A familiar name popped up in my inbox, a client returning for another taste of Philadelphia Femdom. He’s a regular visitor, his work bringing him to the city every few weeks, and he understands the importance of a proper “debriefing” before departure. His preferences are wide-ranging, a blank canvas for my artistry, with a single exception: no blood or fluids. He’s also learned, from our previous encounters, that his cock has a certain… sensitivity. A lesson I respect, even as I enjoy the mental games.

This session was to be a masterclass in bondage, a particular passion of mine lately, and a staple of my Philadelphia Femdom practice. He failed to greet me in the correct position. “You know better,” I chided, guiding his head to the floor. “Head down, ass up—that’s how you greet your Dominatrix.” My fingernails traced patterns across his skin, a prelude to the main event, allowing me to assess his current state of submission.

Exquisite Femdom Philadelphia Bondage and CBT

The CBT chair awaited, a throne of vulnerability. Ankles and wrists secured, he was spread before me, a perfect tableau. Thigh and upper arm restraints followed, anticipating the inevitable, delightful resistance. I knelt before him, my knee pressing against his cock, the tap of my stiletto a sharp counterpoint to his anticipation. A thin rope became my instrument, binding his cock and balls tightly, drawing out his moans. His nipples, too bare, were soon adorned with clothespins. A hood descended, obscuring his vision, allowing me to capture the scene with my camera.

More clothespins joined the others, a painful crown for his already engorged cock. Clad in a new PVC dress and thigh-high boots, gifts from a devoted slave, I turned, lowering myself to grind my backside against his tormented flesh. His screams were a symphony of submission. Then, the Hitachi, a tool of exquisite torture, focused on the head of his cock. The sight of his flesh turning a deep, throbbing purple, the mixture of pain and pleasure in his cries, is a spectacle I never tire of. With a sharp, decisive motion, I removed the clothespins, then those on his nipples, relishing the security of his restraints. This is the art of Philadelphia Femdom at its finest.

I eagerly await his next visit. The pleasure of a willing slave, one who returns time and again for my unique brand of torment, is a gift I cherish

I excel at bondage and CBT of all types. Serve me in my private studio in Philadelphia by following the protocol. Looking to see my skills in action? Check out my Clip store