My Humiliating Cleansing
The fluid from the enema that was inserted inside of me gushed. Indeed, it was a humiliating cleansing. It went down my legs and into the drain at my feet. I stood there feeling totally embarrassed by the humiliating cleansing, hoping Miss Lilly had averted her gaze. I tried to take my mind off that thought and gazed out the small window, which offered a partial view of well-tended garden with meandering flagstone walkways, grape trellises, a well-tended vegetable plot and a small pond. The yard was surrounded by a tall privacy fence made from rough-hewn redwood planks.
“Hands against the wall, Mr. Green, spread your legs,” Miss Lilly ordered, breaking my reverie.
I did as she instructed and a moment later heard her crank a valve open, then felt a cold spray that took my breath away. Some bath. It was part of all part of the humiliating cleansing ordered by Mistress Hunter. Miss Lilly sprayed me down, then handed me a bar of soap. “Scrub yourself, Mr. Green.”
Miss Lilly Get’s Me Ready for Mistress Hunter
I presumed since I was standing, no longer a dog. I replied, “Yes, Miss Lilly.”
She had me turn circles while she sprayed me down after I lathered up. The soapy water ran down the drain, and with it my hard-on. My humiliating cleansing did a good job of getting rid of my hard-on. When I was rinsed, Miss Lilly snapped on the leash and led me outside. It was a beautiful morning and the sunshine felt good, especially since the air had a chill to it.
We walked up to a what looked like a sawed-off telephone pole with a heavy redwood cross-beam of about a six-foot span. It looked like it was intended to hold clotheslines. Then I noticed leather wrist cuffs dangling from iron eyelets screwed through the cross-beam on each side.
Restrained In The Garden
Miss Lilly positioned me in front of the backyard crucifix and buckled my wrists to the restraints. “Spread your legs, Mr. Green.” I did as instructed. From somewhere she produced a one-inch steel rod with ankle restraints fixed to the ends. These she buckled to my ankles. Soon I was locked in place, spread-eagled, butt-naked and now shivering, even with the warm sun on my back.
I wondered what I was doing in the garden like this; I thought Mistress Hunter’s instructions were for Miss Lilly to clean me inside and out, which I presumed was code for preparing me for Mistress Hunter’s strap-on cock. In the back of my mind, I assumed I would be led back to her chambers, or to the dungeon, where Mistress Hunter would fuck her dog. Breakfast to follow . . .
Getting Ready to Be Branded
Murmuring words that made my knees buckle, Miss Lilly set me straight; “This is the branding stock, Mr. Green; I hope last night was worth it . . .” She slapped me on the ass and walked away.
Suddenly, devastatingly, I realized I had been led to slaughter like a sheep.
Immobilized and alone with my mounting fear, I stood there for long minutes, waiting. I began to hope that maybe Miss Lilly was just messing with my head. Last night, when I let my mind dwell on the prospect of being branded, I imagined it would an elaborate dungeon ceremony, and then . . . I didn’t know what . . . I’d read somewhere that dry ice can be used as a substitute in fire play.
You didn’t get branded out in the open, in a garden, in the sunshine. Somehow, the ignominy of the circumstances made it terrifyingly real. My body quaked with fear, masked by the shivering.
Marked By Mistress Hunter
I heard a door slam and voices, then footsteps approaching. Miss Lilly came into view, in front of me, still wearing her cute pink maid outfit. She held a wooden dowel with steel eyelets from which leather straps dangled. “Open wide, Mr. Green.”
I opened and Miss Lilly pushed the wooden rod back in my mouth until my jaw ached. She buckled the straps tightly. She caught my eyes for an instant, offered a look of pity, followed by a nod. If I had to put words to that look, it was something on the order of, “This is going to hurt like hell, but you’ll live.”
Oh, Fuck, oh Fuck.
A moment later, I felt Mistress Hunter’s breath on my neck. Her cool hands slid under my arms, then glided over my chest until she held my nipples between her fingers. She began to knead and pinch them. “You did this so well last night, Mr. Green, didn’t you?”
Well, not exactly like that, but more or less, yes. “Yes, Mistress,” I attempted to speak, my response unintelligible through the wood gag.
Her hands swept down my belly. She gripped my flaccid cock, then cupped my balls in her hands. “You remember our deal last night, Mr. Green? The deal we made before I let you empty yourself into the sacred temple of my vagina?” Well, I had been wearing a condom, but she had a point.
The Ultimate Sacrifice
“Is that a ‘yes,’ Mr. Green? Nod three times, and make it count . . . unless you want to back out.”
So here it was, the ultimate test. I wondered if the next two days even mattered. Probably not; this was the moment of truth. I had agreed to Mistress Hunter’s bargain, and now she was holding me to it. Back out now, and I was done. I nodded three times, slowly but unmistakably.
“That’s my boy,” Mistress Hunter said. And then before I realized what was happening, she grabbed the cheek of my right ass and I felt something cold pressed into my flesh. I heard a sizzling sound, and then the smell of burning flesh . . . my flesh. It only took a second. To be honest, I didn’t feel a thing.
“Such a brave boy,” Mistress Hunter murmured into my ear. “Now, I’m going to leave you here for a while, Mr. Green. Surrender to the pain, and be proud you have my initials branded on your rear end . . . it means I have chosen you; I have decided you will be my slave.”
She left with Miss Lilly, and on the heels of their departure, the pain came roaring in, searing pain that made me writhe and scream into the wooden gag. I tried to do as Mistress Hunter had instructed, surrender to it.
One thought sustained me: Mistress Hunter had chosen me. I would be her slave.
Next: Pride and Punishment