Year of the Inner Goddess

June 2024 – Audio Version

There are moments when pain becomes the only cure for Hurt. Some Hurts are so deeply compressed, squeezed into a tiny box, and buried that their existence is almost erased from memory. Yet, it is only through the manifestation of external pain that this buried agony resurfaces, piercing through the layers of darkness and bringing it into the light. This is where the Hurt can be liberated, evolving into a catalyst for growth and healing.

To this end, I submitted my body to my Dom. 

A sharp pain surged at the gateway of my soul. Between ardent kisses, the Dom had bit the rim of my mouth! Understanding its days were numbered, the internal Hurt resisted the fledgling call, digging its claws deeper into the bedrock of justified anger and brokenness, staunchly refusing to succumb so precipitously. The faint taste of copper filled my mouth. My split lip throbbed and swelled in defiance. I pushed back from his embrace, shrugging off the roughness with a defiant laugh, my tongue probing the wound on my lip. Amid this, my small frame was deftly lifted into strong arms. I was carried to the bed chamber and gently placed on the prepared mattress, a silent testament to our relationship’s complex dance of power and vulnerability.

Prone on the bed, my eyes purposefully shuttered, overwhelming sensations swelled from my apex, transmitting across my form and dominating my senses. These were delicious, bewitching feelings. Peace swirled through the large room, dancing to the warbling speakers on the dresser. There was no pain here, yet I experienced a type of freedom in the sweet orgasmic release from the Dom’s adoration of my wanton pearl. Gentle kisses coaxed my body to relax while the summer sun, filtering through the double windows, warmed my naked skin. My hectic mind began to still, allowing my soul to appreciate and absorb the alluring attention.

Pain. Teeth bit the unsuspecting flesh of my inner thigh. I squeaked in surprise, my eyes flying open and down between my legs. At my jerking motion, the Dom glanced up, mouth still sealed to my inner flesh, daring me to pull away in rebellious protest. I nibbled my lip in consternation; it smarted! But I surrendered; after all, I was on a mission for pain. Aggressive arms wrapped themselves around the outside of my quivering thighs, pulling them further apart as cruel nails sunk into the delicate valley that flowed to my apex. My skin shouted in earnest objection, but I raised no opposition. I needed this. Pledging my silent obedience, I held my tongue, permitting only a small whimper to hum from my throat as the Dom religiously devoured my drenched slit. 

The charismatic nature of his tongue’s ministrations on my pearl, his lips velvety on my curtains, melted my soul. Nevertheless, there was the contrasting torment from the harsh treatment of a predatory hand seizing a breast and savagely twisting the nipple or the way his grievous nails furrowed long crimson trails on my lateral thigh. The Dom never failed to treat me like a respected sovereign while nearly annihilating my Inner Goddess, leaving her half comatose on her chaise. 

My Inner Goddess waged a fierce battle against my mission to free myself from the clutches of heartache. She clung to the present, intoxicated by its sensuality, and agreed with the Hurt that the past should remain buried to be dealt with later. She projected vivid images of the tearful state I would inevitably transform into, emphasizing the potential for my nose to swell to ungodly proportions and turn beet red if I persisted. I understood her fear of humiliation, but the Dom had seen it all before; he had witnessed me at my most vulnerable. I stood my ground. The time had come for the Hurt to be released, for my heart to finally be set free. I had made a firm, resolute decision to embark on a personal odyssey, a quest to free the desolation that had imprisoned my secret chambers. I yearned to stride bravely into a future the Fates had intricately woven just for me, a future filled with hope and promise. 

Resolute, I promptly obeyed when ordered to turn over, kneel on all fours, and grasp the iron latticework of the headboard. Once in place, a broad hand gave a sharp smack to my inner thigh, catching me off guard as it indicated I had not spread my knees far enough apart. I hastened to comply before dipping my head between my extended arms, my forehead brushing the stacked pillows beneath me, bowing my back, and arching my hips upward for his inspection and approval. Inhaling in anticipation, I exhaled in a long sigh, opening myself to receive and welcome the pain. 

The beckoning pain budded with the slight discomfort of a paddle tapping my presented derriere. Hmm, the device felt like a wide rubber spatula. This was a new tool but not unwelcome. The volley of smacks increased in speed and ferocity as they flitted over my bare flesh. The Hurt tenaciously ignored it, a crab withdrawing itself further into its home shell. I was mercilessly impaled, and my committed fingers curled tightly around the cold iron, knowing this was just the dawning of our session. Pat, pat, pat continued the device across both buttocks as the Dom thundered into me, stretching me to my fullest.

“Release, let go, release, let go,” I murmured incomprehensibly in the midst of my staggering orgasms. I braced my will, urging the Hurt to depart to forever take flight.

My Inner Goddess fought back, fixating on the monstrosity now slowly gliding within my silken slit, the oaken thighs pressing into me as the Dom thrust to the hilt before retreating to drag his bulbous crown over my swollen inner jewel. Her greatest fear was not the impending blitz, but rather the dissolving monsoon of tears she was sure would follow. Had not the Dom remarked over and over how happy I was? Sobbing would discount everything! Tap, tap, tap went the unerring spatula, causing me to wince as the stings intensified. I was puzzled. 

