Is your fantasty taking a beating and embracing your inner submissive? Have a read of this story. Whether you’re into BDSM or just looking to explore new kinks, being dominated by a powerful woman can be both exhilarating and intimidating.
You might find yourself pushing your limits, both physically and mentally, as you submit to her every whim and desire.
But at the end of the day, you’ll emerge stronger and more confident, knowing that you can handle whatever life throws your way.
Taking A Beating
After a good night’s sleep he started to come around. As she looked to him she smiled and looked at the wilted body, bruised and battered soul on the bed thinking back to yesterday’s session.
She realised it was intense and finished putting on her gear. Many months of training both physically and mentally made her slave able to handle any of her cold hearted and blazing whippings.
Through gritted teeth he would sometimes cry out but these were only slip ups in an otherwise controlled environment and he learnt his lessons fast.
She smiled even further remembering that the whippings and beatings became more intense. Sometimes she would increase the duration of the whippings just to spite him for slipping up.
Looking the Part – Taking a Beating
Straightening the leather bands that held up her thigh high boots she gave the final tug making herself look all the part as mistress.
Looking at the full length mirror she was more than satisfied with the way she looked. Her breasts protruding from the tight Brasier. Cleavage popping out from the middle and from between those luscious breasts hung a single key.
Her make-up was garish and the lipstick bright red, her dark eyes were accentuated by the mascara and eyeliner she used. Hair was tied into a ponytail, which was long and sleek hanging from her back.
Time to wake up the slave
She went to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed. He must have heard her or felt her and began to Stir. His legs and arms tied spread eagle and he naked on the mattress with a blindfold on.
She took a moment to look at him and admire how helpless and pathetic he looked. It was then that she realised the ties she had used were nylon and had burnt red welts into his wrists and ankles. She thought for a moment trying to jog a memory how should make such a clumsy mistake.
“Good morning slave it’s time to get up’, she said.
As she spoke it was obvious that he was terrified.
He struggled against the ropes but to no avail. The shiny metal chastity cage that covered his penis had droplets of blood each side. The camasutra chasity cage with spikes have done it’s job.
It turned her on that just her mere physical presence could inflict such urgent physical and mental turmoil to her slave. Her voice and presence commanded it. It also meant that he realised but he will be sexually denied for the duration of their relationship.
‘Mistress’ he whimpered.
She said. ‘I trust that you have enjoyed sufficient physical pain. You must know by now but it pleases me to make you suffer. I’m proud of you for enduring this.’
Both he and she realised that she was a cruel mistress.
Experience had taught him that he should never show abundant joy or pain. When he showed Joy she found an easy way to take it away and when you show pain she inflicted more.
His whole body stiffened when he felt her loosening the ankle restraints.
Praise was rare from this cruel mistress and he wondered what more was in store for him. After she had undone those ankle restraints she went to his face and removed the blindfold.
As he opened his eyes he saw her leaning over him. He looked up sheepishly and saw her cleavage and the key but couldn’t find the chastity device. So, he reacted by pulling on the ropes about his wrists.
She giggled and said, ‘Don’t worry I’ve got something special for you.’
Taking a Beating – A Very Special Surprise
No sooner had she said this and the door to the bedroom opened and muscular statuesque woman Amazonian Proportions entered the room. ‘Have you met my friend Lisa’, she asked.
The Ebony skin on Lisa like she have rubbed olive oil over her body. She was wearing a g-string and no bra and her 38dd bust what’s solid full stop the muscles in her legs would you find and almost bodybuilder like.
In one hand she held a whip and in the other a paddle.
Before you think of what was going to happen he heard and saw simultaneously her crack the whip as she Cast It to the Ground.
Lisa laughed as she approached the bed and said, “So this is the half-man you want me to make mincemeat of?”
