The sensual side of D/s

I'll be the first one to admit, I've always had a taste for the dramatic: well-equipped dungeons, dark and shiny furniture, low-level lighting, lots of implements...

But I had a reminder recently of just how wonderfully inspiring simple gestures and actions can be.

Quite suddenly, she turned to me, stood up and reached over to pin my hands behind my back. I had barely walked into her office to see how she was doing when she just came upon me. She told me to keep my hands where she had placed them, and reached for my nipples, grasping them firmly through my shirt and undershirt, and leading me away from the office.

The objective had been set. I was going to serve her in showering her. As we stepped into the bedroom, she ordered me to strip naked, as she was getting undressed herself. My gaze upon her splendid body went thankfully unnoticed as she finished removing her own clothing. She came back into the bedroom, took hold of my nipples again, and this time led me next to the shower, where she entered first, and told me to come in right after her.

I knew her routine, but for her trouble, I did want to make this special, and I gave her all the attention and care I could. Washing her hair gently, I reached down to rub and massage her scalp every few passes. Despite the look of enjoyment she had from it, and the relaxed pose her body took, somehow I felt guilty that I was still getting the better of the exchange. As I was sure all of her hair was clean, I moved on to one complete massaging pass over her scalp, gentle enough to be enjoyable, firm enough to ease/relax mental and muscle tension.

Moving on to her face, we used her favorite face-soap, and I gently foamed it up as I delicately covered every surface and angle. For the second pass, I applied just a bit of pressure, relaxing the facial tissues under the skin as I cleaned the surface. I made sure that rinsing was thorough as my fingers once more went over all of her face, just barely touching, the lightest of caresses.

As we moved to the rest of her body, it came upon me that we forget how precious body parts like the grooves inside of the ear, the crevices behind the knee, or the spaces between the toes are when we don't visit often enough.

Truly a woman's body is something to be worshipped. There were so many beautiful and glistening limbs, parts, and surfaces to be washed, and every one of them turned me on to no end under the shiny reflection of the falling water. Each one of them required a different technique to clean and to massage. Long, sweeping strokes for her strong and lean legs. Small, expanding circular movements around her breasts and shoulders. Short, detailed movements inside and outside of her hands and between her fingers. Short, alternating straight and circular movements around her backside. Delicate and reaching around her private regions. There was a tinge of sadness as I left one part and I knew I would not come back to it until the rinse.

The time to rinse off whatever soap was left brought her some very long caresses over most of her body, and some gentle splashing from however much water I could gather in my cupped hands.

Finally, after the water had been turned off, I reached for her bath towel, I dried her off, patting her dry in delicate or small areas, drying her off with broad strokes over large body parts, and massaging dry her hair. She walked away from the shower in the most regal and confident manner, thanked me coldly for my attentive service, stepped in front of the mirror, took hold of her hair drier and brush, and told me I had to be done with my shower and dressed by the time she was done. I thought 15-20 minutes... plenty of time. As she got to work on her hair and make-up, I took in discretely one more glance of the beautiful and erotic sight she was presenting to me, and as I turned to my own shower, I was proud of my work as she looked relaxed, rejuvenated, and quite satisfied, if a bit smug, about the results of her actions.

And I knew that she would be deciding where we'd be having diner too...

Aaah... What spectacular and magical creatures these women are...

PS: lights turned low and candles are optional, but even better.

Act 4, Scene 1: Warming up

He skipped a breath when she shut the door behind him. It was his first glimpse of Mistress A in person, and she was absolutely stunning... and so tall. Just about as tall as he was in her heels. Edgy and nervous as he was stepping into her studio, a rush came over him as he was contemplating the arresting beauty of her smiling face, her superbly sculpted body, and the rich mezzo voice that was inviting him into her web.

Mistress A led him to her selected playroom for the evening's session. It was quite a fair size for a single room BDSM-play setting, and contained more than enough toys and equipment to provide an eternity of subspace. A fairly large padded chair with spreader, a suspension bar with leather cuffs attached to a winch, and a bondage bed with metal cage bars extending most of the way around it were complemented by thick piles of bondage equipment, toys, and implements stacked on long pegs on one of the walls. On the window sills were a bunch of finer and more prickly tools. Finally, filing cabinets, one tall (perhaps 7-8 drawers) and one short (3-4 drawers), were placed on diagonally opposite corners of the room. He never quite discovered all of what was in those drawers, but for what Mistress A pulled from them, he would know by the time they were done that they held wonderful objects of torture and ecstasy.

