Limits
23^rd July 2000

Am I a dominant or not ?

A few days ago, I would have said 'no', but now, perhaps I am swayed to believe that perhaps I do have it in me, after all. I can be a real Bitch at times; I know that well enough. After all, I've been a Butch top for most of the last ten years, with skills that would make the most arrogant of males grimace and turn away in fear, but now I am in a one-on-one relationship, with a femme dominant whom I once called 'Mistress' and still do, when the rare occasion of me bottoming to her arises. I say rare, but that's because I feel selfish when I bottom to her, because I'm taking time from her; time when I could be satisfying her and making her happy.

She once had a hard limit of bottoming to a woman, Even she, femme-domme that she is, was certain that no woman was as strong as her, or strong enough to take her down to where she needed to be, at any rate. As a bisexual, all her stories of her exploits with women have been as the active partner, the seducer, the corrupter ( a role I know so well myself, as a Butch lesbian top ); her exploits with men as the strong woman who takes what she needs, and gives all that she can. She took me on, more than a year ago, as her own real-life submissive, and I did my best to please her in that role. But her abandonment of me in favour of a male all but destroyed my ability to be her submissive again, as well as my Self, and forced me back into 'LeatherBitch' the strong Top, as the only way I could survive. When she had decided she had made a mistake, and ditched her worthless husband, I was only too happy to return to her side, but this time I could no longer be her submissive; I could not allow myself to be hurt so badly a second time, and thus she took me as her collared dyke Top.

We spent several months discussing our future. We were both sure that this was the one relationship that would last us for the rest of our lives. We wanted it to be right. She had needs that in our previous relationship I could never fulfil, and so did I. She needed to bottom; to take the pain she craved, and as a bisexual, she needed to be fucked with dicks, something I couldn't supply. I needed to top, to give the pain which fed my pleasures, as being relatively sexually inactive, it was the only way I could get satisfaction. ( I didn't masturbate, and I never had orgasms ). We both knew that the polyamoury this entailed would endanger our relationship, so she tried an experiment. She bottomed for me.

Granted, it was a bad scene. She ended up topping from below, and had she not been staying at my own house, I would have released her and walked out. As it was, I ended up virtually ignoring her for a couple of hours whilst I nursed my bruised ego at my inability to give her what she desired, the speed with which I allowed her to top from below, and the anger I shed upon her for hurting me in such a way. She, however, saw it differently. The anger I had vented, and the pain I had inflicted whilst angry, convinced her that I was indeed able to top her, and she made sure that I topped her several more times, until the point where she was certain that I could also be a dominant to her, as well as a submissive, and we could jointly collar.

The night I collared her was a revelation. We had talked on the phone about my being able to 'King', to wield male energy as a Butch, and so on that night I did, and she became fully submissive to this 'Daddy' persona I was able to use. I can't do it all the time though, so the 'Daddy' steps in only rarely, and when he's most needed.

And so it was like that this week. We had both been stressed over our real world, and she had come to a point by about Tuesday where she told me she needed to be fucked by me…strap-on dildos are such a wonderful toy…and yet I did not. I satisfied her as much as I could ( and when I wasn't so tired that I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow ) but never gave her what she most desired. It wasn't until we'd fucked on Friday morning, when once again I'd given her a series of small orgasms, but not enough to deeply satisfy her, that she asked again for the strap-on, declaring that it was something she needed. "I know," I replied, and smiled, reminding her that tonight we would be going to a play party with some friends. She almost couldn't believe that I was such a bitch as to have planned this so thoroughly; that tonight, at the club, I would push her limits of both public scening as a bottom, and, perhaps, of being fucked in public.

Lying there in bed, with her alternating between calling me a bitch and hating me, and telling me that she loved me, she tried to get her head around the idea that the student, her once collared submissive, had for a change been more devious than she. It is an understatement to say that she was nervous about the prospect, but she did confess that the most likely way I would succeed was to be Daddy, to the point where she even looked out shirts for me to wear, with me settling in the end for my favourite; the black silk…and the sunglasses.

