The Egg 2

She'd given me quite an odd assignment as preparation for the scene. I reread the note she'd sent me, just to make sure I wasn't misunderstanding.

"I'll be at my place waiting. Before you leave, I want you to obtain an egg. And as you make your way here, I want you to consider the properties of the egg and what symbolism it might hold. Tonight and tomorrow, that egg will be your safeword."

To say the least, her note was a tad confusing. To say the most it was utterly perplexing. So I went to the grocery store. You can't buy just _one_ egg, so I bought half a dozen and started off to meet her.

The plan, as best I knew it, called for me to arrive at her abode in the evening. We'd then spend a few hours in psudeo-scene-space, that is, relaxing and talking, but with power roles already defined. And finally, around midnight, as is her practice, we'd scene, continuing until we were done. Well, that or until it was time for me to leave the next afternoon. Clearly, as evidenced by her note, there was more going on than I was aware of. But hey, I love a good mystery, and besides, she was one of the few people I know that made saying "no" to them seem like an unnatural act.

It's quite a drive from where I live to where she lives. So I had plenty of time to consider, as she requested, aspects of EggHood. Some things about the egg did seem to fit in nicely, and it became clear to me soon enough, that the Egg would be the focus of the evening's discussion.

I arrived promptly at 9pm. She greeted me at her door with a smile that either said "I"m very happy to see you" or "The better to devour you with, my dear". She was dressed casually, wearing sweats and a t-shirt, but no matter her attire, she was clearly a woman who demanded a certain respect just from the way she carried herself. She asked me to first place the Egg on the table in the middle of the room, and then make myself comfortable on a futon. She sprawled out across from me on a sofa, her presense seeming to dominate the room. There were few women I knew who were more attractive in an objective sense. And while I didn't want to have intercourse with her - that was something on another plane to me - being near her was setting off both sexual and submissive reactions on a very strong nature.

"You've had a chance to think about my note. Tell me about the Egg. What meanings do you think it could hold?"

"The Egg," I told her, "symbolizes many thing. Its oval shape has no beginning and no end. It is fertility. The Egg, to some, would be the ultimate expression of that which is Female. It is the potential of new life. It _is_ life itself. It is containment followed by freedom. It's fragile and vulnerable, but the perfect package for its purpose. On the other hand, it is food for the hunter or the gatherer."

For the next hour or two (my sense of time with her always goes astray) we discussed these and other possible symbolisms and meanings. And while I found the discussion to be interesting, I was still not entirely sure why we were having it.

Then, in a cool tone that hit me like a sudden shower of sleet she spoke. "My desire this evening is to enjoy making you suffer. I would like, at some point, to convince you to suffer for me without benefit of a safeword. This is something you'll need to decide for yourself. One of two things is going to happen in the coming hours. Either you are going to break your egg, and thereby call safeword, or you are going to give me your egg, and thereby relinquish your safeword. And I will hold your safeword until tomorrow when you leave."

I shivered inside. And probably outside, too, as she stood up and walked across the room.

And just as second thoughts started to awaken a voice in my head that was going to argue against agreeing, she returned, a collar in her hand.

"You can now come and kneel here and present your neck to me to wear my collar and we can begin."

The words "Yes, Ma'am" fell out of my mouth and I walked over to her and knelt, my head bowed.

Electricity. Magic. Energy. Peace. Completeness.

She handed me my safeword, and then closed the collar around my neck, and I was Whole, without need. I was only to be brought back to earth by her pulling me up by the collar to my feet and taking me into her bedroom. Her toys were neatly laid out and as each caught my eye,

She took me over to the bed and had me lie down, spread wide for her. For a few minutes she simply explored my body, becoming familiar with it again. Then, she softly touched all over my body and caused me to grow warm with arousal. Next, after having had her fill of that, she cuffed my wrists and ankles and attached them by chains to the bedframe and hooked chains to my collar so I couldn't move my neck either. A thigh-spreader and blindfold were the final touches, I was helpless. She left me there for a few minutes, watching, listening, waiting. I felt the Egg in my hand, as I clutched its round shape.

My sense reached out to try to figure out what all the little sounds I heard next were. A moment later, I felt a weight on my chest and I could feel her warm, soft flesh against me. Indeed, I could tell, soon enough, that she was straddling my chest and was slowly rubbing off against me while facing down towards my feet. This realization made me grow aroused quickly, her using my body as her sextoy that way. And then, with sudden sharpness that cut into my mind as much as it made me want to scream out in pain, I felt something (a rather stingy whip?) come down across my left thigh and then my right. I couldn't squirm much, but what movement I was making was clearly encouraging her, not only because of her joy in my suffering, but also because it was arousing her physically.

The blows weren't coming often but they were coming down hard. The contrast between her pleasure and my pain was making things even more delicious and confusing. I could tell how aroused she was getting as her scent made it's way to my nose. That made me get more aroused. Which made her want to give me more pain. And when she stung my thighs again, it aroused her more, which fed back to me and so it went, in a faster and faster cycle until it was clear from her breathing that she was getting close to a climax. And then she stopped, leaving me more than a bit puzzled.

