Dark Night Of The Soul
January 30The Dungeon
This place is so dark that I am almost blind here. This darkness was to be matched by the darkness of soul that I was to experience this night.
It was to be a double Domme session. My Queen and another. After greeting them both in the customary way by kissing the boots of the other Domme, and licking my Queen’s boots as she demanded, the session began.
After the greetings my Queen attached a leash to my collar, and said“On your knees.” I obeyed and she set off on a fast stroll around the dungeon, past other dommes and a couple of customers at the bar. I was her slave on all fours, following her around behind her boots, with an occasional tug on the leash to make sure I was keeping up. I was. When she was satisfied that she had properly paraded her slave, she unfastened the leash, and told me to stand.
My Queen is a highly skilled predicament bondage expert. After fastening my wrists behind me she began to weave an elaborate web of ropes around me. Soon I was imprisoned. My balls were bound and stretched before me. The white rope created a beautiful pattern of interlinking ropes. My balls were thoroughly and rather painfully secured, and fastened to a distant point. Meanwhile she had fastened ropes to my collar, and I was secured from behind. I was trapped in an immovable position. I loved it. All was well.
The other Domme had been alternately caressing and scratching my body all over, all the while gazing into my eyes. I felt myself melting into hers. An occasional heavy slap on ass or thigh resounded through the place. My Queen was observing with pleasure, vocalizing in her usual way with smiles and laughs and sighs. She was enjoying being watcher as well as perpetrator.
The Domme occasionally stepped on the white ropes in front of me, tightening the grip on my balls. It hurt, but not excessively. Each time, I gasped or groaned a little, which delighted them both, especially my Queen who laughed loudly. I was enjoying their attentions myself. The Domme applied candle wax to my cock and other places. It burned for a short time, then the pain subsided. She then applied more and I gasped again and my Queen laughed again. The Domme merely smiled.
My Queen came in front of me and she also stepped on the rope, gazing happily into my face, smiling and laughing as I reacted to the sudden constrictions. She was radiant. She applied clamps to my nipples. The pain was intense. I groaned and gasped while she connected them to the other ropes. I was fixed by balls and nipples and neck. Any sudden movement would produce instant pain. My Queen was deliriously happy. I was equally happy to see this.
My feet and legs were getting sore. I was fixed in place so that I could barely move, but if I tried to move my feet in order to shift the weight and relieve the stress on my legs, I was sharply ordered by my Queen to hold the position. I obeyed as I always do, and my legs got more and more tired and sore.
My ass was attacked with a paddle, the Domme sending shockwaves of pain through me. It was intense but it was fine. I was getting high. She stopped, and continuedcaressing and scratching me all over. My nipples were on fire, my balls were stretched, I was happy and high, and at maximum capacity.
Suddenly the Domme whacked me hard in the belly with a heavy hand. I contracted sharply backwards in an unstoppable reaction, and suddenly I was in agony. My left ball was screaming at my brain“I’m Hurt!” I screamed and writhed and groaned and stared out desperately while they smiled and laughed. But I was in trouble. I had been suddenly hurt far beyond my capacity to bear it. From then on, the play became torture. I had entered a hell space.
It continued, as they played and enjoyed, and I suffered either in silence or with moans of pain. The more they played the deeper I fell into an abyss of pure suffering.
My Queen came before me. She pulled the clamps off my nipples. The sudden release and the accompanying pain screamed out of me. She laughed, radiant all the time. She started squeezing my nipples, harder and harder, all the while holding my eyes with her own, all the time revelling in the intense pain she was witnessing. She stopped. Relief. I hung there, on my feet, my head down, in pain and misery trying to bear everything for the sake of my Queen. She came again, started squeezing and laughing again. I was in another kind of agony.
