REVIEW 20/12/17

My first experience of the IMPALER was brilliant Mistress. Felt so completely helpless with wrists, ankles and neck firmly secured and my face in the head rest pad. Would recommend it to any sub brave enough.

You certainly pushed my limits on it. I had no chance of lasting long enough for you with Venus attached, and that meant the cane. Having to choose which cane myself blindly by naming a number between 1 and 10 added an extra dimension.

The caning you gave me was well deserved for previous misdemeanour’s and I’m branded, a reminder of who I belong to.

You are the best.

S

The Whipping Boy Part 5

“Face your front!” Mistress Gwendolyn commanded briskly and as reluctant as he felt, Tom took up the required stance, clutching the edges of the chair’s seat for dear life It cannot be far off five of the clock, the young man pondered sullenly, when is she going to release me so that I may attend the Prince? And damn the Prince, he thought with sudden venom. If the little rascal had not made such a mess of his Latin verbs then I would not be suffering such torment … but that, of course, happened to be precisely the point.

Mistress Gwendolyn glided smoothly into position behind and to the left of him and her fine white teeth flashed as she lowered the cane to the horizontal. “It has a marvellous crooked form does it not, Master Tom? The raised bumps along its length make for some spectacular bruises and the sharp bite it do impart have a truly lasting effect upon the recipient – like a sharp sermon delivered on a frosty morning!” She chuckled once more at her own wit.

“Yes Mistress,” Tom agreed and his sulky mood made him careless. “It is a repandous as the King’s legs ‒ ” Horror-struck at what had just passed his lips he snatched a hand away to cover his mouth.

“Master Tom!” The Lady of the Wardrobe half-laughed and half-gasped in mock horror. It was the worst kept secret at court that the King suffered from rickets and nobody really believed the official story of how his guardian, Sir Robert Carey had cured him of the malady in childhood. “You ought to have your ears shorn off at the pillory for such disloyalty! I was going to give you a dozen – but now you shall receive another six.” She shook her head in supposed sadness, those ringlets falling about her slim shoulders. “You bad, bad boy! In truth I do not know who has been more likely stalled to the rogue: you or your playmate!” Then she set to the denouement of her work.

Tap tappity-tap. The tip of the cane played its little dance upon his mottled proffered buttocks as she measured her first stroke. The ferula was a brutal weapon – a veritable a broadsword or a war hammer in the disciplinarian’s armoury – but the cane, a relatively new import from India required skill and precision, in the manner of a rapier, to employ it properly. “Well, my boy,” she teased him; “you shall earn your firewood this day!” Having gauged the distance, while the poor suffering Tom waited, she gave a deft, lateral flick of the wrist

Thwatt!

A half-strangled cry of pain was wrung from him before Tom almost quite realised it. And immediately came the tormenting, mocking tap-tap-tap as she calculated her second stroke. Again he heard the hollow whoosh of displaced air followed at a discernible interval by that hateful sensation which threatened to overwhelm his senses. His buttocks were erupting, a blistering pain searing through skin and flesh. Every subsequent stroke of the cane seemed to be lacerating them afresh. He desperately wanted to tear his hands away and evade that next blow but he checked himself. He had absolutely no doubt that she meant her threat of a flogging at the at the cart’s arse – a shaming punishment for prostitutes – in front of all those leering, cackling fishwives.

He gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white.

Mistress Gwendolyn paused for a moment to allow him to calm his breathing. Sumptuous and gilded though it undoubtedly was, the court of King Charles could be staid at times with much emphasis on decorum and reverence for the monarch. One had therefore to take one’s pleasures where one could find them. And seeing the young man’s muscular hindquarters positioned over the back of the chair, already crimson in their fury and now transected by mauve lines darkening at their edges, she delighted at the sight of her handiwork – especially when made so on such a fine-looking lad. He was no town-raised cokenay milksop softened by easy living but a village youth, rangy and strong-looking. He took his undeserved punishment stoically: his head of dark locks held low; back straight and legs slightly parted. Other ladies at court would have taken their pleasure with him in a different manner, she knew but this she found much more enjoyable. Oh yes, my laddie, she thought, we shall have this dance again …

Tap-tap- Thwatt! As her victim flinched visibly and as yet another parallel carmine stripe appeared, with its distinctive white line in the middle, she felt her nipples harden beneath her shift and a warm glow stole throughout her body from her loins. She almost lost herself in the sensation but even while drawing back the cane again for its next biting sting she knew she could not exceed the boundaries of the punishment. A solemn responsibility is after all conferred upon the disciplinarian and duty is duty after all. Even so, something about the young man’s dumb resilience, the way he kept his head bowed and suffered that lashing irritated Mistress Gwendolyn in an unfathomable way. He must be close to tears by now, she reasoned and how better to force the issue by a nice, hard low one delivered right across his previous marks — shwack!