The next thing I knew, she grabbed the blindfold and tore it off of me, and alternated between kissing me hard and whispering right up against my lips. "I wonder just how desperately and desperate to escape from my pain I can make you," she said making me shiver. "Can I make you hot enough to beg to fuck me? You said you wouldn't - that you didn't want to. But I suspect you will." And with that, she reached down and gave my cock and balls a firm squeeze, leaving them desperate for more, needing another touch of her hand.

She turned her body around straddling my chest again. Her pussy, glistening with wetness was inches away from my face. I inhaled deeply, and found myself growing intoxicated by her scent. She slid down my body, turning around and brushing a thigh over my cock as she sat on my thigh and faced me.

Glowing with power, she looked down at me and then reached to the side to grab her particularly evil rubber-tailed whip. She wiggled the tailed over my cock playfully. The contrasting images of how nice those tails could feel with how devestatingly painful they could feel spun around my head. Just as I started to moan from the pleasure of the attention my cock was getting, she pulled the whip away and brought it down across my chest, setting my left nipple on fire with pain. Then back and forth, across my chest, she was making every nerve scream out with pain.

"Beg me to keep whipping you," she ordered calmly. For a second I wasn't able to speak, two more blows landed as I tried to engage my verbal-self.

"P-Please Ma'am. Whip my chest," I sobbed.

And with that, 10 blows fell, whipsawing across my nipples as I cried out yelling "No! No!" as I felt the Egg still in my trembling hands.

Just as I thought I could take no more, she stopped and again, reached over for something. She locked her eyes on mine and then displayed what she'd grabbed: a small butt-plug, slick with lube.

I could feel two forces in my head, trying to direct my thoughts. One that said "beg for it!" and another that wanted nothing to do with it. I knew very well that what I wanted wasn't going to make much difference, except in how I perceived what was to come. So I begged. "Yes, Ma'am, please put that in my ass!" I cried, with a tone that made it seem like my existence depended on that butt-plug being inside me.

She eyed me with a slightly surprised look, but assuredly not a displeased one. To make insertion easier, she released my legs and leg me wiggle them around. Then, with ease I wasn't expecting, she slid the plug inside me. It didn't feel particularly good or bad, but it did make me feel full and somehow owned. She reattached my legs and then with her hand still slick with lube from the plug, she began stroking my cock.

She kept stroking me and looked deep into my eyes, explaining, "You realize I'm not going to let you orgasm until you agree to be inside me. Which is your choice, of course. But you also realize that you're mine for hours and hours, and I can do this," she said, bringing me to the edge of orgasm with fast, furious pumping up and down on my cock. "And then I can do _this_," she snickered as she stopped. "I'll also note that once whatever defenses you have left crumble and you agree to that, we'll both know I can have anything from you I want -- including your safeword, since your weaknesses will be all too clear. For now, I'll let you think about this."

After a few more deft strokes up and down my shaft, she stopped, took my precum on her fingertip, fed it to me, and then left the room.

Alone again with my thoughts, I wondered how much I believed what she'd just said. Indeed, I'd told her before that I wasn't interested in having intercourse with her - at least not now. Not because I didn't find her attractive, actually, I found her to be among the most sexually attractive women I know, but rather because that act holds a special secret connection of thoughts and intimacy that I don't wish to share easily or quickly. I was willing to give her my body. I was willing to give her my mind. But there was a part of my soul I wanted for myself.

Now, it seemed, she wanted that too. And I realized that, indeed, once I let that last wall down, anything else she wanted would be hers to take. Then I remembered that she had hours to use towards meeting this goal if she wanted, and I also considered just how easily my will can be bent, doubly so by her.

As I lay helpless, pondering my fate, she returned. Somehow I expected more discussion or negotiation. But she seemed as if something else entirely was on her mind. She was silent as she went about methodically unsecuring me and resecuring me to turn me over with my back facing up.

A sharp thuddy blow landed on my ass. I knew quickly from the sound and shape of the pain it was her paddle. However, I'd never had my ass spanked when I've had a butt-plug inside me. In the past, I'd thought of the sensation a butt-plug provides as static. Its appeal being in its constance. But this was different. The tensing and movement that having my ass spanked with the butt-plug in make it feel like being fucked - hard. Indeed, quickly she landed a shower of thwapping jolts, each of which felt like she had a cock inside me, fucking me.

I began to cry from the pain, sobbing and begging her to stop. She said not a word, but rather continued, leaving me unsure if she was even listening to me. Begging turned to prayer as I lost myself sobbing and spilling out words that I knew would go unheeded. Again and again, she brought the paddle down on me without respite. I could feel the heat radiating from my ass, and I could picture the bruises forming and spreading. From crying and hysterics, my emotions ran towards anger. "This isn't want I want," I thought to myself. "Why is she doing this to me??" and finally, no longer just thinking to myself, I screamed out "SAFEWORD DAMN IT, SAFEWORD!!"

