BDSM Session Preparation

A different Type Of Blog Post

It has been an eternity since my last BDSM session. I like/need heavy corporal punishment and I just love the bondage and fetish that goes along with it.

This blog post will tell the story from booking, checking my gear, the lead up to, then a very brief description of the session itself.

There is no fiction here – this is how it happened.

Booking the next BDSM Session

I don’t just wake up one morning and say, “Right! I think I’ll have a BDSM session this afternoon.” No. First of all the mistress I see is only available some days. Next, I do need some time to prepare, to get into the head space and also, quite frankly, to enjoy the anticipation.

Booking.

This time I made the booking through the mistress I’ve been seeing. She is the ‘fun professional’ kind, empathetic and gives really good sessions. We exchanged a pair of emails and the date and time was set.

With my 15 years of experience and 20 different mistresses, she is right at the top for the kind of session I like.

Gear Checkout

I have a lot of gear, many straps, belts, tawse etc. These have not been used in quite a while so a check over felt like a good idea.

I’m damn glad I did as there was significant mold on a few of them. I cleaned it off and then lay them all out to dry. After that a check then a light application of leather dressing finished it off. They were fine.

What Does It Feel Like?

I usually ask for heavy corporal, lots of belt, strap, tawse, prison strap then the cane. I get quite a bit of hand strapping and tawsing; having mistress stand in front of me and strapping my hands hits all the fetish high points.

The session lasts for an hour and most of that is the mistress giving me heavy corporal.

At the end of a session I usually have a butt that looks awful. It’, badly bruised and often bleeding a little here and there, needing antiseptic cream. Just in case.

So the sessions are intense.

With the passage of time without a session, without any corporal, how will it feel? Am I able to take what mistress gives? Should I still ask for ‘heavy’ and of course can I take it? This questions with variations repeated themselves in my brain.

So Am I Corporal Capable?

So, the thing is, it has been about 12 months since my last session and I know my tolerance for corporal will be way down.

I did a test when I was cleaning my gear. I used my XH London Tanners 3 tail tawse to gave myself 3 strokes to each hand. Damnation they hurt like the very devil.

At that moment I had no idea how I was going to be able to take what mistress would give me. She uses a few straps on my hands, then this tawse after. Unless you’ve experienced an XH tawse, you really don’t know how painful it can be.

General Fitness

Now this is a huge issue. I’ve not done any exercise as a result of the lock down and I’m so wasted when I do anything.

A full on BDSM session is going to be an issue. I want it to be excellent, challenging, to be extended but also to be able to accept what is given at every level.

Goal Setting And Training

So I set a goal. Not your everyday goal, but a BDSM session fitness goal I suppose you could say.

Every day from then to the session I resolved to do at least one hour’s exercise. It could be any of walking, gym, gardening. Or all of them.

Plus, if I had the privacy, I’d try to give myself corporal, as much as I could, to try and get ready for mistress and her strong right arm.

I’ve tried self-corporal in the past and found it quite a poor experience. I could never give it as hard as the mistress did and also chickened out far too early. One or two strokes of a tawse self-delivered to the palms had always been my limit.

In truth, it had always felt a little silly. Me tawsing myself? Why on earth would I do that? The mental image of me doing that to myself was scarring.

But now I had a reason, a goal.

10 days out – So for my 1st day of preparation I did 3 hours exercise and I was absolutely exhausted. I felt almost faint at one time – but I feel so good. I’d started.

9 days out – Nothing. Work got in the way with staff meetings and a work night out with clients.

8 days out – I gave myself three strokes of the XH tawse to each hand every few hours when able. This challenged me at every level.

I did that six times and it was painful and difficult. At the same time I gave myself sets of a dozen from the XH tawse onto the bare butt. The first set was awful. It got easier as the day wore on. I did an hour and a half exercise. I saw red marks on my butt two hours later so there was some effect happening.

I think both the hand strapping and the butt strapping got easier as the day wore on. I’m interested to see how tomorrow fares.

7 days out. I only ended up giving myself two sets of six of the tawse to the hands and the butt. Both sets of the tawse really hurt though making me wonder if it was my technique improving or was I not getting used to the corporal at all. It was a busy day without privacy. Then I did an hours exercise in the evening. It was over all a good day.

6 Days out. Early in the day I gave my self six lighter strokes to each hand, and a full dozen fairly hard to the butt. Six in a row to each hand is so challenging. I couldn’t have done that a few days ago, even with lighter strokes. They all really got in, stinging a lot. Sitting  with a blazing butt and warm tingling hands as I typed this was rather pleasing.

At the end of day, I had a grueling hour and a half exercise in the evening and felt great about it.

During the day I gave myself a total of 4 sets of six to each hand and a dozen to the butt. I found it challenging at every level. The butt tawsing really does start to burn after a little while.

I’m noticing that the way I hold the tawse and then deliver it has both changed and improved. It really does give a sharp bite.

Self honesty also came into play. If the stroke does not land properly I must tell myself to repeat it. That’s not easy when it might land lower on the thighs than it should have, hurts, then I have to repeat it higher up. Same to the hands, it might still hurt and must be repeated.

5 Days Out. My butt is a bit bruised from yesterday and I’ve got some muscle soreness from the exercise. Should I have a day off?

NO! As a trial,  I just gave myself a dozen to the butt which I took better, then six to each hand which still hurt like hell. The hands are going to be a problem on the day. I can see that. Both are tingling as I write this.

During the day I gave myself another five sets of this; six to each hand and a dozen to the butt. All in all, it was quite effective as I could feel the burn all day.

I got in an hour and a half of exercise leaving me sweaty and gasping at one time. I have to have a shower after that.

4 Days out. Friday. I gave myself the hardest strapping of all this day, but very little exercise.

For the strapping I gave myself six sets of six to each hand, 4 sets off a dozen to the butt, then two sets of two dozen to the butt. The thing is, I gave the butt strokes a lot harder making myself gasp. That XH tawse really does sting like the devil against the bared and bent botty.

3 Days out. Some exercise, not a lot as I had quite a bit of muscle soreness.

No tawsing either. I think Friday I must have overdone the tawsing as all day my butt was stinging slightly, particularly lower down on the tops of my thighs. I think for once I might be building the intensity to something approaching a mild to medium session.

2 Days out. Sunday.

I’m thinking I should ‘go heavy’ or at least as heavy as I can. We’ll see.

I’m thinking this might be my last training day so I should make the most of it.

I didn’t give myself any corporal and the reason was my butt was still stinging. I wanted a ‘clean slate’ for mistress so presenting with a stinging and possibly bruised butt sounded less than clever.

The day before.

Same again, no corporal and same again, I can still feel it in my butt. That XH tawse really gets in, particularly low down on the tops of my thighs and where it has wrapped a little.

The Session - How It Unfolded

The Drive There

It was delicious. ‘I’m going to get a hell of a strapping’ was running round my mind. I was excited, really looking forward to it.

More than normal, the bondage was calling me also. I love bondage, but this time with so long away from it, it was (is) forefront of my mind.

The pre-session discussion.

With over 12 months away and not having seen mistress, I felt all inhibitions about asking for what I wanted were reduced markedly. Not gone, but massively lowered.

I feel more pushy to tell mistress what I want. Will I be able to say it to her?

I want to ask for; ‘I know my tolerance will be way down. A hand strapping at the start, lots of school strap, the belt, lighter straps and a light to medium tawsing. Then gagged for the rest of the session. Counting does not do it for me, it beings me back. Onto suspension. Lots of belt and strap. I’d really like to see you take off the belt then fold it in half before you use it. To show me the strap or belt or tawse you are going to use. Would you mind telling me … I’m going to strap you so hard now … and it’s tie for a hard belting … time to tawse you again.  That sort of thing. Mistress telling slave she is going to give him a strapping. Then off suspension, another hand strapping, then bent over the bench for yet more stap and belt and tawse. Occasional hand strapping. Then at the end a heavy prison strapping and the cane. then a final hand strapping.’

(I wrote the above after a lot of thought, 3 and a half hours early)

The session.

After the session

— I’ll update these sections a day or two after the session —

Rat Creek Reformatory Strapubus

Rat Creek Reformatory - Part 1

Harry had been in juvie a few times and all for silly trivial things such as shop lifting, drunk under age, criminal damage and burglary. Basically, he wasn’t taking life seriously enough.

This time was no different except he was now twenty one and had crossed that line where juvie was not going to happen. He’d be in with the naughty big boys now and that was something he didn’t like the idea of. Stories of prison rape, shivs, shower room bashing were circling in his mind while he was in custody awaiting trial.

The trial was quick. The judge found him guilty which was no surprise as he was indeed guilty, but the sentence shocked him. It was almost as much out of proportion as it was strange. Six months in a Rat Creek Reformatory! He’d never heard of it, but the six months sounded excessive for a simple burglary where he’d only stolen a laptop and some cheap costume jewelry. Then again it was not his first offense, nowhere near it.

The trip to the reformatory was an ordeal in itself. He was locked in the back of the swaying van in a cell no bigger than his seated form. Every bump and turn meant he banged a wall or the door, and the cuffs and leg irons didn’t help either. Sitting on the seat with his hands cuffed behind him was far from comfortable. At least he’d be released when he arrived, he thought.

