Submission (18+) - Chapter 49: Chapter 49

"Sounds like that's working as intended," Malcolm chuckled. He gave my ass another swat, this time hard enough to make me jump, which gave my pussy another tug. It pulled the two ropes squeezing my clit taught enough to pressure it, which gave me a quick burst of sensation. Managing that was seriously not going to be easy!
Last of all, Malcolm bound my arms just above my shoulders, trapping my elbows as high in the air as they could go and effectively eliminating any freedom my arms had. It also had the effect of making me stand with my back arched slightly, my breasts thrust out and my hips tilt back, turning both areas into juicy targets.
I was helpless. My body was completely free for Malcolm to do whatever he wanted. It was a feeling that never got old, and I shivered in anticipation. I should probably have been nervous, but I wasn't. It was exciting! Pain is just a temporary fleeting firing of neurons. It sucks while it's happening, but it's so worth it for what it does to Malcolm. I feed off of his excitement and pleasure just as he feeds off my suffering. It makes me genuinely want him to hurt me. Functionally, It's the same neurons firing and chemicals flaring, but because it comes from him, it feels completely different.
I smiled around the gag, feeling myself relax more and more as Malcolm continued his guiding monolog. He shifted around to stand in front of me and leaned in so our foreheads touched. He kept one hand in my hair, holding me firmly, letting me feel controlled while his other hand roamed.
He moved along my body, working me over with light slaps that intensified in succession to full sounding smacks against my skin. Around my thighs from front to back, up to my butt, and then to the other side and down again. Focusing on one spot at a time made my skin warm up, giving me a pleasant glowy feeling, but that grew to a stinging heat as Malcolm's pressure intensified, always ending with three hard, fast slaps that made me gasp.
"Don't fight it. Just feel it."
He kept the circuit going, alternating hands but always keeping one secured in my hair. Around and again, covering every inch of my thighs and butt, making my entire lower body sting like mad. It stung, but didn't really hurt. Not yet, but it was getting there. Each time he revisited a spot, the heat seemed to move deeper into my body, skin deep sting giving way to an ache in my muscles that lingered as he passed.
It was a little bit like getting a very rough massage. With my eyes closed, forehead resting against Malcolm's, near enough to feel the warmth of his breath, it was easy to do as he said and let the feelings wash over me. My mind quieted and my awareness narrowed to the sensations of my slowly heating body. The sting started sooner with each successive round, flaring up higher each time with the heavier strokes. My skin seemed to hum and the entire area throbbed with each heartbeat, but I didn't feel any urge to escape. My body gave little involuntary jerks with each round of heavy slaps, causing my arms to pull the rope connected to my pussy, but even those became less pronounced. Malcolm wanted my body to submit by accepting what was happening to it, and he'd trained me well enough to obey his will.
Just when it started crossing the border into real, full pain, Malcolm stopped. "Keep your eyes closed," he said, softly but firmly. His hands snaked up my front, feeling scorching hot on me. It's easy to forget, but impact play makes blood rush to Malcolm's hands too. It made his touch feel more raw and intense against my flesh. He took hold of my sides and flexed his muscles, squeezing my abs and making my breath catch. I could feel each of his fingers digging into me, and it made the feeling of my body being Malcolm's plaything intensify.
My breasts got the same rough treatment, but much slower. He caressed them softly, kneading them, letting the anticipation build. Their softness contrasted so much with his firm, unyielding grip that made them ripple and mold around him.
Once again, the slaps started off light. Taps that made my tits bounce around my chest, accelerating with each successive hit. Except I was much more tender there, and I started feeling it much sooner than my thighs or ass. It was like the lingering ache from lower in my body expanded upwards. Stinging only lasted a few seconds before it advanced directly to pain, but Malcolm kept going. My breath caught and my muscles tensed as I tried to brace myself. Each slap filled my breasts with hot, fiery hurt, building upon itself as they got more and more tender.
"Relax," Malcolm commanded. I let out a low groan, realizing how hard I'd been biting into the gag. I tried to relax, but just as I did, the hardest stroke yet landed. It was psychological, tensing didn't do a damn thing to stop it, but it seemed to make it hurt even more. Which is just what Malcolm wanted.
