A Visit to Dom House

I sat in the lounge waiting for my suite to be ready. I had to sit opposite that fucking useless movie "star", who thinks her shit doesn't smell. Well fuck her, I make just as much money. Like all us supermodels I don't get out of bed for less than 25,000 pounds a day.

Being a fashion model isn't easy, you know. There's the endless cat walk stuff, the fucking paparazzi, the interminable interview requests and the constant battle to keep fit and retain my 34-23-34 figure, which at 30 isn't easy. Not to mention my stupid sodding secretary and my PR woman. Or the constant requests to do unpaid charity work which is always for "a good" fucking cause. Makes you sick!

It was for all those reasons that I'd joined Dominie House, as member 53. I've been here for more than a year and I find it a great place to unwind, torturing my favourite slave and having lots of lovely, guilt-free orgasms. Mum and dad have been looked after, I moved them from their ghastly semi-detached in Neasden to a mansion in Staines.

I've got the Bentley Arnage, which I love and which announces that I've arrived, that I've got it made. Not bad for a long-legged black girl who was told by her headmistress that she'd end up in the gutter, eh?

The snooty bitch who's married to that big-wig civil servant stalks in, looking like she's more important than Queen fucking Elizabeth, and she gets taken off to enjoy her slave before I do! Cheek. I must have a word with the bookings secretary. That's no way to treat a supermodel! Although, I must admit, that once I get into the suite with Dirk everything is fucking fantastic!

Dirk's a lovely lad. Just turned 21, he's tall, with short-cropped fair hair and, in keeping with Dom House rules, totally devoid of hair anywhere else on his body. His 8-inch, uncut cock isn't bad, either, which is just as well because I'm really into cock and ball torture and he's a natural at it.

Finally, after a 20 minute delay, the brunette arrives. "I'm so sorry, Belinda," she says, "the secretary is absolutely mortified at the delay. She's authorised that the first hour of your three-hour session will be on Dom House as a sincere token of our apologies."

What could I say? I smirked down at the movie star and followed the brunette up to my suite. "Dirk will be along momentarily," she said, after pouring me a glass of Dom Perignon. "Enjoy!"

Don't fucking worry, darling, I thought, I am going to enjoy myself very, very fucking much.

There was a knock on the door. "Yeah?" I called.

"It's Slave Dirk ready to provide you with pleasure, mistress," came his upper crust accent.

"Get your pretty little arse in here, Dirk," I called and in he walked, wearing the regulation white shirt and black slacks, and barefoot, of course.

He looked at me and grinned. "You look absolutely stunning in that leather catsuit, mistress," he sucked up to me. "I saw a picture of you in one of the scandal mags last week, you were displaying a lovely nipple in it, and I said to myself 'I've sucked that nipple!' Aren't I naughty?"

I laughed. "You're going to suck more than a fucking nipple, slave boy," I told him. "Get all those fucking clothes off and then get me out of this catsuit, I'm ready to start punishing you!"

Dirk looked as if he was going to drool as he placed his shirt and slacks neatly over a chair, then faced me with his large ball bag that I would soon be torturing and his lovely oh-so-punishable cock in erection – and his cock was

definitely

drooling!

I've often wanted to fuck him, but it's against club rules. They have closed circuit TV cameras in every suite and this is not like the fucking movies – you can't go putting tape or spray foam over them to hide the activities in the suites. That short of behaviour would get you drummed out of the club – even for someone like me!

Anyway, I turned my back to him and he unzipped the warm leather suit. Underneath I wore only a sheer black bra and matching knickers. My nipples were plainly visible through the material and my little wisp of black pubic hair on my mons was also on display. I saw him ogling my chocolate brown body, with my legs that go on forever, and then go on some more.

"Well, Dirk, fucking well get on with it, bra and panties off, you know the drill," I snapped, and then enjoyed the contact of his rigid prick rubbing against my warm flesh as he removed my lingerie and placed it on the chair where he had put my catsuit.

"Worship me, Dirk," I commanded and he went down on his knees and ran his silky tongue along my sex trench. Then I started the real domming!

"Oh, Dirky wirky," I cried, in that silly little girl's voice that slaves simply love, "Belinda winda wants to go wee wee, but she doesn't want to go all that way to the pee pee seat. Would Dirky wirky like to drink his mistress's wee wee?"

