Member-only story
The second part of the story of my switchy adventures in BDSM
I secured the straps of the spanking bench and pinched his alabaster white bum cheeks. He was helpless. He was mine, at least until he used the safe word, which I didn’t think he would, or until my caning arm ached, which it wouldn’t (the limits of my arms just about match his pain threshold!) or until I get bored with him. And that I may well do, submissive men can be very boring, with their whingeing and whining and tedious entitlement. That is, until they have been trained.
I have learnt a lot recently and had a lot of time to think and reflect. In my new other life as a fem sub I have really appreciated the pleasures of more sensual domination. However I am, in the depths of my being, a sadist. There was a time when I wasn’t comfortable with this but I have learnt to live with it, savour it, enjoy it. Hurting people excites me, the look of fear and anguish in their faces turns me on. I have now learned how to be a sensual sadist.
I climbed onto the bench and lay on top of my victim. I ground against him. Letting him feel my latex, and the warmth of my body against his skin. I kissed the nape of his neck and he shuddered with pleasure. I crept forward and he shuddered again.
I kissed his ear and nibbled the lobe. I breathed out, letting him feel the warmth in…
