Mother

*A story written for me - roleplaying: Mummy/boy dynamic*  Not quite my type of kink interest but it was cleverly written, and lets be honest - each to their own.  YKINMYK (your kink is not my kink)

***

Throwing his butt down on the sofa, Nathan collapsed into the recliner, sighing. Today had been a killer. Angry patients complaining about something that wasn’t his damn fault. The icing on the cake was the fucking flat tire on the way home.

“Fuck, today sucked!”

Rubbing his face, he closed his eyes and tried to think of things that might help him relax. A nice, cold beer. Grilling steak. The smell of Mummy's banana bread. Just the thought of it made his mouth water. Nathan began to drift off, remembering the smell of baking bread from another time…

“Nathy-poo! Come in to the kitchen, sweetie pie!” The sweetest voice he’d ever heard trilled out from the kitchen. “Mummy has something for you, Nathan!”

Maybe I’ll get to lick the spoon! Nathan jumped up from the couch, forgetting his homework on the table.

“Can I lick the spoon? Huh? Can I?!”

His beautiful mother laughed with delight. Her pink tongue and red lips mesmerized Nathan.  He could watch her laugh all day.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Here you go!” She handed him the spoon and fanned herself. “Goodness, it is so hot in here!”

As Nathan sucked the spoon into his mouth, determined to lick off every bit of batter, Mummy unbuttoned her blouse until he could see her black lace bra. He felt a familiar twinge in his pants, a tightening that excited him. He wished he could see her without the bra, but he knew better than to ask. Without thinking about it, he reached down to adjust his crotch.

“Nathan! What have I told you about touching yourself?”

His face turned red with embarrassment. “I should let you know when I need help.”

“Yes, my sweet little boy.” Her frown was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Do you need help?”

The spoon hung from his mouth as he nodded, hoping she was going to give him help like last time. Reaching down, she gently, but firmly grabbed his teenage cock and squeezed.

“Is that better, Nathan?”

He could only grunt in response. Her hand felt so nice there. He wished his pants and underwear weren’t in the way.

“How about this, baby boy?” Unzipping his trousers, her fingers snaked in and stroked his dick through his white briefs. “Does this feel better? Mummy always wants her little boy to feel good.”

“Yes…mmmm, yes, Mummy.” Nathan could barely grind out any words as he felt his cock lengthen and harden. “M-m-mummy?”

“Yes, Nathan?” Her fingers never stopped moving. Every so often, she touched the space where his underwear opened, stroking the smallest section of skin. He thought he might die with pleasure.

“Will you…um, would you??” He nodded towards her open shirt, too caught up in the feeling of her hand to say much more.

“Oh, would you like some num-num from Mummy?”

Nathan nodded his head vigorously, unable to speak as her grip became firmer, her strokes faster. He watched with a clenched jaw as she flicked open the front clasp of her bra with two fingers, allowing her small, pert breasts to appear before him. She placed one hand behind his head and brought his mouth to her nipple. Nathan latched on, sucking and nibbling just the way she liked.

“Ohhhhh, Nathan. You’re doing such a good job for Mummy!”

As he opened his mouth to devour her entire tit, she yanked his cock out of his underwear and began to pull and stroke, rubbing the tip, grazing her nails lightly down the shaft. Nathan growled with his mouth full of flesh and nipple, feeling more like a wild animal than her sweet little boy. Without a word, she guided his lips to the other breast, encouraging him to suck harder and harder as she stroked his cock faster and faster.

Nathan felt his body begin to shake as fiery pleasure built deep inside, threatening to erupt all over her hand. “Mummy! I’m gonna…”

“Hurry, Nathan. Don’t make a mess on Mummy's dress or your pants, darling.” Pulling back, she gave him a moment to unbutton his trousers and pull his briefs down to his knees.

With his cock free, she began to stroke his balls and run her fingers through the new hair growing on his crotch. Forgetting about her beautiful nipples, he let his head fall back in ecstasy as her nails tickled his testicles between strokes.

“Nathan, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Worried about upsetting her and which might make her stop, Nathan quickly latched back on to one nipple while he tweaked the other between two fingers, strumming and stroking her areola as she did the same with the head of his cock. Her hands were pure magic, and before long, he felt something rising within him, something he was unable to stop.

