Lilly is in a dungeon. It has stone walls, red leather fetish furniture and racks of whips, chains and floggers; yet she can see none of it, has seen none of it. She’s been blindfolded since she walked into the small hallway behind the anonymous front door of the terraced house. Lilly has been kidnapped.
By rights, this should be all about sex. After all, my last post left the newly arrived Lilly rubbing Arnica into my backside, which was tender and throbbing following an afternoon of corporal punishment from three Mistresses. Surely, you might think, this whole scene had been carefully designed as a prelude to hot sex in… Read More »
I write this on the train, as I travel to a session with Mistress Elita, my first meeting with her for five weeks, though it feels longer. It’s not going to be a normal session and, as they say in the deep South of the USA, “I’m as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a… Read More »
Seeing Mistress Kikko is always a highlight of my occasional poker visits to Las Vegas. Two years ago she completely took me apart, leaving me shocked right to my core by what I had been through, opening me up to a world of BDSM play that went way beyond what I was doing at the… Read More »
Catherine took her seat in Patisserie Valerie on the corner of St James Street and Piccadilly and ordered an orange juice, exactly as she had been instructed. When the client, one she knew well, had suggested a shopping trip she had been thrilled but the instruction to take a table on her own and wait… Read More »
My first one to one session with Miss S was such a thrilling, emotional, roller coaster that there was a glorious inevitability about the second. The venue was my favourite small hotel near Kings Cross with its huge beds and good bathrooms. (My top tip for hotel encounters with sex workers? Good bathrooms. It’s the… Read More »
This rather lovely picture comes from my recent session with Miss S*. I met her through Mistress Elita but this was the first time we had played together alone. It was also her first fully submissive scene. Although I proceeded with caution, frequently checking in to ensure she was happy, the session went further than I… Read More »
The ante room is dark, barely enough light for me to fold my clothes onto the chair provided. The mechanics of undressing temporarily alleviate my nervousness but by the time I’ve carefully tightened the Mistress’s studded leather collar and put on the blindfold, the fear is a tangible, solid object.
I know that in the eyes of many the things I write about here will seem morally reprehensible. A few weeks ago I paid a young women to let me tie her up and beat her with a cane. Where does that act stand morally? Before writing about what I did to Katie, what I did WITH Katie, last time we met,… Read More »
The wonderful Mistress Elita had a twitter rant recently about what she described as “whorearchical bullshit” between sex workers offering different services, particularly those who either do, or do not, offer “penis in vagina” sex. The quote marks are intended to indicate my distaste for that expression.
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 »