It takes me several weeks to recover from the extreme session Virginie put me through. These days of convalescence allow me to reflect on my situation and my true personality.
I know I'm capable of accepting a certain level of pain and even enjoying it, I don't hide from it. However, it's not my deepest nature to submit to someone, to accept their dominance and suffer their torments.
Whenever I close my eyes and let my mind wander, I'm always the Master, the one in control and cracking the whip.
I'm aware that if Virginie took control over me, it's only because she's older and more experienced in the SM field than I am. But now, looking back, I realize that today I'd be perfectly capable of swapping roles.
One Friday evening, she waits for me after class and we go for a coffee in a downtown bar. There, we take the time to talk and take stock of our relationship. She's terribly sorry about the terrible session she put me through, and can see that it's changed me.
When I explain my feelings and my preference for the dominant rather than the submissive position, she smiles and her response almost catches me off guard.
“I always knew you were a master at heart,” she said. “You're conciliatory, but not docile. And everything I've put you through is so that you'll better understand how to exercise your dominant role.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“To be a good master, you have to go through pain and shackles,” she explains. “Without this knowledge, we can't know how our submissive feels. If you haven't experienced the whip, the riding crop, the chains, how can you be capable of inflicting them on someone, properly? It's impossible.”
I listen attentively, shaking my head. Her words make sense and resonate with me. Yes, knowing the pain of a particular instrument allows you to know exactly how to use and apply it. It's essential if you want to bring your partner pleasure through a carefully measured dose of pain.
We chat for a while longer, and as we're about to leave, she gives me an appointment for the following Saturday at her place.
***
When I arrive at her house, Virginie greets me in a t-shirt and sweatpants. She ushers me in and invites me to take a seat on the sofa. I notice that she has already prepared a variety of instruments, neatly arranged on the coffee table.
There's a cat-o-nine, a paddle, a cane, as well as leather bracelets and the dog collar.
As I sit on the sofa, Virginie stands facing me on the other side of the coffee table. Her eyes are downcast and she keeps her hands at her sides.
“As we discussed,” she begins. “Today, you are the master. I pledge to submit to your every will, and to receive whatever punishment you see fit.”
She raises her eyes for a moment, and her gaze meets mine.
“I'm your slave, your thing. My body belongs to you. Do with me what you will,” she finishes with a slight tremble in her voice.
I sense a certain apprehension in her, but also a lot of excitement. We stare at each other for another split second, then Virginie looks down again.
“Well, if you're my slave. Present yourself as such.”
Perfectly docile, she obeys immediately, removing her T-shirt and jogging pants. She's not wearing any underwear and I can admire her magnificent naked body.
My eyes follow the charming curves of her long, tapered legs with their shapely thighs, stopping for a moment on her crotch. Her Venus mount is neatly shaved, revealing her large, dark-pink lips.
My gaze then travels up her flat belly, her slender waist, to her high, firm, pear-shaped breasts. Their pink tips are already stinging with excitement.
Virginie keeps her head and eyes down as she prepares herself before me. One by one, she closes the leather bracelets around her ankles and wrists. Then she kneels facing me, thighs spread, buttocks resting on her heels. Arching her back to offer her proudly erect chest, she straightens her head, then raises her hair and crosses her hands behind her neck.
In this submissive position, she keeps her gaze lowered, waiting for what's to come. I wait a few seconds, appreciating her docility.
Then, finally, I get up from the sofa, grab the dog collar and walk behind her. The feel of the leather closing around her neck makes her flinch and I can feel her breathing quicken. But she remains perfectly still.
My fingers caress her back, graze her sides, run along her loins to the fleshy, muscular globes of her buttocks. I appreciate their firmness and can already feel the budding wetness in the hollow of her crotch.
Virginie lets out a sigh as my middle finger moves along her dark furrow and separates her labia. My finger plays for a few moments at the entrance of her vagina. It is already well moistened.
