I lay naked face down on the floor as my nipple clamps were beginning to bite. I could hear a rummaging as Mistress Leyla searched out of my sight.

“I’m just looking for something for you to ride,” she muttered, deliberately teasing. I remembered what I had put in my e-mail but was she really going to go through with it? Earlier I was surprised to go outside and for her to fulfil my first fantasy, but surely the next thing I asked for was going beyond her remit.

It was as if there was a refusal to believe that these fantasies could come true even though Mistress did nothing to hide her agenda. It wasn’t until I was struck on my buttocks for being late that I really believed I would be punished. It was not until I was naked outdoors did I think that would happen, despite being on a lead indoors going through countless doggie commands.

The denial going through my head was absolute, and even when Mistress Leyla said, “I’m looking for something for you to ride”, I still didn’t believe what I was in for.

“Turn over," she ordered, and I obeyed the long nipple clamps catching on the floor and whipping around on release as my body turned. I lay on my back, looked up, and caught sight of myself in an overhead mirror.

Yes, it was me. I had finally submitted whole-heartedly to a mistress and was awaiting more torments. I was in a dream. I congratulated myself for making it to the world of my fantasies but was she really going to shaft me?

I looked to the side, still not daring to believe, and I saw Mistress with a large pink tapered strap-on protruding from her crotch. I swallowed hard as she expertly rolled on a condom along its entire length. I began to worry a little; the strap-on was at least eight inches long, and when a man is going to be on the receiving end of a phallus, you don’t exaggerate.

Mistress strolled casually towards me, stroking her cock slowly to tease or torture me mentally or professionally, ironing out any air bubbles. She stood upright between my legs.

“All of our strap-ons are cleaned thoroughly,” she announced to ally any fears. I did feel better for that information, but with it came the realization that I really was going to get shafted!

“First, I want you to suck my cock!” she stated with relish and knelt to my side, her knees in-between my arm and torso. I wondered how she was going to take me? Was she going to do me missionary style where I was laying? Or get me to pull my legs up so I would be in the diaper position or have me on all fours and have me doggie style? There was a bondage table waiting menacingly in the corner of the room, and I thought she would take me there rather than join me on the floor.

She offered her cock to me, and I would do my best to please her for the time being. I didn’t mind being humiliated, that didn’t hurt, and as long as her cock was in my mouth, it wasn’t going to be doing damage elsewhere.

“Suck it!” she commanded with authority, and I quickly lifted my head to clamp my mouth on her strap-on.

I sucked quickly, noticing the latex sheath on my tongue. As my head motioned back and forth, my teeth lightly chattered on her cock. I forced my jaw to open wider, not wanting to puncture the condom.

“Lick it!” she demanded, and I instantly disengaged my mouth and went to sliding my tongue along the length.

“Suck it!” she quickly revised, and once again, her cock was in my mouth, slowly fucking away with tiny thrusts.

Again the will to please her took over, so I took as much of her pink strap-on down my throat as possible.

“Good boy”, she praised, genuinely pleased with my efforts as I quickly worked up the length. I started to gag and was instructed promptly by Mistress.

“Slowly, take it slowly”, withdrawing kindly and offering the tip for me to work on.

“Now, what am I going to do to you?” she questioned teasingly. The game was up. I could kid myself no longer. The time for modesty and pride had passed, and I was left with the truth.

“You’re going to fuck me!” I heard myself say.

“Yes, that’s right!” she delightfully giggled. She sounded as if she was enjoying herself.

“Wait a minute, would you mind if I filmed this?” she eagerly asked, breaking character.

“Of course not”, I heard myself say, “as long as you film my good side”. Mistress burst into a fit of giggles once more, which I found very endearing.

“Are you going to take my virginity?” I jokingly asked, causing her to laugh harder.

“I’m afraid so”, she managed to emit before laughing again. It was nice to please her, but I felt I was crossing the line of the master-servant pact and apologized.

Mistress sprang up and rushed to get her camera out, her pink strap-on flopping from side to side. She returned and knelt beside me and once more offered her cock.

“Now suck it!” she demanded with menace returning to character, and I eagerly obliged once more, clamping my mouth on her phallic tip.

“Lick it!” and as soon as I redirected my mouth, she reverted to wanting me to suck.

“Suck it,” she ordered. I found it interesting that the timing of her commands was almost identical to the first time.

“Right, what am I going to do to you?" she repeated this time for the camera.

I let the strap–on fall out of my mouth and answered, “You’re going to fuck me,” I repeated before returning to my oral order.

“Oh yes, I am,” she giggled, her voice delightfully rising an octave over the short sentence.

“Thank you, mistress,” and with that, she fucked my face, pushing her cock into my cheeks before trying to make me gag as she forced its almost pointed tip down my throat. This time I took it slower. I wanted to impress her with something, even if it was just sucking a model cock.

“Good boy,” she animatedly congratulated as if talking to her dog. She jumped up and put her camera to one side. She then grabbed a big bottle of lube and stood dominantly before me as she ran the lube along her prosthetic shaft.

