Down Memory Lane From the Future

What might it be like after, say, a year together? How would we have bonded, what mistakes made and deep satisfactions achieved? A visit to an imaginary future.

Her knees pinioned my shoulders while her butt pressed against my face. The air that passed through the fabric of her dress (sadly you can’t breathe through PVC) was rich with the scent of her. A scent I’d come to cherish.

“Oh my little pillow when you wrote all those little sketches for me you had no idea how many of them you’d come to live.”

True enough and there were some of them I came to wish I’d never written.

Tonight her fingernails were gently moving across my upper body. Even though I knew at a pace only she knew they’d become progressively less gentle I tingled with pleasure.

“Now I can manipulate every part of you, shape and finesse you.”

While slaves shouldn’t have pride I took great pride in how she was both Mistress and Master Artist. With a cunning eye she’d cataloged my every response. Whether motivated by sadism or whim she could play me to perfection. Sometimes with quick savagery, others - and perhaps more cruelly - lingeringly, weaving complex patterns of emotional and physical response.

Her nails were pressing more deeply, lines of light sharp pain traced themselves along my torso.

“You were a willing little beggar from the beginning. Very timid and shy for such a big man.”

I’ll never forget those first few times she allowed me to lick her boots and feet. I had so much raw helpless need that just being on my knees before her made me shake. After we’d been together for a while she admitted that she found herself holding back at first. Not out of kindness. It seemed a waste to press my confessed hot buttons until I became more habituated - then they’d give her a more gratifying response.

Two nails cut into a nipple, I flinched.

“Though not as cooperative as I’d expected.”

A fair evaluation. Some of her needs scared me. However much my conscious mind strove to please her I’d still retreat and my exaggerated response, the terrified looks made it nearly impossible for her to gauge things.

Loving me she with more patience than she really wanted to give she brought me along. Greatly irked when she felt blocked she was a bit bloodthirsty in punishing me for my reluctance. And she’d taunt me that many of the punishments had been suggested by me in my blog.

With time trust overcame many fears.

All ten nails bit into me and yanked. My scream was muffled by her body.

She stood up and turned around.

“Having you yell into my butt feels just plain weird.”

She knelt back down sitting on my chest and lit a joint.

“Ashtray.”

When she brought the joint down to flick the ash I opened my mouth to swallow it.

“I used to be peeved with you when you’d order things without asking me first.”

For a time I’d been addicted to ordering S&M toys. Embarrassed I wouldn’t always show them to her but she’d eventually ask what I’d bought or find something in a drawer. Many of them she dismissed as gimmicks.

And she’d accused me of trying to top from the bottom in buying them. So I might find one of them being used on me with barely restrained brutality by way of a lesson.

She finished the joint and I ate the roach.

“How your skin has changed. So many tiny marks of my ownership cover it now.”

The gimmicks after a time she came to see as special effects devices. As she mastered me she became a restless artist looking for new and subtle ways to lead me from one response to the next. There were long evenings as she compared the welt left by a tawse with that of a quirt. Sometimes I’d regret my purchases more than any blog entry. By then she’d given me a wish list that I slowly filled.

“And how you’ve learned to take it, you little pain whore.” I think she’d come to take something akin to pride in the depth of my masochism, my need for her cruelty.

Helplessly I’d watch her sadistic grin as she carefully found one of my limits and patiently work me past it. It took almost a year of microscopic adjustments before she hit my nipples absolute limit.

“Poor thing, sometimes I was too rough on you in those early months.”

Once I panicked so badly I fainted. That scared her. But we’ve always been good at talking and didn’t have much trouble getting past it.

A couple of mornings my joints had been so stressed I could barely walk. She was a loving and caring nurse. And a few other unintended injuries. But you shouldn’t play certain games if you don’t know these things will happen. There was only one thing that I knew she still felt some guilt about. It was my fault really. I’d pressed as subtly and indirectly for hard pet play. It was one time my neediness created an appetite in her. She’d chained me in a dark corner of the yard one night. Then she went to take a shower. As bad luck would have it started raining outside. By the time she was able to rush out and bring me in I was crying uncontrollably. It took all of her kindness and empathy to rally me back to normality. We’d both learned a hard lesson. Sometimes I really didn’t know my emotional limits and she’d have to protect me from myself.

And I learned that when she told me that some of my fantasies were best left as such to just agree and shut up. Overall we bonded over our mistakes with a deeper sense of who each other was.

My attention was brought back to her as she pinched my earlobes.

“My little slave’s mind is wandering isn’t it? Forgetting his every thought should be on me. Well I have a special treat for you.”

Something warned me this wouldn’t be like the time she made me beg for doggie treats that I loathed eating.

“Crawl over to the kneeler and get yourself in position.”

She strapped me in.

“I bet you forgot you told me about this fantasy of yours.” She held a black rubber coated clothespin in front of me. I was baffled until I felt her clamping to my butt and thighs.

“Wonder how long it’ll take me to win this game?”

She’d win when she managed to remove all the pins by kicking them. There was only one possible winner in these games: her. But that was as it should be.