The Tactile Mistress
It's been a while since I've posted, but thought I'd share a recent experience with a pro Domme. Most of my experiences with professionals fall into the category of light bondage and spanky-spanky. They give you just enough to know you've been dominated, but don't push your limits. There are logical reasons behind this, especially if you are not a regular client. They might redden your ass but stop short of leaving deep ugly bruises, that could arouse suspicion of a wife or significant other. A dominatrix is trained to think about safety first, but the best ones know how to hurt you without injuring you (if that makes sense).
But since I don't have a wife or girlfriend, marks on most places on my body aren't going to be seen by the general public. In fact I enjoy having some bruises hidden under my suit and tie when I'm at work. They are the evidence of the kinky secrets I keep hidden from the world. But by the same token, I fantasize about shocking the ladies in the office and letting them see first hand the debauchery etched on my body. I wonder how they would react? Some with disgust, I'm sure. But perhaps there might be one that is aroused by it. That would be girlfriend material in my eyes.
The pro I saw on Sunday was a woman I found on a BDSM e***** website. She's an older woman but still quite attractive in her latex and boots. While I adore all dominant women, I especially enjoy a session with an older experienced Mistress. There is something comforting when you see a few gray hairs on the pilot who will be flying your plane. I love a good session with a Domme who is well versed in her craft. Her name is Mistress Rita.
She screened me well, as I suspect is the case with all her clients. It took the better part of two weeks to get on her calendar, and then a deposit to secure the appointment. We had communicated via email, until the day before the session. She called me just to confirm, but we wound up spending about half an hour on the phone. That's significant because a pro's time is valuable. She wanted to know about my kinks and limits, but she also spent time telling me what SHE enjoyed. More on that in a bit. By the time she ended the call, I was aroused and longing to be kneeling at her feet. I told her that I was an experienced submissive who was longing for severe punishment for my transgressions. She loved that and assured me that it would happen.
And so the arrangements were made, and by the time Sunday afternoon finally came I was delirious with anticipation. At her recommendation, I had booked a two-hour session which is a bit pricey, but she assured me it would be money well spent. Now I am not a neophyte when it comes to being professionally dominated. Most of my sessions last an hour or so, whether there is a happy ending or not (usually not). But what aroused me so much about this woman was her confidence. I knew she was going to give me exactly the kind of domination I deserve in a way that gave her sadistic pleasure.
One of the things she had told me was that she was a "tactile" Mistress. In other words, she loves to use her hands. I found this fascinating, because most professionals prefer to keep a whip or crop between them and their clients. I suppose in a post-Covid world that's pretty much the norm these days, but not in her case. I was already fantasizing about what her cruel touch would feel like.
And she had asked me about bruises on the phone, and it might have been a mistake, but I told her how erotic I found them and how they served as a reminder long after the session was over. She seemed to like that answer, and let me know to expect them...a lot of them.
I knocked on the door of a typically looking suburban house, and initially thought I had the wrong address. A tall gentleman opened the door to my surprise, but he immediately asked if I were there to see Mistress Rita. I would later find out his name was Steven and he was her "protector". This is not the first time I've rang a doorbell expecting a dominatrix and someone else answered. Some Dommes work out of their home as was the case with Mistress Rita.
He did not invite me into the house, rather he stepped outside and had me follow him around the building to the back area where there was a large detached garage. Mistress Rita was awaiting me, but before inviting me inside the garage she told me to give Steven the money for the session. When the bill settled, Steven left us and she bade me to come inside.
It is amazing to me how creative people can be with their BDSM locations. The space that had previously been a detached two-car garage had been fully converted to a credible dungeon. It had electricity, plumbing, and was fully soundproofed walls with small baffles hanging from the high ceiling. Screams here would not be heard by curious neighbors. There wasn't much bondage furniture other than a spanking bench and a small medical table, however, there were some shackles on the east wall in the pattern of a St Andrew's cross. There were a few toys and corporal punishment instruments visible, but not that many. 1 whip, 1 flogger, 1 paddle, 1 crop, etc...The room was well lit, more so than most dungeons I've encountered. I have no problems with the "stark reality" of bright lights. I can see the action better that way.
