Japanese Dom
**** Warning **** Warning **** Warning **** Warning **** Warning ****
Avoid Japanese Doms!!!!!!!!!!
I want to share my experience to help others avoid my fate. I did some
checking, and my experience was the norm. If you are in Japan, don't visit a
pro dom unless you want to be really TORTURED.
I had experience with several pros here in the states, so when my business sent
me to Japan, I made an appointment through an Internet site. The session was
for a Friday evening and all day Saturday, and cost about $450 USD, which I
thought was a bargain since it averages double that here in the states.
I arrived about 7pm, after dinner. The dom seemed very friendly, and led me
through filling out some forms and paying for the session. Then she led me into
her "dungeon" and told me to strip. When I had done so, she put suspension
cuffs on my wrists and ankles and led me to a set of uneven parallel bars like
the ones used by female gymnasts. The higher bar was about 7 1/2 feet off the
ground, and the lower one was about 5 feet off the ground. There was about 6
feet between them.
She had me stand on a low stool under the higher bar and locked the wrist cuffs
to the bar about 4' apart. When my hands were fastened, she gave an evil laugh
and said she owned me for the next 28 hours. Then she left for a moment and
came back with another woman. Together they lifted my legs up and back, and
locked the ankle cuffs to the lower bar behind me, again about 4 feet apart.
This left me suspended and hanging belly down with my back arched forward. The
other woman left, and the dom pulled a stool under me. She then sat down and
masturbated me to orgasm. She told me she did that because the tortures worked
better if the man was not sexually excited. Next she put a leather parachute on
my balls and hung a 5 kilo weight from them. Then she left.
She was gone nearly an hour, and I was in total agony. The position began to
hurt worse and worse, and the weight was making my balls throb horribly. They
felt like they were being ripped off. When she came back, I begged and begged
her to let me down. Instead, she took a riding crop and whipped my dangling
cock until I was screaming.
Then she finally removed the weight and unlocked my ankles. She didn't release
my hands, though. Instead, she put two low stools 4 feet apart and made me
stand on those. Then she used rope through the ankle cuffs to make sure I
couldn't bring my legs back together and rehung the weight from my balls.
Finally, she used a pump lotion bottle to squirt something she called "athlete's
rub" up my cock and put a piece of tape over the end to keep it in. Then she
left again. In a minute or two, I was screaming. My cock hurt so bad I
couldn't believe it. Like before, she left me for maybe an hour. The pain in
my cock gradually let up, but the pain in my balls just got worse and worse.
When she came back, I begged her to release me. I told her to just keep the
money and let me go. She just laughed. Then she took off the weight and
substituted a rope attached to the parachute like a leash. She threw it over
the high bar, pulled it back to the low bar, and tied it off, pulling my balls
into the air. Then she locked a collar on me and undid my hands one at a time,
locking each to the collar. With my feet still on the stools and my balls
pulled up to the upper bar, I couldn't resist.
When my hands were secure, she untied my balls from the bar and unfastened my
feet. Then she led me to a long, narrow metal plank sort of thing supported at
both ends by chains. I think it was part of scaffolding or something similar.
It was about a foot wide and suspended three feet off the floor. She made me
lay on my back on the plank, using a stool to get up onto it. When I was on it,
she wrapped several turns of plastic wrap tightly around my stomach and the
plank, and then did the same around my chest. Then she unlocked my hands one at
a time and pulled them over my head, using a chain to fasten them to the chain
supporting the plank,
She finished my upper body by using more plastic wrap to securely fasten my arms
to the plank. Then she got out a chunk of something that was about 2" long and
an inch in diameter. Squeezing my balls, she made me hold my legs to the sides
while she inserted it into my rectum. She placed a short length of dowel into
my crack, pressing on my anus, and taped it in place. Then she brought my feet
back onto the plank, chained the cuffs to the foot end of the plank, and used
plastic wrap to completely immobilize my legs. The dowel meant I couldn't eject
whatever she had inserted into my ass. She then slid another length of the same
stuff into my penis and taped the end.
