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A Classified by defiant_1 © |
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The women I
find most attractive invariably make me function as their submissive. That's the way it
is, don't ask why. If you need word pictures, here they are: I'm naked and on my knees
before them, I perform humiliating chores at their command, I suffer punishment at their
hands, I lick and kiss their footwear (and their ) and whatever else they want
licked, I suck their high heels, I wear what they put on me; dog collars, shackles,
chains, hoods, gags, harnesses. I'm regularly bound and beaten, made to eat and drink from
a dish on the floor and I masturbate where and when I'm told, eating my
at their command. The woman who had been my Mistress, 35-year-old Sandi, had been transferred by her employer to another part of the country. I'd been without her special attentions for over six months and was getting anxious. The extraordinary yearning to serve and submit - beyond telephone training - was overpowering. In conversation, I begged Mistress Sandi for release and for her permission to begin the search for a new Domina. From the practical point of view, she said she had to agree but also said I must continue to report to her. I thanked her as best I could, hung up and began formulating my strategies for the attack (Yes, it most definitely is an "attack" mode. If you want something bad enough you've got to be prepared to go after it aggressively, regardless of your nature.) It occurred to me that with my large house, which included a vacant and self-contained apartment with a private entrance, that there might be an opportunity. Now, how would I attract that special someone? A slogan, "It Pays To Advertise," registered. But the chance of getting a nonprofessional Domina to respond to a run of the mill classified ad was slim. I put some extra thinking into what I wanted to say before buying a brief and to the point ad. The next issue of our local underground paper included this copy: Handsome Executive who travels has large midtown house to share with Dominant Female. Your own apt. No charge. Privacy. Must want to own/train a slave. Box 208. Now, if you use a publication to advertise, don't expect instant gratification. Fact is, it took about two weeks before the mail brought four responses. The first letter was from 21-year-old Linda, a university student who wrote that she'd had minor experience as a Dominant and wanted to take the opportunity I offered to explore her proclivity further. She said she had dominated a boyfriend by using his belt to whip him and had forced him to eat her. "It really wasn't very much," she said, "but it showed me what my life could be like." Her letter was first in the keeper pile. The second was from 27-year-old Jane, a clerk who said she needed free accommodation and wanted a slave. She said she was aggressive with men, had read plenty about Female Domination, but never had the chance to actually go to the limits she wanted with the guys she'd dated. If she met me, she promised, she'd put into practice what only her imagination had allowed so far. Letter number two went onto the keeper side. The third was from someone who wanted to keep house. Hers became letter number one for the round file. And, the last was from a community college student. Stacy said she was in her late 20s and had gone back to school to study business. She wrote that her ex-husband had introduced her to fetish fantasy/Female Domination and that their practice of this lifestyle had escalated during the years of their marriage. By the end, she said, they'd progressed to the point of his being her complete sex slave. Her only concession to his sexual need, she admitted, was "to always make myself desirable by wearing erotic lingerie or leather, ensuring my make-up and hair was perfect, and by wearing high heels." Stacy explained that her ex was more into sensuous domination and worship than hard core S/M. When she whipped him, she wrote, "it was more voluptuous than cruel. Make no mistake, though. He suffered for me and was glad to do it." Guess where Stacy's letter went. I waited a few more days but there were no further responses. ("Alas," I hear the reader cry. "You got three good ones. What are you, greedy?") It was time to begin setting up appointments. Because there were more than one, and because I could choose only one, I decided the initial meetings would have to be in a private yet neutral setting. My reasoning included the fact that two people (maybe all three!) might be upset about not being chosen and, if they were so inclined, could do some heavy personal and property damage if they knew where I lived. I booked a hotel the following week, then began making appointments. During each call, I explained there was more than one lady being interviewed and that, for security reasons - for them and for me - meeting in a public place was best for our first get-together. I gave them their choice of times -- at two or five in the