The effect proved immediate and dramatic. A piercing howl that most certainly frightened the life out of anyone within earshot in the palace reverberated in the scullery as Tom left to his feet, clutching his backside. Mistress Gwendolyn had to dig the tip of the cane into the floor and rest her palms upon it as she fought the urge to collapse with laughter as he hopped about, hobbled by the garments about his ankles and looking at her in hatred with eyes puffy, red and awash with tears.

“Adjust your hose, my boy and smarten yourself,” she giggled evilly, dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “It is five of the clock now and I’m sure you will not wish to be late. We spent a merry afternoon together; did we not?”

The glare from Tom’s handsome face slicked by tears told otherwise. He bent forward to pull up his leggings, gasping because the motion caused the skin of his buttocks to stretch. The Lady of the Wardrobe smirked in satisfaction when he winced as the fabric of the hose snapped on the lambasted flesh of his rear end. Taking a small cloth she began wiping her implements clean of the perspiration and other bodily oils before replacing them in the calico: until next time.

“Go to the Prince now and impress upon him how much you have suffered at his behest and of the necessity of his improvement. You are – as no doubt you truly see – the hostage of his good behaviour: the Whipping Boy!”

THE END

REVIEW 07/12/17

Hi Mistress Jane,

I’m slowly coming back down to earth and now able to reflect on my experience with yourself and Lunna. I must admit I was in a bit of a daze directly afterwards and somewhat euphoric.

What a fantastic time I had, it has been a while since I last session-ed, but you made my time with you somewhat of a memory that will stick, you knew exactly what buttons to press (literally) to get me going and just held me there on the edge.

I still don’t feel I can fully express my feelings about my experience with you both, but my god it was good.

I would like to thank you both for an amazing time. Lunna was fantastic and a very naughty latex lady, the hood topped it, and you know exactly how to bring the very best of the time to encourage full realease to leave me completely drained!!

Thanks again to you both, and I still smell of latex which is great!!! 😏

Take care both of you and I am already looking forward to the next time I can present my latex self to you.

Best regards M.

Taste the Cane with Mistress Jane

Dick, Taste the Cane!!

As Dick stepped out of the shower he twisted to view his right buttock in the mirror, and there, still perfectly clear, were two parallel lines – the final remnants of his ‘taste the cane’ and the striping he had received from Mistress Jane’s rather more severe canes. Still visible after 28 days.

A month earlier, Dick had been building up to his little treat for some time, desperately curious to find out just how intense it would feel, but always concerned lest the resulting tell-tale marks leave him with some explaining to do at home. But after over a year in waiting, the opportunity presented itself with 10 days “healing time” between cane and home. And so, Dick had made his appointment and at the allotted time was naked and arranged, arse in the air, over MJ’s new whipping bench.

In the months prior to this event, Dick had danced around the issue, experimenting with cane strokes to the hand (light cane and relatively gentle strokes to ensure no risk of injury), and had indulged too in a little bastinado (similarly injury risk averse)… the latter pushing Dick to his limits… but no-where near satisfying his curiosity about the cane. Dick had also “enjoyed” several increasingly severe thrashings with MJ’s tawses and straps (recorded on earlier blogs), under the guise of general bruising, which so far too had not prompted any unwanted conversations at home.

Often, ahead of these encounters Dick would write to Jane to encourage her… not… to be too gentle, and perhaps to suggest a minimum number (which had squeezed into 3 figures) on more than one occasion. And on a suitably warmed up buttock, Jane had treated Dick to a few strokes with her lighter canes.

But now, naked, tethered, with no warm up, and anticipating the first strike of Her cane, Dick was relieved that he had had the wisdom to make no such bold requests. Tonight, he would take each stroke as it came and see for himself just how far he chose to go. Jane had laid out for his perusal a selection of canes, and Dick had noticed that none of Her lighter canes has been included. Dick knew from recent correspondence with Jane that She had recently acquired one or two more severe implements, Tahiti canes– which were now also laid out for inspection.

Then, having ensured he was suitably secured, ankles, thighs, wrists and back – Jane selected a senior dragon cane and moved in to the optimum spot behind Dick. “So Dick,” said Jane “any little requests before we start… you seem to have forgotten to ask me… not… to be too gentle… and to tell me just how many strokes you want… before I may grant you mercy.” Dick hadn’t forgotten and had no intention of raising the point now either, so he gave a nervous chuckle – and Jane chuckled back – as She gently stroked Dick’s upturned buttocks with her cane.

“Are you ready Dick?” Jane asked, and as he nodded She brought the cane down smartly across the very centre of the target. And for the first time Dick got his first inkling of just what the fuss was all about. Unlike the strap and tawse, both of which gave a “cold” sting which rose and fell fairly quickly, the cane drew a “hot” line across the cheeks, and the burn just rose and rose… and lasted… for so much longer. Jane left him to stew for almost a minute – before asking gently if he would like another. And with a second nod from Dick, and a swish and a crack, Jane gave a him a second stripe just below the first.

After about another 30 seconds, and with no further enquiries Jane switched to a heavier cane and administered a 3rd, and then a 4th. And already Dick was struggling… and much of his curiosity seemed to be ebbing swiftly away.