I was still at a loss. How was she going to take me? I still couldn’t believe she was going to remain faithful to my e-mail. I remember adding in the scenario just to fill out the e-mail as a backup if my requested outside doggie play wasn’t possible. In her reply, I was surprised when she said, “Your fantasy made me smile with wicked delight,” but then I bet she said that to all the boys!

“Now, let’s get you fucked!” Mistress declared harshly as a penal sentence. Her words went right through me as I looked on apprehensively. The strap-on was large, too large for my liking, and it was a bit worrying, as I’d have never taken something like that in my back passage. I had done the exploratory feel with a finger and a little implement, but nothing that big. I started thinking about asking Mistress if I could try something smaller as I was, in effect, an anal virgin.

My thoughts must have registered on my face as she soon queried what I was thinking.

“What’s the matter? Do you think it’s too big for you?”

“Err, yes, to be honest.”

Mistress stopped in thought for a while and slowly looked around the dungeon only to break and look at me.

“Oh come on, do it for me,” she asked nicely and straight away,

I answered, “Okay,” without any reservation or thought.

It was a strange power she had over me. I would do anything at her behest. This new phenomenon of wanting to please someone by letting her hurt and humiliate me was shockingly extraordinary. I had read about it so many times before, how an enslaved person would like to please his Mistress. To me, it all came over as phoney, play-acting, but now I was under the same spell doing anything but acting. I really did want to please her, and it wasn’t very comforting to think how far she could take me.

“On your knees,” she commanded, and immediately I obeyed. I remembered to put my hands behind my back and make sure I was upright in compliance with an earlier order. To my surprise, she lay down beside me, her pink phallus pointing ominously, rigid and perpendicular to the floor. She reached for a transparent plastic container and put it right up to my eyes.

“Lube,” she stoutly informed and proceeded to pump the transparent liquid gel into her hand and then run it up and down her phallus with erotic intent.

Mistress Leyla was going to take me just as I had written, and I still had trouble believing my fantasy was going to come true. The electrodes that Mistress Leyla had attached to my testicles and had me dancing to her electric administrations earlier were still attached, as were the nipple clamps.

I swallowed hard and committed myself to my folly.

“Can I have some of that, please?” breaking the code yet again.

Mistress presented the lube to me without hesitation. I took the bottle and thanked her as she carried on spreading her liquid on her mast. For a brief time, the master-servant element of the scene had gone, and we were like two ordinary lovers going about our pre-love-making precautions. It felt strange, as suddenly it had become very intimate. A massive transformation from the strict orders I had previously been put through.

I squirted a huge amount of lube into my hand. The little literature I had read about anal play had always stressed lots of lube and then more lube. I filled my hand to overflowing in one and pulled my bottom cheeks apart as far as possible. I lubed my ass, making sure to smoother my buttonhole as best I could.

Mistress watched as I prepared myself to be taken. A wave of humiliation flowed over me, as I felt belittled and unmanly, as I was about to endure the most prominent action of gender reversal possible.

My penis counted for nothing in this act, and it seemed to wither even more knowing this.

“Hop on then,” she smiled mischievously, holding her cock at the base, ready to skewer my virgin ass. I straddled Mistress at hip level feeling it was a little too impertinent to be right over her breast.

I grabbed the tip of the strap-on and guided it to my centre, and when I felt the coldness of the lube on my A hole I plunged down quickly. The cock pierced my ass a good three inches before I felt resistance.

“Go slow,” Mistress whispered caringly, and I slowly let my legs lower myself down. The phallus bent in my ass. I must have been at an awkward angle, making penetration harder, but I carried on.

“It would be easier if your knees were under my armpits,” Mistress caringly instructed.

I raised myself on my knees and felt the cock whip out.

“Move up here,” Mistress instructed sensitively, and now having been given permission, I felt easier at being so close to Mistress.

My knees shuffled forward. They were sore and bleeding from the doggie exercise along with my toes. Also, my arms were still weak from an hour’s worth of crawling at my Mistress’s behest.

“Let me guide it in”, she ordered with a whisper, and I was only too willing to let her take over. Her hands moved under my testicles and felt around my anus. She spread my cheeks with one hand and speared the cock up me with the other.

The cock slid up me with ease for the first five inches, and soon I began to groan.

“Slowly,” Mistress Leyla whispered. She held my buttocks, half supporting to reassure a slow descent, helping me take it to the hilt.

I was looking right down at her face, her eyes concentrating on getting me skewered. I could not help but admire her cleavage once more. Wonderful breasts squeezed up tightly in her catsuit.

She quickly looked up as my lowering slowed. Her cock almost split me in two as I felt that the spike went up to my stomach. I breathed heavily.

“Let yourself stretch around it,” Mistress seductively whispered.

Usually, the girl asked me to wait while they stretched around my erection, but not today. I was waiting to be ‘ready’, and Mistress was very generous, making sure she didn’t start to fuck me painfully from the start.

There was a strange closeness between us, one that I had never encountered before. The only different thing was I was taking the penis. However, despite her being a Mistress, there was still that comforting maternal female presence. A presence I was eternally grateful for as she parted my ass.

