DarkstMyst

Why Being “Under Consideration” Should Never be Considered

               
Ok, rant alert.  There is going to be a lot of opinionated bitching up ahead.  You have been forewarned.  If you are “under consideration” you may want to shield your eyes from the following paragraphs, and if you are “considering” somebody, you may also wish to proceed with caution. First and foremost…why the hell do we use this term when we are talking about possible relationships in the lifestyle?! I have been told by people that they would like to put me “under consideration,” and I have also had submissives ask me if I would “consider them.”  It never sat right with me. I have put some thought into this and have figured out why it bothers me.  Allow me to explain why this term angers me so much.

               
Picture this, boys and girls…you are on your knee in front of your loved one.  As you look up into their beautiful eyes and your heart begins to swell with joy, you open up the box containing the precious ring you want to put on their finger.  Now imagine that you say in your most loving tone, “I am considering you for marriage.”  Whoa.  Wait a minute.  Did that moment lose some of its previous appeal? Why?  Ask yourself why you or perhaps your loved one may not like being told that.  Is it possible that it equates a relationship with something material, as if you are placing value (or lack thereof) onto a person?  Does it sound a little less than committed?

               
To “consider” something means you may or may not choose to go along with it.  You may say that you are considering buying a house or considering getting a new car.  You may consider what you want to have for dinner or consider going to see a movie.  If you are considering your relationship, it means you may or may not go ahead with it.  Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying that you are not sure you want to commit or invest in that person?  Why not just be honest with yourself and them and say, “Hey, I’m not sure this is for me.  I like you and we can be friends but I don’t really want anything official until I get to know you. Let’s just see where this goes.”  Now don’t tell me that putting “under consideration” is to ward off other potentials.  “Considering somebody” to me screams the exact opposite.  It means that there ARE other potential people out there.  It says you are NOT committed in any way.  It says to me that the person you are “considering” has not “proven their worth” to you or that you have not “proven your worth” to them.

              
 Do we really want to participate in an activity where some people feel so high and mighty that they can actually consider other people?  Are you such an awesome person with so many prospects that you simply can’t choose who is right for you? Do you not have time for everybody who wants a piece of you? Do you demand only the highest standards and find that you are picky? How is that behavior fair to the person or people you are considering?  Imagine that you are being considered and the person actually chooses not to go along with you.  How would that make you feel?  You have been relegated to a failure.  You have failed to be a good prospect for them.  You have not met their expectations for you or for a relationship.  Am I the only person that views this as completely demeaning?

               
I suppose you could say that in a D/s dynamic it has its place, but let’s face it.  People are not property.  They should not be viewed strictly as property.  People who identify as slaves in the lifestyle are still people.  When you liken a human to property I feel it borders on the abusive.  Some people may argue that being under consideration means that the person in question is being trained or perhaps may be a strong prospect for you.  I would challenge those people to think about what the definition of consideration really is. Do you think that it elevates that person to a respected position in your eyes? If you asked one of those people on a scale of 1-10 how committed they felt they were to the other person, where would they fall on the spectrum?  If they said a high number or even 10, then why aren’t they in a relationship or at least dating?  It just makes no sense to me.  I suppose somebody could argue that they are in a relationship or dating but they are not sure if they want a D/s relationship.  I say again, doesn’t that sound less than committed or as if you are devaluing the person?  What happens if you don’t feel they are a good match?

              
 Some of you may disagree with my views, and of course I am always open to respectful debate.  Maybe I have the wrong idea about this or perhaps somebody may view it in a completely different light.  Feel free to comment. 

Finding Peace Through BDSM

For a lot of my life I have felt as though control has been slipping through my fingers despite my futile attempts to grasp it. As a child I dealt with my father's alcoholism and the constant managing I felt I had to do of his life when I was the last child in the home. My siblings had grown and they had gotten away.  I, however, seemed trapped in an endless cycle.  I had a role reversal in many aspects. I, as a teen, had to grow up and care for my father when he could not care for himself. I knew he loved me, but it hurt to feel neglected.  I was tired of being lied to.  I felt as though there was nobody I could trust. “I’m just going out to get a movie.” He would say. At first, I would beg him not to go and just to stay home with me.  After that, I would ask if I could go with him.  I was always denied.  I cannot count the number of nights my mother was working late at the hospital and I had to stay home waiting for him to return from his trip to the liquor store; many nights I was left wondering if, in fact, he would return from his trip across town, driving while three sheets to the wind.

I also had the emotional burden of supporting my mother. There was the insecurity felt by my mother that in turn made me feel insecure. In a lot of ways, I had to be her rock and give her advice. There would be nights when she would cry and I would hold her. There were days when she wondered if she should leave my father and came to me for advice.  I felt detached from it all for so long.  I felt as though there was a void growing inside me…one that simply ate up all the emotions dumped into it.  I bottled myself up and deep down I buried the things that hurt.  I just didn’t want to feel.  The problem, of course, is that those things fester deep down inside of you. They stayed inside of me for a long, long time, and that wasn’t healthy.

Slowly but surely, this began to shape my world.  I became withdrawn and depressed.  It was hard for me to make friends or maintain any sort relationship with a person.  I didn’t trust people and I was insecure.  I felt that I was ugly and unworthy of love. My thoughts began to stray towards darker things. In my spare time to distract myself I began to research different aspects of kink.  I wasn’t sure why, but these things seemed to turn me on.  I wanted to experience all of the different sensations that came with play.  I wondered if perhaps it could mend some of my thinking about myself.  In an odd way, I felt that having a dominant personality around me might actually make me feel safe and wanted.

It was around that time that I decided I had to leave home. I had to recreate the person that I was.  I left my home and came to college halfway across the nation. Bit by bit, I began to heal, and while doing this, I met more and more people that brought out the good in me.  My relationship with my father and my mother began to improve.  I was lucky to meet people in college who could bring me into the scene and allow me to experience all of the things I had always wanted to try.  I have grown over the years and have evolved into my own person. Now that I am an adult, I have my own life to maintain. There are bills to be paid, work to do, relationships to maintain, goals to achieve, and things that have to be set on the back burner.

         
What does submission or BDSM have to do with all of this? Now after over 14 years in the scene I realize that for me, it is a release.  It is a cathartic purge of everything that I have inside of me.  It is the time when I uncork that bottle and simply let things flow out of it.  When I submit, I feel as though that is finally my chance to put trust in somebody else.  I can hand over the reins and believe them when they step up (perhaps not verbally, but metaphorically) and say, "I got this." I don’t feel as though I have to carry all that weight around anymore.  I can be my true self and simply let go.

           
The first time that I had a scene, it was something very simple.  A little bit of bondage and a light flogging.  The percussive hits of the flogger felt like a massage to me and I found myself relaxing.  I began to notice that I could find a space in my head where I could escape to; a place that felt like there was nothing inside of it except for my top, my sensations, and I.  Over time, I began to experiment with other things.  My fetish list began to expand. The first time that I was fully restrained and had somebody use a knife on me was one of the most intense experiences I have had.  Up until that point I had always considered knife play a soft limit and even then I didn’t know how I may handle it.  During that particular scene, I was terrified and yet completely trusting of the person. We had not discussed beforehand that it would happen, so it took me by complete surprise.  I knew that he would not harm me, but I had some extreme feelings of fear and danger.  I was babbling incoherently, begging, holding my breath, squeezing my eyes shut…though nothing bad happened.  Everything, for the most part, had been in my head. My head is what had held me back in the first place from wanting to try knife play. When it was over, I felt elated and on an adrenaline high.  I realized that I could master my own fear and control my anxiety.  I had learned to trust, and it was wonderful. 

When I am in pain or when I cry, it seems as though all the bad within me is oozing out of the surface.  I imagine I am sloughing off everything negative.  When a scene is over I feel like I am cleansed.  I feel beautiful and elated. Without this side of my life, I am not sure how I would fully express everything that I have inside.  I know now when I have to cry.  I know when life is getting to be a bit too much and I know how to let go. I have always said that I have never felt more free than when I am in chains; have never felt more safe than when I am afraid; have never felt more liberated than when I was pushed to my limits; and have never felt more loved than when I am being dominated by another. My submission is beautiful to me. It is something I would never give up. When I am deep within a scene, I can finally feel at peace.

What am I into? A lot depends on you.

               
I was having a conversation a little while back with a good friend of mine about “negotiating” scenes.  He and I both agreed that we never really felt negotiation was necessary; that you needed more to sit down with a person and just talk with them…see what makes them tick, so to speak.  Of course a rundown of major hard limits and kinks would be appropriate, but I don’t believe it is possible to go over every single contingency when it comes to a scene (actually, I think if you feel the need to try to do so, you need to ask yourself if you even trust the other person enough to play with them).  Besides, you should be keeping a back and forth dialogue with the person while you scene, just to make sure things are going smoothly. I personally have severe difficulty in explaining what I “look for” in a scene.  People ask things like, “What do you enjoy in a scene?” and I don’t really know how to respond.  I have often wondered if other people feel the same.  What do I want out of a scene? Mutual enjoyment, that is what I want.  If mutual enjoyment cannot be achieved with a certain type of play, then I don’t want to attempt it with you.  Let me explain.

               
A little while back I wrote a piece about masochists and sadists.  I described how masochists do not have the ability to have a heavy scene with just anybody.  A lot of that deals with the skill of the top/dom/domme/sadist/whatever, along with a bunch of other little factors.  When you ask me if I am into pain, I will say yes, but that doesn’t mean I am into receiving it from you.  I can tell you all of the things that I have enjoyed in the past during various scenes.  I can give you a laundry list of kinks that I have, but that doesn’t guarantee I will like sharing them with you.  If you have never used a flogger before, I don’t want you to get up behind me and give me a good kidney massage. Hell, at least do a few practice swings first! If you have never worked a knife over somebody’s skin, I’ll pass on the accidental slicing and subsequent (awkward) hospital visit.  I bring my eclecticism of kinks, my experience, and my flexibility to the table; what do you bring?

               
If I know you personally or have seen how you play with others, it might be feasible for me to ask you for a specific thing to occur in a scene or determine what type of scene we may have.  If I have just met you or have never watched you scene (or both), I’m not sure how I can possibly explain to you what I would want you to do.  My questions to you would be, “What are you good at? What do you consider your talents?”  I didn’t say “mutual interests,” I said talents.  Yeah, maybe you like dolling out pain and maybe I like receiving it, but do you consider impact play a talent of yours?  Do you do it often with others who can vouch for you? Are you well versed enough in the use of various instruments and do you know how to aim? Are you good at knowing when you are causing somebody to reach their pain threshold? As the bottom/submissive/whatever, I am the one who will be receiving the sensations, so I need to know you are good at giving them.  I need to know how to keep myself personally safe, and you need to know how to minimize risk. 

             

 I don’t really consider myself “primal,” but I understand how people feed off of one another’s energy.  I get a different feel from every person I play with.  Hell, I feel differently about everybody I have played with as a person.  I have had serious scenes, lighthearted ones, sensual scenes and brutal scenes.  I have laughed, cried, screamed, moaned, joked, and begged.  Each one of them was a different experience.   If I had attempted some of those scenes with different people, they probably would’ve ended in disaster.  This would not be because the other person isn’t a good player; they simply aren’t well versed in delivering that type of scene, and that’s ok.  Do what you are good at. 

             
 The point is that I don’t expect you to “recreate” a scene for me.  I don’t want you to “try” and do something you are not into or have never done unless you have read up on it, watched it being done, tried it on yourself, and/or had a really long conversation with me about it.  Don’t expect me to give you a play by play of how I want a scene to look.  Surprise me; be creative.  Let’s make the scene our own.  We will work through things as we get to them.  Sometimes, unexpected shit may happen.  It’s all good, it comes with the territory.  I don’t want or need every single one of my kinks to be included in a scene.  Don’t feel as though a scene I have had in the past dictates what we need to do with one another.  That scene was with somebody else.  They are not you.  You are different.  If we talked about something but it didn’t end up happening, no worries, sometimes things just don’t come to fruition.  I want to feel free and open in a scene, and you should feel that way too.  I do this shit to relax, not stress.  As long as we both had a good time, I will consider it a success.  I am compatible with a lot of people; we just need to find our niche together.  In other words, a lot of what I will enjoy depends on you.

Are You Owned?

              
  I have a rant that has been brewing inside of me for a while…something that I felt needed to be said, or rather, questioned. Let me preface this rant by saying that I have been on fetish websites for a long time.  Collarspace, Fetlife, Society 31…I am active in my local community and have been in the scene for many years.  I want to meet people.  I enjoy meeting people.  I like being social. I believe that I am mindful of the feelings of others and I do my best to be respectful.  I understand that certain situations require protocol or that some people follow it, but there is one thing that I just don’t understand.  Why is it that people on fetish websites always ask if I am “owned?”

