2024-07-17 - Scene with Tim

Posted on July 18, 2024
Word Count: 4777

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It really was an excellent session. Very fun. I had mentioned an hour or two before he picked me up that I was kind of thinking I wanted more difficult things to do instead of just more difficult pain to handle. I do get bored when things repeat too much, and was just starting to feel a bit bored with the recent pattern of being strapped down and hurt as the majority of the session.

I did not expect to have that request met that night. It had just been something I’d been tossing around in my head for a bit and finally was ready to say it.

I suppose the session started in the car. He had my play collar waiting and put it on me right away. I enjoyed the feeling of him buckling it around my neck and sunk into it for a moment. His for the evening. His always, but the play collar was a fun physical symbol for the evening. When we were at his apartment, he pulled me to where he wanted me by my collar then removed my shirt, leaving my camisole alone but warned me this would be the last time, next week the cami is being taken, too. He then helped me put my robe on, wrapping it around me and holding it so I could put my arms through.

This is part of his working me into his new space slowly. I don’t really like the new apartment overall, and I am not really comfortable downstairs in the main living area. I’m mostly comfortable with his bedroom. But I dislike the bathrooms, especially since right now the bathroom door in the master bedroom doesn’t fucking latch and cocks itself open about an inch. And the bathroom downstairs has a weird door and I more or less refuse to even go into it.

The actions so far this evening had been pretty normal up to this point: small symbols, minor play to set the mood. What got my head spinning was when he pulled me over to the couch by my collar and put me over the arm of it. He moved the robe out of his way, felt me up, and slapped my ass over my jeans, telling me that eventually I won’t get to keep those either, but not for several weeks. I would loose my cami next time, and I would eventually lose my jeans and panties and only get my robe.

“Understand?”
The word had a hard edge to it. Not angry or sharp, but firm. His tone in sessions is frequently light and playful, even conversational, but this was a tone that left no room for anything but to obey. I melted. I don’t think I even hesitated in saying “yes.”

He brought me up and his tone went back to his usual casualness while he worked on dinner. But my head was spinning. I sat down to read a bit while he worked on dinner, and I did manage a page or so but I just kept drifting back to that moment to melt again. His hands on me, his voice hard, telling me about an unpleasant future for me, and there was no room for argument or complaint with that “understand?”

This had been a moment of pure D/s; an exciting affirmation of our dynamic. He told me how it was going to be, and I had no choice in the matter. All I needed to do was confirm that I understood that this was how it was going to be. If I had questions for clarification, of course he would clarify, but it was simple… he will be taking away my clothes, and he is patient, but determined, and while it wasn’t happening that day, it absolutely is happening. He is doing it at a pace he determined would ease me into it but, like it or not, he is doing it. Add to that that he told me while he had me bent over the arm of the couch… compromised and completely at his mercy.

A perfect moment. ❤

He put on TV for us to watch while dinner was cooking. We’ve been working our way through Parks & Rec. That’s not relevant at all, I just love the show and felt like mentioning it. After a few minutes in he paused it.

He told me to stand up, so I did. Face him, so I did. And “breasts out” – a command phrase to indicate I was to lift my shirt for him and keep it up until either he put it down or told me I could. Uncomfortably, I followed the command.

He leaned back and started messing with his phone.

So let me preface this with stating that I personally have issues with pictures. It largely comes down to my body issues. I had actually put “pictures” on the table, as part of my dropping of limits, but it’s in a section of things that are really hard for me. So when he started messing with his phone, my brain immediately snapped to that. We talked about it later and he reassured me that he would never take pictures without discussion first, and laid out a path to it that he would probably take (will probably take but he didn’t put it like that, it was all very hypothetical in the discussion).

But when he started unlocking his phone and messing with it that’s where my mind went. And I kind of mentally froze, expecting that at any moment he was going to lift that phone and point it at me.