“Mummy! I’m…I’m-I’m gonna cum!”

Mummy never said a word as she bent down and took his cock deep in her mouth and down her throat. He shot his entire load into her and she swallowed and swallowed, milking his dick with her mouth until he finally stopped shaking. Panting and sweating, his body tightened again as she cleaned him with her tongue.

“Mmmmm, thank you for letting me lick your spoon, Nathy-poo.” She looked up at him as she licked some of his jizz off her fingers. “You did so good for Mummy. You’re such a good boy!”

"Would you like to taste where you came from Nathy?" 

Nathan's eyes lit up his cock went straight on a raging hard, "yes mu mummy very much so, good boy"

Nathan's mum sits on the kitchen bench pulls up her black skirt slides her black and red lace panties to a side and spreads her legs.  With out hesitation Nathan drops to his knees and buries his face deep between his mums thighs, he licks and sucks on his mum like a 5 year old kid eating a soft serve ice cream on a hot summers day. 

"Oh my, your a good little boy" Nathan's mum says between heavy breaths of pleasure.  Nathan buried his tongue deeper and deeper and is licking and sucking faster and harder,

"Oh my oh my your going to make mummy cum" as Nathan's mum says that with a voice of pure pleasure she unleashes an orgasm and cums all over her little boys face.

"Was I a good boy mummy" Nathan looks up at his mum waiting for approval.

"Yes son a very good boy" mummy smirks at her cute little boy.

"Would you like a special treat from mummy For being such a good little boy? Yes mummy I would really like a special treat"

Nathan's mum steps down of the bench turns around and bends over.

"Would Nathy-waffy like to stick his spoon inside mummy's special hole?"

Without hesitation Nathan grabs his mum by the hips and slides himself in her dripping wet pussy the soft warm texture against the tip of Nathan's penis sends shivers of pleasure through his body, he pushes himself in further and further, then wraps his arms around his mothers upper waist to grab her sweet perfect round succulent breasts.

"Oh nathy poo do me harder and faster"

Sweat is pouring of Nathan he feels his balls tightening,

"Mummy I'm going to cum, baby mummy's going to cum as well let's k k cum together"

As Nathan's mum struggles to get her words out her legs start to shake like jelly she feel Nathan's warm cum explode inside her and she instantly screams out an orgasm of pure pleasure. After a minute of deep panting Nathan's mum feels cum slowly dripping from her. Nathan is covered and dripping in sweat.

"Mummy may I have a drink?" Mummy turns around sits up on the bench spreads her legs.

"Mummy will give you a special drink if you clean your mess up that you made inside mummy"

Nathan drops to his knees and starts licking every bit of cum running down his mummy's thighs and then scoops out the rest out of his mummy's pussy with his tongue.

"Did I clean you good mummy? Can I have that special drink?"

Mummy tells Nathan to lay on the floor she puts both her knees either side of his head and tells him to open up his mouth.  

Nathan feels the warm salty sweet golden nectar over his face he pushes his head closer so he can get mouthful after mouthful. After he has swallowed every last drop of his mummy's sweet golden nectar. Mummy hops up tells Nathan to get a mop and bucket and clean up the floor before his father gets home.

Nathan obliges and cleans the floor, once he is completed his mum walks over to him gives him a cuddle looks down and gives him a special kiss, then whispers

"Maybe tomorrow if your a really good boy mummy will let you lick her other special hole and let you put your spoon in that, would you like that nathy waffy? Yes mummy very very much so"

A few minutes later, they sat at the table together enjoying the freshly baked banana bread when Nathan's father came home. He took a deep breath and said, “Oh, I love it when you bake, Marge. Do I get to lick the spoon tonight?”

Nathan and Mummy smiled at each other.

RING! RING!

Nathan woke up, disoriented with a raging hard-on. “Fuck, I must have fallen asleep.”

He picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, Nathy-poo! I was thinking of baking some bread and wondered if you’d like to come over and lick the spoon for Mummy?”

