Soliloquy

Chronicles of a Switch
2012-03-17 07:26:40 (UTC)

catharsis - the Sadist

I honestly can’t believe what happened to me this weekend. At the moment of writing, I feel…incredible.

In the last month, the stress I’ve been under has brought me to the breaking point. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had no safe outlet. My mind wouldn’t stop churning, my body was turning against itself as I forced it to do more and more work without any sort of respite. Even my days off from work were consumed with errands -- things that needed to be done, things that were put off all week because of my schedule. But still, the times that were supposed to be a respite ended up as just another day on the job, if in a different location.

Added to that was my desire -- no. Desire isn’t a strong enough word. Need. My NEED to play. Top or bottom, I didn’t care. I needed to give a beating as much as receive one. I needed to hear whimpers and moans and delicious cries of pain just as much as I needed to voice them myself. And there just wasn’t a good time. For three weeks, I was chafing at my own desires, feeling them flare at the least little provocation. I tried to keep it restrained around D, knowing that he already felt terrible that he couldn’t give me what I needed when I wanted it. But around Kit… I can’t hide much from her, and especially not anything play-related. Even if my words rang true, the lie would be in my eyes, in the very energy around me. And when I see my own desires reflected in her lusty gaze…

The Sadist was restless. Oh, Kit and I had had some sexy fun in the recent past, and in the times since our last play date, but in those times I was more like her lover. Not that I minded being sweet and loving and kind; quite the opposite in fact. I love giving pleasure. I love watching her eyes flutter closed, hear her breathing hitch, enjoy every wonderful sound she produces when I touch the right spot just so. But the last time I remember us playing together was sometime in November. So I was light and flirty and teasingly gentle… and the Sadist growled and snarled, always on the razor’s edge of being released.

She got away from me a little bit a few nights ago, when Kit and I just couldn’t hold back anymore. From the depths of my oft-restrained desire came this… animalistic need. Growling, digging my nails into Kit’s flesh, snarling as she returned the same in kind, using my teeth when I’d had enough of her teasing. I wanted blood in my mouth, under my nails. I wanted to hurt her, see the panic in her eyes as my hands sought her throat and clenched tight. Every little thing she did -- every sharp indrawn breath, every suppressed moan, every little twitch fed the predator in me. And from that fucking look in her eye, she knew. Kit knew, and wanted more. I barely remember what happened while I was in that mindset. Not as much as I wanted. I was barely rational, but I still had the presence of mind to force myself a few inches away from that warm, quivering body and take some time to steady myself. I’ve been needy before, felt that Kit was nothing more than prey, but never to that extent. Thinking back on it, it’s a little frightening. I don’t remember a time previous to that in which I almost lost my sense of self.

I wrestled the beast, the Sadist, back under control with an appalling amount of effort. I don’t know what Kit had seen on my face, but it was obvious she wanted more. That was okay; so did I. Watching her watch me made me shake with the need to unleash that predator again. Kit softly whispered in my ear that she missed my dark side… missed hurting for me.

I could feel the immediate change in myself. Usually when I play with Kit, it’s a gradual thing, to take that mental sideways step into a dominant role. But that damn whisper dampened my lucid mind and let the Sadist roar to the surface, in the space of a heartbeat. In place of the storm that had been raging inside me only a moment ago, came a quiet, amused calm. Instead of the animal instinct that had been driving me, I was cool, collected, alert. I felt the wicked smile of the Sadist settle on my face. I don’t know if Kit didn’t notice the difference, or had already embraced it, but as I began leisurely teasing her again, she whispered to me again, this time wanting to know one of my darker fantasies involving her.

Talking instead of doing? I could manage that. So I told her, slowly, in bits and pieces, adding the appropriate touches where necessary. I could nearly see the images bloom in Kit’s mind as I described them to her, shaking hard as I added my hands, my claws, my teeth while her imagination filled in the rest. I told her one of my favorite scene ideas, though I probably wasn’t as graphic out loud as I was in my own head. It seemed to be enough; by the time I had her on her back, rubbing her clit, it was all she could do to stay quiet. And then the Sadist took over completely. I remember asking her something, though now I don’t know what, and I remember her nodding… but I was expecting a yes or no answer and wanted her to speak up. I pulled my hand away and growled something to the extent of wanting a reply. Kit’s mouth worked, but no sound came out. I grabbed her face and told her that she was being rude, and that it was a shame she made me stop, that I was looking forward to making her cum. Watching her process this information and fight for a response delighted the Sadist. I KNEW she had difficulty forming words when we played, but I couldn’t help the perverse pleasure I got from witnessing her internal struggle.

