The Afternoon That Devastated My Life free porn video

THE AFTERNOON THAT DEVASTATED MY LIFE.

By SEAN DUNNE.

In all my years visiting professional mistresses, rather ironically, byfar the most explosive, mind shattering episode I ever experienced and fromwhich I never fully recovered, occurred during a visit to an absolute newcomerand complete novice at the game. The following account is I believe an accuraterecord of the session as I still remember most details quite vividly, but therewere some occasions where I believe I may have had moments of blackout or wasnot fully compos mentis for short periods.

The female involved hadn't long left University and had become vaguely awareof the S/M scene at some fetish rubber-wear parties she attended to model thegarments. From there she started attending some BDSM functions and gained someinsight into the fem/dom and male slave scene. Deciding she certainly had thedisposition and that becoming a professional dominatrix was likely to be farmore rewarding in monetary terms than any other career she was likely embarkon, she went into business. However, she had very little capital to get startedso she was obliged to rent a large room from the 'owner' of a communal squat.Fitting it up with some bare essentials, she placed an advert and her picturein the relevant contact magazines at that period, (pre-internet era) sat backand waited for some clients. I received one of the magazines very early asI had a subscription to it and I wrote off right away. The reply came backremarkably quickly, considering my letter was sent via the magazine and I wasdelighted to discover her workplace was not that far away from me on the Underground.And so it came to pass that I became her very first 'customer'.

Initially I couldn't believe I had the right address. A row of dilapidatedhouses? The whole area apparently ready for demolition? When the door opened,I saw newspapers and dust on the floor and up the stairs. I almost turned andleft. It was the appearance of the dominatrix herself that changed my mind.

Long experience had taught me to take along some of my own equipment toa session, despite having to hump along quite a weight. For instance, I'vehad some fairly useless gags shoved in my mouth at times, often so inadequatethat I could hold a conversation while wearing them. And although it's quiteunderstandable why mistresses favor thick padded leather cuffs and straps andsimilar items in a session, I find them unnatural and artificial. If a sessionis sometimes not going very well, I'll often request to be left alone in frontof a mirror for a period to let my imagination run wild and it seems far morerealistic and 'authentic' in my eyes that I'm manacled and chained up the oldfashioned way and effectively silenced. Hence I carry around a foolproof gag,wrist and leg manacles and some various lengths of chain with plenty of handysmall padlocks and chain connectors and it was lucky in this case that I'dbrought quite a bit as she appeared to have very little equipment of her own.Indeed, she seemed quite vague as how to get the session under way. When itbecame obvious she'd never even seen anything like the pair of old fashionedwrist and ankle manacles I produced and was uncertain even as to how to securethem, I really began to think the whole session was going to be one of themany disappointing ones I've experienced.

Still, I felt I'd be a lot more cheerful about wasted hours in the companyof this particular mistress than any other I'd ever been dissatisfied with.But I did begin to wonder how I'd use up the three hours I'd booked on thebasis of her photo alone. At least, thank goodness, she or someone had screweda large very secure hook into the center of the ceiling – so I hastilydevised what I thought would be an understandable and undemanding fantasy scenariowith her.

To save time and frustration, I decided to bind myself up. I stripped offuntil I was naked and walked to the middle of the room, directly under thehook. For a moment, I couldn't think why and it was unusual for me, maybe itwas her sudden intense interest in what I was up to, but I suddenly felt abit uneasy about what I was up to and for a moment considered changing thefantasy. But then bearing in mind her appearance and obvious inexperience,I shook off any misgivings and carried on with my scenario. I bent down andsnapped my steel leg manacles tight around my ankles. A very short chain connectedthese. Then using one of my longer lengths of chain, I bound the tops of myknees together very tightly using several turns and secured the links witha small padlock. I tightened that chain further with another one pulled aroundit between my pinioned legs, that chain also pulled tight and padlocked. Next,I forced my large penis shaped rubber gag into my mouth and buckled the straptightly behind my neck. Additional straps that buckled over the head and underthe chin made this, my favorite gag, immovable and incredibly effective ascommunication was impossible and the loudest screams were barely audible. Infact, previous mistresses told me they could hardly hear a sound even whenI appeared to be screaming all out trying to attract attention. I had arrangedwith the mistress at this point to chain my elbows together, but sufficientlyfar apart that I could just get my arms up over my head, which she did quitecompetently. Almost too competently as she'd chained them really tight andthe chain bit into my elbows when I raised them up. Finally, I had alreadypadlocked my manacles to the ceiling hook and stretching up, almost up on mytoes, managed to lock my wrists into them. A bit too tight for comfort, especiallyalso with the chains biting now quite deep into the flesh of my elbows andknees, but it was now too late to start all over again. At least now, if nothingelse much happened in this session, I was now conscious of the blissful andexciting sensation of being utterly helpless in that position and the knowledgethat I couldn't possibly escape. So even if the torture was more ticklish thansevere, at least the thrilling awareness that I'd placed myself in a positiongiving her total control and the pain of struggling in this tight bondage mustproduce a reasonable orgasm.

The scene I'd devised with her was that I had been kidnapped while visitinga country run by an evil totalitarian regime and they had simply refused tobelieve my pleas that it was a case of mistaken identity and I just had noidea what the information was they seeking from me. So now at this moment,I'd just been dragged up from the cells below and fixed in this position toawait whatever torments the evil regimes top 'extractor of information' wasabout to inflict on me to get me to talk. This person happened to be a femaleso sadistic that, having had her 'pleasure' curtailed several times by thevictims blurting out information before she could fully demonstrate the fullrange of her skills, she now had them tightly gagged to prolong their agonyand not spoil her depraved enjoyment.

As the session got under way, I began to realize that I'd completely misreadthe character of this seeming innocent and inexperienced young miss. She mayhave been a novice mistress, but it soon became clear that she had no problemwhatever inflicting pain on the male body. I now began to very much regretmy somewhat light-hearted advice just before I gagged myself: 'Just throw allyour inhibitions away and imagine how this terrible female would act.' Wellshe'd certainly didn't appear to have any inhibitions at all, in fact, shewas instantly unerringly realistic in her role and very early on in the session,I began to realize that this lovely creature had a cruel, sadistic streak inher nature and actually appeared to get a great deal of pleasure tormentingsubmissive male flesh. It seemed beyond belief that this previously apparentlyhopeless young lady was starting to materialize into someone closely resemblingthe remorseless tormentor in my fantasy. I also began to realize with mountingalarm, that I, for the first time ever, having not imagined it to be especiallyimportant under the circumstances and not wanting to inhibit the poor girl,had not discussed exactly what I meant by 'torture'. I remember being a bitsurprised that she hadn't asked, just nodding her head when I went throughthe scene I wanted and I was rather excitingly anticipating a sort of compassionatetorture being practiced on me. And, of course, I also hadn't arranged simplespecial signals to indicate what was happening was too severe – and nowit was too late. I had foolishly given her absolute control and described thatin her eyes, I was just an utterly worthless, insignificant victim of no consequence,strung up for her to perform on me as she imagined a sadistic and utterly heartlessfemale top secret police official in a totalitarian state would. As I'd alsoensured my total helplessness by the bondage I'd chosen and by gagging myselfso effectively that intelligible communication impossible, quite quickly, thewhole scene had dangerously got out of my control.