I tried to make a little small talk, but she was having none of it. She told me to strip, and leave my clothes on a shelf by the entrance.She watched me while I undressed and I could feel her eyes on me sizing me up. When I was completely naked she told me to turn toward her with my head bowed and my hands at my sides. I had told her the story about the absence of my body hair on the phone, so I didn't think she would be surprised at my appearance. However, she seemed curious and asked me several questions. Do I feel more feminine? Are you embarrassed by it? Do you regret it?
Basically I told her that it wasn't my idea, and that a Mistress that I served long-term wanted it removed, so I complied. I don't feel more feminine, although if I were wearing female attire perhaps I would. I am embarrassed when seen naked and hairless, but I've always been embarrassed without clothes even when I had body hair. I don't regret it, although I probably wouldn't do it again.
While I was talking she approached me and ran her hands across my smooth chest. Then she moved down my torso and into my pubic region. She told me to raise my arms and examined my pits. While she was doing this I began to feel vulnerable and my small soft cock began to grow from her touch. When she noticed my excitement her mood quickly changed from curious to irritated.
"Did I say you could get hard?"
She reached between my legs and grabbed both my balls and firmly squeezed until I doubled over. She did not let go, rather yanking them downward stretching them away from my hard shaft. I let out a yelp that was met without sympathy. She let go of my testicles, lifted my head up under my chin with one hand, then sharply slapping my face with the other. Instinctively, my chin dropped down.
"Head up. Don't move."
A second slap followed on my left cheek even more crisply than the first. Then a third and fourth. She examined her handy work.
"If I keep doing this, you're going to go home really puffy with hand marks on the side of your face. Last chance."
I swallowed and told her I've been looking for an excuse not to go into work tomorrow. That seemed to excite her, and after hearing those words she let her hands fly alternating slaps on the left and right sides of my face. Before slapping she would always bring my chin up to make sure she had a clean target. The blows had a cumulative effect, each new one hurting more than the last. I knew there would be a lot of swelling when it was over, and I would look like I was on the losing end of a fight. It didn't matter to me, because she was enjoying herself so much. I was more concerned about her hands hurting than the marks she was leaving on my face.
She stopped for a moment, then led me to the east wall and shackled me tightly restraining me spread eagle. You would think that with all the slapping and pain focused on my face, my cock would have gone limp. Unfortunately for me, it did not.
The tactile treatment now would be focused on my erection, but she would do more than just slap. She gripped my balls tightly with one hand while punching them with the other. The punches came from below in an uppercut fashion with ample force. After about ten firm shots, I thought I was going to pass out. But to her frustration, all the pain had only served to make my cock harder. She was determined to make that hard-on disappear.
She pointed my cock downward while driving her fingernails into the skin of my dick. Immediately, four little bruises appeared on my shaft. I wanted my penis to relent, but it remained strong. Her vice-like grip tried to choke the erection out of my cock, but it wasn't until she used both her hands twisting the skin in opposite directions that it finally relented and grew soft. Now swollen, limp, and bruised, she released my cock and began to work on other parts of body.
She enjoyed using her fingernails, and dug them into my chest and torso. She raked them starting at the bottom of my neck leaving a trail of scratch marks all the way down to the top of my legs. She was symmetrical in her approach. If she left a bruise in one area, another would follow on the opposite side. Diagonal scratches in one direction were met the same scratch pattern on the other. She twisted my nipples repeatedly until they changed to a purplish color. I have pretty tough nipples, so it looked worse than it was. Truthfully, I could have endured more, but the other parts of my body were aching so badly I didn't say anything.
There was a mirror on the far wall, and I could see that she was marking me up good. So far everything she had done was entirely with her hands which I found amazing. Also, I've never had a Mistress punish the front side first. Usually, it starts with the ass, back, and back of thighs. That was to come.
