Pushed Too Far

Disclaimer:

This story is a work of fiction – alas, there is a very true undertone to it. It is one of my nightmares from the early times, when I gathered my first experiences as a Domme. If you feel easily offended or disturbed by graphic violence do not read further. Besides that there is hardly any reference to sex in this story – so this piece of writing is not really meant to cause arousal.

* * * * *

Again – he had been teasing and tempting me.

Again – he had said I wasn’t a true Domme but just playing the role to please him.

Again – he had tried to force me to cross the threshold I was comfortable with in inflicting pain and humiliation.

And again – he had not only given me reason but literally forced me into administering physical punishment.

Unfortunately – I hadn’t much experience yet with controlling myself.

Unfortunately – he had really believed he could control me.

And unfortunately – he was very wrong.

Even the moment I tied him to the beam above he was laughing, complying as if to mock me. I could tell by the glitter in his eyes he loved it – it was another of his attempts to make me inflict this physical pain he needed to achieve sexual relief.

In the beginning it was as if the heavens had brought us together. He encouraged me to explore my dominant side, a side that I had always suspected to be there but that I carefully had kept hidden, thinking it was not very feminine. When he had noticed my dominant tendencies though he had found ways to solicit them out of me – and soon he had succeeded in making me like that strong and powerful side of me. Had I at first been reluctant to merely order him around, I soon had started to like his submissiveness. Starting to develop our own little rituals we had become close and he was happy – I thought.

The newly added spice of bondage games and the experiments with bare handed spankings and hot candle wax seemed to lighten a sexual fire in him I had never thought possible. He seemed to be insatiable and more often than not he gave me reasons to administer some of my “punishments”. Over the time though his hunger for more pain and more humiliation became obvious, and although over time I felt rather comfortable in my dominant role there simply was a point I wasn’t ready to cross. Not even for him!

That night though … I had done all for him I could, he had made me a Domme and now I wasn’t good enough? Who was he to tell me what was right and wrong? What I should and must do to please him? I was the one in control and he was supposed to be licking my boots, crawl at my feet and worship the ground I was walking on!

The cuffs were fastened tight and secure around his ankles and the spreader bar pretty much rendered him immobile. A heavy rope attached to the rings in his leather wrist cuffs, and he was helplessly dangling from one of the old solid oak beams that criss-crossed our apartment. He sure was as helpless as he could be – but the impertinent grin was still on his face, his words burning in my ears – in my soul.

So I was not hard enough? I couldn’t handle him? I was too weak? I wasn’t a Domme? I shouldn’t be allowed to play in the same league with the adults but return to my dolls?

Without knowing what drove me I hit him, the back of my hand flat across his face. I had thought it would shut him up, but all he did was laugh – asking me if that was my best shot at him. But all of a sudden a sparkle had come to his eyes I remembered so well from the earlier days when just tying him up was sufficient to make his cock drool precum.

Relentlessly he kept fanning the flames of red hot rage he had ignited in me and before I could catch a clear though his other cheek felt the stinging attention of the back of my hand – this time with a force I didn’t know I was even capable of. I felt the impact shake my whole body.

The feverish glow in his eyes grew stronger – and I noticed his cock twitch as I almost spat harsh words back at him. I didn’t really care this time if the neighbours would hear or what anyone else would be thinking. I didn’t care about bruises and traces left for the world to see the next day – it was him and I on our little isolates island – it was him and I and I would teach him trying to force me to do things I didn’t want to do! Oh, little did I know back then!

His nipple piercings caught the light, reflecting it like flares. My one had firmly taking a grip in his hair, my other pulling without tenderness or consideration on one of the delicate, plain stainless steel rings I locked my eyes with his. It was a battle of wills that moment, his or mine, I though, unaware that within a few heartbeats there was only my own will to fight …

The pain I caused him forced his cock to eager attention;

“Pain slut – that is what you are – a fucking damn masochist pain slut! And you are only using me – were using me all along .. but no more! Now let me see how much you can take that I can’t dish out!”

I could hear the blood roar in my ears – and with it came a never known rush of strength and violence. He had asked for it, right? He had wanted it! Repeatedly! He had done everything to drive me over the edge! Repeatedly! Now he was going to taste his own medicine! Such were the thoughts that were hammering through my mind, again and again, like a Mantra, like a war chant. I never knew whether or not I was talking or if the scene had happened in silence.