My anxiety was mounting fast as I also realized too late that quite naturally,she would consider any desperate struggles and any amount of muffled screamsas a valid, indeed necessary part of the scenario I had demanded. This wasn'tturning out at all as I'd planned it and now, what I'd never imagined couldpossibly happen, her activities were such that I really was starting to experiencethe mounting dread and terror a real genuine victim would in the same circumstances.

Now I normally just play around quite moderately in sessions with professionalmistresses I'm masochistic in nature, but not into really serious pain, justa wee bit to start, and then a fairly realistic threat of future certain painand suffering is sufficient for me. Unlike some I've seen, I'm not at all extremeand I suppose I'd be considered very wimpish in many circles. I like tightbondage, humiliation, sometimes explore enforced TV as a further humiliationtool and can accept reasonably painful torture when it's appropriate for satisfyingthe fantasy. A passive, unsecured slave scenario never turned me on at all.Just docilely accepting caning, whipping, torture, whatever, without beingfully secured in some way would never enter any fantasy of mine. I just wasn'tthat type of submissive. So my most usual fantasy with a new mistress was findingsome rational reason, (drugged, innocent bondage horseplay, blackmail) as tohow she'd subdue me. How would an non-submissive, but naive and trusting maleend up being viciously, brutally bound or manacled and gagged, so she couldnow humiliate him at will and subject him to torture. And if she's realisticand starts to seriously torture me, that's usually enough for at least onereasonable orgasm before I give the secret signal to end the session beforeit becomes too painful. Of course, I have many different scenarios, often dependingon the appearance or the attitude of the dominatrix - but I'd obviously neverplaced myself in a situation like this before. This scene though was one ofmy favorite masturbation fantasies and I'd chosen it this time because I assumedI was about to get a gentle, fairly unsuccessful session. For the first timeever, I cursed my particular passion for inescapable bondage. Had I have beenone of those slaves who was satisfied just to bend over and take his medicine,I could have stopped this session quite early.

However it was not to be, as this novice had ominously taken her role inthe fantasy I'd devised quite literally and was gradually increasing the intensityof the torture. Not only that, she was diabolically inventive with her limitedresources and now, totally indifferent to my increasingly desperate attemptsto register some indication I wanted an end to this scene, she relentlesslyupped the pain level. She started with burning wax, then carefully and precisely,managed to inflict torment I didn't think possible with some diabolically evilnipple and body clamps that I'd seen lying around before we started, but hadn'tbothered to question her use of them as I assumed she wouldn't know too muchabout such implements. It turned out she understood perfectly how to use themto maximum effect and even improvised further with them later when she tightlyconnected them all together with some strong string, ensuring they were constantlyin tension and would tear into my flesh even more at the slightest movementof my body.

And though she didn't have much conventional mistress type equipment, shecould certainly improvise as I found when she produced a large pair of ordinarypliers and used them throughout adding more agonizing tricks to her pliersrepertoire as time went on. Exasperated by my early jerking about in my suspendedstate to avoid the torture and in yet another unnerving example of her cold-bloodedingenuity, she undid the thin rope that was tied to each corner of an old ironframed bed in the room, knotted them together, bound my testicles tightly withone end and then – forcing the rest of the line through my pinioned thighs,jerked me back – and then tied the other end to the foot of the bed.Now I dare not attempt to pull away too much from my tormentor as she remorselesslycontinued to act in the role I'd requested. I thought I was about get somesmall moment of relief when she relaxed back against the old set of drawersand lit up a cigarette. But after a few deep draws, she looked at the red-hotend of the cigarette and then looked at me - and I knew what was about to happen.She paused for a smoke several times in the session and each time after a fewrelaxing puffs, she'd slowly and sensuously approach my agonized body withan exaggeratedly sexual movement, as if to taunt me with the contrast of extremebeauty and merciless cruelty and then carefully place the burning end intothe chosen area, drawing deeply on the cigarette each time to ensure it wasred hot. Later, when she lit up, she suddenly looked closer at the jet of flameon her gas cartridge lighter and I knew she'd found one more terrifying instrumentto work with.

In between these tortures, she'd casually saunter around behind me and thenquite viciously thrash my back and backside with a sort of heavy flexible cropshe had suddenly produced which I hadn't even known she possessed. Even thefew periods when she rested for short moments, eyeing me speculatively as sherelaxed back in the one chair, didn't for a moment relieve my torment. Addingto the pain of her torture was the constant agony of the tight bondage I'dplaced myself in.

In a normal situation, even without the torture, the pain of my bondage wouldhave long since had me signaling desperately for the mistress to untie me.Now I could only hang there helplessly, with no prospect of release, as thesteel and chain cut into my poor soft flesh just adding to the torment. Atintervals, she'd caress my agonized, helpless, naked body, cynically and sensuouslyrunning her fingers over the areas she'd assaulted acting as if she was reallycompassionate and taunt me with wicked contrived innocence telling me the torturewould stop if only I'd reveal the information she required. Then still actingher phony compassionate role, she'd perform brutally cruel acts like pullingme forward, pulling against my testicle rope, by tugging on the body clampstrings, making them bite further into and lacerate my flesh even more, tellingme that all this was hurting her as much as me.

At other times she'd pretend to be genuinely perplexed as to why I stayedsilent as she was thrashing me, callously ignoring the fact I was gagged andmimicking and mocking my desperate efforts to communicate. But most of thetime she instinctively reverted to acting the role of the pitiless, femalemonster I'd mistakenly requested. Despite the fact that most of my mind wasinflamed with agony and despair at the torment I was experiencing, some areaof my mind was still following in dread every detail of her activities witha sort of terrified anticipation. So I was also aware at these moments fromher bright eyes and heavy breathing that she was almost certainly getting somesort of sexual stimulation during these embraces especially when she'd rubher latex clad pelvis and hips up and down against the hanging, raw, mutilatedflesh she now knew she could torture at will.

Later, in pure agony, I was just continuously screaming for mercy like somesort of mantra although I knew only a faint suppressed noise was escaping thegag and the scream was only echoing around in my head. A few times, almostas if she sensed the word I was trying to form from the constant, faint, mutedsqueals escaping from my gag, she'd observe in an amused tone, "Are youtrying to trying to beg for mercy again?" She'd walk around behind me, "Mercyisn't a part of the information I'm seeking-here's-my-mercy-I-don't-understand-theword-so-don't-waste-my- time!" She'd thrash my backside with her caneon each word to emphasize the futility of my efforts to alleviate my torment.

I lost track of time, in a red mist of pure agony, all I could do was prayfor the nightmare to end. But she was relentless, I was now really at the mercy(or total lack of it) of a dominatrix who not only, as I could readily seefrom her whole demeanor, was naturally instinctively sadistic and got a greatdeal of sexual excitement inflicting pain, she was also totally indifferentto all the pain and torment a victim in her power would be experiencing andfurthermore, had no concept of normal client/mistress arrangements.

Very early in this session, I had become completely bewildered and disorientatedby the total transformation of our roles. At the start, I'd been somewhat condescendingand too eager to display my huge experience almost as if to emphasize her obviouslack of expertise. I probably would have been even more patronizing to a femaleso green and so young, but this one's stunning appearance and natural poiseand self-assurance certainly inhibited me from taking too many liberties initially.Now though, with her innate callousness blended with her extraordinary cruelnature, she was assuming with terrifying ease the role of my merciless enslaver.

