What is the particular thrill of kidnap? It is a scene I am really getting into and the more I think about it, the more exciting it gets. We had our first kidnap scenario a week or two ago and it still burns into my mind as a very thrilling use of my domination skills. So what’s the attraction?

Well, I think first there’s the thrill of the chase – it must be what people get from hunting though that is not my bag at all. It’s a pursuit ..going after a victim, rounding him up, bundling him away and taking him, against his will (or so the scenario plays it) to a secret destination. The whole dark secret thing really gets my domme juices flowing.

So how did our first session go? You may be wondering who ‘we’ are? It was a trio of femdom kidnappers – Miss Lash, Mistress Venom and myself. Three strong ladies you do not want to mess with. We arranged to pick up our ‘victim’ in the carpark of a supermarket. It was nightime, and after the shop had closed so we had the whole place to ourselves. On hearing our car pull up, the victim was told to stand with his face to the wall of the supermarket door, with his hands behind his back. He was not to see his kidnappers….not at any time in the evening as you will see.

Our car screeched to a halt and we leapt out towards the slave. As Venom  threw a pair of metal cufflinks on his wrists, Lash and I shoved a bag over his head. Then we got him in a vicious arm lock and frogmarched the victim to our car. With little ceremony, we opened the car boot and bundled him in. I told him not to make a sound or his filthy mouth would be gagged tight. He whimpered a pathetic, OK

Then we drove into the night to a secret location.  I am not saying where or what as you might be a victim one day. Anyway soon we got to the destination. All the poor sod in the boot could hear was the three of us discussing what we were going to do to the  wretch. Once there, we opened the boot and dragged him out, still blindfolded and whimpering, ‘what do you want with me’.  I told him to shut his stupid f…mouth and do what he is told. ‘Take my money but please let me go’, he simpered. That really got Venom’s goat and she gave him a good kicking with her jackboots. I grabbed his arms and Miss Lash helped me to get him up off the floor and into our interrogation room.

Once in there, we ordered him to strip off and bend over. We inspected his cock, balls and arsehole and then without warning gave the blindfolded dickhead a good spit roasting with a pair of strapons. Still bent over a table, Miss Lash then true to her name, gave him a good thrashing with her belt – I lost count of how many but he was crying in pain. Then Miss V got in on the act by shoving him around the room pushing him from wall to wall and giving him some nasty kicks on the way. I ordered him to lie on the floor and wank. I spat on his useless cock and gave it a good slapping. By now he was crying out for mercy and for once we showed him some. I was going to give him a severe caning but time had run out and we had to get him back to the car park. Still unable to see, we ordered him to get dressed, chained him up and threw him back in the car boot. At the supermarket, we lifted him up right in the air. He thought we were going to drop him down a cliff or something and screamed. But we just laughed and lay him on the ground. Miss V couldn’t resist giving him a thump or two on the way down and I sat on his hooded face just long enough for him to feel the heat from my excited pussy. I felt like taking down my pants and peeing over him but was content just to give him a final slap into his balls before my parting words – ‘next time we get serious’…..We drove away laughing ..he was left to take off the bag, find his way to his car and wonder what the fuck we all looked like.


Limits? What limits?

I had a fantastic session last night – well I should say ‘we’ because Miss Lash was my aider and abetter. The slave wanted to see how far he could be pushed before he said the safe word. That is the kind of challenge me and Lash just adore. We can push slaves up to and  far beyond what they think are their limits. For us, and we are mean bitches, we don’t know the meaning of ‘limits’ – well, not when it comes to hurting miserable slaves.

Anyway the wretch arrived on time (pity because I was going to get really mad if he was late – the madder I am, the more angry, the more vicious and you know I like that). Anyway I knew he wanted his limits pushed and so we offered him a deal; something he just couldn’t refuse. I asked him to hide his valuable watch somewhere in my dungeon. Then we would submit him to torture and try to extract where he had hidden it. If he cracks – then I keep the watch (well offer it to my favourite charity shop), if he doesn’t crack, then he gets to keep it.

So far, so good. Would he break? Could we force the location of the watch out of him? Well Lash and I had a cunning plan. We didn’t even ask him for the watch for the first 30 minutes. That was a terrible tease which softened him up for the last half hour of pain.
Lash and I began by ordering him to strip bollock naked. Then we made fun of his pathetic cock. When we’d finished laughing, we put him over our laps for a good spanking. I tell you, I am hard but Lash is getting to be an expert spanker. You could hear the smack on his arse nearly down the street. First he bent over Lash’s stockinged legs and she gave him a beating and a half, Then it was my turn and I slapped him mercilessly for five minutes. My hands never get sore.
Still nothing about the watch.
Next he was ordered up and told to put his hands behind his back. That exposed his naked cock – just the right position for some agonising cock whipping. He found this so painful that he fell to his knees several times. But each time he was ordered up.
Still nothing about the watch. He was clearly waiting for us to ask him about its whereabouts but no, we hadn’t finished softening him up. We took him by the arms and dragged him to my bench box. Then making him bend over, I fucked his arse with a spikey new strapon I’ve just bought. As I did this, Miss Lash was fucking his dirty mouth with her rubber strapon.
Still nothing about the watch. We tied him to the bed. He was exhausted and wondering what the hell we were doing. If we haven’t even started to ask about the watch, when will we? Then I got out a little silver box. I call it my little box of precious gifts. When Lash saw the box, she gave out a cruel laugh, and I joined in. Slave clearly didn’t have a clue what was inside. But still nothing about the watch. I opened the box and Lash said, ‘Oo mistress, you clearly mean business.’ I heard the slave gulp, a dry swallow. But then we blindfolded him. He shook with fear, or excitement, I can’t tell which. Maybe both. He must have been thinking: when are they going to ask about the fucking watch? But we didn’t. Psyschological torture can be as bad as the physical thing.

What was in the box? A nice selection of clips for the balls and cock, and a variety of elastic bands.
Still nothing about the watch but he soon forgot about that: we clamped his cock and nipples so that he screamed out in pain. Then came the elastic bands
We used them like a catapult to flick on his cock, the bits not covered by clamps. The best bit was the very tip of the penis. Miss Lash has a very good aim especially with the thick elastic which delivers a very intense burst of pain.
Still nothing about the watch but we set up the electro box. And then I asked for the first time: ‘right little dickhead, where is the watch?’ He shook his head as if to say, I am not telling you.
That was good news. It gave us the chance to stretch the elastic bands even harder – ‘Are you going to tell me little man? IF not, Lash will release the band right on to your cock head’. He muttered ‘no’ and so we let go. The screams still ring in my ears. Then it was time to use my  electro pin wheel on his cock and under his balls where the pain is more intense. ‘Tell me where the watch is’ I ordered as the current was switched even higher and Miss Lash flicked the end of his cock with the fattest bands. As the current went higher and higher, his screams turned to low grunts. I whispered into his ear in a gentle caring way, ‘I know you want to stop the pain. But we are merciless. Tell me where is your fucking watch?’
He stuttered (worse than the King’s Speech) and finally got out the words: ‘Under the whipping bench’. That was the right answer. We took off his blindfold, pulled out the clamps (more pig-like screeches) and ordered him to his knees. ‘Fetch the watch moron – with your teeth’. He did as he was ordered and brought me the watch. He had miserably failed to keep his secret (I knew he would of course) and told him as per agreement, the watch was now mine and would soon be on sale in my local charity shop. He agreed the bet was lost. Got dressed and left.
Lash and I laughed out loud – we can break any man. Like to try us?