Archive for the ‘Dominatrix’ Category

Mistress watched from the window of the beach house as the van pulled up. Four men unloaded the equipment and headed down toward the beach, each one excited with anticipation. These were to be her playmates on this glorious day. She checked the tide clock. Right on time, as ordered. She waited almost an hour, then looked out again and saw the youngest man standing on the dune, again as ordered, facing the Sun motionless.

Dressed in a bikini bottom and a light sun robe, Mistress started out toward the beach to see if all was prepared to her liking. She passed the young man on the dune, who dared not peek at her lovely breasts hanging out through the front of her robe. On her private beach, the oriental rug was placed neatly under the canopy. No sand was on it, as ordered, and the shade only covered her rug. The pillows were fluffed. The cooler was set out. The two doorbells placed next to her pillow, wires running into the ground; all as ordered again.

To the right and left of where she would sit, two faces came just inches out of the sand facing the blazing Sun, mouths open at all times, as ordered. Near the water’s edge, where the low tide had started it’s hypnotic rhythm, Mistress needed to check the last head. Her little pig boy was also buried, with his head sticking up from the neck. Unlike the other two, he would need to be able to move around. All three males were cuffed and bound under the sand, then wrapped with masking tape. Escape was impossible. The Mistress approved of the set-up. This day would be a pleasant one, if the wimps did not break down. She poured a margarita from the pitcher into an extra salty rimmed glass and walked down to where the third head was protruding from the shore line.

“Are you thirsty piglet?” She said this smiling, and did not expect a negative answer.

“Yes Mistress”

She gave him some sips, and the flakes of salt left a radom resudue on his lips. Then she went back to the rug, serving the mixture to the other two wimps. They would be thirsty soon. Facing the sun, she could watch them suffer as she read her novel. She mixed a second margarita for herself, savoring it slowly as she read. After a few minutes she lit a large cigar. She didn’t necessarily like them, but the ashes would cake on her entertainment’s tongues after the margarita began to do its job. She sighed and smiled, her beautiful breasts catching the sea breeze and erecting her soft pink nipples. This would be a wonderful day.

Within an hour, the faces at either side were red with sunburn. The mouths, still open at all times, were cracked and caked with the cigar ash. She took the stub of the cigar, and ran it down between the blonde’s eyes on the face to her right. Burning the flesh just a bit on the nose, she brought it down to the sand, about where his navel might be. A pause, then she stuck it into the sand. Yes, she could see the pain in his eyes, and the struggle too as he tried not to show it. The sand would soon snuff it out before too much damage was done.

The Mistress mixed another margarita, and sipped as she read. She put the book down to rest her eyes. Time to test the doorbells. The wires ran into the sand from each bell button. Under the sand, each side had a large dry cell battery that was connected to wires ending in long, metal rods. Each rod had been lubricated, so as to conduct the current better. One was taped into each man’s anal opening. The other was shoved, like a catheter, into his pee hole. By the time she thought about the buttons, the rods incerted in the piss holes were already causing excruciating discomfort. She looked at the redhead to her left, into his burned face, and dry, cracked ashtray mouth. She pushed the button down for 10 seconds. He groaned, then quickly coughed as the ashes swirled in his mouth. She smiled, delighted with her toys. The blonde was next, he almost screamed out and would have if the margarita had not left him so dry. Back and forth she alternated the shocks, watching the eyes of each as she giggled. Finally she became bored, and dropped a long string of spit into each man’s mouth as a reward. They dared not swallow it in her presence.

She checked her watch. She was a little late and timing was important. Mistress arose and sauntered down toward her piglet. When she reached him, she took out a blindfold and covered his eyes, not out of mercy but to deny him the view of her beauty. She slipped off her bikini bottom, and crouched near the pig’s gaping mouth. Out came a stream of urine from the Margaritas she had drank. The Mistress pissed all over his face but mostly into his mouth, savoring the beautiful seascape as she used her portable toilet. He swallowed as best he could, almost gasping at times. As she squatted there, she watched the waves as high tide approached. She raised herself up, as one strong wave crashed on the sand several yards in front of her toilet, and it’s remains tickled piglet’s neck before retreating. The Mistress smiled, as piglet choked on the last of her nectar. She started back to the house. The man on the dune was ordered not to move until she closed her door. Then he would race to free piglet from a tidal drowning. She stopped, however, forgetting the time. She stared into the man’s face, then viciously scratched down his hideously burned chest. He winced, but nothing more.

“Very good. No reaction.” She said.

Then the Mistress reached down between his legs, and caressed his cock while allowing her nipples to lightly touch his scratched chest. His cock sprung to life quickly. A reaction! Disobedience. She raised a knee quickly into his groin and left him in a groaning pile. She hoped he could recover in time to race to the beach and save her little piglet from drowning. He was such a good toilet for her. But, he could not check piglet until she went into the house. She thought she heard a panicked scream from the beach. She stopped, and smell the flowers in her window box, glanced up at the brilliant sky, twirled around with her arms outstretched in love with nature. She did not hear another cry. She went inside, closing the door very, very slowly. The man got up and raced, stumbling in pain, to the beach.