Of course, she didn't stop. Five more blows landed, even harder than the previous ones. I realized immediately, of course, that the Egg was my safeword. But once broken, it was impossible to make Whole again. And while it wasn't that hard for me to call safeword verbally, it took just that little bit more to make me break the Egg. And I hadn't had the little bit more. Yet.

She glowed with power. And as her stare locked my eyes to hers, she whispered, "I can bring you to the edge with pleasure. I can bring you to the edge with pain. I can make you look out over that rift of fear and doubt and desire. What I want, what I need from you, is the trust, the faith, the submission required to leap into that abyss. I want you to give me the Egg, and I want either see you fly, or help break your fall if you can't."

I sobbed incoherently as she took the buttplug out. I wanted to explain to her. I wanted to tell her that there was a part of me I couldn't give up to her that easily and another part of me that knew it was already hers, at least for now, if she took it. I tried to draw myself together, to reach back up to a place where I could be articulate. Just as I found the words, a savage expression came over her face.

I'm not sure why I find having my face slapped so powerful. Maybe it's because it's so personal. I don't "live" in my ass. I do "live" in my head. Her hand flew from side to side, forehanding and backhanding my face with sharp staccato slaps. I wanted to turn and curl up into a fetal ball, but I couldn't, still secured down. With a final frenzy of blows, she laid waste to my defenses, taking me right to the edge of that awe-inspiring abyss of helplessness and utter surrender. And stopped. And unchained me.

I waited, thinking there would be something else, some other sensation to set me into an overload. But instead, she just freed my hands, the Egg still Whole, and firmly in my left hand. And then I realized where we'd come. She'd taken me as far as she could. Her ethics and morals wouldn't allow her to push me over the edge; I needed to make that decision myself. She could show me what was there, but she couldn't do more without violating limits - hers and mine.

She saw that realization on my face and smiled. "It's not something I can take from you. It must be given. I'll go a long way to draw it from you, but in the end..." She stopped as she saw my hand extending to her and silently dropping the egg into her outstretched hand. Her eyes became ablaze with power and she leaned over me whispering, "Very good. I'm glad you've decided."

Then, without a word, she rechained me, leaving me once again unable to move. She picked up her rubber-tailed whip and sat across my hips. I was open, vulnerable, and needful - I wanted her to devour me. Clearly, she wanted that too, because she learned forward and with savage hunger, she sunk her teeth into my shoulder, causing a flash of incredible pain. It was as if she was moving beyond my flesh and taking my Self between her jaws, squeezing me in her vice. Then, she leaned back and gyrated her hips and squirmed against my crotch, Just as I realized how nice it was starting to feel, she started whipping me back and forth across my chest. I screamed and cried and begged her to not to stop, but to hurt me, to take me, to claim me. Back and forth came the whip - each blow a stabbing reminder of her power over me.

I sobbed and gasped in surprise as she got up, suddenly. "Please, ma'am! Please don't stop!" I cried, begging shamelessly for her to torment me, to give me her pain. My begging charged her with an energy I'd never seen in her before. She reached for something out of her bag and though my tears I could see her readying a condom to put on me. She rolled it onto my cock, stroking it all the while, preparing me. A short time before I'd have done anything to stop her, but now I was hers - and now I wanted her to take me. It wasn't a violation, it was an affirmation. She'd broken me open, she'd taken my defenses, cracked them open, and spun what she'd found inside, making it meet her needs, her desires.

She sat back on top of me, looking like a predator about to finish off her prey. She spread herself open and slid my cock into her hot cunt. Tantalizingly, she lifted up and down, then caught my eyes, locking hers on mine. I began to beg her, "Please, ma'am, please hurt me." I knew how deeply she wanted to hear that. Begging wasn't an opinion, it was an imperative. She started pumping up and down on my cock faster and harder now as she picked up that damned whip and began whipping my now-tender chest with it. I could see the welts forming on my flesh, I could feel my skin begin to break as blood began to trickle and ooze from my chest in a few places. Bouncing up and down on me now, pounding me down with each thrust, she began to climax, her whole body writhing and pulsating. Physically, emotionally, and even spiritually I could feel her extract an orgasm from me. I came hard, my mind spinning and losing touch with my body as I collapsed, and through a haze, I could feel her unchaining me, turning me on my side, and a few minutes later, lubing my ass to grind her harnessed-cock into me.

I don't know how long it was before I really regained my senses. It had to have been a while, because the sun was out, the room was filled with light, and she was nowhere to be seen. All the toys and such had been cleaned up and just as I was about to get up and find her, she came around with corner with a smile. "Breakfast is ready, and you look like you could stand to eat," she offered. "After all, you're mine for a few more hours," she noted, using her eyes to direct my attention to her chainmail flogger that sat, waiting to be used. She took my hand and led me to the table and we ate breakfast - scrambled eggs, of course.