Giovanni Gets A Real Lesson

She is the masochist but first he must learn what real pain is before he gives it out

https://www.freepik.com/author/freepik

First off, let me explain what this story is.

I’m inviting other erotic writers to show what they can do on my Substack page. It is part of my evil plan to take over the whole of Substack with erotica! If anyone is interested in being a guest, have a read of this and then DM me:

Be a Guest Writer

My third guest in this series is Substack’s answer to De Sade, Lenny Cavallaro whom I first read a year ago. You may be shocked by his writing, but you are also likely to be turned on. I was! And anyway, this one is very much on his milder side.

Enjoy with at least one hand free!

Tell us a little about yourself…

I am 78, a classical musician (pianist and composer), an author, music director of a church, and adjunct professor of English at a Boston-area college.

What are your stories normally about?

Most are historical or have historical elements in them. My subject matter includes the Trojan War, a bare-knuckle boxer, a Jewish paranormal legend, “cozy” mysteries, chess; also some nonfiction and a pair of short dramatic works.

What inspired you to write erotica?

I am not sure the series (A Musical Romance) and the other novel (Simone: A Sequel to The Story of the Eye) fall into the “erotica” category. The series involves hard-core S/M but is a family saga involving the spiritual world, as the heroine seeks to free them from the curse that has stalked them for nearly 2,000 years. True, I have some kinky scenes, but the narrative also involves classical music, the Holocaust, the Mafia, the psychic/occult, and an esoteric notion of reincarnation called “soul fractions.”

Simone is the conjectural sequel to Georges Bataille’s masterpiece (based on his outline), and my heroine “channels” Juliette, the eponymous heroine of the Marquis de Sade’s novel. From an editorial review: << “The Marquis de Sade called The 120 Days of Sodom ‘the most impure tale ever written since the world began.’ Simone is the most vile tale written since Sade’s 120 Days of Sodom.” >>

How much of what you write is from lived experience?

A Musical Romance draws heavily on my experiences as a Top (sadist) and other kinks I have enjoyed, although several friends were kind enough to lend additional material. For example, the lesbian relationship is obviously foreign to me, and I have no experience with rope-play. Moreover, I have an intersex character in Volume Two -- drawn entirely from a friend who graciously explained the nature of both his/her/their anatomy and kinks. The “extreme” material reflects people I have met. So (in answer to your question), readers can assume that I have done a number of the things Giovanni does with Elena.

Many episodes in Simone depict acts of outright depravity. Where Giovanni and Elena make love through the medium of pain (as well as sex), some of these scenes involve unspeakable perversions that excite the “libertines” at the expense of their victims, and the influence of Sade is unmistakable. Nevertheless, some of the milder elements do indeed mirror personal experiences.

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[Excerpt from A Musical Romance, Volume One--BACKGROUND: Classical musicians Elena and Giovanni are in love. She is a masochist and has already introduced him to hard-core S/M. Now, Giovanni will get a real lesson!]

* * *

After dinner, Elena and I retired to the guesthouse. She put her hands on my shoulders and looked up into my eyes. “You know that I would like to bring you more deeply into my world. I love you, Giovanni, and I want to teach you how to hurt me. Are you sure this is something you want, also?”

I swallowed nervously: “Yes.”

“Then I must show you what to do, and how to use certain instruments more skillfully. I shall also have to try them on you, so that you can understand how they feel.”

I nodded. “I heard that ‘everybody starts on the bottom,’ and I guess that applies even to pianists.”

She opened her case and began taking out various toys. Some looked more ferocious than others, but I was sure they all could hurt. Nevertheless, I felt totally comfortable with the path on which I was poised to begin. That full-body orgasm had convinced me that I was “born this way,” and I felt summoned to Elena’s world.

“I call this the ‘junior’ flogger,” she began. “It’s suede. When you have developed a decent technique with it, I shall move you on to leather, and then we may even proceed to the one with knotted thongs, which can draw blood. I have some hard-core friends who use the metal insertions, which usually scar for life.”

