This evening we go back to the dungeon. We sit with a drink while a group of subs and Dommes perform a little play for us. It is almost the same as the previous time. My Queen seems interested. I find it boring.
She had previously decided she wanted to tie me in a hard position; she had showed me a photo, and I had said that I might be able to do that. On the day of the dungeon visit, I practiced the position in our living room; it was definitely going to be hard. But I had no idea just how hard until I was actually tied and held in the position.
After our drink she asked another Domme to join us. We proceeded to the big cage room with the strong iron bars. I went through the usual procedure of being told to strip, then acknowledging the Domme, then my Queen, by kissing and licking their boots until they were satisfied. My Queen gave the other permission to punish me as much as she liked. The Domme stood in front of me, and gave me a safe word.
Then I was told to stand, and my Queen began her rope play, her very favourite among all her activities. First several coils of rope above my hips. While she worked, the Domme played with me, using a small cane, hot wax, and a flogger. It hurt, but her punishment was mild. My Queen applied more ropes at my upper thighs. As she proceeded, one phrase played and played through my mind: “I’m a sacrifice.” And I knew I had to give myself to this process without reservation. In any case, I had no choice. Ropes were tied around my neck. She spread my feet wide and tied my ankles, then my wrists behind me. She carried on with her ropes behind me, out of sight. Then she was ready.
“Bend over.” I obeyed, bending as far as I could. “Go on, go right over.” “Can I fall?” “Yes!” In an act of total trust I let myself fall head first towards the stone floor; my fall was stopped a few inches short by the ropes attaching me to the bars. I immediately felt the strain on my legs, and my wrists tightly constricted by the ropes. Very soon my legs began to burn.
My Queen and the Domme were laughing, happy at the sight of my total helplessness. Soon after I watched from my upside down position as my Queen brought a silver plug and electrical wires and started to prepare my ass for penetration. Soon the plug was in, and began to vibrate inside me. It was pleasurable, but the strain on my legs and the blood congesting in my head drowned out the sense of pleasure. I was suffering, and that was that.
I heard her say “Twenty minutes like that.” I groan, inwardly or outwardly I don’t know. Twenty seconds would be too long. I don’t know how I will endure this, but I have no choice. I know I must.
The minutes go by. They are talking and laughing; they are happy to see my suffering. My Queen informs me of time passing. “Fifteen minutes.” Later, “Ten minutes.” Sweat is rolling off me, and tears are falling. The pain is intense, centred in my legs. I am not counting, but wait for each count. “Five minutes.” I am at the end of my endurance, but it is not time yet. My whole world is pain. I will endure it for my Queen. I won’t give up.
After the longest twenty minutes of my life, I hear her say “Ok.” She moves behind me, removes the plug, and begins untying me part by part. I cannot come up yet. My legs are in a furnace of pain. After several more minutes she tells me to stand up. I try to bring my legs together and fail. I keep trying, and movement comes back and I bring them together. “Come up!” I try, and see blackness and stars. I am about to faint so I let my head fall down. She orders me to stand. I try again. Same effect. I gasp and pant with pain and faintness and confusion. I feel terrible. She slaps me, three times, and it helps to bring my mind back. “Do you want me to slap you with all my force?” “No my Queen.” I keep trying and soon I am able to stand straight. I feel exhausted but calm. My legs are not hurting now, nor my wrists. She tells me to relax for ten minutes, and to drink some beer. I am grateful. I am in the moment, deeply relieved to be free of the pain. I relax.
Ten minutes later she says “Now the next one.” I hear the words and am surprised. She had given no indication of more bondage but this is what is coming. I am calm and accepting. I must bear whatever I must bear.
She stands and pushes me back against the bars. I am to stand erect, my body firm against the bars behind me. “Hold out your hands.” I obey, and watch her wrap my wrists with white rope, coil after coil. I am curious, yet detached. I am not in my normal frame of mind. I am not high and happy. I am calm and still. Soon my wrists are heavily bound. They might as well be encased in concrete. She steps high and pulls my arms up and attaches them at the top of the cage. Straight away my triceps are held in a stretch, and start hurting. She steps down. The Domme hands her more rope.
My Queen starts encircling me, starting at my ankles. She quickly progresses up my body, pulling each loop tight and fastening me to points I cannot see. She reaches my waist, then my chest. She comes very close to me as she moves higher. I feel her body heat. My arms hurt more and more. My lower body is rigid, held tight by her ropes. She moves higher. Soon a rope is passed in front of my face. As she pulls it tight I open my mouth and receive it like a gag. She laughs. “That’s right.” The Domme is laughing and exclaiming over my Queen’s expertise.
She continues up my arms, then is finished. Fire is consuming my upper arms, my wrists are so constricted I cannot feel them, and I am completely still, mind and body, unable to move at all. The pain intensifies. I start to feel desperate. She announces “Ten minutes.” The Domme laughs. My Queen is radiant with a broad happy smile. She and the Domme chat, laugh, make fun of my predicament. I feel the sour taste of humiliation in my mouth, but the pain and desperation far outweigh it. I am covered in sweat from head to feet. I try to move a little to relieve the pressure on my arms, but cannot, not at all. Her bonds force me to stand still and erect, and I must experience the totality of my pain.
Minutes go by. She says “Five minutes.” Tears mingle with the sweat on my face. My Queen poses with her bound and suffering slave while the Domme takes photos. My Queen is beside herself with happiness. She sits again, and they happily chat and laugh and make fun of me. I am in such pain that the memory of my safe word comes. I wonder for a second if I should use it, and decide I won’t. I must and can bear this, for the sake of my Queen.
It continues and I am far past the limits of my endurance. But soon it is over. The Domme and my Queen start to release me. My arms are still high, still in the white heat of pain. But soon they are released, and my tied hands fall down. My Queen releases my wrists. I try to move my hands and cannot. They feel like blocks of frozen beef. My body is stiff as a board. She tells me to go and sit and relax. I move very slowly and sit.
As I relax and finish the last of my beer my hands come back to life with sharp tingles and the pain in my arms recedes. They feel weak, as if I have just been in an intensive gym session. After a few minutes my Queen orders me to get ready to leave. I stand and dress and pack the few ropes we brought with us. As I do so, I marvel at the way my Queen can tie me and cause such pain, yet cause no injury at all. In fact, as we leave, the pain has left my body. I only feel a little weak. I am not high, but I’m not in my normal mind either. If anything, I am in a state of awe, and I wonder at the fate that brought me to this great Dominatrix. I also wonder about the future, because I know with certainty that she can bring much more pain to my body than on this night. I wonder if I can ever bear more. But this is not up to me; she will decide what she does with my body, even my mind and emotions. This is what it is to be a slave. Service, obedience, acceptance, of all that she requires. There is no more.