The Pleasure of Pain

This is a fictional, consensual BDSM scene played out by a dominant sadist and a submissive masochist who likes pain. Adult content.

Content Warning!

Most of my scenes describe powerplay and sadomasochistic activities in detail and might be too graphic for those who are not into D/s or SM. You have been warned.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. My heart is pounding as I push the heavy wooden door and enter.

I look around the dimly lit dungeon. The interior decoration is simple, and the gothic details and textiles set the mood. It’s an ample space with all the necessary “furniture” and equipment hanging from the ceiling, various devices all around, and an entire wall full of implements.

He approaches me, his aura exuding confidence. He’s gorgeous — his bare, toned torso glistening as the light bounces off him.

I feel myself creaming my panties. No, wait. I’m not wearing any. I’m wearing a tiny little fishnet dress that covers nothing, and uncomfortably high heels.

His eyes bore into mine. “Ready?”

I nod.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Red.”

He nods approvingly. “How are you feeling?”

“Confident.” It comes out a bit too cocky, too fast and too loud. I gulp and look down.

Why did I look him in the eyes? I glance at him again. He’s unfazed.

I’m sure he’s had numerous newbies coming in to fulfil their fantasies. I’m sure he’s used to nervous first-timers. It’s not my first time playing, though — I’ve done my fair share. However, it’s my first time at a real dungeon, with a real Dom.

He smiles at me warmly. God, he’s handsome.

That’s his only flaw thus far; his body resembling a Greek god — otherwise, he’s perfect. Not that I don’t like good-looking, fit men — I do — but I want to keep this strictly professional. No attraction. No romance. No feelings.

We’ve met before this and discussed all my limits and desires, even my most shameful fantasies, and he’s committed to giving me an experience of a lifetime. Perhaps not this first time, as we need to get to know each other, but he’s promised me he’ll blow my mind over the course of this winter.

I’m a bit sceptical — unsure if he’s boasting or if he actually possesses the knowledge and has the skills — but I’ve decided to let him have a go at it, as I have nothing to lose. On the contrary, I have everything to gain if he indeed turns out to be the divinity of pleasure. And pain.

I recently discovered how deep my masochism goes. I’ve always liked to be spanked. I’ve always liked to be restrained and used. I’ve always been into BDSM, and yet, there are some parts I don’t like, and my long list of limits has made it a real challenge to find the perfect play partner.

Then I found him.

He has a deep, husky voice. “Good. I like confident. Kneel.”

Shivers run through my body, and goosebumps cover my skin. He’s so relaxed and natural — not at all bossy or arrogant — and yet commanding.

He’s confident that I’ll kneel, and he’s not wrong. I’ll do anything for this masterpiece of a man. I have, of course, also agreed to his list of demands and expectations.

I feel my pussy juices smear my inner thighs as my knees hit the cool stone floor close to each other. It’s challenging to kneel in high heels.

“Good. Spread.”

Oh, yes. He has let me know how he wants me to kneel. I open my legs and assume the correct pose, my hands resting on my thighs. How did I not remember that?

As an overachiever, I’m disappointed in myself. He, however, seems unbothered.

“Perfect. How’s that?”

My mind races, and countless adjectives flash before me. What should I say?

“Uhm … uncomfortable.”

“Sir,” he adds.

Right. I could kick myself. How could I forget that?

“Uncomfortable, Sir.”

“What’s uncomfortable about kneeling?” He sounds genuinely interested.

“My high heels, Sir.”

“Stand up.” He gives me a hand for support, and I get up as gracefully as I can. “Would you prefer no shoes?”

“Yes, Sir.” It comes out too directly, and I bite my lip.

I watch him kneel before me as he helps me remove my stilettos. Never have the tips of someone’s fingers sliding down my calves felt so sensual. I can feel my wet pussy throbbing, and a flare of shame goes through me.

He stands up slowly, very close to me — letting his fingers follow my inner thigh all the way up to my skirt. He pulls gently on the hem of my dress.

“And this? Do you want to wear this or do you prefer to be naked?”

His voice is seductive. I don’t like it. And yet, my pulse picks up a notch. I definitely prefer to play nude, but I don’t want to appear slutty. Although on second thought, I’m probably beyond that threshold.

“I’d like to undress, Sir.”

With two swift movements, he rips the fishnet dress to pieces.

I gasp involuntarily. Oh, my.

Why is he being sexy like that — like a caveman? Why does this barbaric Hulk even turn me on?

I try to regulate my breathing and not to seem so desperately horny.

“Good. I also prefer you naked.”

He takes my hand and leads me across the room like a princess.

