Excerpts

Excerpt #1 - G

There was a leather armchair in the corner across from me, and next to it some kind of apparatus against the wall. I wasn’t sure what it was but it looked like something you could use to restrain someone. It might be my first time here, but I knew where I was and had some idea of what went on, or at least I thought I did.

The thing against the wall was a large X-shaped timber structure, with small metal eye hooks attached at various points. It had a foreboding look, but at the same time I was excited and intrigued by it. I later learnt it was called a St Andrews cross and I would come to love the view from it, with my arms and legs spread, and my naked body shackled against it. But that would all come later, once I’d dived headlong into the exciting world of BDSM. For now, I felt like a country rube who had been dropped in the middle of Times Square.

There were other various loose items around the room, on shelves and hanging from the walls: masks, whips, and dildos. Lots of leather. I smiled to myself through my inebriated haze. What had I expected?

Even without visiting a dungeon, everyone who’s ever thought about it has the stereotypical image of a mistress. Tall, dressed in tight leather outfits, long leather boots, and the mandatory leather whip. In reality, mistresses come in all shapes and sizes, and dress in all kinds of ways. But they’re always sexy.

After a while I heard footsteps approach the door. It opened quietly and the receptionist came into the room with my drink.

“Here you are,” she said, handing me the glass. “The mistresses won’t be long now. Make yourself comfortable.”

I thanked her as she left the room and I drank my bourbon, syphoning it through the ice she had put in the glass and draining it in a gulp. I remember thinking it was way too much ice, and made a mental note to pass on the coke next time.

I placed the glass on the table and stood up, wondering where I’d be most comfortable, and whether I should be sitting or standing when the mistresses came in. I decided to sit and went to the other side of the room and sat in the armchair, next to the St Andrews cross. It was directly facing the door I’d entered through, and diagonally opposite, and also gave me a clear view of the second door in case the mistresses came through that one.

I sat and waited. My mind was numb with anticipation…what was taking so long! It seemed time had gone into slow motion. I couldn’t think anymore, wondering what was going to happen, and what it would be like, so I tried to sit quietly and waited.

More footsteps. Finally!

This time when the door opened, I got my first look at a mistress.

****

Excerpt #2 – R, BDSM References

My session with Mistress Serena was a harsh introduction to the world of BDSM. I say harsh, not because of the physical beating she gave me, because I kind of enjoyed that, but because of her lack of any sensitivity to the relationship. As soon as you step into a dungeon and give yourself over to someone, you have entrusted to that person your physical and emotional wellbeing. That is fundamental to BDSM play.

Trust is critical in a dominant/submissive (dom/sub) relationship, and it does not need a full lifestyle commitment for this to be true. It is always true and without trust, any exploration of the beautiful dom/sub world is impossible. Only when you begin to unlock and explore the endless spectrum of sexual expression inherent in your emotions and desires can you understand how important the element of trust is. Stepping into a dungeon and putting your trust in someone to take care of you does not mean respecting only physical boundaries. That part is easy. It also means the dom must tune in to your wishes and into where you are in yourself at any time during play. Empathy is a critical part of the trust factor. In a true dom/sub relationship, the dom will always acknowledge they are there to serve their sub’s desire for submission, just as much as the sub is there to please them. A dom/sub relationship is a bond of total equality.

There are rules in BDSM play, and Serena followed them to the letter.

She established the physical boundaries of the session by ensuring we had a safe word in place.

Tick!

She asked for my permission before striking my face.

Tick!

She asked for my permission before inviting another person into the session.

Tick!

She reminded me of the safe word I could use at any time to stop.

Tick!

She didn’t break any rules throughout the session. That’s all well and good, but as I threw myself into BDSM I found there was so much more to it than that. Trust is the biggest factor, and an absolute necessity for the relationship to grow. I wouldn’t trust Serena to pet my cat.

Less than two weeks after seeing Serena, I found my way back to the same BDSM house. I wasn’t interested in seeing her again, but I knew there was a lot more to this and wanted to explore it further. With my wounded willy still healing from Serena’s vicious assault, I rang and made an appointment.

The routine was the same as before, and one I quickly became familiar with. I met the mistresses in the waiting room first and discussed what I wanted from the session, before being escorted to one of the dungeons.

****

Excerpt #3 – R, Sexual Content

She went to the door and called out to someone, while I dropped my towel on a chair and lay down on the bed. Mex lay down and joined me, pressing her body against mine, and we began to caress each other.

I’ll give Mex one thing. She had great tits. Big and soft with beautiful nipples made for nibbling. Before long, her friend came in and joined us. I had assumed her friend was a transwoman. I was wrong.

