If you were to ever meet me in person, you would probably never suspect that I was a man who was into BDSM.
I am a mature man with a very respectable job and with very respectable friends and colleagues. I have no tattoos or piercings. I live a very vanilla lifestyle. My upbringing was also very normal. I was not abused or endured physical punishment.
Yet, ever since puberty I was drawn to female authority figures. It was very primal and very sexual. I masturbated to fantasies of worshiping women; and when I started dating, I always hoped to find a woman who would take charge of me- especially sexually. I lost my virginity to such a woman... but that's another story.
Despite my luck at the beginning of my sexual education, I soon found that women who enjoyed taking charge (especially in the bedroom) were rare. I learned to accept this and even enjoy a very vanilla existence- but all the while craving what I soon learned to be called "Femdom."
At first it was some racy magazines and books when I was in my teens and twenties. I remember one book particularly that was about a young man being spanked naked over a female teacher's lap while a female student surreptitiously watched through the crack of the door. It was told from the perspective of the female student. It described her amusement at seeing her naked classmate awkwardly get in position over the teacher's lap, followed by the shock of watching (and hearing) the teacher spanking his behind. But what was most shocking to her, and also to me, was that when his punishment was over, and he stood up off his teachers lap, the female student could see his bright red butt and a wet spot on his teacher's lap. She was not sure what it meant, but noticed how embarrassed the boy was and how upset his teacher was with him. Of course, I knew what that wet spot meant!
This scene stayed in my memory for years. The combination of ceremony, pain, pleasure, embarrassment and humiliation served to germinate a curiosity and craving in me to be disciplined by a woman in the same way as that schoolboy was disciplined by his teacher. I wondered if I too might lose control and climax on her lap, and if I did, how humiliating that would be.
But years passed, and I never found this teacher. My cravings were only satisfied by masturbation, and I began to feel that this need to be dominated and abused by a woman was an aberration. I found that most "femdom mistresses" were portrayed as sadistic and their male subs as masochistic. And soon I thought that I too must be a masochist; that I got sexually excited from pain. But, somehow I knew that I did not find pain sexually exciting, it was something more complicated. I started to suspect that if I actually were to have such an encounter, I would not like it at all and eventually resolved that the only way to cure me of this obsession was to experience it first hand (rather as a masturbatory fantasy).
By this time I had found quite a few internet sites promoting dominatrices. Finally, one June day, when I was visiting Toronto, I got the nerve and contacted Miss Poison at the Toronto Power Exchange.
The following is a detailed account of my visit. I wrote it to her soon after my visit as both a form of gratitude to Miss Poison and in the hope that she would post it on her website as a testimonial (she
did in fact use it).
______________________________________________
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| Miss Poison (From her website) |
I was very prompt, as she had instructed. After climbing the rickety
wooden stairs to the second floor deck of 1313, I knocked 3 times. As I
waited, I realized how nervous I was. I was almost ready to turn back
when the door opened just enough for me to enter. I stepped into a small
dark chamber and the door closed revealing Miss P behind it. She had
straight black hair, dark eyes and perfectly formed lips that revealed a
faint smile of acceptance.
“I’m Guy” I began to say.
“I know you are. I got your email,” she responded softly. There was a
moment of silence as I must have appeared a bit unsure what to say. She
understood and continued, “I understand this is your first time.”
“Yes” I replied. There was another awkward silence as I remembered
what I wrote in the email to her 3 days before. I told her that I had
always fantasized about visiting a dominatrix but was too afraid to act
on it. I confessed that my fantasy was to visit a sexual re-education
school for men run by women. (I remembered getting particularly aroused
as I wrote the email and after mustering the courage to send it, I had
to masturbate).
“So I understand that your girlfriend sent you here to get sexually re-educated”, she said with a faint smile.
I understood that she had read the email and, with my heart pounding
and an erection developing, I played along. “Yes” I replied somewhat
shyly, “My girlfriend told me that she would only see me if I get
re-educated.”
“Good” she said. “Do you have your schooling fees?”
I nodded yes, took out my money and put it on the counter as she had instructed.
“Good,” she said in a business-like voice. She took a few minutes to
tell me the rules and gave me a ‘safe’ word that I was to use if I
wanted her to stop. After I said I understood she said, “Now you may
take off your clothes and put them on the chair.”
“My clothes?” I asked as if I did not understand.
“Yes,” she replied slightly annoyed, “Everything off! I want you completely nude”.
I could feel her watching me as I took off my shoes, socks, shirt and
pants and laid them on the chair. I then hesitated. “I want everything
off,” She repeated sternly.
