Beneath a fine little replica of Cimabue’s Florence crucifix that I treasured, to the sound of the Matthäuspassion, I knelt straddling Kat’s thighs, and chained her cuffed wrists to the bedposts. Her arms were outstretched above her head, like the figure above her. Her face was soft and relaxed, her eyes peaceful and mild: the trapped prey offering its neck to the predator when it finally must acknowledge the paramount decisions of nature, and in that moment wishes more that the predator be fed than it wishes to live.
This would soon change and a cycle of superficial submission, leading to panic and defiance, in turn leading to weakening resistance and ultimately to surrender, would commence.
First, her shoulders and neck would begin to cramp and burn as muscle fatigue set in, and she would start to fight. I fastened another chain around her waist, cinched tight in the meat between her hips and ribs to prevent her sliding forward and to limit her breathing. Then I chained her ankle cuffs to the bed rails, spreading her wide, making the tendons in her groin taut and prominent.
I stepped back to watch her. “That hurts, doesn’t it, bitch?” I said.
Her face glowed with satisfaction. “Ooohh God, Mistress…so good.”
But Kat’s expression of pleasure quickly grew into one of distress. Her muscles began to tremble and beads of sweat emerged on her forehead as she struggled. I watched her face while the burning in her shoulders grew more intense; she tried to ease it by shifting, but it did her no good.
“You’ve been here before, my little fuck toy. You know the aching in your neck and shoulders will grow and grow until it’s unbearable and you have no choice but to release into it.
“Your pussy is wet already, anticipating the buzz that will trigger a hard orgasm. You love to be bound and spread, don’t you, ma chienne, mon esclave? You like to be helpless and exposed, vulnerable and controlled. I see your swollen pussy lips glistening with cum as you contemplate being used and enjoyed, taken and made to please me in ways that I will choose.”
Her eyes rolled back and she groaned. “Oh my God Mistress, it’s really starting to burn now. Coming on so fast! Aching so deep and burning, so deep, oh shit….oh fuck…Jesus!”
Her crisis was starting. She twisted violently against the restraints, sweaty and determined, her eyes suddenly fierce and her chains clattering loudly on the headboard.
I smiled. “Feel how sexy it is to be used, my little fuck toy…so sexy…so very sexy. The pain is spreading inside you in waves, like an orgasm. It comes in its own time, not when you are ready, not when you choose. It starts gently, then rushes in suddenly and takes you unprepared.”
Her eyes narrowed and her face was twisted in exertion. “Please Mistress, I can’t take it…it hurts, it hurts, so…fucking…much.”
“Open your heart little one. Surrender to the pain. Surrender to me. Don’t fight it. You can’t fight it. You must welcome this experience that I’ve chosen for you. Because this is your fate. You were born into submission, born into service.”
Her mouth was clenched tight; she spoke through her teeth, “Yes Mistress, I am trying…to let go…for you…aaaahhh!”
“Let go, ma gentille chienne. Release into the pain. Confront it; feel it; and recognise how sexual it is. So sexy, it makes your clit pulse…makes it throb. A bright, painful vibration deep in your core, stirring you. A bright, jagged feeling so very sexy, transporting you.”
“Mistress….aaaahhh! I’m not strong enough for you…”
“Yes, you are; I know it.”
“But it hurts so fucking bad,” she pleaded.
“You are strong enough ma salope. I have faith in you. I know you can release. You worship me. There is nothing but me, my needs, my desires. You lose your very self in me; you drift away from this world when you feel my power and control.”
“Oui…je suis votre chienne, Maîtresse, votre chienne! I’m lost…ooohh, my Mistress…”
“Yes, my little one, lost…drifting, surrendering, floating in my power. This is my love you feel, not punishment. The pain you feel is my love, my control, my own presence inside your very body. Welcome it. Pain becomes pleasure as you abandon yourself to me, to the Mistress who possesses you. Welcome the pain that comes from me, from my heart, from my love, and washes over you.
“It feels so sexy to surrender…so sexy to discard yourself, to discard your will, discard your pride, discard your very dignity. My love reaches into you, my love and protection, just for you. You are so loved, Kat: so loved, so wanted…and so fucking used.”
