Bondage Sessions: Tied in De Wallen

As I reflect back on many years of sessions with professional dominatrices, trying to scratch a specific itch that could never quite be reached, I realize I've experienced some wild and incredible things. From profound pleasure to extraordinary danger, and everything in between, I've seen a lot. I'm starting a process of writing these experiences into stories so that others could learn from my mistakes, and maybe even experience some vicarious enjoyment. These stories are based on real experiences, but names, locations, and some details have been changed so that no individuals can be identified. I have not chapterized these stories as they are not necessarily intended to be serial.

A summer vacation one year in my late 20s took me to several cities in Europe, including Amsterdam. I spent much of my time in Amsterdam walking from attraction to attraction, and on my first evening there, I ended up in the red light district. It was fascinating to stroll through an area where it's completely acceptable to gawk at the beautiful women standing in the tall, red-backlit windows. The idea of legal, casual sex with the woman of my choosing was somewhat tempting, but not quite enough to part with precious and dwindling Euros.

As I reached one of the edges of the district, I came upon a red-lit window that had a small sign that read simply "BDSM." I stopped, transfixed. I had not expected to partake in my growing hobby while traveling, and certainly not here. But was this an opportunity staring me right in the face, without all the baggage of emailing, calling, and scheduling?

Other than the sign, the window was empty, which I had learned meant that the occupant was "occupied." I stood for a minute or two, wondering if the window owner might come back, but nothing happened, and I eventually left. But the thought of that little "BDSM" sign tormented me through the next day, and in the late afternoon I eventually made my way back to the same spot.

Sure enough, the "BDSM" sign was still in the window, and an elegant, older woman sat completely still in a chair in the center of the little chamber, like a statue. I stopped, and made eye contact with her. Definitely older than me, maybe late 40s or early 50s, she was skinny with some faint, dark hollow marks in her cheeks that made her look quite serious, even severe. She was dressed in black lingerie that wouldn't be unusual for any window in the district, but it had just a slight dominatrix vibe without being overt. Her blond hair was tied back in a tight ponytail.

As I stood there looking in the window, with the dominatrix looking casually back at me, a group of guys walked by, and one of them stopped to look first at her, then me. "Really?" he said, shaking his head, then continued walking. More than anything else, for some reason, that dude's comment broke my hesitation and I took a step up to her window.

She raised her eyebrows in question, and I nodded. She disappeared from view briefly, and a small door opened in the wall next to the red light window. She beckoned me to come inside, and I followed her up a dimly lit staircase that turned sharply into what looked like a one-room loft. I took in the room quickly, with its black walls and severe LED lighting. There was what looked like a bed in the middle of the room, with a leather pad on top and full-length cage underneath it. There was a man-sized "X" made out of black wood against one wall, and many bdsm toys and tools hanging from from hooks on the opposite wall.

The tall dominatrix watched me take in the room calmly, then gestured to a pair of metal chairs adjacent to the stairway, and said firmly, "sit." We sat and regarded each other. Now that I was closer to her, I noticed her lingerie was mostly matte blac, leather. "So," she said in heavily accented English, "what brings you here?" "Well, I'm on vacation," I started but she immediately looked annoyed. "Of course you are," she scolded, "but what brings you

here

, to me?"

"Oh," I said, feeling pretty dumb. "Well, I saw your BDSM sign, and I'm into being tied up."

"Ah, I see. Okay, my name is Victoria but you should call me Mistress." She said, now looking more patient. "Of course I will tie you up, and what then would you say should happen?"

"Well, I'm mostly into bondage," I confessed. "I'd really like to be tied up in different ways, or different positions maybe."

"Hmm, okay." She said, smiling slightly. "Have you done this before? And what other kinks do you have?"

"I've done this a few times back home," I said. "And I'm really not sure what kinks aside from bondage. I'm still learning, but I'm not really into pain."

"Well, all BDSM is some pain," she said, frowning. "Even my ropes might hurt you a little."

"Oh, yeah I can handle that," I said quickly, "I'm just not into being like beaten or whipped."

"I see," she said again. "something more sensual." Something about how she said that word, sensual, with her thick Dutch accent, really got my heart pumping, and I felt the first stirrings of arousal. "Yes, perfect." I said.

"Okay, you put the money here," she said, gesturing to a small metal tray, and told me how many Euros this would cost. "Then, take your clothes off, and lay down on my bed," she said pointing to the bondage bed I had noticed earlier.