The introduction was brief... he had provided her with a fair amount of background, and between what she had read about him and a quick phone conversation the day prior, Mistress A clearly felt like she had all the information she needed to enjoy the next few hours. As she left the space for a few moments, he was expected to strip naked and place his clothes on one of the hooks on the wall that held so much enticing equipment.

He waited for her return kneeling and looking down at the ground. As she returned, and created a warm feeling inside of him by telling him what she would get from him that evening, she didn't quite seem satisfied with his kneeling position. She reached over for a tall glass container full of small, highly polished pebbles, poured out about a third of them from the container, spread them over a small area on the carpeted floor, and ordered him to kneel on them. The discomfort was definitely felt but it was quite bearable. It did increase a notch when she ordered him to straighten up, to stand on his knees and to look at her. She told him that respect was nice but she did not want her beauty to be wasted. In a flash of rationality, as his grasp on reality was already starting to slip, he realized that she would have a better sense of his reactions when he was looking at her rather than looking away. Not that he would mind in the least... he was still in awe of the beauty of her face, and now he would get more of those playfully expressive, mischievous eyes, and her great smile, a smile both enticing and scorning. And her voice... firm, tantalizing, and contemptuous, was a siren call to which he would be unable to resist. And yet, that voice would remain the mental lighthouse which would be his only link to his actual here and now for the next few hours.

Mistress A had already given his nipples a few tweaks from her gloved hands when she reached over to the top of the small cabinet and pulled out a cigarette. She then proceeded to light it in a way that was at once so sexy and contemptuous. Since his youth he had had a huge fetish for beautiful women smoking, and she sent his mind reeling with just this one visual. In fact, the single visual of her smoking would have been powerful enough, but the cross-imagery of this just stunningly gorgeous dominant woman looking down on him, contemplating what to do with his surrendered will, washed a first wave of subspace over him. Mistress A's smile to his reaction was pure enjoyment, and it seemed to him like she was definitely going to hold that against him.

As she stepped back closer to him, she played with and pinched his nipples harder, one at a time, as she let the smoke fill the space around him. Perhaps by that time she realized how pliable he would be to her will and her whims, and then she described how she was going to fuck him that evening. She was going to fuck his mind, fuck his body, and exploit his frustration of not having had release since she had ordered him to restrain.

Once she was done with her cigarette and her verbal tormenting, she came in even closer to him, pushed his chin up and ordered him to open his mouth as she leaned just a bit over him. She very slowly and deliberately spit into his mouth, and as it landed onto his tongue, a wonderfully intense burst of the sweetness of her saliva and the smokiness from the cigarette exploded in his mouth and provided him with a rush that ran from his mouth throughout his whole body.

Enjoying the sun setting...

Firmly but in the most intoxicating manner, she placed the collar around his neck as she was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was kneeling at her feet, hands behind his back, looking down at her beautiful boots, respectfully not taking in any of her beauty despite the incredible temptation to do so.

She had called him into the bedroom, and as soon as he got a glimpse of her, in knee-length black boots, black panties and bra, and her own collar, he knew what was expected. He went down on all fours, and slowly, deliberately, crawled to her. He removed his jeans, and T-shirt, and assumed the most submissive position he could, feeling the vibe of her mischievousness even before she spoke. The smell of the leather implements on the bed was already making his head spin and his stomach tense, and that was before he picked up on the scent of her fragrance... spicy, understated, deliciously making him hungry for her.

The light trailing of her nails against his skin as she fixed the collar in position, in contrast to the smooth coolness of the collar, was suddenly overwhelming, like there was nothing else in the world. Once the collar in place, she grabbed the leather handcuffs and told him to present his hands. As she was strapping them on, he felt his will give way to hers. With a completely evil, possessive deliberateness, she closed the locks on each of the wrist restraints with a clean "click", as to emphasize that there was no turning back. Placing his hands herself behind his back, she clipped them together, and stood for a while to enjoy both her handiwork and what was to come.

Next came the ankle cuffs, as she gave his ass a slap so he could raise himself from sitting on them. She strapped those in too, and also clipped them in place.

Finally, she reached for the dog leash, clipped it to his collar, and gave it a tug as she told him to follow her. The knee steps were short but quick. As he tried his best to follow her, he got a quick glance at the stunning view that was before him: the beautiful legs half encased in the black material of the boots, the revealing black lacy panties and bra, the leash coming out of her right hand, and the leather riding crop she held in her left hand.