My mistress has a date tonight. First I am to dress as her “personal” maid. She took great care to emphasize the word “personal.” Then I am to help her get ready for her date.
Mistress laces me into a tight corset. This is always a constant reminder of my sissy and subserviant status, since I can feel the corset with every breath. She gently tweaks my tiny nipples and then gives me the bra I am to wear tonight. A training bra, with no falsies. I arrange it on myself as I realize how inadequate I am as an impersonator of a woman.

She gives me some lacy panties to step into, commenting that she has no use for my cock this evening — she has a date with a real man. I roll the thigh high black seamed stockings up my legs and attach them to the garters of the corset. Mistress examines me to make sure the seams are straight. Then I put the short, black maid’s dress over my head. It does not provide much covering for my ass and thighs, and the garters will show if I bend even a little. I step into my black high heels, which changes my balance and is another constant, subtle reminder of my sissy status. A maid’s cap is pinned in my own hair, and I realize I am not even to have the benefit of a wig tonight. The final touch is a lacy apron that I tie in a bow behind my back.

Mistress tells me to hurry up and sit down on the toilet seat, for her date will be coming soon and there is still much to be done. Her date! It is not enough that Mistress likes to embarrass me in front of her female friends, but now her male friends too! And with no wig and no falsies, I am not going to make a very convincing female, am I?

Fortunately Mistress enjoys putting makeup on me, so perhaps I will have an adrogenous look today. Mistress must be in a playful mood, because she puts far too much mascara, eyeliner and blush on me, and apparently she wants me to look very cheap. She outlines my lips very precisely in a dark lip pencil, and then fills them with a brush in a nice red. I’ve never liked that dark pencil — there’s something too obvious, too whory about it. Then she takes a vaseline like jelly with her fingertip and rubs it thickly over my red lips. This gives them an unnatural, almost metallic sheen, but apparently that is the look she wants me to have tonight.

Mistress hands me a bottle of nail polish in a matching shade to my lipstick, and tells me to do my nails while she takes a shower. “Oh, and change the sheets and make my bed first, Sissy,” she tells me. Another humiliation — I have to make the bed ready for her and her date from when they come back home at the end of the evening!

I make her bed and then do my nails while I wait for Mistress to emerge from the shower. As I wait and as I blow on my nails for them to dry, I glance at the lingerie she has left out that she will be wearing tonight. I see her push-up Wonderbra. Mistress has a gorgeous figure including perfectly round, white 34B breasts, and she needs no extra cleavage to show herself off. One of my pet peeves about Mistress is that she really has no idea how drop-dead gorgeous she is. Of course, she doesn’t believe me when I tell her that. But if she is wearing the Wonderbra, then this must be an important date for her tonight. I will have to do whatever I can to help her.

Mistress emerges from the shower and I am there for her with a large towel to cover her and pat her dry. She allows me to pat her all over with the towel, which gives me a little pleasure. I then powder her gently with a big powder puff full of a sweet smelling talc. She tells me to spend extra time on her breasts, which of course I do very lovingly. She has me hold her tiny panties out for her to step into, and I see her tiny pubic hair triangle disappear into them. Then she has me hold her Wonderbra for her to insert her breasts into. I hold the bra cups and struggle not to reach out and fondle her lovely breasts. I clasp the bra behind her. This bra does wonders for her cleavage and I look at Mistress with awe. She slips on her high heeled slippers. She is SO sexy.

Mistress has me blow dry her hair, and then she has me brush it for her. I lovingly stand behind her and brush her beautiful hair. This is an act that only a true submissive can understand. It is truly my pleasure to do this — I don’t think Mistress really comprehends that. Then Mistress allows me the privilege of handing her cosmetics as she does her own makeup. She lets me hold the mascara bottle as she makes up her long lashes. She lets me hold her eye shadow case as she gently strokes the color on her eyelids. She lets me hold her blusher compact as she strokes a little color on her cheeks. On other occasions she has made me masturbate while watching her do her makeup, and my cock remembers that, but this is not the plan tonight. Finally she tells me to unscrew her Estee Lauder lipstick in rose, and then she carefully colors her lips. I could watch Mistress apply her lipstick for hours, it is just so sexy. I am completely turned on by the sight of it. Mistress tells me she is done with her makeup. And she is gorgeous.

Suddenly the doorbell rings, and Mistress tells me to answer it. “Shall I tell him you’re not finished dressing yet?” I ask her. “Oh no,” she tells me, “I am finished.”

Mistress is beautifully made up, but she is only wearing a bra and panties and slippers. How can she go out like that? Then it dawns on me — they’re not going out. It’s an evening at home, with her dressed only in her lingerie. What does that mean for me?

I open the door and let him in. He introduces himself as Brad. I suppose he’s good looking — if Mistress likes that type. He stares at me, not knowing what to think, since Mistress has not quite made me into my feminine best. He gives me a sly smile, since he undoubtedly knows my secret, that I may be Mistress’s maid, but I am certainly not a female one. However, he is too much a gentleman to say this.

Mistress emerges and they kiss deeply, oblivious to my presence, although why should they care. Brad’s eyes bulge at the sight of Mistress’s sexy breasts, almost spilling out form her Wonderbra. I help him remove his jacket, and I offer them a drink. As I leave to get their drinks, they start making out on the couch, and Mistress starts to unbutton Brad’s shirt.

