My Life with Mistress Veronica

My Life with Mistress Veronica

Chapter I : A Sudden Change of Roles

January 4, Wednesday: It was raining hard, and I stayed inside my house watching an incredible bondage movie featuring a tall, beautiful, totally naked brunette whose hands were stretched so high above her head that her feet barely touched the carpet. The girl\'s breasts were perfectly exposed, round and shapely, not too big. And she was gagged, so all you could hear was her little moans and shrieks as the whip hit her. You could tell by the way the bound girl twisted and arched her body that she really enjoyed the attention she was getting. It wasn\'t her first time.


The dominatrix aimed the whip perfectly, and it skated across the girl\'s breasts in alternation, making them bounce from the impact of the leather. The whipping lasted fifteen minutes. Believe me, I timed it on the DVD player. The dominatrix concentrated on the bound girl\'s breasts, methodically whipping right and left, back and forth, two lashes on the right breast, then two on the left. Then she would stop and caress the bound girl\'s breasts. But after this very brief interlude, she\'d step back and whip the girl some more She also whipped the girl\'s back, her ass, and her thighs in the same methodical way. I used the slow motion and freeze frame functions to study how the whip would slap into the bound girl\'s breasts so hard that the rosy flesh would bounce seductively. This sequence got me so excited that I took off for the Dungeon even though it was raining very hard. I knew just the submissive I wanted to tie up like that. What I didn\'t know was that my role would be harshly reversed, and I would soon be in the same position as the bound and helpless girl.


At the Dungeon, I asked to see Veronica whom I remembered as a tall, beautiful, brunette submissive. She\'d been working at the Dungeon for a year and a half. I will always remember the first time I saw her because it made me feel the way Dante must have felt when he got his first glimpse of Beatrice. Veronica was walking in front of some lucky client, leading him to a dungeon. She was wearing black high heels, black stockings, garter belt, panties and a skimpy black bra that highlighted the curves of her breasts as well as her incredibly white skin. She was so beautiful, that after she had gone down the hall--where I imagined her client was already enjoying himself ordering her to strip and then tying her up--I went back to the front desk and asked for her name. "Veronica," the receptionist replied. I said politely that I would wait as long as it took for the next available session with Veronica. She was a fantastic submissive at the Dungeon, and I had always enjoyed tying her up and gently using a crop and a flogger on her nipples and breasts while she moaned and twisted from side to side.


But it had been nearly three months since I\'d had a session with Veronica and things had changed. On this rainy January day, when I inquired at the front desk, I was told "Veronica does mainly dominant sessions now." I was stunned, as if someone had slapped me. Nevertheless, I very much desired to see her.


In a few minutes, Mistress Veronica walked out, led me to a dungeon, and in a quick, businesslike interview, informed me that if I wanted a session with her I would have to accept that she was totally in control and she would decide what to do and when to do it. She would spank, whip, and clamp me just as she pleased. She was still as beautiful as ever, but there was a stern poise about her. It was as if the beautiful, pliant, submissive I had known had suddenly disappeared and been replaced by Veronica\'s twin s****r.


I hesitated and stalled. I felt like I was about to take off down an expert ski slope, with danger triangles all over it. But the more I looked at her, the more I knew I still wanted to be in the same room with this beautiful woman--even though she\'d be able to tie me up and punish me. I thought it was worth the risk.


In a long dark room lit with candles and furnished with bondage equipment, Mistress Veronica told me to take off all my clothes and kneel . Soft piano music whispered on the CD player. I waited maybe five minutes, keeping my eyes closed most of the time, and wondering what she would do to me. When Mistress Veronica returned, she carefully put cuffs on my wrists and ankles, and then put a collar around my neck. Then, she told me to lie on her lap and spanked me little--quick sharp slaps on each cheek just to show she was definitely in charge. I had never ever been spanked before, except as a c***d, and this spanking, while not painful in itself, humiliated me..


Next, Mistress Veronica told me to stand up and walked me over to a hoist. She tied my wrists to the cross bar, stood back, took a good look at me, then punched an electric switch in the wall. Instantly, I was pulled so high my feet left the ground. She let me dangle there and then ran her fingernails softly down my body, from my chest to my thighs. She would do it gently so it felt good, then slowly dig her nails in harder.


Hanging there, I got a good chance to look at her, which she didn\'t seem to mind. Thigh high black boots, a cruel-looking black corset, and a black bra which I doubted the beautiful woman whom I now addressed as “Mistress” Veronica would ever remove for me again. She looked totally wrapped up in her work, as if I were no more that a target for her to practice on.


The hoist wasn\'t working the way she wanted it to, so Mistress Veronica lowered me down, and took me to a long table with straps and winches at either end and told me to lie down on my back. She tied me to the four corners of the table, pulling the ropes tight. She let me lie there a while and slowly worked a flogger softly back and forth across my chest. It really felt good and helped me relax. I began to feel that this wasn\'t going to be so bad after all.


Then, Mistress Veronica untied me and told me to kneel on the table, close to the edge facing her. She told me to take my cock, play with it, and hold it out to her. Suddenly, she hit it with a riding crop. She did this repeatedly, saying "Hold your cock out," and when I did, she\'d whip it with the crop, sometimes soft, but sometimes hard and swift. I had to close my eyes for some of the strokes. I would hold out my cock, and she would whip it. Though it hurt, the whipping also felt good and made my cock get bigger. All this time I would look at her when I could. She was smiling, yet stern and very beautiful, obviously concentrating on the beating she was giving me. Her brown hair softly swayed as she snapped the crop toward my offered cock. She looked like she was really enjoying it. "Hold your cock out," Mistress Veronica repeated, "Let me get a good shot at it." She was hurting me, and I was enjoying it. In fact, it was like she was making love to me using the pain I let her unleash on me. But after one really hard stroke, I had to beg her to stop. I realized she\'d just been toying with me. She could have ended the session with one quick sharp savage stoke anytime she\'d wanted to. Instead, she\'d teased me, giving me soft and medium strokes with the crop so I\'d want it to continue.


Then came the worst part......or the best part. Mistress Veronica told me to stand up on the floor by the table, so the back of my thighs and ass were pressed tightly against the frame of the table. She attached my wrist cuffs to a hoist above the table and pulled my arms until they were stretched loosely above my head. Then she took long thin clamps that looked like tweezers with a chain connecting them and fastened them right on my nipples. Not content with the pain these clamps inflicted, she attached additional little clamps right beside my nipples, two on each side. Then she went to the winch and hoisted my bound arms high above my head, so I could barely move. She came back to me and pulled at the clamps, slowly at first. But she didn\'t stop until I grunted like an a****l. She just looked at me and smiled. Next, she wrapped up my cock in rope and connected the nipple chain to the rope, cinching them together so they pulled on each other. She played with the ropes, pulling them. At first it felt great. I could feel myself starting to get an erection. But suddenly, she grabbed one of the clamps on my nipple and twisted it savagely. When I cried out, she twisted the nipple clamps again. She let me recover a moment, and then she yanked on the rope binding my cock. I loved her being so close, but she was really making me play for it. When Mistress Veronica went back to work on my chest, my nipples felt like they were being stabbed with pins.


I have no idea how long she kept me like that. My life was measured out in short spasms of excited pain which Mistress Veronica inflicted on me. But, after a while she removed the clamps from my nipples. Being freed from the clamps was just as painful as being clamped in the first place. She retied the rope around my cock and balls, trussing-up my genitals even tighter than before. Next, she began attaching a different set of small clamps to my cock. I\'d been proud of myself for enduring the nipple punishment, but this was almost too much. The first two clamps were unbearably painful--it felt like she was stabbing my swollen and excited penis with a cigarette lighter-- and I whispered, "Mistress..." She looked up impatiently and said, "Yes, slave, is there anything you want to say?" Her soft brown hair was close to my legs. She was very beautiful. Really, I felt almost blessed that such a beautiful woman was working so close to my cock. So I mentally resolved to take all the pain she was giving me, and I said, "No, nothing, mistress." So I let her go on putting those vicious clamps on my cock--which, of course, wasn\'t really my cock anymore. It was her cock, and Mistress Veronica was working on me as if I were some laboratory project she had to finish for school. She put five or six clamps in a row, leading from the base of my cock near my balls towards the tip. This clamping was very painful, but after a few minutes I discovered that by relaxing and not fighting the pain I could stand it. It also helped that Mistress Veronica let me look at her. The more pain I could stand, the longer I would have the privilege of being with her.


When Mistress Veronica was done clamping my cock, she ran her fingernails softly across my chest and asked me how I felt. "Wonderful, Mistress," I replied. Then, she turned away and when she came back she was holding a flogger. She began whipping me across the chest, one or two soft strokes to get the range and then harder and harder. I could see her smiling and gritting her teeth as she whipped me. She aimed carefully, concentrating on making the whip slap and sk** across my chest. As her strokes got harder, I had to close my eyes. My nipples were throbbing. I had never been hurt this much in my life, and I was loving it. Then she stopped for a bit and selected a different whip. It was a short buggy whip with a great deal of flex in it. She used this on me with relentless accuracy, flicking at each of my already stinging nipples and making me wince and cry. My arms were still stretched straight above my head, and my legs were pinned to the frame of the table. My cock was tightly bound with rope, and a row of painful clamps hurt me each time I moved. There was no way I could escape from the beating she wanted to give me. Truthfully, I didn\'t want to escape. In fact, instead of flinching each time she hit me, I arched by chest so she got a better angle at me and the whip hurt more.


Mistress Veronica stopped for a moment. She ran her fingers over my chest and said, "You\'ve taken a lot of pain, slave." She stroked my nipples softly. She set down the buggy whip and picked up a flogger that looked like it had knots on the ends. "I just want to give you a few more strokes to remember me by," she said and then pinched my nipples hard again. She smiled at me and hit me with the flogger really hard, left and right, going back and forth across my chest--the same way the poor bound and gagged girl had been whipped in the bondage movie. Sometimes Mistress Veronica would aim the whip so the knots of leather just grazed my nipples. Other times, she would slam the whip into my ribcage and let its thongs bite across my entire chest. I closed my eyes and saw flashes of violet light each time the whip hit me. It was like a wild

violent kiss. I loved it so much. I wanted the whipping to continue, but I realized that unless I begged Mistress Veronica to stop, I might have welts or marks the next day. Finally I begged for mercy.