Eventually the truck stopped as he heard something happening outside other than a traffic light, then started, then stopped, then started and drove a short way. Then finally it stopped with a slight bump then the engine turned off. He heard the other prisoners being taken out of the van and finally it was his turn. Instead of taking the cuffs and leg irons off, he had to shuffle out of the van and onto the platform then stand in line. He knew the drill from all the other times he’d been inside. He assume he’d be processed, searched, showered, given clothes and read into the rules.

This time it was vastly different.

It started with the officers. To a person they were women and none of them were ugly and that was to say the least. They were all dressed in black trousers with equipment hanging off the wide belts, button up shirts and tie and a cap on their heads. He was standing ogling the women, as were the others as they waited.

Then it got more surreal. One by one each of them was turned around. The cuffs were taken off then a leather strap was wrapped around their wrists to bring them into the middle of their backs. The strap was connected to a steel bar that ended in another strap that went round the neck of the prisoner. The length of the bar meant it sat behind the neck and so the strap could be done up firmly. After that the leg irons were taken off and the prisoner was turned around again.

This was a surreal moment. Suddenly there were six of them standing there looking at the guards and not knowing what was happening. He whispered to the man next to him, “What’s happening? I’ve never had this before.”

The man was his own age, maybe a little older, and with a look of disdain just shrugged. Rude, he thought.

NO TALKING,” said one of the guards. She’d come up in front of him and now was face to face with him. “SILENCE,” she said and something in her face made him keep the smart ass retort he had in mind to himself.

With that silence, the six of them looked at the three guards. At least they could walk, he thought.

The silence lingered, but eventually the door from the reception area banged open to a tall impressive guard, at least six feet tall and strongly built. She moved with a grace and power that made him immediately concerned, she looked like a fighter. But that wasn’t the thing his eyes lingered on, or the prominent bulge in her shirt from her ample bust.

No. It was what was in her hand as she stood looking at them and running it through her hands. It was the largest strap he’d ever seen. It had to be over three feet long. Two thirds of its length was a formidable piece of leather with two rows of a half dozen holes he thought he could get his pinkie finger through. The handle was a foot long and made of multiple layers of leather sandwiched together. There could only be one reason for a thing like that and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.

My name is Miss Saunders,” she said quietly as she looked at them in turn. “And this,” she said as she lifted the strap into the air and pointed it to each of them in turn, “this is Mister Best Behavior.” She ran the strap through her hand and none of them failed to notice it was hardly bending as she pointed it at them. The business end looked like a quarter of an inch thick and maybe three inches across.

She smiled as she caressed the leather. “Now we are a correctional reformatory for recidivist offenders under thirty who have a chance at rehabilitation. For your stay here you will be expected to be on best behavior else you will become intimately familiar with my friend.” She flicked the strap in the air.

Not only that, we have a zero tolerance policy. That is for everything. For any reason you can be bound as you are or in a hogtie for variation, and fun, and that can last for hours, days or weeks even. Trust me, you will not enjoy that.”

We have many rules. These will be explained to you on the printed sheets in your cell. I strongly advise you to read them carefully.”

She looked at them and took her time. “The next step in your induction process is your official welcome. This is delivered by me, of course and my friend here.” She flicked the strap up into the air again.

What? YOU CAN’T DO THAT,” said the man beside him in an indignant tone. He’d thought the guy was a bit full of himself, not talking to him before.

Miss Saunders nodded to a guard. The guard went to the desk then from a box pulled out something he thought he’d seen before on the internet. The guard went straight to the man beside him, “Open up,” she said as she lifted it to his mouth. He took one look and refused, shook his head and made it difficult for the guard.

A second guard joined in then it was only a matter of time. One guard held his shoulders, the other pinched his nose making him open his mouth in surprise. That was enough, the ball gag was shoved into his mouth then seconds later the strap was behind his head and buckled tightly.

Miss Saunders walked up to him, she tapped his chest with the strap, “Now here is your first lesson. Any resistance, any refusal to obey an order from anyone here results in punishment. You,” and she as she tapped his chest again, “your welcome will now be twelve strokes. If you resist then it will be doubled again and trust me, two dozen of my friend here will be something you won’t forget.” She smiled at them all, “Ever. And guess who will be going first.”

Two guards grabbed his arms then pulled him toward an open door. He was not keen on going, but, “Follow,” said Miss Saunders firmly.

The remaining five of them looked at each other for a moment, then as one they decided resistance was futile and would at least be painful. This was not looking good.

The Strapping Horse

The room they entered was austere. It had multiple doors in the walls but no windows.

In the rear of the room was a wooden structure with a flat leather top. Hanging off it were a collection of wide leather straps, waiting for a victim to be strapped down. It was clearly a punishment device, a horse he thought and it had only one purpose he could think of.

Miss Saunders addressed the gagged prisoner, “Go to the horse, put your feet against the legs then follow instructions.” She looked at all of them in turn, “And if you resist your punishment will double. Your choice.”

The gagged man looked wildly around, assessing his options. There were none. With a clear lack of enthusiasm he walked forward then did as told.

Two guards wrapped straps around his ankles then buckled them. One pushed him in the back with a command, “Bend,” which he did. A strap was buckled over the small of his back and in seconds he was presented. Almost. The other guard gripped the top of his tracksuit pants and in one pull, had it around his knees. Then other guard did the same to his underpants. With that a bright white pair of buttocks was looking out at them all.

Miss Saunders walked forward, she held the strap out at the end of her arm so it went half way across his bottom, the rounded end of the strap finishing at the crack.

There was no discussion, no hesitation, no fanfare. This was happening right now and none of the group failed to miss that point. You got strapped down on the horse, you got a strapping was the message received loud and clear.

A Dozen Of The Best

With deceptive slowness and grace the strap was pulled back and behind the formidable woman. It paused there, her body coiled up like a spring, her legs bent and her body tense. Then in a blur of motion the strap whooshed forward with a high pitched swish that ended in a gunshot loud crack of strap leather across bared bottom.

The effect on the bound man was to make him tense his whole body, to try to lift off the horse, to shake and quiver all over. The straps however prevented almost any movement and the gag prevented the cry he wanted to make, probably a scream so that all that came out was a gurgle.

The effect on his bottom was pronounced though. There was now a three inch wide band of red across the middle of his bottom, going from one side to the other.

Gentlemen,” Miss Saunders said, “you see the effect of just one stroke, of one lick from Mr Best Behaviour. A perfect stroke like that leaves a perfect band across the bottom. At this moment he is trying to ease the pain as he squirms. But nothing helps. It will feel like a red hot poker is sitting on his bottom.”

They all looked on in horror. Were they all getting this?

Miss Saunders took her time. She put the strap against the still quaking bottom then pulled it back behind her.

Again she moved in a blur till the next gunshot crack of the strap painted another band of red just above the first.

Miss Saunders said nothing. She stood looking at the man shaking the horse as he lay strapped down. She was not hurrying, taking her time in fact. Then, “As you see, a slow strapping is felt more. The pain sinks in then peaks, then the next stroke arrives. A quicker strapping might seem worse but trust me, when the strokes are spaced out the effect is more educational.”

Then the third stroke was laid on below the first. Now the whole of his bottom was painted bright red.

Gentlemen,” said Miss Saunders, “if he had been quiet and accepted what was to happen, he would now be half way there.” Then she smiled as she looked at the squirming man, “and I would have laid them on quicker.”

Miss Saunders then took her time. She measured up, she waited a moment with the strap against his bottom, then she pulled it back and far behind herself.

They all watched in rapt attention. This truly was educational.

Swiveling her hips around like a spring unwinding the strap flashed then cracked again and this time it was in the center of the bottom, on top of the first stroke.

If the man on the horse had been reacting strongly before, that was nothing compared to how he lurched against the straps holding him in position. His body shook the horse, the frame moving visibly as his shrieks of pain were swallowed by the gag.

Taking her time, the fifth stroke was laid on above, then the sixth was put on below that middle stroke. Now the whole of his bottom was bright red and looking angry.

Half way there,” said Miss Saunders. “I bet you wish you hadn’t been so rude, now. Mr Best Behavior has taught you and all the others here a lesson you won’t forget.”

She walked in front of the bound man so he could see her, the strap in her hand swinging from side to side. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked him happily.

His head nodded up and down frantically and something could be heard from around the gag. It sounded like he was begging her, wanting, promising anything but another six strokes like the last six.

She smiled as she bent down and looked him in the eyes, “Well I can’t,” she said as she patted his face, “you’ve got six to come. Now that I’ve warmed up, I think I’ll make these harder.”

That produced more shaking of the wooden horse and shaking of the head along with muffled pleas for her to stop. But it made no difference.

Miss Saunders walked back behind the bound man, off to one side then extended the strap till it was covering just the near buttock.

Nice and hard this time,” she said quietly as she measured up the strap across the waiting quivering red striped bottom.

The ‘crack’ when it came was far louder and more crisp than before. None of the new prisoners believed it could be any harder, but it was.

Same as before the first was across the middle of the bottom on the already red surface. This stroke being the hardest of them all left its own deeper red mark shining among all the others, the three inch band of pain clearly visible.

The effect on the prisoner was all it should have been. He surged in the straps, the horse moving violently as he shuddered and shook, his body writhing in pain. The gurgles getting past the gag sounded like one long scream.

Miss Saunders didn’t delay this time. The next ‘crack’ sounded only a half dozen seconds later and left a new more red band above the previous, then seconds later another ‘crack’ of strap on bottom laid a band of red perfectly completing the surface. The whole bottom for three times the width of the strap was now blazing red.

