When I first met my dear Refined Dominant, I had not the slightest inkling of the places he would take me, how much pleasure I would find there – or how much I’d learn about myself and my deepest desires.
A girl from a conservative upbringing in a conservative town, even though I’d moved and changed over years, I retained much of the timidity. I maintained walls and masks. Long responsible for my own pleasure, my sexuality was stifled. I thought myself a wholly unsatisfying lover.
When I first met Rafe, though, I felt an immediate and profound connection, a sense of honesty and openness that I’d never experienced. And from our first sexual rendezvous, there was incredible excitement and intimacy such as I had never known. He made an indelible first impression. Finally in the privacy of the bedroom, he commented on my soft, flimsy V-neck tee, “This is a nice shirt. Is it special?” The negative response had barely escaped my lips before he replied, “Oh good” and ripped it from my body in a perfect show of strength, a certain raw elegance.
But, oh, that… that was just the beginning. My darling Rafe began to introduce me, ever so gently and thoughtfully, to new ways of play and new aspects of sexuality. I was – and even occasionally now remain – slightly embarrassed to admit just how much I enjoyed the punishments, the pain, the sacrifice of power.
Just a few weeks after we started seeing each other, Rafe was visiting a town just a short train ride from my city of residence. He invited me to join him for the weekend, though he’d be there for just one night. It had been a fun but exhausting day – reunion at the hotel and a salutatory fuck before the day’s multitude of festivities.
We returned to his hotel room after dinner. He almost immediately stripped me bare. But he did not move to do the same for himself. Instead he turned me around and bent me over, my breasts pressed into the impossibly white linens, my ass presented to my master. One hand on my back, he ran the other gently over my ass. Then he removed it. When it returned, it was with a sting. The process repeated. The slaps became more forceful. His wordless vocalizations made his pleasure abundantly clear. I voiced a meek protest of the pain.
“Spankings are supposed to hurt,” he answered. “But let’s see what you really think.” He slid his hand down and two fingers deep inside me. “Hmm. Would you look at that? I think you like it. You’re practically dripping.” Another few smacks, and then his hand between my legs. “Every time I spank you, you just get wetter.”
I could not deny it. My body betrayed my true state. I liked it. Every strike aroused me further. My ass stung from the impact of his hand, but my clit tingled with anticipation for the next spank. It was my first exploration of my connection to punishment for the sake of pleasure. I still do not fully comprehend how and why pain can be so incredibly exhilarating. But now I accept that it is, and I am thrilled to continue this journey, finding new bounds of sexual excitement under the tutelage of my patient master.
– The Elegant Submissive