I will try to write this story as truthfully and honorably
as possible, but to be quite honest I will reveal parts of my psyche that I
like to keep hidden; the little girl parts, the weak parts, my secret parts.
But I will do my best to reveal the unexposed areas of my
psychology, the layers of womanly tender confessions so that you may know
yourself better. That is what a Dakini is; she reveals Truth, and sometimes the
truth is not pretty. A Dark Witch will conceal the truth, manipulate the truth,
hide the truth and only show you parts of herself that she wants you to know;
she doesn’t’ want you to know that she’s suffering and will manipulate you for her happiness. She and would
prefer that you only see the good side of her face while she backhands you. I
do not wish to conceal my inner and most tender parts. I wish to open and reveal
them to you.
Fear gawked at my
weakness, with tears in my eyes, I peered at my new Master. He was a blur of
Caucasian skin, I did not know him well, and he was to be my new Master, only for the next couple of hours.
“I” am not used to giving COMPLETE power and control over to another person.
Yeah sure I’ve played with sensual domination, being tied up, being spanked,
getting welts. But this master wanted me to be his slave, for me to loose my
identity, to be stripped bare of who I thought I was.
We light the candles, still talking to each other as L and
J, him being easeful but his excitement growing as he prepares his tools that
he needs for the session. We worked out a few boundaries before our meeting; no
blood, no bodily fluids, no sex. Seems simple enough right?
He tells me to go in the bathroom and put on a simple yet
ugly T-Shirt and yoga pants and I come out in them, trying to maintain my pride
being in this less than flattering or kinky attire. That’s what’s so
interesting about this play; you can set up scenarios and enter them any way
you choose; you are only limited by your imagination. It is a chance to expand
what you think is possible, erotically, psychologically and physically with how
much discomfort and pain you are willing to endure for your Dominant. Usually
the Dominant takes pleasure in inflicting pain; it gives them power and
control; it triggers a setting in the brain that gets you aroused with that
power, and usually the submissive gets turned on by giving over power and
control, entering into what we call “sub space” and their only purpose is to
please their master.
Now let's explore the meaning of pain. Pain is a psychological or physiological response to exterior stimuli. when we endure pain, we are proving to our soul that we can transcend the confines and limits to our body. Truly when we are pushed to painful limits, we have a chance to commune with the other side. Native American Sundance ritual is an extreme example of this. As a prayer, the natives would sing and dance around a fire for 4-5 days with no food or water. Then they are hung by hooks through their skin and hung on a tree. They are said to cross over, and commune with Spirit. I believe that BDSM has the capabilities to gently nudge us to those edges so that we learn that our Soul is indestructible, even though our bodies are mortal.
Suffering, on the other hand is a CHOICE, it is the reaction or judgement that we place on the PAIN; ie this pain is BAD. I don't want to ENDURE the pain. I curse the pain. THEN pain turns into human suffering, when the human mind responds to the pain or sadness. Suffering is a rejection of pain.
During this BDSM experience as a sub I also endured much sadness. I cried through the entire session, which is evidence of my humanity and compassion towards myself and others. It's shows the fragility of it all; of how soft our hearts are.
Inherent in most BDSM sessions is some amount of pain, maybe sadness, and suffering if we choose to reject this pain. It is important to establish basic guidelines in a session which will get intense. The BDSM community will often say that the
Submissive is actually in control, steering the scene a bit to their likes and
dislikes, and to their comfort levels. The Dominant’s role is to push the
boundary but not cross it by establishing a safe word. In this case I had
“Yellow” which meant back off a bit on the pain levels, and “Red” which meant
that the play would immediately stop, and that I have reached my limit. My Master J intended to get me to say both.
Now doing a BDSM scene with someone you just met requires a
high level of trust. I don’t really know my Master's background, what kind of Dominant
he is, his style, level of expertise, etc. But he got me on “I give an hour of
aftercare with a loving deep tissue massage.” So whatever pain I did endure
would be met with a tender caress with his hands until I am settled back into
my body.
Fair enough, RIGHT!? I couldn't have been more wrong.
We start by sitting on the bed together, knee-to-knee, cross-legged,
hands at the heart and gazing into each other’s eyes. We’re connecting; he’s
gazing into me. I had just had a beer and was feeling the effects of the alcohol;
point noted, alcohol for me does not desensitize me; it actually made me feel
more transparent and vulnerable. I was beginning to feel unsure about what was
going to happen.
