Learning to Let Go Pt. 05

Learning to Let Go is an 8 part continuous series; so if you were naughty and skipped ahead I urge you to start at the beginning or the following may make little sense.

Welcome to Part 5.

*****

2010

Jen was a wreck of nerves by the time we parked up at our house and I felt very eager to really start winding the tension up by making her carry the bag containing all the things I had bought from the sex shop.

"No peeking Jennifer. I don't think you can handle the punishment you've already earned yourself as it is." We walked into our garden to the back door and Jen fumbled with the keys because her hands were shaking so badly. "It's quite heavy isn't it?"

"What is, Sir?"

"The bag. I bet you're wondering what all those things are in there that I'm going to use on you." To her credit she didn't actually look into the carrier bag which surprised me a little because I knew how curious she was. Admittedly I should have stopped playing around with her because I wasn't joking about her punishment potentially being too much; it felt too much for me and I wouldn't be on the receiving end of it. Jen opened the door and turned to me.

"What now, Sir?"

"Go through into the living room and put this bag on the sofa. You had better wait on the floor." I smiled and added "On your hands and knees." I had no intention of doing anything to her in this position; it was just that I thought it might make her mind go into overdrive being in such a submissive position.

"Yes Sir." My eyes followed her as she went before I turned to lock the door. For a moment I had to take a pause to tame my own desires. On the surface I had played it cool for Jen, but inside lust was eating me alive and I needed to face the hard part now. I had to make sure I didn't give in to the easy satisfaction, the easy release. That it was a challenge to hold onto my own control now didn't bode well; seeing Jen on her hands and knees ready for anything I might want to do to her might be too much for me to take. In equal measures I wanted to see her, but also did not want to run the risk of fucking it all up so close to the end. I steeled myself as best I could and walked through the doorway.

She was an absolute vision kneeling there in the middle of the carpet and I wanted her so badly I could barely think what I was meant to be doing. Her breathing was audible, deep, trying to calm herself but so obviously failing; for a moment I did nothing but listen to her strive to hold on to her own control. I was going to shatter that into pieces very shortly and I think Jen had accurately worked out her time had come. I was going to test her in a way she had never been tested before; could she relinquish all of her decisions to me?

There is always a moment in a new Dom/sub relationship where the talking has to stop and the action must begin. Except for individuals who have played for a while or are very experienced, most approach this phase with excitement, but also with trepidation. It's no different to vanilla sex in that way; both want to please but both are unsure of exactly what the other may like. Power play distils this down to a level which is both cerebral and primal at once. The techniques can be simple or complicated; designed to worm inside a sub's head, but once there the key is to extract very raw emotion. There is, and should be, an amount of fear on the sub's part - which is the extra zing this type of play brings out. Without that little bit of spice there is only a physical sensation in a game where the real fun is the sub having to decide whether they will submit to their Dom, regardless of their own fear. The mental submission is the Holy Grail, the physical stimulation almost a by-product.

What many people fail to recognise however, is that it is really the Dom who is being tested because the sub holds all the power. The sub can call a halt to proceedings with the utterance of a word and the Dom will be found wanting; it should never get to the point where a safe word is used. This sort of misjudgement can at the very best damage the sub's esteem, but at worst crush the trust a sub has for their Dom. The whole concept balances on trust, and it is the same trust that my relationship with Jen was based on. I could fuck everything up with her if I called this wrong; and at that point in my life I did not have a great deal of experience to go from either. She was scared of my going too far, but actually, so was I.

Jen didn't raise her head as I walked around her to get to the sofa, she didn't move at all, simply waited for whatever I was about to dish out. I could smell her cunt from four feet away and it was driving me wild. Her head was just in front of my knees when I sat down and I leaned forward to stroke her hair.

"Lift your head up Jennifer; you have better posture than that." She didn't do it right away and I found my hand twining into her hair preparing to yank it but I think she got the message and looked up at me.

Her face seemed different, more feminine than usual, or more delicate; with her hair falling either side already looking messy, and light brown eyes shining up at me, patient but unsure. Carefully opening the carrier bag I selected the first box and lifted it out holding it in front of Jen's nose.

"I'm going to make this easy for you Jennifer." I remembered what Nikki had said to me a couple of years earlier "I'm going to make it so you can't move."

"These are handcuffs, Sir?"

"Sort of." I took a cushion from beside me and put it on the floor in front of her. "Put your head on it please Jennifer." She slowly lowered herself until her cheek pressed into the soft material. I hoped it would be soft enough that it didn't chafe her face later.

I had to get some scissors out of the sideboard to open the box, and I couldn't help but keep looking down at her ass lifted high in the air; the deep curve of her back which all but mesmerised me when I took her from behind. The incredible arch she could achieve pulled her tiny black skirt high enough that I could just about see the very tops of her thighs, which were coated in sheen of her arousal. It took me much longer than it should have to get the restraints out but finally I was able to kneel down beside her.

"Give me your hands."

"Both of them Sir?"