The next thing I knew was a blood red line crossing white flesh – as if I was a distant spectator looking at a piece of art, I was looking at the angry red welt that ran across his chest, spreading slowly, turning from the darker thin red line to white and then to a growing band of glowing red again. Where had that come from? I was looking at the crop in my hand in utter disbelieve. We never had used it to more than teasing, I had always refused to put it to its “original” use. I expected him to realize he had pushed me to far, hoping desperately he would utter our safe word – alas, I was mistaken.

His cock was erect, the head of an angry purple, precum oozing from it and his eyes were closed, his face a picture of satisfaction; I couldn’t believe it. In a lucid moment I understood he was not "there" really, getting my confirmation a heartbeat later when he started to moan, begging me to hurt him, well – not me, but a Mistress I couldn’t see anywhere around.

“Fuck! You want to feel pain? You sure can get it!”

That ragged voice couldn’t have been mine, no way! I couldn’t stand his distorted face anymore. That wasn’t the man I loved, it was some demon possessing him – or me? Why did he want me to do those horrible things to him? I loved him, cared for him, for his well being. But all he did was ask for more pain.

“Pain and pleasure – pain and pleasure – pain is pleasure – pain IS pleasure – my pain is my pleasure – my pain is your pleasure – your pain is my pleasure – Your pain is My pleasure!”

The crop hit him – I never could have mustered that strength barehanded, I never thought I could muster that strength at all. Again – and again – desperately hoping to hear our safe word from his lips that seemed to pound in my head like an anchor that would hold me to sanity. It didn’t come.

He had forced me to do those unspeakable things to him – he forced me to hurt him and even more myself. Now I would force him – force him to surrender, force him to say the word that would save the both of us. Determination – now a fever in myself – I would purge those demons from his soul, save him for the good of us. The black leather hit soft flesh again , his ass was covered with angry red welts already. He had to cry out our safe word – he had to! I would teach him to play with me, dare me, tease me.

My arm was going limp – unnoticed tears were crusting my cheeks in a salty coat and the only sound filling the room was the distinct, unmistakeable sound of human flesh being mistreated and bruised. I couldn’t have stopped now – not if my life depended on it, not if his life had depended on it, at least not until he would save us both – and he didn’t.

I was staring at his back, I felt my arm raise and come down again, this time though besides the before angry alarming read streak appeared an even darker shade of red. He was panting, growling – moaning … urging me on even. Like a wound up jumping jack my arm went up again – and fell – drawing more blood – only now I noticed what the darker spots were. I guess I screamed – pure sheer horror about what I was doing – what I had done, specially seeing him all of a sudden go all limp in his bonds and turn completely silent.

I almost panicked, hurried to his front, expecting to see him unconscious, my mind racing at a million miles, jumping from “out of control” mode into “I can handle that situation” mode, running through my options of untying him without his cooperation and with his weight in the cuffs and pulling thus on the rope – alas, I was in for more shock. When I stood in front of him I was presented a heavy breathing, madly smiling and out of this world facial expression. Thick white globs that could not possibly be mistaken or misinterpreted were trickling from his cock. He had cum – from the pain, no touch , no teasing, no love, just pain – and I realized it hadn’t mattered if it was me … could have been everyone.

“Ohhh god … “

it was more a grunt than coherent words

“…that was great baby!”

Great? For heaven’s sake – I was shattered, in tears, my heart and soul in shreds and rags and he thought it was great?!

I couldn’t think straight, let alone speak – all I knew was I had to get out before … before … I didn’t know before what. All I knew was that I couldn’t stand the selfish, satisfied look on his face for even one more heartbeat.

I undid the ties and all restraints, quickly, efficiently, in silence. He slumped to the ground and curled up in a foetal position, not really aware I guess about what was happening around him. I grabbed my jacket and the car keys and left – fled to be more precise.

We split up soon after because I refused to ever touch that crop again.

Reminder:

This incident never happened - but it easily could have before I learned to control myself and my emotions. D/s is about trust - in the above case that trust has been abused, not by the Domme but by the sub - please be aware that BOTH are responsible for safe play to make it a rewarding experience for all parties participating.