Bashfully I removed my underpants and stood up, reflexively covering
my erection with my hands. She smiled in amusement and then turned to a
second door, opened it and as she began walking ordered me to follow
her. Her heels were clicking on the wooden floor until she came to spot
in the next room. “Stand here” she ordered pointing to a spot in front
of her. I followed her command and found myself looking at my reflection
in a full length mirror. The lighting in the room accentuated the
musculature of my naked body. I could see in the mirror Miss P standing
just to my side and a bit behind me looking me over. Even in her heels
she was more than a half a head shorter than I was; yet dressed in her
crisp white blouse, a tight black skirt, dark stockings and black high
heels, she was clearly in command of the nude man in front of her
pathetically trying to hide his genitals. Watching her inspect me I
realized she could not have been half my age, yet she had probably
inspected and “schooled” more naked men than her youth would suggest.
Then as our eyes briefly met in the mirror I found myself hoping that
she liked what she saw. Returning to her inspection, she ran her hand
over my buttock and said, “You have a nice tight ass and nice legs.”
Then as if to remind me of my nudity and vulnerability and to further
remind me of my new role as her subordinate boy toy, she pinched my ass.
She saw me flinch.
“Do you like that?” she asked pinching my other cheek.
“No”, I mumbled.
“You need to address me as Miss P” she instructed.
“Yes Miss P” I answered.
“Good. You are going to have to get used to being my obedient play
thing,” she said giving me a playful slap on my ass. “…and maybe you
will grow to like it.”
She walked behind me, her heels clicking slowly as she continued her
inspection. She came around in front of me and looked down at my hands
still attempting to cover my privates. Looking up at me with an amused
expression she said “I think it’s cute that a grown man like you is so
bashful.” She paused for a second and coyly continued. “Come on and show
me what you are hiding.” She clearly enjoyed teasing me, yet at the
same time I found myself now reluctantly giving in to her. I watched her
eyebrows go up as I slowly revealed my involuntarily stiffening
manhood.
As I stood there she paused a second, as if deciding what she should
have me do. Finally she said, “I want you to swing your cock from side
to side, like you are doing a lap dance for me…”
As I started to swing my hips I watched her watching my cock. I felt
quite ill at ease dancing for her amusement, and it began to occur to me
that it might turn her on to watch her new ‘student’ perform for her.
The thought that Miss P enjoyed making me dance only made me more
aroused. As I felt myself getting more engorged my cock started to slap
on my thighs leaving moist drops on my leg.
“Oh,” she said looking up at me again with a sparkle in her eye, “You
better stop. I think you have a little pre-cum there.” Looking down I
saw she was right. It was a tell tale sign to her of the state of my
excitement that I had no control over. I must have turned red with
humiliation because she added, “Its O.K. to be eager.” She placed her
hand lightly on my bare chest and continued. “Why don’t you put you
hands behind your head and get your feet apart.” Slowly I complied.
“Very good,” she continued. “Now I want you to wait for me here just
like that.”
I found myself looking in the mirror at the nude man with his hands
behind his head and his genitals mostly erect waiting for Miss P to
return with whatever she had in mind for him. I worried about what she
might have thought of my state of arousal and how embarrassing it was
that she saw my leaking pre-seminal fluid; my awkward display of a
middle-aged man’s misdirected libido. I wondered if I was the only man
who had shamed himself like this for her.
The sound of her heels on the wooden floor announced her return. She
had a riding crop in one hand and a black condom in the other. “Here, it
looks as if we are going to have to start with this,” she said handing
me the condom. I slowly lowered my arms and took the condom from her.
She watched as I clumsily tried to get it on my half erect phallus.
“Roll it out on your fingers and then put it on like a sock,” she
suggested as if to a green schoolboy in his first sexual experience. I
could see that she truly enjoyed my ineptitude. To this beautiful young
woman, it was clear that despite my mature age and experience, I was
just a clumsy nervous new trainee that would require instruction every
step of the way. Somehow I managed to put the condom over the head of my
penis as she continued to watch.
“Now roll it down, I want you to cover the whole shaft.”
I did as she asked, finding that my developing erection made it
easier. Then I found myself looking back up at her for her approval.
“Good,” she said and then placed the flat end of her riding crop
under my scrotum and lifted it for display. “Now you NEED to stay hard
for me so that the condom does not fall off.”
“Yes Miss.” I replied.
Before releasing it, she gave my scrotum what to her must have seemed
like a little playful bounce with the end of the crop, but which gave
me a dull pain throughout my body. But as I looked at her I saw that
she knew exactly what she had done to me. It seemed like it was
calculated to show me her control over me without necessarily losing my
erection. In fact, it had the effect of keeping me excited.