Added to those unnerving personality traits was her incredible talent andinventiveness at inflicting torture and the fact that I was totally in herpower and could no way influence her activities; I had now, frankly, becomefar more terrified of this creature than of anyone I'd ever met in my life.

The fantasy I'd originally devised had now become as realistic as it waspossible to imagine. Waves of pain flooded over me. Just when I though she'dreached a level where I just couldn't take any more - she'd up the tortureto a new level. Every time she approached me to savage my flesh yet again,I'd shriek and scream, trying within my very restricted range of movement,to indicate the agony I was experiencing. But my silent entreaties for thetorture to end which must have been obvious, just seem to arouse her and encourageher indulge herself further.

How long I was into the session, how much utterly real excruciating agonyI'd endured which was far more than I'd ever imagined possible to bear, whenthe inexplicable and magical changes started to happen, I can't remember forcertain. But before I describe the change, I must finally describe the dominatrixherself.

I previously mentioned it was the sight of the mistress herself that stoppedme from turning away from the place. She was tall, actually taller than mein her high heels, with long, luxuriously shining dark hair. She had a beautifulface, not the girl next-door type, but the face that often looked arrogantand disdainful, like some top fashion models. It was also the sort of beautythat gave out warning signals that she could be quite a hand-full and it wouldtake a very brave and self-confident male to approach her. She had a sensationalbody, with long lovely legs to match. Her bare shoulders were quite broad makingher large firm breasts appear perfectly proportionate. Her waist was very slimand the tight latex flowed on down to outline the sublime curvature of herhips and backside. When I followed her up the stairs initially, I was so entranced,I almost decided to change my original ideas about the sort of session I wasseeking and try a body worshipping slave type scenario with her. But I wasinexperienced as to how to proceed with that sort of scene, not being temptedthat way with most mistresses and anyway, I didn't want the awkwardness ofher refusing such a scenario.

She was wearing one of those incredibly sexy, figure hugging, black, shinylatex dresses, almost knee length and with thin shoulder straps, that one seesin latex fashion magazines and combined with a tightly laced black waist girdle.With her black patent leather stiletto type high-heeled shoes, black seamednylons and elbow length black satin gloves, the whole effect was breathtaking.The action of the tight shiny black latex molding her perfect figure as sheelegantly moved about was a sheer delight to observe and just that in itselfwas incredibly arousing early on when I was hanging on the hook waiting forthe start. Some of her movements, like when, with her back to me, she'd benddown to pick up something, the memory of the incredibly alluring and seductivecontours of her perfectly shaped backside and those long, shapely legs arestill vivid to this day. And even had the session just comprised of me hangingthere and the sight and subsequent memory of her just preparing to tortureme, it would have still provided the subject matter for thousands of futuremasturbation fantasies.

Even those times later on in the session, as she'd lean back against an oldset of drawers, coldly studying me and lighting up a cigarette, when I wasin extreme anguish and knew she was about to increase the torment; some partof me even then could still appreciate the absolute perfection of that bodyas the latex stretched tighter outlining even more the flawless lovelinessof her breasts and hips - and those perfectly shaped nylon clad legs. Evenafter all that had happened so far, it still just didn't seem possible thatsuch a vision was capable of such pitiless cruelty.

But I would have been ensnared by her under any circumstances, because evenif I'd been warned beforehand that no one who isn't into real pain shouldn'tvisit her, I'd still have had no hesitation of taking my chances and startinga session with her once I'd seen her. Had I looked at pictures all day of mistressesand models, I would still have chosen the one I was with then. Her beauty wasso disturbing and disconcerting that early on in the session, despite havingmade it obviously clear to her that I was a submissive male who got pleasurefrom being humiliated and tortured by females, I made a laughable attempt toimpress her with my 'manliness' by showing extreme stoicism under torture.That act didn't last very long when she really got into her stride. But still,there's no doubt about it, all during the session, some area of my mind wasstill just about capable of appreciating just how realistic this real livetormentor was to the sort of female I'd usually dream up in my extreme fantasies.

I also couldn't fail to appreciate early on, that as the role I'd asked herto perform was so close to her real nature, she didn't have to indulge in theusual contrived 'amateur dramatics' one normally has to settle for with mostmistresses, she was just acting naturally and so she was as perfect in thatrole as it was possible to be. Another unusual factor in the session was thatbeing a novice, she had yet to adapt to that false and artificial 'mistresstone of voice' that many professionals employ. Whether she was screaming inanger or speaking with soft frightening menace up close, it was the voice notof a professional mistress, but of a mercilessly cruel prison wardress goingabout her business albeit with one unusual difference, which was her accent.She sounded far too cultured and educated to be an average wardress. Oddlyenough, that meant when she swore with words that would have seemed normalfrom a coarse, rough female, when the words came from her refined voice, theanger and moments of apparent fury seemed very much more disconcerting andfrightening.

So I can't exactly remember the point when something seemed to switch ondeep in my consciousness and the session began to move into a weird, unchartedbut increasingly thrilling and electrifying area. Through a mist of tortuouspain and hopeless screams, the masochistic part of my brain was beginning toregister the fact that the appearance, character and actions of this gorgeouscreature was really stirring up some deep, very powerful erotic sensations.I had brought this scene to light from a fantasy area that I'd only dared contemplatein private and certainly never expected to experience and now a large proportionof that fantasy was happening for real.

Hanging in that room, secured so effectively and gradually being emasculatedand neutered so expertly by this beautiful creature, who by all appearancesshouldn't't conceivably be putting me through such agony and was in such staggeringcontrast to what I'd been anticipating; very slowly, but with increasing excitement,I was undergoing a wonderful transformation.

I was after all, a masochist with a lifelong desire to be humiliated, abusedand tortured to a certain level by dominant females. And now somehow that masochistic,submissive part of my consciousness started to emerge to a level I never knewexisted and wouldn't have thought possible and that area of my brain was signalingthe fact that I was actually experiencing the agonies of the sort of fantasiesI'd only previously dreamt about. The pain slowly and miraculously began tomutate into a sort of agonized erotic ecstasy. Oh, the dread, terror, painand the torment were still very much present, but now all these ingredientsjust seem to add to the exhilarating mix of breathtaking emotion, such thatI had never felt in my life before. Incredibly, my penis was also receivingthe same signals from my brain and I could see it protruding out and becomingenlarged to an extent I'd never known. It was the most exhilarating and stimulatingfeeling I've ever experienced in my life and for that period, I felt I couldhave hung there in joyous agony forever.

The final overwhelming climax finally came as she was leaning against thefront of my hanging body to stub her lighted cigarette end on my thrashed backside.I could smell her perfume and feel the full latex clad curvaceous body of thisgorgeously seductive, pitiless sadist forcing herself against mine.. This particulartime she was toying with me, whispering in my ear that she was still very 'displeased'with my lack of cooperation so far and I was about to experience real agony.But by now it didn't matter what she did to me, I was in some sort of tormentedheaven. Oh God - Yes! Yes! This apprentice dominatrix had by now actually becomein my warped and distorted mind the sadistic and supreme creature of overwhelmingdominance with the power of life or death over me as I imagined in my originalfantasy and I really was now just a worthless victim of no consequence. I wasno longer aware of where I was and this was a paid for session with a professionalmistress. No, I really was in some fantasyland being tortured by this stunning,unbelievably cruel female. Now it had also actually become in my confused,ravaged brain, almost reasonable and appropriate that I should be going throughthis torment if I was somehow displeasing her. Mutilate my worthless body ifit gives you pleasure. I was even struggling against my tight bondage and pullingon the thin rope to increase my agony.