Nearly an hour had gone by and I felt exhausted and more sexually excited than I\'d been in my entire life. Mistress Veronica had whipped me, clamped, me, and punished me repeatedly. Best of all, I\'d loved it. She\'d made me want to take the punishment she dealt out. With embarrassment, I realized that all the times long ago when I\'d had the opportunity to tie up Veronica, I\'d been a clumsy ineffectual amateur. I knew I\'d never been able to make her feel the way she made me feel.


After she\'d untied my cock and taken off the wicked clamps, Mistress Veronica led me back in front of a wooden throne and told me to kneel on a towel in front of her. She poured some baby oil in my right hand and told me to play with myself. When I looked up, she had taken off her bra, so I could see her exquisite breasts and nipples. Once upon a time, I\'d had the privilege of working on that peerless flesh, but I really had never been worthy of it. Now I would have to endure hours of pain just to get a glimpse of her breasts. As if to confirm my silent thoughts, Mistress Veronica put her fingers on my own chest and worked on my sore nipples some more, pulling and pinching them just enough to keep me excited. I looked up at her. She was indeed very beautiful. Even though she was wearing boots over her knees and a fancy black corset, my face was close to her bare thighs. I could look up and admire those fine breasts. I must confess that I hoped that her nipples were erect with pleasure at the carefully designed beating she\'d given me. I was ecstatic. A wonderfully beautiful woman had spent an hour punishing me in any way she wished. And I had adored being whipped and clamped and hurt by her. I tired to prevent my cock from getting too excited, but it was impossible. When I couldn\'t contain my pleasure any more, I kissed Mistress Veronica\'s leg and let myself cum on the towel I was kneeling on. At that moment, I vowed to myself that I would do whatever it took to be her slave.




Chapter II : Don\'t Flinch


"You\'re so sweet to me." Mistress Veronica said, holding in her hands a small gift I\'d brought. She was wearing a simple white dress, just as she\'d come in from the street. I\'d watched its light fabric swing prettily as she\'d led me to the dungeon where we now talked. She radiated surprise and delight, like a young woman of sixteen whose boyfriend had just offered her flowers.


Really, I felt just like a sixteen year old boy myself. My sessions with Mistress Veronica had created a glow which accompanied me each day. She was like an invisible angel who hovered beside me at all times. I had fantasies about accidentally meeting her at a museum, a book store, or a movie. I wanted to hear her talk about herself. To tell me stories about how she grew up. I wanted us to eat lunch together in a small restaurant so I could hear her tell me what her plans were, and what interested her. I was twice her age. But I had fallen in love with her. In selecting her present and giving it to her, I\'d been just as nervous as I\'d ever been calling up a girl and asking if we could go on a date. Would she say yes? Did she care about me at all? With foolish confidence, I had believed such soul-rending emotions were long dead in my heart. I was married. I had a career. I wasn\'t ever going to fall in love like that, again. And yet Mistress Veronica had awakened wild, tumultuous feelings of love within me.


"How perfect," Mistress Veronica said, as her graceful fingers neatly pulled off the gift wrapping. "It\'s a CD of Chopin \'Nocturnes.\'"


"I hoped you might like it. It\'s like the music you played at our first session."


"I want you to read me the inscription you wrote on this card. "


So, at her request, I read what it had taken me so long to formulate in words. As I read each phrase from the card, I would look up at her because I wanted my voice and the truth of the words I was saying to become real in her presence. I read, "All the emotions contained in Chopin\'s music: tenderness, rage, lyric sweetness, v******e, exquisite longing, despair, uncertainty, ecstatic fulfillment. You give me all these things in our moments together. I feel just like Chopin\'s music when you touch me. Thank you so much."


"Thank you." she said holding the CD in her hands and looking at me. "Now I want you to get undressed and wait for me."


While she was gone, I dimmed the lights, then knelt down, shifting my position in front of the mirrors until I thought I looked my best. It was really very vain of me. After all, when she had me tied up and was flogging me, I had no control over how I looked, and I must have looked horrible when she was really whipping me. Nevertheless, I wanted to look good when my mistress entered. By design, she kept me waiting, so I could anticipate the pleasure and the punishment which was coming. For these few minutes, I enjoyed being naked and unbound. Soon my Mistress would enter and she would elicit from me longings and feelings which I usually hadn\'t the courage to confront.


When Mistress Veronica entered, shutting the door firmly behind her, I was naked and kneeling straight up, with my hands clasped behind my back, my legs slightly spread. She wore black high heels, fishnet stockings, and a loose-fitting black peignoir which she had untied in front so I could see her black bra. She let me enjoy looking at her for a while, and then walked around behind me. I watched her in the mirror. Without saying a word, she communicated to me that I should close my eyes. I did so. There was a pause. It was like waiting for a Chopin nocturne to begin. After a while, she placed her hands on my shoulders.


"My beautiful slave," she said.


My eyes were still closed, and I could have cried when I heard her say it, "My beautiful slave." That was exactly what I wanted to be.


Mistress Veronica gently caressed my neck and shoulders with her hands massaging me so that I felt wonderfully relaxed. Still standing behind me, she traced her fingers down my chest and began softly stroking my nipples. I felt myself to be the most privileged and pampered man in the world. I was aware that my mistress enjoyed the power to whip and clamp these same areas of my body, but this imminent danger only made her sweet, almost reverent touch seem more special. I surrendered to her tenderness. And she repaid my surrender, slowly moving her hands down my chest in soft, undulating curves which sent ripples of pleasure across my body.


Abruptly, she stopped and said, "Now, I\'m going to whip you."


Mistress Veronica said this matter-of-factly, as if she might have mentioned, "Now, I\'m going to do my nails." She spoke without a trace of anger, with no hint of menace, no attempt to be intimidating, or even erotic. She had no need, as another woman might, of making severe punishment a leering threat. She merely announced that she was about to demonstrate her authority over my body.


She ordered me to stand and walk over to the hoist and cross-bar. With rapid, sailor-like expertise, my mistress used several lengths of rope to bind and position my body until I was spread-eagled like a taut sheet of canvas. She spanked my ass with her hands. It was delightful at first, to feel her small hands, pounding on my backside and hear the sharp smack which they produced. I imagined little red silhouettes like gloves appearing each time she struck me. But soon my reveries were replaced by my grim need to concentrate on bearing the pain she was inflicting on me. The palms of her hands made my ass cheeks burn. She seemed tireless, striking right and left, then sometimes hitting one cheek several times in a row before going back to the other. I couldn\'t count. It hurt. I didn\'t want to disappoint her by asking her to stop, but with each smack of her hand, the burning sensation in my ass grew. Every time she hit me, it felt like a burning ember was being held to my ass. I took as much as I could and then asked her to stop.


"What are you worrying about, slave?" Mistress Veronica said, "You were just beginning to get nicely pink."


She left me for a while, and in the mirror I saw her go to the rack where she kept her flogger. My chest was next. She came back in front of me and traced circles around my nipples with the end of her whip.


"This is what you like best, isn\'t it?"


"Yes, Mistress. I love it when you whip my chest, especially my nipples." It was true, but I was surprised I admitted it so quickly. It would truly hurt when she hit me, but I loved it.


"Here\'s something that will make it more fun," My mistress said, opening her hand and showing me four clothes pins. She grabbed the flesh on either side of my nipples and attached the clothes pins so they bit a lot of skin and held very securely.


As soon as she stood back and began to strike me, I understood what she meant. The leather lashes of the flogger hurt when they hit my bare chest, but they hurt doubly when they struck both my flesh and the clothes pins anchored in my chest. I arched my chest and tried to give Mistress Veronica a good target, but the clothes pins hurt me a lot. With each slash of the whip, they pulled sharply at my nipples. I kept thrusting my chest out towards my mistress, hoping the whip would tear the clothes pins off and release me from all this pain. But when I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror, I began to get frightened that neither set had budged. I usually enjoyed being whipped like this. I had been proud of the punishment I thought I could take. But now, I was in a new dimension of pain. My chest was bright red, even crimson. The color was so livid, I couldn\'t even see the hair on my chest. Mistress Veronica was smiling as she kept hitting me with her whip. After one more stroke, I heard myself grunt like an a****l as I tried to bear the pain.


I closed my eyes, determined to take more strokes. Each time the flogger hit, it was like being sc****d with coarse sandpaper. A cascade of sweat ran down my spine. I thrashed about wildly as my Mistress hit me again.


"Please, Mistress. Please stop," I begged.


"As you wish," Mistress Veronica said, moving close to me and placing her hands on my chest." But I\'m not through with your nipples ."


She removed the clothes pins and caressed my nipples with her fingers. Leaning next to my chest, she blew on my nipples. I wanted her to lick them, but I knew she wouldn\'t. I could feel her hair sway against my body. I wished she would stay close enough so my sweat would wet her hair just a bit. I felt somehow it would repay me for all the pain I had endured. She\'d whipped me very hard, and yet my nipples still responded to her touch. Maybe this was my mistress\' way of repaying me. As she kept caressing my nipples, I bent my head slightly and kissed the back of her head, enjoying the fragrance of her shampoo. I could feel the ends of her hair brushing my chest.


She stood up and looked at me.


"Mistress, you are so beautiful. I love it when you tie me up naked and beat me. It\'s like I\'m just a doll you play with."


Immediately I regretted what I\'d said. It was true. But I should have accepted her gift of tenderness to me in complete silence, or merely said "Thank you Mistress." Without saying anything herself, she went back to her table and returned holding several lengths of silken cord and the by now familiar nipple clamps. She quickly leveraged the clamps onto my already swollen nipples. It felt like she was injecting them with Novocain. My nipples were hurt, excited, and numb all at the same time.


Then Mistress Veronica knelt down and went to work on my penis. It was exciting to have her face so close to my cock as she tied and knotted the cord. From past experience, I both dreaded and longed for what I knew was about to happen next.