afternoon or at eight o'clock that night. Coincidentally, the order of the appointments was the same as the mail, Linda first, then Jane, and Stacy coming in during the evening. The next Wednesday, I checked into the downtown HoJo at noon. Since I planned on staying there overnight, I brought a change of clothing and, of course, some toys. The room's layout was impressive. It was a corner suite, one wall adjoining a fire exit and the other against the soda and ice machines' area. Perfect for a modicum of privacy. At 1:50, room service delivered a fresh pot of coffee. At two, Linda knocked on my door. I greeted her politely, took her overcoat, hung it up, turned around and was pleased to be confronted by a shapely young beauty standing all of 5'4" in her spike heels. She wore a clinging off-white sweater (revealing a black bra beneath) and a tight, black skirt. I escorted her into the room and offered a chair by the coffee table. Sitting and crossing her legs, her skirt rode high to expose nylon tops. I poured the coffee and engaged Linda in a bit of introductory small talk before getting to the heart of the matter. "I have your letter responding to my ad but, just to broaden it a bit, would you mind giving me your understanding of why you're here?" "Simple," she said. "I want to live near the university. I want it on the terms specified in your ad and I want a slave." Linda's forthrightness took me aback. Perhaps it was because, notwithstanding her obvious choice of erotic undergarments, she looked so young and innocent. Recovering and pressing on, I said, "In your letter you made reference to dominating an old boyfriend and making him perform oral sex. Has that been your only experience with Female Domination?" She said that it had. I asked how that particular scene had come about. Linda said it happened earlier that year. Her date for the evening, a fellow she'd recently met, had taken her to a formal dance. Both, she said, had been dressed to the nines, he in a tuxedo and she in a black evening gown. Linda explained that before she got dressed that evening she felt she wanted to be particularly feminine for her grand night out. It was, she said, only her third date with the guy and she felt their romance was heating up. Too, it wasn't often she was invited to a formal affair. She bathed and applied scrupulous care to the grooming of her hair and to the application of make-up before donning her most exotic lingerie. Both had enjoyed the evening, she said, particularly the stimulating slow dancing and the progressive building of mutual lust. Once they returned to her small, off-campus apartment they were all over each other, "necking and into heavy petting". It didn't take long until her gown was off and Linda was dressed only in her black, push-up bra, black panties, stockings and stiletto heels. At first, she said, her bra remained fastened as he kissed and nibbled on the exposed upper portions of her breasts. While he was doing that, Linda said, she'd opened his fly, pulled his member out and was stroking and caressing it. "He was really turned on," she said. "And I loved feeling his cock pulse in my hand." Gradually, he slipped from the couch to his knees before her on the floor, telling her how beautiful she was and how he wanted to kiss and lick every inch of her body. "And that's when he bent his head and began licking my shoes and ." I asked how she felt about that. "Because it was so different, at first I didn't know what to feel. But we were both so turned on it didn't seem to matter. I relaxed and enjoyed myself. It was obvious he was really into it. His whole body was shaking. And I loved the feeling of power ... looking down at this macho guy on his knees actually kissing and licking my shoes. What a feeling! He kept at it, getting more and more ardent. His tongue was working my and shoes in deep, deep passion. The man was worshiping me, making me feel like a goddess! His cock was out of my reach, but I saw it standing tall, all wet around that little hole at the top. By then, he was panting. He stopped kissing and licking my shoes long enough to take the belt from his pant loops and hand it to me. Then he took down his trousers and briefs before again getting back on the floor for more worship. I just leaned back, crossed my and held his belt at the end with the buckle on it." "Then what happened? I asked. "He begged me to use the belt on his backside. He wanted me to whip him! I wasn't born yesterday. I'd heard of people making 'whip me, beat me' jokes and I knew jokes often weren't jokes at all. Besides, I'd read enough in Cosmo to know a lot of men are into Female Domination and fetishistic behavior. I took the belt, doubled it over and clenched it like I intended to go ahead and punish him. But the thing was so new to me that I asked him why he wanted a whipping. He said he felt so under my spell, so taken with me and my beauty, so slave-like, that he wanted me to reinforce those feelings by disciplining him." "And you did?" "Yes. After a moment of