Healthy submissive relationship, this was not…there was too much pleasure to be had. Like the calorie counter de-railing on their own diet, I had succumbed again and paid for a visit to her shop tonight. A quiet little place out of town, paved the whole way. I needed the release.
Let me explain some history first. It was there, I would meet her for years to come, but I didn’t know that then. These were my first few weeks of exploration, the virgin days, of the beginning.
A single light from the road marked the house. It was hardly on the map. No one could hear me for miles in my outcries and pleasure with my femdom. I was totally safe to be myself and she seemed so genuine. It was ideal.
Like the starchy, sweet bites of Turkish Delight candy, sessions with her felt so delectable. Like a boy toy…alone with her all the way out here. She tasted and felt so good each time we met. She made it clear she was the priority. She kept me in line almost every time. I was there to be told what to do and surrender to her will.
For the first rule, she would only let me touch her on occasion, no matter how much I pleaded. It was just what I liked. I was only allowed to lick her for a moment (where it mattered most), then one rock hard-on after another, my climax would get so close with all our activities, then dashed. I was tormented like a dog in a shop window, wanting to go home.
Secondly, she would control me AND my orgasms. She was excellent at keeping the dominant lines drawn in the sand. She was my new found femdom in the woods. I could please her. I was learning each time.
Keep in mind, during my weekly randevou, (my schedule allowed no more), my selfish, argumentative masculine edge would subside and I would be all hers. That is hard to admit, but I needed it. It was like a horse at a gate, just before a race, with her. I loved being taunted and submissive…only with her.
However, I will tell you on my best visits, she made me wait in chastity. Toy after toy she had me touch myself until she removed the wire trap holding back and pinching my hard-on. It was a razor fine line to keep that lock from busting off.
Then, like a bolt of lightning, she would inflict her pain of choice, stopping my climax in its tracks, made to wait to cum when she noticed my arousal. Eventually it all would just be too much, one can not stand too close to the fire without succumbing to the dance of the flames. She would finally remove the device, allowing my full erection and climax.
Other times, I would be forced to cum time and time again. I was not strong enough for her ways on my first night. She made me cum each time over and over again until I was weary of stroking myself in front of her. Like milking a cow, my arms were flaccid when I left the “workout” and headed back home.
Her “dom set up costs” were probably a pretty penny in start-up supplies, I am sure. Sometimes, the variety was almost more than I could handle. It was daunting with all the selection she had in her equipment. Some items I just wasn’t brave enough to try yet…that was ok.
Lastly, I wanted to be her “good boy.” In fact, by the end of our precious time together in the shop, I was always ravished and she always seemed so very pleased with me.
She would have everything ready when I arrived. “Pleasure with Safety for Everyone” was her ever-so-present mission statement posted on the door. Seemed odd given the circumstances, but she proudly stood behind her tried-and-true philosophy. She was an excellent leader and took only calculated risks.
Flagellation was her specialty, but like a pit boss, she knew “her meats.” I was more of a tender, regular serving, on a weekly basis, heated to perfection. My checking account proved it. I was loyal. She knew my limits and I was on the menu tonight…
So, I rushed home from work to get busy preparing. She liked me clean, plain and simple. If I forgot to bathe or prepare accordingly, the penalty never fit the crime. It was such a stiff penalty, if I am being blunt. I liked it that way. My penis flexed a little as I thought of my past “penalty penetrations” and prostate stimulations she indulged me with. It was going to be a rock solid night.
Her instructions were clear, as I mentioned. Before I arrived, I was “to be ready.” My cleaning ritual instructions were to start with my ball sack hairs being in check. I was to leave no crevice unturned. Granted, I always get excited touching myself, even during self grooming. I think she knew this.
“So a few strokes of the rod is to be expected,” she said, but I was “not to play with myself, only clean.”
Today, I was going to try chemical hair removal products after catching myself in the hair clippers one too many times before. One cannot be in a hurry with those units and the skin must be taught. The painful bite from those clippers excited me for a moment the first time it happened, I must admit.
However, not as much as she did, when she flicked my balls with her fingers, thinking of my times passed. High in the air, exposed, waiting for her attention she would flick just the edge of my “orbs.” Not a full thump in the direct center of my tender balls, too painful, but just enough to get my attention. Way better than a clipper blade to the scrotum. My pelvis rocked a bit just thinking about it, waiting for the water to get warm in the shower. I wanted to cum.
Now also keep in mind, to prepare, to set me on edge, she would also call me during the day. She waited until the most inopportune time to call and I had to answer. If I didn’t, our visit would be rescheduled. I always wanted to visit that night, so I always found a way to answer.
She would instruct me to put my phone in my pocket while it was still on so she could listen to a small part of my day. She was a voyeur at heart and loved to listen or watch from afar.
