My First Session With Mistress Nichole written by my lifestyle slave.

“Do you trust me”, she asked as she held the little padlock out before her. I glanced down at the very comfortable but snug dark brown leather cuffs around each wrist and knew that once the padlocks were going on only Mistress Nichole could take them off. Trust was a big deal for me. We’d agreed to consensual non-consent for our session and Mistress Nichole was already irritated that I’d not been immediately forthcoming with some of my medical restrictions. I knew I was already facing punishment. Locking these cuffs on me would ensure I received whatever she wished for me without resistance. Not that I wanted to resist anyways.

“Yes Mistress, I trust you.”

Click. And then click on my other wrist. Same for the ankle cuffs. I was now locked and cuffed and at Mistress’s mercy.

I was a kid, maybe the second or third grade, when we were still pretty young, when I first acted on what I would later realize was my submissive side. Recess saw us kids usually break down into boys playing rough and tumble games and girls playing house. For some reason, another little boy and I were asked to play with the girls one day and we agreed. We were to be the “house puppies” and we spent the entire recess crawling around on all fours, getting pet or scolded by the girls, trying to be “good puppies” and not “bad puppies”, because “bad puppies” got spanked. The other boy I was playing with had enough of that after one day and went back to playing with the other boys. I remained as the girl’s puppy for the remainder of the year.

“Bend over the table, legs spread, arms at the corners.” Her voice was calm but carried no possibility for negotiation or objection. I did as she instructed and soon my arms were bound to the edge of the table, my naked ass now easily exposed. She threaded a knotted rope gag into my mouth and tied it snuggly behind my head. I could make reasonable gag-talk but I was effectively gagged. I lost my sight moments later as she slipped a leather blindfold over my eyes. I was now tied, gagged and blindfolded in the home of a woman who enjoyed inflicting pain and expected complete submission.

I felt a hard rod gently running across my ass and her fingernails scrape down my back.

“Do you know why you’re being punished”, she whispered in my ear.

“Yes Mistress. I should have told you about my blood thinners,” I said around the rope knot in my mouth.

“The day before a session is too late,” she purred in my ear. “I could have made plans for you that would could have seriously hurt you.” Her hand continued to massage my taught shoulders as I panted behind the gag, waiting.

“Lucky for you I can’t draw blood. But I can leave marks. This is one of my favorite canes.” She tapped my ass in preparation.

Swat.

I arched my back and grunted. She paused only a moment to gage my reaction then I felt another line of fire erupt in my ass, harder than the last.

My first orgasm, in my pre-teens, happened in the middle of the night. I’d gotten up out of bed and found some sewing thread my mom had on the upstairs sewing machine and I tied myself into what I would later know as a balltie, bound ankles, calves and thighs tied up tight to my chest. As I lay there, balled up, not even touching myself, I orgasmed, not knowing what that amazing feeling was that flowed through me.

My ass was on fire from the three different canes she’d used on me, each with their own personality of pain. The flogger was almost soothing and I relaxed and let the mild pain wash over me. My masochism did nothing to raise the pathetic little dick I’d been left with after my blood pressure and heart medications were through with it, but it did ooze pre-cum as I embraced the harsh bite of her implements of punishment. It’s incredible, the immediate bite of pain in the area she’d targeted, followed by the warm radiation as the rest of my body deals with it, and finally the rush of endorphins that race through me, leaving me panting and feeling more alive than ever. Were I to be in a permanent D/s relationship, I would wish for a daily refresher of pain.

My wife was initially interested in playing bondage games with me when we first met, but she cooled after a few years and I found myself married to a woman I loved but couldn’t service in bed. BDSM was the only thing that aroused me. I serviced her orally and enjoyed it and I would help her get off with her dildo and vibrator, but I couldn’t stay hard long enough with vanilla sex to make it enjoyable for her. I loved her dearly and it broke my heart that I was never really a man for her sexually.

“Trust me,” she whispered, and I heard the click of a leash being attached to the ring on my collar. I was still blindfolded my cuffed wrists behind my back but not attached. I had earned praise from Mistress for not rubbing the stripes on my ass as soon as she freed me. It had never entered my mind to touch myself without her permission. I’d maintained a submissive pose throughout and I listened to her direction, ready to do exactly as she wished, all without thought.

I was led by the leash through her house, following the tugs at my neck, blindly walking where directed.

“Arms above your head, legs spread.”

I did as I was told and felt my cuffs being attached to an x-frame, ankles and wrists spread, my back again vulnerable.

“Count for me,” she instructed.

The first flick caught me by surprise, the whip end feeling like a fire wielding snake tongue as it darted out and licked my skin. I hissed. “One.”

I strayed a bit over the years, seeking out anonymous Mistresses to explore my aching desire to submit. A few were interesting experiences but one tried to blackmail me by telling my wife what I was doing behind her back, so I told my wife first and spent a number of years building back her trust. I caged the submissive beast inside me and used porn to satisfy my needs. I practiced some self-bondage but that wasn’t fulfilling. I could tie myself but I couldn’t submit to myself.

The beast, as I came to call it, was like every male beast – he brooded, he demanded, he roared when not paid attention to. I locked mine away because I couldn’t function with the constant desire and denial of not being able to live the life of a submissive man, docile to a strong, demanding woman. I could never expect my wife to mold into the role I needed. So I molded myself into a “normal” husband who did what he could to make her happy and content, who enjoyed every minute of being around her. And I locked that beast away inside me.

I would go months without letting him free, feeding him occasionally with Boundhub videos of tightly tied women being spanked or whipped or locked away as captive sex slaves. I always imagined that I were that woman, tied and helpless and at the mercy of someone stronger, someone who wanted to own her, possess her, make her surrender. That is what I wanted from the female in my life. I wanted to be owned and possessed. I wanted to surrender to her, heart, mind and body. I wanted to be constantly restrained, punished, treated as property who’s only purpose was to please her.

But then my beast would get free and I couldn’t contain him. This was how I met Mistress Nichole who instantly made me feel comfortable, understood my situation, and above all, was concerned for my safety. She also enjoyed inflicting the pain that I craved. There were things that she wanted to do to me, mummify me, feminize me, other things that were dark fantasies of mine. In return, I would submit completely to her, within the boundaries of my marriage.

I lay sprawled on the padded table, on my stomach and felt the first drips of hot candle wax splatter my marked back, searing fire into me and making me grunt. Mistress varied the height and temperature of the molten wax and painted my back with different colors, a canvas of searing pain that bounded through me and brought me further to life. The Grand Finale ended with swaths of wax crisscrossing my dotted back and I was sorry when she told me I had been good but she was done. She then gently began plucking the dried wax from my pink skin, her fingers caressing my skin and I felt what all subbies feel in that moment of “afterwards”. I felt vulnerable yet immensely content. Raw. Uncomplicated and unfettered. I could have fallen asleep at that moment.

Later, as she undid the cuffs and I dressed, she hugged me and that meant the world to me. Mistress had seen into my soul, found my beast, and gave it a new home. Her cage. And she held the key.