Our friends picked us up and drove us there; albeit late ( my fault; I was mistaken about the 'last entry' time ) and she all but bit through her lip on the way there, she was so nervous. I kept catching her looking at me, still apparently incredulous, and I either smiled or raised my eyebrows, alternately reassuring her and letting her no that I meant to break her limits tonight.

In the club she was resplendent as ever; a red velvet sheath dress and matching nail collar, and as usual she commanded many admiring glances. As a warm up, knowing it excited her, I did a small demonstration of fire play, pouring petrol first on my hand, then on our male Dom friends, lighting it and extinguishing it, feeling the heat it generated at it seared the flesh and hair. I offered the play to her, but she declined, though I later discovered that she had not realised I had offered to ignite her in a similar fashion…disappointment on both sides, mistakenly.

There had been an invitation from the club organiser, several months ago, that whoever fucked on the alter, an apt name for one of the pieces of dungeon equipment, would get free tickets to the club the following month. I sought him out and asked if this offer was still extant, but he laughed and said no.
I told my Love that in that case there would be no public fucking tonight, and I am still unaware of whether she was relieved or disappointed. I gave her my knickers to wear, though, since we wouldn't be fucking, to save her modesty when I topped her.

I wasn't going to let get away entirely, though. Near the closing time of the club I led her around, seeing what furniture was free. It became a choice between the spanking bench and the 'A' frame, and we chose the 'A' frame. I freed the ropes as she took off her jewellery and shoes, but I asked her to leave her nail collar on; after all, she was a dominant, not a submissive, and I didn't want anyone to view her otherwise. Gently, I bound her hands and legs to the frame, and when she asked for a blindfold I tied a red satin scarf around her eyes.

I began with her favourite toy; a blade. This one of ebony, granted, and fairly blunt, but the feel of it sent her spiralling down. Dissatisfied with the lack of marks, though, I switched to an etching tool; steel sharp enough to cut into steel plate, and though I did not cut deeply enough to draw blood ( a club limit ) it left some pretty Celtic patterns on the flesh of her back. I drooped her knickers and lifted her dress, to expose her ass, and chose a flogger; fur to start with, then leather, then rubber, which she couldn't deal with as the pain was ramping too high for her in this nervous state, then leather again. I moved to my favoured toy, the canes; and drummed on her to the beat of an Irish tune ( Morrigan's Jig ) in my head. At one point I stopped, and cupping her cunt in my hand whispered 'Cum for Me, My Love' in her ear, and she obliged beautifully.

Alas, the house lights came on all too soon, and to my horror, a spotlight was positioned directly upon us. I quickly freed her, and put away the toys whilst she collected herself and gathered up her jewellery, then we strolled, arm in arm, two Domme Bitches, back to our seats, before saying our goodbyes and leaving for home.

On the back seat of the car, she whispered that she was still as hot as hell for me, and in getting comfortable for long drive home, she slid off her shoes and rested her legs across me. I couldn't resist the opportunity, and stroked her legs, hiking up her dress to gain access to her thighs. Teasing her cunt, and seeing how wet she was, I eased off her knickers, and slid my fingers inside. And that's how we stayed for the whole journey home. Sometimes I would stroke her gently, sometimes I would fuck her to orgasm; all in absolute silence in case the driver or her Dom discovered us, even under the bright lights of a service station when she stopped for petrol and snacks.

As the last ten miles approached, with silent agreement, I slid my whole fist inside her, and fucked her hard, until her throat was sore with suppressed cries, and I was all but bursting to fuck her properly,  then carefully withdrew as we drew up to the house, walking behind my partner to save her being embarrassed by the soaked red velvet of her dress.

