I opened the dungeon door and before I could step inside, I noticed her come towards me.
“I’ve thought of some bondage we can try,” she started, and then cautiously paused. The light expression on her face darkened as she noticed my demeanor.
One of my hands tightly held onto and squeezed my other arm as I leaned against the doorway and felt myself shrink. “I think I should go home,” I said. I barely managed to finish the sentence before my voice broke and tears found the corners of my already reddened eyes.
I heard concern in her voice when she asked what was wrong and the thought of having to answer sent me into another spiral, causing the words to feel tangled in my throat. I didn’t know how to explain because there was no way my explanation would make sense.
We ended up in a back and forth of words. Seeing what looked like pain in her demeanor, followed by frustration confirmed what I thought I already knew: My presence is just a nuisance; I should have never come to say goodbye; I only deserve to disappear.
She suggested we could do some bondage, reminding me that it’s helped me with my spiraling thoughts in the past but I didn’t feel able to take her up on the offer. How could I possibly let her deal with the mess of my mind when it clearly only caused trouble?
“I’m not going to drag you in against your will. You have to decide if you want this,” she responded.
Her words briefly dispersed the irrational cloud that had enveloped my mind.
“I think I know you quite well by now,” she continued. “You want to run away when you get like this, but you don’t have to run away from me.”
For a brief moment, my mind fell utterly silent.
It dawned on me that my words weren’t helping. Rather than connecting, we were becoming distant. Perhaps a scene could help.
We agreed and she suggested I wait at the bar for a moment and she asked me to send her the picture of the bondage position I had asked for the other day.
When she came to get me and told me to undress I was already fighting the irrational thoughts in my mind again. As she put the blindfold on I felt grateful my eyes were hidden as new tears had started to form.
Was the position I’d chosen even one I truly wanted? What if it was too difficult to tie? Should I have told her she could choose instead? Why was I the one deciding? Why was she even doing this—why was she putting up with me?
She began by tying my arms in a strappado, and suddenly I couldn’t remember exactly what the position looked like. A wave of fear hit me—what if she lifted me up by my arms? They definitely wouldn’t be strong enough to take my weight. What if I picked the wrong position and couldn’t take it? What if she attempts to put me up and then immediately has to take me down again?
She lightheartedly told me to smile but all I could do was cry on the inside.
What if she ends up feeling like I’m only making things worse? It’s not her fault I feel this bad, and yet somehow I’ve dragged her into it. What if she realises I’m a mess who is not worth her time or attention? I guess she was going to find out sooner or later… Maybe it doesn’t matter now. Maybe the least I can do is stop crying, so she doesn’t have to see me like this.
I vaguely remember getting lifted off the floor and the ropes biting into my skin as I thought, Okay, this isn’t so bad. The first few seconds were intense but I let myself lean into the sensation. The best way to deal with pain is to relax. And for a moment, I felt a wave of calm gently knock at the edges of my mind.
I tried to welcome it and let it in but it wasn’t enough. Not even close. A new wave of anxiety crashed over me, heavy with the fear of being a disappointment.
I can’t remember exactly how she adjusted the ropes then. She changed things, adding and tightening; each shift making the position more difficult after which I briefly thought once more, maybe I feel calm now. But that thought too, slipped away.
I think my toes were barely touching the floor when she added a crotch rope for support. It reminded me that I had asked for one… in a letter… that I wasn’t sure she had fully read because I figured she wouldn’t have had the time!
It hurt a lot. Blissfully.
“If I know you at all, I think a tough position alone is not going to be enough. You’re going to have to feel pain, is that correct?” she said.
I hesitated. I did not expect she was going to bring in impact play, as I thought it might make too much noise. What if having to stop everything to deal with my emotions ended up costing her? Then I really, really fucked it all up!
“I take your silence as a yes.”
The sentence lingered in the air.
“And you can take my silence as an agreement.”
Shit. I really started to feel nervous now. I had managed to relax into the crotch rope but the only way I managed to do that was by staying perfectly still. Staying still wasn’t likely going to be possible if she decided to hit me while I was hanging here.
The hit of the whip sent my body sinking deeper into the crotch rope, causing two different sensations of pain that shot through me at the same time.
She targeted different parts of my body, while noise started to come out of my mouth and then she teasingly let the whip softly caress my flesh.
“Now where is the most sensitive part of your body?”
Her question, once again, caught me off guard. I muttered an “um” as I tried to steady my voice to hide that I’d cried and then offered: “My… My pussy?”
As I said it, I knew the answer couldn’t be right because my bondage position was shielding that area from her.
“Ah yes,” she said. It was clear that was not the answer she was looking for. She tried to hit my pussy a few times but as I figured it was rather shielded whilst I hung in this current predicament.
“I was more thinking… your feet.”
My eyes widened underneath the blindfold. I had not given my feet a single thought up until that moment. And before I could even process my oversight, I felt a sharp sting across the soles of my feet – once, twice, three times in rapid succession and I cried out loudly.
It dawned on me that my feet were perfectly exposed. They were exactly in the right position to get hit.
She continued to hit them and it didn’t take long before I thought I would cry again, but this time from the physical pain.
“Give me a number from 1 to 10. How much pain are you in right now?”
Again – the question caught me by surprise.
“Um,” I started once more to buy myself some time. How does one define pain with numbers? My ‘7’ could be someone elses’s ‘3’ or ‘9’. What number could possibly convey what I was actually feeling to her?
I tried to break the pain down by body parts to make it easier for myself and told her that feet were an 8 and the ropes a 6. I’m not sure if she responded to me but I thought I could hear her walk around me before I felt the whip hit a different part of my body.
I tried to lean into the pain but I struggled, while I moaned and cried out loud, unable to control myself.
