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Femdom stories: Submissive male slave femdom story

Submissive male, male slave, whipping, Mistress, facesitting, caning, faceslapping femdom story.

 

 

 

  

  

SHEILAS SLAVE

(Part 1)

 

 

 

We had been married for about six years and our marriage had lost a lot of its fire. Although Sheila looked fabulous in high heels and black stockings, she seldom wore them and months would go by without our having sex. One day I saw a magazine which looked sexy and I bought it. It had pictures of gorgeous girls in undies and black stockings whipping men. I was sitting on the bed looking at the photos and wishing…….when I heard the telephone ring. Sheila answered it, then she called out “It’s for you”. I hid the magazine under my pillow and went to answer the ‘phone.

 

When I got back to the bedroom, there was Sheila sitting on the bed leafing through the magazine! I was so embarrassed, but Sheila said “Don’t be silly…come and sit down” I sat next to her while she leafed through the magazine and we looked at the photos of the sexy girls whipping men. Sheila said “If this is what turns you on you ought to get it from me, not from stupid bimbos in a magazine!” We talked about it and both got excited.

 

We went to the cupboard where I kept my tools and things. I found a length of thick black rubber-covered flex to which I taped a pair of leather bootlaces, making a cruel-looking whip with four lashes. I even found the wrist-loop from an old umbrella and taped it to the handle. I took the whip to Sheila in the bedroom and found that she had changed into her black high heeled shoes, silky black seamed stockings and a sleek black slip which oozed over her figure. She looked fabulous and when she took the whip and slipped her wrist through the loop she had never looked sexier.

 

She said “Strip” and I got out of my clothes. Our cellar makes a perfect torture-chamber. It is soundproof and the pipe which runs across the ceiling is ideal for Sheila to hang me up for her whippings. Sheila found a short strap with which she tightly strapped my wrists, then she tied a cord round the strap, passed it over the pipe and hauled me up by my wrists. She looked superb standing in her high heels and silky black stockings, the light gleaming on her black slip as she ran the leather lashes through her fingers and looked at me tied up by my wrists awaiting her lash.

 

“Let’s give you your first whipping” she said and raised the whip over me. It whistled through the air and slashed across my back, the sudden stripe of pain surprisingly cruel.

 

I went rigid with pain, arching my back and looking up at my tied hands before slumping limply. At that moment Sheila raised the whip and lashed it across me again…..again…again…We had agreed that she wouldn’t cut me with the whip as we believed welts would disappear after a while, whereas scars might not go away, which could be embarrassing. But as she whipped and whipped it was hard to believe she wasn’t flogging me to ribbons.

 

I was filled with admiration for her…..how sexy she looked in her high heels and black stockings, her bust and hips so silky in her silky slip and most of all for how expertly she was flogging me, whipping her way down my back from shoulders to waist so that my whole back was covered with her lashes. With each lash I went rigid, then slumped from my wrists. I had resolved not let a woman whip a sound from me, but that was utterly stupid…no man could remain silent under Sheila’s whip.

 

When she had given me ten lashes Sheila let the whiplashes hang by her silky stockings. Her breasts heaved deliciously at the black nylon of her slip from her efforts with the whip. I was hanging limply from my wrists and had the idea to close my eyes so that Sheila would think I had fainted and would stop whipping me. But she looked so fantastically sexy standing there in her high heels, silky black stockings and sleek black slip, running the leather lashes through her fingers – I just had to look at her. She was gazing with cruel interest at the man she had hung by the wrists and flogged and she said quietly “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t allow you to faint…..I know just how to revive a man for further whipping!”. Her fingers played with my balls making me gasp, then she ran her fingers slowly along my erection making me moan and writhe, then her fingertips did fantastic things at the most sensitive spot under the tip of my penis.

 

She was driving me crazy! She taught me that first night what is so sexy about being whipped by a woman: no matter how prolonged and how cruel her whippings, Sheila could always revive me with her sexy fingers, making sure I was always fully conscious to suffer the full torture of every lash!

 

When she saw I was ready for her she stepped to her whipping position, her high heels loud on the stone cellar floor. She raised the whip high over my back and lashed it across me. Again I went rigid, then slumped limply from my strapped wrists. Sheila raised the whip again…..she whipped and whipped and whipped…..each fresh lash of the leather tails made me sway.