Part 2 - first ever story written

Part 2

Erotica | 6 Comments · 2 Love It | over 6 years ago

- Second part of my first ever writing -

The lights are soft. The room is warm.
You feel as if you have finally found a place of belonging – this, being owned, is what you have been wanting all your life… being in the presence of greatness; such superiority, such beauty and such strength… you know deep within you have finally found the Mistress you can fully submit your whole being, your essence and your soul. You know that in minutes you are about relinguish your power to me…
I move suddenly, fluidly, unexpectedly and slap both sides of you face - extremely hard which leave my handprints. You are shocked by the suddenness and the hot pain… your eyes water and you moan. I raise my hand again and you flinch waiting for another slap… it does not eventuate… you quickly look at me, and see my smile and discern from that smile that I am powerful and knowing… you avert your eyes and cast them downwards, waiting for whatever next is to happen.
I stand and move towards you… my Royal Femaleness is in line with your head… you very much want to look up but dare not; not until you are asked to do so… after all, you are in the lair of this beautiful and intimidating Mistress who will do whatever she desires.
I move behind you slowly, stroking your body teasingly slow with my perfectly manicured fingers… you feel your body tingling… your cock is hardening despite itself… then you hear a whishing sound and in the next instant, “thwack”, you feel an immense sting. You grunt and fall forward. I command you to immediately kneel upright. You do so but not quick enough for my liking… and you immediately feel three consecutive stings from my Red Riding Crop. You whimper and fall to the ground heavily.
I ask you to return to the ‘kneeling’ position again. You do so more quickly. It is still not quick enough and I firmly strike you five more times on your shoulder blades. You gasp in pain; the pain is sharp, more acute than the previous pounding. Your upper back displays red welts from the cropping. I slowly raise the Red Riding Crop again and you flinch, I move it from side to side, up and down, and your terrified eyes follow its progress. Your demeanour now appears timid in my presence… perfect.
Again, I ring the cow bell, my muscular slave appears.
I instruct him to pick you up and bind you to the four hooks on the wall behind you. You move a little sluggishly all the while feeling increasingly apprehensive. The slave ties each hand to the upper hooks, and each leg to the lower hooks. You are in a spread-eagled position facing the wall. Your back is fully exposed to receive anything. You feel extremely vulnerable, anxious and excitement. your cock … is engorged; and pulsating.
I move up behind you, and kiss your neck softly. You feel my breasts press against your back, my hands slide down your arms gently, softly, caressingly. I move away slightly. you hear a whishing sound, and feel the instantaneous pain inflicted. Ms N proceeds to flog you… you feel a cobweb of pain all over your body. your back is marked, bright red, hot, burning, numb, flushed, sore and strangely delicious. You whimper under your breath. Your cock is rock hard and dripping precum juice on to the wall and floor. I announce I am going to flog you 25 times and so proceed to flog you steadily with 25 firm strokes. I count aloud…1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7… you count within… 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14…I continue to count… 15, 16, 17, 18, 19… you feel yourself surrender to me as I continue to count… 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 and 25. By the time, I have finished, your whole back is criss-crossed with marks left from the leather flogger and you feel. you feel tremendous relief but also a yearning for more flogging. Ms N. admires the beauty of her leather flogger.
you feel exhaustion and exhilaration after the intensive thrashing but at the same time you feel compliance, obedience and deference to the statuesque Ms N.
Next you feel a scented warm liquid applied to your back. The muscular slave gently rubs a soothing mixture onto your hot and tender back. Once the concoction has been applied, he unbinds you from the hooks and you immediately fall to the floor.
Ms N moves toward your body and commands you to lay on your back…your back is sensitive, tender but you manage to do so. You are now looking up at me. I gaze down into your eyes and I see your eyes reflecting fear and love. I like to see both fear and love reflecting in all my bitches eyes. you wonder what I have install for you as my eyes are unreadable. I enquire “what do you want from me, dog?” and you reply –
“I want you to control me, Ms N.… I give my consent for you to dominate me completely, my life is now in your hands”.
I smile.
I open my legs wider and you see my pink and black G string panties. I slowly, teasingly, push them aside and you glimpse my beautiful, shaved, moist Royal Pussy…then you feel wetness, warm, enveloping wetness splashing all over your dirty slut body… you groan softly, happily, contentedly - ecstatic in the knowledge that you have been accepted by me. Then I stop urinating, I move to your mouth and you open your mouth willingly, I squat over your mouth and piss into your mouth – you drink greedily.
Once my Golden Nectar has ceased, I move away. my muscular slave gives you a towel to wipe yourself dry.
I observe your cock is engorged, purple and straining against the cock ring. Once you have wiped yourself down, I command you to kneel in front of me again. I apply vibrating nipple clamps. I then take the leash and proceed to walk you around the Burgundy room. The room is spacious. As you are led around the room, your Mistress proceeds to monologue in sexy, deep voice the many activities she will introduce you to such as cock and balls torture, whipping, asphyxiation, Strap On, verbal humiliation, feminising, fisting, bisexual play and toilet slave. You feel totally enslaved, content crawling at your Mistress’ side listening to her dulcet tones… and you are eager to commence the BDSM journey with Ms N..
I desist our pacing around the Burgundy room, pull you into a hands and knee position. My muscular slave enters the room and assists in encasing my arms with latex gauntlets.
I lean forward and stroke your hard, dripping cock, your precum has made your cock and my gloved hand very slippery. You groan softly. My fingers caress your pink puckered pussy arse – I apply lubricant to the entrance of your pussy arse then slowly but forcefully insert three fingers inside you - you squeal like the bitch dog you are, my new bitch dog. my fingers slide backwards and forwards swiftly, commanding…your body synchronises with the rhythm of my hand. I fuck your pussy arse whilst my left hand strokes your cock - your moans increase in volume...

