Female Led Relationships

For those of you that may have erectile dysfunction, you really must explore hardcore nipple torture . Pain stimulates the blood flow;and I mean rock hard. I too started out slow,then worked up to more extremes.

Once the mind adjusts,a person could handle just about anything. Pinching, pulling,twisting and just general yanking on them will soon bring you many delights.

The clothespin training takes me to 2/3 hrs. I am yanking on them of course. I then went to various clamps; certain clamp pliers;cable clamps,which are stronger[1/2 hrs at a time. Some time ago a girlfriend discovered my passion, and really worked them over good. She chewed them up until nice and sore;smacked them with a ruler;and then directed her attention to my rock hard cock,by smacking the shaft.

We would have a heated sex session before bed;in the middle of the night; and again in the morning.

Now married, both the girlfriend and the wife would give my ass a good tanning;and then each one choose a nipple and chewed at the same time. We never did anything that was not agreed upon;and I got to fuck the two of them.

It doesn’t matter what the gender is. A mouth is a mouth. The same for two men,which I have done;or two women,which I love to watch. I can deep throat a man for an hour or so;and its not polite not to swallow.

It took two months before I saw the other side of my secretary Miss Wolfe. We were in Tokyo on business. The ten-day trip would have worn out most people, but she never showed signs of tiring. Her command of Japanese proved an asset, and we plowed ahead with complicated negotiations, harrowing travel arrangements, and a multitude of other details that would have made most people’s head swim.

As always, my accommodations were the finest, but in truth, I was far too busy to notice. One evening, as I worked in my suite, I heard a light knock on the door. I hadn’t ordered room service, and asked impatiently,

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mr. Lamb,” I heard Miss Wolfe say.

“What is it?” I demanded, impatient by her breach of etiquette. I am no fool. No smart businessman lets the relationship with their assistant become too personal, even if the assistant is one of the most beautiful women in the city.

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, sir,” she replied, her silky voice muffled by the thick door. “But there’s been a development on the Yokito negotiations, and I thought you should have an update.”

By now I was more than impatient. I was annoyed. I could not fathom why Miss Wolfe would take an elevator fifteen floors up to knock on my door when she could have simply picked up the telephone.

“Miss Wolfe,” I said as I cracked open the door to glare at her, “The last time I checked, they still had telephones in this facility, and I certainly do not appreciate your knocking on my door at this hour.”

She hugged her long coat tightly around her sleek body and looked down at the floor. “Some papers were dropped off for you to review,” she murmured. “I thought you’d want them right away. But if you prefer, I’ll go back to my room and call you on the telephone.” Her voice cracked on the last few words.

This was a side of her I’d never seen. Nothing upset Miss Wolfe — last-minute changes in deadlines, my rantings over schedule conflicts, working nights and weekends – nothing.

“There’s no need to get upset,” I muttered. “You’re here now. You might as well come in.” I opened the door wider and moved aside. Without a word, she picked up her leather briefcase and walked into my suite. As I turned to close the door, I heard a sharp hissing sound. Immediately, the room started to spin, and I whipped around just in time to see Miss Wolfe holding a small spray vial.

I woke up in an unfamiliar place and saw the hazy image of my soon-to-be unemployed assistant. But Miss Wolfe, with her endless supply of elegant business attire, was dressed for anything but business. In high leather boots, a short leather skirt, and a Wolfe leather top that left little to the imagination, she was obviously not the same Miss Wolfe who brought me coffee and muffins.

“What the hell.” I cursed, realizing for the first time I couldn’t move. Leather cuffs imprisoned both my wrists and ankles. My arms were chained high above my head and attached to hooks suspended from the ceiling. A short chain ran from each ankle cuff and attached to a sturdy metal hook imbedded in the floor. “Miss Wolfe,” I said quietly with steel in my voice. “I don’t know what you have in mind, but I assure you I am not interested.”

“Oh, really?” she retorted, staring pointedly at my pelvic region. “You could’ve fooled me.” Like a jungle feline stalking its chosen prey, she moved closer. She leaned close to me, and I caught a hint of intoxicating perfume. She reached down and ran an elegant finger over the bulge in my pants.

“Let me tell you something, Mr. Lamb,” she whispered in my ear, her silky voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do you think I showed up at your office by accident? Tell me, didn’t you find it a bit odd that good old Betty retired so suddenly? Oh, I heard about you alright, and let me tell you something right now. I’ve waited two long months for this, and I will not be denied. Tonight, you are going to serve me.”

Her words excited me in spite of myself, but I vowed she would never know “Miss Wolfe,” I retorted. “I assure you, you are quite mistaken. Now, I demand you release me this instant.”

“First of all,” she purred. “You will address me as Mistress Wolfe. And second of all, you’re in no position to make demands.” She began to circle me, her leather boots clicking against the hard floor of what looked like an old warehouse. I looked around and realized that the restraints imprisoning me were not the only ones at her disposal. My eyes fell on numerous tools of confinement, pain, and pleasure. My head was clearing at last, and I tested the strength of the chains binding me.

I heard a silky laugh behind me. “Yes, they are genuine.

You’re mine completely, and I believe it is time for your first lesson.” She ran her hand lightly across the back of my pants, lingering on my buttocks as she prowled around to the front of me. She looked directly into my eyes and whispered, “I’m going to make you beg for mercy.”

