Friday, December 29, 2017

Ecstatic Submission: A True Tale

He was to be my animal this night. I, his trainer.
We arrived at the dungeon together that evening, I was in full leather; leather thigh high boots, elbow length leather gloves, leather pants, and a spiked leather corset, every bit of it black. My faux fur leopard jacket finished off the look, black hair high in a pony tail, short bangs perfectly sculpted, every detail of my make up perfect, down to my cat-eye liner, and blood red lipstick. The corset was tied tightly and made bending over quite impossible, but that would be no worry as my sub was required to make sure I have what I need at all times.

  He was very lucky to be serving me this evening, and he knew it.

He had on dark black dress slacks and with a tucked in blue t-shirt, and leather jacket with matching leather shoes and belt, all of which looked tailor-made on his firm and athletic body, every bit of the fabric laying on him perfectly. His hair was cut short, face clean-shaven, physique perfected through years of athletics and a gym habit bordering on OCD. He was a textbook alpha type, a powerful attorney who tended to be quite particular about how his physical appearance represented him, and reflected on the Mistress he was serving. Quality stock submissives are not that common, and he knew it, his precious ego reflected that.
He was a heavy masochist and as a sadist, I was very excited to see just how far I would push him that night, and just how much he was willing to suffer for my pleasure. He had a little idea of what might be going on, but for the most part, he had surrendered to do whatever I desired.

Once we were inside, he was forced to strip out of his street clothes, a sort of ritual that separated his public persona from his submissive self signaling him it is time to be present to his carnal urge to serve and to please. As he undressed, his ‘play’ clothes were revealed; tight black rubber latex shorts with a zipper in the crotch, which accentuated his package in a such a way that when I looked at it, it made me smile knowing I would get to unwrap it later, a black leather harness on his chest, and nothing else.. 

Snapping my fingers I directed him to grab the few toys I had brought with us for the evening, consisting of; a thin polycarbonate cane, two leather wrist cuffs with locks, a thick blind fold, a black rubber ball gag, four carabiners, and pair of clover spring nipple clamps connected with a chain in the middle. I would not need too many items this night, to direct his ecstatic response. Once I saw he had the items I required, I turned on my heel and walked steadily down the dark hall of the dungeon. As we passed the other rooms, already occupied with scenes, the sound of implements hitting and marking flesh, followed by moans of agony and pleasure erupted from the depths of the rooms, the unmistakable smell of sweat and pheromones wafting past as we proceeded. 
One room was decorated like a mini strip club, complete with a pole and lit stage, the two leather couches were fully occupied, the viewers focused on a young woman with dark hair and fair skin, erotically stripping for them, as she danced on the pole. The other room had several different cages, standing cages, and floor cages, and several of them were occupied with submissive and slaves, their dominant close by. I barely turned my head to look as my focus was solely on my prey. Turning left, I entered the bondage bedroom, complete with giant wrought iron four post bed with a cage underneath, stockade attached to the foot of the bed. A small portion of the wall was padded with leather, and had several weight bearing D-rings up and down the length of it on both sides, and a latex clad man was securely tied to the wall. There were red LED back lights behind the bed, the padded wall, and the mirrored wall at the foot of the bed,  which in addition to several candles mounted on the wall created an ominous glow in the room. 

We were not stopping in this room tonight. 

Onward through the next door I led him, his eyes affixed to my hips as they sensually swayed side to side like a pendulum, hypnotizing him, his resolve weakening, his desire to please me at any cost increasing with each sway. He was trailing close on my heels, making sure not to lag too much, as it would upset me and make his training that much worst. Predator leading her prey into its erotic demise. This was possibly my favorite part of BDSM play, leading my sub to our scene area. Feeling his nervousness and excitement, the anticipation of what was to come. I could feel his eyes on me as we walked to the location, and I fed off of it. Submissive energy feeds my dominant/sadistic nature, and as the power exchange intensifies in present action I am aware that my pupils dilate, my breathing becomes rhythmic and relaxed, the sensory nerves in my finger tips increase in sensitivity, my hearing sharpens, as does my sense of smell. In this moment, I become hypersensitive to the energy and power exchange between my submissive and I, and everything else falls away.
Finally, I stopped walking, and he caught himself to avoid a collision as I did. 
“Place the items on that small black table,” I said, and he briskly walked over to it, placing the items upon the table and taking great care to lay them out neatly. Once finished, he quickly turned on his heel, returning to the space next to me. I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground, signaling that I wanted him to kneel before me so that I could inspect him. He dropped to his knees quickly, his muscular thighs flexing as he kneeled before me, making sure to keep his eyes lowered he quickly moved his arms behind him, bending his elbows so that he could fold his hands on his lower back, his broad shoulders perfectly lighted by the flickering of the candles in the room. The sound of the other scenes going on around us started to fade away as I watched him position himself for me, and my vision narrowed to a focus. 
All I could smell was him. 
All I could hear, see, taste, and feel, was him.
Once there, he waited for me to tell him what I wanted next. I walked around him very slowly, inspecting him as I traced the contour of his shoulders with my gloved fingers, tracing across his strong and smooth neck, watching him slightly shudder as I did so, and eventually moving across the opposite shoulder, down his powerful deltoids, slowly removing my fingers from his body. 

