When Medieval cartographers were charting the seas for wayfaring vessels to navigate by and got to the edges of known existence they would draw icons to communicate a sense of fear and awe that translate as, “THIS WAY THERE BE DRAGONS!”
As always Mistress Alexandra Sadista ushers me into the dungeon with a warm greeting and a smile of anticipation. I bow to Her feet and kiss Her black stiletto platform boots. Two pecks each. Once I have disrobed Mistress is ready to play Her rhapsody of pain and degradation upon My submissive form.
What could be a finer means to blaspheme than to mock crucifixion on Sunday morning? Wrapping my arms to a bamboo pole that extend across my shoulders with plastic wrap, Mistress secures them to a higher beam holding me upright and helpless. High pressure loo[ ended clamps are snapped onto my exposed nipples, elastic rubber band is wound about my genitals and lead through the loops on the clamps, and then pulled tightly back to the balls. Mistress Alexandra presents Her arm pits for me to inhale their sharp, pungent scent as well as Her feet to my face for my mouth to worship Her beautiful boots. To complete this passage of O/our scene one of Mistress’ high cut street boots is tied like a mask over my face, reducing my idendity to that of a shoe.
Enemas can be used as a cleansing ritual or, as my Mistress was wont that day, a means for experimentation. With me as Her specimen my bowels were subjected to mounting concoctions of various ingredients: still water, soda water, jalapeño juice, and eventually Ms Alexandra’s very piss! Inserting the hose of the enema bag up my rectum, I was made to endure copious amounts of liquids filling me up beyond the point of retention! Holding my sphincter tightly, ever so tight, Mistress escorted me, ever so slowly, to the bathroom savoring my enormous discomfort and desperation. and then blocking the front of the toilet to keep me squirming deliriously, ridiculously, before allowing me access.
As my tormentor, Mistress applied this same routine four times with the last one including the insertion of a banana, and every time Her pleasure in holding me from my release showed more and more jubilantly on Her face. There was glee in Her voice. This was Her fun.
For O/our finale it was decided that I shouldn’t be let to leave without being significantly marked; a physical reminder of O/our time. A signature. Arms tied behind my back, gagged, blindfolded, I was bent over the bondage table, ass in the air, to await an impending flogging as Mistress collected Her tools. Agreeing on five strokes per implement (I had a choice?) it turns out that would be five strokes per buttock, and that every cane, strap and whip would require a “warming up” period of an undetermined number of strikes.
And STRIKE my Mistress did! With biting rounds that left my ass and thighs red, welted,… striped. Several days later these bloomed to full, deep purple bruises that remain tender.
With Her suite of tortures complete Mistress Alexandra seemed satisfied that I was going to leave fully affected inside and out, knowing I would only crave more. In parting I left as I had greeted Mistress, at Her feet with my lips under Her boots.