BDSM Stories: Bondage, Findom & Public Play with Mommy

My steps slow as we approach the garage where I parked. Mistress Blunt turns back to face me, illuminated by a solitary street lamp. She is a vision straight out of a movie, voluptuous in a scarlet red dress, completely at ease in her leather jacket, layered belts, and boots. It is a cool, wet October evening, and I am transfixed. “This feels like a dream,” I admit.

She smiles warmly, her eyes twinkling. “I assure you, I am quite real.”

“Yes, it’s one of my favorite things about you. I mean, the virtual sessions we’ve shared have been amazing, but meeting you in person…” I struggle to find the words as she walks with me to my spot in the self-park section. My hands tremble in my coat pockets. It feels too much like an awkward first date, despite the intimacy of having already bared so much to her online. “It’s exceeded every expectation. I know I’m the one who insisted on just dinner and not playing at first, but I want this dream to last forever.”

We reach my rental car. Mistress Blunt barely spares a glance for the cobalt blue BMW they gave me. “Forever is a long time,” she says at last. “What do you want right now?” She appraises me, holds my gaze. I’m convinced she can see right through me, into the turmoil within. All evening I have been intoxicated by her beauty, her scent, her wit. Just connecting with her online I had been obsessed with her, but meeting her in the flesh has been a revelation.

I find myself saying, “I want to serve you, Mistress.” My own forwardness surprises me, but she seems amused and at least a little pleased. “I want to be yours for as long as you will have me.” Without a word, she extends one leg through the slit of her dress, resting her boot directly between us. She simply looks at me, and I realize that words are not enough, not anymore.

I fall to my knees, my heart racing. I bend forward and kiss the toe of the proffered boot. I recognize the strap-on harness made for her by one of her submissives—one of her real submissives. The moistness left by my lips shines up at me. I stifle my pang of jealousy and begin to kiss and lick and kiss.

I don’t notice Mistress Blunt crouch down over me until she whispers into my ear with a honeyed voice. “Good boy. You could get in that car and take the memory of these chaste goodbye kisses back home with you. I’ll let you edge to memories of tonight. Then, maybe, when your work brings you here again…” I pause in my worship and look up at her with desperate eyes. “Or I could take you home with me, where you will be mine. For as long as I choose to keep you.” From somewhere in her jacket she pulls out a dildo, the color matching her dress. She buckles it into the harness, and traces a finger from base to tip. “Will you be my little slut?”

My cheeks flush and I fight the urge to look around, to see if anyone else has wandered back here. I glance back once at the blue luxury car waiting to take me back to my normal life. I lick my lips, then kiss the tip of the bright red strap-on once, then again. Then I worship in earnest, faster than before, instinctively trying to mimic the action and enthusiasm I’ve seen from countless porn stars. For a while, she just watches me demonstrate my devotion.

“Good boy,” she whispers, and my cock throbs. “Now, child’s pose.” A simple command from Mistress Blunt, and my body responds with the simple obedience she has inculcated in me, one virtual session at a time. My forehead comes to a rest on the cold concrete floor, and all I can hear is my own heavy breathing. I lay my outstretched hands around her boot, open in acquiescence. I soon feel leather surround my wrists, supple yet strong and somehow warm. Did she fashion makeshift cuffs from one of her belts? I don’t dare lift my head to look and just feel the slack disappearing with a firm tug. I’ve thought about this moment hundreds of times, before and after our virtual sessions: Mistress Blunt binding me, savoring my helplessness. I feel her hand in my hair, cradling my head. I am smiling.

A moment later everything goes dark, as my head is engulfed in black spandex. I experience a moment of panic before I realize I can breathe through the thin material, but some thick padding blocks my sight. I am dragged to my feet by my bound hands. “Come with me, slut.” I am pulled forward, following the sound of her boots. Through the spandex hood I can see only indistinct brightness when we pass by some light source. I wonder who can see me like this, but if anyone witnesses my capture, they don’t say a thing.

Eventually we reach what seems to be our destination. My hands are placed high on a wall in front of me. A hand on my back pushes me to lean forward, even as I feel my legs being kicked wide apart. “This is your last chance to back out,” Mistress Blunt whispers in my ear. “Will you give me everything?”

I swallow hard, not entirely sure what’s going on, but there can only be one answer. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Don’t move,” comes the quiet reply in my ear, sounding more like friendly advice than threat. Then I hear the sound of fabric tearing and feel a cold draft. My clothes are being sliced off me, one article at a time. There’s shock and humiliation, yes, but then a growing arousal that is now plainly visible for anyone present to see. I feel the cold blade of a knife slide down the back of my neck, tracing a line from the spandex hood down my spine, then under between my legs and up between my balls, culminating in the barest caress at the tip of my cock.

