Dominatrix Diaries

Client 1.1 Peter the Pussy

Hmm, he is new to this. I can see it in his eyes; burning blue fear, anticipation, and most of all, the craving. The craving for something he's only ever dreamed of but never thought was possible until now. I will make his dreams reality; harsh, dark, but glorious reality.
He clears his throat, but fails to prevent his voice from cracking. "Hello Mistress Eden." He tries to meet my eyes and prove he is brave, but those who want pussy that bad are pussies themselves.
"Take your clothes off. Now," I command him. An unwavering voice can be absolutely terrifying. It works like a charm, the power is automatically in my gloved hands, not that it ever wasn't.
He strips down to his boxers shakily, stumbling over himself, hopping around like a fool to get his pants over his feet. Once he finishes, he crosses his arms across his chest (classic fear response), and looks at me expectantly.
Oh men, always expecting.
I stare him down for as long as possible before he breaks and looks at the floor. Submission, perfect.
"Get on the fucking floor, face down," my words are slow, steady, and he obeys.
I causally saunter over to my wall of tools, all black and gleaming with the promise of pleasure. The first item I grab is a strip of dark silk. This man needs to get out of his head, get out of this world. If he can't see his surroundings, he will be at my complete mercy.
My next items of choice are leather cuffs for both his hands and feet. Eventually we might work up to the point where he has enough self control to keep himself still on his own, but for now, he won't be able to contain his desires. To be honest, this poor man probably never will reach that point. All the more fun for me.
I reach for a second strip of silk and wad it up into a ball. Peter, as he said his name is, looks like a whiner if I've ever seen one. It's easier for me to concentrate when I don't have to listen to their blubbering.
"Oh, Eden!! Please don't stop that feels so good!" Yes I know it does and obviously I'm not going to stop we still have 20 more paid minutes left so shut up and let me do my damn job.
I make my way back over to Peter. I'm standing above him, my black heeled boots straddling his exposed body. In one swift motion, I bend down and grab a fistful of his hair, yanking his face off the velvet floor. He cries out in surprise, and maybe would have said something had I not shoved the ball of silk in his mouth. I expertly cover his eyes with the second piece of silk, knotting it as tightly as possible at the back of his head. He groans in protest against his gag, but I know he loves it. Pulling his arms behind his back, I cuff his wrists first and then his feet.
As a first timer, I will start with the standard procedure.
Whipping.
I select the most basic instrument; a comfortable slim grip with tassels of dark leather protruding from the handle.
My reflection from each of the three wall mirrors in the room looks like the emblem of power. Black patent knee high boots come up to my thighs, leaving the rest of my skin from there to my bodysuit exposed except for the thin mesh layer of my tights. A black choker circles my neck, the softness of the velvet contrasting with my otherwise harsh uniform.
I crack the whip against the ground, centimeters from Peter's blindfolded face. His entire body jumps in surprise and I smirk in triumph. Peter the pussy.
Teasingly, I drag the leather tassels down his back, feeling pleased with myself as he shudders uncontrollably.
"Have you been a good boy Peter?" I ask him sweetly. As he begins to mumble against the gag, I crack the whip against his back. Hard.
"Clearly you need to be taught a lesson," I circle him, heels clicking against the ground in slow torment. I grab him by the hair again, forcing his face up so my words hit him directly.
"You will be quiet. If I hear a single sound from you, I will make you very sorry. Understand?" His head bobs in my grip once, and I force his face back into the floor.
I drag the whip down the length of his body, neck to feet. His body shivers as I do, but he behaves and stays quiet.
I un-glove one hand and drag my sharpened pointer finger down his neck. The unexpected sensation causes Peter to moan. Immediately, I feel his body tense up in anticipation of my whip.
I crack the tassels against the floor and his tension releases. As soon as he's limp, I whip him again with more intensity than the first time. He makes more crude noises so I whip him once more.
I lean down so my mouth is inches from his ear. "What did I say about making noises?" He is silent, unsure of how to respond.
"What did I fucking say?" My voice raises, but it remains dangerously calm. Peter attempts to form a sentence, a useless attempt.
"Silence!" I command him, pressing my heeled boot into his back, just enough so the pain is there but the skin is left intact.
I lean down to his ear again and bite, watching his face contort as he fights off a whimper.
"Good boy." I roll him over so he's fully facing me and trace my finger tip from the base of his throat, lower, lower, past his naval, and stop above his boxers.
"What would you like me to do?" I use my sickly sweet voice again, taunting him. My lips hover above his stomach and he sucks in a breath. I circle my finger around his bellybutton, agonizingly slow, leaving light white marks against his skin. He can't help but groan again.
I strike fast, whipping square against his chest. "I warned you," I snarl, slapping his face against the ground. I yank his chin and make him face me before ripping off the blindfold.
His eyes are wide, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light, and to adjust to the sensation he just felt. I remove the gag and he coughs, licking his lips to savor the ability of moving his tongue again. To remove the cuffs, I roll him back over and he grunts. Play time is over though, so I don't punish him again.
I get up and place the tools I used in a basin in the corner of the room so they can be cleaned before my next client arrives.
When I turn back around, Peter is still lying on the floor watching me, speechless for once.
"You can leave now," I point to the door before replacing my glove. "If you enjoyed your experience, I will see you at your next session."
Without a word, Peter rises from the floor cautiously, tugging his clothes back on in several flustered movements.
He stumbles to the door and then pauses, just like they usually do. Facing me, his lips part as if he is about to say something, but he thinks better of it.
"You may speak now," I glare at him. His gulp is very noticeable.
"Thank you Mistress Eden," his words trip over themselves in the same way that he trips over his own feet.
I give him a curt nod of dismissal and he finally leaves.
Oh Peter, you have no idea what you're getting into.