How eager had he been My little German slave to come to see and serve Me in Bucharest, finally, after having spent so much time in his aroused isolation, locked in My mental chastity.
So when I announced to him that he was allowed to come to see Me just to beg for even more time in chastity in front of Me, on his knees, he did not take Me really serious I think. he did not yet know Me that well back then. he should have known better…
W/we were in the city, downtown. Walking through the streets in the sun. Before W/we had left My studio, I had applied an enema to him that then over time caused so much discomfort in his belly. It introduced utter turmoil to his poor bowels… An irrestible urge to empty himself.
While he was walking on My left, just half a step behind Me as the protocol requests, he could hardly move. But I just walked on and on, chatting with him so cheerfully, pretending not to notice how he felt yet knowing so well. To pour even moe gasoline into the fire burning within him, I started caressing My own breasts as I walked, stroking them so tenderly through the satin blouse …
he did wear an anal plug that was fixed into him perfectly so it just could not be removed … it stuck there immovable … sealed him off completely.
The anal plug just had a very little tiny hole in it that would allow only the the smallest pass through … and relief … So the urge to release himself just would not stop … only so torturing slowly …. his helplessness did arouse and excite Me too much to tell … and when I looked into his eyes, I saw everything there, the humilation, the lust, the submission, the craving, the pain, just as if one is taking a shower and the water is icecold and burning hot same time.
he was begging and pleading me to help and release him. But I was only laughing at him, laughing this laugh that I knew did drive him crazy, … an innocent young girl totally aroused by her own cruelty, by her control, by her power … I threw back My head and played with My hair with My long bronze fingers … I just could not help it, having so much fun with My suffering puppy.
“you know what you have to do to make Me stop this” I purred, teasing him. “Just the right little plea and I will let pop the corks…” he could not take it any longer. So there he was, getting on his knees just in front of “Caru’ cu bere”, speaking those magic words that I had waited to hear in anticipation: “Please My Mistress, send me back to chastity, i will remain with My cock locked up, happily i will just as long as it pleases You, will remain as Your little chaste convent pupil, but please stop this, remove the plug, I am begging You please, my Mistress, please….”
For about a minute I let him kneel there, savouring every second of it. Never before in history has any man been so happy to finally see the restrooms of Caru’ cu bere I am sure.
Femdom Summer Camp 2014 is over. Most of you followed us on Twitter, so you probably know already how much We, the Ladies, have enjoyed Ourselves. I know lots of you wanted to participate, but since it was an exclusive event, only the best of Our slaves had the chance to serve us.
For the unlucky ones, not able to be there: Read the stories from The Femdom Summer Camp 2014 here, on My blog, look for the clips that will be published on My Clips4Sale store and on Mistress Evilyne’s Clips4Sale store, and don’t forget for the best of you, there will be other chances to serve Us, e.g. during the next Femdom camps.
The whole idea of this Femdom Camp was about service and not play, the purpose was for Us to be served, pampered, pleased, while the slaves’ needs (not even talking about wishes) were disregarded. I wanted the Camp to be as close to a true matriarchal society as at all possible. First it seemed difficult for the males to adapt to this, they looked quite gloomy, but I had no doubts about the irresistable power of Female supremacy once it gets to work full force: I knew they would manage and so they did, even sooner and better that I had expected Myself.
As a foundation of Our community in the Camp We needed a strict set of rules to be followed by the males. And of course, as a symbol of their subjugation, the slaves had to be collared permanently.
Before the act of the collaring We, the Ladies, discussed about the rules that would apply in the Camp. Like in OWK, The Femdom Summer Camp 2014 rules were very different from the usual laws and rules valid in the outside world. The Camp rules were the guideline to Female Supremacy. have a look at them to see for yourselves.
Once We had agreed on the details, it was time to collar Our slaves and to instruct them about the rules. They had no say in discussing them, of course not, they only had to learn and follow the rules that We had set for them.
In the first evening, We dressed up for dinner. While We were sitting at the table in our elegant dresses, comfortable and relaxed, the slaves had to serve Us almost naked (wearing just their collars and underwear). They had no place at the table with Us, they were not even allowed to ever sit on any piece of furniture, only on the floor. They were here to attend on Us. And they did.