“Very excited, I see.”
“Yes, Master,” she replies hoarsely.
“That's very good. But I think you still need a little warm-up.”
Placing my hand on the back of her neck, I gently push her forward.
Virginie immediately understands my intentions. Uncrossing her hands, she leans forward, stretching her arms out in front of her until her forehead touches the floor. In this position, with her legs slightly apart and her back hollowed out, her buttocks are perfectly exposed.
With her head buried between her arms, she can't see what I'm doing, only sensing my movements and trying to guess what's coming next.
The slap of the cat-o-nine's straps against her flesh, followed by the pain radiating up her bottom, startle her and she lets out a cry of surprise. However, she recovers immediately, forcing herself to maintain her position as I continue to whip her.
I remember the many sessions I underwent and try to reproduce what I endured. My blows alternate from one buttock to the other, traveling down her back to the top of her shoulders.
I strike without any real rhythm, sometimes up and down, other times left and right. Virginie has no chance of anticipating the coming blows. All she can do is endure, and it takes all her willpower not to move, to remain bent over and totally submitted.
The fierce leather straps trace crimson stripes across her bountiful buttocks and back. Her body, contracted by the effort, trembles with each impact. Moans escape her lips, but she doesn't scream.
Suddenly, I change targets. The straps slam vertically between her groove, striking directly at her perfectly exposed anus. Three successive high-speed blows take her by surprise. She jerks her head back, letting out a shrill cry of pain.
I smile, I've managed to surprise her.
Virginie stands still for a moment, panting, her mouth open. Her body trembled with pain.
“That's good, slave. But you moved. You'll be punished for that.”
“Yes, Master,” she sighs, returning to her original position, head to the floor.
“No, not like that. Inspection position.”
The order given, Virginie complies instantly. She stands, legs apart, back arched, hands crossed behind her neck, eyes downcast.
Standing in front of her, my hand rests directly on her sex and my fingers work their way inside her. Virginie's breathing quickens a little more as I part her lips, push into her dripping vagina and titillate her fleshy knob, swollen with excitement.
Virginie has to grit her teeth not to give in to this sensual caress, which sends shocks of pleasure throughout her lower abdomen.
I can see her muscles trembling, her chest heaving faster as I continue to caress her. She contracts her whole being to hold her position at all costs.
Leaving my hand where it belongs, I reach behind her and press myself against her back. My lips rest on her neck and my other hand caresses her breasts, playing with their hardened tips. Through my pants, she can feel my erected penis against her buttocks. Instinctively, she presses herself against me a little more, seeking to arouse my desire.
But it's still too early for that. The session has only just begun.
I stop my caresses abruptly, and Virginie lets out a sigh of both relief and frustration. The waves of pleasure so close to overwhelming her are now slowly receding, leaving her with nothing but frustration.
“Not so fast, slave. Your pleasure isn't my priority. I have something more interesting in mind. This way, please.”
I guide her towards one of the beams in the living room and Virginie can already guess what I want from her.
Docilely, she presents me with her wrists and I fasten the leather bracelets with a snap hook and a small chain. Then, with my chin, I point to the ceiling. Immediately, she stretches her arms above her head and passes the ring of the chain through the hook attached to the beam.
She finds herself completely stretched out, practically hanging from the beam. Only her toes touch the ground.
I then attach a metal bar to her ankle ties, forcing her to keep her legs wide apart. In this position, she's totally at my mercy, every vulnerable part of her body fully exposed.
Eyes half-closed, muscles tensed, Virginie prepares for the next stage of her punishment.
She sees me go over to the table to pick out a new instrument, but she can’t see which one I chose.
The dry clatter of wood hitting skin echoes through the living room. Virginie can't contain a cry of surprise as the pain spreads through her hindquarters. Wielded with precision and speed, the paddle slams repeatedly into the muscular globes, leaving dark marks on the already reddened skin.