Dick had imagined himself at this point retaining the courage and urge to know… and asking MJ to swing harder… and as he panted and sweated and tried to process the sensation… he found himself facing the question of just why he was doing this. And right up to this moment Dick had had no doubt why, and it was to satisfy his curiosity… but here Dick already had some answers (at this moment 4 to be exact)… and was anything but sure that he needed any more evidence. But as he deliberated, Jane picked up her heaviest cane… and explaining this to Dick invited him to take a few more.

Now unsure, but still not quite ready to give up Dick nodded again and in fairly swift succession Jane gave him two more “answers” completing the decoration of his buttocks with now 6 perfectly parallel lines, and with the final blow catching that sweet spot just at where the buttock meets the thigh – and Dick was almost levitating. “That was a real ball-breaker,” Jane announced rather pleased with the accuracy of the final blow.

And there he was – pretty much all questions answered… and to his surprise feeling a little nauseous. He knew of course that Jane had more power in her wrists, and could have caned him harder. He knew too that She could have caned much faster, and could only imagine what that might feel like, but still worried about the marks, and already quite clear how caning could so easily be pushed into the “unbearable” zone, Dick opted to call it a day… and once untethered, sidled over to the mirror to see just how vividly he had been marked.

To complete the session, Jane cheered Dick up with Her usual – and far more pleasant – combination of prostate massage, milking and vibration… and very soon a spent and satisfied Dick stood in Jane’s kitchen, coffee in hand… and wondering if he was now cured of the urge to receive the cane.

A month on, with the odd stripe still visible Dick had felt absolutely no urge to repeat the process… and indeed his penchant for “femdom caning porn” seemed also to be on the wane. Just as well that Jane had so very many other treats to offer… as Dick, though no longer curious about the cane, still enjoyed pretty much every other sensation in Jane’s dungeon… and even now found himself wondering if perhaps another battle with Her strap’s and tawses might not be in order.

 

taste the cane

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The Whipping Boy~Part 3

Mistress Gwendolyn beamed at the impact her words clearly had on the thunderstruck youth. And, while he struggled to take it in, she closed the connecting door to the passageway before reaching up to flick home the bolt. “There young man, we shall not be disturbed about our work.” The Lady of the Wardrobe walked casually back to the table and picked up the book he had been reading – it was the distinctly saucy adventures of Bevis of Hampden. “Hmm, no Bible, this Master Tom! A godly boy should eschew the works of the devil” She flicked through it in amused distaste before laying it aside. Then with a practised gesture she snatched away the black ribbon that fastened the parcel and Tom’s eyes bulged when the calico folds parted to reveal 

– A single wooden sandal, a sort of knobbly bamboo rod and that most feared implement from his schooldays, the ferula.

Mistress Gwendolyn’s eyes flashed in triumph at his discomfort, and again he heard the rustle of her skirt as she gathered the pleats to sit down in the chair he had vacated. “Take off your jacket and get over my lap, young man. I am sure the position will be familiar to you.”

Thus it was but he would not acquiesce without at least token resistance. “But My Lady! I have committed no sin. I have not offended you!”

“Indeed you have not. But the Prince is a crafty fox given to vices and slothfulness; idle if given a chance. And we must improve him. So you will take the beating meant for his Royal person, that is the way of things.”

“But the fault is not mine; I do not own it, I !”

– Then why ever did you accept the position of whipping boy? You are no bondsman and entered freely into the arrangement, I do believe. Your hand was not forced. You live well here, and shall continue to do so. Far more so than in that miserable hovel you called a home.” Her voice grew stern, the full lips pursed and she crooked a finger adorned with a fat red ruby ring. “Now you will honour your contract, Thomas, or I shall convey you from here to Billingsgate and whip you at the cart’s arse in front of all the fishwives!”

Tom gulped, feeling hot and sickly. The room seemed to sway as he removed his jacket and dropped it in the corner before advancing toward her as though in a dream. From this vantage point he could look down her bodice at the creamy flesh of her high, firm breasts but he was in no mood to enjoy the spectacle. Clicking her tongue in exasperation Mistress Gwendolyn reached up, grabbed him by the shirt front and (displaying surprising strength) pulled him down over her knees. His hands and feet moved quickly on the reed-strewn floor to steady himself.

“At last! What a business we are having and ere we have even to start.” she cried. “You serve merely to make matters worse for yourself, addle-plot!” Tom heard the tramp of boots outside as another file of soldiers strode past and he hoped none of them would be tempted to glance through the mullioned windows to see him in the nursery position over the mistress’s lap. Oblivious to the sound of marching feet Mistress Gwendolyn reached behind her to the table for the wooden sandal. Clutching it in one hand she took his shirttails in the other to fold them back and unveil the target area. She raised a knee slightly; the better to arch his spine. Unlike the wealthier men at court who favoured trousers, he still wore hose and therefore would not have the new garment, the ‘drawers’ (underpants) on underneath. “Like two ripe plums in black hessian sacks,” she chuckled, tracing the curves of his buttocks through the clinging material before patting his bottom. She then aimed the sandal at his hosed rump. “Here is the Prince’s punishment, young Thomas. Hold fast – and count yourself privileged!” And that said, she brought the sandal down.