My legs were aching as I still had not taken the full eight inches, and my helping arms were close to collapsing.

I decided to plummet the last half-inch, letting my total body weight go. I did not take into account that the strap–on tapered out cruelly right at the base and suddenly stretched me open an extra half-inch. I cried out in anguish at the ceiling, looking straight into a mirror.

“Right, let’s move,” she suddenly ordered, bucking her hips up, making me even more aware of the spike embedded in me.

I pushed up on my sore knees fucking myself lightly on the shaft, modulating only an inch.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” she scolded; “Fuck yourself.” Mistress Leyla was back in character with a vengeance.

I did as I was told and pushed my body as high as possible without the strap-on popping out of my ass before quickly dropping down on her groin. I pushed up again on my sore knees and aching legs and let myself fall again, and then I got a rhythm going up-down, up-down. I groaned all the time through the brutal penetration searing through my ass and the ache of my limbs. I pushed up and down, but my arms were too weak, and my legs were close to giving out.

“Come on fuck yourself,” Mistress Leyla urged.

And on command, I pounded up and down my legs and arms, extremely tired. I looked down at Mistress’s face. Amazingly she was sighing with sexual pleasure. Surly Mistress was acting, I thought; although she was so good at role play, I would never know.

I broke into a sweat and gasped heavily for breath as I slowly came to an exhausted stop.

“Come on!” she once more forcefully commanded, flexing her hips rapidly, fucking my ass quickly.

I groaned again and slowly pulled myself up the pole embedded in me. I saw Mistress reach for the electric box she had used earlier to punish my balls. Mistress pushed for a shock, and I moved, but there was no shock to my surprise. One of the pads had detached itself from my testes, breaking a circuit. Mistress soon realized this and gingerly tried to slap the pad back on, scared of being shocked herself.

I took this moment to take a breather, even though it was through the slight tender sickness of having my tight testicles slapped. As Mistress slapped my gonads with the electric pad, I became aware that sweat was now flooding down my back.

Mistress noticed the electric box was ineffectual and pulled hard on my nipple clamps instead. When Mistress pulled them, my sore nipples burnt into flame. I yelled again.

“I didn’t say you could stop,” she admonished, and once more, I slowly pushed myself up her invading phallus. My muscles were shot, and I could barely move.

My breathing had become rapid, and I strained to push my body upwards, slowly rising to the tip, at which point I would fall down heavily upon the spike shooting right up into me.

Mistress Leyla was relentless, “Come on!” she ordered impatiently, “Faster! Screw yourself faster!” I tried my very best to please her pushing my spread ass up as fast as possible, my legs and arms trembling with effort, my face grimacing as I slavishly pushed myself on. Time and time again, this happened, letting my body fall hard down onto her strap-on. Squealing lowly as the phallus split me, taking a few seconds to rest gulping in the air, before steeling myself to climb her mast once again.

Mistress Leyla could see I was trying my best, but it wasn’t good enough. She grabbed my nipple clamps and pulled them upwards, trying to speed up my assent. Despite the pain that fanned out from my twisted nipples, I could move no faster. I reached the top of her cock again and wanted to fall, but Mistress Leyla cruelly held me up by my nipples. I tried to stay at her demanded height, but my legs gave out. I plummeted down, and yet again, I cried louder from the demonic invasion and the additional nipple stretching.

“Get off and turn around”, she instructed, and I lazily pulled my ass off her strap-on.

“Move!” she yelled, slapping my ass cheek for urgency. I took what little time it took to breathe hard and oxygenate my weary limbs, resting them as much as possible. It was that desperate.

I lumbered around, spinning on my sore bleeding knees, and once more straddled Mistress reverse cowgirl style, breathing hard. I backed onto the strap-on. It slipped in quickly, and I soon dropped on it ass first as my legs gave out. Unfortunately, it opened me up a different way, causing me to cry out as once more, the flared flange of the strap-on spread me unaware.

“Now fuck yourself,” she continued to demand, slapping my ass again. I bounced once more with a bit of zest from the small rest my limbs were given, but after only five shafts, my airless limbs fell again. I flopped forward, gasping for breath, sweating profusely with her strap-on still deeply embedded. I looked down wearily at her leather booted legs which somehow began to move with her hip thrusts as Mistress took it upon herself to fuck me with fast short strokes.

I took the short quick strokes with gritted teeth and waited until she had burnt herself out.

I took a massive gulp of air as soon as her vibrato fucking had stopped. There was no time to rest, though Mistress quickly urged me on.

“Come on! Fuck yourself,” she demanded, slapping my ass cheeks. My legs and arms were exhausted, and I had to use different muscles to obey her. I fucked myself by arching my back to and fro while pushing back on all fours, rocking on my raw knees and elbows.

I heard a rustling behind while I used my back muscles to flex on her cock. I was breathing heavily, plainly close to complete collapse. I rocked on all fours and flexed my back to its full to satisfy Mistress.

Suddenly there was a crack! I cried out as my balls seemed to light up and expand. Mistress had zapped me with an electric fork. I straightened my back and yelled at the ceiling as the electric current danced through my orbs. I fell forward as the shock elapsed, and I breathed deeply to regain some composure. The pain was excruciating but in a strange way, a relief for as long as Mistress was busy zapping my balls, there was a small rest for my limbs and ploughed ass.

