Category : Double Domme

Slave PI had been visiting the Chapel for many years but had never had the ultimate session, a mother and daughter Double Domme session. He summoned up the courage to visit us both and reports as follows.

It was a long hot day and anticipation makes the sweat glands work overtime, so I hoped my deodorant worked as well as the TV advert said it should.  It’s not a good start if one takes one’s kit off and the dungeon is suddenly full of something malodorous. Perhaps, this situation would make a good TV advert – after the watershed of course. – use our deodorant and don’t be embarrassed in front of your mistress. Perhaps not a good marketing tool after all. The minutes ticked away very slowly until I finally opened the door to meet the ladies. The mixture of apprehension and excitement mounts as one heads towards the dungeon, and this increases as one crosses the road. Today, all the emotions were doubled as I was due to meet both Linda and Vanessa, together, for the first time. The welcome was charming, once I had been chastised for failing to call Mistress Linda, mistress. It was as though I had arrived for a tea party, other than the ladies were not exactly dressed for a tea party, fortunately. As you can imagine, my first sight of them added more to my excitement. As it happens, I was not dressed for a party, in fact in no time I was not dressed at all, and I am pleased to say the deodorant had seemed to work.

So before long, it ceased to be a tea party and most would say things then got worse as I was strapped to the cross at hands and ankles, naked of course. However, devotees of the ladies’ dungeon would say that this turn of event was when things got better. The ladies like to let you know who’s boss, not a difficult thing to grasp (rather like my tackle by this time) when you are naked and can hardly move. As soon as one finds oneself in this position, something starts to itch – today it was my nose. Wriggle as I might, there was no way I could find a way to stop the itching. However, the ladies could divert my attention and quickly did so.

First, they decided to check me out to see what made me go “ouch”. I tried like mad to avoid flinching when my nipples were checked out but failed. I really hate that but try not to show it. Dr Johnson is quoted as saying that when a man knows he is to be hanged, it concentrates the mind wonderfully. True, but when a lady has a firm grip on one’s dangly bits, this also concentrates the mind wonderfully. So next was a squeeze on this most sensitive spot with that little twist at the end which doubles the pain. It was quite unnecessary to check this out, because they both knew that every man they had come across (no pun intended) hurt when they squeezed. However, most ladies like to have their man by the balls, and I guess if you make a career out of it, this is doubly so. I did allow myself to let it be known that it really hurt, but then I had no option as it did and failure to do so would, no doubt, have encouraged even more pressure. A check on where I was ticklish followed and, again, I tried not very successfully to pretend that those spots were not ticklish. Facing two lovely ladies and being played with did of course start a bit of motion down there. Linda complained that I was losing control down there. This seemed a bit unfair as the ladies had already told me that everything down there was now theirs to control and do what they like with.

I was then told we were going to play a game. I was to be subjected to some forms of torture, whilst blindfolded, and had to guess who the perpetrator was. If I guessed right, I would receive a gentle back and bottom rub, which I love. But if I got it wrong, I would be subjected to the electric zapper. I was asked if that was OK, but strapped to a cross, it is difficult to disagree.

I began to realise that this was different from a one-on-one session. I was now just a piece of meat that the ladies were discussing how best to enjoy themselves with. I thought I might hear occasional giggles which would heighten the tension, instead I got bursts of laughter (in fact through the whole session) whenever I reacted to various ways of pain being given. They really seemed to be enjoying sharing the pleasure of dominating a man. Once blind folded, the discussions began of what to do to me next which does have an effect on one’s head. It was a shame to be blind folded as I could no longer feast my eyes on the lovely ladies.

At this time, I suddenly realised that someone was tying up my balls, actually not an easy job in my case. Then, inevitably, came the weights and that uncomfortable ache. All done, I was asked who I thought had done the tying and weighting. I guessed and asked whether I had guessed correctly. This was greeted with, if not laughter, sniggers. Suddenly I jumped, well I nearly jumped as it is difficult when strapped, as a big shock from the zapper hit one of my balls. I relaxed just in time for another zap from the zapper, if not in the same place, perhaps in the other one.

It seemed as though I was good at guessing who was doing what so the ladies decided they would just enjoy themselves at my expense. Vanessa said she had sharpened her nails especially so she could dig into various sensitive parts and though it was probably not accurate, it certainly felt as though she had done so. Oh, and she seemed to have a fixation with torturing my very sensitive nipples.