She cinched the silken cord around the base of my cock and balls and knotted it tightly. Then, she separated each testicle with more loops of cord and secured my balls with more knots. Next, she looped and knotted the silken cord four times around the barrel of my cock, making a little rope corset, so that just the top inch and a half was exposed--the incredibly sensitive glans. My cock and balls had never looked better. For a moment, I felt like a king. But all the time I knew what was coming.


With her left hand, Mistress Veronica held the unused length of the cord like the reins on a horse. She used it to pull my cock toward her. I was frightened and excited. A trickle of semen oozed from my organ.


"I\'m going to whip you like the a****l you are," she said.


As if to taunt me, she had removed her peignoir and stripped down to her black bra, its thin, lacy cups concealing and revealing those breasts which I prized so dearly. Her shoulders and arms looked exquisitely graceful. And yet I knew, she was going to use her long beautiful right arm to whip my cock senseless. Mistress Veronica raised her crop casually, looking at my face and then down at my cock. She could be really nice with the crop, delivering soft or medium strokes which didn\'t really hurt and all. It was like having a beautiful woman wearing leather gloves help me masturbate. I looked at her with pleading in my eyes. I wanted her to give me gentle strokes with the crop. I longed for her to use the crop to get my cock even more excited. But I dared not ask out loud. My mouth was open. My body ached with fear and desire. I hung there bound and naked, absolutely at her mercy. She gently shook the leash on my cock as if to tell me she understood. There was plenty of slack in the line. But, then, without warning, Mistress Veronica started to slam the crop down suddenly. Involuntarily, I jerked my hips to let my cock escape her wrath. Then I realized that it had been a feint. She’d only pretended she was going to strike me that hard.


"You flinched," Mistress Veronica chided me, not acting in the least surprised.


She held the crop in both hands and fingered the doubled flap of leather at its end in the most innocent manner. If she\'d been wearing an elegant pink dress she could have been posing for a Thomas Gainsborough full-length portrait of some heiress whose horse had just thrown a shoe.


"Don\'t flinch, slave. I can\'t give you any nice strokes if you flinch."


"Please, Mistress. Let me try again." I begged. "I promise, I won\'t flinch."


I arched my hips toward her and closed my eyes, trying to relax as much as I could. I knew I could expect no mercy this time. I knew I had to surrender my cock to her, to stand there and let myself be as vulnerable as possible. I had talked about my cock really being "her cock." Well, now I had to prove it.


"Open your eyes, slave."


"Mistress?"


"Open your eyes, and prove to me what a good slave you are."


I looked at her. "Whip my cock, Mistress. Whip my cock as hard as you like."


"I intend to."


She tugged on my leash in order to position my cock more conveniently. Then, with a graceful forehand stroke, she struck the tip of my bound cock with the full impact of her crop. A bright electric arc of pain shot from my penis towards my anus and then raced up into my chest. An uncontrollable whimper of shock and outrage drooled from my mouth.


"Oh, Mistress," I cried out in agonized sobs.


Quicker than I could think, she struck my cock one more time with the same devastating accuracy.


"Please, Mistress."


"Yes?"


"Mistress, that hurt so much. Please."


"Please what?"


I hung naked there before her, arms stretched over my head, nipple clamps and their accompanying chain decorating my bright red chest. My legs were spread wide and my ankles shacked to wooden posts. My cock felt numb because I couldn\'t really move it. But each time Mistress Veronica had struck, she had made me feel all the blinding spasms of pain she wanted me to feel. Maybe it really was her cock, after all. Stern and beautiful, my mistress stood before me holding her crop like it was a long stemmed rose. She had all the time in the world. And she was going to wait until I begged her to strike me again.


"Please whip me again." I said.


And she did. Many times.





Chapter III : Ice


Mistress Veronica fastened the parachute around my balls so that my cock hung limp and unprotected. She suspended a three pound lead weight from the chain which looped down from the parachute. The weight and the parachute continually pulled at my balls. If I moved, the weight pulled harder. Then she circled the shaft of my cock with loops of cord, wrapping and tying each cincture with the precision of a surgeon. She wrapped the long ends of the cord around my waist so my cock pointed right at my navel Next, she attached small plastic clamps to the edge of my glans. It felt like she was slicing into me with razors. I gasped as she carefully pinched each wicked clamp into place. I knew it was my task to accept all the pain that these procedures caused, but when Mistress Veronica worked on my penis I was never quite sure I could bear the pain.


But, to be honest, when she finished decorating my cock with the clamps, I was quite a work of art. The three-pound lead weight dangled heavily between my spread legs, attached to a ring which was connected to the parachute which steadily, relentlessly pulled downward on my balls. I was trussed up like a pendulum clock pointing at high noon. The tight rope binding my cock, squeezed it into a constant state of excitement, which was only tempered by the sharp stabbing pains caused by the tiny plastic clamps attached to my glans. I\'d I hadn\'t been securely tied to the hoist, I\'d probably have fallen down from exhaustion and exhilaration.


Of course, Mistress Veronica was far from finished. She hadn\'t touched my chest--an error she soon remedied by stepping close to me, grabbing both my nipples in her fingers and twisting savagely.


"Arrgh" I groaned.


"Good slave. I thought you needed waking up. You seemed a little too philosophical, standing there staring at yourself in the mirror."


She had the riding crop tucked under her arm, and really, I envied its position next to her left breast. With her fingers still digging into my nipples, she looked at me and allowed me look at her.


"Now I\'m going to give you some hard ones on your chest, slave."


Mistress Veronica calmly took a step backwards and held out her leather crop, then like a baseball pitcher exploding out of a stretch, she came at me sidearm. The crop smacked into my chest with a sweet, echoing thud. Again and again, she laid into my chest with the crop, using my nipples as her strike zone. Even worse, I couldn\'t predict whether she\'d hit my left or right nipple next. Every stroke was painful, yet exciting. With cold, calculating, barely-controlled v******e, she was whipping one of the most excitable and well-muscled parts of my body. As she continued her strokes, the flesh on my bright red chest tingled with pain and glowed with pride.


When she paused, and I saw her relax her hold on the crop, I said "Thank you mistress."


"You are welcome, slave. But I\'m not quite finished yet. Now for the flogger. Stick out your chest and give your mistress a good target."


With the flogger, she seemed to concentrate on striking me in the armpits, and then allowing the leather thongs to slice across my chest. The crop had delivered a sudden, surprising blow, but the flogger delivered a long rippling torrent of pain across my skin. Bright stripes of pain quickly appeared. I was afraid these would be welts the next morning, but so great was my delight in seeing her fury unleashed upon my body, that I allowed her to whip me again and again.


"Good slave. I like it when you take your strokes properly."


Evidently, she was done whipping me for a while, because she untied my ankle straps then unhooked my wrists from the crossbar.


"Walk slowly slave, you\'ve still got weight on your parachute."


She walked me over to a chair which she had covered with a towel. She told me to sit down and close my eyes. She arranged the parachute and the weight so there was a constant steady pull at my balls. Then I heard her leave the room.


After being whipped with both the crop and the flogger, my chest felt like it had been barbecued. My nipples throbbed, I knew I\'d been whipped severely because my sweat stung me as it raced over the marks left my the flogger. But I was still excited. I\'d endured the beating Mistress Veronica had delivered. I hoped I had pleased and maybe even impressed her. And she was coming back to me in a moment. I could stay with her as long as I could stand the pain.


I heard the door open and Mistress Veronica\'s quick steps stride back toward me.


"Keep your eyes closed." She repeated.


Then she performed the most tenderly erotic act I was ever to receive. Evidently, she had a small cup full of ice, and she took a piece and used its exquisite coolness to trace the whip marks she\'d left on my chest. The pain in my chest seemed to melt into the ice. As she traced my wounds with the ice, it was like being kissed with her cool wet tongue. She had a soft towel in her other hand and every minute or so, she\'d gently touch my skin to absorb the sweat and melted ice. It was wonderful.


This seemed to last a long time. There were plenty of welts on my chest which needed to be kissed with the numbing caress of the ice. Before I left, she took a Polaroid picture of my chest, from my collar to the beginning of my pubic hair. It showed all the brilliant red slashes. After a few days, when my marks had started to disappear, I looked at the picture and thought it very beautiful.




Chapter IV : The Rendez-Vous


Mistress Veronica informed me that on a certain Autumn afternoon she would be willing to meet me for a stroll through the botanical gardens surrounding a large estate. For several months I had begged her for this privilege, and I was grateful she had granted my request.


We met near a small fountain. She looked exquisite--poised, relaxed, confident, slightly aloof, quietly powerful--like a work of art that makes everything around it seem a mere frame for its beauty . She wore a short, pleated, Scots plaid skirt in which black and red predominated. It swayed prettily with each step she took. Beneath a red hunting jacket fasted by a single button, she wore a sheer, lacy white camisole which covered the swell of her fine breasts. Her outfit was completed with black stockings and black boots which reached her knees.


Although I had been seeing her for nearly a year, I knew almost nothing about her, except by analyzing the few guarded allusions she made to her private life. For example, I knew she was attending school, but I didn\'t know when she would graduate. Of course, the thought that she would one day graduate, leave and begin a new career terrified me. I would lose her forever.


"Hello," Mistress Veronica said with a soft almost conspiratorial glee, as I greeted her at the fountain. "Let\'s take this path here while we talk."


"There are so many things I want to know about you." I begged.


"You will never know more than I want you to. I can guess what you want to her. Listen to me."


She then began to talk to me, not really answering my questions as much as following her own thoughts.


"As a dominant, I enjoy the power and the control I have over men You leaned to be obedient very quickly, but some men take a long time. So, I enjoy punishing them until they learn to surrender to me. Of course, once they give in and learn to love the pain, I punish them even more, but by then they enjoy it.


"Usually only men enjoy the privilege erotic v******e . But as a dominant, I claim that right. I am in total control. I can punish a man\'s cock as much as I want. It\'s surprising how much pain a man will endure if he thinks it will impress a woman. Of course, it doesn\'t impress me, but I do enjoy slamming my crop into a man\'s dick as hard as I like. And if a man wants to continue seeing me, he learns to accept such treatment. If he gets to like it too much, I ignore his cock and beat some other part of his pitiful body. You\'re a perfect example.


