I do not have a S class Mercedes in Bucharest but I must admit I could get used to it. W/we rode through the evening traffic so gently and cushioned from all the city noise and hassle that the outside world appeared as if it was nothing but a silent movie projected on the windows of the limousine. The little scene in the gas station had aroused Me more than I had expected and I wondered why that was. First of all I think it was the publicity. I sure am not an exhibitionist but the phantasy of being admired and worshipped not only in My private studio but out there in real life had fascinated Me for long already.
And then, not less than that, it was the obedience that frank had shown there. Well it was more than mere obedience. I had felt something different in that moment. When W/we had entered the shop and I had sensed his fear and pulled the leash tight it was as if a sort of transformation had happened to U/us. frank had virtually become a dog in this moment. he had so completely surrendered to Me, apparently lost his humanity and own will completely. he was afraid but he had to follow My orders. It was not a process of decision inside of him anymore, it was following without questioning. And begging for My protection in return. And My feelings had been complementary to that. I had felt that he had become My property, that I owned him like a dog is owned by his mistress. I felt that I might have ordered anything to him and he would have obeyed immediately . But at the same time I had felt a strong responsibility for him. As if this transformation into My property had automatically triggered a vow in My own sub consciousness to protect him from harm.
Now that moment was gone and he sure was a thinking independent human being again. Steering a big black limousine through the outskirts of Zurich that we had reached in the meantime. Time to change that again a little bit.
“Didn´t you say you were thirsty and W/we had to cause a big fuss in the gas station just to get something in order to satisfy your thirst?”
“Da Stapana.”
“Well then. Drink!”
The bottle of coke thrown from the back seat landed directly on his lap, maybe even hurting his swollen blue balls a little bit. I heard him gasp. Unintended fringe benefit.
Without taking the eyes off the road he opened the bottle, lifted it to his mouth and took a mouthful of the sweet and warm soft drink.
Not his favorite beverage for sure. The open bottle had hardly left his mouth when a sharp voice from the back stopped it again.
“I said: Drink!”
he put the bottle to his lips once more and took two or three gulps. Just when I thought that he had now understood, he tried to take another break.
Even though the Mercedes is a spacious car, I had to unpleasantly wrench Myself in order to get in position so that Croppy could even more unpleasantly jump onto his thighs. Unpleasant for him that was, very pleasant for me. Because Croppy sure is a swift jumper, believe Me. I enjoyed the scream that flew from the lips. The lips that had so disrespectfully treated My order to drink.
“Drink the goddamn coke now or Croppy will beat you black and blue!”
He did not dare to put down the bottle once more. Slowly but steadily the brown liquid emptied into his body. I watched from the back how the initially rather refreshing drink more and more became a nasty warm force feeding.
“Da bine, little puppy, but don´t you dare to spoil a single drop …”
he nearly made it perfectly. Just a tiny little trickle of coke running down his chin and throat and disappearing in his white shirt during the last quarter, what I generously overlooked. When he had bravely finished, one and a half liter of coke had found its way into his stomach. And would shortly continue proceeding towards his bladder from there.
“Still thirsty frank?”
“Nu Ezada.”
Had Croppy only visited his thigh with a single jump before, she now came back for a ferocious dance. The strokes hit him so hard, that he could hardly keep the steering wheel in his hands. I didn´t care because I had really lost it.
“Don’t you dare to call me Ezada you pathetic jerk! Who do you think you are? My personal friend or what?”
The rhythm of the crop accompanied each word of My blatant fury.
“Stapana, no, please, stop it. i did not want to … Nu .. Îmi pare rău. I’m so sorry …”
His ridiculous attempts to appease me in My sweet Romanian language were useless this time. Oh how I hate to be called by My first name by a slave. This apparent lack of obedience and respect. How can they ever forget what they are? Creatures of a lower species. How can they dare to address the Goddess on eye level and honestly think that they can get away with that? My fury and anger fueled My rage until My arm became tired. The last part of the punishment had been carried out in silence. Only the hissing of the crop and the little detonations when she met her target filled the air with sound. He knew why i was beating him so relentlessly and he seemed to accept the verdict.
When justice had finally be served we had nearly reached the destination of O/our little voyage. In the shining light of the street lanterns I saw that his face was covered with tears. i felt no remorse, he himself was responsible for what just had to happen. I sure am a specialist in pain and tears and so I knew that it was for the best part not the crop that had made him cry. It was that unmistakble explanation that he would never be anything else but a slave forMe. That all his dreams of establishing a realtionship that would go any deeper than that were nothing but the bubbles of a foam bath.
“Stop over there.”
he pulled over and the limousine came to a halt at the roadside. This time he remained speechless. His hands stroked his thighs trying to comfort the flesh that was still burning from My relentless beating.
