For a space that houses torture implements the dungeon is warm and surprisingly cosy. Aesthetically pleasing in uniform red and black; the fetish kit is complemented by a huge soft bed. Mirrors and restraints are strategically placed about the room inspiring limitless options for play and, more importantly, for photos. We’ve a glass display cabinet of toys at our disposal, an array of hitty things to choose from but it’s the cage in the corner that is repeatedly drawing my attention.
I want to be in there. I want to be puppy, fall to all fours and climb inside, pulling pup in beside me for romps and cuddles. But first we have work to do……
I drink it all in, this visual feast, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of choice yet excited at the potential. I’m pleased to be here with someone who is familiar with the space, moving around like it’s his second home. His work is exemplary; I trust him to make the most of the opportunity with his unique vision.
His vision takes us through poses and scenarios with me in dominant position. Military Dog Handler to my pup. Revealing a Big Bad Domme face I didn’t know I had. I can be surprisingly fierce with an obedient pup under my heel. Shockingly cruel when my paddling punishment receives encouraging response.
Now naked and free from my costume I feel a release. As if stepping out of the fuck-me boots freed me from the Domme role, allowing me to relax and be soft again. I bounce in bare feet instead of stride, smile rather than pout. I feel changed, not just in clothing, or lack of, but my whole energy is much more playful, more open.
Pup and I are on the floor prepping for the next round of photos. Wearing her collar and black shiny latex pants, she can’t stop beaming, a bright mischievous smile that makes her look even more cute than usual. Sitting crossed legged opposite each other we’re supposed to be re-touching our make-up but keep getting distracted with kisses and strokes.
Bouncing up and down she whispers “I’m so glad we did this”. I’m glad too, so flattered that she invited me to join her, how could I resist an afternoon with my favourite pup frolicking in a dungeon? Our anniversary no less, one year today since we first met. And photos too? Yay, my favourite thing.
The restraints are beautiful; red straps held together by chains. A collar connected to three sets of cuffs, top of arms, wrists and ankles. I’d admired them in his photography collection and had wanted to try. Imagined how it would feel to be restrained in that way, almost predicament like, my every movement causing reaction, pulling on the chains.
Bouncing makes way for calm, serious focus between us as she places the collar around my neck. I feel like we’re in a bubble, so connected in the act that the dungeon melts away into the background. My complete trust demonstrated by asking her to do something reserved usually only for my man. An extension of the trust both he and I have in her; as I’m here today without him.
Our kink adventure is something we share, and to be without him isn’t just rare, it’s unheard of. My pup’s so very special and this opportunity such an exciting development in our relationship that I don’t just have his consent, I have his encouraging support. He justified it by clarifying that in line with our “rule” he doesn’t feel left out, he’s been included in the planning, the build up and excitement and he knows he’ll benefit from enjoying the photos too.
The restriction of the collar around my neck affects me instantly. Not only has the dungeon melted away but the world has gone a little blurry round the edges, sounds are less sharp, time running in slow motion. I can only focus on her eyes and the feeling around my neck. My temperature is rising and I feel my pussy becoming swollen as my hips make the most subtle movements, a tiny, almost unnoticeable compulsive rocking back and forth in response to my increasing arousal.
Standing to receive the remaining cuffs I stay locked in her eye line. She bites her lip and strokes my face, clearly understanding my reaction, She tells me I’m beautiful as the final ankle cuff is locked in place. I feel beautiful; beautiful and vulnerable.
Standing rigid I find my balance, feet flat, hip width apart. I’m careful not to pull on the chains knowing the connections would pull on the collar and send me reeling again. I take some deep breaths, calling on my senses to come back to me. Focussing on my surroundings and trying to repress the urge to slip deeper into a subspace I give my head a small shake, breaking our mesmerising eye contact.
In an attempt to ground myself I crack a joke with the photographer. The act of speaking makes everything more real and I’m back in the room with a jolt. I tell him that this was a bit silly really, getting me all shackled here because now I can’t walk myself over to the red wall, the padded background for the shot.
Without hesitation he picks me up with one arm, lifting me onto his shoulder as if I were light as a feather. I giggle as he gently lowers me to the ground, my back to the wall, watching pup follow us across the room to kneel at my feet.
The chain from her collar connects to mine, linking us in such a way that our movements become fluid. Each impacting on the other with the slightest of shifts. Both covered with a thin layer of shiny lube I can feel my skin glistening under the hot photography lights.
I focus on posing. Obeying his instructions to look towards the light, move my head down, face him, face her. Grateful that his instructions are simple because I am losing myself again. Trying desperately to hold on, to concentrate on how I look, to position my body and face appropriately.
To not think about the collar around my neck, to not push against the cuffs and relish their restriction, to not give in to the compulsion to arch my back, to suppress the moan that desperately wants to escape my lips.
My pants are removed and stuffed in my mouth. The black frilly material thick against my tongue, stifling the throaty sounds that are fighting their way out. I am certain I must be creating a slick between my legs, that my arousal is betraying me and over-whelming my desire to be professional in my modelling.
My dilemma is obvious to my diabolical pup. The knickers are removed and I’m panting heavily as turn my head to face her. She has the most evil of smiles and even in my heightened state I recognise she’s plotting something. Very deliberately she leans backwards, keeping eye contact as her collar pulls on the chain that pulls on my collar that ratchets through each cuff. I brace myself to prevent from toppling forward onto her, my breathing becoming ragged as I resist against the strain.
The simple act of being bound had me sliding; this additional pressure makes me come undone. I am no longer able to prevent myself from moaning aloud, arching my back and rocking my hips. I am no longer posing; I am completely taken by the sensation. I am lost.
Gripping the chain between her teeth pup looks almost feral as she pulls back with more force, clearly realising the overwhelming impact she’s having on me. The chain between her teeth, lips curled back in a fierce sneer, she’s doesn’t let up. Pulling over and over until there is nothing in my world but the blinding light shining through my now closed eyelids and the feeling of being held by each cuff. Imprisoned by the restraints.
I don’t know how long I was gone, lost for an eternity that felt like a split second. My surroundings come back to me in waves, the sound of music, of instructions fuck, the photos, the colours in the room and her, sitting at my feet looking very pleased with herself. Smiling with devilish delight, wagging with glee.
Lost me like a good girl and then fetched me back to her too. Lost and found as I was lost and bound.
Clever pup, good pup. Now weren’t we here to do photos or something…..
Photos and experience by Photos with Attitude with thanks.