Lisa Takes Control
The door clicked open, and Lisa’s imposing frame moved further into the room. She was everything a submissive could fear and worship in equal measure—her Amazonian proportions towered over the bed. Muscular yet graceful, her ebony skin seemed to glow as though kissed by moonlight. The faint scent of cocoa butter and leather followed her into the air, wrapping itself around the room like a second presence.
The slave dared to turn his head slightly toward the sound of her approaching steps, but his motion was quickly halted. His wrists still tugged helplessly against the nylon bonds, the burning sensation from the welts reminding him of his predicament. He bit his lip to stifle his breathing, which had quickened instinctively as Lisa’s shadow fell across him.
“Well,” Lisa’s voice rang out, smooth but dripping with playful malice. “This is the half-man you spoke of? Doesn’t look like much to me.” She turned her head toward the mistress, a sly smile playing across her lips.
The mistress sat at the edge of the bed, her body relaxed but her eyes sharp with control. “He’s capable of taking more than you think, Lisa. I trust you’ll enjoy testing that theory,” she replied, running a single nail slowly down his arm for emphasis.
Lisa stepped closer, the whip in one hand slithering across the floor like a coiled serpent. Her other hand rested on the paddle, fingers tapping it rhythmically as though plotting a beat. “Oh, I always enjoy my work,” she replied with a grin. Her eyes flicked over the slave, appraising him as though he were less than human—her canvas, a thing to mold, bruise, and punish.
The slave whimpered softly, though he tried to hide it. He knew weakness only delighted them. The mistress raised an eyebrow and leaned close to his ear. “You’re not trembling already, are you, slave? We’re only just getting started.”
Testing the Limits
Lisa wasted no time. She placed the paddle gently on the edge of the bed and cracked the whip lightly against the air. The sharp snap echoed through the room like a gunshot, making the slave’s body stiffen involuntarily. His skin, already tender from the previous day’s session, seemed to scream in anticipation.
“Oh, he flinched,” Lisa teased, turning to the mistress. “I thought you said he was well-trained?”
The mistress chuckled and shrugged. “He’s obedient, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t weak. That’s where you come in.”
Lisa circled the bed slowly, like a predator stalking prey. The slave couldn’t see her, but the sound of her boots against the floorboards was enough to send chills down his spine. Suddenly, he felt it—her fingertips grazing along his bruised ribs, tracing each welt. She was toying with him, feeding off his anxiety.
“Such a delicate thing,” she purred mockingly. “But I think you can take more, can’t you?” Before he could react, the whip struck—just once, sharp and fast across his thigh. The pain bloomed instantly, a hot line that sent him jolting against his restraints.
He gasped but bit his tongue, refusing to give her the satisfaction of hearing a cry.
Lisa smirked, clearly entertained by his stubbornness. “Oh, you are trying so hard to behave. I love a challenge.”
She struck again, this time across his chest. Each hit was deliberate, spaced just enough apart for him to register the full weight of the pain before the next landed. The mistress watched from the side, her eyes never leaving the spectacle.
“Remember, slave,” she called out softly, “I don’t allow you to hide your pain from me. I want to hear you. Don’t disappoint me.”
Lisa delivered another blow, this one harder, her whip leaving a bright red mark across his already bruised skin. He couldn’t help it—a small cry escaped his lips. Lisa laughed, delighted.
“There it is. You’ll be singing for me in no time,” she said, her tone dripping with satisfaction. She leaned over him slightly, the whip brushing his cheek as if to remind him who held the power. “You can’t escape me, slave. I will find every weak spot you have, and I’ll exploit it.”
He lay there, his body writhing but helpless, as Lisa continued. The rhythm of the strikes, the sound of leather meeting skin, the occasional verbal taunts—it was all too much and yet somehow not enough. Through the haze of pain, he caught glimpses of the mistress, her satisfied expression telling him she was pleased. That knowledge alone kept him holding on, refusing to fully break under Lisa’s merciless attention.
The Mistress Watches
The mistress moved back slightly, settling into her chair across the room. She crossed her legs elegantly, her thigh-high boots gleaming under the soft light. From her position, she could see everything—Lisa’s measured movements, the whip cracking through the air, and the slave’s increasingly desperate reactions.
