Penetrating Depths

August 18, 1788  
   
   
Mon Cher Donatien  
   
After all of our play, all of our fun and games… little surprised me. Until last night. Now, alone with the truth, I lie here in my own bed, in my own house, next to my husband. Recovering…  
   
Today’s lesson was a difficult one. Meant to make me focus only on you. Only on your desires, no matter how dark and depraved they were.    
   
You strapped me on the red leather riding horse. Tightly at the wrists and ankles. This leaned me forward on my forearms and knees. Raised my derriere up into the air, perfectly placed. I felt the cool leather on my warm inner thighs. The final touch was the soft black leather hood. You forced it over my head, then tightened the leather laces.    
   
Something was different tonight. Taciturn was your nature, in private. While the life of the party in social society, you were rather quiet in private.    
   
“Tonight will be… difficult.” Your statement sounded forlorn, bordering on apologetic. “You will need to focus, listen to me. Listen to yourself. Remember your safe word.” You had never before told me to remember my safe word. Not during all of the corporeal punishment, everything I had to endure thus far. I braced myself.  
   
 My first sensation startled. I felt a mild pressure. It pressed upon the bud of my anus. Warm, yet insistent. Then it stopped. The process continued for several minutes, each time with more force. I held my breath. Tried to calm my mind. I had never done this before, never even considered it. All at once I felt dirty, cheap. Like one of Madame Dupont’s lesser whores who entertained the… perverted.  
   
“I don’t know…” My voice surprised me. Surprised you. I had never spoken out like that before. Not hearing “Tulips,” you resumed the ritual. I was slowly yielding to probing. My body responded in a nervous sweat.    
   
I don’t even remember when your finger penetrated me. Penetrated me. The words sound so clinical, so objective. There was nothing passionate about this. It was deliberate, planned. Your index finger slid in and out. I felt a coolness to it. Lubricant. You went deeper, than backed off to shallow violations. My face felt flush under my hood. The smell of its kid leather was intoxicating. My first moans dared to escape. Tingles ran up and down my spine. I want to flee, to escape… to spend eternity just like this.  
   
Until. You inserted a second finger. I could feel myself involuntarily tighten. A sharp pain shot out in all directions. Seems like it came and went from everywhere. I tried to raise up, only to be held fast in place by my bonds. A bark of a moan came out.    
   
A thunderclap sounded, at the same time with a broad sting on my right buttocks. I froze in place. “Be silent,” you commanded. I breathed in through my nose. Felt the sweat dripping into my eyes. Suddenly the darkness felt terrifying. I was lost, lost in sensation. You resume the rhythm of my penetration. It was steady, it was relentless. The pain softened, became a throb that felt in my secret places. My nipples, my nether lips, the tip of my clit.    
   
Then you… stopped. Pulled your fingers out. Leaving me in silence, breathing heavy inside my sweaty hood. My damp hair all over my face.    
   
You walked away towards the table. I heard you pour a glass of cognac. You bastard I thought to myself. You had me here… on the brink. Ready. Longing. Desperate. I listened to see if you were using me as your pornography again, pleasuring yourself to my hot and bothered image. Anonymous in my hood. Helpless in my bonds. Just a prop for enjoyment.    
   
“What is it you do not want me to know,” your question was tender. There was a patience in your voice, a tenderness. This despite the ungentlemanly things you have spent the last forever doing.    
   
“How I want you… need you…” I hesitated. “You to hurt me.” The words spoke themselves, as if someone else had said them. Some deep, dark inner part of me. Confessing this most deadly of sins.    
   
Silence.  
   
I heard you get up and walk towards the door. It closed behind you. The telltale sound of the key turning was the last sound I heard. I started to sob. What had I done, had I not done. Would I stay like this forever, would I never be like this again. I hung my head.  
   
I do not know how long I remained here trussed up in my horny, frustrated shame. But finally the door opened again. You wasted no time picking up where you left off. But now there was no need for fingers. You brought other things with you. I heard you laying them out behind me in my darkness.  
   
The first object was clearly metal, cool to the touch. It all but launched me when I felt it press against my tightened anus. You slowly, methodically worked into me. I swallowed it whole, afraid it be sucked up inside me. But the flange at the end kept in place. I felt full, aroused and embarrassed. This did not last for long. The first swat of the wooden paddle gave me other things to consider.    
   
“Count off,” you shouted.    
   
“Une… deux… trois… quartre… cinq…” I continued to tally the slaps. You alternated butt cheeks, droit et gauche, right and left. What started out as an erotic sting became a radiating pain. All I could do was dutifully count off the strikes.  
   
Then you halted the punishment. I felt you grab the flange, begin pulling the plug out. Almost getting it out, you stopped and let it slide back in. As you sodomized me, I felt the metal stretch my rectum out. It burned. It hurt. Then you would let it pop back into place, swatting the flange with your palm.    
   
“Tu es belle,” you whispered. Mostly for yourself, not for me. I felt a flood of emotions. Anger. Embarrassment. Arousal. Shame. Desire. Your domination was complete, my submission was sincere and total. There was no more Solitaire. I was now fully s., in all of my submissiveness. Beautiful in my captivity, defiant in my surrender.