"Good," he said, approvingly, then smacked my other breast, making me whimper. "Very good. Hurt for me, My Love." I think I nodded. I'm not really sure. I my mind was flooding with sensory overload from all over my body, making it hard to think of anything.
Part of me was surprised Malcolm stopped so soon. He released my breasts and put a finger under my chin. "Open your eyes." If Malcolm had a sadistic switch, it had been pushed to the max. His eyes looking back at mine had so much dominant hunger in them, it was easy to miss the measuring way they probed me. "You're holding up okay?" I nodded quickly. My tits still burned, and the ache in my thighs was only just starting to ebb, but of course I was okay! "Good." He stepped back, nodding approvingly. "A good little warmup, don't you think?"
If he was expecting a reaction from calling that a warmup, he should have known better. He should know by now I'm not some weak willed bitch who can't take getting a little roughed up. I nodded again, trying to convey as much confidence as possible, and earning a playful swat at my chest that made me gasp.
"Well then, the flogger it is."
It was a new toy for us that we'd bought especially for today. Well, mostly new. Malcolm had spent a ton of time practicing with it by giving some old pillows a very kinky time. He'd even made me take some swings with it on him. That's a thing of his -- he thinks Doms need to understand firsthand what they're doing to their subs, which for him involves trying everything he's new to on himself first. At least, everything he's anatomically able to. For obvious reasons, Malcolm's attempts to preview some of my vibrators and dildos I'd contributed to our toy chest were hilariously inept.
The one we'd gotten was basic enough. Dark leather strands that went well with my collar and cuffs, because we did have a theme going after all. Malcolm liked it because it was supposed to be able to produce a wide range of sensations. Depending on how he worked his wrist, it could feel like a warm breeze or a penetrating stab.
From the first swing, it was obvious Malcolm was interested in the intense part of that spectrum. He bent me forward at the waist, pulling my crotch rope through my pussy and making my clit feel every rough fiber, until my ass stuck out. I had to spread my legs to keep my balance, effectively making me even more vulnerable.
Malcolm worked the flogger in upward circles, striking at my upper thighs and butt in rapid succession. Part of my mind applauded how he'd mastered the figure-8 so quickly. His aim was spot on, and he managed to only hit me with the ends of the leather every time. But my body was already so sensitive, the thought only lasted a second. After only a few seconds, the sting hit me, and the feeling of sensory overload grew over me again.
The way it felt, I imagined I could feel each flogger tooth biting into me, hitting me with a wave of pain that didn't recede at all before Malcolm circled it around and hit me with the next wave. It built and built, enveloping everything in its way. I groaned, screwing my eyes shut, trying to hold still but feeling myself jump and shudder. The flogger wheeled, the sound of it hitting me seeming to bypass my ears and resonate in my head, bouncing around and making the hurt blossom into bigger tendrils of heat all through me.
Then suddenly, I was jerked upright again. Malcolm help his spot in my hair and had wrapped his other arm around me, pulling me into a half hug and hitting me with the full force of his eyes. "Relax," he commanded. "Let your muscles go."
His words seemed a little muddled in my head, almost like he was talking through a laggy internet connection. By the time I realized what they meant, my body had already obeyed him. "Close your legs."
This time, he stood in front of me, spreading the burning pain around from the back to consume my entire thighs. However, this time, something shifted. Like before when he used his hands, I didn't fight the pain. The wave built and built, and I just let it all wash over me. Even when the flogger slashed over my pubic mound and made the rope tug through my pussy, I just stood and took it. A low, constant whimpering sound filled my ears, and it took a few seconds before I realized it was coming from me.
Malcolm slowly circled me, keeping up his assault on my senses. He struck out at me from different angles, hitting different spots and making it impossible to keep track of. One second, I'd feel a fresh burst of fire from my thighs behind me, and the next second, my breasts would seem to explode. It almost didn't even matter. My whole body was one big bonfire of agony. A stroke across my ass made my hips shift forward, pulling the rope through my pussy, making me jump and my tits lurch, sending new pain through me. It all built on itself. Everything hurt.
And yet, through it all, the more I drowned in the pain, the less is seemed to affect me. I felt everything, every agonizing stroke of it, but I stopped feeling like it was something that was smothering me. Instead, it felt like I was sort of floating above it all, looking down on things from above.