This was exactly what she had envisioned when she invited Lisa into her world. The contrast between Lisa’s powerful presence and the slave’s pathetic submission made for a delicious scene. The mistress smiled faintly, the corners of her crimson lips curling upward as she leaned forward just a little to get a better view.
“You’re quite lucky, slave,” the mistress called out, her voice dripping with mock sweetness. “Lisa doesn’t get to play with everyone. I arranged this just for you.”
Her words stung as much as the whip, reinforcing his helplessness. The slave’s face turned slightly toward her voice, searching for any sign of mercy. There was none. Only the satisfied glint in her eyes, which seemed to pierce straight through him.
Lisa paused for a moment, running the whip slowly along the slave’s body, trailing over his already red, welted skin. “Are you ready to thank your mistress for this generous gift?” Lisa taunted.
The slave’s throat tightened. He struggled to find his voice, his breaths shallow and uneven. “Thank you, Mistress,” he croaked softly.
The mistress’s laugh was low and approving. “Good boy. Now, do make sure you endure properly for Lisa. She’s not done with you yet.”
Lisa grinned wickedly at the exchange, her confidence unwavering. She picked up the paddle next, running her thumb along its smooth edge as if considering her next move.
“This little one still has so much to learn,” Lisa murmured, more to herself than anyone else. She raised the paddle high and brought it down with a loud thwack against the slave’s thigh. His body jerked in response, his muscles tightening uncontrollably.
“Don’t fight it,” Lisa said softly, her voice teasing but firm. “You know you want to surrender.”
From her seat, the mistress nodded approvingly. She watched as Lisa worked methodically, switching between the whip and paddle, taking her time to make every strike land with precision. The room was filled with the sounds of leather meeting flesh, the slave’s muted cries, and the occasional low laughter from the two women who controlled his fate.
For the mistress, this was art. She didn’t need to lift a finger. Watching Lisa push the slave to his limits brought her just as much satisfaction as delivering the punishments herself. The power she held over both of them, the orchestrator of the entire scene, was intoxicating.
A Lesson in Control
Lisa’s strikes became slower but heavier, as if she were testing how much the slave could endure. The paddle landed firmly against his chest, sending a sharp wave of pain rippling through his body. He gritted his teeth, determined not to cry out again.
“Still holding back?” Lisa asked, her eyebrow raised as she circled the bed. She crouched beside him, her face mere inches from his. “You’re tougher than I expected. But let’s see how long that lasts.”
The slave’s breathing was ragged now, his body damp with sweat. His wrists strained against the nylon ropes as if his muscles had forgotten that escape was impossible. Lisa stood back up and delivered a rapid series of strikes—each one calculated, each one landing where it would hurt the most.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
His body finally gave in, a raw cry escaping his lips. The sound was muffled, more a gasp of defeat than a scream, but it was enough to make Lisa smile with triumph.
“That’s better,” she said softly, brushing the paddle against his cheek in a mock caress. “It’s not so bad when you stop fighting, is it?”
The mistress chose that moment to step forward again. She moved slowly, deliberately, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She leaned over the bed and ran a single finger down the side of his face, her touch a sharp contrast to the rough treatment he’d just endured.
“You’re learning, slave,” she whispered. “Control isn’t just about how much you can resist. It’s about knowing when to let go.”
Her words lingered in his mind, sinking deeper than the pain. He understood her message clearly. There was no escape, no fighting back. His submission was not just expected—it was inevitable.
Lisa, clearly satisfied with his progress, stepped back and rested her whip against the bedpost. She folded her arms and turned to the mistress with an amused expression. “You weren’t kidding. He is a stubborn one,” she said.
The mistress nodded, her lips curving into a smirk. “That’s why I keep him around. He’s a slow learner, but he always comes around eventually.”
