Grahams Strapping – Part 1

This is the story of Graham who has, and not for the first time, been caught out day dreaming in class. It so was hard not to Graham reasoned as Ms Smeet was impossible not to day dream about.
The big problem for Graham is that Ms Smeet sent him to Mr Hughes the previous time for the strap, “as a wake-up call” she said and it worked for a time. But it has now only been a short while later that he’s been caught again so Ms Smeet is going to show the whole class how she deals with repeat offenders. Not only that, with this turn of events Ms Smeet will make an offer to the class that will answer some questions and leave a few more hands red and stinging.

Called Out - Again

“GRAHAM,” said his teacher sharply from the front of the room in exasperation, her cross voice shrill and loud, cutting through the classroom making the other students jump.

Suddenly all activity stopped, all sound stopped. It was impossible not to know when Ms Smeet was angry. The other students, though usually quiet in Ms Smeet’s class now turned to statues so that even the gentle sounds of movement, the sounds writing of breathing almost, were stilled as total silence descended.

Graham for his part had been in another time and space, day dreaming about his teacher the formidable Ms Smeet, the focus of much of his fantasy since he’d started sixth form with her only a few short weeks prior. She was new to the school this year so he’d not known what to expect. On the first day in class they’d all found her to be extremely strict, demanding total attention and respect from the class. Not only that, she was ancient to his eyes, she must have been at least forty years old yet she dressed in a way that made his mind wander and he knew others in the class approved of, not just himself. He and the other boys and he had talked about Ms Smeet all agreed she was hot, damn hot in her leather skirts and trim figure. Even for an oldie.

All his fantasies evaporated as his eyes snapped to Ms Smeet standing on the side of the classroom, her hands on her hips, looking crossly at him. He gulped, “Yes Ms Smeet,” was all he could say through his throat that felt like it was going to close over.

“Do you know the answer Graham,” she repeated, “because it would be best if you did,” she added.

He was dumb struck, had she asked a question? He had no idea. He tried to replay what had been said moments before but the only thing in his mind was the visage of Ms Smeet in her leather skirt looking at him. “Sorry no Ms Smeet, I forgot.”

“Well then Graham since this is not the first time you’ve forgotten I have a special question for you. Can you answer this? What is kept in the drawer of my desk, right at the front of my drawer?” Her eyes boring into him and she was not smiling.

He thought about it for a moment, he didn’t have a single clue. He tried, “Pens and paper Ms Smeet?”

That felt like a reasonable assumption but this whole situation brought back a memory. An unpleasant memory.

That last time there had been a pen and paper in the desk drawer

It just was a week ago that Ms Smeet had caught him day dreaming just the same as this time, his eyes un-focused as his mind wandered along unfamiliar pathways. The same then as now, Ms Smeet featured in heavily and in ways he was not going to admit to any one.

That time Ms Smeet had gone to her desk, got out a sheet of paper then written a note on it. She’d told him to take it to Mr Hughes making him feel rather scared as he walked to the principals office, so scared he didn’t dare read the note, he couldn’t.

Was it going to be the note to Mr Hughes again? He’d rather not. Not again. Not after last time.

The Note To Mr Hughes

Mr Hughes was the principal at the school, an older man who he assumed was close to retirement. He was an ‘old school’ type principal he’d said at school assembly and Graham now knew exactly what that meant.

All the previous times Ms Smeet sent him to Mr Hughes office it had ended the same way. The last time had been in the middle of a class period, but they all resulted in the same thing. And it wasn’t just him either. Others in his class had also been sent and they had the same outcome, it wasn’t just Graham who found out what ‘old school’ meant. They all ended up with the same red hands he assumed he was going to get. Again.

He knocked then opened and entered when he heard Mr Hughes say loudly ‘Entaarr’ or what sounded like it. He handed the note to Mr Hughes then waited. Mr Hughes opened the note, read it, looked up at him then asked a few questions like ‘did he know why he was here’ and ‘this wasn’t the first time so why hadn’t he learned his lesson’ and of course the main one, ‘what did he think was going to happen next?

The last one, the main one he knew the answer for and with certainty he answered “To get the strap sir,” and to that Mr Hughes had nodded, opened his desk drawer then pulled out his black leather strap. He’d met this one before, it was the same as last time and the tiems before that. It was about a foot and a half long, maybe an inch and a half wide and looked like it was cut from an old belt. It wasn’t all that thick and was kind of floppy. As Mr Hughes unrolled it, it drooped down from his hand onto the desk. Holding it in two hands as he ran it between them, it still drooped in the middle. Clearly it was supple and well used. He knew first hand that it was well used.

“Stand back, turn to face me, left hand up quickly now, I haven’t got all day,” said Mr Hughes when he’d come around the desk moving surprisingly quickly.

Graham did as instructed. He faced Mr Hughes, moved back a little then held his left hand up at chest height open and flat ready for the leather.

Mr Hughes wasted no time, “Three each,” he said. The same as last time also.

The strap was flicked up over Mr Hughes shoulder then without pause was quickly brought back down at speed ending in a loud crack, it only taking a couple of seconds at most.

Getting the strap from Mr Hughes hurt and Mr Hughes didn’t waste a moment, there was no fanfare, just the crack of the strap, the gasps and hand shaking then the next crack. There was only a few seconds between each stroke, he had to hold his hand up, the strap was raised, then the strap was brought down in moments, then it repeated.

Damn. It stung though, there was no doubt of that. He shook the hand then quickly brought it up again. The last time he’d got the strap he’d taken too long and Mr Hughes had shouted at him and given him an extra stroke to each hand. He didn’t like that at all. The second stroke slammed down seconds later making him gasp, “Ahh,” and shake the hand again. Then he lifted it up quickly, the hand still stinging. The third crack sounded loud and sharp making him jump, rub his hand quickly and then the command, “Other hand,” was all Mr Hughes said so he put his right hand up and out. At least it would be over soon was all he could think, and of course, damn that did strap did sting.

Mr Hughes strapped this hand just as hard and fast, the gunshot loud cracks echoing off the wall. Wasting very little time at all Mr Hughes powered his strap down ‘crack.’ It slapped down full length on the palm and fingers making them blaze, same as for the left hand. All he could do was shake the hand then present it again for the next stroke. Facing Mr Hughes as he gave the strap really was not easy, the man put a lot of effort into it and was totally absorbed in bringing the strap down on the waiting and open hand. The second made him shake it and gasp and the third made him gasp louder then rub both his hands together as the infernal sting got in and felt like he’d put his hands too close to the fire.

“Back to class Graham, one more time and I really don’t know what I’ll do with you. I’ll be talking with Ms Smeet about this.”

“Yes sir,” was all he could say as he left with stinging hands.

Then and almost as bad, when he got back to class Ms Smeet stopped him from going to his seat, making him stand at the front of class. Of course she did, she never missed a chance. “What happened Graham,” she asked.

He was damn sure she knew what happened. It happened every time she sent him with a note to Mr Hughes and the same as for the others in the class. She must just want to humiliate him but he had to answer.

“I got the strap Ms Smeet, three to each hand.”

Ms Smeet nodded as she looked at him, “Good. You needed it. Show the class. Show them your red hands. I want them to know the price of day dreaming in my class.”

He’d had to do that also and feel the embarrassment, holding his red hands up to show everyone, and only then been allowed to go back to his seat after Ms Smeet warned him not to do it again.

And now he had.

Not A Note This Time

But now the whole class was utterly silent, all eyes were on him and he could feel his embarrassment rising. It was bad enough when he got sent out with a note and everyone knew what was going to happen. This was something new. They were used to Ms Smeet sending students off to Mr Hughes.

