Fifty Shades of Domination - My True Story Read Online Free Page A

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 cropmight 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 hertracks: ‘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