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Spanking Spanko Fetish

Spanking Fetish - Odd Choice Of Words

I think the terms ‘spanko fetish’ and ‘spanko fetish’ are a little odd. I also think this is 100% my biases talking – and the terms are probably quite relevant (ie good).

Why?

Spanking feels like it is a downgrade of what I indulge in. It sounds like an over the knee “OTK” type punishment where the bare hand is used to spank the bared butt. I’ve had one of these, on my first session, and I found it a bit average. I wanted more. It didn’t push my other fetish points hard enough.

Spanking does work well though. I’ll admit that and absolutely. Bent over the knee and receiving a hard spanking really can be challenging. A hair brush or short paddle, strap, tawse or cane used for a spanking like this would work well also.

I’ll also admit that the contact of my hips and crutch against a mistresses legs as she spanks me hard does have an appeal. That would be a level of intimacy I don’t get in the traditional corporal sessions I have. The thought of leaving some ‘evidence’ of my excitment to be over her knees is also a little exciting along with cringe-embarrassing. I know I’d dribble a bit.

Why do Spanko Fetish / Spanking Fetish terms work?

My take on this, as an older person, is that the words ‘regularize’ or ‘modernize’ the practice.

The words are easily understood and easily related to. They explain themselves.

Spanking?  Sure, that is simple and easy to understand and not greatly challenging. It puts the whole thing in context.

Fetish? That has become almost mundane now, we are far more culturally allowed to have a fetish for things like leather or latex or fast cars. Whatever. Fetish is not that challenging.

Bolt the two together into ‘Spanking Fetish’ and it feels sort of acceptable.

I can feel a sexual element to this also. I can feel that ‘lets have a spanking before sex’ is a kind of hidden agenda in the spanko fetish terms. It does sound a bit exciting!

Respect - Jillian Keenan

Visit her website, and Jillian Keenan deserves respect. Seriously.

She has come out publicly and put her face on her fetish for spanking.

On her youtube channel she has plenty of videos of herself dealing with the whole spanking thing.

Brilliant.

Where Is Corporal Punishment in this?

By contrast ‘Corporal Punishment’ really has a different feeling. It talks to something more severe and less sexual.

Corporal punishment has a different ethic to it – and summons up different emotions. Am I being punished for a mistake or transgression? Is my fantasy to be in a dungeon then punished by the leather clad mistress just becase she can? Is my fantasy to be a slave being punished by the mistress? Or all of them (yes please).

Or at least that is the way of it for me.

Maybe ‘corporal punishment’ is the dictionary definition of being struck in some manner. ‘Spanking Fetish’ regularizes this into an activity that is more play-erotic and less formal or judicial.

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The Naughty Hair Dresser

Hairdressers - Like Being in the Confessional

My original hairdresser left, so a new one took her place. She is young, spunky and all out there in the way she chats. She is super easy to chat to, engaging, vibrant – all those things.

Anyway, on my first ever hair cut, we got talking and somehow sex came up in a sort of off-beat way. She’d mentioned for some reason that ‘furries’ where you dress up as forest animals and have sex appealed. She said she had a friend with benefits she visited occaisonally – so she was quite open about it all.

Was she opening up to get me to open up? Was she just totally unhibited? Maybe. It worked.

My BDSM Admission

She was so easy to talk to that I admitted I went and had BDSM sessions, being tied up and corporal punishment.

She asked me a little about it, if sex was involved, what happened, who I saw. All that sort of thing.

I remember feeling absolutely stunned that I’d told her on my first visit, and also that she accepted it so well.

Her Admission

Well, my surprise increased when she said she had a male friend, a friend only, who also had BDSM sessions.

She said he only had a few a year but they were big ones, 3 or 4 hours and highly intense. It sounded like he was into getting full on kicking, punching and slapping and very heavy whipping.

I’m not a big fan of any of that – but never mind.

The thing was, she said she got a call from him one day to ask her to collect him and take him to hospital. He’d broken some ribs and couldn’t drive.

WOW – that was beyond intense (I accidentally cracked a rib in a session – my fault – but nothing like that). It made me wonder at the skill of the mistress, or had there been a terrible accident.

Well, she took him to the hospital, into E.R. – and sat with him for a few hours. As he was being treated she had to leave for a short while when one of the nurses said something like, ‘Don’t worry dear, I do this part time also.’

She had to explain it was not her, he was just a friend in need.

We both smiled at life and the way it can throw curved (kinked?) things at us.

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Millennial Discipline Contract – Part-1 – Friday Night

Friday Night Family Discipline

“John, Jenny, it’s time,” called their mother Claire not long after dinner. She’d watched an episode of the serial she liked then re-read their reports.

Friday night was family discipline night when parents reviewed performance and progress for the week, then applied the discipline required for improvement.

The mantra, ‘We must be the best we can be‘ was backed up every Friday night within the family. That their Sunday night meant a visit by their Discipline Supervisor was not forgotten. Getting more on top of a Friday night discipline was something everyone hated and added extra incentive.

Shaking her head. ‘Disappointing. So disappointing,’ she thought. And worrying too.

She’d had a cup of coffee in the kitchen as she considered her next action. This needed to be nipped in the bud but she knew she was late, their behavior and results had dropped badly and now it was on their pages and she would be in trouble too come Sunday night. The Discipline Supervisor would be sure she was paying a price on Sunday night for this for sure.

But she needed to start sometime, and there was no time better than now. Well, last month would have been better, she wouldn’t be in this trouble if she’d done something about it then.

Things had to change and now she was sure her own performance would be judged badly and she knew that would happen on a parenting supervision review. On Sunday night. Two nights away it was going to be her turn.

Both John and Jenny shot down the stairs and into the lounge room where family discipline was dispensed. Not hearing their mother or being slow usually meant she came up the stairs, into their room and that meant an on the spot discipline happened. They knew to pay attention and respond immediately as a pants down laying on the bed strapping really did set their rears on fire.

“John, you got three black marks and Jenny two. Plus your school results have not been good, not good at at all. Plus, this week I’ve down voted you both three times so I think we’ll clear the sheet right now. Arrange the chair John, Jenny fetch the family strap from my room please. You know where it is.”

Jenny turned to fetch the dreaded family strap, but their mother added loudly so she couldn’t miss it, “John, I think your problem is that you’re not focusing enough on your studies and you spend too much time at night with your hands where they shouldn’t be, on the phone and elsewhere I’m sure. I think three days of denial is in order, and Jenny, I think you need the same. Both of you, put your denial restraint belts and cuffs on before bed.”

“Yes mum,” they both said, and neither was going to argue. They’d both argued with their mum over denial time in the past and each time their mum had used the same and simple solution. Arguing with parents always got a black mark on their reports and that caused extras on a Friday discipline night and it was usually more than one set of six.

Complaining or arguing also meant denial time was increased to a week and they were really annoying. For both arguing and complaining they usually got an additional six of the best strapping every night just before bed as well as denial and that was difficult to say the least. They’d be sleeping on their fronts in denial every night for the week with their hands restrained behind their backs and their butts would be on fire from the strapping. They couldn’t rub their butts or move their hands round their fronts to soothe somewhere else if the heat from the strapping made them needy, which it usually did. It was called denial for a good reason.

It was different after a Friday night strapping. They usually had an hour or two before they were put in denial and hence the sting abated slightly. That time, small though it was, made all the difference. When they got extra from complaining just before bed it seemed to sting and be so much hotter and difficult.

The only option they had was best behavior. They knew to do the dishes and clean up so carefully. Any kind of excuse on discipline night just multiplied what they got. Not only that, they got such a telling off that it was demeaning and embarrassing.

But of course it all got posted on their Family Pages for the whole world to see. If they got extra for complaining then their friends saw it and commented at school. Teachers would see it and comment. People down the street they knew, places they worked part time at would all comment about the extras. To say it was demeaning was the understatement of the century.

Fetching The Strap

Jenny exited the lounge room then headed up the stairs, reluctantly.

Each step brought her one step closer to the family strap, each step made it more inevitable. With each step she anticipated holding that strap in her hands.

Holding the family strap had become consuming these last few months. Now she couldn’t resist, standing there holding the family strap, running it through her hands. It was almost impossible not to fondle it. She held the handle in her right hand then ran her left hand slowly down the handle feeling the leather, along the strap, then over the last third of the length with the twin tails that gave it such a bite. She fondled the strap just like her mom did, both of them running it through their hands the same way.

She knew from all her friends that a family strap was normal in houses now. None of her friends didn’t have one at home. The strap usually hung in the parents rooms in their walk in robes or behind a door. She’d heard of some parents who claimed the strap was barbaric but she’d also heard that their children had been ostracized by everyone.

Oh how she wanted a boyfriend right now. Some mornings she woke so needy. The thought of a sleep over and how her boyfriend would be subject to the same discipline she and John were was disquieting. Then the thought of her sleeping over at his house and being subject to discipline there. Now that was even more unsettling. Having to bend and pull down her knickers for the strap or the cane in front of strangers was a strange thought.

She ran the strap through her hands again. Time was getting on but she couldn’t resist standing and feeling the strap.

Yet again, she ran her hand along the leather and out of nowhere wondered what it would feel like to apply it to a bent bottom. She had a momentary image of herself with this in her hand, clenched hard, applying it to John’s bent butt, bringing up a red band that spread and showed the crimson streaks from the twin tails.

She imagined how it would proceed; she’d be extending her arm with the strap at the end and tapping it on Johns butt cheek to get her range. She’s seen her mom do this so many times, and been the recipient more times than she could count. It did serve to focus the attention. She knew the feel of the strap laying on her bent bottom, knew the feel of it flicked in the air then it cracking down in a slightly stinging stroke, a ranging stroke. She imagined doing this, the strap under her control as she watched the leather flicking up then down. This whole thing, this tapping of the bottom in front of her was almost as if the strap made the bottom aware of what was happening, just before lashing it properly, letting the bottom know what was to come.

Running her hand along the leather, she imagined putting it way back behind her, swiveling her shoulders away from the bent naked butt in front of her. Just like he mom did. Then she’d bring her arm around and uncoil her shoulders to make the twin tails swish through the air and land flat on the butt in a ‘splaat’ that cracked and echoed through the house.

Damn. The whole mental image was doing her head in. Then she felt it, a warm tingle between her legs she normally only felt when the lights went out, she was in bed, and her fingers were dancing around her front.

Dammit times infinity. Not that she’d be doing it tonight, her mother was going to put them both in denial for a few nights so no naughty business for them.

“JENNY,” called her mother. “Come down this instant or else.”

She knew what the ‘or else’ meant. Usually a dozen. An extra dozen on top of what she was going to get anyway.

Bend For The Strap

Meanwhile, back in the lounge after Jenny went up the stairs, John turned then got the tall backed chair from the dining room table and put it into the middle of the lounge.

“You first,” his mother said so he dropped his trousers, pushed down his briefs as he stood behind the chair. Bending forward he lifted his long school shirt so it was clear of his bottom, then when he was fully bent over, he reached down and gripped the chair seat.

The cool air on his bottom was ominous. Damn. It was always like this, bent, bared, waiting for Jenny to fetch the strap. Worst of all, for the last two years he’d been having erections in this position while he waited. What was it with baring his butt in preparation for the strap?

Now, every time he bent he found himself hardening up so he always quickly bent to hide it against the chair. A few times his mum had told him to rise half way through his strapping so as to check his state. Luckily every time it had gone down when his butt was stinging madly.

The problem was that it returned when he watched his sister getting the strap. Every damn time the sight of his mum wielding that damned leather strap hardened him up and his mother always caught him with the erection, suggesting another strapping was in order.

He and his mother didn’t have long to wait. Jenny returned with the strap then handed it to his mom. Lifting slightly and looking to his left, he saw his mom hold the strap in both hands and run her hand along the length of the tails, feeling them. She was almost fondling the leather, appreciating it, not that he’d appreciate it the way she was going to use it.

She always did that, and he wondered why. He’d never touched the thing, and quite the opposite, it always touched him right where he didn’t want it to.

“Bend,” said his mom, noticing he’d come up to see Jenny return from upstairs. Then she added, “Properly,” which meant he was bent almost double, his butt sticking up high and proud. And bare. And defenceless.

He bent down again, and again his butt was the highest part of him with the cold evening air on it making him very aware of where he was, but he knew it would be red hot soon enough.

He didn’t have long to wait. From his position all he could see were his mothers feet moving to one side of him and a little back, then something tapped his rear He knew what that was.

Then the strap was lifted and flicked back down so it was a light slap of the leather tails, making him jump. If anything these served to make his erection harder and right now it was rock hard. This repeated. The leather was removed then a moment later there was a slap as the tails were flicked back down. Mom was getting her range, setting up for the strapping.

There was nothing for a few moments then he heard movement. Something indistinct. Like the sound of air over something.

