The Play

SUBMISSIVE, in a short evening dress, flees darkness to center-stage, which is spotlit.

SIR: Who do you think you are?

SIR enters calmly, at the edge of the light. His SUBMISSIVE stares frightened, out.

SUBMISSIVE: I’m sorry, Sir.

SIR: Not yet. Following the edge of the light in a circle, taking off his belt. You will be.

The SUBMISSIVE shivers. SIR stops.

SIR: On second thought—he drops the belt, and from just out of the light he drags, with his boot, a riding crop into view. He snatches this up, sweeping the tip along the floor as he prowls so as to produce a quiet hiss. I’d say you and my belt are on first-name terms. Friends. How do you like the crop?

SUBMISSIVE: I don’t, Sir.

SIR: You don’t what?

SUBMISSIVE: Like it, Sir.

The hiss stops, there is a swoosh of air, and finally a crack as the crop strikes the SUBMISSIVE, who cries out.

SIR: That was a command you gave me.

SUBMISSIVE: (horrified) No, it was—

The crop again.

SIR: It was…?

SUBMISSIVE: It was a command I gave you.

SIR: To…

SUBMISSIVE: Like the… (catching herself) It was a command I gave you to like the crop, Sir.

SIR: Nice save. I thought I recalled you being an intelligent girl. Such a pity if I’d misjudged you. That would be grounds for your dismissal.


SIR: Now. What business do you have telling me to like anything?


SIR: Anyway, I love the crop. Do you know why?

SUBMISSIVE: Yes, Sir. SIR inclines his head, and the SUBMISSIVE sees this peripherally. Because I hate it.

SIR: Correct. So you tell me to like it, which I do. You must wish that I liked it more, which is impossible. Or, it’s almost impossible. Actually, perhaps I could manage a fraction more affection—if you did not hate it, but despised it. Did you mean that you wished you despised the crop?


SIR: But that would make me like it more, which is what you told me to do. And you complain – didn’t you just complain? – that I don’t do enough for you. Didn’t you interrupt my evening to say how set aside you felt?

SUBMISSIVE: (red, guilty) Yes, Sir.

SIR: I can’t have you miserable. I would be a terrible bastard if I ignored such earnest whining. Let me do as you please: get down on your little knees, raise up your skirt, and I will make myself like the crop yet more for you.

The SUBMISSIVE does as she has been instructed. A ruthless whipping ensues, over which SIR makes one-sided conversation. After each blow, a statement from SIR and a cry from the SUBMISSIVE.

SIR: Oh, I feel better. You were so right. I have been neglectful. Now you have my full attention, and I can tell that it is good. It feels natural. Correct. This is my place, with you. Showering you with attention. I didn’t even know how guilty I felt until the weight of it disappeared. Just now. Thank you for freeing me of it. I brand you the fool but it is me. I was so pre-occupied with not beating the ever-lasting hell out of you, I forgot how very important it is to our relationship.

The whipping stops. The SUBMISSIVE is crying.

SIR: Is that what you wanted?


SIR: Then I don’t know why you demanded it of me.

SUBMISSIVE: I… I wasn’t thinking clearly, Sir. I have been angry with you.

SIR: And I with you, but I wear it well. On you it’s unbecoming.

SUBMISSIVE: I’m sorry, Sir.

SIR: You want my attention.


SIR: You wish I’d come to you.

SUBMISSIVE: Yes, Sir. Please, Sir.

SIR: Then be becoming.

For a moment the SUBMISSIVE does not move. Realizing that SIR means for her to act now, she takes a moment to stow her anger and think. She is too afraid of making a wrong move to move at all.

SIR: Do you need a lesson?

The SUBMISSIVE does not know the correct answer to this question.

SIR: Do you want me to teach you how to please me?


SIR: Say it.

SUBMISSIVE: I want you to teach me how to please you, Sir.

SIR: That’s interesting.

SUBMISSIVE: Please teach me how to please you, Sir.

SIR: Do you think a good submissive needs lessons in pleasing her Dominant?


SIR: So that would make you…

SUBMISSIVE: A bad submissive. Sir.

SIR: Are you happy with that?


SIR: You want to be a good submissive?


SIR: Say it, and if you make me say that something is interesting again—

SUBMISSIVE: Please help me to be a good girl, Sir. Please teach me how to please you.

SIR: You may start by letting me finish my threat.

SUBMISSIVE: Yes, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir.

SIR: If you make me say that something is interesting again, I will take you outside and offer your panties to the first man who passes us by. I will let him strip them off you himself, and I will be very angry to know that another man smelled you, touched you, and took from you. I will be angry and you will pay, do you understand?


SIR: Turn around to face me. Stay on your knees.

She does. SIR strokes her hair with one hand, using the other to free his cock.