By the time I return with the drinks they are making out passionately. Mistress tells me to bring the drinks into the bedroom. I do, and they both come in too. Mistress then tells me to make myself useful. “Useful?” I repeat. I am not sure what she means.

“Sissy!” Now Mistress is mad at me. “You’re supposed to be my personal maid. Do I have to spell it out for you? Make yourself useful and help Brad remove his pants.” I cringe at the thought of this, and I try not to look at him as I kneel down, loosen his belt and help him step out of his pants.

“Well, Sissy?” Mistress says next. I know what she expects, but I can’t react. At this point Brad knows too. “Sissy!” Now she is really pissed at me. “Remove his undershorts this instant! But for your insolence to my guest, I want you to put your hands behind your back, and lower his undershorts with your teeth!”

Mistress did not apply enough blush to my cheeks to hide the embarrassment as I slowly comply with her command. I need to put my face right up to him as I gently grab the waistband with my teeth and carefully lower his shorts down his legs. Mistress has surely done it again. She has no end of ways to humiliate me.

But she is still mad at me for having to tell me each little detail. She asks Brad if he thinks I need a spanking. Brad is not sure what to make of this, but he is turned on by the sight of Mistress, he is turned on from their making out on the couch, and he is turned on by this sissy maid being made to remove his shorts with her teeth. I am still kneeling and Brad’s erection is right at my face. I am actually relieved that Mistress is apparently not going to make me get more intimately involved with Brad.

Mistress grabs her hairbrush — the hairbrush that I lovingly used to brush her beautiful hair not long ago — sits down in a chair and motions for me to lay down in her lap. She flips up my skirt, and I wonder if she is going to pull down my panties. She pauses for the longest moment, and I know all three of us are thinking about this. Fortunately, she decides to leave them on — for now.

Mistress starts spanking me on my panty covered ass with her hairbrush. She has one of my arms bent behind me, as she wails away with her other hand. She is hitting me hard, and I start to scream. Mistress decides she doesn’t want to hear my sissy screaming, and she tells Brad to take his undershorts and stuff them in my mouth. I am SO humiliated. Brad spreads my glossy red lips and inserts his shorts in my mouth. Mistress keeps wailing away. My screams are muffled, but I am crying. Brad watches the scene, and his erection grows.

Finally Mistress has had enough of spanking me. She asks me if I have learned my lesson, and if I will be a useful personal maid. I nod tearfully. She tells Brad, “Don’t worry, while you and I are busy Sissy will wash and iron your shorts for you.” How’s that for a humiliation? I have to wash his shorts in the next room while they make love?

Mistress wipes my tears and tells me that she know how I can be useful to her. She tells me to take Brad’s shorts out of my mouth. She removes her panties and lays down on the bed. She spreads her beautiful legs and motions to me to come to her. “Get me nice and wet for Brad, Sissy.”

I am always eager to get Mistress nice and wet, although not for someone else. It is especially embarrassing to go down on Mistress while someone else is watching. But when Mistress speaks, I must obey. I kneel between her legs on the bed, gently spread her lips, and go to work. Mistress must have been mistaken — she is already quite wet. Kissing Brad and spanking me probably helped get her wet. But I lick her for awhile until she tells me to stop.

Brad is standing there with his big erection waiting for his turn. He is certainly ready. But Mistress says that she wants him to wear a condom. I know there is always one ready in her nightstand drawer. “Uh, Sissy?”

I am red-faced as I know what Mistress expects me to do. I go to her nightstand drawer and get a condom. I remove the wrapper and gaze at it. How I wish it were going on me, and then … But that will never happen. I resign myself to the unpleasant task of taking Brad’s cock in my hands and rolling the condom on his erection. Mistress spreads her legs invitingly once more. Her pussy hair glistens — due to me, I wish I could remind them both. Brad leans forward toward Mistress. Mistress then speaks up again.

“Uh Sissy? I want you to insert Brad into me.”

Will there be no end to Mistress’s indignities? So as Brad gets into position, I take his condom covered erection with one hand, gently spread Mistress’s lips again with my other hand, and ease him into her.

What next, I wonder to myself. Will I have to push it in and out too?

Mistress thankfully tells me, “Thank you Sissy. That will be all for now. Go into the bathroom and fix your makeup — it’s a mess. Make sure your lipstick is the way it was when Brad first arrived. Nice and red and glossy. Then when your lipstick is right, I want you to jerk off into your pretty panties. Leave them on, because we’re going to check. And then don’t forget to wash and iron Brad’s shorts.”

And with that Mistress dismissed me with a wave of her hand, Brad started pumping away, and I retired to the bathroom to follow Mistress’s commands.

When my slave arrived, I ordered him to strip naked and crawl to the hallway under the staircase. Many people have cupboards there, but I don’t. The space is occupied by a sturdy wooden dining chair with square arms and a cane seat. I took the cord I had earlier placed beside the chair, tied his wrists together, and told him to stretch his bound arms up as high as he could so I could tie his wrists to the bannisters above his head. I took a broom handle from below he chair, and ordered him to stand with his feet apart and kneeling down. I tied first one, then the other ankle to the ends of the broom handle, spreading his legs apart as far as they would go. “I’m not quite satisfied yet” I whispered in his ear, delighting in the look of apprehension now on his face.