 

I writhed, moaned and sweated as lash after lash flayed across my back. I thought she would stop after ten lashes, but she whipped on….lash after lash after lash while I hung limply from the wrists and the whiplashes whistled and slashed, whistled and slashed their scarlet stripes of torture across my back. She inflicted twenty lashes, then let the whiplashes fall by her silky black stockings, breasts heaving delightfully, a superb goddess in her high heels and black stockings.

 

She took a handful of my hair and lifted my sagging head to look into my pain-filled eyes. “Are you sorry we started this?” she asked, smiling cruelly. I found the strength to reply: “No, Mistress…” she liked that and interrupted “Always call me Mistress in future!”…..”No, Mistress..” I continued…”no day passes when I don’t dream of seeing you in your high heels, black stockings and slip, but you never put them on. And every single day I long to feel your fingers on me, but it never happens. If the price for seeing you in black stockings and feeling your fingers is to be whipped, then never stop whipping me!” Sheila loved that. She did things to me with her fingers which had me writhing and moaning as I dangled from my wrists like some demented marionette. “Do I look that good?” she asked and did something she knew I loved: she stood with ankles and knees together and slowly raised her slip until she was showing off the fabulously sexy tops of her silky black stockings……and with the whip in her hand she looked so sexy I actually moaned. I realised I was mumbling “Oh God…oh how sexy….oh how fantastic…” Sheila let her slip fall and raised her whip…..The cellar filled with the sound of whipping as the lash rose and fell…rose and fell…..after ten lashes I was sure I couldn’t endure more, but Sheila flogged and flogged and flogged….fifteen lashes…twenty lashes…..I realised the whip had stopped slashing across my back. I hung limply in scarlet mists of torture, then Sheila took a handful of my hair and yanked my sagging head up. “Good!” she said smiling cruelly into my eyes, “I now know that you can stand the whip, but I think fifty lashes is enough for your first whipping. When we’ve had a few of these sessions, fifty lashes won’t even be the start of the evening!”

  

 

She revived me with her incredibly sexy fingers on my erection, my eyes fixed on her sexy black shoulder-straps, on her gorgeous bust straining at the tight smooth slip, on her swaying silky hips. Her fingers teased and stroked taking me to peaks of arousal, reviving me to feel the scarlet stripes criss-crossing my back.

 

"Kiss the whip!" she ordered holding it out for me to kiss. It thrilled me that my wife Sheila was so enjoying being a sexy woman whipping a man. She let me down from the hanging and let me exercise my strained, tortured arms, my wrists still tightly strapped. “On your knees!” she ordered and I obeyed. I knelt gazing at the silky black stockings of my torturess who stood over me, whip in hand.

 

What she did next was a stroke of pure genius…the act of a woman who was born to be a torturess. “There is a speck of dust on my shoe, slave!” she said quietly. I knew what she wanted and bent over her shoe to lick it, but she lashed the whip down and said “Wait!” She stepped daintily over my strapped wrists with a silky swirl of her black stockings, so that now I knelt clasping her silky stockinged legs with my strapped wrists. She lashed my back and said “Get on with it!” Obediently I started to lick her shoes, ever conscious of her standing over me with the whip, ever conscious of her fabulously silky black stockings, which I rubbed my arms against whenever I could.

 

Every time I stopped for breath, or to lick my dry lips She used the whip. At length she said “Enough!” and I stopped licking, kneeling in utter worship of her gorgeous stockinged legs. She raised her slip, making me sweat and examined her shoes, giving me a fantastic leg-show. She lashed the whip across my back and said “Not good enough!”. She stood over me and flogged five lashes across my whipped back…”Now lick my shoes properly!” I licked and licked, tasting the leather of her sexy shoes, clasping her silky black stockings with my strapped wrists.

 

There was a moment when my tongue licked her stockinged foot and she lashed the whip down saying “My shoes, not my stockings, idiot!” The best bit was when I lay looking up the seams of her stockings while I licked her high heels. I was in a delirium of sexual excitement.

