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.
"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
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.