               
Ok, on a fundamental level, I get it. They are not trying to insult me.  Far from it, actually.  In fact, I believe most of these people are trying to be respectful.  They don’t want to come on to another person’s “submissive” or “property.”  It’s protocol…but why is it protocol?  Asking a submissive if they are owned just because they are a submissive implies to me that there is no other possible relationship dynamic for a submissive to be a part of. You are either single and “unowned” and therefore available, or, you have a dom/domme and he/she owns you.  If you are owned, you are theirs and possibly unavailable, depending upon the wishes of your dom/domme and whether or not they share you.  End of story.  In some situations, I also don’t feel that asking the submissive if they are owned is actually an attempt to be courteous to the submissive; I feel it is more or less being courteous to the dom/domme.  You more or less respect their relationship by default, but it’s more of a “don’t touch what isn’t yours” thing. I know that isn’t how everybody comes across, but I do feel it is part of a larger problem where, at times, submissives are treated as second-class people…and that bothers me.  We wonder why there are so many subs (especially those who are new) getting preyed upon by assholes…well, that’s just it.  They aren’t empowered enough to stop it.

              
  I always end up with other inevitable questions when I respond to somebody that asks, “Are you owned?” I say, “No I’m not.” and they say “Do you want to be?” or I say “No and I am not looking to be owned.” Then they respond with, “Why not?” Uhm…maybe because I don’t want to have that dynamic? I may tell them that I am married and we are in an open relationship and they respond with, “Is your husband your dom? Does he own you?” No, he doesn’t.  My husband is just that…my husband.  We are equals.  He is not my dom or my Sir.  Yes, he is in the community. No, he and I don’t play with each other. Yes, I play with others.  I tell them I play with so and so.  “Is he your owner?” That is when I facepalm and all I can think is, seriously? Didn’t we already discuss how I feel about ownership?   

            
    I am a submissive.  I like to submit. I like to be dominated.  I am a masochist.  I like to be beaten.  I don’t need any D/s protocol to do it. I like to play in both worlds; the one with protocol and the one without any.  Because of this, some may want to strictly label me a “kinkster,” but that I believe strips me of the person that I am inside.  It takes my wants and needs and makes them seem trivial.  Is it bad or does it make me less of a submissive because I am not seeking the “one person” that will own me, train me, and be my owner? There is another word I hate…train.  Spanking me, having me kneel, requesting a standard of behavior or making me address you in a certain way is not “training.”  The way I see it, you are not teaching me anything new, therefore, you are not “training” me.  I do not need to be under your tutelage or guidance or submit. You could be conditioning me maybe, but not training.  Ok, I am starting on a new rant…where was I?

              
  Honestly, it would make me happier if people simply asked if I was “involved” or “in a relationship.”  That would leave me open to explain my dynamic and what I was or was not looking for.  If I was owned, I am sure I would want to say that I was, but I don’t like when it is implied that I should have or want ownership.  Hell, I wouldn’t mind even if they just asked me if I had a dom/domme.  Maybe I am being a bit too sensitive about this, but I think that protocol is a huge debate in the community right now and a sore spot for many.  I personally believe that the amount of protocol you wish to have is the perfect amount, be it a lot or a little, and nobody should attempt to force protocol on somebody else who doesn’t want it.  Am I weird or something? Am I the only submissive out there that just wants to be submissive without all the strings attached to it? No disrespect to any dom/domme, but I don’t want you controlling my life.  Control me in the bedroom and then level back out afterwards. 

             
   I know there are a lot of submissives out there who are seeking “the one.”  They want and they crave ownership.  They want to be controlled in many different aspects of their life. More power to them.  This is not an attempt to disparage or insult those who do seek that dynamic.  My only issue sits with people acting as though there is only one way to do this, especially when that way is just not for me. 

Memoirs of a Bedroom Submissive – A Night in the Dungeon

                Tonight was the night.  She was nervously pulling on the stockings that her Sir had requested she wear, her long legs encased in fine black spandex with lace tops, bows accentuating the backs for a bit of whimsy.  She secured them at her thighs with the garters that hung down from her under bust waist cincher before drawing them taut, her mind swimming with all of her thoughts.  She was preparing to meet him at the nearby fetish dungeon that he had rented out for the entire evening.  Any and all equipment he desired to use would be there and she knew he would also bring his own personal collection of toys.  He had promised that if she pleased him, she would be rewarded with an evening at her favorite restaurant and would be presented a gift that he had been waiting to give her for quite a while.

                She rose up from the bed to wander into the bathroom, her eyes glancing to the clock that hung on her wall.  She had to be out the door in thirty minutes.  She wanted to look perfect.  Her trembling hand soon grabbed at her eyeliner, causing her to have to take a few breaths and calm herself before applying it as well as her smoky eye shadow, lest she be left with a smudged mess.  She knew that he would push her tonight.  She had no idea what he had in store, but her mind could imagine an awful lot; maybe too much! Perhaps that was why she was filled with such anticipation…and dread.  She stood there in front of the mirror, sans panties and bra, looking herself over with a scrutinizing eye.  She tousled her long locks a few times with her fingertips before adding the final touch, a bright crimson lipstick to paint her mouth.  She would’ve been hard pressed to deny that she looked good, though she had always been modest about her appearance. 

                She smiled as she spritzed on a dash of sweet smelling perfume before side stepping into her shiny black heels that rested on the floor beside her.  She was ready to go, walking with a quiet click-clack through the house to retrieve her long black peacoat from the closet.  She drew the wool fabric snuggly around her frame, tying it closed around her waist before grabbing up her purse and keys from the table.  It was exhilarating to know that she was mostly nude; it made her feel more submissive and more vulnerable.  Her first steps out into the brisk evening air made her gasp.  She wasn’t sure how the wind could crawl up her jacket so easily, practically slapping at her exposed pussy which was, despite herself, already starting to grow wet.  She hurriedly went to her car, climbing inside to start it up so that she could get the heat running and warm her chilled flesh. 

                As she was driving, she thought about her Sir.  Her thoughts were running through some of the things he had done to her in the past.  Things that left her wonton and needy and yet brought her to the very edge of her limits.  Tonight was sure to be one of those nights.  The address to the dungeon brought her to an isolated business district; a warehouse, to be more exact.  A place where noise was not a problem and their presence would not be noticed.  She pulled up and parked the car, noticing her Sir’s own vehicle out front.  He was already there as she knew he would be, probably preparing the space for their encounter.  She had been to the place before and knew that it was a tidy, well put together dungeon with crosses, benches, tables, and other equipment that never had to be broken down.  She placed the car in park, its alarm giving a little chirp as she hit the button and headed for the door.  She drew in a long breath before entering the place, moving through the deserted office area to the dungeon entrance. 

                Once inside, she was greeted by the sight of her Sir lounging comfortably in a nearby armchair, his legs crossed while his fist propped up his head.  He smiled as she appeared, his posture shifting as he beckoned her closer.  She obeyed, walking over to him and pausing a few paces before reaching him, a smile moving over her own lips even as she attempted to look serious. He gave her a once over before making a motion to her coat and its closure.  He needed no words; she knew what he wanted her to do.  Carefully, she reached down, undoing the tie at her waist before shifting her arms back and allowing the coat to slip from her shoulders, her hands dropping it to the floor behind her feet.  She could feel his gaze as it moved over her, and despite being appreciative of her looks, his face remained an unreadable mask.  He made one more motion with his hand, towards the floor, causing her to slowly lower down to her knees before him, her eyes glancing downwards and now refusing to meet his own.

                He was left reaching out, grasping at her hair gently before he drew her in closer.  She was gratefully bending at the waist, her face resting near his crotch as his grip loosened, moving now to stroke over her head as he finally spoke.  “You look lovely, my dear.  I’m pleased.” 

                Her response was soft yet grateful, her eyes closing briefly as she basked in the sensation of his touch, seemingly bathed in his praise.  “Thank you, Sir…I’m glad I have pleased you.” 

                His hand never paused in its motions, brushing back her hair while he continued.  “I have a lot planned for you, tonight…though I want you to know one thing.”

                She blinked, slowly peering up at him with a questioning look, her eyes creasing.  “Sir?”

                His face now turned serious, his fist closing in her locks as if to drive his point home.  “You will not have a safe word tonight.  You will do your best to accept all that I give you.  You may scream, you may cry, you may beg….but what I decide goes.”

                She could feel a lump begin to rise in her throat, her fear spiking inside of her.  She trusted him completely and had often said she might want to try playing without a safe word, but she was unsure that she could handle it.  The very thought intrigued her yet terrified her to her core.  Her mouth was suddenly dry and despite herself, she let out a whimper. 

                “Do you understand?” He spoke to her firmly, drawing her head backwards a bit further now.

                “Y-yes Sir, I understand…” She stammered softly, trying to mentally prepare herself for what would occur.

                Once she confirmed for him her understanding of the situation, he released her hair, giving her one final stroke on her scalp before responding.  “Good girl.  Now, stand up.”

                She nodded, slowly moving back from his lap and rising up, giving him room so that he could stand also.  As he did, he placed his hand in the small of her back and lightly led her over to a cross, pressing her up against it.  Cuffs already dangled from the O rings in the corners and he drew up one of her wrists to secure it before doing the same to her other one.  She was familiar with this position and what he was going to do, though what he might choose to hit her with was at his discretion.  She simply tried to brace herself, knowing that she would not be allowed to get out of it with a simple word. 

                He didn’t immediately grab any implement; he simply moved up behind her, pressing his body against her own lightly before his hand began to collide with her ass, rhythmically slapping at her cheeks and causing her to squirm.  The sting kept on building to the point where she was crying out softly, her cheeks beginning to glow red from his treatment.  He was smiling, watching as he made her dance and all she could do was grin and bear it. 

                “We’re going to warm that ass up until you beg me to inspect you, slut…” He whispered into her ear softly while he continued to build the feeling of sting in her behind.

                Her face immediately began to turn red at his words, her head dropping forward as she grit her teeth.  Soon enough, he was stopping with his hand and wandering over to a small hanging stand where all of his floggers were neatly arranged.  He reached for one made out of a smooth bull hide and stepped back, beginning to crisscross a pattern along her upper back and butt.  Slowly, the heat began to build, though her tolerance to the pain did as well.  His blows were percussive, building in intensity until she was turning her hips in an attempt to shield her body from him, albeit unsuccessfully.  She was whining as he continued, begging him urgently.

                “Please Sir, give me a break!” She wiggled, biting at her lower lip as her wrists rattled the restraints against the lacquered wood cross.

                “Okay.”  He chuckled as he stopped, replacing the flogger on the stand before switching it out for a cane. 

                Her eyes went wide when she saw what he had grabbed, and she quickly shook her head. “Nonono! Please not that, Sir!”  She was trying to turn away, twisting and lifting her legs one by one, but his boot found her rear and pushed it into place.

                “You asked for a break. I’m giving you a break from that flogger. It’s what you wanted.”  He spoke the words almost merrily as he began to tap her ass with the rattan cane, not yet giving her a truly heavy blow.

                She hated the cane, shaking and wiggling as she grunted with even the soft tapping that he gave her.  “Please Sir, please!”

                “Are you ready to beg to be inspected already, slut?” He drew the cane back before landing a sharp blow, leaving her ass with a pretty stripe straight across it. 

                She was squealing loudly from the hit, dropping downwards a bit as her knees bent, the pain moving through her.  “Yes, yes Sir! Please inspect me!”

                “I’m not sure you want to be inspected yet, slut…” He drew back and landed a second blow, once more striping her ass with a pretty red welt.

                She was crying out again, whining and begging again. “Yes I am, Sir! Please inspect me, Sir!”

                He looked thoughtful before setting down the flogger and instead grabbing a large wooden paddle.  “I will inspect you after you take five hits.”

                “Five?! Please no, Sir! I can’t take five!” She was protesting, already dreading feeling the paddle on her ass.

                “You complain too much…” He didn’t even give her a chance to reply before he was using the paddle to harshly smack her right butt cheek, no doubt leaving her reeling.

                She sucked in a sharp breath, shuddering and whimpering out a quiet and pathetic little apology. “I’m sorry, Sir…”               

                He smirked and dealt out the second blow, though his brow was rising slowly. “I didn’t hear you count those two, slut…”

                She gasped and quickly called out, “Two Sir, I didn’t know you wanted me to count!”

                “No no, now we need to start over…” He mused.

                “Please Sir, no! That was two, please! You said only five!” She tried to reason with him.

                “Alright, we will call that last one number one.  Count it.”  He spoke matter-of-factly.

                She was dejected, but she conceded, speaking softly.   “One, Sir.”

                “Good girl.” He responded, going back and forth between her cheeks, hitting each one with rather heavy handed blows to make sure she felt them.  He was listening very carefully for her counting, hoping she would mess it up, but unfortunately for him, she kept it together.

                “Five, Sir!” She had nearly screamed out the words, panting and whimpering, her ass feeling as though it was on fire.  She wasn’t sure if she could’ve handled any more, but she was smart enough to speak again quietly. “Please Sir…I’m ready to be inspected now…”

                He laughed lightly, setting the paddle down before reaching up to unhook her cuffs from the rings above.  He silently began to lead her over to an examination table before ordering her to lie down on it on her back.  She was clearly nervous, not sure exactly what he hand it mind as she gingerly set her rear down and rested back against the padded surface.  He took her still cuffed wrists, attaching them to the sides of the table at about face level before he moved to the end of the table where her legs dangled down off of the sides.  He got a positively evil look on his face before he opened up and unfolded the stirrups from the sides of the table.  “Put your legs up here…” He ordered.

