Let Me Stand Next to Your Fire

This is the second of a series of "Session Diaries" inspired by sessions with pro-Dommes in Manhattan in the late 1990s.

I waited, naked, on my knees leaning forward with my head and hands on the floor. The room was a windowless space in an industrial loft in Midtown. One harsh light shone down from the high ceiling.

When the sound of her boots clicking across the floor announced her arrival, I sat up.

"How have you been?" Lady Vick asked.

"I have been well. And you, my lady?"

She cocked an eyebrow and said, "It has been a rough week."

Whatever type of week she may have had, to my eyes, she still looked stunning. Jet black hair, pulled back in a pony tail. Pale skin. Flashing obsidian eyes, a sharp jaw and beautiful full red lips. She was built solidly with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Her muscled arms and shoulders were decorated with elaborate tattoos of serpents and sea monsters in lush scarlet, greens, and blues.

She wore all black. A leather bodice, tight black leather pants and boots. The bodice was festooned with straps and rings and was cut just low enough to accent her ample cleavage.

She always wore leather. She rocked the role of a Leather Daddy, rough and hard edged, yet somehow managed to gracefully blend the beautiful and the butch. She looked a bit like a goth, dark-haired Marilyn Monroe with just a hint of Marilyn Manson, heading off to slay a dragon in her leather armor.

But there was no dragon to be slayed. Just a naked man kneeling on the floor, ready to accept whatever torment she had in mind.

One thing caught my eye, which gave me a hint of what might be in store. She wore a single-tail, braided in black and red leather, held by a strap coiled on her hip. Specifically, by the braided handle I knew that it was what is called a snake whip. It went well with the tattoos on her arms. Seeing the whip, I felt both threatened and excited.

She looked down at me. "Are you up for some intense play?"

"I noticed the whip," I replied.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Whatever you like, my lady. The choice is always yours."

Again, she lifted an eyebrow. Small creases formed on her forehead. I could tell that she was becoming impatient with me. It occurred to me that when kneeling naked before a powerful woman with a dangerous whip on her hip, annoying her might not be the best approach.

She asked, "Do you want to play hard?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, my lady," I replied.

She grasped the whip and unhooked the strap with her thumb. The coil fell to the floor. In a quick flick of her wrist, the whip went from being a fashion accessory to a dangerous extension of her arm. The crack of the whip sounded like a gunshot and reverberated in the enclosed space.

"Its new," she said. "You'll be the first for me to test it on."

"Thank you, my lady, I think."

She smiled. "But not yet." She walked over to one of the cabinets along the wall and in a few minutes came back to the center of the room with a rolling cart. Having expected to be be being beaten immediately with her new whip, I was surprised when she put on latex gloves and started wiping my nipples with an alcohol swab.

"We haven't played with needles in a while," she said with a wicked smile. She picked up a package of sterile hypodermic needles and opened one, pulling off the cover.

What made Lady Vick so special was that she knew both sides of the whip. Or perhaps, in this case, both sides of the needle. It was no secret that she spent several years as a professional submissive before becoming a pro-Domme. She literally knew the joy and the pain that I was experiencing and it excited her as both a top and a bottom. Too many Dommes were only sadists and could be either too cautious or not cautious enough, because they did not understand first hand what the bottom was experiencing.

Lady Vick had been on both sides and knew exactly what the bottom felt. She understood the pain and the pain excited her. As the bottom, I fed off her energy, which always seemed to push me further. And it was clear, the farther I was pushed the more she energy she felt.

She stepped toward me, smiling, holding the needle in one hand. With the other hand she reached out and squeezed my left nipple, pulling it away from my chest. She deftly pushed the needle through near the base.

I felt a blinding white searing light as the steel penetrated sensitive flesh. If the feeling could have been a sound it would have been a high shriek. I exhaled deeply.

"Thank you, my lady."

She pulled the wrapping from the next needle and pushed it though my right nipple. The flame of the pain was brighter now, but I could feel the ground spring of endorphins rising from my core.

The next needles were 90 degrees to the first set, up and down, making a cross. The next were at 45 degrees.

The pain in my nipples sent blood surging to my cock, which now stood at attention. Lady Vick glanced down, then looked at the needle in her hand.

"Perhaps I should stick the next one right through the head of your cock." She chuckled. "Nah. Maybe next time. Let's stick with your nipples, so to speak." She slid the needle between the others in my left nipple then turned to the cart for another.

I watched - both observer and recipient - as she worked from one side to the other, pushing another needle through one nipple and then the other other. With each, the pain crested and then subsided. Soon there were four needles in each nipple, then six, then eight, radiating around like the petals of a flower. The needle hubs were a pale blue, so my nipples looked incongruously like twin daisies with blue petals and pink centers.

At eight needles in each, she stopped, although she wasn't quite finished with me. She looked deeply into my eyes and then put her palms, one each on my aching nipples. She pushed against my chest. The dull, aching, pain erupted like a volcano and I both gasped for air and cried out.

