Ordinarly I don’t quote an entire entry. But this blog looks neglected and his story of his first time with a (very incompetent) “professional” dominatrix is too good to let be lost.
As I rang the bell and waited nervously for the door to open, I reviewed the events leading up to this moment. The ad in the paper – “Strict Mistress will teach you to serve her etc etc”. The phone call and the voice dripping honey on the other end. The explanation of my fantasy, the invitation to paradise, the excitement as the day got closer. Now here I was. The door slowly opened and – oh, wow what a honey. Young, willowy, pouting lips, long gleaming auburn hair – the girl of my dreams.
“Come in honey,” she purred, turning and leading the way down the hall. From behind her waist was tiny, bare beneath the crop top and above the short denim skirt. Her arse was – well, perhaps it was a little scrawny. But maybe not.
“Just wait in the second room darling, and I will be with you in a minute,” she smiled. I went into the designated room. As I entered I became aware of two things. Firstly the loud noise from a TV. Secondly, the feel of something warm clasping my leg. Deciding the leg clasping was a priority I soon discovered a dog, or something vaguely dog like, was enjoying some tension relief on my leg. Whether dog or rat or dog/rat, it was definitely male, or had been recently. It took a few shakes before I had it fly satisfactorily across the room.
I then became aware of a wizened female face peering at me from around a chair in front of the blaring TV. Black button eyes, a mouth like a chicken’s bum and a quavering voice confronted me. The voice rose a decibel with every syllable uttered.
“What do you want? You’re going to rape me aren’t you? You want to have your way with me. Molester. Pervert.”
The last words were shrieks. What the hell was going on here? The door behind me was flung open, revealing my “mistress” in a state of dishabille, a look of confusion on her face.
“Oh no, I’m sorry – wrong room. Please, next door down. Granny –shut up, you stupid old biddy. No one wants to have their way with you but the dog.”I was then ushered out and into the adjoining room with many apologies from my “mistress” She again excused herself to slip into ‘something more fitting’ for my enjoyment. I sat and tried to regain that ‘horny about to be satisfied feeling’. But a little of the magic had leached out of the moment. Still, for the money I was paying it had to get better!
The door opened and the ‘mistress’ reappeared clad in her working costume. Oh shit, I want my money back. Lovely clinging black leather bra and pants – nipples peeping through, too. Black fishnet stockings, but they did appear to have either mange or leprosy, as there were many odd sized holes in the net. And they disappeared into something that had to have been WW2 flying boots, cracked and also mangy. To complete her transformation she was wearing a Shirley Temple wig that her dog appeared to have spent a week shagging. Where was that lovely hair?“Er, ah, your hair – “, I began.
“Yes, don’t you love it? You told me of your weakness for hair and I just had to tease you with this.”
“Oh, ah, yes, but I really like the, ah, Pantene –“
“And my boots – they were my grandfathers. After I bought the outfit I didn’t have enough left for boots but then I found these in a cupboard. I’m recycling them.”
“Yes, good, that’s good, but –“ I tried again.
“Oh silly me, I didn’t tell you my name. It’s Gertrude, but you can call me Gertie. It’s not my real name,” she confided. “I thought it sounded, well, classy and different. I also thought about Muriel, and Gladys, and Agnes. Do you like any of those better? I can use any of them if you like.”
My penis had shrunk to the size of a M&M, and my testicles, deciding they would not be needed, withdrew into my body cavity. I had to get this show heading in the right direction, as I had saved up my paper round money for 3 years for this.
“Ah—Gertie. Should I call you Mistress Gertie?” Hopefully.
“Mistress Gertie?’ she giggled, “oh yes, I see what you mean. Yes, call me that, if you don’t mind. Do you know,” she lowered her voice, “I’ve never done this before.”
Tears sprang to my eyes, my heart sank and my testicles kept climbing in my body cavity. Hell existed on earth. This was my punishment for all my nocturnal activities alone in my bed. I’d been warned. One last try.