Still We also showed some generosity to reward for correct conduct. One of My slaves was allowed to keel very close to Me while I fed him with the most healthy pure seeds of the best black Portuguese olives that came directly from My mouth. he was kind of lucky but My other slave even more enjoyed the dinner I think. Placed under the table like a little puppy, first only allowed to sniff My delicious pussy through My panties while starters were served. Then for main course, gently rubbing his nose over My Sanctum, up and down and up and down… I felt no hurry at all to finish My delicious meal off.
After We had finally finished eating, We had the slaves put all the leftovers into a plastic basin and eat out of it, sitting on the floor. They should be thankful We allowed them to use spoons, otherwise they would have looked even worse than pigs. Surprisingly, most of them seemed not to be too hungry, even though they hadn’t eaten all day. Strange creatures…
Before going to bed the slaves had to kiss each Woman’s feet (a ritual they were to follow each morning and evening) and were told to wake up at 8 o’clock and get the breakfast ready before the Ladies wake up.
Lying in bed that first night, I could not wait for the sun to rise again to even take things at the Camp to a next level. The slaves in their little chamber sure felt a lot different.
I must admit that I feel a bit flattered to be once more portrayed by the great Sardax. Especially as this is again a picture that captures so very much the essence of My likings. I don’t remember ever having talked to Sardax about this phantasy of Mine that has been on My mind as long as I can think back. Yet here it is, put on paper as if he had taken a photography of My mind. Well, it is indeed much more than just a fantasy, in fact this is now My real life.
Men are only there to please Me. I use them for My pleasure. Not one, not two or three but a whole row of them. They are lining up in front of Me to adore Me. Slobbering creatures, so eager to be at My service, to give Me pleasure, to completely indulge My every whim. And then to thank Me for that privilege which has to be earned hard by every one of them.
See the marks of My whip on the lucky slaves ass who is now allowed to lick my holy Sanctum? Of course he had to take a hard whipping first before he was allowed to stoop to worship. And not only that, he did beg me for this. Beg Me for the whipping, beg Me for the licking.
To become My slave every male has to thoroughly understand one thing first: It is all about My pleasure not about his. And I am glad that so many do.
“During the initial stages of its training it is not able to perform with perfection yet. For instance, the other day Mistress Ezada Sinn walked into the hallway after having a nice lunch with Her cruel Woman friend Lady Sada. As instructed, it was waiting for Her, naked, kneeling down, hands on its back, head to the floor. As soon as Mistress Ezada Sinn walked into the hallway, She expected Her property to assume the doormat position, so that She could clean the soles and high heels of Her favourite pair of boots. But it failed to anticipate Her wishes and stayed in waiting position. This made Mistress Lady Ezada Sinn furious. She started to kick it hard with Her boots, while shouting out loud Her disapproval. Soon it started to cry and scream and trying to evade Her boots, while it should have known never to make a sound or move without specific instructions or permission. Heated with anger, Mistress Ezada Sinn now wanted to crush its snout with Her boots, but She composed Herself just in time. Instead, She infused fear into its brainstem, while speaking with a low and slow voice: Useless subhuman creature, you will now experience what I am capable of. Assume worm position and follow me!
Five minutes later Her property was tied up down in the hellish dungeon under the mansion of Mistress Ezada Sinn. Still a male creature, not yet fit to be addressed as a well trained object of use. Very painful clamps torturing its nipples, a small bucket hanging down from its excuse for malehood. You will stay like this for the next 12 hours. Soon, all your muscles will start to hurt and anger against Me will build up inside your soul. But there is nothing you can do and soon the anger will turn itself against you. Ahh, how much you will suffer! How delicious!
And then She left.The light went out and it was alone in the dark with its agony.
As predicted, after some hours the torture became almost unbearable. But this was just the prologue. After what seemed like an eternity – in fact it was after four hours – it heard the sound of high heels closing in. Let there be light. And there She was, Mistress Ezada Sinn, fully dressed in military uniform. Hello My slave, I brought you something to eat and something to drink. Close your eyes and open your mouth. First, I will feed you with the mud you failed to lick from My boots. I added some flavour, since this afternoon I felt I needed to clean My nose thoroughly. I also added the toiletpaper I used just ten minutes ago. Second, I will offer you a delicious drink. It is a mixture of My piss and My snot and saliva. Yes, I know you do not like foul language, but you will just have to cope with it! Or would you rather have Me feeding you living worms and spiders?