Part 1 - first ever story written

Part 1

Erotica | 1 Loves It | over 6 years ago 

- My first ever story - Part 1

you arrive at 63 Buxom Road, an ordinary looking house from the outside but within the residence, such opulence fit for a Mistress, a Queen, a Goddess – Ms N.

you knock on the cream-coloured door. It is opened by a muscular slave, collared, wearing only black latex shorts which define his enormous cock. You are beckoned to enter the Mistress’ abode. You follow the lead of the muscular slave into the Burgundy room. You feel a combination of nervousness and excitement. Upon entering, you set eyes upon the glorious Ms N. - seated on her throne… waiting gracefully. Her demeanour is regal and majestic as she waits in her burgundy velvet-covered throne.

you perceive the surroundings quickly. The room is softly lit with candlelight, musk oils burning, heavy burgundy drapes adorn the windows, a burgundy chesterfield is up against one wall, wooden floor boards with a deep red shag-pile rug in the middle of the room and most importantly, soft music playing. There are three pieces of artwork displayed in varying poses of a naked black Woman with long flowing hair riding her white horse into the wilderness. They are hauntingly beautiful – the artist; kristian rene. Positioned in the middle of the rug is The Throne. At the other end of the wall are four hooks mounted to the wall; two at the top, and two at the bottom. Restraints are attached to each hook, hanging, waiting for use.

Ms N. is wearing a pink corset with black trim which fits her curvaceous figure, her generous breasts are accentuated by the cinched waist of the corset. Her stockinged-covered legs look extremely sensual – you have an overwhelming urge to touch those legs, as you gaze at Her feet encased in black patent stiletto shoes… She looks so noble in her magnificent, feminine and sexy attire… you are totally mesmerised by her beauty, a strong beauty… a beauty to also be fearful of. She smiles but you sense menace beneath the surface.

Her chocolate brown skin, long black curly hair, burgundy painted lips enhanced by her burgundy rimmed glasses do nothing to hide the intensity in her brown eyes. She has a graceful neck, well proportioned shoulders, tapered waist, the fullness of her hips and the exquisite completeness of her long, strong, muscular legs. She is holding her Red Riding Crop like the magnificent sceptre it is… the only thoughts running through your head at this breathtaking moment are that Ms N. is splendid, exquisite and magnificent and that you want to enslaved by this Dominant Woman forever…

Ms N. speaks, quietly,: “show me your respect, show me your reverence, bitch”… you immediately kneel in front of her, head bowed feeling awe, worthlessness and inferiority that you’ve never felt before… you realise at this moment that you are a lowly creature in the presence of such greatness.

****

I am a magnificent and statuesque Woman. I am physically powerful and imposing.