I am lost in a moment of exquisite excitement and fear, until I feel a hand grab me by the arm and lead me away. “Here, we’ll take my car.” Mistress Blunt’s voice is now matter-of-fact. A few steps later my legs collide with what must be the bumper. The next thing I know, I am being lowered into a car trunk. One by one, each ankle and wrist is wrapped in a real leather cuff, straps tightened, buckles locked with an audible click. There’s a touch of cold steel and the rustle of chain, followed by the sound of another series of locks snapping shut. I soon realize that a single, short chain connects my collar to my ankles, with my hands locked together just beneath my chin. Mistress Blunt retrieves her now superfluous belt from my wrists and removes the hood.

I look up at her studying me, now a bound package, naked and helpless in her car trunk. She reaches a hand down and finds my erect cock. She smiles kindly as she begins to stroke it slowly. “That’s a good boy.” My mouth falls open as I begin to pant faster, my hips straining to help. “Mommy’s going to bring you home now.” For a moment I think she’ll jerk me off, leave me with cum splattered over my legs for the drive back to her apartment. Then she grabs me by the jaw and I can feel her breath on mine. “What do you say, little one?”

I only manage to sputter out, “Yes, Mommy. Thank you, Mommy.” My chin is released, and I slump back down into the trunk, my cock hard and lonely. On my naked body I feel the rush of air as the trunk lid slams shut, condemning me to true darkness. Before long the car begins to move.

My mind spins even as my body remains curled tight into an enforced fetal position. I want desperately to stroke myself. Then I think that Mommy wouldn’t like that. Then I realize that my hands are locked too close to my neck to reach my cock anyway. Then I am silently thanking Mommy for helping me be a good boy.

As the car winds its way through the city, my body and mind both grow restless. A voice in the back of my head offers a reality check. I only met Mistress Blunt in person this evening, and I’m trusting her with my life? I imagine the words I will say when she opens the trunk, begging to call it off, apologizing for wasting her time. Then I realize the car has picked up speed and is no longer making sharp turns. We’re on a highway, no longer in the city. Where is she taking me?

Instinctively I reach to pound on the lid of the trunk, but the cuffs and chain hold me still. This is too much. This is not what I asked for. This is not what I wanted. But I soon realize that’s not true. I am struggling in my restraints just to feel the inescapable security of Mistress Blunt’s control. I am as turned on as I’ve ever been. I am moving the chain back and forth, just for the stimulation to my erect cock, but it’s not enough to grant me any relief. I have no choice. I am helpless for Mistress Blunt.

The truth is I’ve been under her spell for months now. Giving myself to her just felt right. The mantras, the messaging her from my knees, the virtual sessions layered with worship and submission: my life never seemed more vivid than in those moments.

Then tonight I met Mistress Blunt for real. As she approached the restaurant, she wore the light of the setting sun behind her like a golden nimbus. She seemed more than real, a goddess among mortals. She knew full well the effect she had on me, greeting me with the confidence of a predator finding her prey, letting her scent envelop and claim me.

I think of the countless small moments tonight that showed I already belonged to Mistress Blunt. The way she ordered for both of us, choosing the two entrees she wanted to try. The way I waited for permission to eat, while she sampled both dishes before choosing which to keep for herself. The way even the server quickly realized that she was in charge, that they should look to her to set the pace and choose the wine. The way Mistress Blunt said, “Tip them as generously as you would tip me,” without even bothering to look up from entering the server’s number into her phone. I agreed, 100%, feeling another frisson of submission.

I find my rhythm, repeating over and over the meditation that Mistress Blunt taught me. Each breath for Mistress. All along, she had been helping me prepare for this night. This is just right. I want this. It’s not what I thought to ask for, but Mommy knows what I need.

Some time later, the car finally comes to a stop and falls silent. The trunk lid opens, letting in the chirping of crickets and the lush smell of soil after rain. I pull pointlessly at the cuffs as my eyes adjust to a starry sky and Mistress Blunt’s face looking down at me with a smile. She unfastens my ankles from the chain that kept me curled up, and before I can stretch my legs she is helping me out of the trunk.

I fall to my knees in the grass, my hands still tight beneath my collar, breathing deeply of the cold, clean air. Without a word, Mistress Blunt grabs the chain still connecting my collar to my hands. She pulls me to the slit in her dress. Her pussy is on my mouth, hot and wet, and I start worshipping her. I want to show my gratitude, thank her for the privilege of serving her, but right now she is just using me, getting off on my helpless face.

When she is done with me, she pulls a messenger bag from the car and tosses it at my feet. “I suppose you’ll need this to earn your keep.” It’s my work laptop, collected from my rental car. It’s not even really mine: it’s technically owned by the corporation that paid for my trip here. That and an internet connection are all I need to keep a steady paycheck. “Don’t worry, if you’re good, Mommy will give you an allowance.” She heads up to the cabin at the top of the hill, warm light spilling invitingly from the windows. I pick up the bag with my chained hands and follow, Mistress’ juices still smeared across my face.

This is part of my BDSM Stories writing contest, contributed by an eager submissive. Want a more intimate look into my personal relationships? Follow me on my OnlyFans. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter and for those who feel inspired by the above interview and want to make fantasy a reality, reach out.