Marks
It's been a long time since my last post. Normalcy has returned to my life...sort of. I still get the submissive ache from time to time and act on my fantasies with an occasional visit to a dominatrix. There are many pro Dommes in the Dallas-Fort Worth area, but there are few who have made the investments necessary for a mind-blowing experience. It's an expensive proposition to trick up a dungeon with all the best bondage gear, S/M furniture, and disciplinary implements. Then you add the wardrobe and fetish accessories, and you're looking at tens of thousands of dollars.
There are a lot of pro Dommes who cut corners, and purchase the absolute minimum to get by. Some of them do outcalls and show up with their "bag o' tricks", and if your fantasies aren't too extravagant they can provide a basic femdom experience. Light bondage, spanky spanky, $250, and she's out the door. But what if you want more than that?
I had a session yesterday with a Mistress with over 20 years of experience in the scene. She owns a dungeon in North Dallas that's equipped with mind-blowing furniture that would make the Marquis de Sade proud. Heavy wood stocks, chains secured to the wall, motorized hydraulic suspension lift, smother bench, torture table, slave driver fucking machine, steel cages, slings, spanking benches, bondage bed,queening throne, etc...One wall is completely covered with whips, cat o nines, paddles, restraints, spreader bars, cuffs, nipple clamps...shall I go on?
Let's face it, you get what you pay for and yesterday's session wasn't cheap, but it was one that I'll remember.
I arrived a little before noon which was the appointed time. I was her first client of the day. She told me she will never do more than three sessions a day, and she never works more than four days a week. Basically, her view is that she loves her job and doesn't want it to become boring and routine. This wasn't my first session with her, so she knew my limits. She asked if she could leave marks and bruises, and I replied that I would be happy if she would. She smiled and said, "I don't think that will be a problem."
I paid her fee up front, and then she had me strip naked and selected a hood and laced it tightly behind my head. Restraints were placed on both arms and legs, as well as a collar around my neck. She led me to the hydraulic lift and secured my hands to either end of the bar and told me to hang on to it. She pushed the control button and the device lifted my arms high over my head and she didn't stop it until I was standing on the tips of my toes. I felt very vulnerable hanging naked in front of her, but the helplessness was arousing me.
She started with a riding crop, not too hard. Tap, tapping different parts of my body. She was assessing which areas were sensitive and which could accept greater punishment. She spent a long time applying the crop to my cock and balls. At first it was pleasurable and I couldn't help myself from moaning softly. However, she applied the crop with more sting and quickly the pleasure turned into pain. It's perplexing to me, but the harder she smacked at my groin, the harder my cock became.
She put away the crop and procured two floggers. She used a circular motion making an eight crossing the middle of my back, and then down to my butt and legs. When she was content that my back side had been reddened appropriately, she moved to the front and did the same thing. There was a mirror to my side and I would take a peek from time to time as my body turned from pale white to bright crimson.
She put down the floggers, and told me she was about to inflict bruises with a single tail leather whip. She gave me a safe word and told me that if I used it she would stop. She told me to count and thank her after each lash.
She went at me hard, and as the first 20 or so strokes bit into my back I was already prepared to sing out the safe word. However, I know that once I get through the initial pain I'll enter subspace and be able to cope with it. She must have sensed it as well, because her pace slowed as we approached higher numbers.
She moved to my front side and unleashed more of her fury on me. The whip seemed to hurt more in front than in back, and soon my chest and stomach was covered in her design. Then she told me to hold very still. She took aim, and laid into my hard dick with the stinging leather. After just a few lashes on my cock I forgot the count, and for a moment she broke character.
"Had enough?"
I was breathing deeply and sobbing a little, but it felt like it was too early to break. I asked her if she would finish me with her cane.
She took me down from the lift, and secured me to a spanking bench. She swished the cane a few times in the air, and then without warning it fell upon my buttocks. The cane and the whip are different kinds of pain. The cane is direct, and more accurate. The pain is sharper in my opinion, and with more impact.
I counted to thirty-eight, and that was it. Normally I can handle more, but the whipping had already taken much of my will. She had broken me.
She told me to get on my hands and knees and spread my legs. She slipped a plastic disposable dinner plate under me and told me to masturbate until I came. I took my sore cock in my hand and found it painful to jack off. She was watching from behind me, and out of the blue unleashed insults about my "little clit". The added humiliation was making it more difficult to cum.
The release finally happened and I pointed my erect cock down in the direct of the plate as gobs of semen flowed out of my body. I knew what next. She gave the order and I slowly licked the plate clean. She told me to give her the plate and she examined it to make sure. She nodded her head, "good boy".
She released me and I went to the mirror to look at myself. My body was covered in marks, and my butt had straight lines of red and blue from one cheek to the other. But it was only after an hour or two that the bruises she inflicted became ugly and deep. What she did will stay with me for more than just a day or two, which is exactly what I wanted.