The whipping Boy~PART 2

Part II

Like a performing dog Tom leapt to his feet, almost knocking over the chair in his haste.

“So …” Suddenly the atmosphere in the snug little scullery seemed oppressively hot as the elegant – and frightening – woman paced around him in a circle, regarding him with a calculating, appraising eye. Tom stared rigidly ahead, trying to emulate the soldiers he saw on guard duty at the palace every day. Although frightened he felt a certain fascination at the rustle of the woman’s full skirt; the rosewater scent of her perfume in his nostrils …

“Yes, quite a resemblance …” she murmured, speaking almost to herself before addressing him. “You’re a fine-looking lad, no doubt. Broken a few hearts at the palace already I’m sure, eh?”

“N-No, Mistress.”

“Come now, no need to be bashful. You need not fear on that score at least, my boy, for I am not some outraged mother or aunt.” The smile vanished abruptly and Mistress Gwendolyn became businesslike indeed as she turned to face him. “Now to the purpose of our discussion.” She resumed her pacing while Tom stood stupidly to attention and he guessed this was how she preferred to think, to marshal her thoughts.

“Might it take long, my lady? It’s just that at five of the clock I to be at dice with the Prince.”

“And what time is it now?” She titled her head of auburn ringlets to cock an ear. In this age people gauged the passing of the day either by means of a communal clock (which only had an hour hand) or through the beats of the drum that were omnipresent within the palace precincts. “Four of the o’clock, by my reckoning. Adequate for our deliberations, young Tom. Mayhap it is the Prince we need to discuss.”

Oddly enough his focus switched to the parcel of wooden items she had placed on the table. What could be their purpose? His sense of foreboding lengthened along with the shadows outside the leaded windows.

“Being a loyal subject of Our Majesty you will doubtless know what is meant by ‘the Divine Right’?”

Tom struggled to remember what he had learned in the village school and from the rough and ready indoctrination into palace life given by the seneschal and the steward in charge of the young male servants. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other nervously. The trouble was that none of that really helped; the education of the time being brutal and aimed at knocking the learning into its pupils. Even so, being possessed of a certain native wit, he attempted an answer.

“The King – Our Majesty – is God’s anointed on Earth. He rules us by holy writ.”

“That he does!” Mistress Gwendolyn clapped her beringed fingers together in delight at such unexpected erudition.” Those extraordinarily black eyes with their gold-flecked irises bored into his. “The King’s rule is ordained in heaven. He is God’s representative on Erath. For a commoner to touch the Royal person with ill-intent is high treason. Any you know what happens to traitors don’t you, boy?”

Tom nodded dumbly. The disloyal, or rather their constituent parts, were nailed to Traitor’s Gate for all the world to see. From a mouth that suddenly felt parched he managed to mumble, “Surely my lady cannot think – 

 Of course not, gamphrel!” She waved him into silence. “Be quiet and listen. Surely you can appreciate our little dilemma in relation to his children – most particularly the Prince?”

Tom’s face clouded in befuddlement and Mistress Gwendolyn rolled her eyes before resuming her pacing, shoes muffled by the reeds carpeting the floor. “When you were slow in your studies at your village school, what would your tutor do?”

“The schoolmarm would beat us, Mistress.” He shuddered at the memory. That worthy had been a terrifying little old woman who believed in sparing neither the rod nor her young charges.

“Quite. If the King is God’s anointed then so is his son. And if the Prince is also a divine being, how – when he is lazy, or foolish, or badly behaved – may he be chastised by his tutors?”

“He cannot, because to a lay a finger upon his person would be treason.”

 “Mirabile dictu! Exactly. And now you do enter our little drama. All the world is s stage and we must play our part upon it.”

Tom’s jaw dropped at the sudden realisation. “You mean !”

“Yes! We cannot beat him. But we can beat you!”

Male Milking with The Cock Doctor, Jane.

Male Milking was something that Cock Dr.Jane was very versed in and there were several machines and techniques used solely for this purpose. Each patient had different capabilities to the next and the clinic understood this, what worked for one wouldn’t necessarily work for the next. There were other factors that the medical team needed to take into consideration such as age, fitness and background-did the patient suffer with ED, was he diabetic, had his prostate been removed and so on. There were other factors like stimuli-what visual sights or talk or surroundings turned that particular patient on.

The Cock Clinic catered for all sorts of tastes and fantasies and although many were similar never two were the same. On this particular occasion our patient was in the twilight of his years and before his time was up he felt he needed to explore his deep seated fantasies which he had harboured and kept locked away in his mind since his early 20’s. The thought would not have crossed his mind were it not for the internet which he was recently introduced to by his Grandson. He bought himself a computer and began to browse, the rest is history.