Then for a moment, she gave me a small break. As I found comfort in the serenity of just the suspension she asked me how I felt.
I took a second to think, then realised: “Conflicted.”
“You said you think I should hit your pussy?”
Wait, what?!
“What did you say Mila? That I should hit your pussy?”
Oh… I guess the fact that I am still conflicted still means I’m overthinking and so I guess more pain could-
Her next strike broke up my thoughts and while it was almost impossible for her to hit my pussy, everything around it felt almost just as sore until she hit me right on the clit and my screams and sobs became so loud I almost felt lost in the soundscape that I myself had created.
“Now I need you to be quiet,” she said. “Stop making a sound. Stop moving. Be considerate of the others in the room.”
At once, I suddenly found the ability to stay still and silent.
I took a deep breath and held it as a flurry of lashes struck in sharp bursts across my body. She wasn’t holding back. But now that she’d told me exactly what to do, there wasn’t a single thought in my mind that would let me disobey or disappoint her.
She seemed to be hitting me everywhere – even in places I’d never imagined getting struck. When the whip hit my left shin several times I could not believe how sore it felt. The pain was so sharp, so alien, that I couldn’t even fully process it. I had to focus and stay still.
“Well done, I’m impressed,” she said almost comically as if to signal we weren’t done yet. “But tell me… What’s your really sore spot?”
It was only a rhetorical question. She struck my feet in quick succession without mercy and yet I didn’t make a sound. I managed to hold myself together, commanding my body from within. It was only in the brief seconds in between a strike that I let out a breath. But as the impact play continued I realised I wouldn’t be able to hold my breath in forever. I told myself to start breathing as I was getting hit and I began sobbing ever so quietly. Not from the pain but from something deeper inside me. Finally, my emotions poured out and no longer felt trapped, tangled and twisted inside.
Finally, it stopped.
“Did you reach a ten?” she asked.
It felt like the sentences inside my mind fell apart and broke into scattered words that didn’t quite make sense. “I don’t… know what a ten is…”
“A ten is when you reach the most amount of pain you can take at this moment in time.”
“I don’t think so…” I replied, my voice unsure. I almost felt guilty saying it, uncertain whether I was close or not.
“Well I suppose I’ll have to hurt you some more then.”
She said it so casually that any guilt I felt vanished immediately.
“You will say: ten, thank you, when you reach a ten, understood?”
I mumbled a yes.
When she struck me I was sure she had swapped implements but I had no idea what it was. She hit my pussy with such force I couldn’t help but cry out, even though I remembered she’d told me to stay quiet. I tried to go back to being quiet, hit after hit, but the pain was too much. Too sharp. Too relentless.
She turned to my feet next, striking them with the same brutal intensity. Again and again.
Then she went back to my pussy.
Was this a ten? I still didn’t know. I began to think I couldn’t take much more now but how could I be sure?
Part of me desperately wished she’d paused, just for a second, so I could breathe and consider whether this –this- was what a ten felt like.
But she didn’t. There was no mercy.
The pain surged through me, violent and consuming. I felt myself slipping; my body suspended, straining, trembling with no control left.
Is this it? Is this a ten?
Do I have to admit it?
Maybe I can keep going… Maybe I can… Maybe…
Another vicious strike.
“Ten… Thank you,” I said through my tears.
The stillness, in the absence of intense pain, held an immense calm.
“I think I might let you hang there for a little while,” she said.
I don’t know how she managed to read my thoughts and desires.
“If it was up to you I bet you’d like to keep hanging there all day.”
She came to check and asked whether my hands were okay. I squeezed her hands with mine and thought they were perfectly fine.
“Is that as hard as you can squeeze?” she said.
“Yes.”
“Then I think you’ll have to come down soon I’m afraid.”
Really? Is this one of those moments where I’m so far removed from reality that I can’t even gauge my own strength anymore?
Maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this meant my mind had finally settled.
But she didn’t take me down. For a second I thought she was until I realised she was merely adjusting the ropes and then I was suddenly hanging by what felt like a single waist rope, tilted forward as if I could be split in half.
The pain was intense.
Then, just as sudden, came an even deeper, enveloping calm, like plunging into ice-cold water.
When she asked me how I felt I think I sounded happily surprised as I full heartedly said “this position is so calming.”
Waist rope was another one I previously mentioned I wanted to try.
Eventually she asked me if I liked her to ease up the position and by then I had to admit “yes, please”.
I thought she was taking me down and for a fleeting moment I felt relief until a single rope dug into my crotch, suddenly bearing my entire weight.
Then I really, really cried out. The pain was so intense, so unbearable that I couldn’t lean into the rope or the pain. My body and pussy felt unable to endure and all I could do was cry and sob, hoping, against reason, that the sound might soften the torment.
She left me dangling in agony in what felt endless, while I was reminded that this is what I had asked for.
Then finally, she began to lower me. Slowly, my feet edged closer to the floor, tasting relief before I felt it.
For a brief second, I felt the support of the ground underneath my toes. The blood flooded back in, giving me a new sharp pain, but I knew that it would soon pass.
But just as the pain softened she pulled me back up by the crotch rope. The burn felt unrelenting. I cried out louder than I had before. I wanted to beg her to let me down but all that came out of me was a broken, anguished wail.
At last, she let me down onto the mat on the floor and put a blanket over me. I felt relieved that I could just lie there for a moment, still bound by the remaining ropes with nothing left to worry about.
That night I fell asleep without taking sleeping pills.
We talked. I dried and brushed her hair.
I felt safe- seen, held and embraced.
Grateful that she pointed out I wanted to run.
Even more grateful to hear that I didn’t have to run from her.
To see the clips that were filmed, please request them via DM on my Loyalfans
(This post was written a few months ago)