A character in one of my very favorite books (life is delicious by Remco Campert) says the following:
“People should get married as much as possible .Life is short, even if it seems long now and it is the only way of knowing at least a few people really well before the groundwater washes away your blood and the worms eat away your heart. And it’s the only way of getting to know yourself. That, of course, has its downsides”
I believe this. Not precisely the marrying bit, but the bit about getting to know people really well. Being around people drains my energy and it has to be worth it. The only way it can be worth it is when one actually gets to engage with a real part of that person. This is why I don’t believe in Tinder coffee dates. Sure, one should meet somewhere safe with a stranger to avoid any untoward murdering. But after murderer status has been determined I am summarily uninterested in a stranger’s opinion about the weather, work, coffee and cars. This is all the dumb crap that is so dependent on upbringing, circumstance and the personalities we devise for ourselves.
You can spend hours upon hours with someone talking about inane nonsense, trying to find subjects you both have or pretend to have opinions on and then maybe, maybe you’ll touch on a sliver of the real person. Or you can take the shortcut and get naked and tap into a common denominator and have a chance at really communicating.
Even just seeing a man’s slight embarrassment when undressing, his closed eyes when trying to get hard, the faces he makes during. Those are real. Those are interesting.
It gets even more interesting when venturing into bdsm. Bdsm has incredible psychological bearings, most people who are into it are not only very aware what they like but also why they like it.
I met Marcus in bit of a weird way. Massage guy texted me one day wanting to take pictures together. This seemed like a strange request but it turned out it was due to a couple he had been messaging who had trouble believing he was real. He was puzzled and angry about this. “Why do they not believe I’m real? I’m real!”. Explaining that people get duped online all the time was too much work so I just met up with him and took some pictures of us looking like a couple. “They’ll never respond” he grumped. Of course they did. “Oh geez, now I have to write them a bloody novel”. Of course he did. The whole point of texting is to weed out the weirdo’s and time wasters. People who actually invest time and effort into chats are less likely to be dangerous or fake. I offered to take over the texting and he let me.
The gentleman on the other side of the app was lovely and polite and we got along fine. Massage guy just shook his head at my frantic texting. “These people will never come through”. He dropped me off at home and turned away From me when I automatically went in for a goodbye kiss. I really dislike this guy’s attitude to kissing.
I continued chatting to the man on the other side of the app, who introduced himself as Marcus. He told me about his ladyfriend , whom he hastened to say he was not formally involved with. We discussed how it was probably for the best in group situations. I liked the way he talked. We met up briefly one morning, which was pleasant enough. He was about 2 meters tall, tattooed, with a shaved head and a soft spoken manner. He worked as a youth counselor and cuddled like a pro.
When discussing preferences and likes, he mentioned really wanting to try being dominated. Looking the way he did, he often ended up as the dominant and he really wanted to experience the other side.
So he came over and I prepared well. High stiletto boots, a leatherlike bra, bag of restraints, my crop. Then I tried to think about things I could do to make it optimally fun for both of us. I was just brushing my teeth when I felt a hand brush my buttocks. He was early. He shyly apologized for startling me stood back. “Well I was hoping to look more menacing than this” I joked. He giggled and lowered his eyes “It's alright..” he whispered.
I struggled a bit to regain control of the situation, even though the losing of it was mostly in my mind. The enormous man was already cowed. “This way..” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight falter in my voice. He followed.
Like last time, he stripped easily and without prompting, in the same corner right inside the door. I had prepared a little rug with a pillow for him to kneel on. I commanded him to kneel and he set to serving me. His neck was too broad for the collar and he had no hair for me to pull so it was down to my voice and my acting skills to assert my dominance. It was tricky, but thankfully he was very responsive. I pushed him back into his kneeling position. Even kneeling he was taller than me, even though I was seated on the bed and straining to my full height. His eyes had that vulnerable quality you hardly ever see in men; wide but soft, as if he was seeing something he didn’t quite believe. I looked down and noticed his rather sizeable, obscenely oozing erection.
“What’s this?” I demanded. “I-I’ve been touching myself, Miss” he breathed. I got out my crop and tapped his cheek with it. “It’s Mistress” I corrected neutrally, “and are you allowed to touch yourself?”. He shook his head mutely. His body seemed to pulse with anticipation, but not the greedy sort. He wanted with all his heart something that he was not sure he’d ever get. His stance, his eyes, his breathing, all of it just seemed to say “please.. Please..”.
I pushed his head down between my legs and ran the crop along his back and buttocks, his skin shivering at the touch. “Are you allowed to touch yourself without my permission, boy?”. He mumbled. “Are you?” I insisted. “No Mistress”. I tapped the crop against his flank.
“I’m sorry Mistress”.
“You do not say ‘sorry’ to me. It’s: ‘Forgive me Mistress’, understood? “
“Yes Mistress”
I tapped him again, eliciting another violent shiver
“Well..?”
