mark 2

There are some moments in the life of being a slave, even a part-time, long-distance slave, that are simply unforgettable...that one simply turns over and dreams about again and again.

It had been 2.5 long months since i had last seen my Mistress and She had arranged for a very long session in the hired dungeon space in London. We/we arrived at the play space on a bright sunny warm July morning and after being given time to undress and adjust to the austere environment, i had assumed my taught slave position, naked, kneeling, head on the floor, collar on with my Owner's dog tags and most of all, trying to be patient.

She always seems to make me wait for Her presence, giving me the time to think, anticipate and yes, be afraid, but also to once again regain the trust required to simply obey, accept and submit to Her superior will and force. my breathing, at first erratic, gradually calms and steadies. i wonder whether i can live up to Her high expectations of me, but deep down i know that somehow i will and somehow She will not push me to where i cannot go. My Mistress already knows me very well. It’s as though She can read my mind at times.

And then, the reverie stops as She appears behind me, Her weight on my kneeling torso, Her long finger-nails piercing my large and already erect womanly nipples.

i am told to stand at attention and step in to a body bag... something i've never experienced before in my many years of BDSM play. Of course, i immediately obey and assist in the process and soon i am encased in leather, completely constrained. After Mistress puts a slave hood on me and has inserted a gag, leaving me with only a nose hole to breathe through, i am instructed to trust Her and let my body fall backward and She will guide me to the floor. She comforts me that this will be okay but i am totally trusting without the need for assurance in the least about this.

Once i am prone and completely immobilized on the floor of the dungeon room, i'm left for a moment or two i suppose to comprehend my powerlessness and vulnerability. Then She returns and i feel Her open the zipper and pull my cock and balls out which are then totally exposed. Almost immediately, i experience hot searing pain on my cock and balls the exact source of which i cannot identify.

Gradually, my slave brain comes to realize the pain is hot candle wax something i had experienced many times before but clearly dripped from much higher up hence giving the wax time to cool. As the first layer of wax forms a membrane of protection, the subsequent drops feel warm and almost comforting.

But then Her hands are forcefully pinching, plucking the wax off at least i think and the severe pain is renewed. While experiencing this, i try to tolerate the pain quietly but cannot and groan loudly into my hood and through my gag, the sounds largely muffled. Mistress then opens the bag to expose my nipples and electrodes are attached to them and my cock, making me moan to the increased and decreased pulses and vibrations.

She laughs quietly and confidently, the sound of Mistress in complete control of Her subject with total assurance of Her slave's submission. my torture continues for some time until She then releases me from my enclosure and i am allowed to serve Her tea and breakfast, being careful to kneel in Her presence and i too am allowed to drink and eat.

i am no masochist and i know that the beating is soon to come, interspersed with anal training, stretching to prepare me one day to be Her complete and total bitch. The pain from Her favorite belt, after my bottom is warmed by lengthy spanking, is great but manageable and i once again... as numerous times before... allow myself to hope that this is my punishment for the infractions committed in our time apart.

But i should know better. There is one absolute and hard and fast rule with Mistress Fhionna... no matter what, my punishment book will be emptied and redeemed on every visit, no matter the amount, and always by the cane. Mistress pities me by not allowing me to deceive myself for long and quickly instructs me to mount the punishment bed, my head and arms are locked in the stocks at the end of the bed, my body fastened down with heavy leather straps. The searing pain from the cane comes in waves and Master targets the virgin flesh of my upper thighs as She enjoys, even revels in, marking me there. These new and fresh marks will last for weeks and be a daily reminder of my happy, eager servitude.

Thank you my Owner.