Bondage whore Bernie is my name on the circuit. I go into any BDSM club in my state and that is how I am addressed. I have quite the reputation for BDSM games. I hate that these Fifty Shades of Grey movies trivialize the lifestyle. BDSM is not a fad for me. It is my way of life. When my Master was younger, he really enjoyed tying me up. We used everything from heavy duty climbing rope to his silk ties. Sometimes we even used my pantyhose. It just depended on if he wanted to leave a mark or not. Once I was tied up a slew of sensual games ensued. Sometimes we played with hot candle wax. Sometimes ice cubes. Sometimes bare bottom spankings. Other times more hardcore like a belt strap or a Cat o Nine tails. Master was not into disfiguring me. He was not into leaving marks that lingered for days. It was about trust. It was about submission. No one believes in that kind of old school S&M relationship anymore. It’s a new world for a subby whore like me. Trying to find a master like the one I have is like looking for a needle in a haystack. I have been testing the waters for new Masters, using phone sex as a way to see what the modern dominant man is like. I’ve discovered that my Master is from a bygone world that likely doesn’t exist anymore. I’m trying to prepare myself for what is coming. In my quest for a suitable replacement I have been tied up and left for days with no food or water sitting in my own waste. I have had my tits punched so hard a saline bag ruptured. I have had my face shoved in a toilet filled with shit and piss. I have been forced to eat puke. I have been ordered to service men with 4 legs. I have been gangbanged by men half my age. I’m dreading the day my Master surrenders me because I cannot live in a world where I am not owned, but the men of this new age terrify me.
Bernice
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