thinking about it and how much I enjoyed seeing him so servile I decided if that was what he wanted - and I knew I wanted to do it - then I would. I didn't hit him very hard, though. It was more of a symbolic whipping than anything else. He kept licking my shoes and sucking the high heel as I beat his butt. It made me ultra horny. I raised a welt or two before giving him his first order, to pull down my panties with his teeth and to get his tongue to work on my clit. That was essentially it." I asked Linda if she reached orgasm during her first experience with domination. Oh, yes. It was an earth mover, too," she responded. "Did you allow him to ?" "Yes, but I did it the way I used to when I teased my dates in high school. I used both hands, cupping and squeezing his balls while I jerked him off with the other hand. I could feel him starting to and, at the precise moment before he did, I took my hand away from his cock and kept rolling his balls in my palm. He was fucking air as he came all over himself." "Did you ever see him again?" "No. After he came he seemed to detach himself from what happened. II think he was too embarrassed to call me after that. Too bad, actually. I really enjoyed it and wanted to play with him some more." "That sounded exciting for you," I said. "But are you sure you understand the sexual nature of it all? The psychology? After all, you're still quite young." Linda replied, "I may be young but I think I have the physical and mental goodies to keep you in your place." Even as she made the declaration, she arched her body to show her spectacular shape - her breasts in the black bra straining against the sweater - giving me at the same time a view of her stocking tops and white thighs. "While that one encounter didn't give me a chance to fully explore Female Domination it did awaken my interest. I have a broad imagination and if you become my slave you'll be performing in lots of interesting and varied ways." I'd earlier put my bondage equipment out of sight in the top drawer of the dresser. Standing and leading her to it, I took the handles and pulled it open, revealing the whip, shackles, collar, leash, dildo gag and connecting clasps. "Would you be comfortable using this kind of specialty gear to handle a man?" I asked. Looking for just a moment, Linda picked up the collar and said, "Here, let me slip this around your neck." Buckling it tightly, she got the leash and attached it to the collar's D-ring. She looped the end of the leash over her wrist and said, "Now, slave, you've been collared and leashed by a young woman who's more into this than you might have thought. I fully intend being one hell of a Dominatrix." I gave her a patronizing smile as we went back to the table, she holding the leash in her pretty hand. As I moved to sit and finish my coffee, Linda, more assertive than she'd been up to now, said, "When you're wearing a collar around your neck and I'm holding the leash attached to it, you don't sit, you kneel." Complying, I responded as any good slave would, "Yes, Mistress." She asked about the house, her privacy, how much I traveled, whether or not she could have friends over on weekends, all the usual questions. When she wanted to know where my home was I hedged and gave only the general neighborhood. I said I hoped she understood that after my new Mistress was chosen I didn't want either of the two other Dominas, or any of their friends, to know where the house is. She said she understood the logic, "but since I'm the first of three interviews today I want to make sure I leave the right impression on you. First, kiss my shoes then take off all your clothes." I bent my head and kissed the toe leather of both high heels before disrobing. She sat watching, never letting go of the leash. Naked, I again knelt before her. This wasn't a new experience for me (as you know), being nude and on the end of a leash held by a woman, but to be in the humiliating position with one so young stirred the fires within me. "Lower your head so your chin touches your chest," she ordered. I surreptitiously watched as she stood, peeled off her sweater and slipped off the skirt. Linda looked fabulous in her bra, panties, garter belt, stockings and high heels. Her long legs and full breasts were highlighted dramatically in the black lingerie. She got the cat 'o' nine tails and wrist restraints from the drawer and returned to her chair, again sitting and crossing her . Putting the leash's grip into my mouth, she had me extend my arms toward her then put the shackles on my wrists. Mistress Linda sensuously fondled the cat, then ordered, "turn around." My young Mistress didn't hesitate. She raised the cat and delivered about 20 lashes in a moderately hard, yet slow cadence. Her thrashing was centered on my upper thighs and buttocks. By the time she'd finished, there was no doubt in my mind I'd been whipped. The stinging, yet tingling combination of pain/pleasure affected me deeply. The cat was in her hand at my lips as she commanded, "Kiss it, slave. Kiss the