Friday, 20 February 2015

The increasing desires for domination (part 2)

Master Jay took me by the hand and led me downstairs to the dungeon. Dale followed. My excitement and anticipation was rising fast. For so long it had been my fantasy for a man, other than my husband, to whip me. It's not that Dale doesn't do a good job of this, and he certainly knows how to build me up me to the high state of sexual excitement where extreme painful stimulation is perceived as extreme sexual pleasure. But there is something missing when my husband and I indulge in D/s play; the thrill that can only be provided by the forbidden and the unknown. The thrill of having a stranger beat me.

No, perhaps not quite a stranger. But someone I know well enough to trust, but not that well. Someone I am fond of but don't love. And of course someone whom I respect as in charge, because that is the dynamic of that relationship. Within an equal marriage, such as mine and Dale's, D/s can only be role-play. I need something more real.

Master Jay is the perfect dungeon keeper. As he gently bent me over the high bench for my punishment, as though I were a captive under his care, I did not know what he would expect me to endure. But I felt complete trust, like a prisoner with Stockholm Syndrome, as I waited compliantly for my beating. 

The timely release of the film '50 Shades of Grey' caused me to reflect on want I want from a D/s relationship. Although it was this novel that first got me interested in BDSM, I could never get my head around the love aspect of the story. For me, the thrill comes from the taboo of giving myself in such a trusting way to someone I hardly know, where there is an emotional divide. And I don't mean there is no emotion in a D/s relationship. Indeed there is intense emotion. Readers of this blog will know how I used to feel about Ian; how addictive that emotion was, how it became an all-consuming obsession. No, the emotional divide in my experience of D/s relationships is due to the absence of vanilla love. The experience with Ian was intense, and sometimes heartbreaking, but I never loved him. And I don't love Jason either. For me personally, there is no place for vanilla love in a D/s relationship.

I did not know what instrument Master Jay would use to beat me, but I saw out of the corner of my eye, the leather flogger. This is not a piece of equipment that Dale and I possess, as we prefer the riding crop, but I knew that it is a favourite of Jason's. Once I had assumed position, he commanded me to put my head down on the bench, then with my bottom exposed to an audience, he started to tickle and lightly graze my cheeks with the tips of the leather strings. When I was accustomed to the sensation he tested me with some light lashes across my arse cheeks. Every now and then, he yielded the flogger extra hard causing me to yelp in pain. My tolerance was rewarded each time by him embracing and fondling my body, as he kissed me and told me I was a good girl. Then he would return to whipping me, each time building up the energy behind each stroke until it became too much again. During one of the breaks, Jason slid my lace knickers to one side and pushed a couple of fingers inside me. I raised my head to look behind me, feeling self conscious that my pussy was probably on display for all to see. "Put your head back down" Dale warned. I resumed submissive position as Jason finger fucked me hard. He then licked his finger, before continuing with the beating with ever increasing severity.

Eventually I started to come down off my high, and realised my cheeks were smarting. Jason must have realised I'd taken enough, as he put his flogger down and gave me a final kiss and cuddle on the bench. As he embraced me I sucked his fingers for comfort, and realised they tasted of my pussy juices.

Dale told me later that the beating went on for the best part of an hour. So it did not surprise me to hear that his butterfly personality got the better of him, and in his boredom wandered off and found other people to talk to. The sub space that Jason got me into, meant I have no recollection of the event continuing for so long, and had assumed that Dale stayed by my side the entire time. My memory of the experience is like a dream, although towards the end I did become acutely aware of how hard Jason was hitting me. The sounds the instrument made as it swished through the air and landed on my arse, suggested a force that would inflict incredible pain had it been dished out cold, and I had some very satisfactory bruising that I admired in the mirror for some days afterwards.

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