I mentioned in the last post that we hated the club we’d gone to a few weeks back. What I did not mention (or at least I did not linger on) was the fact that we went two days in a row (you can’t exactly get a feel for something after just one day, not usually anyway). One of the good things that came out of going to the club is that Master and I now know a bit more about who we are as Master and slave, which I did mention multiple times in the last post. Another good thing is that we learned a lot about what kind of slave I am, and what kind of slave Master and I both want me to become.
The following is my viewpoint on some pretty awesome stuff that did go down at the horrid club. :) Enjoy the read…
It is dark out, my mood matches the weather, windy, cold, threatening and dark. I don’t want to be here. Yesterday the club was awesome, full of life, welcoming people and novelty. Today it’s boring, frustrating and I’m not enjoying the harsh ripping off of the bandaid as I look around the place with not so new eyes. Today my mind won’t shut off, the butterflies are gone and while we are still rather new to the club, the welcome mat has been rolled up and stored back in the closet where I wish they’d kept some of their skeletons.
We’ve just finished one of the longest meetings in the world that got no where fast and stayed there forever. The owner of the club has completely and exhaustively made his views on how little submission is in life very clear. He’s made it painfully obvious that he doesn’t respect submissives and that he thinks all women were made to serve him. My hopes and dreams of finding an awesome club to go to, learn at and meet with like minded individuals has been smashed to bits and now I’m overly emotional from the loss. I sit on the chair after the meeting (having escaped just before it ended under the premise of needing to pee) and try to convince myself not to cry.
Master has gone off in search of food, we were told the club was grilling that evening for anyone who attended the meeting. My appetite is completely gone. I want to just go home and morn the loss of my high hopes for this club and then cry over the wasted months searching for it in the first place. I angrily think of the other submissives’ suggestions to be “bratty” just so Master gives me my way. That is not the kind of submissive I desire to be, and the fact that every submissive in the building seems to think this is the proper way to act (topping from the bottom that is) makes me wonder if I’m the “wrong” kind of submissive. I sure hope not. And even if I am, no way am I going to change just because of their suggestions, Master likes me completely submissive, not bratty, controlling and topping from the bottom.
Master comes back from his hunt for food. I’m not interested in eating, he knows this, he will make me eat (healthier than grilled bacon burgers) when we return home. Pleadingly I ask if we can go now. His eyes narrow and he orders me to the play room. “Don’t forget the bags, slave” he says. I bite my lip trying to understand what in the world has made him want to stay here any longer than we have to.
I walk into the playroom and see him standing near an odd leather covered bench looking thing. I vaguely remember it being referred to as the Spanking Bench. My fears of having to stay longer are suddenly squashed and hope fills my belly with lust and desire. Master points to the bench and I understand I am to figure out how exactly to get on it. I figure it out quickly as I carefully clean it off with the Lysol clothes I thought to pack. I get wet just thinking about my ass on display for the whole room to see.
After doing the best cleaning job I can possibly do (after all I will be totally naked when I’m on this thing) I strip quickly and climb up as ordered. Master straps me in and then disappears for a moment. My body reverberates to the soft rock music being poured out from the CD player in the corner. Goosebumps appear on my arms and legs, working their way up across my naked ass and over my back. I shiver both in anticipation and from the slight chill in the room. Suddenly Master is back, asking me for my safe word. I find this odd but I give it to him anyway. “Red, Sir”
“Very good, slave. Remember to use it if you need it” he replies and with that he’s behind me again. I can not see him but I can hear him moving around, going through our bag of toys and then coming closer to me. I’m not prepared for the first few strikes and it takes me a moment to realize he’s using the riding crop. It’s light, almost feathery slaps are so sudden that I cry out as though it hurts. Immediately feeling silly I bite my lip again listening to Master chuckle softly. He knew exactly how I would react and was gentle on purpose. I narrow my eyes wishing he could see my face, as I silently beg him to hit me harder.
The riding crop suddenly bites into my skin in a random pattern I can’t quite distinguish. It is hot, hard and lovely. Master expertly moves it around both ass cheeks, down my thighs and over my back, hitting me everywhere. I pull hard on the restraints, sucking in a breath as I realize pulling on the restraints to get away only makes my ass go up higher, closer to the very item I’m trying to escape from. The realization that I am thoroughly, completely, 100% not in control, that I can not move much at all suddenly hits me like a thousand bricks…. and then I feel my arousal dripping down my thighs.
I have absolutely no control over whatever happens here. The comforting thought that I can always use my safeword changes any fear lack of control gave me and replaces it with hot, wanton lust. I hear moaning and realize it is coming from me. I hear voices in the room and know I am being watched. Before I can think about that too much, Master is suddenly beside me, breathing in my ear, telling me how lovely I look, all strapped down and naked, my ass perked, pinked and ripe for more action.
Master steps back and continues with the riding crop. Hard, soft, hard, hard, hard, SLAM, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft, soft. It is harder to to figure out what pattern he’s using and suddenly I no longer care. I moan loader, reaching for something but not sure what exactly I want, all thoughts are jumbled, incomplete and unwanted. I just want to feel and enjoy the crop, and then Master’s voice is loud and controlling “Cum slave!” and I squirt all over his hand just as he shoves two fingers deep within my pussy.
Holy fuck! Did I just squirt!! The thought is exciting but I haven’t a moment to dwell on it as suddenly Master’s fingers are taken out of my pussy. I feel empty, saddened and desperate to have them back when suddenly his hard cock is at my entrance, shoving deep inside all the way to the hilt! Oh it feels so full, so big, so delicious!! I cry out, wanting to cum again. Master fucks me hard, whipping me with the crop the entire time. I am lost, flying above the earth, dancing with the wind, thanking the gods of sex for this gift and then soaring through the air on another wave of orgasm.
Master slams into me again and again. Time no longer has a meaning and the only thing that matters in this world are the sensations flooding through me. I am lost to anything else. Just as I scream out his name in exquisite orgasm, I feel him push all the way in, deep as my body will allow him to go and then hold himself there, spilling his seed deep into my womb. He stays there for a moment, catching his breath and then Master is unstrapping me, wrapping me in the fuzzy blanket I packed and moving me to the waist high table near the bench. He lays me down telling me to stay and then leaves my side for a moment. I am suddenly lost, alone and desperate to have him back even though I know he’s no more than 5 feet away. I know he is cleaning the bench we just used, but I don’t care, I want him back now.
Groggy in and befuddled I wish for Master to hurry up and then almost cry out with tears of joy when he returns to my side. He sits on the table, pulling me into his lap and holding me tight. We stay there for a few moments as I blissfully try to drift off to sleep, exhausted and well fucked.
True to form though, idiots in the club clamber around us, having no respect for the necessary after care needed from such a heavy session. Master frustratingly tries to tell them to fuck off as politely as he can manage but we both know the moment is a bit ruined. Dreamily, I tell Master I just want to go. He agrees and we pack our things heading for the one place we know we can have some much needed alone time and aftercare, our own home.
I stand, dizzy and intensely satisfied, ignoring anyone else around us, rudely pretending not to hear their questions as I cling to Master letting him lead me out of the club. What an extraordinary session. Never before has subspace come so quickly for me. Never before have I squirted, I didn’t even know it was possible for me to do that! I just assumed it was one of those things some women did and some women never did. We climb into the car and head home, knowing that we will never return to that horrid place they call a club, yet deliciously happy that we have discovered so much about my masochist side. We will definitely be getting a spanking bench for use at home!
–Autumn in jeans (whips, chains and straps!)