This weekend, Rafe and I meandered through the city, as we are wont to do, enjoying the lovely weather and conversing freely. It’s a truly beautiful and important element of our relationship. I submit to his mastery in our sexual play. In the bedroom, my duty is to attend to his desires. But outside that arena, we are equals, and the time we spend simply being together – ambling aimlessly, sharing deep thoughts and silly musings, occasionally stealing a kiss on at a street corner or desolate street – nourishes the intimacy that allows me to submit with such abandon.
Yet, as we wandered, we unsurprisingly arrived at the elegant sex shop that we both like so much. It’s unabashed without straying into kitsch. On this particular visit, my master had hoped to find a leash to use with my new collar, but he was not satisfied with the selection. However, we did not leave empty-handed, finding a suitable pair of ankle cuffs – comfortable, sturdy, and matching the color of my collar.
Later, my master put them to excellent use. Stripped bare and secured in my cuffs, he restrained my arms at each side using a short piece of rope to connect the wrist and ankle cuff by their respective D-rings. He had promised to bring all his skills and tools to bear, to arouse and stimulate me unrelentingly, blending bliss and torment. He pushed my knees out so that he might have unencumbered access to the pussy he’d freshly shaved. He placed the pulchritudinous clover clamps on my nipples, bringing immediate and exquisite agony, and warned that every time I closed my legs, he would pull the chain connecting the pair of clamps, tightening their grip on my breasts. He began by placing his succulent mouth on my labia, teasing my clit with his tongue.
Then, after some time, my dom brought out his most merciless tool – the Hitachi Magic Wand. He knelt before me, applying the Wand to my clit. I tried to hold back, knowing that once I climaxed, the vibrations of intense pleasure would become torture. But soon I succumbed, and my master watched with satisfaction as I erupted in orgasm. As I expected, no relief came. I squirmed. I tried to breathe deeply and steadily, with limited success. My master continued, on and on, unyielding.
“Please,” I gasped at last. “Let me suck on your cock. Please.”
This amused my darling Rafe, who wondered whether I begged because I truly wanted to service him or because I was looking for relief. I expressed, in short bursts that my lungs would permit, that I desired to please my master as he had me. There was a tone of laughter to his voice. “It may be difficult to believe,” he explained, “but sometimes, my darling slave, what I desire more than you sucking on my cock is watching you suffer orgasm after orgasm.” And so he carried on.
I begged. Eventually the vibrations subsided, though I know it was not my supplications but his desire that brought them to an end. He sat on the bed and beckoned me over, and I greedily and grateful took him into my mouth. After a few minutes, he raised me to kneeling and offered me a choice – another round with the vibrator or ten strikes on my ass with his belt. It was no easy decision, but finally I chose the vibrator.
As the sensation exploded, I wondered if I’d made the wrong choice. My dom commented, “Perhaps you should have asked how long this would session would be. Perhaps I’ll just keep going until you beg me to lash you with the belt.”
There would be no relief. Fingers slipped inside me as the wand was held against my clit again. My hips rose up, not altogether voluntary. I was exhausted, mentally and physically. I broke. I did as my master had hoped and asked for the belt. The sting of leather on my ass and thighs was painful – yet, as always, arousing. Perhaps sensing I was reaching my limits, he administered only a few strikes before cutting the tiny pieces of rope binding hand to ankle, so that I could properly thank my master for the delight and discipline he had meted out.
And then, he took me. He claimed me as his own. He came deep inside me as I came yet again, this time around him.
It is an unusual experience, the orgasm as torture, a sensation difficult to describe. Not painful yet not exactly pleasant. An overload of a typically pleasurable feeling becoming almost too much to bear. But it’s another facet that becomes delightful, a demonstration of my master’s care and focus. It reminds me of how attentive he is to my satisfaction. And just as our walks through the city deepen our relationship, so too does his torture and dominance over me expand our sexuality.
– The Elegant Submissive