"I organize the sessions in an almost musical way, alternating harsh whipping with quiet rope bondage. I can start with soft caresses and finish with sharp angry blows of the crop. It\'s hard work, especially re-arranging the ropes after a long session.


"You first met me when I was a submissive. I learned a lot as a submissive. For instance, I learned I didn\'t want to be a submissive forever. I quickly apprenticed myself to a dominant and studied her work--the knots, the various types of whips, the use of clamps, wax, and weights. Above all, I perfected the attitude--calm, aloof, disdainful, full of unexpected tenderness and sudden savagery.


"You might think where I work is a pretty expensive place, but we only get to keep half of what you pay and not every client tips. So I took a lot of pain in the beginning until I learned who to trust, who\'d be nice to me if I was nice to them. Who wasn\'t worth bothering with.


"In one of my first sessions, I had this guy who whipped my bottom with everything in the room. It was the first session longer than a half hour that I\'d ever done. I didn\'t know how much I could take, but I wanted to make the extra money for a forty-five minute session.


"God, I remember that," I interrupted in spite of myself. "When I came in to have my session with you and I just touched your ass, it felt so hot that I didn\'t even want to think about how many times you\'d been spanked. I spent all my time addressing your breasts and thighs."


"Really, slave. You were always very considerate. You know I liked you."


"But some clients really tried to take advantage of you?"


"Sure. At first when I was a submissive, I had sessions with what you would call creeps. Guy\'s who\'d hog-tie me and then try to stick their cocks in my face. Guys who spanked, paddled, cropped, and whipped my ass until I couldn\'t tell my sweat from my tears. I\'ll never forget the first night I went home, looked in the mirror and saw the cheeks of my ass looked like a cheesecake decorated with strawberries and blueberries. Physically, it didn\'t hurt anymore. I\'d had four or five clients that day. So I couldn\'t even be sure which bastard had been responsible for the bruises. But I felt like someone had played a trick on me and I was determined to have the last laugh.


We reached a turning in the path and passed beneath a row of tall cypress trees. Mistress Veronica continued:


"But you were always very nice to me. Actually, even though I was supposedly a submissive, you let me practice on your own body quite a lot. After our first few sessions together, I enjoyed watching you get so frustrated when you were trying to dominate me. You couldn\'t spank me without wanting to kiss my pink ass. When you waltzed the flogger across my naked breasts, you really wanted to kiss them. As you lovingly attached clothes pins beside my nipples, I could see you wanted to lick me. You allowed your sexual desire for me to dominate you. There was nothing for you to do but surrender the whip to me.


"In fact, I remember the exact session and moment when you reached a psychological turning point. I had you tied to the cross, straps around your wrists, arms, chest, stomach, thighs, legs, ankles. I was teasing your cock with the crop--a couple of soft strokes, then a hard one, just the way I know you like it. You were crazy with lust for me. I had you totally immobilized on the wheel and you kept looking at me and saying, "I\'m going to cum all over your tits. I\'m going to cum all over your tits." There you were, totally helpless on the cross, your cock bright purple from the crop\'s strokes, and you were making these pitiable threats.


"As I watched you, I understood that you\'d reached a point of total frustration. And, in fact, that was your last session with me until three months later when you returned and found out I\'m become exclusively dominant. Part of the reason I became a dominant is that I saw how many of my clients were paralyzed by their own lust for me. I knew that what they really wanted was for me to punish them as violently as they wished they could punish me. I was actually rescuing them by taking the whip out of their hands and using on their own bodies.


We walked a little more. It was obvious Mistress Veronica felt no need to continue talking.


"Mistress Veronica," I said, "I\'m so grateful you shared your feelings with me like this. Thank you so much. Let me show you my favorite picture. It\'s right over there in the gallery on the other side of this pond."


"We\'re not in a dungeon, slave. You don\'t have to be quite so obsequious. Of course I\'d like to see it."


She walked beside me. I heard her footsteps. I inhaled the aroma of her hair, her body. As my chest rubbed against the fabric of my shirt, I remembered all the times she\'d whipped me, and I felt glorious. No one else knew what she had done to me. How after she\'d whipped me for an hour, I\'d feel like a triumphant athlete.


At last, we entered the galley, walked down a long corridor and I led her to a small "Fete Champetre" by Watteau.


"Please tell me what you like about it." Mistress Veronica asked.


I stammered, " I like the trees, the dark, hushed cypresses, the shadows on the lawn, the small group of lovers in party clothes. I love the white suited Pierrot playing his lute. I imagine you and I are there. I know you think I\'m selfishly sentimental. But I want to be that hopelessly in love Pierrot who thinks of you constantly and plays songs for you."


She looked at me quietly, with eyes into which I had often gazed when she was enjoying her full powers over my body and ecstatically punishing me--moments of complete surrender on my part, total control on hers. When our eyes met like this no matter how much pain she had inflicted on me, I acknowledged her absolute understanding and compassion.


"You are my Pierrot," Mistress Veronica said. "Trust me. You will always be my Pierrot."




Chapter V : Bruises


It was a familiar cycle. Bright, stinging red slashes evolved into purple shadows which after a day or two deepened to black and then faded to brownish yellow. Yet, they were always surprises, since they didn\'t appear until several hours, or even a day after they had been inflicted. And many times the worst beatings seemed to produce no marks at all.


Once, a day after Mistress Veronica had enjoyed an especially vigorous workout on my ass, I was stunned and fascinated to notice two round circles on the cheeks of my ass which looked as if I\'d sat in a bucket of raspberries and boysenberries. A flushed bloom of purple and red in the most muscular part of my ass. There was a round three inch circle where the crop had struck punctuated by a deeper welt where the crop had struck at a slight angle so the edge dug in.


When she used to flogger on my chest, the lash stripes were more prominent near my arm pits where the leather had wrapped around my torso. I loved them. They were symbols written my body\'s bl**d of the pleasure and pain I had endured, the attention I had enjoyed. They were souvenirs of the joy I had shared with my mistress.


Yet, the bruises and welts also scared and shocked me. I worried someone would discover them and my secret life would be exposed. How could someone else understand the fascination I felt looking at these bright red stripes across my chest? Several times a day, I\'d visit the men\'s room pull up my shirt to examine in wonder and shock the lash marks on my chest as they slowly transformed through the rainbow of bruised colors.


My mistress was expert in whipping all parts of my body. She especially excelled in whipping my cock. Many times when I hung from my bonds, exhausted after a long series of crop strokes, she\'d lovingly pick up her flogger, stare into my eyes patiently, and say, "I want you to take a little more for me." Then she would flick my cock with the leather thongs of the flogger, making them strike like a cascade of hailstones on the already bruised and purple tip of my cock.


For a week afterwards, every time I went to the bathroom and looked down at my cock, I\'d see 3-4 tiny clawed scratches where my mistress had let the whip do its work. I missed these marks when they healed.


But, she was nothing if not full of surprises. One of the most terrifying experiences I ever had with her left no physical marks at all.


Near the beginning of one session, she commanded me to stand with my back to one of the paired columns. She raised my arms above my head and fastened my wrist cuffs behind the pole. "Get comfortable," she said. "You\'re going to be like this for a little while." Then she bound my ankles, my legs just above the knee, my waist, and finished with additional loops of rope around my chest just under my armpits. I was lashed to the post like a caryatid.


Then, in a move I always loved and dreaded, she selected a long double length of rope and began binding my cock and balls. When she had my genitals trussed up good and tight, she pulled the rope toward the other column and passed the rope through a ring. She pulled until I thought my cock would explode.


"Mistress," I cried.


I was strapped to one pole, ropes stretched my cock and balls towards the other pole. Exposed and vulnerable, the tip of my cock jutted upward from the tight coils of rope she\'d knotted around my penis. If I tried to move my cock, the ropes pulled at my balls. I was totally at her mercy. I was afraid shed whip me savagely and I would damage myself severely if I tried to move.


"You\'re very vulnerable like this, slave. Aren\'t you?"


"Yes,"


"Good. I like to see you afraid."


She set a towel on the floor beneath my cock and then came around behind me. Was the towel to catch any bl**d that fell? She stroked my chest with her hand. "Trust your mistress," she said. Inevitably her caresses turned into pinching and she gave each of my nipples a cruel twist before leaving me.


With a flint wick she lighted a green candle and let its flame quicken. She looked like one of those virgins in the paintings of George De La Tour, fascinated by a candle\'s flame. Then she began dripping the wax on the tip of my cock. Each drop burned. Yet Mistress Veronica seemed ready to let the treatment continue all afternoon. She smiled as the small fiery drops of painful wax dripped on the tip of my cock. I grunted with pain as each drop hit, and my mistress seemed to grow more excited as my pain mounted. She kept it up until it looked like I was wearing a green condom.


"Very good, slave. I\'m proud of you."


"Thank you, mistress."


Then she slowly began to peel off the wax using her fingernails. She took her time.







Chapter VI : Blind Man\'s Buff


Mistress Veronica led me to a tiny chamber, ordered me to strip, and tied me to a cross. She blindfolded and gagged me.


"This is a special gift for you," She said. "I\'m going to let you eavesdrop on one of my sessions with another client. My client won\'t know about it. I know I can trust you not to make a sound."


I nodded my head in agreement.


"And just so you won\'t think I\'ve forgotten about you, I\'m going to decorate your body with some souvenirs."


She quickly d****d a parachute around my balls and anchored a lead weight to it. Then she ran her fingers over my chest and I knew she was going to clamp me. I waited.


Suddenly, I felt her kiss my nipples, flicking her tongue over each of them. I moaned behind the gag.


"I know, slave. You\'re welcome. Consider that payment in advance for what you\'ll suffer in the next hour."


Then she put a pair of clamps beside each of my nipples and left.


After a while, I heard Mistress Veronica lead her client into the nearby dungeon. I heard them talk without being able to understand any words. The muffled sounds of her client\'s voice enraged me. What sorts of pleasures was he bargaining for?