whip that's been used to beat you and which I plan using on you a great deal in the future." Obeying, my cock grew from a semi-stiffness to a sturdy erection. Mistress Linda noticed and ordered I suck her high heels and thank her for my whipping. Between sucks of the spiky heels and licks to her insteps, I thanked her as she held the leash taut. "Since you're going to be seeing two other ladies today I don't want you in peak condition. Take that stiff cock in your hand and focus all your attention on my body: my breasts, legs and shoes. Pull it for me. Harder. Faster. Don't until I give permission." I was already near the point of ejaculation and begged her to let me. Bringing her hand down to my cock, she said, "Do it, slave. in your new Mistress' hand." I exploded, she catching it all. Smiling as I regained a bit of my composure, Mistress Linda brought her -drenched hand to my forehead and drew it downward, wiping it all over my face - my eyes, nose, cheeks, mouth and chin. She held her hand to my mouth and commanded I lick it completely clean. Working my tongue on her palm, between her fingers, then sucking entire fingers, I collected and swallowed my ; her eyes sparkling and her smile never fading. "Now use your tongue to mop up as much from your chin and upper lip as you can." Mistress Linda watched, presumably making her own assessment of my worth. Seemingly reaching a decision, she released my wrists and said she wanted to hear from me tomorrow. She was avid in her praise of our session, saying she'd enjoyed it immensely and that she was looking forward to making me her slave; to inflicting even more pain and humiliation. I asked, based on her limited experience with domination, how she knew about the rituals of whip kissing, high heel sucking, and all the other dominant subtleties and symbolism she had imposed. I was surprised to hear her say: "After reading your ad and writing my response, I checked out a few of the others. I found a professional Mistress' phone number, got in touch with her and told her about my situation. She was kind enough to let me watch her do a few sessions. She also coached me on how to handle you. Do you know Mistress Jacqueline from Richmond?" That explained it. I had seen Mistress Jacqueline a number of times over the years and, it was clear, Mistress Linda had divulged my name to her. As I helped her on with her coat, she said, "Good-bye, slave. Before I leave, get back down on your knees and kiss both of my shoes. I want you to get used to being in that position when I'm around." Not a moment after her departure, I headed for the shower to clean up for Jane and to reflect on Mistress Linda. Soaping down entirely and washing the dried from my face, I then dressed and headed down to the coffee shop to pick up a sandwich. On the way back I almost tripped over a chambermaid in my rush. At ten to five, Jane called to say she'd be here by 5:10 and when she arrived she wanted me to be waiting naked and on my knees. Hurriedly, I ate the sandwich and took off my clothes. The welts on my buttocks from Mistress Linda's whipping were still very much in evidence. At 5:15, there were three rapid-fire knocks on my door. Using the peep hole, I made sure it was a woman before getting down on my knees to open it. Jane brushed by and walked to the room's center. "I'm your Mistress Jane," she announced. "Crawl over here, slave, and greet me properly." She was short - about five - wearing a business suit, black boots, a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Her appearance was every bit what you might expect of a business woman. She had nice long hair and was beautifully made-up, including eye shadow that gave her a foreboding appearance. On all fours, I approached this little package of dynamite and kissed her boots until she told me to stop. She ordered I stand and take her jacket off. Walking to the closet, I hung it, then returned to the floor and crawled back to her. She'd made herself comfortable in one of the chairs. Seeing the welts on my ass from Mistress Linda's whipping, Jane said, "I see your first appointment went well. What did she use on you?" "My whip, Mistress." "Get it, bring it to me, and stay on your hands and knees." Opening the door, retrieving it and carrying it in my mouth, I crawled back to her. Her hand patted my cheek, then took the whip from my mouth. Lovingly caressing it, she said, "Although I've never actually whipped a man I've read enough to know I'm going to enjoy this. Lie face down on the bed." My brain went into overtime. Phrases such as "Oh, oh!" came to mind. Nonetheless, I did as she demanded. I heard Mistress Jane remove her blouse and skirt, then move back to my side. Next came the blistering whip; three quick lashes. I screamed. We can't have you making all that noise," she said. "What have you got that I can use as a gag?" I asked her to check the top drawer of the dresser. While she rummaged through it, I noted she was wearing a robin's egg blue matching set of bra, panties and garter belt. Her