“I can sense a lot of blocks in you, L, Right here,” he
states simply with no compassion, with his hand touching the space between my
throat and heart. I have worked with this Granthi in Yoga, which is my main
blockage in practice. Perhaps my emotions get stuck here and don’t have a
chance to move completely out of my body.
“Perhaps you can unblock me,” I say not knowing how true
that was going to be.
The thing about deep, concentrated session work is that
anything can arise; pain, pleasure, trauma, spiritual experiences, etc. You
just never know how deep down the rabbit hole you’re going to go.
J tells me to stand up. I do. He’s standing square in front
of me.
“Tell me what you know of being a slave.”
“To obey, to serve,” I reply coyly.
And here it comes my first blow. He SLAPS me HARD across the
face. I see his hand hurling through space to make contact with the side of my
head, and my face moves what feels like a foot to the side. I have been slapped
and been very much turned on by it in the past. But this slap had a different
motive behind it; he was establishing his power, and taking mine away.
“You know nothing if I don’t tell you what you know. You
have nothing unless I give it to you. You are nothing unless I make something
from you.”
He says these words with power as he RIPS my shirt off, literally
(adding extra shock effect), and removes my pants. I am naked. I have nothing.
I know nothing. I am nothing, except in relationship to serving my Master. Oh
SHIT. My worst fear; I love my freedom. Now I don’t have any.
“Bend over.”
Again, he winds up his hand and delivers a HARD blow to the
ass. It stings, but not only with pain, but from the relinquishing of my power
over to this person.
Tears literally rise to my face because I am helpless. I am
nothing. I am just a little girl, weak and small. I let out a scream from the
pain.
“Stand back up.”
Now I have to show him my tears, look him square in the
face. I cannot believe I am breaking this soon into the session. IT’s all going
to be downhill from here, we are just getting started. I already want my
freedom back, I want my mother, I want a teddy bear, I want anything that will
console this feeling of powerlessness. After saying a few words to me, he has
me bend back over the table. I do as I’m told.
He smacks me just as hard a few more times. I’m sure my ass
is bright red. I squeal with each blow.
“Now lay face down on the table,” he commands
“Yes Master.” I reply probably somewhat meekly.
He begins to tie up my right ankle, tightly, and bends my
knee back so it’s almost touching my ass. I am fascinated by the rope-work as
it is a beautiful art form, and I also hate being bound. I am not objecting
now. My right hand is tied down. Now my left ankle is tied, and knee bent back
so my feet are in the air facing the ceiling. He spanks me some more. I scream
and begin to tremble and cry. I can let the tears flow freely because I’m face
down and he can’t see my pitiful face.
He spanks me some more, with different tools. I scream in my
tears, the vocal release for me is the only way to endure the pain. It has to
come out somehow. I yell “Yellow” and he backs off. And then come the Ice
packs. I’m uncomfortable, bound, afraid, and almost unable to breathe because
of the snot in my nose, and he applies freezing cold ice packs to my bum. At
first it feels kind of soothing to my red cheeks, then I squirm and shiver,
bound, crying, uncomfortable, no power, no control. I ‘m just a meek little
slave here for his enjoyment.
If that wasn’t bad enough, he applies more ice packs to my
body, and I can’t explain why this was so extreme for me. Perhaps it was
because I already felt helpless. The concept of "SLAVERY" began to sink into my psyche. I began to have human compassion for humans that were trapped in this reality, that only knew themselves as a SLAVE to a MASTER. Fear is not a good way to describe this feeling, it was more like deep sadness and impending doom. Slavery crushes the soul. Now I knew what it felt like to really BE a
slave. And this is temporary “pretend” enslavement. I have safe- word which will release me from these restrictions. And I
know I am going to use it, but I am waiting until I cannot possible endure any
more of this torture. My pussy isn’t wet. I’m not turned on. I’m not in a
physically submissive state, although psychologically I’m completely broken
open.
Now come the ice packs to the back of the knees, underneath the armpits,
and a huge one on my belly. I scream and shake and quiver and name my “Yellow.”
He removes the packs, spanks my ass some
more. But he wants it to be more exposed, and moves my position to an even more
awkward one where I’m on my knees on the table, and my hands are underneath me
and tied in a very odd and
pride-compromising way (I don’t like being ungraceful), and my butt is
very much in the air.