She gave me a quick smile and then pointed to the other side of the
room with the crop. “I want you to pick up that basket over there and
follow me”. I could feel her watch me as I walked across the small room,
bend over and pick up the basket. The basket contained rope, wrist
straps and a dog collar. I looked back up at her and asked if it was the
right basket.
“Yes, that’s the one. Now, I want you to pick it up and start walking
down this way,” she said pointing down the hall with her crop. As I
began walking on the wood floor with my bare feet, I was conscious of my
black-condom-covered-cock awkwardly swaying back and forth with each
step, and I could hear Miss P’s shoes clicking behind me.
“In here” she ordered pointing to a room to my right. At the far
corner of the room there was a large 7 foot X shaped cross with straps
for arms and legs. Next to it was a padded triangular shaped wooden
piece with padded shelves on the side with straps that I imagined were
for legs and arms. On the walls there was a large collection of canes,
straps, paddles and whips and in the middle of the room there was an
armless chair.
“This is the punishment room. “ Miss P announced.
“The punishment room?” I questioned.
“Yes, this is where we are going to begin.” She ordered me to put
down the basket walk over to the wall, choose a paddle and bring it to
her. I found 5 paddles of different shapes and sizes and could not
decide which to bring. Somehow it seemed surreal as she clearly was
having me choose which paddle she would use on me. Sensing my confusion,
she told me to bring her the clear one in the middle. I could feel her
watch my nude body stretch as I reached up to unhook the stiff clear
paddle she would soon use on me. When I turned back to her I found Miss P
seated in the chair waiting like a queen for her servant. Slowly I
walked over to her and handed her the paddle.
In a mirror I caught a glimpse of the beautiful petite Miss P,
dressed in her businesslike outfit, paddle in hand, looking up at the
naked man with a black phallus who seemed to tower over her, but who was
clearly in her charge. I could only stand there dutifully as she seemed
to decide on my fate while suggestively slapping the end of the paddle
on the palm of her hand.
Then as if she had decided, she stood up, took a step back and
pointed to the chair and said “You can start by assuming the position
for me; hands on the seat and ass high up in the air.”
She was all business now and I could see that she was not going to
show me any leniency just because it was my first time. Feeling my cock
hardening I tried to follow her instructions. The seat of the chair was
quite low, forcing me to bend over completely with my ass high up in
front of her.
“Good,” she began but then said, “but I want your ass even higher for
me.” I curved my back up to please her but she still wasn’t satisfied.
“Even higher” she commanded. I got up on my toes which seemed to finally
satisfy her.
“You’ve got a perfect ass… that’s going to make this even more
enjoyable for me,” she began to walk around me inspecting my position
from every angle. “I like to have all my students start off with a good
paddling so we establish our relationship right from the start.” I tried
to follow her as she walked slowly around me, her heels clicking on the
wood floor, calmly inspecting my compliance with her command. She
seemed to enjoy watching me strain apprehensively, awaiting her
approval. In her crisp business attire she was in complete control, like
a trainer with her prized stallion. She ran her free hand lightly over
my bare back as she continued toward my backside and then gave a playful
slap to my buttock. She turned her gaze back to me for a moment, a lewd
smile on her face. Her gaze now turned to my behind again. She raised
the paddle and brushed it lightly on the inside of my thigh. Slowly I
could feel it come up to my exposed scrotum.
“I want your legs more apart” she ordered. “Your entire sex should be visible for me.”
I spread my legs some more until I saw that she was satisfied. She now
reached with her free hand between my legs, gently played with my
scrotum and said, “That’s better.” Although it gave me a mildly
pleasurable sensation, it also no doubt was meant to show me that she
had my manhood in her hand.
Again I strained my head back to get a better look at Miss P as she
looked back at me with her hand still tickling my testicles. “This is
how I want you to set yourself when I tell you to ‘assume the
position’”, she said still looking at me. Looking back at my ass she
continued “I want to see your ass in the air and your entire manhood
ready for my inspection.”
She now stopped groping me and passed the paddle to her right hand
and took a step back from me. She stretched her right arm to check that
the paddle reached my ass. Satisfied, she lowered the paddle by her
side.\
“Now we will start with 20 strokes,” she said matter-of-factly. She
must have seen the shock in my face. “Yes 20 strokes”, she continued.
“This is the real deal! Now, I want you to count after each stroke and
thank me. If you forget or you get it wrong I will start over. Do you
understand?”
