She finally hurt me. And oh God did we both need that. Oh sure the submission was there, but it was wobbly, it had never been cemented. I was beginning to wonder if it was something real and tangible or merely strongly desired but largely theoretical.
Real life was getting in the way. Real life and stresses and worries were eating into our time. And hey, let’s be honest, some damn good sex was eating into our time as well. Lots of very wet, very filthy and very noisy sex was eating into our time. And come to mention it, eating was eating into our time. Eating each other and eating great food. All very good. All adding up to me being a very lucky boy.
But my lover is also my Domme and whilst i felt it was there and was something i felt inside deeply, i wasn’t sure of the reality of it.
Which brings me onto today’s top subby tip:
Be aware that if you’re going to confide in your Dom/me that you’re not sure whether the D/s side of your relationship is real or merely theoretical, then it’s going to hurt. And hurt a lot.
To be fair she had been needing to hurt me all day. The message from her that morning had told me so. This wasn’t just me being needy, we both were. I just brought the matter to a head. Gave her the excuse. I didn’t so much push her button as ignite her solid rocket booster. And once ignited there was no time to retire to a safe distance. And to be fair, i didn’t want to. Whilst i had no idea how much pain she needed to inflict, i just knew her need was there. Equally i had no idea how much i could accept from her. In the end the answer to that was simple. I’d take whatever she wanted me to.
The initial spanking only served to warm her up. She needed to hurt me more. A lot more. And the pain in her palm only heightened that need. I was in for it. And i knew that we both needed it.
The crop was delivered swiftly, with passion. No holding back, no measure of symmetry or timings. She needed to rain down a succession of hard blows onto me. Was i her submissive? If so i simply had one option: to lie there, eating as much pillow as i needed, but to lie there. Taking each blow. It mattered not whether i whimpered or maintained silence. It mattered not whether i felt that i could take it. I was going to.
But it wasn’t anger. I knew that the blows burning across my ass and thighs weren’t delivered out of anger. There was frustration. There was frustration that she hadn’t had an opportunity to really hurt me yet. To really take me and hurt me and break me. Frustration that she hadn’t had the chance to show me just how much she loves me and wants me and wants my submission.
I had decided to keep still. Not to try and dodge any, not to try and show that it was too much. But just to take it all. Because this was love being offered after all. Several times i had to move my acceptance of the pain up a gear as each new plateau was reached and each time, i realised i was doing it so willingly. And i’m no masochist. I just wanted her to do as much as she needed to. I tried to show her my willingness by raising my bottom, offering even more of it to her. And she hurt it. Hurt it a lot.
And after who knows how many blows, because no one was counting, she stopped. I think she was closer to tears than i was in the end, but we were together. I’d been beaten, hurt and marked. And i was hers. And that felt so very right.
I have no idea how often she’ll have that intensity of need, but it matters not. If it serves to strengthen that connection, then so be it. She knows i need it too. Need her discipline, need her pain and need her love.