And you know what. That absolutely got me wet. I was mildly panicked and fucking turned on because of it. And also thinking unhappily about how unflattering an angle it was. I had no choice; I was told to stand here and I so would for him.

It was a huge relief when a moment later he said that he was going to catch up on messages and I was to stand there and entertain him. Less hot, but a ton easier to manage. And no actual chance of panic at any point (resigned or not, there was absolutely a chance that I would panic over pictures).

I watched him, while I obeyed — standing there, holding my cami up for him. He didn’t even look up for a few minutes, he legitimately did just sit there and catch up on discord channels and otherwise look at his phone and not me. It was awkward in a mildly delicious way. I did my best not to fidget. I had to fight myself to keep still because I tend to rock my balance from one side to another as a “screensaver mode” when I’m standing (or sometimes sitting) and don’t have any other actions to perform (I also do that a ton more when I’m tired, so it can frequently be a signal I am or am getting tired). About the time I was starting to actually get bored he put his phone down and focused on me again. He talked to me, he played with my breasts, then he put my cami back down for me and went to continue something with dinner.

The waiting for him and short periods of being ignored while he does something else are not my favorite activity. However, they are a delicious power play. He tells me to do something, and so I do it, even if that something is sit there and pose for him, whether or not he chooses to look. Waiting. Waiting while he does something else just because he can. If I had been in a more playful mood I might have started whining or poked at him, or something as I started to get bored, but my headspace was purely obedient submissive after earlier.

To be fair, putting me in that headspace isn’t hard. My playful bratting moods are not super frequent. I have to be feeling a very specific way to be up for that, otherwise my default is to just do as he tells me. I will say this was more obedient than usual.

After dinner we went upstairs.

The A/C unit in his bedroom had decided it needed to be about 3 degrees colder in the bedroom than he’d set it to and I was unhappy about the cold. It wasn’t too cold, just annoying, so after he fixed the settings we moved on – it would warm up as soon as we got started. He removed the robe and the rest of my clothes and the cold air hit my skin unpleasantly. I always hate this, but it’s made easier by him removing my clothes instead of making me do it. Something about being undressed by him feels comforting.

I noticed that it’s starting to feel ritual, almost. Stand for him, and let him remove each piece as he sees fit. He put my cuffs on my ankles and then wrists. By the time that was finished I could feel my head getting fuzzier in the simple and soft passion of the moment. Letting go of the rest of the world and slipping seamlessly into his – this tiny space meant just for us where I am safe and complete and nothing else matters but pleasing him. A place where I didn’t have to have choices. I could have opinions, I could have suggestions, and he would listen to anything I had to say, but all choices were his and I no longer have to make decisions here.

And so from here the chain of events gets really muddled.

So rather than attempt to walk you through this mess, I’ll focus on the moments that still stand out in at least clear enough focus to somewhat chain together.

I remember being face down on the bed when he came over and attached my leash: my red one and it’s about 6ft long. I briefly thought about if he might make me crawl. He has a couple times before this. Small moments, small distances, just testing the water to see how I’d handle it. It seemed like such an awkward thing to do that I might have trouble. So far I hadn’t had issues with it but it was so brief it was hard to gauge.

He did have me crawl tonight. He brought me from one spot to another in his room and had me kneel then move again. He brought me to the bathroom door and made me wait for him outside. He brought me to a corner of the room and had me kneel facing the corner while he did things behind me. I wasn’t close enough to any wall to use it as support, and I swayed slightly as I waited, doing my best to hold still.

I expected crawling for him to be harder. Mostly I had to keep my wrists straight and use my fists as support because the leatherworking has made it so that my wrists feel weaker lately than usual (and they’ve never felt particularly strong), but the cuffs facilitated that, being wide enough to make bending my wrists that far difficult anyway. So I crawled using fists, and beyond that my thought was not on how awkward I felt, but on keeping the fuck up while paying attention to where and how I was putting my hands down. He wasn’t exactly moving quickly, but he was moving quickly enough there wasn’t any time for me to think about anything else, just follow and keep up!