I stand up and walk around you with long, confident strides, inspecting you, pondering whether you are suitable to be part of my stable.

your senses are heightened by my scrutiny – you hear the soft rustling of my Royal attire, the vibration of my firm footsteps through the floor – you wait with bated breath…and wait…

you are wearing a charcoal single-breasted suit which is such inappropriate attire in the presence of Ms N…

I command you remove all your clothing – I say “dog, I want you completely naked, to feel defenseless and vulnerable in my presence” then I lean forward and pinch your left ear lobe extremely hard. you emit a small groan from the burning and painful sensation caused by the pinch. You respond immediately: “yes, Mistress”.

You promptly remove your jacket, pale grey silk tie, white shirt, shoes, sock, trousers and underwear – “oh pussy boy this is such boring and conservative garb!” “Are you this boring in your vanilla workplace”, and you respond “yes, Mistress I am”. I immediately lean forward and pinch your right ear lobe… even harder than the left ear lobe. You almost draw away from me but stop yourself and endure the pain I lavish upon you.

It brings me such pleasure to provide these little inflictions upon your pathetic person. Tell me, boy “do you want to experience more of my attention” – with your ears still smarting from the pinching recently bestowed, your response is prompt – “whatever you think I deserve Ms N. I will readily accept all you give me”.

I smile sardonically. I place my right black patented stiletto heel between your legs and push down on your generous pussy balls. You grunt, then quickly murmur “thank you, Ms N”.

My muscular slave, who has been waiting in the hallway, moves quietly, respectfully, into the Burgundy room to collect and remove your clothing. He leaves, closing the door behind him.

Still in the kneeling position, I move towards you with poise and self-assurance. I lean forward and you smell my favourite perfume, Chanel No. 19. You inhale my scent – both my artificial scent and real scent a deep earthy musk; the combination makes you feel giddy – you have the urge to lean forward and inhale deeply my smell but restrain yourself. You feel my firm but soft hands around your bowed head as I place the black leather studded collar around your neck. Once collared, I connect your leash and tug harshly – you fall forward and push your hands out to stop from falling heavily on the wooden floor boards. I tug you again, swiftly, from the back which almost chokes you… your throat feels a little sore but you do not complain… you dare not complain. You have been collared and leashed and in the presence of Ms N. “Are you ready to serve me, boy?” - you nod.

I gently ring a cow bell which emits a soft jingle and beckons my muscular slave. I command you to stand. The slave encases your large cock and balls with a pink cock ring. As he expertly clasps the ring, I observe your reaction to the intimate touch of the male slave…your cock clit grows slightly… precum leakage glistens around the head of your cock. I lean forward and touch your cock clit head with my perfectly manicured right index finger and collect some precum. I insert my precum-covered finger into your mouth… you gently suck and lick the precum from my finger. I remove my moist finger and wipe off the residue onto your chest.

I gracefully sit back down into my burgundy velvet-covered throne and cross my long, firm legs. I gaze at you… there is a profound quietness… you nervously lick your lips...

The Scene Part 1

He grunted as the riding crop came down on his back for the 40^th time? 70^th time? 100^th time?  His head lagged to the side as he was feeling exhausted from the relentless firm strokes.

His ankles and wrists were in bondage on the St Andrew’s cross.  The leather cuffs held him firmly but comfortably in place.  There was no getting away.  The ball gag was muffling his grunts and moans.  He was fully restrained and feeling every stroke of the crop.  He was hot, and perspiring even though it was a pleasant cool evening.

The crop strokes ceased without warning.  He started.  And, waited for Her to speak.

There was silence.

The music in the background was turned off.

There was quiet movement but otherwise no other sounds.  He lifted his head and turned to see where She was.

He saw her with his peripheral vision, unmoving.  He became nervous because there was no engaging from Her.

At least 15 minutes ticked by… slowly.  Then he heard movement, swoosh, then felt instant, awful, mind numbing pain.  She had kicked him in the balls, from the back.  He screamed into the gag.  His body immediately went limp and if he had not been held in bondage he would have fallen to the floor, in a dead heap.  The pain was immense.  He could not believe She kicked him in his balls.  The Woman was crazy?  This activity was not discussed, and he had not consented to this form of extreme ‘play’.  Well, sure, he signed a contract permitting Her to do whatever she wanted with the exception of knife play, and the usual hard limits that most kinksters were uninterested in participating.

