Sometimes the ‘play’ with which we associate a life of dominance and submission is for mutual pleasure. At its simplest level, one participant inflicts pain and the other receives it, willingly.
This evening however was not quite like that. My Domme and I have formed a very special and unique relationship and we are both perfectly aware of our respective roles within it. I am hers. Completely. This ownership comes not only with responsibilities (for she cares and loves me deeply) but also with rights. My Domme has the right to inflict pain on me; the right to ask me to make any part of myself smooth; the right to ask for the perfect cup of cocoa (for which I have been trained); the right to use my ass in any way she chooses, which includes, the right to use it as a cunt.
And normally we engage in these practices when it is mutually convenient and when we are both in the mood for it. But sometimes, just sometimes, her needs can’t wait to coincide with mine. That too is her right.
Take earlier this evening for instance. She had had a need for a while. It had been steadily growing but going unsatisfied. She owns me and I have given myself to her completely, in every way that that can mean. And today, she needed to rape me. I use the word carefully. She did not want or need to don her strap-on and slowly fuck me in an act of mutual love-making. No, she needed to rape me, her boy. To put me in my place. To take ownership of me in a very real and physical way. She needed to hurt me. She needed to ask for my ass and expect me to offer it, unconditionally, knowing what I was about to suffer.
The language was minimal. I was simply told to strip and get onto the bed. There I helped her to secure the straps holding the tool of my imminent demise. It is huge. This was really going to hurt.
And it did hurt. With just enough lube to effect safe entry, I was simply raped. It stretched me, filling me far too quickly to be comfortable or pleasurable for me. Both the width and almost immediately the length causing me varying amounts of discomfort and pain.
And I needed her to know that it was ok. I am in no way a masochist but I needed this to be whatever she wanted it to be, whether love-making or rape and in this case, it needed to be rape. And the intensity of the passion was electric. Soon tired of not being able to see my facial expression, she had me turn over onto my back, push a couple of pillows under my lower back and again, offer up my boy-cunt. She wanted to see the pain she was causing. See the love in my eyes and the fear and the shock and the trust as each thrust of her hips forced her cock up into me. Almost immediately I was reaching for something to stuff into my mouth to stifle the noises that I couldn’t contain. Her hand quickly covered my mouth until a corner of the quilt was found to silence my screams and whimpers.
And when she decided that I was getting too used to it, she unleashed her cunning plan. Whilst being raped, I was to make myself orgasm. Except that we both knew that she wasn’t going to stop once I had. As instructed, I wanked myself whilst she continued to invade me and I was soon cumming. And at that very same instant, the dildo inside me took on titanic proportions. It felt as it i was being raped by an oak tree. And she continued. Now that I had cum, the pain level went right up. And I loved her for not stopping. Loved her for not giving in to the normally concerned and caring side of her.
Soon she had finished with me and we had time for the briefest of cuddles before she had to get ready to go out. And in many ways that helped me understand my role. She loves me deeply and can use me at will, for her needs, however uncomfortable they are for me.
And I love knowing that a part of our relationship consists of me fulfilling that role. If she so chooses, she really can just rape and run.