Standing in front of him, my stance wide and domineering, his gaze went directly to my boots, which I encouraged by rubbing a gloved hand down the shaft of my right boot. He was a heartfelt fan of dominant women in boots and I loved to tease him by making him stare at which ever of my many pairs I happened to be wearing that day, knowing he could not touch them without permission. That was one definition of torture for him and I enjoyed it more than he realized, but that was not for him to know.
I took a leather cuff from the table next to me and without having to cue him he put his hands out towards me, palms up and open, so that I could fasten each cuff on him. Slowly, I wrapped the leather cuff around his left wrist, buckling it in place, sliding my hand down his forearm, to the pit of his elbow where I gently dug my sharp thumbnail into it. 

He inhaled sharply and uttered, “Thank you, Madam.”

Slowly, I fastened the second cuff around his right wrist, tracing my thumb down his forearm, up his bicep and back down, watching his body tense as he anticipated a sharp nail in his skin, and then relaxing when it never happened. He slowly placed the palms behind him, folding them into his lower back, shifting his gaze down to my boots.

“You want to kiss them, don’t you,” I asked, damn well knowing the answer. He was always happy to polish my boots with his tongue. Watching a powerful and strong man, get down on his hands and knees to lick my boots clean was intensely arousing. I would never lick anyones boots, so I cannot say I entirely understand it, but I do not need to understand the desire, when I know the motive.
“Yes, Madam, very much so” he said, his whole body visibly aching as he breathed the words to me in a barely audible tone.

“I did not hear that, what was that” I asked in a stern tone, knowing exactly what he had said, but forcing him to repeat himself in a louder voice, uttering his shameful desires to his Madam. 
“Yes, Madam, I would very much love to kiss your gorgeous boots” he answered loudly, still staring at my boots.

“Of course you would, you are nothing but an animal,” I exclaimed, laughing at him. Sitting he waited for me to grant him permission to do so.

“Not now, little beast,” I coyly replied. “Maybe if you please me tonight, I will allow you to kiss my boots.”

“Yes, Madam.”
“Beastie. Thats what I will call you tonight. Seems fitting for tonight’s theme of Animal and Trainer.” 
“Yes, Madam, as it pleases you.”
“I heard something about an interest in being chained to the ceiling by the wrists,”I said as I made my way to the mirrored armoire in the dungeon. 
“Yes, Madam. Only if it would please you.”
“Oh I can think of a few things I could do to you while you're hanging from chains, don’t you think so?”
“Oh yes, Madam! I am yours to do with as you wish.”
“I see, well thank you for giving me permission,” I said mockingly, messing with his head, manipulating him to think I was displeased with his last response. I loved to toy with his mind, and guide him to a place where he would do just about anything to gain my praise and affection.
“I am sorry Madam, I did not mean to be rude or to sound like I may be giving you permissi-“
“I don’t care what you meant. Shut your mouth.”
“Yes, Madam.” 

I grabbed two long steel chains, of a thick gauge, out of the mirrored armoire and dropped them to the floor, the sound of heavy steel falling onto concrete and subsequently piling up on itself, filling the room. I closed the doors behind me, picked up the chains and walked over to where he was kneeling.

“Get up”.
“Yes, Madam” his response strong and quick, he rose to his feet, his hands still behind his back.
“Put your hands out in front of you.”
Before I finished speaking, his hands were in front of his body and within my reach.
I grabbed two of my four carabiners and attached one to his left wrist and another to his right wrist. I took the other two and attached them to hard points in the ceiling overhead. Picking up one of the long steel chains, I attached one end to the carabiner on his left wrist, and pulled the chain so that his arm was above his head causing him to rise onto his toes, and attached it to the carabiner on the hard point in the ceiling above his head. I repeated the same process with his right wrist, causing him to strain to stand. I enjoyed watching him struggle, it pleased me greatly to watch him, especially knowing how deeply he desired to suffer for his Mistress’ pleasure. 