As he is trying to recall the contract he signed, he felt a sharper pain.  His balls were sensitive and stinging, and She kicked him again… harder this time, with the flat of her PVC ankle boots.

He hollered into the gag, and the saliva dribbled from his mouth making his chin and chest sopping wet.  And, not in a good way.

He let the pain engulf him fully until it eventually subsided.  His mind was foggy but it was starting to clear.  

There was silence again.  He trembled.  He wondered what She had in store for him next.  Before he could finish that thought, his whole body was drenched in ice cold water… freezing water She had thrown over him.  His body actually reacted violently with such coldness enveloping his heated body.  He heard Her chuckle.

He knew She was watching.  He felt Her presence.  She remained quiet after that initial chuckle.

10 minutes had passed.  Then he heard her rummaging around in her Impact Case.

He was nervous.  What was to follow next…

His skin felt the sting of her rubber flogger.  She was relentless in her application of the steady strokes.  Wet skin, rubber flogger, firm control.  She beat him for a constant 30 minutes.  He felt himself floating after ten minutes, and felt no more pain.  Just warmth.  

The flogging eventually ceased.  He was relieved.  He finally caught his breath and leaned his face against the Cross embracing the coolness of the wood.

He heard rustling somewhere in the dungeon.

Oh no… he felt goosebumps on his arms.

Then he felt needle-like pricks on his back.  He was unsure what the instrument was she was using.  She whispered in his ear… meet my friend, the 7-wheeled Wartenberg Wheel.  

She applied the wheel all over his red, tender back and if it wasn’t for the restraints he would have run away, perhaps scampered away would be a better description.  The needle-like pricks of the wheel were unpleasant.  He felt blood trickling down his back.  He accepted the intensity of the scene, and floated away for a while.  His body slumped against the Cross and he endured the gift She was imparting upon him.  20 minutes went by and the wheel action stopped.

Relief?

Not so.  

An application of a creamy substance was applied to his back.  Why was she wearing gloves? He thought what a generous Woman to care for him in such a nurturing manner.  Something to soothe all the soreness away.  

Then he felt the slow embrace of a cold-hot sensation generating from the cream applied, and started to squirm frantically.  Actually, he was feeling panic.

Icy Hot.

He heard Her sit down in her Throne.

The sensation of the Icy Hot was such an awful sensation coupled with the product entering into the pinprick wounds on his back.  He couldn’t believe what he had got himself into.  He thought the planned scene was purely impact – nothing else.  Damn that contract he signed…

And, he was still in bondage on the Cross… no escape.  What was next?  Nipple clamps...?

She

She is behind him. Above him.

He can feel her hands on his lower back. They are warm, but he shivers anyway.

He tries to contain his movement. He wants so badly to please her.

There are clamps on the fleshy bit where his scrotum meets his body. They hurt. They are relentless. No matter how hard he tries to ignore the pain, it is always waiting in the wings for him to lower his guard.

That's why he likes the hand. The hand feels so good.

He's tired. She's been doing this for a long time. His arms and knees ache. He trembles a little from his growing exhaustion. The clamps hurt so much.

That's why he likes her hand. The soft, commanding touch that turns his mind away from his hardships. His thoughts lean into that touch as the hand traces down his back. His nerves, drink up the sensation. It fills his mind, even though he knows that's a bad idea. He knows he should resist, because as soon as she can feel his senses open completely...

Crack! She spanks him. It's a hard blow, one that no doubt purples his already reddened skin. And the second that pain leaves, the clamps are in his mind, mocking him, breaking him. He doesn't feel the strength to fight them much longer.

He wants so badly to please her. He loves her so much.

He begins to whimper from the pain.

She coos to him and resumes stroking his bottom. He must have taken thirty such blows by now, and his ass must have been marked, even with only her bare hand. She hits very hard.

He can't see any of this. He is always to look straight ahead. He learned that the hard way. The marks he received in the process weren't made with her hand, and took two weeks to fully disappear. On his hands and knees, he looks ahead unless she says otherwise. "I'm giving you the gift of my touch," she said when teaching him, "you should be happy with that alone." She struck him with a cane between each every word.