breasts spilled over the top of the front-clasping bra. As well, of course, she had on those spike-heeled boots and seamed stockings. Giggling a bit, she took the penis gag and slid it into my mouth, tying it at the back of my neck. She'd also retrieved the cuffs and connected my wrists - "out of the way," she said - in front of me. Taking up her position again, she whipped in earnest. This wasn't sensual; it was a full-scale flogging. At some point, my agony was dulled by nerve endings which had overdosed on the pain. The more she whipped the more I fell under her spell. I was hers. She owned me. Tears coursed down my cheeks when she stopped. "There. That's a proper introduction to my dominance," she said. "How do you feel, slave?" I turned from the pillow and mumbled around the cock gag. She laughed, removed it and ordered me back to my knees on the floor. I licked her boot, thanked her for my punishment and asked how I might please her. "Oh, that's simple, slave. Just tell me where I'm moving. I want you as my full-time whipping boy." I told Mistress Jane she made me feel I was her property, that a guy as tall as me (6'4"), worshiping such a petite woman, was a dream come true. I also told her what I'd told Mistress Linda; that I would call and let her know. She wasn't as understanding. Instead of acknowledging my remarks, she commanded, "Sit on the edge of the bed. I want to have a look at what other goodies you've got in that drawer." She carried all of my toys back to the bed, dumping them there. Drawing a breast from her bra she said, "You know, slave, whipping you turned me on. I want you to kiss my breast while I put this collar around your neck." I tongued and licked her nipple to a cherry hardness as she tightened and buckled the collar. She connected the leash, too, then withdrew her breast from my mouth. Next, my ankles were shackled. Then came the cock and ball harness. Her exquisite hands handling my genitalia, even as she put them in bondage, was heaven. Again, she stood and offered me her nipple. I loved sucking her breast while her arm wrapped around my head to draw me close. "That's enough for now," she said, gently withdrawing her nipple. "Get back down on your knees." The penis gag still amused her. She laughed and said, "I want to see you in everything." With the four inches of rubber cock in my mouth, my ankles and wrists bound, my cock erect and confined and a collar around my neck, Mistress Jane sat back to inspect her handiwork. Running the whip's tails through the fingers of her other hand she said, "I think it's time for more flogging, don't you?" I shook my head emphatically. I didn't think I could take any more of her cruelty. Teasingly she asked, "What's the matter, slave? Aren't you the one who advertised for a Dominant Female and said she should be ready to own and train a slave? Isn't training you to obey me exactly what I'm doing?" Pulling the leash and using it as a guide, she had me draped half over the bed, my knees still on the floor. She stood to the side and again brought the whip down over my ass. This time, though, it wasn't as painful. She caressed more than hurt. While inflicting this new discipline, she was saying such things as: "Look at the slave's big, hard cock" ... "My pussy is just soaking wet, slave" ... "I love having you all tied up" ... "Whipping a man who's on his knees with a hard-on like yours makes me horny" ... "When I'm through flogging you, you'll be licking my boots first, then I'm going to all over your miserable tongue." Mistress Jane pulled me off the bed and sat where I'd so recently been face down. She offered her boot to my mouth and I, the submissive fool, tried kissing it again - in passionate abandon - even with my mouth still blocked by the dildo gag. My submission apparently pleased her because I was rewarded with a pat on the top of my head before she again removed the cock gag. "Now do it properly," she instructed. "This time with your tongue." She stopped me just long enough to slip her panties down and off, then had me resume my worship. She told me to work my way up her stocking to her pussy. Mistress Jane squirmed during my oral lovemaking. I ate and ate, Mistress Jane literally fucking my face, moving her muff all over my mouth. True to her word, she left my chin, cheeks and mouth absolutely drenched with her . Resting for a moment, she released my hands and lead me to a wall, ordering I get my ass as close to it as I could. I was to then shuck my butt up the wall until I rested only on my shoulders, legs extended straight up. Mistress Jane stood over me, leash still in hand, teasing with her body, particularly her breasts. Crouching, she took my cock in her hand and stroked, sensuously, seriously and determinedly. It was less than a minute and I was ready to . "Open wide, slave. You're about to shoot your load straight down and into your mouth. . Now!" The thick, white fluid shot directly between my lips. For the second time that day I ate my bodily secretions. "You're one sad looking