Berlin Adventure Part 1

“I am visiting Berlin on a business trip at the end of October and I want a slave to give me a tour of the more...interesting places in the city one evening...” 

That was the message I sent to one of the more interesting submissive men who occasionally send me messages. Most are indulging their little wank fantasies, but this one has always been respectful and does appear to be truly submissive. 

His response, literally two minutes later made me giggle: 

“Sarah you must be kidding me... 

 I was in a situation room with my team working on a huge deal when I read your message. The whole team was watching my reaction and thought the deal was stopped, but I was reading your message. 

 You made my heart stop for a couple of seconds. 

 Please, let me calm down and message you during the day.” 

And so started some planning for what was going to be quite a departure from my usual kinky adventures, not least because for the first time it involved someone with a penis who wasn’t my husband. 

My husband, for the record, has become somewhat resigned to the fact his wife is addicted to a kind of sex he cannot provide. I can’t honestly say he’s happy about it, but we’ve learned to live with my needs, we are open and honest with each other, and he is free to take other lovers should he choose to. After Berlin though, I’m keener than ever to get him involved, though I don’t think that’s ever going to happen. He has his life, I have mine, and we meet somewhere in the middle. 

I don’t consider what I am doing cheating, but neither is it any kind of open relationship. Its just where people end up when they love each other, love their family together, but react in different ways to the challenges life throws at us. Enough of him and us. 

Budget cuts and missing revenue targets meant my overseas travel has been sadly curtailed over the last few months. I haven’t been back to Seattle since recruiting my intern, but I hear she’s doing very well, working for us full time now. My PA, who I never really did finish writing about, sadly didn’t work out. She is back in Denmark and as far as I’m aware doing ok, but we haven’t talked for some months. As for Louise, my former Domme and lover, I thought, I have heard nothing from her for two years. My heart still aches. 

So, back to Berlin. I had always wanted to go, its legendary tolerance and club scene appealed to me since I was in my 20s. I don’t like nightclubs much, but Berlin clubs are different. They’re mostly safe places for women, no dress codes (well, not in the usual sense), everyone focused on having a brilliant time and not posturing. And ‘techno’ in Berlin, means kink. A techno club is a kink club by anyone else’s standards. 

But I’m nearly 50 and there are things I can’t or won’t do. 

I can’t stay out till 3am for a start. I thought. But Berlin public transport is amazing so if I did manage it, I had no concern about getting back to my hotel. I also can’t queue for hours and then get turned away. Berlin club bouncers are notorious for taking one look at someone and turning them away. I suspected as a single woman I’d be welcomed with open arms. But I also didn’t want to go as a single woman. 

When I asked on Tumblr if I knew anyone in Berlin, I got a response back from the submissive man I mentioned at the start. As he was respectful and didn’t seem to want anything other than to talk to me, I responded positively back to him and we got talking. It didn’t take long until we exchanged real names. I won’t disclose though. For purposes of this account, I will refer to him as “bitchboy”.  

Bitchboy is the name used by the terrifying and quite wonderful Ms Scarlet to refer to her full time slave. I am entirely new and inexperienced in any kind of male domination, She is quite possibly the world's foremost expert in it. I was sent a link to her blog some time ago and have since read a couple of her books. I am in awe of her as a dominant woman, I feel rather sorry for her bitchboy, but he does seem to – language fails really - ‘enjoy’ what she does to him. You can read about them here - https://msscarletuk.wordpress.com/ - but for now, my own “bitchboy” is the focus. 

“You shouldn't be looking at porn at work naughty boy.” I replied, which prompted him to write back with a rather long message: 

“I am aware that I should not do that at work. I rather see myself as rotten and not naughty, because naughty sounds nice. What happened this morning is terrifying; I mixed this part of my life with that one. People in my team saw me in shock, while I was thinking about the other part of me. 

Here are my thoughts, Sarah: You are like a rock star for me. I read your blog for years now. And like fans adoring their stars I adore you. Now that is from a very secure position with hundreds of miles between us. I have never, ever even thought about meeting you in real life. I do not know how much it would mash my brain. I am not sure if it is good to meet you in real life or not. You scare the hell out of me. 

I will be travelling for work but I will return on November 2. When are you in Berlin? I am shaking.” 

He is terrified. 

At this stage all I was going to do was ask him where would be good to go, I had no intention of actually meeting him.  But this was too much fun to stop for now. I was going to fuck with him for a while. 