“Wow,” I muttered.

“Well, you must have heard of the ‘cat ‘o nine tails’ they used in the British navy, and I assume you are also familiar with how the Romans were said to have scourged Jesus.”

I nodded.

“Did you know that often when they got through scourging, the victim was already mortally wounded?”

My face registered surprise. “No.”

“It must have been gruesome. However, they did so to torture the victim. We use the belt, cat, flogger, strop, whip, and other such instruments to make love. Do you understand that?”

I hesitated. “I think so.”

“Giovanni, I can hardly enjoy vanilla sex anymore. Yes, I can occasionally have an orgasm, but it is still disappointing. Would you rather masturbate with your left hand or make love to a beautiful woman?”

“If she is named Elena?” I laughed. “I see what you mean.”

She studied me closely. “There will be more, Giovanni. Sometimes it isn’t only pain. There are other ways to make it good. But vanilla people cannot think along these lines. You can, though.”

“I appreciate your confidence. Shall we begin the lesson?”

Elena started me with the suede flogger. She taught me never to hit anyone over the kidneys and made me practice various motions, including the “figure-8.”. Then she ordered me to undress.

I was a little taken aback, since no woman had ever commanded me to do anything with such a tone of voice. However, I realized that right now Elena was la maestra, and I was merely the student. I stood before her, naked and flaccid.

“Now, I want you to gauge your pain level carefully. You will not be able to accept anything near my level for a while, perhaps ever. Safety is of paramount importance, and we always obey rules. If it hurts a lot, but you think you will be able to take a little more after a short break, say ‘yellow’; when you positively cannot take any more, say ‘red.’ It’s that simple. Are you ready?”

I was nervous, but I was not going to back down. “Yes.”

“Then turn around, and bend over the dresser.”

And thus, it began. Elena explained that at first, we usually start slowly, if only to warm up the person on the bottom. Thereafter, we increase the force. Some people enjoy quick, rapid blows. Some prefer to have some time to savor the experience after each one is administered. Top and bottom must adjust to each other’s inherent rhythms, and the former studies the latter’s reactions carefully.

“You will soon see why I do not think we shall swim tomorrow or Saturday,” she snickered, as she began to whip my ass, the backs of my thighs, and my upper back. In short order, I began to feel a certain indescribable glow. It hurt, and yet each blow made me anxious to receive the next.

“You are nicely warmed up,” Elena observed. “Now we can begin to get serious.”

Ouch! Those first blows with the barber’s strop had a much harder sting. Then came a savage whack with a wet and very solid wooden bar. “Wait until you get a good caning,” she warned, as she punished me again and again.

My legs were both trembling. I towered over this little woman and outweighed her by at least seventy pounds, yet I could not take much more. “Yellow,” I cried, realizing that she had endured far worse from me the week before.

“Ok,” she answered. “Let me know when we can resume.”

I rested for a minute or so before signaling that I was ready. However, one vicious strike had me reconsidering, and with the second I screamed “red.”

“Lie face-down on the bed,” Elena ordered, and I was honestly somewhat afraid to do anything other than obey. To my immense relief, she took out some sort of salve and began applying it to my most traumatized parts. “This is Arnica, and it will help reduce the bruising,” she said, rubbing it into me with a surprising gentleness.

Soon I found myself feeling highly aroused, and I assumed it would be my turn to play the sadistic role. How quickly I was disabused of that notion.

“Stand up,” she snapped, and I sprang to my feet. She now pulled back all the bedding except the bottom sheet. “Lie down on your back.”

I was surprised and hesitant, but I knew I had no choice.

“Spread your arms and legs apart,” she ordered, and once more I obeyed.

I gasped at what came next. She reached into her bag and removed several cords. Without a word, she fastened two around my legs and secured them to the bottom of the bed. In another moment, my arms were similarly tied, and I lay before her completely helpless.

