Styles of Submission.

Ella and I were talking last night about our D/s dynamic. We have an idiosyncratic arrangement. It’s a 24/7 lifestyle in that I am always dominant in our sex life, and I decide when we are playing. I can order her to do what I choose, when I choose, and she does it. As we say, she does what she’s told; I get what I want. That’s our agreement.

But in practice, we don’t do high protocol service slavery and I don’t take control of many things that neither of us are particularly interested in incorporating into our dynamic. Finances. Exercise. Work. Diet. These are things Ella is perfectly good at managing for herself, and I have no desire to manage for her. Frankly, she’s better at some of those than I am.

So we’ve carved out a style of dominance and submission that works for us. In discussing it last night, I realized that I have never punished her for disobedience. Ella has followed, or attempted to follow, every order I’ve ever given her. She doesn’t disobey in order to manipulate me. She doesn’t act the brat in order to try to top from the bottom, picking and choosing when she receives discipline. She’s truly into service and obedience.

It’s utterly refreshing. While I sometimes have to correct her service, in order to mold it to perfection, so that she serves me precisely as we both want her to, I never have to assert my dominance in order to “put her in her place”. She’s not defiant or oppositional. When she wants more severe discipline, instead of acting out in hopes that I correct her with a severe punishment, she simply asks for it.

Last week, she begged me: “I want you to gag me, and torture me, and use me for your pleasure.” And I did. Though now that I think about it, I think I forgot the gag. But I bound her arms behind her back, tied a very tight crotch rope, and then spent fifteen minutes spanking her with the crop, my belt, and a hairbrush. Then, I made her come with the hitachi. Then I repeated the process. Her ass remained sore for days. She wept and wriggled and cried as I punished her ass mercilessly.

And when I was satisfied, she served me with her mouth and her cunt, and made her master come in the manner he’s accustomed to.

-The Refined Dominant

Her Inspection. Failed.

It had been a long week. I was tired. And that made me careless.

After being separated for too long, I was back in my master’s reach. And for the first time, I failed my inspection.

Early on, before the full nature of our relationship emerged, Rafe asked if he could shave me. He liked me as I was – curly reddish hair, coarse but rough. But he wanted to see all of me. So I agreed. It had been years since I had shaved that intimate area.

One evening, I reclined on the bed as my darling Rafe carefully trimmed the hair away and then meticulously shaved me with his single blade razor. I was a little nervous, but it was a divine pleasure watching him work – the studious gaze, the firm but careful touch, the furrow in his brow… Such joy to be the subject of a lover’s undivided attention.

As we began to play with power dynamics, grooming became part of the ritual and responsibility. Occasionally he wants to do it himself and will give me a day’s notice that I am not to shave. But most weekends I see my master, I am to be clean, smooth, and ready for inspection. It’s a thorough inspection. He looks me over carefully, feels for a bit of stubble, pulls back the labia to check underneath… That is where I failed this time.

Rafe always has a curious reaction when I fail, a mixture of admonishment and delight. “Tsk, tsk. Someone will be getting a punishment – not tonight, but sometime this weekend. What should it be? Perhaps a stroke for every hair?” He began counting, but fortunately for me, he grew bored of counting. He took the offending labia in his mouth and sucked on it, before moving to the other.

After a few minutes, he hovered over me, his mouth next to my ear. “Your punishment will be ten strokes with the hairbrush. After each stroke, you will say – and listen very closely because I will not repeat myself – you will say, ‘I promise to more carefully shave my pussy in the future, sir.’ And you will count the stroke. Any mistakes, and we start over.”

The following night, he stayed true to his word. He stripped me and ordered me to lay facedown on the bed. He secured the red leather cuffs to my ankles and wrists. He tied me to the bed, prostrate before him. With each action, I grew more aroused. As I was there bound, completely powerless, he first administered the four strokes of the cane I had earned earlier in the week – two demerits for a delayed assignment. Then he brought down the hairbrush on my ass. Somehow, I managed to string together the words I had been commanded to remember. “I promise to more carefully shave my pussy in the future, sir. One.” Miraculously, I made it through all ten without a misstep. And I grew wetter.

“Whose ass is this?” he asked.

“Yours, sir.”

“And whose pussy is this?” he questioned.

“Yours, sir.”

“That’s right. I expect you to take care of it, to groom it properly, to keep it in pristine condition. Now what will you do?”

I replied, without hesitation, “I will more carefully shave my pussy in the future, sir.”

“Good girl,” he responded.

Bound as I was, I could not see him, but I heard the sound of a cord hit the floor. In a few seconds, the Hitachi was vibrating against me. He held it there until I came. Then he increased the intensity and maneuvered the wand just underneath me so it was pressed against my clit. I convulsed. I twisted. But I had little leverage to move. This was trial and torment solely for my master’s pleasure, amusement, and arousal, an exhibition of his dominance over me. I lost track of time and count of the orgasms. But I didn’t want to give in. I didn’t want to ask for mercy.

Finally he stopped. I heard his clothes drop to the floor. I was gasping to catch my breath. Soon he was on me, his voice in my ear. “You’re such a good slave. You suffer so elegantly.”

Then he took me, still tied to the bed – the reward for a punishment well received.

– The Elegant Submissive

Her First Spanking.

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