Real Stories - May 2005

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She didn't believe in warm-ups; she got straight to work, with a ferocity that only seemed to grow with my weak-kneed quivering and teariness. Although I dreaded the exponential agony of the first five or six strokes, the pain stabilized by about the tenth, and as the endorphin kicked in, the pain became a curious pleasure. Control was never a problem for me - by the tenth stroke I usually leaned toward Anna, eager to prove just how much I could take. I gritted my teeth through the first few strokes but usually began crying and whimpering shortly thereafter. Our energies combined to enhance the experience - the more of a whimpering crybaby I became, the more I needed a reason to cry, and the more forceful the strokes became. I was supposed to count my strokes, but usually after about twenty, the intensity of the experience (shrinking peripheral vision and muffled hearing that made me feel as if my head were in a vise) and my hysteria robbed me of my ability to speak with any clarity. The beatings did indeed work. Any recalcitrance or indifference I demonstrated before a beating were replaced with vigorous enthusiasm afterward. I would literally run across the condo to bring her wine, slippers, or whatever she needed, and the passion of my oral worship崇拜侍奉 — adoring service, foot massages按摩 — rubbing the body to ease it, and so forth were also similarly enhanced. Shy, embarrassed responses to questions were replaced with sharp, audible "Yes Mistress女主人 — a woman who leads a submissive partner" and "No Mistress女主人 — a woman who leads a submissive partner" retorts that seemed natural to me.