Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story Read online

  Now that our initial interview is over, I alone will decide what will happen to your body and your mind over the next hour… or two… or three. Your treatment may require a visit to my medical chambers, my suspension room, or my cells. In each of these rooms you will usually be kept in the strictest of bondage, restrained by ropes, or chains, or trapped within the confines of a leather strait jacket or one of my many rubber body-bags wrapped snugly around your body. The choice of material is yours, the severity and duration of the bondage will be mine. Depending on your desires, you may or may not be in pain; some clients crave the bite of my nipple clamps, the sting of my whip or the dull ache of excited confinement within a tight metal chastity belt. Others prefer a gentler experience, the floating feeling of being suspended from my body board as it is winched effortlessly into the air, the claustrophobic touch of a leather mask strapped tightly across the face, or the incessant throb of an electric butt-plug inserted into their rear.

  Whatever your torment of choice, your role is now simplicity itself: you will obey instantly my every command and suffer or be pleasured precisely as I, and I alone, may wish. Our time for talking is over – indeed this is often a good moment for me to introduce a gag and pump it up sufficiently to ensure your silent acquiescence in our game. You are now at the mercy of my creative skills, my long experience in the dark arts of domination and my skilled and caring hands. Many players use the expression ‘power exchange’ to describe the experience and, although it is not a term I use often, it does sum up what has occurred between us. You have given me absolute power over your body and mind. I have accepted it. Let us explore together how corrupting that can be.

  There are distinct differences between the way that men and women react when I share such details about what I do for a living. Men are often overcome with shyness, have no idea what to say to me and rapidly descend into a tongue-tied mumble of confusion. They may come up with the stock question for all workers in the ‘adult’ industry: ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a job like this?’ By contrast, women are usually overcome with curiosity from the start. ‘What do you actually do?’ they ask. ‘Do you tie people up? Spank their bottoms? Whip their backsides?’ Or, as one of my relatives once famously asked: ‘Do you really touch men’s willies?’ as though doing such a thing would never have occurred to her in a million years.

  The answer of course is ‘all of the above’ – and much, much more – albeit with the ever-present health protection of an endless supply of medical-grade latex gloves. Within my chambers you can be prodded and probed, exposed and explored, bound and beaten. Far more important than any of the physical contact, however, is the psychological impact I have on the minds of my male and female clients. I pride myself on taking submissive men and women on private journeys to explore areas of their sexuality where fantasy rules… and pain and pleasure intermingle. I can give you an idea of what happens in my sessions with recent, real-life examples of the games that I play: firstly with one of my regular male clients, secondly with a girl who visits sporadically when she feels a need to be dominated by another woman, and lastly with a couple who regularly experience the delights of my chambers together.

  CHAPTER 3

  THOSE WHO PLAY TOGETHER… STAY TOGETHER

  Picking a random man to best represent my customer base proved harder than I’d imagined. Looking back on recent sessions, I realised that sexual tastes, individual perversions and everyone’s experience with BDSM activities vary so widely that it’s hard to settle on any ‘average’ client. In the end I opted for Colin, obviously a pseudonym (as are all the names of clients in this book), but a real man who worked in the legal profession, as do quite a few of my clients. What is it about working as a lawyer that predisposes one to be submissive?

  Colin is intelligent, educated, good company, well-travelled and comparatively wealthy. He is in his mid-fifties, married with grown-up children, and although I have, of course, never mixed with him in normal society, I do not doubt for a moment that he is a pillar of his local community. He also adores the feel, the scent and the texture of rubber against his naked skin. He has described his need to me on many occasions over the years: ‘I start to think about rubber, how it feels and smells and then begin to imagine what we did on the last occasion I saw you. I play each session back in my mind, sometimes masturbating to the memory of being covered in a rubber bag or a sheet and playing in my mind with the sensations I felt at that time. I don’t feel ashamed of wanting this but it is not something that I could ever share with anyone at all – and certainly not with my wife. I don’t think she’d understand but, even if she did, it’s not something I could share with her. Eventually, even though I have tried not to see you so often, I can’t resist picking up the phone and calling your number. Then the anticipation builds to fever pitch as the day of my appointment gets closer.’

