|
 To keep the Mistress waiting is always
offensive. Peter would understand what it meant to waste my
time.He would feel the bite of my cane to the brink of his endurance
and perhaps beyond.
 Peter knelt naked before me in Salon Kitty's main
dungeon, his head
hung low, I sensed Peter knew I was not pleased.
"What time is it Peter?" I inquired.
"I think it's about 7.20 Mistress", replied Peter
matter-factly with
his head still hung low.
"Oh really? It is in fact 7.40 slave", my brow
raised incredulous at
his ignorance.
He had arrived at 6.45, the session was to commence at 7
and he had managed to spend near an hour in the bath room.
"Explain to me slave why it has taken you so exceedingly long to ready
yourself for your Mistress?"
Peter raised his head to answer.
"Keep your head down slave", I barked.
"Sorry Mistress", apologised Peter his head
snapped back into its
downwards position.
I stepped forward and grabbed a handful of the
slave's hair and jerked
his head back.
"LOOK AT ME", I commanded.
 He met my penetrating gaze and within an instant
his eyes began to
dilate as he fell into submission.
"Slave, not only have you kept me waiting, an
offense I meet with
disdain, but did I ask you to raise your head to answer?"
"No, you didn't Mistress. I am sorry", he
whimpered.
With his head still jerked back hard, I raised my
arm fully above my
head and then let my open-hand make contact fast with his cheek.
SLAP.
"Now keep your disrespectful head down and
your filthy mouth
shut", I demanded.
Irritated I then moved toward the well-equipped
implement board and
gathered a posture collar, a leash, wrist restraints and a chrome
leg-spreader.
"You are going to understand what is means to
disrespect me slave", I assured him.
 I threw the implements, minus the posture collar
and leash, at my now
grovelling slave and ordered him to fit the restraints and leg-spreader
and to stand with his head tilted down. He quickly obeyed and stood
nervously in front of me with his legs forced apart by the spreader. I
fastened the posture collar tight around his neck, ordered him onto
all fours and clipped the leash onto the collar. I forced his face down
to my boots.
 "Now kiss them slave, prove your worthiness with
your mouth and don't
slobber", I insisted.
And so my slave kissed and licked every square
millimeter of my leather
boots until his mouth was dry, a vain effort indeed, an attempt to
redeem himself, but I was not softened by his efforts.
 "Now get up", I yanked sharply on the leash.
"Move the flogging bench into the center of the
dungeon slave", I
ordered, a task made more difficult by the posture collar and leg
spreader. While he completed the assigned task, I chose myself 3 canes,
one thin, one thick and one the 'Supreme Empress' of canes with its 5cm
circumference, my favorite.
"Bend over the bench slave, you are about to
receive a flogging to
remember," I threatened.
 My slaves
compliance was without hesitation, a
further and futile
attempt to save himself from my punitive action. I fastened both his
wrists and the cuffs of the leg spreader tightly to the eyelets of the
the flogging bench and fed the leash through the legs of the flogging
bench and attached the leash to the middle of the leg spreader bar.
With his comfort minimal and his face reddened from the pressure of the
posture collar, I collected the thin cane and began.
The first bite of the thin cane bit hard into his
pale buttocks. He
flinched, but remained silent. Then in rapid succession came the
second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth and tenth.
Not so much as a peep from his submissive lips did he utter, just a
jerking flinch with each cut. I stood back to admire my work. Ten thin
welts, how pleased I felt at his level of silent submission and the
acceptance of his punishment.
"Very good slave", I commended.
"However, that was just the warm up", I grinned a
wicked grin. 
Quickly I commissioned the thicker cane, a warm sensation moved over my
whole being, how I loved to cane a grown man's rump. The relentless
pressure from the posture collar caused the slaves face to glow red,
redder in fact than his arse. I remedied this immediately with a
further 10 full-blooded cuts with my thicker cane. My slaves silence and virtual stillness was spectacular.
 However sweat beads had
gathered in profusion on his forehead. He was notably uncomfortable, his
breathing rapid, his eyes pleading for release. However freedom would
not be his until he had felt the savagery of the 'Supreme Empress' of
canes. Terror now filled his eyes at the sight of this massive
implement.
"And now for the finale slave. Ten of the best
from the 'Empress'
herself", I announced with a gleeful lilt to my voice. I grew ecstatic
as I cradled the 'Empress' on my upturned palms. Such
an exquisite cane, so beautifully weighted, such a perfect length, her
smoothness, her strength, her diabolical cuts of cruelty. I closed my
eyes, drew deeply of breath and allowed my tongue-moistened lips to
caress her magnificence.
I then pushed the cane to the
slaves lips and
ordered him to kiss the
'Empress' as a symbol of his respect and obedience, a duty he performed
both humbly and deftly.
I repositioned myself and questioned, "Slave do
you submit yourself
mercilessly and silently to the 'Empress' as a punishment for your
disrespect and tardiness?".
"Yes Mistress, I do", he complied.
And with that I drew the 'Empress' up high above
my head pointing
directly to the heavens, then down she smashed onto the already heavily
welted crimson flesh. The slave jerked and thrashed fitfully against
the storm that broke upon him. His silence however was impressive, most
men would crumble in the tempest. Again and again the 'Empress' made
her mark, until my appetite were satisfied and blood had been spilt.
I released the whimpering slave from his bonds,
satisfied he had
learned his lesson, then dismissed him quickly. He had already wasted
enough of my time.
|