Producing a second broom handle, I pushed his knees apart and again tied the handle between them, leaving his cock and balls fully exposed, and slave richard helpless. He told me he was uncomfortable and wanted to bring his knees together a bit. I laughed at him… “Do you think I really care about your comfort? In fact, I don’t want to hear the sound of your whining at all”. I again reached under the chair for two scarves. The first I pushed into his mouth, filling it completely, and the second I tied round his jaw as a gag, keeping the first scarf firmly in place. “Now I have you where I want you, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it and no way you can call out”.

It was true. he was helpless and vulnerable. I had one more touch to add to his bindings – I produced a final scarf and tied it around his eyes – My power over him was complete. I did not speak to him again, but picked up the telephone. “He’s ready now”, I said, and five minutes later, an eternity to slave richard, there was a knock on the front door. Even with his gag and blindfold I could see that he was horrified, stretched naked and helpless in the hallway. He could only hear my voice and, to his humiliation, three others, all Female. “He’s not much to look at, but here he is and you can do anything you like with him. We have all night”.

slave richard looked terrified but his cock was erect as he sensed the women surrounding him, looking at him as they would a small insect they were about to squash under their heel. Their silence made the moment even more tense. He felt hot breath on one of his nipples – Mistress 2 blew on his chest. There was breath on his cock, his stomach, his neck, frustrating as there was no relief from the teasing. We ran our hands over him, caressing, teasing, exciting but never satisfying. His cock strained and bobbed as his excitement built, but his fun was soon to end.

Simultaneously our hands stopped their work and Mistresses 4 grabbed his balls hard, while I pulled apart the cheeks of his ass and pushed a vibrator in roughly, violating him to the depths of his body. Knowing better than to cry out, slave richard made pathetic mewling noises beneath his gag. “Time to fuck, I think”. The others agreed, I withdrew the vibrator and Mistress 3 pulled his ass cheeks open again. slave richard could feel something bigger pushing against him. “This is a strap-on cock” said Mistress 2. “It is bigger than your tiny tool, is harder, and will never go soft. Do you like fucking?” Of course slave richard could not answer. He could not even clench the sides of his arse together to stop the penetration. Two of the Mistresses held his shoulders Mistress 2 pushed the plastic cock deep into his body and started moving backwards and forwards, faster and faster, but his humiliation was not yet complete.

I struck him across his nipples, causing him to tense and moan. Again and again he heard the swish as the cane struck his thighs, stomach, cock, balls. His ordeal was lengthy. As one Goddess tired of fucking him, so the strap-on was passed around, and so was the cane. slave richard hung from his bonds, helpless, violated, in pain and at the mercy of four Women. Finally we stopped his torment and removed his gag and blindfold. “Beg for mercy” I commanded.

“I beg Mistress, I beg…” he sobbed.

“Do you acknowledge the error of your past life and swear to treat women with supreme respect for the remainder of your miserable life?”. He swore as I demanded, broken and wiser. Freeing his hands, I ordered him to masturbate in front of the Mistresses, while they mocked his inferior endowment. Falling to the ground, he kissed My feet and the feet of the other Goddesses, thanking us for his punishment.

She has mentioned a few things that she’s always wanted to do but hadn’t yet.

I told her I would do them (of course) and one in particular made me wince but at the same time eager to do it. Eager to be the first, eager to give her something nobody else had. I find myself desperate to make her fantasies come true. Even something that scares me.

Maybe a little bit of it is to prove my adoration, but most of it is to please her, to give her something she hasn’t had yet, to know that she can use me for whatever she wants.

Tonight, one of those things happened.

I was…ok bear with me because this sounds like something out of a porno but then again, so much of what she and I have done sounds like it comes out of a porno. A very high budget, well written porno.

I was in her kitchen, naked, doing the dishes and wearing a collar and a brand new ball-stretcher (2.5 inches). After I finished I asked if I could eat and she offered me some leftovers she had delivered.

“Oh, wait”, she said with a wicked smile, “give me your cock-head”.

I knew what was coming, it was one of those things I had winced about. One of those things she had always wanted to do and now she was going to do it.

She reached among the leftover burger and fries and grabbed a jalapeno pepper, tore out a small chunk of it and slowly slid it inside my urethra so just a small piece was visible.

What happened next was a blur. A very painful blur.

At first I was hard, hard because it felt a little warm but mostly hard because I could see how much it turned her on.

It hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and she had a very big smile on her face.

“Do you want it out?”

“Yes!” I stammered

“Then you’ll have to cum it out”.

I had serious doubts if I would be able to or not but the next thing I knew, I was on my knees, jerking this burning piece of flesh between my legs

I was close, I could have came right then but at that moment her best friend came out of the bathroom, she had been dying her hair and came out to see what all the commotion was about.

“God I love coming over to your house!” she exclaimed as she saw me kneeling and jerking off in front of her smiling friend.

“Should I let him come?” my owner asked her best friend

“No”

“Fuck”, I thought. I was so close, I wanted so badly to come, more from the desire to expel that evil evil pepper, than to experience an orgasm.

I stopped and the pain began to increase even more. The burning became unbearable and I started to shake and whimper.

“My poor baby, do you want me to make it stop?” she asked.

