Where the Devil is He?

Jan 7, 2013

“Well is a first”, I thought to myself as I entered the dungeon, “a missing slave? I know he has arrived, his clothes are still in place but has he suddenly developed super powers of invisibility?” Checking my downstairs room for evidence of sneakiness did alas bring no closure to the question, the slave was indeed still missing. Looking up to the locked attic still gave no clues, “surely not” I thought to myself, “the poor bugger is recovering from surgery, he’s fit, but scaling the great heights of my cage and hoisting himself up to the cell is not possible”. Of course as puzzled as I was, I didn’t want to go on the hunt, so I released my captive slave to go a-searching. Soon enough the evidence was there, he had indeed done the unthinkable and hidden himself away in the upstairs cells…..”Now there will be trouble” I thought.

I’d prepared a series of tests for the session: I needed to teach this cheeky slave to know his place and understand that there can be only one top - and that was me. Brandishing a list of obscure, almost-incomprehensible words I knew the lesson would be learned, my way! Spelling is difficult at the best of times, so add that an element of ‘distraction,’ as I’d like to call it, certainly ups the ante somewhat, I’d lined up a selection of implements to use if the slave dared to make a mistake. What’s more to make the test more interesting I demanded at certain times the definition of the word : after all who doesn’t know the meaning of scripophily?

Starting on the table and working the slave’s ass with a crop for warm-up, I wanted to find out whether or not having the added bonus of a slow, systematic, cock suck would help or hinder my trussed slaves plight? of course I had a waiting house slave’s mouth to assist. Working in complete unison we punished and teased the wretch to a devilish mixture of sensations to put that grey matter under strain. Interestingly enough the tease counteracted the pain and trussed sub was able to complete his task (damn it).

I continued to ‘distract’ in more painful, varied and interesting ways (of course I can’t reveal all my secrets) but the ending was indeed poetic. Trussed slave was tied in an upright position on the body-board, assisting house slave sat cock sucking, and myself adding something painful to the mix. The inevitable happened and the all-important milking occurred. What my house slave didn’t realise was that after a full collection was obtained in a durex, some unexpected recycling was to be enforced, right down his throat. As the challenge was met with almost a dead heat, some homework was set, create a paragraph containing all the necessary words and email it to me. His fascinating effort is listed below:

"Deep in Transylvania, where pterodactyls once lorded the skies and Dracula engaged in unconscionable acts of necrophilia, a latter-day BDSM scene was unfolding before an invited audience including a connoisseur of scripophily and a professor of psychiatry. The Mistress of Ceremonies, aka The Huntress, whose diaphragm muscles attested to hours in the gym, was flogging an errant slave for some malfeasance. Deliberately, carefully, as her slave swam in and out of consciousness on a tide of amyl, she was using her whip to haemorrhage the skin of his butt into her own unique brand - an “M” in Egyptian hieroglyphics.

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