Ugh, I don’t like it. I want to be spanked, whipped, tied up and ravished. Why is he being so … nice?

“You want to be spanked.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll start on this spanking bench. It’s very comfortable.”

He gently but firmly guides me into the correct position. I’m conscious of my inner thighs being soaked, but he doesn’t touch me there. The padded bench is indeed soft underneath my knees, and I can comfortably rest on the bench with my ass and pussy exposed.

“You can grab these poles if you need to. It’s easier to keep in place when you hold on to something. I won’t restrain you this first time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“We’ll try out most of these — ten swats each — to see what you like.”

I look up at the wall and feel a nervous tingling. That would be hundreds of strokes. Is he serious?

“Yes, Sir.”

He grabs the first implement off the wall. “This is a soft leather paddle. You’ll count.”

“Yes, Sir.” I feel like I’m repeating myself. What else should I say?

The first swat lands on my butt, and I inhale sharply.

“One, Sir.”

The next one comes immediately on the other buttcheek. I breathe again — this is a soft paddle for warmup.

“Two, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

His words make me cringe, yet a warmth spreads through my body. I have this forbidden need to surrender and be a good girl. It feels so good to submit — but also so wrong. That’s the stubborn feminist inside me, unable to let go and admit who I truly am — and what I crave.

He gives me the next eighth and I count. I start to relax and enjoy myself, as he takes another stiffer leather paddle and administers the ten swats.

“Ok, let’s take something more serious. This is a leather strap. I’ll start soft.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The first couple of swats give the same warm feeling, but as he increases the intensity, I start to feel a more stinging sensation, which momentarily takes my breath away. He then chooses another, more rigid strap and does the same. My ass is glowing now, but I love the sensation and the aftertingle.

“This is a good one. A tawse — it has a proper sting when enough force is used. Brace yourself.”

I hold on to the wooden poles, smiling to myself. I doubt it will be that intense, but it turns out he knows his shit.

I gasp loudly as he hits me the first time. Double lines burn across my ass on a more concentrated area, and the sensation lingers much longer.

“One, Sir.”

“You want it harder?”

I need a moment to consider. However, this is why I’m here — I want to push my limits.

“Yes, please, Sir, give it to me harder.”

And he does.

I cry out as the two straps dig deep into my flesh, at least that’s how it feels. I really need to hold on to the poles and breathe — I forget to count.

“You’ll get one additional every time you forget to count.”

“Sorry, Sir. Two, Sir.”

“Was that too much?”

I swallow hard. The afterglow is delicious. “No, Sir.”

Again, I let out a muffled scream when the tawse bites my skin. Oh, heaven.

“Three, Sir.”

I glance back at him. He’s not afraid to hit hard. That has been the fundamental problem in all my previous relationships. They all think it’s too much — but this sadistic celestial being seems perfectly at ease using brute force.

The next stroke lands lower, and I nearly wet myself — it almost touched my vulva. I’m still whimpering, trying to find my voice.

“Four, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

Oh, I’m melting inside. He caresses my sore buttcheeks and checks the skin. I wonder how red I’ve already become.

My breathing hitches when I suddenly feel his strong fingers on my labia, pushing in between my lips, spreading my slippery moisture all over. He massages my clitoris for a while, and I feel the tension building up, but then he removes his hand.

I receive the rest, and after “eleven”, my glutes are on fire.

“Thank you, Sir.” My voice is hoarse, and I feel a lump in my throat.

How did he make me so vulnerable in such a short time?

“You’re a very good girl. You can take proper swats. I like that.”

His praise hugs the ashamed, insecure little inner me — he doesn’t judge my love for intense pain.

“You’re quite red already, that’s going to bruise. Let’s try the wooden ruler.”

With the ruler, he smacks me on the sides of my buttocks and lower on the thighs. He’s not hitting very hard, but enough to let me feel the sharp sting, which fades quickly. I like this implement as well as the tawse.

Next, he lets me have a taste of a thin, supple cane — another teaser. He gives me a few harder strokes on my thighs and leaves me longing for more.

“You’ll get a proper caning in the future. I promise. I’m positive you’ll love it.”

I know I will. I love the cane.

I can see him approach me with a crop that has a heart-shaped tip. He walks in behind me, which makes me a bit nervous. I soon feel the crop tapping my ass, and I get a fast spank on one buttock and then the other.

Ouch!

The crop is tapping my vulva now, and I hold my breath.

Fuck.

He smacks me between my legs, and I whimper, although it wasn’t even a hard one. However, my labia are so swollen and sensitive that I don’t need much stimulation. I almost come when he gives me a proper smack.