It took a minute for… something to penetrate my enjoyment. I don’t know what it was, but it backed me away from that sadistic edge. Kit was taking in air in gulps, and I shifted to both better see her face and give the arm I’d been leaning on for the better part of ninety minutes a rest. There was something familiar about that, but I couldn’t put a name to it through my mental fog. I snuggled up closer, kissing her face and telling her she was a good girl, slipping my hand down to toy with her clit again.

There was virtually no response. I kissed her head again and whispered an “I love you.” Kit stiffened beneath me, and took in another sobbing breath… and then it all came crashing down on me. Those gasping breaths had been her effort not to break down in tears, and my tender statement had been her undoing. I have NEVER felt like more like an asshole than I did at that moment, mentally smacking myself for being such an idiot and holding my poor, weeping girl. I knew how Kit reacted when she perceived herself as a disappointment, or a failure, but the Sadist hadn’t thought of it before speaking. Making it worse, I’d pulled away -- unintentionally, to be sure, but still devastating to a mind floating close to subspace who thought I was angry with her, and was being punished for not answering a question that, as it turns out, she didn’t even hear. Kit might have nodded, understanding on a subconscious level what I was looking for, but her conscious mind didn’t even register that I’d spoken.

Strangely, it was Kit that had to comfort me, and not the other way around. I apologized so profusely as she came back to herself that she eventually had to shush me. I was on an internal tirade against myself for being an idiot, an ass, making a thoughtless mistake. But we talked, and the talk was enlightening. I will definitely keep in mind the things I was told. The experience taught me a lot, and emphasized the fact that we and I needed to play, soon, before that mental barrier holding back the Sadist broke.

I finally got up the courage to ask D if he would mind leaving Kit and I alone for a few hours, and he readily agreed. He even asked if we could have a three-way date sometime soon, which I’m also looking forward to. I cautiously broached the subject of having playtime with him myself, and D replied that he couldn’t wait. Absolutely giddy about all of my potential dates, I told Kit that we had permission to play.

When the day came, Kit was under the weather. A cold was coming on, and she wasn’t sure we could play. I thought about inviting Stilgar and Yuko over as well then, and just hanging out as friends. As it turned out, Kit was feeling up for a romp, though she commented that it shouldn’t be anything too rough. I nodded, and immediately started recalculating my original plan for a gentler approach. The things I had been going over in my mind probably would have pushed her even on a good day. There were things I wanted to do, places I wanted to take us that we hadn’t tried together yet, and I wanted her whole and well to fully experience treading in the darkness of our own desires. I wanted her to be able to revel in it, not wonder when she might have to back out because her body can’t fend off both a virus and a beating.

It was some time before Kit and I were left to ourselves. Yuko had dropped her off and came to stay for a while, which I was so glad for. I don’t get to see him as much as I’d like. Our schedules just don’t mesh. I was a little sad when we finally left, wanting a few more hours with him, but at the same time, I was full of anticipation. Kit was mine, to do with as I liked, until I was sated.

Interestingly enough, the entire day previously, my whole body had been wracked with nervousness. Afraid, almost. I can’t pinpoint exactly what that fear was, though. That I might get lost in myself? That I might push too far? That I might not get in the right headspace after all and the whole session would fall flat? I have no idea. But the morning that Kit was due to come and play, all those nerves vanished. By the time Yuko left us alone, my heart was hammering again, but was in no way due to the jitters.

We were content to sit and cuddle and talk for a long while. Kit was curled up with her head on my lap, gently stroking my leg while I ran my fingers through her hair. She’d had a tough few days, and if she needed to vent, I was more than willing to listen. So I sat and petted her, absorbing her concerns.

