Bound and Spread

The time for my punishment finally arrived - belated, due to our busy schedules but eventually we were able to intersect and despite my hints at forestalling the inevitable, I ultimately found myself bound, spread across the bed, while my Master began to assemble his tools.

He hasn't ever punished me before, only once, playfully soon after we first met I had some corner time, but this was different. He said he would hit me inside my thighs, where he knows it's difficult for me to take pain, that area is so sensitive. He said I would cry. He said I would suck his cock until I stopped crying. I made the mistake of not believing him.

This man has pressed his cock so far down my throat I thought I might truly choke on it. He has held my throat, cut off my air. He's held a knife against my skin. He's penetrated my ass with his overly sized cock, stretching and filling me as I worried I would tear, that in his passion he wouldn't care if so. I trust him with my life.

Yet, lying there bound, his determined and still face giving no hint of desire or anything other than to be on task, I became frightened. I have no safeword, I'm completely at his mercy. I told him there was no need for the tying, I wouldn't try to escape. That was before the first strike.

Normally I have a warm up. This was two weeks ago, and I still have the marks from his lashes. It wasn't that there were so many. It wasn't that they were so hard. It was his intention, his decision to punish, to ask me why I was being punished to make me say it and repeat the violation of his rule. Even as I said it, part of me wondered, was it so bad, what did I do so bad? And I began to be angry. Not at him, but at the situation, at myself, at the circumstance of being forced to endure this exercise which was not sexy, not fun, not reasonable. I disobeyed him. So what? So what this, is the answer, one I don't like.

Is it worse, I wondered to be held down in this way and forced to take the punishment, or to be told to hold still for it? To be allowed to be silent, or to repeat the violations? I began to turn my head away from him as he changed sides on the bed, striking the leg closest to him as he moved. He would come back around, and I would turn my head away, I didn't want to look at him. Couldn't look at him. I felt ... petulant? Even as he strikes right by my pussy, hitting the underside of my ass lying there on the bed, ridiculously spread like some kind of staked out victim. I'm mad and annoyed. And crying. He covers my mouth with his hand and strikes me harder, I cry harder, silently, just mad and upset and humiliated and of course it hurts but I don't even care.

This isn't sexy, it's not fun, it's horrible and I don't like it. Deep down I thought I would. I imagined him striking me, imagined the lashing, the way pain usually goes right to my cunt, but it just wasn't like that. I'm very ambivalent about being bound.

Suddenly he's undoing my hands and I think he's done. Fine. Good. I can lie there and cry and he'll be sorry - soon he'll be there, apologizing and comforting me. No. I'm ordered to suck his dick until I stop crying.

There is nothing I less want to do in that moment than anything remotely sexual or remotely submissive. I hesitate and he repeats himself. I find myself obeying automatically even as my own mind is telling me not to - or rather just not telling me anything, I'm just doing what he says, regardless. But oh, I don't want it in my mouth, and he can tell and he asks do I want to do that or do I want to be punished more. I begin to suck like I mean it, like I care... surprised he's hard, then wondering, then within a shorter time than you would think, I've forgotten all about my earlier feelings, my previous misgiving and I'm suddenly very much interested in sucking his cock.

I try to show him how sorry I am, suddenly I am nothing but obedience, nothing but his, nothing but a slave, trying to atone to her Master for her disobedience. Life becomes much more simple with that objective.

Punishment

I'm to be punished when I see my Master next. I know why, and I know how. He has never punished me before in a physical way. He has in other ways, but pain is something I enjoy, so typically this has never been something he uses.

This time, my first punishment as his slave, he is to use a strap on my inner thighs. He has said I will be bound.

The excitement of this worries me. How on earth can I be aroused by the threat of punishment? I think it's because I haven't had one yet, I'm certain this isn't going to be pleasant. I don't like to be hurt on my inner thighs. I'm used to having some kind of warm up. I've never been hit with the intention of hurting me as a punishment, it's always been for my own enjoyment, for our mutual play.

But the idea, of his tying me - perhaps on my back, legs pulled open and over my head so he can see my face and my pussy while he uses a belt on my thighs, or perhaps on my hands and knees, with my arms pulled up, my knees forced apart by a spreader bar, my ass exposed should he decide to reinforce the lesson by using me in that way roughly as he has threatened in the past... these things to me do not seem to be a deterrent.

Even though I know he will make it hurt, he will make it not fun, somehow. I think of his voice, how it makes me respond inside when he's serious or stern. I think of his strength, of how hard I know he can wield the belt. I think of how it excites him to hurt me, and how knowing that will inevitably turn this into something beyond what it maybe should be - a deterrent to disobedience.

