Back In December, and at my request, Elita made a mid-session threat that, should I not loose a set amount of weight by the end of January, she would introduce me to the established, if alarming, BDSM practise of ball busting. Being hit on my cock or balls has been a hard limit since almost… Read More »
Something had to happen. Having written about how my masochism had become a “black obsession stalking the soul” I needed to feed it; perhaps not the full meal of a long Domme/Sub session, but I had to give it a snack certainly. For many, many years the only way my kinks could be expressed was through self-inflicted… Read More »
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I knew I was in trouble when Elita stepped out of her heels. It is quite possible to deliver a serious caning using the wrist alone, especially if you have selected a suitably whippy cane. But to deliver a real beating, the whole torso comes into play, the power of the stroke coming from the turn of… Read More »
There really was no excuse for this. Overwhelmed by January’s relentless mundanity? Weeks, months even, of barely talking to my partner? Brexitrump? Perhaps I just needed to switch it all off and throw myself into a few hours of hedonistic pleasure. A couple of nice wins at poker provided the final impetus and the funds.
I’d seen these little bastards before, two years ago with an American Mistress. She’d made me keep them on my nipples for 10 seconds the first time, let me recover then replaced them for 20 seconds. So when Elita produced the new toys she had promised me, I instantly lost control of my heart rate and… Read More »
My earliest lesson on the importance of safewords was a harsh one. In my very first session with a professional Mistress, and with no experience whatsoever, the physical and emotional shock of her assault on me was so great that I blanked the safeword, forgot even that I had given her a safeword before the… Read More »
To be slapped on the face is always a shock, even if I know it’s coming: the sharp sting; the way my head turns with the force; how it makes my eyes water. I can dissociate from a blow anywhere else, thinking “it’s only some flesh and skin that’s been hit,” but a blow on the face strikes ME. It’s personal, less a… Read More »