Then I heard their footsteps. I heard the creaking of the hoist. I heard the crack of the whip. I heard the client\'s moans. I felt like I was trapped in some cheap porno movie. I felt awful. What in the world had been in Mistress Veronica\'s mind when she condemned me to this? Bound and gagged, clamped, weights hanging from my balls, I felt ridiculous listening to someone else\'s clumsy fantasy.


I heard Mistress Veronica scolding her client. More whipping. I heard screams. Louder than I ever screamed. Then I heard Mistress Veronica soothing her client. Then it was quiet for what seemed like a long while. I imagined the pleasure both were sharing. Suddenly, I heard the whip crack again and again. I heard the client shudder and groan as the whipping continued. I was glad she was beating him. Then I heard a distinct cry for "Mercy!" After that, I heard nothing else.


A long time later, Mistress Veronica returned to me. She removed the weight and parachute and unfastened the clamps on my nipples. Then she took off my gag and blindfold.


"Well, slave," she said looking at me in the darkened chamber. "What did you think?"


"What are you trying to do to me mistress?" I asked.


"You tell me, slave."


"Are you trying to make me ashamed of my fantasies with you?"


"Are you ashamed?"


"Never!"


"Listen. You\'ve said you\'re curious about my life here. Well, I conduct three or four of these sessions a day. I see you once a week, or every other week, or once a month. I\'m responsible for lots of fantasies. What makes you think you\'re so special?


"It\'s you. You make me feel special." I stammered insane with jealousy and rage. "But did you make your client just now feel special too?"


"Of course."


I looked at her for a long time. She was wearing my favorite outfit. The black bra and tight black corset which made her skin seem to white. The boots which came over her knees. Her client had seen her like this too. Lusted for her. Wanted her to whip him. Do to him all the things she probably did to me. I was devastated.


When I asked permission to leave without having a session with her, Mistress Veronica seemed unsurprised and granted my wish.




Chapter VII : A Vision


Mistress Veronica walked over to a wooden chair with a large hole cut out of the center. I had noticed this strange-looking chair many times but had never understood the use of it. I was about to find out. She carefully folded a soft white towel over the front of it and beckoned to me.


"Sit on the chair, slave."


I did as she commanded.


With precision, care, and no sense of haste, Mistress Veronica selected several lengths of rope and expertly bound my ankles, knees, and thighs to the legs of the chair. Then she pulled my arms behind the back of the chair and, using the cuffs which were constantly on my wrists, she secured my hands also. This thrust my chest out towards her. Totally immobilized-- I was both excited and apprehensive in this position. The way my cock lay on the white towel, it looked like a prime target for her whip or some other mischievous procedure which I hadn\'t even dreamt of yet.


Mistress Veronica went back to her treasure chest of bondage equipment and returned with the leather parachute. She--dare I say it?-- lovingly attached it above my balls and pulled them so that they sagged down through the large hole in the chair. Then she took a smaller chord and began wrapping my cock. This was always an exquisite sensation for me for as she wound, adjusted and knotted the chord around my cock, her hands and fingers inevitably touched my penis. Strapped there, helpless and totally ignorant of what was about to happen next, these businesslike caresses from my mistress, were wonderfully exciting. She tied six loops of chord around my cock, leaving just the purple tip exposed.


She walked once more to her equipment chest and came back with a small lead weight and more chord. Now I thought I knew what to expect. She attached the lead weight to the parachute and my testicles felt a not unpleasant sensation of being pulled downward, as if my mistress had gently grasped my balls in her hand and were gently squeezing them. Then, while my scrotum sagged below the chair, my mistress tugged on the rope attached to my penis, stretching it so taut that it hurt. Now I understood the reason for the white towel, which served as an immaculate almost surgically clean bed, for my totally exposed cock. Because of the way my mistress had tied the chords, the tip was angled slightly upward--a perfect target for her whip.


When Mistress Veronica had stretched my cock to her satisfaction, she pulled the rope over the edge of the chair and using a knot which allowed her to adjust the tension on the rope, quickly knotted it to one of the supporting struts of the chair. Then she went back to her treasure chest one more time. First she had immobilized by body. Now she had tied my cock exactly in the position she wanted it to be in. I was at her mercy.


"Look at this, slave," she said, as she returned with yet another lead weight which was much bigger than the one already dangling from my testicles. Mistress Veronica continued, "Men always like to brag about having balls of steel. This afternoon, you\'ll actually earn the right to boast that you have balls of lead."


She knelt before me. I felt her secure the weight, make sure that it was fast, and then gently lower the weight until I felt its full deadening f***e.


"Aaaaaaaah, Mistress," I gasped. The additional lead weight pulled horribly. It was like my balls were in some tug-of-war that I couldn\'t win. It was like a slow, constant, unrelenting kick. Nothing sharp and sudden which would disappear, but a deep, constant ache, from which there was no escape or release. I had to bear the pain.


"You look very beautiful, slave," Mistress Veronica said. "This chair in which I\'ve enthroned you confers magical powers on both you and me. Before our session is finished, you\'ll discover some of those powers."


"Mistress, you have total power over me."


"So you always tell me slave. And this afternoon I shall have proof."


She was wearing the thigh-high boots which I found so exciting and a lacy black slip which barely covered her fine ass. Beneath its material, I could see her T-strap panties. As always, my mistress had doubly concealed her breasts, for beneath her slip, she was wearing a black bra whose straps superbly set off her white shoulders. The bodice of her slip was decorated with black sequins and finely beaded tassels She always kept her body close to mine so I could enjoy, but never, ever touch her beautiful body. When I tore my eyes away from her shoulders and breasts, I saw that she was now holding her riding crop.


"Shall we begin?"


"Yes, Mistress."


With the first slap of the crop I knew I was in for it. Usually, I enjoyed it when she used the riding crop on my chest. But now, each time she slapped its leather into my chest, my body shuddered slightly, making the weights on my balls pull with agonizing f***e.


"Aaaaaaah, Mistress," I moaned.


"I like it when you say that, slave."


She walked around me, striking me almost casually, as if to slowly let the gravity of my situation sink in. Each time she struck, my body shuddered. And that shudder allowed the lead weights to yank at my scrotum. The crop slammed into my chest, my body shook, and the lead weights tugged at my balls. With each stroke of her crop, my testicles felt worse. After a few minutes, it felt like my balls were probably touching the floor.


"Now that you\'ve had a chance to think a bit, slave, I want you to tell me one of your favorite memories of me."


"Everything you do to me is a favorite memory, Mistress."


"Very prettily said, slave. You see, how powerful this throne is. It\'s making you so polite."


She came a little closer and touched the tip of my cock with the crop. She waited for me to look up at her, and then, almost gleefully, she slammed the crop down on my helpless cock.


"Aaaah," My head jerked backwards with the f***e of the blow, and I saw purple and yellow stars exploding behind my closed eyes. The weights savagely gnawed at my balls.


"You are my slave, aren\'t you?" Mistress Veronica said sweetly, again resting her crop on the exposed tip of my penis..


"Yes, mistress. I am your slave."


She struck my cock again. Usually I could sense that she was in control of her own emotions. But right now I was terrified that she was getting carried away with her power over me.


"I like whipping your cock this way." she said with a delicious shiver of excitement in her voice. "Once, again, slave. Tell me one of your favorite memories of me."


Like Sheharizade, I realized I had to tell a good tale or risk death. In this case the certain death of my cock, which was already swollen bright purple.


So I began. "Mistress, let me tell you about one time when you were a still quite a new submissive and I was together with you. I recall being in a dungeon with you, ordering you to strip off your panties and bra, so you were naked except for your four inch heels and the stockings which made your long legs so inviting. I kept on my underwear to partially conceal how excited you made me. Then I made you kneel on one of these tables and pose for me"


Stretching her riding crop delicately towards my cock so that its tip nudged my bruised glans, Mistress Veronica said, "Remind me of that pose, slave."


"Facing me, you spread your legs and cupped your arms behind your neck, like a calendar-girl pose. You were serenely beautiful and erotic, Mistress Veronica. As you knelt before me in that pose of total surrender, my eyes devoured your body: your thighs which I longed to cover with kisses, your cunt with its pubic hair shaved off so I could see your labia which I also longed to kiss. I adored your trim belly and the slight hint of your ribs. Your mouth-watering breasts with their large, already erect nipples drove me crazy. I worshipped your full sensual lips, your fiery eyes, and the brown hair which cascaded just to your shoulders and which you tussled on purpose with the hands you kept cupped behind your neck. "


"You\'re doing well, slave," she said, just tapping the tip of my penis with her crop.


"You remember how much I loved your armpits. It would have been i*****l, I guess, but I always wanted to rub my cock under your arms.


I felt her riding crop pressing harder on my glans as if in warning. Then, she tapped my cock a few times, as if to tell me to go on.


"In those days, I could play with your nipples. I remember squeezing them a lot. Reverently and with great pleasure. I\'d caress your armpits and then use the fingers of both hands to pinch your nipples. You were totally open to me. Naked, exposed, luscious. I probably took turns squeezing your nipples and playing with myself."


"Yes, slave. You did." She stroked my bruised cock a little harder with her crop so that it bounced pitifully on the towel.


"Then I would whip you, Mistress, forgive me. I would gently....how can I describe it?....I would sort of "feather" your breasts with the flogger. Just lightly dancing the soft leather over your breasts. It was a soft flogger , mistress. Not like the one you use on me, with those cruel red latex tips like shoelaces. Honestly. I never meant to hurt you. Only to get you a little excited. And to show my power over you.


"So you\'ve been examining my flogger, slave, have you?" Mistress Veronica said.


She went over to her treasure chest, and returned holding a pair of double clamps. Not the long thin ones she usually used on my nipples, but wide cruel clamps with serrated edges covered in black plastic. She attached one pair of clamps to my nipples and stretched the connecting chain until it reached the tip of my penis. Then, like a college student throwing herself into a vivisection experiment with no concern for the suffering a****l, she plunged the clamps right into the sensitive purple flesh of my glans. Not on the easily accessible edge, which would have been painful enough but right in the middle. It was like being circumcised all over again. As my mistress jabbed the clamps into my penis, I was sure bl**d would gush from the mouth of the serrated pincers.