She unchained me, had me turn around, and then tightly re-applied the restraints. I was in deep subspace. My body ached, but I wanted more and this woman was more than happy to oblige. She would soon make the back look like the front, starting with her nails from my shoulders to the top of my ass. The most painful scratches, however, were on the sides from my armpit to my hip. Long, deep scratches that still haven't healed as of this writing.
"You have a nice ass...pity what I'm going to do to it."
She gave each cheek of my ass a firm squeeze and a chill ran up my spine. She slapped my ass a time or two, and I felt relieved. That wasn't too painful. But the power of repetition quickly changed my perception. She gave me a barehanded spanking of about 25 swats or so, and then she did something I wasn't expecting. Her hands became tired. She reached for a rattan cane that was hanging on the wall.
"We need your ass to match, don't you think, David?"
In all my misery, I felt a sense of pride that I had endured extensive discipline from her hands. She swished the cane in the air a few times letting me know what was going to happen. As she rained down repeated blows on my ass I was biting my lower lip. I knew that she was a woman of her word and that she wasn't going to stop until my ass looked as scandalous as the rest of my body.
When she finally released me, she marched me to the mirror and pointed out the various marks she had left all over me. My face indeed looked too puffy to go to work, and I wound up taking both Monday and Tuesday off. There is still a bit of swelling under my left eye but not enough to arouse suspicion.
She texted Steven to come e***** me out, and he entered while I was still getting dressed. When he saw the bruises, he mentioned to Mistress Rita that she should take a few content pics of me for her website and social media. I told her I had a job where I had to be discreet about posting things on the internet, and she assured me direct shots of my face would not be shown. I was still reluctant but Mistress Rita promised she would "make it worth my while" if I did this as a personal favor to her. Hmmm...
So I stayed another 20 minutes or so while Steven took various pictures and video clips of me being abused by Mistress Rita. My face was always turned away from the camera. They thanked me for the pics and I left.
There was no happy ending during the session, and my cock was too swollen and sore to masturbate when I got home. The bruises are mostly gone now, but I still have plenty of scratch marks all over my body three days after our encounter. I keep thinking about the session and how well I mesh with a true sadist like Mistress Rita. I keep telling myself that she's forbidden fruit, but I can't help but wonder what she has in mind for me if we have another session.
But since I don't have a wife or girlfriend, marks on most places on my body aren't going to be seen by the general public. In fact I enjoy having some bruises hidden under my suit and tie when I'm at work. They are the evidence of the kinky secrets I keep hidden from the world. But by the same token, I fantasize about shocking the ladies in the office and letting them see first hand the debauchery etched on my body. I wonder how they would react? Some with disgust, I'm sure. But perhaps there might be one that is aroused by it. That would be girlfriend material in my eyes.
The pro I saw on Sunday was a woman I found on a BDSM e***** website. She's an older woman but still quite attractive in her latex and boots. While I adore all dominant women, I especially enjoy a session with an older experienced Mistress. There is something comforting when you see a few gray hairs on the pilot who will be flying your plane. I love a good session with a Domme who is well versed in her craft. Her name is Mistress Rita.
She screened me well, as I suspect is the case with all her clients. It took the better part of two weeks to get on her calendar, and then a deposit to secure the appointment. We had communicated via email, until the day before the session. She called me just to confirm, but we wound up spending about half an hour on the phone. That's significant because a pro's time is valuable. She wanted to know about my kinks and limits, but she also spent time telling me what SHE enjoyed. More on that in a bit. By the time she ended the call, I was aroused and longing to be kneeling at her feet. I told her that I was an experienced submissive who was longing for severe punishment for my transgressions. She loved that and assured me that it would happen.
And so the arrangements were made, and by the time Sunday afternoon finally came I was delirious with anticipation. At her recommendation, I had booked a two-hour session which is a bit pricey, but she assured me it would be money well spent. Now I am not a neophyte when it comes to being professionally dominated. Most of my sessions last an hour or so, whether there is a happy ending or not (usually not). But what aroused me so much about this woman was her confidence. I knew she was going to give me exactly the kind of domination I deserve in a way that gave her sadistic pleasure.