The sensation this time of her latex clad hips against my giant erectionwas just too explosive and, luckily, before I nearly castrated myself, I experiencedthe most mind shattering, euphoric, glorious prolonged orgasm I have ever felt.Huge amounts of spunk flowed all up her rubber dress. Oh, Heaven…itwent on and on like never before, and during that period, I really was in Paradise.The moment it came to an end though, the pain came back in waves - Jesus! Ihung, suspended in extreme distress and agony I never thought possible.

Thank heaven, the dominatrix, viewing my huge climax and seeing the resulton her dress and also seeing me now in a state of absolute collapse came toher senses a bit and seem to realize that this must be the climax to this partof the fantasy that I'd talked about early on and seemingly somewhat reluctantly,released me from my bonds. Releasing me took an agonizingly long time as shecasually took her time finding all the various keys and unlocking my shackles.

If the session I had just been through was totally removed from any experienceI'd ever had, my actions after were even more bewildering and astonishing tome in retrospect. Released, all sorts of weird unnatural thoughts were spinningaround in my head and with my body almost paralyzed with throbbing, searingpain, I was nowhere near any mental return to normality and was physicallyalmost totally emasculated. Still very confused, I wasn't far off imaginingI was still the victim in my fantasy world and found myself profusely thankingher for generous act of stopping her torture and releasing me. It didn't matterthat I was now physically free; I was still in a state of extreme emotionalagitation.

She stood looking at me, hands on her hips, still exuding an incredible auraof dominance, power and menace and I hadn't nearly recovered mentally enoughto even begin lose the sheer terror and dread I still emotionally felt towardsthis sadistic dominatrix.

"Why aren't you on your knees before me?" She spoke quietly, but ina tone that demanded instant obedience.

Incredibly, I instantly found myself on my knees, groveling, kissing herhigh heel shoes and making begging noises imploring her not to hurt me anymore and I really meant it. Despite being released from my bonds and now intheory at liberty, the reality was that at that moment my distraught mind totallyaccepted the actuality that this female had complete control over my mind andbody and was free to do with me as she pleased. For the first time in my life,I really understood what it was really like to experience what must be theemotions of the most craven of slaves - the same slaves I used to view witha certain bemused disdain. If I was also dimly aware that I was humiliatingmyself to a really contemptible level, groveling on my knees before her inabject fear, I was beyond caring; I was just desperately hoping this sort ofritual abasement would somehow placate her.

I can only think it was combination of how I'd been brutally emasculatedand tortured, just how totally cold, callous and indifferent she was to myanguish and suffering, the bizarre contradiction of her beauty and her crueltyand the sure knowledge of the sort of terrifying ordeal she could inflict onanyone she had in her power – all that awareness had just blown my mindand I no longer possessed the ability to control my actions. I had thoughtI was reasonably stable person, but in those hours, hanging on a hook, shehad stripped away all my masculinity and pride and I now not only felt incrediblydebilitated and exhausted physically, I was also close to having a nervousbreakdown. For me to take any rational steps to try to end the session justdidn't enter my head, I just knelt like a craven coward, desperately prayingthat I'd do nothing to give her the excuse to start torturing me again.

She toyed with me for a time, from her attitude and comments, it seemedshe was callously amused at the sight of the cowering and obviously petrifiedfigure I'd turned into. Ignoring my whimpering protests, she was playfullystabbing her stiletto heels into my wounds as I prostrated myself. She seemedto be considering how to proceed. She walked over, took another length of chainfrom my bag and then went to the bed. "Come over here on your knees!"

She was sorting out my padlocks as I shuffled over, desperately wonderinghow I could influence her to end this nightmare. As if dealing with an animal,she tightly wound one end of the chain around my neck, padlocked it, half draggedme to one of the bed's iron posts and chained me, still on my knees, to it.

"That'll hold you for a moment, I've got to spend a penny."

She walked swiftly to the door and went out slamming it shut. I barely hadtime to collect my thoughts when she came rushing back.

"I've got a job for you." She announced.

She started unlocking the chain secured to the bedpost, and then paused. "I'dbetter shackle your ankles, I don't want you trying to run off somewhere."

She went behind me to collect my ankle shackles from the pile of my gearstill on the floor from when I was released. I had become more and more alarmedand apprehensive at the continuation of the session I had assumed was aboutto end, but I stayed silent, terrified that I might say something to provokeher temper.

But all my nervous fears started surfacing again as I felt her snap my anklemanacles tightly around my already sore flesh. She now released me from thebedpost and jerking me to my feet, pulling me up by the chain around my neck.

"Come along!"

She was pulling me towards the door by the chain, but I could only followat a fast shuffle, painfully restricted by the short length of chain on myshackles and the steel chafing my inflamed ankles. She half dragged me outof the door and across to another door virtually opposite making no concessionto the fact she'd restricted my movements. I entered what was obviously thetoilet by the horrible stinking smell. She pulled me in further and pointedto the toilet seat. I could see it was incrusted with dried excreta, the wholebowl being filthy. She let go of my chain and sprayed the seat with an aerosolof some sorts.

"I'm not sitting on that!" She exclaimed.

She brutally forced me to my knees by the seat and wrapped my neck chainaround a pipe.

"There's not a decent clean cloth around here, so you can actually be ofsome use. I want to lick it spotless enough for me to sit on - and don't taketoo long about it."

I set about the task instantly and without hesitation. My mental state atthat point was that I was actually almost gratified to be able to perform atask that would meet her approval, cravingly hoping to ingratiate myself tolessen her harsh, relentless cruelty. The spray tasted of disinfectant andhad loosed the harder bits. Using my teeth to move them and then my tongueto lick the area clean I made steady progress. She was standing over me, supervisingmy efforts and pointing out small areas I'd missed. After spitting one largerpiece into the bowl, I looked up. I could see the tight latex straining againsther perfectly formed thighs and my eyes rose up to her full breasts and toher beautiful face starring down at me. But there was a mocking, contemptuoussmile playing about her lips and I instinctively understood that she'd usedthe filthy toilet seat as an exercise to further demonstrate the power shepossessed to degrade and humiliate me at will and to rub in the pitiful stateshe'd reduced me to. Now she'd found a suitable victim, she could now indulgeher own incredibly cruel, perverted personality without restraint.

But yet again, it spun around my head for about the hundredth time, despiteall the agony and torment she'd put my through, it just still didn't seem possiblethat such a gorgeous creature was incapable of feeling just some few momentsof pity and compassion.

I fought the almost irresistible impulse, now I was on my knees and hadthe opportunity, to turn and grasp out and bury my head in the latex of herthighs or grovel at her feet once again begging her to show just some mercy,but I only had the courage to stop licking for a moment and implore,

"Please don't hurt me anymore."

All I got in reply was a kick. "Use your tongue for cleaning the seat -not sniveling!"

