Waves of Submission

During play time, things come in waves…times of interaction, greeting, choosing outfits, laying out our stuff. Times of touching and hurting and coming. Times of talking. Times of silence. Times of soft, quiet torture, followed by soothing strokes.

So too does my memory come back to me in waves. During our together time, I’m always in the moment with Him. Always aware, thinking I’ll remember EVERYTHING that happened. And then the day progresses, and pain layers upon pain, and lust upon lust. I am both filled, and drained…and can’t think a cogent thought. It takes time for things to trickle down to my conscious memory.  Now, days later,  things come to mind in quick flashes, images of things I saw, impressions of things I felt, hot flashes of hurt, hotter flashes of sex and pain rolled tightly together. I remember toys, and the brush of his beard against my throat. I recall the weight of his body pinning mine, his hands diving under my shirt to attack my tits. His fingers wrapped in my hair as I suck his cock, or pulling me backwards on the bed to be right where he wants me. The sound of his hand hitting my rump, the sharp and staccato beat of it, followed by the searing heat on my skin. So many images, sometimes moving in a flash as I do some mundane task. I pause and see the movie unfolding.

Near the end of our playtime, the heat and the pain and lust all roll together until I’m begging him to hurt me harder, make me cum harder, make me weep with the pain and joy of it. He laughs with a soft, triumphant sound into my ear. “yes, yes, beg me for it. you want the pain. you want it.” His fingers ram into my cunt, jabbing and thrusting and twisting until I feel like he’s going to pull me inside out. I whine “It hurts, Master, hurts so much…” and his voice hums into my ear, “I know, I know it hurts, doesn’t it? That’s when it’s the best, little girl…”

And i explode.

I cum so hard it hurts, his hand leaving my cunt, only to start slapping my clit and pussy so hard the bed is shaking.

He laughs when my next orgasm squirts from me. This is a huge turn on, just writing this, remembering this. But I’m not writing about orgasms tonight, no matter how good they are, how wet and lovely they are.

No, I’m thinking of that first wave of togetherness. When we’re …reacquainting ourselves with one another. When  all is fresh and new, when I’m just getting into the headspace, when I’m letting regular life go and submersing myself into submissive nilla place…that’s a crystal clear memory. My hair is just right, my lipstick bright. My things are laid out, and I’m ready for fun. I forget how much fun hurts at this time. I just remember the floaty part, not the journey there.

I’m dressed in the outfit he chose. I’m in the shoes, on the bed, having been torn between laughter from his fiendish tickling, and pain as he mauls my tits. I’m laying there in the middle of the bed, awash with sensations, already drained, tousled, mussed, tossed around, bruising.

He rises from the bed, moves to the bathroom. I can’t even open my eyes.

“Stay there” he says in the Dom voice.

You know the one, right? There’s the talking voice, there’s the playful voice, and then there’s the Dom Voice.

Stay there.

It’s firm, no nonsense, don’t fuck around tone sends shivers through my bones, raises goose-flesh on my skin, and thrills me. I’m not capable of defying that voice, of playing around and getting up and hiding toys. He’s serious, he means it.

Stay there.

I can’t even think about dozing off, as the words bounce in my head,  echo around my mind. That tone. Gods, how it affects me! I can feel the submission leaking from that hidden corner inside me, the one I didn’t think existed anymore. I’m no longer merely talking about  submission (in a somewhat hopeful way…) I AM a submissive. I shiver, and am put in my place, though I haven’t moved an inch. I am fully, totally his. A slut. No. His slut. A toy. A possession. His toy, his possession. I lay in the bed as he rises. He pauses at the foot of the bed, speaks.

Stay there.

And walks away.  I don’t think. I don’t whine. I obey.

I half-whisper my reply.

yes Sir.


Pain Is The Gateway

“Get on the wall. Now.”

I scamper across the room, if a slut can ‘scamper’ on 6″ heels. (Cherry red brand new heels but more on that later.) I slam myself on the wall with an audible ‘thunk’…because it is so much easier to do it to myself than have Him smash my face into the hard flat surface.

He laughs.

He says “good girl” and I melt hearing those magical two words. “Good girl” surpasses all the other sentiments, doesn’t it?

I swallow the surge of lust. I’ve been turned on, turned on hard for 40 hours or so. Waking up wet and throbby, tossing and turning in my sleep trying to deal with the unanswered needs. Now, the cold of the wall presses against my clamped nipples,  the freezing chain pressed into my belly, but it does nothing to assuage the curling of lust deep in my cunt. Nipples banged with heat, from pain, from fantasy come to life, from lust. There was such intense sex-need growing between my thighs, that I wondered if I would leave a ‘snail trail’ of sex juice down the flat surface. His voice, all business, interrupts my musing.

“Turn around. Hands on the wall.”

I turn, a bit shaky, a bit wobbly and plaster my ass and palms against the wall.

“Close your eyes…”

*snap* I shut them tight.

There is a whoosh and a thwap against my left tit. A second blow falls on the clamp biting my nipple. The chain swings, tugs. I moan just a bit as He tugs the chain with whatever He is hitting me with.

My pussy is blazing with heat, oozing with liquid. I am soooo close to cumming.

And then He begins to beat my tits in earnest. He is silent as he does it, just the sound of my little gasps as the blows rain down–left tit right tit left tit left tit nipple nipple chain nipple right tit right tit right nipple right nipple right nipple…

I am whining a bit and then it happens…I cum, a wet slippery tremble as He whacks my tits. I’m dazed and confused and shaking and so fucking turned on. I didn’t know it was going to happen…the regular “I’m gonna cum” warnings didn’t flash, blare, or warn me. Just *boom* and it was drooling down my legs.

My hands clench, nails biting into palms as the tempo and force increase, until I’m pressed back as if trying to pass through the wall.

And then He is done, moving away. I breath, big rasping breaths.

“I have a surprise for you nilla.”

His voice is smooth and dark as fine chocolate. Prickles raise up along my shoulders, race down my spine. He bids me to open my eyes and I do. He waves a radio antenna in front of my face. His eyes glow.

“You wanted your tits beaten, right? Well there you go. This broke off my radio. Broke right off. And I knew then that it was for you. For you, nilla.”

Did He laugh then? As the first whooshing pass came toward me, as I shuddered, whimpered at that first unforgiving contact, and moaned with pain and pleasure, I think that He did.