When the Shackles Come Off

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There’s an erotic symbolism when a session starts and she puts on the cuffs.  It’s a first step in the submission to feel the bondage restriction around the wrists.  It sets you up for what’s to come.  Doesn’t matter if it’s to be gentle or hard, the cuffs are a reminder that for this space in time you are in her power.

It’s usually overlooked that they are also a protection device.  For the sub, it allows their wrists to be attached to equipment so that they won’t fall off or hurt themselves.  Of course it also means that they can’t avoid what’s about to come.  This last point leads to the most overlooked and important part about cuffs, the protection of the domme.

A sub under stress may do all sorts of things.  He may have an adverse reaction to the CP.  When he’s restrained, the domme has time to detect it and manage the come down.  Violent reactions that would threaten the domme are contained.  It really is safest for all concerned that he’s restrained.

Woolford tights, very nice

The session started with the normal application of blindfold and cuffs prior to some intricate rope bondage and sensation play.  When she untied the ropes and it was time to move to the next activity she really surprised me by removing the cuffs and blindfold.

Sometime later she indicated the bench and told me to get on it.  She made no move to secure the hands.  Which kind of led to me thinking this is going to be fairly gentle – it wasn’t !!!  She ended up pushing me as hard as she’d ever done.  Her skill in making me sensitive without the effect of the skin turning to leather, just building and building that sensitivity and heat until even the brush of her fingers was like fire.  Building even more so that every stroke had me shuddering uncontrollably as a pre-cursor to going in to a shock that never quite arrived.

And all this time I was free to move, to get up, to stop it.

And I couldn’t. 

Being there and receiving her canes and whips was a conscious choice.  All options were available to me and the only one that mattered was to take the responsibility of enduring to the very end, to repay the faith she’d shown by leaving me unrestrained.  As my focus narrowed ever closer to the blackness, the inner voice was yelling at me not to give in to the temptation to move and bring it to a halt.  Surrender just once to that urge and it will become a habit and all is lost.

This all becomes about my personal integrity, where to call a halt is lying to myself.  I’ve never been able to utter a safeword for that very reason.  The ability to make the decision to say it means I haven’t gone far enough, I can’t be at the limit if I can make that conscious decision.  A domme will always know if you call a halt early and for me that would tell her that my submission is arbitrary, on my terms and not hers.

And now she’d fiendishly removed the last remaining crutch, where being restrained allows me to endure because I have the liberation of not being able to stop her.  What a responsibility she’d now put on me.  To freely decide I needed and wanted to be there and to not misplace her faith in me.

Cunning devils these dommes.  And a valuable lesson in realising how deep she has that hold over me, the desire to submit and suffer for her without artifice.

Of course, none of this goes through your head at the time, but I have a long and sometimes uncomfortable drive home where I have time to think and piece things together.

I can be proud of a couple of things.  First the pride in enduring by choice and then the most important part, proud that I didn’t let her down in her judgement of me.