Suddenly Dominatrix

MY SECRET LIFE AS A
PRIVATE BDSM MISTRESS.

WRITTEN IN GERMAN BY LADY SAS.

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH
BY SLAVE M AND MATHIAS.

FRANKFURT, GERMANY,
SEPT. 2013

BACK TO THE BEGINNING.

SEPARATION OVER BREAKFAST.

A KINGDOM FOR A PLAN.

BETWEEN FASCINATION AND IRRITATION.

WHERE’S THE CATCH?

FIRST TIME TANGLES.

AN EXCITING NEW WORLD.

FIRST FOUND,
THEN BOUND.

THE NEXT LEVEL
OF BDSM.

SISSIFICATION.

MASSAGE SKILLS.

THE VISIT.

LADY CORNELITAS.

SURPRISES.

WHO OWNS THE SLAVE?

EPILOGUE.

CONTACT INFORMATION.

GLOSSARY.

IMPRINT.

BACK TO THE BEGINNING.

“SEVENTEEN!!!!!!”

“EIGHTEEN!!!!!“

“NINETEEN!!!!!“

”TWENTY!!!!!!“

“TWENTY-ONE!!!!“

“That’s enough for now,” I remark casually, and spare him the next stroke. Toytoy’s ass clearly bears the mark of my whip, glowing bright and red, as we admire our handiwork.

Together, we untie him. He instinctively falls to the floor and showers Cornelitas' vinyl boots and my leather high heels with alternate kisses to express his gratitude.

“You’d better do it properly, or we’ll tie you up again…” I snap. “And don’t forget my heel, slave.”

“The harsher you treat them, the more submissive they become,” Cornelitas observes with a smile.

“It’s interesting that you mention that,” I reply. “I’ve noticed the same thing.”

“I’m disappointed with you, slave,” Cornelitas says firmly, as she looks down on Toytoy, who’s still submissively kissing and licking our footwear. “I really expected more from you. You’re like a little sissy girl that can’t take any pain. You’re just a snivelling little whiner: ‘Please, Lady Cornelitas…! Mercy, Madame, mercy…! I beg you…! Please Lady Cornelitas…’ — “Your constant moaning and begging for mercy was simply embarrassing. Very embarrassing, indeed!”

I look at Cornelitas in surprise. She is twisting the facts to suit herself! It’s an interesting technique.

“Aren’t you ashamed to be such a wimp? You couldn’t even take five strokes without complaining. That’s pathetic! What an embarrassment you are.”

“Please forgive me, Mistress,” Toytoy begs with clenched teeth and a hint of irony in his voice. He clearly feels provoked. He had taken his beating bravely and now Cornelitas is claiming that he hadn’t.

“What’s that?! Do I hear resentment and rebellion in your voice? Kneel, slave!”

She takes a quick step forward and lets loose a shower of slaps on Toytoy, as he cowers before her. Then she quickly steps back again and offers him her boot.

Toytoy immediately obeys, and shows his submission by obediently kissing and licking her shining footwear.

“You seem a bit rebellious sometimes, slave! Am I right?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas. Please forgive me, Lady Cornelitas,” Toytoy replies in the same defiant voice.

“Behave!” I hiss angrily. “Remember what I told you!”

“Don’t worry,” Cornelitas reassures me, “we both understand each other very well. We’re just playing — aren’t we, slave? Oh, I still have some dirt on my shoe…” She points to her heel.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Cornelitas says and winks at me.

“It’s over there,” I reply and point in that direction.

She laughs. “What I wanted to say was: Has your slave been trained for toilet service?”

“Ehem… not yet,” I reply hesitantly. Toilet service? That can’t actually be what I think it is, I wonder.

“I understand,” says Cornelitas. She takes hold of his leash and pulls Toytoy close to her.

“Would it be beyond your limits if I would piss down on you, slave?” — Yes, she actually uses the word ‘piss’.

Toytoy shakes his head.

“Good!” Cornelitas says triumphantly. “Because that is exactly what I intend to do!”

Still holding his leash, she walks assertively to the bathroom, dragging Toytoy behind her. I really want to follow, but somehow don’t have the courage to do so.

As if she could read my mind, Cornelitas calls out to me: “You can come and watch, Saskia – if you want to.”

I pull myself together and follow them to the bathroom.

My slave is kneeling in the shower.

“Would you mind if I release him from his chastity?” asks Cornelitas. I nod in agreement and give her the key. She unlocks his CB6000, removes all the parts and places them carefully on the bathroom cabinet. Then she lifts her skirt and removes her panties. As I watch, I sense a tingling feeling in my pussy.

Cornelitas stands over the slave and spreads her legs. She places her hands on her hips and asks him: “Have you ever been pissed on, slave?”

To my great surprise, I hear him reply: “Yes, Lady Cornelitas.”

“Aha! And who was it who pissed on you?”

“Eh… it happened when I visited some professional femdom studios,” Toytoy answers hesitantly.

Without warning, Cornelitas slaps him hard across the face. Or, to judge by the sound it might be more appropriate to say that she whacks him.

“I asked you WHO peed on you, not WHERE,” she rebukes him imperiously.

“By Miss Emelie… Lady Silvana de Maart... Lady Pia... Lady Silvia…”

“Aha!” Cornelitas exclaims, “so you’re an experienced studio slave. And you like to let ladies piss on you. Do you also drink their piss?“

My slave shakes his head.

“Does Lady Saskia use you as her toilet?”

Again, my slave shakes his head — and my head turns red with embarrassment.

“Would you like her to use you as her toilet?” Cornelitas continues.

Toytoy nods. Wow! My mind races as I take in what I have just learned.

“So you want to feel Lady Saskia’s warm nectar on your body? You want to be her dirty little piss-pot?”

Again Toytoy nods in agreement.

“Answer me,” Cornelitas says and whacks him across the face a second time.

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas.”

“And would you like to take her champagne in your mouth? Would you like to drink her golden nectar like a dirty, greedy little pig?”

“No, Madame.”

I am relieved to hear that.

“But if she ordered you to do this for her, would you drink her champagne?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Well spoken,” Cornelitas says and gently strokes his cheek. “That is very obedient of you.”

“So, would you also drink my piss if I ordered you to do so, slave?”

“No, Madame.”

Cornelitas laughs loudly.

“I like you,” she says and gently strokes his head. “You have a good sense of humour. But now it’s time for a serious answer: Would you also swallow my piss, slave?”

Toytoy shakes his head insistently. “I’m afraid not, Lady Cornelitas.”

I feel the tension in the air. How would Cornelitas react to this provocation?

“You do understand that today I am also your Mistress, slave?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas, but drinking pee is really one of my taboos”, Toytoy explains.

“Aha… but you are still willing to swallow Lady Saskia’s pee, so it isn’t really a taboo? Or did I miss something?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas”

“Are you saying that you don’t like me?” Cornelitas’ voice is no longer as calm as it was earlier. She sounds offended.

“I like you very much, Madame.”

“Aha. And why should I believe you?” She looks at Toytoy inquiringly. “Very well. Enough small talk. Take your pathetic cock and jerk it for me… yes… show me how big it can get… very good… watch out, it’s about to come…”

She stands over the slave, who is jerking his cock faster and faster.

I stand by the door and observe the scene. My thoughts start to wander. And I think back to how everything began. Toytoy and I are in an SM relationship. The abbreviation “SM” sounds harmless. Like “WC”, “TV” or “ABS”. However, when it is spelled out as “sadism and masochism” it has a very different ring. And that is precisely what it means. In this book I would like to tell the story of how I became what I am today: a private dominatrix.

At the end of this book I have added a glossary that explains some important concepts from the world of BDSM. Uninitiated readers can look up the meaning of specialist terms that are used in the text. For example:

BDSM —

Abbreviation for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

SEPARATION OVER BREAKFAST.

I stand in front of my bathroom mirror and gaze at my expressionless face. The emptiness inside me is boundless: a vacuum as vast as the universe. I feel numb, as if I were wrapped in cotton wool. I swallow, but the dull feeling in my ears refuses to go away.

Half an hour ago the world ended. My world ended: My husband George no longer wants to be my husband. He told me over breakfast that he is leaving me. Polite, calm and to the point, as he always is — while eating his muesli and drinking his coffee. His actual words are blurred in my mind. I faintly catch a few indistinct fragments as he speaks: “Grown apart… stay friends… wait and see… not as bad as it seems… many other couples experience this… respect… stay positive… be honest with ourselves…”

My brain refuses to function. I’m unable to think straight. I cannot think — all I can do is exist. I sense myself breathing in and out… in and out... in and out. At least my body is still functioning…

George and I were made for each other. We were inseparable. Like Bonny and Clyde. Or Siegfried and Roy. We were a perfect match. We met during our studies and have been married for 17 years, since the birth of our daughter. When I think of Julia, my heart feels a sudden stabbing pain. I cover my face with my trembling hand and close my eyes. All I want is to wake up from this nightmare. Why is he doing this to us?

I look at myself in the mirror. Saskia, you have grown old, I say to myself. My gaze is fixed on the wrinkles around my eyes. It is no pleasant sight to see how time has left its mark. How it has disfigured my youthful beauty and branded me an “old bag”. Everywhere I look I see wrinkles. On my forehead. Above my eyebrows. Between my eyebrows. Around my eyes. Underneath my eyes. At the edges of my mouth. Over my lips. Around my neck. All I see are wrinkles, catching me in their clutches, holding me hostage, whispering to me that I’m only fit for the scrapyard.

He’s discarded you, Saskia. You’re scrap. Refuse. You’re finished with the world. Game over. Just look at you. Yes, you were beautiful once. But those days are long gone.

A terrible thought intrudes my mind. Don’t worry: I dismiss it immediately. I will not end this with some pills. Or by slashing my wrists or taking my life in some other way. No. No! I have not fallen that low. I will never fall that low! Never!

My firm resolve to live gives me new strength. I breathe slowly and deeply. My gaze becomes firmer. Stronger. As strong and unyielding as steel. My eyes narrow. And my emptiness is filled with a feeling of defiance and anger.

What a pig. He’s leaving me. Of course he already has another woman, a younger woman who adores him with her girlish eyes. That’s how men are: cowardly and inconsiderate, selfish and cold as stone. When you’re passed your prime, they discard you and look for someone younger. Like an used car. Or an old television set. You blink and they’re gone. Game over. 

But I wasn’t going to let this happen to me. My eyes blazed. I was resolved to overcome this crisis stronger than ever. I was determined to live. To enjoy my life. More than I ever had. And in the end I would thank George for liberating me from him.

A KINGDOM FOR A PLAN.

Being down has one advantage: You can comfort yourself with all kinds of tasty treats. For example, with a nice slice of Swiss Nusstorte and a delicious latte macchiato. One week after my world fell apart, I sit alone with my thoughts in the Mozart Café in Töngesgasse — in the shopping heart of Frankfurt — where I feast away my sorrows.

A slice of Nusstorte should be enjoyed slowly and deliberately. You must really be on your guard — it’s easy to devour this delicacy in no time at all. I take a small piece on my fork, close my eyes and indulge myself in the exquisite taste. What amazing magic a few simple ingredients can work. Perfect bliss is simply a combination of walnuts, almonds, hazelnuts, a little sugar (well actually more than just a little, but it tastes better that way), cream, honey, flour, salt, egg and butter.

The taste buds on my tongue begin to blossom and reach like hungry little birds, greedy for the next forkload of bliss. I could indulge in this forever! Some women always say “I’m full, I can’t eat another bite”. But that’s not me. I’m different. I could eat forever. Forever.

It’s November. Snow is falling and the snowflakes are dancing outside the window, light as feathers, without a care in the world. I almost envy them. How wonderful it would be to be a snowflake…

What should I do now?

I have decided not to give up on myself and to come out of this crisis stronger than ever. But what does this mean for me? How should I go forward? Should I try to get George back again? Do I still love him? I quickly banish this thought as I instinctively sense that this cannot be the right way for me.

Maybe I should have an affair. Just to find out if I’m still attractive for men. My God, Saskia, you’re single again! A single woman! Still married but single. I hadn’t grasped the reality of my situation yet: I was back where I started. Back where I was in my early twenties. My lifelong dream of a happy marriage has just vanished into thin air…

“Think positive,” I remind myself and force a smile. You must always look on the bright side. I narrow my eyes and try to focus, but however hard I gaze, I cannot see anything bright about my current situation.

What could be positive about a marriage breaking down after 17 wonderful years together? Ohhh…! And then it happened. Just as I said earlier: if you’re not on your guard…! Now, all that is left of my delicious Nusstorte are a few miserable crumbs.

I look sadly at the empty plate, which moments ago had held my favourite delicacy. So what!? Perhaps I should just order a second slice. Why should I care for my figure if I no longer have a George to whom I can show off my body?

Aha! Well that’s at least one positive point to my situation. How about looking for another? Yes, I’m free again and unattached. Independent and don’t owe anything to anyone. I could live out my sexuality before I enter another committed relationship. But as I contemplate how I’m free to live out my wildest fantasies, I smile wryly. Because the truth is that I don’t actually have any!

I’m just an ordinary, vanilla woman. I like to cuddle, like to feel an arm around me, like a strong shoulder to lean on. I enjoy sex — missionary style. What more do I need to be happy? (Except, perhaps, another piece of Swiss Nusstorte.) Are there any other sexual activities that might be interesting? Well, I thought, there’s this ‘tantra’ thing, which I heard was quite exciting.

I decide to ask Google. I once had a best friend named Gabi, whom I always turned to for advice. Now my best friend is named Google. Times change.

Google always has an answer. One evening I pour myself a glass of red wine, sit on my sofa and enter my search: “sexual fantasies of mature women”. One website catches my eye:

Female fantasy no. 10: Voyeurism.

Female fantasy no. 9: Exhibitionism.

Female fantasy no. 8: Submissive sex or ‘safe’, secretly consensual rape, a form of role-play.

Female fantasy no. 7: Sex in public.

Female fantasy no. 6: Threesome with two men.

Female fantasy no. 5: Older woman with younger man.

Female fantasy no. 4: Have a male slave for sex and household chores.

Female fantasy no. 3: Lesbian experiences.

Female fantasy no. 2: Call girl play.

Female fantasy no. 1: Sex with a stranger.

How interesting! And as this glass of red wine in my hand isn’t my first, I decide to be especially daring and complete all ten fantasies in my lifetime. Then I can face death with a smile. And my marriage breakup would truly have a bright and positive side.

Good. Now, what do I start with? The ironing basket catches my eye and I choose number 4 from the list: the sex slave who also does domestic chores.

Pleased with my choice, I return to my friend Google and enter a new search: “seeking a domestic slave”.

I scroll down the results and one entry catches my attention: “young dominatrix seeks cleaning slave / domestic slave”. I’m curious and click on the link. The first thing to amaze me is the large number of applicants for this position: So many men were volunteering their services, freely and of their own will. Indeed, the Lady seems to have quickly found a slave for herself.

These men are actually begging to be enslaved and used by her. I feel a rush of blood to my face – but it’s not the wine that makes me turn red. How wonderful this is: men, who are standing in line to do domestic chores. Of course I am aware that the ad had been posted by a young Lady. Men like young women. But it was still worth a try for me! Maybe I would also be successful. At any rate, there seemed to be a lot of interest in domestic slavery. “A full head of hair” — I smiled at how the applicants eagerly tried to ‘sell’ themselves and their merits to the Lady.

I pour myself another glass and enter a new search: “erotic forum”. Some time later, as my sobriety is about to fade, I drag myself to bed and turn off the light. I’m now registered on Joyclub.de as Lady Saskia and have posted an ad for a domestic slave. With a satisfied smile on my face, I drift off to sleep…

As I look around, I see that I’m standing in a palace, a pyramid of shining glass. I’m curious to explore this place and proceed along a large, bright corridor. Around me I see muscular slaves in Egyptian dress, all with George’s face. They are busy cleaning the glass and polishing out any streaks. Small cats are walking around, undoing the slaves’ work as they like the glass, as if they think it is sugar. And so the slaves must clean day and night. It’s tough for them but good for their muscles. I begin to laugh loudly until the pyramid is filled with my laughter. What a cruel queen Lady Saskia is!

Next I enter into a vast living room — which is actually just an elevator. Above the door, a digital display shows the floors rushing past. When I reach the 100th floor, the door opens and I step outside. I’m now standing on a terrace at the top of the pyramid. All around me I see clouds, as if the pyramid were floating in the sky.

In the middle of the room, I see a large four-poster bed. Two slaves with George faces bow before me. With their strong, muscular arms, they lift the bed and carry it to me, so that I don’t even have to take a single step too many. How attentive they are. “You’re welcome, Lady,” one of the slaves says without moving his lips. How strange that I can hear his voice in my head.

I sit down on the bed and one of the slaves carefully takes off my shoes. He begins to gently bathe my feet in warm rosewater. I lean back and rest against the muscular body of the first slave. “Finally you are here, my Queen,” his voice says in my head. We close our eyes and our lips meet in a fateful, unforgettable kiss…

Suddenly, an airplane dives out of the sky and crashes onto the terrace where we lie. I see its propeller rushing straight towards us! My heart stops and my blood freezes. I am in shock, petrified, unable to move as it comes closer and closer — until it stops, barely an inch from my face. That was close!

As I look at the monstrous machine, I realise that the propeller isn’t actually a propeller. Instead I see the hands of a clock. I turn to one side and look at the time. Oh, it’s already 7:30 in the morning.

BETWEEN FASCINATION AND IRRITATION.

With sleepy eyes, I turn off my alarm clock and fumble for the bedside lamp. The light switches on in an instant, but my mind is a bit slower. I’m annoyed at myself. After all, I haven’t been as ‘tipsy’ as this for quite a long time. Nevertheless, I’m curious to find out whether someone has already responded to my ad. As I take my morning shower, I wonder whether my search will be as successful as the one of the young Lady.

I try to log onto the website, but … I can´t remember my password! Again and again, I try to guess it – before I have it sent to my e-mail account. Luckily, Joyclub.de offers this useful feature. Clearly, I am not the only member who has one drink too many once in a while.

When I’m finally logged into my profile, I see that there is indeed a message waiting for me. Just one message? Why is there only one? What a pity — I’d expected more than that. And it gets worse: My disappointment grows when I realise that my admirer is over 60, lives 300 km away from here and doesn’t have a picture in his profile. Speaking of pictures: I haven’t one myself. But instead I did mention my age: 46 years. Well… this might well be the reason why no one has replied. I curse my stupid honesty. A little lie would have probably been quite acceptable…

I need a photo! But, one without a face, for heaven’s sake. After all, I don’t want people approaching me in the office and asking me about my search for the household slave.

I don‘t want to write anything about my job here. Just one thing: I‘m working in a rather conservative profession, where such kinky activities aren’t looked upon kindly.

I browse through my computer files, trying to find some nice pictures. Finally I find one. I open my image editor and cut George out of it. Well, my darling, now we are truly divorced! Next, I cut my head off — ok, I do leave a little bit of my mouth, otherwise the photo wouldn’t be at all informative. Or should I rather crop away the mouth as well? Am I recognisable? I can’t make up my mind… better to play it safe: I cut off my head completely. I‘m wearing a navy blue summer dress and pumps of the same colour. I think it looks fine and upload it. People can see that I am slim and know how to dress. My legs don’t look too bad, either.

I wait and wait – but nothing happens. No application to be seen far and wide. No obliging cleaning servants, yearning for my dirty apartment. Disappointed, I log off. I’m clearly too old for those men after all. Who wants to serve an old bag as a domestic slave, anyway?

Two days later, I log on again to delete my profile and unsubscribe. But now everything has changed. I see 23 messages in my inbox. Twenty-three! Wow! Maybe I am still too young for the scrap heap? Feverish with excitement, I browse through my e-mails:

Compliments for the photo, compliments for the photo, compliments for the photo, application with a cock picture, compliments for the photo, compliments for the photo, application without a picture, compliments for the photo, compliments for the photo, someone just wants to say hello (“hi there…”), application with a cock picture…

Why do men think that when they contact me the first time, their cock would interest me more than their face?

Anyway: Of those 23 applications, four are quite decent. I decide to act and – being completely sober — work up the courage to reply.

One week later, I’m standing in front of a Frankfurt bookshop, staring at my mobile every two seconds. “Heiko” — my applicant — is late. I’m as nervous as a teenager before her first date. I pace uneasily up and down the street. Every time a man approaches me, my heart starts to race. I have seen photos of Heiko but you never know how old those were. I nervously check my mobile for the hundredth time. Nothing.

I walk up to the shop window and look at myself in the reflection. I am wearing a silk blouse with a red Fraas silk shawl and a tweed skirt, with my lambswool and cashmere coat on top. Short boots and gloves of lamb nappa leather complete my outfit. Over my arm I am carrying my ‘crocodile’ – this is how I call my handbag with a faux crocodile leather pattern. Everything is fine, my make-up fits, my hairdo is just perfect. I am ready and waiting. And waiting. I study the books in the window. Finally, an SMS arrives: “Sorry, something has come up; can’t make it, Heiko” Well, thank you very much, dear Heiko. Furious and disappointed I walk away.

There are more applicants and I’m hopeful that I’ll find the right one in the end. I use the time until my next date for some Internet research. Some things I come across are almost unbelievable. Partly fascinated, partly irritated, I click my way through the darkest corners of the web.

Under www.owk.cz, I discover a realm ruled by women — where men serve as slaves. How incredible! The Other World Kingdom (OWK) is located in the Czech Republic, in a vast castle or mansion or some such building.

The female guards are as beautiful as models. I reckon them to be in their mid-twenties to late thirties. They wear black leather boots with riding clothes, or elegant latex and leather fetish wear. The men are all naked, crawling around on all fours to serve the ladies, kissing their boots or letting them spank their asses. Sadly, the slaves are not as attractive as the ladies. This is really a shame and it lessens my interest in the site.

There is a section for buying and downloading videos. I buy one. When I’m prompted to fill in my credit card number and home address, I wonder whether this is really such a good idea. No, it certainly isn’t, but I am doing it anyway. My curiosity is just too great and I really want to learn more about this new, fascinating and wonderfully naughty world.

