Meditations on submission

The “No True Way” prompt this week is:

Spend some time every day meditating on your submission, even if you can only spend 15 minutes or so.

Now, this got me thinking.

I’m a great believer in meditation and it is something I will make the time to do every day. When I meditate, however, I’m not really thinking about anything at all. If anything, it’s quite the reverse and I am consciously emptying my mind of thought, just focussing on the moment, counting my breaths, or my heartbeats, or, if I’m outdoors, just listening to the sounds of nature around me. The whole point of meditation is to clear my mind, not to make it examine something.

So, the simple answer to the prompt is that I do not meditate on my submission. The simple fact is that my submission is so deeply ingrained into who I am that it is something I don’t really need to consider. I’ve written before about how, for me, my submission is both conscious and unconscious; how it is who I am, even when I am simply going about my everyday life. My submission is active when I am doing something at Master C’s behest, e.g. when I am undertaking a task, when I am being disciplined, when we are ducking; but it is also passive in that I am still submissive when I am at work, or when I’m shopping, or even when I’m asleep.

But sex, and my submission, can themselves be meditative. Nothing restores my equilibrium than a toe-curling, back-arching, strength-sapping orgasm or too. When I’m fucking, the only thing in my mind is how it feels and how it makes me feel. When I’m sucking cock, the only thing I’m concentrating on is the cock that I’m sucking and the pleasure I am giving. When Master C’s belt is lashing my skin, it is also cleansing my mind. For me, pain is a great restorative; it provides me with a reset.

And that brings me to the most meditative aspect of my submission, and that is when Master C takes me to that place known as subspace. It’s that sweet spot where pain and pleasure combine to take me out of myself. It is a timeless, transcendental state where my submission becomes a total surrender; I am no longer in my body, I become a personification of sensation.

Sometimes my need is overwhelming. I need to be broken down and rebuilt. The most powerful and deepest state of subspace is when Master C takes me to this particular level, when nothing is “off limits”, when He uses the freedom to do whatever He pleases to me to its fullest; banishing my demons and satisfying my darkest desires and needs.

So, while I don’t meditate on my submission, my submission often does transport me into what can only be described as a meditative state that restores and enriches my body, mind and soul.

TMI Tuesday – Bind ~ Blind ~ Tease

1. Select a kink. You’re a first-time visitor to a dungeon, and you are ‘centre stage’ because a sizeable crowd has gathered to watch you:
a. Writhing from bare-hand spanking
b. Restrained on an X-cross receiving a whipping
c. Dangling in air wrapped in an ornate web of rope
d. Naked on a floor mat with 3 people pleasuring you
I think it’s fairly safe to say that I would clearly need to make four trips to this dungeon so that I could do all four. Or, alternatively I could do all four, one after the other in a single evening. If I really had to choose though, I’d have three people pleasuring me simultaneously. Truth be told, I have actually done all of these in such a venue.

2. If you selected #4 in the last question, tell us how you are pleasured?
It kind of depends on the make-up of the participants, but there would be lots of licking, kissing and caressing involved. If one of the participants was a woman, I’d love to be eating her out, savouring the taste of her cunt as I have both my cunt and my arse stuffed full of cock. If I’m being pleasured by three men, well the solution is pretty obvious. How they decide who gets to fuck which hole, I’ll leave entirely up to them

3. Bind, blind, tease. Write a 50-word story and include those 3 words.
Blind; the cloth over my eyes prevents me from seeing. Motionless; the rope used to bind my wrists and ankles holds me in place, biting my skin. They tease me with anticipation; not knowing who will do what. The tension build, my pulse quickens. And then, at last, they begin…

4. Sex Doll play: The ‘doll’ is the human version of an inflatable sex doll. The ‘doll’ must lie completely still on a bed and let their partner have at it. The partner is free to control the doll’s body and movements, and do what they please. Which will you be–the doll or the doll-master? Why?
Kind of goes without saying that as a submissive, I’d be the “doll” and Master C would be in charge. Again, like the first question, it’s something that we actually do after a fashion. I will be required to be still and silent, and endure whatever Master C chooses to do to me. The sting, of course, is that their are forfeits for each time He deems that I fail. There is also always a reward at the end, however, dependent on how well I have managed to comply.

