Artwork courtesy of Bishop through the Museum of Femdom Art We finally made it to our hotel room, both of us edgy and excited at what was coming.
My Goddess looked stunning in her knee-high black high-heel boots, knee-length skirt, red shirt, and black vest. We had had the whole day to ourselves, and a fun evening. But I had no illusions about what was to follow. My Goddess had been in the mood all week, and had even mentioned a few times in the previous days that she felt an overdue need to "beat the shit" out of me. Playfully, of course.
After putting down the bags and taking off my coat, I reached into our toy bag for my locking leather collar, and I offered it promptly to my Goddess. It's always the first thing on the agenda. Once the collar in place and locked, I removed my Goddess' boots slowly, almost in a ritualistic manner. After pulling off one boot, I gently kissed her foot in respect/adoration, inhaling the wonderful fragrance that was a combination of the aroma of the boot and the sweet, delicate smell of her foot encased in the boot for the past many hours. I repeated the action with the other side, and then moved up her leg with tender little kisses.
My Goddess told me to find her some ice, so I immediately got up, put on clothing that would cover my collar, and left the room with the ice bucket. Already, I was slipping into subspace as I walked the hallways looking for the ice machine. Anticipation... excitement... surrender... intoxication... all mixed in to give me a high that had me feeling a bit lightheaded.
I returned within just a few minutes, and my Goddess was waiting for me, sitting on the bed, in her black nylons, panties, and bra. I paused... got closer... we kissed... passionately. I poured her drink, and then without further delay, she ordered me to lie down on the bed.
We had both been looking forward to this for several days. And when the moment came, I was totally lost into her. My surrender was complete almost before we had begun. Drifting in subspace from the very beginning, the activities are clear in my mind, the sensations and emotions crisply etched, but the sequence is blurry. Akin a dream that we need to recompose from a set of vivid images without being able to remember the exact flow.
I do remember that the caning came early on.
Once I was on the bed, as my Goddess ordered, she quickly proceeded to place and lock the leather wrist cuffs and ankle cuffs on me. The wrist cuffs were clipped together, as were the ankle cuffs. The blindfold came on next. Or did it go on first? I'm not sure anymore. But I remember the warmth inside of me, being the center of attention of my Goddess. And as she further restrained my body, she more completely captured my mind as I became more vulnerable, as I became increasingly helpless and in her control.
My Goddess ordered me on all fours on the bed. She ran her fingers and nails over my body, down my back, over my ass, down my leg, and back up. She grabbed my hair and gave it a tug, as if to say "mine", as if to remind me that she could do anything she wanted.
I recognized the heavy plastic violet cane on the first stroke. I think it's my Goddess' favorite. She took her time building up the intensity... relatively... for her. But eventually the strokes came down heavy, sharp, and stinging. Some of them resonated through my body for a few seconds after the impact. But I had let go early on, and between that and the warm-up, I was able to take more strokes than usual. Which made her proud. And what a feeling that was. She was proud of what I had taken for her. There are few feelings as satisfying for me as that of meeting my Goddess' expectations, of making her happy. Of her being proud of my submission, and enjoying herself expressing her dominance.
She remarked on the beautiful marks she was leaving on my backside. Strokes of dark colors on the canvas of my body, deep brush strokes on the fabric of my soul. I wanted to give her more. She wanted to give me more. And she did. But she noticed not too long after that I had broken into a bit of a sweat. By now, my Goddess knows that means that I'm getting close to my limits. So she wrapped up with a few memorable strokes, and she caressed me, telling me how good I had been.
So deep into subspace, I really can't recall what came next. Was it my Goddess playing with an ice cube, dripping the cold drops over my body? Was it the hogtie? Was it the smoking scene? Was it the sexual servitude in bondage? Was it the Nipple torture? Was it the CBT?
And when did they come? How did we move from one to another? I don't know. I couldn't tell 24 hours after it happened, as I still was in subspace, with my mind swirling in mental imagery, phanthom sensations, and an acute sense of belonging. And I still haven't strung it together.
So I'll share some of the highlights piecemeal. But I've run out of time for now, and this entry is already plenty long, so I'll have to do it in part 2, in the next blog entry.
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