  Colin appears on my bookings list with great regularity, once a month or so, when his desire for latex encasement and a certain level of discipline begins to overwhelm his senses. In the immediate aftermath of a lengthy rubber session with me he is content to resume normal life and normal ‘vanilla’ sex with his partner… for a while. Then, rather like a reformed smoker requiring a nicotine fix, he feels the need to turn up once again at my door. Like many of my clients, Colin has no real idea as to why he enjoys his particular fetish. Examining his childhood reveals no credible clues to explain his desires, and he has no real interest in finding out more. He has the money, the freedom and the inclination to explore his deepest desires with me and feels comfortable about doing just that. His sessions tend to follow a set pattern, although I strive to introduce a new element into the scene on every visit. The insertion of a ‘wild card’ moment into the mix keeps the games fresh and, more importantly, safeguards me against the danger of boredom. I love my job and I love the way I can enhance each person’s desires by adding in activities or fantasies pulled from my own imagination. Without that element of creativity, my role would be mechanical and repetitive; it is my sexual imagination that makes it exciting, rewarding and fun.

  For a typical session, Colin will strip naked and dress in some of the vast selection of rubber clothes that hang in my dungeon’s wardrobes. Elbow-high rubber gloves, full-length rubber stockings, a tight-fitting but open-face rubber hood, a rubber jerkin, and possibly rubber chaps covering his lower limbs but leaving both his backside and genitalia exposed and available. Depending on my own mood I may leave him to dress himself, or fuss around him, dictating exactly what I want him to wear, whether he likes it or not. It’s fascinating to see his manner change as each rubber layer is applied. Before my eyes, Colin changes from a confident and slightly brash solicitor to a humble and obedient slave, desperate to obey my every instruction. There’s no need for shouting or harsh words with him, his desperation to please me binds him to my will.

  By now, Colin’s hands have been secured out of the way; he’s encased in latex and enjoying every moment of the scene. But I am not called The Bondage Mistress for nothing. His rubber experience has barely just begun. I’ve already chosen a second hood to go over his head. My selection ranges from terrifying, heavy rubber bags with the smallest of air-holes, through to numerous gas masks and hoods. My current favourite is an elaborate German design in which air may only be drawn in through multiple tubes attached to a ‘smell-bag’ container strapped to Colin’s chest. The smell-bag does just what it says on the tin – scented items of any description can be placed in the bag to swamp the wearer with the chosen aroma. The contents are limited only by my imagination, although it may not surprise you to know that my worn, rubber thongs are a particular delight for many of my slaves. Depending on the design of hood which I’ve chosen I might then add a rubber pump-up gag with a breathing tube, a tightly restricting collar and even a rubber blindfold.

  In Colin’s case, even such an extreme outfit is rarely enough. He needs strapping down to my medical bench and tucking up tight with one or more heavy rubb
er blankets around his head and body. Only when every inch of his body is pressed down under multiple layers of latex will I consider offering some form of sexual relief. I’ll sometimes attach him to my ‘milking’ machine, a converted agricultural unit once employed on milking Friesians but now capable of masturbating and sucking up to four slaves at once. It rarely takes Colin long to achieve the desired result if I decide that his good behaviour has earned him an orgasm.

  By contrast with my difficulties in choosing an average man, an easy choice presents itself when it comes to couples. I love playing with couples; they are always such good fun. Sometimes, if they are living and playing together as a couple in real life, they bring their own equipment which will always excite me. As an equipment and sexual gadget junkie, I adore anything new I can get my hands on: ‘Oh please let me have a go.’ On occasions, both partners are submissive and then I can have the titillation of linking them together in bondage.