And erect! My prick was throbbing violently. “I know, I know,” she said, nodding. “This is all terribly exciting to you. If I put your cazzo into my mouth, you would have an orgasm in two seconds. However, I prefer to leave you in this state. What would Brahms write in the score—molto agitato, no?” she added, laughing. Then she reached for the flogger.

“You need to see what even this child’s toy can do,” she explained. She put it down beside her and began by slapping my belly and chest with the palms of her hands. When these were sufficiently pink, she began with the flogger on my chest. I howled a quick yellow, and she moved down to my abdomen without skipping a beat. This abuse I could tolerate reasonably well, but she stopped abruptly. “If I continue much longer, I shall draw blood,” she explained. “Still, if you’d like one more thing?”

I assumed she meant just one more whack on the belly. “Sure,” I declared.

The handle of the flogger came down on my cock—not too hard, of course, but just enough to show me what else could be done. I wasted no time screaming red, and Elena put away the toys and began to release me.

“Stay as you are, though, so that I can apply the salve,” she said.

“Uh...on my prick, too?”

“No, Silly. I didn’t hit you anywhere near hard enough for that to bruise. And look how hard it is getting,” she added, as she rubbed salve into my groin.

For a long moment we simply gazed deeply into one another’s eyes, smiling like two innocent lovebirds. Then she grew serious and told me to stand up.

“Giovanni,” she said softly. “Now I need you to hurt me, and then I want you to fuck my brains out. However, you must try to understand that today I need the pain far worse than I need the sex. If you truly love me, you will do as I have instructed you and show no mercy. Can you handle this?”

I stared at her for a moment. “I love you,” was all I could stammer.

In a matter of seconds, she had peeled off her clothes. She nodded. “Now!”

Let me say that I must have had a good teacher. I left her ass and the backs of her thighs littered with bruises and welts. While the suede flogger didn’t do much, I took the barber’s strop, and when she seemed close to a yellow, I switched fields and punished her upper back and shoulders. I continued even while I began to tire, for although she was by now sniffling with pain, I hadn’t yet squeezed a yellow out of her.

And this time I wouldn’t. Her breathing suddenly became rushed, and she went directly to a red. My arm was already in full motion, and I could not prevent an extra blow from landing. I was about to apologize when something amazing happened—something I could hardly believe.

Elena had a powerful orgasm!

When she had regained her composure, she turned around and gave me a warm hug and kiss. “You learn quickly, Giovanni. Do you begin to see how closely lust and pain are intertwined?”

I nodded. “Does that…Do you often…?”

“Stunod,” she laughed. “Do I have orgasms from pain? Not unless I love the person giving pain to me. With a man it happened only with Marcello, but he left for Argentina months ago. Besides, Marcello fucked only the boys. I have dealt with pathetic eunuchs ever since, until you came into my life. Fortunately, I have a wonderful female lover, and it also happens with her. Now I shall need a little salve, no?”

She turned around, and I admired my handiwork. Arnica or no Arnica, she would have some deep bruises the next day.

“Give it to me, and I shall—”

“Later,” she snapped. “First, I want you to apply the strop to my boobs and groin. Ten blows, maybe four on top and six below. Make them hard right away, with no warm-ups. Then you will fuck me savagely.”

The strop across the breasts must have hurt. My first blow was tentative, but the second made her wince. The next two were only about the same force level—I was a little afraid to damage those gorgeous tits—but the six to her lower belly were even more brutal.

“Arnica?” I asked, as she trembled from the pain.

“No, just hold me a moment,” Elena replied.

Of course, as soon as I held her, I became painfully erect. She looked at me briefly, nodded, and said a single word: “Yes!”

I needn’t belabor the details of what ensued. Suffice it to say she had anywhere between twelve to fifteen orgasms before I experienced another full-body climax that once again left me drooling and sneezing. I also had tears leaking from my eyes, and I was scarcely able to stand. The orgasm even touched off a string of farts, to my immense embarrassment, but Elena merely laughed. “You may do worse as you learn more about the true nature of sex,” she warned.