My torso is tightly bound with rope. My wrists are tied over my head. I’m sitting across a leather bench with my legs spread while my semi-erect penis is struggling against the coils of soft thin nylon string being wrapped around it. A beautiful woman with a spectacular mane of red hair is about to put some scary tight clamps on my nipples while Henry Purcell’s Music for the Funeral of Queen Mary plays softly in the background of the darkened room. In a few minutes I’ll be as close to heaven as a still-living man can get, thanks to Lady Lydia.
How did I get in this wonderful predicament? I have been into BDSM for as long as I can remember, but haven’t been actively sessioning for a quite a long time. Recently, I decided to contact Lady Lydia, partly on the recommendation of an new acquaintance-in-kink (whose own wonderful talent for domination is in itself worthy of a separate review, but that’ll be another post). I was more than a little nervous -- Lady Lydia has the reputation of being a serious player and I feared that I might be biting more than I could chew.
But I trusted my instincts and my friend’s recommendation. I loved the fact that she called herself a “gleeful sadist” because that’s exactly what I was looking for -- someone who would like hurting me and would do so with a smile on her face. And the fact that she looked gorgeous on her web site didn’t hurt. So I emailed her to set up an appointment. After a few email exchanges, everything was ready and I spent the next few days in anticipation, trying to imagine what would happen. An over-excited fantasy is often a curse: most of the time you end up being disappointed when reality invariably doesn’t meet unrealistic heightened expectations.
Thankfully, this wasn’t the case. Last night I walked into her studio. We briefly chatted about my interests and limits, then the session began, and I had the time of my life.
As anyone can see from the pictures on her site, Lady Lydia is very attractive, with long red hair and beautifully pale skin. She has a great body, and wonderful feet (which I hope to be allowed to worship one day). And she has a killer smile. I am a masochist and a fetishist, so I revel into physical sensations: from the soft caress of a single fingernail running over my chest to the bite of metal clamps into my nipples, and the sting of a whip on my back -- I crave physical stimulation. But I also get a kick out of seeing satisfaction in my dominant’s eyes and face. What’s the point of taking punishment if whoever’s meting it out doesn’t enjoy it? Lady Lydia certainly does. When I moaned or held my breath, she smiled and pushed harder. When I let out a scream she laughed. Which of course made me want her to hurt me even more.
For this first session she “only” concentrated on CBT and nipple torture; which, of course, is the understatement of the year, like saying that Michelangelo “only” painted ceilings. My cock and balls were tied, pinched, pulled and teased mercilessly, and my nipples were torn, pressed, bitten and squeezed so deliciously that I often felt the urge to drop down to my knees to thank God and Lady Lydia (not necessarily in that order) for the exquisite pain I was experiencing. But of course I couldn’t drop to my knees because I was tied up like a pinata.
She separated my balls and secured them to my legs, then tied my cock to my nipples and added heavy weights to the mix. She pinched my cock and scrotum with nasty little clothespins, which she often removed and put back on. The slow escalation of the intensity of the pain was masterful. I was delirious with pain and pleasure. By the end, she could have asked me to do anything and I would have probably said yes.
The only unpleasant part of the session was that it ended. Of course it may have felt longer than an hour while my nipples were being squeezed like an empty tube of toothpaste, but after it was over I wanted to go back for more right away. That’s how good she was.
Even though right now my nipples feel like chunks of steak tartare, I am anxiously waiting to schedule my next session. So many possibilities, so many things to explore. I feel like a kid in a candy store, except that this particular candy store has whips and a St. Andrew’s cross on the wall. If you live in Seattle and like CBT and nipple torture, you must pay a visit to Lady Lydia. And if you don’t live in Seattle, you should get on a plane and get your ass here right now.
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