A Visit to an S&M Club

I have no idea when, where or how it all started but I confess now that I thrill to submit to a truly dominant and strict woman. Over the years, I have been slave to many mistresses and as a younger man found myself in various cellars, garrets and dungeons of the ladies of London who place their business cards in phone boxes of our capital, and indeed in many other cities around the world. Those experiences however, mainly left me dissatisfied and disappointed as the promises and expectations were usually greater than the expertise of the ladies in question. I needed more. And then one day I found myself on a plane to Amsterdam.

I checked into a hotel and spent much of the evening wandering through the red light district, looking in the sex shops and browsing the S&M magazines which were so plentiful in those days before the internet. In one, I found what appeared to be exactly what I was looking for; a club in The Hague devoted to the needs and desires of people interested in S&M.

Anticipation is, of course, half the pleasure, and so, having set my mind on where I would go tomorrow, I took in some of the live shows, saw some videos, checked out the girls in the windows as they enticed men into their rooms with cheerful smiles and alluring lingerie until I was gently simmering with lust. I imagined going into one myself, where there was a magnificent South American lady dressed in PVC and leather, her room filled with ropes and chains, dildos and whips, and being ordered to strip completely naked for her to be bound and flogged. Ahhh, dreams.

I returned to my hotel and soaked in a long, hot bath wondering what it would be like the next day in this new club. I had noticed that most of the slaves in the videos and magazines that I had been looking at had shaved off their pubic hair and I decided to do this myself. I trimmed off the bulk of it with scissors and then took the razor and worked on the whole area. Before long, my poor old cock looked like a plucked goose and I wasn't sure how wise I had been, but it was gone now, completely bald and smooth and I hoped my future mistress would approve.

So here I stand at the door of the club. It looks promising, this solid black painted door, and with pounding heart I press the bell. A loud chime from within and shortly I hear the click of heels as someone approaches from inside. The door opens and I am invited to enter by a lovely looking young girl in her early twenties who is dressed in long black leather boots and a black leather g-string. Apart from that, she is quite naked with her breasts bouncing as she walks with me along the corridor. She asks me if I am seeking a mistress or a slave girl. "A mistress" I tell her, feeling sure she must be the slave girl and rather wishing I could spend some time with her too. I am led into a fair-sized room with several tables and a bar and I am told to sit while she goes to fetch a mistress. There is a stage in the room and on a TV behind the bar a video is playing. I recognize the room on the screen as the one I am sitting in and the picture shows a leather clad mistress caning a naked man who is chained upside down from the ceiling. Now I know I am in the right place! I just hope I can trust them to recognize a novice.

The mistress appears. She is of average height and dressed from head to foot in black leather. Black boots. Black trousers, tight around her thighs and buttocks; black jacket and I can detect a black leather bra under the jacket. She even has black hair and with her slightly oriental features, she is beautiful. She wears a leather choker around her throat and a stern look on her face. I stand up from my bar stool as she approaches to mark my respect for her and she sits on the stool beside me, indicating that I may sit too. We begin to talk, about my desires, fantasies and experiences so far. I tell her that I am unfulfilled in my need to be totally dominated; to be put into bondage, whipped and caned and generally abused by a woman who understands. I have no idea about my limits or pain threshold and no clear idea of everything that I would like to happen -- only that I would like her to teach me to accept painful punishment and to submit completely to her domination over me. She explains the terms of the club and we agree that a one-hour session in the dungeon would be a suitable start.

She takes me down some steep stairs to the cellar and opens the door to the fully equipped dungeon. The floor is tiled in black and white squares and the walls covered in mirrors and racks of instruments for slave training and punishment. Ropes, chains and leather thongs; whips, paddles, canes; leather garments, cuffs, metal clamps, dildos and a host of devices I couldn't imagine the use of. Wooden beams on the ceiling dripping with chains, ropes and pulleys; racks and benches placed across the floor. My heart is pounding again. Indeed, I have come to the right place -- I hope I am up to the challenge. My mistress informs me of her rules.

"You will strip completely naked and wash yourself thoroughly. You will never speak or make any noise unless specifically instructed to do so. You will refer to me only as 'Mistress' if you are ever allowed to speak. You will obey my every command fully and immediately. You will not try to resist anything I do to you. Do you understand so far, slave?"

