My name is Jeff and it had been nearly three years since my ordeal at the hands of a sadistic Syracuse area dominatrix. The full story has been written previously but I’ll briefly recount what took place.
I was 18 at the time and a star high school quarterback, when I succumbed to the fantasy of submitting to a dominatrix. Through the Internet, I met and arranged a session with a dominatrix, whose first name is Mary. She was insistent that I dress as a female, also suggesting that a bondage session with another male submissive would be to her liking.
Having no interest in doing either, I appeared at her house in normal attire and was quickly stripped nude and restrained in her dungeon. She indicated her anger at my failure to cross dress, then accused me of being a homophobe and informed me that I would submit to a master, in addition to a dominatrix. I was unable to resist due to my tight restraints and what followed was the most humiliating experience of my life.
I was forced to have oral and anal sex with a hooded male, with Mistress watching and relishing every minute of my ordeal. After the rape I was locked in a cage for a couple of hours while Mistress tried to soothe my feelings with sweet talk.
For three years, the trauma of that encounter has soured my view of dominate females but hasn‘t prevented me from dating more submissive types. Everyone I know thought of me as the prototype alpha male. After suffering a knee injury, which ended my promising football career, I dropped out of college and ended up working as a management trainee for a large supermarket chain, as well as a part time modeling job for a local clothing store.
You might think being an alpha is to be coveted, however resisting advances from older female employees can make life at work very difficult, especially if they are in management. In addition one must contend with envious male employees.
The rape had caused me to question my sexual orientation, that being I might be bisexual. I could not fathom being a male submissive but I did fantasize about dominating and torturing one, especially a gay dominate. Much stronger was the desire to inflict revenge upon a dominatrix-that is forcing her to be the submissive with heavy torture.
My first choice was Mistress Mary which was impractical, she would easily recognize me, and her house was equipped with a sophisticated security system. Through the Internet, posing as a first time submissive, I was able to arrange a session with another Syracuse dominatrix, going by the name of Mistress Claire.
From her photo she appeared no older than 40, a full framed brunette, not nearly as intimating as the 6 foot, 190 pound Mary. She quoted a tribute amount of three hundred dollars for a two hour session, assuring me the level of her sadism would be tailored to my individual pain tolerance. I had previously read her comments on a blog concerning the need for security at bondage sessions, she never had an assistant, and was confident of being able to handle any sub.
Relieved to learn that I wouldn’t have two persons to subdue, I casually inquired about cross dressing and forced gay sex, telling her that I had heard that some dominatrix’s require that of subs. Her response was “If you want that you will have to see Mistress Mary, she is the only local dominatrix who does that stuff, I warn you she is crazy and very brutal”. I smiled knowing I had an easy mark.
The session was scheduled for 7:00PM on a Tuesday in November, at a house in the Tipperary Hill section of Syracuse. It was a two story house, from what I could gather Claire lived there alone. She was evasive on specifically what she had in mind for me, other than to dispel any hopes I might have of being allowed to cunt fuck or receive a blow job from her.
I arrived as scheduled, where I caught my first good glimpse of Claire standing in the doorway, she directed me to the kitchen. Claire was considerably different that in her picture, about 5’5” and much heavier, about 180 pounds, in addition she was now wearing a blonde wig. She was attired rather modestly in a low cut, sleeveless black dress and black calf length boots.
“I’ve been thinking it over, you’re a good looking slut and would look better dressed as a female. You will go to the bathroom and change into this ensemble“, she directed. The ensemble, lying on the kitchen table, consisted of a black bra, stockings, garters and panties, in addition to a whorish looking blonde wig.
I could not believe that a second dominatrix would deceive me, without even acknowledging her command I pulled the small canister of pepper spray from my pocket. Then it happened, with lightning speed a second female bolted out of the adjoining room and tackled me, knocking me to the floor and the canister from my hand. It took a few seconds until I realized that the second female was none other than Mistress Mary. Her tackle was as hard as any I ever experienced as a quarterback.
Using a blackjack Mary delivered a stinging blow to the rear of my head, causing me to lapse into semi-consciousness. In a matter of seconds my wrists were cuffed behind me with steel cuffs and my ankles were bound together with a zip tie. The dreaded Whitehead gag was forced into my mouth, then tightly ratcheted open. For all practical purposes I was helpless.
It seemed like it took several minutes before I was fully conscious, when I did Mary was sitting on a chair facing me as I lie on the kitchen floor, smiling of course. More restraints had been added, with a tight collar fastened around my neck and my elbows bound together.