So he can't see her now. He can't see her eyes. He can't see her face. He uses her eyes like a lighthouse to guide him through a perilous darkness. Her look of pleasure is his magnetic north.

The pain from the clamps is winning. He feels like he’s going to cry. Worse, they have been on for a very long time. He knows that they long ago starved the relevant nerves of blood, numbing them out. He knows when the clamps come off, and the nerves wake up, that the pain he feels then will be far worse. The idea conjures such real terror, that he bites his tongue to hold in his safeword.

He crams his mind into the inch of his flesh under her fingertip.

One hand becomes two. One on his lower back, and one gently brushing the head of his cock.

The hands feel good, so good.

He wants so badly to please her.

And then the hand on his back is gone, and he feels the rush of air as she makes her backswing.

He flinches, trembling with fear.

But the blow never comes.

And then her face comes into view. She is smiling. His heart swells.

"How are we doing, little boy?"

He whimpers, just managing to hold back an open cry. "It hurts Mistress."

"You're doing very well, you're making me so proud, so happy..." She places a finger under his chin, lifting him to his knees. As his hands come free, she catches one and feeds it into her panties. He can feel the dampness within. His cock twitches as she finishes her thought "... So wet."

He takes a deep sharp breath as his lust fills him.

"So, can we keep going?"

He wants very badly to stop. He feels so weak. He hurts, and he wants to stop hurting. But she's smiling. He loves her smile.

"Yes, Mistress, if it pleases you."

Her smile, her eyes, they turn sinister, covetous, malevolent. She whispers in his ear, her hand sliding under his belly to touch his cock. "Good, because I don't want to stop until there's nothing left of you."

Without warning, she yanks off the clamps.

The agony is like a bomb going off in his head. He seizes up, going tense, and then as limp as a rag doll. He collapses to the floor. He shudders in pain, and tears begin to roll down his face.

"I love you, Mistress,” comes his plea for mercy.

She merely smiles, stroking him as his spasms subside.

"There there, little boy. Catch your breath so we can start again."

She looks down at the broken boy below her, searching out the next tender spot for her clamps.

The Pleasure – the slave

The slave whispered “to give YOU my submission, Mistress”.

The slave had been searching for a power exchange relationship for a very long time but had failed so he sought out vanilla women who were strong-willed.  He would have his kinky sex with them but was not satisfied for too long.  He continued his search knowing someone was out there to satiate his yearnings.

He came across the Mistress on a site.  He watched her, observed her interactions and proceeded to make contact.

The slave was fair haired, fair complexioned, and muscular.  He was a quiet soul but was opinionated when required.

The Mistress and the slave negotiated a scene… an extreme scene which would last all day.  Safe words, signals, activities were discussed at length during the negotiations and both parties understood what was being sought.

His arms and hands were beautifully sculpted, his thighs were strong and lean.  The slave’s nipples were always protruding and just yearning to touched in many ways.

Part of the negotiation discussions included various types of activities the slave would like to experience.  They were degradation and humiliation play, strap on fucking, restraint and blood play. 

The slave’s cock was average size, firm and very pretty.  The Mistress looked forward to torturing it later in the day.

His arse was nicely shaped but needed to firm up a little more.  Some arse exercises would be placed on his training program.  She looked forward to fucking that sweet piece in time.  She had a feeling he was one slutty bitch who yearned her cock.

The Mistress’ primary interest for this slave was to enslave him totally.  However, this plan would take time as she perceived a stubbornness in his face and knew it would take a long while for him to give his full submission.  She was in no rush… she had a few years to truly enslave him.

His body was V-shaped.  Stunning.  A prime specimen of a male.  He kept himself fit and well, and was single-minded in whatever he put his mind to.  She liked this type of male but he was a rare specimen, and not many males like him crossed her path often.  He was going to be a challenge but she was patient. 

The slave was chained to the brick wall and was very aware of Mistress’ presence and his heart  pounded so fast. The precum he was creating was dripping, almost too much to bear, but he remained as calm as possible because it was going to be long day for him, and the Mistress.  He needed the energy to endure for this magnificent Woman.  The rising excitement was almost too much tolerate.

His mouth and lips were deep pink and generous, and the scent he exuded was earthy masculine.  His eyes were, at varying times, either a cold or warm blue depending on what was going on within him.  At the moment, they were soft and warm. 