They did a slow walk around the next room before moving on to the dinning area where she turned around one of the chairs and sat down. She pulled him close to the chair facing him, and told him to sit back as she pulled on the leash. His chin right next to the edge of the chair, he was lost in the scent of her body's fragrance even before she was ready to start. She got up, straddling the chair, and started pulling down her panties. She turned to the side a bit as she put a foot on the chair, sliding her panties over the knee and down her leg. As she lifted her foot out, they fell down the other leg, and she just stepped out of them, sitting back onto the chair.

She pulled the leash tighter, until he had no choice but to place his head where she wanted, and he quickly got high on the sweet smell that was engulfing his whole being. She reached back to take hold of the riding crop, and controlled the pace of his service to her, changing his rhythm by short, sharp strokes, and marking changes of technique by single, stronger strokes.

As he was slowly bringing her closer to climax, he felt a regret that he couldn't stretch out the experience longer. He was all hers to do as she pleased, and it was a good place to be. There was an indescribable warmth and comfort inside of him to be be in such a place. He wished that he could extend this for longer, but the pace was clearly dictated by his Goddess, and he wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure as she wanted.

Then, after an incredibly erotic moment for him where his nose and a much larger area than his lips were covered with fluids from inside her, something wonderfully unexpected happened: she wanted more. While the second round was much shorter, the strokes were faster and sharper, the pace was more furious, and the tugging from the leash harsher. The second release was even more powerful than the first one, and he so wanted to just stay there and enjoy the moment.

But it was not to be. She was sated for now, and leaving the riding crop on the dining table, she let go of the leash and left for an instant to get her bath robe. As she slipped it on, she reached for the leash again, and pulled him close to her, uncoupling his hands from his back, and clipping them in front. Now on all fours, she walked him over to a counter top where her purse was, and grabbed her cigarettes and lighter. She headed toward their balcony, leading him by the leash, and he did his dutiful best not to slow her down.

Once on the balcony, she positioned him on all fours, parallel to the front guard of the balcony. She stood between him and the guard, lifted the back part of the bath robe over him, and she sat on the lower part of his back. She wiggled her bum teasingly as she sat at a bit of an angle, undoubtedly to have a better view of the sun setting from the top floor balcony. She lit her cigarette, took in a deep inhale, and had a quiet exhale as he could smell the smoke coming out. The smell of the smoke was just another part of the sensory overload he was experiencing. While she was very light, his position on hands and knees was somewhat uncomfortable, especially on the latter, because of the hard concrete of the balcony. But this was a mild, exciting discomfort that was barely noticeable in comparison to what he was feeling elsewhere. Her warm naked ass on his back felt like the most erotic thing that had ever happened to him, and then, to excite him even further, he started feeling a little bit of moistness over the back of his kidney area. Between drags, she gently ran her nails down his back, and sometimes she reached up beyond the collar, gently scratching the scalp on the back of his head. Once or twice, she grabbed a handful of hair and gave his head a tug, just as a reminder of her total control over him. But they were loving hard tugs... they felt as much a gesture of appreciation to him as displays of control.

Serving as her seat right then, right there, after what happened a bit earlier, having her enjoy the view of the sun going down as she relaxed, was just the best thing in the entire universe. It could not get any better. And he was in a happy place.

Act 1, Scene1: Symbols

His very first glimpse of Mistress S took his breath away. With a stunning figure, impeccable fetish clothing, and taller than he had expected, even discounting the height of the heels of her boots, her arrival into the waiting room was the first of many peaks to come.

A few matters of prefered etiquette later, par for the course for such a first meeting, he was collared before being made to sit on the ground before her. A rather pleasant and highly erotic conversation ensued to discuss where the day's session would lead them. It was easy to focus on what Mistress S was saying, despite the intense emotions and the mental states storming within him, because beyond her voice, the rest of the universe had the volume turned down.

The Mistress on a chair with him sitting on the ground before her... the collar she had placed around his neck... the twinkle of her gaze... the mischeviousness in her smile... the shiny black clothing she was wearing, both hiding and revealing the form of a goddess... the long black boots that were level with where he was sitting... the racks, tables, toys, and ropes of the space around them... the stainless steel water dog bowl she had filled for him in case he needed to quench his thirst... The symbols around him evoked some of the most powerful imagery his mind had come across and compiled. And yet, here he was, in an environment that would create a brand new set of some of the most vivid experiences, emotions, and images he would ever live through. And here she was, ready to start creating on a new canvass he had brought in just for her.

