not allowed to scream

So, last night. God. I don’t know where to start.

We ate Chinese food at a place a coworker recommended. It turns out to be excellent, plentiful, cheap, and quite near my apartment. It’s the kind of low-key restaurant that exists in a strip mall and always has a table available. This was a good beginning.

Of course, I wrote that depressed post yesterday. He’d read it, hence the occurrence of the date. But I’d had a 3 1/2 hour nap since. Still, he was in the mood for a heavy scene, and I was in the mood for some reconnection, which I felt might lead to a scene, but I definitely did not want to commit to anything.

At home, we sat in my living room for a couple of hours and just talked. We talked about Simone de Beauvoir and the sexuality of women. But mostly we just talked.

Then, bed.

Then, chains.

I chained him face up, spread-eagled, locked in. I had him put on the bit gag himself first. He wanted it tighter than I let him keep it.

While he was face up, I fooled around with the pinwheel and the vampire gloves. I never broke his skin, but I gave him lots of trackmarks with the pinwheel, and some deep scratches. With the vampire gloves I terrorized him a bit. My favorite moment was lying next to him, carefully grasping his entire cock in my be-needled hand, and watching him look at me shaking his head back and forth desperately.

“Breathe,” I said. “Relax.”

He did.

This was all happy sadist stuff. He was in headspace, and I was in a very playful mode, just fucking with him. I remember smiling a lot. I was also wet, but it wasn’t a deep thing for me. And I was careful to remind/assure him that I owned him, that he was my slave - the types of things he typically asks me because he needs them to make it through.

After a long while of this type of play, I unchained him. I was going to change his position completely, so we took the opportunity for him to drink some more water (which I’d also given him while he was chained up) and go to the bathroom. I spent a little time organizing my thoughts about how to proceed.

I mention this time because we don’t usually have “breaks” during a scene. And it wasn’t like we went completely out of the scene or anything, but it still felt unusual. But good. It was a good plan. It was actually nice for me to have some time to think.

When I was ready to proceed, he knelt, and I asked him if he would go somewhere scary for me.

He assented. I had him put the bit gag back on, and lie face-down in the center of the bed. I let him find a comfortable position - head to one side, arms and torso a bit asymmetrical. Then I began reconnecting his shackles to the chains at each corner of the bed. He trembled and whimpered. He was very headspacy.

I sat at his head and started to stroke him. I had brought over our bamboo cane, and it was lying near his head.

“Mistress, how loudly can I scream?” he asked, barely comprehensible past the gag.

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” I said. I had a whole sort of speech prepared, but wasn’t quite ready to deliver it. I continued to stroke him until I was, and then said, “I’m going to hit you with this. You’re not allowed to scream. No screaming. But you can fight if you want. I have you pretty well restrained. I don’t need you to hold still. But I want you to know, I will stop. You don’t have to stop me. OK?”

He asked me if I preferred for him to hold still or fight. I eventually told him it did not matter to me, but then changed my mind and recommended that he fight, if he felt the need, so that I’d know I was hurting him that badly.

He had to stop me, and tell me that no, the psychology isn’t like that. He recommended that he stay still as long as he was able, then if he started to struggle, he would try to get back to calm. I said that sounded fine. He thanked me.

This type of negotiation is important but difficult in scenes. If he pushes it too far, he can undermine my confidence. But if he has something important to say to me, and feels that he can’t say it, he tends to get a little panicky (especially in headspace). So he has some responsibility not to become nitpicky over every little thing, and I have a responsibility to be open to communication, and to handle it once I get it.

I partly reclined alongside him, facing (roughly) his feet, but lying on my side, and I began hitting his ass with the cane - straight across his ass. And here was the amazing part. He could take it. I was hitting him as hard as I ever have, and I paused to say, “I know this hurts,” and he said, “It doesn’t hurt as much as you think. You can go harder.”

The hotness was unbelievable. My head was swimming and I was just…utterly absorbed in how hot it was to hit him over and over, hard. I watched little bruises form. I moaned and grabbed at his skin where it had gone pink.

Eventually I had to change positions to get more leverage, which was unreal. Normally he can’t take anything like the maximum I can dish out. I paced some of the blows a bit, and others I just let rain down one after the other.

It was wrong. It was wrong and cruel and beautiful and hot. And he could take it. At some point I finally made him lose control a little bit, but he regained it quickly. He started crying, or laughing - neither of us was sure which.

It was not being allowed to scream that was the breakthrough. When he can scream (i.e., all the time) he worries about controlling me through his sounds. Yet he can’t just not scream, because then I won’t know how bad the pain is. There’s no way for him to just scream a natural amount because he’s never that unaware, and I’m never completely not responsive to his sounds (nor should I be).

By being disallowed to scream, it let him completely focus on…what? Relaxing? Taking it? His helplessness? I don’t really know. But between that and the headspace he was in from the bondage and the earlier part of the scene and all of my Mistressy words, he went really deep for me.

When I was finished, I told him I was going to unchain him.

“I don’t want to come down,” he said, laughing a bit. “I’m so far gone.”

“I know. You don’t have to. I’ll be here.”

I released him and we lounged on the bed. I was full of crazy intense love for him and he was just completely high, mind gone. After a while we fucked. When I let him come he didn’t want to - he just wanted to serve me forever - but he did anyway. And I had my own screaming orgasm. And all the while our eyes just gripped each other. (When he came, I wrapped my limbs around him desperately until he told me he couldn’t breathe.)

We ate, and watched some TV. He was really barely there, brains-wise. The call-in poll results on “Top Chef” confused him in an astounding way. We were in love. I was in love.

We finally went to bed, and I couldn’t turn off the light or let him go to sleep for a while. I had to look into his beautiful eyes and watch his beautiful smile and I was just utterly smitten with him. And then we did turn off the light, and I was suddenly stricken with doubt, insecurity. It was like a horrible yearning feeling all down my center.

“Jos?” I said, touching him.

He startled, then said, “Yes?”

“I’m having a little drop,” I said. “I know this is crazy.”

“It’s OK, Dev. It’s OK.” He held me.

“You love me back, right?” I asked.

He laughed and held me and said yes enough times and with enough conviction for me to feel easy with it again. And then we slept.