“Yes…” deep breath, wince, whimper “please” and she ran off to grab some yogurt from the kitchen, I think she asked me where it was in the fridge but I was in no condition to answer.

Moments later she was rubbing yogurt into my urethra and I could feel it starting to cool but not enough. Her best friend returned with a bowl of milk and I was told to “dip your dick in the milk”.

I did.

I felt like Yosemite Sam dropping his ass into a barrel of water after Bugs had just lit him on fire.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

It wasn’t over though.

She made me hold that position for ten minutes. My muscles aching as though I was in some convoluted yoga position. As I breathed heavily and moaned, she would kiss me and stroke my hair.

Oh and she took photos.

That was about an hour ago. She asked me to write about it and so here I am, naked, still a bit numb, laying on the floor next to her couch as she pets my back and occasionally steps on my balls and smiles at me.

Sometimes, when you get what you wish for, it’s better than you imagined.

Mistress answered the front door of Her north Dallas home with a twinkle in Her beautiful eyes. She smiled sweetly as we met — I was wearing a polo shirt and jeans, while She was sheathed in a form-fitting pair of faded jeans and a small camouflage cutoff shirt that showed off more than it concealed. My mind struggled to wrap itself around Her beauty. She was stunning.

All the usual clichés flew through my mind — beautiful, wonderful, heavenly, etc. Hers is a dangerous beauty, I realized, one that lures quickly and captures easily. It doesn’t sneak up on you; it hits you right between the eyes. She knows this, of course. She calls Herself “Goddess”, and She wears the term as well as Her jeans.

She led me upstairs to a bedroom/play room, tastefully decorated and quite comfortable. I am a 30-year-old man with a Big Ten college education, but I could only dumbly gape and nod at Her.

She said I had permission to speak freely, and we went over some common-sense rules, guidelines and then on to my likes and dislikes. My likes include CBT (clothespins, wax, whipping, etc.), teasing and denial, bondage (especially handcuffs and legcuffs), corporal punishment, leash-and-collar games and gags. Those certain feelings of anguish, humiliation and helplessness are what I am usually after. I have never understood it in myself, but I’ve learned to accept it and embrace it.

Under questioning, I told Mistress that I have an open mind to other activities such as feminization, which I have never tried. She nodded approvingly at each of my statements, but Her eyes especially seemed to twinkle when discussing teasing and denial. She promised to make me suffer, and I began to be afraid it was a promise She would keep.

I did not have long to wait. While She left the room to change, I was ordered to strip and find her picture in a DDI magazine on a sofa table in front of me. I was also told to make sure I was standing at attention (and I don’t mean on my feet) BUT NOT A DROP was allowed to be released. I did all of this.

When She returned, She was still wearing the cutoff shirt that flaunted Her belly, and my heart leapt. There is just something about a woman’s navel that I have always found thrilling. I read an article once about it, and some sex expert suggested that the female belly button was so erotic because it’s right between the good stuff. Sounds about right to me.

I was quickly ordered to the floor, on my hands and knees. A chain was slipped around my neck, and a full-head gag was fitted snugly to my head. She strode into the hallway and led me along. I remember making an extra effort to follow quickly and make sure there was plenty of slack on the leash. I have always thought that when a leash is taut, that indicates resistance or slowness, but a leash with slack is a small but nice little touch that shows extra-special servitude.

I was led into the bathroom and ordered to sit on the closed toilet seat, and my hands were chained behind me. There was enough slack for me to touch myself, however, so I ducked my hands tightly behind my back and hoped She would approve of this. Mistress explained that She had a small cold, and needed to take a bath. My heart fluttered again… and then plummeted when She showed off the blindfold I would be wearing. She relished this moment, and the first of many bolts of pain coursed through me.

The blindfold was slipped on, and She slipped into the bathtub. She described Her bath, flicking water at me and drinking in my moans and soft struggles. My suffering was starting to kick in, and She knew it. “And we’re just starting”, She reminded me.

Without thinking, I tried to peer underneath the blindfold. “Ah-ah,” She cooed. “If you’re not good, you won’t get the surprise I have for you.” I did not know whether to dread this or yearn for it. I found out soon enough, when She lifted the blindfold to let me watch Her towel off. Suddenly, I was being allowed to look at a goddess — but that was all I could do, since my hands were wearing chains. I whimpered. She purred. “This must be terrible for you,” She said, and I offered a moan in reply.

It got worse — She modeled Her Victoria’s Secret bras in front of me, reveling in my helplessness and asking rhetorical questions She knew I could not answer. She eventually chose a gold bra and panties. My eyes must have showed a blend of intense longing and deep, aching pain, Her eyes simply showed joy. Then it was back to the bedroom, where I got a quick but passionate spanking over Her knee for trying to sneak around the blindfold. I was bent over a horse next, and got several cuts with a whip to reinforce the same lesson.

Dazed, reeling, still at full attention and still aching, I was then herded into a corner, where Mistress ordered me to take myself to the brink of orgasm three times — with no release — while she left the room briefly. Before leaving, She explained that She wanted me to understand “the two P’s” – Privilege, and Punishment. I would be experiencing both, She told me.