I can always tell when Kit is ready to move from casual cuddling to something more. The shift charges the very air around us, makes it warm and heavy. Overwhelming, in a heady sort of way. And yet I waited until the fingers that had been gently stroking my thigh roamed higher, tracing the folds of my jeans as if my bare pussy was presented. I let her tease me, gripping her hair in encouragement before I slithered down beside her and rolled her over, pinning her to the bed. Our eyes met, and I knew then that I was going to have a harder time keeping the Sadist in check than I originally thought. Most of the night I struggled to keep the darkness from creeping up around me, consuming us both. I WANTED to play, and play hard, but I was too conscious of the effects it would have on Kit. I was constantly fighting the Sadist, urging Her down, keeping Her from raking my nails down Kit’s chest, or taking my girl’s throat with my teeth. I fought hard to keep Her from slithering into my gaze. I knew what would happen then, seeing either fear or encouragement in the eyes meeting mine. As it was, I had to stop myself more than once and take several deep breaths before I could continue.

I started off as requested; soft and tender. Lover-like. Gentle caresses and the press of my lips against flesh. I started at her fingertips, nibbling, and paused over her wrist for a long time, applying lips and tongue and teeth until I was reasonably sure the downstairs neighbors could hear her sounds of pleasure. I set Kit on fire with my touch. I finally growled that she had entirely too many clothes on, and told her to remove them. No matter how many times that creamy flesh is unveiled, I still get a thrill as she collapses, naked, onto the bed. I nuzzled her neck, laid a trail of kisses along her chest, teased her with my fingertips, and generally reveled in the soft skin becoming more and more heated under my teasing caress.

I was getting playfully rough when I first realized that maybe I should back off. Nibbling on Kit’s earlobe, I asked her if she wanted me to stay gentle. I was told that my level of intensity was fine as it was, but not to get too much harder. When my mouth closed over her nipples again, I tugged with my lips before sinking my teeth in. My claws were gentle, teasing, until Kit squirmed under them, signaling I could use them in earnest. I left bite marks around her throat. My hands seized her breasts and squeezed until her hips bucked.

All I can say is… I tried. Truly, I did. But the Sadist wouldn‘t be held back. I slowly, cautiously, upped the intensity of my play. I knew, somewhere, in the far back of my mind, that I should back off, but THIS was what I had been waiting for. THIS was what I was craving, even if it was a bit tamer that I‘d been imagining. When I asked Kit again if she still wanted me to stay gentle, she practically growled.

I tormented her a bit longer before I crawled up beside her and whispered a choice in her ear. A or B. I had two thoughts in mind, and honestly couldn’t choose. I know Kit doesn’t like to make decisions, but without any context to the question, I didn’t think it would be difficult for her to answer. She searched my face, as if looking for a hint, and hesitated a moment before settling on B. I grinned and climbed away from her, fetching some rope. If she had chosen A, I was planning to strap her down and break out my knife. Since she didn’t…

Kit’s expression is so beautiful when there is rope involved. I trailed the ends over her skin, watching her face transform into heavy-lidded bliss. Seeing her like that gave me the shivers. I twisted the rope around one breast, and shuddered as that look on her face deepened. I murmured that my little slut liked it nice and tight as I yanked the rope taunt. I can still see her in my mind, staring down as the cord bit into her skin, face glowing, remember the expression in her eyes as she glanced up at me, hear that husky tone to her voice as she whispered “Yes, Mistress.”

I bound both breasts, grinning as I made her settle back against the wall. They were starting to discolor already, even though I tied them both looser than I’d originally planned. Hell, I tied her looser than I’d tied myself, but it’s a little harder to judge on someone else. I would love to do it again; to bind her up tight, using the same rope to secure her hands behind her back as I go to work. Instead, I slapped, nuzzled and fondled. I’d deliberately gone easy on her nipples previous to this moment so we could try out the clamps. I put them on, making sure the tightening screw was fully out, and nearly moaning aloud myself at the picture she made. Pulling on the connecting chain elicited the most interesting noises… I contemplated cuffing her, and stringing them over the hook above the bed, but finally decided to leave that for another day.

At last, I took up the crop. A snap on one breast, a flick of the wrist to land a blow on the other. Kit jumped with each impact, watching me with hungry eyes. I know that she’s done worse to herself than the beating I provided, but she seemed to enjoy my efforts. The Sadist snarled for more, but I had purposely positioned us both so I couldn’t properly abuse Kit. No matter how good she might be feeling now, playing would accelerate her cold, and she would be doubly miserable on the morrow. I took the nipple clamps off just as Kit was reaching her Yellow point with them, and cropped her nipples instead. I only stopped when her breasts were a nice, soft red. I almost gave into the Sadist for a moment, considered continuing on, until her chest was a bright cherry color. I had images of better places in the house to torment Kit, better positions in which to beat her senseless. I had to study her for a long moment, wondering how much she could really take before I decided against playing out any of those ideas. This was only the beginning. I didn’t want to push her before I’d hurt every part of her that I’d intended to.