“Yes Miss” I managed to mutter still thinking that 20 sounded way too
much for my first punishment. I thought it better not to complain
though, and watched as she again raised the paddle, gently placed it
over my buttocks and then, satisfied with her mark, brought the paddle
back, ready for the first stroke.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
“Yes”, I replied feeling surreal.
With a ceremonious seriousness I saw her take her first swing and
heard a loud slap before feeling the burning in my ass. The loudness of
the slap and the sharpness of the pain took me by surprise and I gave
off an involuntary groan. It was not so much the pain from the blow, but
the shame of my involuntary groan that most affected me. It was a
humiliation to my manhood, my masculinity at the hand of this petite
woman. I was so preoccupied with this that I forgot my duty.
“Did you forget?” Miss P asked reminding me of my lapse.
“Oh sorry Miss; that’s one. Thank you Miss” I said
“We will start from number one again” she responded.
“Yes Miss…” I managed to say before she delivered another, even
louder slap. This one almost made me fall forward, but I managed to
recover as the burning returned. I managed to say “One. Thank you Miss”
before she delivered another.
“Two. Thank you Miss” I said as I now discovered the mirror in front
of me. I could see her cocking back her arm ready for the next blow, her
gaze momentarily looking toward me, before delivering the next blow.
“Three. Thank you Miss… Four. Thank you Miss.” She waited a few seconds
between blows to let me feel the burning before delivering the next.
Each new smack burned more than the previous to a point that I started
to grunt in response. Then after ten she paused. She put the paddle to
her side (as my ass continued to burn) and slowly walked around me
again. I must have moved a bit too much because Miss P stopped
momentarily and sternly told me to stay in position. When she returned
to where she stood before, she once again ordered me to “get your ass up
nice and high for me.” I strained to comply with her order, feeling
particularly unmanly.
“We will continue at eleven,” she said and almost immediately she
delivered the next loud slap. The pain was even more intense now, and
again I groaned. But I remembered to keep count and thank her. I
continued to watch her in the mirror as she seemed to really put all her
strength and concentration into each ceremonial smack.
Then when she reached 20 she again placed the paddle to her side and
with her free hand lightly stroked my ass as if enjoying her handiwork.
“That’s what I like; a nice bright red ass” she said. Then she
continued, “You may stand up.” Slowly I stood up and turned to her. She
handed me the paddle and told me to replace it on the wall. Again I
sensed her gaze as I walked across the room and stretched up to put the
paddle back on its hook. “Bring me the black one next to it” she said
referring to a narrower paddle next to it. I understood that this meant
she was not finished with the paddling yet. With the burning in my ass
starting to subside into a strangely pleasurable tingle I reached up to
get the new paddle and then brought it to her.
She put it on the chair and asked me to reach into the basket and
bring her the dog collar. I did as she asked and soon she was putting it
on me. She had to reach up to secure the strap and her clothed body
momentarily pressed into mine. I could feel her covered breasts press
into my bare chest and her pelvis press against my condomed manhood. It
was both a moment of intimacy and at the same time a reminder of my
sexual insignificance. Almost immediately I could feel myself becoming
much harder (having lost most of my erection during the paddling) and I
wondered now, as she finished securing the dog collar, whether she could
feel my engorging sex and if so, what she thought of it...
As she slowly pulled away, letting the links of the leash chain slip
through her fingers one by one, she quickly glanced down at my
recovering erection. I could only detect a faint smile of recognition,
and then she leaned over and picked up the paddle on the chair. She
instructed me to pick up the basket and follow her. I leaned down,
picked up the basket and then, as she led me by the leash, followed her
back into the first room. As we entered the room I caught a glimpse in
the mirror on the wall of the petite, well dressed mistress leading in
her nude “student” with his swinging black cock and a bright red ass.
She led me to a short chair in the middle of the room and told me to put
down the basket. Then she put her foot on the stool and told me to kiss
her shoe. Awkwardly I got down on my knees and approached her foot. As I
held her shoe gently with my hand and began kissing it, she gave my
behind several gentle little taps with her paddle as a reminder of my
vulnerability and impending fate. I realized that I was getting quite
thirsty now, maybe as a consequence of my apprehension.
Finally I got the courage and looking up at her said, “Miss P, may I have something to drink?”
She looked pensive, as if deciding what to do with my request and
finally said, “Sure; wait here.” She withdrew her foot and walked out
the room leaving me on all fours. It didn’t take her long to return with
a dog bowl full of water which she placed on a corner table by a wall
on the other side of the room. Then she sat on a chair that looked like a
throne right beside the table and told me to come over to her. Already
on the floor I approached her on all fours and arriving at her feet, I
looked up to her for direction.