Miss Saunders had waited after each of the previous sets of three, but this time she did not. She kept right on powering on. This was a display of strapping that no one could take their eyes off.

The next stroke to the middle, the one above then the one below lifted the bound prisoner to new heights of frantic movement against the straps on the horse. Now the color was fire engine red and looked as painful as the bound prisoner was making out by his movements.

Miss Saunders walked in front of the prisoner and bent down till she was looking into his eyes. “That was a dozen. If you are insolent, rude, resist or disobey I’ll have you back again for another dozen.” She stroked his face, getting his full attention. “But that’s not the best of it. I’ll make it two dozen if you annoy me in any way. Just imagine that, you get twice as many strokes. I’ll leave you strapped down for five minutes between each dozen and get one of the officers to massage your butt so you can feel the next set properly. Would you like that? Hmm?” she asked.

The prisoner shook his head frantically, clearly not wanting any more.

Good,” she said, “when we let you up, behave. I promise I can give you another dozen, or two dozen, straight way if you annoy me or any of the guards in any way.”

All the other prisoners listened to that carefully. None of them wanted a dozen and two dozen was a bridge far too far. This Miss Saunders seemed to like her strap far too much.

Miss Saunders stood then nodded to one of the officers. The bound prisoner was unstrapped then he was helped up. Clearly the strapping had left him exhausted the way he slumped between them.

It was a strange sight, the tracksuit had now fallen down around his ankles so his privates were on display and when he was turned around, the bright red bottom along with his bound hands in the middle of his back leading up to the collar completed the image.

Who’s Next For The Strap?

Who’s next? Any volunteers?” asked Miss Saunders happily as she ran the strap through her hands. “You all get a welcoming six of the best so you might as well get used to the idea.”

Harry saw the man beside him step forward, slowly, looking totally nervous. With shaking steps he approached the wooden horse and waited as his ankles were strapped to the legs of the horse. When that was done he didn’t wait, he bent at the waist then the broad strap was run over his back and bound him to the horse.

Excellent,” said Miss Saunders as she flicked her strap in the air and caught it. “I do like a willing victim for my friend here.”

This time the strapping was quick. The six strokes were laid on firmly but not quite at the same intensity as the last six from the previous prisoner. Even then, these strokes still had a huge effect. The prisoner shook, he waggled his hips and his bottom between strokes. Since he wasn’t gagged, he also shouted out, loudly with each stroke, his “yaaggghhh” coming at the instant of the crisp crack of the strap on his bottom.

It only took a minute for his welcoming strapping, a minute of loud shouts and gunshot cracks of prison strap on inmate bottom.

Good,” said Miss Saunders, “no swearing. If you swear I double up, I forgot to mention that. No matter.”

The prisoner was soon standing with his tracksuit around his ankles, beside the other prisoner, their privates on display.

Next,” said Miss Saunders. Another prisoner stepped forward and quickly he was strapped down, his bottom exposed then six strokes of the strap laid on. The recipe was quickly followed and now there were three men side by side, each with glowing red bottoms with their privates on display.

The three of remaining unstrapped prisoners clearly didn’t want to go next.

Quickly,” said Miss Saunders. “Either one of you steps forward right now or I call this insubordination and double up for a dozen each.” She smiled at them, “And truth be told, I wouldn’t mind nor would it be the first time.”

The man beside Harry stepped forward and was duly strapped down, bared then Miss Saunders gave him his six.

And now it was Harry and one other. He looked at the other man. He looked at Miss Saunders holding her strap looking at them. He really didn’t want a dozen like he’d seen. That was too damned much.

He felt his throat close over slightly then he stepped forward. He was almost vomiting in stress, his body shaking, his heart hammering in his chest. He walked on shaky legs to the wooden horse then put his legs where the other men had.

Strapped Down

The feeling of the straps around his ankles felt remarkably comforting, he didn’t mind that at all and if anything, felt strangely erotic. With this hands in the middle of his back and connected to the collar it was an odd feeling.

Those thoughts were cut short when his tracksuit then briefs were pulled down exposing him to the cool air.

Then he heard it, the guard was sniggering, “Miss Saunders, I think this one is looking forward to it.”

To his shame he knew exactly what she was looking at. He had an erection. Dammit all to hell, it was embarrassing and it only got worse when Miss Saunders walked over then had a look.

Not bad,” she said, “we get a few in here who don’t mind a touch of the leather. Seems to set them off nicely. Lay down and I’ll do my best to make it memorable.”

He bent at the waist then the strap was pulled over his back and buckled, pulling him down to the leather top of the horse.

He looked forward, that was all he could do as his chin sat on the leather covered top. Then he saw it and noticed it for the first time. There was a mirror in front of him. That really didn’t help at all.

He watched as Miss Saunders walked behind and to one side of him. He saw her extend her arm with the strap in it then he felt it touch his bottom. It tapped one cheek, the near cheek to Miss Saunders.

Then it happened. Miss Saunders put the strap far behind herself and with bent legs she wound up.

He could hardly watch, it was deeply terrifying, then he felt the instant sting and the gunshot crack both at the same time. Unlike the other prisoners, he didn’t scream or shout out loud. He gave a gasp, the pain was certainly extraordinary, but it wasn’t that bad. The sting morphed into red hot heat over a few seconds, then it penetrated deeper and deeper into him making him gasp. He rotated his hips, he tried to put his hands down to massage his bum cheeks but he couldn’t move them at all. He tried to lift up but he was strapped down tight.

Then he felt it. The strap was on his bottom again. Then the tap. Then the crack brought a renewed deep sting and again the heat built and built. Unlike last time he didn’t even gasp, he just moaned.

As he lay strapped down, trying to move against the straps, feeling the sting increase and the fire in his rear building and building, he felt something strange. He moaned again as he felt it deep inside him. He felt as if what he was experiencing was necessary, was what he needed. He moaned again, louder. This was strange.

Then the crack and the sting surprised him. He’d been so intent on how he was feeling and what he was thinking that time had fled. He hardly gasped, through his whole bottom was now one large red hot band of sting and the heat was getting deep into him.

He lay strapped down, waiting for the next stroke but it didn’t come. Miss Saunders was now in front of him, bending down, looking into his eyes. She was remarkably attractive was his first thought, and scary was his second.

She lifted the strap she was holding till it was beside his face, “You need this, you know you do,” she said quietly. Her other hand stroked his face gently.

Against his will he looked down and saw the bulge in her blouse, the large breasts heaving in the exertion she’d put in.

Want to make it a dozen? Nice and hard? You can really feel them. I can gag you if you like, it adds to the whole thing to be gagged when you take a strapping that you really want and need.”

He honestly thought about it. It would be something to boast about, taking an extra six of that wicked strap from Miss Saunders, but his ass was hurting like hell and dammit all, the heat was doing something strange. He could feel his cock hardening up again.

I can’t Miss Saunders, it hurts so much, I’ve never had this before.” He almost sobbed at the end.

She stroked his face as she looked into his eyes, “Never mind. We can try again another day. Three to go.” Then the whispered so only he could hear, “Hard or soft? Ask for them hard and you’ll get a reward.”

Strapped Hard

He thought about it for a moment. She was extraordinarily sexy and his butt was throbbing, but his cock was as hard as it had ever been. Harder. It was aching.

Then he looked inside and knew. He knew she was right. He needed this. “Hard please Miss,” just came out of his mouth.

Miss Saunders stood then returned to be behind and to one side of him. “I’ll make these extra hard, just what you need,” and then he felt the strap on his butt cheek as she measured up.

The crack when it came made him thrash around in the straps, move his hips from side to side, and he shouted out “OHH,” then as the sting morphed into a deep penetrating head, “AHH ahhh,” that faded gradually into a moan.

His hips were shaking from side to side, then he felt the strap on his butt again.

Push back naught boy,” Miss Saunders said, “push back, invite the strap, ask me for it. Ask for the leather.

Against his will he shook his hips from side to side then pushing as hard as he could, he did what Miss Saunders told him. He was pushing against the straps as hard as he could, feeling the leather of the straps bite into him, then he felt the leather, felt it withdrawn and seconds later there was that same loud crack and sting. This time he just gasped and shook, the pain and heat merged into one deep feeling that this was what he wanted.

His hips shook, then again, against his will he pushed his butt back out to Miss Saunders.

She took advantage of it. Without tapping his butt, she wound up and gave him the mightiest stroke yet, the hardest of any she’d given and this time it brought a “YAHH,” from his lungs.

He found himself moving against the straps and at that moment he felt it. His cock had been dribbling pre-cum on the leather of the horse and now moving from side to side he found he had a boner that was approaching bursting point. That would be the living end so he lay as still as he could and hoped like hell they unstrapped him and soon. Also that his boner went down before then but the way it was feeling, that wasn’t going to happen.

The straps from his ankles were released then the one across his back. Two officers lifted him up but the problem remained. His cock was rock hand and pointing straight up. His eyes went down in horror and there it was, a wet patch on the leather of the horse.

Miss Saunders walked forward with her strap in her hand swinging happily beside her leg. “Well, well, well,” she said as she smiled. “Maybe we should have made it a dozen. The effect was not what it should have been. Never mind, there will always be a next time.”

The whole time she’d been looking at his cock then she looked into his eyes and gave him a lightning quick wink.

Shuffling his feet with the tracksuit pants and briefs round his ankles he joined the others standing watching the proceedings. He noticed his was the only erection also and that just made his face go beetroot red.