The only time I actually became self conscious is when he sent me out ahead of him. I obeyed but there was a lot more hesitation and worry in my head about how awkward I looked when I wasn’t following anymore. We talked about this later and he threatened to have me crawl back and forth while he watched, because of course he did. That’s going to suck so much.

I remember he had me stop and I stayed still, on all fours, with my head down. I don’t know why but my tendency is usually to keep my head down. He’s regularly lifting my head for a kiss or just because. He had me there long enough I started thinking about that. But then he had me crouch lower, and I put my head down on my hands and crouched in a fairly awkward cat-loaf position. He moved me from there to face a different way, same position, and he put his legs up on me.

Holy shit was that a turn on.

I stayed as still as I could. I could only feel one line of leg, so I confirmed with him later that it was both legs. He said he was holding some of the weight up off me, which I could tell, but he did put both legs up. It didn’t feel too heavy, and as sensitive as my back gets sometimes, there were no painful pressure points. It was just a soft, comfortable weight along one side of my back, and I really enjoyed not only being used but the physical pressure and connection.

After all of this moving me around the room and holding positions for him, he had me kneel, still on the floor. (He spent the evening checking to make sure my knees were okay but his carpet did a good job for the limited amount of time I was actually on my knees.) He connected my wrist cuffs together, and my ankle cuffs together, and used a chain to connect my wrists to my ankles. It was long enough that I could continue kneeling but I did have a little trouble keeping balance.

He pulled out his bondage tape and some duck tape. Bondage tape always means breath play. He uses it to form a better seal over my mouth than his hand alone can do. He wanted to experiment.

He put one piece of bondage tape directly over my lips, and pushed on it until it stuck well enough that he could let go. Then he took a strip of duck tape and put it over that. He added a bit more but it didn’t quite fully hold it in place. I could tell that it wasn’t really sealing great over my top lip. He asked me to say something to confirm I could – mostly as a safety thing, but I was able to give him a muffled but complete sentence about how the tape wasn’t sealed. He put a couple more strips of duck tape in an “X” pattern over my mouth that went up my cheeks and almost touched my eyes. It didn’t actually fully resolve the issue but did ensure it wasn’t falling off.

He asked me to say something again and I kind of froze. I definitely have some sort of mental block for trying to talk when I don’t know how to move my mouth. I’ve absolutely refused to talk with any in-mouth gags. I was able to think around the movements enough that I believe I was able to say a word to him and that was sufficient for his purposes. He was happy.

He said something about ensuring I had a way to communicate. I made my eyes as hard and determined as I could, considering the limited facial expressions I could do at that moment, made very intentional eye contact, and snapped my fingers in my right hand, hard and crisp. Snapping my fingers has been a discussed backup plan for if I needed to communicate but was otherwise unable to do so, either due to a physical constraint or a mental block. I’d never actually done it in a scene at all before, so I did my best to also use my eyes to be clear that I was doing this as an example that yes, I absolutely have a way to communicate if I need to (and not like, an actual alert that I needed to communicate). He said he hadn’t actually been sure I could snap with my hands behind my back but he completely understood what I was getting at.

He told me to take a breath. He never did that before but it was nice. I can certainly handle my air being cut off much better with my lungs full of air. The first round was easy. But he again told me to take a breath, and although I did, my timing was off or something, and he asked if that was a breath, and I immediately exhaled, tried to breathe in again, and kind of collapsed into nervous laughter (almost a sobbing cadence) through my nose. He pulled me in and hugged me and held me until my breathing was normal again, saying something about possibly a little too much anxiety there. Welp. He sounded amused about my difficulties at least. It’s always nice to know my struggle is a source of his amusement. No really, it is.

At one point he announced that it was warm enough and he took off his shirt and pants. And I was genuinely annoyed that here he was, taking his cock out, and my mouth was covered in tape and my hands were bound behind my back and there was genuinely nothing I could do about it.