"Arrgh. Arrgh. Arrgh." I panted like a woman in c***dbirth, and then I tried to evoke some sympathy. "Mistress, if you only knew how much that hurt."


"Perhaps your cock isn\'t ready for my new toy, " she said with a trace of sadness that stunned me. Well, another time." She quickly attached the second set of clamps to my nipples. "Slave, please continue with your story."


"We\'re just about near the end, Mistress. I would get more and more excited working over your breasts with the flogger and then the crop. Sometimes I would get so excited, I would have to stop. I\'d make you turn around and then spank your bottom.


"Soon I couldn\'t stand it any more. You were so beautiful, so accepting. It seemed you would let me do almost anything to you. I spanked you as hard as I could. Until my hand hurt. And you never begged for mercy. Finally, I would dissolve in awe at the way you willingly surrendered to anything I wished to do to you.


"I would order you to resume your calendar girl pose, and I would kiss your shoulders, as much of your breasts as you would allow, I would run my lips over your belly, I would kiss your thighs as high as you would let me. I didn\'t want to whip you I wanted to kiss you. I\'d give you the crop and ask you to use it on my cock. I\'d always ask for one hundred strokes. Not the hard slams you have the right to inflict on me now, but soft,, exciting, almost caressing strokes of the crop. I pretended to be really tough as I took the strokes of the crop, and you played along with me. As you used the crop on my cock, I\'d stare at your breasts and watch them quiver as you struck. When I got so excited I couldn\'t stand it anymore, I\'d spread a towel on the floor, kneel between your legs and play with myself. I never wanted it to end. I\'d kiss your thighs and your belly, and I would give voice to wild, extravagant, rhapsodies in praise of your beauty and my slavish devotion to you. I wanted to stay there, kissing your beautiful body and almost but not quite cumming. I was like a bee suffocating in the nectar of its favorite flower. But sooner or later, I\'d cross over that fine edge which kept me in or out of paradise, and then I\'d cum all over the towel. I loved it."


"You tell a good story, slave."


"Thank you, Mistress."


"Now it\'s my turn."


Mistress Veronica untied my ankles, knees, thighs, and arms. Reminding me to be quite still, she unhooked the weighs from my balls. Then, as she removed the chords from my cock, I noticed how swollen and purple the tip of my penis was.


She spread a white towel on the carpet, sat on a chair and ordered me to kneel before her.


"Now you will be the calendar boy, slave."


"Yes, mistress," I said, as I knelt in front of her.


"Hold out your cock and let me whip it."


I grabbed my cock, holding it so the top two inches were clearly vulnerable to my mistress\'s whip. I shook my cock so it would get bigger. I knew this would hurt, because my mistress almost never gave me "nice" strokes on my cock. But I was ready.


Mistress Veronica looked at me with a happy, kind smile. "I enjoyed those sessions very much, slave. And I enjoyed your retelling of it. I\'m glad you remember."


"Thank you mistress."


"Now, I\'m going to give you something even more wonderful to remember." She said, still smiling softly.


"Yes, mistress."


"You will take twenty stokes on your cock. Or should I say, my cock?"


I was so astonished that the shock must have shown on my face. I looked up at Mistress Veronica unable to speak. Unable to repeat the preposterously high number. Twenty? She might as well have asked me to stick my penis into an electric pencil sharpener.


"What\'s wrong, slave?"


I looked at her, still unable to speak. Even though she was quite strict with me, I always felt that she knew how much I could take and calculated her treatment of me accordingly. But twenty strokes? Especially the kind of vicious painful blows my mistress delivered. Twenty strokes would be impossible. Five would sting and numb me. Ten would devastate me. Each stroke after ten would be sheer terror and agony. I\'d be a bl**dy stump by the time she finished with me. But something inside me wouldn\'t let me protest or beg for mercy.


"Since I hear no objection, let\'s begin. Hold out your cock"


I obeyed, holding out my cock to her and looking at her very beautiful face and body. I would try to obey.


She slashed at my cock and hit it three times before I could even wince.


"Oh, Mistress." I moaned.


"Hold out your cock."


She slammed me again. I was in absolute agony. I didn\'t know what was on the other end of my right hand. I thought I was holding my cock, but I couldn\'t feel anything, except when she whipped me. I looked down at my cock, just to see if it really was still there.


What I saw scared me. The tip of my cock must have been swollen to twice its normal size. It was truly huge.


"Have you been counting, slave? Or do we start over?"


"Five, Mistress."


"Hold out your cock."


Again, I tried to look at her, and until she laid the first stroke on me I did manage to keep my eyes open. But, after the sixth stroke, I remember my eyes closing involuntarily as the pain flooded through my body. I remember holding my cock as if that was the only thing which kept it from being torn away by the whip.


For the next strokes, Mistress Veronica fooled me by slapping at my cock sideways. Maybe she felt the top was too numb to give me anymore pain.


"Eight," I grunted with my eyes closed. Like a boxer, she slapped at my cock from the left, and the right, and then the left again. "Nine, Ten."


"We\'re halfway there, slave. How do you feel?"


I said, nothing. I had to endure ten more blows from the crop. Then I started to break down.


"Mistress, please. You\'re killing me."


"But you used to take one hundred. You said it in your story. I want you to take ten more so we can reach twenty. But if you feel incapable..." Mistress Veronica paused, ".....then you know what to say." I realized she had been talking to give me a chance to recover. But my cock felt so banged up that I doubted it would do any good. I had to do as my mistress wished. So, I grasped my wounded cock in my right hand and held it out.


"Good slave. Now, don\'t forget to count."


"Eleven." My cock was being crushed between two sharp rocks.


"Twelve." She was kicking the slit where I peed with a boot.


"Thirteen." She was shoving her four inch heels into my urethra like a leather catheter.


"f******n." A bl**dy fanged cobra was biting off the top of my cock.


"Fifteen." She was twisting my cock with a large pipe wrench.


I gasped and slumped down to the floor.


"Good," Mistress Veronica said using just my name, and not calling me slave. "We\'re almost done. How do you want the last five? Really quick?"


"Mistress, I said, looking up at her. This is so hard." I could feel muscles twitching and shuddering all over my body as my body were about to revolt from all the pain my penis had suffered.


"I know you can do it."


I held out my cock, took one good look at my still radiantly beautiful mistress and closed my eyes.


"Sixteen." A hard, flat slam which numbed me.


"s*******n." She bashed the tip of my cock with the end of her crop which felt worse than a solid hit.


"Eighteen." She hit the left side of my cock as if she wanted to knock it out of the room.


"Nineteen." The crop seemed made not of leather but of steel. It felt like she was beating me with a rod.


"Aaaaah. Aaaah. Aaaah. Twenty." I whimpered as Mistress Veronica\'s final stinging stroke took its toll on my shuddering body.

I looked up into her beautiful eyes and heard her say to me, "You took your strokes very well, slave. Now you shall have your reward."


Mistress Veronica came towards me carrying a small vial of baby oil. I held out my cruelly swollen cock, and she squeezed the baby oil on it.


"Play with yourself, while I watch, slave. Just like old times."


I began. And looked at her as I always did because she was so beautiful.


This session was to end as no other ever had or ever would again. While I played with my damaged, but surprisingly resilient cock, Mistress Veronica slowly stripped off all her clothes. Not lasciviously or teasingly. But with the same kind of generosity I remembered from the days she had been a submissive.


"Go on, slave," she said, stepping out of her black panties . "Enjoy your reward." Then, she knelt in front of me in the same provocative pose I had described in my story. Legs spread wonderfully wide, arms stretched above her head, hands clasped behind her neck. Naked, open, totally trusting, totally surrendering her beauty to me for this moment.


My mutilated cock came to life.


"I want to see you come. I want to hear you come, slave."


I gazed at her, so lovely there before me, and her white beauty suddenly was transformed and she was Venus. Like that Botticelli where Venus is born out of the sea foam. Mistress Veronica was suddenly revealed to me as love, surrender, generosity, pain, suffering, triumph. It was a miraculous vision.


I stared at her, unable to speak. There was no transcendent white light, no shrouds of mist, no swelling organ music. But I did enjoy the miracle of a vision kneeling there before her. She was Veronica and Venus. Through the pain she had guided me through, I had seen a wonderful truth.


From a deep, hidden, sacred spring in my mind and body, the creative juices flowed and rushed throughout my being. My whole life was transformed by this experience. One of the easiest places for these jubilant f***es to escape was to rush toward my bruised cock. Like water from a fountain, cum gurgled out in wonderful spurts and bursts. I felt holy. My mistress was so beautiful. My life would never be the same.


I looked down at my cock, amazed at the evidence of my excitement, and when I looked up again at my mistress, the vision had vanished. Or perhaps I should say, the vision had been taken back inside her body. I had seen her transfigured. I would always see who she really was for me.


"You have pleased me greatly," Mistress Veronica said, still not calling me slave, as she usually did. "Now, I have to leave. But I will see you again."




Chapter VIII : Night Flight



"Let me take your glasses. You won\'t need them." Mistress Veronica said, holding out her hand. I immediately surrendered my lenses to her. Even though I was already naked, this made me feel even more vulnerable and more excited.


Mistress Veronica picked up a blindfold, calmly walked behind me and fastened it securely. I had never felt so totally helpless in my life. This wasn\'t like a scarf you could peer from underneath. The blindfold made it blackest midnight for me. I couldn\'t see anything. From now on, I would perceive the world only through my mistress\' commands and desires.


Mistress Veronica fastened the cuffs behind my back, and then attached a short chain between my ankle cuffs. At the beginning of the session she had bound my cock and balls in a very uncomfortable position, almost as if she wanted to make them look ridiculous. I now felt her attach a leash to the cord around my trussed up balls. She tugged at the reins playfully, as if I were a horse.


"Let me see you walk, slave," she said, leading me in a circle. I heard the chains jingle. It was not an unpleasant sound.


