Prison strap 36

The Prison Strap swooshed through the air and landed with a blunt thud.
“Six” announced Mistress Jane. Kay grunted, a sort of reluctant “Ouch”.  That one had stung.
 A few seconds later she announced “Seven”.  Mistress Jane was using a Prison Strap, there had been no swish to presage the blow, only a resounding ‘Thwack’ as it had landed on Kay’s backside, to be followed by a louder grunt.
After a few more seconds of suspenseful silence there was another loud ‘Thwack’ followed by a gasp from Kay, as Mistress Jane calmly stated “Eight.”
The ninth stroke was followed by a ‘yelp’ from Kay, the tenth by a louder ‘yelp’, and the eleventh by a louder ‘yelp’ still. Things were starting to get interesting.
The twelfth Thwack was followed by what can only really be described as half-gasp, half-shout, half-shriek from Kay.  It was hard to tell really, the Prison Strap had landed with a force that had driven the air out of Kay’s lungs, his reaction somewhat garbled by the time it left his mouth and further muffled by the heavy leather hood that encased his head.  Either way stroke 12 had ‘got through’ to Kay.
Kay was, in fact, getting exactly what he had asked for – 36 Good strokes with the Prison Strap.
“Thirteen” announced Mistress Jane, this time the Strap had landed on the sweet spot of Kay’s backside, a loud crack echoed around the room in perfectly synchrony with a loud, if somewhat muffled, shriek.
“I want to be strapped down across your whipping bench” Kay had asked, “and punished at a level that is genuinely challenging for me, whereby every single stroke, from first to last, is ‘effective’ and ‘appreciated’.  I want you to ensure that it is a ‘truly memorable’ occasion for me.”
“Fourteen” counted Mistress Jane as the Prison Strap once again connected with Kay’s naked bottom with a loud ‘crack’, and Kay once again responded with a shriek – clearly that stroke had also been ‘effective and appreciated’!
Kay had told Mistress Jane about his curiosity about what it would be like to receive a prison style strapping.  Mistress Jane had warned Kay that it would be an intense experience, not something for the faint-hearted.  But Kay had been undeterred, and had insisted that was what he wanted.
Well, today was the day and he was starting to regret being so brave.
“Fifteen”, as the Prison strap once again connected with Kay’s naked backside, where hotness was now quickly turning into a raging fire.
When sitting at home in front of his computer watching porn and reading stories the idea had made Kay go weak at the knees (but, positively ‘firm’ elsewhere), and his heart beat faster.  To be restrained and thrashed across his naked backside with as fearsome a weapon as the Prison Strap was a most exciting thought indeed, which had caused him a raging erection that had, one might say ‘stiffened his resolve’ to experience it for real.
“Sixteen” called out Mistress Jane, as the stringing, burning sensation spread further across Kay’s backside.
In his arousal, Kay had written to Mistress Jane and asked her to make it happen for him.  In fact, he had even gone so far as
to reference a little quote on one of her blog’s that appealed to him:  “make him noisy”.  “That’s what I’d like you to do to me,” he had written, ” – make me noisy!”
But, now, this was reality.  Kay was strapped down – exactly as he had requested, and he was being thrashed by a beautiful, powerful woman – again exactly as he had requested.  And he was experiencing what a proper thrashing with a Prison Strap was like – just as he had asked.  It really, really did sting something horrid, and his bottom already felt twice its normal size and was throbbing like a sore tooth – again exactly as he had asked.
Mistress Jane was, of course completely unaffected by Kay’s distress, and administered the seventeenth stroke.
Kay squealed again, his body wriggling and writhing against the bench.  But the bonds were secure, there would to be no escape for him.
And he had made it absolutely clear that he wanted to receive the full 36 strokes: “I want an ‘authentic experience’,” he had written, “and to know that the punishment is going to be carried out, in full, and that once the punishment has started it will continue to it’s conclusion – no discussion, no negotiation, no stopping and no mercy.”
Kay had asked Mistress Jane to make it memorable, and noisy.
Well, she was doing just that and Kay was about to have an experience that he would remember for a very long time to come . . .

BDSM The Great Escape

BDSM The Great Escape….With the pressures of everyday life and everything that goes with it, people are seeking out more and more ways to unwind in order to de-stress and de-clutter their mind. Something to take them out of themselves in the way of escapism. Someone to take control of their mind, body, and soul- whether that be a full on BDSM experience with rubber and all the trimmings or a simple bit of role play and an over the knee spanking.