SIR: Start with something simple and suck. You and any whore can do that. She does, and he speaks over her, guiding her head. You belong to me. You haven’t learned that yet. I’m shocked. There’s nothing you can do about it, and so you should surrender to it, but you don’t. What’s submissive about that? Lick my balls. Look at me while you do it. Are you wet? Is it making you wet to pleasure me?


SIR: Use your words.


SIR: Good girl. Turn around again, down on your hands and knees.

SIR lifts the SUBMISSIVE’s skirt and she flinches. Her behind is streaked with red. SIR runs his tongue along the lashes, and kisses them. He runs a hand along her panties.

SIR: These are soaked already. Since when?

SUBMISSIVE: Since the belt, Sir.

SIR: But I didn’t beat you with the belt.


 SIR: You poor thing. He licks the SUBMISSIVE through her panties; she writhes. I can smell how badly you want me to fuck you. Is that embarrassing for you?


SIR: I can taste how eager you are. I can feel the heat of you, and the way you throb against my tongue. Is that an uncomfortable topic of conversation for you?


SIR: But your body is shameless.


SIR: I know how you feel. All I want is to have power over you, and yet… From the first lick of the crop across your ass, the first tremble of your tender cheeks, my body responds to your commands over mine. I tell myself to go slowly, but I’m already hard and all I want is to come. On you, in you, I’m no longer picky. I have a fucking plan and then my plan is fucked.

SIR draws the panties aside, and inserts a finger into the SUBMISSIVE.

SIR: (chuckling) You like me on your level. There’s enough here to spread around.

First, SIR tastes his finger. Then, after dipping in again, he spreads the moisture up, using it to ease his finger into the SUBMISSIVE’s ass. She begins to pant and moan.

SIR: There’s my good girl, showing proper appreciation. Such a good girl, nice and tight. And wet. And yielding. Would you like two fingers?


SIR: Don’t make me stop now, baby, or we’ll both be sorry.

SUBMISSIVE: I would like – please fuck me with two fingers.

SIR: You got it. He is jerking off with his other hand, and groans. You know where we’re going with this?

SUBMISSIVE: I hope so, Sir.

SIR: Would you like me to tell you? Do you want to hear it?


SIR: But that sort of thing makes you uncomfortable, no?

SIR begins running his stiff cock up and down the SUBMISSIVE’s slit.

SUBMISSIVE: Please, Sir.

SIR: Please Sir what? Be quick. You don’t have long before I come.

SUBMISSIVE: (mortified) Please say what you want to do, Sir, and please do it.

SIR: I am going to shove my cock up that tight little asshole and I am going to fuck the shit out of you. How does that strike you? Like a riding crop, or like a belt?

SIR does not wait for an answer but spreads the SUBMISSIVE’s knees with his own. He guides his cock into the SUBMISSIVE, who offers no resistance but moans and makes as if to collapse.

SIR: Like a belt. You little slut. Good girl.

He begins to fuck her slowly, drawing out what is a very close climax.

SIR: Who do you think you are?

SUBMISSIVE: (incoherent) I don’t know, Sir.

SIR: See if this sinks in. The pun is plainly intended as SIR buries himself yet again in the SUBMISSIVE. You are mine. You belong to me. Relax and accept it, just as you accept this. Enjoy it, like this. Does it feel good?


SIR: I want you. Do you feel it?


SIR: And do you know how you know that I want you? Silence. He takes pity on her, and thrusts. It’s hard. You know that I want you because it is hard. But you take it. And you like it. Don’t you?


SIR: You spread your legs for me. You stretch inside for me. You get wet. You go slack. You make way so that I may be hard with you. And that, poor tortured girl, is what pushes you over the ecstatic edge. Or am I wrong?


SIR: I would be livid to have another man run his filthy hand up your leg. Livid to have anyone so much as imagine that you were theirs, let alone to come sniffing near enough to catch the way your body whispers what it wants. That is for me to do. That is for me to know.

The thrusts have become more forceful and erratic with his jealousy, and the SUBMISSIVE teeters on the edge of orgasm.

SIR: Hold. Hold or I will come. I know I will. You’ll squeeze me and I won’t be able to help it and I have to say one more thing. It even proves my point. You have all the power. You sneaky little thing, you own me and you know it and I’d kill to have you ignorant like we pretend you are. If you’re lonely and you need me, you know you needn’t punish me this way. You make everything so difficult, because you delight in my suffering. You know full well that to get my attention all you need to do is piss me off. Once, hard, SIR spanks the SUBMISSIVE. Now come. Now.  

About the Author

 darling is a submissive in a closed, polyamorous triangle with two men who love her (and each other). One is her Dominant, one is not. She also has cerebral palsy. Sometimes, she publishes fantasy fiction.



  1. So well-written! Great work!

  2. tearsntails says:


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