Today he had taken that step in to the unknown, a place of fantasies. He was going to pay a visit to that little harboured fantasy he had kept secret for many years. His stomach churned from the first moment of contact to the very moment he lay back on the medical bed, but he had nothing to lose, it was now or never.

The medical team were dressed in NHS cotton uniforms albeit shorter than the norm. Their stocking clad legs mirrored the very image in his mind. An image from a ‘Carry On’ film that captured his imagination when he was a youngster. The two of them totted around him in their heels as they chatted and discussed the imminent procedure and the Male Milking procedure they were about to undertake. It all felt a bit surreal, as if he were an onlooker peering from behind a door watching and listening to the whole scene.

Nurse Trixy placed on some disposable gloves then positioned herself between his legs which had been separated and raised by the medical bed on which he lay. She put some lube on to her gloves then rubbed her hands together to spread it. Then lubed his limp shaft. Her touch was soft and gentle and for one moment he thought his cock was going to make a come back but alas no luck. This didn’t seem to bother the Nurse what so ever which made him feel a little better about it.

His manly erections had been very intermittent of late and although he could still produce cum he couldn’t always get an erection. Dr.Jane was mean while preparing a machine. She attached an orange cock shaped receiver to a transparent pipe and hung it from a hook which was screwed in to the ceiling directly above his groin. Next a clear cylinder was placed over his shaft and as Nurse Trixy pumped on the tigger his cock began to rise. If it were appropriate to shout ‘Hallelujah’ he would have done just that. As his cock rose he could feel the pressure in the clear cylinder build up, just as it was getting uncomfortable Nurse Trixy pressed the release button to allow air to get in to relieve the pressure, and as the air came in his cock died down with it. “We shall repeat this process several times to get the blood in to your penis” said his very glamorous Nurse. He smiled and watched as she pumped on the tigger. Her ruby red lips parted as she concentrated on the job in hand. Again his cock rose inside the cylinder, it felt good and the more she repeated the process the bigger his cock grew and the better it felt. Eventually Nurse Trixy was satisfied she had gotten him to the desired length. She gently slipped a tight band from the bottom of the cylinder on to the base of his shaft which held his erection. He looked on in amazement as it had been some time since he’d had such a feeling and seen such a sight. With cylinder removed the Nurse stroked his shaft and although he wasn’t as sensitive as he used to be in that area, it felt damned good.

“We shall shortly begin the male milking process we first need to carry out a few small tests” Dr.Jane carried on “We need to check your sensitivity and for that we will be using electro pulses”. Nurse Trixy gave him a re assuring smile before wrapping black rubber loops around his shaft. Dr.Jane attached wires to the loops and the pulses began. Soon they were surging rhythmically up and down his shaft, as if a steely grip had hold. He gave a satisfying sigh and closed his eyes, such an intense sensation, a feeling he had never experienced before and a feeling, although unusual felt very pleasurable. The intensity of the pulses grew as the dial was turned higher. Eventually the loops were removed and also the elastic ring that was placed around his shaft early on. “We don’t wish to de sensitise you” said the Doctor.

A steel tray was brought over. On it were four long stainless steel rods. Nurse Trixy stood between his legs and began to wipe his cock which by now had lost its rigidity, but somehow it no longer mattered to him as he could see it didn’t bother the medical team either way. “I am just going to swab you ready for urethral sounding” said Nurse Trixy as she wiped the head of his cock. Lubricant was dropped on the end of his cock and the tray containing the rods was brought closer. Dr.Jane not stood at the helm holding one of the rods in her right hand and his cock in the other. He gazed at the procedure with great trepidation as the sound entered his urethra and under its own weight slid down his tract. Nurse Trixy moved in close and held his hand to re assure him, but surprisingly he felt nothing to shout about. In fact he could barley feel a thing. Dr.Jane then spoke. “We need to check your tract is clear before we proceed with the male milking process”. The patient nodded and joined in with the banter with a “Of course Doctor”.

Dr.Jane then attached a clip with a wire to the sound, suddenly he could feel a tingling deep within his cock. Nurse Trixy still stood at his side was asked to hold the sound steady while Dr.Jane lubed up her gloved hand slowly pushed a finger in to his rectum. He winced slightly but in for a penny and all that. She then began to carefully rotate her finger and press it ever so slightly. “Hmmmmmmmm” was his initial thought, then “Ahhhhhhhhhh” was his second. It felt rather pleasant in a weird kind of way. The last time anyone had a finger up there was about five years previous when he had a routine medical from the Doctor. He recalled that wasn’t quite as pleasant as on this occasion though.

He had but forgotten about his flaccid cock as it no longer mattered, he was enjoying himself and that is what mattered. The medical team also appeared to be enjoying themselves to, which made all the difference. What more could a man ask for? he had two stunning stocking clad nurses tending to him and he was at the centre of all the attention.