In our two years, the Dom had seen me at my very lowest and, dauntless, remained to offer the comfort of his skill. What mattered one more time? Yet, wishing to save face was paramount to my Inner Goddess. I was not the same girl; I had transformed, becoming a stronger version, carrying myself with a newfound confidence. Love, a powerful beacon of hope, had not just slipped but surged into my life, bringing unexpected security and joy. I had no right to embarrass myself once more and reveal the lingering Hurt of broken promises, and my Inner Goddess was determined not to.

However, my determination was unwavering. The Hurt had to go. That was the whole point! A fresh perspective, a clean slate, a heart swept clean and renewed. 

Pain flowered as the utensil increased in speed and vehemence. The ensuing agony blossomed down my thighs and all across my bottom. The feeling was reinforced by the bulking force of the Dom’s body slamming into my own. 

“Release, let go, release, let go,” the mantra repeated over and over in a silent prayer. 

The Dom compounded his efforts by accurately interpreting the signals radiating from my body. The implement flew with passion, left and right, left and right. It then fell to the plump mattress at our knees, replaced by his relentless hand. I could not tell you how he managed to maintain his pistoning speed, sating my Inner Goddess’ salacious needs while his right hand drew back time and again to abuse my smarting body. 

Without warning, the Dom’s hand ceased its attack to maliciously maul my breast, the left hand still gripping my waist, its nails deep in my soft flesh. The Dom curled his heft over my back; my elbows and knees had no time to protest the additional weight, for he began his penetrating assault without mercy. 

There was no hope for me. I convulsed, gasping and crumbling at the atrocious fury of the resulting orgasm spawned by Dom’s destructive power. My fingers were bleach white around the dark iron, my throat raw from my screams. My impassioned spasms expelled his mighty granite; my hot fluid trickled down my legs to puddle at my insensate knees. Nonplused, the Dom exchanged his throbbing glory for two massive fingers, slipping them within me to curl up to my inner jewel, augering his entire arm until my nectar gushed once more, flooding the waterproof blanket beneath us. 

With its deep-seated roots, the Hurt seemed to embrace the corners it had inhabited for years. My worry grew, fearing that drastic measures might be necessary to uproot this stubborn Hurt. With plans and a trip on the horizon, the constant presence of the depression cloud hovering overhead was draining. It was not the life I wanted for myself. 

On the other hand, my Inner Goddess was delighted by the Dom’s enthusiastic endeavors on our behalf. Her wingtips practically vacillated of their own accord with expectant divining. My muscles visibly quivered a physical demonstration of the unrestrained might of my orgasms, each tremor a seductive and vivid reminder of the climactic capability of the Dom. Recovering-ish, I stared mindlessly ahead, unseeing the eggshell wall as I sought to regulate my breathing, my fingers ever so slightly relaxing their grip on the iron headboard.

The Dom was yet equal to the task. Collecting the discarded rubber spatula, he employed a new tactic. An acute tap fell on my left shoulder blade, and it instantly froze, awaiting my response. My eyes bulge and then slitted, my brow furrowing at the unexpected location and wildly unfamiliar perversion. Hastily, fearing a PTSD response, my mind swept my anatomy, sending an invisible sonar wave to assess the response. Were we okay with this endeavor? Did we like it?

A faint vibration buzzed beneath the inert plastic utensil. All was well; in fact, my spirit practically begged for a repetition. I gave a slight murmur of consent to the patient Dom. Warily, raps flecked the breadth of both shoulders, ribs, and lower back in an arbitrary sequence. With each caustic smack, heat rose from my flesh, manifesting as translucent flames, existing in the world for the briefest of seconds before perishing, a prickling burning sensation the only witness of its existence. After about the tenth or twelfth drum, I whispered my entreaty for more…harder. 

Wielded in the hand of the Dom, the ordinary kitchen tool became the liberator of my Hurt, unshackling a heart thirsting for freedom. The judicious drumming escalated to fierce battery, leaving no inch of my skin untouched until my vulnerable back was transformed into a scorching field of glowing lava. The fiery flames, their tendrils stretching far beyond the confines of the ordinary, seared into my flesh, their scorching tips penetrating the chambers and recesses of my heart. The heat was intense, a purifying fire, a healing flame that consumed even the most distant corners, bringing a wave of relief and liberation, a profound freedom from the suffocating shackles of my emotions. Tears welled in my eyes but were whisked away by the heat before they could fall like glistening diamonds onto the mellow pillows. 

The Dom relinquished the wide spatula. His brusk hand clapped at my waist, thick fingers tortuously gripping into the soft tissue. A blinding barbaric volley of plunges followed, each thrust claiming a little more of my body. My forearms were pressed against the unyielding iron bars, a sensation that fueled the fire within my body and soul, plunging my powerless mind into a soothing void. I clung to life; my Inner Goddess, a gleeful onlooker, roared, giving testament to our long-sought-for succor. 

