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| doulos |
I remove my shirt. Barefoot, wearing a conventional pair of dark blue jeans and my torso exposed, I am lead over to a wide square pillar to the side of the room. She puts my arms round the pillar, and with my hands unable to quite reach each other, she begins tying my wrists together with the thick rope. I feel the sharp edges of the pillar on the wrist and let out an instinctual groan of discomfort.
“Deal with it” she says, tightening the rope. This is not a textbook conception of safe bondage, with no gap between the loops and the wrists. I can feel the constriction in my hands already. They would be painful within a few minutes of being left in this position, and my fingers numb. At that time, I was not aware that the scene that was about to take place would last all of three minutes. Integral to it, however, is that I am unable to move in any meaningful way. My arms are unable to move neither further away nor closer to each other. With these restrictions, I am forced to hug one side of the pillar with my back exposed. I have two physical choices: to stand with my back exposed or to kneel with my back exposed. I try to find the most comfortable level for my hands while I stand.
Next comes the inflatable gag. Almost incongruous in a scene with almost no other identifiable “fetish” equipment, this is what I find the most immediately erotic. I am not a masochist in the strict sense of the word, but revel in having power taken away. Nothing seems to be a sexier way to lose power than by having a large rubber bauble stuffed into my mouth, followed by it being secured firmly round the back of my head. I move my tongue into a comfortable position. She inflates the gag to full, pushing my tongue back covering my air passage. I struggle and fail to breathe for several seconds. There is simply nothing I can do to prevent this and left like that, I would have rapidly suffocated. She lets the gag down allowing me to catch my breath. Then she inflates it again slowly.
“Can you still speak?” I mumble something in reply. “Say 'no mistress'”.
“Mo mithre-” she cuts me off with another couple of puffs on the pressure pouch.
“Try again.”
“Ummmmuhehhh”
“Good” she whispers into my ear. I can breath, but very little else. She walks out of my view. Within a minute, with help of a gag and a small length of rope, I have been rendered unable to communicate or move. She returns with a single tail whip and for the next two minutes, and in a sense all time in my life beyond those two minutes, my perceptions will be radically altered.
Three strikes of the whip are enough to reach “my limit.” They sting side by side, battering the skin, painting my back in pain. I groan into the gag. I know the rules of this game: no amount of heartfelt complaining is going to make any difference to the outcome (of which I have no knowledge either). I gather up my strength, trying to put the stinging to the back of my mind and, dimly remembering something about tightened muscles magnifying the pain, relax as much as possible.
The next round of hits thunder onto my back, tap-dance over my already welting marks and stab deeper and sharper into my mind. So much for steeling myself, I am being torn apart and overrun with pain.
“Is this the part where I come over and rub it all better, bitch?” She says walking over to inspect her work. She stretches out her hand but does not touch me and returns to her previous position. “Not tonight.” I let out a plaintive whimper. “Shut up” she says quietly and begins striking again. One blow wraps round my arm and breaks the skin. My eyes are swimming. I am moaning into the gag trying to get some words out.
“Is this the part where you safe word? Not gonna happen. Fucking cunt.” A few more hits and I am trying to scream instinctively.
“Sh-ut UP!” She times the end of her shout with the beginning of the barrage. My sense disintegrates. I feel not human, but animal: a homo sapiens, naked ape, tied to a pillar and methodically brought low. My language is my quivering body and the formless moans. Time stops, counting stops, thought stops. All understanding, all prudence, all humanity has been put on hold. The only time is the present and that is either reeling from the last blow or feeling the next as it strikes. Submission has ended and subjugation has begun.
My body is like a wooden ship that has lost its helmsman in a storm. It is buffeted by wave after wave smashing into its frail form as alien forces toss it around. The hull buckles and breaks in places while it sails without direction. The whip licks round my ribs and flecks off chunks of skin; a minor hull breach but enough to petrify the sailors inside who have now abandoned all control of the vessel. The deck is flooded. The pain radiates and ricochets in harmony with the deadly beat.
Limbs grow weak and feet begin to sway. She pushes the body down and it meekly kneels in some primitive supplication. But the savagery continues as the lashes cut in from on high. There is nowhere more to move at this lowest point. This is the end and it is boundless suffering.