Our conversation continued for some time, during which he confessed he had not had any sexual relief for months, and also went in to some detail of his history and a variety of kinks. I wanted very much to be mean to him, but I couldn’t, I actually felt some empathy as he was trapped in a secret kink world of his own making, in quite a similar way to me. It would not be fair for me to talk about this. It is his story to tell if he chooses.  

I suspect he won’t. One of the main concerns for him, like me, is being outed. He has a similar occupation to me, perhaps even higher profile, and his career would not benefit from him being outed. 

I could go to a kink club in a foreign city anonymously. He might be recognised.  

But the more we talked, the more I wound him up, the more turned onbeing mean to him made me, the more I started to wonder if dominating him was actually something I could do. Have him as my personal enslaved tour guide for the weekend? My berlin bitchboy. 

I had a couple of weeks to decide. But I would still make use of bitchboy’s local knowledge to help me, whatever I decided. 

“I want you to get me into a kink club, bitchboy. Find out who I need to talk to and what I need to wear to guarantee entry.” 

He took a few days to get back to me, but when he did, he suggested I talk to Alice, one of the people who runs events at the most famous club, Insomnia. 

I messaged her and her response was overwhelmingly positive! She was thrilled to be able to help a solo businesswoman have a great time in Berlin. I explained to her that I was toying with the idea of making bitchboy come with me, but we were both concerned about his anonymity. She was amused by this and bluntly said ‘just make him wear a mask. I’ll meet you at the door and escort you in so you can skip the queue.’ Amazing!   

I wasn’t sure how we would arrange this in a way that kept bitchboy happy, and I really didn’t want to jeopardise his career, so I discussed it with him. 

Eventually we decided that we would meet for coffee in the lounge of my hotel on Saturday morning, before I went on a walking tour of the city, so we could discuss his (and my!) concerns in person, but also to meet in a safe vanilla setting. 

--- 

I was sat waiting for him below a huge mural of David Bowie, a most wonderful discovery I had made when I checked in a few days earlier. I love Bowie and seeing this picture every morning had made me happy every time I walked past it. 

It was obvious when bitchboy arrived. Alone, well dressed but nervous, he recognised me immediately from pictures he has seen of me.  

“Sarah”, he said, with barely a trace of an accent. “It is a pleasure to meet you”. 

I’d been trying to decide on my demeanour. Should I be friendly or strict? 

I opted for friendly, for now, I wanted this to be as normal as possible. 

“It's nice to meet you too, bitchboy, please sit down” 

We made small talk for a while, until I finished my coffee. “Get me another coffee?” I asked, not ordered, but did not say please. He smiled and diplomatically pointed out the bartender would come over in a moment, you didn’t usually have to go to the bar here. 

“Go to the bar and get me a coffee.”  

I was well aware someone would come, but that wasn’t the point. I looked at him pointedly, and he stood up and hurriedly walked over to the bar and ordered my coffee, as well as one for himself. Allowing him to sit down again when the bartender confirmed that they would bring it over. 

“How are you going to be any use to me in the club if you can’t follow simple instructions?” I asked. 

He stammered a little, unsure how to react, so I put him out of his misery. “It’s ok, I was fucking with you. You seem quite nervous, so I wanted to see how you reacted.” 

We talked, again largely vanilla, for another 30 minutes or so, before I broached the subject of the club. I liked him, not in a sexual way, but he was good company. He wasn’t pathetically fawning over me as I had worried that he might be, he was just as respectful as he had been online. 

It was at that moment that I said I wanted him to come with me. I wanted him to wait on me at the club, to get my drinks, to hold my coat in the queue, to translate for me if I needed it.  

“Bitchboy, would this interest you?” I didn’t really need a response, of course he would be interested in this. I could practically see his heart beating in his chest, and I could almost certainly see the bulge growing in his trousers. 

But his anonymity? Did he own a mask? No.  

Could he buy one? No, because it was too late to buy on online and he was too worried about going into a shop. 

Well, I wasn’t. The woman I’d spoken to said fetish wear wasn’t mandatory, but everyone appreciated it, so I’d already been thinking I might have to go to a shop. As luck would have it there was a big kink & clubbing store a 10 minute walk from the hotel.  

My walking tour was due to start soon so I suggested he come with me. It would be entirely vanilla, though I would expect him to be a perfect gentleman and do everything he could to make my life easier. He agreed, and we set off to the meeting point, taking a bus and U-Bahn. So easy compared to living near, but not in, London, I love it here! 

I won’t bore you with the tour details – though there was nothing boring about it (just go visit already!) – but we did stop for a toilet and coffee break, where naturally he found me a seat in a busy café near Checkpoint Charlie, then went off to buy me a coffee while I people watched; hordes of tourists like me taking in where east met the west, with a McDonalds and KFC right there as if to emphasise which ideology had ‘won’ the cold war. 

