Suspended in My Control

The other day I spent an unforgettable time with a wonderful submissive. 

Before we even met, my submissive had been sending me polite, thoughtful messages. We agreed to meet in front of the hotel, and as promised, he was there waiting.  He noticed me right away and came over with a smile, eager and respectful at the same time. Walking in together, we chose a room. There were many available that day, so he let me pick the one I liked best. It had the suspension setup, and that thoughtful touch really pleased me.

We went inside together to choose a room. That day there were plenty available, and he let me decide. He made sure I could pick the one I liked best, which already set the tone for how attentive he wanted to be.

Once inside, exchanged a few light words with him and finished my preparations. In the back room I waited, already ready, while he stayed in the shower room. I called out to him. “Come in.”

He stepped inside, hesitant. “Kneel on the floor,” I told him. He obeyed, sitting on his knees. “Introduce yourself. Greet me.” He said his name and then mine. I looked at him. “Is that all? Can’t you ask me to punish you?” With a trembling voice he whispered, “Please punish me.”

“Louder,” I commanded. He asked again, this time begging for my cruelty. I smiled. He smiled back, maybe happy to see me soften. But I had not told him to smile.

“Why did you smile on your own? You only do what I tell you,” I said. “If you cannot follow my orders, I will teach your body.”

“Get on all fours.” He dropped down like a dog, looking up at me from the floor. “Show me where you want to be struck. Make me see it.” He turned his ass toward me, lifting it high as an invitation. I laughed softly. “So you want me to spank you that much.”

I picked up the whip and let its weight settle in my hand. “Keep your ass up high and don’t move,” I ordered.

The first strike landed light, leaving a red mark across his skin. He gasped. “This is only the beginning,” I said, bringing the whip down again and again. His body jolted with every blow. “Say thank you every time I strike you.”

“Yes, Mistress… Arigatou,” he whispered after the next lash. Another blow. “Arigatou.” His voice trembled, but he obeyed, thanking me for every sting of the whip. I smiled. “Good. That’s exactly how I want to hear it.”

Then I let the whip rest and slowly ran my hand over his burning skin, tracing the heat of every mark I had made. For a moment my touch was gentle. Then my nails dug in deep, leaving fresh trails of pain over the redness. He shivered, caught between relief and torment, unsure which I would give him next.

Now you will go even deeper for me. You will fall further into my control…haha

I reached for my black rope.

“Arms behind your back,” I said softly. He obeyed. The rope wound around his wrists, then his elbows, each knot deliberate, each pull tightening the air between us. His breathing became slower, deeper.

As I bound him tighter he whispered, “The sound of the rope… it’s like ASMR, it feels so good.”

Yes, like falling asleep. You’re hanging here inside my control…haha!

When I attached the rope to the suspension point and began to lift, his body left the floor, first a few centimeters, then higher. The tension creaked and settled. He hung there, arms bound, legs drawn up, his body swaying gently. The ropes pressed into his skin, carving lines that flushed red against the pale. He trembled, not from fear but from surrender, eyes closing as if falling into another world.

I walked around him slowly, fingertips grazing the knots, checking each line, letting him feel my presence without touching more than necessary. He was floating now, caught between pain and weightlessness, completely in my hands.

I worked him into two different suspensions. One with his arms bound behind his back and both legs pulled up high, his body hanging exposed for me. Then another with his arms in front, cradled in the rope like a hammock, a softer but equally beautiful shape. He loves being photographed, so I captured him again and again, each frame showing his surrender and the art of rope that I was creating on his body.

After I had kept him suspended long enough, I lowered him slowly and untied the ropes with deliberate care. As each knot came loose, the rope left behind its memory on his skin. Red lines, raised and warm, wrapped around his arms, his chest, his thighs, a map of where I had claimed him!

I guided him to the bed and pressed him down onto the sheets. He obeyed without a word, eyes heavy, already deep in my control. My fingers traced the marks still imprinted on his flesh; he shivered at the touch, caught between relief and a lingering ache.

“Stay still,” I told him as I prepared myself. He trembled, knowing what was coming, but offered himself willingly. When I slid inside him with the strap, his breath broke into a sharp cry. I held his hips firmly, forcing him to take the rhythm I chose. Every thrust was mine, every sound he made belonged to me.

“Speak,” I commanded. “Tell me who you serve.” “You, Mistress,” he gasped, his voice unsteady. I moved harder, faster, until his body trembled with the effort of keeping up. He was lost beneath me, caught between pain and pleasure, unable to resist.

After I had taken what I wanted and left him trembling on the bed, the room grew quiet again. His body still carried the marks of my rope, his breath uneven, but the scene had reached its end.

I reached into the bag I had brought and took out my favorite pudding. I handed him a spoon, and we shared it together in silence at first, then with light conversation. The sweetness lingered on our tongues, a soft counterpoint to the harshness that had come before.

For me it was the perfect way to close the evening — control, release, and then a little sweetness to remind us both that the session was complete.

Thank you for giving me such a good time. I hope it stays with you as one of your sweetest memories in Japan. Travel safely on your way back.