It was quite a few months ago now, but i stiil remember spending a considerable amount of time gleaning through the various pages of Mistress’ website and being most impressed by the huge effort She had obviously gone to in order to present Her services. The integrity imbedded into each page was not to be denied. It was that one fact that led me to make the initial contact.
And then there was Her Personal Ethics page. The standards She sets Herself in this page would, for most people, be almost unattainable. But Mistress does. Right from the very start it slowly became apparent that She lived these statements like they were Her creed.
Previous experiences in my life had taught me to value, and indeed seek out, a first experience. If i have the opportunity i will often do all that i can to make sure such an experience is as good as i can make it, but sometimes you don’t have such an opportunity and you just have to sit back, take it all in, and let it flow over you. This was the case now.
There i sat in the corner of the dungeon where Mistress was carrying out a public flogging on one of Her servants. Awesome as the display was, by the time Mistress was finished, the experience would have a profound and privileged meaning to me. It was a great gathering and i had been invited to accompany Mistress for the evening, after having been subjected to Her ministrations in Her own dungeon only a couple of days before. When i think back on it, i am very much tempted to think that the staging of these two very similar events, using almost identical instruments was all part of Mistress’ very subtle and diabolical plan to further my education.
As testament to the dedication to Her craft one need look no further than Mistress’ collection of percussive instruments. These instruments are not just tools to do the job at hand. Judging from the quality, price, from whence they came, and who made them (sometimes on a commission), Mistress puts a lot of time into Her equipment and is obviously, and justifiably, very proud of Her collection. Her latest additions are an original “Lochgelly Tawse” and an identical pair of floggers that She calls “Adira’s Twins”.
At the start of my session She led me over to the wall of Her dungeon, where She has all Her corporal punishment instruments displayed, and promptly began to make Her selections. “Let Me see”, She says in that soft and penetrating tone, and with that menacing smirk that i have become so used to. “Shall W/we try this one?” Her hand lands on the Dragon’s Tongue as Her eyes drill straight through to the back of my head. She places it on the whipping bench conveniently placed next to Her. (Like i was about to say no – not) “Oh. W/we can’t forget this one, can W/we?” as Her hand lands on the Devil’s Tongue and She places it next to the Dragon, all the while looking me straight in the eye and with that menacing smirk.
i had been flogged and caned by Mistress on previous occasions, so by now it had become apparent that i was in for more of the same. i also expected that She would stop making Her selections when She had about five implements arranged on the bench. But with Mistress, having such expectations rarely come even close to the truth. In the end there must have been some 15 or so evil instruments on display. And no mean selection it was. (Actually, it looked very mean.) Apart from the “Two Tongues” there was the Lochgelly tawse, “Adira’s Twins”, Her personal pet, the zebra flogger, the horsehair flogger, the rubber flogger, the buffalo flogger, the elk flogger, and an assortment of canes, rods, and crops, and the vampire gloves. Was She just trying to freak me out or did She plan on using them all? No point thinking about it really. Mistress was going to do what Mistress was going to do, and She was not being very forthcoming on what that might be.
As She strung me up, and placed a spreader bar between my ankles, a deep forboding started to settle in the bottom part of my stomach. As She paced around me adjusting the mirror and putting the final touches to Her preparation, i could almost hear Her humming happily, if not a little smugly, to Herself. (i think she was humming “Always look on the bright side of life.”) And then. Out of nowhere. CRACK. The elk hide flogger met its target between my shoulder blades. i suck in my breath. It hurt alright, but it was more the shock of the first blow that focussed me on the immediate event.
“Are W/we good to go, boy?” The second blow was upon me before i finished responding with “Yes Mistress.” For the next hour i was subjected to the most wonderful bout of corporal punishment that i have ever undergone. Make no mistake, though. It hurts. But being able to see Mistress’ smile in the mirror as She was doing Her thing was a joy to behold and made my suffering a downright pleasure.
There is also the fact that Mistress spends a lot of time looking after Her diet and excercising each day. This not only reflects in Her grace, beauty, and imposing presence but also accounts for Her wonderful sense of physical coordination. Watching Her in the mirror was just like reading good poetry. i felt like She was my dance partner, only She was doing the leading.
Every stroke was calculated in intensity and in unison with those to come. From the starting warm up, i was steadily taken up the face of the first wave, and right on the crest the intensity would fall away to a point somewhere above the previous low point where it would be maintained for a couple of minutes. And then, using a different mix of instruments, the intensity would build again. Each wave had its own surprise. There was the vampire glove. There was the flogging of my genitals. There were the stings of the riding crop. There was the absolutely vicious sting from a fall of one of the “Twins”, and there was also the single tail from the other “Twin”. There was the thud of the rubber flogger, and then there was the very solid, bone shuddering, collisions from the tongues. There was nothing dainty about any of these. They were all a challenge. But what a wonderful experience. To watch Mistress in the mirror, doing her ritual dance, and Her smile interchanging with Her earnest concentration, would have to be one of life’s greatest pleasures. So wonderful to know that Mistress is truly enjoying Herself. If the reader ever goes this way with Mistress, be sure to watch Her in the mirror. It will make your journey so much more pleasant and fullfilling.
i had also noticed that very little attention had been put into the canes and rods, and the Lochgelly tawse had not been touched. It also looked like the flogging had come to an end. Was i to escape the torment of these remaining implements? Think again boy. Not two minutes after being released from the ropes used for my flogging, Mistress was busy tying me firmly, and face up, on the bondage table. my genitals were lashed firmly to the ring in the collar around my neck and, with my feet close together and my knees open, the latter were pulled down flush with the table surface, effectively making the very top of my inner thighs more openly exposed than the last time Mistress used me to entertain Herself in this way.
