An appointment with Mistress Meena

I arrived at “the house” at the appointed hour and stood on the threshold nervously pondering the moment that had now arrived. Mistress had messaged that today that I should confess my sins. The words I was preparing to offer prostrate before her were:-

“Mistress Meena, I am sorry for my sins. In choosing to do wrong and failing to serve you I have sinned against you, whom I seek to serve as your slave. I firmly intend to do penance and take punishment for my sins against you”

I sensed the approach of someone close to the door and waited with tension as it was unbolted. The house boy required to know the reason for my visit and gave me admission to the house. As Mistress was currently detained on other more important matters, he directed me to the shower to prepare. I accepted the offered juice drink and made my way to the shower room. After a thorough clean, including an anal douche ( ), I followed the house boy’s directions and apprehensively made my way to the appointed dungeon for my fate.

After carefully folding my clothes, I placed the session tribute into a card and lay down submissively prostrated on the hard cold floor arms stretched out with the envelope offered out in the palms of my hand, eyes towards the floor. After an age, well it felt that way, I eventually sensed Mistress on the stairs leading to the dungeon and was greeted, if that’s what it was, on her entering the room. Perhaps a sorry card would have been more appropriate, but she looked at the thankyou card and commented on its deficiency. Silence is often the best policy and now was not the time to proffer meaningless apologies that I couldn’t find a more suitable card for the today’s occasion.

She stamped one of her thigh length boots in front of my face and firmly told me to worship them. As I devotedly licked her boots she began to demand answers to questions about my descent into degeneracy as I had been seeking out photos on Mistress’s social media feed. Perhaps it was my own fault that my hour or so of indulgence had resulted in messaging Mistress that a particular photo was very appealing. I felt ashamed that I had referred to a stunning portrait photo of her in the same breath as jerking off. Perhaps my answers were not satisfactory enough but it was absolutely clear that mistress thought I was a weakling bitch-boy with little more than a small braincell between my legs.

She sharply told me to stand up quickly.

Avoiding her wonderous body, I stared sheepishly at the floor as she roughly slapped my face and then proceeded to bind both wrists in leather cuffs and tightly rope my manhood (or rather her property). She directed me to the whipping bench, where I am locked in position. This is a position that stupid weak boys have occupied for generations. It was more modern and cushioned but served the same purpose as the old Eton public School block. By the time I was a schoolboy in the early 1970’s,at a single sex comprehensive, tawsing (our Headmaster was Scottish and liked the old Lochgelly) dapping and caning was more of a private affair but I often found a perverse connection between a punishment and an unwanted stiffening of the glans – perhaps even a tingle of perverse pleasure.

So it was as Mistress beat me it was not the pain of the paddle and the cane I felt, but the shame I was dribbling from my miniscule manhood. Quelle surprise, when Mistress drew attention with disgust to my unforced error and lack of control. A further offering of apologies did not cut it and the beating continued, sometimes with strokes directed at the shaft and balls.

I doubt she tired but eventually the beating came to an end. Such a relief!

Remaining tied to the whipping bench my asscunt was exposed to Mistress to truly make me her bitch boy.

Whether the indignity of having my asspussy poked, stretched and prodded by Mistress is pleasurable is uncertain. But eventually the rhythmic insertions firmly rammed home lead to gasps of animated pleasure as the sensations rippled through my body. Unashamedly I pleaded for Mistress to fuck me arse harder and deeper. Mistress occasionally broke off thrusting the dildo in and out to increase the lube, so much that I felt it dribble down my legs like cunt juice.

Eventually all too soon it all stopped and my bonds were released and Mistress motioned me to lie on the low bench.

Quickly my wrists were reconnected to the side of the flat bench and my body was tightly restrained to the frame with thin course rope. I was blindfolded which had a blessing in disguise as it saved my eyes from the room’s lighting which at times can feel like a search light even in a semi-darkness. At this point, Mistress released the the taut rope on my cock but this was only a momentary escape. Mention was made of electrics and she who must be obeyed attached the sticky pads to my balls. I began to feel the pulses passing through and increasing and decreasing at Mistress’s whim. Most of the time I was able to compose myself but eventually the sensations became too much for my weak and feeble body and I squirmed and thrashed as far as my bonds allowed me to move. I could sense that my uncontrollable emissions continued unabated, and Mistress released one arm from the cuff and made me clear up some of this sticky discharge in my fingers and eat it. What my dominant trying to do, make me into a cum junkie to service any alpha males that come her way?

Regrettably all too quickly after this deep descent into degradation it came to an end for the day.

I am totally captivated and enthralled by Mistress Meena. I am a weak and submissive boy who needs to have a strong Mistress to serve. I am caught within the tight silky web of Mistress Meena’s dominance and desperate to become one of her devoted slaves. This was only the third visit, but I am deeply honoured that she has agreed to have me “under consideration”. I hope that as time goes on my training will continue well enough for her to make me her collared slave.

A collared slave; what an achievement that would be for a cullion!