My new Mistress just asked me if I was ready to accept everything under her orders. Without even taking time to think, I tell her yes. I’m both terrified and incredibly excited.
Her faint smile, however, is enough to worry me. Plus, I have to constantly remind myself that she hates men and prefers women. The chubby little blonde tied up on the bed in front of me, legs spread, is there to remind me of that.
Mistress of Submission: A Tale of Control and Desire
Madame releases me from my bench and puts a leather straitjacket on me. My arms are tied behind my back. Then she puts a collar on me and leads me by a leash. Naturally, I let her do it. The taste of the submissive is still on my tongue. My Dominatrix places a stool between her prisoner’s legs and signals with her chin for me to sit on it.
- “You’re going to lick her deeply,” she orders. “I want your tongue to go as far inside her pussy as possible, never stopping, no matter what I do, understood? Get to work.”
To make my task easier, Madame attaches clamps to the blonde’s labia, connected to small chains. She ties these to the base of the bed, spreading them as wide as possible, leaving her victim’s sex exaggeratedly exposed.
Once that’s done, I lean forward and begin my task diligently. I work the pink flesh, occasionally teasing her swollen clit. Though the prisoner in front of me had an intense orgasm just minutes ago, she soon started moaning again, moving her hips to the rhythm of my tongue.
Whips and Whimpers: A Dance of Pain and Pleasure
It no longer seems to bother her that I’m a man. While continuing my careful cunnilingus, I glance sideways and see Madame tightly binding the base of the blonde’s large breasts with rope. Her chest quickly takes on a spectacular volume, turning crimson.
And then my Dominatrix grabs a nine-tailed whip and begins vigorously lashing the tender flesh. She clearly enjoys it, using wide, unrestrained swings. The tails snap, the breasts jiggle, and the prisoner jolts with each strike, moaning through her gag.
I receive a sharp thrust of her hips under my chin, but as per Madame’s orders, I don’t stop. She clearly wants her victim to feel as much pleasure as pain. So I apply myself, and just before each strike lands, I flick the victim’s clit with my tongue.
Soon, the sex I’m exploring becomes wet again, abundantly so. This girl is a true masochist. Though she’s screaming into her ball gag, she seems to be heading toward another devastating orgasm.
I need to be ready because I’ll have a front-row seat.
- “What do you think?” Madame asks, breathless from her efforts.
From where I am, I can see the slightly purple welts on the blonde’s breasts, which bounce with each vicious strike.
- “Do you think you could endure the same treatment?”
I don’t understand.
- “For a long time, I’ve wanted to whip a man’s balls like this. It would be a beautiful proof of your submission, don’t you think?”
I’m terrified. I’m not at all sure I’m that much of a masochist. Submissive, yes—ready for the most degrading tasks, to sleep at my Dominatrix’s feet, to be locked in a cage or closet, to swallow anything—but this…
She stops, exhausted, and gives me a wicked smile.
- “Well?”
I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to lie or upset her.
- “Imagine it’s your balls,” she says.
Mistress of Torment: A Pact of Painful Service
And with that, she drops her whip, grabs her prisoner’s breasts, and twists and kneads them without any gentleness. The blonde wriggles on the bed, whimpering.
- “Your duty will be to maintain my apartment but also to serve as my ‘punching bag.’ You can’t imagine what I go through at work. There are idiots like her who exasperate me, but that’s nothing compared to my superiors. They’re just smug men who exhaust me with their stupidity. You resemble them in many ways, so it’ll be a pleasure to make you suffer. I can see you’re not thrilled about it. I like the idea of having a toy, so let’s proceed in stages, shall we? Whipping your balls is a bit extreme, I’ll admit. It’ll be your punishment if you refuse to obey, which means you’ll have to accept everything else. Serving as my toilet, for example, or toilet paper for me, my guests, my slaves like her. Enduring all the twisted experiments that cross my mind. I have a particularly twisted mind, especially when I come home from work angry. You just agreed to serve me. Are you still on board?”
Mistress’s Mandate: A Life of Devotion and Discipline
She doesn’t even give me time to respond and continues:
- “Because my only interest in you is that you be my punching bag. Sometimes, like today, you can also be my assistant when I work on my little slaves. When I come home from work, I want you to be at your place when I ring the doorbell. No absences or fake excuses henceforth, you live for me. You’ll be constantly locked in a chastity cage, and your weekends will be reserved for me, even if you spend many of them tied up in a closet without seeing daylight. Understood?”
- “Yes, Mistress.”
- “Very well, we’ll see if you keep your word. At the slightest failure, you’ll be banished, or you’ll agree to offer your balls to my riding crop.”
- “Yes, Mistress. Should I continue licking, Mistress?”
- “She’s had enough orgasms for today. Clean her little hole instead, with the same enthusiasm. I want her ass spotless—I’ll be dealing with it soon.”
I obey without delay, diving into the blonde’s depths with enthusiasm, ignoring what my tongue encounters.
Self-denial, that’s what I must show. One day, I’ll do the same for my Mistress. The promise of finally earning that privilege gives me the drive to work, which seems to greatly satisfy the bound prisoner in front of me.
