I have visited Mistress V (as I like to call her) fives times now. Each time is better than the last, and EVERY time has been wonderful.
She has many glowing reviews (all well deserved) however most of these are from people who have seen her once or twice. I thought it might be interesting for people to see a report from someone who is a ‘regular’.
I am definitely that – I have been seeing her exclusively now every 5 weeks (I wish I could see her more frequently but alas, financial limitations prevent this).
First, a little about me. Before seeing Mistress V, I had been to a Pro-Domme about 10 years ago. The experience was so terrible I decided BDSM or any other related activity wasn’t for me.
However last year, after a life changing event, I re-evaluated things and decided to give it another chance. I did a bunch of research, searched through lots of ads, read lots of reviews, and finally settled on Mistress V largely because of her web site and her lucid writing. I voraciously read everything on both her website and her extensive blog site. It was clear she was obviously a woman of charm and intelligence and her profession was her passion.
This last fact was important to me; I wanted to see someone that really, truly enjoyed what she did. I wanted to know that whatever transpired between us, she would derive at least some enjoyment out of it.
My first visit with her was an eye opening experience and worth a write up all by itself. Her dungeon was scrupulously clean and her collection of ‘dungeon toys’ was simply mind boggling. I suspect she has the best dungeon in WA.
I also learned a few things about myself:
1. I’m a bit of a pain slut (a big surprise for me).
2. I have difficulty living in the moment.
Mistress V quickly recognized both of these qualities and has capitalized on #1 and is rapidly solving #2.
On my third visit, I formally asked her if she would train me as one of her submissives. She takes this request very seriously and has requirements that must be met, one of which is to accomplish a significant life time goal, in her name, within a year.
I should add one thing here – Mistress V is an artist when it comes to tailoring her sessions to clients. My situation may not be for everyone; I enjoy being dominated both physically and mentally – but others may not. Rest assured, she has the technical skill and breadth of experience to accommodate any situation (within her boundaries of course).
What follows is a fairly close accounting of my recent visit on 5/24/2014. I can’t go into exhaustive detail about everything that happened – that would violate the precious trust I’ve built with her. But I think there are enough interesting details here to make this lengthy piece a worthy read.
This was my fifth visit with Mistress V and I was a bit nervous because during our last date, she had given me ‘homework’ that I was to complete before seeing her again.
My assignment was simple:
Complete chastity (unless my wife asked for sex) for two weeks, followed by two weeks of twice a day masturbation.
I had ininitially thought this was going to be pretty easy. The first two weeks might be tricky, but the 2nd two weeks – a no-brainer.
Or so I thought.
Work kept me busy and it was easy to remain chaste for two weeks. But when the 2nd two weeks rolled around, I found it nearly impossible to masturbate once every day. And twice every day? Forget about it.
After failing a few times, I sort of just stopped trying.
She won’t remember I thought to myself.
Or maybe … I could just lie to her? but I winced at that thought.
In truth, however, I was wondering what would happen if I intentionally disobeyed her.
When the day arrived for my session, I was mulling this thought over as I knocked on her door and waited for her to answer. This was my first time at her new dungeon and I was curious to see what changes she had made.
The door opened and she welcomed me inside. The sudden change from bright daylight to dim dungeon light left me essentially blind for a minute or two.
As my eyes adjusted, she gave me a warm hug (Christ does she smell wonderful!) and then guided me to a well upholstered red chair where I sat across from her and drank from a goblet of water she had waiting for me.
She was dressed in a black spandex cat suit cut low in front and had on thigh high leather boots with stiletto heels. Her lovely figure was accentuated by the tight fabric, and I couldn’t help but notice the silver necklace around her neck with an oval pendent, inset with a black stripped stone (onyx?), dangling seductively between her pale full breasts.
She is a beautiful woman, more attractive in person than the lovely photos on her web site. Her raven black hair contrasts strikingly with her pale skin, and she has full red lips and exotic eyes. There is a certain presence about her – calm, confident, warm and genuine. There is also a sense of hidden energy too – just simmering under the surface. You just want to be near her. To spend time with her. To be her presence. She is intoxicating.
