My Personal Bangkok ‘Heaven’

Bangkok has a reputation for prisons that nobody would want to see inside, but, for me, this most exotic of Asian cities has one prison where I, a lowly slave, would do anything to be imprisoned: the dungeon of Mistress Christy, Thailand’s premier dominatrix.

The dungeon, two rooms on the top floor of a town-house and located in a quiet, affluent part of Bangkok, has been designed and equipped by this most wondrous of Asian  mistresses to the highest of standards possible for the sole purpose of inflicting severe and yet exquisite pain on her stable of slaves, one of whom is me. There is an eerie darkness about the dungeon, small and intimate, yet foreboding in its equipment. I always find it impossible to stop fingering the paddles, the straps, the whips or the dildoes, any one of which might scourge my body if my mistress so wills it. I quickly get undressed, folding my clothes neatly in a corner, as I await her presence. Once naked, I kneel and wait in the middle of the dungeon, my eyes averted to the ground. I can feel my heart beating ever more quickly, as I wait and wait. My slave name is ‘Bootlicker’ and my first task will be to clean my mistress’s leather boots, a task which I await with relish. But still she does not come. I strain my ears for the tell-tale clicking of my mistress’s high heels on the stone floor outside the door. But I hear nothing. Nothing. As the silence becomes deafening, my eyes suddenly alight on one of her whips, hanging next to the door, and, without thinking, I reach out to stroke the leather thongs. Then, in an instant, the door is open and there, in all her dominant glory, is Mistress Christy, her black leather boots in her black leather gloved hand. No wonder I didn’t hear her approach and now I have been caught playing with one of her favourite whips, without her permission.

“Bootlicker, did I say you could feel my whip?” “No, no, Mistress, I’m sorry, Mistress. I…” I fall on my stomach, in front of her feet. “Take my boots and help me put them on! Then I am going to punish you severely!” She hands me her boots, before sitting on her throne, and I shuffle forward, only too well aware of the soft leather in my hands, and the over-powering smell of my Mistress’s perfume, which has quickly filled the dungeon and consumed me. As she sits on her throne, I can only marvel at her beauty and her dominance over me, the latter strikingly symbolized by her clothes: the black leather basque and choker, the black leather skirt and the soft  kid gloves. I am in heaven as I gently slide her stockinged feet into the thigh-high leather boots. “Clean my boots, Bootlicker! Clean them with your tongue! Get on with it! Now!”

Mistress Christy has many pairs of boots and, at some time or other, I have cleaned all of them, but her black thigh-high lace-up boots are my favourite pair, and I cover each boot in turn with my tongue, while cradling it lovingly in my lap. The feel of the soft leather on my naked body is sensual in the extreme, and I am in paradise. “Stop! That is enough, Bootlicker!” I sit up and quickly avert my eyes downwards. “Come here!” I shuffle right up to my mistress. “Look at me! I am going to punish you, slave. Which will it be - your cock or your nipples?” I don’t think and reply far too quickly, “My nipples, Mistress.” The response is instant. A leather-gloved hand slashes across my cheek. “Wrong answer, Bootlicker, you should have said, ‘Whatever you wish, Mistress’. I will now punish both your nipples and your cock. Come here! I shuffle further forward. “You need to feel my pain! Don’t you?” I am now touching her knees and the smell of her perfume, mixed with her leather has completely entrapped me. I am totally at the whim of this woman. “Yes, Mistress, please punish me! Please, Mistress! I deserve it!”

I watch as she takes off her gloves. “Kiss them and do not make them wet. Worship them!” As I cover the soft black leather in kisses, I am only too well aware of my growing erection. But even worse, I can now see Mistress Christy’s favourite instruments of pain, at least for me, her long, beautifully manicured and so very sharp finger nails, today coloured dark purple. This is one of her favourite colours, and signifies she intends using her nails on me. Purple means pain for me and pleasure for my Mistress. 

As I worship her gloves, Mistress places my slave collar around my neck, buckles it on tight, and fixes her chain lead to it. “Stop, put the gloves down and look at me!” I do as she says and gaze into her beautiful eyes, hard and yet with the faintest hint of compassion. My reverie is suddenly ended as her nails bite cruelly into my nipples. The pain is intense and unyielding, and yet I crave it, I want it to go on, and it does, as my Mistress smiles at me, playing with me, tormenting me. My erection grows and she stops, laughs, gets up and goes across the dungeon. “I have a new toy for you to play with!” Mistress returns and whips my cock with a small peter whip. It is not hard, but my erection subsides. Then she shows me her ‘new toy’ – a leather cock sheath with a large number of pins on the inside. I gasp at the sight of it, while Mistress laughs. “Let’s play!” She quickly attaches the sheath to my cock and I feel a sharp tingling sensation. But that is before my nipples are again subjected to the attentions of Mistress’s nails and my erection quickly returns.

Mistress Christy is highly accomplished when it comes to nipple torture. She does not really need needles or clamps, though she is highly skilled in their use, just her finger nails and, as I gaze into her mocking eyes, I want more and more, even as the pain reaches such a pitch that tears begin misting my eyes. Even worse my erection is getting larger and larger, driving the sharp pins in the leather sheath deeper into my cock. “You love this, slave, don’t you?” “Yes, Mistress,  I worship you and need your pain.” I gaze ever more intently into her eyes. I am hers to do with, as she wishes. “I am going to claim you completely today, Bootlicker. I am going to whip you and then fuck you!”

Mistress reaches for a pair of nipple clamps and quickly attaches them to my sore nipples. I gasp in pain, whereupon she smiles, a cruel smile, and pulls them down, sharply, sending an agonizing jolt throughout my whole body. “Now get down like the dog you are. My dog!” Mistress leads me by the chain through the doorway and into the other room, taking the whip from its hanger by the door as we pass through. I am now in her inner sanctum, where she will claim what is rightfully hers – my body and my soul.