The Mistress leant forward and placed her hand under his chin, and lifted his face to hers, she smelt of Chanel No. 19 and musk.  A delectable combination.  She spoke quietly “slave, are you ready for your journey?”.  “Yes, Mistress Neta”.

The Pleasure - The Mistress

A visual of the Mistress.  She is 5’6”, solid figure but strongly feminine, in the way she holds herself and the energy that envelops her.  She is confident but demure.  She is not afraid to speak when required.  In fact she tends to hold back often as she can hurt others’ feelings with her acerbic tongue and so prefers not to take the route unless its warranted.

She is an ebony-skinned Woman.  She has chocolate brown skin with blemishes, scars and stretch marks on parts of her body which are indicators that her journey in this Life has been tough.  She is proud of her appearance, and this manifests itself in the way she walks, talks and interacts with others.  She has reached her 50s now and still she attracts males of all ages.  At times, she is surprised at the numerous males who gravitate towards her for all sorts of reasons.  Her colour, her appearance, her confidence, her body, her breasts, her legs, her energy, her age, her persona, her sexiness, her dominance, her maternal side, to fuck her. 

She has curly black hair, shoulder length, which is now flecked with grey, giving her an elegance that is natural.  She wears it mostly in a bun or pony tail. 

The Mistress entered the BDSM world 7 years ago.  And took to it like a ‘duck to water’ or a ‘guinea pig to grass’..  She was in high demand and did consider becoming a Pro Domme but decided it was not her way… she preferred to enjoy males for her pleasure NOT so much for theirs.  It took her a while to find her feet in this complex, layered world of Kink.  She travelled interstate to meet other Kinksters and connect with submissives and slaves.  It was an interesting time although not as satisfying as she initially thought.  Many of the males were too tame for her.

The Mistress had strong features, beautiful kind brown eyes and the most beautiful smile with gorgeous white teeth.  Her laughter was infectious and loud.  Her voice was audible and distinctive due to her accent and audibility.  People recognised her voice…everywhere.

She was older now and her energy was focussed on many activities in her life but she would always have time to fulfil her kinks.

Besides her loyal submissive, she liked to taste other boys at times.  She liked handsome males… yes, she was superficial when it came to males she wanted to hurt.  Looks were important to her coupled with a sense of humour and a degree of high intelligence.  If males did not engage her properly, she would dismiss them.  It was rare for males to truly engage her and this would only occur if they studied her profile and interactions around groups and discussions.  If males approached and were only interested in a spank and then sex… she dismissed them.  The Mistress chose who she wanted to fuck, and was very selective about who she would allow to touch her.  Many males had tried; most failed.

The Mistress loathed arrogance, and cock-sure males although she was fine with a little cheekiness.

This Mistress had a body that would have been described as a “brick house” back in the day.  She was evenly proportioned, even as she aged and her body expanded, she still remained the 'hourglass' shape.  Her breasts were generous sized although not as perky any more, her waist had expanded but was still curvaceous, her arse was medium-sized and firm.  She looked striking for a Woman in her fifties!

Her lips were full and luscious, her eyes glinted often with amusement, with nurturing, with fire, and with love.  They are expressive eyes and usually inform the observer of how she is feeling at that moment… if she allows them to see her inner feelings.

Today, she was wearing a red and white floral dress.  The top part of it was tight fitting and clung to her breasts, waist and stomach like a stocking, and from the waist down the skirt part, flaired.  Very womanly, very feminine, very sexy.  She wore 6 inch black, silver studded heels with painted burgundy toenail polish.  A very effective and powerful vision for the slave who was chained to the wall.  A spectacular vision.

Her hair was worn out, black, curly wild afro.  The Mistress wears glasses.  She hardly wore make up, occasionally mascara and dark eyeshadow.  Today, only mascara, and blood red lipstick. 

As she towered above her slave, and he looked up at her, he noted she had her leather handcuff bracelet on her right wrist as she always did in every scene she conducted, or event she attended.  She was also grasping her red riding crop and had her favourite delcrin cane was leaning against her throne.  A vision, and a powerful presence emanating from her being.  She smiled as she spoke softly but firmly to the slave, “whore, why are you here?”...