“You can start by removing my shoes,” she said holding one of her feet
up in front of me. Carefully I removed her shoes and placed them next to
the chair as she had instructed me. I then found myself on my knees at
her feet again waiting for her instruction. Now she lifted her right leg
and placed her foot lightly on my left shoulder, revealing her
beautiful bare thigh above her stocking, and the faintest glimpse of her
dark panties beyond the edge of her skirt. As I ogled powerlessly she
slowly rolled the top of her stocking down until it reached just below
the knee. Then she removed her foot from my shoulder, placed it back on
the ground and placed her left foot on my right shoulder. She again
rolled her stocking, this time straightening her leg so she could roll
it just below her knee. Just before she put her foot back down she gave
me a quick glance, with a look that told me she was enjoying teasing me.
With her feet back on the ground she said, “I want you to take off my
stocking using only your teeth. But you better be careful because if
you tear it I will punish you.” I wasn’t sure at first if I liked this
game, but as I got myself in position I realized that this was the
closest and most intimate that she would probably ever allow me to get
to her. Awkwardly I began to attempt the maneuver and quickly felt a
paddle slap on my ass. “No hands” she reminded me. Re-adjusting, I
somehow managed to get my teeth on her stocking and pull it down; ever
mindful of not tearing it. My face was literally on the floor as I got
to her ankle, but mercifully she raised her foot so that I could get the
stocking around her heel. Then as I readjusted my bite I carefully
pulled the stocking off, revealing her beautifully manicured foot.
She took the stocking out of my mouth and directed me to do the same
on the other stocking. A bit more confident, I found more time to enjoy
her bare thigh, knee and then calf. But then as she lifted her foot up
and I attempted to get the stocking around the heel I felt it tear.
Hoping she didn’t notice I finished my task and held the stocking in my
mouth like an obedient dog. She took the stocking and examined it.
Holding it up in front of my face she said, “We’ll deal with this
later.”
She put the stocking with the shoes and then took the dog bowl off
the table and put it down by her feet. Placing both feet in it she said,
“You may drink now.” I looked at her for a second and realized what she
was requesting. I bowed down and began lapping the water and her toes.
“Let me know when you have had enough,” she said. After a short while
I let her know I was done. She told me we weren’t finished yet and had
me lay down with my back on the floor and my face by her feet still in
the dog bowl. Soon she had her dripping wet left foot in front of my
face and said, “I want you to lick my foot dry.” Slowly I began to lick
her beautiful petite foot. She then offered me her toes and said, “Suck
my toes dry too.” Starting with her small toe I sucked and licked each
toe. As I finished I looked up and saw that she seemed satisfied. “Now,
you can give me a foot rub,” she said. Understanding that I now had
permission to use my hands on her, I carefully began to press my thumbs
on her instep. “Good, but a little more pressure,” she ordered. I
continued to follow her instructions, working my way to her toes. Then
she had me pull down on her foot which I understood gave her a
pleasurable stretch. She now took her foot out of my grasp and laid it
gently on my bare chest and soon offered me her dripping wet right foot.
Dutifully I licked this foot dry as well, sucking each toe as I had
done before.
I began to message this foot as I had on the other. But then I felt
her other foot start to play with my manhood. She teased my cock to a
quick full erection as I lovingly caressed her instep. I found myself
kissing and sucking her toes again, hoping that she would never stop.
But soon she removed her left foot from my now rigid phallus and then
removed her right foot from my ardent embrace. Putting her feet on the
floor she ordered me to stand up and then pointed to as pair of leather
boots on the other side of the room.
“Bring me my boots,” she commanded.
With my rock hard cock swinging awkwardly I walked across the floor,
picked up the long leather boots and brought them back to her. As I
stood beside her watching, she carefully put on the first long boot that
she zipped up almost to her knee. She looked up at me as if to make
sure I was watching, and then put her other naked foot into its boot and
zipped it out of sight. It was now that it struck me how she used the
contrast of her clothing and my nudity to emphasize her command over me.
In her world, the woman who wears the clothes rules over the naked man
with the erection.
 |
| Miss Poison in her boots |
With her boots zippered up, she picked up the paddle, stood up and
took the leash to my collar in her hand. She started to walk back down
the hall toward the punishment room, leading me by the leash.