Soon, it was dark again. And after a while, it felt an urgent need, but it knew that relieve would add to the weight of the bucket. And inside its head it heard the echo of cruel promises: After a few hours I will be checkin’ in again, to see how you are doing. And guess what? I just called Lady Sada, and I think She has a crush on you! I think I do not have to explain Myself. Because you already know how much She loves feeding subhumans with leftovers that have been processed deep inside Her. I know how much you crave to be of full service to Me, but that will never happen. I think this will be a nice compromise! Meanwhile, I will place these small candles between your toes, they will burn for two hours, so if your feet are cold, just be patient, yes?
Later that day, round midnight, Mistress Ezada Sinn danced on the music Her screaming slave produced, while She was whipping him with Her single tail. She felt quite energetic, so She let Her whip come down at least 300 times. Blood was running down skin and this inspired Her to yet another delicious torture: I feel an urgent need, but I am not going to piss into My subhuman toilet. Instead, I will piss on its wounds, so that My piss will be running unmediated through its heart and grey cells. And so She did.
The next day, round lunch time, it assumed doormat position as soon as it heard the key. Although this time Mistress Ezada Sinn expected it to assume ashtray position, She felt quite happy with what She accomplished in just 24 hours.”
I know how much My slave s. adores Me. he send Me proves of submission, love and obedience from all over Europe (see the naked in public pictures). he wanted to tell everybody who follows Me his story. So here it is:
I met the Great Goddess Ezada Sinn 17 months ago in Bucharest. During my first session, Mistress put me a collar and a leash for a private session in her keep. Something new for me and very strong emotionally. At the end She put it off. Then I got the honor to spend some week-ends somewhere in Europe at her feet. Every time the same ritual to put back the collar : when I met her, She indicates by a special sign : hand open then closed in a fist.
Because It’s a very special ceremony, a sacrament (I am not a religious believer but an Ezadasinnism believer). The feeling when you live this transformation is so intense and You have a strange feeling, because in one side you feel that your Mistress take all the control on your body and mind, so it means that it’s very exciting and sensual but in the other side it means that you give the total control of your life, of your liberty to HER EMPRESS. So it’s also a frightening time mentally and it requires a huge confidence and trust that you give to HER. But it’s also that which symbolize a fusion.
The collar stayed in place longer and longer after each week-end. And from now I keep all the time we spend together : at the restaurant, at the hotel, in the museum, in the city,… I cannot explain you How much I am afraid each time when we visit protected museum with X-Ray control (the collar is in metal). If it rings. I will have to show it to everybody and to explain to the guards why I can’t put off in front of the Mistress laugh’s.
I remembered in Firenza (Italy), in front of Palazio Vecchio, She forced me to kneel down in front of everybody to kiss her Boots (I let You imagine how many people are on this place during the Easter week-end). Then She put my collar on my shirt. So no doubt for the public around me to see that I am the submissive of the Beautiful Fatale woman they have seen and admired. I was ashamed, humiliated (put my eyes down looking my shoes) but also I start to feel a pride.
I have a lot of magic time I could narrate You. But the most important, i think are the following : When My Mistress will give me back My liberty, when she will put off My collar. Everytime, i have this nightmare or maybe this hidden dream to keep it forever. Sometimes, She wants to afarid me by : forgetting the key of the collar at her Keep, loosing the key, leaving the collar until our next trip. Everytime, She saw my fear, my anxiety in my eyes when She Told me : “I don’t know where I put the key. It’s not a problem, I will leave You like that”. Looking in HER eyes, I could infer her sadistic smile. I never dare to ask My Goddess if She did it intentionally to test me, to provocate me, to belittle me so that to show that Her Power is Uncompromising. And She explain me without words that She own my life, my body as long as She want. I don’t know but at the deepest point of my mind,
i started to love it. To love HER more more simply. Finally, She found the key… this time.
During the time between two trips with Mistress Ezada. I am sad, lack of Ezada, of Her power, of Her Beauty, of her Charm, of Her collar. I have a lack of energy, strength to be the best in my life. Even if I have a lot of interesting projects in my professionnal life, I have the impression to be lost, i don’t know here I am and which direction I choose. I need a guide. This guide is the leash attached to my collar that holds the hand of Mistress Ezada. With this guide, i receive a lot of energy, a lot of attention, of complicity and I am ready to do everything in my life and of course in my submissive life to My Goddess.