She was visibly satisfied at the fact that he had few expectations. Likes and dislikes of both parties had already been exchanged, and within the very wide range of possibilities left, he made it clear, in the appropriately humble manner, that he was there to serve, and he was there for her BDSM pleasure and enjoyment. There would be no other purpose to his presence than to have the opportunity to submit to her, whatever she was in the mood for.

* * * * *
The symbols were, and are, ultimately, powerful accessories to the experience. Some of them more important, some of them less; some of them are interchangeable, others are not. All of them can be intoxicatingly erotic in their own way. But it remains that BDSM is about individuals, and that interaction is at the core of what the power exchange is about. In this case, Mistress S' personality, her skills, her experience, her will, her love for what she does, is the real fabric of such an encounter. And power exchange is the pattern. Everthing else is there to accessorize the experience.

Favorite Things... a View From the Bottom

Inspired by a post by morningstar (May 20th, 2008), I thought I provide my own list of my favorite things. Of course, a second list, a view from the top, will eventually be necessary... Two disclaimers: first, not all of these are appropriate for newcomers, ans second, this is a personal list, so it may not work for everyone.

As a submissive, in no particular order, some of my favorite things are:
A caring sadist: someone that will accept the gift of submission with respect and honor. And who will be absolutely giddy at the prospect of what she can do with her new toy...
Bondage: nothing drives the point home that you are at the mercy of someone else like bondage does. Being bound is the signature on the contract of the power exchange...
Floggers/whips: the iconic beautiful, dominant woman wielding a flogger or a whip is a syren song that cannot be resisted. It will bring about altered states of mind if she can use them safely and competently.
Spanking/paddles: as appetizer, as desert, or as the main course, there is something just really satisfying about spanking and/or the use of paddles. Interestingly, it never seems like there's enough of it until there is too much...
Nipple torture: seriously now... is it really BDSM if nipple clamps aren't used? There are few body parts that can provide as a high a ROA (reward on abuse) as the nipples.
Puppy/pony play: makes one feel almost as submissive are one can get without being tied up. The head trip is directly proportional to how much the mistress enjoys it, and how obedient the pet is willing to be.
CBT: about the only thing that can make one more mentally vulnerable than being naked. Funny how CBT is the one type of bondage that no one struggles against or tries to break free from... the less movement, the better...
Servitude: is a room ever cleaned as fast, as well, or with as much enthusiasm as when it is part of a BDSM scene? All of a sudden, keeping chores isn't so boring when wearing fetish clothing, having hurtful implements hanging, or having someone with a crop watching over.
Piercing: within the wide range of possibilities that may come about when making the gift of submission, few things are as intoxicatingly erotic and sensual as offering one's body as a canvas. The needles may form the pattern, but the shades, hues, and colors are all created in one's mind.
Electric play: the combination of the wide range of sensations provided by electric toys and the huge surface of the body they can be applied to are second to none in competent hands. Just try not to think of Luke Skywalker being tortured by the Emperor in Episode 6...
Fire play: the ultimate in the sheer intensity and beauty of the scene, and for the synergy between the players. The nearer to the side of the cliff, the more extraordinary the view is...

There is so much more... but this should keep you busy for a while...

Act 1 Scene 3: Shibari

Mistress S could just not wait to put him in ropes. She had told him so within the first few minutes of the preliminary conversation, and during some early warm-up play. For his part, he was just as impatient for them, as he had been awaiting this moment of surrender with anticipation for days, as important stage in the further offering of his submission to her.

She ordered him over to the suspension rack where he was to remain still as she carefully considered her options in ropes. Once the decision was made, he experienced his first taste of shibari as she expertly weaved her web of bindings over his upper body. She started at his mid-section and worked her way up, pointing out the "man-boobs" she created that would leave his nipples vulnerable to the delicious tortures to come.

Once she completed in the intricate pattern over his torso, she paused to admire her artwork before moving on to binding his arms to his sides. While he could only get a partial perspective of the design she had created, he saw in her eyes the satisfaction she felt, and that engulfed him in a wave of warmth and lightness simultaneously. How beautiful the bondage must have been!