I finally took the rope away, slightly amused as what appeared to be a pang of loss that flickered across her face. I made sure to tug and pull on the rope as much as I could, even when it wasn’t strictly necessary. The ends caressed her as I unwound it from her breasts, running my fingers over the marks the cord had left on her fair skin. Her eyes fluttered as the last of the rope broke contact, and I ran my hands over her reddened flesh, giving each breast a hard slap before ordering her onto her knees.

Kit took up her position against the wall as I took down the flogger. I had wanted to take the crop to her pussy, but I could only slide it between her legs teasingly, as I’d had her sitting. The flogger let me tease some more, coming up between her thighs as she squirmed. After some initial teasing with the falls, trailing over her shoulders, brushing against her ass, I flicked them against her back. Kit arched into the blow. I took it slow and easy at first, eventually building up speed, if not power. Kit surprised me when, with one ragged, gasping breath, begged me to cum. I gave her permission and flogged her all the way through it. That was one of the hardest times I remember having to yank myself away from the edge of darkness, where the Sadist lie in wait. I pulled away from Kit completely, clicking on the fan and shedding my own shirt, as I was starting to work up a sweat. Thinking back on it now, I don’t know why I didn’t remove my jeans as well. I suppose I didn’t want to take the time.

I pressed my bare chest against Kit’s reddened back, and felt her shudder at the soft contact. Kissing along her shoulders, I reached around and gently stroked her nipples, ran my hands teasingly along her curves, ground my hips against hers. Her answering cry prompted me to speak. I inquired if my dirty little whore needed to be fucked. She gasped a “Yes, Mistress” and pushed back against me. I slid my hand up one thigh, stopping well short of her pussy, teasing that it didn’t really matter what I wanted to put in there. She wanted something, ANYTHING in her slutty hole. Kit agreed, hands clenching helplessly over her head. I told her she was out of luck, that I wasn’t done with her, and reveled in that adorably sexy whimper. Back under control, I started flogging her again.

Somewhere, I caught myself putting a great deal of my strength behind the blows. So much, in fact, that Kit fell still and quiet, floating in that deep subspace. It was then that I realized that I’d far beyond where I thought she should be. I loved that I put Kit into such a state, and very much look forward to doing it again. But then and there, I winced at thinking how she was going to feel the following day, and, with great regret, slowly brought the flogging to a stop. I pressed myself against her again, loving every little tremor that coursed through her before finally ordering her facedown on the bed.
There was one last thing I wanted to torment her with, and made sure she was comfortable before I rose. For a split second, I considered grabbing the paddle, but that wasn’t what I’d gotten up for, and dismissed the thought. Kit shuddered when I rolled the cane over her abused back and ass, jerked when I snapped it against her crimson skin. God, I loved the sounds of pain in those noises. She took it well. Very well. In fact, I was almost done when she begged me to stop. For a minute, I wasn’t sure if she really meant it, as she usually just calls Yellow, but it was only a split second’s hesitation. I stopped; the Sadist grabbed her hair and hissed in her ear that we weren’t done yet, and my little slut was going to take more because she was told to, wasn’t she? I’ve never heard such reluctance in my poor kitten’s voice as she answered in the affirmative. I only indulged myself for a few more whacks on her back, and even fewer on her ass before I tossed down the cane. Kissing my way up her spine, I cuddled for a moment and told Kit that she was a very good girl, and whenever she was ready to roll over, I would give her her reward.

I barely waited for her to get settled before I spread her legs and put my mouth on her. Kit had been loud before that; she was practically screaming as I went to work on her clit with lips and tongue. When I pushed my fingers inside of her, I was surprised to find that I probably could have formed a fist then. I didn’t, under it just seemed more practical to use the whole hand. So I did. Slow and gentle. Hard and fast. A rocking motion. Twisting. Anything I could think of to wring every drop of pleasure I could from my girl. Eventually, Kit did start screaming. Words, occasionally. Most times, nothing more than a stream of sound. I wanted her to cum, hard and often. I accomplished my goal. In fact, once, she came so hard that she locked my whole fist inside. She begged me to keep going, and I chuckled aloud, waiting for her to release me so I could honor her request.

