Mistress of the Secret Room [Str8][FM][FDomme][BDSM]

Eight days ago, the record label sent me to Oregon to prod our reclusive star musician into finishing his album. In Shane’s secluded mountain house, behind a wall of his sound booth, I discovered his secret room; a torture chamber of sorts in which he likes to be dominated. It was a shock to this vanilla girl, but I’ll do anything to get this damn album finished. It’s tough being a female executive in the music industry and I need to bring this album back to L.A. to keep my job. If being dominated inspires his music, then that’s what I’ll do.

Another morning dressed in shorts and a sweatshirt on the back deck drinking coffee. When is he going to finish? I got up, went inside the house and walked down to his studio in the basement to see how his progress was going. Shane was in the sound booth, reclined in a executive chair, smoking a cigarette as he looked at bimbo internet models on his phone. He was swiping away, building a stable of bikini photos from women in Portland on his phone. That is until I snatched the phone from his hand.

“Hey,” he said, glaring at me with incredulous eyes. “I’m not finished.”

“Write something!”

“Fuck off,” he said stubbing out his cigarette and taking a sip of his beer.

“That’s it,” I said, pushing the wall until the door to the secret room popped open. “Get in the chair.”

His slack jaw face revealed his shock before his lips twisted in delight. He put down his beer, got out of his chair and walked into the room. He tentatively sat down on the wide reclined dentist chair, looking at me in wonder. I strapped him down his wrists, yanking the leather straps hard against the buckles.

“Maya-”

“Shut up,” I said, ripping a pair of tacked up red panties from the wall.

I shoved the satin and lace panties into his gaped mouth. With two jerks of the leather, his ankles were bound to the chair. After maneuvering the metal tray into place, he watched me peruse the tray of stainless steel pincers and clamps. My fingers lingered on a double bar nipple clamp. I picked it up, dangled it over his eyes and smirked into his face.

“Hmmph, nipple clamps. I can handle nipple clamps on my tits. Can you?”

I pinched his little pink nipple before bending lick and suck it with my hungry mouth. He stared at me in awe as his pink nub stood erect. Then I wedged his nipple between the clamps’ bars and twisted the knob. He groaned as the bars squeezed his nipple until it looked like it would pop. I backed away from him to look at my work. Pleasure was coursing through my trembling groin, building with sexual tension. I grabbed the other clamp and tightened it on his left nipple. He groaned before relaxing, his breath rapid and shallow as he waited for more. I pulled the panties from his mouth to make sure he hadn’t sucked them down into his windpipe and leaned into his face.

I asked, “You want more? I’ll give you more.”

I shoved the panties back into his mouth before leaving the room. He grunted loudly for me to return but I closed the door behind me. Let him suffer in wonder as to when and if I come back. His perversity is catchy. I was enjoying this new feeling of siren-like control over a man and marveling at how dominatrix tendencies flowed naturally from me.

Back in my room, I stripped off my clothes and dressed in matching black panties and bra and a black mesh crop top. With a slash of red lipstick to my lips, a pair of black boots, and a vintage military officer’s hat I found in his closet, I looked the part of a Frau Dominatrix. I stopped in the kitchen to drink a little wine before making my way down to the studio. I opened the door. His eyes darted my way as I slunk towards him still helplessly secured to the chair.

“You like being helpless in the hands of a woman, you and your itty bitty cock,” I said, pulling a riding crop from a shelf.

I reached into his sweat pants to pull out his snake of a dick. It was soft but weighty and I let it drop against his cotton sweats.

“There’s the little piggy,” I said, running the riding crop up and down his dick.

His unintelligible words garbled into the wad of satin.

“You just want to see my titties, don’t you? You want to feel them real bad.”

I squeezed my tits together, leaning over him so closely that I could feel his breath in my cleavage. His lips nibbled at my shirt before I pulled away to stare down at him.

“Dirty boy. You need to be punished.”

I yanked off the left nipple clamp and he jerked in pain, arching his neck and settling back before I pulled off the other one. I turned on his electric shock machine and waited for it to charge before grabbing the machine’s pincers and clipped the electrodes to his nipples. I backed off to give him a jolt. His curled fingers trembled a couple of seconds until I turned down the knob.

“You like that, don’t you?”

I unclipped the pincers from his nipples before cupping his balls in my hand. Propelled by my own horniness, I could resist him no longer and climbed on top to straddle him before pulling back my panties to give him a view of the small strip of downy hair on my pussy.

“My pussy is going to eat your cock, Shane Rivers.”

His wild eyes squeezed shut as my hand held his penis and I lowered myself onto his hard long dick, inching my way down, while my fingernails dug into his chest. His cock penetrated me further than a dick has in a long time. But it wasn’t about my pleasure. It was about his pain. I squeezed his cock, milking him by tightening and releasing my pussy muscles as I drew up to slowly go down on him again and again, until I felt a cramp from his unending length. I leaned forward over his face, his dick half in me.

I said, “You have one more song to write. Just one.”

I quickly unstraddled him, my boots hitting the ground with a thud, to stand by the machine. I attached the pincers to his balls and he cried out against his gag, his hard cock threatening to explode.

I said, “I want that song, you bitch.”

I turned the dial to one and he jerked as cum dribbled from the crack in his cock’s angry head as I turned the knob back to zero. I unstrapped his right hand and turned to walk away. Let him do the rest. In a mirror, I watched him pull the panties from his mouth before fumbling to unbuckle his left wrist’s restraint, his right hand flying to his dick where he milked himself. With a deliberate sway of my ass, I walked out of the room.

“You fucking industry people,” he yelled after me. “You’re sadists, all of you!”

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/4e2rt5/mistress_of_the_secret_room_str8fmfdommebdsm