“Please forgive me, Mistress”
He was tensed to a breaking point, still lapping away at me without any real care, but I wasn’t focussing on my own body anyway. He wanted so much to be whipped, I just needed to get us there.
“But you have been touching yourself”
“Yes Mistress”
“You know I can’t just forgive your disobedience”
“Yes Mistress”
He no longer made a pretense of pleasuring me. His head was rested face down on the mattress. I ran the crop along his back and buttocks again.
“You know you deserve punishment”
“Yes Mistress”
I’ve never been a violent person and causing other people pain is one of my worst nightmares. I have even had trouble defending myself self defence classes for fear of hurting people. Hitting this man with a crop suddenly felt not only like the most natural thing in the world, but like the only right thing to do. So I swung and hoped for the best. The leather hit its target with a satisfying slap.
“Ohh!”
The man at my feet uttered a deep sound of release and anticipation.
It made me want to do it again. Harder.
“Ohh!”
He shook.
I leaned down and cradled his head, nuzzling his neck. “A polite toy thanks his mistress for his punishment” I told him gently. His breath came hard and fast. “Well..?” I prompted. “Thank you Mistress” he whispered hoarsely. “Gooood” I crooned, petting his shaven scalp. “Good boy”. He sighed blissfully and set to work again.
I waited a bit before I had him admit to another trespass. He had told me earlier he had wanked to the thought of seeing me. I asked him about it and he admitted he had indeed ‘disrespected’ me in this way. He needed correction several times on the right wording of an apology. ‘Sorry Mistress’ just sounds wrong and it’s an easy thing to pick a sub up on. It is also an easy thing for the sub to get wrong, which then makes him tense up with anticipation. “There’s that word again..” I’d say, and he would know what was coming.
I was learning with insane speed how to play whipping for optimum effect. You can’t just start whacking away at someone, that’s way too boring and tiring to boot. You have to get inside their heads. It kind of works like jumpscares in horror movies. You keep threatening a sudden unpredictable event, heightening the anticipation to a point where your audience starts craving release more than anything. The final impact then gives them the double release of being the whipping they wanted and the release of the tension you’ve created.
After the apology I reminded him that each trespass deserved punishment. I then made him beg for the punishment, receive it and thank his Mistress for it.
I repeated a pattern a couple of times, delighting in how red I was turning the skin on his buttocks, wishing I had a proper flogger. His energy shifted with each bout of whipping. He let go of his natural composure and slid further and further into a state of raw surrender and with it, wild sexual arousal. I could feel it building. I could almost see it quivering the air like intense heat. He started doing that wonderful ‘hoh’ type breathing. And frankly, I was about ready for some release myself.
“Up” I ordered, pointing at a spot towards the back of the bed. He scrambled to obey. I handed him a condom with a stern look. “Time for you to serve your mistress properly” I announced matter-of-factly. He fumbled with the condom in his eagerness, mumbling apologies “Sor- Forgive me Mistress.. I..”. I smiled at his self-correction and waited. He had not had this much trouble last time I saw him. He had been very calm and effective. Pleasant, but very efficient. This was an entirely different man.
He started leaning back awkwardly. He thought I wanted to be on top. He gallantly remembered I had quite enjoyed being on top last time. Normally I would coyly suggest a position change or try and make my preference clear with body language. This situation required a slightly different tack. I sat up and gave him an impatient look.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded sternly.
“I.. Mistress..I” he stuttered
“Have I not told you to serve me, boy?”
“Yes Mistress?”
The hint of panic in his eyes was adorable.
“Then where did you get the idea I’d be doing any of the work?”
Realisation dawned on his face and he scrambled again to get into the proper position.
“Quickly now, boy. You’re keeping your mistress waiting” I said, mostly to keep the flow going.
He got into position mumbling apologies into my neck. “Sorry Mistress, I..”. He realised what he had said and stopped. I locked down his legs with mine and set one hand, nails first on top of his head, bringing my mouth next to his ear.
“There’s that word again..”
He buried his head against my shoulder like a child seeking solace.
“Yes Mistress..”
I brought the whip down hard on his tensed buttocks. He responded with that beautiful ‘hoh’ sound.
“T-Thank you mistress, thank you”
I unlocked his legs and he re-commenced his thrusting. Each thrust receiving a blow of the whip. Each blow followed by a stuttered expression of gratitude. As the thrusts gained in momentum, so did the blows, until the inevitable climax was reached.
Marcus collapsed down next to me, putting one of his enormous arms around me and hugging me close to him. He was shaking.
It reminded me of the few times I’d had a world shattering orgasm and needed my shaking body to be held. So I was there for him and stayed until he stopped shaking. That is real human contact, real. Stripped down to the very essence. It is absolutely glorious.
Comments