He starts to play with my anus. Honestly I can barely feel
it I’m in so much shock from my state of mind. I don’t really care what he’s
doing back there, oh wait yes I do. He fully penetrates me with his finger and
inserts a hook and ties the hook up to my collar. He yanks on the rope. It’s
not painful but humiliating. I wish I could emulate my noises for you. He’s a
total Sadist delighting in this torture of my soul.
“AHAWHWHWUAIWHAWHWHEAHAHA” In a sexy, crying, screaming way
is the only way I can describe my submissive cries to him. Perhaps I am crying
out so he will have more mercy on me, so he knows the effect of his tactics, so
he knows not to go much further. Perhaps so that he gets satisfaction over it
so he’ll do less. He perseveres onward with his plan, not relenting, moving
forward.
At some point he removes the hook and inserts his finger.
Okay…finger okay…not really pleasurable again, I can’t really feel pleasure in
this broken state. I can’t feel any erotic energy. He touches my pussy a bit as
well….I’m totally sexually numb. My body is still quivering and squirming and
desiring to be free of this bound. Pain, spanking….ice packs. And then I felt
his cock. OH WAIT A MINUTE. I didn’t agree to his cock being near me. “No
penetration” was part of the deal. Why did it feel like his cock was in my
ASS!??
“Are you having fun?” He asks, more from his human form than
his Master form.
“No Master.” ERGGG I had to be honest, I really wasn’t.
I’m crying and through my tears, he proceeds a bit more, and
“RED” comes out of my mouth.
“What was that?”
“RED MASTER, RED” I can barely say the words I’m so
humiliated, snot dropping out my nose, my eyes deformed from the amount of
tears that I cried. I hate being a helpless weak little girl. HATE IT. I hate
giving over my freedom. I couldn’t take any more. And there’s no way any cock
is going inside me in any way if I can’t take pleasure from it. NOPE.
He relinquished, and knew that RED meant OUT. Game over, we
stop play. He begins to untie me, and I slowly begin to relax with each know
that he takes out. It probably takes 10 minutes to get me free. I lay down, humiliated that I was so sensitive,
so weak, that I couldn’t take this kind of play. I thought I was tough…but I
have very soft skin, like silk, my heart like sweet honey, and I will willingly
submit to the right Master. Perhaps this just isn’t the one.
He gets me a tissue and I wipe my nose and grip it as the
only soft thing I have in this moment. I want my lover to come and cuddle me.
That’s all I can think of.
I had left my lover’s arms just hours before, I his warm and
genuinely caring embrace to experience this cold and harsh environment. And now
I would have to call him and ask him to come hold and console his naughty
kitten.
J finishes his work as promised with a lovely massage. He’s
disappointed that he can’t do the front side, which he says is much easier to
endure with heat on the front. Ingenious technique, but I cannot
psychologically endure anymore.
“I’m not really sure what happened to me” Are the only words
that I can find after the experience. I mean I know what happened, but I have
no words in this moment. My ego doesn’t want to be perceived as weak for not
being able to go on with the rest of the session. And I would if there was some
element of Eroticism, of warmth, if my pussy was getting wet. But it wasn’t, it
was too afraid to open.
BDSM play with a person is a love-play in some way; their
energy transfers through the tool they are using. Their past imprints of
reality, whether positive or negative will transfer through their session. If
they are scared in some way, it will show. If they are coming from a deep and
loving warm compassionate heart space, it will transfer in the type of session they lead. Everything can come into play in a scene. If they are innately a
healer, they will heal you. And likewise if they are cold, perhaps never earned
the respect of their father, or perhaps your female Domme was sexually abused
growing up and hates men. All this will show in the way they hold their
session. Obviously there’s a degree to which they have healed from these
experiences. The fascinating factor with BDSM is it gives stage for us to
explore and live out the deeper parts of our psychology, fantasies, and role
play. Past experiences, and deep-seated emotions will get triggered, as sexuality is
linked to our root and second chakra which has to do with family and the
subconscious; that which we are not aware of in our day-to-day life.
I had not been in touch with my inner hurt little girl for
many years; not to that degree. I felt like I was 5, tiny; I didn’t know
anything, so impressionable, so sensitive, so easy to cry, and so innocent. Slavery is frightening, limiting to the soul. Pain is pain, and suffering, my soul crying out in the judgement of what I was enduring was also real. And now I'm able to look back on this as just another sexual adventure under my repertoire. Oh and I'm not about to willingly submit to such a stern master again: ) To each their own.