And yet... and yet... I long to cry for him, long to be made to do something, to take something for him that I don't want in the moment. I want to be on the floor at his feet, my thighs red and sore, shaking from the moment ... I can't even describe what it is I'm after here. I just know it's there somewhere. Perhaps afterward I'll be able to describe it and define it adequately.

Property

My first moments as a slave, I felt as if my breath were sucked out of my lungs. My Master began immediately to take charge of me, and although I'm always a willing participant in our play, lovemaking, although he is always in charge and that I'm used to - somehow things felt different.

He put nipple clamps on my breasts - he hadn't done this to me in the past. They were connected by a chain and screwed tightly to my nipples, which began to ache. They remained on for quite awhile, longer than I would have thought they could be worn.

The difference between sex as an owned girl versus with a lover: its like being broken apart then put back together. There is an element of detachment and objectification. There is a duality and a splitting. I'm a person, experiencing what is happening, responding, and acting and at the same time I'm something else - an object, another entity separate from myself. Property.

My Master touches me, but his focus is on me as he would be on a car or any other object he was on task with. He bends down to bite my stomach and I begin to wilt and melt into the pain and the pleasure, I'm there but I'm also there with him observing me, aware of myself as his.

My pussy wets for him, and I'm aware of the pleasure leading up to it as I experience this, but then am also suddenly made aware externally as I feel him shove two fingers inside me after he checks to see if I'm wet.

"What a little slut you are", he says against my stomach, and I note this, helpless as he proves his words, for here I am, the chain between my nipple clamps swaying, my back arching as he fingers me, my knees weakening as he presses them inside me. I'm both inside my head and outside with him, seeing myself as he does.

My body is his toy, and we both feel the difference. I don't yet wear a collar but the contract and our mutual understanding of it is enough to send both of us to a new level. I can't speak for him, but I felt awed by the change, aroused and freed to do what he willed without concern. I didn't have to worry about anything that happened from that moment on, for everything I am and that I do belongs to him. If I soak the sheets with my sex, I don't need to be concerned or embarrassed. I'm there to please him, belonging and pleasing my only purpose.

Enslaved

I've entered into arrangements with men before. I've never before entered into one quite like this, however. I've known my Master for several years, longer than I knew my ex-husband before we began to live together and longer even than I knew him before we were married.

Within that time, I've come to trust and admire and adore my Sir as I have no other person. We have the usual lover-associated feelings I imagine everyone else in love has - physical attraction, the trust and intensity that I know accompanies many D/s relationships. He is also my best friend, and has been so, has seen me through so much.

He is my steadfast ally, the keeper of my many secrets and secret fears, and I owe him the sort of fealty owed to one who has saved your life on many levels. I suspect he may know me in some ways better than I know myself. However, I know the dark places he has saved me from, the places I take myself mentally when I'm feeling afraid and alone in the world. In my most lost moments, going through a bitter divorce and custody battle and in danger of losing it, turning to things that would have harmed me further and possibly guaranteed the loss of my child, it was his hand that came in and stopped me from destroying myself and everything important to me.

There have been days I stayed in bed the entire day grieving the state of my life, unable to present myself at work - my Sir has stayed with me for hours, comforting me as I cried with words of encouragement, or informing me of hard truths I needed to face in order to pick myself up again.

Though he knew I would have done anything asked of me, he asked for nothing during those early times. I owe this man everything, and can never repay him.

With these thoughts and emotions flowing through my mind and heart, I knelt in front of him, reading aloud my promises from the contract he wrote for us. Our favorite music was playing, artists we both love, lyrics we've sent to each other to read that we thought expressed our love and emotions best. He braided my long hair as he sat behind me, weaving a leather whip remnant through it to tie it up and out of the way, lovingly and gently kissing my shoulder now and then as I read, stopping me at points to ask if I understood, to clarify his meaning of specific points.

Leaning over me, next, he read his promises and vows - my heart skipping with happiness at each intonation of his voice that I love to hear so much. He wore his glasses to read, and I find him so sexy, so much my daddy when he wears those, he may as well have been reading me a night time story about a princess and her Master. My skin shivered with response as he'd bend over to read in my ear.

He told me how much he loved me, how pleased he was to have me as his, how long he had wanted this for us. As always, I felt inept and tongue-tied in his presence, giddy as an idiot, feeling about as un-womanly as I could be... I always feel like a girl around him, shy and unable to believe that he's chosen me, knowing my flaws as he does. He always knows the right things to say, the right way to put them - while I express myself best in writing.