Suddenly a roaring snarl erupted from unknown depths in my being, and roaring and snarling I launched myself at my tormentor, my teeth bared. My roped collar snapped my neck back with a powerful jerk and I was stopped in my tracks. I glared and panted like a starving wolf. I was not myself. I had become a demon. I knew nothing except my pain and my constriction and the eyes of my tormentor in front of me. Suddenly my head was knocked sideways. My Queen started slapping my face with all the force she could summon. My ears rang with the power of the blows. My cheeks stung. I didn’t care. I was gone, lost. Eventually it stopped. I was subdued. I stood immovable, head down, tears falling from my eyes.
My Queen stood before me. She touched my face, caressing me. “What was that? Tell me.” “I don’t know, my Queen,” as tears poured from me. “Are you hiding something? Tell me!” She grabbed my collar, pulling it tight and pushing my head back, strangling me.” “Are you hiding something from me?” My voice was choked back, soundless. She released her grip and again I said “No my Queen. I’m not hiding anything.” She then stroked my face again, pulled my head gently down to her breast, and held me there, caring for me with all the love in her heart. Presently she said “Do you know the consequence for what you did?” “Yes my Queen.” I had no concern about any punishment she might apply. I was lost, gone, in the bottom of my hell.
My Queen moved behind me. I felt a blow on my ass. It fell and fell, ass and thigh. It hurt, but I barely reacted. I knew she was whipping me with the flogger she had shown me earlier. In my anesthetized state I barely registered the pain, and I didn’t care. I didn’t care what they did to me. I wanted to ask my Queen to kill me….please finish it so I don’t have to suffer any more. I was gone, beaten, spiritless. I had not a care in the world. Only pain, despair and misery. I was in a kind of hell.
I became aware that the flogging had stopped. My Queen was sitting on the couch, observing. The other Domme was playing with me, hurting me perhaps; I didn’t feel it. A cry of despair and desolation rose from my depths. “My Queen, I need you!” The Domme said “Don’t you love me?” “Yes Mistress, I love you, but I need my Queen!”
I felt the ropes loosen. They fell away from my legs and ankles. I was fixed in place, bonds or no bonds. I couldn’t move, because my owner hadn’t told me I could move. The command came. “Get dressed.” I moved a metre to the chair where my clothes were. It took a long time. I was in a stupor. I couldn’t find my underpants and I couldn’t understand why. I couldn’t understand anything. My Queen told me to find them. I moved like a zombie to the room where I had earlier undressed, and found them. I shuffled back, put them on, and continued dressing. It was difficult, but each effort, each movement, brought me a little further back into the world.
Dressed and tidied, my Queen told me to pay the bill. I moved slowly to the bar with the Domme; she asked for the bill. I stared at the bill belligerently. I understood, paid. There was some change, including a coin. I stared at it stupidly. The girls laughed. I didn’t care. I pocketed it and went back to the room, and sat down and waited for my Queen. I was still lost and didn’t know any way out. Eventually she returned and we left.
I was in a truculent mood as we walked through the busy night crowds. I knew that I was not myself. I was some bad tempered old bull who didn’t care who he might knock out of his way. We got home, I collapsed on the couch. She came to me. She asked again. ‘Are you hiding something?” I wracked my brain, trying to search for some unknowable truth. I remembered that I had told her in the beginning, before I began to know her, that I was younger than my real age. To me it had not been worth mentioning before; it was of no significance.
“Ok. What else are you hiding from me?” I searched again. There was nothing. I have never lied to my Queen except that one time when I first approached her. “There is nothing, my Queen.” “Why did you try to attack me?” I burst into tears again. “I don’t know,” I wailed. “Some old pain, some old anger. I don’t know.” Then I told her about some childhood emotional trauma that had negatively affected a significant stretch of my life. I was grasping for the truth and that was as near as I could get to it. She held me then, held me close to her breast, and stroked my hair. “I will care for you. I will be your mother. You are my beloved slave and I will care for you always.” She continued stroking and soothing, until I relaxed and stopped weeping. Presently she said “I will go to my room now. Good night.” I whispered “Good night my Queen. Thank you.”
I went to bed, still lost and ignorant, still wondering what had happened and why, and slept.