The last man had to be told to ‘present to the horse else it is a nice hard dozen’ from Miss Saunders. Everyone knew she meant it so he walked forward then was reluctantly strapped down and had his butt bared for the strap.

His strapping was a repeat of all the others, maybe a little quicker, but the effect was exactly the same. Miss Saunders measured up then she powered the strap around and across the waiting bottom. The red band appeared instantly, his strident shout of pain filled the room, then it was repeated time and again a few seconds apart. The red band in the middle was joined with one above, then one below. Then a few seconds later the band in the middle was made far deeper by the second stroke on top and his shout confirmed it hurt. Then the bands of red above and below were also painted in and now hit butt was fire engine red and Miss Saunders had a happy look on her face, her eyes gleaming.

When the six of them were lined up, all of them with throbbing butts and their privates exposed with their trousers and briefs round their ankles Miss Saunders walking to and fro in front of them, looking at each of them in turn. She ran the strap through her hands, she felt the leather and she bent it this way and that. Clearly she enjoyed her work.

So. That’s your welcome strapping. If you get a single black mark, a single complaint, a single instance of rudeness or insolence you might as well present yourself to me because you will get another six, and another six each and every time.”

She lifted the strap in the air then caught it when it came down. “That is unless I give you a dozen. I prefer a dozen. It works better, you remember better and I can really get to the seat of the problem.”

She moved in front of the gagged man who’d had a dozen and still looked broken and in pain, his hips not stopped moving slightly the whole time.

She tapped his chest with the strap. “If you resist then it is an automatic dozen and you can see how well the gag works. Guards, take them to their rooms and settle them in for the night. Prisoners, there is another rule you don’t know yet. The guards will help you with that.”

One by one the guards lifted their briefs and trousers. In his case when the guard bent she was at eye level with his still aching erection. “Miss Saunders, this one still has a problem.” Then his briefs and trousers were in place, he felt better. Dammit, why was his cock so hard, but he though the knew. While his ass was throbbing from the strapping, the heat went right through him to the other side and it was making him as randy as hell. As soon as they freed his hands, he was for sure giving himself a hand job.

Miss Saunders was watching him. She only nodded.

Settled Down For The Night

Follow” said a guard who left through a door in the rear of the room.

They trooped along and followed her, through another sliding still bar door then they were in a corridor with cells on either side.

You five, stand and watch,” said one guard. They opened a cell door then led the gagged prisoner inside. The cell was pretty much the same as all the others he’d been in, a bed, a small toilet area, a desk and a single book on the desk. Probably a diary or the bible Harry thought.

The guard unstrapped the prisoner’s collar then, “Lay down on your face on the bed,” she said.

The prisoner did as told and shuffled a little till he head was on the pillow and his body in the middle of the bed.

The guard bent, “Legs back,” she said brusquely. The prisoner complied then the guard took the strap that had been around his neck and moving the bar to the other strap, she brought it round so she could wrap both his ankles in what had been the collar.

There,” she said. “On a punishment night we hogtie you.” The guard took a chain down from the wall and clipped it onto the bar between his wrists and ankles. She shortened it at the other end till he had zero freedom. He was on his face, hogtied and chained in the middle of the bed.

We’ll take you out at seven am. Have a good night,” then they all trooped out of the room.

The next cell was Harry’s he found as the guard took him inside. “You just got a welcoming. You can sleep on your front or back. You choose.”

Back please ma’am,” he said.

With that the strap around his neck was released as was the one round his wrists. The guard walked in front and again the strap was around his neck, the bar now going from the front of his neck down to his waist. The guard lifted his wrists and the strap was wrapped around them and tightened. He was bound tightly.

A push on his chest sent sent him back to his bed. He sat then lay down. The guard looked down at him, “You just got a welcome. No hogtie but you stay in restraints for the night. Sweet dreams,” and she even added a wink.

When the door closed he lay on his back. This wasn’t the best position he realized. His bright red flaming strapped butt was against the bed and stinging but again and almost worse, his boner was back with a vengeance. No way could he get his hands near it, and he tried. If he moved his hands at all the bar to the collar stopped anything more than an inch or two of movement.

As he lay he thought about the day so far. It had not been his best. The way the other guy had been treated for complaining and resisting was a harsh lesson. Being in a hogtie like that, unable to even roll from side to side and with a ball gag in his mouth was something that he was thinking about more than he should. It just went round in his mind and added to the heat in his butt from the strapping and his aching cock.

Lights out happened a little later then there was dead silence in the prison. He’d been in places where the noise increased up to be almost deafening at lights out. Not here. He guessed that Miss Saunders and her strap would see to that. He wondered how they would find out who was making all the noise? What was the punishment for that? He guessed the gag would be used and probably the hogtie after a strapping. Then he had a worrying thought, would one or two of them making a noise get them ALL a strapping, gag and hogtie? He had a feeling that Miss Saunders would do exactly that.

He tried to sleep. The trauma of the last few hours went round and round in his mind, but eventually he drifted off.

The Night Visitor

Some time during the night a sound woke him. He looked around and then saw he wasn’t alone in the cell, and the smell confirmed it. Perfume.

He heard movement, clothes moving, then a face was beside his in the darkness. “Want your reward?” and now he knew. It was Miss Saunders. With that thought his boner was starting to wake again.

Miss Saunders, what reward?” he asked and hoping like hell it was what he was thinking Miss Saunders wanted.

The question was answered when he felt her hand on the front of his tracksuit pants. It moved over the fabric and it rubbed his erection shifting it into a rock hard tumescence. “Guess,” she said, “but I get to come first.” With that the erotic stroking stopped and the hand was on the side of his face. “Quickly now, else I’ll try next door.”

That was the last thing he wanted. “Yes please Miss Saunders. Oh God yes please.”

With that Miss Saunders stood then seconds later his tracksuit pants were off, as were his briefs and now his erection was pointing straight up. “One small thing,” she said which he took to mean the condom was going on. But she surprised him.

Instead he felt her grab his ankles then something was wrapped round them and buckled tightly. He tried to move his legs but couldn’t as he was tightly bound. Then she moved back and he heard her stripping off, her form only slightly visible in the near darkness.

A few seconds later she mounted him but not in the way he expected. She was squatting over his face, her naked pussy right over his mouth. A few hip movements, a few shuffles then she settled down after saying, “Lick me good.”

He lay transfixed. His wrists bound, his ankles bound and this woman squatting on his face was a lot to absorb, the surprise of it was making him feel unable to cope.

Then he felt her moving her hips rubbing her pussy over his mouth and nose, and seconds later she gripped his cock. “Ahh,” he said for a moment then the pussy pushed down silencing him.

Against his will he opened his mouth. The feeling of her stroking his cock was enough to make him do anything, even this. He extended his tongue and ran it up and down her pussy, running it from side to side to side then up and down again. Miss Saunders moved slightly, angled herself where she wanted then he understood. He opened his mouth as wide as he could then pushed his tongue out and found the tight little spot he knew she wanted worked. He pushed his tongue into her then she gasped. He ran his tongue around and around. He pulled it out then pushed it up and in and rimmed her vagina.

This had an effect. She surged against him, she gasped, she shook all over. It didn’t take long at all then she let out a low moan and shook all over, her hips moving like they were electrocuted, jumping and surging rhythmically.

She’d come. She quietened her frantic movements then she just moved her hips up and down along his face so he could lick her all over.

After a few minutes of that she got off his face then lay down beside him. “Not bad,” she said as she wrapped an arm around his chest then put a leg up and over his hips, pushing down on his cock.

The Strapubus Gives a Belting

My girlfriends call me the ‘strapubus’ because I love giving a strapping, and I love having my men bound with leather straps. It’s just so nice to be able to mount them and use them for my own needs. How was it for you? The strapping and this?”

His cock was hurting. Pressed against the soft woman’s leg it felt so damn good but he wanted to be inside her, desperately. “Miss Saunders it hurt like hell but for some reason I got a boner. You saw it. I have no idea why. This is fantastic. I want you.” That was all he could get out of his mouth.

She ran her hand over his face. Then she leaned up a little and moved till her breasts were in his face. She moved her shoulders from side to side so the nipples alternated to tap his mouth and the large woman scented globes moved all over his face. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever had in his life.

Good. I’ll mount you and fuck you senseless but I have a strict rule here in the prison. You get a dozen of my belt first. Nice and hard. On top of the strapping it will hurt but it’s not as bad as my prison strap.” She moved her breasts all over his face. “Want me?”

He didn’t want a belt strapping but he desperately wanted a fuck. “Yes please Miss Saunders,” just came out of his mouth.

She got off the bed then went to the pile of the clothes on the floor. He watched as she pulled the wide belt out then folded it in half. She moved back to the bed. “Roll over,” she said, then she added, “I brought a gag. Want that? It adds to the whole experience. I’ll fuck you with it in if you want?”

He thought about it. Watching that other guy get his strapping with the gag in had been arousing in a disturbing way. Now the offer was feeling the same. “Yes please Miss Saunders,” he said before he could regret it. The strapping from the belt would be bad enough. This was heading into full on kink so he might as well embrace it.

Seconds later he felt her pressing something into his mouth. He opened and suddenly it was full of something. He ran his tongue around it as much as he could. It took little time to realize it was a ball gag, and in that time she pulled the strap behind his head and it was buckled. He tried to spit it out, he tried pushing on it, he moved his head but nothing made any difference.