After several weeks of thoughts, I told me that I feel this guide everyday, from far but I feel it a little bit. I feel an unvisible collar around my neck. I understood why I need to kneel down, naked in public, in front of beautiful landscape and to stay in waiting position. These moments are fleeting but I feel my mistress pulling my leash and forcing my collar to show that she don’t forget me, and even if we are separated by thousands of miles, I’m still under HER yoke and power. It’s a unique feeling. I adore it, it became a necessity, vitality for me.
To be honest, I dream every night and beg my Mistress each day during my daily prior so that the leash is becoming shorter and shorter, and for our next trip/meeting, She forget the key forever.
Be collared, more specifically by Mistress EZADA collar is not also an Humiliation, a submissive act, a powerful act, a sensual act, it is now a huge pride, great joy, indescribable happiness and a unique bond between HER and me. I was convinced that offer, on my knees, the ring on the Mistress Ezada’s finger was the best proof of love for our D/s relationship; but I didn’t know that wearing Ezada’s collar with dignity and humility every day was the best in my life. Nothing on earth worth this honour and love.
“Sleeping or not, I dream of being with You very often. In my dreams, of course, You are dressed in black leather, with your high boots, with your hair pulled behind, and, of course, You hold a long whip in your hand… So classical ! What is not so classical is the intense reaction I have, when I see You like that. It is like an electric shock. Suddenly, You are here, in front of me, in majesty, so dazzlingly beautiful, so strong and powerful. And I feel so ugly, so weak, so impotent, but also irresistibly attracted by You, irresistibly in love with You. It is really as if I was in front of a shining Goddess, my Goddess whom I desire so much, and I cannot escape to adore Her, to be subjected to all Her wills and desires. I know that, very soon, I shall have to suffer, more or less. But I am so happy to show Her that I want to obey and to please Her. So happy to live intensely with Her for a few minutes. So happy to show Her that I love Her !
When You hold the whip, I feel like your servant your obedient and respectful servant, eager to fulfil all your needs, secretly submissive and secretly in love with his Mistress. And I like it. When You hold the whip, I feel like a worm, your little worm, so disgusting and dribbling, so ugly, negligible, and insignificant, that You might crush it under the sole of your boot. And I like it. When You hold the whip, I feel like your dog, I am your medor, avid of smelling your fragrance, your body, your clothes, your undergarments; eager to rub itself against your body, against your belly, against your legs, between your legs; your medor trying to lick your body everywhere. When You hold the whip, I feel like a little boy, your little boy. And You are my mum. And I know that I have done something silly, and that You will have to punish me. But I know also that I deserve it, that You have to punish me for my greater benefit, that You have to train me, to educate me, to bring me up, and that You do so only because You love me.
When You hold the whip, I like to feel that I surrender, I submit, I open myself to your wills and desires, even if it hurts. So I want to receive as much as possible from You, to intensify the link between us, and to feel or prove that I like You more and more and better.
When You hold the whip, it is more a symbol than a tool for punishing me, the symbol of your power, your absolute power upon me. So it is the ultimate proof that I am completely seduced , completely in love with You. And that’s why I like it so much !
People often ask Me whether I think that punishment is an art. I sure think it is. It is incredible what You can achieve with people by administering the right punishment to them. With punishment it is like with everything else in life. It needs some talent, it needs some knowledge, it needs some education, it needs quite some practice and most of all it needs passion. I have really been inspired by the concept of “mirroring punsihment”. That concept dates back into the middle ages. It is basically based on the idea that the punishment should reflect the wrongdoing. Thus justice will be like an echo to the injustice committed by the delinquent.
To give you a simple example: If a slave would disturb Me by sending an unrequested WhatsApp message in the middle of the night, I would forbid him to contact Me by mail or message for a certain period. “Embargo” I call this. The isolation I sentence him to reflects the offense of the unallowed communication.
This is of course only a very mild example to illustrate the concept. I can sure do much better. Like simon, My young slave, had to learn recently. I had allowed him to invite Me to the French Riviera. A privilege for sure. I know that there are so many other slaves out there in the waiting room knowing about his luck and grinding their teeth in envy.