                She was whimpering softly as she lifted her legs, resting her knees in the J shaped holders.  He was soon strapping her calves down tightly to the stirrups before opening them up wider, spreading her legs and exposing her pussy.  She was already starting to blush, quivering and almost horrified at the fact that it seemed as though there was nothing that she could keep secret.  He had walked away for a few moments, leaving her to stew as she remained spread.  When he returned, she could see he was holding a shiny metallic object.  She gasped when she realized what it was, her face suddenly becoming extremely hot.  The blades of the speculum glinted in the light and he held it near her face momentarily while he spoke in a deep, husky voice.  “Now I’m going to take a good, deep look inside of you…”

                She was whimpering softly as he lowered down, drawing up a small chair and sitting upon it.  She knew that his eyes were staring at her slit, which was confirmed soon after by the feel of his fingers spreading her folds.  “You are dripping wet, slut…already have a sloppy little cunt…” He grinned as he glanced up at her.

                She was thoroughly humiliated as the pads of his fingers began to gather her wetness upon them, slowly smearing it up and over her sensitive clit.  It made her want to moan, but she bit it back, merely letting out a soft sigh.  Soon enough, his fingers were beginning to press at her entrance before plunging inside of her rudely, making her give a little cry of surprise! He pumped his fingers back and forth before withdrawing them, his flesh glistening with her arousal.

                “Dirty whore…” He chided her before reaching up to smear her own juices on her face, causing her nose to wrinkle and for her to whine loudly.  Her noises and reaction only served to amuse him, though he proceeded to take the blades of the speculum and carefully insert them into her walls.  Once in place, he began to turn the screw that would open them up.  She could feel her muscles stretch, her little tunnel seemingly stubborn to open! Slowly but surely, they forced her pussy to gape, his eyes now able to see inside of her body.

                “There we go…” He smiled, standing back to admire her opened up completely for him. “Look at you… already leaking out of your little fuck hole…” It was true; her arousal was beginning to trickle out of her body, betraying how turned on she was.  “I think you need something in your asshole too, don’t you?”

                She looked over at him, pouting and giving a slight shake of her head. “Sir…” Her voice was slightly pleading.

                “Yes, yes I think so…”  He was ignoring her plea, instead reaching under the table to grab a plug and a tube of lube.  He began to smear the lube along the shaft of the plug before pressing the tip against her asshole, beginning to urge it forward softly.   He was enjoying the site of her little pucker blooming open around the slick black surface, a definite tightness beginning to grow in his pants.

                Meanwhile, she was shuddering, trying to relax as he began to press the plug inside of her.  It was a feeling that made her feel overly full; her cunt stretched out while her ass was being filled.  She felt the sharp stab of pain as her anus was stretched to its maximum point, causing her to gasp and shout.   Finally, she felt her body able to close up around the smaller stem of the plug.  Her Sir was smiling, giving her left thigh a little pat while he admired her body, spread and also plugged.  It was arousing to him that he could almost see the outline of the toy pressing at the thin wall separating her ass and her pussy.

                Slowly he stepped around to the side of her, peering down at her as he reached out to brush his fingertips along her cheek almost tenderly.  He was soon sighing, admiring the way her eyes peered up at him, pleading him silently.  His arm dropped casually, hand dipping into his pocket to retrieve his favorite knife.  With a quick flick of his thumb, it opened with a harsh click, the newly sharpened blade gleaming in the dim light.  His movements were practiced, his skilled fingers beginning to trail the tip along her flesh, dragging and teasing along her most sensitive areas.  It grazed at her neck, her breasts and nipples, trailing down along her tummy and prodding softly at her thighs.  He mused as he worked, his voice low.  “One little slip…and I could slice right through your skin…”

                His words made her suck in a breath, her frame perfectly still while he worked, lest she throw him off.  She trusted him, though when the thumb and forefinger of his left hand grabbed at her nipple, drawing it taut while his working hand placed the edge of the blade against the sensitive bud, she couldn’t help but squeal! It was all a tease, of course, and he was releasing her with an amused chuckle shortly after.  “How about a little electricity, slut?”  His question was more of a statement, as if he had already made up his mind about it. 

                She let out a quiet whimper of “protest.”  Truly, she didn’t mind the violet wand, though it could definitely make her squirm if turned up high enough! She watched quietly as he wandered to the side of the room and began to open up his case containing his glass attachments, foot pedal, and grounding stick.  It was about that time that she was becoming vaguely aware of the dull ache in her poor, stretched out pussy.  Her body desperately wanted to relax, though it could not close with that rude apparatus forcing her apart! When he returned to her, firing up the wand which made the rake-like attachment glow orange, she begged him quietly.  “Please Sir…please take the speculum out…please!”

                He laughed quietly, reaching his hand down to dip his finger inside of her gaped cunt, gathering a bit of her moisture on his fingertip before lifting it to her mouth for cleaning! As she reluctantly licked at his offered finger, he taunted her.  “Aww, does the little whore’s pussy hurt? Don’t worry…I’ll take it out…but not until I am done teasing you with the wand.”              

                She let out a sigh at his response, though all she could do was try to ignore the sensation while he began to torment her with a new one! That rake toyed with her body, giving out a series of small static shocks to make her wiggle and squirm.  By the end, she was squirming about awkwardly, surprised each time he brought the wand down on a new piece of flesh! It seemed for a moment as if he was really going to take his time, dragging the rake over her nipples before a delightfully sadistic grin curled his mouth.  Ever so slowly, he began to lower the implement closer and closer to her pussy.  Her eyes went wide as she realized what he intended to do, her legs and arms rattling at her restraints.  The shocks that he gave her were inching towards that speculum, playing at the edges of her labia and making her more and more tense as she cried out merely from the stress of it all! Finally, he pulled away, leaving her sighing with relief.  He was being nice.   Carefully, he worked on loosening the screw that kept the blades of the speculum open before withdrawing it, giving her body a chance to relax.

                “Thank you, Sir…” Even with her ass still plugged, she was much more comfortable now, though he was hardly intending to let her relax! With the violet wand unplugged, he could plug in the Hitachi instead, which made her bite her lower lip.  She knew what was coming, and he clicked it on the lowest setting before placing it on her clit. 

                “I want to watch you cum like a filthy whore.  Come on slut, cum for me…”  He teased at her, watching as her body quivered with pleasure.

                “Oh God….I’m trying Sir, I’m trying!”  She rocked her hips towards the sensation, her muscles tense.

                “I said cum, slut!” He reached over with his free hand and began to slap her on her cheek, all the while repeating himself.  “Come on! Let’s go, slut!”

                She grunted as his blows rained down on her face, though they triggered something in her that she couldn’t hold back.  She was soon screaming as her orgasm swept over her, her muscles clenching, back arching as her arousal leaked out of her and dribbled down the crack of her ass. 

                “Are you cumming?  Are you cumming while being slapped in the face you filthy fucking whore?!” His words sounded accusatory. 

                “Yesssss Sir!!!” She was moaning, turning her head as she finally came down from her high, beginning to twitch as he finally took away the vibrator.  She panted, her hair slightly damp from sweat, her eyes peering up at him. 

                “Was that good?” He asked her.

                “Mmhmm..” She responded quietly.  “Thank you Sir.”

His only response was to lean down and lightly kiss her on the lips, though with the Hitachi set aside he could reach for something new. “I’m glad. Now you are going to be good and get me off.” He was grabbing at a large O-ring gag, leaning over her as he spoke.  “Open your mouth.”

                 She hated the ring gag but she reluctantly complied.  Once her mouth was open, the gag was being placed behind her teeth and tied tightly around the back of her head, leaving her unable to swallow and her tongue moving about in her mouth strangely.  She stared at his hands as they reached down to the fly of his pants, opening them up and withdrawing his cock, already hard from arousal.  His fist pumped at his shaft a few times before he scooted his body up next to the table, his hand grasping her hair and turning her head to face him.  It was a strain on her neck, but he hardly seemed to care as he jabbed his length into her mouth.  His hips began to thrust forward, the head of his dick banging against her throat, causing her to gag.  Each time she did, more and more saliva was conjured up, glistening upon his dick. 

                Soon enough, her drool was running down her chin, and he was quick to use the head of his cock to smear it about, running the head of his dick along her lips and slapping her cheek with her own filth, taunting her along the way.  “Do you like that cock down your throat?  You must be hungry for it; look at how much you are drooling.”

The only thing she could do was let out a very undignified whimper, though when she did it sounded as if she were gargling on water!  Tears soon began to trickle down her cheeks, carrying her mascara with them and leaving black lines upon her skin. It didn’t take him long, however, to begin getting close.  At the very last minute, he pulled his dick out of her mouth and aimed it at her breasts, his own groan coming out loudly as he came, thick ropes of his semen painting her tits lewdly.  He breathed in a few slow breaths, seemingly satisfied for the time being. 

              “I think you can stay here for a while until I decide to play with you some more.” He turned, shoving his cock back into his pants and smiling.  “Be a good whore and wait.”

               “She stared as he began to walk over to the other side of the room and settle down on the couch there, grabbing up his tablet and beginning to browse the web.  She knew then that the night was not over and she still had much more in store for her!

To be continued…

Smitten (Part 2)

Memoirs of a Bedroom Submissive – Smitten (Part 2)
*This is a continued story. If you wish to read the whole thing, read Smitten Part 1.

She could hear the blood rushing through her ears as she hurriedly moved through the maze of tall hallways, barely even pausing to breathe before she heard the sweep of the double glass doors open up before her. The midday sun greeted her face, the hustle of people barely noticeable over the sound of her own pounding heart. She made her way through the lot and sat in her car, shutting the door as she rested her head back against the headrest. It wasn’t until that moment she actually paused to look at the piece of crushed paper that she had been clutching in her sweaty palm more closely.

The lightly written address seemed neat, as though the one who had written it down had been without care. She was left swallowing the lump in her throat, her tongue lightly wetting her lips. She could still taste him. She could practically feel the pumping of hardened flesh still separating her jaw, her throat slightly raw from the rude intrusion. It was at that moment that she truly had time to think about what had happened. She hadn’t allowed the true gravity of the situation to hit her until she sat in the quiet with just herself. She wasn’t sure how to feel; on one hand, it had been thrilling and on the other, humiliating. He had forced her to please him…but had it really been forced? Should she go through with meeting him? Did she trust him enough?

Her mind was plagued with thoughts as she drove herself home on robotic auto pilot. She had wanted to be with this man since she first saw him. She had fantasized about doing things with him, but this seemed so…so wrong to her! She was battling with herself, going back and forth on what she would decide to do. She was torn. She would have several hours to think about it, but she had made up her mind during her brief drive. She would go. She was simultaneously excited and terrified by the prospect of doing so, but she felt as though she did not want to pass this up. Something inside of her ached to be with him. Maybe it had been the way he spoke or the look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the way he treated her, but she shouldn’t really enjoy that, should she? She wasn’t sure, but something made her want to please him. Perhaps that is why by the time she got home she felt more confident in her decision. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a reason turning him down had never fully entered her mind.

He had told her to dress sexy, but she really hadn’t a clue about what to wear. A typical woman, she tore up her closet in search for the perfect item. She knew, however, that if she was not there on time, she would not receive a warm welcome. He had used the word “punish.” She didn’t truly know what he meant by that, but it had stirred apprehension inside of her. She finally decided on a “little black dress” that she rarely wore. She wasn’t a woman that normally donned garters, but they had a classic appeal that she hoped he would appreciate. A black lace thong and strapless black bra accompanied the belt which held up her thigh high stockings, her feet slid into a pair of red pumps for a touch of fire. The hem of her dress fell just below the line of her stockings, daring to crawl upwards if she sat down, while the bold off the shoulder neckline left enough skin showing to entice the eye. She would leave her look simple, choosing to accessorize only with a red clutch and a thin red belt that accentuated her waist. The final touch would be her makeup; smoky eyes with ruby lips while her long hair was left to tumble down over her shoulders.

She was soon plugging the address into her phone navigator and heading out of the house. She could feel her stomach twisting into knots while she drove, her mind racing a thousand miles a minute. She didn’t know what was in store for her, but she knew she wanted to see him. The drive, which was in actuality relatively short, seemed as though it was taking hours. Every red light left her itching to move forward, her foot tapping on the accelerator impatiently. When she finally arrived at the apartment complex, she was about ten minutes early. She was thankful she was on time, and she soon found the number of his place. As she approached the door, she saw a small, folded piece of paper taped to the bell. She paused before hesitantly reaching to take it, reading it silently.

“Hello there, beautiful. Do not bother to knock or ring. Come inside, set your things down on the table, and lock the door behind you.”

She felt terribly odd as she reached for the handle to the door, bashful to enter a residence that she had never been in before! When she stepped within, the place was dark, lit only by a few candles placed on various surfaces about the room. It was a tidy place, furnished simply with a couch and chair in front of a flat screen entertainment center and attached to a dining room with a small table. She could see a bathroom off to one side, as well as two closed bedroom doors. “Hello?” She called out softly, but frowned when she did not hear a response. It seemed that she was alone there. Her heart was pounding harder as she turned slightly to lock the door after she shut it behind her, a bit confused. Quietly, she wandered over to the table and began to set down her clutch, her head tilting as she saw a simple silken scarf lying there along with another note.

“That’s a good little slut. Go to the center of the room and kneel down, facing the door. Then, take the scarf and tie it around your eyes. No peeking. I will know if you do.”

The mention of the word “slut” made her cheeks burn, though she was now biting her lip, reaching for the scarf and grasping it tightly. She was wholly unsure about all of this as she moved to the center of the room and slowly knelt down on the soft carpet. Tentatively, she placed the blindfold over her eyes, darkening her vision and tying it behind her head. She then had nothing to do but wait, not knowing what would happen.

