The little moments possess the most gravity. Neither the snick of metal upon first locking a collar nor the cathartic sobbing when a boy finally breaks mean as much as the sum of all the intimacy in between. Each moment a boy submits and serves his Domme provides another sliver of insight until she knows him balls to bone – just as he will come to know her through and through. Only then will he hear without words. Only then will her truths pierce any barrier he might still possess.
Look at how he sits at her feet. He is gazing up into her eyes when the first smack falls. she slaps him again. And again. No words spoken, just the sound of the impact as her hand rises and falls, repeatedly – relentlessly – one slap after the next. None of them delivered with more force than what’s required to turn his head. But they keep falling. They add up. Each time his streaming eyes return to find hers, the next smack falls. His cheek red from the impact, face flush with humiliation. Yet time after time, he recovers to obediently raises his chin, knowing full well what to expect when their eyes meet next. (more…)