A small part of me dwelled on my fears, in the middle of my solemn and serious joy and sense of fulfillment in the moment. As right as everything felt, I was agreeing to let him do anything he chose to me. He can mark me, with a brand or a bruise if he decides. He can punish me if I'm disobedient or careless. I no longer have a safeword, although I've never used one with him before, it's absence is almost a presence of it's own.

My fears, however aren't truly about a fear of Him. My Master has always been good to me, I know and have experienced what he wants and it's always been what is in the long run best for me, the things that keep me safe and untroubled. My legitimate fears were about my own potential for error.

What if I let him down, disappoint him and he regrets taking me on? He knows I'm compliant sexually. What woman wouldn't be - he's tender and intense and sexy and thrilling ...? Those things are easy for me with him, he can bring me to a state where anything he desired I'd give. Pain is erotic to me, so I don't fear that so much - I know he won't do anything I won't be able to fine a way to endure and probably enjoy, even it it's only the enjoyment of surrendering to him.

It's my independence and my will that will be tricky. Those are the areas where my obedience is an effort at times. I have to learn to think of him first, learn to hesitate and ask for permission, rather than act in certain situations. I have to stop relying on my own preferences and my own wish to avoid reviewing my actions and feelings, interpreting my behavior. I need to realize and accept there are some choices and decisions I'm no longer allowed to make on my own.

The Contract

Even after our decision was made to begin a formal M/s relationship, there was still the matter of the contract we would sign, what we would agree to.

My Master, of course, would design and present the contract to me, and accept input, answer questions etc, but the final decision on how, when and the manner of implementation would be his.

I cannot say that there were surprises in it. I know the basics, as everyone does. He is my Master, this is about power exchange and all the things that go along with it, the safeguards, the consent, the defining and spelling out of the agreements. I suppose you could call it a "beginner" contract, a starter of sorts.

What surprised me, was the emotional reaction I had to reading his words. I was touched, humbled, honored, amazed at the time, effort and energy he put into writing it. I haven't had anyone ever do anything similar for me before. It was a clear indication to me of his seriousness about us, and his love for me.

One would think after years of daily caring and contact that I would know, and understand. On some level I did. He has written to me of his love, shown me with his caresses of his care, with his intensity of his passion, and I can see in his eyes that he knows me and accepts me and my needs, my flaws, that despite how and what I am he does not turn his eyes from me.

This was just different for me. The contract demonstrates his desire to be bound to me, for the term of the contract at least. It illustrates the claim he makes on my will, my soul, my body. I suppose that's it. I have felt loved by him, desired, comforted and controlled. This is a claim of ownership that extends beyond lust and love and to me that is more romantic and fulfilling than any other vow or declaration could be.

Decision

I am soon to be a nation of one, sole subject and slave to my Sir, who has decided it is time to make me his completely. I feel as if I'm an orphan about to be adopted, a lost pet in a shelter about to go home.

Until a few months ago, I was unaware of this longing. My Sir, shortly after we met years ago, never described me in terms of slavery. He mentioned former slaves, discussed the concept of slavery hypothetically, but I felt that my own level of submissive capabilities not only fell short of what was required of a slave, but that he did not desire such a creature in his life. I put it out of my mind for us.

I don't think I've ever been involved with anyone who is as obsessed with me as I am with him. I'm not certain obsession is the correct word. The only thing close to it I've experienced is the intense mutual interest of getting to know my newborn children, the innocent co-dependence of having another in your head constantly, the missing sensations when apart, the completeness, bordering on relief of being together.

Of course it's very very different in many other ways - but it just calls to my mind the sudden knowledge of complete and full connectedness to another I experienced when I became a mother. I'd never felt that for any adult before now.

So, almost by accident I learned that he did want this kind of closeness with me. The discussion of a contract arose several months ago, I had asked if he'd considered one, because I really wanted to understand what he expects of me. He said he only used them with slaves, and I immediately felt the awkwardness I've felt in the past - one time in particular when I'd practically begged him to collar me and he gently redirected me off the subject.

However this time, he inquired if I felt I was ready. And at the time, in that moment, I was certain yes, before my logic and doubt and worry began to set in.

I felt fear of failing at a higher standard of accountability. A fear of some potential loss of the relationship entirely if I didn't meet expectations, an acceleration of a certain end. Commitments in my past have always been the beginning of the end, the moment when one turns from being one thing into another, that always, always culminates in a parting, and where the common denominator is me.