 

She lashed the whip across my back and said “Stop!”. Again I knelt and awaited my Mistress’s decision as she examined her thoroughly licked shoes. “Not good enough!” and she flogged the whip across my back ten times. “Lick my shoes!” and I bent over my Mistress’s shoes again feeling her lash whenever she felt like using it.

 

 Eventually, she didn’t even bother to examine her shoes…she whipped me anyway! Then she started another sexy torture: “Show me how you worship your Mistress!” I asked permission to kiss her shoes, but Sheila – even at this first session – was every inch a Slavemistress and a Mistress doesn’t give permission….she gives orders…and when she gives orders she uses her whip. “Kiss my shoes!” she ordered and her whip lashed across my back. After I had kissed her shoes to her satisfaction she flogged the whip down and said “Enough!…..continue.” I begged for permission to kiss her silky knees and she ordered me to do so with two lashes of her whip, standing over me, a black-stockinged goddess, whip in hand. The feel of her silky black stockings against my nose and mouth aroused me even more. She lashed my back and said “Yes….?” I begged permission to kiss the tops of her stockings and received her orders with three lashes of her whip. I was so excited by now, I couldn’t believe my wife Sheila was doing this to me. Her whip cut through my thoughts and she awaited my further worship. I begged for permission and was ordered to lick her high heels with five cuts of the whip. Oh how I savoured looking up her stocking seams as I performed my slavish worship. Then it was kissing the seams of her stockings for which I paid with seven lashes, but it was fantastic looking up the skirt of her slip as she stood over me. The whip lashed across me and I was ordered to kiss the tops of her stockings with ten lashes, but it would have been worth fifty lashes to kneel clasping her silky legs, gazing at her stocking seams and kissing those fabulously sexy black stocking-tops.

 

The whip put a stop to that and the final moment came, which we had both been anticipating: I begged for permission to kiss Sheila’s knickers. She stood over me for a couple of moments, savouring the moment of complete rule over me, of being no longer a housewife, but a gloriously sexy torturess standing over her whipped slave.

 

"Kiss my knickers, slave!” she ordered with a quaver of excitement in her voice, but the dozen lashes of the whip with which she enforced her command would have made any man obey her. I trembled with excitement as I approached her silky pink knickers with my nose and mouth, then my lips touched the hot scented silk and I was in heaven! I pressed my face into her wonderful sexy knickers and kissed her passionately, knowing she was standing over me with her whip, whose lashes striped my back with fire.

 

She stooped slightly and I started stroking the hot, silky gusset of her knickers with my nose. Sheila gave a little murmur of excitement and I stroked her and stroked her, a whipped slave on his knees pleasuring his Mistress. “Oh, I like that!” she murmured and lashed the whip across my back……”More!”…lashing my back….”More!”….lashing my back.

 

After a time she turned in a swirl of silky slip and stockings and stood over me with the whip, running the lashes through her fingers and looking down at me. “What an evening!” she sighed…..”we’re going to do this often!” She ordered me to stand and tied a length of cord around my testicles, tugging it cruelly tight. By this leash she led me up the cellar stairs, thrilling me to bits as I followed her up the stairs gazing at her high heels, slender silky stocking seams and her swaying hips in the black silky slip. As her slip swung I caught glimpses of her stocking-tops and knickers….and the whip was still in her hand. She took me to the bedroom, giving cruel little tugs on the leash. There, she pushed me onto the bed . She tied my strapped wrists above my head to the bedstead, then removed the leash. Then she stood astride me so that I lay tied down looking up the seams of her black stockings. As she stooped to stroke my erection, her slip rode up so that I was gazing up the length of her stocking-seams from her high heels to her suspenders.

 

The whip hung from its loop about her wrist. Her fingers drove me crazy and when she knew it was time she lay on me and “took me”.

 

We lay for a while talking about the torture-session, which made us excited again. Sheila worked me up with her fingers and “took me” again.

 

She kept me tied to the bed and during the night I was awoken by her fingers stroking me and we had sex yet again. At last Sheila unstrapped my sore wrists and we slept.