I did as instructed, undressing, and folding my clothes, then putting them on the chair in which I had been sitting. I gingerly laid down on the leather bed, which was cold against my skin, sending a shiver through my body. As I laid on my back, feeling cold and exposed, about to submit to the whims of a stranger yet again, this time in a foreign country, arousal started to tingle through body, and my cock rose from slumber.

Victoria reappeared, and strode over to me, grabbing a coil of rope hanging on the wall. "On your stomach, slave." She said, sharply. I complied quickly, rolling on to my belly, trying to discreetly position my cock so it wasn't directly underneath me. She grabbed my hands forcefully, and started tying them together. The rope felt abrasive on my wrists, and she was tying them very tightly. I knew right away I was going to leave with some significant rope marks. My ankles were next, and got the same treatment, tightly bound together. I could tell this would not be one of those situations where I could probably free myself with a bit of tugging and pulling. This was a serious tie up, with no possibility for escape. This realization, along with the sensations of the rough rope against my limbs was exhilarating.

There was a brief pause after my wrists and ankles were secured, and then I felt her first place a blindfold over my eyes, and shortly after that I felt a gag against my lips. Though my previous experience with ball gags wasn't extensive, I realized immediately that something was different about this one. It was... wood? Yes, as it passed my lips and into my mouth, it clearly had the grainy texture of wood. The first thought that went through my mind was, how could that possibly be hygienic? But I quickly dismissed the thought into the category of "doesn't matter now" and began to appreciate the strangeness of a wooden ball gag in my mouth. The gag was secured in place with a strap that seemed to tie in a knot behind my head.

Victoria seemed to walk away again, and I was left to my thoughts for a moment. I reveled in the sensation of being tied up, face down, gagged and blindfolded. I could probably roll off the bed if I really wanted to, but what then? As she came back, I felt her set some items down at the foot of the bed, and then, as if she had read my mind, I felt a stretchy strap of some kind go around my body, holding me down on the bed. When it was fully cinched down, she had positioned it under my bound wrists, pulling the small of my back down on to the bed.. Another strap of the same material was placed at my shoulders, holding my upper body down. And finally one more went around the backs of my knees, completing the picture, making it nearly impossible for me to raise any part of my body from the bed.

What came next took me completely by surprise. After a moment's pause as Victoria rearranged the rest of the implements she had placed at the foot of the bed, I felt a wetness drop on to my ass, and a gloved hand massaged the wetness into my crack, and eventually around and on top of my ass hole. Then I felt the pressure of an object, pushing against, and then into my hole. Having never done any kind of anal play previously, and realizing too late that I hadn't specifically said I wasn't into it, I was surprised when I didn't feel pain. My mind raced. Didn't most people clean themselves out before anal play? What if...? But I realized I really had no control over the situation - maybe I could scream or something, but would that make her stop? I felt uncomfortable pressure, as the smooth object pushed further into me, but it wasn't exactly painful. Maybe it felt a little bit good? The object, a plastic dildo I guessed, began slowly moving in and out, and I still couldn't decide if it felt good or just plain strange. This went on for a few minutes, and I never knew for sure whether this was a strap-on or just a dildo she held with her hands. When it finally slid out I felt relief, but also just the slightest curiosity of what it would feel like to come with that thing in my ass.

I felt Victoria climb up on the bed, straddling my legs. She loosened the strap that went across the small of my back, and said firmly, "Up." I didn't immediately understand what she wanted, as I definitely couldn't get up. She pulled upward on my hips, and said, more sternly, "Ass in the air" and she reached one hand around me, taking hold of my cock which had been trapped underneath me. I understood then she wanted me to push my butt up so that she could have full access to my cock. More lube splattered on me, and it made its way on to her hand, which was rubbing my cock methodically. Up and down on the shaft a few times, then around in circles on the head, repeating the cycle. I felt ridiculous and exposed, tied to her bondage bed, ass in the air as she stroked me from behind like she was milking an animal. As I would get close to orgasm and begin grunting into the wooden gag, she would slow almost to a stop, keeping me on edge. This went on for several minutes, until finally I came, thrusting involuntarily against her hand and the leather of the bondage bed.

With little ceremony, Victoria released the straps holding me down, the had me roll to a sitting position so she could untie my wrists and ankles. The gag came out last. She regarded me for a moment, as I rubbed the red rope indentations on my wrists and took stock of my numb fingers. Doing nothing to lessen the insecurity I had about the impromptu anal play, she commented with a wry smile, "You should get more vegetables in your diet."

I looked for Victoria again in the days after that first session, but she was missing from her window every time I went by. I found her again on another trip to Amsterdam years later, but that is a story for another day.