The sounding was completed and his cock was lubed up and placed in the orange cock shaped receiver that Dr.Jane had gotten ready earlier. This time there wasn’t a trigger for the Nurse to pump on, this was a mechanical device. The dial was turned and the machine began to suck his cock in to the receiver. The vacuum was strong and as it sucked and blew, an erection appeared from nowhere. It had been a while since he had had that hard feeling, although admittedly nothing like in his younger years but this was better that nothing. The sensation of the receiver gliding up and down his shaft felt wonderful. He closed his eyes and summoned up a scene from the dark recesses of his mind. The time he met an older woman back in his late twenties. She taught him a thing or two and this was the first woman to ride him on top. Suddenly he could feel her warm wet pussy sliding on his shaft. His breathing deepened, and very soon picked up the pace. He began to gyrate his hips and he thrust in to her, he wanted to keep it going bit a warm feeling took over him and he felt his cock begin to pump as he squirted in to the receiver. The room fell silent and he opened his eyes, smiling and very happy to revisit another fantasy one day soon.

 

 

THE WHIPPING BOY…Part 1

Young Tom reckoned he had it made.

Reclining his long frame in the chair he wriggled his toes luxuriantly in his footrags in front of the scullery fire. Outside he could hear the tramp of booted feet as the soldiers drilled in the yard, their manual-of-arms regulated by shouted instructions and the steady throb of the drum. Inside the maze of galleries and corridors came the distant clink of crockery, chests slamming shut and what sounded like a maid beating coal dust off the upholstery. Whitehall Palace resembled a town in is own right; eighteen hundred people lived and worked within its environs – a population far greater than that of the village where he had been born. And Tom remembered the sense of bemusement and [ride he felt when the Lord Chamberlain and his retinue arrived at their humble dwelling, his mother and father stood bare-headed as the bluff gentleman examined him carefully.

“A most uncanny likeness, my lord,” opined the captain in charge of the escorting cavalry troopers.

“Quite. You ‒ ” the Lord Chamberlain beckoned Tom’s father to step forward through the thinly swirling blue wood smoke and the scurrying hens. “We will engage the boy. He will receive his board and lodging and you will be blessed by the honour of knowing your family serves our Majesty.”

His poor father had thrown himself into the mud and pig muck with gratitude.

So here he was: paid companion to Prince Charles – one day to be King Charles II of England, Scotland and Ireland. Tom’s duties were hardly onerous since they involved accompanying the prince on hunting and fishing trips, playing stoolball, the new game of ‘football’ and laughing at his jokes. The prince was tall, dark and rangy in build, quick to find the merriment in a situation and he liked girls so he and Tom hit it off. The latter pondered his extraordinary god fortune – and how differently things could have worked out in a village life distinguished only by the monotony of the seasons and back-breaking drudgery. And now here he was in London – Londonthat mystical City of the Plain – receiving bouge of court (bread, ale, firewood and candles) and a well-paid job.

Taking another swig from his mug of small beer, Tom idly turned the page of the risqué novel he was reading. True there were vague rumours of trouble beyond the palace walls; brawling at the country shows, wakes and stage-plays (when weren’t the drunks fighting at such things?) but the king still sat secure on his throne and all remained well with the world.

The tapping of shoes rather more dainty than those of the soldiers took him by surprise therefore and he struggled to right the chair without falling off it as a young woman entered the scullery. Being tall she had to stoop slightly to pass through the arched doorway. From the light that slanted in through the leaded windows he saw she had a pale, oval face, a longish, fine-boned nose and a complexion as smooth as that of a milkmaid. She sported her auburn hair in ringlets in emulation of the Queen, Henrietta Maria and the curls cascaded as far as her softly rounded jaw. As befitting an aristocratic woman she wore the customary ribbon-fastened jacket over a bodice and a petticoat gathered with pleats at her slim waist. In the crook of one arm she carried a calico package also tied with a ribbon.

“Ah, Master Tom. Hard at it, I see?” She waved an elegantly-manicured hand. “No, don’t get up. We shouldn’t want you overtaxing yourself.” The ruby lips favoured him with a mocking smile.

Tom almost choked on his beer when he recognised her: Mistress Gwendolyn; Lady of the Wardrobe and ex-officio, close to the Queen and therefore very powerful at court. His mind raced as he tried to marshal his thoughts.

“How may I serve you, My Lady?” Tom asked, whipping his cap off his head and twisting it between suddenly damp fingers.

Standing over the seated figure Mistress Gwendolyn appraised him carefully with her frank, almost jet-black eyes. The resemblance to the Prince is extraordinary, she thought, although this one is a few years older so he is rather a young man than a boy … She smiled again over her naturally white teeth. “It’s not me you shall be serving but the Prince. Your – ” this time the expression twisted in a smirk “ Royal playmate.”

“Does His Highness wish me to attend upon him?” Tom asked, abruptly anxious to be away from his beautiful but disturbingly sinister woman.

“No.” Mistress Gwendolyn set the package down on the tabletop and he heard the rattle of wooden objects. “But I do.” Those large glassy black orbs fastened onto him.

UP!”