Gunshot loud a ‘craack’ preceded an immense sting right in the middle of his butt.

The first was always the worst.

He hissed, “oohh” then in a few seconds when the sting peaked, “aaahh,” as he clenched his butt cheeks, waggled his hips and shook his legs.

The first half dozen were always the worst he thought. The butt was fresh and tender and unprepared so it reacted strongly to the two tails of their family strap coming down hard.

The second stroke arrived in a handful of seconds, the time taken for his mom to tap his butt once, then put the strap far behind her and wind up.

It landed equally hard and on exactly the same place making his gasp of pain louder, as it should have been. Damn but two in the same spot stung.

All his friends at school had talked about this. All their mom’s had a similar strap and they all used it pretty much the same way. They’d talked about it regularly and the consensus was that there must be some kind of manual or video on how to give a strapping as there was almost no variation. All the moms gave the strokes a few seconds apart, not waiting long, and they all tapped the bared butt then put the strap way back and behind them and wound up for the delivery.

“It’s like a forehand in tennis,” his friend Ralph said. “My mom winds up then blam, she lets me have it right onto the butt time and again. Shit, I get a dozen spread out and it’s hard to sit for a day.”

John had nodded, “Me too, my mom is the same.” All the other boys nodded and agreed. One had added, “My mom straps my thighs if she’s really angry. Had that?”

They all nodded. They’d all had it that way and hated it. For all the obvious reasons.

His mom was clearly annoyed as she usually spread the strokes out over his butt and only came back to the same place if there were going to be a lot of them. This time and two on the same place meant she was cross. Not only that, she was timing the strokes more carefully than she usually did.

His mom usually gave strokes a few seconds apart, requiring just the time it took to put the strap far behind herself then bring it round onto his butt. This time she was delaying a half dozen seconds and he couldn’t help think that it made the strapping worse. After each stroke the sting increased. It increased and increased, then when it peaked his mom slammed the strap down for the next stroke so it really was worse than a normal strapping.

The second ‘craack’ of strap on his butt had lifted his chest up for a moment, his arms struggling to keep him down then as the pain again peaked his “Aaaghhh,” came out stronger.

That was two. He didn’t know how many he was getting but it was seldom less than a dozen. With his report he guessed it might be eighteen and hopefully no more.

The strapping proceeded. The ‘craack’ of the third stroke found a new part of his butt, a little lower and the fourth a dozen seconds later landed on top so now his whole butt felt like a wide band of fire was laying on it.

The fifth was high on the butt, above the others and on a new area also. Then the sixth landed on top of that one and now his whole seat was blazing.

Then his mom stopped. The delay in the strapping was unusual as she usually wanted to get it out of the way and go back to whatever she’d been doing. Not this time.

“John, that’s your first six.” She was speaking sharply. He didn’t like the word ‘first’ as it implied more sets of six. He felt the strap laying in his flaming butt, the weight of the leather just felt in among the stinging heat.

“Here is your second. Hold tight,” she said quietly.

He braced himself expecting the next stroke right in the middle of the butt over the place where the first two strokes had landed. He knew his butt was starting to lose its sensitivity a little, the strapping dulling it slightly. It was a phenomenon he and Jenny were quite used to.

Not only that, his erection was gone now, the heat and sting in his butt had driven that completely out of his mind. All he could feel in his front was, nothing. Nothing at all. His butt was screaming out drowning all other thoughts.

This time the strap landed in the middle of his thighs, right in the middle of the backs of his legs exactly half way between the sit spot and the back of his knees. He’d been strapped there before, many times and dreaded it but was unable to control himself. He shouted out “Yarrr”, shot upward and rubbed his hands over the fierce band of sting, not that it helped much at all. The twin tails of the family strap lashed deep into his thighs resisting any kind of lessening of the sting.

“That one does not count. Bend for the repeat,” his mother said slowly and coldly.

He instantly regretted standing.

It was a rule in the family just the same as for all his friends that if he or his sister rose during a strapping the stroke was repeated. Some of his friends mom’s even added penalty strokes, sometimes one and a few of the mothers made it two. He was thankful his mother didn’t know to add penalties. Three extra was not what he wanted at all.

But his mom did know. “Rise again and it will be two extra as well as the repeat,” she said, “same as what your friends get. I’ve been checking their pages. I’ve been far too lenient with you and Jenny. Jenny, let this be a lesson to you, you will get the full three if you rise.”

“Yes mom,” said Jenny quickly, standing in front of John watching the strapping with real fear. But also she felt something else, something insidious was happening and she couldn’t resist its effects.

Jenny knew it would all too soon be her turn to bend and have that strap lick across her butt and feel the red hot sting again. But that didn’t stop the feelings as she thought about how it would feel to use the strap like her mom was. That was something she couldn’t let go and it was exciting.

For John, as he waited he feared the worst then it arrived. Another stroke right over the top of the last one, doubling the sting in his thighs which he had thought would be impossible. He lifted his chest slightly but kept his grip on the chair seat as he yelled out in pain, “Aaggh,” and then in a few seconds as it seeped into him, “Oh-oh-hooo,” and he remained bent over.

Not long later his mom wound up and strapped him again, and again it was in the same spot. Three in a row and the sting was incredible. “Agghh mom, please,” he gasped. This was far harder than he’d ever had before.

“Far too lenient,” his mom said then the next stroke landed just above the band of flaming sting from the previous three. Well, two with a repeat. This too blazed into him and hurt like hell making him gasp as did the next placed over the same place.

Still bent he hoped like hell this was the last six, but he had two more strokes to go. The next arrived lower, just above the backs of his knees and below the first three strokes. He jumped, he shook his legs and he lifted slightly but remained down and he barely kept the gasps in. The next stroke was over the top and this too just felt impossibly painful.

“That’s better. Take your strokes properly.” Then after a second she added, “We all have to if we want to be the people we should be.” His mom was making an effort tonight, he could almost feel the determination she had in applying the strap. “It would be far better not to earn them in the first place. Maybe they’ll help you with that.”

As he was bent over he felt something cool laying on his bottom. He looked up and around so see his mom had her arm extended so she was resting the strap on his butt. Not a good sign. Then his butt was tapped lightly, the strap lifting up then falling down, then it happened again. She was teasing him almost, the taps getting stronger as she repeated.

“That was your second six, with an extra. Lets see how we go with the third six shall we,” she said quietly, ominously quietly. She sounded determined and more than a little cross.

He didn’t have long to wait. The first stroke scorched over the crown of his butt. Then while he was gasping and shaking his butt, the second landed almost on the same spot but just a little down. He didn’t have long to wait for the third which was lower again. Then the fourth, the fifth and the sixth strokes all landed lower and lower till the sixth had landed on the join between his butt and his legs, right at the top of his thighs. That stung, lifting him up onto his toes and made him shake his legs and butt in the sting.

After this six he was gasping and shaking his hips, trying to get on top of the sting and the heat and he noticed something. His whole butt was an even hot, an even sting, every part of it stung infernally. Mom hadn’t missed a bit of it.

Again he felt the strap laying on his butt. Again he looked back to see his mom poised, arm extended, the strap lifting just a little then fall back with a gentle arm flick.

The delay lingered, then lingered some more as the strap rose then fell just a few inches so he was aware of it. Then, “Those thighs need more,” his mom said quietly.

It was the last place he wanted strapped.

This time and just seconds later the strap streaked around then slammed into the tops of his thighs making him jump and stamp his feet. “Yaaahh,” he gasped with the pain, his thighs and butt both screaming in the red hot intensity of the strapping. He looked back and saw his mom’s feet moving then the next ‘craack’ sounded and again the strap slammed into his thighs just a little way down from the last. He barely kept himself down, barely was able to stop himself from rising in the immense sting from the strapping.

Only the thought of three more strokes of the family strap to his thighs kept him down.

In the pain, in the total immersion of the red hot sting he managed to stay down, just. His mom applied the strap as hard as she could moving the lashes down his thighs till the last one was just above his knees, the whole area a band of red hot sting.

Again there was a delay, and again he hoped that was the last set of six. Again he felt the strap laying on his bottom as his mom looked at her handiwork. “John, that was four sets. If your school ever posts a report like that I’ll double it up.”

That was a hell of a number. His butt would be roasted and he didn’t want to think about his thighs. If he had to wear swimming trunks the bruises would show for days. Lucky he was in long pants then he almost smiled. Not so for Jen, she wore some short skirts and he’d seen other girls with strap marks on their thighs at school, even the girl he fancied like hell had.

The strap rose and fell, a light crack as she strapped him to keep his attention, then another, then another. “I am so tempted to give you more you have no idea. Now stand in front of the char and Jenny can have her turn.” With that the strap rose then cracked down harder making him jump.

As he rose he felt the pain in his butt and thighs increase. She was sure taking a liking to cracking that strap down. Even the light strokes like that last little one were painful.

He stood then went to raise his pants but his mom ran the strap through her hands, flicked it in the air and caught it. “No. Pants down.” So he shuffled till he was standing in front of the chair, intensely aware of his cock and worried it would erect itself despite his best intention. The heat from his strapping wasn’t helping. At the moment it was all sting and some heat. In a few minutes the heat in his front would ramp up and he just knew he’d get a stiffie.

With every movement he took and even when he was standing still he felt his butt and thighs scream out their anguish from the strapping. No part of them wasn’t red hot and stinging.

But his cock was starting to twitch as Jenny moved forward. Dammit, it was impossible to control the damned thing he thought. Why did he get that feeling when it was his sister? There was something vastly wrong about that. Then and even worse, how would it be if it was his girlfriend in this position? She shuddered to think, then the thought of her staying over made him think thoughts that just made it all the more difficult to keep his cock under control. Damn and triple damn.

— Continued in Part-2

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Forum – thinking it through

The Silent Quivers Forum - Thoughts

I’m toying with adding a forum. A simple WP plugin.

** Please use the contact form if you are interested!!!!!

Why Add A Forum?

I’m thinking of it as a safe space to come to terms with any issues, to talk and think things through and discuss with like minded people.

Do you have an issue? Bring it here in privacy and safety to get feedback.

Why Not Add A Forum?

Spam, trolls, time taken, abuse, phishing, grooming, rudeness, revenge – are things that really don’t belong here. They won’t be tolerated. How much of this rubbish would I get? Can I get helpers to ease the load?

Sarcasm is something I frown on. If you can’t express yourself properly then join the club. Have a go. Sarcastic responses will get what they deserve – the bin of shame.

Ridicule is the big brother of sarcasm Expect to be banned.

Maybe the forum won’t get any users. Hey – that would make it easy – just turn it off.

What Benefits?

  • Make contact
  • Seek acceptance
  • Listen to other stories and life experiences
  • Buy and sell

What Rules?

  • Inclusive
  • Politeness
  • Privacy
  • No rudeness
  • No snuff/underage/harmful content
  • No ads / spam / trolls

I think that summ sit up – please let me know any thoughts.

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Busy Busy – Christmas Approaches

Year 2020 In Hindsight

To say 2020 has been difficult is to say the least possible. it has been awful for so many, me and my family included. Yes i am a real person.

Coming through this, now in December, means the worst is passed assuming the vaccines and our government is able to take proper charge. Let us hope.

On the BDSM side, I had my first BDSM session in 13 months, last month. It was a winner of a session and documented in this blog, hopefully in a tessteful manner.

Also this year I have kicked into blogging more, added stories, and in general done more.

The stories have ecpanded significantly. Some are contributions to me from friends, some I have worked on and are waiting in the wings for puclishing here.

Notably, the ,itupart story Millennial Discipline Contract is about 60,000 words and counting. The first episode will be published in a week or so – it is written and being fine tuned. It is heavily biased toward lots of lovely corporal punishment, society wide. Stinging botties for all!

BDSM Needs -And- Blog Goals 2021

It is shaping up to be a one-session-year and I’m not happy about that. I need more so for 2021 I am hoping to be the year I get back to normal for at least a half dozen sessions, maybe more. Who knows.

I’d like to do more stories, or at least finish more of them. I have so many in incomplete form. I do like them, I often imagine things then put finger to keyboard and hammer out a few thousand words.

I’d like to find a better vehicle for the stories – the blog is a little painful to use and not the ideal reading experience.

I think that is about it. More sessions, more BDSM, more stories and blogging. Fine goals!

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Millennial Discipline – Where It Started

The Problem With Society

Early in the 2000’s it was noticed that society was trending downward in so many things, so many ways. It was happening all over in their country and it was pervasive. Soon it was realized this was a slow-death of their way of life and that the damage would be irreparable.

First of all the new millennial generation were massively entitled. Getting the young to actually do work, to attend school and learn, to become responsible citizens was getting harder as time went by. Then, after a few years, the realization came that the new young adults the children had grown into were no better than they had been as children and if anything, were worse. They were permanently attached to the smart phones, to their computers and blotting everything else out in their lives.