Finally, though, after reviewing our history, and realizing I couldn't imagine any other resolution of our fates, nor can I imagine a future he is not a part of... I decided if he felt I was ready, then I am and let go of my fear.

I agreed without reservation to become his slave.

Love and Submission Part III

In the first two entries about this topic (inspired by other blogs I read, links to which are available on the first entry), I discussed my thoughts on D/s experienced entirely as a non-love, non-romantic response, purely submissive, without the requirement of the will or knowing involvement of the dominant. My second entry was about the connection between love and D/s, whether D/s can work without love, or in my case, I question whether love works without D/s.

I have found myself in love, of course without an overt D/s component, but for me the elements are already there in every love. I always have tried to shape myself into what I believe the loved one wanted me to be, in an effort to please them, to connect better. We all want to put our best foot forward in any new relationship, to impress and woo the other. I suppose you can view submission as the willingness to take that a few steps further.

I think that is where it becomes tricky. Is D/s possible in the context of intimacy without love at all? I still believe so. Respect is necessary, trust is necessary, but I don't believe love is.

This has come up in my own relationship with my Sir, because I certainly was submissive to him long before I knew him well enough to love him. Love has made our connection deeper and more interesting, more passionate. But it is the trust and the respect I harbor that has enabled me to submit and then to love him.

I can submit casually, more of a bottoming than submission I suppose, to any dominant if I choose to in a playing context. I will leave them in control of the pace, the order, the intensity of sensations or activity. Just as I can submit to an authority at work and enjoy that same thing, functioning within a structure set up for me. None of that requires love, although on some level there needs to be respect and basic trust.

But the deeper levels of emotionally submitting, not just giving my body over to someone to play with, but allowing them access to my mind and being vulnerable does not come easy. Letting someone hurt my body is nothing. Opening up to allow them to possibly hurt my heart, or my ego, or even damage my mental health is another. My Sir has taught me to be more cautious, to be more careful even in casual play, before I trust someone simply because we're in public and "what could go wrong"?

My Sir recognizes that I used to give my body easily, even while clinging to my will. I think he has at times suspected I took him casually, before he learned to see through my feigned indifference and emotional removal. His response has been to show me consistently and steadily that he is there, an unchanging and unwavering force in my life.

I often read about women not hearing back from their doms, going for days or weeks with no contact, feeling ignored or anxious when they write or text. While I have endured times of less frequent contact with my Sir, it has been well over a year since I've felt the panic and wondering, the constant anxiety of separation, of worry over whether he cared or would be there for me. Despite our not living together and our distance from each other, his presence and control is with me continuously.

This sense of security and the freeing lack of concern about where I stand with him is only made possible through trust. This is why he is the only one in the world who knows who I am, that I write this blog. I can open up here anonymously, but no one in my life, not even my kinky friends, know who I am. I am not Lyla on FetLife.

It's taken us a long time to get to the point we are now, mainly because of my past, in particular my experience with my ex-husband. Along the way there has been a great deal of balancing between us, he has even had to extend trust to me first in some ways, before I would take the next step and give him a little more. I read in another post, the comment that you are trusting your Dominant, as he is trusting you with his desires, and that's entirely true. I think D/s relationships are inherently more risky, we are more vulnerable with this type of exposure of our selves than most people have to be to achieve intimacy, especially if we've suffered at all because of our proclivities.

I think that's another reason I see so much more willingness to compromise between those who are in D/s relationships. An example is the number of people who are doing D/s long distance or who are in open or polyamorous relationships.

It's not simply about being more open because you are kinky. It's about understanding the rarity of finding someone who pairs up with your needs, and for me at least, the kind of love I feel for my Sir is based on making him happy. If that happiness included his involvement with another, I would be more understanding than I think I've been in other relationships because I know how difficult it can be to find these things in others, to find someone who pushes your buttons in the right ways and who is also responsible and sane.

I also trust absolutely that my Sir has my best interests at heart. Unlike others I've known, he engages in the introspection necessary to evaluate his own motives and needs, and weigh them against mine. Not much about him is transparent to me, but even I can see how he has slowly and steadily taken me down a path I know he foresaw months before we got there. I appreciate that time, because it has made him familiar and comfortable to me, made my slow relinquishment seem natural. And while I love and crave the feeling of being made to do things, he knows better that there are some places I might have gone too early, that would have made me feel unsettled, rather than at ease with what we are.

So while, yes, I love my Sir, it is not that which binds me to him and inspires my submission, but the confidence I have in him, the trust that he knows where he wants us to be, and that I can let go and give him the reins for both of us.