It seems that she waited an eternity there on the floor, unable to listen to anything but the sound of her breathing and the stillness of the room. She didn’t have much to concentrate on other than her anticipation and the slow and steady build of achiness in her knees. She squirmed slightly, fidgeting, though noises from what sounded like the bedroom made her stiffen. She strained to listen, thinking that she could hear the sound of boots moving over the floor. Her assumptions would’ve been correct as he exited the bedroom, having been lying on the bed and waiting for her the entire time. He smiled as he stepped into the living room, seeing her kneeling there obediently, if not nervously. Had she been able to see him she may have noticed the approving gaze he gave her, giving her clothes a once over.

“Nice choice of outfits, little slut.” He smirked.

“Thank you…” She spoke softly, embarrassed that he continued to call her that.

“Does that word bother you?” He asked her, walking around in front of her to view her reaction. “Or do you like it?”

She didn’t really want to admit to him that it somewhat turned her on, her lips pursing softly as she remained silent.

“I asked you a question.” His hand reached out, grasping her hair and drawing her head back.

“Ahh!” She let out a little cry before nodding slightly. “Y-yes, I like it…” she was ashamed to admit it, but she hadn’t wanted to lie.

“I thought so.” He released a little chuckle before releasing her hair. “I’m glad that you decided to take me up my offer of coming here, Cordelia…”

For a moment, she was shocked. How did he know her name?! She wasn’t thinking clearly. She stammered quietly, “How did you know my name? I didn’t think I told you…”

He laughed softly before walking away. She heard a brief moment of rustling and then he returned to her. “Hold out your hand.”

Obediently, yet shakily, she did as he asked. When she did so, a bag was lightly deposited into her palm. Her brows creased, confused as she moved to feel around and find the opening before reaching inside. There, she ran her hands over a thin, rectangular plastic casing. It only took her a moment to realize what it was.

“You left it at the store in your…hurry to get home.” He grinned. “Your name was on the card you gave me to pay for it…and on the receipt you signed.”

“Oh…” She suddenly felt very silly, and even she had to laugh lightly at the fact that she had completely left her purchase behind. “Thanks…”

“You’re welcome.” He then lightly withdrew the bag from her and set it down on the table nearby before continuing. “Of course I am sure you know my name from my badge, but no need to worry about that. During our time together you can call me Sir, Mister, Asshole, Jerk, Bastard…whatever name fits your fancy at the moment.” His voice held high amusement. “Considering this is our first formal meeting, I won’t worry too much on protocol.”

Her nose winkled a moment as she shook her head in disbelief. “Asshole?” It was not so much of a question...she just found it funny.

“Yes, Cordelia?” He had answered as though expecting her to say something, even though he knew damn well she hadn’t meant it that way.

She just shook her head. Really, there was nothing to say about that, but strangely, it made her bite back a bit of a snicker. Strangely, it even made her feel more at ease with him.

“Are you nervous, little one? Feeling frightened, a bit apprehensive?” He studied her.

“A little bit, yes…” She admitted that, though the very question made her wiggle.

“Good. Go ahead and unzip your dress. Slide it off and remove your shoes as well.”

She gasped softly at his next words, her cheeks starting to grow red with heat. She was hesitating, self-conscious about getting undressed in front of him so soon.

“Do I have to cut the outfit off of you?” His words held a bit of warning.

Quickly, she shook her head. “No no! I’ll take it off…” She reached back and grasped for the zipper near her shoulder blades, barely able to grab it and draw it downwards. When she had succeeded in lowering the zipper fully she began to scoot out of the dress, sliding her feet out of her pumps and finally setting the entire ensemble aside. She knelt there now in her undergarments, allowing him to see her bra and panties, along with her garter belt.

“That’s a good little whore…” he praised her softly, taking in the sight of her bare flesh now exposed to his eyes. He moved in close to her now, grabbing again at her hair, only this time he began to tug at her roughly in order to get her moving elsewhere.

“Ow, ow!” She let out a gasp, whimpering as she scrambled to try and keep up with him. She hand the sense to reach up and grab at his wrist, hanging onto him tightly while he tried to drag her around. She was forced to go to her hands and knees, crawling along behind him. She soon felt the press of a mattress in her abdomen as she was forced to bend over it, her face smashed into a pillow.

“Lift your ass up. C’mon, let me see it.” He urged her.

She whimpered but complied, lifting up to present herself to him. The next thing she felt was his free hand running over her flesh, grasping roughly at each cheek and squeezing it out of shape. She was unprepared for his first strike, his hand drawing back and colliding with her skin. She was left squirming as he slapped at her rhythmically, moving back and forth and yet hitting the same places repeatedly. Soon, she was yelling out, begging him to stop.

“Ahh! Please! Okay, Okay, no more, no more!” she was desperately trying to get him to give her a break.

He didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, continuing for several more rounds of slaps before finally stopping, leaving her ass glowing bright crimson with heat. He trailed his palms along the sensitive flesh, seeming to admire what he had done with her even while she was left flinching slightly. By now, she was holding her breath, not sure what he was going to deicide to do next. Strangely enough, she could sense the fact that this was turning her on. Secretly, she had always wanted a man to do something like this to her, but she had never found one who wanted to. He was different. Now though, he was nudging her to get her to move.

“Up on the bed…hands and knees.” He ordered softly.

She was biting her lower lip but carefully she lifted herself up, doing as he asked and waiting for his next words.

“Now…lower your panties down to your knees then reach back and spread that pussy open for me. I want to see you.” His words were husky and low.

She was left whimpering and hanging her head slightly in shame. It was such a humiliating prospect to be completely vulnerable that way! Her hands were shaking as she lifted up in order to take her panties and pull them down, leaving the elastic wrapped around her knees. Thankfully, she had to smash her face down towards the bed to spread herself, grateful that her face was hidden.

“Look at that cute little slit, all spread open…” he mused softly before reaching out to give her splayed lips a little bit of a slap, grinning as she jumped forward and gasped. “What did I say I was going to work on when you got here, hmm?”

She paused, too humiliated for a moment to even think on his words. “I…I…” she stammered, unable to figure out what he was talking about until she suddenly remembered what he had told her in the store. “You said you were going to…” it was hard for her to even finish her sentence! She was practically mumbling the last bit. “You said you were going to stretch my holes…”

“That’s right, my little whore. Starting with this one…” He reached forward, his fingers swiping up and down lightly between her folds, gathering a bit of her wetness. “Naughty thing…already dripping for me…” He was laughing quietly as he began to prod at her entrance, slowly pressing forward and working to penetrate her body.

She was biting back a bit of a moan, her hips squirming faintly as she felt his fingers pressing inside of her. She gasped when he began to spread them apart, stretching her as she shuddered. When his fingers began to pump lightly back and forth, she actually began to rock towards them, aching to feel a bit of pleasure. It was short lived, however, because he soon withdrew.

“Clean them off.” He stated the order firmly before leaning over and thrusting his fingers towards her mouth.

She initially whimpered, not really wanting to do it, but she was worried about what he would do if she refused. Grudgingly, she opened her mouth and licked softly at his flesh, tasting her own arousal on her tongue. It must’ve pleased him, because she felt his hand smooth over her hair once or twice in response. When his fingers were successfully cleaned he withdrew, leaving her waiting there bent over as he rifled through some items in the room. She didn’t know what he was getting, but she soon felt the clicking of hardened steel encompassing one of her wrists.

She was left gasping and giving a little sound of protest, but it was ignored. Her arm was stretched upwards as he moved the chain of the cuffs behind the steel bars on the headboard before securing her other wrist on the opposite side. Slowly, her fingers encompassed the chain, gripping it softly as she waited, muscles tense and her face scrunched with concern. She had never been in such a predicament before and the fact that she could not see what was coming only heightened her anxiety. Soon enough, she was feeling yet another sensation; the harsh pinch of clips upon her nipples. It made her squeal, unsure if she could deal with it!

“Don’t wiggle too much…wouldn’t want to pinch those nipples any harder…” he was taunting her. She didn’t know it, but the nasty little clover clamps he placed upon her nipples could become that much worse if he only decided to tug on the chain that ran between them and dangled down towards the bed.

What had started as a harsh pinch was quickly turning into a dull throbbing ache in her poor nipples. She could do naught but attempt to breathe through it, not sure what else he had in store. Soon enough, she felt his hands spread her ass cheeks apart lewdly, the air of the room feeling cool against her exposed body. She felt her humiliation once more rise up in her, though her shy, slight withdrawal caused a sharp spank to ring out through the room. The sting and burn of the unexpected blow made her breath catch. Meanwhile, he was growling for her to hold still as he stroked a lube soaked finger against her asshole. Slowly he began to press forward, forcing her muscles to bloom open around the digit and ignoring any protest from her.

“Relax…” he was urging her to open up, working his finger back and forth in rhythmic fashion. “What hole am I stretching right now, slut?”

Her head shook slightly before she mumbled, “My asshole…”

“What’s that? I can’t hear you…” his free hand gave her another small spank.

“My asshole!” She spoke a bit louder and more clearly that time, wishing for a moment she could curl up and hide from such a predicament.

“That’s right.” He grinned before his finger was withdrawn, replaced instead by the hardened steel plug that he had already smeared with lube. Carefully, he eased it against her entrance, pushing gradually and giving her time to adjust.

The plug was a bit larger than anything she was used to, its cold surface causing her to shudder. As he pressed, she felt her muscles spread. At first, it was simply a feeling of pressure, but soon pressure turned to a sharp sensation of pain. It made her cry out, though he did not stop in his motions. Thankfully, the too thick area of the plug moved inside of her quickly, leaving the entire thing sliding within her and allowing her ass to close around the thin stem. It felt heavy, her insides feeling oddly full.

“There we go…look at your pretty little bejeweled butthole.” He mused as he stroked his finger over the flared, flat end of the plug which now lay against her body. She could not see, but he was admiring the end of it which had been decorated with a pink jewel for decoration. “Do you feel it filling you up, slut?”

She nodded in response that she felt it, giving a tiny bit of a whimper. “Yes…” she said timidly.

“Good.” He smiled, leaving her like that momentarily in order to grasp another implement. “Have you ever been paddled before, slut?”

The word “paddled” caused her fear to spike, and she shook her head quickly. “N-no, nobody has ever done that to me before…” In fact, nobody had ever done anything like this at all to her before!

“Then I will take it a bit easier on you.” He paused briefly. “Maybe.”

She held her breath, not feeling very at ease after his teasing! There was a brief moment where nothing happened, and then suddenly, she felt the unforgiving wood paddle smack against her ass. There was an initial sting, followed by a burn that seemed to sink down into her flesh. It almost made her forget about the pain in her nipples! She didn’t have too long to recover before he was landing a blow on the other side, making her jerk forward. The first two hits were bad, but if she thought it wasn’t going to get any worse, she was mistaken. He had begun to hit her more often, giving her less recovery time between blows. He was moving back and forth most of the time, though sometimes he decided to focus on one spot. It made her scream, her body finally dropping down towards the bed as if it would somehow help her. She had been rattling the chains and cuffs that held her wrists, unable to reach back and shield herself. Had she been counting, her number would’ve reached to near 20. Her red ass was now definitely going to be marked, welting and bruising beginning to come to the surface.

“Get your ass back up in the air. Back onto your knees!” He ordered.

“No please, please don’t…no more please!” She begged him, whimpering and continuing to lie flat.

“Up. Now.” He stated firmly. “One…two…”

She wasn’t sure what it was about the counting that made her so terrified, but she decided not to press her luck. Reluctantly, she lifted up, gritting her teeth and awaiting the next hit. It never came.

“Good girl.” He patted her injured behind lightly.

She was slightly bewildered, yet relieved. She breathed out a sigh, trying to produce some spit considering her mouth had quite suddenly become dry. She listened as he left the room, straining to hear him in the living room before he returned to her. He had fetched one of those candles that had been burning, a nice melted pool of wax floating around the wick. He held it above her, beginning to dribble it down onto the marked areas of her flesh. She hadn’t expected it, but the heat and burn she was much more sensitive to now! It tormented her, causing her to wiggle and whine.

“Aww…does my little slut have a tender bum?” He appeared to love toying with her!

“Ow...you asshole!” She had blurted it out before she had even thought about it. He had told her she could, though he hadn’t really said what the consequences might be.

“What’s that? Did you call me an asshole? That’s not very nice, now is it…” He reached over, now grasping hold of one of her breasts in his hand, beginning to squeeze it slowly out of shape.

As he depressed her flesh further, she felt the scream rising up in her, unable to contain it. Her aching nipple now only hurt worse, the pain making her buck. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please let go! Please! PLEASE!”

“Aww, ok then.” He released her before going back to what he was originally doing, coating her in that hot wax.

She was forced to suffer through it, though luckily, he stopped before too long. By now, she couldn’t stand the pain in her breasts, wanting desperately to have the clips off. “Please take the clips off…please…my nipples hurt too much!”

He paused, looking over her thoughtfully. “You want these off, little slut?” He reached down, tugging softly at the chain and jiggling it around.

“Yes, yes! Please!” She was crying out, his movement of the clips causing her more pain.

“What are you going to do for me if I do?” He asked softly.

