I adore and have done a lot of cnc. It's always there. But in a subtler way cnc is really about true submission and trust. Returning to sessioning would re-establish that framework of submission and trust.

It would start, as always, with me dressed as a flaming tart and locked in chastity. All keys forfeit until She is satisfied. Which might not be today.

Something along these lines.

I'm standing in the corner waiting as She enters.

Did I tell you to stand?

No, Mistress.

Did someone else tell you to stand?

No, Mistress.

I feel an invisible noose tightening at these words. I've been mostly alone for months and have misplaced some protocols.

Whack! A hard stroke with Her crop makes an instant stripe on my bare ass below the corset and above the stockings. The first time I have felt that in ages. I hastily drop to my knees and remember that my hands belong behind my back and my head is to be bowed.

Seeing my improved posture, She relents.

Much has changed, hasn't it?

Yes, Mistress. Everything.

No, not everything. Some things need to remain as they were. As they belong. That way little sluts can find their way in the world. Isn't that true, little one?

Yes again, Mistress.

How do you present yourself when I enter a room?

Kneeling, head bowed, hands behind the back, Mistress.

Yet you did not do that today. Did you think that was part of the "everything" that changed?

No, Mistres, I--

Whack! She gave me a second mark to match the other one before I could make up something to say. Though, frankly, I had nothing.

Don't make this worse, pet. It's already very bad.

I kept my eyes down and said nothing. She pressed the control on the suspension to lower the cuffs. She picked out one of the all-silencing panel gags and a selection of crops and whips.

The meaning of "It's already very bad" was becoming clear.

What are you, little one?

A submissive, Mistress.

What else?

A slut, Mistress.

What else?

A bitch? Mistress?

I was starting to run through list of terms She used for me. They were never treated as insults - which made them all the more derogatory. They were exactly how She saw me and expected me to behave. No different from right handed and brown haired. And slut, bitch and whore.

A whore too, Mistress. I added belatedly to the list.

Are you in charge of anything in this room? Anything at all?

She was putting my wrists in the suspension cuffs.

No, Mistress.

Ever?

No, Mistress.

She moved on to the ankle cuffs and stretched me to the fullest in 4 directions. She spread out thea set of crops, floggers and whips on a bench in a menacing array, graduated by severity of impact.

Do you wish to be in control of anything in this room?

No, Mistress.

She stopped in front of me, smiled angelically, then slapped me - hard. It took a moment for my vision to clear.

She remained in front of me, looking down slightly due to Her heels and my wide-stretched ankles. She gazed into my eyes and past them to the churning pool of my thoughts. Fear incongruously mixed with other better emotions. She soothed the hand-print on my cheek.

Don't be afraid, pet. You are safe now. Finally, after all this time. Safe again. But in soooo much trouble.

She fastened the gag and took Her sweet time addressing the trouble.

Something like that, I think....