 

Next morning, I was worried about how we would feel about things in the cold light of day, but I need not have worried. We both agreed it had been a terrific experience. I gave all the praise to Sheila – if she had pretended to whip me it would have been embarrassing, but because she really had become a torturess the whole thing had been an immensely thrilling experience for us both. It was the first time we had ever had sex more than once in one night! Just talking about it (Sheila still in her high heels, black stockings and slip) made us excited. Sheila fetched her whip from the bedroom, ordered me to kneel and tied my hands to the table-leg. Standing over me in her high-heeled, black-stockinged glory she flogged ten lashes across my back. Then she untied me and we just had to go back to bed for some more sex. Lying next to each other afterwards, me with my hands tied behind my back, Sheila stroking my erection, she kissed me passionately, so utterly excited that after several years of marriage she was a beautiful woman totally worshipped by her man. We stood in front of the full-length mirror, Sheila so gorgeously sexy in her high heels, black stockings and slip holding the whip and we examined my back, criss-crossed from shoulders to waist with her scarlet whiplashes. Sheila said “Come on, you!” and we were back in bed again having sex! There was no doubt, our marriage had taken on a new and very exciting lease of life. I lay there, so glad I had bought that magazine and so immensely happy to be Sheila’s Slave!

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHEILA’S SLAVE

(Part 2)

After our first torture-session my wife Sheila just couldn’t get enough and most evenings after supper she would take me down to the cellar to be flogged. Then one evening she came into the living room in her high heels, silky black seamed stockings and her sleek black slip, whip in hand. This was the signal to start a session and I would immediately strip to be taken downstairs to the cellar.

 

Downstairs I expected Sheila to strap my wrists and haul me up for a whipping, but tonight she ordered me to bend over a high stool. While I lay across it gazing at her high heels and silky black stockings, Sheila tightly tied my wrists to the legs of the stool. I knew by the way she yanked the knots tight that she had a cruel whipping in mind. She went to the table, high heels loud on the stone floor of the cellar, then she said “Look what I bought for you, darling” and showed me a slender whippy cane. This was a cane for inflicting torture! It seemed to sway in her hand as though eager to inflict its pain. She swished it and I cringed at the cruel sound. She looked so fabulously sexy standing there in her high heels and silken black stockings, the light gleaming on her black slip which flowed silkily over her figure as she gazed at me over the flexed cane.

 

Her high heels loud, she stepped to her whipping position, making sure I could admire her while she flogged me. She raised the cane high over me……it whistled through the air and flayed across my bottom, slamming me against the stool, lashing me to the roots of my being with its awful fire.

 

I strained uselessly against her tight bonds, my yell of pain echoing from the cellar walls. She raised the cane again and it streaked through the air to lash! across me……..again she lashed me…again…then I saw little wrinkles of black nylon come and go at her ankles as she stood on her toes to LASH! the cane across me even more cruelly. My cry of pain filled the cellar. I was writhing and moaning yet the flogging had only just begun!

 

When Sheila tied me down for the whipping she had made sure my male parts hung free for her to torture. Now she touched my balls, then slid her fingers along my erection, stroking me and stroking me…..her amazingly sexy way of reviving a man for further whipping.

 

While she did this to me I was staring in worship at her glorious black stockings only inches from my face. She lifted my head by a handful of my hair and said “You’re making too much noise! I’ve only just started and you’re yelling already!” She had a reel of brown wrapping-tape and a pair of scissors on the table. Now she slapped some sticky tape across my mouth to gag me…..a sure sign she had a prolonged and cruel whipping in store for me! My stomach turned over as she picked up the cane, swished it and came towards me.

 

She got into a rhythm of flogging……four lashing strokes, then up on her toes to LASH! the cane across me…..another four strokes, then LASH! I was writhing, sweating, moaning, yelling into the gag, ………after ten lashes I lay across the stool in a mist of torture.

 

Sheila stood over me inflicting her sexy revival treatment on my throbbing erection while I lay across the torture-stool breathing heavily from her beating, from her revival treatment and from the sight of her high heels and black stockings. I was still amazed that this woman I’d been married to for so long had become this sexy goddess of torture. She raised my sagging head by my hair, looked me over and let my head drop.