One of the things she had told me was that she was a "tactile" Mistress. In other words, she loves to use her hands. I found this fascinating, because most professionals prefer to keep a whip or crop between them and their clients. I suppose in a post-Covid world that's pretty much the norm these days, but not in her case. I was already fantasizing about what her cruel touch would feel like.
And she had asked me about bruises on the phone, and it might have been a mistake, but I told her how erotic I found them and how they served as a reminder long after the session was over. She seemed to like that answer, and let me know to expect them...a lot of them.
I knocked on the door of a typically looking suburban house, and initially thought I had the wrong address. A tall gentleman opened the door to my surprise, but he immediately asked if I were there to see Mistress Rita. I would later find out his name was Steven and he was her "protector". This is not the first time I've rang a doorbell expecting a dominatrix and someone else answered. Some Dommes work out of their home as was the case with Mistress Rita.
He did not invite me into the house, rather he stepped outside and had me follow him around the building to the back area where there was a large detached garage. Mistress Rita was awaiting me, but before inviting me inside the garage she told me to give Steven the money for the session. When the bill settled, Steven left us and she bade me to come inside.
It is amazing to me how creative people can be with their BDSM locations. The space that had previously been a detached two-car garage had been fully converted to a credible dungeon. It had electricity, plumbing, and was fully soundproofed walls with small baffles hanging from the high ceiling. Screams here would not be heard by curious neighbors. There wasn't much bondage furniture other than a spanking bench and a small medical table, however, there were some shackles on the east wall in the pattern of a St Andrew's cross. There were a few toys and corporal punishment instruments visible, but not that many. 1 whip, 1 flogger, 1 paddle, 1 crop, etc...The room was well lit, more so than most dungeons I've encountered. I have no problems with the "stark reality" of bright lights. I can see the action better that way.
I tried to make a little small talk, but she was having none of it. She told me to strip, and leave my clothes on a shelf by the entrance.She watched me while I undressed and I could feel her eyes on me sizing me up. When I was completely naked she told me to turn toward her with my head bowed and my hands at my sides. I had told her the story about the absence of my body hair on the phone, so I didn't think she would be surprised at my appearance. However, she seemed curious and asked me several questions. Do I feel more feminine? Are you embarrassed by it? Do you regret it?
Basically I told her that it wasn't my idea, and that a Mistress that I served long-term wanted it removed, so I complied. I don't feel more feminine, although if I were wearing female attire perhaps I would. I am embarrassed when seen naked and hairless, but I've always been embarrassed without clothes even when I had body hair. I don't regret it, although I probably wouldn't do it again.
While I was talking she approached me and ran her hands across my smooth chest. Then she moved down my torso and into my pubic region. She told me to raise my arms and examined my pits. While she was doing this I began to feel vulnerable and my small soft cock began to grow from her touch. When she noticed my excitement her mood quickly changed from curious to irritated.
"Did I say you could get hard?"
She reached between my legs and grabbed both my balls and firmly squeezed until I doubled over. She did not let go, rather yanking them downward stretching them away from my hard shaft. I let out a yelp that was met without sympathy. She let go of my testicles, lifted my head up under my chin with one hand, then sharply slapping my face with the other. Instinctively, my chin dropped down.
"Head up. Don't move."
A second slap followed on my left cheek even more crisply than the first. Then a third and fourth. She examined her handy work.
"If I keep doing this, you're going to go home really puffy with hand marks on the side of your face. Last chance."
I swallowed and told her I've been looking for an excuse not to go into work tomorrow. That seemed to excite her, and after hearing those words she let her hands fly alternating slaps on the left and right sides of my face. Before slapping she would always bring my chin up to make sure she had a clean target. The blows had a cumulative effect, each new one hurting more than the last. I knew there would be a lot of swelling when it was over, and I would look like I was on the losing end of a fight. It didn't matter to me, because she was enjoying herself so much. I was more concerned about her hands hurting than the marks she was leaving on my face.