“Well well my faggot slut quarterback, its been a long time” she cooed, “You probably wonder why I’m here, Mistress Claire and I are good friends and when she described you I suspected it was you, which the picture confirmed. I had planned to give you a treat, both Mistress Claire and I would play with you, at no additional cost, but since you obviously intended to assault my friend, I have other plans for you”.
Those plans consisted of transporting me to the dungeon of Master X, where in her words “you will be tortured beyond your imagination, forcibly feminized and possibly sold as a slave”. She then dialed a number on her cell, describing to Master X the situation. A rather detailed description of my planned torture was discussed, obviously for the purpose of terrifying me mentally. This included gang rape by a number of males.
Claire inflicted a modicum of revenge by taking a riding crop and bringing it down hard upon my scrotum. She was screaming that she should kill me for attempting to attack her and was about to insert some type of blunt object in my anal track. At this point she was instructed by Mary to go easy, I would receive plenty of torture at wherever I was being taken to.
“You will be dressed appropriately for presentation to Master”, chortled Mary, who then proceeded to shred every bit of clothing I was wearing using a pair of scissors. I was then dressed in the ensemble on the kitchen table, Claire sat on my head to prevent any movement, while Mary removed by ankle restraints, enabling the stockings and garter to be fitted. The ankle restraints were reapplied, to further immobilize me a belt was attached around my waist, to which my bound wrists were attached, in addition my legs were bound together just below my knees.
“It is time to bag the slut” announced Mary and she produced a large royal blue covered sleeping bag. I couldn’t help but notice that a large hook was attached to the foot of the bag, leading me to suspect it would be used to hang the bag from a ceiling. Mary volunteered that the bag was specially designed for prisoners, it could not be unzipped from the inside and was soundproof.
All this was of scant value to me, as I was stuffed head first into the bag, which was then zipped. Even if it were not locked my restraints made it impossible to open. I am not claustrophobic but this was the most frightening experience I had ever had, much worse than the dreaded full face hood. My jaw ached from the metal gag but it was ratcheted so tightly that I could not expel it.
The two sadistic fiends then carried me out to what I assume was the rear of a van, the bag was then literally thrown to the floor. I could hear the engine start up and was aware the van was being driven off. At this time my survival instinct was in full gear, my main concern was suffocating, for the moment I didn’t dwell on soon to be permanent enslavement.
I didn’t think they planned to kill me but I fully expected to be tortured, then sold into slavery. From my readings I had heard of cases where good looking studs, like myself, were abducted and sold to owners in foreign countries, I was resigned to this fate.
After what seemed eternity, but was probably no more than thirty minutes, the van reached its destination. Several times I was jolted when the van came to an abrupt stop but the bag was secured to the floor and did not move. I could hear gospel music being piped in the rear of the van, bringing back memories of my first encounter with Mary, when she played such music while I lie bound and gagged in her basement dungeon, awaiting forced gay sex at the hands of an equally sadistic master.
Next I heard the sounds of an overhead door being opened, then the van moved a short distance and the door was lowered. Moments later the rear door of the van was opened and my bag removed, then roughly thrown on a shipping dolly, which was then wheeled into an elevator. When the elevator stopped the cart was wheeled a short distance and I was removed from the bag.
I caught my first look at my new master, a bare-chested hulk, at least six foot four, wearing jeans and with his face covered by a leather hood. Without a word being said my handcuffs were removed long enough for me to be secured standing to an overhead beam. At least the cuffs were leather, numbness from the steel cuffs used by Mary was setting in. In addition the painful gag was removed, I already knew better than to speak without permission. My will to physically resist was sapped and I chose not to struggle.
Without even introducing himself Master X got directly to the question of my future. There were two prospective buyers, one a husband and wife couple from Brazil, the other a male slaver in Botswana, I would be sold to the highest bidder. Master made clear from this point on my male sexual orientation was in the past tense, that my cock would serve only excretory functions, and that the only cocks in my future would be those inserted by other males, either in my mouth or anal wise.
Master then ordered me to remain standing with my head bowed down until he returned, this would be monitored by remote video, if I deviated from the position I would suffer excruciating pain, with the two dominatrix’ he then left the room, leaving me alone. From a muscular alpha male, I stood attired in a bra, garters and wig, helplessly restrained to an overhead bar, about to begin my journey into forced feminization and permanent enslavement.
Master returned after less than five minute, both mistresses had departed. I was quite surprised to know they wouldn’t stick around to delight in witnessing me being tortured, only later did I learn master had promised them a video of a portion of the session.
Considering his remarks about the future use of my cock, it wasn’t surprising that he fitted a plastic chastity device around it, locking it in place, adding sarcastically “I don’t want you jerking off”. It was very disturbing not to be able to see his face as I can match facial language with words, however I reasoned if he intended to kill me, being able to identify him was not a major concern of his.