"Yes." I tell her, "I understand you fully, Mistress."

"Good. If you fail to obey these simple instructions, you will be punished. I will punish you as severely as I see fit until I am satisfied. I shall take pleasure in finding fault in you, slave, as I can see that you are badly in need of training. And think about this -- you have come here to serve as a slave to a mistress because that is what you tell me you enjoy and that you wish her to inflict painful punishments on you. I am that mistress, and I come here to deliver pain because that is what I truly enjoy." Oh dear, am I in too deep here, I wonder to myself.

"I shall leave you to prepare yourself. When I return, you will be naked on your knees with your nose on the floor facing that wall there, opposite the door." She points to a mirrored wall and stalks out of the dungeon. "When I return, our session begins." And she leaves me shaking with apprehension, but I did tell her I am not well experienced. I also told her I wanted a strict mistress. Christ!

Quickly, I remove all of my clothes, fearful that she will return before I am ready for her. I wash myself at the sink and carefully dry myself with the towel. I look ruefully at my shaved pubis and my cock shriveled up with nerves. I don't hear her footsteps on the stairs so I take a closer look at the devices on the walls, wondering which she will use on me. Leather cords, whips, chains, clamps, lead weights ranging in size from small to huge, perhaps a kilo or more, dildos of all shapes and sizes, the smell of leather strong in the room and I begin to feel my cock responding to all this stimulus, the visual display of fantasy material. I hear her coming down the steps. I rush over to the place she had pointed out and get down on my knees, spreading them wide to allow me to more easily press my nose to the floor as ordered. I don't want to raise her wrath just yet.

Now I understand the position -- I can't see a thing, only the floor as I hear the door open and she crosses the tiles to stand behind me. "So, a naked slave on his knees. A slave who knows that he is to do exactly what he is told. Are you clean, slave?" It's a question -- I respond "Yes mistress" I whisper, my voice suddenly not working properly. "Louder!" she shouts. "Yes Mistress." And suddenly I feel a cold sensation at my anus. I realise how exposed it must be in this position. Pressure builds up as she pushes it harder, whatever it is. I try not to resist. It stops and she walks around to my face.

"Kiss the boot, slave." I look at her boot, soft black leather but with shiny steel caps on the toes. This is how she checks how well I washed; I have to lick my own anus by way of her steel capped boot! I kiss it. I lick it. I don't know when to stop and she says nothing so I continue to pay homage to her boot. She steps back and I take this as her order to stop.

"Kiss the boot, slave" and she takes another pace back. I shuffle after her but she keeps stepping away, taunting me in my failure to reach her, and therefore my failure to obey her order. "Stop!" she orders and I remain on my hands and knees before her. "Sit up." I raise myself up and find my face pushed against her leather clad crotch, breathe in and savour the scent of leather.

"Put these on, quickly slave." she orders and throws down leather cuffs for ankle and wrist. I quickly buckle them on. "Hands behind your back and stand up!" I am standing and she walks around me, inspecting my arms, buttocks, legs and finally takes hold of my penis with rubber gloved hands, pulling the foreskin back and squeezing gently. I feel my cock begin to fill with blood and she suddenly slaps it with her hand.

"Did I tell you to erect?" she storms at me.

"No, I'm sorry." I say.

"Mistress," she adds with menace in her voice. "You call me Mistress, slave." But it's too late now, I have made my first mistake.

She leads me to the centre of the room and attaches my wrist cuffs to chains suspended from the ceiling and turns the wheel of the pulley until my arms are spread to their fullest extent above me. I can see myself reflected in the mirror, racked and chained and naked, and behind me she is holding a long metal rod which she begins to clip to the cuffs on my ankles, spreading my legs as far apart as they will comfortably go. I am now a few inches off the floor and completely at her mercy. She takes a long thin leather cord and approaches my suspended body. I look down and watch as she begins to tie this cord around the base of my penis and balls. She pulls it tight, watching my face and smiles as she sees my reaction. My cock begins immediately to swell and she begins to expertly bind my balls and the length of my cock, finishing with a tight knot on the sensitive tip. I let out a gasp which brings a grin to her face.