Having been given a task and trying to concentrate on it, at least managedto take my mind somewhat off the pain screaming out from the tortures she'dinflicted on me, but my poor tormented flesh hadn't stopped throbbing withextreme pain and I desperately needed some sort of relief and I was constantlypraying throughout that she'd release me when I'd completed this task. Theseat was finally clean to her satisfaction and I was dragged back into theroom and to my utter dismay, chained back on my knees to the bedpost once again.I could see the sheen of her shapely black nylon clad legs close to my faceas I sensed her appraising me.

"I'd better secure you properly, you're becoming quite pathetic andI don't want you to get up to mischief," she chuckled, "or start playing withyourself while I'm away freshening up."

She gave another cynical laugh as she moved out of my sight and I couldhear her collecting up some of my gear. Then in helpless despair, I felt her,with callous indifference, tightly bind my already raw, sore, inflamed elbowswith chain. Appalled at the thought that I would be once again be totally immobilized,I feebly tried to hinder her intentions, but she didn't even appear to noticeas she brutally forced my elbows almost together behind my back and securedthe tight chain with padlocks. She stood up and walked around me, viewing herhandiwork and giving me a series of sharp kicks with the toes of her stilettos,obviously pleased with her newly found expertise Now very shocked and alarmedby the realization I was once again in a state of virtual incapacity and thedreadful implications involved with that situation, I instinctively startedblubbering and weeping, I just could no longer hold back all my fear, terrorand anxiety,

"Oh, please end the session." I sobbed, "I beg of you, please, pleaseend it - I'm in real pain, I can't take any more. Please, please, I'm beggingyou, please don't hurt me anymore." My body was shaking uncontrollablyand I just couldn't stop babbling in terror.

She kicked at my flailed, bleeding backside with her stilettos.

"For heaven's sake - shut the fuck up, you groveling, pathetic creature!"

She looked angrily around and then picked up my discarded gag from the floor.My own gag was then roughly forced into my now very sore mouth once more.

"You really can't think I take the slightest notice of all your bloody,pitiful blubbering," She raged as she buckled it up brutally tight. "At leastnow I don't have to listen to it."

She'd now become very easy to provoke and use any excuse to add to my torment,because she then found another small length of chain and proceeded to use itto chain my elbow chain to my ankle chain, pulling it viciously tight, whichalso had the effect of tightening my neck chain, and securing it with my chainconnectors, virtually hog-tying me. She was now handling my equipment withdevilish imagination as if she'd been handling it for years and the sight ofmy now inescapable helplessness seemed to humor her again.

"There now, trussed up like a lamb to the slaughter." She leaned downand spoke in my ear, "Now you can whimper away to your hearts content, youcry-baby - although perhaps you'd better try praying instead."

She gave me a final savage kick and walked towards the door. She gave achilling laugh,

"Don't go anywhere before I get back and oh, don't bother calling outfor help, no one's around to rescue you" She turned in the doorway and mocked,

"Of course I forgot - you can't go anywhere or call out for help canyou?"

Then she became very much more menacing,

"I rather think though, I'd think about escape if I were you, even if youcan't. If I find your bloody spunk has permanently stained my dress, you'llreally suffer when I get back!"

She slammed the door shut.

Apart from all the other unforgettable periods in that afternoon, I'll alsonever begin to forget what went through my mind, chained on my knees to theiron bedpost, more cruelly restricted in movement than the most callously tethereddumb animal. As time went on, my mind, free for a time from her terrifyinglyintimidating presence, slowly began to recover some sort of disturbed sanity.At least I now to a degree realized the dreadfully serious, but also hopelesspredicament I had got myself into; but that awareness was beginning to terrifyme even more.

My thoughts just ran wild, influenced by the extreme pain and throbbingagony I was experiencing all over kneeling there in total wretched despair.My poor soft, mutilated and burnt flesh screaming out for some soothing relief,but the heartless bitch had fixed me in an agonizingly uncomfortable and virtuallyimmovable position and it was impossible to move enough to even slightly easethe throbbing, constant pain. All the momentary wonderfully erotic euphoriaI'd momentarily experienced as a masochistic and submissive male in this situationhad long since gone. I was now feeling the same agony and terror an ordinarynormal male would in these circumstances, one who'd she'd just dragged in fromthe street.

I simply couldn't imagine how I'd survive any more torture and I was nowalmost having a panic attack imagining what she might do to me on my return.Just some spunk on a rubber dress was being amplified in my brainwashed mindinto some serious crime I'd committed and now I was about to receive severepunishment as a consequence. Rather like an anorexic who looks in the mirrorand sees a fat person, she had become, despite her incredible beauty and appearanceor maybe because of it, magnified in my mind into a terrifying all powerfulcreature and the slightest defiance was unthinkable, no matter what sort ofnightmare she had planned for me.

I kept wildly thinking I might have fallen into the clutches of a dangerouslydisturbed psychopath and I had to keep shutting my mind to the recurring thoughtthat this female might have her own terrifying intentions as to my fate inthis evil, filthy room. God, how I hated my cowardly self; I'd passively justlet a psychopath chain me up so I couldn't escape what was in store for me.But I had to face the reality - I just knew I was too terrified of her mentallyand too crippled physically to attempt to resist her; just the thought of thepossible consequences of a minor act of defiance were too awful to contemplate.

As time went on though, I still couldn't stop all sorts of mad thoughtsflowing in and out of my frenzied mind. Some of the more irrational parts ofmy feverish imagination were still working, considering the terrifying predicamentI'd got myself into. I just couldn't stop tormenting myself with morbid conjecture.What did I know of this creature? An advert in a magazine, that's all. Whatan easy method to ensnare innocent and vulnerable victims. How overjoyed shemust have been that her first potential prey was the soft, flabby obviouslyweak and submissive male that I turned out to be. I had always been uncomfortablyaware from the start, because I'm a bit sensitive about such matters, not beingin good condition myself that that very shapely body also looked a very fitand with her taller than the average woman, there was probably quite a strongfemale beneath all that glamour. The ease with which she'd been physicallyhandling me, gave some indication of just how deceptively strong such a femalecould be.

Now I was so emasculated and crippled I could barely function at all physically.Even had I miraculously even regained some nerve and spirit, I still didn'thave any confidence about putting up much of a resistance against the ruthlessantagonist she'd transformed into. Would she somehow know that no one knewI was visiting this place? I had brought her letter with me and showed her,so she knew that wasn't left in my place as evidence. She could even take mykeys and thrash my place, destroying any evidence of any connection with thewhole mistress scene. Then she could keep me here for days being agonizingtortured and no one would have a clue where I was.

All the pain and agony I experience means nothing at all to her, I'm justan object to gratify her depraved, merciless depravity and she could easilykeep me here until her appetite for torture had diminished. I visualized myselfunable to resist and having passively to let myself be chained, maybe stillin a position like this, or perhaps spread-eagled on the iron bed by my wristsand ankles and tightly gagged, ironically all with my own equipment, and lefthere overnight, unable to escape or call for help. She obviously didn't livehere. She'd just lock up the room, go home to a night's sleep and return nextmorning to carry on with my torture until she got bored and sought new victims

But what if she didn't tire or get bored and got so much sexual pleasuretorturing me she got carried away and permanently crippled me? Would she releaseme them? Not likely, despite her ravishing appearance and I'd already beentotally fooled by her looks, I instinctively knew this female would just callouslyliquidate any male in her power, get rid of the body and evidence and not losea night's sleep. She'd probably dump the body in one of those empty housesI saw on the way in and no one would connect a beautiful female with a horriblytortured body found some distance away.

