Couples Who Play Together…..



When a Dominatrix agrees to see you, the first thing you learn is that She is in control of your experience and fantasy. Everything this lady will do to you has to be carefully handled and 100% consensual. That’s the whole point of paying an astronomical amount of money for someone to beat you to a pulp, because she will do it safely and skilfully. Yes you could dress in drag, stand on the terraces at an England Football match to provoke a vigorous thrashing for free, but there will be no control. With a Dominatrix it’s all about control and how much skill she possesses to manipulate your senses, and manage your pain. If she’s mastered her craft, she can offer erotic discipline as a pleasure tool to produce a massive high from endorphins. If controlled right, an experience with a Dominatrix will blow your mind, as well as your load!


I learned a long time ago there are several requirements to keeping a good relationship strong. One of those is the ability to accept that we do not own or control what our partner thinks or desires. One mistake a lot of us make is not cutting our partners some slack every now and then, like when they get all frustrated and silly. If you keep a guy on too tight a leash, eventually you’ll get bit. But if you give them too much rope they hang themselves, so you need to keep a happy medium. Allowing a few surprise treats once in a while will enliven any relationship and so when my boyfriends’ birthday came round, I decided to enlist the help of a professional caterer and booked him a Dominatrix.

Now, whether he actually wanted a Dominatrix or not is another matter entirely but then experimentation = knowledge = power and he’s always keen to expand those. So I engaged a cunning ploy and seductively explained my fantasy about being tied naked, spanked and whipped by some raven-haired vamp, as he lurked seedily in the shadows watching. The blood-flow to his genitals by-passed his common sense, and BINGO! He agreed!


Like partners in crime – well the Vice-Squad – we arrived at our ‘House of Pain’. Once inside, we were greeted by a black haired, leather clad, spiteful looking Mistress Claudia. This lady looked exactly as I had imagined. Squeezed so tight into her corset, her big shiny ass had almost Pendik Ukraynalı Escort doubled in size, and her boobs nearly touched her chin. There would be only one clown at this Birthday party and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be her.

I’d informed her that it was my guys birthday in advance, so I knew she had something special in mind (30 lit candles sticking out his ass perhaps?), but I had no idea what she had in store for me. I started to feel really nervous. After being ordered to strip naked we were led through a steel door to the basement that smelt damp and felt scary. Squinting into the darkness we saw wall racks, chains, ropes, more racks and even a set up that looked like a horse and vault. You could literally smell the fear and terror that had been soaked up like a sponge by these four walls. Her Dungeon looked like a cross between an Amnesty International Poster and the Marquis De Sade’s home Gym.

My boyfriend started with his ‘Ohhhh!, Is it too scary for you?’ routine, but turned deathly white when I motioned to the Monster ‘strap-ons’ hanging on the wall. We were ordered to kneel, with our tackle/stomachs/bits dangling before her and our eyes lowered. After a brief introduction as to how the session would run, i.e. we obey her and she hits us, we don’t obey her and she hits us, Mistress informed us that we were each to receive a very special gift.


Although not able to see what was happening, I became very aware that my less than eager boyfriend was having something attached to his face. A few muffles and groans later, her shiny, thigh-high rubber waders advanced on me. She attached a spiked leather slave collar around my neck and hissed in my ear ‘You are now my slut’, before yanking my head back to reveal my bewildered boyfriend, cowering pathetically on a lead. Wearing a full-head of PVC mask complete with zips for the eyes and mouth, he looked like some twisted S&M incarnation of Zippy, from ‘Rainbow’. She had made him her Gimp and I don’t know which of us was most scared.

Mistress walked to her throne, dragging him puffing, panting and protesting across the floor until he settled uncomfortably at her feet. He looked utterly humiliated, degraded and completely confused as to what was happening to him. When she picked up her Bullwhip and traced his exposed Pendik Üniversiteli Escort back and buttocks, teasing him that ‘he’d enjoy it more if he loosened up’, I could see him still nervously eyeing the dildos through his little peepholes.