……………..To be continued

Safeword Mercy game for Dicks challenge

Safeword Mercy ….Mistress Jane Wins Again!!

Following his little email exchange in which Dick had invited Mistress Jane to “make him use the Safeword mercy” in as many different and varied ways as She liked, and with the appointment booked, confirmed and – now – just moments away, Dick could hardly contain himself as he strode towards Her premises. With a knock on the door he entered to find Her delightfully attired – as always – and with that mocking chuckle.

As something of a regular now Dick chatted away as he stripped, and in no time, a naked Dick was guided into MJ’s new harness – much like that attached to a parachute, which passed under his legs over his shoulders and was fastened around the chest. With hands and feet also tethered Dick was raised up on the hoist. Here he found himself physically very comfortable, but with nipples, cock, balls, buttocks, and (with cheeks spread wide) anus, all very exposed and entirely at Her mercy, psychologically, he was anything but.

As She prowled slowly around him making sure all the restraints were tight enough, Jane ran again through the order of the day – “so, I can do absolutely anything to you, just so long as it hurts enough for you to request mercy, is that right.” Dick nodded, with a nervous laugh. “But, your email never said anything about whether or not I should grant mercy upon request… did it, so what happens then?”

Dick thought this was a particularly unhelpful time to bring this up, but hoped the question was rhetorical, and said nothing, as Jane reached down to stretch his scrotum, apply rope around behind his balls and then giving it a good tug, before also applying a ball clamp which She tightened up behind his balls and then left hanging.

Moving up to his nipples Jane gave them a good twist before applying clamps here too, just to get them started. The weight of the clamps on both balls and nipples pulled down gently, until one by one Jane added weight after weight to all three clamps until there was a good 10 lbs plus swinging away on his balls and another pound or two hanging from each nipple. And thus, the games began.

At this point I guess we need to establish the rules (if we are to keep score) as by Dick’s reckoning he was doing ok – and so with the weight limit to his balls (arguably) reached without any mention of the word mercy Dick figured he was one nil up (not that he said that out loud at the time of course). Then as the nipple clamps were removed to be replaced first by MJ’s finger tips and then by Her finger nails She raised the stakes (almost) to Dick’s breaking point… Yet despite a determined series of pinches and twists Dick (in his view) gained the second point, by again not yielding.

Jane now sensing the first hint of a challenge, calmly walked again to the wall this time returning with two surgical clamps, which when applied one to each nipple and clamped shut, showed Dick that there was much more in Her locker. And with more weights added and a brief pause here, to capture the moment on camera (or more likely to just let Dick stew), Dick was a worried man, and just managing to hold on. Until Jane, no doubt sensing victory, started a slow and still gentle twist of the clamp… and that was it, I yelped the safeword “Mercy Please” and was very grateful for (if a little surprised by) a prompt release. (2:1 to Dick).

Changing her tack now Jane sidled around behind Dick and let loose with a flurry of rapid spanks to his bottom… but Dick, now in his third year was unmoved by this, and soon (no mercy requested) She relented (3:1 to Dick). And Dick risked a chuckle, until he saw Jane reach for the bath brush… which for those unfamiliar has a very heavy wooden head, a long handle, and in the hands of Mistress Jane, and particularly when applied rapidly, stings like hell!!

So, with little pause, Jane resumed her rapid spanking this time with the brush, and again Dick felt the sting build… and build… ten strokes to each cheek than 10 more… and still the sting continued to build. Dick was sweating and breathing heavily, and trying so hard to resist… but as Jane went in for round three and upped both the intensity and the pace Dick broke and again cried “Mercy.” At which point Jane too breathed a sigh of relief as Her arm was starting to get tired… a point She made to Dick with a chuckle, and if he hadn’t been so thoroughly restrained Dick would have kicked himself for not lasting just that bit longer (one for next time though!!) and, of course now just (3:2 to Dick).

It was at this point that Dick made his first acquaintance with a little leather device known as a “scrotal parachute.” In the dim light (and with Dicks dodgy eyesight) it looked harmless enough as Jane wrapped it around his balls… Dick figured this was a sure fire 4:2 lead, right until, as She stood very close and gazing into his eyes, Jane gave a little squeeze. At which point Dick realised the business side of the item now wrapped firmly around his balls was covered in very small, very sharp spikes, perhaps just a millimetre in length. Too small to do any real damage, but as Jane squeezed and twisted, way sharp enough to take Dick’s pain promptly off the charts and produce another rather surprised “Mercy.” To bring the match to a draw.

With this one in the bag Jane lowered Dick back to the ground, helped him out of the harness and led him over to the medical table, on which he was promptly (and comfortably secured), for the next stage in the game….

With little fuss, and perhaps conscious of the 3:3 score line (though still, neither party had discussed it) Jane applied conducting lube, and slipped two coils over little Richard… and already Dick new the match was lost. As the current started, and slowly increased Dick was determined to last as long as possible… but with little pause Jane steadily increased the current with a slow steady twist of the dial, and in pitifully little time Dick was again the loser using the safeword Mercy 4:3.

