An SM session isn’t cheap. On the other hand, the prices have barely risen since I first visited Avalon in 2000, when a half-hour session cost DM200. Prices went up to €120 for half an hour when the euro was introduced, but stayed that way until 2019, which always amazed me. Now it costs €150 for half an hour, or €250 for an hour, which may sound expensive compared with, say, visiting a prostitute. But a punter paying a prostitute €50 for half an hour will find that the session ends as soon as he comes, and the prostitute has no incentive to draw things out. He will find that there are a limited number of ways to fuck, suck, etc. So it may all be over in a few minutes. She will probably do her best to make sure it is. Nor will she want to waste her time whilst he cleans up in whatever limited facilities there are.   At an SM Studio, you have proper showers, somewhere to change, and a dominatrix who will give you the time you have paid for, if not more. She will talk to you before

A few years ago, I chanced on a report on the BBC World Service about men wearing women’s underwear. I immediately pricked up my ears, because I derive great pleasure from wearing panties every day. Sadly, the BBC report was a let-down: the person they interviewed was a drag queen, who waxed lyrical about women’s clothes in general. There was nothing about your average bloke, outwardly respectable, wearing women’s underwear under his trousers. It would have been so easy for them to find potential interviewees – a brief search on Fetlife would do the trick – and I would have found it much more interesting to learn about ordinary men, especially ordinary heterosexual men, who secretly wear knickers underneath their usual “male” clothes.    I actually started out wearing my partner’s underwear because I liked the constrictive feel around my cock and, especially, my balls. The lack of a pouch meant that I could always feel the knickers pressing me in. It was only gradually that I moved

Once a month has turned out to be a satisfying schedule for sessions. The Germans say “Die Vorfreude ist die schönste Freude” – anticipation is the greatest pleasure. That’s not true, but the anticipation is certainly a large part of the pleasure. A couple of weeks before the envisaged session, I contact Mistress Bella to see if she has time for me, after having checked her Twitter feed to see that she’s not advertising sessions out of Berlin on that day. Once the session is confirmed, my imagination can take hold, and I can make some suggestions about what we might do. Obviously, the final decision is hers, and she may surprise me, or the journey we go on during the session may unexpectedly take a different route from what either of us had envisaged, but the fantasising about what we can do in an hour of painful pleasure is all part of the excellent value for money offered by a BDSM session compared with the cost-benefit ratio of other sexual services.   I was talking about the a

Following that first rather sweet, but rather soft half-hour session at Avalon, I didn’t go back for a couple of years. The reason was that I embarked on an unexpected and very intense vanilla relationship which took up all my time and energy. It wasn’t until this relationship ended that I started feeling the need for pain again. I was so shocked and hurt by the break-up that I wanted to harm myself, and the most obvious way to inflict pain in a safe way was to head for Avalon. So over the next six months I went there once a month, each time for half an hour during lunchtime, each time just turning up and hoping that someone would have time for me. I can’t recall the names of the dominas, except for one memorable session when Lady Marlon kindly took me on. She was amazing: she immediately understood what I was looking for: “rein masochistisch” (purely masochistic) was her summary. And she gave a fabulous session of cbt, twisting and turning my balls in ways I didn't think possibl

In the years before the internet made it so easy to find like-minded people and I finally dared visit a studio, I was left to my own devices, so to speak. I would occasionally drive across to the nearest big city and visit a fetish shop to purchase little cock rings, ball-stretchers, small butt plugs, inflatable butt plugs, and the like. (Once, I even bought a humbler, but it was really difficult to fit on by myself, and not easy to keep hidden.) I would keep the equipment in my office and wear the devices for as long as I could, enjoying the sensations as I worked. I would take them on business trips with me, and inflict pain on myself, e.g. putting on the leather parachute which digs sharp spikes into my squashed balls, and hanging my shoes from it, putting more and more heavy things inside the shoes whilst I swung the shoes back and forth and masturbated, delighting in the stretching of the balls and the sensation of the spikes digging in from different angles. A good day on a busin

  When I first sessioned with Mistress Bella, in January 2019, I had been a sporadic guest at Avalon over the previous four or five years. I was expecting to continue the pattern of occasional visits to the studio – perhaps two or three times a year. Yet within a week, I was back for more. In fact, we ended up sessioning regularly – 12 times in 2019 – and I was spending the intervening periods fondly recollecting the amazing things we had done, and eagerly looking forward to the next time we could get together. I would have loved to be able to see her even more frequently. Her impact on me was immediate and lasting. What made, and what makes, her so special in my eyes?   Mistress Bella likes people, and treats her guests with respect. She likes bodies, and handles all parts of the body with confidence. She has her boundaries, but is unshockable. You can talk openly about your desires with her. She is discreet and reliable. She is highly professional in the way she approaches her

  (NB This was written before the introduction of any rules on wearing FFP2 masks)   I love wearing masks in a session. I love the smell of the leather or latex. I love the disorientation, the sensory deprivation, being left entirely in the hands of the domme. I love being turned into a mere body, a plaything for the mistress, anonymous, a non-person. No sight, no sound, the senses focused instead on touch, smell, taste.   I also love eating my own cum. I love its smell, its taste, its texture. It is fun to cum onto a biscuit or into a pot of yoghurt and to consume the product.   On the other hand, I hate wearing face masks when out and about in town, on public transport or in shops. To make life during the pandemic more interesting, and more bearable, I have taken to using a face mask to mop up all my cum produced when I masturbate. That way, I can continue to enjoy my cum not just as a quick post-orgasmic meal, but for days afterwards, smelling it, tasting it, sucking i