She reached out and unbuckled my belt. She tugged, freeing the long leather strip from the loops confining it. She held the belt in her hands for a moment. Then suddenly, she drew back and cracked it against the side of my thigh. Even through my pants, it stung.

This was too much. “You crazy bitch!” I yelled.

“Goddamn it, enough is enough. Let me go now!”

She smiled. “Strange, that didn’t sound like begging to me. But that’s easily remedied.” Calmly, she transferred my thick belt from her right hand to her left. With her right hand now free, she reached out to unfasten my pants. With a few quick tugs, my pants were around my ankles, my erection even more prominent through my boxers. With another series of tugs, my boxers also rested on my feet. My shirt and tie, she left untouched.

I heard the chains rattle as I tugged furiously against them. Miss Wolfe began to circle me again, my sturdy belt in her certain hands. Unexpectedly, I heard the sound of a crack and felt the first sting of the leather as it struck my bare backside. I flinched and yelled in response, tugging even harder against the chains securing me. Like lightning, the second crack came sooner than expected. “Stop it, dammit!” I yelled, making a vain attempt to twist around to face my tormentor.

She ignored my demands, and struck my bare ass with the sturdy belt yet another time. I struggled like a madman and heard her laugh quietly. I felt several more painful cracks against my backside, and then she paused.

I heard the click of her boots as she prowled closer. I felt a silky hand brush against my warm backside as if testing her handiwork. Soon, I felt two smooth arms encircle my waist and two expert hands reaching between my legs as she pressed her body close behind me.

The pain from the belt had made my erection less prominent, but as I felt two silky hands stroke my penis from head to shaft, it didn’t take long for me to grow rock hard again.

I considered making another bid for freedom, but her touch was enthralling, and I doubted my demands would do any good…

We have a tall, narrow broom closet which is shallow but just large enough to stand inside. I fantasize about having wooden or steel stocks built half into the back of the closet and half onto the inside of the closet door, such that if I stand naked in position, my ankles, wrists and neck become secured into the stocks when the door closes on me. Two small video cameras with infrared illuminators give Mistress a constant view of either my face or my genitals any time, but I will never know if she is looking.

She can speak to me over an intercom and listen if She pleases.

A pulse oximeter probe is strapped to my left big toe. If I begin to suffocate, Mistress will be alerted. If I become sexually aroused and my pulse rises, Mistress will know this perhaps even before I do.

If I am being punished, my weight is pressing my bare feet into dull spikes which produce first pain, then numbness with increasingly intense pain at my slightest movement, and a rising level of suffering which completely overcomes me, and breaks me, no matter what I do.

When I was 14 I was repeatedly told by the girls phy-ed teacher Ms. Riege to keep out of the girl’s shower area.The 3rd time she caught me, her & 2 girls dragged me in her office & locked the door. They were really mad & I thought they’d just yell but instead they started yanking my clothes off till I was naked!

The 2 girls put me over Ms. Riege’s lap & she started spanking me really hard for about 10 minutes. Just then Carmen, a girl I had a crush on was walking past the office with her digital camera. They all yelled for her to come & take some naked pictures of me.

When they let her in I tried to escape but Ms. Riege twisted my arm & started spanking me again. By then I was so embarrassed I started to cry and said I was sorry. My face was blushing furiously and they were all laughing and whistling at me. Ms. Riege said if I kept my mouth shut about this they would too. If I tried to make trouble everyone would see the pictures.

Since I had no choice I agreed. This had to be the most humiliating thing to ever happen to me. I really learned a lesson that day.

An interesting addendum to this story is that about a month ago, I changed jobs and guess who was the lead person? Debby, one of the girls that punished me!

Prepare with a lawyer’s help, a set of binding contracts and agreements that would in all actuality indenture a slave to his Owner. If he is to be a live-in slave; here is what i would suggest. The first step is to have him sign a long term (i believe three years is the maximum) employment contract as Your personal servant. It would list all of his duties and responsibilities as well as any punishments (monetary fines, loss of privileges, corporal punishments, etc. ) should he fail to meet Your expectations or requirements in exchange for room and board.

Then have him sign a long-term lease with no escape clause. Should You require that he work outside of the home as well, have him sign a contract hiring You as his personal trainer, dietitian, consultant, and whatnot for a fee equal to or greater than the amount he makes at his job. If greater then he will financially indebted to You as well and You could keep him in Your employ longer to pay it off.

Then have him sign Durable Powers of Attorney granting You full control over all of his financial and healthcare matters. Then finally have him sign general consent and release forms to keep You from being held liable for any harm or injury that he might sustain during Your employ.

And viola, You have a slave for all practical intents and purposes.

I’m sitting on the porch as you pull into the driveway.

After several emails we are meeting for the first time. I ask if you are sure; you say yes.

Once inside I instruct you to remove your clothes, fold them neatly and place them on the far end of the futon. Then to come and kneel before me with your head bowed.

For a time I merely watch you on your knees as you strive to cope with excited uncertainty.

I have your close your eyes and tell me of your long suppressed desires for submission and even pain. Your voice is jerky; often your sentences veer out of control. To confess is difficult yet wonderful.

Without prelude I slap your cheek. Not hard but the act itself is enough to shock you. Your head jerks up and you stare at me with wide glistening eyes.

Firmly I take your head and force it back down. My fingers play across the back of your ear as I ask you if you don’t really want to be a good boy, an obedient boy. You shiver. Not from cold, nor from fear. It is the thrill of your first taste of self-realization.

And so begins a long afternoon on the day I enslave you.