The video is – to describe it in one word – extreme. No, one word is not enough, it takes two words: very extreme. It’s a mix of OWK videos, a selection of ‘best moments’. I watch how a slave is brutally beaten with a cane, his ass covered with red welts. Another one is restrained in a standing position and punished with a whip by a young and beautiful female guard. Harsh slaps and humiliation shower down on him. Unfortunately, the dialogue is in Czech, so I don’t understand a single word. Sometimes, the slaves don’t fare much better: they have no idea what they are being ordered to do. Naturally, the ladies become annoyed at this – and it results in even more beating. So this is BDSM. Wow. I feel as if somebody had thrown me straight into a pool of cold water. I’m fascinated as I absorb my new impressions. And: I catch myself comfortingly caressing my pussy while I’m watching. Yes, I like what I see. It turns me on.

So I download another video. This time I make sure that it also features good-looking slaves. I choose “Bootlicker´s Hard Training”, starring Madame Loreen — a Lady, presumably in her mid twenties, who radiates more dominance and cruelty than a pack of Rottweilers. She’s very beautiful and very brutal. I watch as she sits majestically on a chair somewhere in the OWK building, smoking while her high-laced boots are being licked by a slave – all the way down to the heels and soles. All the while, she is scolding the slave in Czech and voicing her dissatisfaction with him. I don’t understand a single word but I can tell that she is not at all satisfied with his efforts – even though the slave is trying his very best. She continuously showers his face with slaps.

Her tight pvc trousers and bra emphasise her petite figure. Her long brunette hair and well-proportioned face give her a very feminine appearance. However, her scolding voice and her extreme dominance seem not at all to match her looks. The slave is slim and athletic; he is wearing nothing but a string panty and a mask. She stands up in front of him and makes him lick her boots. This exercise is constantly interrupted by her slapping, by the sound of her pvc gloves on his face. Only one sound is louder than the slaps: the ring of her high heels on the stone floor.

As the slave’s hands and feet are restrained in a board, he has to push himself to the limit in order to still reach her boots as he is ordered to keep on licking. He is crawling on the ground, bending and turning for her. Constantly driven to perform by her kicking and her slaps — all the while accompanied by the lady’s unrelenting and merciless scolding.

Finally, he’s released. He thanks the lady by kissing her boots and is disciplined by her single tail whip as he does so. The slave is totally spent, but the lady shows no inclination to stop: she can continue for a long time. She’s just getting into her stride. The first slave is dismissed and she summons a second: an attractive man with Mediterranean features. He’s not wearing a mask, and is dressed only in a string panty. This slave also gets a tough bootlicking training with a full complement of cruelty: Face slapping, kicking, whipping. The slave licks her boots in total submission but also fails to please her. Her comments are as charming as a machine gun.

Majestic and assertive like an empress, she drinks a sip of wine and lights another cigarette. As she enjoys her smoke, she whips the slave who now is completely naked. It is plain to see that the slave does not understand a single word the Lady says. But when she theatrically bangs her boots on the ground with and points down to it, he immediately knows what to do. She changes her whip and things get even worse for the slave. I hit the fast forward button. Somehow, her scolding gets on my nerves. In addition, Madame Loreen does not display much imagination. Boot licking – face slapping – whipping. Boot licking – whipping – face slapping. Face slapping – whipping – boot licking. She doesn’t seem to have any ideas beyond her standard routine. Quite a pity.

I download another video: “Maîtresse Alexandra in the OWK II”. A French lady with very blonde hair and of appropriate age (the older, the blonder) is having fun with several slaves at the same time, including one rather attractive specimen who obviously frequents the gym on a regular basis. How old might this lady be? I reckon her to be around 60. That might not be charming, but I guess every doctor has to be able to take his own medicine. And the lady is pretty good at administering her medicine to the slaves.

She whips them, tortures their nipples and even punishes them with stinging nettles. The French lady suspends a naked slave by his wrist and ankle cuffs. He’s literally dangling from the ceiling. Then – wearing gloves – she takes a big bunch of nettles and runs them relentlessly over his cock, balls and buttocks that he has to present to her, helpless and unprotected. The slave writhes and turns in desperation, but there is no escape and he has to endure the whole procedure several times. She finishes by thrashing his ass with the full bunch of nettles. Then she lets him down. Finally! What a pitiful slave!

But Maîtresse Alexandra is not tired yet. She hangs him up head first on a hoist and again runs the nettles over his most delicate parts. The slave twists and gasps in despair, but the lady pays no attention to his pleading. To the contrary: She drags her devilish bunch of nettles all over his back, his chest and his entire body. Luckily, the slave is wearing a mask. On the one hand I am fascinated; on the other hand I am repelled by so much cruelty.

It gets really gross when she lowers the slave’s head to the ground – while his legs are still fixed to the joist one meter high — and sits down on his face and places the nettles under his ass. Of course the slave howls and sobs as he feels them. Again and again, she forces him down. Just when I think there is no way to increase the agony, she plucks one of the nettles and bushes it over his anus. What follows next mostly reminds me of a rodeo, with Maîtresse Alexandra sitting firmly on the slave and twisting his nipples. No, I do not want to become such a dominatrix: this is simply too disgusting for my taste.

There is a scene towards the end of the movie that I like better: when Maîtresse Alexandra – now dressed in a short skirt and high heels, as befits a woman of her age – has her feet massaged and caressed by the attractive slave. She’s sitting on a bench and has one of her feet resting on his hard cock, while the other foot is kissed and massaged by the slave who is lying on his back. A nice scene. “Yes! Very good!” she whispers with a heavy French accent and lasciviously licks her teeth with her tongue. It reminds me of the saying: there’s no fox like an old fox…

The slave is kneeling in front of her, his hands behind his back. She stands up in front of him, dressed in black stockings and high heels, squeezing her legs tight. Now he pushes his impressive cock between her lower legs, making rather suggestive movements. Quite a hot sight, I have to admit. And her legs are amazing for her age. He is not allowed to cum between them. She sits down on the bench again and the slave has to finish himself off with his hands. How fascinating!

My next discovery is the website “Sklavenzentrale”, an online meeting place for dommes and slaves. I register and embark on a journey of exploration. Perhaps this might be a better place for me than joyclub. As the name “Sklavenzentrale” (“slave center”) indicates, this website is all about male and female slaves, masters and ladies, pets and TVs. As I learn, a pet is a person who behaves like an animal — for example like a horse, a dog or a pig. Quite amazing that some people find this sexually arousing… But each to his own.

TV is an abbreviation for transvestite — a man who behaves and dresses like a woman. Does this also happen the other way round? Women acting like men? Yes! Clicking through a picture gallery I see a dominatrix wearing a belt with a plastic penis. This is called a “strap-on” or “dildo harness”.

I look at this contraption and wonder how it might feel to switch roles, to penetrate a man, to thrust, to take possession of him… One thing is certain: I have come to a completely different world: Saskia in Wonderland. The only thing missing is the little white rabbit with the pocket watch…

My next date is for real. “Slave 44” is 46 years old by now. He invites me to the Ristorante Portofino in the Nordend district of Frankfurt. That’s quite nice of him. What’s not quite as nice is that he constantly stares into my cleavage and endlessly complains about how difficult it is to find a “decent domme”. Apparently, they all want to exploit him and rip him off. He complains that their photos have been retouched and quite a few ladies suddenly ask for money for their domination even though that wasn’t agreed beforehand. And if he finally finds someone who doesn’t want money, she regrettably doesn’t meet his taste, is too old or not attractive. I wince in my mind.

Oh dear, what have I landed myself with here! The very incarnation of self pity. Yes, yes the world isn’t fair. After dinner I politely take my leave. “You know, 44,” I say with a smile, “I think you deserve someone better than me… farewell, dear…” Before he can protest, I turn around and leave. I duck down a little, expecting him to swear at me, to call me a slut, who fills her stomach at his expense. One of those women who only want to take advantage of him. But nothing happens. Slave 44 has drowned in his self-pity.

When I next log into Sklavenzentrale, there is a nice surprise for me: dozens of messages are waiting in my inbox. All from men who want to serve me as a slave. Some, I cannot really take seriously, but there are one or two interesting messages amongst them. I make an appointment with a 25-year old (!) man who has fantastic abs that he hardens several times a week in the gym as he explains to me not without some pride. We meet on a Saturday and go to a café together. Sitting there we enjoy a pleasant conversation about almost everything – except our dark desires. As we are chatting I feel my maternal instinct awakening in me.

Ah, how sweet he is. A real little Justin Bieber. But he’s more a match for my daughter than for me. No, I cannot really imagine him as my slave, that just wouldn’t work. Even though he certainly isn’t stupid. He’s finished high school and just acquired a university degree. He speaks well, is charming and even wants to pay for my cake. A good boy, but sadly far too young. Should I have known this beforehand? I’m unsure. You just have to try out some things. And I pride myself that I had the guts to do so.

So I decide to increase the age limit of my admirers by ten years. Now I am looking for men between 35 and 55. Ok, let´s start at the more interesting end: With the 35-year-old applicants. I respond to one promising specimen via Joyclub. He calls himself “Toytoy”, is 35 years young, athletic, single and — according to his own description — submissive and slightly masochistic. Interesting.

WHERE’S THE CATCH?

We stroll along the banks of the Main river. It’s a cold day and our breath forms into little white clouds. Out of the corner of my eye I notice that he’s secretly peeping at the leather pumps that I’m wearing with my skirt, opaque black stockings, black coat and red scarf. Looks like he has a foot fetish, I say to myself and smile.

As I observe Toytoy, I am able to confirm that the pictures in his profile are authentic and up-to-date. He has an athletic figure, which is good, as I have no interest in taking a pot-bellied pig as my slave.

Toytoy has brown hair and blue eyes. He is dressed quite stylishly and doesn’t look at all like a BDSM slave. Hold on… what does a BDSM slave actually look like? Is it even possible to generalise? After all, I don’t look like a dominatrix but am well on my way to becoming one. Anyway, he seems to be a man who knows what he’s doing. And if this man wants to be my slave, that may be surprising, but it’s certainly not an unpleasant surprise for me.

“Have you ever had a firm dominatrix-slave relationship?” I ask him, before my mind panics as I wonder what I should say if he asks me whether I’ve had a firm slave-dominatrix realtionship. After all, I haven’t even had a short-term slave.

“Yes,” he answers hesitantly, “but it didn’t last for long. It just didn’t work out between us…”

“Why didn’t it work out?” I enquire.

“Well…” he squirms, clearly unwilling to reply… “I mean… to be honest… I prefer mature ladies,” he finally blurts out.

“Hold on,” I exclaim, pretending to be surprised, “are you implying that I’m a mature lady?” My voice is calm but with a dangerous, lurking undertone. He stops in his tracks, looks at me with anxious, petrified eyes and holds his breath: “No, no, Madame,” he replies, “I mean… you’re still…”

“Just joking, slave,” I quickly answer, and punch him playfully.

He breathes a sign of relief. “Gosh! I really thought I’d blown it, Madame,” he says and places his hand over his nervously thumping chest. I like his cute smile.

Toytoy tells me how he’s visited several professional dominatrices and has been looking for a long-term owner for around a year. I like the sound of that. But it almost sounds too good. I wonder over and over again where the catch might me…

“You do understand that I’m looking for a domestic slave, don’t you?” I ask, just to be sure.

He nods, looks at me with longing eyes and slowly breathes in and out.

“That means you will NOT have sex with me. I will not suck your cock and we will not sleep together. Do you understand?”

“Yes, of course,” he replies immediately, “I don’t have any such intentions or expectations. I understand what you want,” he says with a calm and polite voice.

For a while, we walk on in silence. “You have several years of BDSM experience, I assume?”

“Of course,” I lie, without blushing. I look at him with a haughty smile. He nods and his lips try to form words, but he doesn’t make a sound. He is clearly struggling to find the right words. “Would you… well… would you like to try me out… no strings attached…” he stutters and gives me a hopeful look.

I smile and sit down on a bench by the river. Toytoy sits down next to me. “Try me out” sounds like a car salesman who’s persuading me to go for a test drive with one of his motors. I gaze into the distance and think. The silence between us is deafening. Toytoy seems very tense. He has made his offer. Now the decision is in my hands. I take my time — even though I’ve already made up my mind.

“Hmmm…” I say and examine him critically from top to toe. He tries to smile but only manages an awkward grimace. I look away from him into the distance, pretending to consider my decision and carefully weigh arguments for and against. But I’m only pretending, using a classic female strategy: it’s always best to keep men in suspense for a while, to play hard to get — otherwise they become too cocky and lose interest.

“Very well…” I respond, after what must have felt like an eternity. “I will offer you a trial… Present yourself at my residence tomorrow evening at 8 pm…” I take a pen out of my handbag and write down my address for him. Yes, I’m no longer anonymous now. But after all, I’m looking for a real life — rather than a virtual — experience.

“Thank you,” says Toytoy gratefully, as he takes the piece of paper I offer him. His eyes are shining: he seems very surprised and can’t believe his luck.

We say goodbye, and he stands up and leaves. I remained seated and watch him walk away. Did I make the right choice? Is he serious about this or just looking for some adventure? Does he really desire me or is he only interested in my role as a dominatrix? Why would he be interested in a kinky relationship with a woman who is clearly much older than him? I see Toytoy climbing some steps and then he disappears into the distance. But my questions still linger in my mind for quite some time.

FIRST TIME TANGLES.

I return to my apartment and want to make myself a nice cup of tea. Suddenly I clasp my hands in front of my face. Like a splash of boiling water, it hits me: our date is already tomorrow! What in the world was I thinking?! I’m not at all prepared. I’m a complete beginner with no idea of the BDSM world. Shocked, I fall back onto the sofa and close my eyes. Oh dear! I must postpone immediately! I open my laptop, log in to Joyclub and write an e-mail to Toytoy:

“Dear Toytoy, it was fun to meet you.”

Fun? No, that’s too positive, almost euphoric. Certainly not the right tone for a dominatrix. I start again:

“Toytoy, our meeting today was agreeable. However, I am meeting another applicant tomorrow, so I do not have any time for you. Let us postpone to Friday next week. Present yourself at 8 pm sharp.

Regards, Lady Sas.”

Satisfied with my words, I roll back onto the sofa. Of course, I don’t have a second candidate, but it won’t do any harm if he thinks that men are queuing to serve me. Less than 20 minutes later, I already receive his reply.

“Your Highness, Lady Sas

It was a great honour and wonderful experience to meet you. I’m very glad that you allow me to present myself and prove my worth to you.

Yours in sincere submission,

Toytoy”

I spend the coming days reading dozens of
e-books about dominant ladies and submissive slaves. There’s certainly no shortage of weirdness in this BDSM world: one writer describes slaves as “worthless worms”, another tells of the “stinking cheese” on at the tip of a master’s penis that his slave girls have to lick off. Oh dear!

Curious, I turn to my friend Google to learn about professional dominatrices. I’m impressed by their amazing websites, glossy photos and the beautiful, proud ladies I see on them. I return to the OWK website to download some more visual aids.

And I don’t stop there. I also order some BDSM toys over the Internet. This is convenient, as I don’t have to visit a sleazy sex shop. Instead, I can easily select my desired items on a website and have them sent to my local DHL pickup point. The online shop assures me that the packaging will be discreet. Nothing to worry about then, I hope!

I order a crop, a cane, a paddle, a single-tail whip, a blindfold, wrist and ankle cuffs with metal links, as well as a collar and leash. I also order a splendid black strap-on, bondage ropes, condoms, lubricant, a dog bowl, disposable gloves and nipple clamps. It’s quite a big purchase, but I might as well enjoy the full experience. My imagination starts to run wild as I surf through all the toys in the online shop and I feel my fingers move slowly down between my legs…

It’s Wednesday evening. Two days before my cleaning slave will visit. And a good time for me to clean! Yes, I actually clean my home. I just can’t help it. I don’t clean as thoroughly as usual, but I still clean. I don’t want Toytoy to think I’m a sloppy tramp. Yes, it’s strange and hard to explain rationally, but it makes me feel better, so I do it.

On Thursday, I think about what I should wear. Should I play the elegant lady? The stressed businesswoman who’s just come home from the office? Or a casual woman who wears little makeup and for whom a domestic slave is nothing special? For a while I am torn between the various options before I decide on the elegant but still casual businesswoman with little makeup, who has just returned home and for whom a domestic slave is nothing special.

Finally, Friday evening is here! The sound system in my shining clean home is playing relaxing lounge music. I sit in my costume on the sofa, looking like a slightly stressed businesswoman, sipping a glass of red wine. Full to the brim with all my newly acquired knowledge of female domination. Perfectly equipped with the tools of a dominatrix. Ready for any kinky mischief that meets my desires and promises to give me pleasure.

Time seems to slow to a crawl as the minutes tick away on my clock. Will he even come? Just in case, I scan the television programme for an alternative. Then the doorbell rings. It certainly isn’t the postman at this late hour, I tell myself and put on my shoes. Horrified, I realise that I’m wearing my slippers. I quickly change to my high heels and walk over to the door.

“Don’t mess this up,” I tell myself, and look through the peephole. Then I take a deep breath and open the door. Instead of Toytoy, I see a big bouquet of flowers. “Oh… flowers!” I exclaim, not knowing what I should say. “They’re for you, Madame,” I hear Toytoy’s voice say from behind the flowers. Not a very imaginative response. Who else should the flowers be for, as he’s standing outside my front door. I continue the unimaginative exchange and reply: “Please come in.”

Toytoy looks around my apartment like Alice in Wonderland. He’s fascinated by the Van Gogh, Gustav Klimt and Monet paintings on my wall (no originals, just prints). When he spies the small table with my BDSM toys he scratches his head shyly. Meanwhile, I pour some water into a vase and place the flowers on the table in front of the sofa. Very nice!

“Can I offer you something to drink?” I ask, and immediately feel like hitting myself. I, the dominatrix, am offering to serve a slave? Oh dear, it looks like I really need some practice. I decide that I’m a friendly dominatrix and that our role-play hasn’t “officially” started yet. “A glass of plain water, please,” he replies modestly. There you are, Saskia, the young man is much better in his role than you are.

I place the glass in front of him and we sit down at the dining table. I slowly sip my red wine to gain some time. On the outside, I seem calm, but a thousand questions are stirring inside me. What do I do next?! I take a large sip from my glass to wash down the panic that’s welling up inside — before it can take hold of me. Toytoy is silent. Of course: It’s up to me to guide our meeting and give instructions.

“Is there anything you would like to know before we start?” I ask, as I sit back and try desperately to appear relaxed, calm and in control.

He reflects for a moment, then shakes his head. “Good! Then go and take a shower, and wait for me in the living room — in an appropriate position, of course.” I’m amazed at how harsh and commanding my voice suddenly sounds. “Do you understand, slave?” It’s the first time I address him as “slave”. It feels good and rolls easily off my tongue. “Yes, Lady Sas,” he replies obediently, and I detect a slight trembling in his voice. Is he excited? Or have I already frightened him?

Toytoy disappears into the bathroom and I withdraw to my study. I leave the door slightly ajar. It’s eight minutes past eight… I sit in front of my laptop and try to distract myself. So far so good, I think. I quite like my role as dominatrix, even though I haven’t really started yet.

A few moments later, I hear the shower. I click on bunte.de — a German lifestyle magazine — but can’t really concentrate. There! He’s turned off the shower. What will he look like when he’s naked? I hope I’m ready for all this. What if I lose control? What if he makes advances? Well, he seems quite a reliable type. But, basically, he’s a complete stranger that I’ve let into my home. He could be doing anything while I sit here in my study. Perhaps he’s busy looking for valuables in my living room. And what a naive idiot I am, sitting here calmly and not noticing what’s going on…

But no, I reassure myself, you’re just thinking too much. Don’t be ridiculous. I shake my head to rid myself of my worries. Then I hear the creaking of the bathroom door. Toytoy is finished. Blood rushes to my face and I feel a hot flush. I fan myself with a piece of paper. Well, it’s too late to cancel now. Or perhaps not? My mind is torn as I consider what I should do. Oh, it’s already 20:25. I must return to the living room. Still undecided, I stand up, leave the room and enter into one of the greatest adventures of my life: The adventure of BDSM.

Toytoy is kneeling stark naked in front of the sofa. His legs are slightly apart, his back is raised, his hands are resting on his thighs, his palms are open and facing up, and his eyes are lowered. I enter the room slowly, as if in a trance. Toytoy’s well-toned body is a delight to behold. Oh… wow! He looks pretty fit. I can see the muscles on his brawny arms. His ass is round and firm. My doubts vanish in an instant! Fascinated by his appearance, I slowly walk to the sofa and sit down in front of him. I carefully cross my legs and let my skirt slide up a little, so that his lowered eyes can’t miss the black stockings on my legs.

His flat stomach displays a nice six-pack — and beneath this… I spy a nice hard cock. As his legs are slightly spread, his penis is pointing cheekily towards me, hard and confident in its erection. His foreskin is drawn back. The head is bulging and slightly red. I think I can see it twitch and bulge even more… I also see that Toytoy is fully shaven. Luckily I’m sitting down or I might have fallen over at the sight of this… Wow! Wow!! WOW!!! What a hot catch I have here!

With slow, exaggerated movements, I lift up my glass of wine and sip at it while I inspect him further. I see the hair on Toytoy’s chest: not too thick but clearly visible. Around his nipples he has some stubble. It seems that he has trimmed his body hair recently. His armpits and pubic area have also been shaved and only a few millimetre-long remnants are visible. I lean forward to look more closely. (Did I mention that I use reading glasses?) My nose catches a pleasant, masculine fragrance. I guess at “Boss” — actually a rather insulting perfume for a slave to wear.

 “Greet me, slave,” I command sharply and place one of my shoes in front of him. Madame Loreen had taught me this move many times in her videos. He bends his head down to the ground and kisses my black “Jabulania Truth or Dare by Madonna” heels. “Kiss it nice and slow…” I say (making sure I don’t sound as ranting as Loreen), “…and firmly! I want to feel it…”

And I do actually feel him heap hot kisses onto my peep toe shoe. What a wonderful feeling. A nice fuzzy warmth begins to spreads inside me. My nervous jitters are blown away. “Kiss my toe…” I demand. I sense his hot breath on my skin, and then his kiss: very intense and powerful, but also sensual and affectionate. “That’s enough,” I say and pull back my shoe. “Let’s have a look at you,” I add with a contemptuous voice — as if I was about to inspect a second-rate horse.