He wasn’t a transwoman, or even a transvestite. He was a straight up and down gay guy in a pair of loose white shorts.

WTF?!?

“Hello,” he said.

He was softly spoken and he had a soft body.

“Uh…hi,” I mumbled, trying to register the situation as I peered around Mex’s tits to check him out. He wasn’t even trim or athletic like a lot of gay guys, but I don’t think that would have changed my feelings about anything. My senses were on high alert as she gestured him to join us on the bed. What in Christ’s name was going to happen now?

I remember thinking at the time that if this whole sexual journey was my life, then maybe guys were a part of it. Maybe I had some gay genes in me and I should just accept it. With that in mind, I decided to go with the flow. Mex was rolling her smooth brown body against me, and with those lovely big tits lying across my face I was already aroused.

The guy positioned himself on the bed and began fondling me. I couldn’t see much but I wasn’t trying too hard either, as I hid behind the aforementioned glorious orbs. It helped me relax as I tried to distance myself from what was happening down below, but my erection certainly wasn’t going down, and it now looked like the guy wanted to cop one up the ass, because he moved to squat over me. I was a flood of thoughts and emotions as I tracked the progress of the situation and realized he wasn’t putting a condom on me.

You have got to be kidding! Someone is just going to assume that’s okay? I leaned over to mumble in Mex’s ear.

“He needs to use a condom if he’s going to do anything.”

“You need to use a condom,” she told him.

No problem. He picked one up from the side of the bed and quickly unwrapped it, working it over my trembling erection. I took a deep breath to relax and tried to get on with it. Working out whether I was gay or not was turning into bloody hard work.

****

Excerpt #4 - G

Angel was gorgeous.

“Come in,” she smiled, beckoning me inside and closing the door behind me. That point is always an exciting moment in a new encounter. When the door closes behind you, it shuts out the rest of the world, and you step into a beautiful playground of uninhibited sexual play. The abandonment of fear and inhibition is one of the most wonderful feelings of freedom, and something I wish everyone could experience. At least then people would have a reference point to measure the cost of fear in their lives, which might motivate them to try and find a way out of it. I’m not just talking about sex. People are afraid of everything.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Angel said softly. “I was just finishing in the shower and wanted to be sure I had enough time to get ready for you.”

She was very sweet and polite, and without a shred of pretense about her. It didn’t matter what happened from this point. I liked her and knew we were going to have a good time.

Angel is not very tall but she has gorgeous curves in all the right places. She has long soft wavy brown hair that falls around her face and flows down over her shoulders. She has beautiful eyes and a soft femininity I hadn’t sensed in a transwoman before and I was instantly attracted to her. Her eyes drilled me softly with a sense of immediate and complete ownership, and a gentle knowing smile played on her lips. The thing that separated Angel from all the other girls I had seen was her class. Angel had class by the truckload.

Sure, I’d had to wait 15 minutes, but she had used that time to make herself up and dress with style. She had asked me to wait out of consideration for me. That was very thoughtful of her and I really appreciated it. Most transwomen welcome you in their knickers and some sexy outfit or other, and I’m not complaining about that. I’ve been met “behind the door” by some very sexy transwomen wearing next to nothing and I certainly never complained. A skimpy G-string outfit is a nice way to show off a hot body, and some transgirls have smoking hot bodies.

But there stood Angel in a beautiful red dress. It was tied across her breasts and looped around her neck, with the hemline falling down past her knees. I could have taken her to the opera the way she was dressed and she would not have been out of place. Her hair was immaculate and her lips were expertly painted with a rich red lipstick. She had gone to a lot of trouble and the result was stunning.

My senses took in every detail in that first meeting. I drank in her eyes, her hair, the ever-so-slightly sneering smile that seemed to love and mock me at the same time, her beautiful curves, and her smooth dark skin. My senses were tingling with excitement at the thought of what we might do together.

Was Angel my Holy Grail? She was everything she had promised, and I also felt more “woman” from her than a lot of women I meet as I go about my daily life. She was amazing. I really wanted to get to know her more, and every fiber of my being wished to give myself to her in any way she wanted.
****

Excerpt #5 – R, Sexual References

If everyone was more educated about sex, and not so afraid of what they feel, there would be a lot more humping and bumping till death do them part, and that would be another good thing. Jack and Jill would live much more happily ever after if they went up the hill to fetch a bucket of water and stopped in the bushes on the way down while Jack whipped Jill’s panties off and gave her a little tongue massage.