But on the third day simon seemed to have forgotten about the luck he had and how he had to behave when with the Goddess. W/we were driving around in his car in Nice, he was looking for a parking space and couldn’t find one. So he then started swearing around in French. Swearing aroud like a sailor with Me sitting right next to him. How could he dare? The offense was obvious. I have to be in control of the situation, not his anger. Always. By letting his anger guide him he was disdaining My status and integrity. A no-go for sure.
I remained very calm at all the time while he was yelling around. Browsing My phone actually. To tell you the truth it did not make Me feel unpleasant at all – but I can’t allow this kind of behavior in front of Me. So once he had stopped, I announced him with a very calm voice that I would later make him remember forever that I am in control, not his anger. I told him that he must remember this and that I would for sure make him remember. I did not even look up from My phone while talking.
After having made that announcement I started to completely ignore him. That was the ouverture to the punsihment. If he puts his anger above My sublimity, he has to do without my attention at all. (I knew that he would soon start to beg Me to punish him at once because he just cannot stand to live under the threat of the announcement and even more so in the state of having fallen in disgrace – he was thinking probably of some whipping but My plans sure were different. So I ignored his whining for My whip and told him to shut up.). So he was forced to walk idly behind Me for the rest of the afternoon, following Me unadressed and in silence. While I had a nice little snack at the “Lé sejour Café” he had to wait for Me outside. Standing at the door where I could see him, so that I could be sure that he did not make any nonsense or entertain himself in any way. To be of just some little use to the Female gender I told him to open the entrance door for every woman entering or leaving the café.
Back in the hotel room it was time to give him what he deserved. I went to the bathroom and changed clothes – I prepared the camera for some filming as well. he was in waiting position all this time. For the inteded punishment I needed just a little requisite, nothing special really, but at the same time very effective. Unfortunately in the hotel room there was just a little piece of solid soap. But is was ok, it would do the job it had to do. After I had changed into boots and an animal print dress that simon just bought for Me, I ordered him to come closer. Open mouthed. I told him that I would now clean his mouth of all the dirt and filth his swearing had left behind. Then I rubbed My hands with the soap to prepare some foam to then wash out his mouth with. Of course he was not allowed to rinse it with water. Finally I stuck the soap into his mouth. Told him to keep it there.
After I had washed his mouth I gave him corner time. He had to kneel in the corner, naked and with his hands held up in the air for one hour. Again a simple thing, but you would not believe how painful this is for the delinquent. The most sadistic part was when I told him after the punishment, when he was coughing and gagging on the soap and really struggling with his sore throat that My brother, as a little boy had been close to death because he accidentally eaten some soap. A true story actually, but a big difference between a 3 year old boy and a young grown up. I also told him that I had never done this sort of punishment before, which was true and that I was not sure wether he will be all right, but that I did not really care as he had also not cared about My well-being in the car. What poor simon did not know, of course, was that I had read in the past a lot about the tremendous effectivity of the mouth washing and had been fascinated ever since to try this on the first occasion.
he was really trembing in pain and agony and fear and I was just laughing seeing him like this. he deserved it. he was so scared that he asked Me if I wanted to kill him. My answer was just a laugh in his face. After 10 minutes he threw himself at My feet telling Me that he deserved the punishment and I could do with him whatever I wanted, kill him if I want. Oh, this is what excited Me the most. Seeing him scared, knowing that I am mean, toxic for him but he was still begging for more. Addicted. Like all of them are. I was so aroused, the situation turned Me on so much … I got My single tail from My handbag and started to whip him and then I came over and over again, one orgasm rolling over Me after another, many of them, countless. I ended up lying on the bed playing with Myself for hours and just denying him any pleasure at all. Wonderful.
The clip shot during this punishment can be found on My clip store
The next day he was as soft and obedient as a little puppy, trying to be as good as possible. he was the paradigm of attention and advertency towards Me, really. And now, after several weeks, he says that it was in fact a good experience, because he feels now closer to Me than ever.
So, not the beautiful landscapes or the magnificent buildings of the Cote d´Azur made My trip. Not the gifts from My slave or the fact that he really tried to impress Me. But the fact that he, like all My slaves, can’t resist Me. Whatever I do to them. That I shape them with My punishment. Stii, nu-i asa?