It is amusing to see how Toytoy flexes his six-pack and I also notice that his penis has grown even further. He clearly wants to impress me — that’s a good start! I pick up my crop from the coffee table and use it to play with his prick.

“Who gave you permission to have an erection?” I ask him. "Please forgive me, Lady Sas," he answers shyly. But there is no shyness about his cock.

“So you want to be my domestic slave…” I run my crop delightfully over his body. Over his nipples, chest, cock… wonderful… so firm and tight…

“Are you reliable and discreet?” I want to know.

“Yes, Madame, of course,” he says with a begging voice.

“I am very demanding… Do you think you can handle that, slave?”

Toytoy thinks for a moment, and his penis softens a little. “I will try hard, Lady Sas,” he promises after a brief pause.

“Stand up,” I command him. “Let’s have a look at you.” Actually this is what I’ve been doing all along…

Toytoy stands in front of me, his legs slightly apart, and clasps his hands behind his head. It’s obvious that he’s not presenting himself like this for the first time. His penis protrudes from his body like a poised spear. I try to remember when I last saw a six-pack. I think long and hard but my memory fails me and I decide to focus my thoughts again. What a shame that I don’t smoke, I say to myself. This splendid sight would be well worth a cigarette. I lift my glass and take a sip of red wine. “Why is your cock so hard?” I ask him.

“You are so sexy, Madame…” he says. How sweet: his words are music to my ears. I smile and swing my foot happily.

“Turn around, slave,” I command, without responding to his compliment. I’d already noticed his ass: well-defined with a nice, firm roundness. I stand up and move behind him. The pleasant masculine fragrance of Boss Bottled lies in the air. Standing close behind him, I reach out and gently caress his nipples. My hands slide affectionately over his chest… down to his ass… oh, how nice and smooth his cheeks are! I grab them firmly and knead his ass as hard as I can. How wonderful it is to feel such a young and firm male body! I feel so aroused, I have to stop myself from moaning with pleasure… Don’t lose it! I tell myself… remember your role! “How nice,” I say and playfully pinch his ass.

Standing behind him, I feel particularly daring and enclose his penis with my right hand. Slowly and cautiously, I jerk his erect manhood. Up and down. Up and down. Very slowly, very cautiously. Then I tighten my grip and start to jerk him faster. He begins to gasp and bends his knees a little. “Stand up straight!” I command him. He immediately obeys and I continue to jerk his cock. I feel his penis trembling and rearing its bulging head, his gasping grows stronger and stronger… Is he about to have an orgasm? I quickly let go of his manhood and stand in front of him.

“No, don’t worry… You won’t be cumming. Don’t even think about it!” I exclaim. “First you work, then you play. Perhaps… Or perhaps you won’t get to play today. Let’s see how well you perform your tasks… Kneel down and follow me.”

“May I wear my kneepads, Lady Saskia?” he asks submissively. Kneepads? I look at him inquiringly. “So I can clean better, Madame, so my cleaning doesn’t wear out my knees so badly…” he explains.

What a wimp!

“Yes, you may wear them if you need them,” I say somewhat sceptically. Toytoy crawls to the bathroom and returns a few moments later wearing black pads on his knees. I soon notice that he can crawl much faster wearing them. Very well, then I have a slave with kneepads.

I walk to the bathroom, with the slave crawling behind me. I bet he’s staring at my butt. I strut in a very feminine way, swinging my hips. Let him get horny — it will motivate him to do his work properly and make sure everything’s clean and shiny.

Two hours later, my home is cleaner and brighter than ever. All the rooms are done — and my new slave looks pretty “done”, too. Covered in sweat, he kneels in the kitchen while I inspect his handiwork. His hair is clotted with sweat.

“Assume the position, slave,” I order him and give his ass an elegant and impulsive whack with my crop. I wonder which beat is louder? My crop or my heart? I am excited — and certainly also somewhat aroused. What a delightful combination. I realise that it’s the first time I’ve hit anyone. Yet strangely, it just felt so easy for me… I must have a natural talent for beating men.

Toytoy reacts immediately: he kneels with a straight back, legs slightly apart, hands resting on his thighs, and his palms open and facing up. His eyes are lowered submissively.

“The bath is clean, the kitchen is clean…” I summarise as I walk around him, trying to keep my balance in my high heels. “The living room is clean, the hallway is clean… you washed the sensitive clothes by hand… changed the broken light bulb in the cellar… and — yes — you also cleaned the fridge… I’ve inspected everything.

You haven’t performed your tasks too badly — for a start. Of course, there’s still a lot of room for improvement…” I look up to the ceiling to emphasise my words, but unfortunately Toytoy’s eyes are lowered to the ground. It isn’t easy to communicate with a slave.

“In short: I’m quite satisfied with you today, slave.” Actually, I’m highly satisfied. But I’m not going to tell him that. I’m sure it’s best and most appropriate if I don’t praise him too much.

I decide to make him the best domestic slave in Germany. He will belong to me. Only to me. And all my female friends will envy me. Although: in order for them to envy me, I would need to let them know that I have a domestic slave. Somehow that’s hard to imagine. But somebody should find out. And someone should turn green with envy. Or at least acknowledge, what a splendid toy I’ve just landed. “Go and take a shower. And then present yourself to me in the living room,” I instruct him.

I light some candles and switch off the lights. My speakers are playing relaxing lounge music. The atmosphere is much more intimate now.

As I look at Toytoy, kneeing in the slave position after his shower, I again feel deeply unsure about what I should do. How should I reward the slave? One thing is clear: As a dominatrix, there is absolutely no question of any sexual intimacy. After all, my authority and power are based on the desire he has for me — and the fact that he will never have me. His continuous need to look up at me is what keeps him in his position.

“When was the last time you had an orgasm?” I ask him bluntly. He thinks for a moment and replies: “Around two days ago, Lady Sas.”

“Were you masturbating?” I ask. I feel that my pussy is aroused by my shameless words.

“Yes, Lady Sas,” he answers without blushing.

“How often do you masturbate?” I enquire further.

“Roughly every two days, Lady Sas,” the slave replies.

My pussy is ecstatic and hungry for more…

“Well then, show me how you do it…” I say and lean back comfortably, inadvertently stroking my hand over my crotch as I do so. He slowly lifts his right hand from his thigh, encloses his penis, pulls back his foreskin and pumps his cock to and from. Each stroke faster and more determined than the last. What an arousing sight this is.

Is he embarrassed? Is be ashamed? He doesn’t seem to be. He shamelessly jerks his cock and stares greedily at my stockings and my high heels. I enjoy seeing him flex his stomach muscles. Is he doing it on purpose to turn me on? I feel myself become horny and wet.

What do you think about when you jerk off?” I want to know and reach for my glass. I remind myself to make the most of this enjoyable experience. After all, who knows whether he’ll come back to clean my home a second time. Maybe it’s a one-off adventure for him. A bit like a one-night stand.

“I don’t know…” he mumbles.

He is clearly evading my question. Of course he is imagining something when he strokes his cock.

Led by a sudden impulse, I lean forward and slap him hard. “Don’t lie to me!” I scold him. Oops, is it possible that Madame Loreen has had a bad influence on me? I am surprised at myself, as I notice that it gives me great satisfaction and pleasure to slap him. I feel almost reborn, like after a refreshing shower. Fresh, alive, intense. And the sound of my hand on his face was so exciting!

“Forgive me, Lady Sas…” he says timidly. I look at him kneeling in front of me and somehow feel he is more attentive now and has tightened his posture again.

“I think of how much I would like to cum on your high heels…”

There we have it! I click my tongue a little. So he has a shoe fetish and dreams of cumming on my shoes. How interesting. I’d already suspected something among those lines.

“Dream on.” I comment with a dry and distanced voice. “If you spill your sperm on my shoes, I won’t be able to wear them anymore… — Unless…” I pause to think for a moment. The slave give me a curious glance — clearly he has spied a glimmer of hope. “Unless…” I begin again, “you use your dirty cream as a cleaning liquid. And your tongue as a mop. Show me your tongue!” I instruct him. He presents his tongue to me. I hold the tip between my forefinger and thumb, and pull his tongue a little further. “Yes, you have a nice long tongue. That will useful for licking my high heels clean…” I let go of his tongue and laugh at the fun I’m having.

“Come on!” I challenge him, “show me how horny and submissive you are.”

He doesn’t need to told twice: he grabs his hard cock and again begins to jerk his manhood. This time he already starts faster and soon his face is hot and red.

I watch him in fascination and amusement. Sliding forward a little, I stroke his face seductively and look firmly into his eyes. “Good boy,” I whisper to him. “Yes… keep it up… Show me that you can do it… Imagine how you shoot your big load on my feet… Yes, every single drop… Give me everything you have…”

Toytoy’s breathing grows heavier. He is close — very close. Suddenly I grab his chin with my left hand and pull his face close to mine. “You wish you could be inside me now, don’t you?” I whisper. The slave looks at me without saying a word and continues to jerk his cock. “Answer me!” I shout at him and slap his face with a right hand that would do Madame Loreen proud.

“Yes, Lady Sas,” he says passionately and looks deep into my eyes as he speaks: “I really wish I could penetrate you now.”

I smile. “You want to fuck me?” I emphasise the word “fuck” and pronounce it as hard as I can.

“Yeeeees!” he moans and his body trembles, “Yes, Lady Sas, I want to fuck you so badly!” It’s amazing how wonderful this compliment sound. Especially when your husband has just left you for another woman.

“You want to fuck me hard and rough?” I continue.

“Yes, Lady Sas, I want to fuck you so much!” Toytoy moans and jerks faster and harder than ever.

A feeling of hot and horny passion flows through my body and into my cunt. I give a loud laugh and slap him again. “Dream on, slave,” I say with a cold and dismissive voice.

Less than a minute later, he is ready: “May I cum, Lady Sas?” He looks at me with pleading, urgent eyes. I can see in his face that he is about to explode. The head of his penis is red and bulging, and his shaft is standing thick and proud.

I soak up the moment. Like a dry sponge. Like a flower that yearns for the warm sun.

How does it feel to be the object of a masturbation fantasy? Amazingly good!

I wait… wait… wait just a little longer… until he is close… so close…

“No, you may not. Hands off, slave! Hands off! Are you deaf?!”

Toytoy slumps down and lays his hands back on his thighs. His cock twitches helplessly but doesn’t squirt its load. That was close! Toytoy’s face is bright red and he is breathing deeply as he tries to regain control of his body. To reign himself in, like a cowboy catches a runaway horse.

I sip my glass of wine and observe him with great interest, as his breath slowly returns to normal.

“If you had cum without my permission, I would have thrown you out straight away,” I lie. “Looks like you need some practice,” I note with a critical voice. “When I say ‘hands off’, I expect you to take your hands off your cock. Immediately. I don’t want to repeat myself. Do you understand, slave?!” My face tells him that I mean business.

“Yes, Lady Sas. I beg your forgiveness, Madame,” he replies submissively.

“I should hope so…” I say sceptically and give him an enquiring look. I take my crop and run its tip along his erect manhood. Then I hit a few light and playful blows on his cock and balls.

“Come closer, slave…” I instruct him. “Slide your cock between my lower legs… Yes, don’t be shy! Do it!” I keep my legs straight and close to each other. Then I feel him between them… It’s a wicked feeling!

“Now… fuck me!” I challenge him, “Fuck the legs of your Lady! Fuck them hard! Come on!
Do it.”

Toytoy moves his ass passionately, as he begins to thrust himself at me. He clasps his hands behind his head and when I see the look in his eyes, I know he is imagining himself thrusting somewhere very different…

Now, I also let myself be inspired by the video of the French dominatrix. Merci, Maîtresse Alexandra.

I focus on the cock that’s lustily sliding to and fro between my legs. I almost shout, “Oh yes, Baby”, but stop myself just in time. Don’t lose your guard. Keep up the appearance! Can a dominatrix let herself be fucked? Of course not! But perhaps it’s OK between the legs… Anyway, it’s already happened. And that’s good, because it feels really hot and wonderful.

My sharp red fingernails bury themselves in his nipples, twisting and stretching them. I see his face struggling with the pain.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you enjoying your fuck, my darling?” I ask innocently and laugh at the fun I’m having. “Come on!” I encourage him, “You can do better. Give it to me! Harder! Yeeeees… harder! Come on! Do it!!”

Toytoy is pounding my legs as hard as he can. I like it. Pearls of sweat are running down his chest. His six-pack is tense and I can see the outline of his stretched muscles in the light of the candles. I notice that he’s slowing down.

“Well… you’re not slacking already, are you?” I ask with honest surprise. “Come on! Faster! Pump it up! This may be the last time I allow you to fuck my legs, slave…”

My words have the desired effect. Toytoy doubles his efforts and his pounding soon rivals a pneumatic drill.

“May I cum, Lady Sas?!” he gasps, “Please may I cum, Madame?” He sounds quite urgent.

On a whim I decide to say “No.”

He immediately withdraws his cock from my legs and crouches before me, as if someone had just punched him in the stomach. I’m somewhat annoyed to see him squirming in this way. Then I understand: He was really on the edge of orgasm. It was so close that it is actually painful for him to hold it back.

“Don’t worry, it won’t kill you,” I comfort him. “It’s an excellent form of obedience training. You’ll get used to it.” I go to the kitchen and get a tray, which I place on the floor, in front of the sofa. Then I sit down and place my high heels on the tray. “Well — as you’ve been so obedient, I will allow you to cum on my shoes,” I say with a smile.

Toytoy is still recovering from his ordeal. With an effort, he grasps his flaccid penis and again begins to jerk it. He admires my shoes… Soon his cock is standing tall again and his eyes are hungry for me.

“Yes, you’re doing very well,” I say with a pleased voice. “Look at me while you masturbate,” I demand and grab his chin. Toytoy gazes into my eyes. And my gaze locks onto his. I see his eyes, with their pupils wide open. I observe every detail. His eyes are blue-green, sparkling mysteriously. His mouth is slightly open, his lips full and pronounced. I wonder how well he can kiss? Oh no, a dominatrix doesn’t kiss. What a shame. But of course there’s always the “kiss of the dominatrix”.

“Open you mouth!” I command him sharply. I drink a sip of wine, stand up and slowly release my saliva into his wide open mouth. “Yes, swallow it. Swallow me… Can you feel my saliva slowly spreading inside you? Now you are all mine…”

I smile and the slave jerks even harder and faster. The head of his cock is bulging bigger than ever before.

“May I cum please, Lady Sas?” he asks with utmost urgency.

“Yes, you may,” I say in a loud and commanding voice. He almost collapses with relief as he shoots his hot cream in several throbbing bursts, covering my high heels. He squirts and splutters again and again: his explosions keep on coming. What an amazing load!

“Next time we’ll see if you can cum at my command… I’ll count to ten — and then you shoot your load…”

“Yes, Lady Sas,” he replies with an exhausted voice, but I doubt whether he is really in a fit condition to understand what I am saying.

“Ok… and now you will clean your mess with your tongue!” I say, unable to resist a grin. And then the unimaginable happens: this handsome young man bends down over my shoes and licks up his own sperm. How crazy is that?! Who would have thought it?

“Make sure you swallow every last drop… Show me your tongue.” I command. He presents his tongue to me — there is not a trace of sperm to be seen.

“Good boy.”

I take off my shoes and go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Halfway to the living-room, I turn back again. Better to bring the whole bottle, I think. Toytoy gratefully takes the glass I offer him and drinks as if he is dying of thirst. He’s certainly earned it.

“What does your cum taste like?” I ask him.

He thinks for a moment. “Like egg and milk,” he finally replies.

“Good. That sounds healthy. You will enjoy this taste more often. Every time you cum, you will clean up your filthy mess with your tongue. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Sas,” Toytoy answers with a serious voice. And it doesn’t seem like he’s looking forward to doing it.

We agree to continue the test: he will get a form of probation period in which he must prove himself. I instruct him to present himself again on Sunday. I would like to have some time on Saturday to reflect on what I’ve experienced.

He gets dressed and waits by my door, ready to leave. This is my next dilemma: how do dominatrix and slave say goodbye? Of course: in the same way that we greet each other. By kissing the feet. But that doesn’t seem quite right at this moment. Nor do I want to shake his hand — it’s too impersonal. I spontaneously decide to kiss him on each cheek. After all, we just had… well… what did we just have? I guess it’s what you call “kinky sex”.

AN EXCITING NEW WORLD.

Next morning, as I sip my latte macchiato, I am wracked by doubts about what happened. Was it really ok to do what I did last night? I’m not interested in whether such role-play is acceptable — I couldn’t care less! Instead, I ask myself whether it wasn’t more sensible for me to look for a new partner. What do I really want from life? Do I really want a slave? What if my friends or neighbours found out? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? What would my daughter say if she knew that her mother was doing such kinky things to a much young man?

My thoughts tear me to and fro. But what happened did make me feel good. It made me feel wonderful. I love the way Toytoy looks at me, how he admires my face, my breasts, my legs, my shoes… It makes me crazy to know how crazy he is for me. It’s such a kick so see him cleaning my home naked. It’s simply awesome. Pure tonic for my bruised self-confidence. And after all: It doesn’t have to be a permanent arrangement. Who knows whether he’ll come back tomorrow? I’m not committing myself to anything.

Strange… I wonder what he sees in me? I’m much too old for him. Why doesn’t he look for a younger woman? His prospects certainly weren’t bad. Are there really so few dominant ladies as I’d seen on the online forums? Maybe that’s the reason? But no, there must be younger Dominatrices. Why was Toytoy looking for a mature dominant Lady? Why did he want to be humiliated?

In the end I decide to treat myself to another round of fun and not spoil things by thinking too much.

I go shopping to buy more cleaning agents. In the past, cleaning had always been a chore. But now, everything would be different. After all, I have a domestic slave to do my cleaning! And he needs to be properly equipped and trained. Who knows, maybe I can hire him out one day… My eyes glow as I explore the cleaning shelves at my local supermarket. The selection is quite amazing! How strange, I feel the same rush that I usually have in the shoe department. Never before had cleaning agents and tools seemed so interesting.

In the evening, I arrange my brand new tools for beating my slave. I carefully lay them in a row on the coffee table: my crop, cane, paddle and single-tail whip. I pile up some cushions and practice hitting my slave. When I accidentally knock over a candle stand with my single-tail, I decide to put it aside — it’s clearly not ideal for a beginner.

Sunday is here. I put a sticky note on my front door: “Come in, the door is open.“

The new cleaning equipment is in the hallway. I place a second sticky on the cleaning equipment: “Undress! Shower! Start cleaning!”

I withdraw to my study and wait nervously. I hope he comes. I persuade myself that he’ll come. But my worries only disappear when I hear the door open at four o’clock sharp. I’m happy and relieved to hear this sound, and relax in my chair. As planned, I try to concentrate on some documents that I need for next week. After all, a domestic slave should make life easier, not more difficult. This must be made clear from the start. Although I find it hard to settle down (he’s in the shower now), I finally succeed in concentrating on my work. I’m constantly aware that outside my study a naked man is cleaning my home, but I try not to let it distract me any further.

After a while, my pot of tea is empty. I go to the kitchen — and see my slave kneeling naked on the floor in his waiting position, waiting for me. Apparently the click of my high heels has already announced my entry.

“Hi Toytoy”

His cock greets me joyfully — even before he is able to place his lips on my shoes. He kisses my high heels and licks them all around. How silly of me to doubt his return. This slave is clearly totally addicted to me. When I realise this, I place my shoe on his bended neck to indicate to him: you are mine!

“That’s enough,” I say coldly and withdraw my shoe. Toytoy returns to his kneeling position. His eyes slowly wander up my legs — over my opaque black stockings up to my knee-length leather skirt and my white blouse.

“Why are you staring at me?” I ask and slap his face firmly. “Go and prepare a pot of green tea for me. Bring it to my study.”

Why should I prepare my own tea if I have a domestic helper to do this for me? It’s really fun to have a slave! Without giving him a second glance, I walk back into my office. I am surprised at how easy I found it to slap him.

 A short time later, he enters my study on his knees, carrying my tea. I don’t look at him or thank him. I’m unsure if a dominant Lady should thank her slave. Probably yes, but at this time I’m unsure and just acknowledge him with a slight nod of my head.

Just before 7 pm I hear a faint and cautious knock on the door. “Come in!”

“I think I am finished, Madame,” Toytoy says sheepishly. He looks as if he’s been working hard. Sweat is dripping all over his athletic body.

“Then you must wait until I have time to inspect your work,” I reply quietly but ungraciously.

“Did you think I would come running just because you’re bored?”

“Forgive me, Madame…” he mumbles meekly and carefully closes the door without making another sound.

I realise that I have overreacted. Like a little Madame Loreen — well, not quite as badly, but something along those lines. Yet how strange: I actually have qualms about my actions and feel the need to apologise to him. But such behaviour would not befit a strict Dominatrix. With a bit of effort, I am able to forget the incident. Then I suddenly remember his sweat and leap out of my chair. I don’t want him to catch and cold and so I send him to take a shower.

When he’s finished, I take my crop and inspect his work. I run my finger over various surfaces. Very good; his work really is a “pleasure” to touch.

Despite my usual nature, as a Dominatrix I need to be a little unfair. And so I also run my finger under a bookshelf. Pretending to be surprised, I stare in disbelief at the layer of dust and dirt on my fingertip. I literally rub my finger under his nose: “You call that clean?!”

I repeat this little game two or three times in different places. It quickly becomes clear that he won’t be allowed to masturbate today. Instead he will have to suffer a severe punishment. Well, I must admit that this wasn’t really a surprise. At least not for me…

I am excited about the prospect of my first slave punishment. I give Toytoy the wrist and ankle cuffs, but fasten the collar around his neck myself. Then I use my bondage rope to link his cuffs and fix him face down over the kitchen table, until he’s unable to move.