Without sex, and the integral part it plays in the magnetic attraction between men and women, nothing would happen. We have to deal with our fear of sex, beginning with the fear of our bodies. We have to stop being afraid of being naked. We have to stop breeding fear into our children, making them feel there is something wrong with innocent curiosity. If we don’t unravel the mystery of sex, we will never learn to live as true human beings.

But it’s a huge task because sex covers such a wide spectrum, meaning there is a lot to unravel. Making the task even harder is that society does not make allowances for the differences between people, and no matter how liberal or accepting the façade they portray, the truth is we live in a brutally unforgiving world.

How many people do you know who can talk freely about BDSM? Unless you’re an active member of a BDSM club, it will be rare if you can name one person, yet the global numbers collected during anonymous surveys are significant, with 20 per cent of people around the world practicing some level of bondage, discipline, and good healthy fun with their partner in the privacy of their bedrooms. In the United States, the number is 38 per cent, which means Americans know how to have a good time!

Mind you, that’s a lot of people going straight to hell if the church gets its hands on them. Does anyone really believe some of those couples show up for church on Sunday after not having spent a very enjoyable Saturday evening together? You can bet your front row seat in heaven on it. Without doubt, some of them were being tied down, lying there in ecstasy as nipple clamps bit into their sensitive skin, or a paddle was laid across their bare buttocks. But really, it’s nobody else’s business and everyone should butt out while she butt plugs his cherry-red ass after giving him a good whipping. They’re just having fun. Good luck to them, and I don’t think God gives a shit. They are simply on their own journey of discovery and learning.

That kind of fun, or any kind of fun between married couples and consenting adults, will never send someone to “hell”. If people have no fear, and still just want a vanilla shag with the lights out, then good for them. Everybody has the right to do whatever turns them on when it comes to sex.

It’s just a shame that so many people have to pretend their lives are something they’re not. Isn’t that a problem to start with?

****

Excerpt #6 – X, Sexual Content, Language, Discipline

“Take my top off,” she whispered.

I leaned over and undid the clasp, working it off around her shoulders while she lay face down on the bed. On previous occasions she had ordered me to have sex with her and I figured this was going to be one of those times. I didn’t mind, and I was ready.

“I’m bad,” she whispered, pressing her body gently into the covers. She glanced up at me briefly before closing her eyes and laying her head into the pillow, moaning softly.

‘Ohhhhh,’ I thought, as a small light of understanding flickered in my head. It didn’t seem that penetration was on the day’s agenda but that was okay. This was beginning to look much more exciting. I sat beside her as she moaned, watching her body writhing around on the bed.

“Really?” I asked rhetorically. “Is that so?”

I playfully slapped her across her beautiful lace-covered butt.

“Yes,” she moaned.

I slapped her again. She whimpered into the pillow and began moving her body more, but she didn’t move away or try to stop me. I began to feel excited, the blood pumping stronger through my veins.

“Are you bad?” I asked, slapping her harder.

“Yes,” she cried, arching her buttocks in response to my blows.

“Are you a bad slut?’ I demanded, as I began to find my rhythm and slapped her harder.

“Yes, yes!’” Her muffled cries filtered through the pillow and she buried her face deeper into it.

“Yes – you – are!” I punctuated each word with a sound slap.

I slapped her over and over, harder and harder, across her ass and thighs. The harder I slapped her the more she cried out, but she didn’t try to stop me. By now I was fully in the groove and my cock tingled to life while I rained blows onto her reddening buttocks.

I wanted to feel my hand on her bare flesh without the scant protection of her knickers. Stopping for a moment, I hooked my fingers inside the thin fabric of her panties and moved them down a little to test the waters, so to speak. She responded by lifting her ass slightly and I took that as a green light, continuing the downward motion.

“Get these off,” I hissed. “I’m going to spank you hard!”

Her muffled cries of feigned resistance were music to my ears as I worked her panties down over her legs and off altogether. She spread her arms across the bed, clenching the covers tightly in her hands and continuing to moan and whimper. I looked down at her firm behind, now turned a lovely shade of red.

I began slapping her again. The feel of her smooth unprotected skin against my hand as I struck her was exquisite and I let my hand rest for a moment between blows, absorbing the heat from her body. I was finding my way with this and from her reaction, there was no doubt she liked what was happening.

I slapped her harder and she screamed louder as she buried her face into the pillow.

****

Excerpt #7– X, Sexual Content, Language

I hung my robe on a hook behind the door and waited. A few minutes later I heard footsteps approach and Mistress entered the room.

