A real session with a dominatrix in Naples isn’t just a kinky appointment. It’s not a performance. It’s a full transformation — a slow descent into total submission, starting with vulnerable rimming, taken deeper by the stretch of a huge dildo, and often ending in complete cum in mouth surrender. This is the story of one sweet boy who thought he knew what it meant to serve… until he met me.
Naples. A city of contradictions. Beauty and rot. Passion and heat. The air itself is charged — with lust, risk, and raw need. And when I, IVISLUT, decide to come here, it’s never for play. I don’t accept weak requests or cheap thrills. I don’t pretend. I dominate.
I am the Mistress. Always.
Even when you're silent. Even when you cum. Even when you beg.
You belong to me.
Even when you think you’ve broken free…
That day, my inbox was full of men begging for discounts, offering €50 for my attention. But one message was different.
“I want to disappear into you. Not to play. To belong.”
That was it. No price talk, no limits. Just the words that matter.
I replied: “Come.”
He arrived exactly on time. Young, fit, clearly nervous. His eyes avoided mine, like a dog before discipline. Southern type, lean muscles, clean face, tight jaw. I didn’t smile. I don’t with new slaves.
“Undress.”
He obeyed. Slowly, respectfully. I said nothing more.
Once naked, I clipped the collar around his neck. Tight. Then the leash. I pulled once — enough for him to feel the power shift.
“On your knees.”
He dropped like he had trained for this his whole life.
“What are you?”
“I’m yours, Mistress.”
His voice cracked. That excited me.
I tied his wrists behind his back. Spread his knees apart. Walked behind him slowly. Let him feel the weight of silence. My silence is a weapon.
Then I brought out my tools.
Small dildo first. His body tensed, but he took it.
Then medium — and the whimpers began. Sweat appeared on his back. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to impress me. Good.
Then the huge dildo. The one most men beg me not to use.
He didn’t beg. He shook. He groaned. But he didn’t stop me.
He screamed — not from pain, but from surrender. From knowing he had no say. That I had taken him.
I stood back and watched him tremble. My body tingled. I wanted more.
I lay back. Opened my thighs, just enough.
“Use your tongue.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
He leaned in. Nervously. Gently.
But I grabbed his hair and pushed his face deeper.
His rimming was clumsy at first. But as I directed him, it changed. He was licking like his breath depended on it. Like my approval was the only thing keeping him alive.
When I moaned — just once — he almost cried.
I pulled him away.
“Now fuck me.”
He obeyed. Entered carefully, slowly. But he was already shaking.
Ten seconds later, he moaned — and collapsed.
He had finished. Without permission. Without worth.
I turned my head. Cold. Silent.
“That’s all?”
He said nothing. Just lowered his head in shame.
I stood. Walked to my drawer. Took out my biggest dildo. Black. Thick. Cruel.
“If you can’t give me what I want, I’ll take it myself.”
I tied him tighter. Bent him over the edge of the bed. And I took him.
No lube. No gentleness. Just control.
He screamed. Twisted. Sobbed.
But I didn’t stop. Because I wanted to feel him break. And I did.
After nearly an hour, he collapsed onto the mattress. Shaking. Weak. His body marked. His mind lost.
I knelt beside him.
“Do you want to be worthy again?”
He nodded slowly.
I untied him. Pulled him onto his knees. Took his limp cock into my mouth. It was soft. Helpless. But I knew what I was doing.
I used my lips like a trap. My tongue like a leash.
Soon he was hard again. Not from desire — from fear. From submission. From knowing that I owned him.
And when he finally came, it was with a whimper. Into me. Cum in my mouth.
I swallowed every drop. Looked him in the eyes. And smiled.
“That’s better.”
He left without speaking. But he left €200 on the table. No note. No message. That silence was louder than anything. That silence was worship.
Weeks passed. Then I returned to Naples. For work. For clients who pay properly.
He messaged again.
“Mistress… I’m ready.”
We met again. And again.
And now, every time I come to this city — he waits for me. No questions. No bargaining. No ego. Just total submission.
We spend hours together. Not minutes. Not cheap acts.
But real sessions with a dominatrix.
Where he loses himself. Again and again.
And the others?
The ones who write me offering €50 or €100? I might say yes. If I’m bored. But they get the minimum. Five minutes. Cold eyes. Mechanical movements. Nothing more.
Because I don’t give myself for less. Because domination — real domination — has a cost.