"We\'re going to go on a little trip, slave," Mistress Veronica said, " I want you to walk at your own pace. There\'s no hurry."


And so this night flight, this exquisitely magical journey began. The most surprising aspect of my experience is how totally dependent I became on Mistress Veronica\'s voice. I had previously thought that being blindfolded was a deprivation; it meant that I would no longer be allowed to look at my mistress\' erotic costume, which revealed her supple thighs, the curve of her breasts, her bewitching, inviting ass. But within a few moments I realized how wrong I had been. Being blindfolded conferred on me the ecstasy of total surrender. I depended on Mistress Veronica\'s voice and the gentle tug of the leash for everything. I had to concentrate on her voice totally, and as Mistress Veronica spoke to me in a soft, kind, helpful voice, I felt that she was lavishing all her attention on me The world shrank to just the two of us. I was totally her slave, and she was my guide, my leader, my world. She was my mistress. As I listened to the jingle of my chains and followed my mistress\' voice, I was in heaven.


"You don\'t have to walk so fast," Mistress Veronica cautioned. I won\'t pull your leash." I had been shuffling along as if I were in a race, half afraid she\'d yank on the leash and hurt my balls.


We turned several corners. Then I heard music and other voices. It was an eerie and wondrous experience for me. "Mistress," I said, "I could follow you like this forever."


"Thank you. Now, be careful, there\'s a step up here," Mistress Veronica said. "Can you feel it?"


I lifted my leg and felt the step, but the chains prevented me from actually reaching the top of the step.


"Just a minute, I\'ll have to unchain your ankles." Mistress Veronica said. I was grateful for her consideration and care. She was just moments away from giving me the whipping of a lifetime and yet she was concerned about my tripping on the step. I was touched by this indication of her tenderness for me.


When I was on top of the step, Mistress Veronica positioned me so my back was against the cool wood of a column. She stretched my hands high above my head and linked them to either side of what I now guessed was a whipping post on a stage platform. When my wrists were secure, she ran her hands seductively down my chest, my stomach, my hips, my thighs and legs until she reached my feet. Every inch of my captive body came alive with her touch.


She fastened my ankles to either side of the post and then stepped away from me in silence. I could imagine what would come next, but my mistress was in no hurry. She loosened the cords around my cock and balls and I was just about to thank her, when she began attaching horribly sharp clamps or clothespins. My blindfold made them doubly sinister. I could feel them going in along the shaft of my cock--reaching toward its tip. Mistress Veronica had a penchant for using clamps all around and on top of the purple glans, and I dreaded how creative she might get with these toys of hers. She attached the clamps as if she were playing tick tack toe on my helpless cock. I didn\'t know where the next one would be placed, but I knew there wasn\'t much room left Then, in a moment of unbelievable pain, she used a clamp right on the tip of my penis, as if she wanted to clamp the slit where I peed totally shut. It hurt so much I wanted to scream.


"Aaaah! Aaaah! Aaaah! Mistress," I whimpered, ashamed at how easily she had made me feel weak and powerless..


"I guess I\'d better give you something else to think about," Mistress Veronica said matter-of-factly. It was incredible. A few moments ago she had been so concerned about me that she had unchained my ankles so I could stretch my legs enough to mount the stage. But now, that solicitous tender mistress had been replaced by a strict disciplinarian, who had clamped my cock shut without a moment\'s compunction. What would she do to me next?


I heard her soft footsteps, and a few moments later I felt her dangle the leather of her flogger across my chest. She brushed it across my nipples, under my arms and over each shoulder. My cock was still in tremendous pain.


She obviously was in no hurry and wanted me to enjoy anticipating what was to come next. When she stopped and stepped away, there was a moment of delicious silence. My cock throbbed, and I waited in dread.


"Uuunnngh!" I grunted as she slapped her flogger into my left side. She was right about one thing. I totally forgot about the clamps on my cock as soon as the whip hit.


"Uuunngh! Uunngh!" I gasped as Mistress Veronica hit me again and again.


"Ooooouuuch, Oh. Oh!" I groaned and panted as the leather hit me like a fist full of nails. She coaxed different sounds out of me depending on where and how hard she hit me. I felt as if every thong of her whip was having an orgy on my body. But, I loved the pain and felt flattered by the concentration I knew Mistress Veronica must be devoting to her task. I hoped she was receiving as much pleasure as I was from the whipping. As I hung there, waiting for the next whip stroke to come out of the black night, I realized that she could do anything she wanted to me and I would love it.


Blindfolded, strapped to the whipping post, I was living what most men only fantasize about. Mistress Veronica whipped my torso harder than ever before, striking at me from armpit to armpit, lashing my rib cage and slashing at my chest. As she struck me with the long leather thongs of the flogger, explosions of bright yellow and purple flashed behind my blindfolded eyes making stars in the heaven of my pain. I grunted and shuddered with pleasure


"That\'s right, slave, arch your back and show me how much you really want this ," Mistress Veronica said. Her next strokes were even harder.


This whipping lasted perhaps five minutes, but it unveiled to me an eternity of bliss. I was tied to the post, in total darkness, and my mistress was violently caressing me with her whip. I groaned and shivered as she struck me, but I never contemplated begging for mercy. I loved it.


She continued to lash my left side, and then focused on my right side, sometimes striking high near my shoulder, at other times attacking my armpit. Just when I thought I could anticipate where the whip would strike, Mistress Veronica would fool me and hit me right in the center of my chest or down lower on my stomach. She was also extremely good at flicking the whip so it just bit my nipples. I couldn\'t count the strokes, but each lash was more precious to me than any kiss I have ever received..


When it seemed to be over, I waited, my body stinging with pain. Sometimes, my mistress allowed me to rest for a few moments and then began working on me again. But this time, when the pause lengthened and I sensed that she was indeed finished with me, I gave voice to the grateful praise which had been welling up inside me during this whipping.


I almost sang, "Mistress, I adore you."


"Thank you, slave," my Mistress replied, "I\'m glad you appreciate what I\'ve done for you.


She let me stand there, glowing with pain. That whipping was better than any sex I have ever had or hope to have. Naked, bruised, blindfolded, tied to the whipping post, I was absolutely ecstatic. Mistress Veronica\'s whip had licked and bit me with her tongue and teeth. She\'d made love to my body with her whip, and the welts she\'d raised were the signs of her love for me.


"You see," she whispered close to my ear as she was releasing the clamps from my penis, "Just as I predicted, you forgot all about these clamps on your poor little cock."


She untied me from the post, and quickly applied a pair of slender but severe nipple-clamps. She attached a leash to the chain between the clamps, and we continued our journey into the night. Now she pulled harder than she had at the beginning of our journey. I could hear a Mozart serenade coming from a CD player. Another woman greeted Mistress Veronica who then asked her to look at how red her slave\'s chest was becoming. Mistress Veronica pulled on the leash attached to my nipples and said, "Look at this slave\'s erect nipples." Being shown off like this to another dominatrix made me feel very proud of being Mistress Veronica\'s slave.


All this time I was still blindfolded. It felt as if I were flying beside my mistress through a brilliantly dark night and visiting a magic world of the sweetest pain imaginable. Eventually, the journey had to end, and my mistress led me, like a well-exercised horse, back to the stable from which we\'d started.



••••••••••••••



Later in that same session, Mistress Veronica spread several towels on the floor beneath the hoist and asked me to kneel down. She never really gave orders. She didn\'t have to. She knew I wanted to instantly obey her slightest wish. But placing the towels on the floor was another example of how tenderly she cared for me. She was about to whip me severely, but she didn\'t want my knees to be in any pain.


She put suspension cuffs on my wrists, tied them to the cross bar and hoisted it just above my head. Next, she used a spreader bar to keep my legs wide apart. To show me the usefulness of the spreader bar, she stood behind me and swung her flogger between my legs so that its leather tips hit my balls. I shuddered at the stroke which had been so light yet so devastating. She did it again to emphasize her point. Then, she came back around in front of me, so I could enjoy looking at her. She let me look as she worked the winch that hoisted my arms high above my head. I was helpless and vulnerable again--stretched and slung between two pillars like a game a****l about to be skinned . My already bruised chest as well as my cock and balls would be easy targets for Mistress Veronica\'s whip.


She sat on a chair just in front of me, crossed her legs and went to work on my cock with her riding crop, slapping my dangling penis like it was a punching bag. As she flicked the crop, her shoulder straps seductively slipped down her arm. I grew excited, despite the pain. Gradually her strokes got harder, until I winced both at the pain and the sharp noise the crop made as it hit. She swung at my cock from the left and the right so that my swelling and battered penis swayed back and forth with each blow. Changing direction, she struck downward with amused and almost playful f***e. My cock bounced up and down from the impact. She knew she had me and she was enjoying it.


"It\'s such a pretty cock," Mistress Veronica said. "I like it when it\'s nice and red. Look at how big it\'s getting."


She wasn\'t exaggerating. I was always amazed at how big my cock got when she whipped it with the crop. It seemed twice as thick as usual and glowed a deep, dark sensual purple. I couldn\'t move, and she enjoyed striking my cock, seeing it bounce, and hearing me groan. I could have begged for mercy, but I did not. Painful as it was, I was enjoying the way she used her crop on my penis.


I saw a mischievous smile light up her face, then she struck me again, angling the crop so it cruelly slashed the side of my cock. This was much more painful than a direct hit.


After a while, Mistress Veronica set down her crop and picked up her flogger. She pushed the chair away and stood a little off to my left side. Extending her long beautiful right arm behind her, she looked at me with calm, beautiful very concentrated eyes--like an archer about to launch an arrow. Then, she slashed her whip into my torso. The leather hissed and bit, sk**ding across my chest like little razors. She came at me forehand and backhand, with undiminished strength. Perhaps feeling some pity for the punishment she had inflicted on my left side, she moved to my right side and began again, slashing and cutting. I grunted with surprise and pain when each stroke hit. No matter how much I wanted the whip, I was always shocked at how much it hurt when my mistress really let loose on me.