“Well, slave…” I say with a lusty voice, as I place myself behind him. I grab his balls with my left hand and jerk his cock up and down with my right hand. “…now you’re completely at my mercy… And I can do with you whatever I want…”

He groans — but seemingly more for pleasure than for fear.

“You really should have cleaned more carefully. Now I have to punish you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lady Sas,” he replied with a guilty voice.

“Good. Then be a good slave and beg me to punish you hard…”

“Yes please, Lady Sas… please punish me hard… as hard as you think I deserve…” He really sounds like he means what he’s saying.

“Well…” I say, and let go of the slave’s cock and balls. “I will be merciful and fulfill your request… We will start with the crop. I want you to count the strokes. Loudly and clearly.”

I remember reading that the skin needs to be warmed up to improve the circulation. Then it is able to take a harder beating. I turn up the music.

“First I want to warm you up.”

I take aim and whack my right hand flat onto his full, firm ass cheeks. The sound is wonderful. The smack really reverberates so nicely. Again and again I smack my hand on his checks. It doesn’t take long for them to take on a reddish hue.

I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water — it’s unbelievable, almost like a workout! Then I pick up my crop and gently stroke his tight butt.

“Present your ass, slave!” I command coldly.

He does what I tell him and offers himself to me. I sense a wonderful feeling flowing through my body. I swish my crop through the air close to his body. So close that his ass can feel the wind.

“Don’t forget to count!” I remark sharply. I raise my crop and practice my first stroke two or three times to see where I want it to go. Then I hit him hard and precise. I’m rewarded with a wonderful cracking sound.

“One,” says Toytoy with an unwavering voice. Clearly it didn’t hurt him too much.

“Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.” His voice seems unimpressed. Probably he didn’t even bat an eyelid.

I feel challenged.

Just wait, I’ll show you that I mean business! I beat him harder. “Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.”

Still, there is no change in his voice. But his ass is turning bright red. I decide to hit him as hard as I can.

“Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.”

I stop and wonder what to do. Toytoy’s voice still isn’t changing at all.

Oh well, I think. Let’s try the paddle.

The grip feels good as I hold it. I tease his ass a little with my new tool so I don’t frighten him. Then I take aim and bring it down on him hard. Toytoy’s body rushes up and pulls on the ropes that bind him. His reaction is so forceful that the kitchen table actually moves forward. Ouch, that must have hurt! The slave tries hard to suppress a cry of pain and quietly moans, “One.”

“Ah! Very nice. I already thought I was flogging a stone,” I remark with a satisfied voice and hit him again with the paddle. Again his body moves up as far as the ropes allow.

“Two!”

Encouraged by his response, I begin to fire off a volley of blows in rapid succession, each one more intense than its predecessor.

“Three! Four! Five!! Six!! Seven!!! Eight!!!,” Toytoy counts and his voice becomes more and more painful.

Then I administer the tenth stroke: “Teeeeeeeeen!!!!” the slave moans, “Thank You, Lady Sas.”

“Why do you thank me? I’m not done with you yet…”

I reach for the cane.

“If you don’t want to listen, then you have to learn the hard way. I don’t think you will be so careless again in your cleaning, will you?”

I swish the cane menacingly through the air.

“No, of course not, Lady Sas!”

“Look at it this way: The harder your punishment, the easier you will learn and remember. So you should be grateful to me.”

“Thank you, Lady Sas,” he replies, but this time I sense a hint of resentment and cynicism in his voice.

“You’re welcome…” I say with a smile and gently stroke his ravaged flesh, “It’s a pleasure to be of assistance to you.”

Slowly and carefully, I take aim. Then I lift the cane — and whack it down on his ass with a loud clap. The slave’s body shudders.

“One!” he shouts. The stroke produces a short but harsh and powerful sound. I immediately fall in love with it. And I know that I like it most of all the different beating sounds and would be hearing it more often.

“Two!” he exclaims and it’s obvious that he’s trying hard to focus. Because we both know that he has at least ten strokes coming. “Three!” — His voice is still steady.

“Four!!” — This time I raise the cane higher before I strike.

“Five!!” — Wow, that was hard. I wonder if a cane could break…

The welts that are forming on his ass are fascinating to look at. They are red and white and raised above his skin, like little mountains. I gently caress his welts with my cane. Suddenly I lift my arm again and strike.

“Six!!!” the slave counts and the table moves forward with his body.

“Seeeee-ven!!!” Toytoy begins to tremble.

“Eight!!!” he exclaims with a strained voice.

“Nine!!!”

He’s breathing very quickly. An endless stream of adrenaline must be pumping through his body.

His “Ten!” sounds like relief. He breathes deeply and relaxes a little.

“Ahhhhhh!” he suddenly groans.

“Eleven!” he shouts in surprise.

“Twelve!!!” already has a ring of desperation. I briefly agonise about my next move. Yes, I could increase the intensity further — much further. And I actually feel the desire to do so. I very much enjoy the absolute control and power I have over him. But reason prevails. It’s time to call it a day. For today…! After all, I do have a duty of care and an obligation to protect my slave.

“That’s enough for today,” I say and untie him.

Toytoy collapses limply to the ground. He clasps my right foot and worships my shoe with passionate kisses. “Thank you, Lady Sas…” he mumbles and presses his lips on my leather harder than ever before. I can even feel his hot breath on my skin through my stockings. At this moment, I understand something which will become a very important principle for me: The harder you punish a slave and the stricter you are to him, the more he will worship you and the more intense his submission and devotion will be.

“Good slave,” I say to him and offer him my other shoe. My curious eyes examine his bright red ass. His welts stand out clearly and I’m quite proud of what I see.

“Kneel down,” I command and sit down on the sofa. “I hope you understand that I cannot let you cum after your cleaning failure. That would be bad for your training.” He nods and stares at the floor. “You will remain in chastity until we meet again next weekend. Do you understand, slave?”

He nods. As his face is lowered, it is hard form me to guess, what he’s thinking. Would he stick to my instructions? I’m not so sure.

“You may touch yourself,” I explain, “but you mustn’t ejaculate.”

I look at him with piercing eyes. “Under no circumstances. If you cum, then I will have to punish you extremely harshly. From now on, you will only be allowed to have an orgasm when I give you permission. Do you understand?!”

He nods. And his ‘little brother’ is also standing and listening attentively.

“You’ve been here twice,” I summarise the events of the weekend. “Despite your mistakes, your performance wasn’t all bad. So I am generally prepared to take you into my service. We will start with a probation period. If you do well, I may allow you to become my property, my owned slave…”

My eyes sparkle.

I put one foot forward.

The slave immediately understands my gesture, bends his face down towards my high-heel shoe and kisses it enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Lady Sas!” I hear him say between the kisses. “May I also kiss your feet, Madame?” he asks with a hopeful voice. I briefly consider his request, then simply answer: “Yes.”

Toytoy very carefully takes off my shoe — as if he were unpacking a precious porcelain statuette. I smile as I see how fascinated he is by my stockinged foot. His hands caress it, feel it, follow its soft contours. Then he bends down and breathes tender kisses on my foot. There’s no doubt about it: Toytoy clearly has a fetish for female feet.

With closed eyes, he moves around on the ground, kissing my foot on all sides, with all manner of kisses. He caresses each individual toe, sucks it and worships me so beautifully. His breath becomes faster and more aroused. To my surprise, he even takes my foot into his mouth — I feel how warm his mouth is… what an arousing feeling… he takes my foot even deeper. So deep that he almost chokes. Then he carefully places it back on the floor and gives it one last, drawn-out kiss. How wonderful! It’s impossible to feign such passion and adoration. At this moment I am sure: I have found my slave.

FIRST FOUND,
THEN BOUND.

Can one expect a man in his mid-thirties to live in chastity? Of course not. But that isn’t what I have in mind. I know that a man has his needs, and that it’s wrong to try and act against nature. I don’t want to choke his sexuality off. I want to control it. And: I want to condition it. He will be trained to climax only when he is with me.

I’ve only just found my slave, and already worrying about losing him. Suddenly I start to see women on the street, that I haven't noticed before — women who fit the profile of "potential rival". Suddenly they are everywhere: young, attractive, and threatening. How can I protect my slave from them, and bind him to me?

Looking for inspiration, I rummage through the toys of a sex shop. When I see a pair of furry handcuffs, I have an idea: How about a chastity belt — or rather a chastity device, as they actually don’t have a belt.

Just the other day I had seen one online. It consists of some pieces of transparent plastic, which enclose the penis when it is flaccid. The slave’s cock is pushed down, and can grow just a little, but my property is protected by the plastic sheath. So, the male cannot touch his manhood, and is unable to jerk it. He is under lock and key, and I like it!

I decide to buy one. On Amazon, I choose the CB6000 chastity cage, which is rated five stars. The product description says: “The CB6000 is the latest and long-awaited addition to world's best-selling line of male chastity devices. It features a new design, an improved closing mechanism and better, more comfortable A-rings, which come in five different sizes. This allows you to try out the best fitting in the conform of your own home. The various parts are not compatible with the CB2000, CB3000, or ‘The Curve'. A detailed and easy to follow user manual is included.”

What do the customers say?

Sabine C. comments: “We have been searching for a penis cage for a long time. And … this is the one! Superb workmanship, won’t disappoint you! Just be careful with the spacers: there are different sizes — choose a larger one to avoid discomfort.”

Cesar1 writes under the heading “Absolutely elated”: “After putting it on for the first time, I went biking for about 20 km and had no problems! That wasn't to be expected, and I'm pleasantly surprised. When putting it on for the first time, it’s important to be patient and take your time — but it's worth it. You’ll be rewarded with a perfect fit. My goal is to wear the CB6000 for one week non-stop (construction work), to be released by my wife at the end. At first, she was quite sceptical, but now she loves it. She never suspected me of committing adultery, but now she doesn’t even need to worry about the possibility that I might be masturbating during the week.”

Another positive customer review later, I am convinced and buy one. He will be amazed when I show him my little present. Yes, that will make it really difficult for him to see other women.

This week really drags on, but I start to plan what I want to do with my slave in the future. But halfway through, I realise how ridiculous this is. BDSM is not an exact science. I should not approach this adventure rationally, but rather respond to the feeling of the moment. It’s interesting to observe yourself thinking, and reflect on your actions. I conclude that I'm a control freak, who needs a plan or checklist for everything and doesn’t like to be surprised.

On Thursday evening I am relapse into my old behaviour and start planning what to do with Toytoy on Friday. Obviously, I need to offer something new every time and avoid routine; otherwise he will be gone soon. We’re not married and I do not want to get dumped again. My hope is to bind him to me with the CB6000. But I shouldn’t put all my eggs in one basket, so I take some time to think: What else can I do?

I have a quite practical idea: He can go shopping for me. I set up a shopping list, and send him an email. Good, now this is at least something different. What else can I change? Quite clearly, Toytoy is a shoe fetishist. It should be possible to… but yes, of course! My anticipation grows, and I can hardly wait for him to arrive.

When the doorbell rings on Friday evening, I'm already quite excited. I do a quick yoga breathing exercise, then slowly and deliberately walk to the door. I try hard not to rush, even though I want to run. But this would not have been Lady-like, and I’m also wearing high heels. I have put on some careful make up, and wear my favourite lipstick: Rouge Allure by Chanel. Dressed like this, nothing can go wrong. His equipment is ready in the bathroom. His “dress” consists of wrist and ankle cuffs, a collar and his knee pads.

Toytoy brings in the shopping bags, and we greet each other like old friends. I notice how he eyes me up. His gaze passes over my tight, black leather skirt, which ends just above the knee, the black, opaque stockings, my stilettos with insanely high heels, and the white shirt. Did he notice the J'adore fragrance from Dior?

Together we put the things he bought into the fridge, and I explain to him how everything is organised. Then I tell him to take a shower and wait for me on the sofa.

Just a few minutes later I see him crawling towards me — naked. Only dressed in the BDSM gear I prepared for him. The alluring scent of a freshly showered, young, fit body is in the air.

“Greet me, slave,” I command him imperiously and place a foot in front of him. I’m enjoying the wonderful feeling of being desired again. He kisses and licks my heels in sincere devotion.

“That's enough. Kneel down,” I order him. Ah, yes, that looks tasty. His body is as firm as I remember. Obviously he also enjoys what he sees, because his penis is already hard. Could there be a better, more honest compliment for a woman?

Flattered, I lay back and enjoy the moment. I could sit like this forever – but in this game I am in command, and need to take the initiative.

“Have you been a good boy and kept your chastity, as I ordered you last week?”

The slave looks to the floor in shame.

“Don't tell me…!” I shout.

“I’m sorry, Madame,” Toytoy murmurs sheepishly, and continues to look to the ground – but… no, he’s looking at my shoes. Typical! He only cares for his own desires.

“Incredible! I give you a single order – and you screw it up. I should kick you out right now! What do you have to say in your defence?”

Toytoy is squirming uncomfortably on the ground. Then he says: “I am really sorry, Lady Sas. It just came over me. I was thinking about you… and then… well… I felt the urge… to relieve myself.”

“Relieve?” I repeat incredulously. “You don’t need any relief. You need to obey. That is all you need. This is imply incredible! Really. I give you a simple task – and you fail. That doesn't make a favourable impression… and you are still on probation… I told you there would be severe punishment for this kind of behaviour. Simply to keep you from doing it again.” I shake my head and am truly disappointed. Either he has no respect – or he is stupid.

“Fortunately, I have an idea to help you to keep your animal lust under control.” I tell him, as I cross my legs and let my skirt move up a bit, so that he can see my suspenders.

“I'll keep you horny all the time… but you won't cum.”

Again, Toytoy squirms a little. He stares at the stockings that cover my legs. His dick is rock-solid. I grab his manhood and start to stroke it – Toytoy moans a little and closes his eyes. I stop abruptly, take the small box from the table, and open it.

“Here, Toytoy, from now on you have the privilege to be completely under my control. Whether you want to or not.”

Toytoy casts a scared look at the CB6000.

“You know what that is?”

He nods, silently.

“Good, put it on.”

That is easier said than done. To make the cage inescapable, you have to choose the right one of five rings that enclose the cock and testicles. If it is too loose, the slave can pull his penis out. Funnily, we first have to give Toytoy a cold shower, because his cock is so hard – and only a limp dick will fit into the device. As I said: The penis is pushed down and thus cannot become fully erect. After a few attempts we manage to lock his manhood away. It’s important to do this carefully so the skin isn’t pinched. At the end, I close the metal lock and he is mine.

I am fascinated by his little prison. We try to see whether he can escape, and I am satisfied.

“How do you feel?” I ask him.

“It's quite unfamiliar, Madame” he says, and seems a bit unsettled.

“You'll get used to it. Wait a second, where did I put the two keys?” I pretend to look for them, on the table, under the cushions, and under the sofa.

“Well,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, “they'll probably turn up again… sometime.” Only I know that the keys are safe under the candle.

“Just keeping you in chastity is not enough. I want you in chastity and horny. That's the plan.” I tell him in a matter of fact voice. “And as I know just how much you love my shoes and stockings, I will use that against you.” I take off my high heels, tell him not to move and press one shoe against his nose, so that he can inhale the fragrance of my feet. Then I fix it with a rope, perfect. It looks stunning! A high heel mask for the slave. How it feels for him I don’t yet know, but it’s a beginning.

“OK. Now it's time to get to work, cleaning slave,” I order, put my legs up, and switch on the TV.

After a short time I realise, that the show in my house is much more interesting than that on TV. The shoe makes it a little bit difficult for him to see, but this is not a real problem. His breathing reminds me of Darth Vader, but it doesn’t bother me. After a while I put on a DVD, because the TV programme bores me. I choose “Four Weddings and a Funeral: a wonderful comedy that gave Hugh Grant his breakthrough — and me a good time.

Just as Hugh Grant’s mute brother averts the wedding, Toytoy signals that he is finished. Not only with cleaning, but also physically. He stinks, and looks quite spent. I take off the shoe, which is a visible relief for him. Then I tell him to take a shower.

When he comes back freshly showered, the movie has ended. But another one is just beginning: In front of my inner eye.

“Stand here”, I command and point to the centre of the living room. Toytoy assumes his position. Legs slightly apart, hands behind his head.

“I won't restrain you for your punishment. I expect you to be able to take it,” I tell him and approach from behind. My hands run along his brawny, masculine body. Feeling his muscles… skin… hair… I inhale his odour and revel for some time in the feeling of having the hottest toy in the world. I play with the CB6000, pinch his butt, and even bite him a little. Rrrrrr… he’s awakening the cougar in me. I increase the volume of the music – my neighbours don’t need to know what’s going on.

“Show me your sexy ass, slave!” I command and pick up my riding crop. “This is just a warm-up, but you still have to count.” The blows rain down on his ass in rapid succession, slowly turning its colour to red.

Satisfied, I caress his glowing skin. “You already know the paddle,” I note as I let it swoosh through the air right next to him. Toytoy tries to focus, and offers me his ass. Just you wait, my dear boy. This is the reward for ignoring my orders. The paddle dances on his ass cheeks like a young tap dancer.

Then I release it with full force.

Toytoy is writhing under my blows, bending his knees, moaning, and hardly able to count.

“Twelve… thirteen… fourteen… four... — erm… fifteen...”

“Oh!” I say and stop. “Did someone just miscount? What a shame! Now I’ll have to start again.” Without waiting for an answer, I continue to beat him, and this time I do the counting myself:

“One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! Eleven! Twelve! Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!”

Toytoy’s butt is glowing bright red. He’s breathing heavily and trembling all over.

“On your knees! Now!”

He obeys.

“Present your ass!” I order and grab the cane. “Count!” Without any warning I I hit his butt.

“Aaaah! One!!! Two!!! Three!!! Four!!! Five!!!” Toytoy is counting. Instinctively he tries to protect his butt with his hand. Disgusted, I kick it away.

“Pull yourself together!” I admonish him and continue the caning. “Six!!! Seven!!! Eight!!! Nine!!! Ten!!!”

“Thank me, slave!”

He immediately lies down and showers my shoe with kisses. His ass is covered with countless welts.

“Thank You, Lady Sas! Thank You! Thank You!”

“You’re welcome,” I say with a smirk.

“Now beg me to punish you harder for your insubordinate behaviour!”

Toytoy doesn’t react.

“Do it! Or do you want to be punished even harder for failing to obey me?”

“Yes, please, Lady Sas, please punish me harder.”

“Hmm… I don't believe you. Don't just say it… convince me.”

I put the other foot forward.

“Please, Lady Sas, I beg you to punish me harder! Please teach me to obey your orders unconditionally.”

Toytoy is now completely humiliated.

“That's better. But not quite good enough… Beg for it. Go on, do it!”

The slave is now flat on his stomach and licking my shoe as he implores me to give him more pain: “Please, Lady Sas, I really need to be punished. I beg you to punish me harder, Lady Sas, please.”

This makes me smile.

“On your knees. Present your ass!”

My pussy is itching like crazy, BDSM is so incredibly exciting. The cane hits its target with full force.

At first, I do not see a reaction.

“One!!! Two!!! Three!!! Four!!! Five!!! Six!!! Seeeeven!!! Eight!!!” Then the slave falls down on his side.

“On your knees!” I command.

Struggling, Toytoy stands up.

I bow down, and pull his face towards me. Yes, he can take more. It is not that I want to take him to the absolute limit. He will receive a severe beating – no more, but also no less. I take the paddle, and beat him five times, as hard as possible. Then I let go of him, and refill my glass of red wine.

I sit down on the sofa, enjoying my wine as I admire my handiwork. His ass is bright red, and criss-crossed by so many welts.

“Show your gratitude, slave,” I command him, and immediately he crawls towards me to cover my shoes with kisses. That was a harsh beating. But it was necessary. He would lose his respect for me, if I’m not so strict. A Lady must always be true to her word.

I stand up, take his face into my hands and slap him. “And don't you dare ignore my orders again!” I warn him. “Open your mouth, slave!” He obediently does as I tell him, and I let my saliva drip into his mouth.

I'm blushing and get the blindfold to put it over his head.

Then I take off my skirt and panties, and sit down on the sofa. I fasten the dog leash on his collar and pull him between my legs.

“You will lick me now! And if I'm not satisfied, your ass will feel what real pain is. So, you’d better do your best! Lick me now!” I press his head into my crotch and pull the leash tightly.

The slave eagerly begins to lick my pussy, and I am getting hornier. I have to admit: He is doing it really well. I am so aroused and hot, that I am close to cumming after only a few minutes. I get dizzy, and push myself against him. His tongue disappears deep in my cunt. I'm shaking and cannot control myself; actually, I do not want to control myself, I only want to dive deeper into my pure lust.

“Lick me clean.” I demand and the slave obeys. I’m satisfied with him. I pat his head as I enjoy the post-orgasmic wave rolling over and through me. Again, I ask myself, what is driving him to be my slave. It’s a mystery to me. What is the secret?

When I regain my strength, I go to the kitchen to fetch a bottle of water and two glasses. I put on a fresh panty and my skirt; then I allow Toytoy to take off the blindfold.

We are totally exhausted from the kinky sex we just had. I on the sofa, he on the floor of the living room.

Ahhh! That was good.

Very good!

THE NEXT LEVEL
OF BDSM.

I let Toytoy have the next day off and summon him again early on Sunday. His task today is: “delete your profile on Joyclub.de, to show that you have found your Lady-owner”. And he doesn’t fail me: next morning I get a message from Joyclub to tell me that my contact Toytoy has been deleted. His training seems to be showing results.

Sunday morning is here and my home is still tidy and shiny from last Friday. There’s no need for Toytoy to clean, so I decide to take the opportunity to try something new. But wait: he could do the ironing! So I assign my slave to the ironing board and enjoy the sun on my terrace.

Suddenly I have an idea. I have a small storage room. What better place to accommodate a slave? I move the things that are stored there into the bathroom and the cellar. Then I place a wool blanket inside as well as a bucket for the slave’s toilet needs… My “slave hotel” is complete. How wonderful! This is where Toytoy can stay the night. I’m very excited to share my idea with him, but surprisingly he’s not as pleased with his new home as I am. He looks at the bucket with sceptical eyes. What a shame we won’t be able to inaugurate my new “slave stable” until next weekend; the slave has to go to work early on Monday.