It was that desperate, the merest of seconds of rest for my limbs, taken while my testicles were painfully zapped.

“Come on, or I’ll shock your balls!” she yelled as I wearily started to fuck myself again. My body was so wrapped in the sensation that I had little ability to think, but Mistress’s last comment did spark a thought. “I’ll shock your balls,” she said, but I was sure she just had.

The shock seemed bang on my testicles, but I was too weary to ask. Still, I did get the implication that the next electric shock would be fiercer, which was frightening as my balls felt close to exploding. Whatever was in store for me was out of my hands as the energy in my body was so low that Mistress Leyla could do anything she pleased.

My back now began to ache as my elbows were sore from rocking. I breathed heavily and flexed my back in broken, exhausted pushes along her cock.

“I’ll have you up on there!” Mistress threatened.

I looked to where she meant and saw a bondage table. “Would that be so bad?" I wondered as the sweat now began to stream down my face.

“Why was I taking this?” A question that was never asked. I could have just said no and drawn a halt to this agony, but yet that thought never crossed my mind. Instead, I just obeyed and pushed my body on, trying desperately to screw myself to my Mistress’s content.

“Why was I putting myself through this hell? Why didn’t I stop?" Somehow she had possessed me. It was incredible, for the only conceivable way of escaping this never-ending torture was to endure all she commanded of me.

“How and when did she get this power over me?" It all seemed so irrational, and yet here I was dancing to her commands. Pushing myself through a most irregular, unnatural act, allowing her to dominate and fuck me. At the time, I can honestly say I felt I had no choice but to let her use me.

Once more, I heard a crack and felt the fork prang my buttocks and a snake of electric burn in between my legs to my balls. Once more, they seemed to expand and glow, and once more, my back arched as I cried at the ceiling, only falling onto my lifeless arms when the pain had stopped. Again as painful as it was, I was strangely relieved as it rescued me from driving on my ailing carcass. Even a strict Mistress couldn’t drive me on while I was reeling from an electric shock to my balls.

I had fallen forward; my carpet burnt elbows fast, catching up with my sore, bloodied knees.

“Come on fuck yourself!” she demanded, pushing ever onwards.

I flexed my aching body along her shaft with the minuscule energy I had left. My back arched back and forth to get some semblance of movement. My arms were trembling with exhaustion, aching as I gulped in the air to try and ease the pain of my limbs starved of oxygen. I was blowing so hard saliva dribbled as my chest gasped hungrily for air.

“Come on!” Mistress scolded me once more, but it was a worthless order. I was beaten, drained and completely exhausted. The slaps Mistress rained down on my ass were void of meaning as the pain of a completely sapped fatigued body easily trumped the intermittent thrashings on my upturned ass. A lone thought was minutely buried in the recess of my inactive brain. I wondered what tortures Mistress may still have left for my balls, but as I was close to closing down in every aspect of being, fear barely registered.

“Get off!” Mistress angrily barked while pushing my well-spanked bottom forward as she struggled to get out from under my leaden flabby body. I fell forward, happily collapsing in a ball and gasping for air.

I heard Mistress in the distance, stepping away as I took in very long deep breaths. Unfortunately, Mistress was soon at the bondage table, slapping the top with her bare hand.

“Up you get,” she ordered sprightly, not giving me a chance to recover fully.

I pulled myself up wearily onto all fours and slowly dragged my sore, bloodied knees towards the table. My hands and elbows were carpet burnt as well as my toes, which were still caked in mud from the earlier exertions.

The table was only a matter of feet away despite Mistresses scolding me for my leaden movement. I slowed down my crawl to oxygenate as much as possible. Mistress Leyla was too professional and was onto my ploy straight away and was soon whipping my ass to speed my crawl across the floor. “Hurry up!” she scolded as she let forth a tirade of whips to my rump. She was savage on me, but it was worth taking the beating to get some rest. Her strikes became lower, and I unconsciously decided to speed up a little as the crop strikes were coming too close to my balls.

Way too soon, I was at the table. “Up you get”, Mistress once more commanded in time to her hand slaps on the black cushioned top of the bondage table. I slowly pulled myself upright, an alien feeling as all my limbs wanted to do was drop.

“Put your knee here,” she instructed, pointing to one of the protruding leg rests that were on both sides of the bondage table. The protruding leg rests on making sure your legs are well parted and presented an upturned ass for punishment. This forced position also left easy access to your cock and balls, leaving them swinging low and accessible.

I wearily positioned one knee onto the leg support, and the cool temperature of the cushioned leather instantly soothed my sore, bloodied, and muddied knees. I swung my foot up to join it. Once again, I was blessed with the small mercy of the soothing cool of the cushion on my toes. I cherished these small moments of comfort.

My other leg was positioned likewise, and I let my gasping, sweating, exhausted carcass flop onto the tabletop. The tables’ design forced me to throw my ass into the air.