This was the second whipping in the same session and I knew my chest would probably be marked with red and purple welts for a few days. But I was entranced as I watched my mistress whip me. It was as if she were performing a savagely erotic dance just for me. She always stood very close to me when she whipped me, and I drank in the wonder of her black lingerie, the whiteness of her long arm as she aimed the whip at my chest and the fierce look of concentration of her face. I loved the careful way she positioned herself for each stroke, and I adored the way she would look at me when I groaned after a particularly hard stroke as if my pain was the only sort of thanks she needed.


I enjoyed and endured it all. Every stroke drenched me with the sweetest pain.


"Thank you, Mistress Veronica."


"Thank you, slave. You took your whipping very well."


She quickly untied my hands and freed my ankles from the spreader bar. Then she gave me a bit of baby oil and told me to play with myself. Standing close enough to me so that I could have kissed her had I been foolish enough to dare , she pulled her slip and bra down so I could see her shapely white breasts with their large, excited nipples.


"This is your reward, slave," Mistress Veronica said seeing how my eyes devoured her luscious body. She reached out and pinched my nipples between her fingers in the way she knew I liked best. Deliriously happy, I looked up at her, staring deeply into her passionate eyes, gazing at her naked shoulders and breasts. My nipples were tightly locked in her hands, and she squeezed them voluptuously. They were throbbing with pain. To be honest, at that moment, I would rather have had my mistress tormenting my two nipples, than have had my cock inside her pussy.


"Cum for me, slave," Mistress Veronica said. "Show me how much you liked being whipped.





Chapter IX : The Lost Good-bye


I had called on Monday to confirm my usual Thursday appointment with Mistress Veronica. The receptionist had been friendly, vivacious.


"It\'s easy to see you\'re really hooked," she said.


"Yes." I said, although "hooked" seemed a very mild term for the total possession in which I was held.


"Mistress Veronica is very good at what she does." I agreed.


I had trouble restraining my praise. But I knew a slave wasn\'t supposed to blabber. I held onto the phone, thinking about the pleasures that awaited me in only three more days. The earth had to rotate three times on its axis, and I would again be in the presence of Mistress Veronica.


The earth kept turning. I worked, ate, slept, talked to friends. The prospect of an hour with Mistress Veronica always made me want to be extra kind, as if I saw a sunny day behind the clouds that shrouded everyone else\'s life. When Thursday afternoon arrived, I wrapped the gift I wished to present to her. It was a first edition of her favorite book. I played the Chopin we always shared, and then got on the freeway. The miles passed in a pleasant delirium of anticipation.


I parked my car, checked that the gift was still in my brief case, got out, locked the door, and walked perhaps twenty-five steps to the door. I opened it, smiled at the receptionist and signed my name.


"I\'m here to see Mistress Veronica," I said, needlessly.


"Oh. I\'m sorry," She said, sounding genuinely concerned. Veronica doesn\'t work here anymore."


"What?"


"Veronica doesn\'t work here anymore."


I felt devastated. It was like that first day long ago when I\'d arrived expecting to spend an hour toying with a docile, submissive Veronica and found out she\'d been transformed into a dominant. Only this was a severe shock.


"Mistress Veronica is gone?"


"Yes. Really, I\'m so sorry. She just called up two days ago and said she was quitting."


"Isn\'t there anyway I could call her? You know how long I\'ve been coming here..." I begged. And then I had a sudden inspiration. "Say, you\'re not k**ding me? This isn\'t some joke Mistress Veronica worked up with you, is it?"


"I\'m afraid it\'s not a joke. I know how devoted you were to her. And she said nice things about you, too. But she\'s gone. I can\'t tell you any more."


She waited for this to sink in, and then she went on, "If you\'d like to sit down, I\'ll ask one of the girls to come and talk with you. Someone who knew Mistress Veronica. Maybe that would help. "


I sat down and slumped into a soft couch, numb. My mind was absolutely blank. I couldn\'t believe that Mistress Veronica was gone. I couldn\'t believe that I\'d never, never see her again. I had to find her. My whole world revolved around her. I heard footsteps, smelled perfume and then someone sat down next to me.


"Hi, I\'m Christine. I was friends with Veronica. Would you like to talk about her with me? We could go into a dungeon where it would be more private."


I followed Christine, who I realized had in fact been one of the women Mistress Veronica had invited into our sessions. Numb as I was, I wasn\'t blind to her sexy appearance. She had pale, straw colored hair and a tremendous figure. Beneath the lacy, skin-tight dress, I knew the nipples on both her succulent breasts were pierced with large rings.


I stopped in the hall and asked, "Could we talk in the Roissy?"


"Veronica\'s old dungeon? Sure, if you really want to"


We went in and sat down. Without Mistress Veronica\'s magic presence. Without her infinitely patient arrangement of equipment, without being able to see her moving from corner to corner like an acolyte in a black corset, lighting candles, the room seemed utterly foreign.


I looked at Christine and felt ashamed that she was so easily arousing my lust. Mistress Veronica had been torn away from me. I had persuaded myself that I was her devoted slave. And yet, a few minutes with an alluring blond and I wanted her. Maybe Mistress Veronica had wanted it that way. What had she treated me like this?


"I\'m sure you understand how I feel," I began. "I loved Mistress Veronica so much. She kept me near ecstasy in our sessions. I loved it when she whipped me."


Christine let me go on for a while, then leaning over toward me so that I could appreciate her breasts even more, she laid her hand on my thigh and looked up at me.


"I can help you," she said. "You\'re a handsome man. I remember liking you that time Veronica invited me into your session. I\'m a switch. You can order me to strip naked, tie me up and whip me if it makes you feel better. You can treat me the way she treated you. Or I can be dominant. I\'m not saying I could ever replace Veronica. But you might enjoy talking about her while I punished you."


The offer was very tempting. Christine\'s dress hardly covered her excellent white thighs. And I could see the contour of her large nipple rings beneath the tight, plunging bodice of her dress. I felt angry, desolate, bitter, humiliated. I had created a whole world of beautiful, poetic fantasies around my relationship with Mistress Veronica. And now she was gone. I wanted Mistress Veronica so badly. Why had she done this to me? And I\'d so much wanted to give her the first edition of her favorite book.


But Mistress Veronica was gone. No one could tell me where she was. I recalled seeing other clients trying to pry into the home lives of the women who worked here. And I\'d seen the steel wall of privacy that the staff slammed down in front of them.


Christine rubbed her hand on my thigh, right next to my crotch. She saw me looking at her breasts. "Maybe you\'ve got a right to get even with her," she said encouragingly. "We could have fun. You could pretend I\'m Veronica and punish me." Then she paused, to emphasize what she said next. "I like breast bondage. You could tie up my breasts. I bet you never did that with Veronica."


I looked at Christine, my mouth getting drier, my body aching to possess her. Part of me wanted to do just what she suggested. I\'d have loved stripping her and getting at those breasts.


But I decided not to.


"I\'m sorry Christine," I said. "I don\'t think I\'d be much fun right now. I think I\'ll just drive around a bit. I need to be alone with my thoughts."


"Sure," Christine said," still moving her hand on my thigh. "Right now, you\'re hurt. You want to be faithful to your Mistress. But remember, I can take you wherever you want to go."


"Thanks," I said and got up to leave. I didn\'t wait for Christine. I just kept walking, mumbling good-bye to the receptionist and shoving open the heavy front door.


Then, half way to my car, I realized I\'d forgotten my brief case and I had to go back. Christine was standing in the front hall. I got another good look at her. She was exceptionally fine looking.


"My brief case?" I asked.


"Here," Christine said, "I carried it out for you. What\'s your rush? "


"Thanks, Christine. I know I must seem like a jerk, but I just can\'t stay right now."


Somebody else walked in the door. Christine\'s attention immediately shifted to him and I left.


I left for good. I got in my car, just as I had after so many triumphant, fulfilling sessions with Mistress Veronica. I started the engine and pushed the tape player to hear the Chopin we\'d shared during so many happy times together. At first, I thought I couldn\'t stand it, but it was fine. The music was the only friend I needed now. I remembered the exquisite emotions Mistress Veronica had been able to evoke within me. I drove carefully, because my eyes were full of joyful tears which made seeing hard.


Like the ice Mistress Veronica had once used to cool the whip marks she\'d slashed on my chest, Chopin\'s nocturnes soothed me. I had pretended to be her slave, but I had really only enslaved myself. I sensed that maybe Veronica had wanted set me free from myself. In my imagination, I could have her, and the world I\'d created with her, forever. She\'d whipped herself into my body and my mind. Sure I could go back and have a session with Christine. Start the whole cycle over again. I could throw Veronica away, replace her with Christine. Or I could move on. Like Dante, after he\'d seen Beatrice, I could use my miraculous life with Veronica as the start of a whole new chapter of my life.


That night I went to a concert of guitar music. Sitting four rows in front of me was a young woman who looked so like Veronica that I felt like a sword had passed through my heart and I\'d seen another vision. This woman was with a handsome young man whose brown hair was decades away from turning gray. As I listened to the passionate music of Granados\' "Tango," I lovingly studied the woman\'s face, and I saw with relief that it was not so fine as Veronica\'s. It hadn\'t her charm or her glowing beauty or the wisdom she\'d gained from controlling so many men . But I understood. This woman, like Veronica, had a right to her own life. She was happy. In love. Veronica had that right, too. I had to let go. And if I let go just right, Veronica would stay in my imagination forever. Where I really needed her. Only in that way would my life with Veronica never end.







The Presentation


I was blindfolded and gagged. Mistress Veronica had invited another dominant into the room, but never mentioned her name. I could feel them both standing next to me as I hung there spread-eagled from the hoist and cross-bar. Though I couldn\'t see, I felt that both of them were close to me. One on either side.


"You are to behave exactly as you do with me" Mistress Veronica said. As she talked, two hands touched my chest. I recognized my Mistress fingers instantly, but the other hand was I could feel the finger nails


"I know that you will be a good slave."
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Categories: BDSM
Posted by Chrs_Straight
3 years ago    Views: 1,477
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1 year ago
xxx
Submissat...
retired
3 years ago
Insanely good writing! You should totally publish, Chrs_Straight.
3 years ago
fabulous writing, i was hooked on every word, thanks for posting