She put earplugs into my ears, put on a blindfold, and used foam blocks and more
plastic wrap to completely secure my head to the plank. My mouth, nose, and
genitals were uncovered, but everything else was wrapped tightly. I couldn't
even wiggle. Then she yelled for me to enjoy the ginger root and that she would
see me in the morning.
I couldn't see or hear anything, and I couldn't move even a muscle. Before
long, my rectum and cock started itching and burning more than I would have
thought possible. In addition, I had to pee badly, and my penis was taped shut.
After a while, my muscles started to cramp from the inability to move. I know I
started screaming sometime during the night. It was awful.
The next morning, I didn't hear anyone come in because of the earplugs. The
first I knew she was back was when she grabbed my penis and lifted it out of the
way. Then something slammed into my nuts. I found out later it was a short
length of garden hose. It hurt worse than anything else that had ever happened
to me in my life. I tried to double over, but, of course, I couldn't move at
all. As soon as the pain started to fade, she did it again. She did it over
and over for a long time.
When she tired of beating my balls, she started to masturbate me again. I have
to admit she was good at it. It seemed like no time at all before I erupted in
orgasm. As I did, she worked my penis with one hand and used her other hand to
beat my balls with the hose. I screamed all the way through my orgasm.
After I had recovered a bit, she cut the plastic wrap off my arms and then
relocked them to my collar one at a time. Then she removed the rest of the wrap
and helped me to my feat. I was as weak as a kitten. She took me to a bath
area and removed the dowel from my ass and the tape from my penis. She then
removed the ginger root and let me relieve myself. After I was done, she pushed
me into a shower stall. As she shut the door behind me, she said, "Have fun in
your shower."
Moments later, powerful streams of ice cold water hit me from all sides. After
a short time, the water suddenly changed to hot. It cycled three more times,
ending with the hot. Then she dried me with a towel and said, "Time for
breakfast." I was led into another room and strapped firmly into a chair with a
very cold metal seat. I was blindfolded, and something was clipped to the end
of my cock.
She fed me breakfast with chopsticks. It was excellent food, really, but I had
little chance to appreciate it. After every couple of bites, an electric shock
ripped through my penis. I would scream and beg for it to stop. When it did, I
would be fed again. This went on for quite a while.
Finally, she said breakfast was over. Then she said, "I think you should beg me
to torture your balls. You should try really hard to convince me." Then the
shocks to my cock started again. In no time, I was begging and screaming,
asking her to please quit torturing my penis and do my balls instead.
When the shocks to my cock finally stopped, she said, "Keep begging or I'll turn
up the power and really fry your cock." She unstrapped me from the chair and
led me to another room. I was begging the whole time for her to torture my
balls. When we got to the other room, she took off my blindfold. There was a
table in front of me that was higher than normal, with the top about three feet
off the floor.
I was ordered up onto the table, and made to lie on my back. It was like a lab
table, with a stainless metal top, and the top had a raised lip around the edge.
She had me slide down until my feet were over the edge and then they were
strapped very securely into wide leather cuffs that were permanently fastened to
steel uprights at the corners. My feet were probably just over two feet apart,
which was the width of the table.
Two inch leather straps were brought over my body at the knees, upper thighs,
hips, lower chest, and upper chest. With these in place, I was immobile. Next,
my hands were freed one at a time and locked into wide cuffs at the head end of
the table. Then I heard a rachet, and my arms were pulled over my head until I
was stretched out tautly on the table top. Another leather strap was added
across my elbows, pinning my arms to the table, and then all of the straps were
tightened.
After strapping a bit-like thing into my mouth, she brought out what looked like
a motorcycle helmet and forced it onto my head. It was a full coverage helmet,
and the face shield was blacked out so I couldn't see, but before she put it on
I saw that it had straps coming off the sides. I felt her adjusting these, and
soon my head was as immobile as the rest of me. Then she removed my face shield
and showed me a device.