I didn’t care, “Just lay here and let her do as she pleases, just take it until she wears herself out from fucking my ass,” I thought.

Already my heavy breath was pooling moisture on the table as I heaved for air.

“Keep still and let her fuck me to her heart’s content,” I sluggishly thought.

I heard Mistress moving to my side, and I caught a fleeting glimpse of her condom-covered strap-on. If Mistress were by my side, the more seconds it would take before she was punishing my ass, the more time I would have to rest. Every second was precious.

I heard the squishing of Mistress applying more lube, which heartened me more. Yes, it would make things more comfortable, but more importantly, it gave me more time, even if it was just a few seconds to regain my breath.

She positioned herself behind me, and I hopefully reasoned on another few seconds rest as she worked herself back in, but this was not to be. My ass must have been gaping wide as she unceremoniously ploughed straight back into me at speed, taking me to the hilt. I cried out, but no remorse was forthcoming as she immediately started to fuck me at a high tempo.

“Just take it, hold on," I thought as each thrust pounded home.

The thought of just laying there and letting her pound herself to exhaustion on my poor raw ass was soon seen to be complete folly. I soon found out that being fucked was nearly as exhausting as doing the fucking itself.

I grabbed the sides of the bondage table as she nailed my ass, and I was soon aware of another sensation. The rough shagging I was getting from Mistress Leyla was massaging my prostate and gave that half orgasmic, half wanting to pee sensation. With each thrust from Mistress, I could feel through my ass agony a stream of semen dancing around my penis head, just dying to flow out onto the carpet below.

I winced with every length as the sensation on my penis head began to feel as if I were on the point of urination. I knew this was not the case. I wanted to release, so I tried to raise my posterior so Mistress would massage my prostate differently, causing my semen to empty onto the floor.

I knew Mistress would punish me for that, but I wanted to release my cum. Not for pleasure but for comfort. Adjusting the angle of my derrière was not easy as my torso was lifeless. Luckily my arms had a good few minutes of rest while I had lain there inanimate as she screwed me senseless. I drew my arms up to push off the top of the table. My head rose, and immediately I was aware of the dribbling from my mouth caused by my exhaustion. I looked up to try to readjust, and to my surprise, there was a mirror.

I looked at a person unknown to me, moving back and forth caused by Mistress pounding into me. The face was gnarled and sweat-drenched, my hair dishevelled. That was I, in reality, entirely at the mercy of my Mistress. Completely subjugated to whatever she wanted. That was me being fucked an image I thought I would never see, a wholly taken man. Someone who hated losing in anything. Someone who was stubborn and could not stand the ignominy of being subordinate in anything. And yet here I was naked, spread and being roughly taken.

I tried to reposition my ass, but my prostate would not release. I submitted myself again to absolute surrender and let my arms lie out and rest in front of me. I looked at myself again in the mirror, my eyes squinting, my mouth grimacing with every thrust into my sore ass. I must have been gapping like a five-dollar whore as I had been shagged for at least fifteen minutes.

I looked above my reflection to see my invader. There she was, still working hard at plunging into me. Her head down, holding her phallus two-handed, thrusting her hips forward as hard as possible, making my whole being feel her force. She glimpsed up and caught me looking at her.

“That’s right!” she commanded, “Look at yourself being fucked!”

I obeyed and looked at myself once more, and with that Mistress speeded up her fucking stroke to a frenzy. She upped the pace, sawing in and out of my ass, bringing my intermittent grunts to one long agonizing groan of anguish. I gritted my teeth, closed my eyes, tensed my neck and gripped the table and stiffened my body in response to the accelerated attack. Not even Mistress could keep fucking at this speed.

When her frenzied shagging stopped, I relaxed and flopped down onto the bench again. I took in large gulps of breath, but she soon carried on pounding away again and very soon, I began to gasp for air. How could just laying and being fucked take so much out of me? After all, it was only her cock going in and out of me but exhaust me it did. She slapped my ass for the first time, at least I think it was for the first time, as her assault on me was so overwhelming I couldn’t remember. The slap barely registered now. She slapped my ass again, and my humiliation registered more than the pain.

“Come on, watch yourself being fucked,” she chided once more, urging her request on with another slap to my buttocks. I sluggishly obeyed, looked up, and decided to try and please her with words.

“Fuck me, mistress”, I gasped, “Fuck me like the whore I am.”

The words sounded corny and cliché, and I instantly regretted saying them, not through fear but because of their ridiculousness. Mistress stopped shagging me as soon as I had uttered the words, and a slight apprehension hit home through my shattered body. I was too ravaged and spent to worry and just lay gulping, taking in the air.

She slowly pulled the strap-on out of me and positioned the tip at the entrance to my a-hole. I didn’t know the state my ass was in as she slowly circled the tip of her weapon around my rim. One thing was for sure it wouldn’t be the tight little buttonhole it was at the start. More likely, it was open and gaping.

Such thoughts were fleeting as I just lay limp and shattered my body void of energy. Still, Mistress teased my butt, and it was obvious she was soon to plunge hard, fast and unforgiving, driving her strap-on into me, trying to bury its length with one hard thrust. I didn’t muster any resistance to the oncoming attack as I was soundly beaten and was now just a lump of meat to be prodded.