#TMITuesday

Walking on air

First, the rope goes taut, as the slack is taken up, then it begins to tighten. The rough weave presses into the skin of my neck, squeezing tighter until the limiter is reached. Master C smiles at me, giving me a few moments to contemplate my circumstances, before he continues..

Another turn of the handle. My heels rise and I balance on the balls of my feet. The rope digs in. It’s uncomfortable, but I can breath.

Master C walks over to me. He puts a hand between my thighs, slides His middle finger between my labia. I squirm; my toes struggling for purchase on the raised blocks beneath them. His finger slides up inside me; I’m amazed at how easily it enters me, how wet I am. Master C skips His finger from my cunt and presses it to my mouth. “Taste yourself!” He demands, “Taste how much you are enjoying this.”

I comply, savouring the rich flavour of my essence on His finger. Master C is right; despite the discomfort, despite the difficulty to breath, I am enjoying this most exquisite form or torture.

He returns to the handle. Another couple of ratchet clicks; I am pulled imperceptibly higher. Stood, as I am, feet apart on blocks, my toes barely maintain contact. If one leg goes, if one foot loses that most tenuous of holds with the block beneath it, the other will inevitably follow. The rope cannot go any tighter, but still it digs in as it takes more of my weight.

Another click, and yet another. Somehow, I don’t know how, I maintain contact. Again Master C smiles; again He approaches me. The anticipation builds; becomes unbearable.

He touches me. The gentlest of contacts, almost as if a butterfly caressed my clit. That touch is my undoing. I flinch. As I flinch, my left foot breaks contact with the block beneath it. Unbalanced, my right foot is pulled from the dubious support of its block. My feet come together, scant inches above the ground, but above it they are; there is air between me and the safety of the floor.

The rope digs in as I hang there, pressing against the front of my neck, putting pressure on my windpipe. I can breath, but only just as my feet sway above the ground, like a pendulum.

Mere seconds passed, before Master C lowered me to safety. Seconds that seemed like an eternity as I hung there, suspended, helpless, entirely at the mercy of gravity, dependent on the limiter to prevent the rope from tightening fully.

The relief as the rope was loosened was almost orgasmic; the euphoric intensity of that first, deep, unrestricted breath was as intense as any climactic release. Master C held me tight as, with racing heart and almost hyperventilating, my body shook.

Later, Master C skilfully brought me to climax with His tongue; then lay back and let me ride Him with a carefree abandon until I came again and He unloaded inside me.

All in all, it was a hugely intense experience. I suspect I’m going to need to wear a scarf or polo-neck for the next few days though.

Giving

The thought to consider on No True Way this week is:

“Submission is a gift“

I’ll be honest and admit that I’ve never actually thought of my submission in such a way before. To me, submission is more a kind of formal acknowledgement of my role (and responsibilities) within the relationship Master C and I share. In a way, now that I consider it, I can see where the idea comes from.

My submission is something that I freely offered to Master C, and something that He chose to accept. In choosing to submit to Him, I offer Him my services and my body to use as He deems appropriate.

I have mentioned before that my submission isn’t a one-way way thing; both of us have responsibilities towards each other. In that respect, Master C’s Domination is as much a gift to me as my submission is a gift to Him. Even beyond the D/s dynamic, or relationship is built on us giving freely of ourselves to each other individually and to “us” as a couple. Similarly, we both take what we need from our relationship as well. We both support and care for each other, we both attend to each other’s needs and desires. For us, D/s is a framework that underpins our relationship. Again, as I have discussed, even when we are not actively undertaking anything sex, kink, or D/s related, e.g. when we are both at work or, at the other extreme, when we are both asleep, I am still His submissive and Master C is still my Dominant.

In a way, the “gift” isn’t actually my submission, because my submissiveness is merely part of my nature and makes me who I am; the “gift” I give Master C is, essentially, me and everything I bring to our relationship. The same is equally true in the opposite direction; the greatest gift Master C gives me is, quite simply, Himself. We give ourselves to each other equally, freely and without reservation and, in doping so, we create something that is greater than our individual selves.

