Date Turns into Femdom Scene

Fuck. How did I get here? I was standing practically spread-eagled, hands tied above my head and feet bound so I couldn’t move them. Not to mention I was entirely naked. A ball gag invaded my lips, barring any means of talking; I could only produce helpless whimpers as my date stood in front of me with a thin, wooden cane and a glint in her eye that I didn’t like the look of.

Harper, my date, wore a pretty little lace bra and some black stockings that just made my cock throb. The way she looked almost made the humiliation worth it. I’d been told earlier, as we sat in a lovely restaurant, that to earn a second date, I had to – in her words – make it through her treatment. I thought I might be a little… entirely out of my depth. This was not what I expected, and I was a little nervous about what she might do, although I will admit that I used the moment to let my eyes wander.

Harper quickly noticed my eyes on her body and let out a low laugh. It was the sort of laugh that evokes more nerves than happiness; in truth, it turned me on.
“Hey, my eyes are up here,” she began, pacing around me while slowly smacking the cane against her palm; each shot made me quiver.

“What am I going to do with you, sweetheart? Clearly, you need to learn some manners,” Harper breathed, her voice whispering close despite her distance from me, “I think I’m going to have to punish you.”

Those words were like needles. They penetrated my skin and left tingles of arousal in their wake.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Well… I’m not going to hurt you yet.” Harper let out a tinkling giggle as though she were a schoolgirl who had just been told a funny joke. Once she had made sure I was perfectly still, Harper took a deep breath and then quickly smacked me on the ass with the palm of my hand three times.

The smacks had only been hard enough to get the blood flowing to the area. They didn’t hurt, per se, but they did make a heat rise within me that I certainly didn’t expect. In an aspect, it was also a feeling that I didn’t want. I was meant to be a man. To enjoy dominating women, not being smacked on the ass by them – and not enjoying the feeling of being spanked by them. No way. But still, I couldn’t help my rising arousal that made my dick grow rock solid; deep down, I knew I wanted nothing more than her to do it again.

She sensed it. The girl – she must have been a psychic – seemed to feel my growing lust. Seemed to feed off of it. She knew I wanted more and moved her hand to spank me again. This time, Harper smacked hard enough that the sound reverberated throughout the room, and a red handprint was left on my ass. She struck me six more times before pausing to consider her next move.

My cock was straining against my belly, a bead of pre-come glistening at the tip. Harper leaned over, lightly traced the vein running up the length with her fingers, and felt it twitch at her touch, “Such a good boy.” She purred, once again taking the cane up into her hands. A quiet yelp of protest was heard through the large object in my mouth. Despite all my efforts to try and take my punishment and absorb it as a man should, I couldn’t help but allow myself to whine a little at what I knew would come next.

“Now now,” Harper tutted, “Be good for me, hm?” And with that, she delivered three strokes across the middle of my ass. She inspected his work and noted that her aim was a little off – rather than one perfectly straight, crimson line against pale skin, there was a diagonal line that was deep red in the center but lighter around the edges.

“Huh. I guess I need more practice.” Harper commented, a light smile crossing her lips as she walked around to face me, looking at my face and registering the growing pleasure; she could read me like an open book. Her eyes looked me over, almost as if she was deciding something. Then, without warning, Harper quickly hit me with the cane twelve times with no discernible pattern. My entire backside was lined dark red, and my skin was boiling when she leaned over to touch to feel her work.

It excited her. I could tell. The marks on my body did something to Harper – she had an almost primal look in her eye as she moved around to look at my face. I tried to glare at Harper, and she noticed. She slapped him across the face, a sneer forming against her lips, “Your weakness has brought you here. Chained to the ceiling, like a prisoner. Don’t you forget that.”

Harper moved away for a moment, behind me. In that second, she grabbed a larger whip – a cat o’ nine tails – and stood once more in front of me.

“Let’s see, handsome. Whatever can I do with this?” Harper said in a mock sing-song voice, her tone not letting on what was about to happen. She gave him no warning, and the first sting of the cat ‘o nine tails had him jerking against his restraints. The pain was minimal, but the flavor of it was different. A burning, superficial pain set my nerves on end in a whole different manner.

Harper struck me again, and I tried to breathe in and get my head centered so I could distance myself from the sensations, but all the inhalation did was force her scent further into my lungs. It was so jarring to associate her with my torture that my focus slipped, making each strike of the barbed leather against my flesh feel like hot metal was being dragged across my back. With gritted teeth, I endured the torture as she quietly flayed me.