"Yes Jennifer. I'm going to cuff your wrists to your ankles."

"Yes Sir" I breathed a sigh of relief as she placed her hands beside her feet to allow the restraints to be fitted. My hands caressed and rubbed her ankles and wrists before wrapping the felt lined leather straps around each side in turn, checking to ensure that while she could not pull free they would not be too tight or painful. I had to concentrate on the task at hand without becoming too distracted by her soaking wet pussy inches away from my face. The memory of how I wanted to see just how wet she was earlier in the evening came floating back to me and the temptation was becoming intolerable.

Sitting back on my haunches, I took in her body. There was no doubt she was aching to be touched and I couldn't decide if now was the time or to hold even longer. It took all my mental strength to leave her to steep in her own lust just a few moments longer while I stood and walked back over to the carrier bag to select the next box to open. I could see her watching my feet but she didn't try and twist her neck to look up and see what I had in my hands.

I had miscalculated in my eagerness to cuff her up because I held in the palm of my hands a pair of nipple clamps. I realised it would be extremely awkward to undo her shirt in the position I had put her. After relishing the ceremony of fitting the restraints for the first time, taking them off to unfasten her white shirt seemed like it might ruin the situation. I would not go backwards or allow any concern in her mind to develop from working out I had made an error in judgement. She needed to believe I was entirely in control of this situation and of her.

But fitting these little spring loaded clamps would make all the difference to the experience I was about to put her through. Very early on in our relationship I discovered she really liked constant stimulation on her nipples; not hard however, and I had been careful to select some clamps that were adjustable so I could tone down the sensation. I knew many girls who enjoyed harsh pain on this part of their bodies; however Jen was far too sensitive for that. The fact she couldn't take much pain there did not bother me in the slightest; if anything it was an advantage because Jen would respond to the slightest of touches in the most incredible ways as a result of this sensitivity. I literally delighted in how she would writhe on the bed whenever I brushed over them with my fingertips.

No matter which way I turned it, I couldn't get at those buttons and with a sense of resignation I looked for a surface to put them down so they'd be easy to find later. If I couldn't incorporate them now then I'd simply have to do a repeat performance with more thought another time. I wished I had bought the set with the interlinking chain because these things looked like they could be easily lost. The safest place to place for them, I thought, would be in the ornate bowl we kept trinkets on top of the sideboard, and I made my decision to leave them out this time round.

Just as I watched them roll off my hand like dice and tinkle into the china bowl my eyes, naturally looking in the approximate direction, fell upon the scissors I had used to open the box the restraints had come in. They were big scissors. They were big scissors with a serrated edge. Unbidden memories of being a little boy messing around with his mother's dressmaking scissors flashed before my eyes -and the scolding from my father about using the correct tools for a job - dressmaking scissors did not cut plastic action figures apparently. It turned out I had not heeded the lesson because I had just cut through the plastic packaging of the restraints with the same type. They were even made by Singer who produced sewing machines.

I picked them up and my fingers instinctively snapped them open and closed several times while I contemplated cutting Jen's shirt right off her back. In the past I had only ever seen her wear it when the community centre called her in to meetings with clients, and I hoped it held no sentimental value because I was definitely going to ruin it. From the corner of my eye I could see Jen trying to lift her body so she could see what had delayed me, very probably the clicking of the blades being a highly disconcerting sound. I could feel an evil little grin spreading across my face as I fished the clamps back out of the bowl.

With renewed enthusiasm I returned to Jen's side and popped the nipple clamps in my mouth so I could pull the material tight and lift it slightly from her back. Obviously she had no idea what was happening and squirmed a little to see until she heard the distinctive sound of scissors slicing through fabric.

"You're cutting my fucking shirt off?" she whispered, panic colouring her voice. I didn't reply, there was no need and I couldn't easily talk with a pair of clamps between my teeth. The scissors made easy work of the thin cotton and I intentionally let the back of the blade run lightly across her skin making her shiver while I could see her making every effort to remain perfectly still. Only when I reached her collar did I lift the scissors away to ensure I didn't catch any of her hair, but with the extra resistance of thicker material I had to take several smaller bites before the blades finally snicked together, right next to Jen's ear making her flinch.

The shirt had already fallen either side of Jen's back exposing her bra, which I was not about to ruin just for show being her favourite, and her muscles already looking strained. Without any form of gentleness I yanked the shirt further off her shoulders which had the added benefit of restricting her upper arms. Tossing the scissors onto the sofa I quickly unhooked her bra and instead of pulling it down I simply slipped the straps off the main band - the front dropped only a short distance to the floor.

Double-checking the clamps were on their softest setting, I knelt down next to Jen - the side opposite to the one she was facing - and reached under her body to find her nipple hard as stone. Jen groaned as my finger brushed against it and her arousal sent ripples through my body. Even with her shirt completely off her it still proved an awkward angle to reach, and would have been impossible if Jen's breasts were any bigger. I don't think she had fully figured out what was going on, because it was only when I stood up did Jen's breathing pick up into a ragged pant again. I think she'd assumed it was my fingers providing the pressure until I stood up and the sensation remained; she knew then it had to be something else.