“How does that feel, beastie? Helplessly chained to the ceiling, vulnerable, exposed.” 
“Helpless Madam, yes.” 
“That was rhetorical,” I laughed at him, standing unnecessarily close to him, my hands grasping the chains above him, the sweet breath from my lips grazing his face.
Turning away, I grabbed the rubber ball gag from the table and brought it to his face.
“It would please me to gag you now. I am tired of hearing you talk.”
“Yes, Madmmmmph” he choked as I shoved the ball behind his teeth.
Turning to the table I grabbed the blindfold off of it and walked back to stand behind him. I pressed the spikes on my bodice into the tender skin on his back, causing an attempted moan to escape his lips but it was caught on the gag. Slowly I slipped the blindfold over his face and as he surrendered to my touch, I heard him attempting to say “thank you, Madam” but it sounded more like “mnnnphffghmnnem”.
“Hahahaha! Awwww listen to you try and talk to me.” I teased him as I slowly ran my fingers down his back. I wanted to touch his bare skin, scratch him with my nails, pinching all his tender spots, tenderizing his flesh. 
It wasn't time though. The gloves stayed on for now.

I stepped away for a moment, letting his mind wander to what I might do to him next, wonder if he will be able to handle what is about to come his way, wonder if this is really what he wanted, or if he made the right choice of telling me his fantasy. Maybe he was thinking about how pleased he was to be there under my power, succumbing to my sadistic desires, hoping to earn the chance to serve me in the future. Whatever he was thinking about, it was exciting him, as his rubber shorts were starting to struggle against his growing cock. Grabbing the nipple clamps from the table, I walked to the front side of him, watching as he tried to move his body to meet me, but stepping away just in time to watch him have to pull back because the chains wouldn't let him go any further. 
As he sunk back in defeat, I quickly stepped forward and pinched his left nipple between my thumb and forefinger, applying intense pressure to the area. He threw his head back, attempting to release a scream, which instead just sounded like a gargle, and as his head returned to its proper place, a long stream of spit exited from behind the ball gag, landing on the floor. 
“Do not pull away from me, beastie. You will hurt yourself, and it will not be my fault, do you understand?”
I did not wait for him to attempt an answer, and I deftly moved to the right nipple, being more prepared for my touch this time, and heeding my warning, he stayed still, and I placed the clamp on it. I watched as all of his muscles tensed, and then quickly release as he exhaled, once it was clamped. 
“Much better, pet.”
I slowly stepped away, taking in the scene in front of me, watching the pace of his breathing, making sure he was still present and not becoming anxious or overwhelmed, noticed the color of the skin on his arms, to make sure his circulation was okay, the pace of the alternating relaxing and tensing of his muscles to make sure his muscular system wasn't being overwhelmed.
I walked around to his back side and deftly removed my leather gloves, laying them down on the table. Leaning forward I ran the pads of my finger tips down his back and slowly rolled them so that my nails met his skin, increasing the amount of pressure as I dragged them down his back and into his flesh causing him to flail, releasing a muffled scream, and as he swung back towards me, I grabbed the top of his latex shorts and rolled them down to underneath his glutes, so that the entirety of his butt was exposed and vulnerable. 
“I am going to start caning you now, and I will cane you until I am tired of it, understood?”
I did not wait for his response. I quickly grabbed the cane off of the table and stood to the left of his back side and paused for a moment. The anticipation is always the juiciest part. Watching him anticipate what I am going to do to him, how I am going to do it and when I am going to do it, is so powerful its intoxicating. 
“I would make you kiss the cane before I strike you with it, but it will have to wait until after I have beaten you with it, what with that ball gag in your mouth.” 
I watched as he hung his head in disappointment and that was when I took my first few taps, slow and steady, simply warming up the tissue before I unleashed on him. My strikes made him bring his head back on top of his shoulders and tense his stinging butt cheeks, then releasing them once the strikes were finished. This went on for some time; the amount of strikes was in direct proportion to how hard the force of the strike was. If the strike was softer, there were more strikes. If there strike was harder and more forceful, there were less strikes, and so on. I would pause between groupings of strikes, to allow him to catch his breath.
“You are such a resilient little beast for Madam. I am greatly pleased to be striking you with my cane, and you know how lucky you are to be receiving such treatment from me. I hope you are ready to take more from me because we have just started” I cooed at him, eliciting an aroused response from him. I was immediately inspired to walk around to the front of him, and as I arrived, I grabbed his bulge with my hand, still tightly enclosed in his shorts, and proceeded to squeeze his genitals as hard as I could. Naturally, he threw his head back, another muffled scream attempting to escape his lips, but getting stuck in his throat, only to have long bits of spit escape his lips when his head returned to the front. 
I moved to his left side, still grasping hold of his package and returned to caning him, approaching the place where cane strikes came two to three at a time because the intensity of the hit was extremely high. I watched with resplendent pleasure as he responded to my handiwork, his back arching back and forth, his legs giving out, not really sure how to support himself and move to escape the beating he was suffering. I paused for a bit, and watched as string after string of saliva fell out of his mouth, his embarrassment at not being able to control his spit obvious, and so I decided to verbally taunt him while he recovered from the blows, releasing my grip on his now even more turgid package. 
I stepped in front of him, and began…
“Why are you drooling so much? Have you lost control? Can you no longer maintain? Are you ready to give up and admit you cant handle what I give to you? The beating you fantasized about… Here I am fulfilling your fantasy and what do you do, but you spit all over the floor. Pathetic.”
And with the last words, I move forward and with a bit of force I knee him squarely in the groin. As I do so, I notice something hard, that isn't part of his body. Opening up the zipper, I see he has decided to wear a steel cock ring without telling me about it beforehand. 
“It may have been a good idea to tell me about the steel cock ring before you wore it, considering we are doing what I want to do tonight, and I want to bust your balls. It would’ve been best if you didn't have the ring on, as your scrotum will swell immensely, but its too late now.” 
I ripped the blind fold off of his eyes, his revealed eyes gleaming with tragic ecstasy, his pupils thick and full, I smiled into them, zipped up his zipper, and landed another knee into his crotch. Again and again I came at him, kneeing him a total of 10 times before backing off to observe my handy work. It felt so good. He was writhing in pain, and drooling, his legs limp, his only support the wrist cuffs secured to the chains hanging from the ceiling above him.  I couldn’t help but to laugh at him…