The lack of my body’s movement registered with Mistress, but she was not content to let me off that easy. She wanted every drop of resistance drained, every notion of energy burnt off and last of all, she wanted me completely pliant, obedient, surrendered and at her complete mercy. I thought that all those boxes had been ticked long ago. Alas, it was not me to make that judgment.

With her phallus still poised to probe me, she suddenly slapped my ass and assertively demanded. “Fuck yourself.”

Nothing needed to be explained. She wanted me to reverse back and forward on the strap-on. I wearily pushed my body off the table and felt the slight rip of flesh departing from plastic as my sweat-soaked skin rose. I tried to keep the weight on my knees as my jelly-like arms pushed my body upwards.

“Come on!” Mistress urged with another slap to my rump, keeping my tired mind alert and humiliated at the same time. I was beyond humiliation long ago. Mistress slapping my ass only acted as a gauge in memory, as it proved just how completely she had taken me. She could spank my ass in a humiliating way with nothing but obedience from me in response.

I thrust my ass back and skewered myself on her ridged cock. It slid in with ease until I felt a slight discomfort, at which point I motioned forward off the cock. I managed to shaft myself three times until Mistress twigged I was having an easy time.

“Deeper!” she commanded, and I immediately complied, backing further back along her spike, probing me deeper.

“Faster!” she demanded, slightly getting cross at my unwillingness to give everything. I plunged my ass back as hard and fast as I could to please her, with every thrust stinging deep within me. I got a second wind and got into a rhythm. Mistress stood solidly and silently behind me, thrusting her hips slightly to greet my reversing ass.

I felt my testicles swinging, and alarm bells rang as I became aware of their exposure. Hanging away in front of a dominatrix must have given her ideas. I pushed myself on; the mere fact that I was mindful of my bollocks proved I had the returning capability of self-preservation. I fucked myself into delirium to please her. I started to groan at my hard probing, and I took Mistresses silence as a sign of contentment at my self-abasement. Still, already my arms were on the verge of collapse.

Would she wait for me to slow down and pull me on and off her phallus by my balls? I thought it inevitable as she had a taste for punishing my balls through the whole session. They were her go-to item, my balls. Whenever she wanted a bit more out of me, she would pull, squeeze, and shock them and even threaten to hit them. And here they were, swinging away in front of her, her overdrive, her accelerator, her afterburn, her ace card.

Luckily my legs still had a smidgen of strength. I was able to keep momentum, but this became more painful as Mistress started to thrust her hips forward harder to meet my reversing buttocks making her slam into me deeper and harder. She gripped my hips and pulled me more unbending upon her spike, and I writhed as I felt her thighs slap into me. The splayed end of the phallus base opened me up further as I was now taking the maximum length. The pain was excruciating as the phallus tip was invading deeper, plus the lube seemed to have evaporated.

Still, I swung my ass back once more, breathing hard as the small amount of energy I recovered in my limbs had already been used up. Still, Mistress pushed me on.

“Come on”, she scolded, slapping me again, her hand really splashing down on the fat of my ass, making a hearty snapping noise.

I was practically falling back onto her, and somewhere I found the tiniest reserve of energy to try and satisfy Mistress. I speeded up like a sprinter in the home straight, knowing that I would soon be spent and at a standstill.

The strap-on sawed my ass, and I cried out like an athlete giving his all. The collar and padlock around my neck were swinging back and forth with my thrusts and hitting me in the face. My balls swinging manically, I was on the point of caving in, my last burst coming to an end when the padlock swung up and hit me in the teeth.

I instantly stopped and grabbed at my mouth.

“Sorry, mistress, but the padlock hit me in the teeth”. Once more, there was a need for pity, but I quickly pulled myself together and knew that none would be forthcoming. I felt Mistress pull out of my ass and push me down onto the table to my astonishment.

“You get no extra points for self-flagellation”, she joked.

I smiled as she walked beside me and gently stroked my back. Again the sensation was extraordinarily sensual and soothed me instantly. She took her time, and I sensed my anal assault was over. My theory proved correct as I heard the condom being taken off her strap-on. I closed my eyes and rested.

Before the start, I had joked she was going to take my anal virginity. I wondered if she believed me as she had just ploughed me into the ground and practically smashed my ass. This was no gentle breaking in but a fierce pounding where I was left under no illusion who was boss. She had fucked, shagged, rogered, boned and nailed my ass, given me a good seeing too, fucked me senseless.

She returned for more sensual stroking, and my head swam from pleasure. I began to feel incredibly serene and intoxicated.

“It’s a pity we don’t have another submissive here,” Mistress hinted as if in thought.

“Yes, mistress,” I heard myself saying.

I couldn’t believe what I had said. The implication was that if there were another male present, Mistress would have wanted me to give oral pleasure or, worst, let him screw me. I said yes, though, in an instant. I have never thought or dreamed of any bi-sexual activity ever. The thought had always been abhorrent to me, yet I was genuinely submitting to her hint. It scared me that she had such a spell over me, for, at the time, I think she could have had me doing anything for her. That mystery of wanting to please Mistress went ever more profound.

