Angel drops to one knee. Left hand firmly planted on the top surface of the 100 year old door knob, right hand flat palmed against the center of the door. She’s doing everything in her power to stand back up. Prove to me how strong she is, attempting the same face she greets the world with, but that’s not what I desire. I desire to break her. I want to see parts of her she usually saves for herself. The vulnerability that connects us, the intimacy that nourishes my spirit. We had spent weeks – maybe months at this point – building a rapport and trust, and I was excited to see her allowing herself to give in, to submit; surrender. I had plugged her ass, blind folded her, gagged her, drowned out her hearing with The Weeknd’s “Starboy” album, and clamped her nipples just shy of her limit, connected with a light chain.
Angel took her week’s punishment standing up, bending her knees and pedaling out the sensation as necessary. But what broke her was a consistent, quick, focused caning, followed by a firm draw of the nipple clamps’ chain towards the floor. She gasped and dropped into the position we found ourselves in now.
Angel is breathing deeply, trying to find her composure, but she finally drops the second knee, hands in the same position. She tries to prove a point, she tries to sit up on her knees like any second she’s going to stand back up. Through all of this I lay on the bed and just watch as she goes through the different stages. I feel the common flush in my solar plexus that I feel during a connected kink scene, and I grin like the Cheshire Cat. What I’m experiencing is much more than lust, different than love. It’s somewhere between pride and curiosity. I watch as she finally collapses, sitting on her ankles, heels still adorning her feet as she finally gives in. She sits still for a while until she finally starts to sway and rock, ever so slightly. I would later find out that she was wanting to dance. Her mind and spirit had her dancing in the middle of the room to her own tune. But what I saw was minutes of what could be described as a meditative state.
Angel falls deeper and deeper into sub space for the first time in her life. And I let her sit there, I cherish it. Seconds pass, then minutes. I don’t bother her. When she stops swaying, after many minutes, I have some concern. I tentatively approach and lower to my knees, pressing the front of my body into her back. I wrap my left arm around her and grab her right shoulder with it. I place my chin on her shoulder and put my right peace fingers in the L shape made by her thumb and index finger. She grabs onto them as a sign that all is well, so I give her a squeeze and retreat back to the bed to admire her as she is.
I let the minutes drip by. I am in bliss watching her at this moment. Angel is a badass alpha woman to everyone else. She owns her own business and is in charge of others’ livelihoods, but she has come to trust me in a way that allows her to let go. She shows me her weaknesses and shortcomings, she submits to me, and I treat her exactly how she desires. I see her start to rock back and forth until she is standing on her knees again, hands lifting from her knees, back to the door knob and door. She slowly works her way up, first to one foot, then the other, then back up to presenting herself – hands above her head, flat against the wall, ass stuck out, accentuated by heels, and ready for more. I walk behind her and place my left peace fingers between the L that her left index and thumb made. She squeezes, letting me know she’s good, and I finish out our impact play, removing the headphones and eye mask. She collapses into me and I hold her as the disorientation wears off. A satisfied smile takes over her face and we gently move to the bed until she is present in my reality.
A fun evening of oral, penetration, and vibrations ensue, but watching her surrender to pain, to me. That was the highlight of the evening.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/oofm8b/mf_angels_maiden_voyage_into_sub_space_impact_ds