Mistress was on a roll now and it soon became apparent that She was planning on using my inner thighs as a canvas for the artistic placement of bruises. She reaches for one of the canes and takes up a position on my right hand side. She then focuses on a spot just below my testicles and smooths it tenderly with Her left hand for a few moments, and then withdraws it. With Her right hand, the tip of the cane is placed on the chosen spot and the faint smile on Mistress’s face is replaced with an expression of utmost focus and concentration. Nothing is said for perhaps 30 seconds, and then it comes.
“Are you ready boy?”
“Yes Mistress” comes the reply. Not five seconds elapse before that familiar deep set, niggling little buzzing sting quickly begins its boiling, oozing, rage on its way to the surface of my inner thigh. Mistress withdraws the cane and immediately drops Her head to within 20 cms of ground zero in order to witness the arrival of Her first marks. Her soothing hand also returns and a minute later, having made Her decision on where the next blow will land, and what it will look like, She stands upright and pretty soon i hear the next:
“Are you ready boy?”
i think Mistress placed 26 strokes on my thighs during this part of the session. Each one was measured and each one had a small ritual of its own. Both cane and tawse were used. W/we didn’t talk much, but i did have the most profound feeling of a lasting and unspoken understanding establishing itself between the two of U/us. The physical results were excruciatingly painful, but the experience itself can only be described as pure bliss. In my experience, when events such as this become this intense, the difference between physical and spiritual blur into one and that was how i was experiencing this.
i knew this session had come to a close when Mistress started applying the staccato rythm of Her riding crop to my tightly bound cherries. When my defense mechanisms kick in, under such circumstances, i tend to break into a loud laughter. i think Mistress knows this (i suppose She does now) and uses it to “Top me up”, just before i slide into my own little space.
The session a few days later was very similar in many ways. Only this time i was not the recipient. This time i had an opportunity to separate the trees from the woods, and while my last session with Mistress had taken me to places in my mind that i had only suspected of existence, i was now about to be moved up another notch.
i was present when Mistress made Her selection of which implements she would take with Her to the gathering. She did feign doubt about what to take, but when i saw that the eventual collection was almost identical to what She had used on me a couple of days before, i suspect that this feigned doubt was all a part of a subtle plan that was to unfold over four or five days.
As Mistress had interacted with me, She was now doing the same with her servant woobieman. They were awesome to watch together, and they were both awesome in their own right. Mistress was not just giving woobieman a good thrashing. They were both playing to each other. They too were dancing, just like i had done with Mistress a few days before. Now i could tune in to their various exchanges, be they verbal, or perhaps even telepathic. Perhaps woobieman would deny this, but part of this dance was also feeling when Mistress was smiling and when she was concentrating, so one thing is for sure, when i am subjected to such a scenario again, i will know, and that is surely good for the mutual understanding between Mistress and myself.
i was soon to realize that watching such a scenario in a mirror does have serious limitations. You can’t see what is going on directly behind you or on your blind side, and it takes a willed concentration to break the intense euphoria of the moment to observe your surroundings.
i went through a whole range of emotions while observing this activity. At first i was thinking, “i’ve been there and i can do that”, and, upon reflection, i was arrogantly thinking “I am the king”. Then, about half way through the flogging, although there was no way of comparing the effort that Mistress was putting into each stroke, i was thinking that perhaps i wasn’t so good and that woobieman was probably doing a whole lot better with this than i was. That thought brought me down a peg or two. i certainly was not the king anymore.
And then woobieman blew me away. After Mistress had finished giving him a thorough flogging he turns around to Her and says “i am feeling a bit uneven. Can i have a caning too please Mistress?” Mistress was not backward with Her positive response, and after the negotiated 30 strokes was begun, woobieman was not entirely happy and set about re-negotiating the number to 80 strokes. he was not successful in this and Mistress called it quits at about 50, most of which had been done in sets of about 6.
i now also realize that this is not a competition, but to me, this experience was jaw droppingly awesome. When my analytical mind takes into account the fact that i had happily taken the inner thigh caning, instead of a caning on the backside, i can only say that my experience was just as intense as woobieman’s. i strongly suspect that woobieman’s trial was heavier than mine, and that the only person who really knows the truth on that is Mistress. And i am sure that Mistress will never tell either of us.
Whichever way it goes, i am totally happy with that. This is about fulfillment, not winning.