  Jonathon and Elaine are an unlikely pairing who really know how to party. Both married, but not to each other, they met on a BDSM internet website and come together only for sex and domination games. Both cheating on their straight-sex partners, they are the perfect example of the way in which the internet and a desire for ‘unusual’ sex can connect people who would otherwise never have met. Today’s more public face of BDSM is perhaps the reason why more and more couples now visit my chambers together. I’ve always had a preponderance of male clients, although lone women are far from unknown. Now there’s a noticeable trend towards the idea that ‘couples who play together stay together’.

  Elaine is a charming, flirtatious, highly submissive young lady; Jonathon, 20 years older, is equally charming and switches between the roles of dominant and submissive with consummate ease. I sometimes session with Jonathon on his own but Elaine only visits West London Towers in Jonathan’s company. I described her above as submissive but that’s not quite correct; she is a confirmed masochist who sometimes refuses to submit at all. She can be defiant and cheeky in order to goad Jonathon and me into increasing the severity of whichever punishment she is suffering at the time.

  On one visit, Jonathon tied Elaine, naked, to the medical bench and spread her legs apart in the gynaecological stirrups. Her blindfold prevented her from seeing who might be touching her or what might happen to her next. As arranged with Jonathon, I left him to play with her for a while but then slipped silently into the room to run my rubber-gloved hands across her helpless body. I could see she was desperately trying to work out what was happening as two hands started caressing her nipples and a further two hands delved between her legs. The hands pinching her nipples were Jonathon’s; the hands stroking her clitoris were mine. Now I should perhaps say here that I am completely heterosexual in my private life. I can appreciate when a woman is attractive, but I am not attracted myself. In my own wildest fantasies I am always surrounded by men – preferably about a dozen of them all playing with me at any one time – but I have no problems in dominating women if it enhances the fun of couples who are paying for my time.

  On this occasion though, Elaine was not there to be lovingly caressed; she was seeking pain and discomfort and that’s something I’m always happy to provide. She had never experienced needle-play – something of a speciality of mine – and I wanted to introduce her to those new sensations. Before inserting the finest of needles, scrupulously sterile and obtained from a leading medical equipment supplier, I cleaned her breasts with alcohol swabs. Elaine’s blindfold had by then already been removed so that she might fully anticipate what was about to happen; as always, it is the prospect of pain, more than the pain itself, which starts the adrenaline pumping. With fingers clad in surgeons’ latex gloves I carefully inserted a needle on either side of each nipple. She winced and whimpered as each point broke the skin but was clearly enjoying both the pain and the sight of her nipples now interlaced with the gleam of metal pins. My final task was to push the needle tips into two small corks; I would hate any of my clients, or me, to jab themselves unnecessarily.

  Seeking to bring the couple’s session to a suitably climatic end, I donned one of my biggest strap-on cocks and positioned myself between Elaine’s thighs. Jonathon had readied his video camera to record the abuse I was about to inflict on his partner. I have an enormous variety of rubber, plastic, and even metal dildos available to use on either men or women. Some are rock hard plastic, some are made of softer rubber and quite a few of them vibrate. They all fit interchangeably into a custom-made leather and elasticised strap harness which sits securely around my waist and thighs to give me a faux erection of which any man would be proud. This ever-ready penis collection comes in a variety of colours, although that never seems to be of much importance to male clients – perhaps because they are often blindfolded or because I am usually standing behind them when I put them to use. Women, however, seem to care far more about the visual impact of a scene and so it was for Elaine’s benefit that I was that evening wearing a particularly fetching pink cock which I knew would stretch her to her limits.

