True Story: A Halloween to Remember F/M

[SubDudeWithrope]

WARNING: The following story deals with BDSM and includes descriptions of a severe nature. Fair warning.

I love Halloween. Everything about it clicks in my psyche. The scary stuff, the weird unabashedly strange people and the merchandise too. Most years I enjoy the sights the sounds and general ambiance of Halloween. This time, well...every Halloween should be like it was this particular year.

I like the costumes during Halloween. I have a few of my own that I took great care and expense putting together. Indiana Jones is my favorite movie character of all time (see photo). It was a long search to find clothing that matched the on screen persona enough to be a “costume.” The jacket is real though. It’s the genuine article. An actual Wested jacket, purchased and made to my measurements by Peter Boatright who also made Harrison Ford’s jackets and those of the stunt performers. Women really like it. A lot. I think it’s the fedora.

This Halloween gathering was fairly well attended and I was doing the usual schmoozing and cruising the crowd. Some of the costumes were outrageous while some reasonably understated. It was a fun group together to socialize and get kinky at the appropriate time.

For people who have not attended such an event these functions have rules. Social time starts early around 7pm to 9 or 10pm. Then, during what is called “playtime” you can wear whatever garments, or the lack thereof, you desire. Leather people, latex, cross dressing and nudists are just some of who and what happens on a normal weekend evening.

9:00 pm. There lights flickered off as the “mood” lighting came on signaling the beginning of playtime. So there I was as Indiana Jones (“You call him Dr. Jones doll!”) talking with some friends and, in mid conversation, I was approached. Mistress Thelma (name changed to protect the savage) came up to me and very succinctly ordered me to “Come with me.” I had no plan for the evening and had not discussed any scenes with anyone so this was a very real surprise. Mistress Thelma is short. I’m a full head taller than she is but she makes up for it with her intensity. She’s very focused and has amazing eyes. Beautiful bedroom eyes that light up when she talks. Her hair is long and gray. It has a strip of black running it’s length from the part on the side all the way down. I suspect her “soul” also has a patch of darkness running through it.

I followed her, like a good submissive should, to the other side of the club floor where there was a large wood covered wall. A small table sat next to the wall. On top was a large squarish case containing all manner of implements of BDSM. Implements of pain. I stood ready waiting for her direction. I did not have to wait long, “Take off your clothes.” Mistress Thelma said casually. “Everything?” I replied not quite grasping the totality of the command. No one else had yet changed and you know how it feels being the first to do anything. It has an uncomfortable feel to it. “Yes. Everything.” She replied more insistently. I began to strip off my attire and piled everything up in a stack on the floor. In short order I was nude and others began to notice too.

Mistress Thelma pulled up a stool and hooked leather restraints to two eye bolts embedded in the wall about seven feet off the floor. They were about six feet apart. She told me face the wall and as I complied she grabbed my right wrist and strapped the restraint around it and connected that to the eye bolt. Then Mistress did the same with my left wrist, only this time due to the distance between the two eye bolts it was a little more difficult to connect. It caused me to strain a bit as I stretched to the left until she sufficient slack to hook the restraint to it’s loop in the wall. I was nude facing the wall, my arms pulled up and outward in and almost crucified position. Mistress had me take a half step back to adjust the position. That put more stress on my arms in the process. “Don’t move” I was ordered. I looked down as motion caught my eye. A ball gag was thrust into my mouth and strapped tightly behind my neck. I should have expected it but...it still took me by surprise. Mistress Thelma said nothing. I knew what was coming. I was shaking.

“What’s the safe word?” She asked in a very perfunctory manner. We always used Green, Yellow, Red. “Red.” I said around the ball gag in my mouth. Mistress Thelma nodded. She’s spoke gag talk very well. Familiarity has its rewards. I heard her behind me shuffle items about and getting prepared for the activity about to commence. I looked back stealing a final glance at her. She was glowing and...smiling to herself as she looked up from the small table. That’s the worst time. As a guy who’s been in a boxing ring I can handle the physical stuff, the pain, I like it. It fuels me. I just keep saying to myself, “let’s go, let’s go.” My anticipation like going over top on a rollercoaster except, the coaster is safe. The look I saw on her face was scary. I was about to feel real pain.