He was experimenting with the ball gag, feeling it, when heat blazed on his butt cheeks and a loud crack broke the silence of the darkened cell.

This time the strapping was far more mild than what he’d had with Mister Best Behavior, but it was still challenging. The belt didn’t land anywhere near as hard but the sting was similarly infernal. On top of the prison strapping, it made him rear up, open his mouth around the ball gag and grunt loudly.

The strapping from her belt felt amazing on top of the ‘welcome’ he’d had. It stung, sure, but it acted to make him hoter and hotter than hell. Damn it made him hot. As the belting continued he moved on the bed, shaking, quivering, moving as the leather landed. That meant the bed started to rub against his boner and all of a sudden he started to think he might come if he wasn’t careful.

Ms Saunders must have noticed as she stopped the belting then, “Roll over naughty box. Time for your treat,” she said as she gripped his shoulders.

On his back, his butt flamed red ot as he lay on the bed, the pressure of the bed making him very aware. At the same time he felt his cock twitching, moving in the air as the feelings surged through him.

Ms Saunders leaned over him again and again he had her lovely dangling breasts in his face as she moved them over him, her nipples moving against his skin. It was the most erotic thing in his life, what with his burning butt and the naked woman rubbing her chest into him,

Then he felt it, she had her hand on his cock. She lifted up and saw when he looked down that he had a concom on and it looked like a big ribbed one.

“Something to desensitize you and also to give me a little more friuction,” she said as she looked into his eyes. “I don’t want you popping off too soon. If you do I might put you on a charge for a dozen from Mr Best Behaviour for coming to soon.” She stroked his face, “I might call it disobeying an order, or disobedience. Whatever. Same rule, I come first.”

She waggled her chest in his face as she put a leg over then sat bolt upright on top of him, his cock trapped and pushed down under her.

She lifted up for a moment, then with a hand to hold and guide him, she shimmied back and then he felt it. The warm wet love tonnel of an excited woman swallowed him whole.

His chest lifted up for amoment in the pleasure of the fucking he was gettring. his eyes rolled up, his moth went wide around the ball gag and he sighed loudly.

Ms Saunders put her hands on his chest as she leaned forward. “Let me fuck you. Grunt or close your eyes when you get close.”

With that sheput both hands on his chest then leaned forward to make her breasts push out in front. Her shoulders swayed and shook, then she lifted up then flopped down on his cock. The reslt was the best fuck of his life.

Ms Saunders rode him, clenching her pussy around him, milking his cock and making it rub against her in just the right place as she got higher and higher, closer and closer.

She couldn’t last long after the last come she’d had, and looking at the young man in straps under her was doing her head in. This was where it was at.

God, how she wished she had a boyfirend into this. She’d ride him like a rocking horse after she blistered his butt.

As she crested she saw him close his eyes and gasp. Good.

Right at that moment she felt him twitching inside her, she felt him quiver and quake and that sent her over the top. She gripped him hard, gripped his cock with her sopping pussy to extrat the maximum of pleasure as she moved against him.

She came and she came loudly. Her shout echoed out his door into the cell block. She sat up straight, she pushed down on him, she opened then she gripped, she moved up and down in quick hip flicks as his cock hit against her, every litle push inside her sending her into bliss.

Putting her head far back, she came loud.

Harry was in heaven. It was a kinky heaven he would never have guessed, not in a million yerar. Also, little did he know that the deathly silence in the cell block meant that everyone was listedning to Ms Saundes as she climaxed, but also as she had given him a belting. Every single man wanted her right now as they all had painful boners that demanded attention. But not one of them could do a thing about it with the strap round their wrists immobilizing them. Sleeping in bondage like that meant they often had a boner, but spunking off to a bit of hand action was not going to happen.

— to be continued —

Harry finds out that making a noise at night is a bad idea.

Duelling Prison Straps

One Mistress - Two Pison Straps.

The current mistress I’m seeing has her own prison strap. Ever seen one?

Canadian Prison Strap

Mine is this one, exactly the same, and it is a beautiful and functional piece of gear that works extremely well.

The leather at the business end or hers is not as thick or stiff as mine. Hers is more like heavy belt leather, or heavy saddle leather. Mine is more solid. Just picking it up and waving it around you realize how stiff it is and how severe it will be.

Well, the first time I met her, she said she had a prison strap as we were setting up for our first session. We went into the dungeon and she pulled it out of her gear collection. Then I produced mine making her eyes go wide.

Well, in session she gave me a dozen of each, hard. She does like using the prison strap and I suspect not many clients take it hard.

When she strapped me, I could hardly feel the difference. Now, some time later, I have no idea which is more severe. Mine looks it, but hers certainly has that special bite.

I have that feeling this will happen again soon. Very soon.

Self Esteem and BDSM

Self Image and BDSM

From an early age I had a fetish that stayed with me for life. Then over the years BDSM became something that was my secret passion – my silent quiver.

This had a significant effect on me. I found in my teens that I struggled to fit into my peer group. Sure, I was a bit nerdy, but deep down I feel I saw things differently and I know I had self confidence and self esteem issues. In my  20’s I struggled to meet people and relationships eluded me.

I am sure this was all based on my upbringing and the era I was born into.

What is fetish and how does it and BDSM affect our reality?

For me it shaped my life. Though it may have been semi-dormant for decades, it never left me.

Celestia Ascension

Beliefs and reality – the dreams we live.

There are definitions of fetish and kink easily available on the internet. I feel they fall short, they are more academic than real as experienced.

Here is my version – for what it is worth.

A kink is something that arouses that’s not the generally accepted sexual norm. A fetish is a sexual act or an object that can be arousing and may be necessary for a person to enjoy sex.

Self Image

For me with my upbringing, having my fetish, my kink, gave me a poor self image. I struggled to fit in and I felt different.

The end result of this was a lack of relationships, something I felt keenly, and also an inner tension that was seldom to leave me.

I know I also tried very hard to please people. i felt that if I didn’t try hard, people would not like me and I’d be even more isolated.

All of this was based on the believe that BDSM and the fetish I had were perverted, dirty, bad, not acceptable.

Now in the ‘2000s this has changed and for the better. Now it is far better accepted and almost become main stream.

My solution?

Counseling sessions with psych therapists helped me immensely.

For the first time I talked about what I felt, and what I wanted. I talked about my frustration and my deepest and most hidden inner secrets.

AND IT WAS ACCEPTED. I WAS ACCEPTED. This was the biggest revelation of my life. I was told that it does not make me lesser, does not make me bad, does not change the way I am. For me those words had a profound effect.

Cold Prison Strapping and Caning

Cold Strapping And Caning -When Fantasy Exceeds Reality

This is something that calls again. I think in my next session…

A particularly athletic mistress did like to use my prison strap and she had a great collection of canes. I don’t know what got into me but at the end of a session as we were chatting before I left, I did suggest that I was up for trying a ‘cold prison strapping and caning’ and that delighted her.

For those not initiated, a cold caning happens without any other punishment before hand. No spanking, no belting, no strapping to warm up the skin. The cane is applied hard to a bare and fresh bottom. It is therefore quite severe.

And a cold prison strapping is just the same.

In reality, both simulate a judicial type punishment where the victim is given heavy punishment as soon as the session starts. There is no lead up, no getting used to it.

On my next session she remembered, she sure did. I’ll admit there was an element of excitement, here was I going to get a severe punishment straight away and that just hit the masochist nerve.

I was put into suspension, my arms lifted into the air by leather cuffs on my wrists clipped to a metal bar on the end of a cable. Then she gave me a dozen of the best of my prison strap. They were absolutely delivered hard. The prison strap is quite heavy, and as I type this I can remember each stroke pushing me forward with the power she put into it. Then she gave me a dozen of the best of the cane and even through the pain from the prison strapping, I felt those cane strokes.

It has been a while since my last session. This is sounding better and better.

First Post Covid Session Commentary

My Next Session

This post will be updated a number of times over the coming weeks.

It will document all phases of my upcoming session.

Booking The Session. I’ve not had a session in so long and now I have been able to book one 2  weeks in advance. As soon as I emailed mistress to book the session, and she confirmed, I felt better. Sure, it is 2 weeks away but I’ve done something! It is going to happen at long last.

She is the same mistress I’ve had three sessions with already. She is keen on the whole corporal, bondage, fetish thing I like and we get along very well. In fetish with the leather corset, skirt, boots and belts mistress looks fabulous.

Sessions with her are reasonably light hearted but she does demand I do as she says and present for the corporal I need.

What Will I Ask For?

This is consuming me. It has been almost a year now since my last session. Some injuries and illness as well as the pandemic has kept me away for so long.

I know I want more than I can take and that’s from experience.  I know that after a significant absence that my tolerance for corporal will be way down. There is nothing like getting a regular strapping and caning to let you take more strapping and caning. The eternity of 12 months away will make the session gruelling.

I feel I want to ask for a cold prison strapping and caning. I know also this will over-extend me and I’ll really struggle with it. But it calls to me. I just want to be really pushed, to have a super session.

I’ll think more about this and add to this post closer to session time.

Gear checkout happened.

I have a lot of gear that has not been used in so long. Pulling it out of storage made a few things become instantly noticeable.

First of all the buckles on all the belts and stirrup leathers were heavily tarnished. Damn. It takes an hour plus with some fine steel wool to clean them up.