I found out may things about the cold war I had no idea about before. I grew up in it, but I wasn’t even a teenager when the wall came down. But in the back of my mind was going to the club later, always. I still didn’t know if I was going to do it.  

I still didn’t know if bitchboy was going to come with me.  

He didn’t know either, so at the end of the tour as we travelled to the nearest U-Bahn to the shop we’d found, we talked. I suggested he meet me at my hotel, vanilla but with anything we wanted to wear with us. There was a changing room at the club so we could get changed there. If we got a taxi, he could get in vanilla, and we’d be dropped off round the corner, where Alice said she would meet us, at which point he could wear the hood. We’d enter and he’d already be hidden, then we could get changed in private, but nobody would see his face. He nervously agreed when I reminded him that this would be a fantasy come true for him. He would get to serve me all night. At the end, once outside we’d get a taxi from down the street, by which time he’d be unmasked, vanilla, and we’d just be another couple on the way home.  

So, we had a plan! 

Now I needed something to wear, and bitchboy needed a hood. I am super curvy, that’s the shape I buy when I shop in Bravissimo in the UK, which is about the only non-boutique shop that sells clothes that fit me. But stretchy things... a little easier. I had absolutely no intention of having sex or taking my clothes off in the club, and I’d bought a long coat and a pair of divine ankle boots with killer heels with me, vanilla enough but equally worthy of worship! So, I just needed a dress or something. 

I told bitchboy to go home, he could come to my hotel at 9pm to pick me up.  I would buy his outfit. He baulked when I told him this! I laughed, told him he would do as he was told. All he had to do was turn up smartly dressed, I would decide on everything else. 

The shop was an absolute wonder! Three floors of leather, latex, shoes and all sorts of kinky shit. If only I had a rich, anonymous benefactor with a credit card! 

I spent about an hour trying things on, which took a while in some cases! So many fantasies running around in my head. I was soaked, so turned on by the whole experience - and remember that despite playing the Domme here I’m a denied girl. I haven’t had an orgasm in several months, maybe I would indulge in one tonight? 

One thing was absolutely certain, bitchboy would most certainly not be involved if I did decide to break my denial. I had made it clear to him that in no way would he get to touch me sexually, and in no way was I interested in touching him in any kind of sexual way. This was about him serving me, not about indulging his desires. I say this, but he regards himself as truly subservient. His desires *are* to serve, it's not a wank fantasy for him, which is why I was interested in talking to him. Besides, I had told him to bring his chastity cage and both keys with him. 

I digress. The clothes! I tried on corsets, latex and leather skirts, collars, hoods, looking at all manner of kinky sexy things. I do own corsets, so I didn’t want to buy another, the good ones are very expensive, but there was a very sexy little underbust one that wouldn’t break the bank, and I thought it would look good over a white shirt I had with me. 

I settled on a black pencil skirt with a corset-tie up the back, the underbust corset and I would pair them with the shirt, black sheer stockings and garter I deliberately bought with me, and the ankle boots. Should I wear knickers? I hadn’t yet decided but I’d bought ones with me to match with the garter just in case. 

But what else? Bitchboy still needed a mask to wear.  

They had a selection of very expensive latex hoods, but I didn’t want to spend that sort of money on him. So I asked and the helpful shop assistant pointed me to some more ‘Ann Summers’ items, cheap but fun, mostly only useful in bedroom type stuff. 

 The revolving accessory stand had a lycra hood on it, with cutouts for eyes and mouth. I wasn’t so sure he needed to be able to speak, but it would do. 

I added a collar with an o-ring at the front, a leash, and a new buttplug for my own collection, a medium sized pretty silicon thing with whirly patterns. And lube! I guess I’d be wearing knickers after all, I’ve never been out with a plug in without them, I’m terrified it will fall out! 

I needed to masturbate so badly, this shopping had really turned me on, and I was very much so looking towards my evening. 

I paid, then walked back to the hotel with my heart beating fast: I was really going to do this! 

I got back to my room and showered, then lay on the bed naked and caught up with some friends on Tumblr, and inevitably started touching. I allowed myself to get very turned on but no edging, then got dressed and went down to dinner. I quickly ate a light dinner, and took a glass of white wine back to my room.  

Then I edged. 

I had bought a couple of toys with me, and using those, I warmed myself up for my new plug. I’d been aching to edge all day, I had about an hour before bitchboy arrived, so I let myself slip deep into edging space, nothing apart from my fingers, toys and my holes, drifting aimlessly in a sea of pleasure.  