Of course, the 4:3 score was all in Dick’s head, and he had no doubt that Mistress Jane would have considered it yet another 4:0 victory, having after all, obtained a mercy from each of his nipples, buttocks, balls and cock… but at least this time Jane had needed to bring out the big guns to achieve Her goal.

With victory secured, Jane now suggested it was time for Dick’s treat, and thoroughly satisfied with this week’s little dose of pain, Dick heartily agreed.

Strapped to Her medical table, with little Richard lounging unimpressively after his ordeal, Dick was relaxed and content. On with the lube, and then with the flask of one of MJ’s lovely milking machines – Dick could never remember the names – and anyway he liked them all. Within seconds a steady slurp, slurp, slurp could be heard as his cock was slowly (and exquisitely) sucked up into the receptacle.

With new gloves on and more lube, MJ then set about Dick’s prostate… and once again Dick started the slow climb on the staircase to heaven. And with a steady, and perfectly waited stroke of his prostate, and with the rhythmic suck, suck, suck on his cock Dick was soon teetering on the brink. And for while Dick resisted the urge to take the final plunge. And the stroking continued… and the sucking continued… and still Dick teetered on the brink… until, enough was enough and Dick gave himself to the final wave…

But… try as he might Dick couldn’t quite make over the final (now keenly awaited) hurdle.

Jane, sensing Dick’s dilemma, paused to gather re-enforcement’s… and in no time had resumed her ministrations, though this time with the Hitachi wand applying vibration via the sheath attachment, over the top of the milking machine’s receptacle. And so, round two commenced with a steady stroke, stroke, stroke on his prostate… and a suck, suck, suck on his cock… and all the while the vibrations pounded on all sides of the shaft… And in no time at all Dick was again teetering on the brink…

But… still, try as he might Dick couldn’t quite make over the final (now very keenly awaited) hurdle, and did rather wonder if today it may just be a bridge too far.

Not yet ready to concede defeat though… our magnificent Mistress Jane, again paused to re-group… removing the milking machine to allow the sheath of the Hitachi wand to slip directly over Dick’s aching and eager cock… and with this turned up to full power, She resumed her attack on Dick’s prostate… and this time within seconds Dick was again teetering on the brink, and now desperate to cum.

And… still, despite everything, Dick couldn’t quite get there… And yet still neither would admit defeat…

Until finally, slowly… so very slowly… with Dick racking his brains for every sexual fantasy he had ever considered, and MJ now pounding away on his prostate and twisting and sliding the Hitachi wand up and down the length of his shaft… they both dragged Dick towards the most explosive orgasm of his life… and with a squirt powerful enough to take your eye out Dick finally came… and came… and with one final sigh (from them both!!)… came again.

The only thing missing then was a twenty-piece gospel choir singing Halleluiah!… and waving their hands… and had there been one, Dick rather suspected he and Jane would have joined in too.

As the panting subsided, Dick couldn’t let the moment pass without thanking Jane profusely for Her tenacity and ingenuity and the supreme skill with which She had both held him on the brink for so long, and still delivered a truly magnificent finale.

Is there any doubt why Dick would of course be back for more…

safeword mercy

http://bdsmwiki.info/Safeword

Subspace Headspace & endorphin’s

BDSM Subspace and the release of endorphin’s.

*BDSM is here for us to explore and enjoy, so let’s do it together. It’s fun, its safe and it gives you the most amazing release from the stresses of everyday life.*

I hear over and over again clients telling me how they feel ‘Lifted’ after their session, as if a great weight has been lifted from their shoulders. Their stresses and woes have all but disappeared. My site goes on to say….

*Once you step across my threshold you can forget the outside world for the time you are here. Synchronise your mind and body and recharge your battery. I guarantee you will feel a weight has been lifted by the time you leave.*

You know only too well that when you indulge in your favourite pastime you feel recharged, de stressed and a little more at peace with yourself and the world feels like a better place to be in. Whether that be BDSM, Sailing, Parachuting, stamp collecting to name a few.

This is because of the release of dopamine when the brain becomes electrically active from the emotions we are feeling at that time (positive or negative). Some call this Subspace or Head space and it is a reaction that is in response to intense stimulation, and is at least partly related to biochemical changes such as endorphin release triggered by physical and emotional stimulation.

subspace

Sometimes after an intense session the sub can take a while to ‘come back’. Sometimes he will not remember parts of what have just occurred due to him being ‘out of it’. He has probably just visited subspace. Its like a high but without the drugs.

Time and time again clients tell me how their mind completely shuts off from everything during their session, and it’s the only time they are not thinking about their job, their home life, their problems. For the time they are here the outside world doesn’t exist. The whole focus is on them, its their pamper time and it helps them to unwind and re set their clock.

Is it time to re set your clock?

https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-compass-pleasure/201503/the-neurobiology-bdsm-sexual-practice

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-4979518/Sociologists-claim-bondage-just-like-playing-golf.html