She stopped for a moment, then led me to the east wall and shackled me tightly restraining me spread eagle. You would think that with all the slapping and pain focused on my face, my cock would have gone limp. Unfortunately for me, it did not.
The tactile treatment now would be focused on my erection, but she would do more than just slap. She gripped my balls tightly with one hand while punching them with the other. The punches came from below in an uppercut fashion with ample force. After about ten firm shots, I thought I was going to pass out. But to her frustration, all the pain had only served to make my cock harder. She was determined to make that hard-on disappear.
She pointed my cock downward while driving her fingernails into the skin of my dick. Immediately, four little bruises appeared on my shaft. I wanted my penis to relent, but it remained strong. Her vice-like grip tried to choke the erection out of my cock, but it wasn't until she used both her hands twisting the skin in opposite directions that it finally relented and grew soft. Now swollen, limp, and bruised, she released my cock and began to work on other parts of body.
She enjoyed using her fingernails, and dug them into my chest and torso. She raked them starting at the bottom of my neck leaving a trail of scratch marks all the way down to the top of my legs. She was symmetrical in her approach. If she left a bruise in one area, another would follow on the opposite side. Diagonal scratches in one direction were met the same scratch pattern on the other. She twisted my nipples repeatedly until they changed to a purplish color. I have pretty tough nipples, so it looked worse than it was. Truthfully, I could have endured more, but the other parts of my body were aching so badly I didn't say anything.
There was a mirror on the far wall, and I could see that she was marking me up good. So far everything she had done was entirely with her hands which I found amazing. Also, I've never had a Mistress punish the front side first. Usually, it starts with the ass, back, and back of thighs. That was to come.
She unchained me, had me turn around, and then tightly re-applied the restraints. I was in deep subspace. My body ached, but I wanted more and this woman was more than happy to oblige. She would soon make the back look like the front, starting with her nails from my shoulders to the top of my ass. The most painful scratches, however, were on the sides from my armpit to my hip. Long, deep scratches that still haven't healed as of this writing.
"You have a nice ass...pity what I'm going to do to it."
She gave each cheek of my ass a firm squeeze and a chill ran up my spine. She slapped my ass a time or two, and I felt relieved. That wasn't too painful. But the power of repetition quickly changed my perception. She gave me a barehanded spanking of about 25 swats or so, and then she did something I wasn't expecting. Her hands became tired. She reached for a rattan cane that was hanging on the wall.
"We need your ass to match, don't you think, David?"
In all my misery, I felt a sense of pride that I had endured extensive discipline from her hands. She swished the cane in the air a few times letting me know what was going to happen. As she rained down repeated blows on my ass I was biting my lower lip. I knew that she was a woman of her word and that she wasn't going to stop until my ass looked as scandalous as the rest of my body.
When she finally released me, she marched me to the mirror and pointed out the various marks she had left all over me. My face indeed looked too puffy to go to work, and I wound up taking both Monday and Tuesday off. There is still a bit of swelling under my left eye but not enough to arouse suspicion.
She texted Steven to come e***** me out, and he entered while I was still getting dressed. When he saw the bruises, he mentioned to Mistress Rita that she should take a few content pics of me for her website and social media. I told her I had a job where I had to be discreet about posting things on the internet, and she assured me direct shots of my face would not be shown. I was still reluctant but Mistress Rita promised she would "make it worth my while" if I did this as a personal favor to her. Hmmm...
So I stayed another 20 minutes or so while Steven took various pictures and video clips of me being abused by Mistress Rita. My face was always turned away from the camera. They thanked me for the pics and I left.
There was no happy ending during the session, and my cock was too swollen and sore to masturbate when I got home. The bruises are mostly gone now, but I still have plenty of scratch marks all over my body three days after our encounter. I keep thinking about the session and how well I mesh with a true sadist like Mistress Rita. I keep telling myself that she's forbidden fruit, but I can't help but wonder what she has in mind for me if we have another session.
1 年 前
