“Panty Perv gets spanked humiliated.”
This is an account of my recent highly enjoyable visit to Mistress Helen. If you ever feel the need to be under the control of a gorgeous dominatrix, great at role-play, with a sense of fun, who can also be strict and severe, then a visit to Mistress Helen Ryder certainly hits the spot.
I was supposed to be measuring up for a decorating estimate for Miss Ryder when she caught me sniffing panties from her washing basket. I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice her filming me on her phone until she barked “put those down you filthy pervert, and get in here! Now!”. She twisted my ear and pulled me into her work/play room. This was full of BDSM equipment: spanking bench, canes, crops, floggers, paddles, cuffs, ropes, gags, nipple clamps, and lots of other stuff I didn’t recognise.
“I’m Mistress Helen, a professional dominatrix” she announced as she slapped my face, “I have perverts like you for breakfast. If you don’t do that work for me for free, I’ll put this film will be all over the internet, with special attention for your wife and your boss. Do you want that?” I admitted that I’d rather she didn’t, and had to accept her demands. A few unpaid hours painting wouldn’t be so bad, and I hoped she would let me go.
“Not so fast” she said. “I’ve bought some new items, and I can try them out on you. Won’t that be fun?”. She didn’t wait for my answer. First up was a very large sissy maid costume. “Get undressed, and look sharp about it!” she ordered. When she saw I was wearing ladies panties with ‘PLEASE SPANK ME’ written on the back, she laughed, before obliging with a leather belt (“seeing as I’d asked so nicely”). I took them off, and she laughed even more at my chastity device. Forced to my knees, hands on head, I had to explain that my wife makes me wear the panties and device because she doesn’t trust me with female customers. “Don’t all wives do this?” I asked, but I just got another slap.
I was put into the dress, with matching panties, suspenders and stockings, a blond wig, and a frilly white hat and apron. “Very fetching” she said. “Give us a twirl and some curtseys”. I did as I was told. “Hmm. You’re about as elegant as an elephant!” she pronounced, as she put me in handcuffs, anklecuffs and nipple clamps. She ran another chain from my clamps to the ankle chain, so I could only take short mincing steps without pulling on my nipples. I was gagged with my own panties, held in my mouth by a bone shaped bit gag. “Sissies should be seen but NOT heard” she told me. Finally, a pink ‘SLUT’ collar with tinkly bells on was buckled round my neck.
“You might look the part, but how good are you at chores?” she asked as she gave me a pink feather duster. She picked up something painful-looking that was like a short bullwhip with a dragon’s tail on the end, and marched me downstairs to dust her living room, casually flicking my backside with the whip as I did so. Ouch!
Dusting done and dusted, I had to serve her a cup of tea and then polish her shoes with the panties in my mouth while she sat and sipped her drink. By now I had been given quite a lot of penalty points for doing things either wrongly or too slowly. I was taken back upstairs, dusting the handrail as I went, and strapped to her spanking bench. She told me that 40 strokes from various implements, ending with 10 from a cane, should buck my ideas up. The cane was new, as she had recently broken her old one on another slave. I prayed she didn’t want to test this one to destruction too. It hurt, but the cane survived (and so did I) and I was released for my next chore.
My gag was replaced by a rubber penis gag with a dildo sticking out the front. (I secretly hoped she might sit on it and bounce up and down, but no such luck.) No; she taped a pair of panties on the end, and led me into her spare room, which was full of shoes and boots. Despite my predicament, I couldn’t help laughing at how many pairs there were. For this I was punished. She replaced my clover clamps with a similar but far more painful pair with much stronger springs, and told me I would have to wear them for at least 5 minutes. She then looked for the first clamps. I tried to tell her through my gag that they were still attached to my chains. For grunting out of turn, I was sentenced to 30 minutes in the new clamps. A bit harsh, but when she saw I was actually being helpful she relented, and reduced the time to 10 minutes. “Be grateful for small mercies!” she told me. I could only nod in agreement.
I polished the shoes, and then two rubber dresses, with my duster gag. She removed the clamps, and put me back on the bench for another 30 or 40 strokes before letting me up again. “Stand there, and DON’T look round”, she ordered, as she pushed my nose into the doorframe. When she was ready, she led me by my ear to the bathroom, where I had to clean the washbasin and toilet. Thankfully I could use the brush instead of my tongue!
For my final dose of discipline, she removed the penis gag, and put my dribble soaked panties back in my mouth, held in place by sticky tape. This time I was secured to the bench with wrist cuffs as well as leg straps. “Blimey, how hard is she going to hit me?” I trembled. Fairly hard, as it turned out, but in hindsight it could have been worse.
I was released, and made to curtsey several times, each one lower than the last, while thanking her for her correction. I had to promise to mend my panty sniffing ways, and she reminded me what would happen to the film she had taken of me if I ever lapsed back into my old habits.
With that, she told me to put my ordinary clothes back on. My only underpants were the soggy panties that had been used to gag me, but they did at least feel cool and soothing on my hot, sore, stripy red bottom. I half expected them to start steaming.
Yours
Pansy Penny