Strawberries and Cream

Apr 5, 2013

I’m often asked, do you prefer to play with new or regular slaves? Of course the answer is BOTH. However, the difference for me is that you can build intensity into a session with an established slave that doesn’t always occur with first timers. Naturally there is an inbuilt tension anyway on a first encounter; however this does not equate to the knowledge the dominant holds about her plaything when she has sessioned with him many times before.

Such was the experience with my slave today. Delicious mind-games are possible when you know what buttons to hit, in which order and precisely what effect each will have in turn. Over the period of the week, I’d detailed a number of tasks that HAD to be achieved, with the overwhelming emphasis being on ‘correctness, speediness and willingness’. On first inspection this may seem like an easy job. But, take a challenge such as ‘fuck a grapefruit, cum in it and eat it’, and it may not be quite as simple as you think. Success depends upon various factors, such as a) whether or not you have a grapefruit b) whether you can ejaculate by using it and c) whether you can bring yourself to eat it after success, if success has occurred.

Naturally picture evidence was demanded…. which on inspection fell short of my demands straight away. Even I cannot be accused of ‘pickiness’ when the sub in question tries to pass off his grapefruit failure by offering an image of his cock… in an orange! His deceit immediately moved him from the ‘stupid’ to the ‘extremely stupid’ category and inevitably had come at a price.

Move this scene forward a few days until the point when the option of a session hangs in the air. Summoning my slave and getting him on the case with some menial tasks first seems the ideal starting point. My boots need cleaning, the washing up hasn’t been done, and the floors need scrubbing. Luckily for him, there are things to do and he is the sub to do them. I order my slave into full rubber regalia and suggest that if he completes his tasks he will earn some playtime. The truth is, of course, that, naturally I’ve no intention of sessioning with a ‘failure.’, I merely intend to crush his chirpy optimism, ruin his happy demeanour and spoil his afternoon by denying him that which he holds most dear: PLAYTIME with his Mistress.

Being truly determined that he shall suffer, I decide to rub salt into the wound by making him watch as I cross his name off of the list and replace it with another, remarking that I’d rather play with someone else that day. (Yes I know it will have a devastating effect for him to be SO rejected by me… and that’s what I want). On top of that, I lock his worthless cock and balls up in a chastity device and inform him that today is not his day, and he will have to wait until I’m ‘in the mood’. To say that tears were visible on his unhappy face was an understatement. Of course I have to laugh at his disappointment, life can be so cruel, can it not?

Today is another day and as luck would have it, I’m in a very good mood. I’ve managed to train, set up some interesting shoots with some lovely ladies and best of all, got my sub dangling hoplessly and helplessly on a string. I ordered his dungeon attendance at 8.30 am, not an easy feat for him as he travels from quite far north. Well that’s not my problem is it?  Naturally, I wouldn’t be arriving at that time myself; he could just wait and see if I could be bothered to attend.
In the end, I did turn up, and it was a pleasure to see his little subbie eyes light-up in anticipation of being tormented and punished by me for all of his sins of the week. I could tell how desperate he was by the meticulous way he had dressed himself head to foot in shiny rubber. The fact that he fell to the floor, grovelling at my feet and begging for my attention was also a tiny clue that here was a slave near breaking-point with frustration and desire. Even then, I could not resist making him wait a few hours longer, carrying out some menial, unimportant tasks for me and sweating both from his rubber encasement and from the fear that my phone might ring and I that would accept another appointment and banish him from my side.
Of course, this time his fear was unjustified. I am a kind Mistress and know when further rejection might seriously harm a sub’s mental health. I had, in fact cleared my time for a lengthy session which would wipe out all of this slave’s failures and sins and leave him milked, happy and contented… till the next time. I began in the medical room with heavy rubber bondage that left him struggling not to panic in rubber clothes, inside a tight-fitting rubber bag which, in turn, was submerged inside my heaviest, inflatable rubber suit. Oh… and I should not forget to mention the electrics in his rear, not the pump-up gag and combined breathing and feeding tube which filled his mouth. All in all I think he coped well with the intense feeling of claustrophobia and the disturbing sensation which slaves report that they feel when my urine trickles down the tube to the back of their throat and they swallow – or choke – it doesn’t matter either way to me when I need to relieve a full bladder like that.
 

Perhaps the highlight was a little breath play (well quite a lot of breath play, really) I decided to teach him the difference between ‘an orange’ and a ‘grapefruit’ in a way that even a stupid slave could understand. Shrink wrap round his gagged and secured head was topped off with a tight fitting plastic bag while the lesson continued. First came counting – slowly – for the number of letters in o-r-a-n-g-e. Once his panic had subsided, it was gratifying to see the realisation dawn as to what was coming next. Doesn’t g-r-a-p-e-f-r-u-i-t have a lot of letters in its name? Amazing what those few more, snail’s pace, counted letters can do to a sub’s heart-rate and fear. I don’t think he will be muddling up his fruit in the future: the threat of counting s-t-r-a-w-b-e-r-r-i-e-s-a-n-d-c-r-e-a-m is unforgettably burned into his brain. Another training job done and dusted I feel.

 

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