As usual we began with some quiet conversation. Beginning this way helps put me at ease and was invaluable during my first few visits.
I had sent her email over the last few weeks explaining that I needed to be more forth-right with her. I was guilty of holding back and not always letting her know what I liked or wanted. She is human after all and can’t read minds, so it’s very important to tell her want you want.
As a result, I had promised myself I would be open and honest about things.
As I talked, she watched me with a calm steady gaze. At times it was hard to meet her eyes – she seems to see right into your soul – but it felt good (albeit a bit embarrassing) to tell her private things that I couldn’t tell others.
The main thing I wanted was for her to test my limits; I wanted to be forced to submit. I told her that at times I found it difficult to completely commit during our sessions. There was always some hesitation in my mind. But perhaps if she pushed me – tested me – I would then submit to her without reservation.
After this explanation she asked a few questions.
“Duration or intensity?” she asked.
“Intensity” I replied. I wasn’t quite sure what she meant by this but I would soon find out.
“I may leave marks…” she said, and I felt a thrill go through me.
“Your marks are an honor for me Mistress.” She smiled at this.
We talked a bit more about specifics; I mentioned a few other things I was curious about; literally nothing fazes this woman.
Finally, she asked if there was anything else I wanted to tell her.
“No.” I replied.
As I showered – readying myself for things to come – a feeling came over me; that of just offering myself up as dinner to a hungry lioness….
When I came out of the bathroom she smiled at me and said,
“I hope you are dry because leather and wet skin don’t mix well.”
“I am Mistress” I replied. Oh how I love to call her Mistress!
She then placed a very stiff, tight collar around my neck. It was constructed in such a way as to prevent me from looking down or up; reminiscent of a medical neck brace but made of exquisitely stiff leather. I later found out this was called a ‘posture collar’.
Whenever she puts a collar around my neck, a pleasant light headed sensation starts to come over me. My breath quickens and a flush of warmth stirs in my loins. This is the preliminary stage of subspace and if you haven’t experienced it you don’t know what you are missing. Like one of Pavlov’s poor dogs, I have been conditioned to respond this way and it happens more easily each time I see her. Eventually, I will probably drop into subspace when she just looks at me; an embarrassing situation if I ever saw her in a grocery store.
She then tied a rope to a ring in the collar, gave it a quick tug and led me like a pet to a formidable steel cage laying horizontally on the floor. The top of the cage was solid and covered with padded leather and it was on this she instructed me to lie down on. She then proceeded to tie me down to the cage very tightly – to the point where I was almost unable to move.
She began with some CBT -a first for me.
I was tied down in such a way that if I moved various sensitive parts of my body would be stretched in painful ways. As she proceeded to torment me, I was able to see her out of the corner of my eye – her long black hair silhouetted against the dim background dungeon light.
I was being tortured by a beautiful sadist … and I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a sunny Saturday afternoon.
She is an expert at ramping up pain. The pain is very focusing, almost pleasurable, and beyond hot when I thought about her causing it. It’s very hard to describe. As I squirmed about she reminded me if I pulled too hard I could castrate myself. A sobering thought indeed – I stopped squirming…
As things continued, she carried on a running conversation with me – asking pointed, probing questions. At times it was difficult to answer.
And then the question I most feared.
“William, did you complete your assignment?” she asked innocently, in her sweet voice.
Fuck! I think to myself. She DOES remember.
“You didn’t think I would forget did you?” and a coy smile crosses her face.
“Well, I don’t know Mistress… I thought maybe …?”
“Of course not William! I’ve been waiting for you to explain yourself…” and she applied more clamps to various parts of my body, forcing me further into subspace.
“Did you, in fact, complete your assignment?”
“No Mistress…” I reply through a fog of pain.
“William, didn’t we have a conversation about disobedient pets?”
“Yes Mistress…” I stammered. I remembered we most definitely did have that discussion months ago. Unfortunately for me, she has a good memory.