I was beyond pleased with myself.

“Well you look like you're starting to get worn out and those wrist cuffs can’t feel great anymore” I said tauntingly. “Perhaps its time to do my last set of cane strikes and let you down to clean up the mess you made, slobbering all over my floor.”
I walked around to the back of him, grabbing the thick chain in my left hand and pulled back for the first swing. This was the point that I did what I wanted, and didn't particularly follow the traditional rules for caning. I released my swing on him, the pace fast, the stroke heavy, guaranteed to leave marks, and watched as he reeled form the hit as it contacted his already tender and bruised flesh. He let out a muffled grunt, and I continued to strike him with the same intensity, one after the other until the hit total was around 20. I lost track to be honest, I did it until I felt satisfied with the work I had done. He groaned and flailed, trying to pull away, but I grabbed the chain and yanked him back into position. “I told you not to move. If you move, I can’t guarantee my strike will hit where I am aiming for and you could end up hurt.”
and with the end of my strikes, he collapsed, his body collapsing, still hanging from the chains. 
“Okay, I guess you’ve had enough, little beastie. You did a wonderful job of taking Madam’s cane.”
I moved to the front of him to take out the ball gag, a huge rush of spit following it, which caused me to throw my head back with sadistic laughter. 
“What a slob!”
I unclipped the carabiner from his left wrist and watched as it quickly fell down to his side, I expertly moved to the next side and released his right wrist, it also falling down to his side. 
He fell to his knees and I gave him permission to kiss my boots, which he deftly did all the while uttering “thank you, Madam.”
“Kiss my cane too, beastie. Thank it for all of the ecstasy it brought you tonight.”
He hungrily kissed it, grateful for the beating to be done. 
After a few moments of worship, he had stood up and was grabbing paper towels to wipe up the drool puddles, clean all of the implements, and return them to their proper place, without me having to tell him.
Once he was finished, I led him out of the play area and into the sitting area, where I took a seat on one of the black leather couches.
“Go and get the oil, beastie. I want a foot massage.”
“Yes Madam, I would be honored.” He quickly went to get the oil and a towel, and returned with a smile on his face.
He deftly removed my boots, the right one first, setting it on the ground next to me, and then repeating the same actions with the left.
As he picked up my foot in his hand and slowly and deliberately spread oil on my skin, I started to relax. I watched his expression as he massaged my foot, his eyes never leaving it, his lips curling into a curious yet pleasurable smile. 
He was entranced with my foot. 
Watching him always brought me such pleasure. The depth of passion with which he honored and worshiped me made me feel like I was sitting in a throne built out of his desire for me. It never got old…

In a few hours I would lead him out of the dungeon, and the spell we cast together would soon be released, but for now he was still mine, and the night was nowhere near its end.