Sunday, September 21, 2008

The Second Session Part 1 :: By Kay

Part 3 of Submission By Kay

The strap of my bag pressed against my over-sensitized chest is a delicious reminder of the events that occurred in the dungeon.

Let me just say, from the start, I was terrified. But he didn’t punish me for not remembering my lessons because he did not specifically give me the assignment of remembering my positions. For that understanding, I was very grateful.

Of course I don’t remember the exact conversation, because as soon as I step into that dungeon, I begin to head off into subspace, but this is the gist of it:

“You’re uncomfortable being naked, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

"Then we’re going to get you naked.”



Of course I was shaking. I went with the easiest things first, the things he had already seen off, my shirt and my bra. I folded them neatly and handed them to him. My jeans went next, a part that was rather easier than I thought it would be. But as I clutched the elastic of my underwear, my hands were practically shaking. And still I took them off and handed them over.

A new position came up: Standing at attention, hands clasped on elbows, head up, eyes staring straight ahead, feet shoulder width apart.

The first lesson of the day: Rope Bondage. He used multiple pieces of rope, the first to tie my arms securely behind my back, my hands clutching my elbows. No matter how hard I wiggled, I was unable to move. Next, a rope around my breasts, squeezing them tightly, partially blocking circulation, just enough to make them more sensitive, not enough to cut off circulation entirely and make them numb. I’m not quite sure how many ropes there were total, I just know that the rope also crossed over my stomach and tied around my neck. And finally, one ran between my legs, pressing against my clit, riding into my ass like a thong. I’m not quite a fan of things dealing with my ass and well, stuff being in it, but since the rope was completely between my legs, I found it surprisingly erotic.

All the pieces of rope were connected together in some intricate pattern so that if I moved any part of my body with a rope around it, it would tug on the rest of the ropes, causing them to tug at whatever zones they were attached to. So basically, I couldn’t move. However, my Master could tug on a piece of rope and instantly cause my head to arch back as the rope rode up between my legs.

And so, all tied up, I now had to get back in the submissive position. Let me just say it was very difficult as it required a lot of maneuvering and thus a lot of things riding up where the sun don’t shine. And every rope definitely tugged at the places it was supposed to tug.

He whipped me slightly with the horse-hair whip, nothing more than a gentle stinging really and one I rather enjoyed.

He introduced me to gags, the pacifier, the ring gag, and the ball gag each of which I will explain as they are used. The first was the pacifier, a small rubbery thing that really did look like a giant pacifier. It strapped into my mouth and I was able to roll my tongue around it or bite down on it as I pleased. It wasn’t very long, maybe an inch or two, but it was rather wide, my mouth open rather largely around it. It was rather fun to suck on, but then again I do have a pretty bad oral fixation.

It was then that he introduced me to the Violet Wand (named because of the giant violet light bulb at the end), a.k.a. shock play. He started out on a low setting, the feeling nothing more than static electricity, you know that fun tickly sensation, the kind I got a huge kick out of as a kid. The wand is not supposed to touch the skin. If it does, you hear nothing but a very loud buzzing, and you get no shock whatsoever, neither of which is very fun. He switched the attachment to a five-pronged thing that looked rather like a rake except, well, stubbier and glowing bright orange (I have never seen a glowing rake. If you have, send me a picture!). It had the same concept as the large bulb, except that it was able to hit a wider radius and well, five separate spots at once. That one gave me a pretty row of five circular marks but they faded in less than a day. The attachment was then switched to something called The Bell. He explained to me that it wasn’t very bell-shaped but the sparks that it made could very well appear to be a bell. This he said, was specifically made for the breasts and of course he paid very much attention to them.