"All that way" to the toilet, which was in the superbly appointed en suite bathroom was, of course, a matter of a few yards, but I often like to start a domination session by making my slave drink my piss. It's such a powerful way to establish who's in charge, isn't it?

"Dirky wirky would love to drink mithrethes' wee wee," said Dirk, playing along with my childish talk.

"Good, then open wide," I snapped, reverting to the bitch domme type.

Like a good slave, Dirk placed his open mouth against my sex trench and then slurped thirstily as I poured a gusher of golden piss down his receptive throat.

I don't really know whether he likes my piddle, and I don't care. He always says he does, because he's an obedient, well-trained young slave. But I notice that he's always got an impressive hard-on after each drink of my nectar. Mind you, there are men around the world who would pay thousands for the privilege of drinking a supermodel's urine, eh?

After he had dutifully cleaned me with his tongue, I ordered him back on his feet. "Now, darling Dirk," I told him, "I've got a gift for you, something I know you're going to enjoy playing with."

His eyes lit up. I smiled: "The present is in two parts – one part is in the left front pocket of my cat suit, the other is in the right. Go fetch, there's a good slave!"

He raced over to my catsuit and unzipped the breast pockets. In each pocket he found a leather glove, much like a golf glove, one for each hand. He brought them over to me. That's another thing I love about dominating – making the slave bring his implements of punishment to his domina! It's so empowering, isn't it?

I pulled the gloves on, feeling the lovely smooth leather encase my hands, tight and close-fitting. "Hands up behind your neck, Dirk," I snapped, and he obeyed, spreading his feet about a yard apart at the same time, his heavy ball sac hanging down, his heavy cock pointing up!

I stepped behind him and ran the palms of the gloves down his nicely taut back to the tops of his buttocks. He flinched slightly as he felt them trace across his naked flesh. Each glove, the palms and the fingers, was embedded with hundreds of tiny little metal prickers, which would tingle delightfully against him.

Then I pressed against his bare back, my breasts thrusting onto his shoulder blades, my mons against his sweetly proportioned arse and reached around him with my right hand and stroked his stiffness. He winced slightly as he felt the pinpricks on

his

prick. Then I placed my left hand between his spread thighs and traced the glove across the bottom of his scrotum. He gave a little shiver of delight mingled with fear.

"How's that slave boy," I whispered into his ear, "that feel good?"

There was a catch in his throat as he answered: "God, it's wonderful mistress, it's wonderful."

I increased the pressure on his cock, making sure that the pricks were really digging in now, then circled his ball sac, digging the little metal punishers into his engorged flesh. He let out a little gasp, then I stepped away from him and walked around to face him.

Dirk looked beautiful, a forced smile on his face. I took his cock in the right hand once more and started to pull on his helmet, dragging the foreskin down almost to his thick ring, then flicking two fingers across the pink hood of his penis. He shuddered.

As I did that, I traced my fingers in the left glove across his balls again, then I started to apply the pressure, taking his nuts in the palm of the glove and squeezing slowly, drawing another gasping shudder from my slave. Slowly, oh so slowly, I increased the pressure until he was doing some squeezing of his own – to shut his eyes, as he grimaced at the twin pains, one throbbing through his balls, the other across his sensitive cock tip.

"Ready, darling?" I asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes mistress, ready mistress," he replied, his voice almost a hiss as he forced himself to stand his ground from my assault.

And then I squeezed sharp and hard on his poor balls, drawing a bellowing "Aieeeee" from the gorgeous 21-year-old who, unable to stand the pain any more, collapsed on the floor, writhing and grabbing his tormented testes.

Then I stood over his face as he looked up at me, tears flooding into his eyes, and spurted a little jet I had been retaining for just this moment across his pretty face!

"Thank-you, mistress," he grunted, though gritted teeth, remembering his position of slavery sufficiently to raise his face and lick my pussy in obedient adoration.

I kicked off my high heels and lay back on the bed, spreading my thighs wide, an invitation for Dirk to forget about his pain and tongue me to satisfaction. As usual, his mouth was the perfect accompaniment to the excitement I felt after his torment.