My Christmas gifts started to arrive. One of My servants offered Me this beautiful piece of art – My portrait made by Sardax. My slaves ready to serve Me, the mise en scène, the small details (My favorite whip, the leather jacket) make the whole scene look so real. I simply love it!
I had My slave write the story of this drawing.
“Mistress Ezada Sinn. Portrayed by the wonderful Sardax. She is my Mistress. Or i should rather say, i am Her property. It seems so inappropriate to use a possessive pronoun when speaking of the Mistress.
i had the privilege to give Her the portrait as a gift for Christmas and She commissioned an accompanying story from me. i had written some mainly fictitious short stories for Her entertainment and pleasure in the past. For this picture i tried, but just couldn´t.
i couldn´t because this picture is not fictitious. It depicts reality. Not like a photography shows a reflection of reality. More like an x-ray picture that not shows the surface of things but what is behind the surface. The core of things, the heart.
The picture is Her as She really is. At least how i see Her in my humble attempts to embrace Her to the full. Mind, body and soul. It starts with the little details: The leather jacket that one of Her faithful slaves had offered Her as a humble present, Her bullwhip that She so much loves and carries as a symbol of Her absolute power like a Queen carries her scepter. Then the couple in the back with the naked slave under the ladies stool, a foreshadowing of the soon to come era of Matriarchy that my Mistress so deeply believes in.
Mistress Ezada and me have been together to the place this picture shows. That means in fact, She took me with Her, i was allowed to follow Her. i won´t mention the name of the place here because it does not really matter. It is a fancy, traditional restaurant in downtown Bucharest.
You will notice that apart from the male in the front on the right, there are two more naked slaves on the picture. They are two of Her personal slaves. Men who have devoted their whole lives, their whole existence to Her service. Just like monks in a monastery devote their whole life to God. No reservations, no compromises, no fall back position. They live through Her. Before meeting Her i had only read about such relationships in Femdom literature. i had no idea that such devotion to female Divinity really existed until She showed me. Well in fact, She did not have to show me, i saw for myself. So wherever She goes, no matter where She is, the love and affection of Her slaves is with Her. The reality of their constant obedience is like an aura to Her. Even if you do not know, it is plain to see and obvious to feel. So this is about the other slaves.
Being there with Her i was naked. Not in the sense that i did not have any clothes on. That was not at all necessary. Naked in the sense that i was so unprotected, vulnerable, so humble, my whole self lay open in front of Her that wearing clothes did not matter much any more.
And yes, She also exposed me to the public. Like the guy on the right is exposed to the observer of the painting. She showed my slavish status to the world, well at least to the other guests of that restaurant. She had carefully chosen a table next to some girls who had the fun and privilege of being the audience to my upcoming humiliation, to my exposure. Nice girls, in their early twenties maybe. Typical Romanian style that had become so alluring to me. Long hair, strong make up, imaginatively varnished fingernails, tight jeans, striking high heels. The typical laughing and giggling that you´d find everywhere in the world at a nice girls table.
my Mistress had equipped me with the electro shock cock ring that She so very much loves. This had originally been a dog collar used for training an inobedient dog. She had altered that somewhat to now tightly embrace a medium sized, somewhat conic, male cock. The shock unit around my cock was controlled by a small remote control, somewhat like a remote garage opener. The only difference however being hat Her device was by far more impressive in its impact.
The remote control allows electro shocks in a range from 1 to 99. As She does not like to be things with Her slaves to be too complicated, She just uses two positions: 10 and 99. 10 is quite ok, it feels like a little twitch in the tip of the cock. 99 is hell. It feels as if your prick was connected to a socket outlet with no chance to unplug it again. Hellfire brought to earth. Emblazed by Her with just a little turn of Her thumb. And only She can turn the fire off again. When She feels like it. And putting the agony on and off is as easy as taking candy from a baby for Her. She loves and does so as long at the battery lasts. Which is long. She always puts new batteries in before we go out, just to make sure that Her fun will not be spoiled by an outage. Needless to say that 99 was Her favorite choice this evening. And She rather turned the hellfire in my cock on than off. Looking at me so purportedly caring, sugar sweet and smiling every time She pushed the button. And i drowned in Her deep eyes, like the shipwrecked drowns in the endless sea …
This is mainly how She undressed my soul in that restaurant. Every time the waiter showed up to ask or bring something She turned on Her toy from hell. i quivered and winced, i was shaken, i gasped, no chance to keep my body under control. This did of course not remain unnoticed by the other guests. In fact we caused some attention. More or less as you can see on the picture, the waiter has been a bit younger though and less archetypic, to be honest.