It all started to feel a bit Rocky Horror Picture Show when her boots became the focus of attention. In a stern voice she demanded we clean them with our tongues. Licking someone’s feet can be erotic, but not when they taste of old tyres. I giggled in contempt, but as she sternly pointed out with a stinging tap to my ass, she was the one holding the whip. I swallowed my pride, ignored my taste bud’s and waded-on in there. I did OK until my boyfriends little pink tongue flickered behind his black PVC clad lips. When it finally eased it out and began lapping at her heels, it all became too much and I started to laugh.


Mistress doesn’t tolerate laughing and she leapt like an over coiled spring, yanked me onto her lap and delivered a severe spanking. My cherry red ass cheeks stung so much that my eyes began to water. I could hear the laboured breath of her Gimp, giggling with vengeful excitement, he was certainly enjoying this. After I’d grovelled and squirmed, and her industrial spanking glove had worn out, she just tipped me back on the floor and I eagerly scoffed humble pie, rogue pubes and boot polish.


The Gimp’s birthday suit didn’t hide the fact his old-man was sporting his Sunday best and she hoisted him clean off the floor. Dragging him towards a wall rack, she tied him spread-eagled, displaying a vein-popping erection. Ranting that ‘sissy boy’s don’t get hard unless allowed’ she proceeded to slap, spank, pinch, twist, torture and pull, until his pecker wilted like a salted slug! She eventually left him hanging limp, vainly struggling to coax his tail between his legs, and went off to find some rope.


I found myself standing as Mistress spun a web of rope around my chest. Forget tit tape, breast bondage gives support, sensation and a glowing youthful pertness but as the blood flow became trapped, my fun-bags turned a scary shade of purple. A rope was passed between my legs and she devised some kind of slipknot ‘crotch-rope’ that tightened and rubbed as I moved. Boy, Pendik Vip Escort would I be needing chap-stick in the morning! My wrists and ankles were then cuffed to a ‘sacrificial cross’ facing my now mute boyfriend, and Mistress brought out her toys.


Mistress may call them ‘toys’, but to me they looked more like weapons of war. I started to sweat when she produced nipple clamps that looked like Tractor Jump-leads. After attaching them, along with an array of chains and weights, she teased and stretched until I’d changed from pretty and pert, to seedy and saggy. My assets had reached a new all time low! The Gimp cheered up on seeing my discomfort. Gasps of delight, along with dribble, leaked from his maw hole. She didn’t need a clamp for him; she just reached out, grabbed his nipple piercing, and viciously twisted it with her nails. Torturing him with one hand, and pulling on my ‘Stretch Armstrong’ nipples with her other, she indulged us both in a sadistic game of ‘mercy’. After we’d finished struggling, grovelling and swearing – which got my boyfriend’s mouth zip closed – we hung in silence and she just let go.


She removed my clamps and I dangled in my constraints, wallowing in the pain and an endorphin rush that would make a hardened junkie sweat. I don’t know how she scraped me off the ceiling, but she did, and whispered it was ‘time for the Birthday Boy’s surprise’. She untied me and helped me to my knees, well I fell in a heap on the floor and she arranged me in some sort of order. Mistress then seductively taunted my boyfriend; it was now time for his treat. Taking hold of his recovering cock in a gloved hand, she slowly started to wank him off. It was my turn now for a sour dose of reality, and I sat kneeling with my mouth open, anxiously awaiting his deposit. As she stroked up and down his shaft she instructed him to inform her when he was about to cum. He delayed as long as possible but finally his teeth started clenching and about to explode, he groaned he was close. I braced myself for the hit and shut my eyes. I heard a gasp and ………… Nothing. Absolutely zilch! Mistress had stopped him in mid-stroke, and our session ended.

My boyfriend was left hanging with his fate in my hands. He pleaded, cried, begged, and even offered to buy me a new car if I would finish him off. But I didn’t. I felt he’d been tormented enough so I simply un-strung him. He now had half an hour to clown-around with a ‘limited’ selection of toys and racks and he made the most of it. He may make a pathetic Gimp, but he plays a pretty mean Daddy. I on the other hand, make a shamefully sadistic masochist!

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