Degrees of punishment

In the Kink of the Week introduction, Molly talks about the separation of “punishment and faux-punishment aka funishment into two separate topics”. Now, I kind of see the distinction, but I’m not so sure it’s quite as clear cut as that.

So, when we talk about “funishment”, I suspect we are looking at the “Oh, look what I did tee hee, I’ve been ever such a bad girl and need to be spanked, tee hee” somewhat reminiscent of a 1970’s Carry On film, or saucy seaside postcard type scenario, whereupon the submissive finds themselves across their Dominant’s knee and get their arse (bare or otherwise) playfully swatted before being admonished with a “don’t let me catch you doing that again, young lady” kind of scenario (please note I am writing this from the perspective of me being the one getting their arse tanned, please use your own identity descriptors where relevant).

I will admit, I regularly engineer situations that result in me ending up in just that position, i.e. bare arsed, over Master C’s knee and getting my arse cheeks turned a rosy red by whichever means He deems fit. Now, yes, this is intended as fun; I enjoy being spanked, but Master C will only ever dispense discipline, even in “fun” situations, if I give Him a genuine reason to do so. It’s one of His things, but He will never hurt me without there being a reason for it being necessary, so if I want to feel His hand or belt, or some other implement on my arse, I have to do something to merit it, however playfully intended it may be.

Effectively, what this means is that even when done primarily in a fun way, in the context of our relationship and our dynamic, they are still punishments, albeit minor ones for minor infringements. Further, knowing my tolerance for and enjoyment of pain, Master C doesn’t hold back when delivering admonishment in these cases. He may not reduce me to tears, but my arse will definitely sting after any form of corporal punishment He applies.

But this brings us to the crux of the matter. I’ve mentioned this before, but within the context of our dynamic, we tend to speak less of punishments and more of consequences. Transgressions on my part require me at accept the consequences of my actions, and those consequences and the level and method of discipline are determined to be appropriate to the scale of my misdemeanour.

By way of example, simple disobedience on my part may, depending on what I’ve done, result in a spanking, or the punishment may be that I am not permitted to come for a particular period. Sometimes the orgasm deprivation is made worse by the fact that, rather than edging me Himself, Master C will instruct me to essentially edge myself and deprive myself of orgasm.

Another example may be that misbehaving with a member of our sharing circle might result in some form of humiliation, e.g. being required to wear Master C’s, or some other member of the group’s cum on my face while performing services for our guests, or it could result in me being bound to a chair in the corner and having to watch, but not participate in a group activity.

Meeting up with “The Other Guy” without first informing Master C may earn me a moderate thrashing with His belt, sucking off and/or fucking one or more random guys on a night out is more likely to earn me a caning.

We don’t have a fixed tariff of punishments, and it is always the case that, as a rule, unless I have displeased Him beyond measure, I will always be required to suggest what I believe an appropriate degree of sanction will be. Master C may agree with my assessment, or He may not. If He does not, His own assessment may mean a harsher or more lenient level of correction than the one I initially proposed. For my very worst transgressions, the ultimate sanction is, of course, the cage.

The point of all this is that, for us, punishment is never simply arbitrary; I am not going to get thrashed mercilessly for not bringing Master C a cup of coffee in a timely manner. Similarly, being involved in a drunken threesome with two complete strangers is never just going to earn me a gentle paddling of my backside. For us, discipline/punishment has to be, to a degree, transactional; there has to be a degree of appropriateness where the punishment is befitting of the behaviour being punished.

The problem lies in the fact that, ultimately, I never actually learn my lesson. At a very deep level, I not only enjoy the kiss of Master C’s belt, the caress of the flogger or the bite of the cane, I yearn for it. For me, even the harshest form of discipline is itself a form of funishment; which ultimately makes it impossible for me to truly separate the two.

Cocksucking confessions

I absolutely couldn’t, even if my life depended on it, tell you exactly how many cocks I’ve sucked. I can absolutely guarantee that there are two that I have sucked, more than any other than any others, and that I still suck both of them at every opportunity that I can and those are, of course, the cocks belonging to Master C and “The Other Guy”. Those two are pretty obvious. Then, of course, there was the cock belonging to my first proper (read sexual) boyfriend, then, of course, there was my bastard, cheating ex, and there were a couple of guys that weren’t boyfriends but were regular “fuck buddies” during my student years.