  I took my time ensuring that the dildo sat securely in my harness and then took even longer ostentatiously lubricating the tip and the shaft of the erect member in order to increase the theatricality of the occasion. So much of what I do in my sessions is, in reality, pure theatre; a carefully choreographed performance designed to heighten my clients’ sexual desire and therefore their subsequent pleasure. It’s never enough so simply spank, or crop or cane a man’s behind for example; far better to render him helpless, warm his rear with some stylishly delivered slaps from my hand and then allow him to watch as I take my time in selecting the next implement from a hook on the wall. I’ll be chatting to him or just to myself throughout the process: ‘Hmm… now let me see, this crop might be good… or perhaps this one… it’s a little whippier and more painful… which is just what you need.’ Performing like an actress on stage is, of course, also the reason why I have wardrobes full of exotic and erotic rubber and leather uniforms, along with racks of thigh-high boots and stiletto-heeled shoes. All are needed for the constant costume changes required to keep the Miranda Show up and running: numerous performances a week, and matinee appearances on demand.

  However, returning to my couple’s story, I could hear Jonathan’s breathing grow heavier and see that his excitement levels were visibly burgeoning as I readied Elaine for penetration. He was having trouble holding his camera steady as I gently eased my faux-cock between her outer vulva lips and pushed in to the hilt. After an hour of steadily increasing pain and discomfort, Elaine was more than ready to receive me. Like all true masochists, her excitement increases with each step up her personal pain ladder as a session progresses. Her pain is no less unpleasant than it would be to you or to me, but, for her, the sensation of pain translates into sexual pleasure. To increase her fun further I pressed a vibrator against the hood of her clitoris and told Jonathon to lightly touch the needles piercing each of her areola. It was a combination of pain and pleasure which I knew Elaine would be unable to resist: in due course, she proved me right.

  Her climax – which, although I say it myself, was a rather spectacular example of my work – left one person in the room still frustrated and desperate for relief. Poor Jonathan was begging for one of us girls to lend him a hand. Elaine, who clearly was used to doing his bidding, duly reached out and started to stroke him. My urgent command stopped her in her tracks: ‘No… Elaine, don’t touch. He hasn’t earned any pleasure… and he is not getting a climax tonight.’ A look of desperation crossed Jonathan’s face but he knows better than to argue with his Mistress once a decision has been made. I’m amazed that women don’t always appreciate the power of sometimes leaving a man frustrated and desperate to ejaculate. They may get a little sulky and stomp around for a bit but that mood passes, leaving them compliant and attentive enough to make any woman happy.

  Having dealt with ‘typical’ male and couples clients, that leaves one other category unaccounted for –
the single women who occasionally fall into my hands (ignoring for a moment the many men who come to me seeking to be made-up and dressed as a woman). Women do add a spice of variety to life but I can’t deny that they can be hard work. Perhaps it’s because I am a heterosexual woman that I find pleasuring a man to be a relatively simple affair. A few rapid strokes, a little verbal erotica to get his heart racing and voila: a climax is almost guaranteed. Much of the time one doesn’t even need a full erection; what could possibly be easier? Women, on the other hand, exhibit a bewildering multitude of variations when it comes to exciting their ladyparts. In my professional life I’ve tried every possible method of bringing a woman to orgasm. I’ve employed my latex-gloved fingers, a mixture of pain and pleasure, erotic stories, penetration at every possible depth and speed, my variable-speed fucking machine, the tongues of my willing male slaves, and vibrators of every shape and size. Some women do come easily, over and over again, while others struggle to reach that moment at all, despite hours of patient work by their partners. No one method guarantees success and it is only when a woman tries giving another woman an orgasm that she appreciates the problems men face throughout their lives.

  However, one female client fortunately proved to have no difficulty whatsoever in finding sexual satisfaction at my hands. Lorraine is a professional lap-dancer and television adult-channel performer with a body to die for. A genuine submissive and masochist, she likes me to push her limits a little further with each visit. I adore variety above all else in my sexual games and Lorraine gives me ample chance to employ a little-used technique to give her the pain she desires. She is a particular fan of bastinado, the ancient torture of caning the soles of the feet. Her tolerance for the pain this produces is astonishingly high, as one of my male slaves learned to his cost. He should never have agreed to take part in a filmed foot-caning contest between himself and Lorraine.