He messed with me and cut off my air as my limbs began to slowly ache from the position I was in on the floor. I was sitting on my legs in a kneeling position and my arms were pulled behind me. My legs started to ache first, but soon my shoulders started to complain at me. It didn’t reach a point where I was concerned enough to stop the play – no tingling or numbness in my toes, no real pain in my joints. Just an ache that was slowly getting louder. I shifted and did my best to release the ache, but when he finally removed the tape from my face and went to move me again after releasing my limbs, my arms were very stiff and I had to move them slowly. I remember feeling the ache die off while I had my arms wrapped around him, over his shoulders and across his back. He was warm and the skin-on-skin contact felt nice.

We talked about how the tape did and didn’t work. He made comment about maybe if I had my mouth open a bit and the tape could go like this… as he traced his fingers over my mouth. And then suddenly without any warning, he slapped my face, not very hard, but hard enough to be jolting and told me in a commanding tone “open your mouth.” That hard-edged, almost flat tone that short circuits my brain a little and provides absolutely no opportunities for even thinking about disobeying. I did as told without hesitation but found myself focusing on the fact that I was now breathing rather hard through my now-open mouth because, yeah, he had slapped my face but his command hit me right between the legs and I was extremely flustered and turned on. He proceeded to trace my lips and touch my face, talking about how he wanted to place the tape, but I’m not sure how much of it I actually heard as I focused on keeping relatively still with my mouth open for him.

A little bit later he was telling me that he was going to use my mouth — I was going to give him a blowjob. And he again told me to open my mouth – he said he wanted to see where his cock was going to go. “Wider.” That tone again. That tone that makes my head spin and yet these are the little phrases that have etched themselves into my memory, far better than most of the rest of what he says to me during a session. I obeyed quickly and felt my jaw ache just a tiny, tiny bit as I did so, opening my mouth as wide as I could for him as I closed my eyes, concentrating again on holding still for him while he looked into me.

There is something highly intimate about holding my mouth open like that. Yes, I’m good with using my mouth, but holding it open and holding still, and letting him look, or touch, however he likes is so different from licking, kissing, or sucking. It was difficult and hot… intimate, and it makes me feel extremely vulnerable. It’s not something that’s normally done, so it’s awkward and proof to him, and to me, that I will do whatever he asks of me. And all that makes it really, really fucking hot.

I worked hard at providing him pleasure with my mouth. Quickly into the blowjob my hair slipped down, down, down and into my mouth. Ugh. I paused long enough to ask if I could put my hair up, and when he hesitated to think about it, I went right back to the blow job. He told me later that I was very good for asking and then going right back to it. He did let me have a hair clip, and helped me clean my hands off enough that I could put my hair up and out of the way. I proceeded to pleasure him, to the best of my ability, until he decided it was time for me to stop so he could fuck me.

Without going into details I don’t feel like sharing, anal was off the table for tonight… although I will share that being held open while he actually looked at my anus was a lot less embarrassing than I would have expected. Supposedly for signs of damage, which at the time I didn’t quite understand, but thinking back on it now I’m pretty sure that was actually just an excuse to lean into my “inspection” kink he’s been exploring lately… I was fine, but to stay that way we weren’t doing much else for anal play tonight. But vaginal sex is also always really hit-and-miss with me. He had been pushing fingers into me earlier, and other than hitting a spot that’s always uncomfortable, I was doing okay with it, so we both expected it would probably be fine.

There was still some trouble with entry. I tried guiding, but while I could guide him kind of in, I couldn’t comfortably get him in more than a small amount – an inch or two. Anything more and it felt like something was blocking him, again. And I moved around and tried angling me and him different, but I just couldn’t get the angle right for full entry. It wasn’t like last time where everything hurt, so I was pretty sure it would work tonight if we could just get him all the way in. When I gave up, he tried a few different angles, shifting me around, and somehow, suddenly he was in and it felt okay. I spoke with him today about if he could feel the resistance during entry and he said he could. He thought that my hips had been at the wrong angle which is why what he tried was adjusting my position until everything lined up right. Is sex this complicated for other women? I get the impression that it’s not but it can’t be just me, can it?