She leaned over to the my ear and whispered. "I think we are ready. Go over to the cross."

I walked over to the padded St. Andrews Cross and stood facing it. With eight needles in each, my nipples ached, and I was careful not to lean against the black leather. I spread my legs and raised my arms as Lady Vick secured the cuffs around my ankles and wrists, leaving me spread eagled, immobile and helpless with my back and backside facing out into the room, vulnerable and exposed.

I waited for a moment, working to relax, slow my heartbeat, and stay in the warm endorphin cloud from the needles. I heard her move behind me. It started as a soft swishing sound. She was spindling the whip in the air. I could feel its breath, gentle and close. Then, as she moved closer, the popper just barely touched my back, flicking past, almost tickling, like a feather.

Then she stopped spinning and started throwing the whip. I felt a sharp cutting slash which warmed my flesh but wasn't so bad. This gentle glancing strike was followed by another and another. As I sank into the rhythm of the blows, she mixed it up with a harder strike that shook my whole body and caused me to cry out before she shifted back to the softer teasing throws.

She worked her way across my upper back steadily increasing the intensity. The teasing strikes became fewer and fewer and the harder blows sent me deeper in subspace. My back felt like a forest fire raged across it, hotter and hotter and yet, I wasn't consumed. And with each throw of the whip, the fire burned faster.

After my upper back had taken considerable punishment, she moved on to my ass. She was past being gentle and blows fell harder and harder, crisscrossing my backside, which burned intensely even as my back was still aflame.

I had no sense of how long she had been whipping me. I was carried along by the rhythm of the whip's fall. Then there was a pause and I was struck by a thundering blow across my upper back and then a second and third. The air was knocked from my lungs. The raging fire on my back became an inferno. My chest was forced against the cross, pressing hard on my pierced nipples. The pain from both my back and chest seemed to explode through me. I screamed.

And then, there was silence.

The final blows were to call me back. To announce the end of the whipping. I stood there shackled, facing the wall, unable to move my back still burning, my nipples aching. I heard her walk away and then, the single dim light illuminating the room went out. Darkness.

I had no idea what was happening. I could see nothing, feel nothing but the pain. Blind in the dark, all I could do was listen, yet I had no idea what I was hearing.

I heard the click of her boots as she walked back across the floor, the sound of a metal chair being moved, followed by several metallic clicks and what sounded like several heavy zippers being zipped or unzipped.

A minute or two later I heard soft footfalls. Then against me, what seemed for an instant to be a cool caress. I gasped. I felt her hands at my sides as her naked body pressed against my burning back and ass. With her hands on my waist, she pulled herself close and tight.

She whispered in my ear, "Let me stand next to your fire."

I was surprised, shocked. I didn't know what to say so I said nothing and allowed myself to sink into the cool, moist, softness of her skin against my back, as the song from Jimi Hendrix played in my head.

Then she stepped away and was gone. I waited. In a moment, I could hear the soft squeak of the metal chair and soon I heard her breathing deeply. Her breathing grew more rapid and seemed to merge into a soft moan.

My eyes had adjusted to the darkness. Light seeped in from beneath the far door and I could just make out shapes and shadows. I turned my head and could just make out her form at the edges of my peripheral vision. She was a shadow on the chair with one hand between her legs.

As soon as I turned my head, she barked, "Eyes front!"

I turned back to the wall and listened as the moans grew in intensity and urgency, until she came, with something between a groan and a growl, followed again by the sounds of her breathing, which progressively slowed.

I waited in the darkness, listening only to the drumbeat of my heart and my own deep breathing.

Suddenly, the light came back on. It was blinding. Jarring. It pulled me out of wherever I had been just a moment before. I felt my ankles being unshackled. She reached around and pressed her palms against my nipples. I let a out a yell of both shock and pain.

"That was for peeking."

She unshackled my hands and I stepped away from the cross. She was wearing a red silk dressing gown. She was no longer in her armor but she still looked formidable. She took my hand and led me back to the rolling cart. She dragged a fingernail lightly over my nipples, which hurt like hell and at the same time felt wonderful. Carefully, she pulled the first needle out. I gasped.

"Now, jerk off, " she commanded.

My cock was close to erect already and I began to stroke it as she removed the needles one by one. Drops of blood dripped languidly from each nipple. From the left they hit the floor but on the right side they dripped on my occupied arm and rolled down to my hand and cock. The hot blood was strangely exciting.

I moaned slightly to myself. She pulled out the last needle. My breath begins to quicken.

"Don't come before I tell you to," she commanded with a smirk. I slowed my pace.

She begins counting down from 10. "Come when I reach zero"

I stroked a little harder.

"9...8...7...6..5...4"

I came as she reaches one. I gasped and threw my head back as she laughs.

"Close enough."

She ran her hand lightly across my tender and still burning backside, before giving it a resounding slap. I gave a yelp.

"Until next time."

I close my eyes as the old Hendrix tune, "Fire," plays in my head.