The thing that really hit home was the casual rudeness and poor attitude of the young. They just didn’t care. Some small trials were started and failed. Using incentives, using rewards, using removal of privileges but nothing worked. The entitled generation blew through those with a torrent of abuse, whinging, screams and crying. Something more stern was needed.

The great debate was then begun as ‘Something had to be done’ else society would collapse.

A Discipline Contract Is Designed

After a time, the ‘Millenial Discipline Contract’ was developed

To say it was unusual was the understatement of the age. It harked back to a hundred or more years ago when etiquette, manners and politeness mattered mattered and were enforced.

Now and with the more modern nature of their troubles, the use of technology was included into the contract and made the system society-wide pervasive, transparent and effective. Suddenly there was total inclusion of the whole of society in this contract.

The implementation was then, after the realization it had to be done, quick and simple.

It worked like this;

Discipline Supervisors were trained at an academy The syllabus included consistent grading of performance and awarding discipline for those they supervised. Then discipline was administered in the form of corporal punishment and other means to bring about a change to a persons life. They trained on each other and well understood the effects of a carefully applied strap, cane and tawse. The year of intense training and qualification exams included many practical sessions so they would maintain standards from a first hand experience point of view as they too were not exempt from the contract.

All recipients of their discipline could be sure that they were treated fairly and the same as all other recipients. Quickly the complaints flooded in from parents and teenagers alike as to the severity of discipline which had shocked their systems to the core. Suddenly the results of their attitude were brought home and usually on welted throbbing posteriors. The complaints were then, with minimal effort, resolved with ease; supervisors were swapped. Suddenly it was found there was absolutely no difference and once the penalty demerits awarded for the trouble they caused had been worked off in the form of extra discipline, the complaints ceased completely and once and for all.

Everyone had a Page that showed their performance. The internet was included into the system and given a boost to the way it worked. Every single person was given a Page, usually associated with a Family Page that showed how they had been behaving, showed any black marks and demerits accumulated, and showed any discipline awarded and the causes. For teenagers this usually meant that results of school exams as well as any social interactions with others that might cause issues, and parents were not immune. Workers could find themselves with black marks from their employers for any number of reasons.

The effect on casual rudeness was instant and profound. Not saying please and thank you, not helping, not being the best person they could be all conspired to add black marks to a Page that would then bring about review and discipline.

For example, a teenager getting a low score in a math exam would have that noted on the Family Page, then a black mark included from their teacher on the teenagers Page. After hours, on the weekends, any kind of mischief or even being rude to someone would also add a comment and a black mark and this was for all to see. While the opportunity for abuse of the system did exist, and did happen at times, this was quickly stamped out when the consequences for offenders was published on their Pages, linked to from all those they offended, and a summary of the discipline they received from their Supervisors was given. Repeat offenders were few and far between.

An open and effective supervision system, transparent and available to all made the system work as well as it did.

Come the weekend and usually on a Sunday night Millennial Discipline Supervisors would visit then clear any demerits and black marks.

Usually this meant at least a strapping, sometimes the tawse and quite often a sound caning all of which left the recipient remembering their mistakes, promising not to repeat them and almost worst of all, having it documented on their Pages.

On Monday mornings at workplaces, at schools, at homes all across the country it became common to talk about discipline recieved and the effect. It was common for those having received discipline the night before to experience painful moments when they sat, and often for a few days afterward.

The change in society was marked, as was the deportment of the general population as a result of the applied discipline and the new sport of monitoring Family Pages to see who had got what discipline applied the night before.

The mantra for society then changed to be, ‘The millennial discipline contract helps make us the best we can be.’

Then as the first generation went through the system, the discipline was found to be absolutely traumatic but it worked.

This cemented a whole new ethos and also sub-industries catering for the needs of a society using corporal punishment on a regular basis. Shops flourished selling canes, straps, tawse and other specialized equipment. Not only that, the thriving shops found that full service for their clients was required. They provided tuition in the use of such equipment, video tutorials, practical hands on demonstrations with mannequins and sometimes even staff participated in training for both giving and receiving as it was seen as a mark of growth and maturity to accept such in public.

Supervisors and Family Life Changes

Then over the years the millennial discipline contract became the bedrock of their society, expanding and changing to suit the changes to their society.

Sunday night the Discipline Supervisors would visit then discipline would be enforced. The slate might be wiped clean, but marks would be left elsewhere.

Quickly the value and virtue of the system was recognized then expanded into Friday night home discipline sessions where mothers applied discipline to their households adding an extra layer of discipline to the society and this was in addition to the Sunday night Discipline Supervisor visits.

Not only that, it had become accepted practice for ‘Maintenance Wednesdays’ to be imposed for repeat offenders and those in need of improvement.

Maintenance meant they received discipline, irrespective of performance, on a Wednesday night to give them a short sharp shock, to make them aware, to ground them, to keep them in a state where the knowledge of their performance had been sub standard and monitored.  The goal was to make the recipients aware that they were being watched, their performance had been poor, needed improvement and they must improve immediately. For the Maintenance to cease, their behavior must improve and be seen to improve for at least a few weeks.

What follows is the story of Claire (the mother), John and Jenny her teenagers in living with and experiencing the Millennial Discipline Contract.

This is a multi-part fictional story. The first part to be published mid December 2020.

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Dealing With Corporal Punishment

Corporal Punishment In BDSM Sessions

To be tied up and beaten by a dominatrix is one of life’s more out-there experiences.

Probably more than anything else, corporal punishment is the least understood by those not into BDSM.

The association of corporal punishment with pain is so strong, and the desire to not have pain is ingrained so deeply that people struggle to get past it.

Corporal punishment and pain are one dimension of the dynamic. They are an aspect but not the totality.

People say ‘but doesn’t it hurt? Why do you want to be hit or whipped? What do you get out ot it? I can’t understand it.‘

In answer, yes it hurts but I deal with it. It helps transport me, shift me into another reality, gives me a relief like nothing else. I get such vast relief, relaxation, peace, happiness from heavy corporal punishment.

I struggle to understand it at times also, but it is part of me. I need it. It just is.

What are we talking about here?

We are talking about hitting, striking, physcially using an implement on another person to cause them pain.

The words say it all to those not into BDSM. It is physical punishment. For them it stops there, for people like myself it is merely the first step.

As in all BDSM it is, and must happen between consenting adults. Limits, techniques and safety issues should be discussed before corporal punishment is engaged in.

For my sessions, this happens in a pre-session discussion with a professional mistress, a dominatrix, that takes a few minutes. It is the reason I use a professional  dominatrix as there are significant safety issues.

The implements that can be used also give their names to the type of punishment.

For example, a belt is used for a belting, a cane for a caning, a strap for a strapping. Simple enough.

Light, medium and heavy are often used to describe intensity. They mean pretty much what they sound like.

To expand a little, light corporal might redden an area for a short while and rarely leave marks. Alternatively heavy corporal would be expected to leave a mark, a welt and a bruise that goes from purple to black then yellow, for maybe a few days to over a week.

The types of implements change the experience significantly. In general, the more narrow the implement, the more it stings, leaves a longer lasting welt and feels more like it is cutting, burning. An example is the cane and some tawse.

A broader implement like a two inch belt will feel more ‘slappy’ and less deep-cutting.

The thickness of the implement also changes the effect. A two inch wide thinner belt will have more sting while a thicker belt of the same width (but thicker) will feel to have a lot more ‘thud.’

How Is It Done in a BDSM Session?

The short answer is that corporal punishment is given by consenting parties in a way that suits them. There is a discussion about what is going to happen, then it happens.

A sex spanking is similar in concept. Someone says they would like a spanking before sex then it is given and the sex benefits.

For corporal punishment in a dungeon, there are plenty of options. My own experiences are for Mistress to use implements on me when I’m standing lifted up by a winch. Or I might be bent over or laying on top of a punishment bench tied down to it.

A caning can be given when bent over in a classic school pose, or kneeling on a bench, or restrained over a whipping horse.

Almost unique in corporal punishment scenarios is hand strapping and tawsing. The Mistress stands in front then uses a leather strap or tawse to beat the palms of the slave. It is challenging in having to face the punisher, to watch the strap be raised prior to it lashing down and so to control the need to move the hand away. There is also an element of embarrassment to it. As you face the mistress, you show the effect, you show the pain and then the fear when the next stroke is about to be delivered.

Pain Play -vs- Corporal Punishment

Sometimes calling it “corporal Punishment” just feels so wrong. And yet that is what it is.

To any casual observer watching a BDSM Corporal session it could be nothing else. To the participants it can be just about the level of pain that is being delivered and the desired effect.

In fact, so say “punishment” makes me question if I feel the need to be punished for someting? Do I need to atone? Have I been bad in some way that merits heavy corporal?

The answer to all the above is no. I really don’t feel the need for punishment. There are so many other factors at play.

I remember being asked by a mistress something like, “Was the amount of pain about right?” which at the time seemed strange but she was perceptive. It was all about being transported, and for me the pain was the means.

So, Why is it done in a BDSM Session?

There is only one reason for receiving corporal punishment; it is needed.

It may not be wanted, but it may be something that is so deeply needed that it is inescapable even though it may feel illogical and strange.

Caveat; these notes are from my experiences, and also from my limited research. Rudely I will say that I am focused on me and while I’m mildly interested in other peoples experience I don’t pursue them greatly.

These notes will probably be incomplete and you may want to argue. Great. I can’t claim to have all the knowledge. Use the contact form if you want to discuss.

So, why would you put yourself through what can only be described as a punishment – because that is what it’s called?

There are many reasons – and don’t expect there to be just one that may apply to you. Or to me. We are allowed to have more than one reason, surely.

It is needed. This feels like a catch-all and a bit of a cop-out but I feel this within myself. I just need it. I can’t pin it down precisely, I can make all sorts of excuses and suggestions -but- at the end of the day, I need it. Simple.

The role play – the private theater. It draws me in, I love it, the visual of it all and yet it perplexes me. I’m called. I can’t resist. There are contradictions in this but my need for it trumps all.

This is strong for me. The leather clad dominatrix makes me hold my hand out then gives me a strapping. She tells me how I deserve a belting and then a caning for misbehaving. This gets into my mind and regresses me.

So that speaks to a mental out of body experience, an easape from the real world and into a place where my fetish and kinks rule.

Relinquish control. This is also a super strong incentive and something I do feel. To give control to someone else, to do as you are told releases you from having to be in charge. It gives you a rest, a respite from being responsible. If you have a high power job and under constant stress, not able to get relief from that stress, giving control to another is a huge thing. If at the same time you are punished, that drags you away from reality even more and fills you full of the peace from submission.

In some ways, this is just like a holiday. On holiday you are not responsible for anything or anyone – other than have a good time. Being dragged away from reality by heavy corporal punishment can feel just the same to me

A means to escape. This is a lot like the previous, Relinquish Control.

The pain from the punishment can be so strong that nothing else exists. You cannot be thinking about anything else, anyone else, anywhere else. It is all consuming. As the punishment proceeds you are transported out of this world, your old worries and cares left behind.

I have said ‘you can’t think of anything else when you are getting a hard caning’ and it is absolutely true.

And as for hand tawsing, that really focuses the mind as you watch Mistress raise the tawse over a shoulder then bring it down to make the palm and fingers explode in sting. To absorb that pain, to takle it in, to watch the Mistress really is a form of escape for me.

Eroticism & fetish. There is a strong element of this in my sessions. I adore the Mistress to be in fetish as she delivers heavy corporal. The whole thing seems to work so well together.

A spanking brings heat to the butt and it can absolutely excite. This is a common pre sex passtime. The warmth in the butt gets in, deeply, and becomes erotic. Also, to be bent over someone’s knees as they heat your butt, to know they care enough to spank you and then know there is sex to follow is delicious.

Re-connecting, reliving a previous experience. This is possibly common. Mistresses have told me of clients who visit to re-live their time of receiving corporal punishment at school or in other settings. They find it takes them back in time, brings them a form of security and relief from the here and now.

Just for the pain. For me the pain is a small thing. It is the transport, the means to be sent into another mind space. To focus on the pain is wrong for me.

I can however absolutely understand if pain is your thing – as corporal punishment can certainly deliver that.

There is of course the contradiction here for the person not into the whole scene. For them it is all about pain. For me it is just one aspect.

To focus the mind. This is a sort of a repeat. When under corporal punishment there is nothing else, no where else in your mind. You wait, you watch, you see the punishment being delivered then the shock of it makes you focus on the moment.

Nothing else matters. You are there and there only, your mind is empty of everything but the moment. That focuses the mind admirably well.

A need to atone. I don’t feel this myself – but I can well understand. I have heard of cases where it happend. There can be an internal dialog happening ‘I shouldn’t have done that, I need to be punished.’

