I hear a knock and I smile. Opening my front door, I’m greeted by an attractive young man. He has an impish, if slightly nervous smile. As expected, he stares at my tits. He knows I’m MtF trans and my boobs are silicone breast forms, but he still can’t help himself. Granted, my tits are only slightly smaller than basketballs and I chose them for sole purpose of getting his attention, but I’m still amused. I’m dressed in pink sweat pants and an intentionally snug white t-shirt. Casual dress for a domme, but I rarely go all in for a first “date.” Besides, I’m planning to work up a sweat.
“Do you know why you’re here” I ask. He nods and I scowl. “When I ask a question, I expect the basic courtesy of a verbal response.” He swallows and replies with a simple yes. “Good, you may leave anytime you like, but while you remain in my house, you’ll do as I say and follow my rules.” “Rule one, you will address me as mistress or ma’am.” “Rule two, your name is plaything because you are my plaything.” “Rule three, like all playthings, you exist for my entertainment.” I ask if he understands and he replies, “yes ma’am.” “Playthings don’t need clothes so strip, everything but your cage.” “But first, give me your key.” “In this house, your cock belongs to me.” I clip the key next to another, different key on a necklace I’m wearing
I sit on my couch and admire a naked young man, wearing a silver stainless steel chastity cage and standing in front of me. I have a custom made coffee table in my living room. It’s a little taller than normal and slightly wider than an average male’s shoulder width. In short, it’s a very serviceable bondage bench. I begin to explain what I expect from him and what will be happening today.
There are several items under a piece cloth on my “coffee table.” His breath quickens when I reveal them. There is a long wooden spoon, a reed cane, a straight razor strop and finally a three foot length of ¾ inch diameter automotive heater hose. The first three items are obvious as to their purpose. I pick up the hose and ask if he knows what it is. I hand it to him when he replies, in the negative. I tell him it’s called a sap. “You’ll notice that both ends are plugged and it feels heavy.” “That’s because its full of sand.” This causes his eyes to widen a little.
The next item I show him is pear shaped and made of stainless steel. “This is a pear of anguish.” “It is similar to a common butt plug, but it has a shaft that protrudes from your rectum when inserted.” “When this shaft is tightened, the inner portion splits into three sections and expands, locking it in place.” The second key on my necklace is to lock the pear open.” “I will have you locked front and back.” “These keys will be a symbol of my control and your submission.
The final item is a plain white towel and I ask if he knows what it is. He responds, “a towel mistress?” “Yes,” I reply, “but more precisely, it’s my sweat towel.” “I’m going need it as I work up a sweat working you over.” “Your body is my canvas.” “These items are instruments I'll use to paint my canvas and my color palate is going to be black, blue and red.” “There will be no bondage until I get to know you better and we will have a safety phrase.” “It is, I’m weak.” "If you say, I’m weak, everything stops and the session for the day ends.” “If you have any questions or concerns, now is the time.” “Once we begin, all pleas will be ignored except for the safety phrase.” “You’ve told me you have a high pain tolerance and rarely cry from physical pain.” I give him an evil smile and taunt, “I want to taste your tears.” “If you want to proceed, lay face down on the table.” He complies with little hesitation and we begin.
I plan to give him at least fifteen minutes with each instrument. I start with the spoon. My target is his right butt cheek and I strike it five times quick and hard. I pause to gage his reaction. He winces slightly, but I sense no major distress. I proceed to strike his left butt cheek. Again, five times in rapid succession, but harder. I shift my attention to his right thigh, then the left. I strike him no more than five times in each spot. I pause between each set of five and gage his reaction. I strike progressively harder until he starts to cry out and I see real pain on his face.
After the planned fifteen minutes, I shift tactics. I tell him his ass looks a little empty. I walk into his field of vision so he can watch me put on a pair of black, elbow length PVC gloves. I pick up a tube of KY jelly, and say “today I’m going to be nice and use plain lube.” “Next time, I’m going to use glycerin or Icy Hot.” “I’m not sure which I’ll use, so I think I’ll leave it up to chance and flip a coin.” “Actually, I think I’ll make you flip the coin.” “That will be amusing.”