I was well ahead of schedule for My appointment so i took My time. frank had no idea why W/we had come here. A dark street in a residential area of a sleepy Zurich suburb. Big houses behind high walls and huge fore gardens. Nothing special at all for Swiss Standards. At least from the outside. One of the elegant villas was the home of an exclusive yet very discreet SM club that had invited Me and several other leading European Mistresses star at a “Night of black service.”
I switched on the light to check My look in the mirror, touched up the lipstick, put on some make up, refreshed the eyeliner, straightened My leather clothes… I could see how frank watched Me in the rear view mirror. The tears were drying on his cheeks and his look was pure fascination. Sheer undiluted admiration. My impact on him has always been something special about U/us. I mean, I know of course about My effect on men in general and on a great deal of women also. But frank sure topped this. I will never forget how he had looked at Me in Bucharest for the very first time, kneeling in front of Me he had literally started to cry on first sight.
I granted him two lucky minutes or so. he did not know for sure that this had already been the highlight of the night. The rest would become more or less dreadful.
“I want to exit.”
This time he did better than at the gas station. Kneeling next to the car he opened the door for Me, his head devotedly bowed down. Seconds later I raised above him. The sole of My boot pushed his neck even further towards the ground.
“Listen carefully to Me now frank.”
Under My right foot I could feel a movement of his head that seemed to be an attempt to nod.
“When I leave now, you will stay here kneeling until you can´t hear My steps no more. Then you will get back into the car and not move any more. I will soon be back, and until I am back you will stay put. Understood?”
From the e-mail correspondence that W/we had had in the past, frank should have known that My definition of the word “soon” sure was different from his. For a slave doing something “soon” means doing it within seconds, maybe minutes. For the Mistress it just means taking into account to do something at any old time in the future.
“Have you understood what I have just said frank?”
“Da Stapana mea.”
“you will not disappoint Me once more, will you frank?”
“Nu Stapana mea.”
“Da bine. Acum, faci exact ceea ce ti-am spus. Săruta-Mi mâinile și picioarele.”
With that I left him. Left him to dive into a night of play, fun and sadism in a Zurich mansion. But strangely enough, My thoughts again and again during this night kept returning to frank sitting alone in that black Mercedes. I imagined how the need must have become stronger and stronger and stronger until it had become absolutely irresistible. How he must have hoped for My return over hours, every nightly pedestrian a new and then disappointed hope for relief. How he must have fought that long but hopeless fight against himself. A fight against that growing seduction to give up. How easy it would have been to surrender. A fight against spoiling this beautiful car knowing that there would be no serious excuse or comprehensible explanation for the rental company.
During every wild whipping session i thought of My obedient little prisoner locked into that dungeon not by iron shackles but only by the pledge of allegiance towards Me. When planning that evening, I had thought about maybe hogtieing him to the steering wheel and so to hinder him from disobeying My strict order. But that would have been to easy for him and I had decided differently. I wanted him to fight against the temptation of liberating himself. I wanted it to be nothing but his own pure obedience attaching him to the car seat like the strongest glue. The pure submission under My will and order should make him do what was so senseless, pathetic and disgraceful. Obedience for nothing else but the sake of obedience.
I think I have had four or five orgasms during that wild night. Credited not to the rather boring but generous Swiss bankers but much more so to My own phantasy. The strongest one about three o´clock in the morning when I was sure that now was the time when he could not take it any more. When he had to let go. When he would first try to just limit it to some drops, only to relieve the pain in his groins, to abate the distress just a little bit. But to then find that this was impossible. That once the gates had been opened, he would not be able to stop or control it any more. Regardless of the leather seats of the new and flashy rental car, regardless of his pride and dignity, regardless of everything.
I returned to the car at about five o´clock in the morning. Tired and satisfied. The tigress had eaten willing flesh to the full. I found him sleeping, sitting in the drivers seat. My finger knocking on the window woke him up and My rotating hand signalised him to lower the window. Just a few inches were enough to proof that I had been right. That he had stuck to the order. The odour was overwhelming. What had been a beautiful light scent of „Ange ou Diable” when I had left now stunk like the urinal of a gypsy campground. Just disgusting.
I could not help but hold My nose.
„Ah, but this is horrible frank. Are you not able to restrain yourself just for a couple of moments when I am away? And did I allow you to fall asleep while at My service? Well you will not seriously expect that I will enter this rolling lavatory again. Get My suitcase from the trunk, I´ll get that taxi over there. I do not need you in Zurich any more. I will let you know should I require your services once more.”
With said I backed off and turned around, not even waiting for his answer.
Coming home to Bucharest a long e-mail of frank awaited Me, thanking Me so exuberantly for everything I had done for him in Zurich.