slave, slave. Two beatings and two cums in one afternoon and, perhaps, still more to go. I know I was better than the first lady you saw and I don't think the third has much left to work on." Mistress Jane was getting dressed as she talked. "I want to hear from you tomorrow because I plan on having you help me move this weekend. Any questions?" "No, Mistress Jane. You're a marvelous woman." Again it was off to the shower. Toweling dry, the huge bathroom mirror reflected the condition of my body. My back was striped and welted, Mistress Jane's whipping overlapping the one I had taken earlier from Mistress Linda. I wasn't sure I wanted to see Stacy, my third and last appointment. I'd been drained sexually and was physically hurting. But I knew it was too late to reschedule. A quick trip down to the restaurant for another sandwich, then some sitting by my room's window reflecting on the events of my day. I couldn't help but compare the styles of the two Mistresses. Mistress Linda was by far the more sensual and subtle while Mistress Jane was the more domineering and cruel. What would Stacy be like, I wondered. At eight o'clock I found out. Stacy was a tall, slim blonde who revealed an absolutely delicious, busty frame. She was dressed in standard garb and arrived carrying an overnight bag. Her attitude was more along the lines of that expressed by Mistress Linda, more confident in her feminine allure and, thus, not finding it necessary to come on in a high-powered manner. We sat by the coffee table and I, I thought, behaved charmingly over our small talk. Eventually I zeroed in on the topic which had brought us together, asking what she expected of this rendezvous. Stacy said she was meeting me now in a preliminary step toward taking me on as her slave and moving into the apartment at my house. Her statement was delivered in a matter-of-fact tone indicating she knew exactly what she wanted and how she planned on getting it. I asked what she meant in her letter about her ex-husband being kept collared and her now wanting a similar relationship. Stacy said at the beginning of their marriage she'd found his stash of Female Domination magazines, books and videos. During the time she had alone at home, she said, she read and viewed everything. And, she said, she began identifying with the Dominant Women portrayed in them. She said she began to love the idea of making a man her slave. She knew her husband didn't have the guts to bring the subject into the open so she gradually purchased the kinds of sexy lingerie the models in the videos and magazines wore. She also bought ultra high heeled shoes and a leather skirt. On occasion, she said, she would be wearing her spikes and her leather skirt when he got home from work. Stacy said she posed in her most beguiling, yet subtle, manner - much as the models in the magazines did. It wasn't long before he started to take notice. It was then that she began her indoctrination program. I pressed for details. After a week of teasing him in this manner, she said, he arrived home one evening to find her on the couch wearing elbow length gloves, a lacy, push-up bra, her leather miniskirt, seamed stockings and knee-high, spiked boots. Beside her, she said, were some B & D items she'd picked up at a leather store downtown. She told him to take his clothes off and to kneel. Stacy revealed finding his magazines and told him his fantasies had become hers and that they were about to start living them. It was then she put a slave collar around his neck. After that first encounter, she said, the usual drill saw her get home from work first. When he arrived, he had to strip at the front door, put on his collar and crawl to her. She always looked sexy in lingerie or leather or both. He was more addicted to fantasy bondage and discipline, she said, than he was to strict SM. I was liking the sound of this already. "Did you buy any more bondage and discipline toys and equipment?" "Yes," she replied. "We went on trips to New York and bought all kinds of nice whips, restraints, gags, collars and harnesses for me to use on him." "What happened to all that gear when the marriage ended?" "I kept it all. In fact, I brought some with me in my overnight bag. Would you like to see?" I said I did whereupon Stacy opened her bag and spread the contents on the bed. There was all kinds of stuff, including garments and boots. She picked up a wooden-handled whip with leather tails, telling me it was her favorite. "It's a lot heavier than the small, all leather ones. I used this on him from time to time just to let him know I could, and would, dish it out." Seizing a wide belt with clip-on attachments, she explained that it went around her slave's middle and she'd secure his wrists to it. I was looking at her boots. One had a small chain encircling the ankle with a support chain going under the immediately in front of the high heel. Stacy saw the direction of my gaze. "That was fun," she said. "I attached a short lead from his collar to the chain. His head was never more than 