I lay my gloved hands on his upper back, tracing little trails of prickle pain across his smooth skin as he worked. Soon he had me thrusting greedily on his working mouth as his tongue flicked and probed over my sex, until I graunched to completion on his handsome, hot face.

"Now sit up here and we'll chat," I smiled, after I had come down from the peak of passion.

The sweet slave propped himself up beside me and arranged pillows to get comfortable. Incredibly, he was hard again, his cock drooling pre-cum from his excitingly erotic adventure between my thighs.

I kissed him on his sex-stained mouth and smiled: "See, I can be so kind to you, can't I, my darling Dirk?"

He nodded, then moved his mouth down to my erect, nearly black nipples, and sucked on them, switching from one to the other, then back again, as I gently stroked his hard-on with my punishment glove.

Then a bit of fun suggested itself to me. "Which hand do you use to masturbate with, slave?" I inquired.

"My right, dear mistress," said Dirk, pausing in his adoration of my large areolae.

"In which case, why don't you share some of the punishment task," I said, pulling off the right-hand glove and handing it to him.

Dirk pulled the tight-fitting leather garment eagerly onto his hand. "Now start stroking yourself," I ordered, and he obeyed, his hand moving up and down slowly on his shaved shaft.

"Now pull the foreskin back a little, not down to the ring, just an inch or so," I instructed him. His perfect pink helmet came into view on each tug of the foreskin.

"Now run the glove's fingers across the bare head," I told him, and Dirk complied, torturing himself with the prickle-embedded glove.

When I was satisfied that he had established a good torment tempo, I began with some pleasure-and-pain of my own, stroking his ball sac with my still-gloved left hand.

"Kneel, it gives me better access to your nuts," I whispered, and Dirk rose into a kneeling position, not once ceasing from his masturbatory massage on his eight-inch cock, which was now liberally dripping with pre-cum. I bent down, keeping my glove firmly on place on his scrotum, and took his cock head in my mouth, just the top inch or so and sucked on it, tasting his salty, tangy sex juice.

Dirk gave a groan, which increased in volume and then in pitch as I, in turn, increased the pressure on his balls. I was about half-way into my balls squeeze and kept the pressure there, as I sucked on his sweet-tasting prick.

Then, as I sensed Dirk increasing the speed of his strokes, I piled on the pressure and he began to whimper, then sob and finally with a glorious scream of "Aieeeeeee" he let out a bellow of pain and I pulled away from his throbbing dick. As the surge of agony tore through his ball bag, his masturbation reached its climax and a large glob of creamy spunk shot from his cock head and plopped with a small splat on his heaving abs.

I dropped his nut sac, but Dirk kept stroking himself, producing another glob of semen, then another, before falling back on the bed, drawing his knees together and groaning in pain.

With my ungloved hand, I rubbed his deposits into one large, creamy lotion, then placed my palm to his face, allowing him to lick and lave at the creamy solution on my hand.

"Well done, darling," I said, kissing him on his trembling lips, "now let's have a nice warm shower."

I walked into the en suite, Dirk following, not capable of walking, but crawling behind me. In the shower, with its probing little video camera set high on the roof's stud, we soaped each others bodies, then towelled dry.

I lay on the bed, sipping the Dom, and while Dirk recovered I asked him his ambition in life.

He kissed me on the mouth and smiled: "To serve as your slave, my darling mistress."

I smiled. "You're far too young," I told him. "As a cock and ball torture slave you're great and I'm sure you'd be a lovely fuck, but set your sights a little lower."

"To serve as your toilet slave, then, darling mistress?" he replied, the sexy little sod!

I sucked the flute dry, then poured another glass of Dom.

"Now that's a much more attainable goal, my darling Dirk," I told him. "But first I must drain this bottle and I estimate there's at least two more glasses in it. What do you suggest we do meanwhile?"

Dirk smiled one of his "I'm such a cuddly little slave" smiles and handed me the punishment gloves.

"Really, Dirk," I laughed, "it's a good job I visit you every week."

"Why's that, mistress?" he asked, all sweetness and innocence.

I smiled at his eagerly youthful masochism: "Because you desperately need someone to take you in hand!"

To be continued.