I don’t know how, but I followed Her no-orgasm orders. When She returned, She was feeling festive and this meant it was time for me to dangle. She hoisted my arms over my head and fixed my wrists to a chain. By itself, this wasn’t so bad. But then came the clothespins — several of them, all over, and then She reclined on the bed to watch me struggle and ache.

It was exquisite. My helplessness was complete. My pain was real. My frustration was overwhelming. And before me, a goddess was relaxing and radiant. She invited me to come over and feel Her. I tried but found the restraints were quite secure. She teased me. “What’s the matter, why aren’t you coming?” She asked sweetly. But I could not. I could only suffer in front of Her.

After She mercifully decided I had had enough, she yanked the clothespins off rapidly, sending even more pain shooting through me. She released me and re-invited me to approach Her on the bed. This time I scrambled over as fast as I could.

She produced a bottle of lotion and spread a few drops on Her creamy leg. It was my duty to rub it in, and I did so while scarcely believing the privilege I was being granted. There are simply no words to describe Her skin. The best lines penned by Shakespeare cannot hold a candle to the feeling.
The privilege was increased as I was allowed to go further up Her leg, and accompany my massages with kisses. This I did eagerly, passionately — but slowly. I was determined not to be one of those simple-minded and single-minded men who do not pay proper attention to their lady. If I was going to be given the chance to kiss a goddess, I was not going to do it carnally, but sensually, with proper reverence and attention paid to Her.

This passed all too soon. I was ordered to lie on the bed, and Mistress secured my wrists to the bedframe and fixed my ankles with a spreader. I had never worn a spreader before, and the feeling was delightful. She slipped a blindfold on me and left the room again, leaving me to wallow in the recipe of anguish and denial She had brewed.

She came back in a white bra and panties, which were both lit up by the room’s backlighting. She produced a new toy, a vibrating teaser that She danced over my body. It flickered and flew, dived and swooped, and with it came a new definition of suffering I never knew before. I writhed, heaved and gasped. I stammered how much I hoped my suffering was amusing Her.

She snapped off the vibrating device and left me at the edge. As She was releasing my hands, I could not help but stare at Her panties, and She softly chided me for this. But even more agonizing was the tantalizing moment when She stretched across me to reach my other hand. I couldn’t help gazing at Her bra, and I couldn’t help the kiss that escaped my lips and caressed Her breast. I had to. I did not know when, or if, I would ever be this close to a goddess again.

“Behave yourself”, She chided again, and followed up her statement with a whack from a whip by the bed. That sent me scurrying into the shower, where I was ordered to submit to three minutes of freezing water before getting dressed. The blast of water was so cold it took the air out of me, but just as I reached for the faucet I heard Her say that I wasn’t allowed to turn off the water until She said so. The three minutes soon passed, but my erection did not.

When I was cleaned and dressed, I cleaned the gag in the bathroom. When Mistress returned, I was given permission to speak freely and I thanked Her profusely. We chatted for a while, and as we did so, the pain within me slowly leveled to a dull ache.

But it didn’t go away, and even as I write this three days later, I can still feel it. I am captured more tightly than by any chain or rope. The bonds aren’t visible, but they are real. They are there.

Mistress taught me “the two P’s” that day, but I also learned much more. I learned a new world of pain and slavery. I learned what a goddess looks and feels like. But more than anything, I learned the meaning behind that old ancient curse… “A beautiful woman is the Paradise of the eyes, the Purgatory of the purse… and the Hell of the soul.”

I’m a fairly ordinary guy, but after two weeks of dating Triffy, things just didn’t seem very ordinary anymore. I had taken a girl named Barbra to a drive in movie. Not sure if they still have drive in movies anymore today, but back in the 70′s they still had a few drive in movies left in California along with the left over chariots.

Barbra asked.  Would you get me some butter pop corn and a coke?

With a smile, I said, sure.

I headed over to the pop corn stand and it was lust at first site. It seemed as if her eyes were sparkling. Her blouse and skirt were skin tight. As she leaned over the counter I couldn’t help but stare at her beautiful breasts that were poking out of her hot pink blouse.

She asked.”Are you from around here?” I’ve never noticed you before.”

I laughed and said. “I’m from a far away planet they call New York.”

She smiled radiantly and said. “I’m from a far away planet to, but I got stuck here for a while.”

“Missed the ride back on the mother ship.” I joked.

“Something like that.” She said smiling.

“I’m supposed to be in Europe, but the Navy stuck me out here on the left coast. They just don’t know how to read a dream sheet.” I smiled.

“What do you do with the Navy she asked.”

“Im a communications specialist.” I replied.

She smiled glowingly and said. “I’m into communications to.”

I laughed and said. “That’s what you do on your planet when you’re not selling pop corn.”

She smiled and said. “Something like that”.

“Oh, could I have a butter pop corn and a coke.  I asked.

Wouldn’t you rather have something else?  She whispered seductively.

Yes, I would, but this is for Barbra, the girl that’s waiting for me to bring this back to the car.

Would Barbra miss you if you didn’t come back?  She whispered as she liked her very sensous lips.

I answered.  I don’t know, but I think she would wonder about what happened to the pop corn and coke.

Okay.   She said, reluctantly handing me the pop corn and coke.

Maybe another time. I said.

I’d like that. My name is Triffy. Here’s my number. Call me when you’re finished getting pop corn for Barbra.  She said.