Ms Smeet shook her head slowly from aside to side, “No Graham, it is something I brought from my last school, a specially effective teaching aid, something very special indeed. Mr Hughes and I have been talking about this and we are in agreement. We think it will help you. Get up, go to my desk, open the draw and lift it out please,” she said slowly with each word emphasizing her strict nature as her eyes bored into him, transfixing him, making him go more and more red.

Gulping slightly and not realizing what was happening, he stood on slightly shaky legs feeling every eye on him, every one of his peers also wondering what was happening. All he could think was, ‘what is it in the drawer? It is a homework book or maybe a pre-written slip of paper to take to the headmaster?’ She’d said it wasn’t, so what could it be?

Then, still, he hoped it wasn’t a note to the headmaster, that got him the strap, or at least the last few times it did. He was no stranger to Mr Hughes black leather strap but the last time Mr Hughes said he didn’t know what would happen. It could only be worse. Would it be more than six of the best this time?

The trip to Ms Smeet’s desk felt like it was miles and miles away as the embarrassment rose with every eye on him, but after the dozen steps in reality he pulled the drawer open then stared down.

It wasn’t pens and paper. It was nothing like that at all.

What Is That?’ his mind asked, then as soon as he thought that, he knew. How could it be anything else? With a deep dread he knew exactly what it was and he suddenly felt scared again but in a different way. This could be worse than getting the strap from Mr Hughes.

“Go on Graham, lift him out and show everyone,” Ms Smeet said taking absolutely no pity on him.

Graham moved slowly, almost reverently, his limbs like lead.

Graham reached down then picked up the leather item, a long brown leather strap that had been laying flat in the front of the drawer. As he lifted it, the leather cool to his touch, he found it was two feet long, an inch and a half wide and as thick as a pencil. One end was shaped for holding which is what he did, then the last half was split into three tails, each about a half inch wide that he held with his other hand.

It was the first time he’d held a teachers strap and it was something he never thought he’d do. Feeling the leather as he lifted it, he felt an excitement as something strange inside him flared up.

He lifted the leather strap up held between his hands and if anything, the silence in the room became deeper. Holding the leather strap that was used for punishment was surreal, and if truth be told it was also exciting. He thought it was damn exciting in a very special way and he hoped no one noticed because it was having an effect on him.

“Class,” Ms Smeet said loudly as soon as it was visible, “This is Mister Crisp the finest of teaching aids for naughty boys and girls who don’t pay attention in my class.”

He wasn’t a mind reader but he could read every other mind in the room as it was the same as what he was thinking, ‘Ms Smeet is going to give Graham a strapping.’

That she had a strap like this, and he’d not suspected else he’d have been daydreaming about that also, was very telling.

He wondered for a moment how hard she strapped.

As Graham soon finds out – getting the strap is bad enough, but Ms Smeet as new ways to make it even worse.

Part-2 to follow.

Grahams Strapping

For my many readers of hand strapping stories, this will be worth the wait. It has been months in the writing and now the wait is (nearly) over.

Already scheduled for delivery are the full 3 parts of a longer hand strapping (tawsing) classroom story. Over the next week they’ll be released.

Tawase Cane
Just what type of strap does Ms Smeet have? Guess!

Ms Smeet is new to the school and for Graham she is impossible not to day dream about. She is tall, good looking and dresses in a way he just can’t ignore. Sure, she is a good teacher, but wow she is strict also.

Already and in only a few short weeks Ms Smeet has sent him to Mr Hughes with a note and each time it has been the same. He’s had to hold his hands out for six of the best from Mr Hughes strap.

In the next few days Part – 1 will be released.

Session Time – Time To Feel Again

XH Tawse

I had my last session in December 2021 and what a wonderful session it was. I’d asked for a cold caning and cold prison strapping which mistress gave me and pushed me to my limits.

Those initial few strokes were so difficult to take, sending me sky high. The heavy prison strap cracked down then the cane following that cut through it all with a burn that really did test me.

This next session, next week if I can schedule it, will be a little different. I want them all to be different in some way, something new yet at the same time the same fetish and corporal punishment needs are all there.

Bent for the tawse

A two tailed tawse brings up a fine red sheen on a bent set of buttocks. After the prison strap, the tawse can still be felt if used hard which it always is.

Then it can be used on the hands with excellent effect.

A Script For My Next Session

For my next session, this is what I’m going to ask for in the pre-session discussion with the mistress. We’ve had five(?) sessions together now. She is truly excellent, a lovely person, and in session she gets right into it. I admire her abilities and that we can interact so well.

Typically when we meet we talk a little about how life has been to us then after paying the fee I ask her if we can have a session along the following lines.

“Hi Mistress, it’s been about five months since my last session and I’m thinking about a session like this please.

Can we split it into a few parts as usual.

The first part I’ll be in belt bondage kneeling. Gag me please. Give me a hand strapping with the school strap, then the end of the belt, the mild tawse, then the XH tawse. I’ll have these lined up ready to use in order.

For the next part please put me into suspension, arms up high. Then use the belts, lots of belts, and straps and then the prison strap for a six of the best and then the cane for six of the best. If I take them too well, repeat harder. Make me react.

My huge wide belt fetish is calling, I really love to see you take a wide belt off, use it to give me a hard belting, then see you put it on again. That’s huge for me, seeing you take it off to use, then putting it on again.

After this, off suspension and another hand strapping with your choice, maybe the end of a belt and the tawse again.

Then bent over and strapped down to the bondage bench with lots of straps holding me in place. Then give me a really hard belting, lots of strapping and prison strapping and caning. Give me a hand strapping a few times when I’m bent over, release just the arms and hands and make me hold them out for the strap. Then tie them back up and go back to giving me a belting, a prison strapping and caning.

After this, at the end, off the bondage bench and kneeling again for a final hand strapping.”

That is very similar to what I got last time.

Last time it was a cold prison strapping and caning right at the start, and that was hard to take but excellent. This time I want more warm up with the belts and straps.

I really enjoy the visual and I do like to change each session. The hand strapping is a bit more prescriptive as I want lighter straps used first before the tawse.

I’ve struggled to document my sessions here as they are so personal, even for me. However, at least I’ll give maybe a little feedback.

Play safely!

Contradictions and Confessions in BDSM


Even after having had so many BDSM pro-dom sessions since 2005 I still feel the contradictions within me. A war rages between the logical vanilla me and the kinky inner self that BDSM means so much to.

The end result is that I feel conflicted. I’m pulled inexorably like gravity toward BDSM while my logical self rebels.

Here are my thoughts and experiences on this.

Dom in Corset

The visual is so important, hitting hard at the fetish and the desires, making the mind wander. Fetish is all about the mind and our deepest secrets and passions.

In choosing a mistress the image is a powerful but very flawed motive. My experience is that the bio on the website is so much more important.

Rules for reading this : expect contradictions. That is where it’s at for me. I’ll be as plainly honest as possible.

Relationships are an issue. And at every level too. There I am in an office supervising a number of staff, and some time prior I’ve been stripped naked, in bondage, being strapped by a leather clad dominatrix with a very wide folded leather belt. It’s my own belt she’s worn then taken off and used on me, then put on again. All the time I’ve been ogling her, reveling in my wide belt fetish and the need for corporal punishment.

The contradictions in these times come to mind often. Imagine what my staff would think and say if they saw me in a session? And yes, I am precious about this.

Sure, these are vastly different times, vastly different in every way but I do feel that contradictory nature within my self in these situations.

My wife knows of my sessions. She doesn’t like it much but she knows I need it and am better for them. She knows there is no sexual contact and I’m not cheating on her. She knows I love her and she loves me. But I feel the tension, almost a disappointment in her voice when, yet she even suggests it at times, that I have a session when my need is obvious. Then when that time comes around again I keenly feel the conflict – the diversion from a normal-vanilla relationship that my sessions give me.

I do love her more for accepting my need, and I hate the thought of disappointing her for my strange (to her) needs.