Mistress announced the end of the session.

“Rest there, and when you’re ready, come and kneel before me,” she instructed.

I had done it; I had survived and taken all that was given. A sense of elation hit, and I closed my eyes in contentment and rested. I was not happy that the session was over because my mind and body were still in a reverie. I felt serene, calm and euphoric, a pleasure that I wasn’t expecting. I felt I had been drugged and intoxicated and could happily lay where I was for hours.

I was aware that Mistress Leyla was sitting on her throne waiting for me, and so I pushed my weary bones to go to her. I pushed off the bondage table, the top covered in my sweat and saliva. My carpet burnt knees protested along with my arms as I pushed off the table. My exhausted body felt as if it had been on a ten-mile run as I made my way towards Mistress. At the start of the session, I stooped as I walked towards her, feeling it would be impertinent and brazen to walk boldly upright.

I knelt before her on the cushion as directed earlier, legs apart, hands behind my back. My sore knees were comforted by the cool cushion as I looked up at her like a love-struck puppy.

“How was that for you?”

“That was amazing, really incredible,” I blurted out, struggling to find the words to describe such an unbelievable experience.

I was genuinely overwhelmed with joy, a sense of euphoria, a type of Stockhausen syndrome that filled me with love for my Mistress. A mistress who had been me to task for the last two hours.

I was giddy with emotion and somehow needed to express myself. Mistress’s legs were crossed, causing the thigh of the top leg to stretch in front of my eyes and without thinking, I leant forward and kissed her there. It was a strange, beautiful moment. I loved my Mistress.

She smiled as I became aware that I might have overstepped the mark, but she did not react. She lent forward and took my collar off, and again another new sensation hit. I was free even though I was deeply subservient to my Mistress by now.

“I want to kiss your feet,” I suddenly blurted as I stared at her high-heeled boots. I really did want to do it for her as a way of thanks and dispersing my pent-up affectionate emotions.

“No, I have something else in mind later that will have you licking my boots”, she informed teasingly. I smiled as I knew what she wanted. She wanted me to masturbate and ejaculate on her boots and then have me lick my semen off. I had read about other mistresses ending their sessions like this and thought there could be no better way of thanking her than to offer up my sperm. Letting her watch my most personal act, seeing me in the throe of orgasm and then lick my offering off her boots.

We talked of BDSM and its psychological aspects. She smiled as I was still kneeling obediently on the cushion before her.

“You can relax now,” she grinned, and I moved off the cushion and sat naked on the floor before her, a junior looking up to a superior.

There are few opportunities to talk to a like-minded, understanding woman about BDSM. You grasp every chance with relish. I quickly ran through my experiences that led me to see a dominatrix, cramming in every possible anecdote conceivable.

I’m sure she had heard them all before but showed interest and even laughed at some of the more jovial remarks. Eventually, she stood up.

“You’ll be thinking about this for weeks to come,” she announced with a knowing smile. It must be great to introduce a novice to her world, I thought. It must give the same satisfaction as teaching someone to the whole new world of sex.

“Do you want to cum for me?” she quickly ran off.

I could think of no better way to end the day. I knew what she wanted and immediately fell to my knees.

"Wank for me," she demanded, pushing her high-heeled boot out. "I want you to cum on my boots, and be quick about it!"

I grabbed my extremely small penis, which had receded and become smaller than I had ever known. I immediately wanked my cock quickly praying there would be life.

"Quicker!" Mistress demanded and I obeyed my hand flexing in a blur. I began to worry as my cock seemed lifeless. I groaned in frustration, my dick was scared to get hard in front of my Mistress.

"Oh come on!" Mistress scolded and lent forward a whipped my ass with her crop.

I jerked into life, my penis quickly hardening to her command. I sighed in relief as I got an erection.

"Cum! Hurry up!" She scolded whipping my ass again.

As painful as her crop was on my sore buttocks I welcomed the surge of blood it gave me. With each strike, I could feel my cock rising and I knew I'd soon be ejaculating.

"Come on, this is the one thing you're good for, my little wanker!" Mistress said belittling me. It brought me down to earth. I was at her feet naked masturbating like fury. It is a very personal act and I had never masturbated before anyone. I was proud of my erection but Mistress quickly burst my bubble.

"I've seen a lot of small cocks in my time but yours must be the smallest. Now cum!" she cruelly demanded as she whipped my ass once more.

Her stikes on my tender ass were enough to take me to the edge.

"Do I have permission to cum Mistress?"

"Just hurry up and cum!" she reiterated pushing her boot hard up under my testicles.

I grimaced once more. I should have known she would punish my balls somewhere along the line, even when I was tossing myself off.

I ejaculated wildly, spraying her leather boots. I groaned as my white semen stood out on her black boots I expected an insult about the volume of my cum but instead, she mocked me in another way.

"Aww bless!" She said in a soft voice. "What a good little wanker you are. Cum for mummy," she mocked.

I felt thoroughly humiliated as my cock spat the last of its offerings on her boots.

