Wishing You Could Serve?

Mar 22, 2013

 I always find it amusing that many of my subbies are far braver when away from my Hanwell dungeons than they are once the straps start to tighten around their limbs on my medical couch. From what they perceive to be a safe distance they are only too eager to beg for the harshest of treatment; pleading for me to be the cruel Mistress of their dreams, and not the kind, warm and caring Mistress that I actually am. In reality, many slaves are only too happy that, when their session begins, I invariably use my experience and skills to judge precisely what level of treatment they require in order to fulfil their fantasies and yet leave them unharmed, satisfied and sane enough to leave my chambers and re-enter the outside world. I can expertly up their heart-rate, quicken their breathing and take them into sub-space within the limits they may not even know they possess. My desire is always twofold: to give my slaves the safe, sane and consensual experience I know they are seeking... and to enjoy myself hugely in the process.

It was interesting then to receive the letter below from one of my slaves who has not visited me for a while. Normally a regular visitor and a complete ‘Mirandite’ addict, I knew that only the demands of his career would have kept him from my side. Now, I am the first to realise that many of my slaves need to work to keep me in the style to which I am rightly accustomed, but that does not mean that their absence does not bring consequences. Accordingly, I have banned this sub not only from any sexual climaxing but also from even touching his cock until he has sorted out his work-life balance and realised that his Mistress must always come first in his thoughts.
The effect of a relatively short spell of sexual abstinence has been reinforced by my texting and tweeting a series of little messages to make him realise how unimportant he is in my life, how little I care for his frustrated sufferings, and how easily I can drive him crazy with the thought that other slaves are enjoying the treatment he so desperately craves. I know he is mentally ‘cuckolding’ himself, tortured with thoughts of what other slaves may be enjoying in his absence. Judging by his letter, my little dose of frustration medicine is having the effect I desired:

“I thought it might please you to hear how desperate and unhappy you can make me with just one of your tweets or a casual word over the phone. The longer I cannot see you and the more you play your cruel games, such as mentioning what treatments other slaves are enduring, the more painful my cock and my balls become. My need for you is an insatiable and driving hunger: imagine the hungriest you have ever been, the moment when your tummy aches for food and saliva is flooding your mouth at the mere thought or mention of chocolate or cake. Then, mentally transpose that feeling to yourself and dream of how it would ache and long for release as the days pass by. That is how I feel all of the time now in the days and days that you have insisted I must stay both faithful and chaste. I am probably, right now, at the height of the ever-increasing discomfort, the moment when the end of my penis feels as though you have dipped it in Tiger Balm and tenderised it with a spiked steak hammer whilst my balls are full and tight and dancing between my legs in a frenzy of unsatisfied lust. I need you so badly… and I need to cum so very, very much… that I can think of nothing but you.

“The extreme testosterone levels you have allowed to build in my body drive an overwhelming need to submit to your will. I want to suffer for you, to cry for you, to work for you, to let you beat and torment and torture my most sensitive and private parts. I crave the opportunity to humiliate and degrade myself for your amusement and fun. I want you to invade my body, control my every breath, strap me in truly immovable bondage and then take me to the edge of madness with incessant teasing and the ever-present fear that you might just leave me suffering and walk out of the room. I would love to languish in your cells forever, watered with whatever takes your fancy whenever you wish. I can never forget that you are privy to my deepest, most intimate sexual fantasies and to the phobias and absolute fears that make me shudder with dread, I welcome the fact that such knowledge gives you the power to reduce me to panic and gibbering insanity, in fear of my very life and having to always trust you will save me. You are the most beautiful and sexy woman I have ever known and in the years that I have known you I have learned to adore you with an unrequited passion that consumes my very being. It is perhaps the certain knowledge that I will never be anything other than a plaything in your life that is the hardest cross of all to bear.

“So, in the depths of my frustration, may I beg one small favour of you, my most-glorious and sexy Mistress? No… I promise it is not yet another request to beg to be able to cum… I would just like you to tuck the memories of this astonishing level of desire away in your mind and save it for the next time you have me spread-eagled and helpless before you. Please use the foolish words I am writing now to take me to levels of suffering and service up to and beyond the limits you feel I can take. Remind me, if I whine and whinge and try to wheedle you to lessen the pain, or ease the bondage or allow me a little more air, that I have written today and begged you to hurt me until you are satisfied that you have carried out these desperate wishes to the full. Make me truly regret writing this note: show me the full and awful consequences of poking the hornets’ nest with a stick; make me want you even more; make me your creature, your pet, your plaything, your toy to be broken forever.”

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