Time changes everything. The longer I go without a session the more it feels normal and reasonable. I feel it pulling me in, my mind rationalizing how normal and fine it will be to be in the dungeon again stripped, strapped and caned.

Then when the session is over I’m floating. My brain is in a different space and I love it. Everything else is banished.

When I walk out of the dungeon I feel the relief and am at peace with the world. I really don’t feel the need for BDSM, it is so deeply slaked. The thought of another session does not appeal at all.

That lasts a while. Then after a few weeks my special needs start to return. What was once, after the session, something I really don’t need becomes more and more important.

I’ll admit to being ornery and cantankerous.

And that happens and gets worse because I need a session!

If my staff knew, they’d be sending me off with a note for misress to make it extra hard every few weeks when the grumps set in.

Newbies Hand Strapping Tawsing Session

Are you considering a pro-dom BDSM session that includes a hand strapping or hand tawsing?

Do you feel the need to be told to hold out your hand by a leather clad dominatrix? Do you yearn to watch her run the punishment implement, a leather strap that is maybe split once or twice into the traditional form of the Scottish Tawse through her hands as she stands in front of you?

Do you feel the need to endure the searing pain as the leather strap descends onto your palm and fingers and at the same time feel embarrassed, shamed, humiliated as the dominatrix waits for you to raise your hand for the next stroke? She commands you “hands UP” then you must raise them as she runs the tawse through her hands. Again. And Agan.

Have you been a naughty school boy or girl and need to be punished like this by the strict mistress? Will she be a governess, an auntie, the sexy milf next door or as it is for me, the strict leather clad dominatrix?

I do.

This is my story with anecdotes and suggestions you may consider during your pre-session discussion with a dominatrix.

Side On Hand Strapping

“Hands UP,” Mistress says, then the strap lays on the palm, getting the range, letting you know where it will so soon come cracking down hard.

The inevitability of it, the tension, the exquisite pain to come all combine.

My First Hand Strapping in 2005

Long after it happened, my first pro dom session in 2005 is still very much in my mind. It highlighted so many things, the main one being my inexperience.

There I was standing in front of the first ever mistress I’d met wearing a leather hood and (as mentioned previously) I was naked and absolutely nervous about the whole experience. I was the total and complete newbie.

The challenges for me to be in this position were astronomical. Every part of the experience cut to the core of my upbringing, and also to my secret passions that I’d denied for decades.

When she gave be three crisp strokes of her split strap to my hand, commanded me to raise my other hand, then strapped that similarly I had thought, well, ‘that’s over what’s next’ – for a just moment.

I stood with slightly reddened palms. But not for long.

Of course what was next was the order, “Change Hands” (again)  then I had to raise my hands in order again, time after time till they’d each received six sets of three each from 2 different implements.

Then when mistress asked me, “Is That Enough Slave?” I said truthfully, “Yes Mistress,” which ended badly.

I was told “NO SLAVE IT IS AS MISTRESS WISHES. HANDS UP SLAVE” then she gave me another six of the best, harder. Damn.

That was a lesson in slave-mistress dialog, power exchange and domination I have never forgotten.

In hindsight, the strokes weren’t all that hard but there were so many of them I wondered when it would end. Thinking about that, now, for a newbie this was pretty much ideal. The whole leather fetish, strict mistress, hand strapping thing should last.

Why would you want a part of a session that you’d fixated on for so long to be over quickly? Prolonging it, making it last, really is a good thing.

Back to my memories of my first hand strapping; it felt ‘right’ in that I got what I needed, probably more than I wanted and it pushed all the buttons.

Sure, it hurt just as it should and that is of course part of the whole thing. But the pain was the smallest part of it, and a large part in the whole in the contradictory nature of BDSM corporal punishment. The pain was and remains essential. It challenges, it focuses and it dominated. It engulfs, it brings the entire psyche into focus as the dominatrix plies per trade and the slave takes the punishment. Without the pain the whole thing would feel pointless, without any real substance.

As the strapping progressed, my hands got more and more red and they started to shake.

The first implement was split leather strap but wasn’t really a tawse to my way of thinking now. It was a short wide piece of leather with a leather handle, and the leather happened to be split into two tails over an inch wide. It was more like a short split leather paddle than a tawse.

The second implement was a folded leather belt I’d brought with me. Mistress had given me an over the knee spanking and used that as well, and she of course used it to strap my hands. I remember this as being more challenging as it was a little more narrow and also longer so the end got up more speed.

These were my first experiences in 2005.

The Pre Session Discussion

Where I failed in  my first session was in the pre-session discussion.

Good sessions happen because of good communication. Great sessions happen when there is great understanding.

For a clueless newbie like I was, this presented a number of challenges. I didn’t really know what I wanted other than “a hand strapping” and I had no idea about implements, how to stand, how many strokes and what type of mistress I wanted.I had brought my own strap, well, a belt that the buckle had broken and discarded. It was a little long (the mistress said) so she doubled it over and wrapped her hand once to shorten it which in itself was a visual delight.

In my ignorance I (probably) assumed there weren’t any options. How wrong I was.

Then and of course, the elephant in the room for me was that I was talking to a real life dominatrix in a BDSM dungeon. This was in another dimension to my comfort zone but spot-on for me first-time fetish experience.

So for a newbie, what would I recommend?

The absolute golden rule to remember is that mistress is not a mind reader. She needs to know what you want, what you need, before she can make it happen.

First of all you must understand your need  -or- discuss it to get some ideas .

You should discuss it in a way that the person who does not know you will understand so that she can craft the best possible experience just for you.

If you don’t know what you want (which was me for my first session) then it is more difficult. In that case I should have said I didn;t know. I should have asked questions. I am sure mistress would have made suggestions.

Even after a decade and a half, I still find this challenging. These are such secret and private things in me that exposing them to anyone goes against a life of kept secrets. Yes this is stupid, if I can’t tell the person I am engaging to live out these experiences then that means it will probably not work well.

Ideally you will have chosen an experienced dominatrix who understands hand strapping and tawsing and has it as a stated speciality. Hand strapping and tawsing is a common thing but of course finding out if the person you are to see is OK with it and has experienced in it is mandatory. Ideally also she listens, is empathetic to your needs and is able to read your reactions and body language as the session proceeds to make it a great session.

Things to discuss;

The type Of Implement matters. It does for me and I have so many of my own. I ask that a strap that is reminiscent of the type of school straps that were in vogue when I was in grade school is used first. Then after that another few types of straps. Then after that there are two tawse, one relatively mild and the other quite severe ate used. This starts easy and then gets harder and harder as it progresses. I have some belts I like the mistress to use also and how they are used – folded or just the end etc.

Is it to be one implement or many? As above and for me, it is many, usually six of each and sometimes more. The school strap is easy to take and so mistress not seeing a reaction form me, usually gives me more and harder while the XH tawse at the end is supremely painful even with just one stroke.

How Many Strokes and how delivered? Short and sharp or prolonged and slow? Mistress stands in front of me and my hand is raised so the strap lashes down along the palm then the fingers fro front on. This I find to be particularly effective and also rather embarrassing, or demeaning, or challenging. Pick a word. Here I am a fully grown man submitting to this – and I know I need it – it just really gets into me.

Severity? This is of course important as too light and I feel let down and cheated, too severe and well, it is unbearable yet I must lift my hand up for the next stroke.

Is there a reason you need a hand strapping? For me there is not. For others there can be an invented reason, some transgression or mis-deed. You need to make it plain what you want.

The theatre matters a lot to me. I like to be told to raise my hand. I like to be told I am going to get a hard strapping, a hard tawsing and this is what I need. I like to hear it said as it happens. Also, I like to watch the mistress as she raises the strap, puts it over a shoulder then prepares. When the mistress takes a few gentle strokes o just let the leather sit on my palm before pulling it away then using it, that is a kind of tease that really gets into me.