“I’ll do what you tell me to do, I promise! I’ll be good!” She begged frantically.

She could feel his hand lightly opening the clips to take them off of her. When he did, the surge of blood returning to her nipples was much more painful than they had felt when they were on! It was almost overwhelming. She was left panting, flinching as he rubbed and rolled the little buds about while the feeling returned to them.

“Better?” He asked.

“Yes…thank you…” she responded gratefully.

“We are going to have to work on your bribing skills. Next time, you will come up with something specific that you will do for me, or the clamps will stay on.” He spoke that matter-of-factly before he seemed to be moving on, speaking to her lowly. “You said you would do what I told you to do…what if I told you that I want you to keep quiet while I use you like the little slut you are?”

She took in a sharp breath as she listened to him, unsure for a moment what he meant by “use.” “I would try and behave…” she answered quietly.

“Well I am going to help you “try to behave.”” He responded. “Open your mouth.”

She did so, only to find that he stuffed her panties between her lips, pressing the fabric into her mouth and filling her cheeks.

“Now…if you can’t keep quiet, I am going to tape them inside of your mouth. Understand?” His words were low and no nonsense.

She nodded her head quickly, attempting to be quiet now as she waited, her heart pounding in her chest. It wasn’t until she heard a low click near her ear that she truly started to panic. She stiffened as she felt the hardened steel of a blade pressed lightly to her cheek before being dragged down along her flesh, scratching at it lightly.

“You know…” he began whispering softly. “You don’t know anything about me. Here you are…you let me handcuff you to my bed. Nobody knows where you are…nobody knows you are here with me…it would be so easy for me to do whatever I wanted to you…”

As he continued to speak, she became more frightened, squeezing her eyes shut tightly behind the blindfold.

“You are so pretty…” he mused as he ran the tip of the blade down along her jawline before placing it lightly against her neck.

By now, she was wondering just what the hell she had gotten herself into. Terrified, she could feel the tears begin to puddle within the corner of her eyes, starting to moisten the blindfold. She let out a little sob, though she still tried to remain quiet.

“I’m going to enjoy claiming you…” his teeth suddenly found her ear, nibbling at it lightly while that blade still played along her flesh.

Her breaths were quick now, her frame starting to tremble. She was still crying softly, not sure what he intended to do to her. She could feel him running his hand along her back, dipping down to lightly press at that butt plug before he plunged his fingers into her soaking pussy. She gave a cry against that makeshift gag, grunting as he started to pump his digits back and forth roughly. He began to move behind her, kneeling on the bed as he set his knife aside. He withdrew his fingers from her so that he could open his fly, his cock already hardened and throbbing as he removed it from his pants.

He could barely fumble with a condom he plucked from his nightstand quick enough, readying himself. He was quickly lining himself up, not giving her much of a chance to react before he forced the whole of his cock inside her, sheathing himself within her body deeply. He let out a bit of a grunt before leaning over and grabbing her hair, yanking her head back and using it for leverage as he began to pump inside of her.

She let out a deep, guttural moan against her own panties, gasping as she was slammed forward over and over as he rutted her like an animal. There was nothing gentle about his motions, her full ass tightening her pussy that much more around him, his cock filling her up and stabbing at her insides. Her head ached as he used her hair to pull it back, her shoulders and neck starting to burn from the position. She tried to hold onto the bar of the headboard as well to anchor herself. For a moment, his hand released her hair, allowing her head to drop back forward until he instead grabbed her neck. She could feel her air restricted slightly, her breath much more raspy as he held onto her. By now, her arousal was leaking from her body, dribbling down from between her folds and down his cock and her own thighs. She hadn’t realized how turned on she had been until that very moment. Her hungry body eagerly taking every inch he had.

What was probably only a few minutes felt like an eternity of bliss, her pleasure building to the point where she could no longer hold it back. Her orgasm was unexpected, her body tightening around him with a vice like grip as she moaned out her pleasure. “Fuck, fuck!” she yelled out against her gag, sweat starting to bead on her forehead. Within a few moments he followed suit, his hips shoving forward and jerking slightly as he sighed and came as well, his cock swollen and twitching. He seemed satisfied, slowly withdrawing from her and leaving her collapsing down onto the bed.

“You alright?” He chuckled softly as he gave her head a pat before moving to clean himself up.

“Mmmhm…” her sound was muffled against the gag, though he was soon coming over to remove it from her mouth.

“Not bad for a first meeting, was it?” he grinned as he untied her blindfold and pulled it from her eyes, revealing her mascara and tear smudged face.

“Not at all…” she turned slightly to look up at him, unaware just how adoring her gaze was.

He stood there, fully naked and seemingly unashamed, looking quite pleased with her and with himself. He lowered down before briefly kissing her lips in an almost sweet gesture. “Good.” He said simply before retrieving the key to her cuffs to unlock them, leaving her able to shift position and rub at her wrists. “So, are you free later in the week?”

She grinned before answering quietly. “Saturday.”

“It’s a date.” He replied before sinking down into the bed beside her to relax.

She had been going to the same hardware store every Friday afternoon for several months. It wasn’t that she truly needed anything; sometimes, she wasn’t even sure why she went, but she saw him every time she was there. Sometimes she would catch him at the little counter near the gardening center. Other times he was wandering the isles making rounds, but she always caught a glimpse of him. On the rare occasion, he rang her up. She made sure to go on weekdays only, when she knew he would be there. He would always smile at her, wishing her a good day and thanking her for shopping there before she left. She often wondered if he recognized her or if he noticed the fact that she would make eyes at him while purchasing some trivial item. He never seemed to give her any sort of recognition for being a frequent flyer to the store. Part of her wondered if she would ever run out of silly little trinkets to buy just so she would have an excuse to see him. One day, she vowed, she would ask him out for coffee…or a movie…or something. One day, she would actually talk to him.

It was one of those days…the ones that made you watch every little movement of the clock; the kind that left you on the edge of your seat. She would be done with work shortly and she would be making her trip to the hardware store. A new little switch plate for her room would be nice. She had decided on that item a week ago. She hoped that he would be there. Even though she had seen him dozens of times before, it still thrilled her to be near him. Today, however, was thrilling for a different reason. Today, she had decided she would ask him out. She was tired of only looking and not touching. She wanted to make her move. She had gone through each scenario in her head about what he might say. It would be bad if he was already seeing somebody. It would be worse if he simply turned her down. Then again, he might say yes. It was just too tempting of a prospect to ignore. When the clock hit 2:30, she signed herself out of work early and drove the short distance to the store, giving herself a pep talk along the way.

When she finally pulled into the parking lot, she took a moment to touch up her makeup and give her hair a cursory brush through. She wanted to look good. As she stepped out of the car, the doors of that store had never looked as daunting as they did at that moment. Sucking in a breath, she wandered towards the building and moved within, slowly glancing around the tall isles. He could be anywhere. She hurried along down towards the lighting area, chewing on her lower lip as she searched for him. She had not seen him, even as she picked up a decorative switch plate from the rack. Clutching her purchase, she continued to wander around before dejectedly beginning to head to the very back counter near isle 15. It was then that she spotted him. She couldn’t help but smile as she made her way towards him, her heart fluttering inside her chest.

“Need any help Miss? Or are you all ready to check out?” he had turned towards her as she approached, giving her a bit of a smile.

“I’m ready to check out…” she responded, smiling back at him nervously.

He nodded and led her back over to the counter, stepping behind it slowly and beginning to type into the computer. She stared at him as she passed him the switch plate, her hands shaking even as she pulled out her card to pay for it. She was still nervous, though she finally mustered the energy to speak to him. “I think you have rung me up before.” That really wasn’t what she wanted to say!

He looked up at her, his lips tugging into an amused smirk before he responded, “I should think so…you come here every week.”

She could feel her face immediately begin to burn! So he had noticed her before. He knew that she was there all the time and had recognized her all those times before. She gave a nervous sounding laugh before shrugging her shoulders. “Yeah, I get a lot of stuff for my place here…” her voice trailed off before she finally blurted out what she wanted to say, hardly thinking about the words as they left her lips. “I was thinking that you might want to go get coffee sometime…unless you don’t like coffee, then maybe just a bite to eat…or something…”

The air was thick; the tension was palpable even while he bagged her items, seeming almost as if he had not heard what she had said. She was left swallowing the lump in her throat, feeling the blood still rushing to her cheeks. His response, or rather lack thereof, was leaving her feeling ashamed. It was then that he finally looked up at her, his greenish eyes seeming to pierce right through her. She was suddenly uncomfortable; it was as though he was able to see everything about her with just that one, unnerving stare. He said nothing, his stride bringing him out in front of that counter to where she stood, his frame drawing up so close to hers that she could smell the faint hint of cologne and sweat on his frame. She had hardly noticed his hand lifting, seeming as though he were about to brush his fingertips across her cheek before his digits curled around the back of her neck and cured into her hair. His fist slowly closed, drawing those strands taut and using them to turn her head upwards to face him.

“You don’t really want to just get coffee, do you, you little slut…” His words were almost purred. His voice husky and damn self-assured!

She was immediately taken aback, her shocked form having frozen in place while her eyes went wide. She could hardly believe what he was saying! “Wha…what?” She stammered, not wanting to meet his gaze but not able to tear her eyes away.

“Don’t deny it…I’ll bet you are already starting to soak those panties of yours. I have seen the way you look at me when you come here. I know you want to be my eager little slut…my happy little whore…don’t you?” He was grinning briefly, seeming to revel in his words.

“I…I…” she was fighting for words. Could she truly deny that she had pictured herself in compromising positions with him on more than one occasion? Could she look him in the eye and pretend she had not imagined him pulling her to the back of the store for a quick fling? She was about to order him to release her; she wanted for a moment to turn around in shame, run and never look back, but he still held fast to her.

“Your silence tells me everything…” he had drawn in close to whisper the words into her ear before he yanked her forward and off balance.

She let out a startled cry as she was tugged forward towards that counter, his hand guiding her head downwards as he nudged her back behind the register, tucking her down out of sight neatly in the space where shelving had been removed under the counter. There, she knelt before him, not knowing why she did not scream, even as he pressed her head forward, rubbing her cheeks and lips against the fabric of his pants were she could feel the strain of his cock pressing underneath. He had probably sensed her reluctance. It was a combination of pure anxiety at not only the possibility of being seen, but also with the shame stemming from the act he was forcing her to do. This may have prompted him to speak again softly.

“There are no cameras back here…nobody can see you and nobody knows you are under this counter…” he glanced down at her before jamming her head forward once more, seeming to enjoy making her squirm!

His words made her heart leap into her throat. It was a thrilling and yet terrifying prospect that he had her at his mercy! It wasn’t until he reached down and began to undo the buttons of his fly that the true gravity of the situation hit her. He was going to make her suck him off…right there…in the middle of the store. As he withdrew his length from his pants, she found herself face to face with her task.

“Open up that pretty little mouth of yours…suck on it…” his words were insistent. He had hardly given her a chance to answer or protest before he jabbed the head against her lips in an attempt to gain access.

She hesitated a moment, her brows creasing as she stared up at him. Slowly though, her mouth opened, inviting him inside that warm space and bathing him with her tongue. Carefully she began to suck upon him, drawing her head back before pressing it forward again, working to please him. She could hear a slow sigh escape his mouth. It was subtle, but she could tell that he was enjoying himself. His hand was lightly guiding her head to and fro, sometimes choosing to pet her instead, though every once in a while he would thrust his hips or shove her head forward far enough to make her gag. This made him grin. After a few moments of noisy and enthusiastic motions, he shushed her, bringing his hands up near the top of the counter after pressing her mouth firmly upon him.

“Can I help you, Sir?” he was speaking to somebody else.

Her eyes went wide as she sucked in a breath, her teeth still held apart by his cock. She scarcely made any noise, listening to the footsteps of another gentleman approaching where they were. She was horrified, not knowing what to do. She listened to the brief conversation between the two men, her eyes squeezing shut tightly as she waited for them to be finished. Luckily, the customer was completely unaware of her presence and soon enough his items were handed to him and he was leaving. It was about that moment she felt a light slap upon her cheek, forcing her to look back up into his eyes.

“Did I tell you to stop sucking, little slut?” he proceeded to tap her cheek again with his hand.

“MmMm…” she gave him a muffled response, shaking her head no as she hurriedly went back to work upon him. After a few moments, he was finally grasping her hair and pulling her away from his dick, one of his fingers now toying lightly against her lips¸ running circles around them while he spoke.

“I get off in an hour. Now that we have gotten your mouth to work, I think later I’ll concentrate on stretching out the rest of your cute little holes…”

She let out a tiny whimper as he now tugged her upwards lightly, giving her a slap on the ass as he stuffed his still throbbing member back into his pants. He shooed her out from behind the counter, leaving her bewildered. He turned to grab a scrap of paper from near the register, writing on it before handing it to her.

“Meet me at this address at 5:00. Dress sexy and don’t be late or I will have to punish you. I have to get back to work.”

She stared at him briefly, wondering if he was serious. She glanced down at the piece of paper before nodding, not even able to speak. She raised her hand and waved slightly as she turned and hurried off to think on what had just happened, barely even looking back at him. Would she go? Would she do as he asked? She didn’t know, but she had rushed out of the store so quickly that her bag was left back at the register.