I thanked her several times and let her know that she was a true professional. She seemed to like the comment, and her last words to me were, "I enjoy abusing boys of your kind".
Today I am moving gingerly, but still reliving her final words from yesterday. "Boys of my kind?" I wonder what that meant?
There are a lot of pro Dommes who cut corners, and purchase the absolute minimum to get by. Some of them do outcalls and show up with their "bag o' tricks", and if your fantasies aren't too extravagant they can provide a basic femdom experience. Light bondage, spanky spanky, $250, and she's out the door. But what if you want more than that?
I had a session yesterday with a Mistress with over 20 years of experience in the scene. She owns a dungeon in North Dallas that's equipped with mind-blowing furniture that would make the Marquis de Sade proud. Heavy wood stocks, chains secured to the wall, motorized hydraulic suspension lift, smother bench, torture table, slave driver fucking machine, steel cages, slings, spanking benches, bondage bed,queening throne, etc...One wall is completely covered with whips, cat o nines, paddles, restraints, spreader bars, cuffs, nipple clamps...shall I go on?
Let's face it, you get what you pay for and yesterday's session wasn't cheap, but it was one that I'll remember.
I arrived a little before noon which was the appointed time. I was her first client of the day. She told me she will never do more than three sessions a day, and she never works more than four days a week. Basically, her view is that she loves her job and doesn't want it to become boring and routine. This wasn't my first session with her, so she knew my limits. She asked if she could leave marks and bruises, and I replied that I would be happy if she would. She smiled and said, "I don't think that will be a problem."
I paid her fee up front, and then she had me strip naked and selected a hood and laced it tightly behind my head. Restraints were placed on both arms and legs, as well as a collar around my neck. She led me to the hydraulic lift and secured my hands to either end of the bar and told me to hang on to it. She pushed the control button and the device lifted my arms high over my head and she didn't stop it until I was standing on the tips of my toes. I felt very vulnerable hanging naked in front of her, but the helplessness was arousing me.
She started with a riding crop, not too hard. Tap, tapping different parts of my body. She was assessing which areas were sensitive and which could accept greater punishment. She spent a long time applying the crop to my cock and balls. At first it was pleasurable and I couldn't help myself from moaning softly. However, she applied the crop with more sting and quickly the pleasure turned into pain. It's perplexing to me, but the harder she smacked at my groin, the harder my cock became.
She put away the crop and procured two floggers. She used a circular motion making an eight crossing the middle of my back, and then down to my butt and legs. When she was content that my back side had been reddened appropriately, she moved to the front and did the same thing. There was a mirror to my side and I would take a peek from time to time as my body turned from pale white to bright crimson.
She put down the floggers, and told me she was about to inflict bruises with a single tail leather whip. She gave me a safe word and told me that if I used it she would stop. She told me to count and thank her after each lash.
She went at me hard, and as the first 20 or so strokes bit into my back I was already prepared to sing out the safe word. However, I know that once I get through the initial pain I'll enter subspace and be able to cope with it. She must have sensed it as well, because her pace slowed as we approached higher numbers.
She moved to my front side and unleashed more of her fury on me. The whip seemed to hurt more in front than in back, and soon my chest and stomach was covered in her design. Then she told me to hold very still. She took aim, and laid into my hard dick with the stinging leather. After just a few lashes on my cock I forgot the count, and for a moment she broke character.
"Had enough?"
I was breathing deeply and sobbing a little, but it felt like it was too early to break. I asked her if she would finish me with her cane.
She took me down from the lift, and secured me to a spanking bench. She swished the cane a few times in the air, and then without warning it fell upon my buttocks. The cane and the whip are different kinds of pain. The cane is direct, and more accurate. The pain is sharper in my opinion, and with more impact.
I counted to thirty-eight, and that was it. Normally I can handle more, but the whipping had already taken much of my will. She had broken me.
She told me to get on my hands and knees and spread my legs. She slipped a plastic disposable dinner plate under me and told me to masturbate until I came. I took my sore cock in my hand and found it painful to jack off. She was watching from behind me, and out of the blue unleashed insults about my "little clit". The added humiliation was making it more difficult to cum.
The release finally happened and I pointed my erect cock down in the direct of the plate as gobs of semen flowed out of my body. I knew what next. She gave the order and I slowly licked the plate clean. She told me to give her the plate and she examined it to make sure. She nodded her head, "good boy".
She released me and I went to the mirror to look at myself. My body was covered in marks, and my butt had straight lines of red and blue from one cheek to the other. But it was only after an hour or two that the bruises she inflicted became ugly and deep. What she did will stay with me for more than just a day or two, which is exactly what I wanted.
I thanked her several times and let her know that she was a true professional. She seemed to like the comment, and her last words to me were, "I enjoy abusing boys of your kind".
Today I am moving gingerly, but still reliving her final words from yesterday. "Boys of my kind?" I wonder what that meant?
6 年 前
