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Waiting for
Mistress - part 2
Standing, waiting
in an alcove for my long-awaited first meeting with the Mistress, I felt a
whole set of emotions - mostly anxious about how she would feel about me in
person, as well as how she would treat me. The fantasies we had shared online
had been exciting, certainly, but I had dismissed them at the time as too
extreme to be tried in real life - but now I stood, the few items of 'clothing'
I wore all locked in place and designed specifically for the wearer's discomfort
(and, presumably, a sadistic owner's pleasure), concentrating hard on keeping
my grip on the weight behind my head. If my grip failed, poor 'slave l69' – my
partner in agony, wearing a similar outfit with higher heels - would have to
bear the full weight on the clover clamps adorning the nipples which capped her
large, tender-looking breasts - a pain I knew all too well, since she had
dropped the weight she held when we were both shocked harshly a moment before
she reached her long-denied and deeply craved orgasm.
I wished I could
offer her some words of comfort, or put my arms around her - but, of course,
even without my hands being occupied sparing her from further suffering, my
wrists were firmly shackled to the back of my collar, while my jaw was
stretched to the limit by the ball gag the beautiful dark-haired
receptionist-slave had rammed home, no doubt angry at the pain I had caused by
pressing her call button for so long when I first arrived.
I could
understand her anger - I had seen her face as her electric shock dildo was
triggered again by an angry dominant club member, which made it very obvious
that she was in agony, even without the additional pain as her hands
instinctively flailed uselessly in front of her, jerking hard against the clover
clamps on her own abused nipples. The clever handcuff arrangement she wore gave
her just enough freedom to pick up and hand over small items, such as keys or
pieces of paper - but her hands were limited to a combined distance of about
six inches from the midpoint of a chain joining her nipple clamps to the bulky
latex garment locked around her waist, no doubt concealing both the shock-dildo
which tormented her and some devilishly painful attachment for the other end of
her chain.
To make matters
worse, I had held the call button for several seconds at the worst possible
moment for her: while she was servicing a male club member orally! Having seen
the cruel 'uniform' she wore normally, I could scarcely imagine what the
resulting 'level four punishment session' could entail - although perhaps the
brutal tit and pussy whipping I had seen the tardy blonde slave girl endure in
front of us, forced to count each blow and beg for another, provided a taster.
On reflection, a
little revenge on her part would be entirely understandable - but her chosen
route, writing down a much later arrival time for us both, which seemed certain
to earn us both severe punishment once Mistress K arrived, given the way slaves
were all treated around here as far as I had seen. What I objected to, though,
was that this imposed the same punishment on poor l69, who now rested her head
on my shoulder as silent tears ran down her face and onto my chest. I resolved
to tell Mistress K what had happened, in the hope I could spare l69 further
suffering for this at least - although given the way interceding when a Master
was taking his frustrations out on bex had backfired for us all, I had a
feeling this might be a mistake as well.
My train of
thought was interrupted by a sharp jerk on both my nipple clamps, forcing a
muffled yelp into my ball gag. As l69 flashed me an apologetic look with her
lovely blue eyes, I realised what had happened: feeling guilty that she wasn't
holding up her end of the bargain, so to speak, she had tried to grab and lift
the weight behind her, relieving my nipples of the burden again. A lovely
thought - but, of course, the sadists who had designed our predicament had no
doubt anticipated that: once the weight is dropped, gripping it again is
virtually impossible - all you can do is grab it briefly, causing a moment's
relief - followed by even greater pain as the weight jerks back! (In fact,
although I couldn't see it clearly yet, the rope was even more brilliantly
sadistic: the weight was supported by a very fine nylon wire, which would be
impossible to grip, surrounded by loose fabric attached only at the top: anyone
gripping this rope could exert force in one direction only, and it wasn't the
one which spared anyone any pain.)
Relief was at
hand, however: suddenly, a hand appeared and lifted the weight back into the
waiting slave girl’s hands. We both turned to see the owner of that hand, as
far as our collars allowed, discovering a beautiful green-eyed blonde studying
us with a rather detached, almost clinical gaze. Somehow, even without having
seen photographs beforehand, I would have known this had to be Mistress K: our
owner!