Then, shock and horror, a couple of my straps and tawse have mould on them, fat hairy patches of mould. This really does not please me. In the end I wash them in clean water then use methylated spirit to rub them over. This will hopefully kill spores and maybe prevent it returning. I will have to check it again just before the session.

More Thoughts On The Session

Three days after booking the session I’m thinking I’ll ask for the same kind of session mistress and I had last time but with minor changes.

I’ll ask for lots of fetish tease with her putting on the belts, taking them off, getting them ready, showing me the belt or strap she is going to use. I’ll ask her to tell me she is going to strap me, “slave, mistress is going to strap those palms. Hands UP,” kind of thing. Same for the prison strapping and caning.  (same as last time)

I want to be gagged for the whole session. I find this makes immersion into sub-space easier and also it makes accepting heavy corporal easier.

The remainder will be pretty much the same again, with feeling!.

Then I’ll ask for a prolonged hand strapping, starting off with the school strap for lighter strokes, then progress through belts and tawse for progressively heavier hand strappings.

At the start of the session I want many more lighter strokes from many implements, rather than a few heavy strokes from a severe implement.

Then onto suspension, my wrist cuffs attached to the suspension bar and I’m lifted onto my feet.

Then start off with heavy belting from the wide belts she is wearing. The black belt is lighter, use that as hard as she can from each side.  Show taking it off and getting it ready. Make it sting, make me react. Take her time, watch me squirm, run the belt through her hands as she waits just a few seconds. Then repeat with the thicker brown belt.

After this for mistress to move through the other implements. Use an implement hard, then a lighter implement like a softer wider belt for me to recover. Do this time and again.

About half way through take me off suspension then onto my knees for another hand strapping. Mistress to give heavier strokes, not that many of them, but severe. This will probably mean the Lochgelly tawse gets used more than once.

Then I’ll be standing, bent over the bondage bench, my hands out in front of me and with the palms up.

In this position mistress can give me beltings, strappings and tawsing to my butt, hard. Every now and then mistress will move in front to give another six of the best hand strapping. She can use the end of a wide belt, a strap or a tawse.

Then as time draws to a close, a prison strapping then a sound caning.

Finally at the end of the session, kneeling again for a final hand strapping. I’ll be pretty wasted, probably not a lot of hand strapping is needed, but something to end with.

Problem. This is far too much information and far too much detail. I’ll have to distil this for the pre-session discussion.

I still can’t get the idea of a cold prison strapping and caning out of my head. i think I’ll ask mistress for this for next session in maybe a months time. She has an excellent memory. I am sure she will not forget. Plus she has her own prison strap, so maybe she should use hers and mine before the cane.

The Day Before

I’m not there yet. TBA.

Session Introspection

In My BDSM Sessions

In my first ever BDSM session I was laying on the floor in strapped up in tight leather bondage.

The mistress used a ‘spine’ which is also called a ‘fishbone harness’ that comprises a dozen wide leather straps that wrap the body tightly. From the neck to the toes there is a lengthwise strap that keeps all the others in place. That’s why it looks like a fishbone.

This was my first ever session, and I’d never heard of this kind of harness before. And it felt so addicitively good.

I vividly remember feeling out of body in that I could almost see myself there as if looking down from above. I could see myself on the floor in bondage. I could just imagine so strongly what it looked like with the dominatrix in the room punishing me.

And at that moment I felt the strangeness of the moment.

It was a moment of deep introspection.

And for all the sessions over the years to come, I have felt that same thing so often, that same introspection, that same view of myself in the session.

It defies logic. It defies common sense. It defies everything I was brought up to accept as normal.

Looking Into The Mirror

All my sessions now happen in rooms with a large wall to ceiling mirror. My first session didn’t have a mirror that I can remember.

I do like to face the mirror and to watch the mistress closely. She is dressed to suit the session, to suit me, and that is a huge thing.

I also watch as she applies corporal. She lifts the belt, the strap, the cane or prison strap then she uses it.

Watching this I feel the thrill of the moment, the thrill of experiencing my innermost secret passions and needs.

But I also see myself as it is a mirror after all.

Seeing myself like this in the dungeon never ceases to amaze me.

There I am. The husband, the father, the son, the office worker, managing staff, in a situation like this seems so odd.

And I need it. Bring it on.

And I keep Coming Back

That too is strange if I give it any thought.

I reject and rail at myself for wanting this. Then at other times I miss it dreadfully and want it again. Soon. I want it now.

No matter how gruelling the session, no matter how hard the mistress gives me corporal I keep coming back.

My butt can be bruised and bloody, my hands tomato red and shaking, my back and shoulders striped and stinging. And I feel wonderfully relieved, refreshed, and at peace.

Then in a few weeks I want it again.

There is no denying it is a core need

Nope. No matter how long I think about this, it always comes back to “It is the way I am.”

I don’t do this to atone fro some mistake or feeling of guilt. I don’t seek this because of some kind of sin or crime.

It wasn’t learned, inflicted on me, something that I was pushed to do or suggested to me.

It is all on me. I am drawn to it.

Hand Strapping And Tawsing Sessions

Hand Strapping & Tawsing

Have you ever read a about a professional BDSM dominatrix giving a hand strapping? Here you can. Do you find it strange, unreal? Is it appealing and do you know why? Read on if you are interested.

In the context of a B&D session, a hand strapping or tawsing is just like it sounds. The palm of the slave is struck by the dominatrix with a leather strap or a tawse.

There is no mystery in how it’s done. The mystery lies in the why and how of it, but as in all things, there are reasons.

This post will go into the subject of hand strapping and tawsing, mainly from a pro-domme session point of view. This is what I have extensive experience with and these are my experiences. Others will undoubtedly have other experiences and viewpoints.

However, if you wish to translate this into other forms of BDSM play, be my guest – I hope you can gain some benefit. Reading about real pro-dom sessions is probably not that common either as it is a very private (and expensive) experience.

I shall try to be as accurate as possible.

Hand strapping is a neglected art form in modern media and BDSM teasers.

In all the BDSM teasers that have been in modern films, and I have watched closely, hand strapping has not been featured. I can’t remember seeing it. Sure, there is a slave in bondage and maybe in suspension or on a cross, a cane maybe, a whip for sure, but no hand strapping or tawsing.

Maybe this is a subject too difficult for film producers, or is it too private and personal to be admitted to? Maybe it is not that common? Maybe they struggle to believe that someone would subject themselves to this (I think this sometimes myself).

You be the judge.

Hand strapping is unusual as the mistress faces the slave which does not happen with other forms of corporal punishment. Typically the mistress is behind the slave and might only be seen in a mirror.

For a hand strapping, the slave is close to the mistress, she is in his personal space. He must watch the mistress use the instrument of punishment, see her prepare for the stroke, then watch her deliver it to his defenseless and sensitive palms. She’ll watch as the hand is shaken, as the slave gasps with the pain and she will be right in front of him. Then she’ll give another stroke.

It becomes a highly personal experience, with a lot of other emotions. There can be embarrassment to be facing someone giving a hand strapping. There can be humiliation in there as well as you react and can’t control yourself, you show how much it hurts and you can’t control that.  What does mistrtess think? Is she disappointed in you for not taking your hand strapping better? As you wait for the strap to descend it is an intense and difficult time.

For example, a thick heavy tawse brought down along the fingers and palm feels excruciatingly painful with just one stroke. The hand bursts into flames in the intense sting. You wave it around to try to reduce the sting, you rub it, you gasp at the pain and wonder why in hell you asked for this, then the mistress calms says, “hands up,” and then you struggle. You look at the mistress with the tawse and feel a little fear. She is going to give you another stroke. How will you be able to accept that? Can you accept that? will you be weak and call mercy? Then she gives gives another and the pain increases. This is a real test.

This makes hand strapping a very different experience compared to, for example when getting caned on the butt or flogged across the back and shoulders. Typically for a caning  the slave is bent over something, the mistress is behind and to one side and then uses a cane. Similarly for a flogging. Sure there are mirrors in the dungeon (and as we all know, that is part of the fun) but there is distance involved. There can be an element of denial happening with this tye of corporal that you can’t get with hand strapping. You are not looking into the mistresses eyes as she straps you, she is not directly in front of you.

Regression into a different time and space is easy with hand strapping. It is hghly immersive. Suddenly you really are someone else, getting your hands strapped. Suddenly you really are under the control of mistress as she commands you to raise your hands and she stands in front of you then straps them.

It is overwhelming. With hand strapping, mistress is right up close and in front of slave. It really is much more personal.

Hand strapping, when phrased like that, is a much more personal experience.

Hand strapping is far more intimate, more kinkly, more fetish.

I am laboring this point, but it is hugely real.

Slave kneels and looks into the eyes of the dominatrix right in front of him. She looks into his eyes. She holds the strap and she shows him how he is going to be punished.

With the mistress standing right in front of the slave she is in his personal space and dressed in fetish. She is tweaking all his fetish and kink fantasies.

As she stands with the strap or tawse in her hand, she looks totally formidable. She faces her slave. She looks strict, stern, and formidable.

If slave is shy or slow or reluctant, mistress will tell him, “HANDS UP SLAVE” which can be a huge part of the session. Maybe slave has asked in the pre-session briefing for “Mistress to demand the hands are raised then she gives six of the best, time and again, and she shows no mecy,” (and I am thiunking about my next session!).

Hand strapping is all about role play, acceptance, fetish and fantasy.

HANDS UP” says the mistress making slave present his hand to her.

