More Moments: Team-Building

His padded leather ankle cuffs jangled as he hobbled forward, the shiny chain leash pulled taut from his neck and wrapped tightly around my fist. I sauntered slowly ahead of him, my legs coltishly long in sleek, thigh-high black leather stiletto boots.

I could see him if I turned my head a little. We were both lipsticked and in lingerie: him in swaths of pink - camisole, bra, panties, and stockings; me in black satin corset and lace tap pants. Blinded as he was with the pink leather blindfold, upper body tightly cocooned in the black spandex straitjacket, he had literally no choice but to be pulled along in my wake.

Trust can be demonstrated in many ways. This instance was very direct: without my guidance, he would have fallen flat on his face, or been marooned in the middle of a huge room.

This delighted me.

"A slave must be willing to trust his Mistress, even though he does not know where she is leading him. He must be willing to suffer, to place her happiness before himself - literally."

With a moan of assent, he relaxed - and was ready.

Governess Knows Best

Note: The following is a snippet of a very intense encounter, including a mention of blood. Boundaries were explicitly negotiated, and both players are experienced in handling heavy scenes. Please take care, and play safely. 

He had been summoned because of a quite juvenile infraction: He had been caught peeping at me through the door crack while I dressed. He was clearly a fully-grown man, so as his former governess, I was obligated to correct him for his unseemly breach of boundaries.

Thus was the premise for our role play, and his discipline.

He had to specifically acknowledge why he was there, and express his sincere gratitude for the discipline he was receiving. I explained seriously that it was inappropriate to have ogled me - and worse, to have been caught! Like a common, drooling schoolboy. He had to make up this indignity. Surely I had taught him better, and the only way to truly rectify his mistake was to take his discipline humbly and fully.

I commanded him to fetch each implement, and contemplate its heft and painful potential while I watched closely. I know each tool very well, exactly what it can do, and when to introduce it.

There was the London Tanners strap of double-thickness leather, and the rectangular oak paddle signed to me by Jennifer Brooks. The punishment quirt, braided like a bullwhip but with two thick thongs for tails, and the hard wooden spoon.

He counted aloud each blow with gasping concentration. After some measured, firm strokes, I began to give my arm full, glorious swing.

I paced it slowly, not allowing him the luxury of numbness from sensory overload, and lacing each set with precise scolding (my favorite).

My own skin began to hum, listening to his determined acceptance, and that exquisite symbiosis buoyed me into further cruelties.

I love the cane. I love precision. I absolutely adore getting into small spots with sadistic intent.

My favorite cane is made of clear polycarbonate (the same material as bulletproof windows). Smooth frosted finish and a black rubber grip, luscious weight and flex. Its swing is incredibly sexy... and, it's sterilizable.

Before I was finished, his skin ceased to be a barrier against blood. A few tiny breaks in his hide were hardly going to excuse him from his just deserts - he was decidedly within his tolerance limits. So I wrapped his bottom in a triple layer of plastic food wrap and proceeded with the rest of the discipline.

At the end, he stood slowly and thanked me in a soft, warm voice full of gratitude.

How can my heart not swell with pleasure?

Behind Closed Doors

About Behind Closed Doors: I've had so many incredible moments during play that I now want to share. First, to savor them, and to give you a sense of what I love about what I do; and second, because fetish films often do not, cannot, convey that intimacy and sheer chemistry. May my recollections bring you a taste of those pleasures. 

They chatted amiably as Mozart shimmered in the background. She tilted her head, the light flashing off her rosy lips and sharp dark eyes as she spoke. At this close distance, the minutest reaction would not escape her notice.

Her leather-gloved fingers clamped around his nipples, slowly released, pulled, twisted... Every now and then he stiffened and gasped silently, eyes wide and helpless, when her nails dug in, or when she ground his swollen nips almost flat between her cruelly strong fingers. When the steely hold softened and withdrew, he collapsed against the bondage bed, a grin of wonder spreading his mute lips.

He told her over and over how special, how wonderful she was. She smiled, laughed, thanked him - then gave his nipples an extra wrench just to hear him stop in mid-sentence. She loved granting and taking away the power of speech, and he was in no position to object.

He could only offer himself, and hope that she would find him worth her amusement...