I begin lubing his ass, but I use no more than one finger. I’m not being nice. I don’t want him warmed up before I insert the pear. When both are slick with KY, I begin the insertion. I go slow for about the first quarter of the pear and then, without warning, I shove it all the way in hard and fast. I enjoy his squeal as his face contorts in pain.
I begin to rotate the shaft and open the pear. I do this slowly. I’m a sadist, but I won’t cause my plaything permanent damage. Besides, I want to savor the moment. Over a period of about ten minutes, I gradually open the pear to it’s fullest. He is panting from the pain and cries out to stop. I simply reply, “no.” He continues to beg me to stop, but doesn’t use the safety phrase so I ignore his pleas. Once fully opened, I lock the pear preventing any possibility of removal. He whimpers when the lock clicks closed. Such sweet music.
Picking up the reed cane, I continue decorating my canvas. I continue my pattern of five strikes, a pause to gage his reaction and then five strikes on another location. However, I add his back and shoulders to my list of targets. I’m in no rush. I proceed methodically and at a steady pace. The cane is light and easy to use so I extend my planned time. All in all, I cane him for about thirty minutes. I savor his cries of torment, but to his credit, I see no tears.
When I become bored with the cane, I start manipulating the pear. I cause it to shift and press against his prostrate. To my amusement, he begins to uselessly hump the table and I decide it’s time for the sap. I take great care with the sap. Misused, it can literally break bones. I limit my target to his ass and gage my level of force carefully. Still, the dull thud of the sap must be a shock after the sharp snap of the cane. His body shakes with every thud and fifteen minutes must have felt like an eternity from his point of view.
It is time for my final instrument and I switch to the strop. Besides it’s effectiveness, I like the strop due it’s nostalgia and traditional use as a tool of corporal punishment. Since I’ve begun to know him better over the last hour, I change my pattern. I strike him with the strop once in one location and move to different area. I vary between fifteen to twenty-five strokes per set. I don’t want him to anticipate where I will strike next or when I’ll pause. I barely make it to fifteen minutes as I’m sweating, panting and tired. I stop to rest and admire my portrait. His back, butt and thighs are covered in lollipop shaped welts from the spoon, clean narrow lines from the reed cane, bruises from the sap and square welts from the strop. Still, something is missing. Picking up the cane, I add the needed element.
He jerks in surprise the first time the cane falls on the sole of his right foot. I begin to alternate between his feet. He clenches his fists and his face twists in pain. His feet are a small target and my work is complete within five minutes. My plaything is sweaty, exhausted and his voice is hoarse from hie cries of pain, but there are no tears nor did he utter the safety phrase. His strength has earned my affection. I caress his cheek and tell him, “you are not weak.” “You’ve earned what comes next.” At his look of concern, I assure him, no more pain.
I retrieve a Hitachi vibrating wand. I press the vibrating wand against his cage and begin manipulating the pear again making it press against his prostrate. I alternate pressing the wand against his cage, balls and the sensitive area between his balls and his plugged asshole. I try to draw it out as long as possible, but he is so turned on from my painful administrations, the vibrations soon have him bucking and crying out in orgasm.
I give him a few minutes to rest and then gently remove the pear and his cage. I tell him to go to the bathroom and clean himself. He stands gingerly and complies. I greet him when he exits the bathroom with a satin robe. I help him into the robe and drape the soft fabric over his bruised flesh.
I guide him to the couch and he carefully sits. Even so, he winces and I know he has no way to avoid the pain. Still, he smiles and I again caress his cheek. “I think we could use some wine” I say. He asks where I keep it and begins to rise. I stop him with a hand on his shoulder. I smile and tell him gently “I have a variety of reds and whites, you get to choose.” “You also get to sit and rest, I'm going to take care of you for a while.”
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