The panic had passed. She tossed her head back and her eyes began to soften. Her face began to relax, her expression shifting from defiance to calm acceptance. She had fought her fight and transcended the pain. Now she was entering that state of submission where pain and abuse become profoundly sexual and tremendously stimulating—where every sensation goes right to your clit. She began to wriggle and grind on the bed, humping it unconsciously, rubbing her bare ass hole on the mattress and rolling her eyes in obvious sexual pleasure. Her face was flushed and sweaty. Strands of damp, matted hair stuck to her cheeks. Her eyes were moist and bloodshot and they shone like jewels in the candle light. I watched with joy as they slowly filled with gleaming wetness and then overflowed with tears, spilling freely down her cheeks. I held her gaze deliberately as she wept openly, and said in a stage whisper, “Fuck you, bitch.”
She smiled weakly but so serenely: “Maîtresse, ma Reine. Ma Reine!”
This was her moment of surrender. From here, pain, humiliation, verbal abuse—anything I might do to her—would become sexually stimulating with an overwhelming intensity that cannot be approached except through this experience. I’ll probably go to Hell for saying this, but this is the ecstasy of Saint Theresa, the ecstasy of that divine, red-hot spear thrust into her repeatedly, of which she wrote, “so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it. The soul is satisfied now with nothing less than God. The pain is not bodily, but spiritual, though the body has its share in it. It is a caressing of love so sweet which now takes place between the soul and God.”
I took Kat’s nipple clamps and held them in front of her by the chain, taunting her. “You want your clamps, don’t you, little fuck toy? Hmmmm? You do, don’t you, my little pain slut?”
Her eyes widened, reaching toward me. “Oh yes, very much Mistress,” she whispered.
“Beg for them, ma petit porcelet. Beg Mistress, you chained little slave bitch.”
“Please God, Mistress, fucking do it…ooohh please Mistress, clamp my nipples hard, I beg you, I beg you, ooohh.”
Her eyes rolled back as straddled her and pulled her nipples, pinching them and rolling them in my fingers, relaxing them and stretching them, and making the caramel brown colour take on a red hue. I attached her clamps and tightened the rings, pinching the ends of her brown nipples toward a darker hot redness.
My voice became soft, monotonous, and hypnotic as I slowly brought her to orgasm: “Let go, my slave, totally let go. Sob for me like a child…release everything.
“The sound of your voice in pain is so sexy to me, like the sound of your voice in orgasm. There is no punishment, there is no shame. You are with Mistress: our souls in harmony, sub and Domme…a love that no one else knows, a love reaching into you, thrilling you, claiming you, owning you, radiating inside you.
“You are losing yourself in me, losing yourself in the pain I choose for you. Bright, tingling pain that spreads from your nipples, exciting every nerve, penetrating your body and your soul. It steals your breath; it fills your mind and senses. There is nothing but my love, nothing but my control. There is no one but me: ta Reine, ta Reine!
“Your vision narrows. The pain is how you experience my control, and it thrills you. You lose yourself; you abandon yourself; you begin to float in the joy of surrender.”
I tightened her clamps more, flattening her nipples and causing the ends to balloon in purple redness. I raked a thumbnail across the bulging end of one as I continued.
“You are falling…floating down and drifting. So peaceful. So warm. You are sacrificing yourself to me. You feel lost and so peaceful.
“Hot, scarlet radiance spreads from your nipples. They’re bleedy and raw, inflamed and hot…buzzing and tingling and setting all your nerves alight.
“You’re so in love with me, my little pig. My pain is sexier than anything you’ve ever experienced. It reaches right to your clit. You feel your clit tingling, swelling, pulsing with your blood, throbbing with your heartbeat.”
“Oh God Mistress, I’m so close now,” she gasped.
“You’re falling, weightless, floating down and down on this pain, this buzz that overtakes you. Floating down on it and drifting, descending weightlessly; it’s so sexy, so thrilling. I control you; I operate you like a hand puppet, pinching your nipples harder and making your pussy quiver and pulse.
“Every sensation nudges you farther down into surrender. Your pride dissolves. Your will is floating away like a vapour as I control you, as I reach into you with pain. That’s me you feel so deep in your core, making you tremble. That pain is my hand, reaching deep inside you and owning you.