To be continued…

Oh for the love of...dominate is a verb, people...a VERB! It is not an attribute or describing word (aka an adjective) or a person, place, or thing (aka a noun)! You are not a "dominate." You were not born a "dominate" nor have you been a "dominate" all your life.  You might be a DOMINANT (noun or adjective) who likes to DOMINATE (verb) people, but christfuck, learn the difference between the two words before you make yourself out to be an ignorant ass! /rant

*This is my first longer piece of erotica.  Feel free to let me know what you think.  Also, the formatting on here may be a bit wrong, but I got tired of trying to mess with it.*

Memoirs of a Bedroom Submissive - Kidnapped

She had returned home late that evening, her feet aching from having been on them all day, her form fatigued as she wandered towards her bedroom. Keys were tossed carelessly on the counter, landing with a soft clatter as she stepped past the threshold to her room, stepping off to the side where her bathroom sat. She clicked on the light, bathing the room in a pale yellow glow as she reached for her toothbrush, turning on the tap and squeezing paste onto the bristles. She placed the end into her mouth, brushing vigorously as she began to kick off her shoes, loosening her belt with her free hand and pulling it free of the loops before withdrawing her Android from her pocket. She was soon rinsing and spitting, turning off the water as she clicked off the light, using only the screen of her cellular phone to light her way as she stepped towards her room, shedding clothing clumsily along the way.

She stood there in front of her bed for a few moments, having removed all but her undergarments while she stretched, glad to be home. Her mattress looked inviting; the air in the room felt cool against her skin, leaving her smiling as she eagerly awaited the warmth of the covers surrounding her. Little did she know that her evening was about to change. It was at that moment a shape began to move up behind her; a mere shadow of a man began creeping towards her back. She hadn’t even seen it coming, though suddenly she found her long locks tight within the grasp of the stranger, her form forcefully bent at the waist over the mattress. Her face was soon smashed into the plush surface, neck fighting to turn her head so she would not be smothered. She wiggled, letting out a scream that was met with a hiss of annoyance and a sharp smack to her ass.

“Quiet!” A strange, altered voice barked at her, his free hand fumbling for her right wrist and snatching it up, dragging it behind her back where she felt the cold press of metal and the unmistakable click of handcuffs.

She tried to keep her other hand under her body; she attempted to conceal it from him, but he was having none of it.

“Give me your wrist…”

She was shaking, still attempting to fight him before she felt his iron grip upon her thigh, slowly clamping and sending a sharp spike of pain through her. He knew that she would not be able to bear it for long, her hand finally flying back in an attempt to get him to stop while sharp pains ran up her leg. That practically offered wrist was soon secured also, leaving her hands restrained, her body squirming as he planted his knee firmly against her spine, keeping her at bay while he rustled in his pocket, producing a black piece of fabric that he began to drape over her eyes, blocking out the already low light in the room and shrouding her in total darkness. She was now trying to throw him off of her as he secured that cloth, letting out another scream before she demanded that he release her!

“Let me go, LET ME GO!” She was yelling near the top of her lungs, praying somebody would hear her, anybody that may be able to save her.

Her demands were met with a low click, making her freeze and suck in a deep breath while a spike of fear rushed over her. His hand was using her hair for leverage now, yanking her upright and onto her feet before he pressed the flat of that blade to the smooth flesh of her neck. The flutter of her pulse almost made the metal dance, his mouth moving close to her ear, breath tickling against her as he whispered lowly. “Shh…” He didn’t need any other words; she was quiet, fearfully whimpering through pressed lips as his head drew back, leaving him speaking once more. “Let’s take a ride…”

A cry lifted from her lips as he gave her a firm yank, causing her head to go faster than her feet and leaving her scrambling to keep up! He led her through her home, reaching the front door and shoving her out of it before closing it neatly behind him. She felt the slap of cold air against her flesh, her skin breaking out into goose bumps while her face burned, quite aware that she was dressed in naught but her undergarments. She made a wish at that moment; prayed that somebody would see them, though she heard nothing except for the crickets that merrily chirped in the grass. She heard him fishing for something in his pocket, the jingling of keys reaching her ears as he popped open the trunk of his car before shoving her forward.

“In you go, Doll…” His tone was eerily calm.

She was immediately dumped off balance, her legs lifted and curled to fit within the cramped space before he slammed the top back down upon her. She began to struggle within her bonds, yelling out only to hear the sounds of her own screams echo off the carpeted interior. Soon, her noises would be drowned out by the sound of the radio and the hum of the engine, and she had naught to do but wait in that claustrophobic inducing area for when he would fetch her.

She was hypersensitive to every bump and jostle along the way, her form swaying forward and back between the cycles of movement and stopping. It soon became apparent that the vehicle was going over some speed bumps, her form being rudely bumped up and down with no restraint. Soon, the car was placed in park, her ears no longer hearing the growl of the engine and instead detecting the closing of a door. She waited, her heart thrumming against chest before she was greeted with a new blast of fresh air when the lid was lifted. Nothing was said; she was merely grasped by her hair and drawn upwards, his free hand guiding her legs swiftly out of the trunk so that she could stand on the ground. She groaned as she moved, the cramps having already settled into her shoulders and side, muscles aching for an impossible repositioning in those bonds. She wanted to scream but thought better of it; she couldn’t see if he still had his knife, nor did she know where she was.

She was quickly led through a parking lot, afraid she would stumble and fall as she tottered along at his behest. They reached a door which she could hear being unlocked and she was then pushed forward past the threshold before the stranger closed it behind him. The audible click of a deadbolt sounded like a nail in her coffin as he took her by the arms, reaching down to open one of the handcuffs that held her wrists back. As soon as she felt the freedom of her arm, she swung at him, though her hand was soon caught, his thumb and forefinger pressing against the pressure point on her hand, leaving her writhing and crying out as he growled. He subdued her easy enough, moving her arms in front of her before re-cuffing her wrists and bringing them up over her head. The chain was soon attached to a clip above her and locked in place.
She was left standing there, fingers idly groping along in an attempt to “see” what he had done, though she could now hear him rustling behind her.

He approached after a moment, sliding the cool steel of the surgical scissors under the fabric of her panties, snipping them from her body easily before moving to her bra, unhooking it in the back before slicing through the straps and drawing it away as well, leaving her naked and ashamed. She felt her face get hot as she attempted to close her legs, but she soon found his hand grasping at one of her ankles, attaching the appendage to one end of a bar before doing the other in turn, leaving her spread and vulnerable. She had started to panic now, finding that her heels were slightly elevated in that stance, leaving her calves aching just slightly as she stood on the balls of her feet. His touch was now moving unabashed along her legs, trailing along her thighs before finally cupping her crotch. His lips were twitching into a grin as he lightly slapped at her sensitive folds, leaving her whining and dancing on her feet. He was soon moving away again, leaving her almost holding her breath, wondering what he would do.

She didn’t have to wait long before something whistled through the air, cracking against the creamy whiteness of her ass and leaving it exploding with sting and heat. She cried out, moving forward and attempting to twist as another lash came whipping through the air, leaving her reeling from the feeling. The blows were relentless for a solid thirty seconds, causing her frame to tremble as she held back her emotions, not wanting to cry for him. Little did she know just how gleeful his expression was; how he delighted in hearing her noises and watching her attempt to move away from the lash. She would not have to suffer the whip for long, for he was soon picking up a new toy to indulge his fancies, swinging the paddle and imprinting a deep burn upon her. She screamed in her throat as he worked her over, first with one paddle and then a different one, leaving the impact heavier each time. She would run a gauntlet of sensations; the heavy leather flogger percussively working into her muscles while the dragon’s tail swiped and bit at her, leaving dark red lines in its wake.

All the while she bit back her screams. Held back her pathetic cries where she wished to beg him to stop. She was too proud; she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She wanted to go down fighting. She wasn’t sure how long she could be tough, taking more pain than she felt she was able, not having any real way to make him stop.

“Scream for me…” He was toying with her now, abandoning toys and instead using his hands. He was pawing at her chest with one, mashing her breasts out of shape and rolling her nipples while he spanked her with his palm, warming her ass and laughing all the while.

She could soon feel the tears welling up in her eyes, the salty liquid running down her face and carrying her mascara with it, wetting the blindfold and leaving dark lines trailing along her cheeks and staining her lower eyelids. She was soon screaming for him at his request, her mouth begging him in earnest. She had lost her will to fight and now merely pleaded for his mercy. “Please! Please no more, no more!” She was coughing as she spoke, her throat raw from her sounds.

“No more?” He taunted her, producing a small little stick that looked quite harmless to the casual observer as he moved around in front of her. “Why should I stop?” His fingers drew back the flexible acrylic rod before allowing it to snap forward against the flesh of her breasts, leaving an angry red line behind.

She was shaking her head frantically, trying to get away as he popped her with it again and again, imparting that horrid sting that she loathed. “Please, I can’t take any more, please!”

He was not done with her, ignoring her pleas and instead moving for a bag nearby, fishing out two clothespins which were promptly placed on each of her nipples, making them throb and ache under the pinch. “I’m not done with you yet.” He moved around behind her once again, grabbing up a thin leather strap and smacking it lightly against his palm. “Pick a number between one and fifty.”

She was bewildered, not sure what his angle was, afraid to answer his question lest she dig herself a hole.

“Pick, or I will pick for you…” His voice was measured, no nonsense.

She was soon stammering, speaking tentatively. “Seventeen?”

His chuckle was audible as he nodded. “Very good…I chose 45, which means you get 28 swats.”

She was shaking her head wildly, almost going into hysterics as he spoke that number.

“Count them…” He proceeded to lay the strap into her ass, causing her to cry out.

“Noooo, please!” she cried.

“I didn’t hear a number on that, slut.” He responded.

“One, one!” She attempted to backpedal and give him what he wanted.

“No, no, it’s too late.” He tsked at her, scolding. “Now we need to start all over again.” He punctuated his words with another smack of that strap on her ass, seeming to pause and wait to hear what he wanted.

“One!” She shouted it out, hanging her head as he continued his motions. She counted each blow, each successive hit seeming more harsh than the last, and she soon found herself almost unable to keep steady on her feet. When the final hit rang out, she spoke the words much more softly. “Twenty-eight…”

He seemed to almost purr at the tone she used, setting down his implement before he came wandering up behind her, admiring the redness of her ass; the subtle mottling that would no doubt turn into bruises later. He studied the way she panted, how she whimpered while she stood there, her head resting limply against her arm, legs trying to cope with her weight. Her flesh had a light and moist sheen, muscles trembling as her teeth found her lower lip, biting into it. His hands reached for her, roaming the expanse of her sides, tracing and tickling along her flesh openly now. She had been subdued, broken to his will. He could sense that despite her reluctance, she was less resistant to his insistent touch.

“Would you like these off?” His words were punctuated by his hands reaching up and toying with the clips on her nipples, giving them a light tug and twist.

She was nodding quickly, whining plaintively and flinching. “Yes…please take them off…” Her voice sounded tired, though she was still clearly in pain.

He seemed thoughtful, cocking his head as he hummed deep in his throat as if he were deciding on the spur of the moment whether he would grant her request. “Well, since you asked so nicely…” His fingers opened one of the clips and removed it before he was rubbing feeling back into the sensitive nub, doing the same in turn to the other side.

“Ah!” She had cried out as he removed those clips, the feeling of blood flow returning to her nipples sending a much harsher sensation of pain over her body. His ministrations and rubbing left her wincing, feeling much more sore and sensitive after the fact.

He was soon rubbing at her breasts now before one of his hands dipped down, one finger moving to slide along the length of her slit. “Is my little slut turned on by this?”

She tried to deny it; tried to shift away from him but was unable, her thighs desperately trying to close even while the bar held her ankles firmly and apart. She couldn’t hide the faint trickle of moisture that he was able to gather upon his finger. Her body was betraying the fact that what he had done had somehow and impossibly turned her on. She was further embarrassed by the continued probing of that digit. The tip of his finger was soon dipping within her, spreading her walls slightly.

“Don’t try to deny it. You’re completely soaked!” His finger now lifted up, his eyes studying the wetness there before he was reaching over to smear it against her lower lip, leaving her grunting and whining in protest! “Naughty slut.”

She could feel him grinding against her backside, his arousal apparent as it tented his pants, her own arousal ripe upon her tongue as it cleaned her lip.
He was soon backing away, moving off to the side to get another device, smiling as he ran his fingers along the metal before giving her an order. “Open your mouth.”

She didn’t want to do what he was asking her to do, leaving a noise of protest lifting from her. Although she could not see it, his face immediately looked displeased before one of his hands shot out, grasping hold of her breast and compressing it tightly with his fingers. It made her lift up even further on her feet, her arms shaking and rattling the restraints above her as she thrashed her head from side to side.

He seemed patient, simply speaking one more word to her. “Open.” His tone seemed as though he was simply waiting for her to crack.

She couldn’t resist him any longer; the pain was too intense for her to ignore. Her mouth opened as she let out a scream, and his hand immediately released her breast so that he could place the strange metal gag in her mouth. It went between her teeth, holding her jaw ajar as he began to ratchet it open. She immediately realized by the feel of it that it was something akin to what a dentist would use to keep you spread open for oral surgery! She whined softly, feeling the tears sting her eyes as she tilted her head forward, left unable to swallow. Soon she could feel herself being unhooked again from above, her arms slowly lowered down as he grabbed hold of the chain between them to hold her wrists tight. Her calves and toes had a moment of reprieve from burning as she was allowed to stand a bit more naturally, albeit still spread open by that bar.