 

When she gave me another ten lashes I was on edge at the sight of her standing so haughty in those high heels, her silky black stockings, her swaying hips and proud bust in that sleek black slip…….even as I lay writhing with pain, yelling my anguish into the gag…..at the sight of her I just didn’t want the whipping to end! To be in this torture-chamber looking at this fantastically sexy woman was so fantastic……all I wanted was the strength to endure her whippings for hours and hours….and her sexy fingers would see to it that I did! She revived me with her fingers and I yearned to lick her shoes…to kiss her knickers…………..Instead she raised the cane over me and the cellar became filled with the sounds of flogging: the fierce whistle of the cane through the air, the slash of it across my bottom, my muffled yells of pain, the little squeaks of Sheila’s high heeled shoes on the floor and even the rustle of her stockings as she whipped and whipped and whipped the cane across me.

 

She lifted my sagging head with the cane under my chin and told me “Fifty lashes delivered!”, then to be cruel she added “I’m just beginning to like this!”

She stroked my erection, taking me to dizzy peaks of arousal and when I was ready for her, she ripped the gag cruelly from my lips and announced: “Ten lashes to be endured in complete silence! If you make a sound, I’ll give you a whipping and start again!” I couldn’t believe she was saying this……..how could any man endure Sheila’s cane in silence? And she was going to lash it across my bottom, already on fire from her fifty lashes! For a moment I was about to beg her for mercy, but how can a slave tell his Mistress what to do? The Mistress flogs…the slave is flogged. As Sheila moved sexily with swaying silky hips to her whipping position and flexed the slender cane in anticipation of the fabulous torture she was about to inflict, I tried to prepare myself mentally for what was to come.

 

I never in my life thought that one day I would be tied down looking at Sheila in her high heels, black stockings and slip waiting for her to flog me! Seeing me gazing at her legs she slowly raised her slip to show off the tops of her stockings. “You can think of this when I’m whipping you” she smiled.

 

She stood over me the swishy slender cane ready to do its torturous work then she raised the cane…. it swiped though the air and I exploded into a stripe of utter agony.

 

I strained futilely at her tight bonds, my wrists sore from the grip of the tight cord. I writhed and sweated, but somehow forced myself to remain silent. Sheila raised the cane again……it slashed across me like red-hot wire and I writhed frantically with its sudden pain…..yet I kept silent. She lashed the cane across me and to my horror I heard a yelp of pain escape my writhing lips. Sheila yanked my head up painfully by a handful of hair. “I gave you an order to keep silent!” she said quietly, but with menace “..and you disobeyed”. She put down the cane, slipped her wrist through the loop of her leather whip, stood over me like a black-stockinged goddess and flogged ten lashes across my back. Then she gave me a revival-treatment which had me moaning and writhing with sheer arousal.

 

She picked up her cane and I whimpered at the thought of what she was about to do to me. “Ten lashes to be borne in silence!” she told me and raised the cane. The first lash seemed to set me on fire……I was writhing, sweating, making myself keep silent and just when I congratulated myself on doing so Sheila flogged the cane across me and I exploded into pain again…..under her torture I was in such a state….I would have given a fortune to be able to simply scream with pain, but the thought of Sheila whipping me and starting the caning all over again forced me to keep silent. She lashed the cane across me without the slightest mercy and I was sure I had screamed….but she remained standing over me, my high-heeled goddess of torture, so I must have kept silent….GOD!!!! how she whipped that cane across me….writhing, sweating, sucking breath into my lungs…..fighting to keep silent………

 

She swiped the cane across me with such force, I thought she would cut me in half………my own voice seemed to be saying “keep silent…keep silent….”……she lashed the cane down and I writhed frantically in a scarlet mist of torture….surely I had screamed?….Please God…let me not scream…. Sheila actually went up on her toes to LASH the cane down and the stripe of red-hot pain seemed to flow through every nerve-end….

 

I concentrated every ounce of my attention on Sheila’s high heels and silky black stockings, but the slice of her cane across me cut through everything. I lay across the torture-stool, still as tightly tied down as when Sheila had pulled the knots tight, writhing frantically to encompass her torture and even more frantically fighting to keep silent under such flogging.…again she went up on her toes…the cellar filled with the utterly cruel whistle of the cane through the air, then it lashed me to my soul sending me into fresh paroxysms of writhing, sweat dripping from my red contorted face, my lips striving to contain the screams I longed to give. I watched my torturess’s sexy ankles as she went up on her toes to WHIP! the cane down and I dissolved into a new frenzy of writhing, convinced I had screamed and that she would start the caning all over again!