When I was finally done, I crawled up beside her and collapsed on the bed. I’d pushed myself physically, ignoring the pangs in my wrist and focusing solely on Kit. My right hand throbbed all the way to my elbow, but it was a price I paid gladly. Kit snuggled up to my side, and we just laid together, breathing hard. At that point, I would have been content just to cuddle. Most times when Kit and I play, I don’t need her to reciprocate. I feel satisfied just from everything that had come before. But when her hands roam over me, and her eyes take on that hungry light, I can’t help but respond. As someone who gets pleasure from pleasing others, I understand the need that burns in her as well, to show her appreciation. When Kit’s fingers clawed at my jeans button, hungry mouth fastened on my nipple, I barely had the patience to get my pants off.

I was still riding my Domme high, and I have to say, I put Kit through her paces. After the tension of the past few days, I felt nearly insatiable. Every time I thought I would be done, it turned out I wanted more. Kit never faltered, until she started getting visibly tired. I could have kept going, had she the endurance, but I wasn’t heartbroken that she stopped either. I held her tight to be when she curled up by my side. By then, night had fallen, and while we never bothered to turn on a light, I could make out enough of her face to remind myself of how stunning she was. Kit is so pretty when she lets herself relax, and I think she was too tired at that point to be anything but.

This is where things get especially hazy. I know we talked, as we usually do afterward. Pillow talk. Silly things. The things we enjoyed, and how it felt from each perspective. The things we had thought about while play was going on, and things to either add or eliminate in the future. And somehow, our talk turned into more. Kit was still murmuring when her hand slid down my belly and furiously rubbed my clit. She stopped whispering when I pushed her head into my breast, encouraging her into giving my nipple the attention it craved. When she pulled away to ask if I wanted her mouth, I said yes… but I had an idea. I nibbled her neck and wondered aloud if she wanted me to straddle her face.

Kit couldn’t have answered any more positively. She started to adjust herself, which put her pussy a mere few inches from my head. I had to tease her, wiggling my fingers inside until she begged me to be allowed to put her tongue to good use. How could I resist such a thing? Since I hadn’t done this before from the top, I adjusted myself carefully and lowered myself onto her waiting mouth.

It was soooo good. I leaned back and yanked on her nipples as I rode her face, nearly cumming as her sounds of pleasure were muffed by my pussy. I occasionally ground down against her, staying there as long as my knees would allow. I was actually about to change positions when Kit got my attention and said that her jaw was hurting. I wiggled down her body, thrusting my hips against hers, idly wishing that we had her bag of toys so I could fuck her again. Instead, I maneuvered us into a different position and pressed my pussy against hers. That was… incredible. Again, something I’d never done. My clit pressed into her hot, wet folds, and I let her rock against me, clenching my legs around her and listening to the pants and moans. Unfortunately, with my knees locking up on me, I couldn’t hold that position for very long.

So I stretched out next to her, my head by her feet and took a deep breath, shocked when I felt her fingers wiggle into me. I returned the favor, closing my hand into a fist once more, until I was so focused on Kit and the sounds she made that I was barely paying attention to her efforts. I moved between her legs and switched hands, pressing my whole fist in from the outside.

She was so wet I could open my hand inside her. I did, repeatedly, snapping my fist open and slowly letting my fingers slide closed again. I'm not sure what place inside her I was pressing against, but with the amazing reaction I got, I tried to do it again. And again and again.

I fucked her hard with my hand, twisting it deep inside her until she was begging for that, and only that. Kit screamed herself raw, even going so far as to wonder if I could fit more than just my one hand inside. I forced myself to keep twisting my fist, and told her that would have to wait for another day. She didn’t cum any less hard, though, once again making it nearly impossible for me to remove my hand. By then, I was well and truly done. Or, at least my right hand was. Kit was too exhausted to go on, and we resumed our previous cuddles, in awe that we’d had such a sudden burst of sexual energy.

I’m so glad that Kit and I got to play. I feel much better now than I have in recent weeks, and even the Sadist’s voice is subdued. I needed to play, and I’m so thankful D let me get Kit alone for a few hours. Getting my time in as a Domme had a lot of stress relief, even healing in it, and I can’t express enough gratitude to my kitten for taking everything I had to give.




Ad: