* * *
The night I was supposed to go to Diana’s, I was more than just a little nervous. In fact, I almost chickened out and called to cancel. However, a delightful flashback of that fantastic climax stopped me from doing so. When I knocked on Diana’s door, she opened it, already wearing her dominatrix costume.
“Right on time, slave. Good. Go directly to the bedroom.”
As soon as I reached the bedroom, she commanded me to strip. Then she handed me an ugly-looking, black latex mask. I noticed it had holes for my nose, but zippers for the eyes and mouth.
“A little early for Halloween,” I said, and then immediately regretted it.
She cruelly grabbed my crotch and squeezed. “Rule number one: do not speak unless asked to. Now put that mask on.”
I was not expecting that and Lord, did my balls hurt! It took a few moments for the throbbing to subside. And I assure you, following that, I did what I was told. The mask was hot and smelly, but at least the zippers were open so I could see.
“On your knees!” Diana commanded next.
I got down on all fours and allowed her to put a dog collar around my neck. It had a large D-shaped ring to which she attached a short leather leash. Similar cuffs were put on my wrists and ankles.
Suddenly I began to get the feeling I’d made a big mistake. When Ann was the slave, it had been a better deal. Now as Diana was attaching all the potential restraints, I wasn’t certain I was going to like being the designated slave.
“Stand, slave.”
My eyes opened wide when I saw what Diana had in her hands. Those dainty, delicate hands now held lethal-looking nipple clamps. Attaching them to my tender buds brought tears to my eyes, but at least I was able to stifle an unmanly yelp. If the tit clamps had been a shock, I nearly had a stroke when she slipped a cock ring around my balls and then worked it around my semi-erect member. My poor cock didn’t know what to do, waiting for some signal from my brain. But I was too confused to think straight—half out of my mind with trepidation and half excited with anticipation. A chain was then fastened from the cock ring to each of my nipples, which were now completely numb.
“Heel, slave!” Diana barked, tugging my leash.
She had me stand under a large hook suspended from the ceiling. “Raise your arms over your head,” Diana said. I stood there, arms suspended in the air, and watched as she carried over a stool to stand on. Dutifully, I allowed her to attach my wrists to the hook.
I felt like a slave on the block being checked out for sale as she walked around me admiring her handiwork before running her hands lightly over my goose-pimpled skin. The cock ring tightened as my cock responded. She flashed me a wicked smile, which sent bad vibes spidering down my spine and fluttering in my gut.
Now helpless, I watched bug-eyed as Diana chose a whip, one with long nylon strands extending from the handle, from a rack of assorted whips.
“Now, slave, pledge your obedience to me.”
When I said nothing, she swung the whip hard against my ass. I could still feel the sting moments later.
Diana repeated. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I hardly recognized the voice as my own.
That earned me another nasty swipe with the whip. I didn’t really know what the punishment was for. However, as much as it hurt, it turned me on. Unbelievable.
“The correct answer is yes, Mistress.”
I nodded yes, but saw her raise her hand. Correcting myself quickly, I replied, “Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now listen carefully. “Rule number two: you will come only when I say you can. Is that understood?”
Staring at the whip in her hand, I said, “Yes, Mistress.” I had no idea how hard it was going to be to obey this rule.
To my surprise, she began to whip me—everywhere! My brain couldn’t comprehend why, especially after I’d pledged my obedience. She struck my back, my ass and the backs of my legs. Instead of fear, I felt aroused and wanted to come in the worst way. Besides, the cock ring was beginning to feel like a vise. I wondered what disobeying that rule would earn me. Something told me I didn’t want to know, so I tried to wrap my mind around work—anything nonsexual. She continued to torture me with the whip for a few more minutes before releasing me from the hook.
“Get down on all fours!”
She grabbed the leather leash attached to the D-ring on my collar and walked me, like a dog, over to the bed.
“Lie down on the bed—face up.”
She positioned me spread-eagled, attaching my wrists and ankles to chains on the four posts. She purposely reached over my body and brushed my face with her exposed tits to tease me. It worked. The cock ring had become uncomfortably snug again with my penis waving in the air.
From the night table, she picked up a large feather attached to a handle and a fur mitt. Diana knew how ticklish I was, and obviously she was going to use it as a form of torture.
She chose to use the feather first. Gently, barely touching my skin, she stroked it across my chest—back and forth. My nipples tightened into such hard pebbles I feared they’d never soften again. After dwelling there for a few minutes, her attention dropped lower, to my arms and legs. Over and over again she tormented me with that damn feather. I squirmed and pulled against my restraints. I was going crazy. And if she didn’t stop, I was going to scream. Then when I thought it couldn’t get worse, she stroked the most sensitive spot on my entire body—right behind my balls. Fearing I was going to lose it