My name is Tim, maybe another time Triffy, I said.

I brought the pop corn and coke back to Barbra. She snuggled up with me and asked.  Didn’t you want anything?

Want anything what?  I asked.

Didn’t you want a snack? She said, seeming puzzled.

Oh, I just didn’t think of it.  I replied.

Smiling seductively, she said.  I’m willing to share.

She then gazed into my eyes and started to kiss me, but I couldn’t get Triffy out of my mind. It were as if she had cast a spell on me. Barbra was very pretty, and I really did like her, but I felt as if I were now wearing the wrong size shoe. I needed size Triffy, but I tried hard to fit into size Barbra.

After the movie I drove Barbra home. She asked me in, but I told her I had some work to do that just couldn’t wait. I drove down Pacific Coast Highway and parked by one of the massive cliffs to think and reflect. The height of the cliffs, the wonderful splashing sound of the water always seemed to invigorate my thought process.

I debated with myself if I should call Triffy or not. I knew nothing about her except that she was very beautiful. She just wasn’t the kind of girl you would expect to be selling pop corn. At least not with those looks. She intrigued me. At last, I decided to call her just out of curiousity.

I just had to know where she came from, what she was into and what the heck was she doing selling pop corn. But, I was really fooling myself. Deep down, I was really attracted to her. I didn’t even want to admit to myself that I could be such a cad. I knew it was wrong, but I wanted her anyway.

So, I called. She told me a few things about herself and we made a date to go to the beach the next day. After seeing her in a bikini on the beach the next day my mind just went blank. I didn’t have any more questions to ask her. I was totaly under her spell. Barbra was just now a distant memory.

After the beach we went back to her place and she seemed to have candles everywhere. They seemed to have a nice smelling scent, but they were like no other candles I had sniffed before. I was going to ask her what all the candles were about, but when she changed into a very sexy nighty, I lost my train of thought as I watched her lite the candles. She lit the last one, put her arms around me and then I melted with the candles.

“Can I tie you up?,” she whisperd in my ear as she unbuckled my pants belt.

“You can do anything you want to me,” I said while undressing her.

After she undressed me, she took my hand and let me to her bed and tied my arms and legs to her bed posts. Then she climbed on top of me and rode me for all I had to give while hitting mu thighs with a small whip.

I was turned on like I was never turned on before. Just when I thought okay that’s enough of this now, she seemed to turn on my second and third gear. It were as if she were re-generating my battery. Just when I thought my energiser bunny was finished, she turned on my fourth and fifth gear. I didn’t know what was happening. I asked myself why.But I couldn’t find an answer.

But I suppose all good things must come to an end. After two weeks with her, I got orders to go to the south Land. I had never before been in the south and it was a long flight from California. So, when I first got off the plane, I thought I might be experiencing some jet lag. Or maybe two weeks with her just plum wore me out.

I didn’t know what it was, but I was feeling very dizzy. I wasn’t accustomed to the swampy type air of the south Land, so I thought, maybe I just need a day or two to adjust to the different climate. But I continued to get dizzy. At last, I went to sick bay and told everyone there that I keep getting dizzy. They couldn’t find anything wrong with me from routines tests, so they said they had to make sure I wasn’t crazy.

Being confident that I was totaly sane I told them to give me any test they wanted. So, they put some strange wires on my head and kept saying that’s amazing.

Whats so amazing?  I asked my very big busted Nurse.

Smiling seductively, she said. Your brain scan. It keeps showing that you’re having a sexual thought every forty seconds.

Only every forty seconds, I laughed starring at her endowed breasts with surprise.

Smiling ever more seduvtively she said.  You’re a sex machine.  The average male only has a sexual thought every four minutes.

So, I’m over sexed and now I’ve lost my mind?.  I asked

She answered.  No, just the opposite. If you were only having a sexual thought every five minutes you would be losing your mind. So having a sexual thought every forty seconds makes you super sane. The best reading we ever got from anyone was every three minutes. Your every forty seconds is out of this world.

Out of this world. That’s what I was afraid of. So how do I turn myself off? I asked.

What turned you on like this? That’s what I’d like to know so I could bottle it.  She said.

Laughing now, I said. Sorry, but I don’t kiss and tell.

Of course I could have come clean and told her that I kind of suspect that I recently spent two fun filled weeks with a dynamite woman that was most likely a space alien. But I was getting bored with all the tests. And anyway, she was quite a looker. And I had a feeling she wanted to take me for a test run to check out that every forty second quirk.

So, what is wrong with me then. I asked.

She took my hand and said. We’ve got to get you away from this swamp air. Come home with me. I have air condtioning. Doctors orders.

Well, if you put it like that. I mean Doctors orders. I guess I just can’t say no.  I said with a smile.

