A proper submissive needs to be trained and disciplined with more than just paddles and whips.
My training by Sir M has focused on protocol for a submissive -– and his sweet torture is a bonus. I committed to meeting him each Saturday night at the dungeon party but he wanted more time with me so I agreed to meet him during the week.
The question was where to meet, since his house is full and my apartment has paper-thin walls.
On a recent weekday I drove out to a far-flung location following his precise directions. We rendezvoused in a Walgreen’s parking lot, and then I followed him over to our destination. Our session was in the small living room of a suburban apartment lent to him by a friend.
It felt like we were trespassing on someone’s life — plastic bracelets were strewn on the coffee table, and a stuffed Hello Kitty doll perched on a tablecloth of fake lace.
I still had large, colorful bruises from our last play session
I stripped naked and he checked my aura — clean! He put a cute, red spiked collar on me.
“This is your play collar,” he explained.
He didn’t have me wear a collar at the dungeon party because I’m single, and unowned. The collar signifies ownership in public.
“I’ll try to not add any extra bruising this time,” he assured me, since the five-day-old bruises on my butt from the previous weekend’s dungeon party were still a vibrant purple and the size of navel oranges.
The first day’s private training was teaching me to distinguish the various types of floggers and the different effects he can get with each one. He left the blindfold off for the first part of the session so I could see each one. As he introduced them one by one, they graduated from smooth soft calfskin to rough to menacing.
Sir M lightly ran the strands of each along my face, my shoulder, my breasts, had me smell each and get familiar with it. He demonstrated the lightest touch, where the tails barely kiss my skin. Gradually he’d increase the impact to a brushing, thwacking, thudding and stinging sensation depending on which flogger he used and how he used it.
“Now put on the blindfold,” he commanded. It was time to play.
He flicked his wrist and delivered a sudden hard thud to my back with a black and silver leather flogger. I screamed loudly and snapped out of my fatigue. That worked better than a triple shot of espresso. He continued to flog my upper back, my thighs, around my ribs. The intensity worked up to a crescendo and then down again. Then he’d switch to another flogger for more of the same pace.
After the introduction to floggers, I was allowed to take off the blindfold and I make myself a cup of tea. He explained the six positions he likes submissives and slaves to use, and asked me to demonstrate each. The first is the classic surrender position but with a wider stance, appropriated from the military. Second is the same position, arms up behind head with fingers touching, but down on the knees with legs spread.
I was blindfolded once again and he ordered me to get down on the floor and assume position six, for pussy inspection. He was pleased to find my pussy wet and hungry.
“Mmm good! Very healthy!” Sir M’s expert fingers massaged my g-spot hard and coaxed me to squirt again and again. He cooed, “Good girl! Good girl!” He pulled his fingers out to the entrance of the vagina and lingered, swirled around my clit with my juices, then fingers plunged back inside for more. A warm wave of bliss spread over me. I felt invincible.
After this inspection, I was ready for more pain. Sir M stepped in very close to me and I could smell his soap or cologne, mingled with the smell of pussy juice. That turned me on and my nipples popped erect again. He showed me another of his knives, from a fraternal BDSM society he belongs to. It was wickedly sharp, curved and archaic-looking.
My gut clenched up and I quickly got a stomachache –- an adverse reaction to seeing the knife. He put the knives away and continued to use some of his floggers on me. The last looked like a cat-o’-nine tails and I was really thankful that he didn’t use it.
“Oh I could slice you open with that one. But I won’t,” he said reassuringly.
That special glow
Our training session lasted nearly four hours but the time passed quickly. I was high on the experience and the adrenaline. That euphoria lasted through the rest of the day. That night several people told me how great I looked and guessed that I must have done something special that day.
The truth is, I’m empowered by testing my own limits and taking that leap of bravery into unknown and terrifying places. And that makes my inner beauty shine.
A few days later I was craving the thud of his floggers more than anything. So when I got his e-mail instructing me to meet at the same place on Monday for more training, I was thrilled. I went into the bedroom and played with my throbbing cunt for a while, then went to sleep with a smile. I knew that my lover, who I’ll call J, would be back in a few hours and crawl into bed with me.
Daisy TraLaLA (@DaisyTraLaLA) is a saucy Angelino kinkster who glides with ease between the worlds of tech, art, cuisine, electronica and dungeon parties. Check back every Tuesday for posts from her journey to the most divine surrender.