Three Dominants and Me

 

I’ve teased. I’ve hinted. And ultimately, I’ve promised to share a moment that a year ago, only lived in the realm of fantasy. In one evening, my horizons expanded to include other people and new understandings.

It started at the munch. John Brownstone and I hadn’t been to this munch in nearly a year. Sure, we’d seen this person or that during our occasional visits to the club, but the socializing at a munch is different than at the club when you’re dressed in fetish gear – or half naked and giggling from an endorphin high. We like the people. We like the restaurant. And over time, I’ve relaxed when we’re out as Daddy and babygirl. I’m still conscientious of appearing disrespectful, but the snark and sarcasm are strong in me. And the people that matter respond well to it.

By the end of lunch, two separate conversations took place. Mistress B wanted to scene with us. Master M hoped to scene again, too. A nervous yes to the first and an enthusiastic yes to the other.

Mistress B is a pro at the mindfuck. She can make you believe she will tear your ass apart and have you begging for more. I’m pretty sure she can do exactly that, but she’s also a responsible Domme who will respect limits. Otherwise the answer would have been a big ole “hell no.”

Master M makes me squirmy. I’m quickly becoming addicted to her.

The way everyone was talking, I thought there would be two separate sessions. One with Mistress B, the other with Master M. I wasn’t sure how much I could handle, but I was willing to try. In the end, there was only one scene but one was more than enough.

In case you’ve never been to a private club, there’s socializing, eating, and laughing long before there’s playing. The Dominants typically start showing off their toys or discussing techniques. I’d seen the contents of Mistress B’s toy bag often enough to know I should be nervous. This woman can turn anything into something painful. But she’s also a kid at heart, so I’ve seen her pull out cheap toys from the Dollar Store, too.

Normally, Daddy and I have a curfew. We play early, we play quick, we go home. Not this night. This night, we could relax and take our time. It was 11pm before we went upstairs. As usual, we were the first. I don’t mind that so much. It gives me a chance to relax before the crowd comes up.

I was sent upstairs to lay out the implements of my asses destruction. Floggers, crops, paddles, oh my. Daddy came upstairs and we began.

The music had a beat that would have been better for fucking than spanking. That’s probably why my hips moved and we danced while he ran his fingers through my hair. Holding me tight against him, I heard one thing.

“Get on the bench.”

First, the dress had to come off. I was left with a black lace thong – scant protection from what would occur. Then, I positioned myself on the bench. Not the most graceful moment ever but I managed.

For the first time, my wrists were cuffed and attached to hooks at the bottom of the bench. I was immobilized. It scared me…in a good way. Used to writhing around on the bench, tonight even my movements were controlled. My breathing changed. My skin became hot to the touch. My entire body responded to this one small change.

After that point, I don’t know who did what. I know Daddy warmed me up, first with bare-handed smacks to the ass, then the paddle. I know they played with sensations – tickling my feet until I screamed and cried in frustration, pinned helplessly to the bench, bruising thuds, stingy smacks, toys, you name it. I know the cane wailed on my ass more times than I could count. I know all of that. But I don’t know who.

At some point, early on, the scene became a contest in my mind. Them against me. I knew they had it in them to reduce me to tears and make me use my safeword. I refused to let that happen. Let them do their worst. I kept the thought to myself. Only a submissive with a death wish would ever say it.

When asked for a color, I gritted out “Green” between a clenched jaw and grinding teeth. Until I didn’t. Until I begged for the cane to stop. Anything but the cane. What followed was a smack to the ass that tightened every muscle in my body and made me scream like a banshee. Mistress B and Daddy chuckled.

I couldn’t tell their touch apart. My skin was too hot, covered in a layer of sweat. Daddy’s touch usually feels warm, almost hot to me. I was hotter and couldn’t sense his warmth.

Somewhere in the middle, I begged for my arms to be released. I was pulling too hard against the restraints. I could feel the strain in my shoulders. (That’s what we call “bad pain.”) Once loosened, I became a wild woman on the bench. No longer in my head, thinking about taking what they gave, thinking about my shoulders, I writhed on the bench at each strike. My head shot up when it stung. I relaxed and melted when the impact thudded deep. It was delicious.

And then….

“Grrrrr, did ya miss me?” Master M’s voice in my ear.

There she was, pressing her torso to my back, giving me her weight. Daddy is still learning to punch as part of our play while she’s had years of practice. I can tell them apart. From the first blow to my back, I melted. I don’t know how long she played, because time had lost all meaning, but I knew when she was gone. The vibe changed again.

I took and they gave. Over and over again. Until Daddy called an end to it. I was a mushy mess, melting into the bench. Speech was impossible. But not the satisfied grin. It wasn’t really a battle – considering it was completely consensual – but I felt like I won.

Daddy poured me into a chair, covered me with a blanket, and we watched the others play while I came back to my senses. I saw different types of play and would have gone again. It wouldn’t have been a wise thing to do, but I was willing.

Later, when I could think and process information again, I realized my determination to “battle” was part of the vibe and energy. With Daddy, even when it’s painful and primal, it’s filled with love. I trust him to never truly hurt me so I respond to him sensuously every time. Master M and Daddy combined give off a similar vibe. We mix well together. The energy with Mistress B was good, just different. The joy, for her, is in the giving of pain and the demands she places on a submissive – I think Daddy feels that, too. When combined, the sensual feelings evaporated and all that was left was battle for control. Ultimately, I gave them both complete control but I wasn’t going to let it be easy – and I think they liked it that way.

Will we do that again? I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe we’ll find other people who we like well enough to let in. Maybe not. Three Dominants and me? Yeah, I’ll do that again any day. Especially if it comes with a bruise-covered ass and a mind clear of swirling thoughts.