BDSM has been likened to some adrenaline-driven sports such as skydiving and snowboarding, simply because people are getting the same buzz. See, we’re not so different, are we!

I can only speak from my experiences, all with men. With the weight of life hanging over them, the pressures of work, providing, paying the bills, life certainly isn’t easy. Is it any wonder they try different ways to declutter their minds and rid themselves of the pent up anxiety life has brought upon them?

For some, it is not a sexual journey, but a journey of self discovery and curiosity. I have met many an older gentleman, who in recent years have discovered the internet, found BDSM, and realized that it’s something they want to tick off their bucket list.

Others, have had a yearning for kinky play their whole lives, but never dared ask for it, for fear of ridicule or embarrassment. For some, it is a sexually expressive journey as well as a lifestyle. To others, it is like a drug; they love the high it gives them-like chasing the dragon, always seeking that all time ‘high,’ like an addiction. In short, something they can not do without. Some, are just passers by, thrill seekers who want a brief dalliance just so they can say they have ‘done it.’ They too can get caught up by the BDSM bug, and often find themselves returning for more.

However, whatever the reason, these individuals have one thing in common: they all feel a sense of relief afterwards-not relief the scene is over, but a relaxed relief. Some subs are lucky enough to reach a zen-like state known as the ‘zone’ or ‘subspace,’ where nothing else matters at that moment. When they ‘come round’ later on all their cares have gone, as if a huge weight has been lifted, and they feel ready to face the world again, feeling refreshed and recharged.

‘Subspace’ is due to the release of endorphins. I am not a scientist; If you are interested in learning more, click on the link below. It’ll explain it a lot better than I can. https://friskybusinessboutique.com/the-endorphin-levels-in-bdsm/

In the ten years I have worked as a Pro Domme, I would say at least 90% of the men I see feel this way after a BDSM session. It gives these men a brief escape from the ‘norm’- whether it be crossdressing, strap-on play, heavy rubber, cock and ball play, corporal punishment, and so on. For the brief time they have spent with me, they have been able to forget their woes, and enjoy their ‘Pamper Time’ by means of mental escape and total surrender; it makes them feel good. If it makes someone feel good, then I am all for it (as long as it is safe, sane, and consensual).

My clients come from all walks of life. It’s a total myth that they are all high-flying business men. You don’t need to be a person with high stature to be buffeted by life. I have road sweepers, teachers, policemen, you name it. But, they all have that one thing in common no matter what their particular kink happens to be. They are all seeking escapism through kink and/or BDSM.

I consider myself to be in a very privileged position with all my clients, and in a great position of trust. They tell me their troubles, their life story, their worries, woes, and their sexual desires or kinks, which is what has led them to my door. In a way, it’s similar, I suppose, to being a counselor-you have to sit and listen without judgement. I feel that for some clients, BDSM acts as an alternative therapy, that is certainly the feedback I receive time after time.

Maybe we never really grow up. As kids we play-we are cowboys one minute then Buzz Light-year the next. Maybe the adult playground is pretty similar in that some regress to a safe place in their mind through BDSM and by someone else taking control. Some adults need that escape just as they did when they were young.

A session starts way before entering a dungeon or a scene. It starts when the person seeking a BDSM session finds the Dominatrix or Mistress that appeals to them. They feel that instant rush of excitement, and as their appointment draws nearer they have all the feelings of going on a first date. Then, the door opens, and there The Mistress, the catalyst to their fantasy, stands in all her glory. It is through her that they give themselves over in order to reach that special place, that memory, that feeling, that endorphin high, that escape.

There are many Dominatrices or Mistresses out there. Each have their own personal style and all conduct their sessions differently. You know the old saying ‘always read the label’? Well, this applies in this case. Find a Mistress that appeals to you and your tastes. Read her site thoroughly to check whether she covers the type of session that you have in mind. Some Mistresses cover certain activities that others don’t. So, make sure you read carefully. Once you have found the Mistress that fits the bill, follow her booking procedure, go along, and enjoy the ride.