What type of mistress? This matters and of course you can ask for whatever you feel is right for you. For example it can be a school type session, you can be commanded loudly, or be given a quiet yet strict mistress, or even the “mom” experience.

With mistress standing in front of you in fetish, with an implement in her hand raised to use, it is the most intimate form of BDSM.

Mistress with implement raised

My Sessions Now

It has been a long journey into BDSM for me. I’ve learned a lot, changes a lot, and collected a large amount of gear.

One piece of advice I would give is to think about getting your own gear. Not all mistresses have a wide range of straps and tawse. Having your own does make it easier.

Red Hood Hand Strapping

Been there, had that. This was very much my first ever hand strapping. The mistress flicked her strap up onto the palm to let me feel it before.. I felt it for real.

The anticipation, the fetish, feeling the hands get more and more red and burning.

Here Is One Of My Session Plans

I’ve had a lot of sessions since 2005 and now I find myself changing them each and every time. Sometimes I ask for a cold caning and prison strapping at the start, sometimes a more standard progression of corporal and bondage.

Here is a typical pre-session request;

Please mistress, can we split the session into four parts.”

This is how I start off. This seems to work best for heavy corporal with hand strapping and the bondage that I like.

For the first part, I’ll put myself into belt bondage then be kneeling when you enter. You wear my wide leather belts then use the straps then tawse to give me a hand strapping. Start off with the lighter school strap, then a longer strap, take a belt off and use that, then the lighter tawse then the heavy XH tawse to finish me off.

I ask her “please gag me after using a few implements.

Being gagged drags it all home to me, pushes me deeper into the whole BDSM / Slave / Mistress thing. Same as wearing a collar and the belt bondage I put myself into.

Before mistress enters I’ll have arranged the straps and belts on the floor for mistress to work though them.

For the second part please mistress, put me into suspension, my wrist cuffs onto the suspension bar. Then work though the belt, very little arm up, hard. Take one off, use it, put it back on. Use the heavy strap. At least a dozen from each side and make them hard, make me gasp and react. Maybe give me six of the best from the prison strap.

Harder belt strokes on a not warmed up butt sting initially, quite a lot. It pushes me hard, forces me to accept the strapping. Standing with my wrists pulled up high, and with belts wrapping my legs and waist I can’t move and that is a huge plus. I just love belt bondage.

For the third part please mistress, bend me over the bondage bench with my hands bound in front. Use some straps, then walk in front and un-bind my hands, tell me to hold them out and give me a hand strapping or tawsing. Just a six’er. Maybe a belt, maybe the XH tawse. Then bind them again and go back to strapping me from behind nice and hard. Repeat that a few times. Finish this part off with a hard prison strapping then a sound caning.”

After all this strapping to my butt, it’s probably getting a bit de-sensitized. Maybe it is getting a bit leathery and the belt and straps are easy to take. Finishing with a hard caning really is best as when used hard it does get in. I feel that. Mistress (the really good one I’ve been seeing) senses where I am pain wise and tolerance wise, then adjusts the session and the caning to suit. If I’m taking it easily she’ll go harder and vice versa. If she’s using something I’m really feeling I want more of I’ll push my butt out a little in a challenge to ask for more and harder.

For example, I like the mistress to wear two of my favorite made to order 2 inch wide solid leather belts. The black one is standard belt thickness and quite supple. The brown belt is thicker and much more thuddy. Mistress may use the XH tawse on my butt which really is all about sting and pushes me. Then she might take off the black belt and give me a dozen from each side (hopefully). I find this almost dreamy pleasing after the tawse and I’ll often push my butt out for more which he will sometimes grant, or give me an ‘insolence caning’ of six of the best which is just as she should.

The final part is the shortest. Only a few minutes.

Please mistress after the final caning, take me off bending over the bondage bench, put me onto my knees and give me a hard hand strapping and a final of six of the best of the XH tawse.

I know this is really going to challenge me to the max. The XH tawse used with any strength bends me over rubbing my hands wondering how in hell I can take any more. When mistress straps me hard, as she does, this is from the very first stroke. And I know I won’t be wanting it. And also I know I will be devastated with each stroke and wanting it to be over. But before the session with the way I’ve been feeling I ask for it.

Also, and the times I’ve had session like the above, the final hand strapping really is at the limit of my endurance. Also I feel disappointed when it’s all over. I struggle to take the corporal then I’m sad when it’s over. I feel the duality and the contradictions of this.

The First Hand Strapping From My Wife

My wife gave me a hand strapping in 2005, along with the first time she put me into bondage and used a doubled over belt on my butt for some BDSM play. I kept a journal of these home-sessions.

Here is the story of the first hand strapping my wife gave me. And more.

Wrist To Neck Binder

Laying on the bed with wide leather straps wrapping the wrists, and a collar, and being linked together makes all the difference.

With wrists strapped up like this the hands can’t cover the butt to ease a heavy strapping or caning.

Every movement of the wrists is felt.

How It All Began

It was early in November 2005 that my wife and I discussed my BDSM needs for the first time. I came out to her about it. Then on the 28th we actually did something about them. And yes I did write a journal on these events hence my use of actual dates.

She was the first person I’d told outside a therapists office about my secret passion, my silent quivers, and to say she was surprised and that I was nervous are understatements. Admitting that the whole belt fetish, hand strapping, that belt bondage and corporal punishment are ‘a real and necessary thing’ for me was one of the most difficult times of my life.

She took it remarkably well actually. She had to be reassured I was not gay, not damaged in some obscure way or reliving some trauma from my childhood or abuse from my past.

It Happened Like This

We’d been married for a while now and things between us had been getting difficult. I put this down to stress from a number of factors. One was my secret feitsh needs. That had over the previous few decades been totally denied and ignored. Now it was gaining strength and causing stress.

The other stresses in my life, work and marriage were feeding into this secret place and vice versa. It was a perfect storm.

The thing is that we love each other and always had. Being ‘difficult’ with each other was tearing us apart.

We’d been discussing things, how I felt which was concerning for her as I was clearly on edge. I was prone to temper flare ups, tears, wanting my own space and struggling to communicate. This was not like me.

After my admission we had a lot of discussion about my special needs and how I felt about it and how she felt about it. She said she couldn’t understand it for a moment. If anyone hit her she’d punch them in the nose. I had to talk to her, to reassure her that this was something different, not in the same league as simply hitting. For me this was all about the fetish, the multiple fetishes and the mental space escaping this world.

I commented that I felt so low a good hard whipping really would not feel bad at all by comparison. If anything it would clarify things, get me out of this life-funk I was in and let me move on. She was astounded.

After lots more discussion she said we’d give it a go. That did surprise me, but she is a very capable person, definite and has depths that regularly surprise me.

We went into the bedroom and got all the belts out of the wardrobe that were suitable, and of course I’d had this prepared in my mind for a while. Maybe I had planned this all along, but I don’t remember doing that (and maybe it is a convenient memory lapse).

Belts, wide ones in particular are my thing, and knowing which ones to use for what really was not a difficult decision.

I asked, then my wife wore a 3 inch wide solid leather belt on her hips and she made a comment that it explained my suggesting she buy (wide) belts when we shopped together.

It was not easy to tell her that yes, I’d always liked seeing her wear a wide belt and for what we were doing, the wide belt was a great look for me. Plus she stripped down to knickers and bra which absolutely added to the while experience.

Again, the wide belt round her bare waist above her knickers looked great.

Strapped Up In Belts

I stripped off, sat on the end of the bed and bound my ankles and knees with belts. I’m quite particular with this having done it for so many years with self bondage. I know what works and feels best.

I lay on my front then showed my wife how I wanted my wrists bound together in the middle of my back. She obliged and that was a vastly new experience feeling the belt circling my wrists tightened so that it was inescapable. I’d never been able to get it that tight in self bondage.