The first blow is always a shock. After that it is about endurance. The first swipe with the cat o’nine tails struck my rear end, SWAP! Stinging my posterior. I let out a slight “UGH!” but only just so. I know Mistress Thelma didn’t like overly vocal slaves. That’s all I was. A slave. I’d been ordered to come to this spot, stripped naked, cuffed to the wall, gagged and was now being beaten. Mistress dragged the leather thongs across my buttocks and legs. Soothingly. The second blow landed with more authority. The sting was more intense and lasting. I closed my eyes and sighed that sigh when something is SO PERFECT that words fail you. She was now dialed in and I had her full attention. I belonged here.

She loves inflicting pain on men and women. Especially spanking. The first couple of hits were just to get me warmed up. After a dozen or so more swipes with the leather nine tails spread around to “sensitize” my ass and upper thighs, they were warm. Then I heard her smack the paddle against the palm of her hand for my “benefit.” She then proceeded to strike my ass repeatedly, uncaring of how much I endured. She wasn’t holding back any longer. Each successive strike more painful then the last. I struggled against the restraints and they held firmly, it was real bondage with real consequences now. She took the paddle and rubbed it across my glutes testing the reaction and seeing me visibly respond to its touch. “AAH!” Mistress continued and moved the paddle around deftly, striking every inch of my hind quarters so that every nerve was lit up. My utterances increasing in volume and frequency and after several strokes with the paddle (I lost track) she touched me with something soft, furry.

The fur covered glove pad felt heavenly on my now hyper sensitive skin. Raw nerves and flesh throbbing. The paddle had marked my ass and I knew by the intensity that I was most likely already bruised...badly. Mistress Thelma was just starting. The air on my rear felt cold, uncomfortably so. I was allowed to rest a moment while she readied me for the next round.

Numbness took over my buttocks as the stinging subsided. That’s the thing about pain. You can only inflict so much before the body becomes desensitized to it and it’s no longer pain you feel but just a numb sensation. It was time to move onto my favorite punishment. With my hands still bound to the eye bolts I made a show of struggling for her sake. It made me excited and aroused.

She put her hand on the back of my neck and looking at me from the side, “You’re such a good boy.” She meant it. Mistress Thelma likes her slaves to be strong for her, so she can indulge herself. If I were to call “Red” during the spanking session she would not enjoy herself as much. That is what drives me as well. If she’s enjoying it, so do I. Mistress was having a very good time. Her comment was also to gauge my state of mind. I smiled at her and nodded, grunting through the ball gag, “mmmm”. We would continue.

She produced a very thin, wooden handled whip with a short piece of cord protruding from the end. She flicked it toward me barely touching the middle of my back. It was the same process as before, soften up and sensitize the skin before bringing heavier tools to bare. The little whip stung me repeatedly each time with a sharp “ZIPP!” sound as it cut the air en route to my back. Mistress did this many times down my back and sides, even getting my penis hanging between my legs. From behind no less! I jostled my restraints to no avail. I was totally helpless and unable to get away from the annoying and painful stings.

Next she brought out a heavier leather whip with a traditional looking handle. Three or four thongs hung from the handle, not quite a flogger but close. It’s the kind of whip a cow hand might use to “encourage” cattle to move along. My hide is not nearly so tough. She cracked it the air next to my body. Close enough that I felt the cracking sound it reported. It was not a warning but a taste of what to expect. I braced myself as she slapped the leather across my back, “WHAP!” Deep inside my brain a trigger was touched and endorphins released into my blood. I was so sexually excited that I came slightly. The end of my dick wet with precum and ejaculant. Again and again she brought the leather whip onto my naked skin, the weight of it jarring me like a punch. Mistress Thelma leaned her body into every blow like a batter at the plate. She put every fiber into each blow. My back was red as blood rose to the surface turning my skin crimson from the punishment she inflicted. It did not break the skin. The whip wasn’t designed to do that. It was purpose made for precise impact play and in the hands of a skilled dominatrix it was devastating. I was loving it and relaxed into my own brain. Sub space beckoned and I readily accepted the invitation. She made a brief check of my state of mind and then more back blows. Then silence. She ran her bare hand across my nude back and the rest of my body. Admiring her work and looking to see my response. I was in sub space for certain but also aware of those around me. There were a handful of club goers sitting several feet away apparently watching the events with interest as I was up cuffed and “assisted” to a coach and sat down on my very numb but sore backside.

Mistress Thelma offered me some water which I eagerly drank. I felt cold and began shivering as I began going into mild shock. She placed a nearby blanket around me and stepped away. I drifted into a semi awake state just staring at the far wall. A Halloween to remember.