They say ‘be careful what you wish for’. That’s often true but with Mistress Paris, you always get more than you bargained for. Just ask my punished balls. Their purple bruising tells the full story.
I asked the mistress for a CP and humiliation session. Little did I expect that in the hands of this sadistic goddess, CP hardly describes it. I was led into the mistress’ dark dungeon in Sandy – the oubliette, a place of forgetting. But what happened that pain-wracked afternoon was a session I will never forget.
It started in bondage. Mine. Mistress Paris is a magician of the rope. I was tied in knots that formed beautiful patterns around my naked body. Though I may have looked like a spider’s web of rope, I felt more like a crushed bug. She put me into so many stress positions that ached my joints but not half as much as her riding crop on my most sensitive bits. Foot soles, arse hole, all were vulnerable to her brutal beauty.
Flicking her whip on my tender feet, her bastinado was best in show. Then she turned to my balls. She firmly tied a thin elastic round my poor testes and then hitched my two poor rounded friends to a metal pulley. Thus she yanked and cranked up the pulley so that my balls were stretched to the limit – and beyond. Not content with this painful lift and carry, but she then attached a cast iron bucket to the aching testicles. You’ve heard of water torture? Well this was her next devilish move. She started to fill the bucket with water; the vessel got heavier and heavier and my balls felt like some giant magnet was drawing them towards the centre of the earth. I begged for mercy but to no avail. The swinging leather found its target between my sore legs. All the time, mistress giggled and kept tormenting me about the size of my cock. Just when I thought I was ready to utter the safe word, I was released from the bucket. But this was not the end of my tortured travails. She clamped a vicious wooden humbler on my throbbing nuts, ordered me on my knees to display the miniscule size of my by-now purple member.
Mistress then had one more surprise. At the clap of her gloved hands, a naked slave entered the dungeon. With legs apart and prick akimbo, I was ordered to suck him off. Any hesitation was ‘rewarded’ with a blow of her cane or hard slap on the face. I clearly wasn’t doing a good job even though my cock sucking was reaching Dyson levels of suction. Mistress Paris waved a cattle prod at me and chuckled as its electrifying power sent shock waves through my buttocks and nipples. Needless to say, I sucked on his cock like a ravenous calf on the udder.
Only when my fellow slave shot his load was the session brought to an end. Every bit of me ached, I had been tortured black and blue but I loved every moment. And so did she.