I cry out and hold on to the poles, pulling myself down against the bench. Oh, the torture!

Suddenly, there’s a vibrator on my clit. It’s my favourite toy of all — one with suction.

OMG! I’m going to come!

What was I supposed to say? Ask for permission? My brain freezes, as it’s too late already.

“Come to me.” His murmur is a command, and I do as told.

My insides explode, and my body jerks uncontrollably for what feels like forever.

“Good girl.”

He caresses my back, and I feel like sobbing. I rarely have powerful orgasms like that.

He puts away the toy and comes closer behind me, between my legs, which are spread shoulder-wide apart.

“Next time, I’ll spank you sore, and then fuck you right here.”

He grabs my hips and pulls me to his bulging leather pants rather forcefully. My pussy rubs against his hardened cock inside his pants, and I wish I hadn’t asked for no penetration. Why did I do that?

Oh, God, I need him to fuck me. Hard. Just like that.

“I’ll secure you to this bench, put a hook up your ass and tie it to your braid.” He pulls my hair and tilts my head up. “And I’ll fuck your brains out.”

He pulls me against him a few more times to demonstrate, like I need a clearer mental image of what I’m missing out on.

Oh, he’s mean!

He moves in front of me and grabs my braid once more.

“Then I’ll put it down your throat and you’re going to suck me dry.”

I feel my vagina lubricating itself again. Why?

I like giving head, but I’m not too keen on having a penis down my throat. I know he likes that and will teach me — he’s told me — and at this point I’m ready to do anything for him.

“We’ll try two more things here.” He walks away and picks up two paddles — then positions himself next to my hips. “This is a ping-pong paddle. Good for warming up.”

He smacks me hard, and I wince. Oh, fuck, it hurts.

“Sensitive, are we?”

He sounds amused, and I glance back at him. He doesn’t give me any slack. He smacks hard, alternating buttcheeks, and I almost wail as I count. When I finally get a break, I’m panting.

“Good. You powered through.”

He takes the long, rectangular wooden paddle with holes and shows it to me.

“This is going to hurt a bit.”

I swallow hard. I’m so sore already.

“You can take it as a punishment. Usually, you need to ask for permission to come and beg me to let you come.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I love the idea of punishment. I crave to be disciplined. He knows — I’ve told him. Still, I was too shy to ask for it this first time.

“This is going to leave deep bruises. It will be quite uncomfortable to sit for a week or so, but it serves as a good reminder — you’ll quickly learn to ask for permission.”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice quivers.

“You’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

Right. Of course.

He puts his hand on my back and the paddle on my behind. From the corner of my eye, I see him raise his hand and slam the paddle on my ass.

Fuck! I want to scream, but I’m not quite comfortable letting it out.

He waits until I gather myself.

“One, Sir.”

This time, I close my eyes and hold my breath.

Swoosh!

I hear the paddle cutting through the air before it hits me.

Oh. My. Fucking. God. My whole body tenses. My ass burns. Jesus Christ!

I don’t know how long it takes me, but eventually I manage to speak.

“Two, Sir.”

He gives me another one, and I’m seeing stars. Holy fuck, it hurts!

I only whimper as that’s all I have left, and somehow miraculously, I manage to count.

I zone out for a few swats — it’s like I’m floating around in this space of intense sensations and wonderful pain.

He checks in on me, making sure I’m alright, but I’m all good. Never been better, never been high like this.

When he’s done punishing my ass, he helps me up. I’m a bit disoriented, and he holds my arm — I feel dizzy, but in a good way.

He gives me a bottle of water, and I slowly sober up.

He looks at me, concerned. “Do you want to take a break?”

But the answer is no — I never want to let go of this feeling.

He takes me to the X-cross and puts my arms in the restraints.

“We’re going to try a few floggers and a single tail whip. Ok?”

“Yes, Sir.”

I’ve been waiting for the whip. I know I like it, I just don’t know how much I can take, since no one has been willing to push my limits.

He starts whipping my back in an X pattern, with a couple of relatively soft floggers. He also flogs the insides of my thighs, letting the tails wrap around my legs and bite my skin. It feels more like caressing or stroking, nice and smooth, but I prefer the hard stuff.

He then picks up a flogger with longer, more rigid tails — I like this one better. He gives me ten across my back, with more force. He can probably see me enjoying it, since he’s not holding back. The tips of the tails mark my sides, and I can feel the heated stripes covering my back.

Oh, heaven.

I’m disappointed when he stops, but positively surprised when he puts a wand on my wet vulva.

