He Went Home with the Wrong Woman on Halloween 2: An American Sub in Europe

This next letter comes from a man who attended my Halloween charity auction the year after Lars’ experience. By this point, we had started adding some basic rules, but things were still far from perfect. I had already heard bits of his story through whispers in the community, so we reached out to him for the full account.

The winning bidder was an older woman who was, unfortunately, suffering from dementia. She chained this poor man up for several days in her home before he was finally rescued. The experience was horrifying for him, and it was a huge wake-up call for me as an event organizer. It was stories like his that led me to implement strict rules, contracts, background checks, and safeguards, ensuring that the men who participated were treated according to the contract and safely returned.

Now, here in it’s entirety, published for the first time, Hank’s letter:

Dear FemdomU Magazine,

Per your request, I am sharing my experience at your Halloween Auction last fall. It really was an event that changed my life! I’m an American and was traveling through Europe and ended up at your Halloween charity auction bash. I have to say, it was one of the wildest and most memorable experiences of my life—but not entirely in a good way. Let me tell you about the time I went home with the wrong woman after the auction.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to older women. In fact, I’m a big fan of MILFs. But the woman who won the bid for me? Well, let’s just say she was more of a GILF. At first, I wasn’t too bothered; she was still attractive in her own way, and I figured, why not? This was Europe, after all—I was ready for an adventure. But things took a turn for the strange as soon as we arrived at her house.

Her place was like a damn museum. The kind where you’re afraid to touch anything because it might crumble to dust. I was expecting maybe some dim lights, candles, maybe some sexy lingerie—something typical. But when she led me into the bedroom, my jaw almost hit the floor. The place was covered—covered—with dolls. Hundreds of them, staring at me with those glassy, unblinking eyes. Creepy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

I tried to stay cool, figuring this was just part of the kink. She ordered me to strip and get on the bed, so I did. Then, she tied my arms and legs to the bedposts with surprising speed and agility for her age. I mean, this woman moved like a seasoned pro. But the weirdest part? The entire time, she wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to the dolls. Like I wasn’t even there.

After I was tied up, she started playing with my cock, telling the dolls how long it had been since she’d had “one of these” to enjoy. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel good, but it was just… odd. I felt like a prop in some bizarre sex ritual, and she didn’t once acknowledge me. Just kept telling the dolls how much fun they were going to have with me.

Things escalated quickly from strange to downright surreal when she picked up one of the dolls and placed it on my face. She ordered me to orally please it. I know what you’re thinking—how the hell do you “please” a doll? Well, let me tell you, I went for it. I licked that doll like my life depended on it. She was watching, so I figured I’d better give it my all. It wasn’t my proudest moment, but hey, I was in deep, both figuratively and literally.

Next, she climbed on top of me, straddling my face. And look, I’ve always been good at what I do, so I gave it my best effort. By the time I was done, I’d made her cum more times than I could count. After that, she moved down and finally, finally, straddled my cock. Now, I’m not going to tell you how old she was, but let’s just say there was a solid 55-year age gap between us. And yet, in the heat of the moment, I still came hard. Guess you could say I was living out a really strange fantasy I didn’t even know I had.

I passed out after that, exhausted and still tied to the bed. When I woke up, I was no longer tied, but I had a metal cuff around my ankle, chained to the bed. There was a pot next to me to piss in, but other than that, I was alone. No sign of her for hours. I yelled, called out, but nothing. I was supposed to be released that morning, but it became clear she had other plans.

She finally returned, still talking to the dolls and not to me. This time, she had a carpet beater in hand. Without warning, she started swinging it at me, and let me tell you, that shit hurt like hell. I quickly realized I’d missed some part of the “contract,” where apparently, I was supposed to cuff one of my wrists as soon as she entered the room. So, I scrambled to lock myself down, and she came over to finish the job.

It was another round of what had happened the night before, but this time, as I was eating out one of her dolls and she was jerking me off, I felt something… odd. She started pushing the arm of one of her dolls into my ass. Yeah, you read that right. At that point, I was so far gone, I just let it happen. It’s not like I had much choice, being tied down and all.

This routine went on for a couple more days. Every day was the same. More dolls. More… everything. She fed me and gave me water, kept me alive, but I was her prisoner. Each time, the experience got a little weirder, a little more intense. I figured I’d eventually be let go, but by the third day, I started to lose hope.

Then, one morning, I heard the door unlock, and I got ready, expecting the usual. But instead of her, it was a man—her grandson. He was older than me but still younger than her, and he seemed completely unsurprised by the situation. In fact, he seemed pissed off at me. Without saying much, he untied me, told me to get the fuck out, and made it clear I was never welcome back.

I grabbed my clothes, my dignity, and ran. I’m still processing everything that happened, but here’s the kicker—part of me enjoyed it. Sure, it was terrifying, and I probably won’t be bidding in another auction anytime soon, but I’ve got a story for the ages now, don’t I?

Yours in humiliation and strange pleasures,
Hank