And yet for all those frenzied thoughts, I still knew for certain that whenshe came back, whatever further brutality her diabolical imagination had conceivedto inflict upon me, even if she momentarily unchained me, I'd still be powerlessmentally and too brutalized physically to do other than dumbly and passivelyendure the suffering. I shuddered at the constant reminder from the pain ofmy brutally tight bonds that I was so totally helpless and the hopelessnessof trying to beg for mercy from a creature that was utterly merciless. Thatthis creature wasn't a hard faced, heavily built bitch, which might make thesituation more understandable; but was a seductively beautiful young female,somehow the constant reminder of that paradox made the whole situation evenmore unnaturally grotesque and mind bending from early on.

I suddenly thought of old prints I'd seen of torture being about to be inflictedin the middle Ages. I wondered at how passive the victims looked and imaginedI'd be struggling like crazy. Oh, mercy, now I know different. And all thosepictures of bound up tortured and murdered victims I've seen in magazines andon the television. Just like me, did they lay there bound up and hoping againsthope that they weren't going to die, but too paralyzed by fright to put upany resistance. Did they too scream with forlorn despair and dread every timetheir tormentor approached. They're almost always female. God, the boots onthe other foot now, I'm the weak, passive, helpless victim now and I now understoodexactly the terror they must have experienced.

I could visualize pictures of my chained up, tortured body found dumpedin a derelict house and appearing on those programs that deal with that areaof crime. She would never be caught, because no one would ever associate theperfect creature cleaning herself up right now with the shocking sight of myremains.

God, I must stop thinking like this, I feel mentally unstable already; I'llhave a complete breakdown if I'm not careful. Is there someone else in thishouse that might help me? Of course, it's too late now anyway, since the bitchre-gagged me. Did she anticipate I might get the nerve up to scream out forhelp? She was one step ahead of me all the time. Had I been unchained and freeto move for this long, I might have got the nerve up to grab my clothes, oreven not even bother with them, and run with mad fear down the stairs and outonto the pavement seeking rescue and freedom. Now there was no escape, sheinstinctively knew just how to extinguish any forlorn hope of release fromthis harrowing ordeal. Nonetheless, I still kept screaming out silent pleasfor help. In my agitated, almost hysterical state, I somehow hoped someonepassing by might sense my distress. Please, Please, somebody saveme, I'm alone, helpless and in the power of a sadistic monster and I can'tprotect myself. Someone help me please! "

All my morbid thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the door suddenly opened.I cowered as near to the floor as I could in terror, not daring to look upat her, but I was by now virtually paralyzed with numbness and pain in thatposition anyway. I heard her stilettos clattering on the bare boards as shecame up close to me.

"To avoid danger of suffocation, keep this bag away from babies and children."

I vaguely understood that she was reading out something, but I was beyondcaring.

"I've decided to be merciful after all and put you out of your misery."

Her voice didn't sound merciful and before I could begin to perceive whatshe was up to, I felt her swiftly pulling a plastic bag over my head and thenuse a length of her thin rope to seal the base of it round my neck. For a moment,I just couldn't comprehend or even believe what she'd done, but as the soundof my breathing resonated around the bag, I started struggling desperatelyin a hopeless attempt to somehow get it off. The bag was transparent and, fightingthe chain around my neck, I twisted to look up at her, hoping that seeing myextreme distress, she might have second thoughts about her actions. But allI could see was excitement on her face as she was on her knees opposite me,silently studying my reactions.

I was almost going insane with hopeless terror, desperately trying to rationthe small amount of air left, but panic took over and the bag sealed itselfon my face shutting off all air. Then I really struggled, ignoring the agonizingpain of the chain biting deeper into the already torn flesh of my elbows andankles and nearly choking myself on the chain around my neck. God it was horrific,the pain in my lungs as they screamed for air, the terrifying conviction Iwas about to die a horrible death as my head felt it was about to explode.

Then suddenly, I found myself gasping in great nose-fulls of air. Oh, therelief. I opened my eyes and realized she'd untied the rope and pulled thebag off. I squatted there in total anguish and almost deranged with fear.

"You didn't really think I'd was going spoil my fun this early didyou? I was just interested to see how someone struggling in his death throesacted. A bit disappointing really, I thought I'd see more of a struggle, perhapsI've chained you too securely."

She sat back on her heels and observed me,

"It would have been better without the gag, I could have watched your mouthtrying to scream and gasp for air at the same time."

She examined the bag,

"It says here, it only works with babies and children."

She feigned perplexity.

"So it should be quite safe for an adult male - even though he's blubberinglike a baby and chained to a bed."

She leaned over towards my face again and waved the bag in front of me,

"Shall we try again?"

The very thought made me scream and scream as I tried to show from my veryrestricted position that I was pleading and pleading for just one small mercifulact. It seemed to be the reaction she was expecting as she leaned back, studyingmy efforts to communicate my torment. She watched my hopeless jerking on thechains and my eyes bulging with my attempts to actually scream out loud mypleas for mercy as if she was dispassionately observing some sort of experiment,her wide, luminous eyes, bright with malicious, cold-hearted amusement.

But at least she did get back to her feet and walk away.

"Okay then, we'll try something else for now. I'll just keep this bagin reserve."

I heard her opening a drawer. She came back and waved a large black dildoin front of me. It was shaped like a huge penis with large black balls on theend and even had the veins on it.

"Now I've discovered you're such a whining sissy, I suddenly realized youmust have been missing your favorite toy."

I had gone beyond reacting to anything at this point and was nearly overthe edge. Her activities with the bag have now virtually confirmed my worsefears about her likely agenda and the fate that awaited me. She went behindand must have knelt or squatted down, because after releasing me from boththe short hobble chain and the one around my neck, she placed her hand on theback of my neck and pushed my face down on the floor with some force, makingmy backside stick up.

"You had such a lovely soft, white bum before it got all red and bloody.I thought when we started it looked more like a girls, like the rest of yoursoft body. And such a pretty face as well - a little bit effeminate are we?"

My backsides spasmed as I felt the head of the dildo enter my back passage.

"I thought this would please you, I'll bet this isn't the first prickto go up here is it? Is it!" She eased back the force she was placing on myneck.

I dimly realized some sort of reply was needed so I shook my head. I gavea silent despairing shriek as she viciously forced it further in.

"That's not the reply I wanted. I said you've had dicks up here before- are you calling me a liar?"

Quickly I nodded my head in agreement as much as I could.

"I knew it, so this must be pleasuring you as much as it is me."

She relentlessly forced the obscenity up my backside until from the pain;it felt as if she was splitting it in two. I had been hurting so much all overthat I'd thought that I just couldn't be able to feel any further pain, butshe'd found another area to brutalize and I was forlornly screaming again withagony.

"Too bad you're gagged, I'd love to make you squeal like a pig as Iforced this up. Unfortunately here, someone outside might hear you. We're allalone in this house though, I'll bet you're pleased to hear that."

She laughed, "One day, when I get a dungeon, I'll be able to hear youpathetic slaves screaming for mercy all the time."

Desperately trying to relax my backside as I soon discovered that tryingto resist the dildo's entry made the pain worse, I just had to endure untilthe loathsome object was worked fully in to her satisfaction.