When I was ready, I slipped the plug in which felt so damn good I had to stop touching for a couple of minutes, and then I edged some more, feeding my cunt to myself with my fingers as I love to do when I’m drifting like that, bliss... 

The phone rang. It was bitchboy. He was downstairs and I’d lost track of time. He was here exactly when I had told him to be. Edging is a true vampire of time; I could do it for days if life didn’t get in the way. I told him to wait and I would be down. 

I started to dress. I had intended to go out without a bra, but after an hour of edging my nipples looked obscene through the blouse, and the corset provided no support, it might have been a good look in my 20’s but I needed a bra, so I put on the one that matched my underwear.  

I don’t wear makeup very often and I’m not that good at it; I didn’t want to overdo it, so I took my time, then dressed, allowing myself a little extra edge before I pulled up the corset skirt. 

I checked myself in the mirror, undid a button on the shirt so my cleavage was visible, and tightened the corset a little, accentuating my figure. Then (with a little difficulty!), put on my boots and gathered my things into my purse. My things included a hood, a collar and a leash! 

I was just about to leave when I decided to call bitchboy, instructing him to come to my room. Buttoning up a coat over my outfit,  so he couldn’t see what I was wearing. 

He arrived a few minutes later looking very nervous. 

He was wearing a well-cut black suit with a white shirt, casual but stylish. I was pleased he had made an effort. I invited him in and sat in one of the chairs. He went to sit in the other, but caught the look in my eye: he would not be sitting down in my room. 

I asked him curtly if he was wearing the cage. He shook his head but said he had it with him. 

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” I asked, sweetly, but with as much menace as I could muster. 

“I... I hoped I wouldn’t have to; I don’t need it to control myself!” he protested.  

Reasonable, but perhaps I needed it to control him? I told him to go to the bathroom and put it on. 

He was in there for a few minutes, while I waited, I messaged Alice at the club to say we wouldn’t be long. She replied almost instantly saying to ask for her when we arrived, she had arranged something special for me! 

Bitchboy came out, looking slightly embarrassed. “Why were you in there for so long?” I asked, though I didn’t think he’d been that long really. 

“Umm, I had an erection and it was difficult to put on”, he blushed as he said it. I giggled. 

“Well, that won’t be a problem for the rest of the night, will it?” I smirked. 

“No Sarah, it won’t.” He pulled a face, as if to pout. 

I held out my hand. 

He looked confused for a moment. “Keys, both of them.” 

He looked like he was going to protest. After all, giving up both keys is potentially risky, but he handed them over without saying anything. 

I motioned towards the door, “come on, let’s go!”. He walked towards the door, opening it and holding for me. “Good boy” I said as I walked past him. 

He followed me out to the lift, and we waited in a nervous silence.  

“Are you sure you want to do this Sarah?” he broke the silence, just as the lift door opened. 

“Yes, I am sure I want to do this: I’ve been masturbating for a couple of hours, and I’m so horny it’s not funny. I absolutely want to do this” I replied, with him following me into the lift. 

“What are you doing, bitch?” I asked, with an evil grin on my face. “You can take the stairs. Don’t keep me waiting in the lobby!”. 

He backed out of the lift, and I pressed the door close button. 3 floors... 

The door opened and I got out; about 10 seconds later he emerged from the stairwell, trying to look calm, but I knew he must have been out of breath. 

“Order a taxi, bitch”. I said this quietly so nobody else would hear, but knowing we were in public, and he’d hate it. 

“Yes Sarah”, he replied. 

We sat in the lobby for a few minutes while we waited. I asked him what he had been doing since he left me earlier. 

“I washed and cleaned myself inside and out” 

“Inside and out?” What could he mean? 

“I mean I showered and then cleaned myself with a douche”, he answered, very quietly while avoiding eye contact. I giggled, enjoying his discomfort. 

“Are you expecting something to happen?”  

He shook his head and muttered something about being “prepared”. 

“You should be prepared. I’m not going to touch you, but I agree, you should always be prepared. Should we ever do this again, you will do this kind of preparation before each and every meeting, even if it is only for a coffee, is that clear, bitch?” I said this with a venom in my voice and he responded with a barely audible “yes Miss”. 

“Louder, bitch!, be clear what you are saying” 

He swallowed, conscious of the people around us. 

“I will always prepare myself before I meet you, Sarah.” 

“Good boy”. 

Much to his relief the taxi arrived, and we shared the short journey to the club in silence. I could feel the plug in me every time we went over a bump, impossible to ignore and only turning me on even more.