“You are adrift; you are lost in me. I fill your senses and your mind completely. There is no you. There’s only a sweaty, trembling fuck toy under my control. There is no ego, no pride, no dignity. You are an extension of my will, a hand puppet, a cheap, dirty used bitch, a limp rag-doll barely able to breathe.”
Her eyes were glazed and her voice came high-pitched and faint, in rapid breathy puffs that said, “Yes, yes, yes, yes…”
I could see she was close to coming, but having an orgasm before I commanded her would represent failure on both our parts. It’s a basic element of the D/s relationship that the Dom/me controls the sub in every dimension: the sub’s constant ambition is to surrender control absolutely, while the Dom/me’s is to exercise absolute control. Therefore, both fail if the sub climaxes ahead of the command, or if she fails to come as soon as the command is given. Nevertheless, I tormented Kat, daring her to come prematurely.
“The pain reaches through your nerves right to your pussy. I can see your clit now, emerging on its own, peeking out from the folds, so pink and glistening, so long and swollen. Your clit is throbbing now. You feel your blood pounding in it. You feel it ready to burst like a detonator, sending you into a violent orgasm if I so much as touch it.”
She ground her ass into the mattress and looked at me with eyes soft and pleading: “Please Mistress, I’m so close; I am begging you: let me come, please Mistress, please, please…oh, God, I’m so close…I’ve got to come; Mistress, please, I’ve got to.”
I reached for my crop. “Don’t you dare,” I hissed.
Her head hung forward loosely as I struck the crop repeatedly against my open palm, letting her hear the low-pitched vibration and faint whistle as it swung through the air, and the sharp smack of the leather loop striking my skin.
I straddled her and tangled my fingers in her matted, sweat-soaked hair and twisted them tight, pulling and wrenching. “Let go of your head,” I whispered. “Release it to me, give me your head to use; let go of it completely; offer it to me.”
She obeyed, leaving her neck absolutely limp. I moved her head by the hair roughly, yanked it up, and teased her with a plump nipple almost touching her lips. I slid the leather loop of the crop up and down the side of her face and pulled her head in tight against me, forcing my breast into her mouth.
“Suck me, bitch dog,” I said, as I slapped the side of her face with the crop. I felt the penetrating, wet heat of her mouth as her soft, full lips surrounded my nipple. Her soft tongue circled it inside her mouth, licking it and savouring it, sucking gently, as I slapped her cheek repeatedly with the crop, each time wrenching her hair tightly and making her spill tears.
My voice rose. “You cheap slut, you little pig; you feel me controlling your head and you are closer to coming than you can bear. That wave is rising in you; it’s mounting and swelling but it just won’t break. You can’t move; you can’t release. The spasms are starting but I’m holding your orgasm inside you. Bound little whore, so dirty and so cheap. Tasting my nipple, adoring it, feeling it tighten in your mouth, worshipping it as I slap your filthy slut face.
“Sob for me bitch; sob without shame…not whimpering but freely, grateful as you feel tears running down your neck.
“You’re a mere touch away from coming. Every nerve in your body is tingling and every muscle is trembling. You’re buzzing, vibrating, out of your mind.”
She could no longer speak. She groaned and trilled and panted loudly, babbling in Pentecostal gibberish. I put my knee between her thighs and began to rub the soft, wet, inner folds of her pussy against her swollen clit.
“You’d better hold, bitch; you’d better wait for me,” I said sharply. I took her hair tight in my hand again, twisting and wrenching it, rolling her head in a circle and force-feeding her my breast. My other hand reached down to her bruised, purple nipple and again I dug my fingernails into the bleedy, raw end that bulged out from the clamp.
She was cold with sweat and her body shone in the candle light. Her hair was matted and stuck to her face in clumpy knotted strands. Her eyes were almost vacant, wide open and begging peacefully. I had never seen her more beautiful.
The sight of her alone started a small orgasm in me. I let go of her nipple and slapped her face with my open palm, pressing her mouth hard into my breast. I felt the tension rising inside me, mounting and about to break. My fingers curled even tighter in her hair and my fingernails dug into her scalp. I slapped her face again; she moaned so loudly that I could literally feel her voice with my breast, and then I came in a long, rolling orgasm that crashed inside me in waves, one after another.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” I groaned. “Good girl. Good slut, good bitch…making Mistress come, ooohh, yess, yess!”