The slave lay there, his body limp against the mattress. The pain was still fresh, the bruises already beginning to form, but his mind was quieter now. Somewhere in the back of his thoughts, a strange sense of pride flickered. He had endured. He had pleased them—at least for now.
The mistress leaned closer to his ear again, her voice low and dangerous. “Don’t think this is over, slave. Lisa and I still have so much more planned for you.”
Her words sent a shiver through his spine, a mix of fear and anticipation rising in his chest.
Breaking Him Down
The room felt heavier now, the air saturated with the scent of leather, sweat, and something unspoken—submission. Lisa stood to the side, admiring her work as the slave’s body quivered involuntarily. His skin, a tapestry of fresh bruises and welts, glistened under the dim light. The paddle and whip rested nearby, their job far from done but temporarily paused.
He lay still, almost lifeless, his breathing shallow but steady. It was in moments like this that the mistress found her greatest pleasure—seeing him on the brink of breaking but still holding on by the thinnest thread of obedience. She leaned over him, her gloved hand brushing his cheek in a mockingly tender gesture.
“You’re quiet now,” she whispered, her voice a mix of amusement and control. “Have you finally learned your place?”
He didn’t respond; he didn’t dare. Silence was his safest option, though he knew the mistress could twist anything to her advantage.
Lisa, catching the look of vulnerability in his eyes, moved closer to the bed. “Oh, I think he’s starting to crack,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. “What do you think, Mistress? Shall I push him a little further?”
The mistress smirked, her eyes gleaming with delight. “By all means, Lisa. He needs to be reminded of why he’s here.”
Lisa crouched beside the slave again, her hand gripping his chin roughly and forcing him to look in her direction. “You’re not done yet,” she said firmly, her tone void of any compassion. “Your mistress doesn’t want you broken completely—she wants you teetering on the edge. And I’m here to make sure you get there.”
The slave whimpered softly as Lisa released his chin and rose to her full height. She picked up the paddle once more, running it down his bruised stomach. He flinched at the touch, his muscles tightening instinctively.
“See?” Lisa taunted, her voice playful again. “He still has fight in him.”
The next strikes were slow, deliberate, and unrelenting. Each slap of the paddle against his already tender skin sent fresh waves of pain shooting through his body. He clenched his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he fought to keep his cries contained. But eventually, the pain overwhelmed him.
A muffled sob escaped his lips, and Lisa stopped. She tilted her head, almost looking impressed. “There it is,” she said softly. “That’s the sound I wanted to hear.”
The mistress moved to stand beside her, her gaze fixed on the slave. “Good boy,” she whispered, her voice laced with condescension. “You’ve earned your suffering today.”
But he knew this wasn’t mercy. The mistress and Lisa shared a look—a silent agreement that this was just a reprieve, not the end.
Moments of Vulnerability
As the strikes ceased, a strange silence settled over the room. The slave’s body sagged against the bed, exhausted and trembling, but alive. Lisa stepped back, crossing her arms as she studied him.
“He lasted longer than I thought,” Lisa said, turning toward the mistress. “I’ll admit, he’s stronger than he looks.”
The mistress laughed softly, her heels clicking as she moved closer to the bed. “Oh, he’s stronger because I’ve made him that way. He’s mine, after all.” She ran a hand gently across his chest, the contrast of her soft touch against his battered skin sending chills through him.
For a moment, her voice dropped, taking on a quieter tone. “Do you understand now, slave?” she asked. “This is what devotion looks like. Pain is your sacrifice, and I’m the one you give it to.”
The slave’s lips trembled as he tried to respond, but his voice came out weak and broken. “Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.
Satisfied, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his ear. “Good boy. But don’t think for a second that I’m done with you.”
Lisa, standing to the side, laughed softly. “You’re a cruel one,” she teased. “But that’s why I like you.”
The mistress stood upright again, adjusting the leather straps on her thigh-high boots. “He’s not worth breaking completely—not yet. What good is a slave if he can’t be rebuilt?”