"I haven't even started on you, slave, and already you have earned yourself four strokes of the cane for your poor behavior." She walks across the dungeon floor to a wall covered in strange instruments and returns with an armful of these which she lays out on a bench for me to see.

"Nipple clamps!" she announces, reaching out to take each nipple in turn between thumb and forefinger, pinching and twisting them painfully. I manage to keep calm as she attaches the clamps to my hard nipples. Smiling silently, she then takes some medium sized weights and adds them to each clamp, pulling my nipples and stretching them painfully. The pain is intense, but I try to stay quiet. "Plastic clips for the scrotum!" she informs me next, and clips at least eight of them where the skin is not too tight from the cords. "And now a ball gag, to prevent you from using the safe word, slave." I open my mouth obediently and she inserts the ball between my teeth and affixes the device with leather straps buckled behind my head. I feel a drop of sweat roll down my side as I view the next item she obviously intends to use on me.

"I am going to cane you now, slave." she informs me, with menace in her voice. She shows me her cane, long and thin and disappears behind me. I follow her with my eyes. "Face forward, slave!" she shouts sternly, "two extra strokes for that!" She flexes her wrists and I hear the cane slicing through the air, backwards and forwards. Then I feel it resting gently on my naked buttocks as she steadies herself to commence the punishment. crack! Not too hard, not too loud. Then another, and another and another. "Ah, okay, I can handle this." I think to myself. "Now, my slave, we will begin!" she says to my astonishment. Those were just a warm up for her to get her eye in.

Then indeed it began; whistle -- crack! A hard one. I jerk forward, as much as is possible considering I am suspended from the ceiling. It stings. A second stroke lands and has me jerking again with the pain. A third, fourth and fifth equally hard. I am mewing with pain. And the sixth harder yet. I am sweating now and my arms are aching as well as my ass. I am gasping into the gag.

"Good, slave. No complaints from you then. Not too hard, were they? But don't worry, that was just a brief introduction of what more is to come. I'm sure that's what you want, isn't it?" I try to please her by nodding my head in agreement.

"Then why all the useless noise, slave? I think you want me to give you three more like the last one. Nod if you agree."

What could I do? I nodded. CRACK! Oh god, that's sore. CRACK! That too. "Aaaarg! I bellow through the gag, in self-pity more than expecting mercy from this cruel dominatrix. The last one is always the worst, or best. CRACK!! The stroke was hard, but not as hard as my cock. She notices this and putting the cane down comes around and slides her fingers over my cock. Delicious thrill, burning pain in the ass and gentle fingers on my cock. She removes the clips from my scrotum and unties the cord, allowing the blood to flow again. I hang there as I feel my cock begin to wilt.

"Shaved, slave? Did I order you to shave? You know that shaved cocks get tortured, don't you slave?" She went to the pulley and lowered me enough to let me stand again. She removes the nipple clamps. Oh lord, it hurts more than keeping them on! "So, now I must torture your penis, slave. That will be nice, won't it?" she asked sweetly. With the gag in my mouth I was unable to do anything other than nod my agreement. Off she goes to another part of the dungeon to return with more equipment to use on me.

The first is a blindfold, and now I cannot see. She removes the leg spreader and lowers my arms to shoulder height. "Lift your right leg -- now your left one" I obey and feel her pulling something up my legs. She takes hold of my now recovered cock and pulls it through a metal ring. I feel a kind of pouch covering my balls, soft leather by the feel of it, but as she pulls it on tighter I feel little stabbing prickles. She draws it tighter and I realise she is fitting me with a spiked ball bag with my cock sticking out through a metal ring like a weird g-string. Almost immediately my cock grows to full erection causing the spikes to dig into my scrotum more deeply. She squeezes my balls gently with her gloved hand.

"I see this excites you greatly, slave. You enjoy your helplessness; you like me giving you pain. Me giving you pain gives you pleasure, and it gives me pleasure too. Now I am going to give us even more pleasure, slave. Do you agree that I should? That I must?" She knows her business.

