Six Things to Know about Mistress Margot
I always captured his wimpy little cock first. "Ready to be punished, slut?" I asked, as I tightened the leather strap around his cock and balls.
"Yes, Mistress. Thank You, Mistress," he whispered, gritting his jaw. The broad strap was set with sharp studs inside, like a Kali's Teeth Bracelet. I pulled it tighter, and he whimpered. His cock got stiffer as the pain grew. The harder My ex-husband got, the more the teeth would dig into his cock. It hurt, oh it hurt, but he just couldn't help getting aroused by all the painful and humiliating things I was doing to him.
"Thank You, Mistress," he whispered.
I hung jingly little bells from his nipple rings. They chimed merrily as he writhed in humiliation. Every time he flinched, every time he moved, they would betray his failure to hold position. He couldn't hope to hide his disobedience from Me.
He moaned a little as I locked the padded leather cuffs around his wrists and ankles. He knew that I was putting him in bondage so he could endure a longer, harder session than usual. The bondage was for his sake, a mercy I granted him in My wicked wisdom.
Then I fastened him to a spanking bench. The bench was broad enough to be comfortable, narrow enough that I'd have access to both nipples. I loved seeing him in that position: bent over with ass in the air, knees spread, wrists and ankles fastened firmly. He was so open and vulnerable, so ready to be used for My pleasure. His ass was open, the sweet crinkled rosebud eager to be filled. His poor little cock, purple with arousal, strained against the spiked grip of the leather strap.
Nearby hung the impact implements I loved: several single tails and riding crops; floggers in every weight and material from soft and thuddy deer hide to stingy rubber; narrow, whippy canes of flexible Delrin and rigid canes of steel or carbon fiber; paddles with and without holes; leather straps in lengths from six inches to two feet; hairbrushes, leather rug-beaters, even a heavy knotted rope that left delightful bruises. An antique dentist's cabinet with innumerable little drawers held weights, enema equipment, capsaicin cream, clamps, Wartenberg wheels, medical toys, and dildos. Plus lube, of course. I was a cruel and sadistic Mistress, but also a caring one.
"Now I'll slip on the blindfold. If I'm really feeling cruel, I might gag you as well." As I fitted the cock gag into his mouth, I could hear his nipple bells ringing—the poor little slut was shaking in desire and terror.
I stroked his back gently, lovingly. "Now you're helpless, utterly open to My hands and teeth and will. You never know what might come next."
Despite the cock gag, he smiled gratefully.
Games Sadists Play: Name That Cane!
The blindfolded submissive has to correctly name the cane currently leaving welts on his ass. Correct answers are rewarded with a lengthy paddling. Incorrect answers result in punishment.
The Submissive's Pleasure Matters, Too
My idea of sensual sadism is to lick your nipples as I bite them. The flicking tongue, the vicious teeth. Unbearable pleasure and delicious torment.
When I am Dommeing you, I want to subject you to My will. That may mean expecting you to hold position while I slowly squeeze and twist your scrotum or while I run My nails over the unbearably sensitive surface of your glans. Or it may mean making every decision, ordering for you in a restaurant, choosing when and how you may relieve yourself. If I tell you to wet your pants, I expect to see you sitting in a puddle.
On the Way to the Horse Show
When I was 30, I took my newest lover to the Devon Horse Show. Under his clothes I had him locked into a chastity device. A remote-controlled vibrator was in his ass. In the car going there, I promised him a delightfully kinky day.
"I don't see the point," he whined. "Can't we stay home and fuck?"
With a stern glance, I said, "You will be punished for that."
"Have you ever watched a dressage event? Or show jumpers? Or even a horse race?"
"No. A couple of times I've watched the Kentucky Derby on TV, and once I went on a carriage ride in Central Park. Oh, and those Clydesdales in the beer commercials. I kind of like those. That's about it for horses." He shrugged. "Not a big thing in Pittsburgh."
"They are important to Me, and you do want to please Me, don't you?" I reached across the gearshift and squeezed his balls through the fabric of his trousers. He squirmed delightfully. I stroked him teasingly, and a wet spot appeared on his fly. His sweet little cock was drooling already.
We settled into the excellent (and expensive) seats I'd made him purchase. I wanted to be close to the action—close enough so he could feel the excitement of the event. Instead of seeing horses as a small image on a TV screen, he would be close enough to be impressed by the half ton of bone and muscle and will. Close enough to realize that these huge creatures, so beautiful, fast, and strong, could easily crush a human. Nevertheless they obeyed the rider. And they seemed to like it; they were happier under the whip. All that power, all that grace, completely under the control of a slim rider's hands, knees, and heels—and a few strips of steel and leather.
During the events I explained what was happening: how points were scored, how the rider controlled the horse with subtle signals from her knees, heels, and hands.
"It must take lots of training," he said.
"Now you're starting to get it." I rewarded his insight with quick flicks of the remote controller, buzzing deep in his ass. After all, I wanted him to enjoy it just as I did, and I find that men are easily trained with a system of rewards and punishments.
By the time the show was over, he was starting to understand My fascination with the horse world. He stood still to be harnessed and saddled, and lifted his hoofs one by one. I looked deep into his eyes as I buckled the cheek strap. He whinnied in gratitude when I slid the bit into his mouth. And then I slowly, teasingly, inserted the tail.
The longer I leave a man in chastity, the sweeter and more obedient he grows. If I really want to be kind, I'll allow him to lick My pussy for an hour every night. That should be enough sexual stimulation for any man. When I'm finally ready to let him come, I'll fuck his ass with a strap-on until he's dying to ejaculate. Then I'll milk him with a vibrating cock ring, stopping just as he starts to spurt. It relieves the urge to come without giving him the satisfaction of a full orgasm. I wouldn't want him to get cocky, would I?