After that, it all tends to get a bit murky. There are the male participants in our “Sharing Circle” for starters. Then there were the numerous casual encounters of my late teens and early 20s, where I licked, sucked and fucked my way through a swathe of the student population. There were the cocks I sucked when on holiday abroad, where almost no night out was complete without a post-nightclub blow-job and fuck. Then there were the guys I sucked off when I was between relationships, the additional guys I sucked off while I’ve been in relationships, and the guys I’ve sucked while they have been in relationships. Even today, there are still the occasional random, drunken blow-jobs in back alleys. I’ve said it before, but it’s worth repeating, the times that I am at my happiest, generally involve me having my lips wrapped around a penis at some point during the proceedings.

Why is this? Well, as I’ve mentioned before, I love the sense of empowerment I, as a submissive woman, get through giving head. I love the fact that when a man comes in my mouth, that it is almost certainly entirely down to me (possibly with whatever he is visualising in his mind while I am sucking him, helping him along). For me, knowing that the pleasure he is experiencing is entirely down to what I am doing is deeply gratifying. On top of all this, I love the fact that it’s something that I can do pretty much anywhere and at any time; I don’t need to get undressed, I simply need to unzip/unbutton him, take him in my mouth then tuck him away safely when I’m done.

Of course, not every blow-job will result in me receiving a mouthful of cum. Sometime the blow-job will stop before that point so that the recipient of it can fuck me in the cunt or arse. Sometimes Master C might decide I am not worthy of such a reward and will, instead, unload over my face or boobs. That, of course, is His right and I accept it gladly and, given my whole degradation and humiliation thing, I actually treat such an ending as almost as much of a reward as I do when He fills my mouth with a thick load of cum to savour before swallowing it down hungrily.

With Master C, sucking His cock forms part of my service and devotion to Him. I suck His cock to help Him unwind and relax. I suck His cock to give Him pleasure and, in doing so, bring myself pleasure. I suck His cock when He commands me to do it. I suck His cock when He lets me suck it (and pine for it when He doesn’t). I suck His cock as a means of atoning for misdeeds and transgressions. I suck His cock when He deems it is an appropriate reward. Sometimes, I suck His cock simply because He has one and I want to suck it. Sometimes it can be foreplay, sometimes it can be an event in its own right. The simple fact is, whatever the reason I find myself with Master C’s cock in my mouth, you can absolutely, 100% guarantee that it’s what I want to be doing and that I am enjoying every second of it.

I sucked my first cock when I was 14, and instantly became addicted. I probably wasn’t very good, but the recipient had never had one before so he had nothing to compare it with. I did put in a lot of practice on that cock, particularly during the several months that we were “oral only” before I finally arranged to have him help me discard my virginity. In the intervening years, I have had a lot more practice and I’ve sucked cocks of all shapes, sizes and colours. I’ve sucked them individually and as part of a group. Practice, or so they say, makes perfect. I would never claim perfection, but both “The Other Guy” and Master C are fully appreciative of the cocksucking skillset I’ve developed over the course of the better part of three and half decades, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never had any complaints from the men in our sharing circle or the random guys whose cocks I’ve sucked either.

So, as I said way back at the start of this tribute to tumescence, I have absolutely no idea how many cocks I have had in my mouth. I can say, without without any fear of contradiction, that it is far more than I have had in either my cunt or my arse. I can only hope that all of those recipients have enjoyed having me suck their cocks at least as much I enjoyed sucking them.

Suspended

Sometimes, I like to take things to extremes. Sometimes I like to go that little bit further, have things turn that bit darker. This was one of those occasions.

The suspension frame is something that Master C and I use fairly frequently. Most often, I will be gagged, my nipples will be clamped, my wrists will be cuffed and the hook will be fastened around the cuffs. Master C will then slowly turn the handle until my hands are pulled above my head. He will keep turning as it begins to pull my arms tighter. My heels lift from the ground, then the balls of my feet, and then, finally, my toes will break what little contact the had with the floor, and I am hanging freely above the ground.

