Bent

Author's Note: The story below is 100% real. This series is intended to document my journey into a new level of mental and physical submission. Much of the writing involves the psychological aspects of submission, taken from the perspective of the sub, not just the physical interaction. If you are looking for an unadulterated over the top fantasy barely walking the edge of reality, this is not the story for you. If you want a true glimpse into honest submission... what it looks like... how it feels... the good, the bad, and the ugly... keep reading.

*****

I met Gia for the first time four months ago. I made the mistake of calling her "Mistress" during the opening minutes of our first session. She wasn't a fan of the term, and had the name/title "Miss Gia" burned into my brain not long after that.

I have served Miss Gia physically a dozen times since then. The older chapters of our story are far too complex and in-depth to detail here. Just trust me for now when I say that she is a master at getting into my head. Not that she had to be. I wanted to give my submission to her the first day I met her.

She broke me mentally and physically by the 5th time we played. Every session since has built upon that event. Physical torment, mind fucks, mental bondage. Anything and everything to keep me marching toward that goal of zero possible resistance. The voluntary extinguishment of conscious will. No resistance. No hesitation. I want to give it... she wants to take it.

I have learned things about both of us on this journey. She does not like games, for starters (unless they are her games). I've also learned that there are far worse punishments than a whip or a crop.

As I set in my office arranging my day, I sent her a quick text about the timing of our session that night. It was to be our 13th. The last of the message she sent back said, "Fair Warning - You are to be entirely submissive to me tonight."

Not good.

When you have served someone intensely for a period of time you will learn to read between the lines. I knew what those words of warning meant. Loosely translated, "You have fucked up and I am going to punish you for it tonight in ways you will not like."

Just so we're clear here on the possible ramifications of something like that with her, Miss Gia branded her name on both my thighs the 2nd time we met. When someone with that kind of power sends you words like those, you stop and think. I sent her back a short note promising I would comply, but the smile was gone off my face.

Later that night I sat there waiting for her arrival. She texted me instructions to be naked, and kneeling by the couch. She specifically told me to have my head down BEFORE she reached the door.

Of course I complied.

The old me would have peeked. Would have kept his eyes on that door just long enough to see her feet, but not so long that she could have noticed. Somewhere over those previous 12 sessions that me had vanished though. I didn't look up at all when the door opened and I heard footsteps entering the room.

Was it her? Surely.

A wave of nerves washed over me. I wanted to look, just to make sure. I didn't though. My head stayed down, focused on only the carpet fiber directly under my eyes, and nothing else. The footsteps went almost directly to the couch beside me, and took a seat.

It was quiet in that room. I could tell it was her now by the nuances of her breathing. I relaxed just a bit, but I already didn't like where this was going. We have been in this place before. Dreadful silence. Nothingness.

I had hopes that this was temporary, but deep inside I knew better. 10 minutes went by... 20... Maybe more. I lost track of time kneeling on that floor trying my best not to move out of my assigned position.

Finally I felt a very soft touch on my back. Just a whisper on a scream, but a touch none-the-less. It lasted a few seconds, and then it stopped. A minute or so later... Another.

She toyed with me a while with the soft touches. Eventually she sat back on the couch and rested her feet on my back. I could tell she was reading.

I'm not sure how long I had been on the floor at this point, but eventually she broke the silence. "Have you ever been furniture before?" I answered that I had not. She went back to reading, her feet still resting right in the middle of my back.

Finally, it came... the reason I was here...

"How long did you play with your friend from California?"

Oh, Fuck. That.

I told her an hour, which was true.

Just to explain the problem here, I have a friend who is a Domme in California. She and I have never played live because of distance, but she has let me watch live sessions in her dungeon via Skype. I also help her write humiliation assignments for her website, and we sometimes play on webcam as a reward for that help. All fairly minor stuff. There is only so much fun you can have when you are physically separated by 1,000 miles.

I had sent Miss Gia a message requesting permission to play with Lexie. I even sent it the day before the scheduled play, but she was travelling and didn't respond. I honestly didn't think she would mind me playing anyway, since a day had passed since I sent the request and she hadn't said no.

Wrong.

That play time had gone wrong on so many levels. The play was great, but it was a "how many clothespins can you get on your cock and balls" game. Half way through it I made the mistake of telling Lexie I didn't "officially" receive permission to play.

I should have known by Lexie's pissed off reaction that I might need to rethink my take on this. She doubled the number of clothespins required to earn a release and ended up not letting me cum at all. She also didn't take off a single piece of her clothing, which was going to be my reward for getting them all on.

As the gravity of it all started to sink in Miss Gia spoke again. "Since you spent an hour at that, you can spend an hour of our time in silence. I'm enjoying the stories I'm reading." With that she finished out the hour reading Literotica. planning who knows what, for who knows when.

I knelt in misery on the hard floor.

My hands hurt.

My feet hurt.

My back hurt.

Eventually an hour passed. I was relieved when she told me the hour was up. Finally, a chance to play, maybe?

"Have you written the rules out," she asked before letting me move out of the position.

I slumped a little and confessed I have not.

She had given me a list of rules a few sessions ago. They were handwritten and were supposed to be typed up by me. It's hard to get that paper from where they its kept to my office PC, but really I have just been lazy getting it done.

"How many rules are there?"

"Ten."

"Can you recite them," she asked?

"I do not have them memorized, Miss Gia... they are in my bag though if you want me to get them."

"Did I ask if you had them? NO! I asked only if you had them memorized."

That little exchange was a great example of the last bit of resistance I still carry. She hadn't asked for more info. I had made an assumption that it wasn't my place to make. I am slowly learning assumptions are not a part of my role here, but I am not there yet, obviously.