If this becomes strong, it can be a sticking point in letting go of something. The pain, the endorphins, the whole experience leaves these thoughts behind.

Depression and other mental issues. There have been studies and even a clinical practice devoted to delivering corporal punishmenht to aid recovery from mental issues such as depression and addiction.

For myself I have suffered depression and I know that after corporal punishment I feel better. I have been taken away from that destructive mentality for a time, I have become someone else who is not depressed. I feel however (as a lay person) that the benefit may be transitory. You would be better off treating the cause of the depression professionally.

How Does a Corporal Session Proceed?

Again – this is totally up to the participants. There are typical scenarios and there are some other options. Here is my experience.

At first there is the pre-session discussion where the mistress and the client discuss what is to happen.

Typically in a corporal session lighter impements are used first, usually with lighter strokes. This warms up the skin and makes the body accept punishment more easily. This is called the warm up and is probably the most common thing in these kinds of sessions.

The warmup can be challenging. It can lift me onto my toes with firmer strokes and make me wonder if I’ve made a mistake, and ask myself how can I take this?

For me the warmup is with belts delivered probably at a light to medium intensity. I have a few the mistress uses and I find this delicious. Challenging, but delicious.

For hand strapping a lighter more supple strap is used.

As the session proceeds the force implements may change and the force used may increase till it is significant. For example, a belt can be made to really crack down hard in mid-session and the sensation can be quite sharp. Then a heavy warse is used to the butt, hard, and that really stings.

A common technique used to prolong the corporal is to give a lighter implement, for example a wider belt, then give a more harsh implement such as a prison strap, then a lighter implement again in turn. This lets the body recover and take more.

At the end of the session, the most harsh implments are usually used. This is often the cane. The cane when delivered hard really gets in, it overwhelmes any previous discipline and you feel it deeply. Given hard it feels like it cuts and sometimes I have had split skin and a little blood. But over all, a sound caning at the end really does finish a session off well.

I find that a session without a caning at the end is just not right – it has not finished properly even if the previous corporal has totally drained and defeated me.

Cold caning and cold prison strapping I have found to be the ultimate challenge. These are given at the start of the session, hard, and without any prior warmup. Because of this absence of warmup the cane and prison strap really do challenge.

Normally at the end of session the prison strap and cane feel painful. The prison strap opens up a band of hot sting and is painful. The cane has a narrow band of pain and sting that cuts deeper.

A cold caning and prison strapping to the butt makes it feel like it’s exploding, the head comes back, the eyes go back, the mouth opens in an “OOHH” and the body tenses as the pain overwhelmes.

Is It Hard-core? How Full on?

I was asked once if the whole corporal punishment thing is just play acting?

The answer is of course it can be whatever you want.

It is totally up to you and the mistress. And this is all part of the reason for choosing a professional wisely.

It can be total play acting with the most mild of sensation that doesn’t leave a mark but titillates.

Likewise it can be totally play acting and really quite severe leaving welts for at least a week, bleeding marks covering an area, black and purple bruising that looks and is intense.

Again – the severity of the corporal punishment is agreed upon before the session starts. It can be as little or as much as you want. You can change during the session using gestures and the mistress can gauge your reaction and cater to suit your instructions.

One of the more hard-core forms I find is the ‘cold caning’ and ‘cold prison strapping’ type session. This is where an implement is used really quite hard at the start of a session and it hurts a whole lot more that way. When there is a warm up with lighter implements over a period of time it is easier to take a harder punishment later.

To put it into context, a heavy session leaves my butt deeply welted, sometimes bleeding, and the bruises and welts can take a week to heal.

Masochism and Corporal Punishment

These seem so obviously linked that it sounds impossible to be not labelled as a masochist if corporal punishment happens in a session.

Yet I feel a significant distinction.

I only seek corporal in a session. Nowhere else. I loathe pain in so many scenarios just the same as most people. But put me in a dungeon with a leather clad dominatrix and it all changed.

So maybe it should be called  contextual masochism.

I hate labels. They are so one dimensional.

How Often Do You Get Corporal?

For me, once a month is about right and that is for reasonably heavy corporal punishment.

I recently went 13 months as a result of some issues, and I found that too long. Much too long. I found myself distracted by the need for more.

What Is The Mistress/Slave Interaction Like?

There should be only one answer to this – it is whatever you want.

A good BDSM mistress will craft a session to suit you based on the pre-session discussion. Pure and simple. If you want “this” then you will probaly get it, and same if you want “that” – whatever it is, you need to talk it through and come to an agreement.

If you want specifics then there are a plenty of options. It is up to you! Here are just a few….

A strict and stern dominatrix punishing a slave. I’ve had many of these.

The silent treatment, just being punished.

A telling off, ‘you need a good belting for what you’ve done‘ and then delivering. A favorite!

‘I’m going to enjoy strapping/caning/tawsing you with this’ then the implement is fetched, shown teased with and then used. Another absolute favorite.

A school mistress can discipline an unruly student.

A mom can punish a naughty son or daughter.

A strict governess can punish the wayward student.

— and so the list goes on —

How Will The Mistress sound? Bzzt, sorry, you need to read the above! Ask, discuss, and mistress will work with you on this to get what you want.

Are Mistresses/ Dominatrixes Sadists?

Strangely enough, I don’t know!

Some love delivering corporal punishment and often the cane is their preferred weapon of choice. This then feels like the answer is ‘yes’ – but I have reservations.

In my 5 years+ of having sessions I’ve not felt that mistresses are sadists.

I think it is much more accurate to say they are professionals, catering the session to suit the client.

Has a Mistress Ever Gone Too Far?

This is a defintion and labelling thing. For me the answer is ‘No’ as I like heavy corporal and going too far with that is almost by definition impossible.

But that is a poor answer.

The real answer is that a good mistress will know if the intensity is getting too much. Even when gagged, the way corporal punishment is felt will be obvious and the mistress will adjust to suit the slave.

Also, for a first session is can be really difficult for a mistress to know what is truly wanted. Sure the pre-session discussion should have specifics and some guidelines but as the reality of the session happens this can be totally wrong or different.

How can a newbie know what heavy corpooral is like? Likewise can a newbie wanting light corporal suddenly find it is not enough?

In my first session I found I needed more than the mistress was giving. I had to ask her to give me another caning as I felt it was not enough. I just loved it, it felt so right. I think the mistress was a little reluctant as I’d marked up so badly – after all it was my first ever session.

In the sessions I now have, the mistress looks at my reaction. When she uses the prison strap, for example, if I don’t lift onto my toes, shake and jump from the stroke, she knows to go harder because mistress knows me. And if that doesn’t make me react she gives them quicker too.

So how you react in a session is a signal to mistress. She will be watching. When I push my butt out to her, to the implement, she knows I’m inviting more, and harder. When I lift onto my toes and retreat from her, shake, my head goes back, she knows she got in and will give me just a few more to make it sink in as she knows I need that.

So of course all that is totally subjective. It works for me. If you have a session with corporal punishment the pre-session discussion is critical.

Endure, Accept, Challenge

These are terms that come to mind in my corporal sessions.

The mistress delivers corporal punishment and I feel I need to endure it.

Then in enduring that punishment, that pain, I accept it. I take it in. It suffuses, transports, shifts my perceptions. The pain I endure lifts me out of the here and now.

Accepting the pain makes it almost irrelevant. It just is. It doesn’t have stigma or anything other than the experience.

I’m getting tired ot talking about pain all the time. It feels like a focus, like the be-all and end-all of the session. The reality for me is that it is nothing, and all, and a transport and a mechanism. It is contradictory and difficult. It is annoying to try to define. Sitting here, now, I don’t feel any pain – what was it like? Did it really do that? Am I sure?

The challenge for me is then to endure and accept despite the actual pain. I feel that challenge. I don’t want to give in. I don’t want to show a reaction. How much can mistress give before she defeats me? How much before I show a reaction?

The challenge for mistress is to know how much to give, which implement to use and when. She delivers, she watches, she uses her knowledge of the client to deliver more or less.

I know I challenge mistress. I try to endure, to not show the effect of something till it gets through to me. She gives me a stroke of the prison strap, it stings and burns, but not too much so I push my butt back to her, I invite more and harder. Then she delivers a harder stroke and many more in a short time. Then the rapidly increasing pain breaks down my barriers. At that point I am consumed.

Does The Body Get Used To It?

There are 2 ways this question applies, and both are ‘Yes’

Firstly – in a session the lighter strokes of the warm up are felt quite deeply. They sting, they thud, they lift me onto my toes and I find them challenging.

As the warm up proceeds, as the session proceeds, the strokes are felt less.

So as the session proceeds, other implements are used and the force is increased to make me continue to feel it, to react.

Also as you have more sessions the body reacts differently. In my first session I marked up dramatically from a light to medium session. The marks were huge. More recent sessions have had fewer marks.

Over the years I feel I have built up a resistance such that mistress needs to apply with a lot more force to get the same reaction.

Where To Now?

I have no idea other than I do know I will have more sessions. I feel myself changing.

I’m wanting to try different things in a session. New things.

I recently had a training session with an apprentice as well as my regular mistress. Mistress taught her to use my implements on me, demonstrated giving corporal punishment. It was new, it was different, it was kind of ok.

I usually have the strict and stern mistress just punishing a slave.She collects an implment, uses it, then moved onto the next. All very simple and straight forward.

For my last session mistress told me I needed a belting, a strapping, a hand tawsing then she collected the implement, showed me then used it. She took her time with the hand strapping, lifting and flopping the tawse onto my palms so I felt the leather as I watched mistress raise and lower it. It was extraordinarily delicious. She repeated time and again, prolonging the experience, then she gave me a hard stroke. That was brilliant!

It has been a few years since my last, I’m feeling like a cold prison strapping then a cold hard caning to start my next sesison off with.

Lets see if mistress has found this blog!

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Why Visit A Dominatrix

Why Visit A Dominatrix?

How many people do you know who have admitted to visiting a dominatrix?

Well you can add 1 to that – as I have done so regularly for 15 years now – and counting.

Here is my take on it all.

The First Time - The Balancing Act

The walk of 7 yards from the sidewalk to the front door was the longest journey of my life. It had taken over thirty years and much anguish to make.

The culmination of that walk, knocking on the front door then being greeted by a dominatrix remains one of the most exciting times of my life. It required me to leave behind many preconceived misconceptions and to accept that my inner needs were real. I had to come to terms with myself in a way I had never before considered.

Now, over 15 years later I am glad I made that walk. It released me from the worst of my inner turmoil, helping me on my life journey.

Are you considering indulging in a pro-dom BDSM session? Are you scared (I was) and yet excited (me too)? Then I totally sympathize.

For me it was a balancing act. For years I’d been keeping my needs at bay, barely, yet they were festering, growing, damaging. At the same time the fear and other issues with visiting a dominatrix were such that I just couldn’t do it. Gradually these emotions changed, re-balanced so that led up to my first session.

Here are some thoughts on my journey and so many other things along the way.

Dominatrix Or Mistress?

A ‘Mistress’ has the connotation of a sexual relationship outside a marriage. “The Other Woman” kind of thing.

A ‘Dominatrix’ has the whips and chains feeling to it, maybe a spiked collar and leather corset, a riding crop, some leather and fetish happening. Ohh, I’m feeling unsettled all of a sudden.

It may seem a strange distinction, but it was an issue for me. I saw a dominatrix. Not a Mistress. No sex was involved, and that kept the terms separate and comfortable in my mind. Now I see most service provisers call themselves ‘Mistress’ and indeed in-session they are called ‘Mistress’ as in ‘Yes Mistress’ and ‘No Mistress’ in response to a question.

I’ll use these terms interchangeably here, AND I need to make the point that in my experience domintrixes, professional mistresses, don’t offer sexual services with themselves.

Sure, they may bring in a sex worker, they may offer hand relief or allow self masturbation, but the mistresses I have seen are aloof and unattainable sexually.

You Get To Pick and Choose

It is an ugly thing to say ‘I used her‘ but at the heart of it, that is the way of it. I choose a mistress then have a BDSM session with her. I pay her. Same as I use my doctor and dentist and plumber. It is a professional relationship.

It is probably more polite to say ‘I session with her’ or ‘she sessioned me’ – and I should do that. My apologies!

We are so many of us superficial animals at heart. We make a value decision based on massively biased ideas and prejudices. Choosing a dominatrix is no different.

I know I do make some silly decisions. I generally look for an older woman, ideally taller and I am a little nervous of tattoos. Being honest can be politically incorrect – so should I lie? No.

I am nervous of younger women as, well, they can be close to the age of my daughter and that is wrong at so many levels. Also I’m concerned at their level of experience (and in this I have been wrong more often than not).

