My Weekend in Philadelphia [MF] [Bondage] [Femdom]

I was your typical 18 year old American male. A very horny, somewhat lazy, curious to a fault, college student. I lived at home and had just started waiting tables at a restaurant, I took 4 classes at a local community college and played video games on the weekends and at night. I didn’t care much for school, and as your standard male I cared about money and sex. When I say sex, I mean bondage. Of course, I was still a virgin.

For as long as I can remember, I liked being tied up, and loved how women looked bound. When I was 8 I would play cops and robbers with my babysitter, and when she would “secure” me with pillow cases or scarves I was euphoric. So, when I was 13 and got cable internet and my own computer, I went berserk. Through high school I would, occasionally, get to tie up whatever girlfriend I had at the time. It was all amateur as amateur could get, and as soon as I was 17 (legal age) I started a quest to find a *real* woman, who truly knew what she was doing.

I joined any and every bdsm and fetish website I could find that had forums or dating aspects to it. This was before websites like okcupid, tinder, and fetlife were around, right at the advent of myspace.

So it was to my great surprise that a woman had taken a liking to me. Janet (Miss Janet, or Mistress Janet) was 47, lived in Philadelphia (a 3 hour drive from where I was), and had extreme expertise in traditional rope bondage. We met on a rope bondage forum that had a specific thread and portion of its website for meeting like minded individuals. The very early egg to online dating, looking back on it. She was very visible on the forum, and as a way to prove my masculinity and how kinky I was, I would send her pictures of myself. I had a cheap gag, she saw me gagged. I had a small, pink, buttplug. She saw my butt plugged. I had a plastic, locking chastity device. She made sure I locked myself up. I loved the attention. She loved my *young innocence* and my butt (a constant for all of my girlfriends, I have a plump, thick ass)

I was a bit skeptical. To this day it is still a rarity that a young male finds an actual domme female, right? But she alleviated my skepticism as a lot of her “work” was on websites, photographs from when she would go to bdsm parties and fetish conventions. I still wondered why this woman, who had plenty of partners, would take interest in a 17-year old boy who lived 200 miles away. I would find out the week after I turned 18.

I drove the 3 or so hours to Philadelphia to spend a weekend with a stranger. I was insatiably horny and struggled to not jerk off for the few days leading up to my visit. I was incredibly nervous, more for the drive than for actual visit, just hoping my 15 year old Acura would last the trip.

GPS didn’t exist, so with printed out directions from MapQuest I hit the road. The trip seemed like it took forever, but all told wasn’t bad at all. Miss Janet requested I arrive at 11 am sharp, so at 10:55 when I pulled into her parking garage my nerves were on high alert. Her apartment was in an old, refurbished brick building. The first floor of which were various shops, a deli, and a casual restaurant. She lived on the third floor in an open-floor plan, massive studio apartment. The windows let in light and let out views of a park and the city. It was enviable. (I still think about this apartment, it was absolutely fantastic).

I buzzed in, and was introduced to the world of BDSM right away.

“Who is it?” her voice echoed through the foyer, sharp, stern and a bit gravely.

“It’s Riley, I just parked” my voice cracked, my body shivered from arousal and fear.

“I’m sorry. Who are you looking for?” I panicked. Did I have the right apartment number? Her last name was printed right under the buzzer. For a split second, I feared this was all a ruse and some internet troll sent me to Philadelphia to hassle a random woman.

“I’m sorry, I may be mistaken” I blushed and felt a warmth of embarrassment running through my whole body. “Is this Janet?” I asked.

“I am Janet, yes. Only my friends and family and coworkers call me Janet. Why don’t you try again, sweetheart?” she was testing me, teasing me. Relief washed over me. At least I didn’t have the wrong god damn apartment.

I cleared my throat “Hello, Mistress Janet. It’s Riley, and I am excited to meet you finally. May I come up and serve you?” I’m sure I sounded ridiculous.

She didn’t reply, but simply buzzed me in. Two sets of stairs and a turn down the wooden floored hallway and I was in her apartment.

We exchanged pleasantries and talked about the drive down. I complimented her apartment, poked around for the views and sucked down the glass of water she offered up. There was a massive, 8 foot tall St. Andrew’s cross right by one of the massive windows. That caught my eye, and she noticed. “We can play with that this weekend”.