Maybe she will hold the strap between her hands. Maybe she will raise and lower it.

Then she raises the strap and the discipline begins.

Tawase Cane

Two tawse and a punishment cane.

Taking her time, she will raise the strap or tawse over a shoulder. Slave will be watching intently, looking at the mistress in front of him as she is poised to deliver.

Then the strap will crack down, once, twice, many times. Each time there will be a reaction. Each time slave must accept the strapping. Each time the command, “HANDS UP!” is given if slave is slow.

Terms and Definitions

My focus is with sessions between a professional mistress and her client. I call him (or her) the slave. Forgive me if I (badly) blur the terms and definitions of both the implements and the players.

The alternative is to tie myself in knots trying to cover all the bases and roles – and being tied in knots is my not really thing – but it is getting there.

Tawsing. While I call it ‘hand strapping’ this equally applies to use of the tawse and hence the terms hand strapping and hand tawsing can be used interchangeably. Also, of historical note, this was also referred to as ‘a belting’ even when a tawse was used as quite often the tawse was referred to as ‘the belt.’

Historically, in schools in my area it was called ‘getting the cuts’ and the word strap was seldom used. We got the cuts, not strapped. We’d never heard of a tawse.

Hand caning is also in-theme for this post. The mistress uses a cane, of course, and usually applies it side on where as the strap is often applied lengthwise. I’ve had that and it just dosen’t do it for me. My fetish for leather just isn’t tweaked by hand caning. The feeling of a hand caning is actually quite similar to a severe tawse, there is not much to choose between them. Both hurt a lot.

So forgive me, I’ll refer to ‘the mistress’ and to ‘the slave’ but of course this applies equally to all players and forms of BDSM play no matter how the roles are defined. Same to the types of implement used.

The Anatomy Of Straps and Tawse

The strap may be the end of a belt, a folded belt or a purpose made strap designed specifically for punishment. The typical dimensions would be at least a foot long, and often eighteen inches, though two foot long straps are also common. For hand strapping, a width of about one and a half inches is usual and the thickness can be whatever is available though the thicker leathers are of course more severe. Historically a piece of harness leather or an old belt would be pressed into service, and more than likely, only for BDSM would a purpose made strap be used these days.

Size matters.

A wider strap spreads the force out a little more but it still stings if used with force. The more thick, solid, less flexible the strap the more the sting gets in.

Straps made of a doubled belt are more ‘thuddy’ compared to a single length. A narrower strap stings more.

Wider straps land with perhaps less sting but also perhaps a little harder. The best (most painful) strap is a single piece of leather about an inch and a half wide, eighteen inches long and fairly stiff. The thicker the better and the more easily controlled.

In general, the longer the strap, the more speed the end of it has when it comes down on the palm and fingers. This can make it less accurate. A two foot long strap is about the maximum as beyond that it becomes difficult to control and aim.

The slave’s palm is often quivering and not the biggest of targets. The palm is held up and out waiting for the strap to descend and it can often be shaking from previous strokes, moving slightly. Unlike a slave in bondage getting a flogging or a caning when bent over something, a palm held out for the strap is not restrained.

Hand strapping does require precision so a strap that is manageable and well controlled is important. As mentioned, about a foot and a half long is ideal and somewhere around an inch and a half wide is optimum for the sting and thud mix.

Shorter straps are easier to use, to control and aim, but their effect is less. I have a ‘school strap’ that I had made. It is just over a foot long and really quite mild. I have an old belt that is used doubled up for a hand strapping. The leather is old and supple and not overly thick. Even though it is longer and two thicknesses of leather, it is still quite mild.

The sound of a strap on palm is distinctive. It is a full bodied high pitched and substantial crack, particularly if the hand is held flat, not cupped. Often the gasp of the slave follows soon after.

A tawse is in my opinion much more severe even though they are so similar to a strap.

A tawse is a strap split down the middle once or more times. This gives it a number of narrower tails, each perhaps a half inch wide, maybe up three quarters of an inch wide.

The effect of this is to increase the sting, dramatically. A well delivered tawse stroke feels significantly more painful that a strap stroke. The tails being more narrow seem to get in and sting more like canes than a strap. The tawse feels like it burns in its sting.

In schools in Scotland, the tawse was very much in use in the 1900’s till it was banned in the ’80s. Many saddlers made them for teachers and advertised them for sale. The most famous was the Lochgelly made by John Dick and descendants. Here is its story.

A Lochgelly tawse is a formidable piece of leather. Just a few strokes leaves all but the most experienced and hardened slave bent over and rubbing the infernal sting that’s burning deep in the hands.

Tawse come in many shapes and sizes but with strong similarities. Typically they have two or three tails and usually are about eighteen inches long. A two foot long tawse would be a long one. The type of leather used for original Lochgelly tawse was both dense and thick making it even more painful to receive.

The multiple narrower tails of the tawse, all traveling at speed penetrate more than a wider strap. The feeling is closer to being caned on the hands. For a thick and stiff three tailed well made tawse the effect is far more severe than the strap.

The sound of a tawse is a little different to a strap. It is slightly more high pitched making a more shrill ‘thwick’ rather than the stronger crack-like sound of a strap.

Technique

For slave, the hand is raised as mistress commands. Most mistresses accept however slave raises it. I usually raise one hand at a time, palm up, fingers together with the thumb pressed into the side of the hand. The mistress stands in front, the palm and fingers are flat and pointing toward her.

Sometimes I have been commanded to support one hand with the other. This is the original Scottish school style where the hand is supported.

The supposed benefit of the two handed presentation is that the second hand makes it more difficult to pull the hand away or to move it as the tawse is descending. Remember, slave is in front of mistress and watching her put the strap up in the air then bring it down on the waiting palm and fingers. Slave knows how painful it will be so the temptation to move the hand, to avoid the pain, can be overwhelming. For some. I know. I feel that.

For mistress, giving a hand strapping can be done in a few ways that affect both the delivery and also, just as importantly, the whole visual of the experience.

Most often a hand strapping is given pretty much as expected. The strap is held in the hand which is raised over the mistresses shoulder. Then after a small delay it is brought down on the slaves waiting and often quivering hand.

An alternative way is for the mistress to grip the far end of the strap with her other hand, in front of her. It looks like she is sttretching the strap almost. This can help her aim and also if done right, increase the speed of the strap.

I’ve had a few mistresses use this technique. One thing I always think about this method is that it looks ‘like ballet’ – the mistress is standing with the strap helf between two hands and looks poised.

A third way is for the mistresses other hand to go behind her back and catch the end of the strap when it is put over her shoulder and down behind her. By pulling down on the strap as she prepares to bring it down, it comes down a lot harder.

This remings me of school. We had a teacher who used this technique and he always made the strap really sting.

Hand Strapping - A Real Session

BDSM sessions with a mistress usually progress from lighter through to more severe implements during the session. That is unless it is a ‘cold’ type session where the most severe is used first. I’ve had a few with the prison strap and cane, they are challenging (more on this later). I’ve not had this with hand strapping though.

Here is a typical session.

At the start of a session I’ve stripped off, had a shower then am kneeling on a towel on the concrete floor. I wear a collar and cuffs. I have my own implements arranged on another towel, arranged in order of severity. On the left is a ‘school strap’ about a foot long, then on the right hand end is the most severe which is a Lochgelly replica with three painfully thick tails. In between are half a dozen other tawse and straps. Nearby are a few belts which are also used.

The collar, the cuffs, being in the dungeon and with the implements laid out beside me puts me into a submissive mood, approaching sub-space.

All my fetishes are being fed and my mind seems to still, to recede.

I become  slave.

Mistress arrives. She moves around me, checking me, then she selects something from my collection.

She stands in front of me. She is of course gorgeous and dressed in leather; leather skirt, leather corset, and two of my widest leather belts around her waist.

“Hands up slave,” she says quietly.

Holding a strap between her hands all my fetishes are lighting off. Unless it is the tawse. Then there is a feeling of concern knowing that it will hurt far more than the mere strapping she has or will give me.

How It Feels

Painful! Exciting. Embarrassing. Severe. Hyper fetish and kinky.

I feel embarrassed to have this in a session. I kneel in a submissive pose. I must present my palms and bear the inspection of the mistress and look into her eyes. I show her how weak I am when the pain she brings sears into me.

I am an office worker, I use the keyboard a lot and do all the normal things around the office and home. My hands not used to manual labor and hence not hard or calloused or rough.

While not delicate, my hands are sensitive and probably normal of most office workers.

When the strap comes own, ‘crack’, it stings and burns and hurts deeply.

When the tawse comes down, it feels like that and much more so.

Why - Oh Why Is This A Thing?

As with most things, there is more than one reason and it is also difficult to determine which of the reasons are more important.

In a session, I’m not sure I want a hand strapping, I am absolutely sure I NEED a hand strapping. That’s the way it feels.

For me the appeal is a ‘whole thing’ where the strict leather mistress makes me raise the hand then she gives me the hand strapping. There is the embarrassment of facing her and making myself take the strokes, to present the other hand, to try to endure. She is watching me, I watch mistress raise the strap, it is challenging. It is the way she is dressed in fetish, the setting in the dungeon, the submission to mistress, the implement and of course the pain.

Of all these things, the pain is least important – strange as it may seem. That is sort of a secondary by-product.

Writing this, I am introspecting, trying to define what it actually is that draws me back to getting a hand strapping. Where is it at?

