I was cuffed with my arms up over my head, watching him in the mirror that was in front of us. I wasn’t going anywhere. He gave me a look that I couldn’t interpret. Then he walked over and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanked my head back and I saw his face get hard.
“That’s what you came here for, isn’t it?” he hissed. I let out a moan, then whispered, “Yes, Sir.” A wave of excited fear rushed through my body.
What was I in for?
He picked up an implement and began…
That was the beginning of the scene, which I shared about on FetLife on Saturday. This was with Suburban Spanker, Zelle‘s Dom and someone I met at my first Crimson Moon party in July 2010. We had been talking about playing since that first party, but the timing didn’t work out at that party or that last. Sometimes when this happens I think the top doesn’t really want to play with me, but I didn’t think that was the case this time. Zelle is a good friend (thank you again for picking us up at the airport) and I am pretty “SS” had a desire to play.
It’s a weird thing for me, when someone I consider an intense Dom wants to play with me. It makes me feel special. A good scene takes a lot of energy for both parties and you can only do so many of those during a party weekend. People who like to play a certain way tend to find each other. I might like to play with Dom A. and Dom B., and will find sub a and sub b also playing with both of them at parties. There CAN be jealousy and competition, but more often than not there’s an acknowledgment of like-minded souls.
Being asked to play is also a sign that the Dom respects me, in a way. He considers me tough enough or brave enough to take a certain level of pain.
Yet I’m not great with pain, honestly. I take it but I don’t take it easily. So it’s my ability to take a certain level, combined with the Dom’s ability to read me and push me beyond that level, that makes it a hot, intense scene.
I’m perfectly able to say a safe word. SS brought me near to that point several times. He’d flogged me and used several types of shorter whips before bringing out his single tail. A single tail whip can be used quite sensually if desired. SS didn’t desire to use it that way. It was pretty painful — not every single stroke, but most strokes. Beyond the whips, there was this nasty little “evil stick” that left circle-shaped bruises on my upper thighs.
I made noise. I broke position (he punished me for that, which I didn’t like at the time but was thrilled about later). And at one point I opened my hands as a symbol of distress … which he ignored. Perhaps he was “taking it under consideration,” but he kept going. Two or three times he came in close to yank my hair again, to remind me of the position he’d asked me to maintain (my arms were bound but my legs were free).
He was mean, unforgiving. I was pretty scared at the time. I hated it. Then I loved it.
I didn’t get to witness it, but on Saturday night SS and a co-top, Nomad, topped Zelle. Both of them are pretty tough tops and they worked her over for quite a while. She said it was probably the hardest sccene she’d ever gone through … but like me, afterward she was flying.
Thanks, SS, for the great scene. Thanks, Zelle, for sharing …