Especially the girls on the neighboring table very soon noticed what was going on. They realized that there seemed to be some connection between the nervous attacks of the weird fellow opposite to the beautiful lady and the little black box in Her hand. At first they might have thought that i was Her epileptic brother whom She had taken generously out to his monthly excursion from the nursing home. But then the boldest of the girls soon took a heart and asked Her what She had there in Her hand. And Ms. Ezada was happy to explain. Well not only to explain but also to show and demonstrate, the young girls were fascinated and i really lost it. i did not believe my eyes when She with a rapt smile handed the device over to the girls to let them try from their table. The girls loved it, especially the one who had asked Ms. Ezada in the first place. i saw her arousal, her cheeks flushing with excitement, the movement of her firm young breasts under the tight shirt every time it was her turn. Ms. Ezada left her Her telephone number when W/we later left telling her to call my Mistress again.
i think i consumed more electricity than a street lantern this evening. And i could not do anything about it. i was completely at Her mercy. So this is about the nudity in the picture.
But, and this is about the shining sparks between O/our hands: Doing so, She not only tortured Me, my Mistress not only exposed me to the curious girls making there first cautious steps into a Femdom life. In fact W/we exchanged something. Something that is so special, so unique, so rare that i do not have the right words to really describe it. You may call it power, pure energy, abandonment, reign, dedication, passion, devotion, submission. Maybe even love. A massive flow of energy going back and forth between us.
And then, the last thing. Most important of all maybe. Ms. Ezada is not looking at me, She is not looking at any of Her other naked slaves around, not looking at anybody in the restaurant at all: In fact She is looking at you.”
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.
I spoke these first words during our encounter, the third time by the way that I had ever met him. I spoke them so smoothly as if W/we had already been in the middle of an animated conversation. My innocent voice perfectly hided the entrance of the trap. frank might have known. Perhaps he even knew. Perhaps the moth also knows when taking direction into the shining flame of the burning candle. Perhaps frank and the moth both just show the same degree of addiction to the light that burns so brightly.
“Da Stapana. sunt foarte sete”
his anxious efforts to talk to Me in Romanian were so charming. he had told me once that he had spent hours and hours over months trying to learn some our beautiful yet somewhat complicated language because he knew how much I Myself love it. His efforts might have been persistent, the success was sadly rather limited.
The willingness of his answer to My so innocent question revealed his blatant ignorance. Maybe he even thought that I would honestly go to have a drink with him. I think he really was that naive. Poor puppy.
„Pull over there to that gas station on the right and stop in front of the shop.”
he did as directed. The big black limousine came to a halt and poor frank remained sitting in the driver seat unsure of what to do next.
„I want to exit.”
I was curious to see whether he had already made enough progress to know what was expected from him now. Well unfortunately he hadn’t. After opening My door he remained standing next to it. Quite obviously uncertain of what to do. The tall guy towering above me. I mean, how could he honestly dare to? I had to use the help of My flaming red nailed finger pointing to the ground to make him kneel down next to the car. I saw him biting on his lips when he became aware of the 3 inch stiletto nails he had only known from the pictures before.
So his laxness gave me justification enough for what I was about to let follow. Whereas, I had done it anyway. Justified or not, I felt like it, so I did.
„Waiting position.”
My voice so calm, yet irresistible to him as if I had yelled the command into his ears with a giant megaphone.
This was not the remote privateness of My Bucharest dungeon. Not even a dark corner of an empty Berlin street in the middle of the night. This was a brightly lit gas station in the midst of Zurich in the evening rush hour. As O/our car was standing right in front of the building, the scene was plain to see for all the other customers There were quite a few of them around and I realized that W/we were causing increasing attention amongst those.
Not that it would have changed anything but I was pleased to notice that frank did not seem to hesitate. He got down on his knees, his face went down, the forehead touched the grey concrete, the palms of his hands opened to Me to demonstrate complete surrender.