It was made of four metal rods, which she said were welding rods. Several
inches of each end were covered with what looked like clear plastic tubing. One
end had a 1" length of larger rubber hose around it, and this held the ends of
the rods together. At that end, each rod had an insulated wire attached to it.
The other ends of the welding rods were loose, but she showed me another 1"
length of the larger rubber hose. She demonstrated how it could be slid onto
the free end of the rods and would hold them together.
Maybe I looked confused, because she explained. "I am going to arrange these
rods around your balls. Then I will bring these ends together and slide on the
second length of rubber hose, which will hold the rods bent around your balls.
The rods are springy, so the tension will squeeze your balls. The closer I
slide the pieces of hose to the center, the more tension there will be and the
harder they will squeeze. You will think they really hurt, but when the
electricity starts, you'll forget all about the squeezing. Remember, you begged
and begged me to torture your balls, so I am just doing what you want. Have
fun."
As she snapped the face plate back into place, I was trying to scream "no" over
and over through the bit in my mouth. Then she started rubbing something cool
over my balls. It felt good until she informed me it was electrogel. Then I
felt the rods being arranged around my balls. It was fine until she forced the
loose ends together and slid on the second length of hose, holding them in
place. She was right, it did hurt - a lot.
She just laughed at me and said, "Are you ready for me to tighten them up?" I
was doing my best to say no, but she slid the hoses closer together. I wouldn't
have thought anything continuous could hurt that much. I was struggling to
breathe, and my balls felt like someone was standing on them. Then I felt some
sort of cold liquid being poured over almost my entire body, except for my
genitals. It pooled around me on the metal table top. She chuckled and said it
was salt water.
I heard her laugh again, and then she said, "Here it comes." Have you ever
stood perfectly still and let an NFL field goal kicker kick you in the balls? I
suppose this felt kind of like that, except the sensation was frozen at the
moment of impact. I wanted to pass out, but I couldn't. I couldn't scream,
because I couldn't breathe. When it finally stopped, I gasped in a couple of
breaths, and then it hit again. Nothing could have prepared me for this level
of pain. It was much worse than agony.
After some time, which seemed like years, I became aware that she was working my
cock with her magic fingers whenever I wasn't being shocked. I was hard, and
although I was getting no pleasure from the stroking, I knew I was getting
closer and closer to orgasm. The pain cycles would push it back, but in between
her fingers kept bringing me closer.
Finally I orgasmed, and as I did, the incredible pain hit again in my balls.
Then she pressed my cock against the rods, and it too exploded in pain. I
passed out.
When I came to, the helmet and bet were gone, and so were the rods, but I was
still strapped to the table. I lay limp in the straps waiting for whatever
would happen next. Any will I might have had to resist was gone completely.
After some time had passed, she returned.
"Did you enjoy your nap? Well, you can't sleep all day. It's lunch time. I
remember how much fun you had at breakfast. I think you'll like lunch even
more. Let me help you get washed up." She used a hose to rinse me very
thoroughly, getting rid of all the salt water. Then she fastened my wrists to
my collar as before and removed me from the table. I couldn't stand without
help, so she helped me over to a gurney like you see in a hospital. After
helping me onto it, she proceeded to strap me down very carefully. When I was
completely immobile, she wheeled me into another room.
The woman who had helped her the night before was waiting in the other room,
along with my lunch. The lunch was excellent, and the second woman served it to
me one bite at a time, with chopsticks. The dom played. She had shown me a
skewer. It was an ordinary bamboo skewer like you would use to make beef sticks
or something. You can buy a package of 100 in any store. She had cut off the
ends, leaving it blunt.
She just held it in one hand, pulled it back with the other hand, and let it
snap. While her assistant fed me, she tortured my cock and balls with her
little skewer. I mostly screamed. It was amazing to me how bad that thing
hurt. She would hit the same exact spot over and over for a while, and then
switch to a new one.