Next a very tight something was attached to me. Being blindfolded, I had no idea what, but it was tight and had sharp things inside. Not very pleasant, but more so, when gentle playing with certain bits and pieces increased the size down there. I tried to remember the name of that MP who one has to think of when trying to control oneself, but this did not work.

So enough of that, they thought, they wanted by backside to be as red as the bits that already become red. It was nice to be unstrapped and be able to move around and for a short time to lay across Linda’s thighs as ordered, until she put a lot of effort into reddening my backside by hand. No such luck with Vanessa’s thighs as when it came to her turn, I had to lie on the whipping bench whilst a lot of thought and discussion between the ladies as to which whip, I should suffer under.  Further discussions followed whilst I was subject to the whip, in fact so much discussion that Vanessa lost count of the strokes and the ladies decided the only fairest thing was to start all over again, despite my vote to the contrary.

It was then decided, not by me, don’t be silly, but by the ladies that any signs of me misbehaving down there, would be cured by pouring hot wax on the offending member and all points around. It took a while to sort this out so in the meantime something metallic disappeared up me and slowly at first, I felt the surge of electricity up my backside Pleasant when lightly applied, but as the current turns up it does become very unpleasant. But my attention was diverted very quickly when wax was applied liberally. The ladies seemed to have enjoyed this as every time I twitched, they laughed once more. Of course, once waxed, it had to be removed, not a pleasant prospect, again those sharp nails attacking me. Though a clever idea occurred to the ladies. What if they used their vibrator on me ? Well of course, it had the desired effect – surprising after all the punishment it had received – and swelled sufficiently for the wax to crack which helped the painful removal, though I was again distracted by the electricity being turned up which must have made it difficult removing the wax as every five seconds I was jumping about.

Having exhausted most of the implements of torture upstairs, it was time to go to the medical room – a new attraction – downstairs. Oh nice, I thought, a few seconds of rest. Not so, now freed of the electric butt plug, it was replaced by a butt hook. Not too unpleasant until a collar was attached to my neck and then the collar was also attached to the butt hook. My posture improved immeasurably as it was impossible to do anything but stand up straight or I would throttle myself. I then had to manoeuvre the stairs considering the prospect of falling down the stairs and the dire consequences. I made it unscathed.

I was then told that my courting tackle had to recover and fast because Linda’s rule on erections no longer applied, which was as well because her expertise made sure that one followed with some gentle persuasion. Poor thing, it didn’t know if it was coming or going, no it was quite sure it was not coming, perhaps later if I was lucky and the ladies hadn’t put it completely out of action. But this did reassure me that in fact the ball zapping had not, in fact, put me out of action at this time. What’s more, as one might suppose, for once pleasant feelings were being sent to me by my battered bits. Again, I was taken by surprise, as I then discovered  my most intimate place invaded by something cold and very hard. Not an unpleasant feeling, as gravity pulled it down. Pleased with the speed that the invading object disappeared, a larger one followed it.

Now Linda was worried that she might get an electric shock as she was still holding the sound as Vanessa advanced with something attached to a nuclear power station somewhere in the UK (or even France as we buy their power). Vanessa promised not to touch the sound with her implement which had one of those bitey things on the end. No electric shocks for Linda but what about me ? No promises, in fact just the opposite. There I was helpless both hands and feet bound together under the couch, which I have to say was not the most comfortable position, and I looked with horror as said electric thing approached the bell end of me. I was right to be mindful as when attached the result was my only expletive of the day as I was shocked. I got no telling off because the ladies were too busy laughing.

After a bit more fun (for them) I was then told that I would get a blow job. Now I was not so naïve as to think that this was to be a blow job as usually defined, though the mere thought of it added a touch more swelling. Vanessa produced an implement that slipped easily down me since I was well lubed up from the action with the sounds. Once inside the device could be made larger and had a nice funnel. The ladies took it in turns to blow down the funnel, which  was an interesting sensation, and indeed a pleasant one, though not of course as pleasing as the other way of receiving a blow job.

The ladies then checked that I was exhausted, and I was, but they couldn’t resist a bit more squeezing where I did not want to be squeezed and then out came the vibrator and in no time my battered bits erupted in the usual way.

What a session.