An Evening of Suffering for a Woman’s Pleasure
Online forums rarely inaugurate relationships between dominant women and submissive men. Daria and Clark are exceptions. They live in a big city. The forum is local.
Many men responded to Daria’s posts. Clark’s replies showed understanding and empathy. He never pestered, begged or asked. After almost a year of online conversation, they met for coffee.
Clark’s arrival heartened Daria. So many supposedly submissive guys make dates with Dommes that they never keep. Their cowardliness exceeds their frustration.
Conversation flowed readily after a few minutes of awkward, nervous hesitance. A full date followed. Daria permitted Clark to take her out to dinner.
Daria remained wary. She was tired of faux malesubs who proved to be smart-assed masochists. Topping from the bottom, they have her not pleasure.
Daria and Clark continued to date without progressing to greater intimacy.
Clark was disappointed but silently persistent. He did not whine. He did not beg. He waited, believing that Daria’s confidence in him would evolve. The Domme disposes, the submale obeys. His quiet humility, kindness, and good humor, finally earned him an invitation to come home with her. The first night was overwhelming. At her command, Clark stripped naked. She handcuffed his hands behind his back.
Daria has a passion for nipple clamps and clothespins.
Her favorite nipple clamps bit into his flesh. She yanked and repositioned them throughout the session.
Methodically she covered Clark’s body with small, very tight clothespins. They cut into his skin. The process was unhurried. She wanted the ache from each clamp to be fully felt before inflicting fresh hurt. Clark was just her helpless pain toy.
Clark’s whimpers increased as she began to decorate his uncircumcised penis with tight little metal clothespins. His cock felt as if it a hundred hot cigarettes pressed down on it.
Whimpers became shrieks. Locking on a ball gag kept his agony from disturbing the neighbors.
As she worked over his body, Daria did not neglect affectionate gestures. She whispered in his ear, telling how beautifully he suffered for her. She licked the ear, the bit down hard on the lobe. She kissed Clark, then bit one of his lips. Even though Daria’s apartment was air-conditioned, Clark’s anguish made him sweat. Finally, she ran out of clothespins. From an end table Daria picked up her red, heart shaped riding crop. Removing the clothespins was the best part. At least for Daria. She swatted at the clothespins with her riding crop. The pins tugged against release, sending fresh bursts of pain along Clark’s nerves. Sometimes one would come off with the first swat. Most took a few tries. The most secure clothespins needed a dozen or more swats. She saved the metal clothespins on his penis for last. They held fast to his genitals. Clark’s body jerks as violent spasms of pain almost made him faint. With the final clothespins gone, Daria surveyed Clark’s body. Sore, bruised red marks spotted his body. Clark’s sobs and tears abated. Daria removed the ball gag. She had been merciless. She felt glorious. Watching a man sweat and cry, vainly try to beg for mercy when gagged, she lived for these experiences.
Clark knew she would hurt him. His torment was consensual. How would he feel after two hours of agony?
He sighed, adjusting to being able to use his mouth and tongue, still recovering. Then, he slid to the floor at her knees. “Thank you, Mistress.”
Her undisguised pleasure in his misery, made her seem radiant, a Goddess. Feeling awe he bowed his head in honest, innocent worship.
Clark suffers at her hand to this day. A creative sadist, Daria always has new and terrible ways to hurt him.