It finally settled in. It was 11 am on a friday and I was here until 11 pm Sunday. There was no other way to spend 60 hours than with pure debauchery.

Miss Janet wore dress slacks and a green, satin blouse that was unbuttoned just enough to show off her veiny, large breasts and ample cleavage. I had told her in one of our conversations how much I loved the traditional secretary look of blouses and satin. Surely she dressed this way intentionally. There were a few nudes of her on the forums, but it was nothing like the real thing. She was curvy, had a slight bit of chubbiness to her but it was, I surmised, just due to being nearly 50. She was a plain looking woman, but obviously pretty nonetheless. I never would have guessed she was a bondage loving Domme that tied up boys in her free time. My fantasies pictured the blonde, huge breasted, leather wearing woman as the one to bind me tight. Not a business professional in casual attire and glasses. I could imagine she was a stunner in her twenties. She mentioned she was working from home today so that “we can play sooner”. The laptop and various papers and manilla folders on the kitchen island were scattered about.

I told her the usuals, I was in school, worked part time. Nothing she didn’t already know, of course, but there isn’t a lot to talk about between a professional woman and a horny teenager. I assured her nobody was looking for me in my home town. She joked, teasing me that if nobody knew I was here, she could keep me as long as she wanted. I was okay with that. She sensed I was nervous and anxious to start, and to her credit she was absolutely right.

“So, Riley. I think we’ve had enough small talk. I want you to undress, and go pour me a glass of white wine. Place it on the coffee table, close your eyes, keep your hands behind your back. Don’t move. I’ll be right back”

“Yes, Mistress!” I had only been naked in front of a few girls, but the minute my clothes were off, my cock sprung to life.

The wine was poured once I found a glass, it wasn’t even noon yet and I was already naked and hard. I placed the wine down on a coaster, closed my eyes and stood silently until she returned. I felt like a piece of meat. It was, to say the least, everything I had ever hoped for.

The rope wrapped around my ankles, soft but strict. Another length was applied below my knees, then above my knees. Her hands worked around my body with skill and precision. When her hands began to work a thin fabric around my balls, I let out a low moan. She had a small chuckle at that, and quickly shut down my plea.

“Going to be a while before we get to that! You have to earn it like all obedient submissives” None the less she give my head a peck, her red lipstick left behind from her quick visit.

My balls had been totally objectified, bound tight and now formed into perfect eggs. She flicked them with her fingers, and giggled at my struggle.

Before she began to wrap my upper body in rope, I was to prop myself on a wooden table that she wheeled out from some sort of storage. The oak table was 4 feet off the ground and I struggled to sit upright on it. She bound my arms behind me, at the wrist and elbow, and laid me down on my chest upon the table. My cock, at this point, was as hard as it had ever been. I was positive it would burst. My whole body shook in arousal at the bondage I was being placed in, a nice, beautiful hogtie was completed when she ran a length of rope from my bound legs to my bound elbows, bending me up and removing any movement or struggle. As intense as it looked, it was somewhat comfortable, aside from my bound balls which were now being crushed by my weight.

The table had a 4 inch hole cut in the middle, and after Miss Janet adjusted my body, my cock and bound balls were slotted through the hole, and secured firmly in place.

“Okay Mr. Riley, let’s discuss your two safewords: if you say ‘daisy’ I will immediately stop what I am doing and ask you what’s wrong. If something is falling asleep, or you need an adjustment on a tie, use ‘daisy’. You may be the sub, but you’re safety and enjoyment is my number one priority. ‘Firetruck’ is if I push too far. The scene will immediately end, I will untie you and take off all gear and toys. Again, this is for safety. Understood?”

I nodded, I knew all about safewords, but hearing Miss Janet’s calming words and instructions was a nice intro to my weekend. She slipped a blindfold over my head, pumped my cock a few times with her firm grip, and gathered some toys.

She returned, marked by the sound of a bag hitting the wooden floor beneath her hogtied teen toy.

That’s when I became familiar with clothespins.

Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/5vr6ux/my_weekend_in_philadelphia_mf_bondage_femdom