When she was finished, she would hang up; satisfied with hearing me stumble a bit, because I knew she was listening. I loved her listening or watching me, but it made me nervous. It would titillate my spirits knowing she was evaluating me.
Just the thought of her touching my balls tonight got me moving on preparations. The water was finally warm. I started rubbing my balls with the hair removal cream and feeling them heat up a bit. It was becoming overpoweringly sensual with each swirl. I loved it so far.
It was gratifying to get ready and know they would be inspected like a piece of art. My ball skin wrinkled and retracted with my touch and the smoothness of the cream. My tunica dartos muscle was working overtime. Yikes, I am not supposed to be playing with myself…
For some reason, I can’t resist. All I seem to think about are her red, shiny, OTK, leather boots standing over me last time…
Each time the fine point of the heels would strike on the floor, it excited me as I heard it. It was her fantastic entrance. Her den was a large table with me strapped to it, exposed. The metal was cold as I laid there, keeping me erect in more ways than one. I was on cloud nine last week after our time together.
I loved the sight of her as she would enter flashing her leather and latex ensemble to me. I was strapped in, naked and waiting impatiently. I could feel the reverberations and hear her methodical walk, like a guard at a cell door. I was ready to “drop the soap” for her, if she wanted.
Her whip dragged on the floor. I could hear it. Its scuffing noise sounded like a snake coming toward me. It made me reach for my cock. My snake wanted to cum. My hand could barely reach it, limited by her restraints. I could at least feel the tip. It was wet.
I heard her coming. Those heels were clicking on the hard floor moving toward me. A little pre-cum oozed out in anticipation. She would surel check for it and rub her finger in my juices when she saw it.
Even though she did not wear a belt as part of her attire always, the snap of her thick, brown, play belt would perk my ears every time. If she found precum dribbling from the end, the belt came off the wall and would crack across my ass the instant she discovered it.
The piercing pain would send a sexual rush through me for a moment, and end in a pleasant light sting. Knowing she would swirl the moisture of my excitement around the tip of my raging hard-on with her finger, I couldn’t help but ache in a good way from both the memory of the swift smack and her soft touch. I was going to enjoy myself tonight.
I forgot to mention, last time, a big, burly dude arrived from out of nowhere when I arrived. He took my keys, moved my car out of sight for her, blindfolded me and tied me into place on the table to wait for her.
It was humiliating knowing her bodyguard knew. But I didn’t care. I had to be early, she waited for no one. Remembering that fact, I knew I needed to “get cracking” or I would be late…
Suddenly, I noticed my balls were on fire! I had lost track of time and forgot to set a timer. I had left the cream on for too long. Ten minutes max was accurate on the tube! I think I smelled smoke in my mind, they were burning so badly. I had to get the cream off now. Quickly rinsing them with the water, the hair disintegrated with each wipe and my skin was left bright red and inflamed.
My femdom was going to notice. If my balls weren’t ready for a “good licking” in more ways than one, there were consequences to be had. Mine were now insanely sensitive and would take a couple days to recover. At least, it would be fun the whole drive out there thinking of what she was going to do with me, even if they were hairless, burned coconuts now.
To soothe myself, realizing my timer mistake, I stuck my finger just inside my butt cheeks until I found my hole. The soap made everything slide so nicely. I wanted to be with her. I didn’t want to leave the shower yet.
Funny how your ass tightens up with any pressure near it. She would be touching that for sure tonight. Once she saw my overly toasted, red blazing balls she would make me beg hard for forgiveness.
Something was sure to penetrate me back there. I loved to beg from her, and only her. I begged for her to not put anything in there at times. Then I would love to beg for her to put something in me.
Beyond the pale, she was outside the bounds of society’s acceptable behavior, yet I fought to get time with her. Her ability to draw from the Johari window model and help me find myself was astounding. She lived by it; it was another thing she introduced me to. I was committed, maybe even addicted to understanding my own Johari window…and being with her.
She knew trust can be acquired by revealing information about you to others and learning yourself from their feedback. She was an excellent teacher and gave specific feedback in all the right places.
In fact, Area Number Four: The Unknown window pane of the Johari window was where we spent our time together. Mutual trust was the key. Not long now, and I could be “free with her” in all her restraints. I had to leave in a few minutes in order to be on time. Getting myself off would have to wait, as we all do sometimes.
Before I go, I will have to agree to write another time about my trip tonight to visit my femdom. There is lots to reveal. Let’s just say, to give you a hint of the ending:
“Like everything borrowed, it must be returned.” I started back slowly heading back to the city in my car. I was more than satisfied. Our session had ended in such delight…after all, I was her little, “Turkish Delight.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/r885lz/a_femdom_and_her_turkish_delight