Bound as he was, he was helpless to avoid her next move, a gentle kiss on his lips, a delicate, teasing kiss, that had him slip further into subspace. Already feeling his tenuous hold on the moment sliding from his observational and analytical consciousness, the softness of her lips on his, the smell of the herbal/flowery fragance of her skin, was intoxicating.

As physically vulnerable to her whims as he had dreamed he could be over the course of the past several days, there was no turning back. Not that he would have wanted to. This was another staircase to take him into the depths of his submissive consciousness, and he knew that she would be the perfect guide to this particular journey.

* * * * *

At the end of the session, as he came out of the shower and started drying off with the towel she had left him, his fingers brushed against an unfamiliar texture on his skin. As he looked down, he saw the rope marks still present from the bondage. The pattern sculpted into his skin was absolutely beautiful, moving him deeply, and as he already longed to have her bind his body once more, he experience their fanthom presence for a few fleeting moments as he closed his eyes and travelled back through a kaleidoscope of scenes and images where he served as the canvass for Mistress S' shibari artistry.

* * * * *

Later, a fascinating, and unexpected, realization washed over him as he visually and kinesthically relived the experiences of the evening in his mind. A transformation had happened. It was difficult to say when it had happened, or what had triggered it. Perhaps it was only the progression of events that Mistress S had conjured up in her wickedly creative mind that lead him there. Busy with a multitude of sensations, sights, sounds, and smells, some of them new, the others at an intensity he had never experienced before, Mistress S' bondage had moved him from one destination to another without him noticing the transitional change of emotional scenery. The shibari she had weaved him in left him excitedly powerless in the anticipation of what may come. But the catharsis was that the feeling of helplessness at the hands of Mistress S' had somehow morphed into a deep sense of security, of caring, that engulfed him in an overwhelming feeling of release. The chains and weights of the world outside their space had been removed and left behind. And he could truly, finally, express his submissive self, and offer it for the taking to his muse.

Act 1 Scene 6: Fire Play

Still bound on the bench, lying face down, the slotted headpiece at the top allowed for easy breathing but also acted as a blinfold that would magnify every sensation he felt a thousand-fold. Mistress S knew that, and she had already taken advantage of it, taking him into new lands full of undiscovered sensations and mental imagery with the help of her deliciously wicked electrosim tools.

Clearly, the joy of popping one more of his cherries was not going to be denied her. Not now, powerless as he was lying on his front, with his hands tied behind his back. And not now, after he had trusted her with leading him down whatever path she desired.

The feel of the alcohol-based gel hand sanitizer had a soothing effect on the skin of his back after the electrosim play. But the feeling was short-lived as the gel was ignited by the electrical spark of the device Mistress S held in her beautiful hands. The coolness of the gel, as it started evaporating after a few seconds, turned into warmth in a fraction of a second, and rapidly became a much deeper warmth over the gelled surface and through his body. Ever vigilant about his reaction to her ministrations, and attentive to how his skin responded, she blew out the flame before the heat damaged his skin or overwhelmed him with sensations he could not handle... yet.

She moved from spot-to-spot on his back, describing both the beautiful forms and colors that the flames would take depending on the relief of the specific area she chose, and the feeling of excitement that grew within her.

The playful sound of her voice, firm but reassuring, was the safety rope that held him steady through the waves of sensations that the flames brought as the waves crashed in, and the waves receeded as she blew out the flames with her breath. Her vivid descriptions reached deep into his mind as he visualized the flames dancing on his back, moving up, down, and across, akin the notes moving across the screen in Walt Disney's Fantasia.

As he released what little was left of his tension, helped by the breathing techniques she had taught him before play started, she pushed the edges of his sensations and his mind by varying the quantity and the pattern of the gel she spread, extending the time of exposure of the flames, and occasionally moving to more sensitive areas on the canvass of his body. Each new pattern and each new location was an unexpected treasure, like a diver coming upon a more spectacular coral reef each time he turns around. Each extension of the duration of the flames, before she blew them out, was driving him deeper in the sea of sensations she was creating for him.

In an unexpected turn she had warned him about beforehand, she revealed the mounting excitement she felt at what she was doing, what she was seeing, what she was feeling from the play. Deep within him, an incredible joy rose up, temporarily disrupting the complex and beautiful imagery that her web of sensations had created. The source of the joy was the feeling that the gift of his submission to her will, to her skills, to her creativity, and to her wishes, had not only been accepted but enjoyed.

In this moment of acceptance, a connection was made, and his surrender was complete. He knew that he had found his Muse and his Guide for his journey through this deepest of realms.