Once in, once I have looked into her face & exchanged hello's, I have to remind myself that this is real, not fantasy. Even so I can't be sure, it feels dreamlike.
We spend some time chatting, I do like her company, she's nice. Chatting ends, we prepare to session. In the dim light I strip, kneel, wait. She enters slowly. With my head down, I can only see her shoes, but I can smell her. I feel giddy. She comes close and leans over me, my excitement increases but I don't move. She chastens me for not responding to her command as I have been taught, she will have to do this several times as I struggle to control my emotions, but in the end I learn that it is she who controls, not me at all.
Dressed as she likes me, I kneel over the whipping bench. She straps me in. She uses her hand to smack my buttocks, its not too bad, her closeness easily compensates for the pain. She also uses a strap, and then a paddle- the paddle hurts-I don't like it- I say nothing- I have no choice. She moves on to a cat o nine tails. I follow her with my eyes as she swings hard, but this whip doesn't live up to its' reputation. I enjoy watching her working hard to make it hurt me.
She releases me and places me in front of the window chair. This is a happy turnaround, she kneels in front me. She fastens a harness to my cock and balls. It takes time to get it right. I watch her at work, she is calm and focused, she looks lovely. Her dress has ridden up revealing her stocking tops, I gaze down at her milky white cleavage. I am in heaven. The feeling doesn't last. She attaches a hanging weight to my balls- back to reality. She makes me sit and straps me in, tight. She tries a series of hoods and gags on me. She plays with me, teases me, I beg her to release me, she laughs at my distress. When she has had enough of this game and my breathing is returning to normal I make the mistake of describing what she did as torture(oops). 'Torture?'. She mocks me. That wasn't torture. Let me show you torture. She lift the ball weight high as if to let it drop suddenly. Now I am scared. My mind races to to find an escape. There isn't one.
She takes down the nipple clamps- please God no. Surely she is only teasing me . After the pain I suffered the last time I had these on, even this cruel evil bitch wouldn't put me through that again. She smiles and fastens on the first clamp. The pain sears through me- I think I might faint- I can hear her advising me to breath slowly and deeply-I sense hope-She is going to let me go-maybe she has a soft spot after all- no-she fastens the other clamp- I am going to faint. Incredibly the pain increases, through the red mist I hear her laugh and tells me to look. I open my eyes-she has fastened the other end of each of the clamps to her dress and is leaning back- my fucking God I think- she is going to rip my tits off. Strangely she seems mildly amused at my agony. At this moment I would give anything for release, I know that I am completely at her mercy but I don't know what to do, my pain amuses her but if I hide how bad it is she will only increase the pressure. She has had her fun and lets me go. I am so grateful, so relieved. I love her again. She chides me for being such a wimp-I don't care.
She sits and makes me kneel in front of her, I am to massage her feet. It is my pleasure to do this for her. Her feet are small and neat, her toes, a sensual perfection, her calves firm and smooth.
We move to the big bench. She straps me in. Tight. She climbs up and stands on me. She weighs nothing. She tells me what I am and where I belong- I already know. She covers my eyes- she gags me with her pants- she whispers that I don't always get what I want- I get what she wants to give me. She reminds me that it is she whose will prevails. It's not what I want to hear but I am committed to obeying her completely and without question. She is busy at the other end of the bench. I can't see. The blindfold leaves me in complete darkness. She lubes me up, I don't understand at first, then I realise that its her new toy. The sensations are strange but pleasant, but they are not her, she makes the machine go faster and the sensations increase, but they are cold. Remote. I want warm. Close. I remember her describing this as mechanical rape. It is a fitting description. I have no control, no choice. I can wonder at the effect of the machine, but it's not her. I have to submit to her choices whether I like them of not, so I do. She makes the machine go even faster, there is no denying its efficiency, but it's not her. I can't see her or smell her, my senses are denied. The machine is now full on, but it's not her.
As the session ends I am surprised at the mess we have made in this once neat and tidy space. I dress, we chat. I am exhausted, and somehow mentally stunned, I find talking difficult, my mind keeps pulling me back to what I have just been through, but she is patient, kind and gentle, and I slowly relax.
When I get home I still can't be certain if it really happened or did I dream it. I strip to shower, the marks on my body will fade, but the memory will stay.
Thank you my Lady.