The Day I Broke Her

I met her a few months prior. From the start I could tell she was afraid of almost nothing, agreeing to meet me on a Sunday afternoon with a clear understanding that if I liked her, I'd take her away and use her with little mind paid to the common protocols of polite society. I did like her and I did use her that day asking very few questions and indulging myself in simple, rough, hard fucking while allowing her that thrill of abandonment that she was looking for.

She'd spent most of her life living amongst the walking dead, doing the same shit she thought she was supposed to do and like so many of us, missing out on the amazing experiences her mind and body and those of others could offer her. Now though, she was awake and full of desire and the will to adventure. She had met a couple of dominant men and had a good time but she dubbed me 'The Wolf' saying "Most men are dogs, they try to please. You are a wolf, you take what you want."

She was a strong dominant personality herself, helping me dominate a few submissives but she craved pain, viewing it as a challenge that had to be conquered and I really enjoyed the kind of pressure I could put her under. Although she screamed and begged she always absorbed it and bounced back from it, never flinching and always asking for more. One evening after a very rough session we both drank way too much and I held her against a club bathroom wall by the throat and punched her in the side of the face time after time only for her to softly murmur again and again... "more, more." She didn't want her adventure to end, she need to know where this path would take her and she insisted that I show her.

I don't identify as a sadist. It isn't the inflicting of pain that I get off on; it's the reactions I get to my actions. If I only need to choke her or fuck her hard and growl in her ear to get the reaction I'm looking for then that's all I do. There IS a sadist in there though. I watch movies like the Killer Inside Me and Irreversible, just like a lot of people in this world and I'm both disgusted and aroused to the point of complete distraction at the same time. Masochists tend to seek me out now. They hunger for someone that won't hesitate and often struggle to find him. They know I won't, and over time their needs have stirred that latent sadist within me.

She said it to me out of the blue one day, those few but oh so powerful words, "I want you to break me." Shit! I didn't respond for a while... I couldn't, sitting quietly and contemplating what that meant. What it really meant.

I had hurt her before. I'd hurt her a lot. I got the reaction I wanted and I was happy with that. She never buckled though. She never asked me to stop, and through all the screaming she always asked for more. I felt like I should decline, I almost did. But that sadist within wanted to play this game, wanted to know what it felt like and she deserved it. If I wasn't going to do this to her then who would?

The day it happened I was a wreck. I'd been planning it for a week but this situation, unlike any other, had me more distracted than I can remember. The dungeon I had booked I had used before and knew well. The madam that ran the place knew my face and I felt I could trust her to play her role. I sent the message "meet The Dungeon at 7pm." She knew it was time and I loved the fact that all I got back was "OK."

I waited behind the door of the black room filled with torture equipment. When the doorbell rang as requested, the madam pointed out her destination. As she walked in gingerly, her eyes unable to pick anything up in the minimal light, I whipped a black leather hood with a hole for her mouth, but none for her eyes, over her head and forced her face down onto a bench. I knew that she would fear I wouldn't be alone in there and I didn't want her to know if I was or not.

Quickly I had shackles around her wrists and ankles and she was secured, wrists together and stretched high above her head to a tall post. Her face resting against the wood and her breathing uneasy. I felt the blood rushing through my veins as I took up the first two instruments I had selected, a pair of heavy leather floggers and stood looking at her for a moment. Is there anything more spectacular than a beautiful woman tied to a post, I wondered.

I've beaten women with floggers before. A lot of women; this was different, I whipped her back and ass as hard as I possibly could for almost 20 minutes. When she tried to move and protect herself I took a huge belt from the wall and wrapped it around the post and her middle, securing her in place to endure the onslaught. These weren't the screams I had heard out of her before. These were primal. The sweat poured down my forehead and my arms ached from the weight of the weapons and I noticed myself grunting loudly with each blow.

Now I found myself sitting in a chair in the corner looking at her. She was taking huge breaths and whimpering, her whole body was shaking and bucking. I knew she was wondering when I was coming back. Was she broken? No she wasn't. I was exhausted and the sadist within was burning through my eyeballs like he wanted out of my brain to finish the job himself.

I wasn't here not to do it properly. I took her down, she was limp, almost hanging from her hooks, and laid her face down on the table in the middle of the room. Each corner offered a hook to which she was shackled, forcing her legs apart and as I stood at the foot of the table looking down at her, I wanted to fuck her but, there was a job to do and the long, thin, rigid whip I held in my hand was going to do it.

With each strike a raw, ear piercing wail filled the building. No no NO, she pleaded and thrashed against her bonds. Taking a metal hook that I'd heated over a candle until blackened, I took a deep breath and held it against her inner thigh repeatedly, pausing to heat it again and watching her convulse with each agonising assault. It wasn't long before one of the girls of the establishment burst into the room to enquire after her safety. "I'm ok" she said loudly, fighting back the tears. I was almost there and the feeling was incredible. I knew I should feel guilt but I also knew she needed this and it allowed me to enjoy every blood curdling second of it. This was as far down this road as I'd walked and the exhilaration was intoxicating as I carefully bent a coat hanger from its original shape into a long, painful metallic whip.

As the coat hanger struck her skin for what might have been the 10th time she broke, right there on the table in front of me. Floods of tears and truly honest and tangible emotion seeped out of her and I gasped for breath, sky high on adrenaline and watched it happen for what seemed like an hour.

I fucked her there on that table, forcing a large flat ended dildo into her ass and my cock into her pussy, double fucking her with each thrust. I was pulling her head back by her hair. I had her now, completely exposed and I wanted to hear her; the real her. I wanted the pain she was in and the pleasure she was feeling to become entwined forever. Inextricably linked to me. I did hear the real her, moans of ecstasy flowing seamlessly with the cries and the begging.

We sat in the pub drinking way too fast afterward. She looked shaken to say the least and we both needed more time to process what had just happened. I don't think either of us would really want to do that again, not to the same degree anyway. We both feel a huge sense of accomplishment though for addressing our inner demons. We aren't welcome back at that dungeon. Apparently we scared the shit out of all of their customers.

It's probably for the best ;)

The end

*****

My stories are true. I write them down because I have a terrible memory and have already lost many amazing experiences to the passing of time. I tend to write about the most intense scenarios but I am just as happy to play with newbies or people with more defined boundaries.