Helpless and Hooded 2013

Jan 3, 2013

My very first session of 2013 was a lot of fun for me, if not for one of my loyal slaves. He is trying to fulfil his New Year resolution of always asking for torments that scare and upset him, but that may please his Mistress. Most of this session was therefore devoted to trying out a succession of more and more terrifying hoods to play on his intense claustrophobia and fear of suffocation. Of course, I always ensure that he stays safe – I just don’t always let him know that! His greatest fear of all is being left alone, tied-up, hooded and hung-up in my suspension room, so I can up his fear levels at any time by simply staying silent and not touching him for a short while. Once he mistakenly believes that he is alone, then I can watch him start to shake and sob within the confines of whatever head restraint is wrapped around his face at the time.

The first hood was in all-enveloping leather, with tiny breathing holes for his nose, multiple laces, zips and leather straps that tighten in every direction to make this a snug and scary experience. I was asking slave to rate how scared he was on a scale of one to ten: and this one rated as a Seven. But then, it was only a warm-up, and he knew that far worse was to come. We quickly moved on to a heavy rubber gas mask, and I was pleased to see that he managed to control his fears and breath slowly and carefully while I busied myself attaching my Venus machine to his cock. I’m always amazed at how easy it is to totally fuck-up a slave with some constant cock stimulation and this time was no exception. Once the Venus was sucking gently away in the place where all men keep their brains then he became far more compliant and easier to control.

Among the succession of hoods that followed (I have SUCH a huge collection, it is sometimes hard to decide which one to use!) came a little, black, tight rubber number that grips so tightly it distorts his face into almost alien features. Being the kind mistress that I am, I rocked him gently sideways on his suspended body board so that he could catch a glimpse of himself in the mirrored dungeon walls and see how helpless he was and how tightly his cock was gripped in the Venus’s mouth. By now we were up to Eight and above on the Mistress Miranda Scary-Scale, and so I decided to up the ante one last time. If one hood was an Eight, then how scary would an extra hood be on top of the first? The answer came in slave’s anguished little whimpers from under the layers of rubber and the intense pleading-for-mercy look in his eyes: his only way of communicating that we had hit the magic Ten.

Having reached this particular plaything’s limits, I kindly gave him a pleasurable reward in my medical room, strapped down to my gynae bench, with legs stretched impossibly wide, and my most-powerful vibrator teasingly working on his cock and tied-up balls. I had forbidden this slave any orgasms throughout the long Christmas holidays and the impressive quantities of spunk I eventually milked from his body were a testament to his blind obedience to my every demand. I am looking forward to his next New Year resolution-driven session. What will he NOT want to endure next, I wonder?

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