8 inches away from my boot as I moved around the house, him crawling to keep up." I was getting steamed. The casual and natural manner in which Stacy spoke of her dominating ways was putting me in my place, working wonders on my libido. "Did you bring this equipment for any particular reason?" I asked, in a splendid display of stupidity. She gave me a look that, in effect, said "dummy" but responded courteously, "Yes. I wanted to impress upon you that I'm not playing games and that I intend on giving you a very good idea tonight of how I use it and what I'm about." "You know there have been applicants here already today." "Yes, I do, and I imagine they managed to convey to you - in no uncertain terms - what they're all about." I told her they had and that my body had paid the price. "Well," she said. "If I'm going to compete with them in winning you as a slave, then I'm going to give you an example of what you can expect with me around the house. Take your clothes off." I undid the buttons of my shirt, turned and let the sleeves slide down my arms. "Yes," she observed, "you have been properly disciplined, haven't you?" No response was necessary. Then, naked and standing before her, she strapped the belt around my waist, put cuffs on each wrist (but didn't secure them), encircled my neck with a three-inch collar and had me open my mouth. Placing the wooden handle of her whip between my teeth, she softly commanded, "Just hold it there for now. Get down on your knees and jerk your cock until you get it up, nice and hard. Think of me while you're doing it. I want to see a full erection and my whip still clenched in your mouth when I get back." With that, Stacy gathered her garments and boots and went into the bathroom. I gripped her whip between my teeth and my cock in my hand and pulled. Even by leaving the room she exercised her power. Minutes later, Stacy returned wearing the over-the-knee, spike-heeled boots, stockings and a leather corset that stopped just short of reaching her breasts, exposing those bountiful orbs in their entirety. Her nipples were huge. "Good boy," she said. "You're lucky it's up so nice and hard for me. What were you thinking while you waited?" I addressed her as Mistress for the first time and told her that being ordered by her to hold a whip in my mouth, one which she might use on me, and to masturbate while awaiting her had caused all kinds of psychological havoc in my submission-obsessed brain. "What kind of slave are you? Are you the kind who requires severity or are you the more compliant type who suffers because you want to give your discomfort and devotion to the lady who torments you?" "Mistress. I'm still not fully trained. I was told by my former Mistress, Sandi, that what I needed was a two-day break session to rid me of my balkiness. She said she could see the desire was in me but she wanted to take me to a point where my mind couldn't, and wouldn't, focus on anything but her. Unfortunately, we never got around to that." As I talked, Mistress Stacy clipped a short lead to my collar and pulled it down to her boot. She attached it to the chain around her ankle so my mouth was inches from her . "Mistress, I believe I'm more on the wavelength of your ex. I'm still consumed by my desire to serve femininity and to be owned, humiliated and trained by a Mistress who uses a sensual approach rather than too cruel a method." Before responding, Mistress Stacy attached my wrist shackles at the sides to the belt around my middle. "Lick my boot, slave, while I tell you what you're in for. From now on, when you arrive home, the first thing you'll do is get down on your hands and knees and kiss my . You'll stay in that position until I either tell you to stop or I turn around. If I turn around, you will lift the back of my dress, pull my panties down and press your lips to my ass. This isn't optional. You will greet me in this manner each and every time you see me, whether or not you're in the mood and regardless of whatever event occurred that day in your business or personal life. When we're alone in the house, you will always be naked and always maintain a presence which keeps your head no higher than my waist, unless I give permission to the contrary. You will put eye bolts on open sections of wall in both my quarters and your own where I can secure you by a lead attached to your slave collar. I also want an X-frame built so you can be nicely immobilized while I tantalize, torture, tease and, yes, whip you. The break session Mistress Sandi never got around to taking care of is most certainly in your future, slave." Her speech was mesmerizing. I began to shake as she described her intentions for me if she was the one who moved in. She stood and moved to the bathroom for a glass of water. I had no choice but to follow. It was awkward, to say the least, because of my hands being attached to the belt. I had to keep my head low enough so she could walk relatively unrestricted. She carried her whip. At one point I faltered. Calmly, Mistress Stacy said