Mind Fuck

I wait in the dim, candle-lit Main Dungeon. I have followed Mistress Devonia's instructions, am shaved and clean inside and out, and have obeyed Her strict instruction not to masturbate for the three days before. I have seen Mistress Devonia many times before, and on this occasion, will not meet Her before the session. I do not know exactly what lies in store for me, and the idea excites and terrifies me in equal parts. There is a tray of implements waiting on the bench, covered neatly with a folded towel. I yearn to turn over a corner and peek, to learn what might be on offer for me on this meeting, but I resist.

I shiver slightly, perhaps anticipation, perhaps slightly cold in the airconditioned room, perhaps an element of fear. I try to compose myself, and settle into the comforting, familiar, almost yoga-like 'slave position'.

It's no use. I have to look. I have to prepare myself for the delicious tortures to come. I know I have scant seconds before She will be here, and leap up and cross the room. My hand is on the towel when (of course) the door opens.

'Slave!' Her tone is a mixture of amusement and reprimand. My cock hardens as if by magic, and my face flushes with shame.

'Back down on the ground, in your position'

I scurry - there really is no better word for it - to do her bidding. She walks over to the wall and selects a collar. I sneak a peek at her while I know her back will be turned, only to realise she is watching me in the mirror.

'You bad boy. You know the rules'. Sweetly, almost happily, as if my sadistic Goddess was happy to have caught me out, not once but twice within 30 seconds of entering the room. Shame overwhelms me, but my cock, perhaps anticipating some of the punishment that will be coming its way, hardens even more.

Striding across the room, steel capped stiletto thigh high leather boots clicking against the stone floor, she selects a paddle and proceeds to remind me of the rules, each one punctuated by a resounding, reverberating slap on my rapidly warming buttocks.

'No speaking without permission' SLAP 'No looking at your Mistress without permission' SLAP 'Obedience and respect' SLAP SLAP 'You will respect your own limits' SLAP 'No climax without permission' SLAP SLAP 'Do I make myself clear?' A fusillade of exquisitely forceful slaps.

'Yes Mistress. I'm sorry Mistress'

'Good.' She tosses the paddle onto the rack, and proceeds to collar me. All the time speaking in my ear, allowing her long dark hair to brush on my naked shoulder, the smell of her perfume in my nostrils. She tells me some of what will be coming my way, laughs at my intake of breath, pauses to reach between my outstretched arms and run her long sharp nails around my nipples, tweaking them lightly. I tremble. She takes a moment to torment me, to run her fingers down my spine, to snap on a latex glove and to tease the puckered opening of my arse, to reach between my legs and squeeze my balls lightly.

She tells me to stand. A sudden shift of mood again, as I feel she has finished toying with her plaything, and is now impatient to get down to business. She threads a finger through the ring in my collar and forces me backwards, pushing me against the wall, secures me to the eyebolts, and spreads my legs. Two quick snaps of fasteners, and my legs are held apart, my cock and arse and balls all vulnerable to Her ministrations.

I am hooded, bound, and blind. I trust Her, but still fear what is to come. I fear that I will not be able to take what She has in mind, that She will be disappointed with my attempts to please her. She knows my need for discipline, that a firm, kind, punishing hand is what I crave, but I know how much She loves to see me take everything She can give me.

A brief pause. The click of heels. I think She is fetching that tantalising tray of implements. Again, the gentle scritch of her finger nails around my nipples, building to an intensity of tugging and tweaking that has me moaning and almost weak at the knees. Clamps go on, a seamless transition between the tug and pinch of fingers and the tug and pinch of the weighted clamps. Those fingers run down my body, and finally rest on my cock. Tease. A light touch. She knows how much I need that pain, how much I have taken for Her before, how much I would take again. I want to beg Her to give me what I need, but know She would take impish delight in delaying the pleasure of that pain even more.

A chair is drawn across the floor, and she sits down. My mind is completely focused on the little I can glean of Her movements from what I can hear, the sensation in my nipples and the yearning hardness of my cock. Firmer pressure. Squeezing. The familiar sensation of ball stretching, the deep feeling through my lower torso. My legs are held far apart, and as the stretching intensifies, as more weight is added, I take pride in not allowing my knees to bend. She stands up, leans in close.

