatrix, my friend.

How deep must she have seen into my soul to put this session together.

“Walk into the room and beat me” had been my request. She had done so, but this was so much more than that: nuances of intimacy and connection; moments of violence and stillness; peaks of pain and pleasure.

This was…. this was fucking perfect and I cant get how perfect it was out of my head.

Here’s a little of example of how depth was added to this session. Near the end, building up to the final caning, Elita prised open my hands and put the cane into them. I couldn’t see it but was suddenly aware of its thickness and its weight. I knew immediately I was in trouble and a shot of adrenaline surged through my veins. I started breathing deeply, desperately trying to prepare myself for what was about to happen. It was a small thing but full of meaning.