I recently experienced BDSM for the first time as a submissive. I know that I am a submissive because it is the only avenue, at the expert hands of someone else who graciously lends me the fruits of their meticulous craft, through which my constant churning mind silences. The violent, constant churning of contradictory states of inner world come to an abrupt stop, yet there is no lurch of inertia that jostles you. It defies description and physics.
There are scenes within scenes.
First, there was the equipment setup, where I assisted Sir and helped with the unpacking of the toys and spreader bar. I don’t have many of my own toys. I do use a dildo but using it must feel akin to feeling how a carnivore feels if it is forced to eat tofu – never completely satisfying, means to an end. I had never used a Hitachi wand on myself. Yeah, really. I have been in handcuffs and role played as a submissive before, but this was a complete production. A one-woman production, but Sir was the director, choreographer, art designer, sound and lighting tech, stage crew, makeup, and curtain call. There were toys in shapes and sizes I had never seen before. A toy of three-pronged pleasure, a double-penetrative double dildo thingy, and a buttplug that both inflated AND vibrated. What.
Then, there was the psychological roleplay. To set the stage. Power dynamics between a male religious authority figure and a seemingly demure yet rebellious girl who had sinned. Familiar to many and exquisitely hot and taboo. I am intoxicated by the rush of past fears and shame being brought out to the surface in this setting.
I was out of my depth. But most importantly – I had never been more certain in my life that I was going to be fucked hard. Sir has me repeat this mantra over both text and in person. He wants me to be sure I know that I want this.
This house had a convenient chaise that was home to WAY too many throw pillows than could ever be sensible or practical. The piece of furniture was stripped down to its barest elements with just a light sheet on top. Sir also knew he needed a pad and plenty of absorbent material. Communication was key, and I told him beforehand that I “flood and squirt on a scale to rival any porn star. You should be so lucky to enjoy me.” Such a
He is smart enough to interpret what could be taken as brattiness and impertinence for a challenge instead. He knew that hidden within that statement is a pleading. A pleading a decade and a half or so in the making.
What was I really saying, you ask? “Sir, I am begging you to have the wherewithal and experience to drain me of all my cum.”
Once I lay back on the chaise, time gets distorted. I can’t tell if it slowed to a crawl or if it all happened in seconds. I was tied to the chaise. Wrists and ankles in gorgeous, broken-in leather padding – it reminds me of the leather used in old baseball mitts.
“You’ve never done any of this before? You’ve been playing with too many boys.” He smirks.
*He’s not wrong…*
My knees are bent, hips externally rotated, and both ankles get tied to the spreader bar. Miles Davis plays on the record played in the room. Sound designer – remember? I tap my toes in time to the music against the metal of the bar – trying to keep some own internal sense of rhythm and control in a situation where I was very much NOT in control.
“You’re being so good, you get to wear the blindfold. Such a good girl” Sir says.
Over the next few hours, the props are used. I yelp, gasp, sob, hum, sing, and moan in absolute pleasure. He edges me with the different toys. I would be lying to you reader, if I try to pretend that I remember the exact order and types of toys used. I know that all my holes were used thoroughly. I was stretched to my limits.
Ah, I should add as an aside that Sir graciously let me ride him and feel his thick fleshy cock stretch my opening before all of this started, but after that I had given up control and was currently in the situation I described to you above. Because there was adequate respect, preparation, testing and communication – Sir let me feel his flesh first before any rope or restraint was used. Fucking delicious.
Hmm, didn’t I just meet this man in person just hours before all of this? Oops. I would be lying if I said that I never imagined this happening to me when I was a young teenage girl, once upon a time. And lucky for Sir and I – my pussy is still as tight now in my late 20s as it was then.
Hours later, covered in sweat and edged to hell, he finally instructs me that I can come. I could only tell that he used that three-pronged Hitachi wand extension on me and turned the wand to the lightest setting.
During the prelude to my Deathiest Death of Little Deaths that I am going to share with you reader, my life flashes before my eyes:
*Walking to class behind the cute Drama kid in high school… Scuba diving in the ocean…*
Sir checks in. “I am going to turn up the setting now past what you have felt yet this evening. Are you ready, baby?”
“Yes.” My voice sounds a galaxy away and breathy.
*I’m not figuring out this stupid titration In lab. I wish it wasn’t so dry and hot on this goddamn bus, I –*
“Ahhhhh… ohh… FUCK!” It’s hard for me not to scream too loud.
*Cat running. Thirsty. Fire. My LEGS. FIRE FUCKING EVERYWHERE.*
Blue electric fire I have never known before in my life sets the entire backs of both legs ablaze. My clit is a little focal point of protruding nerves and flesh and blood and my tight pussy and asshole both quiver beyond my control and only accelerating in its tempo.
I hate this powerful, dominant man and his expert control over my body. It wasn’t fair.
He turns the wand up to the next setting.
*Slkfdgjfkdl. Wcniq? !@$!@#!*
Nothing.
…………………..
Thank you, Sir.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/jbfjir/my_foray_into_the_world_of_link_bdsm_mdom_fsub