At this point, it isn’t uncommon for Master C to apply the flogger liberally to my back and buttocks. The combination of pain in my arms, taking my weight, and the pain from being soundly flogged is a heady mix and Master C expertly draws the scenario out, maximising my pain, my discomfort and, ultimately, my enjoyment, before bringing me safely down, only to be tied to His “workbench” and fucked soundly.

On other occasions the cuffs will be around my ankles, my wrists bound tightly to my thighs. Master C raises me, suspending me upside down until my face is level with His groin. At this point, He takes my head in His hands and fucks me firmly in the mouth, making me cough and splutter, my saliva trickling down my cheeks, up my nose and into my eyes.

He fucks me roughly, then, just at the end, He pulls out and sends His load over my neck and face, where it mixes with the saliva from my mouth, making a delightfully degrading mess.

This time, however, we did something different. We did something that I’ve been fantasising about for some time and finally was brave enough to try.

On my knees before him, Master C commands me to suck Him off. I do so diligently, paying close attention to His instructions, changing my pace, moving my attention to the head, sucking harder then more slowly. I comply with His every command and am rewarded with a thick load of cum to savour then swallow.

Then it begins.

The clamps are applied to my nipples and tightened as far as they can go. Pain shoots through me, but it’s a pain we both know I can endure. My wrists are hog-tied to my thighs. The thick cords of the rope dig into my skin. Master C lifts my hair and tightens my collar a couple of stays. Not so tight that I can’t breath, but tight enough that it digs uncomfortably into the skin of my neck. He kisses me, gives my arse a playful swat and leads me to the frame.

There are no cuffs this time; I am not being raised by my wrists nor by my ankles.

“Ready?” He asks.

I nod.

“You know the signals?”

Again, I nod.

“OK then,” He says.

Master C slowly feeds the hook of the suspension cord under my collar before clipping it back on itself. He walks towards the winding handle. I manage a nervous smile as He begins to turn it.

It seems like an age passes as the slack is taken up but then I feel the slight tug of resistance. I feel a pull against my neck as the cord goes taut and starts to pull.

I close my eyes and breathe deeply. My feet begin to raise, slowly. Master C watches me intently as He turns the handle, watching for any sign that He needs to stop.

I’m on the tips of my toes; still in contact with the ground, but only just. My collar digs into my neck. A rush of anticipation shoots through me.

Suddenly I’m free; there is air between my feet and the ground. The leather of my collar bites into my neck as I am suspended by it. Master C, having locked the handle, walks towards me, flogger in hand.

Dangling, I squirm as He fingers my cunt. I’m surprised by how wet I am. My neck aches, but soon a now, stronger pain engulfs me as the fingers of the flogger caress my arse.

Six lashes; that was what we’d agreed before embarking on this. After every lash, Master C would check to see how I was before delivering the next. The tightness of the collar around my neck prevented me from giving full voice to the pain as the flogger bit my arse cheeks.

Tears ran down my cheeks as Master C flogged me. Despite my predicament, my cunt was incredibly wet. When, after the final caress of the flogger, Master C touched my clit with the buzzing head of my wand, I came instantly; legs kicking and flailing wildly, increasing the pressure on my neck.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Master C lowered me to the ground. I was still coming as He bent me over and fucked me hard, His hand gripping my collar and pulling my head back sharply as He drove His cock into me with long, hard strokes of His wonderful cock until He released inside me.

It was, an intense experience. Watching back the video He made of it turned me on intensely. There was something about watching myself, essentially strung up by the neck, helpless as Master C tortured me, my legs kicking wildly in the air in the aftermath of my climax, that ticks an awful lot of my “Fuck yeah!” boxes. Having done it once, it is definitely something I want to do again. A part of me wants to have the cord itself around my neck, but that is possibly something that will stay firmly in the realm of fantasy, for now at least.

His orgasm

The topic under discussion on No True Way this week is:

“It is a submissive’s responsibility to make sure the dominant (always) reaches orgasm.“

Now, I’ve touched on responsibilities before, and my view is that both the Dominant and the submissive have responsibilities to each other; how these responsibilities are discharged in practice will, naturally, depend very much on the nature of the D/s dynamic that is in place.