What does Financial Domination mean to you? Is it the rush of a blackmail fetish that makes you tremble, or the opportunity to voluntary offer yourself and become one of  My money slaves, a walking-talking human ATM machine, a pay piggy with a wallet wide open.. or maybe you are not able to resist the money slavery, not able to say “no to your Mistress, not able to fight the weakness and are willing to give away the control of the most precious, the most essential part of your life – your money. Once you are in financial slavery to the Mistress, your life changes, slowly, but surely. It may get uncomfortable at first, even a bit painful, maybe even very painful, but it feels too good to stop. On the contrary, you ask for more, you want to give more. You are My experiment, just to see how far in money slavery you will go to please Me, how much you are willing to give. There is absolutely nothing extraordinary for Me in having your wallet, your life at My disposal. It is only natural. You give, I take. It is just the means, not the end. It is the means for Me to control you, to deprave you, to drain you, to sedate your lifestyle to the stage that I set, to complicate your life, to manipulate it. Now, I suggest you close your eyes, imagine what it would be like to become something with a purpose, to find your place as My money slave, open your eyes, take a deep breath, relax, and send Me a letter, a tribute and the journey will begin.

Reprinted with author’s permission.

————-

I woke up aroused.

This was not the male syndrome commonly known as “morning wood”. This was an erection with a purpose.

Today was to be my first full day under Her control. After riding my face to several orgasms last night, She left me, aroused, with the understanding (but far from promise) that if I followed Her instructions to the letter all day I might finally be allowed the release I craved. But even if that was not to be, I desired to please Her more than my body screamed for sexual climax.

I was to feel Her control strongly all day. In the morning I carefully encircled my engorged penis with the collar I had been instructed to wear. After buckling it in place, I slipped my wrist through the leather loop at the end of the steel chain that linked it to the collar. I made sure, per Her instructions, that the length was sufficient to allow me movement, but restrictive enough that simple motions of my arm would tug at my captured erection, a constant reminder of Her control as I pursued the tasks of the day.

I can’t remember being so aroused for such a prolonged period of time, even including the wild young stallion of my youth, hiding uncontrollable tumescence behind a convenient book. This excitement was fueled from three sources. First, nothing stirred my submissive soul as much as being used by Her sexually, Her juices covering my face as wave after wave of pleasure took Her, while my own climax was denied. I wasn’t ignored through cruelty. Release was intentionally delayed for a purpose, unknown to me. If that isn’t control and dominance, I don’t know what is.

The second source of my excitement was the sure knowledge that what I was doing was an act of obedience, that following Her prearranged instructions all day long would please Her. I don’t remember now if the notion came from me originally or if She found a way to see that I came to believe it, but it no longer mattered. My submissive manifesto was indelibly ingrained. Pleasing Her through obedience was much more pleasurable than any mere physical release could ever be.

My third reason for almost constant arousal was more physically evident, of course. Beyond being a constant reminder of my obedience, the repeated tugging of my penis by my wrist sent near constant stimulation coursing through my loins. There were times when I would rest that I would subside a bit. When I would get up abruptly, forgetting for a moment the leash, there would be an immediate jolt of sensation that brought my erection back in full force.

I knew She would be gone for a good part of the day. There would be no way of Her monitoring my obedience. Knowing that made the pleasure I derived from obeying Her anyway all the more delightful. And the constant, yet simple, binding of my hand to my genitals served what I could only assume was it’s intent: to increase my submissiveness throughout the day. As the day progressed I shed more and more of what was not my submissive inner core, leaving a pure obedient man to greet Her when She arrived, with which She could do whatever She desired.

Finally, it was time for Her to return, and She did. She had said it would only be brief, as She had to go out again, but I knew She wanted to check in on Her new obedient pet, to see how the (delightful shudder) training was going. She quickly verified that the collar was still in place around my penis and that it was attached properly to my wrist. She was very, very pleased. I was ecstatic that She was. I squirmed in the pleasure of knowing I had obeyed well.

Then came more instructions. “Remove the collar and insert the small anal plug, My pet. Then give me twenty sit-ups.” Twenty sit-ups were nothing. Obedience and Her direct, complete control of my body was everything. I knew, although She did not let on immediately, that from the moment She saw me the first time, my body was attractive to Her. I am sure She delighted in the knowledge that She was in command of my firm abdominal muscles, that tightening up my body was training in both obedience as well as physical activity and that the result was, to Her, pleasing in form. The training provided by the anal probe I inserted was also manifold. In addition to the physical act of retaining it, which was actually more difficult to me than the sit-ups, the dominating symbolism of this Woman causing my body to be penetrated was overwhelming.

After the sit-ups She instructed me to remove the plug and reattach the collar. This I did immediately, of course. I told Her about the difficulty I had in keeping the silicone toy inside my body. I didn’t want to assume that my struggle had been intentional, that She was aware of the fit and of my musculature in that area. I knew that my giving Her feedback of that type would please Her, as it would only assist in the training She had planned.

She was indeed pleased that I informed Her that the small anal toy slipped easily in and out. She then told me that I was to repeat the activity, but this time with the largest plug in the set. I was to commence as soon as She departed, and I was to hold it in my body for 30 minutes after completing my sit-ups. With that, She left again. I, of course, immediately followed Her instructions.

I am sitting here, writing this, having obeyed like the good submissive that I am, my ass filled at Her direction, by Her will. I couldn’t be happier. I will soon have to remove it, which will result in mixed feelings from me, no doubt. I will miss it. But I will have obeyed Her one more time.

I can’t wait to see what will happen when She returns later. I only know that I will obey to the best of my ability. I hope She will be pleased. Pleasing Her through obedience is so much more pleasurable than any physical release could ever be.