Please feel free to leave a comment on this article at the following link below………………..

http://www.kinkweekly.com/article-guest-author/the-great-escape/#comments

 

In the name of kink

I thought I’d have a little catch up with you, as I’ve not blogged about the on goings in my world of kink for some time. Last month saw another visit from the very popular T-Girl Gigi. T-girl Tessa also made a surprise appearance to the later part of the day which spiced things up some what. Gigi and Tessa will be working here with me on the 26th. All the places were filled up within two days of the advert going live. I wish I were that popular! (-;  That certainly promises to be a fun day. If you are one of the ones who weren’t so lucky to get a space this time, both Gigi and Tessa will be back in December for and Xmas banger! So feel free to express your interest by email. There is interest in this event already so keep a look out in my blog area and on my twitter feed. Click on link below…..

https://twitter.com/MistressJane3

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As the warm weather fades away in to a distant memory and the Autumn leaves being to fall as the cold weather creeps in, and so do the rubber enthusiasts. The hot summer held off a lot of rubber sessions for obvious reasons but they have returned now the cooler weather is here and Lunna Latex has been joining me more and more. Lunna loves her latex but don’t go thinking she is just in to rubber alone, as Lunna has may guises as will see in the recently taken photo’s below.

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Miss L’amour has been sporting a new edgy hair style recently which suits her down to the ground. She too has been joining all manner of sessions.

Medical sessions seem to have been the flavor of the month and we know how all you boys love a nurse in uniform. Which brings me on to our visit up to Milton Keynes last week to session at The Practice with the amazing Domina Sara. I have admired this lady from a far for years and when we finally got to meet each other last year I was bowled over by her professionalism, her work ethics as well as being a lovely lady inside and out. She really is one in a million. Our patient, Slave Phoenix had a thoroughly fabulous time with us three very attentive nurses attending to his treatments, well who wouldn’t!

Afterwards we all went to the local pub for a slap up lunch, good food and great company. A good day all round, what more could one ask for.

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Truth or Dare with T-girl Gigi & Tessa Oct 26th

Truth or Dare….Back by popular demand or is it desire (-;

*THIS EVENT IS NOW FULLY BOOKED* WE WILL BE HOLDING ANOTHER IN DECEMBER SO FEEL FREE TO EXPRESS YOUR INTEREST NOW TO SAVE LOOSING OUT ON OUR NEXT ‘GET TOGETHER’.

T-Girl Gigi & Tessa will be joining me on the above date. We are branding this date as ‘Truth or Dare’. Why? because we can drag anything out of you. We will conquer your fantasy and your carnal desires and have you reeling with giddy anticipation.

Designed for all levels of interest from admirers to lusty Dames, as well as the curious deviant. All participants must meet our minimum age requirement of 30 years…no exceptions!

Kick your curiosity in to action and join myself, Tessa and T-girl Gigi for a day of safe, sane and consensual lusty giggles and fun on 26th Oct at our ‘Truth or Dare’ gig.

There are all sorts of costumes for you to wear from rubber to pvc to sexy lingerie. Corsets and stockings, heels galore. Make-up and wigs should you so wish. Or just as you are, no frills just spills (-;

Apply within via email or phone for our ‘Truth or Dare’ with Mistress Jane, Tessa and T-Girl Gigi xx

TEL: 07928636021    email: mistressjane4u@hotmail.co.uk

Truth or dare

 

 

 

 

KittenXXX kinky submissive Female fetishist

Submissive Female Fetishist, her name is KittenXXX, the XXX could mean ‘Kisses’ or possibly ‘X-rated’? She oozes sex appeal, she is beautiful, her curves are all in the right places and whats more, she is available for joint sessions with me!

…..Nurse Jane and Dr.Keith were dressed in their scrubs. They were discussing the treatment of their patient, Miss Kitten. Nurse Jane had made Miss Kitten comfortable on the Gynae chair ready for the doctor to start his examination. She lay back with her feet in the stirrups and her legs apart. Dr Keith approached Miss Kitten and asked “What ever is the matter Miss?” to which Miss Kitten replied “I feel faint Doctor”. Nurse Jane promptly unbuttoned Miss Kitten’s blouse in order to cool her down quickly and pulled it apart to reveal her big heaving breasts. “That feels better, thank you Nurse” said Miss Kitten. The Doctor, a man of few words held a vibrating medical instrument in his hand, and said “I had better check the patient responses”. He removed Kittens panties then gently pressed the vibrating want against her pussy. Kitten moaned loudly, “Oooh Doctor,that feels nice”. She began to roll her hips in a circular movement. The Doctor placed down the wand and buried his head between her legs. Kitten threw her head back let out a wail “aaahhhhhhhhhhhhh….yeahhh”. Nurse Jane tweaked Kittens nipples and began to give her mouth to mouth to keep her quiet. The Doctor meanwhile, licked and as he did slipped his fingers deep inside her wet pussy in order to keep a check on her temperature. Soon after Kitten lay quietly, temperature back to normal and feeling on top of the world.

