Electric tens and sounds for the win!

I’m going to be on a high for a few days after today’s session. It was great seeing an old sub returning after years in not so kink friendly shores, and what a return!

As a prelude to his giving up his body to my administering, he walked in to present me with a bottle of some impressive Bourdeaux. Red wine is my favourite!

A session that involves tight rope bondage and inescapable restriction is always a sure way to tempt me, but what was to come was an exercise in electricity & cruelty. I was inspired, if I may say so myself.

So, after presenting himself naked to Mistress, I proceed to hogtie firmly and securely with my favourite red rope. His raging boner (he walked through the door like that) was a great target for my collection of hair clips and pins, the best designed nipple & cock torture accessories ever. My steel crown of thorns found a good home around his engorged glans.

I put the bottle away and thought that gagging him with my worn knickers and a used stocking was not a bad reward for such nice little detail. Fortunately, I’ve been a bit slack with my laundry and I found some rathe stale items at the bottom of the laundry basket. Where is Tommy the domestic when you need him?

Seeing that today’s specimen seemed the adventurous type, I suggested putting urethral sounds down his raging boner and rather cavernous jap’s eye. Just clamping my electrics tens unit to his nipples didn’t feel quite fun enough. although I must say, my sparkly butterfly hair clips conduct electricity to the nipples like a treat, despite their girlie, innocent look.

So out came my collection of urethral sounds. The rosebuds seemed the best bet, and pop they went, one after another, until I found one big enough to fit in snugly. It took some trying, the specimen’s mangy dick was misleadingly wide (on the inside that is). It reminded me of the boy that I slid my little finger down his jap’s eyes last summer, one experience that still lingers in my memory…

… But I’m digressing. A thick sound went down all the way to the hilt and on went the crocodile clamps, one attached to the sound, the other to his left nipple. By then, I’d put the hogtied specimen under my queening bench, for a good arse-kissing session. Arse kissing is not the vile remit of the treacherous and hypocrite only, all good subs must comply Chez Tytania’s and do their time under my bench.

So lying under my bottom, me comfortably sat on the bench, with a stockings on his head, hogtied and gagged, the boy took increasing electric pulses rather well, yelling and howling rather convincingly as I pumped up the volume, so to speak. Eventually, I freed one of his hands and gave him permission to play with himself while I zapped his scrotum, where I’d attached the nipple clamp, and frittered his mangy dick.

LIke Frankenstein’s monster, a mix electricity and manual exertions brought an otherwise negligible piece of meat to life, then to a glorious, if brief, grand finale. Sparks where visible from Canary Wharf, I’ve been told, but then, Mistresses are so used to flattery and groveling…

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