 

 

I must have kept silent because I realised the flogging had stopped and I was gazing through pain-filled eyes at Sheila’s high heels and silky black stockings as she stood over me, using her sexy fingers on my erection to revive me.

 

She was so wonderfully cruel: even after such a whipping she would not allow me to escape the torture by fainting…when Sheila whipped a man she made sure he suffered every lash! She took a handful of my hair and lifted my sagging head. My face must have registered the torture she had just inflicted and it seemed to feed her sexy cruelty. “Good boy!” she said, her fingers still stroking me to heights of arousal….

 

 

”I trained you to take ten lashes of the cane in silence!”…..still she stroked me….”should we do it all over again?” I looked into her smiling beautiful eyes and almost fainted at the thought of her flogging me again. She laughed and slapped my face,

 

still held up painfully by my hair…..”don’t worry, darling..” she smiled…”even I can see you’ve had enough for now”.

 

She had tied me down far too tightly to undo the knots, so she cut me loose and ordered me to my knees. Standing over me with her whip she enjoyed the worship a women of her sexy beauty and cruelty deserved from her tortured slave. I licked her shoes until my tongue ached. I kissed my way up the seams of her stockings and when I devoted my worship to her knickers I re-lived every lash of her cane while I kissed the tight warm silk and stroked her with my nose. She was murmuring with pleasure, but when she got really excited she lashed and lashed the whip across my back in time to the strokes of my nose on the silky gusset of her knickers.

 

Before we got into bed we stood before the mirror to view my tortured bottom. I looked as if I had been in the hands of the Gestapo – my whole bottom was black and blue and yellow crossed by great angry scarlet lashes.

 

Standing in front of the mirror next to the woman who had given me this flogging, looking so sexy in her high heels, silky black stockings and black slip, with her whip in her hand, we both laughed at the sight of my erection rising even higher. She ordered me to my knees and enjoyed watching in the mirror while I kissed her knickers and stroked her with my nose. “I really am a gorgeous Mistress!” she sighed….”lucky you!” and even with the torture of her whippings searing me, I had to agree! Later, in bed after fantastic sex I told Sheila that I had no idea how I kept from screaming when she caned me and I asked her “if I had cried out when you gave me the tenth lash, would you really have whipped me and then given me the whole caning all over again?” Sheila laughed and stroked my erection “Of course I would, darling” she told me rubbing her stockinged leg against me. “If a Mistress tells her slave she will flog him, then she must flog him…anyway, I enjoy caning you so much, how could I have resisted!” I tried to contemplate going through that flogging all over again…in silence!!…and could not face the thought. I looked at Sheila, her breasts so gorgeous in her silky black slip, her fingers working me up again and could not believe my luck to be the slave of this wonderful sexy, cruel Mistress.

  

 

Sheila swung her legs from the bed and said “By asking me if I would have started the caning again you showed that you doubted me. That won’t do!” She went out and I heard her going down the cellar stairs, then returning. She had her cane in her hand!

“Get up” she ordered and when I obeyed, “ Bend over on the bed”. Hardly able to believe she would whip my tortured bottom again, I obeyed.

 

She lashed the cane across me and said “Do you believe I would cane you again?” My voice trembling with pain I mumbled “Yes, Mistress” She whipped the cane across me again “Louder!”…I said “Yes, Mistress” She flogged the cane across me…again…again….”Lick my shoes!” and I knelt licking my Mistress’s shoes while she stood over me flexing the cane. She whipped the cane across my back and said "Look at me!" I knelt submissively looking up at her proud silky breasts, hardly daring to look at the slender whippy cane flexed in her hands. “Do you believe I would take you downstairs now for a hundred lashes?” Almost sobbing with fear I said “Yes, Mistress” To my relief Sheila said “Good!…bend over the bed again!” and she lashed another five strokes of the cane across me. Thoroughly excited, we then had marvellous sex.

 

She always wears high heels and black stockings about the house and I watch her, my back laced with the scarlet stripes from her latest floggings in constant awe of my gorgeous, sexy cruel, cruel Mistress.

  

  

  

 

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