Suddenly I couldn’t get myself out of bondage, the belt round my wrists was not going to allow that. After all those years of self bondage where I could, this was so much better. It had a mental effect on me as I tried to get myself free and couldn’t. It was brilliant and so deeply immersive.

Laying on the bed like this felt special and being strapped up tight like that was and still is a huge fetish.

The Doubled Belt Strapping

We’d talked about what I wanted, to be strapped with a belt and I’d put them down the side of the bed for her saying which one first.

My wife picked up a wide but thin belt, doubled it over, held it by the buckle and loose end and strapped my butt a few times. She had a nice action, quite dainty and also quite nervous as if she feared actually hurting me.

She commented after a few strokes that it was getting red but I told her not to stop and go harder as quite frankly it felt very mild. She is a competitive person and this maybe pushed a few buttons as the next strokes were much harder.

She changed to a thicker and narrowed heavy leather belt and that did sting more and felt more like it. That was what a strapping should be felt like. After a dozen form each side it was starting to sting and I was starting to react.

The visual of my wife dressed as she was with the 3 inch wide belt on her hips moving as she flicked a folded leather belt over her shoulder then brought it down on my butt time and again really was my fetish dream.

My wife then left me for a while, closed the bedroom door and went out. I’d told her this was also something I wanted. It is a very much head space thing, to be left in bondage after a strapping and to await the next strapping as I lay there.

As I lay there in belt bondage with a slightly burning butt, I could hear my wife’s foot steps, then silence, then more footsteps as she moved around the house. When I heard foot steps, was she coming in to give me another strapping? Would it be harder? Which belts would she use to strap me with? All those thoughts and more went round in my mind. And I was loving it.

Some time later the footsteps did return then the bedroom door was opened. “It’s time for your strapping” she said, and after all the years later I remember it well.

My wife then repeated the strapping she’d given me previously. She gave me a cracking dozen from each side with the thinner wider belt, then a dozen from each side with the heavier leather belt. My butt was getting a bit more sting in it, but it really was not too heavy at all.

After this she was thinking it was over. She unstrapped the belt binding my wrists. I rubbed my butt and felt it was mildly warm. I rolled over and unstrapped the belts from around my knees and ankles then I knew what I wanted.

My Wife Gives A Hand Strapping

I slid down off the bed and onto my knees. My butt was stinging and I’d had quite a cathartic time laying on the bed in bondage and it was quite a dreamy time. Even now, after all these years, laying in bondage on the bed really is a sublime time. Part of it is the feeling of the leather belts and part of it is the constriction of the belts holding me tightly.

My wife was standing there looking at me wondering what was to happen next. I knew what I wanted. It was something that had been with me like forever. I leaned over the bed then picked up the brown quite thick belt she’d just used, folded it in half then handed it to her.

Then, as I was still kneeling, I moved back a little so I was still facing her then held a palm out high and flat. This was something we’d not discussed, and was also something that I just had to have.

My wife, without any prompting got the idea quickly. Me in that position with my hand up high and flat, her with a belt in the hand; it was a pretty obvious message. She put the belt up high and over her right shoulder, waited a moment, then brought it down flat on my palm.

The imagery was everything. Over the top of my outstretched and open palm was my wife wearing her wide brown leather belt. As I looked at her, kneeling with a stinging bum from being strapped with that same belt, there she was with it over her shoulder. It was right on the money for my fetish.

I remember it, even now, as being quite a stinging sensation. The leather in this belt was quite thick and dense and folded over was double that. It was about an inch and a quarter wide.

One stroke was a little stinging. I kept the hand up and my wife knew I needed more. This wasn’t school where I got one stroke of the strap only. Now I was five decades older, a grown man with much tougher hands.

She was now (to my thinking) the strict school ma’am giving the strap to a naughty boy (me) and of course my reaction was obvious. I got an erection.

She was also my wife in knickers and bra, wide belt round her waist and holding a doubled over leather belt; she was super-MILF.

As I knelt with that hand out, my other hand found my erection and I began stroking. It was impossible to ignore that, to resist. As I stroked, my wife strapped me again. Somehow the sensation and the stroking went deeper than normal. I remember squinting, maybe changing the whole imagery in my mind to make it more erotic, more fetish, more deep for myself as I stroked.

My wife gave me six strokes of the belt to the hand, then I swapped hands. With the strapped hand working my erection and the other one up high and flat, it too got the strap. My wife was quite quick about it, each stroke maybe six seconds apart so the six to that hand was quite quick but the stroking was pretty darned good.

I’d had six strokes to each hand and a massive erection to prove it.

I swapped hands again. My wife then proceeded to give me a second six strokes to the hand as my other worked away at the erection which was just plain sending me. Even after all these years that special time kneeling on the floor, hand out getting a strapping while the other hand stroked my aching erection I remember it fondly.

That set the pace. My wife strapped my hand six times, I swapped hands and the other got another six. Each time I swapped hand I kept stroking, and each time the sting increased and each time the erection ached for release more and more.

After three sets of six to each hand I buckled over, gasping as I blew, the erection and the stroking, the strapping and the imagery was just too much and the come happened bursting out of me. I remember bending over, deeply, my head almost on the carpet as I shook with the climax, my erection gripped tightly with stinging hands.

I guess my butt must have been fairly high  in the air at this stage as I was bent over.

To my surprise, my wife saw the opportunity and with a fine doubled belt in hand, and without being asked she moved beside me and used that same belt on my butt. She gave me a solid six strokes that left me gasping. What a finish.

The Aftermath

My wife left me in the bedroom bent over feeling like I was almost in a coma because I was so relaxed and spaced out. I eventually got up then cleaned myself up then got dressed.

We didn’t discuss the session straight away, it seemed to be almost forgotten yet we both knew it was special.

Over the coming months we repeated this a few times. And that is a story for later.

I’ve had a few emails from readers who have experienced similar at home. If you are able to share, please feel free to contact me with your story. I won’t publish unless you allow it.

Hand Strapping And Tawsing News and Updates

For so many years my fetish for leather belts, straps and tawse has been with me.

Often part of the whole thing has been getting a strapping from a dominatrix in a BDSM session across the hands.

In days gone by this was common in the school classroom. You’d be called to the font of the class, told to hold your hand out then the teacher would bring a leather strap down hard on the hand. I’ve talked about this before and how inappropriate it is in any society to beat children.

But for me in my adult years it is something I’m drawn toward.

For the next two blog posts I’ll be digging into this some more but in a consensual BDSM setting.

For the first I’ll be describing the first ever hand strapping my wife gave me decades after leaving school.

For the second post I’m going into how to approach a mistress, a dominatrix, to give a hand strapping and tawsing. This has been something I’ve had to do before each session and not something I have found easy. If your intention is to visit a dominatrix and this is on your bucket list, hopefully it will help.

Wife With Tawse

You just need to add a wide brown leather belt and you get the idea for how my wife looked as she stood holding a folded leather belt in front of me.

Oh. And the sight of my hand held out flat palm up waiting to receive the strap.

The first six to each hand were easy enough to take, the second six more difficult, and the third six was about my limit.

As always, if you feel the need to talk about your needs, or wish to share a story be it real life or fictional – please contact me. You won’t be the first.

In Praise OF The Dominatrix

Welcome to 2022. Lets hope this is a better year, surely we have a right to that after the last two. I thought for the new year I’d start with something new and not something I’ve seen on the web.

Basically, I’d like to give my appreciation to those professionals who see to my BDSM related and fetish needs – the Dominatrix.


After all these years, and all these sessions, I find it is still easy to forget that a Dominatrix is another person, another human being with likes, hates, loves and loathes just the same as all the rest of us.

