I still take on clients. Very select, very private, and strictly word of mouth. These sessions are completely separate from my family life and always kept discreet.

One of my clients, we’ll call him Mr. Planko, has a very peculiar kink. And part of that kink is the fear of people finding out. So I told him (and yes, this is well within our negotiated limits) that I’d be sharing his kink with the world. Right here.

He knows I’ll never reveal his real name. But he also knows I could if I wanted to. That’s part of the thrill for him.

Here’s what gets Mr. Planko going:

We meet in his garage. There’s a ping-pong table already set up, and he gets positioned at one end. But he’s not playing. He’s bound to the wall behind the table, wrists and ankles shackled, arms and legs spread wide.

He’s also dressed in something… pretty. I choose the outfit, of course. Sometimes it’s a skimpy bikini, other times a tiny black dress with no underwear. Always something revealing, humiliating, and cute.

We begin with standard ping-pong balls. They bounce off his exposed body and don’t do much damage, but they set the tone. They warm him up.

Then I get serious.

I bring out my stockpile of rubber balls. They are firmer, heavier, and far more painful. At that point, I stop using the table and aim directly for his chest, thighs, cock, or wherever I feel like landing one.

It’s a fantastic workout for me.

And for him? The pain is pleasure. I’ve made him cum hands-free from just one or two solid, well-aimed strikes. No touch. No teasing. Just pain. That’s all it takes.

When it’s over, I uncuff him, collect my payment, which includes the cost of the outfit, and head home feeling satisfied and a little sore. In the best way.

Who needs the gym when you’ve got Mr. Planko?

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