I held her tightly as my body spasmed several times, and waited for the chorale. It would be only a minute, as I had timed this carefully. Moments later, the angelic sound of the double chorus swelled.
O Haupt voll Blut und Wunden, / Voll Schmerz und voller Hohn…
I pushed my knee harder into her crotch. “You are lost in me, bitch. You are gone. You are an extension of me, of my will, of my desires and needs. You are me. There is no you. There is no you!”
…O Haupt, sonst schön gezieret / Mit höchster Ehr und Zier…
Then I shouted, “Kat, come now!”
Her face tightened into a knotted bunch. She screamed. Not with words; she just screamed. A long, piercing, wailing shriek like the voice of someone losing their arm in a wood chipper.
She spasmed violently against her chains. I slapped her face repeatedly. “Come in pain,” I roared. “Come in total surrender. Come without shame, without dignity, like the disgraceful cheap bitch that you are. Come in pain and service, you filthy fucking dog!”
Her orgasm rose and fell, and rose again. She whimpered quietly during the ebb so I slapped her harder to revive it. It crashed again, and she screamed mindlessly. The two orgasms lasted until nearly the end of the chorale. When I felt her spasms subsiding, I held her tight in my arms, cradling her head and kissing face.
…Wie bist du so erbleichet! / Wer hat dein Augenlicht,
Dem sonst kein Licht nicht gleichet, / So schändlich zugericht?
“Good girl,” I said softly.
She said nothing. Her face was red and raw and literally hot to my touch; her makeup was streaked and ruined, her hair a wet knotted mass. Her expression was serene and contented. She was beautiful beyond words.
I slowly unchained her and eased her onto the bed. She appeared almost unconscious. I lay beside her, cuddling her, caressing her hair and cheek and kissing her face: soft little kisses all over as I embraced her tenderly, feeling the little orgasm aftershocks in her body as she trembled in my arms.
I wiped the hair from her forehead and kissed it. She was deep in submission and would not speak. I let her float free in her subby joy for several minutes, whispering in her ear, smiling and telling her what a good girl she was.
This is a tricky moment. It’s important to let a sub enjoy their afterglow, but it’s dangerous to leave them in such a state. Submission releases intense emotions and enables a state of mind that people don’t normally experience. There’s a period of conditioning during which the sub learns to return to a normal state of consciousness in response to a signal that can be used if the Dom/me is unable to ease them back naturally. Kat had never needed to rely on it, but it was a reassuring backup in case anything ever went wrong. This time, as usual, she began to return on her own. I could see the first signs as she began smiling weakly each time I spoke.
Just as I’d used rhetorical devices, repetition, and a hypnotic cadence to bring her down into subbiness, I would do the same to help her return. I cradled her body in my arms and her head in my hands, and whispered in her ear. “Good girl Kat; I’m so proud of you my angel, my treasure, my love.”
Afterglow, or “aftercare” as some call it, is an essential part of any D/s session, and it involves a good deal more time than the usual after-sex high. An hour is a good average, but the sub must never be hurried. If it takes all day, the Dom/me has got to be prepared for that.
I shifted gently but often so she could feel my body against hers; I called her my angel, my sweet baby girl, my treasure. I smelt the scent of her hair and sweat and savoured it. I kissed her cheek, saying, “I love you Kat. I adore you. I will always love you, ma belle. I will always be here for you…always protect you and cherish you and delight in you.”
At first she could not respond. Later she began to smile, then to coo and sigh, and finally to speak. “Maîtresse, ma Reine,” she said with half-closed eyes and a sleepy smile, after about twenty minutes of afterglow. In less than an hour’s time we were sitting up in bed, enjoying our dinner, chatting normally and laughing.
“You went a little deeper today Kat,” I observed. “How do you feel?”
She smiled. “Mistress, that was unbelievable. I’ve never been that deep. It was…indescribable. You’re so strong, it’s beyond me. And you used to be a sub. What changed you? What brought it about?”
“Come, come little one,” I said with a laugh, “I’ve told you that story too many times already. I’ll become a tedious old cow if you keep making me repeat it.”
“Forgive me Mistress, but you’ve only told me what happened; you’ve never really told me how.”