The Dominatrix / Client Relationship

My wife once commented when the subject came up, ‘You actually like these women who whip you’ and while that to some may seem an odd question, and also that it comes from my wife – it strikes to the heart of my life with BDSM.

First of all, my wife is accepting of my needs and understands she can’t see to them. For her my needs seem vastly illogical which caused her question as she considers any kind of pain or punishment to have a stigma attached. For her and most people the BDSM corporal punishment topic evokes highly negative thoughts.

Next it probably highlights an outsiders perceptions of the whole relationship between the slave (meaning me the client) and the Dominatrix.

And yes I do like them. They work hard, often with poor guidance and more than often in ways that would challenge most of us.

There Are Many Reasons

Attempting to understand the need for a Dominatrix, and then how a Dominatrix works are central to understanding the whole dynamic, the interaction between the Dominatrix and her client.

Also, and feeling pedantic, the exact phrasing of the question should be considered.

The phrasing actually matters more than most would suspect. There is a distinction in the phrasing of the question that really does matter to me.

The word “whip” is used in the question as a global term meaning to “beat” or “strike” or “hit” and a worse term is “thrashed” – which while they sound so similar, I don’t like them. Those words don’t have any feeling of fetish for me, they are generalizations.

I vastly prefer terms that define the type of punishment and the implement used, “strapping” and “belting” and “tawsing” work for me and of course a “caning” is always good.

Whips just are not my thing, well then again, I had a mistress a decade ago who was ambidextrous and used two stock whips on me at once. I suspect she struggled to find suitable slaves to ply this unusual ability on. I found the experience kind of ok, but not as intense as I had expected. The visual was pretty good though, the leather Dominatrix with two stock whips is always a pretty good look. Maybe she went light on me?

In my last session in early December 2021 the mistress told me I’m going to give the a thrashing so hard you won’t be able to sit down for days” which I liked the idea of and was kind of ok but I wish she’d said it was going to be a belting as she was holding a doubled over wide leather belt at the time. Since I was gagged and in bondage I didn’t have the possibility of saying anything and besides, correcting a Dominatrix in mid-session is really not the done thing. This mistress takes her work seriously, tries hard and I really did not want to give her anything other than positive feedback. Plus and importantly, it was my omission for not outlining that terminology before the session.

So, why do I visit a Dominatrix and pay for the privilege? The answer is extremely simple; I do it because it fills a space, fulfills a need, slakes a thirst I have that can’t be satisfied any other way.

You see, deep down where this need lives, there is a layer above put there by my upbringing and the definitions of polite society that says visiting a Dominatrix for a BDSM session is just not the done thing. That makes it seem even more unlikely that I should do this. But I do it because it works so well for me. From a cost-benefit point of view, the benefits far outweigh the emotional and monetary costs.

So why on earth would I actually like someone who whips me (there, that annoying terminology again but it does clarify things in an abbreviated way), causes discomfort, pain and from a rational point of view humiliates me? I do it because, and the answer is the same and like I said, it satisfies that need and does it in a professional manner that I doubt could be done in any other way.

But there is more to it that that.

If you want a simple answer, then you’ve had it.

If you want to look deeper to understand the relationship better, the benefits and yes also the costs, then read on.

In Summary – It all Works Together. It really does for me. I can afford the cost, I love the fetish look of the dominatrix in leather, the pain from the corporal punishment and the deeply cathartic feelings from tight strappy leather bondage. The Dominatrix gives acceptance and the way the BDSM session is played out all make me want it, and have kept me returning for 16 years now. From time to time I find there is a highly therapeutic nature to my BDSM sessions, but there is no doubt that it is an integral part of me, of who I am and that I need it.

First of all, the scrooge in all of us wants to know the cost and how to minimize it. For me, when I started it in 2005 the cost for a BDSM session with a Dominatrix in a professional dungeon was around $200 an hour. Now in 2022 that cost has risen to at least $300 depending on the time, person and the establishment. Of course, that was for my kind of session – pure bondage and corporal punishment. If there were other services that require cleaning or special arrangements then the cost of course escalates.

The cost for me has been substantial as I like (need?) at least a few sessions each year so yes, the cost quickly adds up.

Is there an alternative? Yes of course! You can visit clubs, seek out play partners, and do the whole ‘self bondage and corporal’ thing. If that works for you, then well done and you have my respect. For me those just don’t do it for me at a number of levels.

For me the BDSM dungeon and the mistress / Dominatrix thing is super deep, deeper than can be done at home by myself. Having someone else participate brings the experience home far better, far more meaningfully. By contrast the self bondage experiences can be satisfying in getting out the gear and exploring the fetish but they are a superficial and short term panacea at best.

What matters in your life? That is a question we all ask even if self consciously and then answer by the decisions we make. On a daily basis too. Our partner, if we have one, and our life journey are all a reflection of what matters to us. Visiting a Dominatrix is absolutely one of those decisions that I made that said ‘I want this experience because it matters to me and I want to make it special.

At a simplistic level, experience counts. No casual play partner or club experience will ever have the depth of experience and capability that a Dominatrix who has worked in the industry day after day and for years will have. Another way of looking at it; would you want to visit a medical professional or an amateur to has done some reading and works part time at it?

In my first ever session as a total newbie to pro-Domme sessions, the Dominatrix did things I never thought of, had equipment I didn’t know existed, and made the experience almost intoxicating. Her skill, attention, and her vast experience all made it special. Most importantly it was done professionally.

The need to submit in the BDSM session, to do the power exchange thing (a term I’m not in love with) is something that can be very strong in a BDSM session with a Dominatrix. Some people (men) really need this at times in their lives for a multitude of reasons.

I remember in my first session I was almost terrified at times as the Dominatrix took control, at others I was wondering how I had got myself into this position, and at others almost in a stupor at the effects of the session. When you add all those emotions together and they sit on top of decades of denial then the effect is very special indeed.

Maybe there is a fear-factor at play that adds to and generates all these strong feelings that makes it so addictive and almost intoxicating. Here you are being dominated by a Dominatrix and all of a suddenly you are out of your comfort zone and relinquishing control making it very powerful.

That submission, being told to endure, to take what is given and commanded by the leather clad Dominatrix does bring an endorphin rush. The mental mind-shift this brings is uniquely powerful.

I once saw BDSM and being a Dominatrix described as ‘Private Theater’ and on reflection it really is. It is particularly private in fact, with an audience of one and the Dominatrix plays a part that has been scripted by the pre-session discussion and the type of session.

The Dominatrix acts out a scenario based on the needs of her client, her slave, and it is for that person, her client alone. Choosing a Dominatrix is a lot like choosing an experienced actor, someone who has does it all before, knows what they are doing and understands the audience.

Guilt and an absence of emotional attachment. These are also big things. I visit a Dominatrix then when the session is over, I go my way, she goes her way and we each move on with our lives. There is no danger of damaging my marriage and I have not had sex outside the marriage or been unfaithful to my wife.

The guilt factor is there but vastly diminished. Sure, I have been naked with another woman and indulging in something intensely private with her, but again, there is no challenge to my wife. Yes, I am treating the Dominatrix as if she were a service provider, as a professional not a lot different to a medical professional (and there are similarities in my mind) so surely I can actually like her? Respect her? All just the same as my doctor.

If I’d sought out someone from a play party or an internet matching service specializing in BDSM I’m reasonably sure I would not have those benefits. I have no intention of forming an attachment to someone based on my BDSM needs, and hence the Dominatrix experience suits me very well.

There is a hint of a contradiction, of hypocrisy in this of course. Yes I am treating the Dominatrix as a purely commercial arrangement, yet I like them. We greet, chat, talk happily before and after a session and could be reasonably expected to be called friends. But there is an extremely well defined line across which I cannot cross and she will not accept (and quite rightly so).