Do I see them a ‘sexy’ – and do I sexualize them? Yes and no! Of course there is no definitie answer for me. I can honestly say that of the 20 mistresses I have seen at this time, very few would I have wanted a relationship with and it is nothing to do with looks or deportment. It is all to do with chemistry, that spark, that feeling of connection. So yes, I do find the mistresses in general sexy and no in general I don’t fantasize about having sex with them. Does that makes sense?

Do I like them? This is easy and with very few exceptions I do like the mistresses I’ve seen. Usually I like them a lot. They work hard, they try hard, they are often very down to earth and caring people. Their role is to make a session work, to cater for the needs of their clients, to create successful and from that have more sessions. It is a very simple and professional relationship they have in the most part. By giving a label to a person, Mistress or Dominatrix, we try to classify into a category with few exceptions – and that really is wrong. There are so many types of dominatrix. But above all, they are people. It may be hard to remember that, but they go home at night and sometimes to familes and significant others.

Yes – I am prejudiced based on my upbringing. But that has changed over the years.

In choosing a mistress you can select someone you find appealing and for whatever reason that suits you. It is your choice.

And you can change! If the mistress doesn’t work out for whatever reason, then you can try another till you get the right person. If that sounds a bit mercenary, well it is. You are paying good money for a professional service.

So Why Visit A Mistress?

The reasons are many and in my mind, many of them may happen at the same time;

It’s on the bucket list. True. A mistress I saw said this of a session she’d had before me. WELL DONE.

I suggest, if it’s on the bucket list then there is some spark in there that’s calling. If the session was a good one then it will call all the more I am sure – that happened to me.

Do choose carefully!

Professional and experienced has summed up my experience with mistresses. Yes, there are many differences, some have not worked out but I share the blame in that.

You can be reasonably sure you will have a good outcome – with some caveats of course.

For my sessions I want corporal, bondage and fetish which is probably on the simple end of the session type. There are so many other types of session and mistresses really are extraordinarily capable of catering to a huge variety of needs. Just read the web pages of any mistress and you’ll get an appreciation for their capabilities and preferred types of session.

What happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon has been my experience. No matter what your thing is, it can be indulged safely and without judgement or concern that others will know.

Mistresses don’t gossip about clients. If you find one who does, I’d suggest you change because she will gossip about you and that feels very bad.

Some things are impossible to admit to – normally – but to a dominatrix it is easier. This has been my experience with my fetish,  corporal and bondage needs. Sure, I struggle to say what I’d like in a session but I can do it without fear of ridicule.

If yours are at the level where you cannot conceive of telling a significant other then a dominatirx, a professionbal mistress, may very well be ideal.

Acceptance of you and your needs follows on logically. This for me is a big thing.

No strings attached means that I go there, I indulge in my fantasy, my session, and that is that. I am happy to tell my wife about it and have a clean conscience as the session is conducted by a professional.

Surety of outcome is a factor. In all my sessions, heading into three figures in quantity, I can count very few that haven’t lived up to my expectation. In all cases where there was a problem there was an element of my fault in them.

That means something.

Safety is all. Some types of session have their own special dangers, so using a professional mistress is absolutely sensible.

And The Alternatives?

You have a few alternatives to using a professional dominatrix.

You might have a spouse interested and capable. Well done! Serioulsy, well done. The only problem is that his or her experience may be limited so their ability to make suggestions, trying new things, will be limited.

My experience is that a spouse cannot deliver the heavy corporal that I want. Her inability to understand the BDSM with respect to pain and corporal was so limited that it didn’t work.

In this case, and in an ideal world, how about you both visit a dominatrix and learn some tricks? This could be a fantastic way to open up about needs and gain skills and experience. I live in hope.

You may have a friend, a friend with BDSM benefits? Wow. Well done again. As with the spouse thing, it may be difficult to get the experience you want as a result of training etc. However, more power to you!

Letting my imagination run riot, taking that friend to a pro-dom BDSM session. learning new things, growing as a result would be an option? Well done you.

Social groups and clubs are another option. For me that is a problem due to proximity – but I can see the appeal.

Casual meetups and dating sites are now catering for the BDSM inclined. If I were not married I’d consider them but I’d feel nervous about skills and experience. It would be good to make a relationship based on full disclosure of BDSM and all the associated things I like. I’d be nervious as I wouldn’t be using a professional, skilled and trained.

A concern here is that BDSM is only one part of me, not the totality of me so finding someone who is a good fit all over is what I’d be looking for.

What Are The Negatives?

For me on my first visit I came away massively happy and wishing I’d done it sooner and also that I wanted it again. The session worked so well for me on so many levels. But I felt guilt. And I was annoyed I’d not done it sooner. Be prepared for some conflicting emotions.

If you choose a mistress who doesn’t work out, or that your fantasies are not what you think they are and the session doesn’t live up to your mental image- then that might be a problem.

But think about it. So what? You will have grown mentally, you will have engaged with someone and moved forward with your life.  Those are all good things. If you have been keeping something bottled up that has become an issue, then experienccing it can only help you move forward, re-define, grow.

I think there is a stigma involved with visiting a mistress. To see a dominatrix? Just say that out loud in the office? To a friend?To family? It doesn’t feel right to me – no way.

This is speaking from my own upbringing where such a thing would have been seen as deviate behavior. Nowdays, in the third millennium, we are happily and rapidly moving away from that.

For you I hope this stigma, guilt, shame -whatever- is not the case.

Relationships make it difficult. You must also look inside yourself and decide if you are cheating on a significant other. Are you? Are you denying another person the means to understand and connect with you?

Also you must consider if having a session is necessary for you. Do you become a better person, more able to cope, happier to be in a relationship with a regular session? I do. I need them.

For me this was aleviated by coming out to my wife. She and I discussed this at length and even experimented a little. She struggled to understand the no-sex thing in the sessions as that was her mind set speaking, and the pain thing. It was all too much. Now she makes a suggestion that I have a session when she sees I’m struggling.

There is a cost involved. It all depends on the type of session and length, but it can be significant. For me, it is significant but necessary and as mentioned, I am approaching 3 figures in sessions.

You must weigh up the cost versus the benefit, of course.

We are all different, these are some things to mull over then make a decision.

When It Doesn't Work Out?

I’ve bailed out of sessions and sessioned with a mistress only the once, a few times.

Generally the fault is mine. I’ve chosen poorly, communcated poorly or something went badly wrong in a session.

These have been few and far between. But the instructive thing is that I’ve moved on. No harm, no foul.

A central point is that mistresses are people. Don’t expect to click with them all. It just doesn’t happen. This is the same as other professional engagements in my life – some doctors I really have not liked and avoided. Don’t get me started on dentists!

Is Coming Out Necessary?

This is VASTLY subjective – so totally dependant on your circumstance and what you want in your BDSM sessions.

I really struggle to make a recommendation – and I think I shouldn’t.

Just remember, once said it can’t be unsaid. Sorry – totally obvious I know.

What I can say about myself may be instructive. You will be different I am quite sure.

Take anything from this you want – it is just a story about my life. DO NOT take it as a recommendation.

My own marriage was struggling and part of that was my BDSM needs had been festering, unrequited. This was a small aspect, but still a factor. I felt at that time I had little to lose – if full disclosure broke the marriage completely then it might as well do so because living a lie wasn’t working.

Some of the symptoms I experienced were panic attacks and depression. I’d never had them before, but wow, they were awful. These then fed into making my relationships suffer which fed back into the panic attacks.

So I revealed (almost) all and that took a lot of repetition and reassurance. It was difficult to say and get accepted that I could love someone as I did and also still have this need.

In my mind was the guilt that I’d not spoken of this previously. I’d courted then married and raised a family with someone who I’d not given full discloisure to. That was a breach of trust in my mind, but the fact was (and is) that it is such a deep thing within me that I really couldn’t for so many years.

Yes, there was a lot of guilt happening in there. We both had to get past this.

My wife and I then made an agreement; I would disclose when I had a session. I wouldn’t go sneaking off. It has worked out well for us and that was 15 years ago. She has supported me, made a cake for one mistress who was having a birthday party, and even suggests I have a session when it all peaks and the need is great. She doesn’t want to know details of my sessions, but does enjoy ‘meta data’ about the mistresses and some related topics.

Strangely enough (to me) I have seen psych counselors at various times since coming out about my BDSM needs and they have universally been supportive.

Will It Break My Marriage?

My experience says not.

AND with that I suggest you read the previous section. I came out to my wife, I discussed it all and we have an agreement. Sex is not involved in my sessions and I am not interested in that. I love my wife and won’t cheat on her that way.

Open, honest and upfront has worked for me, for us.

For you? I have no idea. Maybe you can’t have sex with your significant other for some reason and having a sex based BDSM session fixes that. Great – it hasn’t broken the marriage.

If you haven’t told your significant other and have sessions, and sex, then I forsee easily foreseen problems. This is for you to think about.

Where To Now?

It’s up to you of course.

I suggest caution. Once done, once said, it is all out there. You can’t go back. If you are like me then you don’t have a choice.

Choose wisely. Think. Take your time. If necessary, seek advice. That worked for me.

For me I visited a dominatrix when I was in a personal relationship crisis and it helped. A lot. I should have done it much earlier. I was able to get past some hurdles, past some stumbling blocks in my life and it was a life changing experience.

Since then I have had semi-regular sessions and it has helped me in a number of ways. Sure, there are issues in there, problems to get past, but for me it works well.

For me, my BDSM sesisons have been therapy. Pure and simple. Professionally administered therapy by caring professionals.

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Robyns Session

Robyns BDSM Needs

She didn’t have many female clients but among that small number, Robyn was stand-out unique in her need for heavy corporal punishment and the way she reacted. She did like Robyn even with her odd ways.

Robyn made her genuinely smile and that was rare enough. It was just that Robyn was more like a man than a woman in her need for the special services that she provided and also, well, she was a nice person. Plus, and never to be underestimated, Robyn was brutally honest about herself and life in general.

Another point was that she could see herself in Robyn, all too easily. She could see the need for escape, the unhappiness in her life and how she felt trapped in the role she was in. If she wasn’t a dominatrix, she knew she could all too easily become a Robyn, at the mercy of her workplace.

Robyn needed regular fairly heavy corporal punishment with a happy ending to help her keep both feet anywhere near the ground, mentally speaking. Robyn needed a deep and engrossing trip into sub-space with all the trimmings. She wasn’t precious about anything which was refreshing. Robyn accepted she had needs then just booked a session to see to them.

Where Robyn worked was as far from precious as it was possible to get making Robyn accepting of most things, much more so than most men.

Robyn’s job as the personal assistant to a major construction industry senior executive pushed her ability to deal with stress to the limit. It was a job she was good at but the problem was that her boss was a pig, ignorantly rude and unpleasant to work for. Robyn managed to stay with the job by being as capable as she could and ignoring his rudeness but it came at a cost. Being without qualifications, she needed the job as it paid well. The problem was that she became so stressed she needed the out of body screaming release, quite literally. She needed something to help her escape for a short while and leave her spent but refreshed. She needed to detox herself.

Robyn was tall, attractive and probably in her mid thirties with a great body. She said she kept in shape running errands, quite literally running, and the only thing she ate during the day was fruit on the go as that was all she had time for. Her life was one of rush, stress, and trying to stay sane and pleasant in a male-pig dominated world. She felt for Robyn.

In her own life, she’d suffered a touch of that in her chosen career as a physicist. With her looks she’d had to put up with more than the occasional comment and looks that were decidedly lascivious. Shutting them down in such a way that she became a respected member of the community and accepted for her merit was never easy. For Robyn this was probably impossible.

She’d asked Robyn why she stayed with the company, why not get another job with someone pleasant. The answer had been that she didn’t have any qualifications and the pay was really good. “It’s like a shit sandwich Mistress Tish. The more bread I get, the less the shit tastes bad I suppose.”

She’d laughed with Robyn at that but it had still upset her. Her boss sounded like he needed a regular and hard caning and most definitely some tail end action with her biggest strap-on to make him appreciate women more. Definitely no happy ending for him. He needed the really big strap-on, the one with ridges and bumps that would make his eyes pop and if his mouth went open, then Angel could do a spit roast from the front. That would help him immeasurably. She’d probably get a thank you from his wife who’d book him in for regular sessions. His behaviour to women was appalling, a nice deep and hard spit roast or at least a pegging from her strap-on could only improve his attitude. And there would not be any happy ending for him. No way. He could beg his wife for that and that would do them both a world of good.

The other thing that surprised her was that Robyn was single. She’d been single for a while as she struggled to find someone, what with her super busy schedule and she was nervous of telling anyone about her sessions. “How can they accept me Mistress Tish? I really like these sessions. I told a couple of boyfriends and they couldn’t handle it. Sure they liked to fuck me and all, but the session thing was too much.”