Lisa nodded, picking up the whip and resting it on her shoulder. “True. We’ll save the rest for another day.”
The mistress reached for his wrists, her gloved fingers loosening the nylon straps that had held him spread-eagled. The tension in his shoulders released instantly, though the burning welts on his wrists remained. Slowly, she undid his other restraints as well, but the chastity cage stayed firmly locked in place.
As his limbs fell limp against the mattress, the slave dared to open his eyes fully. He looked up at the mistress, seeing the faintest hint of satisfaction in her expression. Lisa stood behind her, a triumphant grin on her face as she watched him.
The mistress caressed his cheek one final time before turning toward Lisa. “I think we’ve made our point for today.”
Lisa smirked. “For today,” she repeated, her emphasis deliberate.
The slave knew what they meant. This was a temporary reprieve—nothing more.
The mistress leaned down again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Rest now, slave. Tomorrow, we start again.”
Reflection
As the mistress and Lisa stepped back, the room seemed to exhale, releasing the tension it had been holding. The slave remained motionless on the bed, his body trembling slightly from the intensity of the session. The mistress moved to sit beside him, her demeanor shifting from cruel authority to something softer—though still laced with control.
“You did well today,” she murmured, her hand running lightly over his bruised chest. Her touch was cool against his overheated skin, a strange comfort after the pain he had endured. “I’m proud of you for enduring. But don’t mistake this for affection—it’s merely reward for your obedience.”
Her words lingered, both soothing and sharp, a reminder that every moment was hers to control. She grabbed a nearby cloth, dampened with cool water, and dabbed gently at the deeper marks Lisa’s whip had left behind. The sensation sent jolts through him, each touch a mix of pain and relief.
“Good slaves heal,” she whispered, leaning close enough for her breath to brush his ear. “You’ll need your strength for what’s coming.”
The slave’s mind swam in a haze of exhaustion, pain, and a strange sense of accomplishment. Every welt, every bruise, was proof of his devotion—a mark of his place beneath her. He wanted to speak, to thank her, but his body refused to cooperate. Instead, he lay there, surrendering fully to her care.
Lisa, now reclined against the wall, watched the scene unfold with an amused expression. “You really do have a way with him,” she said, her voice light but tinged with respect.
The mistress glanced over her shoulder, a sly smile on her lips. “He’s mine, Lisa. Every bruise, every whimper—mine. And he knows it.”
The slave, through his exhaustion, felt a rush of something he couldn’t quite name. Pride? Gratitude? It didn’t matter. He was hers, and in that moment, nothing else existed.
The Next Session
The mistress rose to her feet, her heels clicking sharply against the wooden floor. The sound echoed in the slave’s ears, a reminder that she was far from finished with him. She turned to Lisa, who stood with her arms crossed, still holding the whip loosely in one hand.
“Well, I’d say we’ve done enough for today,” the mistress said, her tone casual, as though discussing a mundane task. “Don’t you agree, Lisa?”
Lisa shrugged, a playful grin tugging at her lips. “For now. But next time, I expect him to hold out longer. He’s still soft.”
The slave flinched at the words, though he remained silent. Next time. The phrase settled heavily in his chest.
The mistress returned to his side, her gloved hand caressing his face one final time. “Did you hear that, slave? Lisa thinks you can do better.” She smiled cruelly, her dark eyes locking onto his. “And she’s right. I’m far from done with you.”
She reached down, tugging gently at the small, silver key dangling between her breasts. The chastity device remained locked, its presence a constant reminder of his submission. “This stays on,” she said, her voice firm. “You’ll be denied until I decide otherwise. You exist to suffer for me, and nothing more.”
The words sent a shiver through him, a mix of fear and arousal. He knew his place. There would be no release, no escape—only her control.
Lisa moved toward the door, her powerful frame casting one last shadow over the bed. “Rest up, little man,” she teased, her voice low and mocking. “You’re going to need it.” With that, she disappeared, leaving the mistress and slave alone once more.