The Dominatrix and the BDSM session do have a strong therapeutic value. Sometimes when I have a BDSM session I know I am wound up and tense, sometimes feeling as if I’m about to have a panic attack and that the world is jarring on me making life difficult. There have been articles on the web about the “spank therapy” types of sessions and indeed there are stories of it being used (by caning) in Russia at a clinic.

Broadly speaking I find there are three distinct ways the BDSM sessions work for me. Firstly, it is experiencing the fantasy and fetish that means so much to me. It is the ability to do this in a safe and professionally done way where it all come sout, nothing is hidden or denied, where there it total honesty about what is happening. Then there is the acceptance of doing this with another person who can participate and make it so much better for me. She caters for my special needs, she pushed me along, she makes it all work so very well. Finally is the raw experience of the session, the sensory overload and yes the pain that helps trigger the endorphin rush that ‘sends me’ into another mental head space. Mixed with this is the focus. I am nowhere else, I can’t be – I am in the session and the rest of the world doesn’t exist. It can’t. I’m totally there in the session.

I quipped once to my wife that ‘It’s impossible to be feeling depressed when the Mistress is giving me a strapping with her belt.’ And that is so true. There is only the ‘now’ and all the causes, reasons, history of the depression don’t exist. If you’ve ever had depression, getting it caned out of you, of strapped out of you, can feel very attractive.

Gear and space also matter. When I enter a professional dungeon I feel the change in myself. It is deep, so very deep, seemingly like an out of body experience. Just walking into the dungeon does it.

Have you ever tried meditation? If you have and it has been so very deep that when you return to the real world you feel immensely relaxed and at peace, well that is close to how I feel when I walk into the dungeon. All my tensions have eased, all the distractions in the world are gone. There is only the here and now.

You can get a little of this walking into other spaces, shops, peoples houses, you name it – your mind reacts to the environment and that is strong for me in a dungeon.

Yes, I’ve done the self-bondage thing for a few decades, far too many of them in fact. The reality is that it is great to feel the gear, to smell the leather and to move against the straps and belts that bind me. It falls down because being in a bedroom or similar space just does not have the same effect no matter how I try.

Looking at that paragraph, I suspect the best Dominatrix operating out of a bedroom or a garage and not having that ‘Dungeon feel’ would not work well. Thinking back, I have actually visited 2 home bedroom type dungeons and while each Dominatrix was great, I didn’t have many sessions there. I gravitated back to the full dungeon venues.

The Acceptance a Dominatrix gives is no small thing. This is easily missed, but it is huge. I have this special need and this internal stigma battling within me, and now I can visit someone before whom I can lay it all out, expose my innermost kinky thoughts and secrets and actually do it. And she accepts me. What is not to like, or love, in that interaction.

At a simple level, here is someone who will keep my secret and work with me to make it happen.

She accepts, she works with me and she makes me feel good in a way that is deeply comforting. That kind of acceptance just cannot be measured.

I remember, still, my first ever session where I’d told the Dominatrix I loved the belt bondage thing and had done self-bondage with belts for decades. During the session she introduced me to a bondage-spine, also known as a fish-bone harness. It has one long strap that runs from the back of the head down to the ankles. Through this are threaded a dozen other wide straps that wrap the body and when done up tight really is the pinnacle of belt bondage experiences. To this day, a decade+ later, regret the missed opportunity I had to purchase that spine when the dungeon closed down, but missed out.

Anyway, there I was in the session, naked, laying on the floor strapped up tight in this fantastic harness of wide leather straps, belts, and loving it. Really loving it. Standing above me was the leather clad Dominatrix with a strap giving me a hand strapping (I had to rotate my palms outward so she could apply the tawse she had), then she rolled me onto my front and gave me some bastinado from the tawse to the soles of my feet, and strapped my butt for a while. There was no downside to this. I still remember the out-of-body feeling, that feeling of ‘Am I really doing this’ as I lay there submerged so deep into sub-space.

The key point in this was that the Dominatrix facilitated it, made it work, and made the session so much batter as a result. For the first time in my life I was with someone who understood. And accepted.

In my most recent session late in 2021 at the start of my session I stripped off, had a shower then put myself into bondage prior to the Dominatrix returning for the start of session. There I was kneeling, with seven belts circling my ankles, calves, knees, waist and arms then linking them. I had on wrist cuffs that were clipped to a joiner that belts kept in the middle of my chest. It was an amazingly (even to me) display of kinky belt bondage and the Dominatrix hardly blinked an eye. Maybe she felt some surprise that I’d gone significantly further with my pre-session bondage than previously, maybe she was wondering how I’d done it all, but the reality was that she wasn’t fazed for an instant. Again, that kind of acceptance lets me indulge in the kink in a way that just works so well.

I find humiliation is always a part of a BDSM session. While I do not ask for it and have absolutely no desire for humiliation, how on earth could I indulge my secret fetishes and not feel humiliated in some way? Maybe humiliation is an excessive term – perhaps embarrassment might be more accurate.

My BDSM sessions have bondage and corporal punishment pretty much exclusively. I’ll be naked with many leather straps binding me, gagged, as the Dominatrix used all the implements on me. I find being naked like that, in bondage and in front of someone to be quite embarrassing even though I’ve been doing this for so many years.

Take hand strapping (tawsing) for example. I am naked and usually kneeling. The Dominatrix stands in front of me then tells me to put my hand out for the strap. She commands me. I lift my hand then she uses the strap or tawse or belt and brings it down hard along the length of my hand and fingers. It can be excruciatingly painful and she is right in front of me, watching me as she gives me that strapping. When I react, she is right in front of me watching, and I find that humiliating. There I am naked with my hand out getting a strapping just like I did at school in front of all my peers. It is all brought back to me.

What makes it all work is that the Dominatrix caters for this need impartially and professionally. She does not judge or feel horrified but rather she is accepting.

All this speaks to mental health. Yes it does most certainly for me. My having a session I know my tensions and inner conflict is vastly reduced. I feel myself building up steam between sessions, becoming less at ease and more easily angered and ‘just not me’ as my wife says. Then she sends me off for a session and I come away a whole new person.

If I couldn’t have sessions, I know I would be termed ‘an angry man liable to fly off the handle’ far more than I am now. So yes, there is absolutely a significant mental health aspect to BDSM sessions and the role of the Dominatrix.

As for the Dominatrix herself, I generally like and respect them. How on earth do they have an easy job? They must cater for such a wide variety of needs, be empathetic to their client and do things that challenge societal norms. They work in a sexual environment where I am sure they are asked inappropriate questions and perhaps subject to expectations that are immensely difficult to satisfy. Yet they do this, try so hard and in my experience and given half a change do it so well.

Sure, I have had sessions that really didn’t work, the Dominatrix and I just did not ‘mesh’ such that the sessions were less than great. Looking back and being bluntly honest, one was a time waster, one was self obsessed, and two others were absolutely my fault as I’d read into their profiles and used assumptions that were wrong. Rule number one, choose carefully.

So yes, I do like these people who whip me.

The Contradictions Of BDSM

Upbringing of course has such a huge impact on our lives. We grow up with a set of values and perceptions as to how we should behave, yet we can have huge hidden inner needs conflict with that conditioning.

Thus It was for me.

The leather mistress with a whip leaves nothing to the imagination.

That is of course except for the role you will play. Will it be you she whips? And you want that?

This is where the contradiction comes in. Suddenly your needs overwhelm your upbringing. Suddenly you find relief and solace from your denied needs and suddenly you feel free.

Yet at the same time you look around you and feel such guilt or remorse, or an out of body feeling that you doubt your sanity.

How can you be in a BDSM dungeon with a leather clad dominatrix and have that fit within your upbringing? It goes against your logic and yet it is so vastly wanted.