When the flogger wrapped around my side and hit the sensitive skin under my arm, it pulled a hissing breath from between my teeth. Harper must have enjoyed the reaction because she did it several times until my side was throbbing with heat.

My resolve was beginning to break. My skin was beaded with sweat, and the angry red marks made my skin sing out with pain.

“Good boy,” Trilled Harper, “I think we’re done with the caning for today. I have something way more fun for us to do.” I whined through my gag – her version of fun didn’t match my version of fun.

My suspicions were correct, as, within seconds, Harper had produced metal nipple clamps and wore a filthy smirk.

“I expect you know where I’m going to put these.” She grinned, stepping toward me. I tried to push down the growing feeling of pleasure inside me, swelling like a balloon that felt like it was going to pop. Harper moved a little towards me, placing her hand on my chest and letting it run down my body. She stopped before she reached my dick, teasing me in a way that made my hips buck toward her in protest. This pathetic attempt made Harper release a small chuckle as she traced her hands back up to my chest, the clamps painfully cold on my sensitive skin. Harper took her time, relishing the subtlest movements I made before slowly attaching the first clamp to my nipple.

The pain was immediate. It started small, concentrated in the center of my nipple as though someone had stabbed me. It lasted for what seemed like a lifetime, and I was releasing muffled wails into my gag and trying desperately to release myself from my bonds. Harper just watched, a smile slowly creeping onto her face.

Thankfully, my pain was short-lived. I felt a little disgusted at myself, but it turned into… pleasure. One of my nipples was clamped, and I was thoroughly enjoying it. My feelings of disgust diminished just a little as the arousal grew, amour seeping into my veins and rendering me dizzy. I wanted more. Looking at Harper, I think she could tell that I was no longer in pain; the small amount of drool tumbling down my chin probably conveyed that, in hindsight.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re being so good taking all that like a big strong man.” Harper said these last three words in a tone that was as though she were talking to an infant, which made something in the back of my mind flare up just a little. However, the flame was extinguished quickly as the second clamp was thrust harshly onto my nipple. A cry of ecstasy escaped my lips; there was hardly any pain now. I could barely even notice it. A small, practically unnoticeable part of me cried out that this was wrong, that I shouldn’t be doing this, but I honestly didn’t care.

The tingling sensation that seduced my chest was growing, vastly outweighing any pain I felt. I groaned softly against my ball gag for the first time that evening. Harper heard it and didn’t like it.

“Enjoying yourself, are you? Tsk tsk, that really won’t do.” A smirk – the same one from earlier – diluted her beautiful face once more. For a fraction of a second, pure fear flickered through me despite the pleasure. Harper was a whole head shorter than me – maybe even more than that, but the fear I felt at her words was genuine and soon had me paying more attention to the pain the clips were bringing instead of the pleasure. I closed my eyes, trying to block them out, only to open them once more to see Harper standing in front of me with yet another cane. But this one was different. The handle seemed to be varnished, and the length – the width – was like that of a birch tree branch. Small, whippy, painful.

It made my toes curl to even look at it.

“Well, we’ve fully attended to your back, yes?” Harper commented, making me remember the stinging sensation that continued to burn my backside, “So what will we do now?” She looked at me for a second and then snorted irritably; there was something I had not caught on to yet, “The front, idiot. Count the strokes, or I’ll have to punish you more.”

The front?

Surely she didn’t mean –

I cried out as the cane tip hit my balls, and I knew the strike hadn’t even been particularly hard. It hurt unbearably, however, and I could feel my balls trying to retreat inside me. Tears sprung to my eyes.

“I said to count them!” A second stroke sliced me.

“One, two…” I managed to get out, my legs struggling in the chains at my knees. Finally, my feet dangled free, and as I thrashed, I swung around in circles.
I braced for impact, and Harper hit my balls from behind, and I yelled so loudly that it seared my throat.

Harper knew that I was almost finished. She took a deep breath and struck me repeatedly until she heard me wail and knew tears were streaming down my face. Finally, it was so embarrassing and painful that I couldn’t take it anymore.

After a while, Harper stepped back and looked at the damage she had done to me. She reveled in it; every mark, cut, and scrape made her eyes glitter like a fairytale monster.

“Well, I think you’ve earned that second date, hm?”