Going to extremes

Have you ever wondered what it would be like if he hit you as hard as he could, brought the tawse or the cane down full across your bottom with all his force, instead of the controlled strokes he usually practices? Do you secretly dream, with a kind of horrified excitement, of the abandonment of all restraint, even if for just one short, sharp instant? Where the pain is all but unbearable? No, where it is completely unbearable but you have no choice, and your whole body shakes with the impact. Or does that sort of talk make you shrink away, muttering about psychos and vowing never to put yourself in harm’s way?

As a dom I too have this fantasy, that maybe just once I cast restraint to the winds and bring my arm down with full force, eliciting doubtless a scream and seeing an angry welt erupt, perhaps even flecked with blood. And probably ruining the relationship irreparably. I’ve never done it, and I don’t suppose I ever shall. But the thought is there, I can’t deny it, and I think for many submissives and doms it’s a compelling fantasy, that the dom might go out of control, and one that gives the whole thing that extra charge of excitement, the whiff of real danger that imparts to a d/s encounter its distinctive flavour.

There’s another kind of extreme. Instead of maximum force, you have a fantasy of total control. I am not just talking about a few orgasms denied here and there, a little session with some nipple clamps maybe, or instructions to go out without her underwear and maybe with her butt-plug in place. I mean total, 24/7 control of her whole life. You tell her what she may wear every day, what she must (or must not) eat, what she can read, how to spend her leisure time. When to sleep, when to wash, when to study the texts you prescribe. You set her daily tasks; write about this or that (her feelings on being indefinitely denied orgasms, for example), or clean the bathroom naked. Her body is no longer her own; she may not touch it without permission. If you want her pierced or tattooed, she does it. You tell her who she will fuck, and when and how, in what manner she will be used and abused. You colonise her mind. And there are many daily rituals, of cleansing and exercising and obedience, kneeling at certain times, the regular infliction of pain on herself, while speaking your name out loud. I could elaborate, but the principle is that every moment of her day is accounted for and carefully controlled, and that there are no limits.

Of course this is a fantasy. Who has the time? And who really would want it? But as an ideal it has a certain perverse appeal. In d/s there is a constant desire to go further and further. There are limits? You want to press against them, to find the limits beyond the limits, and press up against them too. You want her to take more, to press her face even harder to the floor, to make her ass a brighter red, to threaten her with all kinds of humiliation and public exposure. She trusts you; of course she does, or you would never have got this far. But she knows there’s a demon in you, and she is fascinated by him, even as she hopes (well, sort of) that she will never see him face to face. Just catch a glimpse now and again.