Femdom Encounter Is Addicting

I am standing on the steps in front of a nondescript door. Of course, I am too early. I walk around the nondescript block of buildings, a rundown office building, an auto repair shop, a tire store which does not look very prosperous, an Asian cafe which is not going to open for a few hours. It starts to drizzle. I shelter under an awning. Determined not to back down now

I return to the door. I check my watch again. I wait until it is thirty seconds before 10 AM. As instructed; I message the person whom I am to meet. She gives me the code to open that nondescript door. I do so.

I climb three flights of stairs, determined not to back down now. There is a dingy bathroom and a few doors identified only by anonymous numbers. I knock at the appropriate door. The door opens. I'm Troy, I say. Come in, she says.

I enter a small foyer with a bench. Take off your shoes, she says. And strip completely naked, including your watch. Then come in. I am trembling slightly but I do as I'm told. In a shudder of anticipation, I realize I have to remove my watch so that it won't interfere with any handcuffs.

Kneel on the cushion, she instructs. She is sitting on a wide sofa. How are you feeling? Nervous. I say, truthfully. I have never done this before, I don't know what to expect.

You don't need to worry, my first ever Femdom reassures me. I have been doing this for more than twenty years.

But what if I scream or shout too loud? I ask. She smiles. No one around here will be bothered. She explains the safe words: Red, stop; Yellow, pause; Green, keep going.

Now get yourself over my knees, she says. Once I am in position, she starts spanking my upturned bottom hard, then much harder. After a bit, I ask, Doesn't that hurt your hand? Not as much as it does your ass, she laughs. But the blows pause, then resume but from a variety of paddles. Why had I did anything? I curse myself: the paddle comes down much harder than the hand.

I wonder how long I can bear this before I am tempted to use a safe word. Just then, my Dom informs me my bum is nicely red. She leads me to the spanking bench on which I kneel on all fours while she cuffs my wrists and ankles tightly to its sides. She starts beating my sore behind with a series of canes. I had thought the paddle was bad but that was before I felt the cane. I start struggling against my bonds. Red, yellow, or green? She whispers in my ear. Somehow I force out, Green. So she continues her wicked caning. She has a variety of canes, from thin, whippy ones to thick solid poles: she uses them all, time and again.

Oh dear, she says. I've made you bleed. She doesn't sound too unhappy about it. She releases the cuffs and helps me stand but only to attach my wrists to a trapeze bar above my head. My feet are attached to a heavy weight on the floor. She steps back and critically inspects me, my trembling, naked body, bound and helpless, hanging before her. She smiles a wicked grin. But there must have been some deficiency.

She goes to a drawer and comes back with a set of clamps which fixes to my nipples then releases then tightens, twists and turns. My gasps and grunts make her grin again. There is a chain between the clamps and she hangs a dude weight on it She picks up a single strand whip and starts flogging my back: my shoulder blades, the lumbar area, my already tortured bottom, my thighs. While I squirm and writhe she counts out fifty strokes. How are you doing? I am amazed to hear myself squeeze out the word Green, prompting her to add another fifty lashes.

She releases the nipple clamps sending a horrifying surge of pain to their very tips. She unstraps the cuffs. You can get dressed now, she says. I look at her with incomprehension: I feel I had spent a lifetime as a naked, punished victim. But somehow with shaking hands I put my clothes back on. She opens the door. Goodbye she says. Goodbye, and thank you. I say. I have to take the elevator down to the ground floor.

When I get home I feel the large welts spread across my bottom and view the marks on my chest and back. The next day the welts and marks are still there. I no I will go back for another session. I'm addicted.