When it comes to Master C’s orgasm, I tend to disagree with the above. That isn’t to say that the statement is wrong, per se, it’s just that it doesn’t fit with how we do things.

Now, granted, there will be times when the task (and therefore the responsibility) of bringing Master C will be mine. For example, when I am giving Him a blow-job. In such a case, I am using my mouth (and, possibly hands) to excite and arouse Him, to pleasure Him and, when the time is right, to provide for His release. Ultimately, in this situation, when Master C comes, it is entirely down to me and what I have done. The only thing Master C has needed to do is to be there, sit/lie back, and have His cock sucked; everything else is down to me. It’s probably one of my most frequent “tasks” and it is one that I always apply myself to diligently, and with relish. Having my mouth filled with Master C’s hot, thick cum is a reward I will never tire of working to achieve.

In pretty much any other circumstance, however, Master C’s orgasm pretty much takes care of itself. When He fucks me, He will come. My responsibility, as much as it can be described as one, is merely to provide the means by which Master C achieves orgasm. My responsibility is to be at His disposal should He desire to use my body fir His gratification and satisfaction. My mouth/throat, my cunt and my arse are, to all intents and purposes, the tools that Master C employs to bring Himself to climax; I am there to be used. Does being is to use as He deems appropriate make me in any way responsible for the outcome of that use? Not actively, I believe. After all, if He weren’t fucking me, Master C could be fucking one of the other women in our sharing circle and the end result, i.e. His orgasm, would still be achieved.

And that, I suppose, is another factor to consider; the fact that, in being non-monogamous, I am not always involved in Master C’s orgasms. Granted, within our circle, the other women are, to a greater or lesser degree, submissive, but none of them are His submissive; I am Master C’s submissive.

Perversely, rather than me always being responsible for Master ‘s orgasm, within our particular dynamic, He is largely responsible for mine. Not entirely so, of course; I am generally free to masturbate (unless under specific instruction not to), and I have my other partners who also make me come, but when it comes to sex with Master C, I largely put my orgasm in His hands (or His mouth) and allow Him to determine not only when, but if I am permitted to come.

Dynamics are, of course, individual. This is how it works for us, but it is entirely possible that in other dynamics, the responsibility for the ensuring the Dominant partner comes, rests with the submissive and forms part of their duties towards the Dominant partner. Intellectually, I can see how this might work, but it isn’t the way our dynamic operates, and, you know what, that suits us just fine.

Definition

The poser set by Quote Quest this week is all about definitions.

“I am the sole author of the dictionary that defines me.”

– Zadie Smith

It is interesting, to me at least, as there are so many words I would use to define myself:

• Advocate
• Bisexual
• Brat
• Carer
• Cock-sucker
• Counsellor
• Filthy
• Insatiable
• Masochist
• Nympho
• Partner
• Promiscuous
• Sexual
• Slut
• Submissive
• Voracious

The above is not exhaustive, by any means, but it takes account my professional, personal and private lives, and I identify as and with all of the above.

It is fair to say that to “defining me”, I am, to a greater or lesser degree, fully responsible for the above being attributable; I chose my career, and I chose to fully explore my sexuality as well as my sexual tastes and desires.

If you’ve read any of this blog, you will know that I am open about the fact that I am attracted to and have sex with men and women; you will know that I enjoy sex with multiple partners; you will know that I have, almost from the beginning of my sexual journey, enjoyed casual sex with random partners; and you will, of course, know that I am submissive and that I submit to Master C.

None of these things have been forced upon me; they are all down to me making conscious choices. That’s not to say others haven’t had input. My parents, my lecturers at university, my colleagues and superiors at work have helped me in the development of my career. The men and women I’ve fucked over the past 30+ years have assisted me in exploring my sexual self. My submission to Master C has, of course, given me a framework and freedom that has allowed me to continue to explore and grow.

While I may not have been the first person to assign the more derogatory terms above to myself, I chose to accept and embrace them, weaving them into my own narrative and making them part of my sexual identity.