“Mistress Gertie, I came here to, ah, to have a session of, ah, well—“
“Oh yes, of course you did – I’m so sorry. Yes, let’s get started. Now, let’s see. How about you tell Gertie – sorry, Mistress Gertie, what you want.”
“Well – I’ve been a – a bad boy and-“
“Oh don’t say that. You’ve been very nice and so good. Why would you say you’ve been a bad boy? Do you feel guilty about something? I really think you are so nice.”
“No, I’m a bad boy and need to be punished for—“
“No, no, now you stop that. You aren’t a bad boy. You’re a very good boy and I like you a lot. Didn’t your mother love you when you were little?”
“I’M A BAD BOY,” I screamed at her in frustration.
“Now you stop that shouting,” she demanded. “You’re a very bad boy to shout like that”
“Well, punish me,” I moaned.
“Well, I don’t like to do – oh, I see.” A little light had come on in her brain. Very little. And probably a lonely light. “I think you need a taste of my riding crap!”
Riding crap? Riding crap?“Um I think you mean crop. Riding crop”
Blank look.
“Oh – yes, that’s it –crop! What’s riding crap though?”
“I don’t really know but I’m sure I don’t want a taste of it. Look, I really would like to experience some – ah – female domination. It is what you promised, isn’t it.”
She looked slightly offended. “Of course it is, and so you shall. But we need to go to my pantry – no, playroom, and you must take of all your clothes. But you are wearing underwear aren’t you? I mean that wouldn’t be very nice – if you weren’t I mean. And then I will punish you.”Underwear on! –this got better and better. A few minutes later I was in her ‘playroom’ and naked – except for my underwear. True to the rest of my experiences so far, the playroom was painted pink, had frilly curtains and a teddy and Barbie on a shelf. Against one wall were a pair of rings hanging from the ceiling. This looked more promising.
“Over against the wall you naughty boy and put your hands up to the rings.” I did as instructed, noticing in the process that the rings appeared to have come from a children’s playground. As long as they did the job. I went and stretched my arms up wards, and she approached with some rope and began to fasten my wrists to the iron. After she had tied one wrist, I made the mistake of allowing a little of my weight on the ring. The small eyelet in the ceiling pulled out and I found myself sitting on the floor with a confused Mistress Gertie staring down at me.“That’s never happened before,” she muttered.
“You’ve never used them before,” I pointed out. “Now what?”
“Well,- well – you just go and bend over that table and I’ll show you what.” I did as she asked, thinking that if Sacher-Masoch had ever had this experience masochism would never have taken off.
Now from somewhere she had produced a whip – a real, honest to goodness whip. She walked around in front of the table to show me.
“Look at this you bad boy. Now you’re going to get it. Mistress Gertie is really going to give you a thrashing. Now you hold still.”
She disappeared behind me and I tensed in anticipation. Had she really got it together at last? Was it all going to be worthwhile?
There came a loud crack followed immediately by a bloodcurdling scream. Mistress Gertie danced and twirled past me, clutching her left breast.
“Ouch, aoww, shit, bloody hell me tit, me nip, owww shit, I cut me tit off, help” I could only guess that she hadn’t had a lot of practice with whips. I now became the target of her profanity.
“Don’t just sit looking you great turd, help me, I’m bleeding Help me.”
Eventually getting a chance to examine her breast it saw a nasty welt across the nipple and a couple of drops of blood. And she was going to try and use that on me? My testicles now climbed into my chest cavity at the thought. As I reassured her I became aware of movement near the door. Sure enough, black button eyes and a chickens bum mouth. Granny.Now all it needed was the rat/dog.
Thirty seconds later saw me out on the pavement in my underwear, my clothes over my arm, running and sobbing in relief.
The head monk here at the monastery has just come in to tell me its time to go to sleep. He’s very nice but he doesn’t have to put up with the nightmares. And I do hope he never finds my picture book of sheep I have hidden under my mattress. Some of them are very sexy.