A holiday for the sub


Why photographs might lead to happy memories

After six months of online training and three long in-person sessions, he offered me to go on a trip together. -Where to? – I asked. -To Crete. Beginning of November. I looked outside the window restaurant. The last golden autumn leaves were becoming a slippery brownish mud on the side walk. The naked trees resembled skeletons, with their branches pointing up to the sky, as if they were begging the clouds to open and let the sun through. Not a bad idea to shorten the unappealing plumb of the Berliner winter, even if it was just for a few weeks. Sub C and I had really good dynamics during our encounters, despite his brattiness. Worst case scenario would be if we couldn’t bear each other for such a long period of time. If that happened, the solution was easy: I would just continue the trip solo. -Yes, why not. He blushed and smiled. -What an honour. I have always wanted to go on a trip with a mistress, but for different reasons it never happened. -Well, I’m sorry to tell you, this time it will. He laughed. -Pay the bill – I ordered. He did and we left. We arrived in Crete on the 2nd of November. Beautiful blue skies, 25º C degrees, the relaxed and kind way of the Greek people. The winter blues vanished almost immediately. We spent one night in Heraklion and next day we hit the road towards the south, where Sub C had rented a nice villa by the sea. As soon as we arrived to the place, I chose the best bedroom, of course. The one with the big bed and the terrace. He complained, as expected. I slapped him. -You chose to bring me here, now deal with it. The kids room is the appropriate for you. Take your things there. -Yes, Mistress. And he did. The days passed quickly in the land of the Minotaur. Every morning slave C. had to get up earlier than me and prepare my breakfast and bring it to the garden. He was not allowed to eat or drink until I had finished my meal. His breakfast consisted of my leftovers, if any, that he

had to eat on his four, as an animal. Once the dishes were cleaned, I would tell him what I wanted to do each day and he would plan accordingly to my wishes (not difficult to please the Domme in such an island with such a big coastline, her being a snorkel addict). The south of Crete is void of tourists in November. We were alone almost in any place we visited, which gave space for a lot of outdoor play, including underwater. It was great to use him as a toilet next to a cliff, letting my liquid out while looking at the calm waters of the Mediterranean. One day, on our way back home from Rodakino, I ordered him to stop the car so I could take a picture of the sunset. That was just an excuse, as I am not a person who takes pictures often. Especially when in nature, as the mechanical eye can’t capture the beauty and grandiosity of the surroundings. I just took two random pics, because my intention was a different one. When we approached the car and he opened the pilot’s door, I asked him: -Where do you think you are going? That is not your place. He looked at me a bit confused and started walking towards the co-pilot’s door. I nodded. -No, no. Come over here – I ordered while opening the car’s truck. -There? – he exclaimed – No way! I kicked him in the balls, he moaned and bent over in pain, to my delight. Seeing a man bowing in front of me after a painful kick is one of the most pleasant things in life. I grabbed his ear and forced him into the car’s truck. -It’s too small! –He complained. -Well, that’s not my problem. Either you fit in there or you walk 45 kilometres back home. Up to you. He got in the car’s truck with a grumpy face, in contrast to my waxing crescent smile, the last thing he saw before I locked him in. I love driving, and for the first time, I was carrying a host. It had been a decision made on the moment. A big fantasy of mine became a reality. Happily I chose one of my favourite records as a soundtrack, lit a smoke and drove us back home. It was already dark when we arrived. I parked and let him out. He did, slowly, stretched his legs and arms and then laughed, relieved. -Did you enjoy the ride? The landscape was astonishing. -Thanks God I am still alive. -Of course – I replied. – I am a much better driver than you. Now take the things home, wash my equipment and make some dinner.

This is just one of the dominant wishes I managed to fulfil during this trip, full of public humiliation, outdoor play, domestic servitude, red marks, water sports and laughing, lots of laughing, also on his side. We’ve decided to travel to Crete again this year. Such a big island needs further exploration. This time a bit longer. A bit deeper.

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