Being cuffed,
gagged, clamped and hobbled there was little either of us could do to greet our
Mistress - which, of course, was exactly how she wanted us. Just as I began to
reflect on her kindness in lifting my weight back into l69's hands, a single
word shattered any delusions I might have been developing about how much our
Mistress enjoyed our pain: 'Drop!'
Shocked, my eyes
met l69's as we both realised what she was ordering. I could see the poor slave
girl hated to inflict the pain on me again - but being well trained, she still
obeyed while the impact of the order was still sinking in to me. The brutal and
all-too familiar yank on my clamps brought the reality home to me with a
muffled yelp, while a single silent tear ran down l69's face.
When Mistress K
gave the order a second time, I took a deep breath and finally let go of the
weight. After holding it in such an awkward position, my hands were relieved -
of course, my thoughts were all on the poor victim I was hurting, however
reluctantly.
Obviously,
obeying the second time round isn't good enough; Mistress commented
sardonically that we obviously needed help concentrating on her orders,
reaching as she did so for a button beside our alcove. I felt sure I knew where
that button led, and spared a thought for the poor reception-slave as Mistress
held the button pressed for what seemed, through the renewed pain in my nipples,
like an eternity. Sure enough, I heard the poor suffering brunette's
ankle-chains as she shuffled as quickly as she could into the 'Waiting Room'.
From the very
first word spoken, I could tell these two had some history together:
"Mistress
Bex, I see," with a heavy, sarcastic emphasis on the first word. This
explained a lot, I thought: presumably, the poor reception-slave had been a
Domme here until something happened - her painful service on the front desk
must be some sort of punishment. I wondered briefly what infraction might get
you hobbled and clamped, forced to answer agonizing electrical commands
delivered to your crotch, literally at the mercy of every sadist who happened
to get within range (clearly not something in short supply in this club!) -
then I realised that poor l69 and I had been put in a similarly painful
predicament, without the work to perform, simply to pass the time until
Mistress was ready for us. Clearly, pain was not something in short supply
within these walls!
"Mistress K:
Slave bex reporting as ordered - how may this slave be permitted to serve
you?" I could tell the subservient tone and mark of respect towards
Mistress didn't come naturally, but she was making a serious effort - no doubt
failing to do so would have earned her even worse treatment.
"Is that
arrival time right, my dear?" Without waiting for bex's hesitant nod,
Mistress continued, "I think these two could do with something to help
them focus on their duties; perhaps a figging would help. Go and get me three
plugs, quick as you can, there's a good little slut."
Since Mistress K
only had two slaves present, that would leave one plug spare - and since she
was hardly likely to inflict it on herself, that left only one recipient. I
could see in bex's face that she had guessed where the third was heading,
perhaps because Mistress somehow knew the arrival time was untrue - or perhaps,
given the way I had seen bex treated earlier, simply because she could.
Even though she
had faked our arrival times to earn us more punishment, as well as probably
being the one who aborted poor l69's long-craved orgasm so cruelly at the last
moment, I didn't like seeing her suffer like this – perhaps leftover guilt from
having inadvertently hurt her myself earlier, but I felt there was something
more - but from their expressions, it was clear Mistress K and l69 didn't share
them. Our sadistic Mistress feeling no sympathy for her victim was no surprise,
but the innocent fluffy blonde who had cried as she was ordered to let her
weight hang from my nipples? There must be some story behind this I hadn't yet
heard.
I felt sure no
more than a minute had passed when I heard Mistress saying "surely the
lazy slut should have made it back by now... maybe she's forgotten and needs reminding?"
The emphasis on the word 'forgotten' told me there was some inside joke I
didn't get - the emphatic agreement from l69 made me sure it involved her in
some way. Had bex's infraction hurt l69 in some way - forgetting to do
something important in the past?
After another
prolonged jab at the button which left me wincing just from thinking about the
pain it must be inflicting, our suffering tormentor staggered back in,
clutching the requested items.
Next:
Poor bex is the
bearer of bad news for Mistress K - how long will she be left wearing the
ginger plug for that?
"It's my
party, and you'll cry if I want"
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