Welcome to~
A place called Ecstasy ... in the state of Dream... in the country known as Wantonland.
You are now entering the outskirts of this My fantasy city. Unlike other towns, there are no speed limits; you can go as sensuously slow or as hot and hurried as your imagination and libido will take you Elevation: As high as your passions can rise Population: I cannot even guess, for the population is booming; its newcomers seeking this provocative place to live out their fantasies or relive their smoldering memories and to experience yet decadently more – all in the name of Desire.
I know, for I am the Mistress of this seductive city – and these are our true stories.
So stay awhile – or stay permanently. There's always room for another erotic minded resident!
*******
BDSM Boulevard
"Behind the Door of Room 202"
‘Do Not Disturb' {chattel class is in session}
He heard the door shut behind them; Her standing order understood as he immediately fell to his knees; silent; head bowed, waiting for Her next command. These next hours were his Domme's; orchestrated and owned solely by Her.
She slipped the mask over his eyes from behind, as he inhaled the scent of Her perfume; its name ironically befitting the addictive power She had over him: "Opium". The long leather coat She'd worn fell to the floor about his feet; his breathing short and quickening as he felt Her hands removing his suit jacket. He heard Her to the front of him now as She pulled him to his feet by his tie. She next stripped Her chattel of tie and shirt beneath it, as he felt long nails through Her satin gloves drag over his chest and send jolts of erotic current through his nipples. She kneaded them between the pads of Her fingertips to granite- like hardness as a moan of delight escaped his lips.
Collared; the metal tag with the name "jamiePet" tinkled against the nickel studs of the thick leather; his leash the next tool of humiliating restraint; its heavy links clanging; amplifying the status of Who was in control.
Leading him to the bed by his chain, She turned him around so his back was to it and ordered, "Strip, slave!"
"Yes, Mistress" was his instant reply, as he kicked off his shoes and peeled off his trousers; revealing his unquestioning obedience to Her earlier command: he wore no underwear beneath them.
He had gone to his office that morning; attending a meeting with the governor and other staff officials, and then luncheoned with the group afterward. He had performed all of his duties as usual; functioned in his customary, professional manner as usual. Little did anyone realize he had been in their dignified, white collar presence commando; wearing nothing between his suit trousers and his manhood but space. All this ordered by his real Superior. His balls had constantly bounced; his cock had continuously slapped against his leg in their freed state; very naughty reminders for the scene he would partake in at precisely two that afternoon.
In the outside world, he was a somewhat high profile figure in the state government building; a man that oozed power in every aspect of his career but was, behind the door of room 202, a lowly slave that desired much and deserved little; an unworthy creature that was in existence to do Her bidding; entirely for Mistress to be amused and for slave to be abused. This was his station in life; this pittance of a submissive's life when he, twice a week, crossed the threshold of this room.
Masked, he was unaware that Mistress' favorite toy had emerged from Her bag-the cat o' nine tails; its leather handle clasped within Her satin covered hand readying to work its Domme magic. She reached for yet another submissive's staple; handcuffs to restrain him from daring to touch Her property. She owned him- lock, stock; balls and cock while in this World called Room 202.
She pushed him back onto the bed; a satin finger tracing his stiff shaft and tight balls as he descended.
"Raise your arms above your head, slave!" She commanded; as a shackle closed tightly around one wrist with the imprisoning somber sound of
click
!
A different command than in previous scenes he noted; his one, but not both wrists cuffed, but he responded without hesitation, and dutifully raised his hands above his head; striking the mirrored headboard of the canopied bed. He felt the scintillating straps of Her toy glide over his engorged balls and pulsing cock; continuing over his abdomen and pencil point nipples; causing him to squirm in spiraling excitement.
Suddenly, She grabbed the chain between the cuffs and yanked him sideways on the bed; wrapping the chain around a pillar of it; attaching the second cuff onto his other wrist as his hands now forcefully embraced the bed's wood column.
"That ought to keep you from interfering with My lesson today," She announced, as Her whip resumed its journey's full circle.
She returned to the base of the bed; the rich, pungent scent of the leather seductively assailing his nostrils as did Her perfume. He felt the teasing side of Mistress; Her whip's lashes caressing his balls and cock as if a leather hypnotist about to induce an erotic trance. She continued the sensuously light whipping of his cock and balls; interjecting an occasional sharp strike of the leather's nine; as if a Domme birthday spanking's, "and one for good measure". His cock jumped in a delicious blend of pleasure and pain, as She took his pulsing shaft in Her hand; then pumped it with long, deliberate strokes; the satin of the glove an aphrodisiac to his throbbing member. She pumped until the slit in his cockhead frothed with precum, and as he felt his semen exit his balls and reach the base of his head... She abruptly stopped.
The surge of near climax was suffered over and over by the enchained sub; his determined Domme repeatedly drawing the cream up his shaft like mercury rising in a thermometer; closer and still closer; higher and beyond belief higher. The feel of Her gloves taunting his stem now teased the tip of his glistening cockhead; caressing it as She pushed a fingertip into the passage; finger fucking it; his juices cascading over Her satin clad finger and dripping down his shaft. Revolutions of writhing and grinding increased with each stroke She gave Her property; his moans growing longer; more desperate in tone.
Mistress was relentless in Her pursuit to bring Her slave to ecstasy's edge. Tormenting further, She backed off; leaving his mind derailed while his cum flowed at runaway speed through his shaft's tunnel toward its destination; only to screech to a frustrating halt when She sensed the imminent impact of orgasm. The minutes had become eternity; the testing; torture when suddenly, She reached above his head where the almost forgotten leash still lay attached to his collar.