He finished after the brief introductions to the various settings and attachments over various parts of my body and had me stand up. As I was so extremely tied up that I could not stand easily, he helped me up. And guess which rope he chose to tug. He yanked at the rope secured around my waist, tugging rather firmly on the one positioned between my legs, so my neck arched back as I rose from the ground, my eyes clenching shut before I had to spread my legs and stand at attention once again. It was now time for the fun of rope bondage to come to an end. The first he untied was, of course, the one between my legs. Apparently it is always the last tied on and the first removed so that you spend the least amount of time with the most pleasurable part of the experience.

I loved the feel of the rope running over my skin. It was almost like fingers caressing it, except not as soft or as gentle. I would have expected it to give me, well, rope burn, but it didn’t. It felt surprisingly silky, in fact.

He got a kick out of the fact that I enjoyed the removal as much as the wearing of the rope.

Then came another form of bondage, suspension. He taught me how to put on my own handcuffs. A good submissive should always know how to cuff herself. This way, the Master can work on the ankle cuffs at the same time and it cuts down on the time spent cuffing. He does, however, have to be the one to choose where to finally set the strap so that it is neither too tight or too loose. It is an art to get it just right. Too tight and it could cut off circulation, too loose and you can move. It also has to have just enough leeway so that when you are hooked to something and it tightens a little more, it does not tighten to the point that it does actually begin to cut off circulation.

Next was the introduction to the actual area where I would be suspended. He has a giant tire in the middle of the room with hooks around the outside to attach the ankles to. From the ceiling there hung more hooks which the handcuffs would be connected to. I had to straddle the tire, my feet spread about as far as they could go to stretch across the entire thing. My hands were connected to the ceiling. I was certainly not tall enough to reach from the tire to the ceiling so he attached bars to the hooks to close the distance. Apparently short people can consider themselves lucky. While being whipped, average or tall people can only clamp their hands around the ceiling hooks, which are rather hard to really latch on to. Short people can wrap our hands around the bars and cling on tight.

He told me to think of something I felt bad for, something I should be punished for from the past week. I thought hard, but I couldn’t really think of anything, so I mentioned the fact that I hadn’t bought the books for my classes yet. He asked how many classes. I told him five and instantly he started adding numbers together. Five classes=five strokes. Say two books for each class, multiply two by five=ten strokes. I let down five teachers=five strokes. I let myself down five times=five strokes. Add them all together=twenty-five strokes. My body felt like the wind should have been knocked out of me, but it wasn’t, strangely enough. I feel that if I hadn’t been in subspace, it may have been, but because I was in that zone, the pain level was completely different, as were the bodily reactions. I felt myself already beginning to cry, but strangely not because it hurt. I mean it did hurt. It hurt like a bitch. But that’s not why I was crying. I couldn’t even begin to understand why I was crying. I just was. With the next five, he introduced a new form of whipping, using two whips that hit a total of four times, as he crisscrossed them over my body. However, each set of four only counts as one hit. Hooooly Shit. Two hits fall together and right after, the other two hits fall. It takes a very skilled master and very even whips to get them to fall at the exact same time.

By the end I was sobbing, my body wanting to collapse, but unable to as I remained strung from the ceiling. My Master wrapped his arms around me and told me not to be afraid of tears in his dungeon and he unhooked me and allowed me to cry until I calmed down and he led me to the table for the next round of training.

This part was my favorite, as in fact, he had predicted it would be. I am a huge fan of sensation play, i.e. my obsession with knife play and wax play- subforms of sensation play. Sensation play is just like it sounds, working with how various things feel against the skin, not necessarily painful. He blindfolded me, stating that it would be best not to know what is coming next, to only know the material through the feel of it along my skin. I was cuffed to the table,

this time laying on my back, my head positioned so that I would be staring at the ceiling if the blindfold

weren’t there.

My Master put on his leather gloves, running his hands up and down my body, squeezing my breasts, pressing his palm against my crotch, never touching the actual clit, merely putting pressure on it. A part of me felt embarrassed because I was already starting to feel wet and the more he played, the wetter I got and with my legs spread, I’m certain he could tell.

To be continued...

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