In the
room she handed me the paddle and told me to exchange it for the
smaller, more compact one she pointed out to me on the wall. I did as
she instructed me, again cognizant of her intention to use this new
paddle on me. She was already seated on the chair when I came back to
her. Before she took the paddle from me, she briefly stood and hiked up
her skirt a bit and sat back down, exposing most of her shapely thighs.
She took the paddle from me and said, “Now I’ll show you how an
undisciplined trainee is treated.” She pointed to her lap and continued,
“I want you over my knees with your ass ready.”
I had often heard about over the knee spankings and even masturbated
to descriptions and pictures of such sessions, but I never realized the
utter humiliation I would feel as I reluctantly got myself into the
awkward position; I had my feet on the floor one side of Miss P, my head
and elbows on the floor on the other side, my still engorged genitals
pressing on her bare thighs and my completely vulnerable ass was high in
the air. The first thing I concentrated on was the feel of her thigh
pressing on my cock. I was sure that she could feel me as well and it
made me wonder whether she enjoyed feeling a condemned man’s futile
erection squirming on her lap.
The next thing I noticed was the mirror. I had to turn my head a bit
but there was the image of my relatively massive white nude body lying
on, and contrasting so dramatically with, the darkly dressed, newly
booted petite Miss P. The sight of my face on the floor and my behind in
the air on her lap made the humiliation even worse.
With her free hand, Miss P pulled my waist so that it was closer to her
torso and told me I was not to squirm while she is paddling me. With
that she gave me a loud smack on my left buttock that stung and burned,
even though it seemed less so than before. Then she delivered another
blow of similar strength to the other cheek. Then unexpectedly she
caught my eyes in the mirror and asked, “How does that feel?”
The truth was that the humiliation was worse than the pain, so all I could say was an absentminded “OK.”
“Well I think you are in for a little surprise,” she said. “I want
you to remember to keep quite and take it like a man.” With that she
gave me two more smacks in quick succession on alternating buttocks. The
burning hadn’t even started before she began what seemed an endless
barrage on my ass. I could see her now thrashing me with all her might
and as she warned the burning was so intense it brought a tear to my eye
and I found myself gritting my teeth and clenching my fists so as not
to cry out. She paused for a moment to pull me in closer to her and then
continue even harder and faster making sure all areas of my ass where
reached. With the burning becoming intolerable, I found myself pleading
for her to stop.
“Not-just-yet!” she said in tempo with her whacks. “I-want-you-to-remember-this.”
“I will,” I promised. But she continued.
“Please stop.” I implored almost crying. But she continued telling me only not to squirm so much.
Finally, she stopped.
My ass continued to burn as she put down the paddle and ran her hand
over my bright red buttocks as if enjoying her handiwork. As I regained
my composure, she again caught me in the mirror, but this time she
didn’t say anything. She seemed to know the complicated mix of
humiliation, pain and eroticism that the nude middle-aged man on her lap
was experiencing.
As we shared in an unnatural type of afterglow, I noticed now again
how the burning seemed to slowly melt into an exquisite tingling
sensation. But soon Miss P broke the spell and instructed me to stand
up. As awkward as it was to take my position on her lap before, it was
even more awkward getting back up. Somehow I got to my feet and stood up
beside her awaiting her direction. She stood up as well, readjusting
her skirt and then pointed to the corner of the room and said, “Go stand
in the corner.” Like a misbehaving schoolboy I went and stood in the
corner with my ass in a tingle.
I strained to look over my shoulder at Miss P as she walked over to
what looked like a leather hammock suspended from the ceiling by chains.
She began to prepare something on a counter nearby. As I tried to see
what she was doing I became aware of a reflection of me in the corner
and was now able to see my bright red buttocks. I ran my hand over my
cheek and realized it felt hot, like sunburn. The burning had mostly
gone but the tingling still remained.
“That’s a little souvenir,” she said. It was her badge of abasement to a once self confident man.
I did not respond. As I was standing there in the corner, I began to
feel a primal, yet unnatural sexual arousal from my humiliating ordeal,
reflected in my returning erection.
Miss P was finished with her preparation and now instructed me to come
over to her. As I approached her and the leather hammock she glanced
down at my hard-on and smiled knowingly. “There’s no keeping you down,
is there?” she asked rhetorically.
Her words only served to make my humiliation worse, as my primal
erotic need had been betrayed to her by my conspicuous state of arousal.
Still in an apparent state of amusement she said, “Now its time for
your inspection and physical exam.” Patting her hand on the top of the
hammock she told me to climb on and get on my back. I had seen these
hammocks before on femdom web sites and it seemed to me that this was
where men were raped by their mistresses. Somewhat reluctantly and
awkwardly I managed to climb on. She told me to lie back and then scoot
my ass down toward her so that it was almost hanging off the edge. Then
she picked up my left leg by the ankle and brought it up in the air
along the chain that connected the hammock to the ceiling. There was an
open strap that she put around my ankle and buckled. Then she began on
my right leg.