“Did you disobey me on purpose?” again with the innocent sounding voice.
The pain I was being subjected to and the pleasure of subspace were now working in unison – acting like a truth serum; I had to concentrate hard to answer her.
“No … well, ah yes … maybe …”, my words trailed off. There was no use in denying it, she was on to me.
“I know you did” she said matter-of-factly, “I know your kind.”
A big shudder ran through me. Wow! When she says stuff like that to me, I can’t help but get aroused and excited. She knows exactly what to say without being over the top.
And deep down – she knows me all too well.
By this time, I am writhing about, straining hard against my restraints. I feel the rope tight around my arms and thighs.
“Why didn’t you bring me a list of your failures, as I told you to?”
“Because … because the numbers were too large Mistress!” A lame-ass answer but it was the truth. “I was afraid you might be upset!”
“And did you really think hiding it from me would make things easier?”
“No … no Mistress, I … um …”
She interrupts me:
“William, do you think you deserve this punishment for disobeying me?”
By that time, I was at my physical pain limit.
“Oh God! Yes! Yes Mistress … yes!”
And then I begged for mercy and called out ‘yellow’ (a safe word). I’ve never had to do that before.
But this only buys me a few seconds of reprieve.
“How many times did you fail?” she asked insistently.
“Maybe 6?” I said weakly.
“No….. I think 50” she replied without hesitation.
“But… but Mistress!” I said tremulously, “It was for only two weeks, how could failing twice each day for two weeks ever add up to 50?”
But she just looked at me and said firmly, “50”.
I would later receive this number of lashes from her single-tail as further punishment.
When she was finished with me, she untied the restraints. I was covered in sweat; my arms and legs felt like wet noodles. As I stood up I almost fell. I leaned against the cage and tried to regain my strength. She handed me a glass of water, but I was so shaky I couldn’t really hold it.
She held it for me as I drank deeply; a simple act that further reminded me of her dominance over me.
Next she had me kneel in front of a mirror. I was to be whipped with her single-tail – 50 lashes, and I had to count them out one at a time – and if I said anything else, apart from asking for a brief pause, she would restart at 1.
I almost screwed this up twice; the first time was after the fourth lash.
“Oh my God,” I muttered under my breath, “50 of these?!”
She immediately stopped and said, “What did I just say?”
My head was swimming – and it was difficult to answer but I managed.
“That I shouldn’t speak…”
“That’s right William. I’ll let it slide this time.”
She continued to whip me, in sets of 10. After each set, I would fall forward to catch my breath. The pain was agonizing.
At 30 lashes I exclaimed:
“Permission to speak Mistress!”
“No.” she replied, and continued whipping me.
I had wanted to plead for mercy…
I endured another set of 10 lashes, and then another.
After the 50th lash she then asked me what I wanted to say – but I couldn’t really remember by then – and it didn’t matter anymore.
By far, the most memorable image I have of that day – and it will stick with me forever – was when she paused while whipping me and told me to look in the mirror.
I saw myself, naked, kneeling, collar around my neck, and her, standing directly behind me – legs spread apart in a commanding pose, all in black, holding the whip. Her raven black hair cascaded down around her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with her pale skin.
She was standing there with complete authority – looking calmly down at me.
It was almost like an art fetish photo – I was perfectly aligned with her in the mirror; soft violet light dimly lit the room.
And then she said something I will never forget:
“Disobeying your Pro Domme, that’s one thing….”
She paused thoughtfully.
“But disobeying your Mistress …. that’s personal.”
Her words just devastated me. And it was the most perfect thing for her to say at that moment.
“Oh Mistress!” I exclaimed and collapsed forward, face down on the floor, trembling in complete subjugation.
I was shaking, almost tearful, overcome with emotion. This was the feeling I had wanted, that I needed. It was the feeling of utter submission; of completely losing myself. I wanted to please her and no other. No other thought entered my mind.
Nothing else mattered.
I was truly alive and living in the moment. And I had this indescribable connection with her.