tagBDSMSubmissive's Journey 20

Submissive's Journey 20

bymollycactus©

I am not a pain slut.

I want to make that perfectly clear from the start.

I am not one of those people that seeks pain. I am certainly not one of those people that likes to have hooks inserted into my flesh, so that I can derive strange pleasure by being suspended by them. If people want to do that, that is their choice, and as long as I don't have to watch, I have no problem with it. I am not trying to be judgmental. But that is not for me. Pain is bad. Pain hurts... sort of... at least I think so... at least I thought so...

If you have been reading my story, you might recall that the day I showed Susan my toys, she made me cum with a riding crop. But I just chalked that up to the excitement of sharing this aspect of my life with her for the first time.

After that, from time to time when I had been bad, Susan took me over her knee and spanked me – hard. It hurt. I screamed and struggled. But after a while, I noticed a sort of tingling deep in my core. I got to wondering if pain could somehow be transformed. Deeply curious by nature, I decided to experiment.

On the Internet I had seen videos of men and women being tortured with hot wax. I wondered how bad that actually felt. Judging from their shrieks of dismay, pretty bad. But I decided to try anyway.

When Susan was off to work, I had lots of privacy, giving me an opportunity to put my plan into action. I got a candle with a large diameter, and lit it. After a while, it had a nice pool of liquid wax.

I decided my arm might be the safest place to test, so, gathering my courage, I stood on some newspapers, held out my arm, and tilted the candle above it. The wax struck. Maybe it was my imagination that added a hissing sound as it hit. The pain was intense! I was standing next to the sink, so I immediately ran cold water on it. When I peeled away the wax, the skin underneath was a fierce red, but thankfully not blistered.

I don't give up too easily. I guessed that I had been holding the candle too low – too close to my skin. Choosing another area, I raised the candle up high, and gritting my teeth, tilted it. A tiny stream of wax poured down and struck. Hot. Clinging to my skin. But much more tolerable.

Getting bolder over a period of days, I dropped wax on my palm, my fingertips, my legs, kneecaps, and the fronts of my thighs. I was always careful to keep the candle high enough not to blister me.

One drop on the front of my thigh splashed over onto my inner thigh. Much more sensitive skin there. I did scream a little when that hit. So the wax definitely caused pain, but tolerable pain if I was careful.

In the videos, much of the hot wax was dropped onto the victim's torso. I was working my way towards this goal. I noticed something else. As I got familiar with the pain from the heat of the wax, it began to become a sensation. This transition is difficult to describe, but sensations are reports from our nerves. They are basically information. Our brain takes these reports and interprets them. At first, my brain interpreted the sensations as: "Bad! Damage occurring! Stop it at all costs."

But later, as the sensations became more and more familiar, apparently my brain started interpreting them as... Well, as... interesting. Not exactly good, certainly not fun, but almost becoming comfortable, if that makes sense. So, in a way, pain was becoming a comfortable friend.

But this was pain that I was controlling. Self-inflicted pain. Since I was the one doing it, I knew exactly where it was going; how intense it was going to be; where and when it was going to occur. In other words, predictable.

I found that it was very different when someone else was inflicting the pain. My brain would involuntarily go into a panic mode. It would be back to reporting pure damage, begging me to make whatever it was that was doing it to stop. I had a much more difficult time viewing this pain as mere sensation.

By this time, I was serving two Mistresses: both Susan and Barbara, as devoted readers will know. Barbara caught me in the act of performing one of my experiments on my self. She questioned me thoroughly about what I was doing, and once she understood, decided, along with Susan, to continue my training in this area.

Therefore, from time to time, she or Susan would inflict pain on me, even though I had done nothing wrong. They encouraged me to continue to attempt to view the pain as not only a sensation, but ultimately as a good sensation.

I cannot say that I was truly successful, due to the panicked feeling I described. But I tried to learn. Then one day I did something really stupid. For some reason, I was feeling moody. When Mistress Barbara told me to do something – I think it was something innocuous, like clean the floor – I suddenly snapped, and yelled at her.

There was absolutely no reason for my discourtesy. The moment the words came out of my mouth, I realized what a nasty, horrible thing I had just said. I dropped to my knees, putting my head down by the floor, and begged her forgiveness. But there was no way that I could take back the words, or the tone of voice that I had used.

I felt the room get icy.

Mistress Susan was nearby, and she also heard. Mistress Barbara told me to stay exactly as I was, she walked off to consult with Mistress Susan. I could not make out what they were saying, but I knew they were discussing my punishment, and I knew that it would have to be severe, so my body started trembling involuntarily.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the two women approached me. As I again began trying to apologize, my words were quickly cut off as Mistress Susan shoved a ball gag into my mouth, securing it tightly. At the same time, Mistress Barbara cuffed my wrists behind my back, and attached a chain between my ankles.