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For further information on KittenXXX Submissive Female Fetishist click on the link below…..

http://www.mistress-jane.com/category/friends/kitten/

 

 

CP Story ‘The Pursuit of knowledge’ Part V

Part V

“ … You have been apprehended on academy property in possession of Class B controlled substances.” The electrodes transmitted a minor current that caused an apprehensive tingling feeling in my bottom, warning me that the continuation of my theoretical bad behaviour would shortly result in renewed punishment. “This is a major violation of disciplinary and health and safety policy. The disciplinary sanction will now commence.” Frantically I heaved at the straps and tried to bring my fingers to bear that I might tear the restraints loose. Then a bolt of paralysing pain, shocking in its intensity coursed through me.

I did not have time to recover before the next bolt crackled into my hindquarters and another spear of electrical energy coursed through my innards. With artful sadism the apparatus paused then recommenced its ghastly work; sometimes administering three jolts in quick succession. Each energy wave manifested itself as superheated, flaring sensations in coruscating patterns across the nerve endings under the skin of the posterior region. The awful torment proved so intense that I felt as though twin bands of steel encompassed my body, crushing me so I couldn’t breathe. I rubbed my wrists raw with the intention of jerking my hands free to get the inflated rubber ball out of my mouth – to no avail.

Strangely, even in the midst of this surging, biting, bubbling cauldron I still possessed sufficient detachment to contemplate the diabolical inventiveness at work. The very cold, clinical, inhumanity of it made it seen especially sinister and cruel – especially when experienced from this position. With another human being there might be an appeal to reason; for clemency. But machines know no right or wrong – they simply follow their programmed instructions. Nor was the situation without its erotic quotient through and I couldn’t help imagining the beautiful doctor reclining in her swivel chair, shoe dangling from the heel of one lovely foot as she swept her amused gaze over the jerking, convulsing, hotly suffering bodies below …

Apart from the piercing, heat-raising aspects the very worst part of the punishment was the muscular contractions induced by each jolt. My spine arched, tendons and sinews screamed in protest and I times I thought I could hear my bones creak as my joints screwed up so violently. All the while as the current traced its course my nether regions lit up like a Christmas tree of agony. Silently I screamed, pleaded, cursed, threatened terrible vengeance – and suffered. And suffering was the whole point. It was what we were there for: human guinea pigs for the day when this conditioning would be used for real in our technological utopia. Odd is it not how we always perceive utopia to be a vision of paradise when Thomas More wrote his novel as a warning.

And suddenly … blissful relief. The flaring sensations of agonising heat ceased as abruptly as they had begin. For a moment I hardly dared exhale, believing it to be some sadistic trick of the machine. Next moment came a click as my bonds fell away and the rubber ball-gag collapsed upon itself, causing me to deposit a large quantity of saliva onto the gym mat beneath my downturned face. “Remove the VR device; take thirty seconds before attempting to stand up,” the voice intoned soothingly. As I eased the sinister black helmet over my hair now damp with perspiration, I saw the ponytailed girl looking down at me through the veil of tears: her face all concern and solicitude. “Take it steady … that’s it.” I felt the gentle pressure of her fingers on my arm as she guided me to my feet. Once she was sure my legs were not going to collapse like those of some new-born foal, she hurried off to help the others who also were in the throes of freeing themselves from that infernal device.

I looked around groggily for Doctor Barzani. Sure enough the lady in question stepped lightly off the dais and made her way gaily over toward me, hips swinging in that sauntering, long-limbed walk that matched her smile of satisfaction. Behind her on the platform the oscilloscope resumed its innocuous yellow pulse; the equipment once again simply a harmless jumble of cables, pipes and half-a-dozen bucket seats with gamer helmets.

My lips compressed in fury; in contrast her onyx eyes gleamed as she said: “That was marvellous! We got some really useful telemetry and biometric data from this session. It’s going to help us enormously.”

