'Katie's induction into the world of BDSM was swift and deep. She must have been looking at a lot of femdom porn as her appetite for making me suffer seemed to grow with each sexual encounter. For a woman who had been pretty straight laced, who thought 'kinky sex' meant a blow job and that BDSM was an acronym for a some obscure political party, she had come a long way in a short time. How far is best illustrated by a session we had recently.
It began with a suggestion at breakfast.
'Darling, I've been doing some reading up on all kinds of pleasurable torture. It seems that the nipples, especially male nipples, are vulnerable to teasing, squeezing and pinching. I have some new ideas and would like to try them out this evening after work. So at 7 15 tonight, I want you on your knees, with your white shirt unbuttoned to the navel. I will work on one of your nipples – haven't decided which one, but I think you will enjoy the experience. I certainly will my love.'
With that she gave me a peck on the cheek and the morning ritual of toast and tea continued without further word of pain or torments.
Setting me up for that evening's nipple-fest was in its own way a kind of torture. All day at work I couldn't concentrate on anything but my left or right nipple. I had no idea what Katie had in mind for one or other of them. Not knowing was exciting and each time my thoughts drifted chest-wards, my cock got hard. It was quite a job in my morning management meeting to keep my stiffness out of sight and my mind away from domination.