That had left her sad and disappointed. Robyn couldn’t survive without the sessions and at the same time she didn’t have an intimate partner to help her and give her affection and support. She felt the similarity with herself all the more.

She turned her mind to her male clients who were single. Should she play matchmaker? Now that was a thought, and she had two single male clients in mind.

A Naked Robyn Kneels

Stepping forcefully making the clack of her heels echo along the corridor, she put her hand down on the door handle to the dungeon making it rattle. She did this for every client. Every client would have their heart beating faster, their respiration peaking as they heard Mistress approach. It was her goal to ramp their inner fantasies up, to excite them, the make the anticipation delicious.

She rattled the door handle once, a second time after a few seconds then entered. Clacking her heels on the floor all the while, she knew this time, right now was what Robyn had been looking forward to since her last session.

Entering the dungeon she found Robyn nude and kneeling on the floor, a trace of moisture from her shower evident. Robyn knelt with the back of her hands on the back of her knees just like the male slaves.

She circled Robyn, running her finger across her back and shoulders feeling the slight dampness. Words were not required. Stopping in front of Robyn she put the finger on Robyn’s forehead, showing ownership. Mistress owned slave, that was the message. She would toy with her slave however she pleased. Just by touching, showing ownership, she made Robyn know Mistress had entered and was in charge.

She stood like that for a moment letting Robyn savour the time. Every moment in the dungeon was something Robyn would think back on for days and possibly months and years to come. Accident and chance should not happen in the dungeon. Mistress owned slave and owned time. She could take her time.

After a moment of touching the slave with her finger she went to the wall of gear.

Strapping the wide leather collar round Robyn’s neck started it all off. She knew from personal experience that a collar round the neck was such a powerful thing to feel when you were a slave. It was an undeniable first step into sub-space, the vulnerability of the soft neck meeting the leather collar triggered a powerful emotion. The wide firmly buckled collar said ‘slave’ like few other things.

Robyn was now just a slave. Mistress’s slave.

Then, cranking the winch, she lowered the suspension bar to just above Robyn’s head. Taking wide leather cuffs she quickly strapped them round Robyn’s wrists then lifted and clipped them to the suspension bar so now slave was kneeling with her wrists buckled to the bar above her head, making Robyn expose her breasts, making Robyn even more subservient. Back at the winch she wound the handle lifting Robyn onto her feet, then cranked it a bit more till Robyn was upright.

Now Robyn was on full display, all her body available and exposed, open to Mistress to do with as she wished.

For all of Robyns life, her natural desire to cover up, to be feminine yet demure, to be sexy yet stylish, all those instincts had now been breached. And here in the dungeon it was exciting. She was naked and on display.

She had a moment of thought, should she get another slave in here with Robyn? How would Robyn react to having a session with an audience? Would it push her? Would she be even more excited?

But in her sessions Robyn was different. Unlike most of her clients, Robyn didn’t take hand strapping.

On Robyn’s first session she’d strapped her hands with the end of the belt. Giving her three medium strokes to each and Robyn hadn’t taken to it. She’d looked uncomfortable, screamed a lot, been unable to present her hand for the strap properly, and was clearly not needing the experience. She’d said later she found it embarrassing, something she didn’t need that pushed all the wrong buttons. Robyn didn’t need embarrassment or humiliation or to fixate on Mistress, she needed mental release, total cathartic mental release helped along by plenty of corporal. Maybe that would suggest having an audience might not work with Robyn.

Then again, hand strapping was a voluntary activity, the Mistress strapped the hand that was offered up to the leather. Being in bondage was different, and being in bondage unable to change anything and with an audience might work? It was a question.

There was another big difference to most of her male clients. Being a woman Robyn didn’t fixate on the leather Mistress standing in front of her with the strap in her hand the same way the males did. More’s the pity, it made her task more difficult.

Same as when she strapped the cuffs and collar onto Robyn, she did it quickly and efficiently. Robyn needed to be in bondage quickly, whereas the males enjoyed her taking her time. Everything about Robyn was quick and efficient, up front and immediate.

She took the ankle spreader from the corner of the room then strapped that between Robyn’s ankles holding her legs wide apart, her sex on prominent display. A quick look, not that she was a pussy admirer, told her that Robyn was quite excited. Her little clitty was peeking out of the curls and there was a definite puffiness to the whole area and a certain scent as well. Back at the winch, just one more turn got Robyn presented perfectly, standing tall, open, available and unable to evade what was coming. She was in a full vertical spread eagle, her arms and legs wide open and bound tightly.

Robyn was as exposed as she had ever been. Now all the boundaries for her had been crashed down.

She resisted the temptation to grope the bound woman, to let her hands rove over the breasts and down lower. She thought of running her hands up and down the torso and then fondling and fingering the exposed and open crutch till slave was gasping in her need. Then deny slave, edge her, make her beg for release.

She wasn’t a lesbian but Robyn she counted as a fun partner, an almost friend in the dungeon who she could be tempted to play with. That was a fine distraction and something she could enjoy, but she knew it would happen later with someone else. After all, whatever happens in the dungeon stays in the dungeon.

Robyn would now have that slave’s contradiction of not wanting the heavy corporal yet at the same time desperately needing it. She was scared of the pain, she was longing for the experience and being taken to where she needed to be. She knew what as coming, she was dreading it, yet she was excited at the prospect.

And she could see Robyn was as excited as she could get, one look at her little clit told that story. Robyn would be thinking back to all the other sessions and how they went.

She moved behind Robyn then slowly ran a hand down Robyn’s spine. She moved a finger across Robyn’s hips from side to side then down over her butt, cupping it, feeling it. Mistress owned slave, that was what she was saying to the slave. She could do as she wished.

Robyn jumped slightly, shook slightly and tested her bondage and the fngers walked over her.

Robyn was descending into sub-space.

She watched as Robyn moved her head from side to side, feeling the collar strapped round her neck, feeling how the leather restricted movement and kept her aware of her situation. She could see Robyn’s front in the mirror, her breasts wobbling slightly as she pulled on her wrists and probably on her ankles against the spreader bars. Robyn was testing the bondage, feeling it, taking it into her innermost self.

As she watched, she saw Robyn change, morph, move into a different personality. Robyn was entering sub space, fully becoming the slave.

“The belt first,” she said quietly into the silence as she stood in front of Robyn.

Strapping It All Out

She took off her wide leather belt and wrapped it round her fist till just a foot long strap was hanging free. Pulling on the end of it, tightening it up, she extended that to just under a foot and a half, the perfect length.

This was part of the theatre for Robyn, the visage of the Mistress preparing for the discipline, her the slave in bondage. This was just the same as for her male clients. Anticipation was king.

Putting the end of the belt over her shoulder, keeping it there for a second as Robyn focused on it, she brought it around in a lazy forehand round-house stroke strapping it across Robyn’s left breast giving it a crisp cracking blow.

The breast wobbled and Robyn shook. She jumped and gasped, her eyes half closed as she was well into the dream already. But this pushed her hard. Robyn was free falling into sub space, only the belt, the Mistress and her bondage intruding. And now the sting of the strapping added and pushed, the horror of having her breasts strapped taking her hard.

Strapping her breasts was something Robyn had asked about and tried. On her first session she’d admitted it had been a high point. The Mistress strapping her there was something so alien, so impossible, so femininely impossible that it became mandatory in all the sessions she’d had.

Her instant reaction meant she’d obviously been looking forward to this, thinking about it, wanting it.

“Yahhh. YOU fucking BASTARD!” screamed Robyn at the top of her lungs, penetrating out through the door and echoing into the corridor beyond.

The transformation was instant and complete and shocking. The first time this happened in a session she’d been quite astounded, thinking Robyn was cursing Mistress out but it became clear quickly.

Not that she would have been surprised if Robyn had cussed her. A strap across the breasts was unbelievable at every level. Who would apply the end of a belt to a woman’s breasts? What monster would do that? The answer of course was that slave must take what Mistress gave. It gave the slave a mighty hard push into sub space.

Running the end of the belt through her left hand to steady it and to help her aim, she gave Robyn’s right breast a healthy back hand stroke of the belt. The crack of the leather on the breast made the breast wobble and the slave convulse in her bondage. Robyn screamed out, “Yaagghhh, you’re such a bastard Jeremy, I’ll fucking kill you, you sick bastard.”

She gave Robyn another forehand then a backhand stroke of the end of the belt to Robyn’s breasts and each time Robyn swore at Jeremy calling him every name under the sun.

With a loud ‘crack’, then crack’ then ‘crack,’ then ‘crack,’ the belt end lashed Robyn’s breasts and each stroke brought profanity aimed at Jeremy. Jeremy was cast into hell. Jeremy was castrated with his balls sewn into his mouth. Jeremy was impaled on a red hot poker shoved up his ass. Jeremy had a live rat sewn into his mouth. Then he had a dead rat sewn into his mouth. Then he was drowned slowly in a bucket of faeces she also pissed in as he drowned.

Each crack of the belt to Robyn’s breasts brought a new curse, one more from what must be a list of curses she was working through. She could imagine Robyn working through these under breath during the day at work.

She stepped to the side, extended the belt by unwrapping her fist one turn and held the far end with her left hand to keep the belt straight. Taking careful aim she brought it round over both breasts at the same time. Robyn bucked in the bondage and screamed out, “You prick Jeremy, I’ll shove rusty barbed wire up your asshole then pull it out slowly.”

She strapped Robyn across both her breasts again. Robyn screamed, “Jeremy you pig I’ll stake you face down naked in a gay bar.”

She strapped Robyn again, the belt cracking over both nipples and again Jeremy was cussed; “Jeremy I’ll strangle you with your intestines,” Robyn screamed.

She strapped Robyn again, “Yagghh, I’ll stake you down, push ants up your ass and get a randy aardvark to pull them out then fuck you senseless.”

Some of Robyn’s curses showed an inventive streak and they were certainly rehearsed, no one could think of them off the cuff like that. Maybe Robyn in her lunch five minutes added to the list and ran through them time and again during the day?

She gave Robyn a half dozen careful strokes of the belt over her nipples. They weren’t all that hard, but they would have stung. The whole concept of strapping a woman’s breasts was so out of body and something Robyn would be rebelling at. No doubt it would be pushing her head into a different space.

Each stroke of the belt brought forth profanity in the inventive cursing of Jeremy, and even his shadow was cursed, calling down a suppurating pox on it and its owner.

Then she stood in front of but slightly to one side of Robyn. Robyn was looking spaced out, her eyes half closed but she was watching the mistress in front of her with the belt in her hands. Holding the belt near the buckle in front of Robyn’s face with the strap hanging down she flicked her hand in the air bringing the end of the belt up, then she swung it over and around to swing it up and make it crack right between Robyn’s legs. The end of the belt struck the slave in bondage right over her little bush and its swollen inhabitants.

The effect was instant. Robyn jumped. The belt to the crutch stinging her deeply. She screamed out even louder as her body shook, giving a long wailing scream. Being strapped across her sex was painful but Robyn had admitted on other sessions that it worked so well, pushed her deeper, released her from any form of control, from the here and now. Hence it was necessary. It extended the slave. It pushed her deeper. This is what she came for.

Seconds later Robyn composed herself and the profanity began again but this time less structured. She knew when Robyn lost coherence in her swearing she was getting deeper into her release, deeper into sub space as all semblance of control was lost.

She gave Robyn a second stroke of the belt, windmilling it up and over then around and back up onto her sex making the leather crack and Robyn scream again louder and longer. Then, “Pig. Bastard. Asshole. Skunk. Wart. Bastard. Pig,” flew out of Robyn’s mouth.

Robyn had lost the plot. She was off-script with all the exquisite tortures Jeremy was going to get and was now repeating herself. Excellent. The deeper she got, the less coherent she became and the better the release.

She’d lost the ability to remember the full and complete curses she had stacked up in her mind.

She wrapped her belt round her waist and buckled it then went to the equipment on the wall. She chose the softer flogger, its lashes made of suede making them ideal for Robyn’s front.

She stood to the other side of Robyn then with a backhand brought the flogger across both breasts again. “Peter you’re a slime ball and take it up the ass from Jeremy.”

This was less demanding than the belt between the legs, and a different feeling to the belt across the breasts.

Peter was reserved for the flogger and heavier cat. Jeremy the belt and wood handled strap. It was an odd division of corporal but Robyn had her ways and who was she to get in the way of a slave and her sub space? It worked for Robyn.

She cracked another stroke over Robyn’s nipples, “Yeouch, and you got scabs on your knees from swallowing him you chinless pervert,” Robyn screamed.

She gave Robyn a six of the best of the suede flogger across her nipples and each time Peter got cursed long and loud. She knew that Peter was the second in charge where Robyn worked and quite unpleasant and untrustworthy too. This whip being softer didn’t push Robyn quite so hard so the cursing was more coherent and again it felt like it was scripted.