After lunch I was rechained standing upright and spreadeagled. She hung the 5
kilo weight from my balls and left. I was so sore from everything that had
happened that the weight was sheer, overwhelming agony. After maybe a half
hour, I thought it couldn't get any worse. I literally had to fight to take
every breath. Then she came back with a large, rectangular paddle. It had a
lot of holes drilled through it, and was made from some sort of exotic wood. It
was beautiful.
She started to paddle me, hard enough to really sting, but not as hard as she
could. I had to remain absolutely motionless because of the weight hanging from
my balls. The paddle wasn't so bad at first, but she just kept paddling me.
The paddle was striking every five seconds or so. It never got faster or
slower, and it never got harder or softer.
Before long, I was trying to scream, but mostly couldn't because the weight was
still making breathing difficult. So I just stood there. As far as I could
tell, she kept it up for hours, but it was probably about 30 minutes. Then she
left. My balls were still in agony from the weight, and my breath was coming in
gasps. After another indeterminate length of time she finally returned.
She stood in front of me for a few minutes, and then said, "Are your balls
getting sore?" I managed to gasp out an affirmative. "OK," she said, "I'll
take the weight off." She did, and the relief was overwhelming. I actually
felt grateful to her. She then refastened me face up on a table, and strapped
down so I couldn't move at all.
When she reached between my legs and grabbed my balls, I started begging her not
to hurt them anymore. She cupped both balls in one hand and started poking her
thumb into them over and over. She told me to beg her to do my cock instead,
and I did. I begged her shamelessly to please torture my cock. She made me beg
for quite a while, and then released my balls.
A moment later, she held up a spring clothes pin so I could see it. There was a
cord tied through a hole in one end. She giggled, and then said, "You're going
to love this." She smeared something onto the end of my cock and then clipped
the clothes pin onto the head. It hurt, but compared to what I had been going
through it was nothing. I should have known it would get a lot worse.
After a few minutes, she stood by my feet and started pulling on the cord. She
very slowly pulled off the clothes pin. It hurt a lot more as she pulled it
off. When it finally snapped off, she rubbed the end of my dick for a little
bit. That felt great. I have to admit, she was good with her hands. Then she
put the clip back on.
It hurt more the second time, and when she finally pulled it off, it hurt a lot
more. She kept repeating this cycle over and over. She would put the clip on,
leave it for a while, pull it off, and then masturbate me for a short time.
After five or ten times, I was screaming while she pulled it off. After 15 or
20 times, I was incoherent. She probably did it 50 times, but I lost count
after 20 or so. This whole process took several hours.
After the last time, she just kept masturbating me, and I came so hard I thought
the top of my head would fly off. As soon as I started coming, she started
squeezing my balls with her free hand. It felt like they had turned into liquid
and were shooting out the end of my dick. I think it was several minutes before
I was really aware of my surroundings again. While I was recovering, her
assistant fed me dinner.
Once I had eaten and recovered, her assistant helped her reposition me standing
spread. Her assistant began working my cock and balls with her mouth and hands
while the dom used a cane on my butt. I was sure there was no way I could get
it up again, but I was wrong. In no time I was as hard as a rock.
They kept me that way for a long time. Her assistant turned out to be an artist
with her mouth and hands. She kept me right on the edge of coming, but I never
quite got there. Meanwhile, every few of minutes the dom would lay a stripe
across my ass. I know I was a mess by this time, because the cane started
feeling good. I started hoping for it to fall again. Have you ever had a blow
job that lasted three hours?
That night at 11pm, she finally made me come. I passed out from it. When I
woke up, I couldn't think straight or even protest as the dom told me how glad I
must be she had kept me from changing my mind. As I was getting into the cab,
she asked me if I wanted to come back the next weekend. I'm thinking about it.