“Well I’m chuffed about that!” I began sarcastically. Before I could give vent to my feelings of outraged dignity the scientist turned away to corral the rest of the group. “We have iced water and some fruit ready for you,” she called out. “Take your time getting up; we don’t want any accidents.”

Helped by the doctor and her assistant, the shocked group stumbled back toward the common area and the waiting refreshments. No-one spoke; each test subject (or more accurately ‘victim’) lost in the jumble of his or her own thoughts. A couple of the girls were weeping silently and my own face felt slicked by something I suspected was not perspiration. Even Graham remained silent while Mazher simply repeated over and over again: “That’s not right; not right …” Walking proved painful and precluded a more rapid escape from the portals of Solaryde Ltd.

“You may experience some bladder irritation for a while afterwards and it might be difficult to pass water,” Doctor Barzani breezed helpfully.

“Well it certainly hasn’t stopped you from taking the piss!” I snarled.

Leaving the test centre and stepping back into the bustling normality of an English city street seemed surreal and I struggled for a moment to take it in. The blare of a car horn brought me back to my senses. A pale blue Ford Sierra was parked at the kerb and I saw Carole inside and leaning across to open the passenger door for me. As I hobbled over and lowered myself stiffly onto the seat she smiled – and then her expression froze. “God, David! You look terrible! What the hell happened in there?”

“I’ve just had enough electricity put through my jaxy to light up the National Grid!” I replied miserably.

Her head smacked back against the headrest as she gave a shriek of mirth. “I warned you to look into it properly, didn’t I?” Carole laughed in spite of her concern over my ordeal before reaching for the ignition key. “Oh David, you complete and utter arse!”

THE END


The Pursuit of knowledge Part 3

“There is a march of Science; but who shall beat the drums for its retreat?”

The girl with the ponytail reappeared and held the door open for us while pointing down the corridor. As we filed past she gave an encouraging grin that for some reason only increased my anxiety. By now even Graham had gone quiet. “This is creeping me out!” I heard Mazher mutter behind me. Doctor Barzani strode ahead of us, those long, long legs swishing in the fine hosiery and ridiculously I wanted to drop behind her to see if she wore the kind with the seams up the backs. We entered a room that had obviously once been a gymnasium even to the extent of the thick green and orange rubber floor mats, the wooden climbing frames bolted to the walls and the long low forms arrayed beneath them upon which the class would have sat. For some reason the phrase from innumerable news broadcasts flashed through my mind – ‘The executions took place in a converted gymnasium’. I bet they did, I thought, wishing by now I’d never gotten into this business.

At least the misery of uncertainty was about to disappear; for there ahead of us waited six sets of what I could only describe as ‘apparatus’. Each consisted of a pneumatic black shape that resembled a collapsible car seat and – incongruously enough – a virtual reality helmet of the sort favoured by hardcore gamers dangled from it by coiled tubes. Twin sets of parallel loops protruded from the seat at positions equivalent to the limb joints on the human body. The floor and its collection of mats was a network of crazily inscribed wires, Ethernet cables and extension boards. Doctor Barzani stopped and held out her arms to check our progress. “Right, ladies and gentlemen,” she spoke reassuringly. “Well need you to take up position over the equipment so you’re kneeling on the seat with your palms on the floor. Don’t worry, it’s semi-automatic so you will be guided into position.” She then walked briskly over to a raised area like a platform at the bottom end of the gymnasium and I craned my neck to follow her.

There stood another workstation upon which was a desktop computer connected to a portable television set; the type used by industry with the innards gaping and uncased as the domestic set would be. I also noticed an oscilloscope among the equipment maintaining its steady display of a single brief signal across the green screen. Even more ominously, someone had parked a trolley next to the workstation and its sole cargo consisted of a single black and grey cube. Thick plastic pipes snaked from brass terminals on the top of the cube across the rubberised floor to all six sets of apparatus.

I stopped and stood for a moment trying to make sense of it all before Doctor Barzani’s voice floated into my consciousness above the sound of her fingernails clacking on the computer’s keyboard. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take your places please?” The oscilloscope waveform continued its steady sinister beat.

