I accepted a golden shower and spanking session booking months ago.
I did not know he is a traditional jew until I met him at the hotel lobby in shanghai. The first sight that struck me was his height—short with an unassuming presence. But what caught me off guard was the kippah perched atop his head, glistening subtly under the hotel’s soft lighting.
I ordered him to open his mouth once he was naked in the shower room. I released a warm stream of urine, watching as it hit its target with precision. The act was a powerful display of control, as he obediently accepted every drop, fully submitting to my authority.
It's effortless for me to embrace my cruelty; it's in my blood, woven into my very DNA. The stories in the Bible further cement this part of me, fueling the fire that keeps me unyielding. I couldn't help but see him as a modern-day Samson. In my mind, he had chosen Delilah's sister as his wife, bypassing me—the true Delilah. The thought enraged me, sparking a deep resentment. So, when he stood before me, I felt justified in unleashing my wrath, spanking him with no mercy, driven by the bitterness of being overlooked.
All of my sessions are conducted on the basis of respecting slaves' limits.