I remained seated in the car, watching him through the open door. Spying for even the slightest move of the kneeling body but I detected none. We were not talking anything but the unspoken communication between us was like a torrential river.
„i am Yours” his silent body screamed.
„I take you as Mine” My calm body answered.
I couldn’t help but to maintain the situation just in that state as it was. frank kneeling in front of the door, demonstrating his obedience to Me for the whole world, represented by a bunch of Swiss gas station customers.
I lay back in the comfortable seats of the Mercedes, feeling warm, safe, strong. W/we remained like this for about two minutes until I felt it was time to enter the next phase. I swung My feet swiftly out of the car placing them firmly just in front of his head. The tips of the high heeled boots were just an inch away from his bended head. Just a couple of more seconds before I spoke out the beautiful words he had waited for so patiently.
“You may kiss Me now for welcome.”
he was well aware of the fact that “kissing Me” meant kissing My boots of course. His face moved just close above the ground until his lips and tongue had found the shining leather. Kissing it, caressing it, worshipping it. I must admit that the warm feeling within me clearly intensified. And it seemed to concentrate between My legs.
I did not have to move much in order to take the metal dog collar out of My handbag. He kept on licking the leather while I laid that symbol of our bond around his neck. I had to interrupt his wet worshipping for that very special moment though.
“Stop now to listen.”
The little “click” has always been a huge turn on for Me. That special moment when the padlock of the collar closes. It so clearly demarks the watershed between man and slave. Hardly to be heard by anyone around, echoing like thunder in My ears and his
I grabbed My riding crop from My bag and got off the car. With a sharp tug on the leash that connected My right hand with his throat, I withdrew his tongue from My boots.
“Follow Me.”
What a sight that must have been to the brave Swiss. That voluptuous exotic woman in black leather pacing elegantly on high heeled boots. Walking slowly towards the cashiers house, throwing back a wave of black hair with her red nailed hand, dragging a man behind her on all fours like a dog.
When we entered the shop I took a moment to pause and look. And, quite frankly, also to be looked at. My head held high, My sight telling the stunned spectators clearly and without any ambiguity: “Here comes Goddess!” franks feeling were at the other end of the scale of emotions though. The sentiment of oppression and fear on the end of My leash was so apparent that I decided merciful to help him a bit. I shortened the leash so tight that his head was roughly pulled against my leathered thighs. I could feel how he pressed himself against my warm body, so seeking the proximity and the protection of his owner.
The beverages were kept in cupboards and huge refrigerators. I wanted it to be the biggest bottle of warm Coca Cola they had to offer. When I had made out what I had looked for, I pointed My crop to the shelf.
“Adu-o, cățelul meu”
The excitement automatically made Me speak to him in Romanian.
I let go the leash. Dog that he now was, frank crawled over to the shelf, grabbed the 1,5 litre bottle of coke with his teeth, crawled back to me and looked at his Mistress with his brown eyes. Looked right into My eyes, so obediently and grateful like a pet that has just retrieved the stick the Mistress had thrown away for him. I felt happy and I know that he did too.
“Stai aici frank!”
He stayed put while I unhurriedly walked over to the cashier to pay for the bottle of coke. The guy could not make up his mind what he rather wanted to stare at. Me or the man-dog that I had left kneeling in the middle of his shop. He decided for Me. The drool literally dropped from his open mouth. Sometimes I think, I could have them all if I only wanted to.
On My way out I grabbed My dogs leash who eagerly followed Me out of there. When W/we came outside W/we faced a whole bunch of people there watching, staring at U/us. I felt a strong surge to carry on but I didn’t. Enough show for the moment I decided. No encore of a nice whipping scene with frank lying on the hood of the big black car presenting his naked ass to the relentless beating of my ferocious crop. Not today.
he remained on his knees until i had taken place in the back of the nice Mercedes again. Then the discreet upward movement of the crop in My hand conveyed him the permission to get up again. he hurried around the car to his driver seat, started the engine and off we went, the bottle of coke still resting so innocently on my lap.
The content you are about to view may be considered offensive and/or inappropriate. Furthermore, this content may be considered adult content; if you are not of legal age or are easily offended, you are required to click the "LEAVE" button.
We use cookies to ensure that we give you the best experience on our website. If you continue to use this site we will assume that you are happy with it.Accept