Putting it down on a web page makes me relive the experience, to try to understand myself.

One thing that occurs that I’ve not seen anyone else mention is that hand strapping in a session has absolutely no subterfuge. There can be no denial of what’s happening. As it is happening it is all about a BDSM session with all the fetish and needs happening all at once. In other positions in the dungeon, with other things happening, I’m not facing the mistress. I’m not looking at the session face on, I can sort of avoid the whole thing a little by being in sub space with the imagination running riot.

Facing the mistress and watching her give a hand strapping is full on fetish and BDSM.

Wrapping it all up into one thing… I think the appeal is in facing the strict mistress as she hold the strap in her hands. She commands me, I comply, then I watch her with the strap. It is my submission.  I try as hard as I can to endure the strokes of the strap, and so she straps me harder. It seems to get deeply into me. I feel the embarrassment of being in front of her and facing her.

I feel the fetish so strongly and I look at the mistress and know it is something I must do.

Trying It Out At Home - Self Strapping

Get a leather belt, maybe an inch to an inch and a half wide. Then using just the end of it, bring it down on your open hand, down along the palm and onto the fingers. Make it crack down.

How many times can you do this and how hard? Can you do it hard three times? Make it six? I find that with all my experience only three or four is my limit.

Then if you own a tawse, that is a whole different thing. If you can give yourself two or three hard strokes of the tawse across your other hand, well done.

I’ve done this a few times. It is not very successful as I can’t apply the kind of force that a mistress in a session will do. I always chicken out far too early.

This was a revelation in my first pro-dom session many years ago. The mistress strapped me far harder than I had done for myself, and she gave me a lot more strokes. So many more, it was in the range of about 30 strokes to each palm, end on. Now in my sessions it is more than this and the tawse is used also leaving my hands red and shaking.

Did any of this rambling discussion bring any enlightenment? Please let me know.

Right now in Covid lockdown the thought of my next session is dominating me. What will I ask for?

I do know a hand strapping will feature. I feel another post coming on.

Asking In Ignorance

Communication And BDSM

One mistress said her pet hate was a client saying “just do what you think I want” – or similar. She said it put so much stress on her and made her worry far too much about what she was doing.

Thinking about it, that is a crazy thing to say. BDSM has an absolutely huge range of options. The chance of getting what you want by not communicating is about nil.

Same for knowing what you want, but as thr Stones said ‘you can’t always know what you want.

Conclusion

A funny place to put a conclusion – but here it is.

Do your homework first. Try to work out what works for you. Leave options open. Try for a rapport with the mistress so she will sense if something is not working.

To get a great session requires great communication with a mistress. My sessions needs are ‘basic and core business’ for mistresses but there are things I like and don’t. These must be spelled out.

The precise words you use are also super important. The mistress will listen and use these in crafting your session.

Example. I remember one mistress in the pre-session discussion saying “I’ll give you a good beating” – which was wrong. I had to correct her, “sorry mistress. A good belting, a good strapping and a thorough tawsing then caning please.” For me ‘beating’ is not the word to use. Same as ‘hit’ – nope, wrong words, wrong connotations.

Planning ahead is essential particularly if you are (like me) nervous. If you are a lists person, then a short bullet point list will go a long way to having a great session.

I Remember My First Session

I’ve been writing my biography and in that I documented my first session and my reaction to it. I took notes at the time and also, I do remember this session very well.

For this first session, I had spoken to the mistress on the phone and outlined what my BDSM was for me. I talked very briefly, in stumbling phrases about it and that was pretty confronting for me.

Then when we eventually met for the session she asked a few questions then the session happend.

Well in hindsight I was pretty ignorant. There is no doubt. I asked for some things which happened (great) but the mistress did things that took me so far past that. That was confronting at the time but she was correct.

I count myself lucky that I’d chosen an excellent mistress and she was able to read my responses and creat a session that worked so well.

I hadn’t given her much to work with.

Choosing A Professional Matters

In my session I was lucky I chose a mistress who was super experienced and liked the bondage and corporal that I did. She’d taken a number of newbies before and she tried things out with me,

I do not remember anything she did that didn’t work well. However I do remember thinking she’d done a lot more than I imagined.

So doing some research before a session would seem like a good idea.

Biography – The Walk Of Seven Yards

A Kink Biography

One thing the Covid lockdown has been good for is introspection. Since I can’t travel to my office, I found myself spending more time thinking about my life, and writing. I’ve even written a “TED Talk” that goes into the whole kink thing from my perspective.

Anyway. I started a kink biography! Why? Why not!

Over the decades I’ve kept small writings about where I’ve been at and what I’ve been doing. Also I have session notes from all the mistresses I’ve seen and the places they have worked out of. It has been an interesting time revisiting those notes.

I am not 100% sure I will ever publish the biography as it is rather personal, maybe I’ll just leave it a work in progress. However there are some sections I’ll publish here. Maybe there are some people who would benefit, maybe some laughs, maybe some sighs of disbelief.

Oh yes! The anecdotes section has grown considerably. I should update this site with some of them.

Anyway – here is the first small writing. This was my crossing of the Rubicon moment, a time when over three decades of thinking about BDSM was transformed into action.

I was pulled to this, unstoppably pulled toward this just like how gravity pulls us down to earth.

The Walk Of Seven Yards

The phrase … ‘The walk of seven yards took me thirty years to make’ is something I’ve often thought to myself – as it had.

Walking off the public footpath then across those seven yards to knock on an average looking green suburban front door is something I’ll never forget. Same as the words ‘Welcome slave’ from the woman, my first interaction with a dominatrix, who opened the door.

This was to be a collection of firsts; the first dungeon I had ever been in, my first contact with a sex worker, and the first of many BDSM sessions.

So it happened like this.

I walked off the footpath, knocked on the door then waited. From an almost comforting silence I heard the increasingly loud clacking of sharp definite footsteps on a tiled floor. The presumption that it was the person I was to see, a dominatrix, was confirmed when she opened the door and said ‘Welcome Slave’ in a rather sultry voice.

I had said in the phone call I made to book the session that ‘the belt’ was my thing and so I was delighted to see her wearing a rather nice medium width one round her waist. She was tall and statuesque, rather well made up and to be honest, intimidatingly attractive. The pilot cap and sharp makeup balanced out the effect into a classic dominatrix look.

After confirming who I was, she opened the door and said to enter the second door on the left, which I did.

First impressions are super important and in this it was absolutely this way. In hindsight she was a good first mistress, someone with a decade plus of experience – but she had her own demons I was later to find.

On entering the first dungeon I had ever been in, I instantly felt at home. I was happy to be there, relaxed yet eager. It was a tangible feeling and it still is.

The tension of actually getting there had dissipated, and now I had the stress of the session itself which was comparatively far more minor. Why? Thinking back, ‘it would just happen’ was where I was at. Being there was the difficult part, letting it happen wasn’t.

It is so many years ago now that I write about the session, but I do remember it well.

I was and still get triggered by being in the dungeon, the whole BDSM experience. That is a term that just occurred to me as I wrote it, and it is correct. Something calming and soothing is triggered by the experience.

Have you ever gone on holiday feeling tight and wound up and strung out, then when you arrive you suddenly feel a massive release of tension. That was exactly the feeling for me. And over the next fifteen years I still get it.

I had arrived and it felt good.

At the time I recognized that feeling I also felt the strangeness of it. There I was in a room with a bondage bench, a St Andrews cross, a wall of BDSM equipment, a mirror and a suspension winch – and a tall amazonian dominatrix – and I felt at home.

Never ever have I not felt the strangeness of this time. But the ‘welcoming coming home feeling’ continues and is such a strong feeling. I go into a dungeon and am happy.

The Interview – A Pre Session Discussion

The mistress told me to sit on a small and low stool which I did. I found myself feeling rather stupid as I looked up to her, just like back in junior school looking up at the teacher. She is a tall woman, but not quite my height so I later thought she wanted to set me into a subservient position from the get go. She really was quite clever.

Well, for the next short while the mistress questioned me about what I want, what experience I had and what I thought should happen in the session. It was all very business like and if anything a little difficult as here I was telling someone my deepest darkest most hidden thoughts and fetishes.

This was a huge first for me.

Getting Ready

Then I was told to ‘take off you clothes, put on this dressing gown, go down the hall and take a shower. Come back then we shall start the session.’ If that doesn’t put a lump in a newbies throat nothing will – and it was like that for me. And worse.

Laboring the point, now was the real moment of truth. It was scary enough knocking on the front door, this was heading into a full shaking body out of mind scary time.

Even worse and really quite stupidly, I’d not thought of this before, but I had to get naked in front of another woman as she watched. I felt that acutely, I still remember the embarrassment. I also felt the stupidity of that feeling – I had to push through it so that is what I did. Guilt at the thought of cheating on my wife is a horrid thing.

I do know that as the session progressed, it became easier and easier to be in the session, once the ice was broken. There was a comfort from it being a professional arrangement pure and simple.

After the shower and on my return, the dungeon was empty. I stood looking at the room and the implements. The collection of gear hanging on a trellis on the wall was pretty much what you’d expect to see in a BDSM dungeon and some of it was extraordinary and some of it rather mundane. What possible use could fishing sinkers have went through my mind. Clearly I had much to learn.

Then I heard footsteps returning down the tiled corridor outside.

…. to be continued…. maybe. Should I document my first bondage and discipline session here? You be the judge.