She put the flogger back on the wall of gear then stepped in front of Robyn again. She took off her belt, held it up with the leather hanging down then brought it round in a nice cracking round house stroke between Robyn’s legs again.

Again she shook in her bondage and again there was a scream and again the cursing was incoherent. The belt to the pussy was too much for her carefully considered long lusted after and often rehearsed curses.

She walked behind Robyn then folded the belt in half. Winding up she strapped Robyn’s butt generating a loud shout then,”Yeeaahh, Jeremy you pig, you’re a bastard pig,” but she didn’t get further till another stroke of the doubled belt landed and another scream and another curse flew out of Robyn’s mouth.

These doubled over belt strokes were loud. Very loud. Some slaves loved the crisp loud crack of belt and strap on butt. She suspected Robyn was like that also.

She gave Robyn a quick dozen, then letting the end fall down and still gripping it near the buckle she brought it up between Robyn’s legs from behind, making the end of it wrap around onto her sex again. Again Robyn shook and the scream came from deep down and then just words flew out, mostly incoherent words mixed with four letter swear words and occasionally the name of one of her bosses mixed in with them.

She folded the belt in half again then gave Robyn another dozen of the best to her butt making them slower and harder. Robyn used the time between strokes to scream out insults and curse the company, her bosses, their clients and everyone remotely associated with them.

After that dozen she repeated the stroke between Robyn’s legs making her scream loudly and again curse incoherently.

How long could Robyn scream before she became hoarse? That was something she’d wondered in previous sessions, but Robyn had a surprising stamina when it came to screaming and cursing. Maybe any lover or partner would have some serious abuse if he or she upset Robyn and the way she screamed in orgasm might also be entertaining. The neighbours would be entertained for hours, probably call the police when the novelty wore off.

She stepped in front of Robyn, “You need a belt like this, something to remind you of your discipline,” she said as she buckled it round her waist. Robyn watched her through narrowed eyes, her head hanging down slightly, the discipline getting to her now.

She went to the wall of gear then returned with the heavy leather flogger. This was much firmer, much more severe than the soft suede one. She rubbed Robyn’s back and shoulders with it then standing close she brought it round across Robyn’s back making the tails wrap around onto her right breast. Robyn screamed incoherently. She repeated the stroke and then did it again. Stepping to the other side she repeated it making the tails wrap around onto Robyn’s left breast making her scream one long wail.

Stepping back she lashed Robyn’s back and shoulders hard. She made the strokes crack home and bring up bright red welts. She flogged Robyn hard, each stroke bringing a scream and a long wail of agony until the whole of her back and shoulders was a mass of red welts.

This was all punishment. All pain. Robyn was taking a proper flogging now. Not that many of her clients could take a flogging like this.

Adjusting her aim she gave Robyn six of the very best of this harsh whip across her butt, each stroke making Robyn lift onto her toes and shout out. Gone were the obscenities, the cursing, the cussing out of her boss and his slimy subordinate. Replacing it were shouts of pain and screams, screams of a woman released from the here and now. She was now getting through to Robyn, regressing the woman past that need to curse and insult. Robyn was now fully into sub space.

Then after that, she shifted aim and lashed slave’s thighs one at a time. Each stroke bringing the soft flesh a new collection of angry welts, matched only by the screams of pain from the slave as she endured the endless lashing.

Strapping With Benefits - Angel Time

She stopped for a moment, and that was the cue. Robyn had been so vocal and she was a good half hour into the session, so now the sudden silence was almost deafening. The sound of leather on woman flesh was absent as were Robyn’s vocal responses.

It didn’t take long, and there was no warning as the full service sub didn’t wear shoes like her own. The door to the dungeon opened and there was Angel standing in all her glory, buck naked but for a wide collar and the strap-on at the front hanging down and looking menacing. The image designed to captivate, the leather of the collar, the sultry hot woman and the big black dick leaving nothing to the imagination.

Angel ran a hand over the strap on, lifted the end of the large rubber cock as she moved forward. She rubbed it, wanked it as she moved forward till she was almost touching, face to face with the bound woman in suspension. If she had been a man it would have been entirely believable, the man pleasuring himself as he prepared to penetrate the woman.

This was a time when severity was not required, but the discipline must continue. Pushing Robyn hard in sub space and overloading her senses was the name of the game. Pleasure came at a cost, and the cost for her pleasure was more corporal. In truth, the price would only act to increase the pleasure, to prolong it, to take the slave deeper and deeper into her sub space and shake her foundation leaving nothing behind.

She put the heavy leather whip back on the wall of gear then moved in front of Robyn so she could see the slave and her reaction. The time for the whip was over, it had done its work quite nicely. It had striped Robyn all over her back and shoulders and down over her butt and thighs.

She knew how that felt, the back and shoulders aching and the butt and thighs with the hot sting that only the harsh leather lashes of the whip brought up. For her own sessions when she was under the lash she dreaded that whip, knowing how harsh it was. It was absolutely ideal to punish with, to push the slave.

Now it was time to return to the old favourite, something that brought up heat along with the visual and of course and most essential, the red hot sting. It was the heat that made it all worthwhile, got the blood pumping.

Taking her time, she ran her hands down over her breasts then onto her hips, all the while watching Robyn. Robyn was looking at Angel, and then at herself, alternating. She was looking at each of them wondering what was going to happen next. But Robyn knew. This happened every session with minor variations, the variations just enough to make it interesting.

Slowly, she ran her hands round the belt at her waist, caressing the leather till at last she unbuckled it. She pulled the belt from around her waist and now she had Robyn’s total attention. Angel standing in front of her with strap-on was relegated to second place compared to Mistress and belt. The punishing belt. But that wouldn’t last long.

She slowly folded the belt in half making it ideal for a strapping, for a belting, then she moved behind and to the side of Robyn. Taking her time she flicked the belt up to tap Robyn on the bottom. She slapped the belt across the bottom gently. Robyn knew what was coming. This was the precursor. She gave a second, then a third light strike of the belt to the waiting butt. She knew Robyn would be looking at Angel, and lusting, feeling the belt. The slaps of the belt would be sending her high, the look of the naked gorgeous Angel with the big black rubber dick a total turn on.

Then she wound up and brought the belt in a hissing blur to crack across Robyn’s bottom.

The stroke cracked down loudly, slamming onto the waiting cheeps right on top of all the welts from the hard whipping. By itself it was a hard stroke. On top of what Robyn had already received it was devastating. It was engrossing, totally capturing the slave into its sting.

Robyn screamed again, her head going back a little as she stared at the roof in the moment of deep pain, of sting.

Angel took that moment to grip the strap on cock and with a half step forward, brought it up firmly and into Robyn, making the sharp squeal from the belt turn into a deep throat guttural drawn out gasp that had a touch of pain in it. Now it was a total out of body sexual release for the slave. The rubber dick, the welted back and shoulders and thighs, the strapped bum drove Robyn into a head space where nothing else mattered, nothing else existed. Robyn was immersed.

It was sensory overload. And it got stronger.

Angel wrapped her arms around Robyn and pulled her body against her, hard, making the large rubber cock fill the woman in bondage. The feeling of the naked woman against her was overwhelming when the penetration was factored in. It was the embodiment of so many of her fantasies.

Robyn reacted strongly to the dual sensations, quivering, bucking against Angel and the cock. There was only one response to this display of lust, she strapped her belt hard against the well striped bottom. Robyn bucked against Angel, her hips moving of their own free will forward and back, up and down, side to side in the dual sensations from the belt and cock.

Robyn wasn’t silent either. She screamed out “Yahh,” then after a few hip motions, “YES OH YES,” as the cock up her front did its work.

That was her signal. She gave Robyn a six of the best strapping, laying the strokes on at ten second intervals. Each made Robyn gasp, cry out, then in increasing volume scream under the double assault.

Angel was not idle either. She was pushing against Robyn, her hips moving back and forwards keeping that big fat rubber cock moving inside Robyn, sending her higher and higher.

The noise in the dungeon was peaking after a few seconds. The folded belt made a good loud crack, and the sound of Robyn taking the cock as Angel fucked her was loud and primal. There were growls, screams, gasps, all the sounds of a woman in thrall.

It wasn’t long in coming. Robyn lived up to her vocal reputation letting out a loud shriek as the climax engulfed her. She shuddered against Angel, her butt cheeks quivering as she clenched her vaginal and pelvic floor muscles onto the rubber cock. The shriek went on and on so now with the climax in full swing, she strapped the butt cheeks more gently trying to keep time with the spasms to make Robyn prolong the climax.

Climax. Belt. Cock thrust. Bondage. Scream. It repeated time and again. Her body hot from all whipping, Robyn screamed louder and louder. The sensations conspired to take Robyn higher and higher, deeper and deeper.

When it was finally over Angel stood still with her arms wrapped around Robyn, her head beside the totally spent woman’s head as Robyn came down from the mountain of climax.

Lock and Leave with Benefits

Putting her belt back on she waited for just a minute then cranked the suspension winch letting Robyn’s arms down. Releasing her wrists from the cuffs, Robyn wrapped her arms around Angel and stood still with her eyes closed holding Angel close. No doubt the feeling of naked woman against her was lovely and the large rubber cock would still be there. They didn’t go down after a come.

It was now time for the next phase. She tapped Angel on the shoulder.

Angel was ready. The two of them worked to get Robyn onto the leather covered bondage bench. Robyn’s wrists still had the wide leather cuffs on them which made it easy. They brought the wrists behind her bottom then using a clip fastened them together. A few seconds later Angel wrapped a strap around Robyn’s ankles and cinched it up tight.

The bondage bench had straps all down its length. Lifting one she bound Robyn to the bench at the waist. Then another slightly up her back, then a third across her shoulders bound Robyn firmly to the bench.

Angel meanwhile got another strap and pulling Robyn’s heels up and back, ran the strap between the ankle-strap and Robyn’s wrists. Pulling on it, Robyn was quickly in a tight hogtie strapped to the bench.

Only one more thing remained. She got a ball gag from the wall of gear and stuffed it into Robyn’s mouth and buckled it firmly. Robyn was immobile and silenced.

She looked at Angel and nodded, Angel nodded back. Turning off the light in the dungeon they left Robyn strapped down in the dark as they exited.

It was time to regress Robyn.

She had a long slow cappuccino in the staff common room with a biscuit while Robyn spent a dreamy post orgasmic half hour strapped up tight in bondage in the dark by herself.

After the massive orgasm, the well whipped back, shoulders and rump, being strapped down in a tight hogtie with ball gag, Robyn would be well and truly immersed in subspace.

Every time she moved she would feel the straps holding her firmly against the bench and also bent in the hogtie. Any sound she made would be swallowed by the rubber ball strapped in her mouth and in the darkened room, the only sensory input would be the feeling from the bondage, from all the corporal and the hard fucking courtesy of Angel and her strap-on. And the scent of leather.

Time was up. It was time for Robyn to get her finale.

For this part, Robyn dressed in her rubber catsuit, black and fetish looking and of course the strap-on remained, the straps and the rubber cock adding nicely to the look.

She and Angel walked into the dungeon. The lights were on a dimmer switch so she turned it to minimum before turning them on. The faint glow was enough to see that Robyn had her eyes closed and looked to be either asleep or deep into sub-space. Either way Robyn would be loving every moment. No doubt she was still in the sub space of bondage and cock sucking with the heat from the corporal all working together to zone her out of the here and now.

She and Angel went to the bondage bench then took Robyn out of sub-space as they unstrapped her from the bench, but Robyn didn’t move other than small quivers as she felt the straps coming off.

She and Angel took an arm each then lifted her off the bench. “Stand,” she said making Robyn stand beside the bench.

She had no doubt of it. Robyn would still be feeling the effects of the belt, the flogger and the wood handled strap. Her body would be tingling from the massive strap-on orgasm and corporal. Now, being in such tight bondage with all those feelings circling around in her, Robyn was re-living every moment of the session as she blew the penis gag.

From her own sessions, she knew that feeling well when Magenta did the same to her. It was a dreamy spaced out time not unlike a deep meditation when the mind and body shifted to a different plane.

She and Angel unstrapped Robyn from the bondage bench but left her arms strapped together in the middle of her back. They released her ankles and pulled them down from the hogtie freeing up her legs.

Pulling Robyn off the end of the bench they got her feet onto the floor. But they weren’t going to release her, not yet, she had some more screaming to do.

Quickly they flicked a pair of straps from the bench over her back and waist and strapped her down again so she was standing but bent over the bondage bench unable to rise her chest strapped flat to the bench. Then then she and Angel took an ankle each and strapped on the leg spreader opening her legs wide and making her pussy available.

