Not All Is Lost

My name is Lola Batling, there are two things I really hate: flowery BDSM stories in which it feels like an essay on “Why my Master is the best” those really irk me and I’m not sure why. My story is not one of those, for I have no Master anymore.

The second thing I can’t stand is labels either, though I seemed to accumulate them with ease. Smallish, barely five feet in my platform Mary Janes I got on sale at Hot Topic, I got called “goth” a lot. It was annoying. To me, I was just a girl living in Detroit with my boyfriend and two cats. When I met Victor, things changed. I picked up another label: Submissive. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it at first, but I started to grow accustomed to it. I wanted to share that with Victor, but I never got the chance. We had just begun to explore. Although it felt natural, almost inevitable, part of me expected it was Victor’s plan. If so, I was happy to be his puppet.

It was early September when I lost the love of my life. Victor had been my world for the past three years. I didn’t like labels, but there was something about Victor that I couldn’t just shake. It wasn’t just that I was having sex, good sex mind you, for the first time with him, but he just turned something inside me that I hadn’t experienced before. When he died, I felt traumatized and lost. After those three years, I never thought it would end so suddenly, so abruptly. Another thing I didn’t expect was to fall into a loveless relationship on the rebound.

Erotica became my choice of reading. I enjoyed getting lost in other people’s sexual deviance. It was safer than indulging my own. Victor always made fun of me for being so bookish and quiet. His death only drove me back into the comfort of my shell. Though, urges can only be suppressed for so long before the courage grows and the hunger takes over.

The night was an odd one. I was on the verge of something, even if I couldn’t place my fingers on it exactly. The days prior found me in a stressful situation, haunting a chatroom more and more seeking the comfort of strangers. That night, I found myself drawn to Him. Something about him made me feel like my heart could explode despite the likeliness of him being thousands of miles away. For that night, looks didn’t matter. I didn’t care if he was dark, handsome, rich, or even male. He just made me feel truly submissive.

We spent the rest of the night flirting with each other, batting sexually charged banter back and forth over the internet. It was nice to meet someone who shared my tastes and desires. Our posts were spiked with asterixes and net-gesturing. The only sad thing was, that it was the closest I had gotten to fulfilling my need since Victor’s death. When it got too late for me, I ducked out of the room gracefully, exchanging emails with the guy and a loose promise to “play again” later.

While the session got my juices flowing, it didn’t do anything to fully sate the burning desire threatening to tear its way out up through my loins and out of my chest. I hadn’t been dominated for real since Victor passed.

It wasn’t that I didn’t try. I did. The so-so play dates and married men looking for a quick cheap thrill didn’t do anything for me. It did however help me understand my need was better served by having a connection. I couldn’t follow orders just because.

No, I had to have more. My potential Dominant had to get inside my head. He had to make me want, drive me mad with need. The way Victor had. At the time I never realized what Victor had done. He’d stripped me of every defense, every inhibition. Victor laid me bare in front of him and rebuilt me. If he saw me now, he’d be ashamed. My ex had destroyed all of his work in just 8 months.

Here I was, mourning Victor still. Wondering how I ever thought my ex was worth my time or my tears. I was even dry on the sex side since my ex and I stopped seeing each other. Even a sympathy grudge-screw was out of the question since my new ex-boyfriend was out on a date with the hussy of the week. As usual, it was up to me to comfort myself.

After some digging, I was able to find some white candles and clear off my altar. Placing the candles around me, over the altar and on the floor, helped me calm down a little bit, though it didn’t make the feeling vanish completely. The full length mirror across the room met my gaze as I stood up fully, starting to unzip my black lace dress. The fabric fell across my skin like petals off a dying rose. Left standing, looking back at me in the mirror, was a girl. I looked absurd to myself. Small, in stockings and Mary Janes. Even with my black bra on, I look younger than I am. The dolls behind me do not help the image. Slowly, I slid down to my knees, reflexively reaching for the doll nearest to me but, something stopped me completely.

“Good girl,” His voice echoed in my head. “Touch your cunt for me.”
“Victor?” I asked, thinking perhaps I’d lost it.
“Lola, do not make me ask again, you know what will happen.” His voice echoed through the room.
My delicate hands started to stroke my clit softly as my eyes closed just enough so I could barely see the flickering flames of the candles. My mind started building mirages out of the dancing flame. It was so real. I kept kneeling, clutching my hands to my chest, gripping the fabric, as I started to suck and gag on his long, hard cock. He was fucking my mouth as I watched, stuffing his large, thick cock into and out of my garnet colored mouth like he’s trying to choke me to death with it. I swallow hard and don’t care until the scene dissolves and starts again, this time with me over his lap, my ass up high in the air and burning red. His big hands slapped my ass harder with each swing, causing me to wriggle my ass teasingly while I kept count of each hard, forceful smack.

“Bad Lola. You naughty, little whore,” His voice was loud, more stern and mocking than angry because He knew what twisted my knobs. I loved the pain and when he called me a whore. I still blushed to the thought after all those years.

At that, my cunt was soaked and my fingers slid around it easily, finding my clit with a homing sense. I opened my eyes just long enough to retrieve a couple of pink plastic clothes pins. Quickly freeing my nipples from my bra, I placed a clothes pin on each one, sucking in air from the sharp and sudden pain. My mind’s eye showed me the next scene, where I was tied to a bed. As He stepped close, I could see the flogger in His hand. A little thrill passed through me as He brought it down on my belly over and over again. He then caressed my hard nipples with the flogger with eyes intent on my face to gauge my reactions. My breasts, large and full, jiggled as He struck them firmly. True to my word, I barely made a sound as He flogged me. I was bloody, but I enjoyed myself.

The stinging hurt so deliciously I didn’t ever mind. Victor indulged my cravings for pain. Whip, flogger, nipple clamps, his bare hands. He gave them to me all. He’d rip me apart if I asked nicely enough. That was the root of our love making. He delighted in watching writhe on the sheets beneath him. More importantly, he liked watching me grow into a sensual creature. Sometimes a girl needs a reminder, which even now he was giving me.

Before long, I was crouched low, rocking my hips back and forth as I fingered myself hard. Three fingers plunging into me as hard and fast as I could. The orgasm took over, causing my whole body to shake as I came, covering my fingers with my thick juices. Breathlessly, I licked my fingers clean and took the clothes pins off. I smiled. It was amazing at how vivid each detail was still in my head, even more so how exciting it still was. Even though He was gone, there was a part of me that was forever changed by the time we spent together. I could feel things starting to change, and that this was just another beginning in a long line of beginnings.

I said a small prayer before looking in the mirror one last time. I didn’t see the little girl anymore. Well, maybe a little, but the woman that stood before me just smiled before I snuffed the candles and cleaned up.

With no traces of my dark play-session, I climbed into bed with a content sigh. I drifted off to sleep thinking maybe just maybe, not all of Victor’s work had not been lost. I didn’t even wake up when my ex came home.