We go to the bathroom and I let him show me how he showers and washes himself while wearing his CB-6000. It seems to be working well, I think. The slave complains that it’s difficult to pee. Well, I wasn’t expecting the chastity belt to be easy for him, so I don’t pay too much notice to his whining.

We move on to the kitchen, where I try to teach him some basic skills. He doesn’t seem to have any culinary talent and I wonder whether I will ever be able to use him as a cooking slave without his food turning my stomach or giving me indigestion.

As I’m not too pleased with his efforts, I lock him in the slave stable. I give him a bottle of water and two slices of wholemeal bread. Then I turn off the light. I want to see whether I can just lock him away when I lose interest or don’t need him anymore. The result is very promising. He doesn’t make a sound and I’m able to prepare for Monday without being disturbed.

Around five o’clock I have an idea for keeping him busy without having to supervise him. I place some pumps and high heels in his little cell. Then I lock his hands behind his back by linking his wrist cuffs with a snap hook. Very nice. Why should I make his task easy for him?

“Very well, slave, you will now lick my shoes clean until they shine. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good. When I return, I want see a pair of polished, sparkling clean shoes. Otherwise I’ll polish your ass for you!”

I speak to him with a stern voice, as I’ve learnt that slaves need harsh and strict instructions to lead them. This is the only way to achieve absolute and unquestioning submission, devotion and obedience. Words like “please” and “thank you” should not be used when speaking to a slave, otherwise the role-play will break down.

Around seven, I bring him some new shoes and take away the first pair. And yes: the shoes are clean and shining, as I ordered.

“Good job, shoe slave,” I mock him.

He looks so ridiculous, kneeling before my shoe, ass in the air, licking it with his tongue like a dog… I decide to spice things up and get a towel, some lube, disposable gloves and a vibrator. His ass just looks too inviting…

I take off my rings and slowly put on the disposable gloves. Then I place the towel on the floor, right underneath his ass.

“Relax, slave, I just want to explore your personality a little…” Slowly and with great care, I massage his assneck and the base of his cock. I can feel that he’s aroused, and see his penis desperately trying to rise up — but the CB6000 foils his erection. As his position is rather awkward, I open the snap hook, so he can support himself with his hands.

Next, I apply the lube on my gloves and rub it in. The first time I touch his tight hole, he shudders slightly. What a shame he isn’t a virgin anymore. Toytoy had already told me that he’d allowed himself to be violated by some Pro-Dommes. Maybe that’s a good thing, as he’s already been broken in for me. I gently enter him with my forefinger. His “man-pussy” is very tight. My slave moans as I explore him — his moaning clearly betrays his pleasure and lust.

“Relax…” I whisper and explore deeper inside his body. My finger moves slowly to and fro. His sphincter is very tight and I really enjoy the feeling of penetrating a man. This is something I’ve never done before. And it’s so unbelievably arousing.

I apply some more lube and my finger now slides really nicely. His ass also seems to be less tense than when I started. I add a second finger and fuck his hole while my other hand strokes his balls. I give him heaven and hell — all at the same time. How does it feel for him? A succession of hot and cold? In any case, he’s moaning with pleasure, which seems to indicate that he likes what I’m doing.

When his hole is nicely stretched, I take the vibrator and slip a condom over it. Then I slowly and cautiously push it inside him. It gradually disappears into his hungry hole. Carefully, I begin to fuck him with the vibrator. A wonderful, warm feeling tingles through my pussy. I take him faster and deeper, practically impaling him as I slam against his firm ass.

“Well, my little slave bitch, it’s time for your ass-pussy to be properly fucked!” I say with a lusty voice and increase the speed. The pressure is rising inside the CB6000: his penis is pressing as hard as it can against the walls of its cruel cage. But there is no escape for his cock. I switch on the vibrator. “Make sure you keep the vibrator in your pussy. Don’t you dare to let it fall out!” With these words, I leave and close the door behind me. It’s a shame I don’t have a camera in his cell — otherwise I could watch every move.

Ten minutes later, I return to check on him. My slave still has the vibrator in his ass as he kneels on the floor, licking my business pumps. What a wonderful scene! I fetch my mobile phone and snap a photo. Hold on — am I allowed to do this? Aren’t I violating his privacy? Would I like it if someone made such pictures of me? Wouldn’t I be afraid of being blackmailed? On the other hand: I’m the Lady and he’s the slave. I can do what I consider to be right, as long as I don’t expose him or endanger him in any way.

Around eight o’clock, I remove the vibrator and fetch him out of his cell. My shoes are all polished and shining. I order him to show me his tongue: it’s very dark and dirty, almost black.

Suddenly the slave cringes: he’s seen that I’m wearing a strap-on. He knows what’s in store for him now. With great anticipation, I sit down on the sofa. I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to be given a blowjob. Now I have the opportunity to find out — as far as that’s possible as a woman.

“Come here, slave,” I order, as I jerk my black strap-on. “Come and pleasure my big hard cock!” I throw him a condom. He opens it and is about to place it on my strap-on when I tell him to stop: “No, NO… not like that! Roll it onto my cock with your mouth. Like a little whore. Don’t use your hands.”

Toytoy places the condom in his mouth and then goes deep on my strap-on, until he’s chocking and gasping for air. I laugh at the amusing scene. After a few failed attempts, he finally succeeds in rolling the condom over my cock. I stand up and look down on the slave as he kneels before me: “Suck my cock!” I command him, “Yes… take it deep… lick my balls, you little bitch…” The slave has surrendered to his fate, as he obeys all my wishes without the slightest resistance. Clearly, the punishment he received on Friday has not been forgotten.

“Can you feel it, slave? You do not have a cock, only an ass-pussy. But I have a nice, big penis. Our roles have been switched. What do you think of that?” I demand, as I thrust my cock deep down his throat. He chokes and I just laugh with amusement. This really is fun! I feel a sense of superiority and power growing inside me. How great it is to switch our roles. I slap my cock against his lips and his face, before shoving it back into his mouth-cunt. I make him lick my balls. It’s simply wonderful!

“Make sure you apply enough saliva… otherwise you’re in for a lot of pain… yes… lube it up nice and good.”

I lead him to the kitchen table and fix his wrist and ankle cuffs with rope. His ass is still a bit red: the signs of his punishment can now be seen more clearly. His hole is still nice and slippery, so he should be wet enough for me. I slowly insert my strap-on into his ass-cunt. It slides in nicely and without any resistance. Overcome by lust, I cannot stop myself from moaning. I wish I could hold back, but it’s impossible. Slowly I begin to push against the slave. I begin to ride him, carefully, almost tenderly — then my thrusts become more wild and intense. Toytoy groans like a horny bitch and works hard to match my moves. It’s not as easy to fuck like a man as I thought. I really have to work hard. As a woman it’s so easy to say “harder, faster, stronger.” I soon realise that men need to be quite strong to perform.

I spank Toytoy’s ass and give it my all...

Exhausted, I finally have to stop. What a wonderful ride that was! I untie Toytoy and send him to the bathroom. Satisfied but tired, I fall back onto the sofa.

What a hot fuck I’ve had!

Next Tuesday, as I click my way through a forum on chastity devices, my eyes suddenly open wide. I discover how important it is to regularly exercise the penis as well as the entire pelvic area and its muscles. Otherwise, the slave could become impotent. I read that a cock must have a regular erection, even if only subconsciously during sleep. Very well, I think, I will set up the following arrangement for my slave: during the week he will remain locked in chastity — and over the weekend, he can “exercise” under my supervision. By doing this, his tools will remain functional — and the slave will be under my control.

SISSIFICATION.

I want to broaden my knowledge and learn more about BDSM. Wikipedia and especially its English pages, prove to be very helpful sources of information.

I look up “feminisation” and start to explore. It’s all about treating a man like a woman, dressing him like a woman and, by doing this, to humiliate him and deprive him of his manhood.

I find this concept very exciting. Especially considering my experiences with my strap-on. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to transform my slave into a sissy maid and regularly violate “her” with my large cock? Wouldn’t it be very embarrassing and humiliating for a slave to clean my home wearing sexy feminine clothes? And at the same time be locked in chastity and hopelessly horny… A warm shiver runs through my body. On amazon.de I find a lady’s wig with beautiful long black hair. I also order a sexy French maid costume: a provocative short petticoat dress with puff sleeves and lacing down the front. The pinny is decorated at the back with a big white bow. The package also includes a satin neckband and a string panty. To complete the set, I also order black hold-up stockings. I have the package sent to my DHL pick-up station. It’s Wednesday today, so with any luck the toys should arrive by Friday.

On Thursday I send my slave an e-mail with a link to a hot femdom clip that I found during my internet research. It features some hard-core action and I know that he will view it. What a pity that his CB6000 won’t allow him to really enjoy it. I also instruct him to bring his toiletries for the weekend — his toothbrush and other necessary items. But he needn’t worry what to wear during his stay as he won’t be wearing anything. At least that makes it easier to pack.

Finally, Friday evening is here.

Toytoy arrives on time — hardly surprising, as he’s surely desperate to be released after a long week in chastity. I know that I must allow him to cum this weekend. I mustn’t go too far with him — otherwise my fun might be over soon. But still: I will certainly keep him in suspense for a while!

After his shower, we start with our greeting ritual. As he kisses my shoes, sucks my high heels and licks my leather, I explain what I have in store for him.

“Your cock has been locked away for quite a while and you have learned how it is to be fucked in the ass like a little slut, so we should go a step further. In your current predicament, you’re no longer a man: you’re a sissy, a slave-pussy. So it’s only natural that you should dress according to your new role.”

At this, I take the maid’s uniform out of a bag. The slave’s eyes grow wider, but it’s clear that he doesn’t like what he sees.

“You do like it, don’t you?” I ask.

“If you command, I will obey and wear it,” the slave says. His voice is restrained but I can sense the turmoil raging inside him. Every part of him is rebelling against the drag costume that I’m forcing him to wear. It’s clear that he doesn’t want to be completely stripped of his manhood.

“Good. Do it now. Put on the maid’s uniform,” I order coldly, “I’m sure you’ll look very sexy. Just like a sweet little whore.”

While the slave has to transform himself into a sissy, I taunt him even further:

“What should we call you? Hmm… perhaps Charlotte… Or Denise… Chantal would also be nice, and sounds a bit naughty, doesn’t it?”

The slave — or rather the sissy! — gives me an angry glare, but stays silent.

“When I was a little girl, I always enjoyed playing with dolls. And that’s exactly what I want to do now… I’ll buy you a nice dress… doll you up like a little whore… with a very short skirt and high heels… maybe I’ll let you crawl the kerb with the other tranny hookers… to such real cocks for me… and let yourself be penetrated and violated hard by fat, sweaty punters… how would you like that?”

My sissy squeezes her body into the maid’s dress – it is a little tight for her. Just as I fear that the stitches will burst, my sissy is finally able to wear the outfit. She puts on the wig and clumsily tries to pull up the stockings. I help her — as I’m afraid that the stockings will get damaged.

“I’ve decided to call you ‘Analita’… Do you understand? Anal-ita…” I grin, but Analita isn’t amused by my joke. She breathes heavily — as if she was finding it hard to control herself.

“You look beautiful!” I comment, secretly thinking exactly the opposite. I had never seen anything as ridiculous as this: the unshaven face contrasts starkly with the dainty maid’s outfit. It looks like a miserable attempt at a fancy dress party. And then she puts on the kneepads that she needs for cleaning… oh no, I can barely stop myself from bursting out laughing. Despite this, I decide to give Analita a chance to prove how graceful and charming she could be throughout the day.

“You know what you have to do!” I say sternly and quickly withdraw to my study before I’m overcome by a fit of laughter.

Two hours later I hear a knock on the door. Analita has finished her chores. I inspect her work and then turn my attention to the little whore.

“Lift your skirt.” I order, and examine the CB6000. The cock inside the cage is rather small and not at all aroused. Clearly, the sissy role doesn’t turn my slave on. She seems to be suppressing her anger and frustration. Not a good start for our playtime.

“What does it feel like to be Analita?” I enquire as I sit down on the sofa.

“Not very nice.” she says with a terse voice. From her tone it’s clear she means what she says. I ponder for a moment. She really does look ridiculous in the outfit and the wig.

“I understand. It was an experiment,” I hear myself say. My response is spontaneous: “To be honest, the role just doesn’t suit you. You can take off your drag now.”

The slave seems to be very relieved. After some struggling, he finally extracts himself from the tight and detested dress, takes off the wig and stockings and becomes a man again.

In his gratitude, he falls down before me and kisses my shoes. I’m very pleased to see this. He’s well trained. His career as Analita was as brief at it could be. But I still think that it was an interesting experience. Certainly not the right thing for both of us, but still very interesting.

“You can thank me by making a very special effort,” I explain and tie a blindfold over his eyes. Then I place a collar around his neck, attach the leash and direct him towards my pussy…

What more can I say? His tongue certainly feels very, very grateful…

MASSAGE SKILLS.

Today is the first time that my slave stays the night. He is locked into the small storeroom that I call my “slave stable”. It’s not particularly comfortable in there, but what slave would dare to expect a comfortable life?

I put a blanket into the stable together with a bucket for urgent calls of nature. Back in my bedroom, as I settle into my bed (feeling very satisfied after having been pleasured rather nicely by my slave) I suddenly change my mind. I leap out of bed — in the figurative sense, at least: as I’m already half asleep, it’s more a crawl than a leap — and unlock the slave stable.

“Are you already asleep?” I ask.

“No, Lady Sas,” Toytoy answers, blinking at the light that suddenly enters his dark hole.

“You may use the bathroom if you need the toilet. Forget the bucket nonsense,” I say and take the bucket away again. I immediately close the stable door without waiting for his “thank you” and stumble back to bed. It’s not a good idea to take the play too far. And I’m glad that I changed my mind at the last moment. On the other hand: am I being too nice to him by releasing him from his sissy role and allowing him to use my bathroom like a normal guest? Am I really treating him like a strict Dominatrix should? Or is my dominant role slowly slipping away? As my mind ponders to and fro, I’m finally overcome by sleep.

Next morning, I stumble to the bathroom. I switch on the light and try to open my tired eyes just a little to look at myself in the mirror. Goodness gracious me!

I look away and wash my face with water. What a stupid idea to allow the slave to stay the night. What if he were to see me like this? It could take hours before I’m more or less presentable. Well, that might be a slight exaggeration, but I certainly couldn’t let him see me without makeup.

A short time later — an hour, in fact — I’m ready. I make a point of not wearing a fetish outfit and instead put on a casual pair of jeans and a blouse. After all, I don’t want to walk around as a Dominatrix the whole day just to please my slave and turn him on. No, I don’t need to wear an outfit to be accepted as his Lady and owner. But I do make one small concession: I wear high heels. This changes my posture and thus also the impression I make. Although it’s a little strange for me to wear high heels in my home, it makes perfect sense.

It’s almost 10 o’clock when I open the slave stable. I see Toytoy inside, huddling on the blanket.

“Good morning Toytoy,” I say with a friendly voice, “have you had a good sleep?”

“Good morning Lady Sas,” he says with a lively voice. Clearly he’s already been awake for quite some time. “Yes, thank you very much. I’m fine, Madame.”

“You can use the bathroom now. And then it’s time for breakfast.” I’m very friendly to him. After all, who would not be in a good mood on Saturday morning? And a wonderful, exciting weekend lies ahead of us.

We eat breakfast together. I allow Toytoy to sit at my table. Yes, I know he should be kneeling on the floor, but I decide that we should have a brief timeout from our BDSM-roles. After all, no one is watching us…

While the slave was taking his bath, I had quickly visited my local baker to get some fresh buns. The kitchen is filled with the smell of fresh coffee, and the table is decorated with honey and marmalade, meat slices and cheese. No one could accuse me of not taking care of my slave. During breakfast, we chat informally, practically as equals, about what happened yesterday evening: about our brief excision into the world of feminisation and also how it feels for him to wear a CB6000.

“I really hated being a sissy,” Toytoy admits honestly, “and the name Anal-ita… no, that really isn’t my thing. It doesn’t turn me on at all.”

“Me neither,” I agree, as I pour myself another cup of coffee. “Shame about the outfit, but it just doesn’t suit you, if I’m honest.” At that we agree not to play any more sissy-games.

“How do you feel in the CB6000?” I ask.

“It’s not easy. As time passes, the urge to cum gets stronger and stronger.”

“How should I imagine that feeling?” I enquire further.

Toytoy thinks for a moment. “The urge is like water rising inside a city wall, pressing against the gate. As the water rises, the pressure grows. Only when the gate is opened, the water can flow out and the pressure drops again.”

I find his explanation very interesting, even if the analogy with the city wall is somewhat strange.

“I sometimes wonder why you enjoy being a slave.”

Toytoy thinks for a moment. “I just need it,” he says after a long pause.

“Yes, I can see that. But why? Why do you feel this need?”

“I… I really don’t know…” he says, “I just follow my desires.”

“Don’t you ever wonder why you’re like this? Don’t you think about your future? Wouldn’t you like to have children, get married etc…?”

Toytoy’s eyes wonder into the distance as he ponders what I said. Then he looks at me, admiring me from top to toe before he drops to his knees and kisses my high heels in adoration. It’s an answer of sorts, but I’m still no closer to his secret. I’m sure there’s a reason for his submissive feelings. We all have reasons for who we are and what we do. Even Toytoy. Especially Toytoy, I correct myself.

I walk into the living room and sit down on the sofa. It’s hard work walking around in high heels all day. “Do you know how to give a foot massage?”

He nods. “Yes, I have a bit of experience but not a lot.”

“Excellent. Then it’s time for you to practice right now.” I take off my shoes and relax as I lean back on the sofa.

Toytoy crawls to the sofa on his hands and knees. Now he’s fully returned to his role as my slave. He gently caresses — or rather worships — my feet with his hands. Then he kisses my right foot. I lean back and relax, closing my eyes, so I can enjoy his touch even more intensely. Toytoy holds my right heel with one hand while his other hand gently runs over the length of my foot. He lifts my foot slightly and firmly presses his thumb against my sole, before running it slowly and firmly over the underside of my feet, moving it to and fro. One by one, he massages each joint and each toe.

“Harder…” I say, as I enjoy the pleasurable experience. “Massage it even harder…” I demand and my eyes glaze over. Why didn’t I think of this before? It’s almost as good as sex…

I can feel his devotion as he runs his hands over my feet. His thumb is slowly and firmly kneading its path across my skin. The feeling is so wonderful as he pushes it to and fro. I feel as if every muscle in my body, every cell inside me, is in a deep state of relaxation. Hopefully, he can keep this up for a while…

Now he holds my foot in both hands, one hand on each side, and uses both thumbs to knead my skin. The feeling is simply wonderful. The only thing that’s missing for perfection would be a nice hot milky coffee. I consider whether I should break this magical moment by going to the kitchen and brewing myself some coffee — or continue enjoying him spoiling me.

While I’m still wrestling with my decision, Toytoy makes it easy for me. He carefully places my right foot on the floor and is about to start on my left, when I grab the opportunity and quickly run to the kitchen. “Just one moment,” I say, and immediately regret interrupting my wonderful relaxation. But I’m addicted to coffee. Without coffee, my body starts to tremble and I get a headache. I’m serious: it really is an addiction! With real withdrawal symptoms. I must watch myself.

Less than two minutes later I sit down again on the sofa, a cup of delicious milky coffee in my hand — and a smile on my face. I lift my left foot and lean back. Toytoy holds my foot in both hands and slowly circles his thumbs over my soles. He pushes them firmly but not roughly. In fact, his massage is very sensitive and loving. His eyes are closed as he kneads my feet. He’s totally focused. At the same time, I can see an almost spiritual aura of pleasure in his face. Like a sponge, he’s soaking up the special atmosphere. I sense how the tension in my body is melting away. I feel more and more at ease, more relaxed than I’ve ever felt before. A world away from the restrained, tense and hectic mood that usually takes hold of me. It’s as if all that had been blown away.

“You’re doing well,” I purr with a satisfied voice.

“Thank you, Lady Sas,” Toytoy replies, and his voice clearly tells me that he’s enjoying himself. How wonderful: I’m enjoying my massage — and my masseur is enjoying himself as well.

“Massage me harder!” I demand again. He presses his thumbs more intensely against my skin and also presses his forefinger firmly along the inner edge of my foot.

“Oh yes, right there!” I moan. And when I say ‘moan’ then that’s exactly what I do. The feeling is indescribable. It could only be compared to eating rich chocolate ice cream from Haagen-Dazs while watching Sex and the City — and even that isn’t half as amazing as what I’m feeling right now.

“Keep it up,” I sigh, my voice betraying the pleasure I’m feeling.

He holds my foot firmly in one hand, while his other is focused on my inner edge. He slowly traces it with thumb, before repeating with all his fingers, alternating to and fro.

I just lie there and enjoy. Too relaxed even to think. It’s a strange feeling to be able to shut out all thoughts. My mind often leaps from one thought to the next. It never stops thinking — the very antithesis of peace and relaxation. Yet now I’ve achieved a state that could almost be described as meditative. I breathe in, I breathe out. I can sense how relaxed I am, how much I’m enjoying this. Otherwise my mind is blank.

Toytoy switches to the other foot. I let him choose because he clearly knows what he’s doing. So I just close my eyes and indulge in my pleasure. I feel as if I’m becoming lighter and lighter… until I begin to float. It’s as if I’d shaken off my body. My mind begins to rise, gently, as if covered in cotton wool, heading towards a glistening light. I look down — and view a wide, endless ocean, waves rocking up and down, shining in the sun. Gulls are hovering in the air. Countless colourful balloons are drifting towards the sun, with gingerbread hearts attached to them. I can see names on the hearts, but they are too far away to read. Then I feel a wind rising. A storm is coming. I drift away, out onto the wide ocean. The clouds grow darker, and the sky is infused with a deep dark red, broken only by the occasional yellow dot. Then I see an island. I’m headed towards it.