Then a miracle happens. Somewhere floating in semi-consciousness my ears prick to the syllables of her voice: “one more.” That promise was equal to “never again”. It set a boundary. Suddenly, the pain has an end point. A limit, not set by me but a boundary nonetheless. She makes a final strike and calmly walks up to see my dripping eyes begin to stream like fountains. She undoes the gag first. As feeling returns to my body and the pain becomes a recognisable stinging again, I let out in a sob: “Thank you.”
She swiftly removes the rope, holds me, hugs and leads me away from the pillar. I cry into her bosom as she holds me and tells me the woman who hit me is gone now. It's over. My tears remain even as the pain subsides. I need to cry. I haven't cried enough and never for the right reasons and through the tears I explain to her in broken language why I am crying.
The pain lessens. We explore the damage and she rubs ice over the welts and the cuts. The bruises are numerous, appearing frequently all over my back, but are not too deep. The cuts on my arm and round my rib cage bruised over before they had a chance to bleed. The body was designed to sustain this punishment and brush it off. Patiently it starts putting itself back together and replacing the small chunks that were destroyed in the barrage. Only the mind struggled and fragmented in panic during the scene. The weakest part of the system, it was unable to regiment the incoming pain and master it. With practice it might, or perhaps it will always be soft.
Minutes later I am laughing into my tears as the endorphin march makes its typically late arrival and I realise the enormity of what happened. For two minutes we reached a heightened state. She created a perfect simulation of limitless cruelty. Without showing sympathy, she tore into the core of a human being. She bypassed negotiation and rules and laws, ignored another's perspective and took what she willed, her desire utterly enveloping another human body. For a short time her ownership was absolute. There was no consent during that scene. All liberty was hers as soon as the ropes were around my wrists.
My achievement was to laugh now that it was my humanity that was debased! After all semblances of rights and wrongs had been erased, there was but a nihilist landscape of power and weakness. I faced that ultimate weakness and survived it. For brief moments we were super-human: icons of power exchange. My control, then my restraint and my discipline (layers of pretence of power) were drawn from me as surely as a dam drains water till all that remains is the mushy river bed, and I was a quivering mass of animal meat. And in returning the power to me, she multiplied it. I apprehended it. I knew what it was to have none, to go beyond humiliation and sense what annihilation might feel like. I know what it feels like not to be human. So for the first time, I know what being human is. I am eternally grateful.
Edited Sun 24 Sep 06, 12:42 AM by doulos
| 10 Mar 06, 4:27 PM Mel_SnM UK(BA), 7 yrs |
I really enjoyed that... its not about pain.. it's about the freedom to feel that vunerable with someone you trust | ||
| 10 Mar 06, 4:49 PM ThedaVamp UK, 6 yrs |
Mmmmm mmmmm mmmm ver' nice | ||
| 10 Mar 06, 6:35 PM mini_velvet UK(EH), 6 yrs |
Amazing  Easy? You men have no idea what we're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through our noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin'! | ||
| 10 Mar 06, 8:52 PM dean2001 7 yrs |
I'm so glad i'm not a sub  | ||
| 11 Mar 06, 2:14 AM doulos UK(SW), 7 yrs |
You don't even know what you are missing. Before trying out treating people as objects, learn how to treat people as people | ||
| 13 Mar 06, 10:11 PM Breeze UK(RG), 8 yrs  |
Thanks for sharing this with us Doulos; a very interesting read indeed. | ||
| 17 Mar 06, 11:26 AM Rhoobarb UK(FK), 12 yrs |
I loved it. Thanks. I want it, and yet I don't really, or do I? As with you, it will not be my decision to make. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | ||
| 20 Mar 06, 12:11 AM doulos UK(SW), 7 yrs |
You really don't want it unless it is not your decision to take it, in which case you do! It is quantum consensuality! The undecideability paradox. SPANK those who say BDSM is KINKY! | ||
| 5 Apr 06, 1:33 AM eldritch UK, 9 yrs |
I love that phrase mate. Quantum consensuality. Consider it stolen. Does that make you Mistress Schroedinger's Slave? Inside the quantum consensuality box, is Ms Schroedinger's Slave in a bound state or a free state? The state is indeterminate, until the whip lands.
e
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| 8 Apr 06, 3:42 AM doulos UK(SW), 7 yrs |
Exactly. Although it only works within a field of overiding consent.
SPANK those who say BDSM is KINKY! |