I remember being in a bondage-spine also known as a fish bone harness. It is essentially a dozen wide lather straps that wrap the body tightly and totally immobilize. For the belt bondage fetishist it doesn’t get any better than this. I remember thinking how damn strange it was to be in this position, on the floor strapped up tight. Yet I loved it so much. And  I doubted my sanity. And I was disappointed when mistress un buckled all the straps.

This is the contradiction. Your needs are fighting with your logical self. You need it, you rebel against it. I do. Maybe this is where heavy corporal helps. It pushes all other thoughts out of my mind and pushes me firmly into that floaty and sub-spacey feeling I relish.

Walk into a BDSM dungeon. It is filled with promise as to what will happen. There is no ambiguity.

Yet later in the session, I can almost look down on myself and wonder how and why on earth I am doing this. It feels so strange.

At the same time I know I need it so much.

The BDSM Dungeon

The Multi Polar Life

I’ve spoken of this previously. I feel we all have and live with multiple personalities, all stacked up inside us that come out to take control under different circumstances.

For example, your work persona changes to something else when you get home. Your home persona changes when you go shopping, or are on holiday and of course at work. That is all reasonable and normal.

The many faces

The faces we present to the world change from day to day and from hour to hour.

I know I change dramatically in a BDSM session compared to my other personas – and that sounds totally normal.

Yet I feel the contradiction.

But when something that is important to us is denied, the denial seems to make it stronger. No matter how you try, it is always there, clamoring for attention and taking effort to suppress.

At the same time our logical self, our every day self that deals with people, friends and family battles with that inner special self crying out for its release.

The contradictions between our special needs and our upbringing and the logic that has ruled our formative lives causes tension and conflict within us.

Moving Forward

For me there were a number of ways that I was able to reduce the tension and conflict that came from the contradictions warring within me.

Without doubt, the best thing I did was to seek professional counseling. That put everything into perspective.

Acceptance of myself and my special needs came from counseling. That, and the simple words that were spoken to me gave me a new perspective on life. This was the first step.

Coming out to my wife was a life changing moment where we both came to know each other better. I was able to dispel the fears I had, and that she had, and then move forward in our lives.

Taking charge then slaking my needs with regular BDSM sessions was then possible. I was able to reduce the inner tensions and to live out my innermost needs.

Coming Out To BDSM

One persons BDSM is another persons porn or filth or depravity, and quite often a secret delight. You name it. The issue with coming out to BDSM is to define what BDSM means to you – and then of course dealing with the consequences of a revelation to a significant other. It is not easy!


Before You do - ask these questions

For me, coming out took decades and only happened at a time of great personal stress. Sure, it worked for me but it is not something I would recommend without answering some basic questions.

Why are you doing it now? Why not yesterday, or last week, or next week?

Why are you doing it at all? Write the reasons down. Do they make sense?

How will it change the people you tell? Are they open minded, will this come way out of the left field for them and challenge their perceptions of you? Will you be the only kinkster in your group, then what assumptions will that provoke?

What are you going to get out of it? Yes, you must be selfish and admit to yourself just what pluses there are in this for you.

Coming Out Has Its Perils - Expect Confusion

First of all, I do not recommend you come out to a significant other, to friends and colleagues you are into BDSM – unless you are absolutely sure of the outcome. That is totally and absolutely your choice and your concern and your responsibility.

Remember – what is once said can’t be un-said and can’t be un heard.

Then when you do say that you have “this thing I like which is a bit kinky,” that leads to further discussions. Expect to be questioned more and more. If someone cares for you, that is only natural.

The confusion comes when someone who has previously seen you as “normal” suddenly finds you have this kink that seems so illogical to them. Trying to explain what it is that you get out of it can be near to impossible.

Trying to define to someone else just what it is that BDSM is for you can be challenging. Oft times images are far stronger or better than words.

Tawse Over Shulder

HOLD OUT YOUR HANDS – she says. Then I do for the tawse to do its work. This is an image that tells so much and also can be truly scary to someone not into the BDSM thing.

“You really get that?” I got asked, and then “but why?” and then the reasons that are invented are amusing. “Was it something in a previous life?” and “is it that you’re gay?” and “were you abused as a child?”

Trying to explain that my kink is just something in me, something innate, something necessary that calls to me just wasn’t enough for a very long time.

Disclosure As A Necessity

I can only write from personal experience, and from the depth of my own upbringing in kink-unfriendly times.

Disclosure became a necessity for me. Denial for more than 3 decades really did build an awful tension.

In a time or marital trauma I disclosed to my wife. I had to. She could see I was emotionally struggling and that the end of the marriage was a distinct possibility. She thought the fault was hers or that the marriage wasn’t working.

In some ways she was right. It wasn’t working because I had this need and was repressing it and keeping it a secret. It was the marriage because I felt trapped and could not indulge in my needs.

But it was me. I had not had the strength or honesty to disclose and in the absence of information, she was also a pressure cooker of emotions and fears. All this was spiraling out of control.

Disclosing was immensely difficult. It took hours and hours to explain that I had this need. That I needed it. That it was part of me and not as a consequence of her behavior or some age old trauma etc.

Extremely important was also to point out that my special needs did not take away from my love for her and the family or make me a bad person. I was and will be the same old me, just with a few extra kinks I’ve admitted to that have always been there.

Her fear of change and a sense of loss was very real. Working through that was necessary, with lots of reassurances.

Time helped immensely. We worked on the issue, talked it over. Sex outside the marriage was huge thing and a marriage breaker for her if this was included in me seeing BDSM mistresses. For me that was not an issue as sex is not part of my sessions.

Over The Years

The huge benefit of coming out to my wife is that she understand me far better. Should that not be the case in a marriage?

The whole cheating thing is all dependant on how you define it.

When my moods are low or ‘needy’ she knows I need to have a session and usually fairly soon.

While I feel guilt in doing it,  it is vastly easier for her knowing.

She also runs interference for me telling family and contacts a cover story.

So, yes, disclosuure has made it hugely easy.

BDSM And Cheating

This was a sticking point for my wife. If I wanted sex with mistresses she and I would have struggled to stay together.

It is cheating because even without sex in BDSM sessions I am doing something so personal to me while naked, with another woman. It is something so deeply personal-intimate which should only be with a partner in my old-school upbringing view.

It is not cheating because there is no sexual element, no intimacy, no erotic touching etc. The mistress is doing something my wife can’t get involved with and the mistress is relieving a tension that helps in the marriage. Plus my wife knows about it, I am honest, I am not keeping secrets – and honesty and keeping secrets are the first step in cheating.

I like to think there are similarities when when I see a female doctor, or a female nurse or psychologist. I can tell them intimate things, or get medically examined, I am also not cheating.

You need to be the judge of all that.

Few if any mistresses I’ve seen would have permitted sex. Sure, hand relief is available and they are I presume happy with that. I’ve been offered it maybe 3 times in 16 years but I’ve always said I couldn’t look my wife in the eyes if I did that. Even that felt wrong.

In my first ever session I really felt that I was cheating. Taking off my clothes and allowing her to interact with me (meaning to give me corporal) with me naked felt vastly wrong. It felt like I was cheating, yet there was zero intimacy of any kind.

Over the years this has relented. I can be naked chatting to the mistress after the session and there is still no intimacy. It is just part of the session and not a danger to the marriage.

Where To For You?

May I suggest you think it through, take your time, evaluate benefits and consequences. Be sure of yourself.

I am a huge fan of writing things down, making lists, weighing up decisions.

Then with important things, wait a few days and re-evaluate. Look at it with a fresh mind.

What is once said, can’t be un-said. Are you comfortable with this.

The number one priority is “you” – how are you going to feel, feel better, be happier?

Doing something like this in haste just feels vastly wrong.

Either way, I hope it goes well for you. Life is a journey we should take pleasure from, be a peace with and happy free, to be free to live and love as suits us.