letting go

Three more months…

His friend had a last minute model cancellation for a photoshoot. Was I free?

He joked that he would pay me with a spanking session.

I got paid. And I got spanked.

Afterward, he pushed me back onto the bed and held himself up over me.

“Did you miss me?” he asked.

My “yes” had the force of an exhale behind it. My eyes teared up.

“What did you miss about me?”

I couldn’t answer him.

“I could fuck you right now,” he said, his hand briefly teasing between my legs before sliding up to taunt my nipples. Every time I yelped, he would squeeze my mouth and bite on my lips.

But whenever he tried to actually kiss me, I could feel myself resisting and I knew he could feel it, too. The back of my head was in his hand. He’d been massaging my neck, rubbing my hair.

“Do you want to hurt me?” he asked.

His hand was at my neck. I braced for a smack. It did not come.

He expressed so much and I felt almost nothing compared to what I used to feel.


Or buried.

two more months

My ex-Dom called last weekend and I returned his call finally. We talked for a long time.

It was a surprisingly good conversation even though I was apprehensive.

He suggested we get together sometime. Not too surprising.

He also asked me about the guy I was seeing – someone he used to know. Not a Dom. I was still worried he would be upset about it.

I didn’t think he knew.

He also wanted to discuss where he and I had gone wrong which we’d already done, but I relented. And we talked about school and work and people we know and all the rest of it.

He said he’d actually thought about asking me last weekend to come up and play at the club.

A soft blow.


I played with someone new last Saturday at the private club – a Hot Shot Dom. He was well-known so I thought I was safe, but I could not have been more wrong.

He trailed knives along my skin, lit me on fire, wet and smacked my thighs with metal. He also flogged me with something that left instant welts. I shrieked.

We were not in a private room – several people watched. And it was my first time being completely naked during play.

I passed out while he was choking me and I didn’t think he even noticed. If he had not been pressed against me, I would have crumpled. My arm fell from the chain I had been holding.

I had never passed out before – I didn’t know what was happening to me at first.

The worst part was that he left me alone during subspace – just dropped me and walked away. He was angry that I did not inform him before the session that sex was not a foregone conclusion.

He asked why I didn’t bring up the no-sex factor in the beginning. I told him that I honestly didn’t think sex would come up right away.



I couldn’t tell him that I had played with someone else – I didn’t want him to hurt.

Because of the drama it was causing, I suggested we take the play out of our relationship. Friendship only for the time being. I also told him that I had plans to play with someone else.

I could hear in his voice that he did not like that. He didn’t try to hide it and he had no reason to.

He said he knew he couldn’t hold onto me forever, which was not fair since he hadn’t expressed any interest in playing with me.

We’d spoken three times last week, but it was me initiating and now I’ve stopped and he hasn’t called.

How was I supposed to feel?

someone else

New Dom, new club.

I had never met him before, but I trusted Miriam – a British Domme that I’d met through my ex.

When she had heard that he and I were no longer exclusive, she approached me about being like a “big sister” who would negotiate with Doms on my behalf. Her accent and pale skin had had me smitten for some time.

Her Dom friend was handsome and very tall. Before playing, he gave me a deep hug and a brief massage in order to assess my body – the where and the how of my thick and thin.

For his part, there was an appealing heft to his build that somehow assured me, like he could fold me into him and I would be safe.

But I was wrong.

This was no tender thing. No sensuality. I screamed louder and harder than I ever had in my life.

I was bound to a horse, in a private room, just the three of us. His primary tool was a cane. Until later when he used a wooden paddle, my ass wet after Miriam had poured water on me to cool me down.

No one had ever talked to me that way before. He called me a pissy, growling, snarling, filthy slut.

He was right and I wanted to fuck him up for it, but all I could do was growl through gritted teeth, hair, and tears. I wanted to slap him, punch him, bite him, claw his face. He knew it. And he just grinned.

His assessment of me only made it worse:

You don’t let go easily, do you?
You think too much.
It must be really hard for you to accept all this attention.

A fucking stranger.

pride and paddling

Much of the tension has eased between us – for now.

After we talked at his place, we played a little before going to the club. That helped.

We rarely played privately anymore as the guy I was dating – understandably – does not like it. But we didn’t do anything wrong.

When we got to the club, he set down his gear and then embraced me in front of everyone. I didn’t know if it was territorial or if he was trying to put me into a headspace before playing.

One girl did not like me. It was clear by how zealously she threw herself at him that our connection really bothered her.

There are other girls he has connections with and when I see them, I step away. It’s not easy, but I have to respect those relationships. There is also my pride. I don’t want anyone to see me hurting. Not in that way.

While playing, I could not take very much. My skin felt raw afterward.

At one point, he barely tapped me with a heavy wooden paddle and it hurt so much that I screamed and nearly lunged off his knees. Before that, he’d used the leather slapper. The sting resonated, turning my yelps into full wails.

He also blindfolded me. It had been forever.

At the end, he had me kneeling, presenting the paddle with my arms raised forward while he dripped hot wax all over them.

Even though the weight became tear-inducingly painful after awhile, I did not drop my arms.

I was proud of myself.