She warned me to stay in position and pronounced that I would receive two strokes with the crop for each rule.

The strokes were mild by her standards. More than once she has drawn blood with that crop. These were hard enough to warrant a wince, but tonight's punishment was not going to be about pain, I could already tell.

"What else have you done wrong," she asked once the 20 crop strokes were finished? I confessed that I was 6 miles short of my exercise goal for the week.

Miss Gia offered to let me choose... six more strokes, or 12 more minutes in that kneeling position. I took the minutes. I'm not sure why. I think it surprised us both that I did. She made me take the time in total silence with my head completely down. I spent the entire time wishing I had asked for the crop instead. Sometimes I am such a coward when it comes to the things that scare me.

Eventually my time kneeling on the floor was ended. I had been in that position for almost two hours in total. She let me move to a sitting position (still on the floor) as she stayed on the couch, fully clothed. I wanted her to undress so badly. She is stunningly beautiful and in great shape. Her body is a work of art. I knew by now I would not be seeing it tonight though. So frustrating.

There was also more disappointment to come. "I don't think we have time to play with our new toy tonight," she said. "In fact, given your performance the last week, I don't think you deserve it."

The new toy in question was a cock ring with an attachment that went to a bulb that slipped into your ass, pulling the cock ring back and down.

I had tinkered with the toy over the weekend trying to figure out how to get in on. When I did finally get it on (after about an hour trying), it was amazing. The cock ring part does what all cock rings do by swelling the cock and making it throb, but the bulb that goes in the ass was also designed to stimulate the prostate when the cock was stroked.

The damn thing was brilliantly designed.

In addition to that, by nature, the toy tucks down the cock and balls into an unnatural position. It gives a very humiliating, somewhat feminized, look to the wearer. After about 10-15 minutes the toy starts to torture the places it has stretched as well. I can only imagine that it would also help considerably at keeping the ass pointed up and the head pointed down when kneeling for the crop, just because of the posture it forces you to assume. An hour or two in this thing would inflict quite a bit of misery and a whole lot of begging to be let out of it. All of those were things that honestly scared the hell out of me.

Miss Gia has had 12 sessions to play with my head though. She long ago dug out the deep dark secret that told her I crave the fear and the pain. She used our earlier sessions to bend me to her will, and quite frankly has turned me into a pain slut, and a fear slut.

Well, I guess the real question is, did she turn me into a pain slut and a fear slut, or did she just make me understand I already was?

As much as the thought of a few hours in that toy scared me... I WANTED IT BADLY. I wanted her to torment me while I wore it. I wanted her to punish me for begging to take it off! She knew it. She had spent weeks turning me into someone who would get off on that pain in fact. The arsenal of mental weapons she has built to use against me is staggering.

She also confirmed my absolute worst fear. Not only would I not be cumming in this session, I would not be cumming at all until I finished an assignment she had planned.

There is nothing worse that not getting to cum in a session. Well... possibly a ruined orgasm, but even that wasn't to be an option tonight it seemed. DAMN IT! I thought to myself. I wanted to cum soooo badly.

I begged at that point. Shamelessly.

I offered to lick up my own cum every time I climaxed for a month if she would even CONSIDER letting me cum (I used to never lick up my own cum, but I have done it for her, and I know she gets a kick out of making me do it).

It was an honest offer. She informed me that she did indeed like that and would take me up on that offer... But I still wasn't going to cum tonight. I knew when I started the begging was useless, but I had to try.

She dismissed my pleas and told me she had two assignments for me:

ASSIGNMENT 1 - The next day I was to go shopping for women's panties. I was to text her pictures of several pair so that she could choose the right pair for me. She made it clear that she would not be picking the first pair, and that if I went to a store that had other items, I would be checking out with JUST the panties. No self-checkouts allowed.

I begged her not to do this to me. I would have to be careful picking the store. So much could go wrong.

"Make it work," she said. "No cumming until this assignment is complete."

I hung my head and knew that she owned me. As much as it scared me, I cannot deny her. Her control is already far beyond that.

ASSIGNMENT 2 - "Wear the panties and use the pink dildo from one of our previous sessions. Video yourself using that dildo while wearing those panties. Make sure you choke on it. Find a public place online to publish the video, and have it posted by our next session."

Wow. She had long ago warned me that exploitation punishments were coming. This was the first one though and it was scaring the hell out of me.

I did not argue. I knew it was useless. I also knew I would comply.

All in all it was a horrible session. I had ZERO fun, but more importantly, she had no fun as well. I know she would rather break me. Reduce me to tears. Make me bleed with the crop or the clamps.

Miss Gia demands complete control more than anything. As much as I hate denial (it is the WORST punishment I can imagine) there is no arguing that it can be a powerful tool. There will be no future disobedience and I will take my submission more seriously. I do not want to be mentally tortured in this way again. I will do whatever it takes to stay in her good graces.

As I sit here and finish my story of this session, I know that my conscious will is being eroded. I cannot resist her, and I cannot deny her. It stuns me the things I do for her, but she owns me. I know the trap I am in, but I don't want to escape it. In fact, I will fight tooth and nail to stay right here.

She will continue to mold me little by little. I do trust her, and I honestly believe that the person who eventually emerges from the other side will be a better version of me. That's out of my control at this point though. This will be, for better or worse, whatever SHE decides it will be.

Assignment one is complete. That may be it's own story some day soon. The sales girl was not buying my cover story and really made me work for that one. Assigment two is next. I'm not sure how I will pull if off, but I will do exactly what she says and find a way to make it work.

... To be continued