"D'you know there's now two big black bollocks sticking out of your arse?"

She was enjoying herself, "That's perfect now, sucking on a dick one endand a big dick up your arse the other - aren't I good to you? You must be inpansy-boy heaven."

She then roughly forced my body to lie flat out on the floor, on my chest.The change in position brought more futile screams from me as the dildo nowfelt like a red-hot log had been forced up my rear passage.

I rested my gagged face against the floor for a moment, elbows pinionedbehind my back; ankles chained and heard a car drive past. I was in the depthsof despair and experiencing almost suicidal hopelessness. Ordinary, normallife with help and rescue were just yards away, but they would just drive andwalk past never knowing the hell a fellow human being was being put throughin a room a mere stone's throw away. As far as the chances of rescue or escapewere concerned, I might just as well be in the deepest dungeon in the mostdesolate area of the world.

"Crawl over here to my feet!"

I raised my head. She had perched herself on the sideboard, swinging hershapely, black-nylon legs and holding her devilish crop. It was now unthinkablenot to instantly obey any command from her and I made the effort to start crawling.Had I been able to move freely, the crawl would have still been slow and verypainful. But still chained and very restricted with movement, I found I simplycouldn't obey her. The chain by now had cut so much into the flesh of my elbowsand ankles mere movement was torture. My pain in my poor mutilated and burntchest was being further intensified by my attempt to drag myself along thatfilthy floor. What with the dildo and the ache from all my other wounds, Iwas nearly fainting with agony and I just flapped around on the floor makingno forward progress.

I heard an exasperated expletive from her and she walked over and startedwhipping the soles of my feet with her crop.

"I'm not waiting all fucking day, you're crawling slower than a snail!"

I'd thought my body was so racked with pain that she couldn't add to it,but I'd never realized the soles of my feet were so sensitive as this new painshot up my legs and body, exploding with renewed agony in my brain. I madedesperate renewed efforts to crawl faster, but despite all this additionaltorture this merciless creature was inflicting upon me, I was just physicallyunable to obey her. I just collapsed on the floor, virtually semi-consciouswith extreme pain, my body just convulsing with each vicious stroke of hercrop.

It must have become obvious even to her that I simply wasn't able to move,because she stopped thrashing me and I felt her grasp hold of my elbow chainand effortlessly pull me up on my feet with surprising ease. She walked awayto the center of the room, picking up some chain on the way and reaching up,started to connect it to the hook.

She looked over to me,

"If you can't crawl, at least you can hobble around: make your wayover here to me!" she commanded, pointing to the chain in her hand.

In utter anguish and despair I instantly obeyed. Gagged, my elbows pinionedbehind my back, hobbled by my ankles secured by a short chain, my poor torturedbody screaming in agony, with a devilishly huge foreign object forced up mybackside and now with the soles of my feet screaming out with pain, my progresswas slow and harrowing. My distraught mind understood I was hobbling towardscertain further torture, but despite my mind screaming out I couldn't takeany more pain, it was virtually burnt into my consciousness now to instantlyreact to and dumbly obey her every command.

The few times I dared look up at her waiting for me, I could see from herexpression of disdainfully, amused contempt that she was quite entertainedby the spectacle of the helplessly bound, mutilated creature, shuffling inextreme pain towards her.

I finally reached the hanging chain and as I'd expected, she connected itto the chain on my pinioned elbows and further down, also connected it to myankle chain. She stood back and examined her handiwork as I swayed on the chainalmost blacking out with pain.

I was convinced now that all I could look forward to, were hours of furtherexcruciating torture and I'd already been given a preview of the probable fateshe had planned for me. I just prayed she finished me off swiftly and didn'tkeep toying with me when she finally resorted to the plastic bag.

She stood for some time, contemplating my tormented figure I only daredraise my head and take swift petrified glances at her and if it was possibleto add to my extreme distress at that stage, the sight of her standing instinctivelyposed as if she was modeling her outfit and looking as seductively beautifuland fresh as she was at the start of our session - must have added to it. Fora split second, the insane contrast between her and the half demented, mercilesslytortured, quivering travesty of a man she'd reduced me to in that same periodflared up in my frenetically agitated mind, then died as the throbbing painand hopelessness of my position overwhelmed me again.

After what seemed ages, she suddenly made up her mind and walked towardsme. At that moment, had someone offered me a quick, painless death to escapewhatever further agony about to be inflicted upon me, I'd have willingly acceptedit. The pain was such now that I couldn't even react with my normal petrifiedanticipation and screams as she forced her body against mine and with the otherhand reaching up to grasp the chain, with the other hand, unbelievably, shestarted playing with my flaccid penis.

My brain initially couldn't take in this new development in my torment,simply assuming it was the mocking prelude to some further diabolical torture.My penis though, after a time, did start responding and actually getting asort of erection; and after a period, despite the appalling physical and mentalstate I was in, suspended on that chain, some part of my fevered brain didstart to react to that primitive sensation.

It must again have been the spell her presence and beauty had always hungover me in the background of all that had occurred in that room and despiteall the extreme agony she'd inflicted upon me and all the pain racking aboutin my brain, just the sensation of her exquisite and seductive body pressedup against me and sensuously massaging my penis, still possessed the abilityto almost supplant it all with a moment of ecstasy as I had a tiny orgasm,jerking around in my bondage as a residue of spunk jerked out.

"I'm sorry, I had to hurry you along. It's well past the period you paidfor and you never seemed to get another hard on no matter what I did."

She started unbuckling my gag and even in my paranoid state, by the verysudden change in her voice and actions, I sensed some sort of totally unexpectedtransition in the session. Oh my God, please, please - could it be that I reallywasn't going to be tortured to death after all?

But even as she began releasing me, cursing irritably as she tried differentkeys to open the padlocks and actually talking to me as a human being onceagain, I was still wound up as tight as a drum, still fearful that this wasjust another cruel trap and she'd suddenly revert to her sadistic activitiesjust when I thought I was free.

Even when I was totally free and the dildo had been very painfully removedand it was becoming increasingly obvious that my nightmare must really be over,I was now such a mental wreck that it simply wasn't possible to lose the aweand terror I felt towards my tormentor in such a short period and I was stillflinching with anxiety and nerves every time she came close as I started todress myself with real difficulty in my raw, inflamed, aching and exhaustedcondition.

She on the other hand was aroused and animated. I was hearing what a turnon it had been, 'Better than any sex she'd ever had.' How she'd prolonged oursession because we were both enjoying it so much! I must have got up the nerveto mutter it had been a 'bit over the top', because she became silent for amoment. I could tell she'd suddenly become a bit vexed as she pointed out,quite correctly from her point of view I suppose, that she'd only performedexactly as I'd requested and anyway, "You must have been loving it, I've neverseen such a hard on and so much spunk either." I couldn't have rationalizedthat bizarre anomaly had I have been mentally sound but right then all I couldthink of was little else other than to get out of that room and instantly fearfulat her change of tone and desperate not to antagonize her or give her causeto get irritated, I quickly abandoned that issue.

The thought I might give her some excuse to suddenly change her mind andenslave me again was just too dreadful to contemplate. I instantly startedbabbling about how wonderful both she and the session had been and she seemedappeased and mollified.