“Why are you strapping me in?” I asked, giving her no resistance.
She did not respond and lifted my leg up toward the strap on the
right chain. I could only watch as the petite mistress bound my long
muscular bare leg, leaving me to slowly realize how totally open and
vulnerable it left my ass and cock. I instinctively tested the straps
and found that I could not make myself less vulnerable. She came to my
side and gently took my wrist and brought it to the side of the hammock
and lifting up a strap from below, buckled it securely. I watched her as
she walked over to the other side and without a word, strapped my last
free limb.
Then she turned to the area where she had been doing her preparation
and picked up a pair of medical exam gloves. I watched helplessly as she
began to put them on.
“So Guy,” she began. “This is the last part of your sexual re-education.”
I watched as she began to spread lubrication on her right glove. “Have you ever had a cock or a dildo up your ass?” she asked.
“What…” I started to panic. “…no.”
She reached back again and picked up a small pointed dildo covered
with a black condom and held it in front of my face and said, “Open your
mouth.”
Reluctantly I opened my mouth and she shoved the pointed end in and
left it there as she walked to the foot of the hammock. I watched
helplessly as she inspected my fully exposed cock and anus. Then her
hand approached me and I could feel her gently run her lubricated finger
around my anus. She looked up now, as if to make sure she was having
the desired effect; and while still looking, I felt her finger enter me.
The sensation caused me to draw in a quick breath and I felt my
sphincter muscles involuntarily contract.
“Don’t fight it” she said, “just let me in.”
I could feel her give another push and again my sphincter reacted.
This time as my muscles tightened I could feel that her finger had
progressed quite far and felt an uncomfortable pressure. Then another
thrust and I felt a sudden pleasurable discomfort as my muscles
involuntarily squeezed her finger.
“Do you feel that?” she asked, clearly aware of the sensation she had elicited deep in my rectum.
I could only manage a groan with the dildo in my mouth as she stimulated another, more intense wave of torment and delight.
“That’s your male g-spot that gives me the power to make you
ejaculate with just the touch of my finger; and you cannot stop it,” she
said as she brought on two more waves in rapid succession as if to
demonstrate. “But I’m not quite ready for that yet,” she continued and
suddenly pulled her finger out my rectum, causing a strong involuntary
spasm of my sphincter.
She seemed to enjoy watching my reaction, waiting a few seconds as I
recovered. I was very aware of the lubricated feeling still deep inside
me. She now walked to the side where the counter was, took off her
gloves and threw them into a garbage pail on the floor. Picking up a
pair of fresh gloves she came to my side and started to put these on
while standing at my side.
“Now we come to your final lesson,” she said as she put her right
hand into the glove with a snap. “…a kind of initiation ceremony for all
my men.” She put on her right glove and continued, “I’m going to teach
you what it feels like to be raped by a girl.”
She waited a moment as I squirmed uncomfortably in my restraints; unable
to speak because of the dildo in my mouth. “I am going to fuck your
virgin ass and you are going to learn to enjoy it.” She seemed to enjoy
seeing the apprehension in my eyes as I again struggled with the straps
on my ankles and wrists. I was completely at her whim.
She took the dildo out of my mouth and keeping it in front of me so that I can see, started to lubricate it.
I found myself awkwardly ambivalent; feeling that I must protest to
protect my dignity but at the same time secretly aroused at the prospect
of Miss P having her way with me. Having seen pictures and videos of
naked men being sodomized by dildo wearing women, I had always wondered
what it would feel like, and even masturbated at the thought. But I knew
that if I did not protest, she would know my shameful secret by my
silence. But in the end I could not find any words of protest…
“Now it’s no use fighting it,” she said as she made her way to the
foot of the hammock where she stood over my embarrassingly engorged
black-condomed sex. But she ignored my powerless manhood and focused on
my anus. I could feel her fingering the rim of my asshole again, and
soon she substituted it with what I understood was the tip of the dildo.
She looked up and asked me if she was in the right spot. Understanding
the debasing implications of my cooperation I told her that she was.
Still looking toward me for my reaction she slowly pushed the dildo in.
This time I felt a much larger invasion of my rectum causing a primal
moan.
