A story from Matheus

Nine years ago: it was 2009, I was a 19 year old kid studying filmmaking in New York City. I identified myself as a sub since I accidentally had access to BDSM material as young boy, but as a young adult I only had two very painful and unsatisfying sessions on my kinky luggage. For the first time in my life I was living on my own, away from home, family, friends, and everybody else that I’d be embarrassed by having my preferences somehow discovered or exposed.

I knew NYC was THE place to be for a kinkster, and it was only a matter of finding the right spot that would suit me right, and I’d be just fine.

I started by googling ‘femdom sessions nyc’ and the Fetish Fortress was the second choice the algorithm gave me. I looked over all those beautiful dommes, but was your glassy eyes that caught my attention.  I immediately wrote an email addressing the Asian dungeon saying I had interest in a one hour session with Mistress Zhao, and that my favorite practices included foot fetish, bondage, CBT, and orgasm control. 

Not even 24 hours later, I was on a subway train on my way to the location I was instructed to go, and what a scary place that was: The building looked abandoned from the outside, so I double checked the address. No doubt, that was the crib.  I walked in, hoping this wasn't part of some organ trafficking scheme. I entered the elevator, the mirror was broken and the light was flicking. It really felt like a zombie apocalypse. I stepped out on the right floor, and all I could see was this massive mirror reflecting my image, one of the kinds you see in thrillers during interrogation scenes. There was a little intercom right next to it, I buzzed the button and a feminine voice came through the speaker, telling me she was sorry, but Mistress Zhao couldn't make it to the session. 

“Would it be okay if you could come back at ten o'clock?”

There was absolutely NO WAY I was going back to that location of a slasher flick during night time. “Could it be, like, one o'clock in the afternoon tomorrow?” I replied. 


Exactly 24 hours later, and there I was again. There was a drawer right below to the big mirror, that I didn't noticed the first time around. The thing opened like if it had a life of its own. “ID, please”, the voice in the speaker said. I dropped my passport, and the drawer rapidly closed like if it was a mouth from a monstrous creature deglutting its meal.  The door right on my side buzzed.  “Last door on the corridor, the steel room,” the voice said.

As soon as I passed the door, I saw myself inside this shady and bleak version of what looked like a waiting room. I reached a very small corridor, where the only thing I could see was a birdcage hanging from the ceiling, containing a Ken doll totally stripped, blindfolded and in bondage.  Soon, a small door was in front of me. Here it is, the steel room. As I walked in, I found myself trapped in this little cubicle with another door in front of me. “TAKE YOUR CLOTHES OFF” a speaker blazed in a metallic voice. I stripped down my clothing, and kindly placed them in a small basket on the floor. 

“THAT INCLUDES YOUR UNDERWEAR”, the metallic voice shouted. Fuck. I'm trapped in this place. They have my passport. They have me naked. No doubt, this is some human traffic scheme. What the fuck have I got myself into? 

“You can come in now” the voice said. 

'Nah, i'm just bugging out. I left my macbook in the dorm where I share with another roommate. If I go missing, it's not gonna be hard to track me down. They know that. Nobody would be that stupid. That's probably just standard procedure.' I lied to myself as I walked through the door,  and found myself alone while waiting for Mistress Zhao. 

It was probably not even a minute, but it felt like a decade.  I’ve never met someone totally undressed in my life. My friend once told me of his experience at a nude beach: according to him, meeting someone completely naked gives you the wrong impression of intimacy. It’s as if having all of your flaws and imperfections exposed while acquainting someone would not only strip you from your clothes, it would also strip you from your pride. But would the same tenderness apply to this?

Finally you came in. You introduced yourself with a kind smile, as you apologized for what happened the day before, explaining how the traffic jam in New Jersey was a total bummer. 

You told me to lay down on my knees, which I obediently did. Soon I felt rough rope involving my two arms. “Tell me more about you”, you said. I briefly told you I moved to a bigger home when I was six, and found S&M videos and magazines hidden in the guest bedroom, which I believed belonged to the previous owner.

“Do you believe you would never be into kink if it wasn’t for this?”

By the time you asked me this, I was already confined head to toe in the gigantic rope. You started to curl the rest of the rope around my penis. I have never felt anything like this. The rope was holding my circulation, and the veins started to come out as thick as they could. It was pain AND pleasure, all at once. You quickly stopped and gave me a malicious look. You tightened up the cord just to see how I’d react. I shivered. You kept looking at me with the same stare. Did it again. I shivered. 

There was a small bit of the rope that was loose, and you used it as a leash. Having my manhood on a leash was a dream come true situation. One of those once-in-a-life-time-moments. For the first time I felt I was truly submitting myself to someone else’s will. By that time I didn’t care if you were going to slice my throat. I was yours, and you had the right to use me as you wished. All I could do was thanking you for taking away my rights.

You then instructed to kiss your feet. I gently kissed your soles and each toe. “You’re a good foot kisser”, you said “most foot guys just wanna deep throat my feet”.

What followed for the next fifty minutes was a very nice conversation that I‘d be happy to have with a friend, except for the fact I was totally bound as you tortured my testicles.

You then untied my penis, and touched my gland with this big, vibrating, phallic shaped device.  

“I’m gonna let you release now”. 

Having an orgasm in bondage was one of the most exciting and thrilling experiences I’ve ever had, and till this day, I’d recommend it to anyone, kinkster or not. The feeling of all your muscles quickly tighten up as the same time they’re bound, and then loosen up, followed by an intense tickling at the tip of your dick, that soon starts spreading and spreading to the rest of your body. All of this, aligned with the knowledge that, if you decided to ruin it, there was nothing I could do about it. 

I was lucky enough to have my orgasm all the way. “The session is over”, you said. “Would you like me to untie you now?”

“No”, I replied.  “I wouldn’t”

Ten minutes later I was dressing again, as we had our last chat before going separate ways. I said I hoped I wasn’t a disappointment for you as a beginner. 

“I’d rather push the buttons of someone sensitive that can feel things in intense ways, rather than having someone immune to pain” and that just shut my mouth.

As I entered the subway, I just felt I could fly. You showed me BDSM was much more that I could ever expect. You had the best of both worlds: Strong and sensitive. Sadistic and caring. Delicate and wild. 

Fast forward nine years, and it’s been a journey often painful, but also rewarding, to accept myself as I am. Every experience I’ve ever had gave me an extra layer of thick skin, but also made me come out at the end stronger. It took me nine years to open up to my friends and part of my family. And our one hour together was definitely foundational for that. Nine years later, someone sent me a link of your Instagram, and you’re now Dia Dynasty. Funny enough, but ‘Dia’ in my native language is the word for ‘day’. And you’ve helped me bring part of myself I kept as a secret to broad daylight. I was also very satisfied to see that you identified yourself as a ‘sexual healer’. That’s the most accurate description of you: a healer.

I really don’t expect you remember this little session from nine years ago. I’m just one in a thousand that you helped healing, and I’m grateful you’re still out there helping people.