As I reach the island, a parachute opens and I float down towards it. The white sand is waiting for me, welcoming me with open arms and happily embracing me. It feels so soft, like a pillow. My head sinks deep into this pillow… I pull my blanket closer and snuggle inside it. The mattress smells of cinnamon and cloves. I breathe in the fragrant air. How wonderful! Inebriated with pleasure, I turn to one side. I see an alarm clock quietly buzzing next to my head. Then a mountain goat approaches and tenderly licks my face.

Yuckkkk! Go away! Stop that! I wave my arms and try to scare away the silly goat. Then I open my eyes — I’m not on a distant island but in my own living room. I see Toytoy cowering at my feet. I look at my watch: it’s already past twelve noon. I pull myself together and go to the bathroom to freshen up. What a wonderful Saturday morning!

THE VISIT.

When I return to the living room, I see Toytoy kneeling in front of the sofa, ready to serve. Very good, this is how it should be.

“I cook and you clean.” I briefly explain the division of tasks. I like to cook, unlike cleaning. So this deal is better than just good for me. Full of enthusiasm I start to work on something nice. We’ll have strips of fried chicken breast with fresh fruits and rice on green salad with mango dressing. Mmm… delicious! While the chicken breasts are frying, I log onto joyclub.de and check my e-mails. There are a couple of new applications. I switch to my profile, which is no longer up-to-date. So it’s hardly surprising that the applications keep coming in.

I update my profile. I would like to boast about my slave – but unfortunately I do not have any pictures of him. After a while I manage to find some photographers with the search function of joyclub. I study their pictures, and finally pause at a profile that catches my eye. She is a hobby photographer in her late twenties who specialises in Gothic and BDSM. I like the mostly black and white pictures because they are not as artificial and unnatural as most that I’ve seen.

The Lady lives in the Rhineland city of Mainz, which is only a stone's throw from my hometown of Frankfurt. Without hesitation I write her an
e-mail, and unlock my profile. I ask her, whether she would like to take photos of me and my slave. Then I log out and concentrate again on preparing lunch. Shortly after, I find myself setting the table. Well, it's not easy to suddenly be a Dominatrix. It’s too easy to forget my duty, not to have any duties.

This time, we are not both sitting at the table. Toytoy gets a dog bowl and has to eat his lunch on the floor. Like the good puppy he is.

I start to think about the next chores for my slave. Some gardening would be nice, but: I cannot let Toytoy work there naked. What would the neighbours think?! I could introduce him as my nephew, if someone asks. Or as a colleague. But no, colleague would be awkward. Then people would think we’re having an affair, with him visiting me at home and working for me. But the idea with the nephew could work — I'll try that.

Lunch is nice. I allow myself a glass of red wine. Who knows, maybe one day Toytoy will even be able to cook for me. Maybe even better, than I can. Well, a woman is allowed to dream, right?

I let Toytoy wash the dishes, and have him make an espresso for me (and for himself). Then I switch on my laptop and find a reply from the photographer. For reasons of discretion I won't give her name here, so I’ll just call her “Silvia”. Silvia writes that my profile interests her and asks me to send some photos of my slave. She already likes my photos. I use my cell phone to take a few quick snapshots of Toytoy and upload the best looking ones. But before that, I cut off his head. Well, not really of course, just in the picture.

I simply cannot send a picture with the slave’s face to someone unknown — it wouldn’t be fair.

I close my laptop, and enjoy being lazy for some time. My favourite activity at the moment, actually. And because I enjoyed my foot massage so much, I treat myself to another one.

In the evening I meet Silvia online on joyclub. She’s written me an e-mail and said she’s quite fascinated by his body. So I invite her to an online chat. After some difficulties (women and technology…), we get it to work.

(Note: The following chat transcript is reproduced with kind permission from Lady Silvia.)

“Hello Silvia”

“hi lady sas, cool, thanks for the picture ;-)”

“You’re welcome. Looks like we’re living quite close to each other.”

“yes, right, what kind of photos do you have in mind?”

“I really like the photos on your profile. But no faces should be visible. Discretion is very important to me.”

“yes, I can understand that ;-)”

“Might stir up trouble with colleagues and friends. Don't need that. And I also don't want to expose my slave.”

“ok, no problem. do you have a hat? or a mask for your sub?”

“Hmm… a summer hat certainly. But a mask for the slave? Unfortunately not.”

“we can blur his face afterwards on the computer, shouldn't be a problem.”

“What will I have to pay for your shooting?”

“i do tfp. time for pay. you don't pay, I don't pay. you get the pictures and I do, too. everyone is happy.”

“Ok, but unfortunately I cannot let you have the copyright. Wouldn't be fair towards my slave. You understand?”

“you mean, I can’t publish them?”

“Yes, right. Sorry…”

“ah, and why should I shoot you then?”

“For the fun of it, maybe?”

“hmmm, I need to get something out of it, too, and I'm not talking money, that's not my thing.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“can you send me a pic of his face? how old is he again?”

“He is in his mid-thirties. But I can't send a portrait via internet, sorry, not possible.”

“too bad, the body is really hot, is it a chastity belt he is wearing? kinky!”

“Yes, it's a CB6000. You are not trying to steal my slave? ;-)”

“no, but maybe I'd like to use him! — shocked?”

“No, why? That'd be alright. I could lend him to you.”

“cool! that's great. you wouldn't be jealous? I’ve had that before — not very pleasant.”

“We have a purely BDSM relationship, we’re not lovers. So, why should I be jealous?”

“cool. do you fuck him? if I may be so curious?”

“I get my satisfaction...”

“cool. You’re really cool, saskia. - what can I do with him?”

“What are you thinking about?”

“oh, I've got many ideas :-) I don't play often, but when I do, I like to go all the way.”

“Sounds good. I'm sure I can learn something from you.”

“ok, so we are not doing tfp, but smfp, sm for pictures ;-)”

“Deal. But you have to respect his limits.”

“ok, now it gets exciting. when do you have time?”

“Let me think. Can you be here in 10 minutes?”

“haha :) sorry, I guess it will be 12 minutes ;-) if you like, we can already meet tomorrow, if you can't wait to do it :)”

“Gladly. That's going to be great. How about noon? I'm living in XXX Street XXX, Frankfurt.”

“cool. how shall I dress?”

“Oh, that's up to you.”

“ok, let me think. what will you wear?”

“Let's see … Maybe a little suit.”

“yes, I’d like that, too. I'll have a look. cool! see you tomorrow.”

I'm excited!

Tomorrow I'll present my slave for the first time. And not only that – I'll even lend him to another Lady, too. Wow, that’s what I call progress.

Sunday morning. It is only just after 9 am, but I look like as it is already noon. I’m wearing the essence of female elegance: a lady's suit. A white, slender, fitted blazer with lapel and buttoned sleeve vents. Under it a light-coloured blouse. And with it a tight black pencil skirt with a shaped waistband and walking slit. Combined with opaque stockings and black high heels. I scrutinize my looks in the mirror from every side. Dressed like this I could go to Ascot and meet the Queen. Today I'm quite satisfied. My wrinkles are smoothed with a bit of make-up. My confidence is boosted additionally by a push-up bra. Brimming with energy, I open the door to my slave stable.

“Get up, Toytoy. Today is going to be special!” He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, and blinks at me in surprise. What might confuse him more? That I am up so early, or that I am dressed up like this?

“We have a visitor...” I declare triumphantly. A young female photographer from Mainz is interested in you.

“Photographer?” he asks sceptically and suddenly wide awake. “Don't worry; your face won’t be visible.” He relaxes a little. “Hurry! Go to the bathroom! You have to be presentable.”

This time I join him in the bathroom. I unlock his CB6000, and Toytoy is allowed to shave and shower. Shaving is fast, because there are only a few stubbles, and I don't mean his face…

“You've washed yourself down there long enough.” I remark drily, when he spends too much time playing with his cock, which is clearly enjoying its long-awaited freedom. Well, “freedom” is a big word; it’s more like a short walk in the prison yard. Because after the shower, it’s locked up again right away. But this turns out to be not so easy. To get the CB6000 on, the penis has to be flaccid. But this time not even cold water would do the trick. While I already start to think about drawing Toytoy into a conversation about gardening and cooking to distract him, his manhood finally seems to be growing limp. But as soon as I have his penis and the chastity device in my hand again, I realise that it won't work.

“Listen,” I tell him slightly annoyed. “Either you get inside that thing in the next five minutes – or I’ll beat you so hard that your cock won’t get hard again for the rest of the day!” My eyes sparkle ferociously. Not waiting for an answer I leave the bathroom. Less than three minutes later the chastity belt is on again. See? You just need the right arguments.

It’s half past eleven. In half an hour, Silvia will be here. I'm a bit nervous (to put it mildly) and rearrange some decorations. Toytoy is kneeling in his customary position in front of the sofa. His upper body erect, legs apart, hands on thighs with palms facing up, head bowed down. He wears wrist and ankle cuffs, his CB6000, a collar and a dog leash. A hint of Boss Bottled surrounds him. I like the paradox: a boss as a slave. Wonderful.

I am happy to show him off to someone. What good is the best toy, if nobody knows that you have it? If nobody envies you? It‘s a good idea to exhibit him, and have some pretty photos shot at the same time.

“You look great this morning.” my local baker had told me this morning, when I bought some cake. “Thanks,” I replied, “I expect visitors.” Fortunately I didn't have to go into details.

Everything is prepared. Coffee is ready. I'm running to the bathroom for the hundredth time to check my hair. So much trouble. Why can't I take it easy? Enjoy the thrill? But the truth is: I am almost nerve-wrecked. Let's pray that is all goes well.

It seems like an eternity until noon. Why do clocks slow down when you are waiting and start racing when you can hardly cope? Or is it just me? I go to the bathroom for the 101st time.

Finally: It's noon! At 12:05 I'm so nervous, I'm pacing up and down. At 12:10 I open my laptop and log on to joyclub. Guess what! Silvia is online. “Hi Silvia, where are you?” I ask impatiently. A little while later I get the answer:

“sorry, not feeling well today.”

Great. Didn't she know that earlier? I slam the lid of my laptop down. What a waste of time and effort. Is she really ill? Or did she just chicken out? Afraid of her own courage? Time for some comfort eating to let off some steam.

Toytoy serves coffee and cake.

“Lady Silvia says she is sick.” I tell him. His reaction is hard to interpret. I cannot tell whether he is relieved or annoyed. Maybe he doesn't know himself. But the cake is delicious. Well, at least something! After easing up a little, I go online again and message Silvia: “What a pity that you tell me so late. Bought some nice cake for us. Get well soon.”

I browse again through the profiles, and try the search function again. What am I actually looking for? A female photographer, who is dominant, would be great. Then I don't have to explain things, and won't feel like a pervert when I show off my slave.

Yes, there are ladies like this on joyclub. But I am picky. Maybe it would be good to try a more mature woman? Maybe it was just a joke for Silvia? On the off chance I choose Cornelitas and FotoFix. (Note: Both names have been changed for discretion in this book.) Both get the photos I shot with my cell phone, so that they get a first impression.

Being a good host, I had bought far too much cake. This turns out to be a problem now. Because once I start to eat cake, it’s hard for me to slow down. While I’m waiting for a reply from the two ladies, and browsing through their profiles some more, I eat more cake. Toytoy gives my feet a massage. I decided to use his massage talents as often as possible – admittedly I am not quite an altruistic here.

FotoFix does read my message and looks at my profile, but otherwise stays silent. When I almost want to log off an hour later, a message from Cornelitas pops up: “Hi Saskia! Looks like an interesting project! As you can see in my gallery, I’ve done a lot of BDSM photography! I have lots of experience! Yours, Cornelitas”

A woman of exclamation marks!

I invite her to a chat.

(Note: I repeat our conversation here with Cornelitas’ consent.)

“Hello Cornelitas.”

“Hi Saskia! Sounds exciting!”

“It would be nice if you are interested, and shoot a few nice pictures.”

“Sure, why not!”

“How much will it cost?”

“Cost? I don't do this professionally, only as a hobby!!! It would be nice if I could add the picture to my profile, you know.”

“I know, but I'm a bit unsure. I'd like to have the pictures under my control. I would hire you for the picture, too. It's worth it to me.”

“I don't take pictures for money, sorry!!!”

“Oh, that's a pity ...”

“I don't need it, you know! But you've made me really curious! Ok, I would do it for free, too.”

“I could pay you with cake and coffee ;-)”

“Deal! Let's do it! :-)”

“Ok, great! How about next weekend?”

“Yes, Saturday noon would be great. How about 2 pm?”

“Very good! I live in Frankfurt in XXX Street XXX. One more question: I have been stood up already once, and would like to avoid that for the future. Please let me know in time, if something comes up, ok?”

“Sure! No problem!”

“Great, I really look forward to next weekend!”

New game, new chance. Let's see if it works out with Cornelitas. I'm not so sure, though. Too bad, that some people are so unreliable and don't even think about cancelling.

In the evening I switch on the TV, and watch Tatort, a popular German crime series. Toytoy is allowed to practice massaging. But this time I require a back massage. This week’s Tatort is not one of the best episodes, but the massage makes up for it. He has such sensitive hands.

“Harder!” I command with a satisfied sigh, when he runs his index and middle finger down my spine. “Harder…! Yes, good. A bit more!”

He kneads my neck, which is quite tense at the beginning, but relaxes after a while. At the end I am so deeply and soundly relaxed, that he even gets away with moving his hands where I don't have a back – but a butt.

“If you do it well, you might eventually be allowed to cum.” I tell him, and push his head into my crotch. Toytoy is really exerting himself, but still I need some time to climax. I let out a little scream and shudder – before I finally come to rest.

When the fog in my head has cleared, and I breathe normally again, I unlock his CB6000.

“Touch yourself.” I order. I don't have to say this twice. Immediately he grabs his weenie and wanks shamelessly.

“I count to ten. At ten you'll shoot your load, understand?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Good. One.”

“Two...”

“Three...”

Toytoy jacks himself off faster, and also his breathing quickens. His eyes are focused on me. It is really exciting to watch him get off to me. His gaze travels from my high heels, over my stockings and legs to my breasts, and from there to my face. He looks at my mouth, my left eye, then right, back to my mouth, and so forth. His own lips are slightly parted. He gasps now.

“Four…”

“Five…”

“Six…”

“Seven…!”

His penis is rock-solid and ready to burst. Toytoy pumps faster and harder. I think, he is really gripping tight.

“Eight…”

“Nine…”

Toytoy is ultimately excited, and really close. His body shows it, especially his red face.

“Nine and a half…”

“Nine and three quarters...”

He pants for air, and won't be able to hold back much longer. Looking at my lap, he moves like he would be fucking me.

“Dream on, slave” I tell him coldly. “And ... now ... it ... is ... ten! - Ten! Aren't you listening? Ten!”

Toytoy wanks like a man possessed. I bathe in his lewd looks. Hot splashes of cum cover my high heels. It is wonderful to see his juice spurting out of his shaft. Uncontrollably wild. Irresistibly horny. Infinitely lustful.

“I see,” I say, and look at his sperm. “Looks like someone hasn’t cum for a long time… Very nice. Now clean up that mess. I expect sparkling clean shoes.”

I am amused. What a nice end to the weekend.

LADY CORNELITAS.

The water for the tea is boiling. And I am, too. It’s Saturday — ten past two pm. I feel myself going through the roof.

No Cornelitas to be seen.

I don't understand this. Why do people make appointments, just to not show up? Ok, I cannot complain that I cleaned the house the whole day just for her — that was Toytoys task. But I’ve again bought so much cake that the table is in danger of collapsing If I have to eat all of that alone again, something else will collapse — the floor I'm walking on. Additionally, I got dressed up especially for this event. Careful make-up, nice suit… This Cornelitas! What an unbearable person! If I could lay my hands on her…! I'm sure she'll send me a message via Joyclub any moment. Her parakeet is ill, he's coughing and sniffing. Or an old schoolmate came along out of nowhere, just when she wanted to leave. Or maybe – what a bad coincidence – her camera fell into the water. Or an escaped prisoner just turned up in her flat… suddenly the doorbell rings.

Really? Could that be her…? I go to the door and look through the spy hole. A little curly head is standing outside. A Lady with brown, shoulder-length hair, and black-rimmed glasses. Her chin sticks out a bit. I guess, she is a little bit older than me, in her late forties. She wears a classy black leather skirt made of lamb nappa. With it a figure-hugging sweater, with a black and dark-red pattern. Her stockings are black and opaque like mine. She is lean – no, petite is more accurate. This has to be Cornelitas.

I open the door with a beaming smile. “Hi!” she says full of joy, and smiles back. “Hi!” I reply just as enthusiastically. We are hugging and exchange kisses on the cheeks. It's not really my thing to great strangers like this. But in a strange way I have the feeling of meeting an old acquaintance. Maybe it's because we share an intimate secret?

“Please, come in.”

She picks up her big long black bag and enters my flat. She looks around curiously.

“You've got a very nice place,” she says, as she opens the bag and takes out two awesome over-knee patent leather boots. “They are better, right?” she asserts, and replaces her half-boots with them. “I know…” she adds, and shrugs with her shoulders. “They look a bit slutty. But, ok… men love them, you know. — Oh, I almost forgot...” she says, and takes off her glasses. “I need them only for driving. – What do you think? Am I presentable?” She stands in front of me and looks at me with big eyes.

“You look great.” I confirm. “Great that you could make it!” – “Sorry for being late.” she explains, “Didn't find your place right away. And then I had to find somewhere to park. Not easy in this area. Now I'm parking close to a crossing. I hope my car won't be towed away, what do you think?” Cornelitas talks her head off. Like an old friend. “Don't worry, it’ll be ok.” I reassure her, and ask her to come in.

“Have a seat” I say, and offer her a chair at the dining table. “What would you like to drink? Maybe a little champagne?”

“Sounds good to me!” Cornelitas says, and inspects my living room. When I see her profile, I notice her nose, which is a bit more distinctive from the side. It adds an interesting touch of character to her. She is radiating with energy, drive and high spirits.

“But they aren’t real, are they?” she asks, when she sees the Monet paintings on my walls. “No!” I laugh. “If they were real, I'd be living in a mansion right now.”

“Well, I'm clueless about art, you know.” says Cornelitas, and sits down. Then she jumps up again, takes a large camera from the bag, and sits down again.

“I can never decide which camera to take with me. It's impossible to decide.” she says and holds her forehead, “But taking more than one is also not possible. They are awfully heavy, you know. Here, try it.” she tells me. I put the two wine glasses down on the table, and lift the camera. “Nikon” it says on the front. And yes: It is really heavy!

“Wow, I didn't expect that.” I say, raising an eyebrow. “I also brought lighting. A beauty dish, for nice illumination, you know.”

“Ah, great!” I say, although I've never heard the word “beauty dish” before. “To an interesting shooting!” I toast, and raise my glass. We are clinking glasses and enjoying the champagne. I teeter to the hifi and turn on the radio.

I'm so happy that it worked out this time. If I had been dumped again, it would have been so frustrating.

“Where is our model?” asks Cornelitas, and looks around.

“Oh, he's waiting. I'll fetch him soon. Hmm… you don't mind, that I… well…” The words are failing me. Stay cool. “Well, I mean… he is my slave… so I thought: This should be visible in the pictures ...”

“Yes, sure. That's why I'm here, you know.” Cornelitas quickly agrees.

“Right! So, long story short: Don't be surprised when I show him in...”

“Oh!” says Cornelitas wide eyed. “No, no, no problem! You know, I've done many photo shoots in this area. And… well, I've got a lot of experience, you know. Or did you do something unusual with him?”

“Something unusual?” I ask doubtfully. “No, I don't think so. Just that he is made-up as a slave ...”

“Oh! Good! I'm curious. He looks interesting in the snapshots. I may call them snapshots, right?”

I stand up and disappear in the study. Toytoy is waiting on his hands and knees. I close the door carefully. He’s wearing wrist and ankle cuffs, a collar with a leash, and the CB6000. I get close to his face, take his chin in my hand, and look him straight in the eyes.

“She’s here”, I whisper. “So! Do! Not! Embarrass! Me!” I look at him straight and intently – until he averts his eyes. “Did you understand, slave? Show your best!”

“Yes, Lady Saskia.” he replies eagerly.

“Good” I nod, “I hope so. Otherwise all the punishment you received so far will be just a warm-up for the pain that I will inflict on you.”

I let my words sink in for moment. Then I take the leash, and lead him to the living room.

“This is Toytoy.” I state somewhat nervously, and place him in front of Cornelitas. “And this is Lady Cornelitas. Go and greet her!”

Lady Cornelitas is sitting lazily with crossed legs on the chair and watches interestedly how Toytoy kisses her patent leather boots.

“Kneel down.” I order, “Present yourself.”

He kneels down, legs slightly apart, back upright, head down, and with palms facing up on his thighs.

“Now, that's a handsome specimen” Cornelia says to me, “and so well trained! My compliments!”

That's music to my ears.

“Thank you!” I stammer, slightly drunk with pride.

“Really impressive.” Cornelitas says, and smiles at me.

I smile back, the tension slowly subsides. I'm relieved how easy going she is. She is like a friend.

“Get up.” I tell Toytoy.

He obeys immediately and stands with legs slightly apart in front of us. His hands are clasped behind his head.

“How long does he wear the chastity belt?” Cornelitas wants to know.

“Mostly during the week. We actually meet only on the weekend.“

“Yes, I understand, that is great, so you have full control over him and he cannot fool around.”

“Turn around and present your ass.” I order. I slap his butt cheeks, as if I was patting the neck of a horse that is advertised on a market.

“Ah … very hot, really! I envy you.” Cornelitas remarks. “How old is he again? Thirty-something?”

“34 years.”

“34!” she exclaims. “What a nice age for a man. Especially for a woman like me.” she bursts out, and we are both laughing.

“I'm 52.” she admits freely. “No reason to be ashamed.”

“Absolutely!” I confirm.

“Right. Even at 52 one can have fun playing games. At least I'm still young-spirited, you know.”

“Sure, I like that.”