When I knelt down next to her on the other side I could see a layer of perspiration beading across her forehead. Jen looked at me and her expression was almost pained with frustration as I snapped the clamp open in front of her.

"Would you like the other one on, Jennifer?"

"Yes, Sir." Again she moaned loudly when my fingers found their target and lightly caressed her hard nipple. I stretched it out to make it easier to clamp it and enjoyed her reaction; a single softly enunciated "fuck".

"How do you feel young lady?" I asked teasing her mouth with my fingertip.

"Sir... I... Sir I'm so fucking horny."

"Good. But we haven't finished getting all your presents out of the bag yet. You will have to wait a little while longer." Jen gave the smallest whimper and I said "What's the matter Jennifer?"

"I need to cum very badly Sir." I laughed.

"I'm quite sure you do. But here's the thing; I want you to wait, and you don't have a choice. Well, that's not true; you can say your safe word and this will all stop - but I won't help you cum Jennifer. Only good little sluts get to cum. I promise you I'll make you cum hard though. Very. Fucking. Hard. Indeed."

"Yes... yes Sir. Please. I want that!"

"Shut up now. I'm going to unwrap the next two items. One I will let you see. The other I will not."

"Yes Sir." She was getting very good at this; really into character, and I supposed that deep down inside her the little girl who got ordered to perform gymnastic routines was coming to the fore. She wanted to please and wanted to do well at the task at hand. I had never considered it, perhaps because we had never tried this sort of thing before.

I felt a little like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat as I stood in plain view of Jen, my hand in the carrier bag. It was easy to locate the item I wanted and I kept my eyes on Jen the whole time, assessing her as she lay on her front, ass in the air, and clothing tattered all around her. Slowly, with pomp and majesty I revealed a plastic tube, not so dissimilar from the moisturiser that sat on her bedside table. I tossed it down so it bounced closer to her face.

"What substance do you think is in there?" I beamed a brilliant smile down at her as I walked around behind her where she couldn't see the next item to come out of the bag.

"its lube Sir." Excitement, trepidation, fear, lust all rolled into three small words.

"Correct. It's lubricant. So, what do you think your surprise gift is going to be?" She hesitated before answering.

"It's going to be something for my arse Sir." She was right again, and I quickly cut open the plastic box it was housed in - again using incorrect scissors.

"What sort of thing Jennifer?" I really was teasing her now.

"A butt plug Sir?"

"Wow, you're amazing at this game. I bet you know all this through experience right?"

"No Sir." I had guessed this but it was nice to have it confirmed.

"Oh, I see. Ever had anything up there at all?"

"No Sir."

"Hmm, I had better be very careful with my slut then." I wanted to reassure her just a little bit because this was a less than ideal situation. My initial plan was to show her the plug so she wouldn't be too nervous. The introduction to anal play should be as stress free as possible; the last thing needed is the recipient to tense up and usually special effort should be made to relax the person as much as possible. I was trying something different here. The only reason I had decided to apply more pressure was because the sex shop sold a beginners butt plug which was tiny. Usually I would use my finger to get my partner ready, but this one it looked like it would slip in even easier being a very long taper; only just being fractionally bigger than my knuckle at its base.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Jennifer?"

"Are you going to fuck my arse tonight?" I laughed a little while I bent down to pick up the lube and her eyes were wide with panic.

"Would you like me to?" This, admittedly sounded teasing also, but in reality I had no idea if she did or if she ever would want to, and I was genuinely interested. She didn't answer for several seconds.

"I don't know Sir."

"Well, I'm not sure if that was brave or if that was being very nosey. Subs should only speak when spoken to. However... I will not be putting my cock inside your arse tonight. That will take you a lot of getting used to before we try that." I flipped the cap on the lube and let it slowly drizzle out onto her tight little hole; the cold of it making her jump as it contacted her. She was breathing very heavily now, the anticipation of what was to come taking its toll. I smeared lube liberally over the plug and took hold of it by the T-shaped handle between two fingers; the other hand pushing her skirt completely out of the way. Her arse was there for the taking, just above her swollen cunt lips that were still tightly shut - and therefore still holding all that moisture. Now was the time. Now I would finally let myself touch her and my stomach twisted in a sexually charged knot of excitement. Almost reverently I sat on my knees behind her, and in some weird way I was worshipping Jen's amazing body; how utterly perfect it was, al the effort she put into her training, years and years of dedication and commitment, and her unrelenting motivation to keep pushing no matter what, left me feeling in awe of her. With my empty hand I lightly skimmed over her hard but incredibly smooth skin like she was a statue of an ancient goddess who I dared not touch.

Except that in my other hand was the short rubber spike, glistening and ready. I was about to desecrate this idol as fully as I could get away with. With a careful aim I lined it up with her, and slowly, ever so slowly, began to push the narrow tip into her arse.

Continues in Part 6.