Then they dragged me, still trying to plead for mercy with my eyes and strange garbled sounds from my gagged mouth, out to the car. I was pushed onto the floor by the rear seat. I was not naked. I was wearing some light clothing at that particular moment.

I was not blindfolded, but I could not see where we were going from my position on the floor of the car. The two women made no comments during our journey.

Finally the car stopped, and I was dragged out and into – the bondage club. We encountered a few other members of the club as I was hustled down the corridors; some Dominant members, and several submissive members.

I'm sure that I was flushed with embarrassment, because the grim expression on the faces of my Mistresses clearly signaled that I was in trouble. They took me into a room that contained a bondage cross. There, my leg chains were removed, and my wrists were uncuffed.

Still gagged so I could make no comments, I was commanded to strip quickly. My heart thumping madly, my spirits sinking, I removed what little clothing I wore. When I was fully naked, the two women chained me to the cross, in a spread eagle position.

Mistress Barbara said, "I am going to remove your gag, but I want to hear no more attempts to apologize. Do you understand?"

I nodded, and she took off the gag.

They both walked to the equipment wall, and I swallowed hard as I saw them each choose a flogger. The floggers they chose both had narrow strands. Harsh strands used to inflict punishment. The skin all over my body started to have a crawling feeling as I imagined my tender flesh covered with painful strokes.

But as they came back close to me, Mistress Barbara said something completely unexpected. She said, "We will not release you until you have cum."

This confused me. How could pleasure possibly be my punishment? Before my confusion could be cleared up, she flicked the flogger strands right into my cunt!

The sudden pain shocked me to my core! A shriek ripped from my throat, and my toes curled downward in a belated attempt to raise my pussy up out of the way of the strands.

Then Mistress Susan whipped her flogger strands into the same area. Again the harsh pain rocketed through my body. I screamed again. I could not stop myself.

They both continued to flog my cunt, striking me in alternation, flogging me nowhere else. They concentrated completely on my cunt, not striking rapidly, but incessantly. The strokes were not all harsh ones. They substituted lighter strokes from time to time, sort of giving me a rest, but never stopping.

The flogging continued for 10 minutes or so, my Mistresses ignoring my cries and my tears. The noise I was making attracted some curious onlookers, who came into the room. The Dominants seated themselves on chairs, their submissives were placed kneeling by their feet.

All eyes were riveted on me, in my agony. I felt so ashamed about them gazing at me. Such a harsh punishment is only given to nasty subbes. A subbe like I was at this moment.

I had a safe word, and in my desperation, I briefly considered using it. But I felt to do so would be a failure on my part. I never wanted to fail my Mistresses, especially in front of a crowd.

Seeing my distress, Mistress Barbara said to me, "If you want this nightmare to stop, you have no choice but acceptance." As the flogging continued, the pain in my cunt the worst that I have ever felt.

Finally, I closed my eyes, and decided to attempt to travel the path that my Mistresses were proposing. Instead of shouting and crying, I began to moan to try to change my mood.

I could not change this event. I could not change what was being done to me, but I could change my perception of what was happening.

The flogging strokes were still striking harshly, but I forgot about the portion of skin that was being directly struck. Instead, I focused my attention on my clitoris, which was being indirectly stimulated by the strokes.

I also thought about the warmth in my thighs, and about all the eyes in the room that were drinking in the sight of my naked body, especially my breasts, exposed for all to see. I began to realize that there were both good things and bad things present in this experience. I was now focusing my concentration clearly on the good things.

Soon I heard Mistress Barbara say, "Good. Your cunt is opening. Your labia are accepting. Keep doing what you are doing."

The tone of her voice conveyed her happiness. She was using me, just as if she was fucking me! I started to feel that my clit was not receiving indirect stimulation any longer. It was being directly flogged, as its excitement built, and its engorgement increased, allowing its head to peek from its hood.

I realized that my clit was now the direct target of the attention of both my Mistresses, and perhaps even the focus of the crowd of onlookers! As this thought crossed my mind, I heard drips hitting the floor below me! I had squirted as an orgasm suddenly erupted from my core! The pain was wracking my whole body, but I was also filled with pride and lust. I was shouting and moaning just like I do during an orgasm during sex!

The flogging ceased. I hung there, quivering, shaking; glistening with sweat and my cum juices. My Mistresses stepped back to each side, to give the crowd a clear view of me experiencing my first true pain orgasm.

Many came forward to congratulate my Mistresses, and I was dimly aware that one or two may have congratulated me as well. I must admit my mind was not fully recovered as of that moment. But I was aware of how proudly my Mistresses were gazing at me. Looking back on the totality of this experience, I can only summarize it as: perfect.

(continued in part 21)

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