By now my mounting sense of anxiety clouded my judgement; I should have turned and fled immediately but glancing nervously at my fellow test subjects and seeing them shuffle toward the chairs I involuntarily followed suit. Gingerly I approached the nearest set of equipment and gripping the back of the seat, lowered myself onto it, my knees sinking into the black Naugahyde. God it felt creepy – cold and clammy. Thee ponytailed girl had drifted over to stand behind me and I was conscious that in this position my rear end was sticking right up in the air. “Oh, you’re wearing jeans … ” she said before her voice trailed off.

Damn! I thought, remembering that I hadn’t read the joining instructions properly. I now remembered they said ‘wear leggings or yoga pants – no thick material.’

“Doctor?” The girls called out and then I heard the click and squeak of those high-heeled shoes and caught the scent of Chanel Number Five. I twisted round to see the doctor in her white coat leaning down over me. “I’m terribly sorry but your jeans are going to have to come off,” she said, her face set in a serious expression. “We need to get efficient conductivity you see.”

“Okay.” Blushing furiously I unbuckled my belt and in this most embarrassing of positions snaked the jeans down around my hips while she leaned forward to retrieve a bundle of wires that terminated in Velcro pads from the floor nearby. To my astonishment I then felt Doctor Barzani’s fingers actually touching my backside through the tight briefs whilst she attached the wires to my posterior. She then circled round to where my head lolled down as I rested my weight on my palms, the seat sinking queasily and knelt in front of me. In such close proximity were we that I had to drag my eyes away as the hem of her lab coat and minidress slid above her knees, exposing a shapely section of charcoal-meshed thigh as she attached more of the pads to my chest and neck. The sweet scent of her perfume filled my nostrils and that beautiful face swam but a few inches from mine but the smile twitching the corners of her flawless mouth had a distinctly vulpine quality to it … All too quickly she was done.

My discomfiture had not gone unnoticed amongst the other members of the group. “Hard cheese, old son!” Graham hooted. “You’ve got to do it in your pants!”

“Great budgie smugglers, mate!” the lanky blonde Aussie girl called derisively down the row to my left as she took her place. “Are they your pulling pair?”

“I’m a grower, not a shower!” I retorted. But I was pleased to say she had to expose her own ‘botty-huggers’ when Doctor Barzani turned back her denim miniskirt to attach the Velcro pads to the tautly curved seat of her pink panties.

At this juncture of course I should have been contemplating what these strange adhesive pads were for. Barely had I the time to register the Australian girl’s embarrassment (and derive some malicious pleasure from it) than Doctor Barzani walked back to my position. Just as I opened my mouth to ask the inevitable question she took the helmet and slipped it over my head. On being plunged into darkness two things happened. With a hiss of compressed air a gag like a car’s airbag punched inside my mouth to cut off any cries and squeals. Having something like that so suddenly inflate in my mouth felt invasive and I experienced a brief moment of panic in that I might choke – ‘the gagging reflex’ as it is (ironically) called. Simultaneously – and certainly quicker than I could react – the wrist and ankle cuffs, which had snaked about my joints, snapped into life, automatically adjusting for a perfect fit.

The machine cinched me tight and drew me down upon it, into something that must have resembled the missionary position so that my buttocks and haunches were positioned up on a higher angle than my head. I could only imagine the others in the same predicament, kneeling forward, trussed thus, displaying our rumps clad in tracksuit bottoms, the fashion of tight black leggings or briefs in the case of the Australian girl and I – ready for whatever came next.

Eerily a computerised voice spoke from a speaker from within the helmet. I immediately recognised it as a synthesis of Doctor Barzani’s except it sounded even huskier. “You are being restrained for your own safety and well-being,” the voice intoned seductively. “Continue to breathe normally: your vital signs are being monitored.” My mind swirled in confusion I could sympathise with a luckless animal caught in a snare. What the hell were these weirdoes going to do to us —?

— Then the voice began to speak again.

Latex Fetish, Kinky capers in BERKSHIRE

Latex Fetish. We have been having a great time with all the lovely slaves and subs who come and join me and my friends at MJ’s house of fun and kinky capers. We have seen an influx of new enquiries regarding all manner of session types, latex fetish and kinks. Some of you are still not aware that I hold rubber/latex fetish sessions. I have an array of latex catsuits, dresses, skirts, wrestling suits, leggings, hoods, gloves and corsets for You, the client to wear. Plus boots and accessories to make your latex experience that little more thrilling. For myself I have latex catsuits, jeans, corsets, dresses, uniforms and gloves, as well as boots and heels.