The mistress leaned close, her lips hovering just above his ear. “Sleep, slave. Dream of me—and what I have planned for you next.”
She turned and walked toward the door, her ponytail swaying behind her as she left the room. The door clicked shut, and silence fell once more.
The slave lay there, his body aching, his mind a blur. He had survived—but only just. He knew the mistress’s promises weren’t empty threats. Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, she would return with new plans, new ways to test his limits.
And he would endure. Because he was hers.
The mistress and Lisa had pushed him to the edge and left him teetering on the brink of surrender. But the beauty of submission lies not in breaking, but in the delicate balance of pain, pleasure, and control. The slave’s devotion, marked by bruises and denial, was his sacrifice—proof of his place beneath her power. And as he lay there, exhausted and aching, he knew this was just the beginning.
So after you are released from Chastity the following statement is ideal –
Using A Male Masturbator Is So Normal
You might think that this isn’t the best idea but still, you’re here anyway so maybe you might also think it is. Well, I say that choosing to have a good time is always a stellar idea. I don’t think that you should let what other people say come in between you and some good old fun.
You may think that everyone’s eyes are on you but really, they’re not. Just feel self-conscious because you’re quite new to the whole thing.
Well, let me tell you something that you may not know or refuse to believe.
More people use sex toys than you know.
Like, seriously, a ton of people (male and female) use sex toys to have a good time. So you don’t really have to feel self-conscious about trying to own some. Why don’t you start your own collection with a male masturbator, huh?
What Are Sex Toys?
Just because you’ve gotten old doesn’t mean that you don’t know how to have fun anymore. After all, you might age up but you’ll always and forever be a kid at heart.
The only difference when you’re a fully fledged adult is that your play pen kind of expands and your toy selections get a little more “sophisticated,” if you know what I mean.
You let go of Legos and start playing Barbies, the real, life-sized, and complete with all feminine features type.
And guess what? It even comes with accessories!
Yes, you heard it right. When we say Barbies we don’t really refer to those mini plastic dolls that have detachable heads.
We’re talking about big boy dolls or sex dolls that are widely used by men who can handle a lot of good fun at night. There are even male ones for women now. Check it out here.
What are We Talking About Here?
We’re talking about pocket pussies, the tenga moova, and male masturbators! If you’re in for a chilly night, these babies are sure to keep you warm. That’s just how adults do some weird fun!
If you’re quite new to this ravishing world of sex toys, then it’s good to start with something common or easy to use.
Also, it would be good to start with a sensation that you’re most familiar with which is why the first toy that we’d recommend you to buy is the male masturbator. You have to trust our manly judgement on this.
Once you get a feel of the sensation this toy delivers, you’ll never go back to the old hand and lotion jig ever again. This is new age masturbation and it is everything your horny heart desires.
What Is A Male Masturbator?
Why do you think it’s called a male masturbator? Well, it’s because women masturbate too and they have their own set of toys and tools for that. A male masturbator is specifically made for the satisfaction of the male species.
It is specifically crafted to give a surge of pleasure to the male genitalia.
So what does it look like?
Well, different brands have different versions of the product. There are male masturbators that look obviously like male masturbators. And there are those with a more discreet design.
But every toy of this kind has two key features: Suck and Blow.
What Do You Do First?
Put your penis in the orifice. Now, some devices would make this opening resemble a woman’s vagina, mouth, or even butthole. This is all to give you a more realistic and immersive experience.
Material used is also medical grade silicone that is soft enough to feel like real human flesh. In other words, these masturbators are carefully made to recreate the sensation of sex – oral, vaginal, and anal sex.
Use Lube
After all, since it is still a machine, there will be no natural lubrication. So buying a good packet of lube and smothering the opening of the device with it will definitely improve the quality of the experience.
Most masturbators will have an up-and-down mechanism, like when you do a hand job.
There will also be controls to help you adjust the tightness of the device.
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