Oh, Lord. I squirt almost immediately. I feel a streak of warmth run down my legs, and I even hear drops hit the floor.

“Good girl.”

My insides squirm with an intense mix of shame and pride. How can these two feelings even intertwine? I’d think about it more deeply, but I’m too occupied trying to hold myself together.

I’m so close. My neurons send signals all over. I’m supposed to do something now.

“Please, Sir. May I come?”

“Good. You’re learning.”

“Please, Sir. I’m so close.”

“No.”

I’m not happy to see him put the wand away, but I don’t complain. I’m not sure how this works. Should I beg more?

He puts a cool metal chain around my neck. It has long chains hanging from it with small clamps at the ends. Two go on my nipples — oh, my, they pinch! — and two on my pussy. Luckily, he puts them on my outer lips, which is manageable even though the pinching is intense.

“How’s that?”

I don’t know what to say.

“Uhm …”

He pulls the chain around my neck, making the other chains pull up and tug the clamps. Oh, sweet mother. I cream myself again.

“Too much?”

Too much? Oh, heavens no. I love torture. However, I told him I can’t always handle extreme clamps on my nipples — that’s why he’s asking.

“No, Sir.”

He finally takes out the single-tailed whip. Shivers go up and down my spine.

“I’ll aim at your thighs. We’ll only do ten to try it out.”

“Yes, Sir.”

I wonder if he’s going to start soft, but I quickly get my answer. He cracks the whip, and the tail wraps around my leg, biting my inner thigh. I cry out as the pain is so sudden and sharp, but the sensation fades quickly. There is no burning afterglow.

“One, Sir.”

“Did you enjoy that?”

“Yes, Sir. Give me more.”

And he does. After the second one, he goes a little harder as he sees that I can take it. The cracker really bites into my thighs — the quick, sharp sting is different, but the sensation is delicious nonetheless.

Every time I’m hit and I move, the chains move. The weight of them alone tugs on the clamps, which adds another yummy flavour to the whipping. Unfortunately, I reach ten too soon.

In the next moment, he’s holding me from behind, pushing his bulging pants against my ass, his warm torso against my whipped back. I feel the vibrato on my clit, exactly on my spot.

How does he know?

He pulls the chain around my neck again, stimulating my nipples and pussy. I almost wet myself once more.

He breathes into my ear. “Good girl. Come for me — now.”

And I do.

It’s not as sensational as my first one, but my body convulses as he holds me tight.

Oh, heaven, don’t let this ever stop.

However, it has to stop. I know that. He removes the magnificent tiny device, and I sniff a little.

He starts unclamping my labia and then my nipples, before removing all the chains. He’s pinning me against the cross while he releases my wrists. His body against mine feels so good, although I have told him I want as little touching as possible.

He holds my arm as he walks me over to the shower booth. I manage to rinse my body — he dries me off, wraps me in a bathrobe and guides me to the armchairs.

He gives me my water bottle and sits down opposite me.

“How are you feeling?”

My mind is blank. I’m looking for adjectives again, but can’t find a suitable one.

“Good.”

“Good?”

I blink a few times. Surely I can come up with something better.

“I mean … great.”

“Great?”

Why is he repeating everything I say?

There’s a hint of a smile as he changes position.

“Ok, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Do you have pain? Would you like a painkiller?”

I’m not sure what I feel and where — my entire body aches. I shake my head.

“I think I’m alright. Thanks.”

He nods.

“Is there anything you didn’t like?”

I stare at him in silence.

I can’t think of anything. What is there not to like? I was up on cloud nine the entire time.

“No … I … loved it.”

“Well, then … let’s talk tomorrow. Ok?”

I look at the time and snap out of it; I need to get going — I don’t have time to chat. He knows I have other commitments, and that’s why he’s showing me out the door as fast as possible.

“Yeah … I’ll text you.” I’ll let him know how I’m feeling the next day — that’s what we agreed before our session.

I find it hard to pull my eyes off him. What magic makes him so irresistible? It’s not only the godlike appearance; it’s his warm, non-judgmental presence. It’s something I’ve never experienced before in my life.

As I walk out, I don’t feel shame or guilt. He doesn’t think I’m crazy for enjoying what I enjoy. He doesn’t think I’m damaged for being turned on by pain. He welcomes my kink with open arms — he helps me embrace this side of me, which has never felt accepted or normal.

I head home filled with confidence. This man can make my dreams come true, and I can’t wait until next time.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment and stay tuned for the next scene!

This was an introductory scene. The next ones are somewhat longer, usually 5000-6000 words, as more depth requires more context.

I will publish a new scene on the 14th of each month.