She was awkwardly led away from that place and into a different room, shuffling forward on her feet until he stopped her and spoke. “Kneel down.”
It was rather awkward of her to try and do so, though he was helping her get to the floor. He wandered over in front of her and settled himself down upon the mattress of the bed before reaching down and unbuttoning his fly, leaving her hearing the growl of a zipper as he lowered it down. His throbbing length was soon withdrawn from his pants, held at the base by one of his hands as he snatched her hair in the other.

“Stick out your tongue.” He barked.

She did as she was told, and much to her bemusement, her saliva began to trickle out of her mouth, coating the tip of the cock that had been placed ever so strategically below her mouth.

“That’s right…get it nice and wet dirty girl!” He was grinning, enjoying watching her try to hold back her embarrassment and retain her dignity. “Lick it…” He guided her head downwards so just the tip of her tongue could move against the head, watching her with hawk eyes as she timidly obeyed. He had been intent upon face fucking her, though he couldn’t have her biting down on him. This would just have to do. Soon enough, he was pressing her head forward, leaving her unable to stop the intruder from entering her mouth and gliding over her tongue.

She was left grunting as his cock began to invade that space, her mouth unable to close around him as he forced her up and down, bobbing her back and forth until she was plunged forward so far he hit the back of her throat. Her muscles began to spasm, leaving her gagging upon him as her body attempted to expel him. It was only after a few moments that he let her back up, leaving her sucking in a quick breath before he was repeating the action, forcing her to gag and continue to drool upon him. Her eyes now had tears in them from a different reason, her face a mess of running makeup, a slightly runny nose, and a chin covered in spit. He didn’t seem to care; if anything, it only further excited him.

When he finally withdrew from her mouth, her cheeks were left being assaulted by him, slapped lightly by that thick girth as he smeared about the fluids still present on her flesh. He now began to rise, using her hair to guide her as he lifted her up, bending her over the bed and leaving her ass and pussy completely exposed. She was shaking, listening as he reached for something nearby. She could hear the top of a bottle being popped open before she felt the cool trickle of lube running along the crack of her ass.

“Ah! No!” She tried to speak through the gag, though her words were garbled and unclear.

“Shh…” He practically cooed at her, now rudely sliding the head of his dick along that slickened path, smearing about the lube before he began to press against the tight pucker of her asshole. “I’m going to enjoy stretching you open, slut…”

She shook her head, trying to wiggle or buck away, but his grip upon her hair was like iron, keeping her in place. He at least gave her the courtesy of not ramming forward, though as he began to guide himself against her, she could feel those reluctant rings of muscle begin to bloom and open. She was left grunting, whining as he worked against her, stretching her slowly and torturously. She could feel the pain of resistance, her body not wanting to open up around him even as he insisted it did by continuing. For a moment, the sensation was white hot, leaving her screaming out before she felt him pop within, the tip working into her enough to hold her open. He was pausing briefly before continuing, sliding the whole of his cock deep into her ass, leaving her insides feeling oddly full. She was panting, still twitching, her ass trying to push him out even while he kept in place.

“Your ass is so tight...feels so good around my cock…” He commented to her before giving one of her cheeks a love tap with his hand, leaving it stinging.

“Do you like having your asshole stretched out?”

She shook her head quickly, denying it, but all the while her eyes had practically rolled back behind that blindfold. As he began to move, she felt him withdrawing slowly, catching just the head inside her and threatening to almost pull it free of her body even as it remained caught there. He was then left plunging back within her, causing her to cry out.

“I think you are actually enjoying this. Your pussy is soaked.” He punctuated his point by reaching down, his fingers slipping down under her and sliding between those folds, smearing her messiness around. The pad of one of his fingertips found her clit, teasing around the aching bud with the intent of leaving her desperate to hold back a moan!

She couldn’t help it. Her body was reacting to him, her hips straining backwards slightly in an attempt to feel the first real pleasure he had given her. His finger continued to torment her while he rocked back and forth, fucking her ass. He was even daring to dip another finger into her clenching walls, penetrating her in both holes and leaving her unable to bite back her noises of pleasure any longer! She was soon moaning for him, leaving him working against her more vigorously. Her back was arching, her asshole now eagerly taking him in while her pussy squeezed against his finger. She could feel something building deep within her abdomen that she was trying to hold back, her breathing becoming deeper and more labored the longer he worked at her.

“Don’t try and fight it. Cum for me, whore!” He encouraged her, fucking her harder now while the bed rammed against the wall repeatedly.
She finally had to give in, gasping in surprise as her orgasm swept over her almost upon command. She was left screaming, shaking and clamping down on him as the pleasure rolled over her, wave after seemingly endless wave leaving her reeling. She could hear him letting out a little grunt behind her before she felt the splash of something hot deep inside of her, his cock having swelled as it pumped out his seed. He too was panting now, patting her ass as he finally began to withdraw, their sweaty frames glistening under the low light of the room.

It was at that moment that he reached over, grasping hold of her blindfold and pulling it off, leaving her head whipping around to meet the eyes of her lover. She let out a surprised gasp, her brow furrowing in disbelief as he reached over to loosen the gag and remove it from her mouth, leaving her finally able to talk.

Her throat was raw, her body aching as she spoke in a questioning manner, “How?”

He merely smiled, reaching over to stroke her cheek before he unclipped a small little microphone attached to a box near his collar. It was a small voice changer that had left her unable to figure out who he was. “I bought this online a few weeks ago and I wanted to see how well it worked at disguising my voice. Besides, you always said you wanted to be kidnapped and forced.”

She stared at him in wonderment, the intensity of the situation finally getting to her. She felt awash with relief, finally able to calm down, knowing that she was safe. She had been safe the whole time, and she had shown him a side of her that she tried to repress…a needy, wanton side. Involuntarily, she began to cry, releasing all of her stress and heartache, allowing herself her emotional outpouring. He was soon settling down near her, reaching out to pet her hair tenderly, giving her a few moments to regain her composure.

“Was it good for you?” He grinned.

“Thank you…” That was her only reply.

A little more about me

I wanted to put an addendum to the above profile down here.  While everything above still applies to me, I do have an ever-evolving scope and view of myself and what I enjoy in the scene.  Often, individuals have asked me how I identify myself or what activities I enjoy.  While it would take me awhile to list everything, it is more concise and to the point to say that my interests are many and varied.  As to questions such as "do you enjoy such and such," all I can say is that it is easier to just ask me if I like an activity than it is to have me laundry list things out.

I have, and always will, identify with being submissive.  My nature is more "flight than fight," or perhaps I should say I would rather "get along and be non-confrontational."  My submissive side is my shy, slightly insecure, natural pleaser.  It is the side that is triggered when I'm near a strong personality.  Fear and respect are what can control this side. This is a chosen power exchange with those whom I am comfortable with and those that will never truly degrade me when the scene is complete and view me as an equal.  It has been awhile since I have experienced this dynamic and at times, I miss it.

I more recently identify with the masochist for reasons I have listed in my writing.  I have been having a lot of scenes with no D/s quality to them as of late and I do enjoy experiencing the sensations that go along with them.  I have found that I can play with somebody and be on a level playing field. That is what spurs the fun-loving, joking, and bratty side to my person.  Being able to spout off phrases that I would never say while under a D/s type of protocol is liberating and amusing.  I have a sarcastic and witty humor and it has gotten me in trouble before in the past.  When in this type of scene, I don't have to rein it in.  

I can also, to a lesser degree, identify with a topping personality and also with sadism.  I have topped people at their request in the past and I have been told that they enjoyed the scenes.  When I am in a topping mindset, or even when simply being a voyeur, I become more sadistic.  I enjoy watching people in pain and I enjoy giving pain.  I love indulging in mind-fuckery, and I love it if I am able to trigger anxiety or fear in my victi-er, I mean my bottom :-P. I also, and only to those that request it of me, enjoy humiliating or embarrassing a bottom. This side of me emerges the least and generally to such a small degree that I don't usually identify with being a switch.

In short, I am a complicated and complex person who can fit into many different types of scenes.  Hopefully though, that will give people a bit more insight as to my personality and pleasures.  :-D

Rejuvenated

I step up to the exercise equipment that will serve as my brace for the evening, gripping the metal surface as I attempt to mentally prepare myself. I am shaking my body out, sloughing off my self- doubt as I crack my knuckles and neck and stretch out my back. I lift my feet one by one and give them a good wiggle while I breathe. I have to remember to breathe. I turn and watch as you lay out all of your toys, and my face scrunches a bit as I see the few that I dislike. I know I will taste their bite later. Soon, you rise up and grab your lowest intensity flogger as I smile and turn, sucking in a deep breath before bracing myself.

You begin with your strokes. Light and airy, they fall upon my back, causing my eyes to close and my head to bow. I begin to feel the music…work with the beat in my head. I can sense the vibration in my feet and it moves through me, causing me to sway slightly as you begin on my ass, warming that area up also. The sensation is pleasant, leaving me able to concentrate on my mind rather than what is going on around me. I am relaxed as I allow myself to drift, though thoughts of self-doubt begin to creep into the recesses of my mind.
As the level of play intensifies, I momentarily lose my space; I begin to anticipate the blows, and that fear wells up inside me. What if this scene crashes like the last one? What if I am lost? What if I can’t handle this? Worry and doubt seem to take over for a moment, and suddenly what was a relaxed jaw is now tense, my teeth gritting as I move away from the strikes before they come. My body tightens, and you ease off. You know me well. In that brief moment, I sure myself up. “Shake that one off, Sandy.” I tell myself.

With renewed resolution, I seek out calm. I relax once more and allow my muscles to loosen. I smile to myself and reassure my mind. I listen to the music. I am snapped out of it momentarily by your firm grip on my thighs while you ask me how I am doing. I respond that I am ok, though now I am bucking, attempting to peel your hands away from my sensitive skin. You remove them, only to latch onto my breasts, causing me to do somewhat of a back bend into you. I beg for you to let go and whimper your name along with repeated “ows.” You do not release me just yet, since you decide to torment me with the electric bug zapper and make me dance first. As you finally pull away, I am left smirking and glancing back at what you are going to retrieve next.

You are running through a small gamut of toys…swatting me with the cane that I hate and following it up with the unforgiving rubber hose. Sometimes, you allow my ass to be somewhat protected by my skirt, and other times, my bare bottom is what feels the bite. You hit me with the rolled up tube of cork, and I have to laugh to myself and wonder if you will break that one over my butt tonight just like you did with the other in a previous scene. The paddle leaves a good burn in its wake, and the crops leave a light sting. I have one spot that a friend wants you to mark, and you make sure to give it a good lick with the dragon tail, leaving me reeling.

Perhaps the most intense sensation of the evening was with the dreaded metal paddle. I can see you contemplating what you will grab, watching you carefully and knowing it will be something severe. As you lift the instrument up, I give you a look that is equal parts unsure and excited. You are grinning and nodding to me, letting me know that you have made your decision. There are people shouting in the background; I can hear their woots and calls of, “Yeah baby!” and even though I am not sure they are for me, they make it sound like I have a cheerleading squad in the room. I turn around, and you lift my skirt. I am completely unprotected as you draw back and land an unforgiving blow. Right as it hits, the people near the back of the room let out a call in unison. “WHOOOO!” I hear them cry, and again, although I am not sure if it was because they were watching our scene, it was timed perfectly enough to make me chuckle. I dance around, shaking off the heavy burn and sting, though I am not done yet.

It feels as though we have been in the scene for a while. I am not sure how long we have been going, but I am electrified. I am dancing in my head, floating and yet conscious, still hungry for more. You ask me if I am done, and I tell you that you can keep going. I turn back around, and I feel the heaviest flogger you have landing blows upon me once more. I am loving it, enjoying the deep impact, grinning and making noises of pleasure rather than pain. I have hit that barrier; pain and pleasure are melding into one, and I becoming what you like to call “stoic.” You like my stoicism. I take several lashes with the dragon tail, barely flinching, though you make sure to get me to say “ow” with a nastier one.

As the scene finally winds down, you give me a few good hits with probably one of your meanest toys…the rubber flogger. It feels as though it is carving lines of fire into my skin, and I wince, but I am a happy girl. The final blows land themselves neatly, and I turn around, feeling euphoric. We hug and kiss as I thank you for my scene, and you compliment me as always, saying I did well. Your words are accepted. I have pleased you. I am pleased with myself. The marks on my ass now serve as a reminder and as a symbol of what I have accomplished. I found my headspace. I am rejuvenated.

I know that I am forgetting things, and my timeline is not perfect, but these are the things that stuck out to me in the scene. All in all, it was great, and I enjoyed the hell out of it!

A Note on Masochism - My Self Discovery

 Merriam Webster Dictionary defines masochism as, “(n) 1. The deriving of sexual gratification, or the tendency to derive sexual gratification, from being physically or emotionally abused. 2. The deriving of pleasure, or the tendency to derive pleasure, from being humiliated or mistreated, either by another or by oneself. 3. A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.”

The Edge

Take me to that place…
The one that makes your hair stand on end
Where you can feel the prickles on the back of your neck
I want to visit where your stomach twists
And your breath catches and quickens
Where your pulse flutters and dances
And your muscles tighten with anticipation
Take me down the road
That makes me feel like I am falling
Tumbling down a spiral
Floating upon a sea of sensation
Fear…lust…agony…completeness
Lead me to that spot
To the precipice that looms ahead
Make me slip and slide
Make me lose myself
Force me to scream, beg, and cry
Take me to that place where I can be set free
Bring me to the edge

My Moment of Peace

I have been musing recently (which is always a scary thing) about why I truly enjoy submission, pain, fear, and force. Why do I crave a darker presence around me, or a person that will put me through the gauntlet, press me to my limits, take away my choice and otherwise mold me into what they desire?

I am positive that there are those out there that feel the way I do or covet what I covet, but for very different reasons. I have been asked by some if I enjoy serving. Do I desire these things because I feel the need to serve? To give a part of myself to another or gain a sense of well being through unquestioning obedience? I would be lying if I attributed my needs to this. I, by my very nature, am a giving person. I would think that any person who cares for those around them would feel a sense of warm fuzziness if they went that extra mile to give something of themselves to another. This is not what drives me to submit.

I have been asked by others if I simply desire attention, or if I feel that I am lacking something in my life. I have been asked if I believe that there are things I need to change and if it is my desire to be helped through those things. My answers to these questions are, "Doesn't everybody like attention from a significant other?" and "Doesn't everybody want to change something about themselves or their lives?" Perhaps not all people want help through their problems, but everybody sometimes needs someone there for them, even if it is just a welcome shoulder to cry on. "I love it when I am ignored and I have nothing about my lifestyle that makes me unhappy!" said no one ever. This isn't why I submit.

Now begs the ultimate question; if it is not for servitude, attention, or self improvement, why do I enjoy submitting so much? For a lot of my life I have felt as though control has been slipping through my fingers despite my futile attempts to grasp it. As a child I dealt with my father's alcoholism and the constant managing I felt I had to do of his life when I was the last child in the home. I had a role reversal in many aspects. I, as a teen, had to grow up and care for him when he could not care for himself. I knew he loved me, but it hurt to feel neglected.

I also had the emotional burden of supporting my mother. Then there was the insecurity felt by my mother that in turn made me feel insecure. In a lot of ways, I had to be her rock and give her advice. Without a lot of rules in place, I came and went as I pleased while I was a teen, provided I felt I had no responsibility to be home. I could merrily announce to my parents that I was, "Going out with friends. Don't wait up for me." While a lot of teenagers would consider this bliss, deep down, all children cry out for discipline; a steady routine that makes them feel safe. I knew my parents trusted my judgement; I knew that they knew I would not screw up and be found in a jail cell, however, I almost wished that, just for once, they would've told me when I needed to be home.

Now that I am an adult, maturity insists that I keep control. There are bills to be paid, work to do, relationships to maintain, goals to achieve, and things that have to be set on the back burner. Making decisions in life should not be done in a cursory manner and adults understand this. What does submission have to do with this? For me, it is a release.

When I submit, I feel as though that is my chance to put trust in somebody else. Hand over the reins and believe them when they step up and (perhaps not verbally, but metaphorically) say, "I got this." I have never felt more free than when I am in chains; have never felt more safe than when I am afraid; have never felt more liberated than when I was pushed to my limits; and have never felt more loved than when I have been changed into the desire of another. My submission is beautiful to me. It is something I would never give up. Truly, when I am deep within a scene, I can feel at peace.

Blissful Punishment – Memoirs of a Bedroom Submissive

“You’ve been very naughty, pet.”   Those words…so chilling in their regard and yet they hold the power to thrill me.   My heart is pounding, its low beats ringing within my ears as I am drawn back into his firm hold, the curve of my ass snuggling to the measured forward press of his hips.  An arm slithers over my shoulder, tucking up and under my chin as his lips dangle dangerously close to my ear, whispering sweetly.  “I think you need to be punished…don’t you agree, little one?”  My head shakes…I deny the suggestion as I have so many times before, playing hard to get and possibly testing patience. 

His lips have pressed into a thin line.  I know instantly that my answer is not the one that he wished to hear.  Whether he is truly mad or simply arousing my nerves I do not know.  There is no response from him, merely a clasping of my wrists in his hands as he draws them upwards above my head, nudging me towards the center of the room where cuffs dangle from the stud in the ceiling from their shiny metal chain links. 

I am easily secured in place without much of a struggle on my part, though I always test my bonds, wrists twisting within the confines of the leather as I tug downwards.  He has made them tight, knowing my affinity for tucking my thumbs to my palms with the intent to yank free.  I stand there, blessedly not on tip toe, waiting and listening as he leaves the room.  I attempt to twist around so I can see him re-enter, not wanting to be surprised by what he may have in store for me.  He has anticipated my move, his voice barking out, “Turn back around, slut.”  I whimper but I comply, moving back to my original positioning as he wanders up behind me.  Soon, a silken cloth drapes across my face.  I know now that I am to be shrouded in darkness. 

The silence is deafening; the darkness disorienting as I stand there, waiting in the thick, heavy tension before a paddle’s swoosh disturbs the silence and falls with an unforgiving crack on my ass.  The motion earns him a hearty cry from my lips…one that no doubt leaves him grinning despite my inability to see it.  I am unable to draw another breath before a second, equally matched blow falls upon the untouched side.  I am dancing, my back arching, feet stamping at the floor like a spooked horse while the burn settles into my flesh.  CRACK…again…CRACK…another…CRACK I am starting to break, but the blows do not cease.

“Beg, slut, beg me for what you want!” My dignity notwithstanding, I give in to what he wants.  I beg for him to stop.  I tell him that I will please him. I beg for pleasure…wantonly.  My body has already betrayed my inner emotions and as he pauses to reach between my legs, his fingers sliding through my already moistened folds, I know he has me just where he wants me.  I am captive.  I am a submissive bending to his will.  I am complete…and we have just begun.

I believe I have somehow achieved a new status on CM; one that is often tossed around in private conversation and blatantly stated on the profiles of numerous "prospectives" who browse the site.  I am now officially labeled a “fake” and have managed to be blocked by a member of the CM community.  Fortunately, this has brought me great amusement and a chance to once more perpetuate my ideas in my journal. 

 I suppose I could be offended; I could’ve had an all-out hissy fit and cursed the very name of the one who bestowed this title upon me, but rather, I thank him, because I believe this goes to prove a very real point that I (and any self-respecting person on this site) have known for a while.  What is this point, you might ask?  I am not sure how to eloquently write this out, but there are a lot of ass-clowns on here.  Hold up, forgive me, I am trying not to offend anybody that reads my journal.  Let me start over...hmm, how to put this delicately…there are a lot of dim witted, cowardly, and outright rude people here on CM. 

 I get messages on this site daily.  I get messages from young and old, male and female, dom, sub, and everything in between.  I personally attempt to answer each and every message that I receive in a timely and respectful manner.   I appreciate those people who take the time out of their lives to compliment what I have written, my photos, or anything else about me.  I am truly flattered and go out of my way to tell them so.  I also never assume anything about any given individual since I believe everybody is owed a chance to show their true colors.  This is all part of respect for your fellow human being.   Are we not all people with emotions, dreams, ideas and opinions?

I think sometimes that a person writing “submissive,” or “slave” (even “switch”) on their profile is subject to, at least at some point, quite unfair treatment.  Does the very act of labeling yourself with this title somehow give others the right to offer you less respect or treat you like dirt?  I also feel that sometimes a person writing “dominant” on their profile believes that somehow entitles them to preferential treatment.  You are a dominant?  Well Holy-Pants-Shitting Christ, we need to give you a round of applause! 

 I know this will probably turn some people off.  I know that some people will read this post and think to themselves, “What an uppity bitch!” or, “Somebody needs to put her in her place!” or even, “I don’t know why she doesn’t think so, but I AM the center of the universe!”  Nothing could be further from the truth (on all three counts).  Anybody that knows me knows that I will give you the same respect I would give any stranger on the street.  Whatever or whoever you are, or what label you identify with does not make any difference to me.  The only way you are knocked down a peg or put up on a pedestal in my book is through mutual respect or lack thereof.  Nothing more, nothing less. 

 So, to recap, just remember this if you message me.   The next time you live in a completely different state and you ask me if I have an instant messenger and I give you my screen name, then after that you ask me if I have a camera and I quite merrily state that I will show my face on cam, stop expecting me to go out of my way to download a new client when the one I use crashes your computer.  No, I will not download oovoo, give you my private skype name, or download "oovooskyperammalammadingdongwhatthefuck" messenger and make up a new screen name just so I can cam chat with YOU (unless I really, REALLY like you and believe there would be a chance for real time interaction; then I just might :-) ). 

 Also, when you then ask me if I have pictures of my tits and I tell you I do not take explicit photos of myself, do not automatically assume that because of all this I am “fake,” state this in a message to me and then block me before I have a chance to write you a rebuttal.  I have a life and a career I am not willing to jeopardize.  On one final note, I have not ever and will not block anybody from this site unless they are outright harassing me, because it is cowardly and snide; especially if you don’t even give the person half a chance to answer you.  Approach one another with respect and play nice, people!

Sandy

I have never considered myself a great writer and have never written any sort of literature that has been widely read or appreciated to any extent.  However, I consider myself a person of contemplation, so once in awhile I think I will post some snippets of scenarios that swirl about my head.  They may be erotica, or, as I posted several months ago, just a random collection of my own personal beliefs.  I hope you enjoy them, and if you do, by all means tell me so! Without further ado, my first (very brief) erotic writing.''

The Moment of Submission – Memoirs of a Bedroom Submissive

The room is quiet, the background white noise of the fan turning overhead blends into the room and creates an eerie stillness.  I am alone in my silence…drifting upon an endless ocean of blackness, lost to my own thoughts.  The leather; it impedes my vision, obscuring my senses and blurring the line between this realm and the space I wish to reach.  I wait, my hearing hypersensitive, honing in on the steady rhythm of my breathing.  It is only after a brief time that I become more aware of the ache in my knees…the gentle throbbing of the muscle and bone against the unforgiving hardness of the floor.  It is all I can do not to shift to sitting; ease myself into a more comfortable position to end my torment. 

He wants me in torment.  Wants to see if I will obey, if I can give myself up to this suffering…this anticipation and the dread fear of the clock as time slips away. Each little tick of its hands remind me that I am closer and closer to my destiny...or further and further away from where I started. I clasp and unclasp my hands behind me, twisting wrists in the wraps of rope that hold them behind my back.  The rope is tight, the rough woven fibers scratching and tickling my skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. My mind is racing, wondering how long he will choose to leave me.  I crave his presence, yet fear what he will do once he descends upon me.  I have been likened unto a prey item, and he is the predator, stalking me and waiting for the right moment to strike.  My daydreaming is shattered with that voice…the deep resounding baritone that makes my heart leap and my breath catch within my chest.  “Ready, my pet?” I nod. I have accepted his will over me.  I am ready to begin.

Lately I have been musing (rambling in my head) over a few ideas about D/s.  I have been asked repeatedly what I enjoy about the lifestyle, or what I feel I get out of my submission.  I believe that this is a hard question for any sub to truly answer.  Why do we feel the way we do?  What sparked these feelings?  Can any person truly pinpoint the exact moment in their life when they became a submissive (or dominant, for that matter), or was it simply just an overall feeling or desire? Looking back on my life and childhood I can now recognize moments of discovery; things about me that I feel were different from other children. I do not believe that the answers to these questions can be as simple as "I enjoy giving up control" or "I like the thrill of being helpless."  These are blanket answers to questions that, to me, can never fully be answered within the confines of a text box, or even within the time span of a few chats over dinner.

These questions are further complicated by the fact that in my everyday life, I strongly dislike being spoken down to, embarrassed, or told what to do against my will.  I hate feeling as though I am losing control, loathe the idea that I can be made to feel helpless, and despise people that attempt to upset the balance of equality I want to share with my fellow human being.  It is for these simple reasons that I have been referring to myself as a "bedroom submissive." It is the paradox of safety; the comfort of the bedroom that makes me crave the illusion of helplessness...the rush of fear...the excitement of force...or the bending of my will.  I will always say "illusion," because within those moments I hold the power to end my slavery; shatter the bonds that are holding me with a single word that holds the ability to keep me "safe." It is a magic trick that I will never tire of seeing, and yet never truly decipher.

I told somebody recently that I believe a true dominant never has to tell me that they are dominant.  Never has to use force to control me (unless I am playing hard to get ;-) ).  I will submit to him, and submit willingly, because I can feel his power on him.  I was told once by a Dom that I know and respect very much that I am one of the "brattiest, most whiny slaves" that he has ever had the "pleasure of playing with."  Was I to be insulted or amused by this statement?  He admitted that I could be unwieldy, but then said when it "counted," I would behave beautifully and make him proud.  Why is this? It is that way because I respect him.  I wanted him to show me he was dominant; prove to me that he was in control.  He pulled the reins from my hand and made me see that I was not the one who controlled the beast; I was simply along for the ride.  This is what I want.  I will not try him again; he has proven his worth to me. 

I cannot submit to somebody I do not respect; as a person or as a Dom.  You do not "demand" respect; you "command" it.  If you do not command respect, you cannot hope to ever command me.  What do I get out of my submission?  I get plenty out of it, and if you can help me to find that submissive side, then you are truly a person that I respect. 

XOXO

Sandy