She was wearing simple sexy black underwear and knee-high black boots. She looked hot as always and I stood naked in front of her, a willing slave to her every whim. This was her domain and she owned me now.

She moved a hard-backed timber chair to the middle of the room. For all I know it may have even been the same one Serena had put to good use many years ago.

“Sit down,” she said quietly.

I sat.

“Play with your cock. I want to see you get hard. Play with it and show me how much you enjoy it.”

I took hold of my cock in one hand and began playing with it. Mistress was behind me, and I followed the sound of her movements as I pulled and squeezed. The blood flowed and I became harder.

“Very good, Josef,” she said softly, “keep playing with yourself while I get something ready for you.”

I could hear Mistress doing something and then the sound of trickling liquid. She came back and stood in front of me holding a plastic cup which she held toward me.

“Drink it,” she said quietly.

I reached out and took the cup from her hand, feeling the heat of her fresh piss through the plastic. She looked down at me.

“Drink it,” she repeated menacingly, staring intently into my eyes. Unlike Serena, Mistress Cassie didn’t mind me looking at her. In fact, she seemed to enjoy seeing the complete adoration and servitude in my eyes. I lifted the cup to my lips.

“Slowly, Josef.”

She paused and leaned closer.

“Drink it slowly. I want to watch how much you enjoy drinking my piss.”

I lifted the cup and took a small mouthful but she stopped me before I could swallow it.

“Hold it in your mouth. I want you to savor the taste.”

I held it in my mouth, letting it flow over my tastebuds as I melted into her eyes with a wish to serve and obey her every command.

“Good,” she smiled, her eyes never leaving mine. “You can finish it now.”

I slowly drained the rest of the cup, letting it wash through my mouth before flowing down my throat.

As I did so I gazed into her unwavering eyes, giving myself fully to the feeling of submission the act of drinking her piss evoked in me. When the cup was empty I licked my lips to show her how much I had enjoyed it. It wasn’t an act. Giving myself in submission to Cassie while drinking her piss is like the most insane feeling of being in love.

So there I sat: naked, fondling myself, drinking some woman’s piss, gazing adoringly into her eyes, and wishing the moment could go on forever.

The endless questioning: Who am I? Who is Josef, and what is this all about? At those times I didn’t care.

Excerpt #8 - G

Everyone likes sex, but men are bigger slaves to it than women and generally speaking, have a much baser urge, which is more easily satisfied. Women need to train men to cater to their deeper appreciation of sex on an emotional level, but they’ve got their work cut out for them because instead of appreciating what a woman has been able to teach him, a man will usually turn it around and try to take credit for it. As soon as he does so, he loses sight of the valuable lesson he’s just been given, and it’s wasted. The reason for this is simple. Fear.

Josef’s Free Tip #3

Men are too afraid to give up their need to control everything, which is a shame because there is a cosmic law of giving and receiving which applies to everything. It applies more strongly to women, and if a man is brave enough to give to a woman she will give him back tenfold. That’s a fact and the secret to the possibility of a happy relationship.

But a man must be smart enough to find the right woman to do it with or he’ll end up being nothing more than the pussy-whipped plaything of a woman who doesn’t know what to do with him, turning them both into losers.

Remember, sex is the greatest underlying emotional current on the planet. It is intertwined in every activity and interaction between people, and without it the wheels would fall off. However, women have become lost in their mad scramble to understand and survive the stupidity men have created, and this is a real shame.

Men set the bar very low to begin with, but then, unbelievably, instead of trying to raise the bar, for some reason they find it easier to dig a hole below it and plunge even deeper into the rotting decay, taking women along with them. But in the end it’s a partnership, and women must take some responsibility for allowing life to spiral down to the dizzying depths that it has.

I look forward to the day when women stop trying to sings songs in their underwear and reclaim their true sexuality. Men have dragged women down into the gutter with them, and for some incomprehensible reason women have embraced it and seemingly love it.

I live for the day when women wake up, but men have to give them something to wake up to. It’s gotten into a nasty downward spiral and men need to see it and start treating women differently. They need to retrain women to start acting like women, and the good news is it doesn’t require a training manual or an expensive Tony Robbins seminar.

“Retraining” simply means giving a woman something she can trust. She will do the rest for herself and doesn’t need a man poking his nose in and getting in the way of the process at that point. That’s great news for the men because it means they don’t have to do a damn thing except start respecting women.

Why is that so hard? I can understand men feeling pissed off with the way women behave these days, but there are two things men need to understand. Firstly, they started the whole mess, and secondly, they are in a position to change it.