The fear that she might have further inflicted cruel torment upon my helplessbody wasn't just a paranoid delusion either, as in my disturbed state actuallyonly comprehending parts of her enthusiastic chatter, I began to realize thatit was only the fact that another client was due quite soon that obliged herto end the session when she did. I think I owe that submissive male my sanity.

Still frantically nervous, my tension only started subsiding somewhat whenshe was ushering me down the stairs. I couldn't even look at all my equipmentand I left it with her muttering something about picking it up later.

When I reached the pavement and the door closed being me and I knew forcertain that she really had released me and I was now free, I staggered somesteps along the road and hung on to a lamppost for support. Tears of pure reliefflowed down my cheeks at the knowledge that my nightmare was over. I desperatelyneeded to pee and I shuffled to a convenient alleyway and noticed there wasblood in my urine, but I couldn't give a damn at that stage.

I remember little about the journey home. All my body was screaming out,but the main difficulty getting home was from just walking, as the pain inthe soles of my feet made movement agonizing. One look at my condition in themirror when I got home, confirmed the shocking state I'd been reduced to. Italso explained why I'd been stared at most of the time during my journey asmy exposed neck was red raw and still bleeding in places and the marks of thetight straps of my gag were clearly etched across my face. I wasn't at allbothered; the reactions of the general public were the least of my problemsat that time.

I really should have been in hospital, but that was out of the question,as they would have obviously called the police. So I ran a bath, took somepainkillers, and tried to sooth my wounds in tepid water. But my efforts hada fairly marginal effect. I'd been too brutalized both mentally and physicallyto find any real relief in the short term.

I had no rest all that night. It was impossible find any relaxing positionthat wasn't painful, even my softest chairs, cushions, pillows and mattress,felt rock hard against my wounded flesh. But even had I got physically comfortable,the mental turmoil I was going through would have ensured I'd have got no peaceor rest. By morning, I still had not even begun to calm down, I was still extremelyagitated, anxious and my nerves were constantly on edge.

Work was out of the question and I knew I had to somehow make the effortto get out to visit my doctor. I was lucky in that respect as he was of MiddleEast origin. Pretty hopeless as a doctor, but I'd found him very useful inthe past as he'd write medical certificates at the drop of a hat. He was shockedof course at my condition, but seemed to accept my nonsense tale that I'd oweda criminal gang thousands in gambling debts and this torture was a warningmessage when I told them I couldn't repay right away. Telling me I should atleast go to the police and hospital casualty, he nevertheless instantly wrotea medical certificate for a month and prescriptions for strong painkillers,sleeping pills, ointments and dressings. He even asked if I wanted a visitfrom a district nurse! I could imagine what her reaction would have been.

It takes little imagination to understand what I went through that monthas my flesh wounds slowly healed. The strong painkillers and sleeping pillswere a godsend as the pain took a long time to subside. And for a long period,I was mentally in denial. Every time my thoughts began to drift towards rememberingthe experience I'd had in that room, my brain would instantly reject them andshut down the subject. Of course, that couldn't last and once the floodgateswere open, I simply couldn't stop my mind going over again and again, whathad happened to me. The constant recollection of those hours naturally producedan incredible variety of complex, contradictory, bizarre and sometimes, almostderanged emotions. I could just about function physically by the time I wentback to work, careful to cover up all the wounds and lacerations, still notnearly healed and still very visible.

But I was still very much in mental turmoil and not really capable of concentratingon any task for long before my mind would start returning obsessively to thoughtsof that afternoon. I soon realized I wasn't capable at that time of workingnormally, and I left the company with mutual consent.

It was about three months later that I finally decided I simply had to visitthat female again. My reasons? Far too complex to describe, and as I suspectedat the time, that many of the reasons I used to justify a visit were false,I now know my mind simply recoiled from considering perhaps the real reasons.For instance, the rational part of my brain simply knew for certain that, withthe marks and wounds of my first visit still barely healed, (and some are stillvisible now, years later) I couldn't possibly endure her version of tortureagain, physically or mentally and would make that clear to her at the start.At the same time, I kept having to suppress an almost irresistible desire forher, when I entered the room, to immediately place me in bondage and do asshe pleased with me once again. Male slaves really are 'over the cuckoo nest'at times.

So I was incredibly nervous just dialing the number, but my mood changedinstantly to one of unease and alarm as I got a disengaged signal. Hurriedlydressing, I dashed to the Underground and took a train to her workplace. WhenI finally reached it I was totally devastated. In many ways, it was the worst,certainly the most disappointing moment of my life.

The whole road had been demolished and cleared of housing. I stood there,just staring, all sorts of thoughts going through my mind, for over an hour.Eventually, I started rationalizing that perhaps all wasn't lost. She was boundto find some new, better; place to perform and I'd find her again.

She never did. Years later, I've still never really come to terms with thefact that she disappeared from the scene. And of course, I've lost count ofthe times I've pondered the mystery; worked out all sorts of different scenariosof what might have happened. But there are endless reasons as to why she wouldhave suddenly left the pro/dom scene and I know now, - I'll never find outthe real reason.

Those devious magazine people kept her advert in for months after. Her photowas just too good for them to miss out on the money gained from fruitless inquiries.In fact that one photo was still being used in many S/M areas years later asan example of the perfect fantasy dominatrix. Naturally, I also kept replying,hoping that she'd started up again somewhere new. I even kept looking throughall the newspapers, half expecting to read of a sensational trial, with herup for grievous bodily harm or worse. I also, a bit tongue in cheek, lookedto see if any chained up, tortured bodies were found dumped somewhere. Neitherwere ever reported.

Needless to say, all my subsequent visits to dozens of different professionalmistresses over the years have been, well - pretty tame and disappointing.How could I really expect anything different?

At the first mistress I went to after, assuming that I was now capable ofenduring some serious torture, I amazed myself by panicking at the very startand signaling for her to stop! Feeling a bit foolish, I did explain that theprevious mistress had gone over the top and I hadn't yet recovered. Indeed,the evidence was still there quite clearly all over my body. She was professionallyoutraged at what had happened to me, (of course, I didn't relate the full story)and said I should have taken some sort of action afterwards. I didn't tellher that the only action I felt like taking now was to find her and once again,completely surrender to that beautiful sadist.

I soon realized though, that even had I found her and we'd had another session,there was no possible way I could have relived again, all the incredible andvaried emotions I went through that afternoon. I'd have loved just to be ableto see her again and find out her subsequent thoughts on how she treated me.What would her reaction have been, opening the door and seeing me standingthere? She must still think of me occasionally; they say women never forgettheir 'first' and she surely was never able to indulge herself so uninhibitedlyat any time since.

A sobering thought is that even had I unlimited wealth and could comb theworld employing the most beautiful women to torture me, I still couldn't guaranteeI'd experience any like the huge orgasm I'd had early on that afternoon. Andno matter how much I was willing to pay, I certainly could never relive thedread and terror I felt in the second half of the session, when at times, Ireally thought I would be tortured to death. And when I start playing withmyself in bed at night, nearly always it's that second period that my thoughtsturn to and it still never fails to produce some arousing and exhilaratingeruptions.

So considering all my sexual encounters in the S/M scene since that fatalvisit have ranged from disappointing to unsatisfactory to dreadful; all inall, would I have been better off had I never seen that particular advert?I'll let whoever reads my narrative of that afternoon to make up his mind.I know what I feel, but I'm not telling.