"Lick your mess off my boots. Now!" she demanded, taking the crop to my buttocks once more.

I quickly went forward and lapped up my cum.

"Quicker," Mistress demanded, "Or I'll have balls!"

Mistress certainly knew how to push my buttons and the biggest one was to threaten my balls. Every time I thought I was in danger of having my testicles hit, shocked or just squeezed I immediately quickened my response to her order.

I licked away at speed until Mistress was content.

"Good boy," she laughed.

I dressed tenderly, my clothes reigniting my cuts, burns and bruises. I had asked Mistress to lock away my clothes to make sure I was entirely at her mercy, and so I wouldn’t run away. She told me she didn’t lock them away but just put them out of sight. Experience told her I wouldn’t run.

We parted with a hug, and I wound my way merrily home. My toes, knees, elbows were sore, burnt and bleeding slightly, my ass raw, my sac stretched, and the wealds on my back slightly humming, and yet I was incredibly happy.

The night was closing in, but my experience had given me a fresh outlook on the mundane, just like arriving back in your neighbourhood after a holiday. I winced at my stupidity as I suddenly broke out of my daze and realized that my car was just around the corner and not half a mile away. I was in another world.

I got home and met my partner and had an incredibly reinforced feeling of love for her. However, I was extremely distracted that night and couldn’t stop thinking of the day’s extraordinary events. The following day I took to the internet to thank Mistress. To my amazement, she had already posted the two videos she had taken of me the day before.

I looked in wonder as I watched myself sucking her strap-on, her words, “What am I going to do to you?” my answer, “You’re going to fuck me,” and then her delightful laugh, “Oh yes, I am.” The video then went to a text saying, “Virgin ass or not, you know what’s coming next.” I did, and I wondered if she believed it was a virgin ass because she certainly didn’t act like it, thank god!

The other video was of me playing fetch, balls bound and stretching out in the winter garden. I loved them and watched them over and over again. Some of the comments amused me, "Lucky bastard,” said one and I agreed I was lucky. Someone wrote a somewhat disparaging note about the ‘fetch’ video but even that I found amusing. I e-mailed her with the plan of doing more videos, but unfortunately, my enthusiasm for the whole experience had made me careless as a set of my e-mails were found by my partner.

Fortunately, I was able to patch things up as my partner admitted to neglecting me. Still, it was the end of my foray into BDSM for the time being.

I often think of my session and always get an erection. I look down at the inflamed purple head on top of the straining shaft brought on by the memory.

“Yeah, show yourself now, you coward!” I say to my penis, laughing at the irony as I had been very, very small throughout the session.

My favourite reoccurring image is when I was lying naked face down on the ground. Mistress pulled my ass up by a lead connected to my testicles. I was helpless as she studied my stretched helpless gonads as if she was looking at a prized fish she had caught. “I like your bollocks like this,” she rasped, really putting me in my place.

“I’m glad it pleases you, Mistress,” I groaned as I fought to keep my ass in the air while I sensed her breath on my testicles. I gave in completely my balls were hers to do as she pleased.

I had finally given in and mentally put them on a wooden trophy board with a silver plaque below with the inscribed words, ‘Here hang the bollocks of ‘L’, respectfully presented to Mistress Leyla, 2012.’

I hand them over to her as a representative of females worldwide and imagine her sitting in a big armchair years later, sipping wine with a friend beside an old log fire. She looks up at the polished wooden paneled wall opposite. On this wall are trophies but not of boars, stags or big fish but of all the men’s balls she has broken in her reign.

Her eyes roam and eventually rest on my trophy plaque as she reminisces. “Ah! I remember taking his balls!” she informs her friend.

“Was he hard to catch?” her friend asks.

“He was at first, took ages for me to get the blighter hooked, but once I did, I had him completely subjugated and at my mercy. I reeled him in by his balls, shocked them into submission, flayed his skin and then royally nailed his ass! A classic femdom kill!”

“Bravo! Did you throw him back once you had landed him?”

“Only after I had made him part company with his balls,” informs Lady Leyla.

“Why, of course, not much point if you don’t take their balls away.”

“That’s right, and once you have his balls, he’s yours forever anyway.”

“Quite right”, agrees her friend before adding, “that’s the problem these days, too many men going around thinking they own their balls, pin them down and castrate the lot, I say.”

“I’ll drink to that, ‘To breaking balls’ Cheers!”

That was the end of my quest. A quest to see a mistress and always remember the first like all novel experiences. Mistress Leyla played out my fantasy expertly, and I’ll always be grateful for such a mind-blowing session.

I wrote in full about my experience, and All the BDSM platitudes and clichés reared their heads, and I did my best to explain them. No matter how hard I tried, the illusiveness of the experience prevailed. I tried my best to allay the fears of any novice reading these words, but as in all things of the mind, the only way to learn and enjoy BDSM is to experience it.

If you want my two cents, you’ll try it. If you get the right Mistress, you may, like me, have the experience of a lifetime. ‘Real experiences’ of a lifetime are few, so if you’re a novice or someone just casually reading this, tell me; can you really afford to let this opportunity pass?