I am extremely fortunate to be in a place in my life where, at work, I have a career that, while often hugely stressful and demanding, I take great satisfaction from and, at home (and not at home), I have the freedom to enjoy exploring me, and to indulge my passions and desires.

So where does D/s fit into all this?

Well, largely it is because Master C allows me the freedom, within parameters that we’ve worked out, to explore. Master C provides support, He nurtures and helps me grow, He guides and sometimes He corrects. What Master C does not do, however, is limit me. Again, this is because my submission is my choice; Master C did not force it upon me. I chose to offer it and He chose to accept it. While, in one sense, the application of the dynamic is His “responsibility” as the Dominant, the detail of the dynamic is something that we have developed between us. Ultimately we are the authors of the dictionaries of our lives, but we are the co-authors of the dictionary of our D/s dynamic and our life together.

Deconstruction

This week’s “No True Way” is on the subject of being broken down:

“A submissive needs to be broken down by their dominant“

It’s a subject that I have written about before, as it is definitely something that, within my dynamic with Master C, I need and rely upon Him to do. It’s not so much the need to be broken, it’s the need to be taken apart, to release whatever negative energy is keeping me down, and then to be put back together, refreshed and renewed.

For me, pain is an essential when it comes to being “reset”. Master C, being particularly attuned to me moods and their accompanying needs, is usually very good at picking up on when such a reset is needed. Sometimes however, as I’ve previously mentioned, when I need Him to know how badly it is required, I will retreat to the cage, for Him to find me. That is my way of telling Him that there are no restraints on what I am prepared to accept: the clamps around my nipples can be tightened to the absolute maximum, He can wield whatever implement of chastisement He choses to employ as often and with as much force as He deems fit, He can yank my head back by my hair as hard and as far as it will go as He fucks me, He can choke me to the point of almost passing out. In essence, when Master C finds me in the cage, He knows that I am prepared to accept anything up to the point of me resorting to our “stop signals”.

In these circumstances, it isn’t about discipline, or punishment; I haven’t failed in some task or committed some transgression. In these instances it is all about the need for release.

In part, the preparation is as much a part of it. The blindfold so I don’t know what He is going to do. The ball-gag being put in my mouth so I can’t cry out. The clamps being tightened around my nipples. Being frog0marched over to Master C’s “workbench”, being forced roughly on to its hard wooded surface that pushes the clamps on my nipples into my boobs. It’s the harsh, rope bindings around my ankles that will chafe and burn my skin as I struggle. It’s the hook in my arse with its intricate harness that allows my hair to be bound into it, and then twisted to the required tightness. and then there is the waiting before Master C decides what He is going to do.

Often, in these circumstances, His belt will serve simply as an appetiser, a warm-up; turning the cheeks of my arse a rosy red as each lash lands. He will return to my arse later, but next He will remove the ball from my mouth and fuck my face, squeezing my neck with His strong hands as His cock roughly pounds my throat.

He comes, coating my face with a thick load of cum, then picks up the cane.

It swooshes menacingly through the air as it traces an arc towards my backside. It hurts, so much more than the belt does, and so much more because the belt has already done its work.

A twist of the hook harness pulls my hair tighter, pulling my head back further. The rope burns against my ankles.

By the time Master C is finally inside me, fucking me hard from behind while pulling my arms toughly back behind me, I will have been thoroughly beaten and used. If I’m lucky, as His cock takes me, I will have slipped into that almost transcendental state of sub-space, that dissociated almost out of body state of calm, where I can almost observe what is being don to me.

I know that, whatever happens, Master C will ensure that I will begiven the release of climax before He comes again, either in my cunt or over my back.

First my orgasm, and then His, is were the restoration commences. It continues as He unbinds me. It continues as He takes me in His arms, wipes away my tears, strokes my hair. It continues as He gentle massages the soothing balm into my skin, relieving some of the burning from where the cane bit. It continues as He makes me comfortable, and pours me a glass of wine. It continues because Master C is there, He is with me, and I am His.

There are times when the need to be broken like this is fundamental; it goes right to the core of my being. Each time, however, from the ashes I am reborn. I am refreshed and rebuilt. It is one of the greatest gifts that being Master C’s submissive gives me, and one that He gives with such care.