that wouldn't do and brought the lash down hard over my already sore ass. I yelped and promised I'd do better, managing to follow her to the bathroom and back without earning further discipline. Crossing the to which I was attached, she allowed a little more flexibility in that I was now able to look upwards at her body and her eyes. She smiled and said this is what she'd been missing, having a man as a slave chained by his collar to her boot and on his knees before her. Mistress Stacy said she wanted to give me a whipping but was concerned I may have had enough for the day. Before thinking about it, I blurted out that if she wanted to whip me I would be honored. She reached down and lovingly patted the top of my head, saying, "So, my new slave wants a taste of this gorgeous whip, does he? Kiss and lick it, slave, and beg for 25 lashes." "Oh, please, Mistress Stacy," I pleaded. "Please honor me by making me your slave and punishing me with 25 strokes of your whip." I kissed and licked it and her boot at the end of my plea. "Very well, slave. I'll just add my two-cents' worth to what you've already had." She reached into her bag extracting more goodies. Unlatching my collar-lead from her boot and releasing my arms from the belt, she refastened them to the short lead hanging down from my collar. Taking what looked like a cat collar, she grasped my cock and balls and wrapped it around everything, tightening it at the base of my very hard cock. The she gave it a slap. Taking two restraints, she put them on my ankles and, using a short connector, attached it between my legs to the cat collar around my balls. Flat on my face on the floor, my legs bent and secured to the collar around my cock and balls and my arms restrained high on my back, I was in thorough bondage. One muscle spasm or involuntary reaction and I'd likely castrate myself. Walking to where my face lay on the carpet, Mistress Stacy gently pulled my head up and inserted her own gag into my mouth. "You're all ready to be whipped, slave. But I wonder how much you'd enjoy it if I were to just put my clothes back on and leave you like this for the maid to find in the morning." I froze. Could she possibly be meaning that? Mistress Stacy laughed and said, "Don't worry. You're just too tantalizing to pass up. It's been too long. I want to whip you." With that, she began. She wasn't being brutal but her punches weren't being pulled either. I was thoroughly whipped. Throughout the beating, Mistress Stacy spoke quietly, punctuating her remarks with the lashes from her whip: "This is wonderful" ... "I knew I missed domination" ... "but didn't realize how much until now" ... "You're going to learn that this" ... "won't be a relationship that" ... "gets turned on and off" ... "only when you're in the mood" ... "This will be full time, whenever we're together" ... "either at home or in public" ... "You will always be subservient to me" ... "And when I have my girlfriends visiting" ... "you'll serve them, too" ... "You'll kiss and lick their " ... "at my direction. And you'll obey" ... "their orders. I may even" ... "let them whip you from time to time" ... "Would you like that, slave?" ... "Of course you would." I was hurting but I was entranced, too. Mistress Stacy was beguiling and beautiful. When it ended, she released my thus allowing me to extend them back to a more natural position. Pulling the gag from my mouth, she wiped at my tears and said, "Slave, you're committed. You want me more than you've ever wanted any other woman. I know it and you know it. Get back up on your knees." Struggling into position, my cock made it obvious I agreed with everything she'd just said. Mistress Stacy released my hands from the collar and sat on the bed. "Now, slave, do you have any doubts about my knowledge and capabilities?" "No, Mistress," I responded. "I think you're beautiful." "Good. Put your head back down to my boot so I can reconnect you. Lick it and thank me taking the time to visit with you tonight. I was licking leather as I said, "Thank you, Mistress Stacy. You're absolutely perfect - beautiful, dominant, sexy and sensuous. Thank you for putting your marks on me. You have absolutely captivated me." "You're not quite finished yet, slave. My breasts have are a direct love-line to my pussy. When they're sucked and kissed properly, I can reach orgasm." She unfastened my collar and cupped both of those large tits in her hands, offering them to me. I leaned forward and began a butterfly flick on a nipple, gradually sucking it into my mouth and kissing, licking and gently blowing on it. The intimacy was repeated on her other breast. Mistress Stacy moaned in pleasure. She ground her breasts into my face, moving constantly until she became rigid and orgasmed.
Recovered, she instructed I lie on the bed, flat on my back. Mistress Stacy stood, took
the longer leash and snapped it onto the cat collar around my genitals, then gave a tug.
"Pull that cock for me, slave. Show me how much you want me. Squeeze it. Fondle it.
Give me a show." |