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It has been over a month since I visited the Gothic House of pain. It took a good two weeks to let the cuts and bruises heal. During that time I had an appointment with my therapist and we discussed what happened. I am not sure he wanted to hear my story because of patient interest or he was curious to find out if I would really go as far as I had said to fulfill my fantasy. His eyes widened when I told him how I was beaten, begging for more, and never asking mistress to stop. When I mentioned the blood seeping from my back and thighs, he only shook his head in disbelief. After I had finished my story, we agreed that I had a low self-esteem. I tried to explain to him that the only time I felt alive was when I experience pain and humiliation. I made another appointment and promised I would have more to report next visit.
I walked up to the door and rang the bell not knowing what to expect but hoping this visit would be as good as the last. Opening the door was a petite Asian lady dressed in a one piece leather outfit. It was tight enough that nothing was left to the imagination. Right away I noticed the mussels in her arms and legs. Not having to be told I removed my clothes and placed them near the door. I followed her to what turned out to be the same room that I was in before. This time there was a reddish reflection bouncing off the mirrors. I was hung in the same manner in the middle of the room; the only difference was my feet were flat on the floor.
I watched her thinking she would go to the cabinet and bring back one of the whips or canes. Instead she removed her five inch heels placing them against the wall. The smile on her face was enough to tell me I was in for some rough treatment. Before I could get my thoughts together she came running at me, giving me a kick in the ribs that took my breath away. Then she was hitting me in the chest, stomach, and thighs. Next a kick between the legs that I knew would leave me never being able to father children. She would repeat these moves after I would begin to recover. It felt like this went on for hours but was probably no more than forty five minutes. All I could do was hang by my hands as I was too weak to stand. She left the room leaving me to suffer from my punishment.
When she returned, she ran her hands up and down my body, admiring the bruises already forming throughout my body. With the same smile on her face as before, she went to the cabinet and selected a Cain that had a combination of twelve inch leather strips and what looked like very fine nylon strings protruding from the end. Taunting me, she snapped it several times in front of my face. Thank goodness she placed a ball gag in my mouth. If she hadn’t, I know I would have lost my voice from the screams that came later. She put all her strength into every swing. The nylon strips didn’t take long to draw blood. Not stopping with just my back and rear, she started on my chest and thighs. This not being bad enough, she placed a separator bar on my ankles. Next came pain like I have never experienced. With that same smile on her face she brought the Cain up between my legs. My balls had yet to recover from the earlier beating, and now they were being strapped. When the pain became unbearable and my sack was dripping blood from the tears caused by the nylon string, I passed out.
When I came to, I was fully dressed and lying across the front seat of my car. The sun was coming up, so I knew I had been out for a long time. Before driving off, I glanced over at what now had become my house of pain. Driving off, I was wondering who would meet me at the front door next time ?
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