I've never had a moment when I've realized I'm in subspace. I guess it's just part of the chemical cocktail my body floods itself with to respond to all the pain. If I could think about it, it wouldn't be subspace. It isn't just like being high -- it is literally being high. High on hormones my body produces when it's under extreme stress. Or something like that. Afterwards, it makes sense, but at the time, it's always magical.
The best part of subspace is that nothing beyond Malcolm and I seems important. It's like reality exists in a bubble just big enough to fit the both of us. Like, there's probably ground underneath us, but it's down there beneath where we're floating, so it hardly matters.
It lets me feel Malcolm's presence much more. I swayed, feeling light and finding balancing difficult, and even as Malcolm circled me, he always appeared exactly where I needed him to support me. He felt safe and firm, so I let myself get caught up in his arms, enjoying the way his face beamed down at me like the sun. His eyes seemed happy. I liked that.
He set me down on the couch and released the ropes, which set off a new wave of painful blissy feels as my arms came down and my shoulders felt it. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Dropping me into subspace is me putting every single ounce of trust possible on him. I'm basically incapable of giving him the safe signal, he could swing the flogger until his arm fell off and I'd just exist in la-la-land. It's an enormous power trip for him. He loves that he can do this to me, send me to this floaty place, hold me while I enjoy it, then guide me down afterwards.
Every other time we've achieved subspace, it's involved both pleasure and pain. Two huge sensations overwhelming me, wedging me between them. Doing it with pain alone was new for us, and probably why Malcolm looked like he'd just won the Nobel Prize. I grinned back at him, only dimly aware that something was missing from my mouth to allow that. Let the damn sadist bask in his glory, I was every bit as elated to be able to give that to him.
Malcolm kept some sensation going, feeding me enough to have a controlled descent from the clouds back to earth without crashing at once. I watched him play with my nipples, squeezing them and pulling them out from my body far enough to turn my breasts into cones. That's probably supposed to hurt a lot, but I hardly felt it, and I grinned like an absolute fool. It's fun to be invincible.
It took a while, but the first thing I did when I felt more or less normal again was kiss him. My body felt completely drained, like I'd done a week's worth of workouts in one go, but it was important. He had to know that I'd always want to kiss him, even after the flogging he'd just given me, so I pulled him into me and forced his lips apart. His surprise didn't last long, and he kissed me back, so passionately he actually pushed me into the couch. His tongue completely overpowered mine, pressing me for all I was worth, making me absolutely glow with how much he wanted me.
"Devyn, you are one tough woman," he said. "Do you have any idea how much it took to drop you?"
I couldn't help myself. "What, that?" I waved a hand dismissively between us. "That was nothing. What else you got for me?" It sounded badass in my head, but the way I panted between words and my hand shook didn't sell it very well.
Malcolm rolled his eyes. "Bravado aside, you're going to love the way you looked during all that."
"That bad, huh?"
"Certainly outdoes everything else in your collection of marks pictures."
Malcolm drew me in closer to him and traced some of the red lines across my thighs. For the first time, I noticed the state of my front. Holy shit! There were so many lines! Everything was all red and I had line marks everywhere! My sloppy grin made a full force comeback. "Awesome!"
Malcolm chuckled about me and my marks fetish making his job keeping me healthy so much harder, which I shrugged off, pointing out that without me, his life would be boring as fuck. He was being very light, but his finger just grazing over the outlines stung. He really had done a number on me. Snuggling up into him, I watched the fascination on his face. Say what he liked, Malcolm loved the marks he gave me just as much as I did. We were a pair of deviants, unified in our freakiness.
Experimentally, I gave my arms and legs a stretch. Definitely sore, but surprisingly tame. The gym had done more damage to my muscles plenty of times. Beyond that, I was a total mess. Sweat soaked my body and my eyes felt like they'd just gotten over being teary. Pretty much all of me felt soaked and throbby, all except— Quickly, I dabbed between my legs to check.
"Damnit," I murmured.
"Hmm?"
"I'm bone dry in the one place it matters."
"Oh. No problem."
I gaped at him. "No fucking problem!?! Do you mean to tell me you're not planning to fuck me?"