I bared my soul to the experience, releasing the pent-up anger, frustration, betrayal, and lies to the universe. I screamed, the pain and fury coursing through me. Each cry was a tribute to the cathartic power, and each release was a transformation, purging and reshaping my inner world with every breath. 

The spatula returned, its labor now fierce and unrelenting. It struck my breasts, arms, shoulders, back, hips, and buttocks mercilessly. The Dom’s palm, a stalwart companion, joined the assault, swatting with audacious superiority. I was engulfed in an uncontrollable fire, my brain fearing I might genuinely burst into flame, setting the summer cotton linens ablaze. At that moment, I felt utterly helpless, a mere pawn in the game of pain. 

And so, in this state of surrender, I embraced my fate as the external force demanded my submission. Internal conflagration ravaged me until my very soul was engulfed in an inferno of past traumas and unresolved emotions, leaving behind only tender, exposed wounds where once lay ancient, festering Hurt. I began to feel a profound sense of strength, a shedding of an old life, and a rebirth of my spirit. 

The overwhelming power that had held me captive had loosened its grip, allowing me to breathe in the vital air of freedom. A serenity, like a gentle breeze, whispered through me, soothing my bruised and torn flesh. My head, once heavy with the weight of my past, now hung limp between my still outstretched arms. My body, exhausted from the emotional and physical marathon, began to find its rhythm again. Though my flesh was hot and beyond sensitive, once burdened and heavy, my heart now felt lighter, and the dark brooding of my past began to fade, becoming a distant memory.

The Dom had withdrawn, momentarily stepping away from the bed. I winced, feeling a significant piercing twinge of discomfort as I gingerly reclined on the cool bedding. Closing my eyes, I allowed the late summer sun to fully bathe my recumbent nude form. The man returned, a triumphant air about him. His deft manipulation of the forces had been awe-inspiring, a fact he was keenly aware of. I knew I would forever be grateful and indebted to his wondrous skill, a debt that could possibly never be repaid.

Weak from the ordeal, I allowed the Dom to manhandle my wan form into position so he might straddle my waist. I raised my feeble legs, forming them into twin triangles, my feet flat-footed, the front of my thighs resting against his lower back, acting as a sort of chair back. His monolith glistened with freshly applied ointment. Biting my swollen lip, I watched as the Dom hovered over my breastbone, stroking himself. 

Regardless of how many times I had the honor of witnessing his enviable release, it was always a part of our time together that I cherished. It was a salacious pleasure to my unseasoned perspective, and I never grew weary of seeing it. The sight of a gentleman expressing himself so naturally was a joy that resonated through my entire being and an honor I valued for its vulnerability. 

Soon, creamy ribbons adorned my breasts, my tongue that had been teasing the nub of one nipple, mussed lips, and flushed cheeks. Gods, how long had it been for the Dom? Or, perhaps, the feral exercise of our tryst had whipped him into an equal frenzy. My gleeful Inner Goddess glowed with unabashed pride. 

Our recovery was a slow, sensual journey. My hands traced the lines of his bronzed, muscular body as he lay beside me. The smooth melodies of R&B filled the dimming room. I sighed deeply, analyzing my ethos. My heart, though cleansed, still ached for more. Not from the Dom; his thoroughness was undeniable! My soul yearned for the sweet solace of love to comfort and fill the newly hollow chambers. My place was next to Jack, and it was high time I returned to his awaiting arms. 

I bid my indomitable Dom a fond adieu, a promise for another audience tucked away for a future date. Strange discomfort washed over me when I attempted to settle into my vehicle. Fastening my seatbelt, a mindless routine, felt painful as I twisted my tender body to lock it into place. Inflamed and bruised, heat still radiated from my injured skin; it was nearly impossible to comfortably relax into the familiar support of the car seat cushion. My Inner Goddess, always ready to tease, found my predicament amusing. With a bit of finagling, I sorted myself and began my journey to my heart’s desire.  

My Love, eagerly awaiting my arrival, had everything prepared for our midnight sortie. In no time, I found myself contentedly settled on the boat, feeling as if I was floating beneath the watchful gaze of the serene Moon Goddess and her shimmering court. With a keen awareness of my Hurt and my journey to healing, Jack expertly guided the vessel across the peaceful midnight water. His unwavering, affectionate presence was a comforting salve to my convalescing heart. 

Once more, I contemplated my circumstances. If not for the Hurt, how different would my life be today? I sighed, shaking my head, knowing the drastic course my life was now on and the cherished friendships I was blessed with on this unexpected path. I would glean wisdom from the past and embrace the lessons. Step by step, I would continue to rebuild myself as many times as it took, even if it meant resorting to some unconventional methods. Strangely, my body and soul were content with that. Life was a journey, not a race, and I was forever grateful for the unwavering support, love, and acceptance that was bestowed upon me by so many individuals. Specifically, the perverse and mindful attention of the two stalwart gentlemen whose unerring support had been instrumental in my journey. Speaking of, my Inner Goddess was keenly apprised that one of them was long overdue for her eager ministrations. 

Until next time, XO. Elsie