I Have a New Domme

My personal trainer, that is.

When I decided this winter to get very serious about shedding weight, I realized I was going to need professional assistance. As it turns out, there is a very nice (and very private) specialty gym a block from where I work and the owner, Doreen, was willing to work with my very tight schedule (basically I can only take off from 3:30 - 4:30 in the afternoon). Originally I wanted to take yoga classes, but Doreen immediately told me that for the time being I was too stiff and out of shape to join any class. Instead, I work alone with her three days a week – very expensive, but worth it.

Some of what we do is pretty hilarious. My tight hamstrings have been a life-long problem, and to loosen them up we do a stretching regimen that includes her tying me down to a…well, there’s no other way of putting it…a bondage bed. She always apologizes profusely…meanwhile I’m working like crazy, making sure my dick doesn’t get hard. I mean, that would be embarrassing. The sessions always start with her walking on me to “break up” the muscles, and, well, I have always loved getting walked on.

Last week she determined that my IV bands (long thin muscles that span from the knee to the hip) were too tight and needed to be broken up. Seems a lifetime that included playing ice hockey, baseball (in a catchers crouch for hours on end), skiing and fencing managed to get my musculature all out of kilter. This work on the IV bands (shit, sounds like an audio / visual thing) is being accomplished by awkwardly rolling my side over a foam roller - repeatedly. Hurts like hell! OMG. Last Friday she forced me to do it for 15 minutes. When the session was over, I was a walking endorphin machine. I mean high as a fucking kite. Just like after my very best BDSM sessions.

Well damn, who knew?