The temptation to get the wood handled strap or the heavy leather flogger almost made her do that, but looking at Robyn, she was still deep in sub-space. No doubt the heat already in her punished butt and back and shoulders along with the intense orgasm, the bondage and the feeling of being strapped down in the dungeon were still affecting her.

Angel went to the wall of gear then returned with a vibrator. Reaching round, taking her time she worked it up and down Robyn’s crutch, stroking slowly and moving the end of the vibrator all over Robyn’s sopping crutch.

It didn’t take much time for Robyn to start struggling and thrashing around in the straps, the vibrator humming and Robyn almost singing into the penis gag as she got more and more excited.

Then, when it looked like Robyn was reacting strongly, approaching her climax Angel changed, she moved around behind Robyn and inserted the strap-on again and started the hip thrusting movements again. In, out, in, out and taking her time she gave Robyn a long slow deep bent over strapped down on the bondage bench and gagged fucking.

Robyn couldn’t take much of this, and Angel wasn’t going to delay the inevitable. Angel reached down and around then used a finger for some extra stimulation. That did it, Robyn climaxed again. This time strapped down to the bondage bench, and her second orgasm of the session, her movements were still frantic but not at the same intense peak as when she’d been standing in suspension.

Robyn climaxed nicely, shuddering and shaking, grunting and mumphing into the penis gag as it went on and on. Angel slowed the speed of her fucking, pushing the strap-on deep inside Robyn and keeping it there as she gyrated her hips slightly from side to side then pulling it out almost all the way out and hesitating for a pair of seconds before driving it all the way back in again.

Robyn finally quietened, unable to climax any more and looking totally spent. Her red streaked well whipped back and shoulders had stopped shaking and now she just lay there, almost comatose in her post orgasmic bliss.

Angel withdrew the strap on then with a look at each other they quickly started to tidy up the dungeon. Robyn would need a few minutes to come back to planet Earth from the sub-space fucking she’d just had so they might as well use the time wisely.

Nurturing Robyn

Finally it was time, Robyn’s time was finished.

They unstrapped the leg spreader from Robyn’s ankles, put that away then she reclaimed her belt from around Robyn’s wrists and put that back around her waist again, patting it down and making sure it sat just right. She did like wearing a nice belt.

Removing the penis gag Angel took it to the shower and washed it under a gentle stream and left it on the bondage bench for an antiseptic wash later when they swabbed down the bench and straps. Cleanliness was everything in the dungeon.

They helped Robyn up, helping her stand then pushed her back gently so she was sitting on the bondage bench, hunched over with her head down, looking lost, spaced out. Robyn had been deeply affected, deeply immersed in her sub-space so coming back was not quick. And it shouldn’t be, Tish knew that all too well from her own sessions.

Angel moved forward, between Robyn’s knees and hugged her, putting Robyn’s face to her rubber covered chest as she soothed her hand over the now sobbing woman’s head and hair.

She decided that Angel didn’t need her input, this was a few minutes of comfort Angel could provide that would help Robyn immensely.

~~~~~

Later in the staff room when she and Angel returned from seeing Ronbyn out, she asked Angel, “How was she? All good?”

Angel nodded, “She cried her eyes out then we had a shower together. She didn’t want any girl girl action, she wanted the closeness and the  best friend thing. I soaped her up and rinsed her off a few times.”

Robyn smiled at the memory, she had to, “She said she’ll be back soon. Her work is driving her mad and Tinder isn’t doing it for her. She said she needs more than a man for a few hours.”

Tish nodded, she felt exactly the same. “I know. I know all too well. This whole BDSM thing is part of me, I can’t ignore it. Robyn does like it though. She surprised the hell out of me the first time.”

Angel agreed, “Shit Tish, Robyn is freaking amazing. I’ve never heard anyone scream obscenities like that, anywhere. She really gets into it. And then the orgasms, OMG, she blasts herself into total body loss. She cried her eyes out there with me when you left.”

She looked at Angel and thought she was so good in the dungeon, an absolutely perfect assistant and more than that. Angel was able to identify with the clients, provide just what they wanted and what they needed which were often wildly different, but Angel seemed to know. That she and Angel were able to run sessions like that one, totally without saying anything, each of them coordinating with the other by just a look, and knowing what to do to make the session better for the slave was ideal.

She chuckled, “Robyn is unique I’ll give you that. Right at the end, when she was sobbing I thought that. You don’t get many clients who come off as hard or deeply. She gets into the whole sub-space thing more than any other client I’ve got.”

“Hell yes,” said Angel. “During the corporal you could hear her out here in the staff room. I thought the Head Mistress was going to get you to gag Robyn, other clients would have heard her and be wondering what’s happening. It was obvious a woman was getting corporal and that sends some men sky high.” Angel was grinning, “Now that I think about it, it does add to the ambiance of the place.”

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Session Training Story – Part 2

How Did I Get Here?

After she’d asked about him cracking one off while she was out, she’d put him in bondage on the bed. So no wanking and now here he was.

How had he got here like this?

Melanie had caught him giving himself a self-strapping in the shed then she’d followed up by giving him six more to each hand then made him blow her. Then she’d quizzed him about his sessions and why he was in ‘training’ for the next one in a few days. This was a new Melanie. This was something so vastly new.

He now lay on the bed, straps wrapping his wrists, ankles and knees in bondage just as he’d described to Melanie. It felt delicious but so strange to be like this on the bed.

And he could still feel the sting in his hands from the strapping Melanie had given him in the morning. Plus she’d promised to give him more when she returned from shopping so the XH tawse was going to work them over again. And she’d promised more strokes than he was used to making him fear-tremble at the thought. He could feel the start of an erection as he lay strapped up tight on the bed.

But now as he lay on the bed he heard Melanie return early, not having driven off for her shopping expedition. Quickly she was in the bedroom again then he felt it, something cold was resting against his unblemished butt and he was sure it was made of leather.

Melanie had said something about training his butt, not just his hands for the upcoming session. So he knew what was coming.

Butt Training

“Just so you know I love you,” Melanie whispered into his ear. “I can’t have you going to your next session without your butt getting trained, same as your hands. That wouldn’t be fair.”

He felt the bed move a little as she had leaned down, then again when she stood.

The he heard it, the swish that followed with the crack he knew so well as his butt flared into instant deep sting.

“Yah,” he gasped, the word hardly getting out when the tawse, it really felt like that XH tawse, lashed down again prolonging that into an “ah ahhh,” as the sting got in. Damn but the XH tawse did sting on the butt when used with any force and Melanie sure was doing that.

Melanie gave him a crisp strapping from the tawse, cracking it down hard and fast, covering the whole of his butt then licking the tops of his thighs making him rear up even more in the pain.

Each stroke slammed down with the familiar high pitched crack, and each one made him gasp, “Ahh,” for a moment.

He tired to keep the gasps in, to not show how painful it was as he didn’t want Melanie to stop, yet he wanted her to stop because it hurt. But he didn’t want her to stop because getting a strapping like this really was a fantasy coming true.

“There,” she said as she lay the tawse down on him, then rubbed a hand over his blazing butt, then whispered into his ear, “Shopping time. I’m looking forward to getting back and doing that all over again.”

Butt and Hands Training Time Again

Melanie returned home; he heard the car door in the distance, then the door and her footsteps in the house as she did whatever she did.

He felt the excitement ramping up the longer he heard her walking around. He heard doors open then close, footsteps, things being moved until finally he heard her footsteps approaching.

Without saying a word, he felt Melanie take the tawse off his back then seconds later it returned at speed.

And So It Continues

The next day as he stripped off for his morning shower he looked, his butt was deeply streaked with welts from the tawse, then Melanie walked in.

‘Show me,’ she said then when he turned she looked then ran a hand over his butt. ‘Wow. I did that?'”

He turned then kissed her on the mouth, ran his hands up and down her body and stroked a breast and her butt at the same time as he deep kissed her. He knew what she liked, and this was getting there he hoped.

She put her hand down then felt his erection thickening so she pulled back and grabbed it hard. ‘It looks like this hasn’t suffered. Have your shower, I’m thinking its time for a repeat of yesterday morning. I could do with a nice hard come and you need to keep in training.’

With that she left him. In the shower with half a hard on, his butt stinging slightly and his hands feeling bruised but not red he has a quick wash as he thought about this new Melanie. She sure had changed. She’d always been kink averse but now she seemed to almost channel dominatrix.

Not only that, she’d never been keen on oral either giving or receiving. That seemed to be a thing of the past for the receiving side at least. Getting blown by Melanie was maybe not that far away he hoped as he stepped out and dried off. He sure could use a come as it had been a couple of days now and he was feeling the need.

Finishing Melanie Off Nicely

The morning tawsing happened after his shower as Melanie lived up to her word to keep him in training. All of a sudden it was not looking like the smartest thing he’d ever said to her.

He found himself kneeling at the end of the bed, his hands out and raised as Melanie stood in front of him with his XH tawse in her hands, running it through her hands absently as she looked at the image of submission kneeling before her.

‘I never ever thought I’d be into anyting like this,’ she said. Then, ‘And putting you into bondage yesterday was kind of fun. I liked buckling those straps.’ She smiled as she flopped the tawse onto his palm to leave it laying there so he felt the leather. “And blistering your butt with this was a surprise also. I kind of got into that also. Do you mind? Is it helping?’

‘Ah, Mel, it is really challenging. I loved the bondage, damn that was good and the tawse on the butt was challenging also. I’ve always wanted to give you head, I’ve always loved your pussy but I could use some relief too you know.’

Melanie smiled. She flicked the tase up the air then let it flop down again. iI watched some porn yesterday when you were in bondage and got some ideas. Apparently bondage and getting a strapping is not all that strange. As for you popping off, forget it till after your session.’

With that the tawse was raised then brought down at speed across his waiting palm. He gasped, shook the palm, then kept it out for the next which arrived seconds later, then the third only a few seconds after that. He was now gasping loudly, shaking his hand and it had gone quite red.

‘I think I’m getting better at this. It seems a lot easier than yesterday,’ Melanie said.

Then she laid on three more strokes so his hand was now bright red and shaking as he held it out hoping that six was the full tarif.

‘Change hands,’ she said. Then seconds later the tawse was flopped on that as yet unblemished palm.

Then the procedure was repeated. She gave him three scorchers, then she looked down at her work and smiled, ‘I really am getting good at this aren’t I?’

‘Christ Melanie,” hge said, ‘you have no idea how that stings. Maybe you should try a few on the palms?;

Melanie smiled then laughed for a moment, ‘I don’t think so. Three more.’

Witht hat she applpied the final three, he hoped, of scrochers across the palm bringing it to incandescent heat and making it sting like the very devil had been at it.

She’d used the tawse hard, extra hard and now it was drawing to an end she was feeling disappointed. “I really don’t think six of the best to each wanking hand is enough, you know. I think we should go for a dozen to each. We did that yesterday. Tomorrow morning will be an ideal time to start that properly.”

She ran the tawse through her hands a few times as she looked at the bright red and shaking palm in front of her.

‘I really never though I’d get into anything like this, I keepo saying it, but uyou know, it is pulling me in,’ she said.

She smiled down at him, ‘But after yesterday it has become something I’m finding I’m quite looking forward to.’

With that she flicked the tawse up ikn the air again, then ler it flop back onto his hand and down onto his palm and fingers. ‘Leather straos suddenly mean something to me now,’ she said, ‘and this one in particular.’

Then taking her time she pulled it back then raised it over a shoulder. After a pause of a few seconds during which he almost trembled in anticipation  and fear at the stroke to come, she made the tawse swish through the air then crack down for a seventh time onto his oustretched palm making him double over and rub it, trying to get the infernal sting out of it.

But he couldn’t ease the sting of course. Now this had taken sevenof the best and hot damn, Melanie had sure taken to hand strapping.

Melanie had another idea though. She sat on the end of the bed, flicked up her skirt, opened her legs then “Make it a good one else we’ll repeat it all again. I need a good come,” she said.

He turned then obliged. Melanie was wet and excited already he could feel. With the first touch of his tongue, as it moved up and down her, then circled her engorged clit she reached forward then gripping his head, pulled him into her. ‘In, deep in,’ she said sternly.

He obliged by poking his tongue out as hard as he could, poking it into her vagina, running it up and down as much as he could with his head held so tightly. The effect of that brought Melanie to a massive come, far faster than she ever had that he could remember. He rode out the shaking, heard the gasps then the shrill cry at the end then she finally stilled, his face held against her crutch as she moved it gently in the aftermath of the orgasm.

When at long last Melanie came up from air after the gasping and shaking, she pushe dhis head back then looked down at him.

‘Not bad. Not bad at all, I really could get used to that and I must admit, I could do with a cock down there. But no sex for you till after your session. I think we need to find a compromise.’

Melanie clearly had some ideas. To be continued.