“Don’t fight it,” she reminded me as she advanced the dildo in slow
rhythmic pushes. I soon realized that with each of her invading thrusts I
gave off a groan of pain/pleasure. As I began to try to suppress the
groans she must have reached my g-spot, because I had an incredible wave
of pleasure/pain, which in turn caused another moan that I could not
suppress.
“How do you like being fucked up the ass by a girl?” she asked as she gave me another thrust and another wave.
“I don’t know…” I managed to groan.
“I am sure you don’t know,” she replied giving me one more thrust of
pain/ecstasy. She watched me writhe and waited for me to recover. “It is
hard for most men to acknowledge their pleasure of being ass-fucked. I
think it’s because it’s an admission of submissiveness; especially to a
girl!” She leaned forward between my open legs and over my impotent
genitals and added, “But you will have to admit it when you have an
orgasm and cum for me!” She looked me right in the eye and then turned
on the vibrator function in the dildo.
The intensity of the stimulation took me by surprise and I found
myself overwhelmed by the most penetrating surge of rapture. Although
the sensation affected my whole body, I could feel it most in my loins; I
was quickly building to climax. With her words still fresh in my ears I
found myself pleading “No, please… I don’t want to cum. Please no.”
“Does it feel good?” she asked.
“Yes…” I admitted, and then said “No,” just before an uncontrollable
wave of ecstasy set me into orgasmic convulsions. Every muscle in my
body went into spasm, with arms and legs pulling on their tethers, and I
could see my useless manhood now swell to a grotesque size just before
it erupted under the black condom.
Unlike any time before, this orgasm didn’t come in spurts but rather
like one big tidal wave. It was continuous and unrelenting and all I can
remember is the complete loss of control of my spurting cock. Then she
suddenly turned it off.
“Quite down!” she ordered. It turns out I was screaming in orgasmic delirium and she wanted me to stop.
Although less intense, my spasms continued and I could now feel my
sphincter squeeze rhythmically on the dildo still deep inside of me.
“Shh,” she said as I slowly came back to consciousness, “calm down.” As I
started to regain my composure, I realized that not only had I been
screaming with abandon, I had also been hyperventilating.
Even as she finally removed the dildo and placed it on the counter,
the ejaculatory spasms continued as lasting reminders of my orgasmic
subduing.
In the daze after my humiliating "rape" by Miss P (made even more
humiliating by the incredible orgasm I experienced), I can only remember
a few things. I don’t remember her un-strapping me or how I got off the
hammock, but I do remember slipping off my incredibly full condom under
Miss P’s approving eye. The sheer volume of my cum was a testament of
her dominion over my manhood.
I also remember her directing me to the bathroom, giving me a towel
and explaining that I may feel a lot of lubricant up my ass and that I
should wipe myself as best I can. But even after I cleaned myself, after
she gave me back my clothes and allowed me to get dressed, after she
showed me out the door into the warm night and after several years, I
cannot forget my humiliating yet arousing punishment and ravaging by this
woman. It has made me aware of a different erotic relationship with
women, which paradoxically seems to have made me feel more of a man!
__________________________________
I emailed Miss P soon afterward, to thank her and to submit my account of our meeting. To my surprise and elation, she responded. She thanked me for the submission, but said she would need to edit it to a more "PG rating." She wrote that she liked to see our encounter from my point of view and invited me to submit more stories.
I was flattered, but was not sure I knew what to write about. If I only knew a little more about her and what she does. I knew not to ask her personal questions about herself, but wondered how she felt about me. So, I confessed that this was my first experience in femdom/BDSM and that I had been quite nervous. I asked if I had behaved OK and how I was compared to other men.
She responded with amusement at my last question, "I know many men have performance anxiety when having sex but you are the first man to ask me if he was good as a sub." She went on to tell me that she could tell it was my first time, and she thought I was cute. She said that she had a lot of older men like me who were trying out for the first time. Many, had wives and/or girlfriends who did not feel comfortable with dominating- even though these men really craved it.
Miss P. asked me if that was true of me. Of course I confessed that it was and thanked her for being my 'teacher.'
We corresponded a few more times, but after a year or so, Miss P moved on and did not leave a forwarding address. But all these years later, I realize how much I learned from this petite young
- My submissive cravings to women are not an aberration. They are in fact quire common in men of all ages and of all types- even ones you might never suspect.
- My craving for discipline and direction by a woman is not "masochism." I am not aroused by the pain, but rather the complete surrender to her authority.
- Similarly, women who administer discipline and direction to men like me are not necessarily 'sadists.' Their motivation may range from the desire to educate through discipline to the assertion of power over her man- all the while knowing that he himself craves it.
- The experience of completely submitting to a woman has made me much more of a man.