“34 … my son is 37 ...” Cornelitas muses, “he could be my son, as young as he is. The last slave I played with was in his late forties… Can I touch him?”

“Go ahead!”

She walks around the slave, and examines him from each side.

“I'd like to see him without that plastic thingy, is that possible?” she asks politely.

“Of course.” I reply, fish the key out of my cleavage and unlock the little prison.

“Aha.” says Cornelitas, and it's impossible to say from her tone, if she is excited or disappointed.

“Can he make that bigger?” she asks, and points at his limp cock.

“Oh, I hope so!” I exclaim, “Get your dick nice and big, slave. Kneel down in front of Lady Cornelitas.”

Toytoy kneels down in front of Cornelitas, who sat down again on the chair, and jerks his meat. He looks at her long leather boots, and I see immediately what they do to him. Cornelitas was indeed right: They might look a bit slutty, but they do have their effect on men. Not a minute later he is hard.

“He has a crush on you, Cornelitas.” I joke.

“You like mature women?” asks Cornelitas. It's the first time she addresses him directly.

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas.” answers Toytoy.

“And you are not just saying that to ingratiate yourself with me? You really mean it? Tell the truth!” she insists.

“I really like mature women, Lady Cornelitas.” confirms Toytoy.

I can't hold back a smirk.

Cornelitas reaches out and pats his cheek slowly and fondly. “A really nice specimen.” she murmurs.

She gets up and takes a tripod from her black bag. Then she adds a carefully wrapped lamp on top, and fastens a semi-circular dish in front of it. “That's a beauty dish,” she explains. “It provides a flattering light. How would you like him to pose, Saskia?”

We discuss some possibilities, and agree to try him as a cleaning slave first. Cornelitas has brought a black balaclava, so he can be masked.

When I tell her casually about Toytoy’s foot and shoe fetish, she has an idea. For extra fun we tie one of my high heels to his face. His nose is buried deep inside and he has to sniff the smell of my feet. We fix the heel with a bondage rope. It fits perfectly and the slave can still see with both his eyes. A very nice kinky mask, very embarrassing and humiliating for him – but at the same time also very exciting for a fetishist.

I hand him a cleaning rug, and Cornelitas aims with the beauty dish at him. Click, click, click! The first set is done. We immediately examine the results in the camera display.

“We can change the colours afterwards on the computer, you know.” Cornelitas explains, and asks me to sit down on his back. Click, click, click! Well, I'm not feeling comfortable really, because I’m not wearing a mask.

Cornelitas understands my concerns immediately, and suggests it's better to take close-ups. That's a great idea: Toytoy kisses my heels. He lies on the floor and has my heel right on his lips. He sucks on my heel, as if it was a cock. Then a close-up of his ass. I notice that Cornelitas is especially enthusiastic about this part of his body.

At the end we again have the well-known problem of getting his hard dick into the CB6000. We send him to the bath; he has to figure it out himself.

SURPRISES.

While the slave is busy in the bathroom, we enjoy the cake. “So, tell me, do you shag him?” Cornelitas asks in a low, discreet voice, and looks at me with curious eyes. For a moment, I’m dumbfounded and quickly deny it: “No, no! I mean … no. Sometimes I let him pleasure me with his tongue, but I don't shag him. Well, I do hump him – but only with a strap-on. He is not allowed to shag me.”

“I understand. The classic way.” says Cornelitas, “I know of course that some Femdoms do it like that, but I never really got it.” She looks at me pensively.

“Don't you like it?”

Again, for a moment I don't know what to say.

“Yes, sure, I like sex.” I assert, “I like to have sex! But if I had sex with him, then … I don't know … it doesn't feel right … I … I have to be able to look up to a man if I have sex with him...”

“Ok ... but … can't you just have sex for fun?”

I pause to think for a while.

“That wouldn't really satisfy me. It's not the same.” I try to describe it in words.

“Interesting, how different one can feel about it.” Cornelitas says and smiles, “I’d use him all the time.”

Slowly I understand what she is getting at.

“Well, no problem if you want to borrow him… if you like.”

“Really?” she asks, “I don't want you to feel awkward under any circumstances.”

“No, that's not a problem for me. He isn't my partner. Our relationship is purely based on BDSM.” I explain as matter-of-factly as possible.

“Fine!” Cornelitas replies, “Thank you.” She smiles – and I hope I made the right decision.

“But only with protection.” I add quickly. “Of course.” Cornelitas agrees and winks at me. I look at her more closely. She’s not unattractive. But also not a classic beauty. And at 52, it’s not so easy anymore to pick up a guy.

“I'm done, Madame.” Toytoy reports from the bath.

We continue with the photo shoot and try a few more things. After almost another hour, Cornelitas and I sit down on the sofa, and have a look at the pictures. As far as I can see on the small display of the camera, the results are really nice.

“Come here, slave.” I order and Toytoy crawls over.

“Apart from me, today Lady Cornelitas will take care of your education, too. This means: You have to obey every word she says. She is your Mistress, too, today. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Lady Sas.” Toytoy says, and I am really relieved that we do not have to discuss this rather big step.

“Very good.” I say happily, and hand over the leash to Lady Cornelitas. “He is yours.” There is a knot in my stomach, but I try to ignore it.

Cornelitas' face lights up like a Christmas tree, and she takes the leash like a valuable cup or an important award.

“Thank you!” she says calmly, and nods.

Then she turns to Toytoy: “I don't know you yet, Toytoy. So you will have to tell me, if I touch on one of your limits. I will not do anything against your will. But don't expect to get off easy. I'll use you for my fun, to be honest. You are here for my pleasure. And I'll use you any way I like.”

“Let's see how much he can take.” Cornelitas suggests. No sooner said than done. We immobilise him on the kitchen table, and reach for our weapons: Cornelitas takes the cane, I the paddle.

“We'll begin with a little warm-up,” I say, and spank his ass with my bare hand. Cornelitas joins me right away. She’s clearly excited as she kneads his butt cheeks. “Hot! A really cute bum.” she compliments.

After his bum is nice and warm, we begin to hit it hard. Alternating. In rhythm.

The slaps crack down hard. But Toytoy pulls himself together.

“Oh, he didn't count,” Cornelitas notices, “too bad! We have to start all over again.” We are laughing at each other – while the slave definitely has nothing to laugh about.
We’re really hitting him very hard.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

“FOUR!”

Toytoy’s voice sounds very focused.

“FIVE!”

“SIX!”

“AHHHHH!!!! SEVEN.”

Cornelitas delivered an especially hard blow.

“Well, he's not as unfazed as he'd like to pretend.” she says laughingly. “We should punish him for that. A wimp and a sissy...”

“EIGHT!”

“NINE!”

“TEN!”

“ELEVEN!”

“TWELVE!!!”

“THIRTEEN!!!”

“FOURTEEN!!!!”

Toytoy’s voice is strained, but he is still composed. No screaming, no moaning.

“You can beg for mercy any time, slave.” Cornelitas says with feigned concern and canes him again very hard.

“FIFTEEN!!!!!”

“SIXTEEN!!!!!”

“SEVENTEEN!!!!!!”

“EIGHTTEEN!!!!!”

“NINETEEN!!!!!”

“TWENTY!!!!!!”

“TWENTY-ONE!!!!”

“That's enough for now,” I remark casually, and spare him the next stroke. His ass clearly bears the mark of my whip and glows bright and red.

Together, we untie him. He instinctively falls to the floor and showers Cornelitas’ boots and my high heels with kisses.

“You’d better do it properly, or we'll tie you up again...” I snap. “And don't forget the heel, slave.”

“The harsher you treat them, the more submissive they become.” Cornelitas observes.

“It’s interesting that you mention that,” I reply. “I’ve noticed the same thing.”

“I'm disappointed with you, slave,” Cornelitas says firmly, as she looks down on Toytoy, who’s still submissively kissing and licking our footwear. “I really expected more from you. You’re like a little sissy girl that can’t take any pain. You’re just a snivelling little whiner: ‘Please, Lady Cornelitas…! Mercy, Madame, mercy…! I beg you…! Please Lady Cornelitas…’ — “Your constant moaning and begging for mercy was simply embarrassing. Very embarrassing, indeed!”

I look at her in surprise. She is twisting the facts to suit herself! What an interesting technique.

“Aren't you ashamed to be such a wimp? You couldn't take five strokes without complaining. That's pathetic!”

“Please forgive me, Mistress,” Toytoy begs with clenched teeth and a hint of irony in his voice. He clearly feels provoked. He had taken his beating bravely and now Cornelitas is claiming that he hadn’t.

“What’s that?! Do I hear resentment and rebellion in your voice? Kneel, slave!”

She moves a quick step forward, and lets loose a shower of slaps on Toytoy, as he cowers before her. Then she quickly steps back again and deliberately offers him her boot.

Toytoy immediately obeys, and shows his submission by obediently kissing and licking her shining footwear.

“You seem a bit rebellious sometimes, slave? Am I right?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas. Please forgive me, Lady Cornelitas,” Toytoy replies in the same defiant voice.

“Behave!” I hiss angrily. “Remember what I told you!”

“Don’t worry,” Cornelitas reassures me, “we both understand each other very well. We're just playing —aren’t we, slave? Oh, I still have some dirt on my shoe…” She points to her heel.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Cornelitas says and winks at me.

“It’s over there,” I reply, and point in that direction. She laughs. “What I wanted to say was: Has your slave been trained for toilet service?”

“Ehe … not yet,” I reply hesitantly. Toilet service? That can’t actually be what I think it is, I wonder?

“I understand,” says Cornelitas. She takes hold of the leash and pulls Toytoy close to her.

“Would it be beyond your limits, if I piss on you, slave?” — Yes, she actually said she wanted to ‘piss on’ him.

Toytoy shakes his head.

“Good!” Cornelitas says triumphantly. “Because that is exactly what I intend to do!”

Still holding his leash, she walks assertively to the bathroom, dragging Toytoy behind her. I really want to follow, but somehow don’t have the courage to do so.

As if she could read my mind, Cornelitas calls out to me: “You can come and watch, Saskia. If you want to.”

I pull myself together and follow them to the bathroom.

My slave is kneeling in the shower. “Would you mind if I release him from his chastity?” asks Cornelitas. I nod in agreement and give her the key. She unlocks his CB6000, removes all the parts, and places them carefully on the bathroom cabinet.

Then she lifts her skirt and removes her panties. As I watch, I sense a tingling feeling in my pussy.

Cornelitas stands over the slave and spreads her legs. She placed her hands on her hips and she asks him: “Have you ever been pissed on, slave?”

To my great surprise, I hear him reply: “Yes, Lady Cornelitas.”

“Aha! And who was it who pissed on you?”

„It happened when I visited some professional Femdom studios,” Toytoy answers hesitantly.

Without warning, Cornelitas slaps him hard across the face. Or, to judge by the sound it might be more appropriate to say that she whacks him.

“I asked you WHO peed on you, not WHERE,” she rebukes him imperiously.

“By Miss Emelie… Lady Silvana de Maart... Lady Pia... Lady Silvia…”

“Aha!” Cornelitas exclaims, “so you’re an experienced studio slave. And you like to let Ladies piss on you. Do you also drink their piss?”

My slave shakes his head.

“Does Lady Saskia use you as her toilet?”

Again, my slave shakes his head – and my head turns red with embarrassment.

“Would you like her to use you as her toilet?” Cornelitas continues.

Toytoy nods. Wow! My mind races as I take in what I have just learned.

“So you want to feel Lady Saskia’s warm nectar on your body? You want to be her little piss-pot?”

Again Toytoy nods in agreement.

“Answer me,” Cornelitas says and whacks him across the face a second time.

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas.”

“And would you like to take her champagne in your mouth? Would you like to drink her golden nectar like a dirty, greedy little pig?”

“No, Madame.”

I am relieved to hear that.

“But if she ordered you to do this for her, would you drink her champagne?”

“Yes, Madame.”

“Well spoken,” Cornelitas says and gently strokes his cheek. “That is very obedient of you.”

“So, would you also drink my nectar if I ordered you to do so, slave?”

“No, Madame.”

Cornelitas laughs loudly. “I like you,” she says and gently strokes his head. “You have a good sense of humour. But now it’s time for a serious answer: Would you also swallow my nectar, slave?”

Toytoy shakes his head insistently. “I’m afraid not, Lady Cornelitas.”

I feel the tension in the air. How would Cornelitas react to this provocation?

“You do understand that today I am also your Lady, slave?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas, but drinking pee is really one of my taboos,” Toytoy explains.

“Aha… but you are still willing to swallow Lady Saskia’s pee, so it isn’t really a taboo? Or did I miss something?”

“Yes, Lady Cornelitas”

“Are you saying that you don’t like me?” Cornelitas’ voice is no longer as calm as it was earlier. She sounds offended.

“I like you very much, Madame.”

“Aha. And why should I believe you?” She looks at Toytoy inquiringly. “Very well. Enough small talk. Take your pathetic cock and jerk it for me… yes… show me how big it can get… very good… watch out, it’s about to come…”

She stands over the slave, who is jerking his cock faster and faster. Cornelitas bends her knees a little… and the golden liquid pours down on his cock. I see a strong jet flowing out from under her skirt.

“Fuck! Fuck that's hot! Go, jerk yourself! Don't be shy, you little piss slave!” she urges him. “When I'm done with you, you'll beg for permission to drink my piss! You'll do everything for me. Everything!”

She laughs with delight and just a bit too loud. She shakes her hips and the last few drops land on Toytoy.

“Stay as you are,” Cornelitas orders, and winks at me, “Pissed all over and horny. Stay like this. Hands forward!”

She puts the cuffs back on his wrists, and connects them with a snap hook on his back.

“So you don’t get tempted to play with yourself, you know.” she explains.

“I don't believe it! Sir Toytoy wishes to be pissed on only by Lady Saskia. But not by Lady Cornelitas. No, no. Not from her!”

She looks at him derisively. “Just wait, I'll teach you! We’ll go and enjoy a coffee, while you soak up that champagne. Just wait until it's cold … Then it’s especially pleasant!”

She laughs, switches off the light, and shuts the door.

“What a hot piece of meat!” she says to me with a sparkle in her eyes.

“I hope I didn't go too far.” Cornelitas muses, as we stand in the kitchen and drink an espresso.

“No, no!” I wave her off. “Not at all. I'm grateful. Really! I had no clue that he was into it.”

“Seriously? I saw that immediately.”

“Yes? How do you tell?” I'm surprised.

Cornelitas laughs. “I've got a special sense for that.”

“Really? That's great. And what else does it tell you?”

Cornelitas drinks the last drops of her espresso, and looks at the cup meditatively.

“I think he would do more for you than you can imagine. Maybe he even has a crush on you...”

“Really? No, I can't imagine that.” I say, and feel the blood rushing to my face, “I mean, about the crush, that I don't believe.” I shake my head. “Ok, I make him horny, and yes, he'd do a lot for me. But love – that's a very, very different thing.”

Cornelitas smiles at me. I cannot look into her eyes.

“Would that be bad, if he were in love with you?”

“Well, not really bad.” I say, and try to laugh, but it doesn't come out right, “But quite pointless. We are more than a decade apart. Also, I cannot sleep with a man who kisses my butt. It's just like that.”

Cornelitas looks at me with amusement.

“Could it be that you are standing in your own way? Well, I don't want to interfere, you know. But if I had a toy like that, I would use it such that … well … I get maximal satisfaction out of it.”

I close my eyes, and think it over. Is she right? Am I to uptight? Or is it her, who is too open sexually? Can one separate sex and love? Can sex without love be satisfying? Isn't that a very manlike point of view?

“You are just thinking too much. Maybe it'd be better to simply follow your instincts.” Cornelitas is thinking out loud.

“It's not that I don't use him at all.” I am trying to defend myself, “I let him lick me, but just not fuck me.”

“Come on, have another espresso, then you can give him your champagne.” she says, and brashly feels up my butt. Wow, she's nutty as a fruitcake. I laugh as I prepare two more cups.

After that, I really have to pee.

“Ok, I'll give it a try!” I say, following a sudden impulse.

“Besides, he said that he likes it.” I reassure myself, “But no swallowing. That'd be going too far.”

“I'm ready again, too.” Cornelitas says with a cheeky grin.

“First he didn't get any champagne at all – and now he’ll gets a double helping,” I say with a liberating laugh. I feel comfortable with Cornelitas around. We only met today, but she has already grown dear to me — like a friend or older sister. I'm convinced there is a lot that I can learn from her. No doubt, she has a great deal of experience.

We return to the bath. Cornelitas switches on the light. Toytoy is still kneeling in the shower. His thighs and groin are glistening. The smell is ok, I feared worse.

“So, little piss slave. Let's get going again!” Cornelitas declares. “You didn't think you'd get away so easily, no?”

I take off my panties, and without a word I step into the shower and straddle his face. I feel that I am blushing.

“So you want to have my champagne?” I ask with a stern voice.

“Yes, please, Lady Sas!”

“You can do better than that, slave. Beg for it.” I command.

“Please, Lady Sas!” he repeats, but now with real dedication in his voice. “I need it so badly. Please be merciful and grant me your golden champagne, I beg you!”

“Say: Please Lady Sas, please piss on me from head to toe.”

He repeats it word by word. “Please Lady Sas, please piss on me from head to toe.”

“Fair enough.” I reply, “If you are asking nicely like that, I'll grant you your wish, slave.”

I remove the snap hook from his cuffs.

“Jerk yourself, slave!” I order.

There it is again, the tingling feeling in my pussy.

I close my eyes and let go.

My warm champagne showers down on the slave, as he wanks his manhood vigorously for me.

“Very hot!” I hear Cornelitas say behind me at the door.

I'm done, and enjoy the moment. That was hot! That was really, really hot!

Well, that's how it is. First you have all kinds of concerns, you feel anxious and insecure. Then, after mustering up enough courage, you wonder how easy and effortless it really is.

I step out of the shower and clean myself up.

“I have a little present for you, too.” Cornelitas says. She lifts her skirt, and we can see her shaved pussy. Now that's great. Because, in the first place, she looks really good for a woman her age. And second, like this she looks breath-taking in her high boots. Slowly she gets into the shower.

Just a few moments later, the golden rain begins to shower again, and Toytoy moans.

“Don't even think about shooting your load!” Cornelitas shouts, “Ladies' toilets don't have a right to orgasm, you know. They're only allowed to be pissed on. And if they are really lucky, then they’re allowed to swallow. But no cumming... no, toilets are not allowed to cum.”

We are winking at each other. What a great game! A short glance at his cock, and I know he is close.

“Hands off!” I order, “You are not trying to disobey, and cum without permission, are you?”

Reluctantly my toy takes his hands off his toy.

He is breathing heavily, obviously he was really close.

Legs apart, Cornelitas towers above the slave. She shakes herself, and the last drops fall down.

“Clean me, slave!” she commands.

Toytoy hesitates.

“Go on! Lick me clean. Now!” she shouts. Her voice is bossy and stern.

“Do it!” I order from the background.

With some effort Toytoy gets up and licks Cornelitas cunt.

“Yes, that's good. Good boy. Go on!” Cornelitas encourages him.

I consider tiptoeing back to the living room for discretion.

Suddenly Cornelitas turns around. “Lick my ass.” she shouts at him, “Use your tongue! Or do I have to spank you again and teach you to obey?!”

Toytoy’s face really disappears in Cornelitas butt crack. “Hmm … yes! Good! Really good!” she coos with closed eyes, “You are a good ass-licker. Yes, dig deep with your tongue. Give it your all!”

I hear munching noises and unfortunately I get really horny watching this scene. Furtively I rub my pussy.

“You are a good toilet paper. Clean me thoroughly, slave! Oh yes! Very good! Show me you can be useful after all.”

Without warning she pushes him away, turns around, and slaps his face.

“That's enough, toilet slave.”

With an expert move she uses the snap hook to lock his cuffs behind his back.

Then, she takes a piece of toilet paper, cleans her cunt with it, crumples it up and, holding it at arms length, lets it drop onto the slave. “This is what happen to slaves who like to provoke me.”

Without looking back she leaves the shower, turns off the light, and closes the door.

“That was hot, right?” she whispers.

“Absolutely!” I reply, somewhat breathless.

We sit down on the sofa, and relax a little from the exciting session.

“And now?” I ask, “What shall we do now?”

“Now, my dear, I will be pleasured. With your permission of course.”

“You've got it already.”

“Thank you, you make my day.” Cornelitas smiles.

We sit on the sofa for a while longer and relax. Then Cornelitas gets up and totters to the bathroom. I follow her.

Toytoy squints at the door, when Cornelitas switches on the light. He’s body is still glistening from her golden champagne. “Well? Isn't it nice to sit here in the cold champagne of the Ladies?” She laughs and taps a few drops with her boots. “Lick!” she commands, and lifts up her boot.

Toytoy hesitates briefly, but then obeys and licks the drops off her leather boots.

“See, it wasn't that difficult.”

Cornelitas frees him from his cuffs.

“Take a shower, you are starting to offend my nose.” she says, and thrusts the shower head into his hand.

While Toytoy cleans himself, Cornelitas takes off her pullover. She’s wearing a black lace bra underneath. Her breasts are rather small, but she is a petite woman.

“Dry yourself off, then come to the living room.”

We sit down on the sofa and wait for him. Less than three minutes later he crawls over. He smells nice and clean.

“Now, Toytoy” Cornelitas begins, “after I've been so generous to give you my fine champagne, you are now allowed to do something for me. It’s time for you to return the favour. Stand up!”

Toytoy stands up, legs slightly apart, hands behind his head. Cornelitas gets up and examines his body. It’s curious how Toytoy gets an erection even though she hasn’t touched him yet.

She caresses his chest, lightly twists his nipples, grabs his ass with both hands and teases his penis. “Show me now how much you really adore me.”

She steps in front of him, and takes his erect penis into her hand.

“Well … are you horny?”

Toytoy remains silent.

“I know you're too proud to admit it, after all the things I did to you. But … your little weenie here betrays your thoughts...” She fondles his hard penis.”

Males are all the same!

As soon as they sees a naked woman, they get horny. Never mind her age, or how much she has just degraded him.