I was allowed to raise my head, Master proceeded to remove my leather collar, replacing it with a locking steel collar. To this was attached a fifteen foot heavy duty chain, the other end was attached inside a sitting room only cage, where I would spend most of my time awaiting shipment. The chain would not have to be detached, it would allow me sufficient room to maneuver outside the cage for training. My toilet needs would be met by a bucket also within length of the chain.
Without further ado Master picked up a whip and began flailing at my back and buttocks, the pain was worse that I could have imagined. It wasn’t a multi strand flogger but an Indiana Jones style bull whip. After ten lashes I was ready to pass out, at this point the lashes ceased and Master again left the room, leaving me alone.
About ten minutes later master returned to the room wearing boxer shorts, only this time accompanied by two male goons, who likewise were shirtless, wearing only boxers and ski masks. I did notice one had extensive tattoos on both arms. Both were considerably shorter than Master and neither would say a word during the session.
“You will give head to each of us, swallow each of our loads and be ass fucked as well, if you bite down your teeth will be permanently removed as well as more lashes”, he sternly announced. I was taken down from the overhead and made to kneel in front of master, who sat in a chair. My steel collar and chain remained in place, I was allowed the use of my hands.
The gang rape commenced as I desperately tried to please Master with my mouth work. This continued for nearly ten minutes, twice I received a lash from the bull whip to my back from one of the other goons, after Master complained about my technique. Finally he climaxed and for the second time in my life I was forced to swallow male ejaculate.
Each of the two remaining goons took their turn, making me spend close to another fifteen minutes pleasing them, before being forced to swallow their loads. To top off the orgy Master fucked me anally, as I knelt on all fours, the heavy chain remained attached to my collar. The pain from the bull whip served to make me numb to the discomfort of the anal intrusions. Once again Master said nothing, before proceeding to attach my leather wrist cuffs to the sides of my waist belt. I was then ordered to crawl into the cage, which was then locked.
“Have a good nights sleep” were the last of the few words spoken by Master. The lights were turned off and the trio left the room. Needless to say I was unable to sleep and remained awake the whole night, the pain from the whip lashes to the back were excruciating. I knew I would reach my breaking point soon, my fear was of experiencing psychosis.
Several hours later, I had no way to tell time, Master entered the room after turning on the lights. “I have good news for you, we couldn’t find a buyer, so I’ve decided to release you, however you must follow my instructions precisely”, and were they precise.
I would remain in my female attire, with a black sleeveless dress to complement my undergarments, in addition I was made to wear a pair of ill fitting high heel shoes. After being blindfolded I was led to a van parked somewhere nearby and locked in the rear, I was warned that if I removed the blindfold, or tried to look at any of my abductors, that I would be returned to captivity.
Next I was driven to the parking lot of a shopping center, about three miles from Mistress Claire’s, my car had been parked there for me. The next concern was removal of my locked chastity device, I would be made to wear it for another forty eight hours. “You could find a locksmith who might be able to remove it, but I don’t think you will do that”, Master opined.
Instead at 12 noon on Thursday I would drive alone, still in female attire, to a specified section of the Carousel Center shopping mall parking lot. To my current attire was to be added a red sweater coat. I would then receive a cell phone call directing me to the chastity key. If any attempt were made to seek revenge upon either Mistress, the video of my gang rape would find its way onto a well known web site.
Realistically I had no choice but to accept these terms. I can not begin to describe the agony I experienced between the time of my release and the mall rendezvous. Suffice to say I did not wear my cross dress ensemble until just before departing for the mall, in the meantime I acquired the sweater coat.
Approaching twelve noon on Thursday I sat anxiously in my car in the parking lot, my cell rang precisely at noon. It was the evil Mistress Mary who gleefully directed me to proceed to the Borders Book Store and look for a copy of the “Scum Manifesto”, published in 2004. The key would be taped to the inside of the front cover. Somehow I was able to locate the book without assistance, after removing the key I immediately departed the mall, without purchasing the book. Ten minutes later the dreaded chastity device was removed.
Within a week of the traumatic incident I experienced a major depressive episode, which required hospitalization for two weeks. Nearly six months later I am on the road to recovery, however I lost my job and am now on SSI. I plan to move to Florida and start life anew.
I have no doubt that the threat of enslavement was a ruse, cleverly concocted and orchestrated by the diabolical Mistress Mary. One small bit of satisfaction is that Mistress Claire never received the three hundred dollar session fee, as I wasn’t carrying that sum when I was abducted, fortunately they didn’t try to extort money in exchange for the key.