After the surprise of the first blow, Virginie grits her teeth, enduring her punishment with courage. The blows rain down on her buttocks, radiating intense pain throughout her body.
I strike with force. Each impact makes the young woman flinch, but even though the first tears appear in the corner of her eyes, she doesn't utter a sound, silently submitting.
“I admire your restraint. And what bravery. You really are a slave full of surprises.”
Abandoning the paddle, I approach the tormented woman and caress her tortured buttocks with my fingertips. The darkened skin now burns with intense heat. After the violence of the blows, the softness of this contact makes Virginie shiver. As my hands explore her buttocks, she feels the pain slowly recede.
Digging a little deeper into her loins, the young woman stretches her rump backwards, offering herself a little more to the caress. Abruptly, the fingers leave the curve of her buttocks to infiltrate her furrow and descend to her sex. They linger for a few moments between the delicate lips, searching for the knob of flesh still concealed beneath her hood.
“How exciting. Do you want pleasure?”
“Yes, Master,” she replies, breathless.
“Don't worry, you'll get it.”
My fingers withdraw as quickly as they'd entered and I walk away for a few seconds. When I return, I stand up to my victim.
“Now that your bottom's warmed up, let’s take care of the front.”
Without preamble, I lean forward and start kissing one of Virginie's breasts. My lips close over the dark nipple and my nimble tongue works to excite it. Occasionally, my teeth nibble on it, making it harden and erect.
A gentle warmth of pleasure washes over the young woman, who begins to moan in excitement.
As I feel the nipple harden between my teeth, my mouth withdraws and my hand clasps the hardened nipple. An electric shock shakes Virginie's body the instant the metal clamp closes cruelly on the tip of her breast.
I just smile, proud of the result. I then undertake the same ritual with the other breast. And, a few seconds later, a second clamp crushes the taut, aroused nipple.
With the clamps in place, I link them together with a thin chain and present it to Virginie. Docile, the young woman opens her mouth and takes the metal link between her teeth. As she does so, she pulls on the clamps, which extend her breast tips a little further, triggering a new wave of pain in her chest.
Satisfied with my work, I take a few steps back. A new cat-o-nine appears in my right hand. Longer and thinner than the previous one, the supple leather straps whistle through the air as I perform a few practice tricks.
Virginie's eyes widen as she anticipates what's to come.
“Whatever happens, don't let go of the chain. The punishment will be all the more terrible.”
And, without waiting, I strike.
For Virginie, the pain is gripping as the straps brutally nail her chest, making her jump and flail between her bonds.
Relentlessly, the cat-o-nine falls on the young woman's body. I'm not just aiming at the swollen chest, tortured by the clamps. I alternate with strikes along her flanks and across her flat stomach. With each stroke, the straps leave fine marks on the young woman's pale skin.
Virginie feels the blood pounding in her hardened breasts as she holds the chain firmly between her teeth. Each impact makes her raise her head, tugging ever tighter on the spikes and sending new shocks of pain into her chest. Added to this is the intense burning sensation that accompanies the bite of the supple leather.
In her mind, pain and pleasure mix. Each blow makes her suffer and, at the same time, triggers a wave of excitement in the pit of her loins. As the punishment progresses, she begins to moan, wriggling between her bonds.
I notice the change in her attitude and it makes me smile. The young woman is a perfect submissive and that suits me just fine. I continue to strike, carefully observing my victim's reactions. Eyes closed, body stretched forward, she offers herself totally to the instrument of torture that torments her.
Completely abandoned to the contradictory sensations that assail her, Virginie jerks abruptly when the leather straps strike her crotch. Separating her delicate labia, they slam upwards towards her Venus mount, crushing her clitoris and electrifying her whole lower abdomen in one fell swoop.
Such is the violence of the pain that Virginie nearly releases the chain as a muffled scream escapes her mouth. She barely has time to recover before the whip strikes again. Across her back this time.