How pathetic.

He would chase anything in a skirt, if I would allow it. He would mate any mare he sees.

“Show me how you'd give it to me,” she demands and tightens her grip on his manhood. Toytoy now humps her hand hard. “Yes, fuck it,” Cornelitas encourages him.

“That's all? Come on, you can do better than that. More effort, slave!”

Toytoy does his best, and fucks Cornelitas hand even harder.

“Good, that's enough. We don't want you to overexert yourself just yet. We'll have time for that later.”

We lead him to my bedroom and bind him to my bed with some ropes. He is lying on his back. His ankle and wrist cuffs are fastened to the bed poles. Cornelitas takes out a handful of black condoms from her black bag.

Carefully she sits down on the bed, right on his face. She really has to be cautious with her sharp heels.

“Lick me,” she commands, and I can hear how he obeys.

“I … I'll wait outside.” I say, and retreat to the living room. No, I don't have to watch this. Definitely not!

WHO OWNS THE SLAVE?

I feel strangely upset as I sit down on the sofa and switch on my television to distract my senses — so I don’t have to hear the moaning, groaning, kissing and creaking from the bedroom.

Do I really not care that Cornelitas is shagging my slave? After all, it’s only an BDSM relationship where no deep feelings are at stake? Or is there more? Somewhere deep down — in a hidden corner of my heart? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I don’t want to watch Cornelitas have sex with my slave. She is quite voracious — a predator, hungry for sex.

Our personalities are clearly quite different. While Cornelitas lives out her lust without any inhibition or restraint, I seem to be an obstacle to my own desires, caught in rules and conventions. Maybe her way is better. Maybe not. I just can’t think about it right now.

I turn up the volume on my television. But the talk show can’t match Cornelitas’ moaning. I hear the bed creaking; I can sense the rhythm of their copulation. My inner eye imagines how Cornelitas is riding the bound slave. His hard cock rising steeply to the sky and… I quickly banish the image. I don’t want to see it — not even in my imagination.

Yes, I am jealous. I admit it. But strangely enough, I don’t feel that I should be jealous. At least that is what my head is telling me. But my heart seems to disagree. Apparently, I’m not the cold Dominatrix who is completely in control of everything and can simply play with emotions.

I sigh and stand up, as I can’t bear to sit on the sofa any longer. I want to burst into the bedroom and throw that slut out of my home. And I want to flay his ass so hard that he can’t sit down for at least two weeks. But then I remember that he’s just following orders. My orders. After all, I instructed him to do whatever Cornelitas demanded of him. I’m annoyed at myself. I’ve only got myself to blame.

Silence.

Suddenly the bed stops creaking. About time, too! One of them must have finally cum. Or perhaps both at the same time.

I sit back down on the sofa, adjust the television to normal volume and pretend that I’m completely relaxed as I watch the talk show. After a few minutes, Cornelitas exits the bedroom. Her walk is somewhat unsteady and she’s dressed only in her knee-high boots, bra and a sublime smile on her face. Her curly hair is sticky with sweat. I can see at first glance that the sex has been good.

Without saying a word, she disappears into the bathroom. I hear the shower. Then I stand up and sneak to the bedroom. On my way, I think of how weird it is to sneak around in my own home.

I see Toytoy on the bed. He’s still tied up and dripping with sweat. He’s clearly been working hard. His cock is flaccid and dressed in a black condom. I see his balls contracting as if they’re working. Probably they’re busy preparing the next load.

“Did you cum?” I ask him without betraying any emotion.

Toytoy nods.

“And… did she also cum?”

“I think so, Madame.”

“Good.” I replied after a pause. “You have done your job well.” I force myself to smile. I quickly untie him and lead him back to the living room.

Cornelitas takes her time in the bathroom. When she’s finally finished, she joins me on the sofa. As she does so, she smiles at Toytoy, who’s kneeling in front of us. She’s taken off her boots, but otherwise she’s fully dressed. She looks refreshed and in very good spirits.

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask her.

“Yes, please. A glass of water would be nice.” I fetch a bottle of water and two glasses. Toytoy is probably also thirsty, but he can wait. I’ll see to him later.

Cornelitas lifts her glass and I observe her face while she’s drinking. She has a slight double chin. The profile of her nose is somewhat large for a lady. At the same time she’s very slim — and very experienced. However, Toytoy is mine, my property. He would do everything for me. Everything. And just to dispel even the faintest shadow of a doubt, I am determined to prove his obedience and devotion to me this evening.

“Go to the bathroom and freshen up,” I say to Toytoy.

While he’s gone, I ask Cornelitas, as a good host, whether she’s enjoyed herself and is satisfied with my slave.

“Yes, thank you, I had a good time,” she replies. She doesn’t say any more, but her smile tells me everything. I drink my third glass of water. I’m not thirsty — it’s just part of my plan. We sit and watch the talk show in silence.

Toytoy crawls into the living room, fresh from his shower. When Cornelitas sees him, she extends one of her stockinged feet. Toytoy showers it with kisses on all sides. Cornelitas looks at me, but I look away.

“Listen,” she says, “I just borrowed your slave for a short while. Of course he’s your slave, there’s no question about that.” I try to smile. “I just used him for my pleasure, that’s all. Like a sex toy. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nod. “Massage her feet, slave,” I order. “He’s good at this.”

“Yes, thanks!” Cornelitas replies, as she lies back on the cushions and relaxes. I empty my fourth glass. The bottle is empty but my bladder is bursting. A few minutes later I’m ready.

“Come here, slave.” I order.

I grab his chin with one hand and look straight into his eyes. “You’ve learnt many new things today. You’ve served us well and we’re satisfied with your performance. So I’ve decided to reward you — to grant you a special reward. Are you ready?

Toytoy nods.

“Good slave.”

I stand up and walk a few steps away from the sofa. Toytoy follows close by my heels. I again grab his chin with one hand and force him to look up to me.

“Who is your owner?” I ask sternly.

“You are, Lady Sas,” he responds immediately.

I can’t resist a glance towards Cornelitas. She’s watching us attentively.

“Good slave. As you’re my property, I can do anything with you that I like, can’t I?”

“Yes, Lady Sas.”

I can see his absolute devotion in his eyes.

“Good slave,” I say and slap his face several times.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” I explain, “I just felt like hitting you.”

He gulps nervously, but remains silent. Yes, I can be just as dominant and strict as Cornelitas.

“Would you do anything your owner orders you?”

“Yes, Lady Sas.”

“Are you sure? Absolutely everything? You can still qualify your statement…”

“Yes, Lady Sas, I will do everything I am able to do for you.”

 “Good, then we’ll put that to the test…”

I let go of him and walk to the kitchen.

When I return to the living room, I’m carefully holding a dog bowl in my hands. A bowl filled with something very special, very precious. I place it on the floor in the middle of the room.

“Today, I am granting you the honour of drinking my golden champagne. Cornelitas, I’m sure you want to take some photos of this special moment.”

“With pleasure!” Cornelitas confirms, as she leaps up to fetch her camera. “His first taste! What an exciting moment!”

“Now, get to work, toilet slave! Make sure you lick the bowl clean.”

My slave bends his head towards to dog bowl but hesitates to drink.

“Do what I say!” I command forcefully. “Immediately! Or do you want to embarrass me in front of Lady Cornelitas?”

The slave leans over the bowl.

Click! Click! Click!

Cornelitas is busy capturing the ultimate humiliation of Toytoy.

I place my foot on the back of his neck and press his face into the bowl. His face is completely buried in my golden champagne and I hear a desperate bubbling sound as he gasps for air. I briefly allow him to lift his head and breathe.

“Drink the bowl clean, slave!” I order him forcefully.

Click! Click! Click!

The camera is busy snapping its memories. Only a short time later, the bowl is emptying and shining like new. Toytoy kneels in front of it, his head noticeably lower than normal. He’s probably feeling rather embarrassed right now.

“You said to Lady Cornelitas that you wouldn’t drink her golden champagne, didn’t you?”

“Yes, Madame,” Toytoy confirms. His voice is shaky and thick with fear. “That was a mistake.”

“So I can ask her to fill the bowl for you?”

He hesitates for a long while, but finally responds: “Yes, Madame.”

I relish the feeling of completely owning him. He’s under my spell, completely submissive to me. He’ll do anything I want. What a wonderful feeling this is.

I nod towards Cornelitas.

“No problem… It won’t take long,” she says, clearly enjoying herself. She picks up the bowl and heads for the bathroom.

Toytoy is breathing faster now. He’s preparing himself for his challenge and seems extremely tense.

“Voilà! Here you are,” says Cornelitas with a grin, as she carefully places the bowl in front of the slave. “I told you that you’ll beg for permission to drink my piss.” She laughs triumphantly and points to her feet: “Go on, beg for it.”

Toytoy obediently showers her feet with kisses.

“Please, Lady Cornelitas, please let me drink your pee. I beg you, Lady Cornelitas.” His voice has lost all trace of irony. Clearly, he really means what he’s saying, he’s totally submitted to her and is no longer resisting. All three of us can sense this.

“No, that’s not good enough. You haven’t convinced me. Try harder, otherwise the champagne will go cold — then you’ll really have a challenge…”

Her words have immediately effect. Toytoy doubles his effort, kisses her feet with great enthusiasm and prostrates himself flats on the floor before her.

“Please! Please, Lady Cornelitas! I beg you, please let me drink your pee! I beg you, Madame!”

“Look, he really is begging!” Cornelitas says with a mixture of surprise and enjoyment.

“Please, Lady Cornelitas, Pleeeease!” Toytoy says and continues kissing Cornelitas’ toes with the utmost dedication and devotion. He almost seems desperate. Cornelitas’ triumph over him is complete.

She looks at me with questioning eyes. I nod to her.

“Good, slave Toytoy. I will grant you the honour and pleasure of being my piss toilet today! Wait…” She gets her camera and adjusts some settings. Then she bends down to him and says, “Well, slave. Now you can show me how much you desire my golden champagne…”

Toytoy bends his head over the dog bowl, stops for a moment — and then laps up the liquid gold with firmly closed eyes.

Click, click, click! Cornelitas captures every moment for posterity.

“Looks like you’re enjoying the taste. If you’re a good boy, I’ll give you another drink on the house.” Cornelitas laughs, places her hands on her hips and looks first at Toytoy, then at the empty bowl.

Toytoy is kneeling before us. He doesn’t dare to look at us, and keeps his eyes as low as he can.

“Don’t worry,” Cornelitas consoles him, “no one has ever died from drinking it.”

I quickly walk to the kitchen and get a coke. Without saying a word, I give it to Toytoy. He drinks it like a man who is about to die of thirst. Hardly surprising: I don’t know how pee tastes — but it’s certainly not nice. It’s hard to believe that some slaves actually consider it a great delicacy…

Cornelitas watches us with interest and takes another photo.

“That really was an awesome session! But it’s time for me to make a move.”

“Yes, it was!” I agree. “Can I offer you anything else? A cup of coffee? A piece of cake? A slave?”

She laughs and packs her things. A few minutes later, I accompany her to the door.

She’s wearing her street shoes and has put on her glasses. She now looks rather different.

“I’ll let you know as soon as I have the photos. It shouldn’t take me long, “ she says. We give each other a kiss on the cheek.

“It was fun to play with you,” Cornelitas says to Toytoy, who’s kneeling by my side, as I hold his leash. “Thank you, Lady Cornelitas.” He dutifully kisses the shoe she offers him. “I’m sure you’re glad I’m leaving,” says Cornelitas, as Toytoy is kissing her shoes goodbye. “I gave you a pretty rough time. But you shouldn’t have provoked me. I don’t like that.”

As I close the door behind her, I realise that everything has changed. The session has transformed us. We’ve reached a new level in our BDSM play. More intense, less inhibited or, to be blunt: more kinky and perverted.

What more will I experience with Toytoy? If I can throw off my inhibitions, then much more is possible. A wonderful, colourful and bizarre world lies ahead of me. And I can choose how to explore it. My adventures have only just begun.

I hold Toytoy’s leash and lead him into the living room. My HIFI is playing relaxing lounge music. “Kneel down in front of the sofa,” I command and sit down.

I survey him with my eyes. “Do you remember what I said to you? That I would have to punish you harshly if you don’t obey. Do you remember?”

Toytoy nods. “Yes, Lady Sas.”

“Look…”

I slowly reach for the silver chain around my neck on which I keep the key to his CB6000. Slowly, the chain emerges out of my cleavage. Link by link, it appears. But what is that? When I have extracted the entire chain, Toytoy can see that the key is gone.

“Well, my dear slave, as you got on so well with Lady Cornelitas, I asked her to be your keyholder for a while.”

Toytoy seems unsteady and for a moment I’m afraid that he’ll fall over. But he soon pulls himself together, at least as best he can.

“She accepted immediately.”

Toytoy gulps.

“She will visit us again in a week’s time. Or… did we say two weeks? I don’t remember… Perhaps she won’t be able to make it… then we might not see her for quite a few weeks.

Toytoy is clearly struggling to hold his kneeling position.

“One more thing: she left a small gift for you.”

I stand up, go to the bathroom and return with the dog bowl. I carefully place it in front of him.

“She asked me to pass this note to you.”

I give him a folded piece of paper. I already know what it says:

For being such a good slave:
here’s the drink on the house.

Cheers!

Lady Cornelitas

EPILOGUE.

This part of my story ends here. But another part could also begin here. I’ve already lived and experienced it. All that remains is for me to write it down. But I don’t want to bore the world with my insights and adventures, so I’ll only publish the second part if the first book receives a positive response. Now it’s up to you, my dear reader, to decide. I would appreciate your rating on amazon. Perhaps you would even like to write a review?

If you’re a slave, then this request should be regarded as a strict order, which you must obey without fail!

Yours sincerely – with a smile and a wink ;)

Lady Sas

Also available in English: "Exchange of Slaves“.

CONTACT INFORMATION.

Have a look at my Femdom and BDSM blog where I share thoughts, news and interviews with outstanding personalities:

http://domina-lady-sas.blogspot.de

Follow me on Twitter: @bdsmladysas 

E-Mail: madamesaskia@web.de

GLOSSARY.

Explanations of key terms from the world of BDSM.

24/7

Roleplay, in which play participants live their roles on a permanent basis, 24 hours a day and seven days a week.

Age play

For example, when a forty-year-old takes on the role of a naughty schoolboy.

Anal training

The slave is penetrated anally by the lady; for example with a dildo, a strap-on or also with her finger or her fist (known as fisting). The reversal of sexual roles is a very powerful form of play: the Lady experiences absolute power and control over her slave. She “takes” him, both literally — through her penetration — and figuratively, by taking ownership of him.

BDSM

Abbreviation for bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, sadism and masochism.

Bondage

Restraint play using ropes, chains, saran wrap etc.

Breath control

In this form of play, the lady decides when and how much the slave is allowed to breathe. For example, by placing her hand on his nose and mouth. Or she can make things even more enjoyable by sitting on his face (“face-sitting”). Often, the slave is made to wear a mask with a tube as the only form of air supply. The lady can use her hand to close the end of the tube and thus stop the airflow. This allows the slave to experience the absolute power of the lady over him. At the same time, many submissives find this very arousing and stimulating. As this game can be quite dangerous, it should only be practiced with the utmost caution!

Butt plug

Used to stretch and train the anus, so example as preparation if the dominatrix intents to engage in strap-on play.

CBT

Abbreviation for cock and ball torture. Inflicting specific pain and abuse on the slave’s penis or testicles. For example, by using electric currents, needles, nettles or even by kicking (ball busting). As the private parts of the slave are very delicate and sensitive, caution is required when engaging in this form of play!

Chastity

The slave’s genitals are locked into a chastity belt and he is kept in sexual abstention by his lady owner. This allows the Lady to reminds the slave of her power over him at all times. She enjoys complete control over his sexuality and his manhood is now in her hands. Chastity belts are locked to ensure that the slave cannot escape, and the lady keeps the key (she is known as the Keyholder).

The expression “chastity belt” is misleading, as most chastity devices are not actually belts. For example, the CB6000 is a plastic cage that encloses the slave’s penis. It is fixed to his penis and scrotum and presses the penis downwards. He cannot touch himself and his ability to have an erection is severely restricted by the cage.

Collar

The slave’s collar is reminiscent of a dog collar. It symbolises that the slave is owned by the Lady. As with dogs, a leash can be attached to the collar. In addition to traditional leather collars, some collars are made of metal and can be closed with a lock. This is a constant reminder for the slave that he is owned by a lady.

Crop

An elegant instrument for beating and punishing a slave. Originally used in equestrian sports.

Face-sitting

Also known as “queening”. The Dominatrix sits on the face of the slave, usually combined with breath control. This position is very desirable for the slave as it allows him to be very close to the Lady’s pussy. At the same time it is a very humiliating position as it clearly places him underneath the dominatrix and reminds him that she is on top of him.

Face slap

The fastest response to an impudent slave. It is important to hit the cheeks and not the ears. If the ears are hit, then this could damage the ear drum. So beware! A face slap immediately reminds the slave of his position and is usually appreciated by submissives. The pain can be increased by wearing leather gloves.

Fetish

Fixation on an object or a material, which triggers sexual stimulation and arousal. For example, high heels, stockings, leather or latex.

Fisting

The anus of the slave is stretched so wide that the Dominatrix can penetrate him with her fist. This requires a great deal of sensitivity and patience.

Foot slave

A slave with a foot fetish, who enjoys pampering the feet of his owner. For example, by kissing or licking them, or by giving her a foot massage. His role symbolises the relationship between the Lady and her slave: he lies at her feet and worships her. Many Ladies train their slaves to kiss their feet whenever they give them a sign, such as clicking their fingers.

Golden champagne

A BDSM expression for urine. 

High heels

Many men are sexually aroused by high heels, as these emphasise the Lady’s femininity. Some slaves are addicted to kissing and licking the heels of a dominant Lady — this is their most cherished reward. In an extreme version of this fetish, some slaves lick the dirt from the lady’s shoes, and even from the soles she has been wearing on the street. This fetish can include extreme play in which the lady crushes food by stepping on it, and then orders the slave to lick and eat it from her heels.

Latex fetish

The fetish of many slaves for latex is frequently used during BDSM sessions. For example in the clothes the lady and the slave wear. The Lady might also enclose the slave completely in latex, for example in a vacuum bed, where she can immobilise him, so he must suffer her punishment without being able to move (for example during anal training). Often, masks are used which allow the slave to breathe the smell of latex

Long-term training

This includes extended training which lasts for several hours or even days. This enables the Lady to conduct detailed and thorough training sessions and to test the slave’s new skills. The slave is often locked away in a cage or cell, where he can rest and recover until the session continues.

Medical play

This is a fetish for slaves who are aroused by being subjected to medical or doctor play. The more realistic the clinical setting is, the more they are aroused. The lady takes on the role of a doctor or nurse and conducts bizarre examinations of the slave’s genitals, for example while he is strapped to a gynaecological chair.

Medical play includes examinations, urinary catheter play, stimulation of the urethra, saline injections, forced milking, enemas etc.

Military training

Roleplay, in which the lady generally assumes the role of an officer and the slave becomes a recruit, soldier, prisoner of war, applicant etc. The officer often wears a military uniform and also speaks like an officer would. This form of play is usually quite strict and harsh.

Ownership

In a BDSM context, ownership means that the slave forfeits all his rights and unconditionally submits to the Dominatrix. She can use him in any way she likes. As a sign of ownership, the slave is often marked, branded or tattooed with a number, for example his registration number in an online BDSM network. It is also common for a slave to have a tattoo or branding showing the initials of his Lady owner. Such a decision must be well considered by both parties, as a tattoo cannot easily be removed. Despite this, many slaves have a strong desire to be become the owned property of a Dominatrix.

Punishment

A key element in sadism and masochism – as both terms already indicate. Punishment can take many forms and depends on the nature of the transgression. Often, the punishment is seen as a means for encouraging a desired behaviour: if the slave fails, then he is punished. Corporal punishment may be administered with a crop, paddle, cane, hand etc. Non-physical punishment includes ignoring the slave, forcing him to present himself publically or through verbal humiliation

Rimming

Licking the anus. 

Roleplay

The Lady takes on one role and the slave takes on another. For example, Lady and slave, teacher and pupil, policewoman and thief, judge and accused, doctor and patient, elegant Lady and dog, officer and recruit etc. Both play partners must strictly remain in their role and act accordingly, otherwise the roleplay will fail.

Session

A session of BDSM play.

Slave

The purpose of a slave is to serve his Lady owner and make her life comfortable. He is often kept partially or fully naked, and performs chores for his owner, for example household work. Some slaves are specialised in certain tasks, such as cleaning, toilet or massage services (cleaning slave, toilet slave, massage slave). Such slaves are often kept as bonded servants and must be available at their owner’s pleasure at all times of the day (and night). They are rewarded with slapping, humiliation and punishment. However, their greatest reward is to please their lady owner, to satisfy her and to enjoy being close to her. Not all slaves are masochists: most are more submissive in nature and yearn for the honour of laying at the Lady’s feet and worshipping her.

Slave training

Training the slave — much like a dog is trained — to obey commands and adopt proper behaviour and habits. For example, a slave can be taught how to greet a Lady (by kissing her shoe). Or he can be trained to kiss her shoes every time his owner clicks her fingers.

Whip

A useful educational instrument for motivating a slave to learn faster and be obedient. Whips come in many shapes and sizes — all the way to the most extreme form, the bullwhip. This should only be used by very experienced Dominatrices, as it can cause serious injury.

IMPRINT.

SUDDENLY DOMINATRIX –
My secret life as a private BDSM Mistress.

September 2013, Frankfurt, Germany.

New Version: Nov. 2016

Written by Lady Sas.

Translated into English by my devoted slave Marc and Mathias. 

Thank you so much for your services!

I appreciate it.

Contact: madamesaskia@web.de

Coverphoto: Shutterstock

87 98 22

ISBN-13: 978-1500131326

ISBN-10: 1500131326 All stories and descriptions herein are published with the express permission of Lady Silvia, Lady Cornelitas and Toytoy.

(C) 2013 Lady Saskia. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.