I know some of you out there would love to wear latex but are under the impression that wearing latex means hard and heavy play, which is putting you off. All you want is to wear the latex and have a soft session, tie and tease. Made to lick and worship your latex clad Mistress and play on the softer side. That’s great because I love having my latex clad body worshipped. Remember, sessions don’t have to be hard or heavy. I mould my sessions to fit in with your experience, interests and tastes, so don’t be afraid to say you are inexperienced but would like a latex session, I will be pleased to oblige. All you need to be aware of is that latex sessions have a minimum session time of 90 minutes. A shower is available afterwards.

If you would like either or maybe both Lunna Latex or Trixy to join in your rubbery session, they to have latex catsuits, dresses, hoods and gloves to wear. Please say when booking.

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The Pursuit of Knowledge …Part 2

The Pursuit of Knowledge …

On Wednesday morning I caught the eight thirty three from Brighton to Chichester to begin my little adventure. The day before I had a brief conversation on the subject with Carole who looked at me doubtfully while biting her lower lip: “You did go through it thoroughly with them, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” I lied.

During the brisk fifteen minute walk from the station inside the city walls and close to the Cathedral I saw many beautiful period houses that had been reclaimed from commerce. The character of the city had changed and a domestic hum was replacing the hush of office life and I enjoyed the early spring sunshine on my face as its rays slanted down over the rooftops and between the pilasters to reflect on the windows of parked cars. No wonder North Street received acclaim from Nikolaus Pevsner and Ian Nairn in the Sussex volume of The Buildings of England as ‘the perfect street for an English country town’. And somewhere inside this portentous Georgian façade would be the former school converted by Solaryde into their research facility.

Once buzzed in through one of the glass security pods I stepped into the reception hall with its high corniced ceiling and which still retained the elegant Adam oval staircase. It wasn’t hard to visualise what this place must have looked like when it had been a school with pupils heading in noisy crocodiles up and down those stairs: all excited chatter; sports bags and gossip. Stepping from behind the dais a girl in a white silk blouse and whose long black ponytail dangled down to the small of her back led me across the lobby toward a series of rooms converted into cellular offices. There seemed to be nobody else around and the building was eerily quiet apart from the whine of computer or other electrical equipment; the noises of the street shut off by the vacuum-sealed doors.

“You’re just in time; Doctor Barzani is expecting you. She’s just about to start the briefing” was her perfunctory greeting and as we walked along the corridor a surveillance camera high up near the veiling panned to follow our progress.

“Here you are.”

The girl ushered me into a barrel-vaulted room converted into an office. Five faces turned to look at me – these belonging to the other volunteers sitting in a semi-circle around a functional metal workstation desk. And there seated at some distance to the side of the desk was the elusive Doctor Barzani herself.

“Ah David! Welcome. Please take a seat. I’m just taking the group through the preliminaries and explaining the background to what are our phase II clinical trials …” The smile switched direction to the girl who had shown me in. “Thank you, Rachael. We’ll be done in about ninety minutes so you can buzz them out then, okay?”

“Okay Doctor.”

I was barely conscious of the others in the room as I took the vacant chair – so preoccupied was I in drinking in the beauty of the woman opposite. My God was she gorgeous! Jet-black hair, swept up into a simple and completely practical hairstyle, accentuated her high-cheek-bones and a straight, perfectly proportioned nose. Wide-set brown eyes with delicately painted lashes complimented a mouth in which the upper lip curled a little and the lower lip was a little fuller than the upper. She is beautiful, I thought. If you drew a line down the centre, both sides of her face would be almost exactly the same. Her cafe au lait skin was flawlessly smooth. And I’m pleased to say she even wore a white lab coat over her tight black minidress and those long shapely legs were hosed in black nylons that found their perfect accompaniment in spiky-heeled shoes. A name badge pinned to her lapel read SAHIRA BARZANI BSc. Expressions like ‘stunner’, ‘honey’ et cetera would seem ridiculously inappropriate when applied to such an amazing woman …