I was however, quite sore in the usual pain spot from the earlier finger exploring, so that was a bit of a concern. It was mild enough, though, that we could continue. And so he thrust into me for a while. Just as I was starting to get sore enough that I was just barely starting to think about telling him about the soreness building, he shifted a little and started pounding faster. And it felt so much better. The pain was less and the pleasure was more. Slick, and hard, and fast. He came inside me and I remember looking up at him as his hair fell down across his face during orgasm. I reached up with my left hand, and carefully ran my fingers through it and back across his head, and then repeated the motion with my right hand. I like his hair quite a bit and suddenly I found myself just enthralled with how it fell while his face was down and his eyes were closed in orgasm. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

And I was so fucking sore. Now that he was done my vagina was all ache and not much else.

Since he was concerned about the soreness, he had me masturbate rather than play with me himself. It seemed to take forever before I reached orgasm, but he didn’t seem to mind how long it was taking me — just more time to torment me. He even managed to get me to stop at least once, which I wasn’t supposed to do, but when my brain is only focusing on pain sometimes the other tasks get overridden.

Mostly he did more breath play and messed with my breasts some.

At one point he pinched my nose shut and I had a complete second of confusion as he didn’t cover my mouth. I finally realized that he wasn’t going to cover my mouth and that I could just… open it. He must have realized I was confused because after I opened my mouth he replied with some affirmative. And then he kissed me hard, sealing my mouth with his. He repeated this for a while, using his mouth to block mine. At one point he asked me something about if I enjoyed listening to him breathe while I couldn’t. I honestly hadn’t noticed or thought about it. I was kind of more concerned with my body screaming for air at the time.

“You’ll be fine. It’s fun.”

Fun for you. (For him, of course, but like, maybe you, too. It’s just that’s my usual reply.)

Which I suppose is what matters.

As he had me masturbating, he would also slap at my thighs, lightly enough that they caused me to jerk, but not so much that they were super painful or anything. No, that came later, when I finally told him something I’d been keeping in the back of my mind for a couple sessions. I wanted him to grab my thighs and squeeze – not too hard of course.

He liked the idea and so he did and it was really nice. Except, as he did it more, he explored my pain tolerance with it. He seemed to enjoy pointing out that some locations could take harder squeezes, while others were harder for me to take. All while providing painful examples, of course. My “not too hard” request was thrown completely out the window as soon as he heard me suffer and decided it amused him to squeeze hard, and hold it, letting my skin slowly slip through his fingers as the pain built. And when he finally let go, he would slap that spot and I would scream.

After orgasm I was so spent. I laid there and was happy to feel his body cuddling up against mine, and I slipped in and out of sleep, trying hard not to let myself fully go, because I still had to actually get up and go home after this. We talked about the session and that did help keep me awake, but I could feel sleep at the edges, trying to draw me in any time I stopped talking and closed my eyes for more than a few seconds.

It was a wonderfully exhausting session.

I told him after that I noticed the difference in tone several times tonight and attempted to convey how the different tones made me feel. The more conversational tone gives more of a helpless feel, this is fun and games for him no matter how how much it’s pain for me, and I just have to suffer through. But the harder edged tone puts me in a much more submissive headspace. More obedient. Ready to go with whatever he wants from me. Both of them are turn-ons. Everything he says to me is always great… guiding me and anchoring me in the session. It keeps me in the moment and prevents me from spiraling off into less fun places the pain sometimes tries to take me.

But damn that tone was hot.

It’s just really interesting to me the differences in the headspace from it. I keep coming back to it and turning myself on all over again.