I am an exhibitionist. Not in the German sense of the word, which means “flasher”, but in the sense that I love to be naked in public – as long as it doesn’t offend anyone. I love going to the FKK (= nudist) beach, and can’t imagine why anyone would want to wear bathers when swimming (and especially not the baggy Bermuda shorts that men are expected to have flopping awkwardly around their midriff and legs). I love sitting naked on my partner’s balcony for a post-coital lunch – anyone can look up from the street and see me, but no-one ever does. I love the German attitude to nudity, so much more open than the prudishness of my home country. I feel very much at home as a “vanilla nudist” in Berlin and Germany. And perhaps you won’t be surprised to hear that I have fantasies about being publicly displayed and humiliated. I mentioned in a previous post that I once tried it for myself, driving to a session at Avalon without trousers on, wearing bright red panties. But that didn'

I recall a session many years ago in which I said (perhaps unwisely boasting a bit) during the pre-session chat that I could cope with some fairly extreme things, and the domme said “How about needles?” and I shuddered and had to concede that there were limits to what I thought I could handle. As I’m the sort of wimp who looks away when the doctor or nurse takes a blood sample or vaccinates me, I was unlikely to consent to the use of needles in a session.   So I was a little apprehensive when, four or five years ago, the amazing Lady Phoenix (this was before Phoenix recommended me to Mistress Bella) unexpectedly introduced needles into our game. “I’m going to put some needles through your nipples,” she said, and I said, “Er, OK.” (In retrospect, perhaps the correct response would have been “Thank you, Mistress.”). In fact, she knew exactly what she was doing: the needling was perfectly OK, and I found I could even watch her doing it. It was interesting, rather than painful, feelin

Whilst the hour of an SM session may be good value at €250, there will inevitably be a limited amount of time in which the session has to be completed – even if the domme doesn’t have to move straight on to her next guest.   If you are worried about the financial side, perhaps it might help to place the cash in an envelope beforehand, so that you don’t see the banknotes on the day. The worst thing you can do is to calculate that 250 euros divided by 60 minutes equals more than €4 a minute, or that one euro gets you less than 15 seconds – that is guaranteed to kill off any pleasure. It is far better to think that €250 is the price of an amazing experience, and not to worry about time, leaving the pacing of the session in the capable hands of the mistress.   One problem is that a session can involve a fair bit of preparation – not only beforehand, which doesn’t count towards the hour – but also during the session. Tying a slave up, getting someone into a complex position, relaxing an ass

The finest pain and humiliation, delivered with great care and attention: it's a hallmark of the BDSM scene. The top bears great responsibility for the sub's welfare, and goes to great lengths to keep him/her/it safe from unintended injury. Sounding is a good example of this: the insertion of the sound, usually a metal rod, into the urethra, has the potential to go horribly wrong. Inside the penis is probably not a good place to pick up an injury or an infection. Inside the penis, there's no natural lubrication, just easily damaged flesh and blood vessels. If the sub is to enjoy this treatment, therefore, he needs to be able to trust in the professionalism of the domme. After the precautions to ward off infection have been taken, the pleasure can begin: feeling the sound find its way into the shaft, trying to use the biggest possible sound, going in as deep as possible, perhaps feeling it move around way down inside there between one's legs. I have read

I have said that my relocation to Berlin, and the emergence of the internet, were two factors behind my decision to move on from torturing myself and actually to visit an SM studio. But whilst they facilitated the step, they weren’t the underlying reason.   The decision to try out a session at a studio with a real, live dominatrix was long in gestation, well prepared and thoroughly considered. It was not a “Schnappsidee” – a spur-of-the-moment alcohol-fuelled choice – but a sober decision.   The real reason I went up those stairs and nervously rang that bell was what we used to call “carpe diem” – “seize the day”, and nowadays is dubbed “FOMO” or “YOLO”. I was in my late thirties, and could now afford – just about – the fee. Life passes by so quickly, and I would rather regret things I have done than things I never got around to doing. So I seized the day. Had it been awful, it would have just been a slightly expensive half-hour of my life; were it to offer promise, it could le

It had long been a dream of mine to experience some ballbusting. I had often asked for it, but had been too scared to do it properly: for example, I would ask the domme to knee me in the balls when I arrive or leave – i.e. when I’m wearing trousers as a form of protection.   And I think it's only reasonable to be scared of it: performed badly, it can do you real harm. It takes an experienced and skillful domme to do it both well and safely.   I first sessioned with Mistress Bella in January 2019. By March, I trusted her enough to say, yes, let’s go for it. It was wonderful, better than I’d imagined. I was strung up in the shape of a St. Andrew’s cross, with my limbs pulled in four directions, and she stepped up and gave my balls a really good kicking. She made the pain exquisitely enjoyable: not too much at first, always attentive to how much further she could go, always aware of which part of her boot was smashing into me between my legs.    However, one learns from experi

The journey to the session is one of anticipation – and some stress. Will I be on time, will there be a traffic jam or a problem with the U-Bahn (Berlin’s subway system)? And then I get there early, and have to wait for a bit in the car, or on the platform of the U-Bahn if I’m travelling by public transport and it’s cold or wet.   The entire day is adrenaline-fuelled: it is more difficult to concentrate at work – and will something urgent crop up which will mean I have to cancel? Fortunately, that has never happened so far, but it’s always a possibility, an uncertainty. I re-read the final version of the email I sent to my mistress suggesting games we might play in the session. Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time of writing, but will I be able to cope when I'm actually in the dungeon?   Often, I place a leather strip around my balls to increase the sense of arousal on the way to the session – and I always try to wear some nice feminine panties.   I fantasise ab