"You are aware that lube is a thing, right?"
"You're missing the point," I said huffily. "This is the first time I've ever been dry for you. How would you feel if you couldn't get it up for me? What's the point of me being your denial slut if you need to break out the lube to get it in me?"
"I can't tell if you're being serious or not," he laughed. "You're not a masochist, and if you did to me what I just did to you, I probably wouldn't be full mast either."
"Why do you even have lube anyway?" I muttered. "Are you jerking off behind my back?"
"Oh my, the worst of accusations."
"Evading the question!"
"Believe it or not, before you forced yourself into my bed, I had plenty of occasions to use lube. Besides," he gave me a chick peck kiss on the cheek, "aren't you the one who brought over enough masturbation toys to start her own set shop?"
"Touché."
With everything else we'd been doing, both of us had forgotten about the whole camera setup. We only remembered when Malcolm helped me up to go to the bedroom. We both realized at the same time how much cuddle footage we'd just recorded, and looked at each other sheepishly.
"Should be bring it with us?" I asked, trailing off at the thought of how much work that would be.
"I think we've given our audience more than enough of a show already," Malcolm said decisively. "This can just be between us."
Maybe I was still a little out of it, but in the moment, that felt incredibly romantic, and I snuggled myself into his arm for the whole ten yard trip.
But once we crossed the threshold, I quickly appreciated how much Malcolm had been holding himself back while I was enjoying my little subspace trip. He tossed me bodily onto the bed and jumped on top of me, roughly pinning me down and attacking my mouth with the same ferocity he'd kissed me with before.
The jarring movements reset the achy sting all over my body, making my body sing again with agony, but it didn't matter. Malcolm's raw passion, being wanted by him so badly, felt amazing. As emotionally drained and physically worn out as I felt, it was still exactly what I wanted. Weakly, I wrapped my arms and legs around him, holding him close, the sting of his skin against my marks be damned.
I have no idea when he got his pants off, and apparently the lube had been in his bedside nightstand the entire time and I'd never noticed it. A shame, really. So many jerk-off joke opportunities missed. Still, it was nice that he didn't have to leave me behind to lube himself up and press into me.
It turns out that having one's clit and pussy rubbed by ropes tugging around makes it really fucking sensitive. Malcolm filling me up felt amazingly good, but when he finished thrusting in and his body smacked into mine, a burst of pain hit me hard enough to cry out. So much of his weight connected with my sore, beaten thighs while his pubis mauled my abused clit, it was like he'd gotten the flogger out and was torturing me again.
And from the look in his eyes, he knew it. He knew exactly what fucking me would do, and he loved every second of it. His pupils dilated, his mouth opened and his breath came out in a long groan of pleasure as he felt my body jerk and writhe around his cock.
It was hard. It hurt so much, every time he thrust into me felt like my thighs would be rubbed raw, but I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world. I wouldn't have traded Malcolm's pleasure infused face above mine or the lovingly possessive way he looked down at me for anything. I wouldn't have traded the pride and satisfaction and accomplishment and submissive love it filled me with for anything either.
Malcolm only did this to me because he knew I could take it. He knew exactly how much it hurt, exactly how little stamina I had left, but he still thought I was strong enough to take it for him. Being recognized for that and him taking advantage of it was a compliment that made me feel tremendously proud of myself.
And, one thrust at a time, another sensation battled back for dominance of me.
Getting ravaged, filled by cock, feeling him throbbing inside me, spreading hot lust through my core while he bathed the rest of me in his body heat... there was only so long pain could dominate me. Maybe I slipped a little bit back into subspace, maybe I'd never totally left it, but one thrust at a time, moans replaced whimpers and pre-orgasm contractions replaced shudders. I kissed back into Malcolm's mouth, pulled against his back and grinding my breasts into his chest. I wanted all of him, every sadistic impulse, every wild fantasy and every inch of his body. I wanted all of it for myself, and I wouldn't be satisfied until I had it.
Malcolm must have been thinking something along the same lines, because he easily overpowered my renewed energy and used it as an excuse to thrust harder. He had to keep breaking our kiss to catch his breath, giving me a perfect view of his face. Yeah, anything that involves giving him that beautiful pleasure-overloaded look is something I'm into.