There is nothing I want more right now than to submit further to her. I nod vigorously. "hahaha" she laughs. "You won't be disappointed, then." She removes the blindfold and I see her smiling beside me. I see myself reflected in the mirror, naked, in chains, with a raging erection above a leather pouch. In her hands more small plastic clips like clothes pegs. These she begins to clamp around the ridge of my cock head, about eight of them but she still has two more. These are for clipping into the opening of my cock, clamping the urethra on both sides. "Don't worry, they won't be there very long, slave." She reassured me, and then went off to the far side of the dungeon. She slowly took a long drink from a large glass of water while I stood suffering the pain of the clips. When she returned, she had a small whip in her hand. "I will now remove the pegs." She told me and started to whip my cock. With each swipe of the whip, clips came flying off my cock causing blessed relief from the clips being no longer there replaced by frightful pain of the whip and the snapping of the clips from my cock.

She brings a large candle which has been lit throughout the session and starts to drip the wax onto my cock. I look down and see my poor bald cock being covered in red wax. I am now glad I have no hair for that to harden into. My cock deflates in protest at the treatment and she puts the candle down.

"More torture, slave, or would you prefer to be whipped, paddled and caned?" she asks sweetly. She removes the gag and commands me to beg her for my chosen treatment. Imagining this could be a crafty trap, I tell her that it is not the slave's decision to make. If she tells me what she would like to do, I will beg her to do it.

"Good slave!" she agrees, "then beg me for a beating. Beg me to use whip, crop, paddle, tawse and cane on you. After I have secured you over the whipping horse, I will inform you of the number of strokes from each you are to receive. Make sure you beg me well, or it will be the worse for you!"

Now I see the trap. If I don't ask for a hard thrashing, I will be punished. If I do ask for a hard thrashing, I am sure to get one and will only have myself to blame if she turns my buttocks black and blue for a week. A delicious 'the slave cannot win' scenario! What can I say to her? I have never before found myself in such a predicament. But what am I here for anyway?

"Please Mistress, I beg you to give me a whipping. I have disobeyed you and I deserve to be punished." I croak. Silence for a moment.

"Continue!" she instructed with menace in her voice.

"I am sure you are very disappointed in me Mistress, and I humbly admit that I want you to discipline me for being so foolish. I want to submit to your dominance and to suffer at your hands. Please whip me until you are satisfied that I have learned my lesson." I concluded.

"Not good enough, slave!" she announced tersely. "I gave you a second chance and you wasted it. You will indeed suffer for your failure to impress me, more than I had originally decided upon."

At this, she led me to a strange type of whipping bench where I knelt on the padded leg rests and bent over the raised surface at my waist. My cock seemed to fit through a hole in the structure specially designed for that purpose, and as I leaned forward, more holes for my nipples so that they were exposed from below. I stretched out my arms to hold onto a bar at the end with my hands. Now my face peers through yet another hole, like a massage table, and a mirror below the bench reflects my image back at me. I can see my face, nipples and cock poking through the holes so cleverly designed into the whipping bench. My mistress secured me in position with leather straps holding my ankles, thighs, waist and chest. She clipped my wrist cuffs to the bar I was holding and invited me to attempt to escape. I couldn't. Crafty mistress! She wanted me to fully appreciate the trouble I am in, and the impossibility now of my avoiding the beating I had begged for and was now to receive. I was in no doubt about that, and nor was my erection which started to pump in rhythm with my pulse which increased in pace as she passed sentence on me.

"As I informed you, slave, I intend to beat you with whips, riding crop, paddle and tawse, after which I shall cane you again. I had thought that a dozen strikes from each instrument would suffice, but following your poor attempt to please me, I am going to double your punishment."

Oh, god. Twenty-four hits from four instruments of punishment, and then the cane? That's well over a hundred strokes. I'm going to have to stand on the train, all the way back to Amsterdam, I thought to myself.

"To add to your pleasure and mine," she continued, "I am going to insert a dildo into your ass for the duration of your punishment. Won't that be nice, slave?" she asked sweetly.

Oh, god again. I'm in no position to tell her no. There's nothing I can do but agree with her. "Thank you Mistress. Please fuck my ass with your dildo."

A hand appeared under the table, holding a rubber dildo. It was black, covered in a condom and about the size of my own cock. She tells me to suck it, pushing it into my mouth. I cover it with as much saliva as I can, hoping she will add more lubrication than that, but not knowing if she will. She removes it from my mouth and I feel a finger playing with my anus. Slowly it enters and slides in and out a few times. It feels good.