In the early hours of Saturday morning, we dined on the pastries that our friends had bought, along with coffee and carrot wine, and talked for a while, my partner occasionally mouthing ' fuck, I need you,' when her desires peaked. I assured her that I was not to tired to fulfil my promise, and we finally retired at 5:00 AM.

True to my word, I gave her the choice of her strap-on or mine; hers a short, black leather one, but very thick; mine a longer but thinner latex one. She chose mine, and I buckled it on before climbing into bed. Smiling, I smoked a cigarette; knowing that it would both infuriate her and drive her wild with suppressed need, and then I acceded to her desires, fucking her sometimes slowly, sometimes hard, enjoying her release, her pleasure, her pain.

After a while, she turned over, and I fucked her from behind ( a strap-on never goes soft ) and she asked that I once again tie my hair back, so that we could return to the Daddy / girl roles. Safe in the knowledge that her 'Daddy' loved her, she asked that I take her in the ass, and I acquiesced, gently pushing inside her over the course of a few minutes, then building up until she was silently screaming with the pain.

Eventually there came a point where I was becoming sore from the strap-on rubbing against my clit, and I reluctantly told her that ' Daddy would have to stop soon, as he was getting sore,' and I could almost feel the disappointment course through her. Slowly, I withdrew, and discarded the dildo, returning to using my fingers to keep her satisfied. As she twisted again to lie on her front, she asked me to hurt her even more, to break her hard limit, to make her cry. Again I fisted her, twisting my hand inside her as I thrust hard and deep, listening to her gasps of pain as I concentrated upon giving her what she needed, but very wary of the fact that there was a high possibility of damage to her cunt.

Still she couldn't cry, so I increased my efforts, slam fisting her into throes of agony, my wrist and shoulder flaming in pain of my own from the effort I was giving. Still no tears, and I sighed, dreadfully disappointed that I could not give her what she most needed; the tears of release from the stresses she was going through in her real life, and I withdrew, knowing that to continue would no nothing more than damage her internally, and resigned myself to using the surest method I had to make her cry; to tell her that I was leaving her. Even though she knew it wasn't true, that I could no more leave her than drive a blade into her heart, the emotional agony she would feel would tip the balance.

Thankfully, I didn't have to. The feeling of loss she experienced as I withdrew slammed her into her tears, and I held her as she cried, chiding her for choking back the tears; willing her to let it out, to gain a little release. As she calmed a little I fetched her a glass of water, and returned to find her retching, choking back the tears again. She had gained a little release, but not yet enough. We would be doing this again, for as long as it took for her to be able to cry freely.

At 7:00 AM we returned to bed, to catch a little sleep before the day began anew.

Now, though I have proved myself a dominant, a switch only to her, in her house I feel once again like a submissive, confined to the kitchen, serving her needs as well as I can, doing the washing, the cooking, the dish washing, the cleaning when required. And yet she denies that I am anything other than her fully equal partner. She loves me as much as I love her, more so perhaps, and she hates it that I feel so worthless in her presence, that I am so often self-deprecating, so often do I deny that I am worth her attention.

Yet when I look at her gently pleading face, silently asking for whatever she needs, I can never resist her. Even when the scene ends unexpectedly, or abruptly, such as when we are disturbed, we both know that whatever time we have spent pleasing the other is worth a thousand hours of non-scene time; though that too is precious to us, for we bathe in each others presence.

She is still my Bitch-Domme, though…We were lying in bed this morning, talking in that sleepy, half-awake state, and she asked me if I remembered what happened last night. I didn't; I had been so tired that I had fallen asleep literally as my head hit the pillow. She smiled, and told me how she had put her breast to my lips and had me suckle from her in sleep as she stroked my hair, as she whispered that she love me, her 'little girl,' and how I mewled in pleasure at her soothing voice. Age play, with me as the little one, is / was such a hard limit of my own, one she seems intent upon breaking.

Oh fuck…

© racheljayne 25^th July 2000.