A murmur in my ear 'Good boy'. I can feel the heat of Her body, She is so close. More sweet, nasty promises as She sets the weights to swinging, my stretched genitals pendulumed with Her knee as she reaches down with one hand and scratches the taut, tight envelope of my scrotum. A building intensity in my nipples tells me where Her other hand is, and the sensations threaten to overwhelm me.

I am lost in the moment, moaning as if this were my first session, as if I could be the wide eyed BDSM virgin all over again.

Her hand does something to the apparatus on my balls, and all weight is removed. The sudden release is like an electric shock, and my flesh takes a moment to recover. In that moment, the nipple clamps come off too. Almost before I have adjusted, I have been removed from the wall, and still hooded, walked to the rack. I am laid down. The cuffs are snapped onto the eyebolts, and I am once again at Her mercy - though clearly not enough for Her taste. The slither of leather, and I have straps across my body, holding every part of me firmly. My head is still reeling, and I give myself entirely to the sensation.

The click of heels. A murmur - is she calling the receptionist? The click as she hangs up the phone, and she returns to my side.

'Some reward for the weight you took so well', She whispers, and I am finally allowed to kiss some of Her beautiful skin. 'Lick, kiss, suck - show your Mistress how well you can serve Her', she says. As my mouth is occupied, her hand once again trails down to my cock, aching and aroused, and - her words - 'unkindly distracts me from my task' with the mixture of pleasure and pain Her skilled fingers exact. The stroking and squeezing and cock-spanking is taking me dangerously close to ending this too early, and I am on the verge of begging for mercy when there is a tap at the door. My Mistress continues exactly as she is doing, but the crisis for me is averted by the welcome distraction.

She greets the apprentice, and finally stops tormenting me long enough to instruct her in what she should do. In less time than it takes to describe it, it seems, there is the coolness of mummification wrap, rapidly warming with the heat of my body, holding every inch of me from neck to toes in place. A snip of the scissors, and cooler air on my crotch tells me She once again has access to me.

She thanks the apprentice and invites her to stay and watch some of what is to come.

There follows a period which is confused in my mind. So many hands, so much sensation, so much pain, alternating with pleasure and reward. I know that she subjected me to sounds, to her electrical box. Her hand found its way between my legs and inserted one of her electro butt plugs ('just in case you're feeling I'm neglecting that area', she breathes mockingly). I lost track. I was challenged to guess whose nipple I was forced to worship, and got it wrong more often than I am willing to admit, with appropriate punishment and teasing from my Mistress.

Finally, Mistress Devonia tells the apprentice to leave us, thanks her again, and we are alone.

A pause. An increase in the pressure on my balls. My scrotum is being stretched out once again, this time with wrappings of a thin cord. Longer and longer, with my balls tight and vulnerable at the end of what feels like six inches of wrapping. This is new. She is rubbing my balls, the slightest pressure amplified by their complete forced immobility, and as a scent hits my nostrils, the warmth of the hot cream starts to build. The sensation is astonishing, and I gasp and try to wriggle. That amused chuckle from my Mistress again, and I hear the slither of her leather skirt.

'I'm going to use you, my pet', she says. 'You've done so well, you get a very special reward'. Her hands again on my ball sac (tube, by now), as she rolls something on. A condom? Before I have time to dare to speculate, she is straddling me, and the incredible tightness around my tortured balls is increased as she uses the 'cock' she has created for her own pleasure, forcing it inside herself. One hand torments my real cock.

In no time at all, I am begging for mercy. So aroused, my balls feel like they are going to explode, in so much pain they feel like they are going to be squeezed flat, and so overwhelmed at what my Mistress is doing.

She stops. Snip of scissors again, one of my hands released and placed on my cock. My hood is removed, and I am finally allowed to look at my Mistress as she stands over me on the rack and commands me to come as she directs the soothing warm stream of her golden shower over my cock and balls. A tearing orgasm makes me convulse against my remaining bonds, and it is all over.

Aching, hot, sore, I am released from my bondage. My Mistress is very pleased with me. I am overcome with the experience, and as she sends me to the shower, realise that I will be reliving those last few moments for a long time to come.

A truly mind-fucking session.