“You’ll be helping us here today with our work in developing and evaluating novel treatments through the first in the series of single and multi-centre trials …” There were half-a-dozen of us in Doctor Barzani’s office. We were all around the same age – early- to mid-twenties, students from various academic establishments. And her group now being complete, she launched into an exposition of the programme but it proved to be as opaque as Carole’s earlier explanation. To make matters worse (or better, depending upon your perspective) she had this habit of reclining right back in her swivel chair, legs crossed and one glossy high-heeled shoe dangling in a seductive manner from her foot so the ball in the fine-denier hose shone almost pinkly through the charcoal mesh … Stop perving at her legs! I told myself sternly, you’re here for the advancement of science – not to letch at good-looking women. I tried to distract myself by taking the occasional glance beyond the French windows at the stone flags that let out into the garden. But it proved difficult …

After the rather sinister hush of the remainder of the building it felt a relief to be back amongst people. Of the other five volunteers, one in particular caught my eye – tall and leggy girl with a sun-reddened face and a disarranged hairstyle of blonde locks and dark roots that I found quite appealing. She spoke in an Australian accent and asked the most questions of any of us but I was too lost daydreaming about the beauty of Doctor Barzani to hear barely a word of either these queries or the concomitant answers.

“ … Designed to optimise alternative mindpaths through appropriate stimuli to re-engineer neuro-linguistic programming into generating more societally acceptable responses …” To be honest I was so fixated on Doctor Barzani’s lovely face and that ruby lipped mouth I was away with the fairies. I took not one whit of notice of what she was actually saying … until ‒

 We have laid on some light refreshments for you so please enjoy these, get to know each other and then in half-an-hour we’ll start.” Naturally there was some form-filling and the doctor passed a clipboard amongst us that had attached the thick legal waiver to be signed and of course a slip for the nominated bank account for each person to receive their expenses and remuneration. We then filed out into a common area where tea and coffee urns stood on a trestle table alongside a respectable selection of biscuits, muffins and other pastries. I’d no sooner poured myself a cup of coffee (which proved to be surprisingly decent for this sort of thing) than I received dig in the ribs from somebody and I looked up to see an immensely tall and gangling youth who peered down at me through thick-lensed spectacles. “Hello mate,” he said in a suitably posh voice. “I saw you eyeing up the good doc. Quite a looker isn’t she?”

“She’s that all right,” I cackled, taking a liking to this eccentric character. “So what do you make of all this business? It’s a bit mysterious. I mean nobody’s told us what’s in store.”

“The chance to make a few quid – easy money that’s all.” Flicking back a lock of straight-combed blond hair he suddenly stuck his hand out. “Graham,” he said.

I shook it and replied, “David.”

The third boy in our group had by now drifted over to introduce himself: “Mazher.”

We exchanged handshakes and introductions complete began speculating on the nature of the experiment we would soon be participating in. “I’m not sure I want to be a lab rat,” Mazher confessed; face pensive. “But I need to get my car back on the road.”

“I’m sure it’ll be all right,” I replied although by now I did have a few butterflies in the stomach. Despite the tall arched windows in the room it seemed perceptibly darker outside and the third youth’s words brought back the feeling of unease I experienced earlier. Keeping a discreet distance the three girls also had their heads together discussing the situation. Only Graham seemed unaffected by the mood of apprehension. “Tell you what I’m going to do,” he winked conspiratorially, “once this is over I’m going to invite Doctor Barzani out for a coffee.”

“I mean they keep mentioning Newman,” Mazher persisted. “What’s all that about? Who is Newman and what are his theories? How come nobody’s given us a straight answer since we got here? Don’t you think we should be finding out more about this stuff? Because that’s probably what they’re going to be doing to us? I mean don’t you think we should know!”

“No idea,” Graham chortled, “all I care about is they’re paying us and I want to get my leg over with the doc and that’s all need to know!”

“And you reckon a coffee’ll do it, do you?” I guffawed. “I admire your confidence.”

“If she’ll have a coffee with me it’s a start, isn’t it?”

Mazher laughed and shook his head. “You guys are hopeless, aren’t you?”

“Okay ladies and gentlemen. We’re ready for you now.”

……………………to be continued

Bi Curious Berkshire Thurs 18th Jan

Aimed more towards Bi curious, introverted and shy nervous people who want to have a safe and fun experience without judgement or expectation. If you are more extroverted and confident then that is great, you will know what to expect with us. All boundaries are fully respected.

Please let me know when booking whether you would like a male or T-girl to join your session. If you have not visited me before then you must apply by email. Please include a brief synopsis of any experience you might have if any and what your limits are. If you have a particular fantasy in mind please include that also but keep it brief.

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