One of our readers, 'Golden Rain Fan', shares his first experience with a Mistress...
The first time I made an appointment to visit a professional mistress was a big step. I didn’t know what to expect – the mistress had said over the phone that it was up to her what she did with me. The first session would be an “initiation” and she would not reveal what it would entail. I’m not really into pain but I desperately wanted to be used by a dominant woman, and she was clearly the real thing, so I nervously went ahead.
I had to phone her from a phone box on a housing estate in Nottingham to get her actual address at a nearby flat.
The front door was in a quiet corner, quite private. The Mistress – that was how she described herself; no name – opened the door just enough to let me in. She was wearing a black leather basque and black stiletto-heeled leather boots. Nothing more. The flat was very Spartan, with very little furniture. She clearly did not live there. It was merely her ‘dungeon’.
Mistress had appeared in the contact mag – remember them? - where I saw her with her back to the camera. She was dark blonde, with long hair. Not tall but with a wonderful full bosom and hourglass figure. Her face revealed itself to be attractive rather than beautiful, but I was eager to worship her voluptuous body.
She told me to go into the bathroom, undress and await her call to enter the main room, carrying my folded clothes. When I was summoned I walked into the room and approached her. She immediately knocked the clothes out of my hands – not neat enough. I picked them up and placed them in a neat pile on the floor. She ordered me to my knees and told me to face her and undo the leather straps covering the crotch of her basque, using only my teeth. This I did eagerly, trying to get a sniff of her pussy.
I must have been too eager. She slapped my face, hard. It was a bit of a shock, but I discovered to my surprise that the frisson of fear that she might strike me again only increased my desire.
When I had undone the crotch straps I was ordered to worship her leather boots (this does nothing for me) then undo a similar set of straps over her beautiful bosom. As I did this she spat repeatedly in my face and slapped me again.
When her clothing had been sufficiently loosened, she put a blindfold over my eyes and a dog collar around my neck, attached to a lead. I was then led to a settee, virtually the room’s only furniture, on my knees across the hard wooden floor.
Mistress sat down and told me I was to worship her bottom. I could not see her, of course, but she drew her legs up and parted them, pulled aside her black thong and ordered me to lick her anus. I have always adored pussy and bottom worship so I was very delighted to do this. “Do it nicely” she ordered. I was over-eager again. She wanted a more gentle, teasing licking action.
When this duty was completed she removed the blindfold and ordered me to lie on the hard floor with my head close to the wall. I had to fit my neck into an aperture carved into the side of an orange plastic tray, possibly originally intended as a cat litter box. My arms were spread out and I was handcuffed to rings attached to the skirting board.
I asked the mistress if I could have my glasses back – I’m very short-sighted and wanted to see her every move. “You’ll be wearing goggles in a minute anyway,” she snapped.
Once I was secured, she told me what my ‘initiation’ would be. Putting her face very close to mine, she shouted at me very aggressively that she would be pissing into my mouth, and that I had to drink every drop. “Yes mistress,” I said meekly.
Some men, even some subs, would be horrified. But I’d secretly desired this very thing almost all my life, even before puberty. I was absolutely thrilled.
Mistress removed her thong, then went to grab a dining chair, incidentally kicking my prone body and generally handling me very roughly. She was genuinely scary, and I was very excited. Was she really going to fulfil my lifelong desire?
She placed the goggles over my head. Unfortunately they eyepieces were blacked out, so I was not to be permitted to see what she was doing. The dining chair was placed over my head and mistress removed the middle, making an ingenious and instantaneous pissing platform for her to sit on, while her piss poured down onto my face and into my mouth.
Would she really do it, I wondered? What if she just dripped water over me? Would I never know?
But it was for real all right. At first I felt just a few hot, salty drops pitter patter onto my chin and face. Then a trickle. Then a jet of piss. Some went in my mouth and I swallowed it greedily. Some went into the tray (such a clever idea) and some went all over my face and into my eyes and stung, despite the goggles.
When the mistress had finished, she removed the chair and the goggles. My head was laying in a pool of piss, but she had a plastic siphon and suction pump with her – the sort home winemakers use – and told me I would have to drink all the piss in the tray. She sucked it up with her device, little by little, and squirted the contents into my mouth. I moaned with pleasure as I drank each load.
When we had completed the task, I was ordered to the bathroom to dry my hair, wash my face and clean the tray. On my return, I was ordered to my knees again. Mistress turned her back to me and bent slightly forwards. In her hands she carried a riding crop.
Putting her hands behind her, she used the crop to pull my head into the crevice between her buttocks and ordered me to “Sniff. SNIFF!” while wanking into the plastic tray. If I spilled any cum I would have to lick it up.
It wasn’t long before I came copiously into the tray and I did not have to eat my own cum, at least not on this occasion. I just had to clear away and clean the tray.
Swallowing my own was a treat she reserved for one of several future visits.