First visit to Cris et Chuchotements, on a Friday lunchtime in September. The dress code had been imposed on me, precise and succinct: fine heeled shoes, black stockings, lace bra revealing and presenting my nipples and breasts, submissive collar and black blindfold. I had prepared my outfit with attention, excitement and had added, to make it “more dressy”, a thin black leather braid to put around the waist. I had tried to negotiate wearing lace panties, at least at first while I immersed myself in the atmosphere, but I had been put in my place. My penis had to be visible and available upon arrival.
As soon as I pass through the narrow door, my husband D. urges me to dress up. The place is dark and cramped, we slip into the toilets. I strip completely, put on stockings, shoes and bra. D. slips the collar around my neck, and attaches the leash to it, then ties the headband around my head. I am ready.
D. guides me, holding me on a leash, towards the staircase leading to a first room in the basement. The young woman at the reception, rather amused by the situation, offers to help me not to trip. I am very tense, a mixture of fear and excitement; the stairs, the blindfolds, the slightly harsh smell of a stone basement, the near nudity, what awaited me in this unknown club...
Despite everything, I want to play and have complete confidence with D., I can't wait to discover what happens next... Time stands still. Arriving on the “dry ground” of the basement room, D. leads me to a sofa, on which he asks me to sit, legs apart. The rough fabric is not very pleasant to the touch. The softness of my husband's kisses, the warmth of his caresses on my body and the white wine on my lips and my palate allow me to relax. I don't know how many men and women were in the room...
He asks me to get on all fours on the sofa, with my head down to mark my arch and make my buttocks protrude. He plays with the straps of his leather flogger, tickling my skin until it makes me shiver. I'm not cold though.
Shortly after, I recognize the voice of Miss M., who greets D. and congratulates him, it seems to me, for the submission and beauty of his submissive, specifying that she will return once she is dressed. I understand at that moment that D. will not be my Master today, it would be Miss M..
Loving the contact of women, their sensuality, the softness of their lips, I am immediately delighted.
A Domina, what a great first experience! I had imagined that Mr R. would also be present. Not hearing him, I now assume that he will come in a second time or that he was unable to free himself. The wait begins, allowing me to completely disconnect, concentrate and soak up the place, its noises and its smells.
On her return, Miss M. caresses my body, flatters me, expresses what I do not see and that I project in each of my fantasies, the show that we are going to give, and me in particular. It seems to me that she is caressing me with a different flogger than D.'s, noisier (and therefore more frightening), with wider, flatter, colder blades that remind me of bat wings. She plays with the instrument before whipping my thighs, my buttocks and my back in a crescendo. D. who gives me his fingers to nibble and suck feels as the blows become stronger. My teeth nibble at him then bite him hard. Miss M. congratulates me and rewards me by kissing me greedily and gently. An encouragement for the future.
I was invited to get up (which I had previously dared to do without authorization, which Miss M. did not fail to remind me of) to be accompanied to a sort of podium on which I climbed. Miss M. raises my right hand to hook it to a handcuff in which there is a handle. Same for the left hand. I find myself with my hands tied, my body exposed, every bit of skin offered to the gazes and blows of my dominatrix. She makes me spread my legs to better discover and expose my body and my penis. Sensing my tension and apprehension, M. caresses me with a vibrator. Immediate feeling of heat, excitement, desire to go further by arching my back and exposing my buttocks a little more. I receive blows from a stick, on my thighs, my buttocks, my back, on my stomach, on my breasts which I feel immediately harden and swell. All my attention is focused on these few cm2 of skin, feeling the heat of my nipples after each stroke of the stick. I hear Miss M. pick up the flogger again, play it before applying harsher blows to me than on the sofa. Both focused on my feelings and in control (twitching) of my body, I anxiously await the crescendo of the blows.
Miss M. whispers in my ear that she is going to hand over to an expert, a Master... I understand at that moment that Mr R. is present. Since when ? G.’s presence and words carry me. I know he is proud of me, excited by my exhibition, without limits this time.
Mr R. takes the hand. The swift blows rain down… Tense, tense, I have difficulty feeling pleasure. However, I am very proud to be there, to not flinch and to respect the rules of the game. I have never been hit so violently. And imagining the effect I have on D. and the other spectators (how many are there? men? women? what are they doing?) allows me to overcome the pain I feel. Mr R. comes closer to me for the first time. I am immediately seduced by the features of its refined and powerful perfume, a mixture of scents reminiscent of earth, leather and forest. Maybe Guerlain’s Habit Rouge? His warm hands caress my stomach, his sensual voice is reassuring, the familiarity creates immediate proximity. Mr R.’s sensory “discovery” fills and reassures me. His advice is very precious: “relax”, “let go”, an invitation to live in the present moment.
I am turned around on the podium (for a different play of light? An exposure of my body from another angle?), I release all the pressure that I had kept on the handles to which my hands were holding and I let my body relax to better enjoy the swift strokes. The bite, broad and amplified each time, the heat immediately released by my skin in reaction and the well-being that this provides before the renewal of a more marked bite. A man observing the scene comments on the call for my white bottom to be spanked. I am flattered... At the end of each crescendo, the comforting words of Mr. R., the caress of his large hands on the parts of my body violated and the gentleness of the gestures of Miss M. concomitant with the blows bring me excitement ; Miss M. kneels to lick me, Miss M. kisses me, my husband who I feel very close caresses my arms and encourages me.
Gradually, I let go of the maelstrom of sensory impressions that assault every infirm part of my body, whippings, spankings...
They untie me, my head is spinning. I am taken to a piece of furniture to which I am tied, wrists, ankles, stomach. I feel like Vitruvius' wife! It's a wheel. My back is in contact with a cold, metallic part that makes me flinch. Quite quickly, I lose the sense of up and down by offering myself to stares, whippings and spankings. Mr. R. alternates the blows with caresses which warm my loins to better start again. Head down, I feel like the ties on my ankles are going to slip without being able to hold me. I am complaining. The game stops. I'm being released.
I am supported and guided towards a piece of leather furniture, it seems to me, on which I lie flat on my stomach. There is a space to place my face for a tension-free posture. My legs are nicely spread, attached by ropes to some sort of leggings. Miss M. kisses me voluptuously, Mr R. alternates between blows, spankings and words of encouragement and reassurance. My buttocks tense, my penis opens a little more, presents itself to be better penetrated. A dildo is stuck in it. It's painful. I scream. Immediately, the object is removed and I very quickly then feel the heat of a rod that I know well, that of my husband, which excites me terribly. Mr. R. delivers nice spanks on the top of my thighs which are still asking for more while my husband carries out his valiant and rhythmic assaults. I become a female dog at will, letting go and listening only to my pleasure reinforced by the exhibition that I offer to the spectators whose panting breathing I hear.
Mr R. takes off my blindfold. The game, for this time, is over. We return, Miss M., Mr R, D. and I to the sofa where I had been introduced to Miss M. at the start of the session. I meet Mr R. and Miss M. over a board of charcuterie and cheese, accompanied by red wine. I'm still levitating. It will take me a very long time to truly come back to earth on this special Friday afternoon.
