"Let there be spaces in your togetherness."

~ Kahlil Gibran

Mind Caviar, Vol. 3 Fall Issue, 2002

September 6, 2002

Dear Diary,

After performing at Ground Zero for nine years, Mistress Jean has decided to take a sabbatical from the club. I completely understand and accept her reasons for leaving, but I still feel sad because I'll miss her so very much. Lately, I've been experiencing many uneasy changes and losses in my life. My husband, Sir Charles, finally got a job in a new career field, which he seems to enjoy. I'm happy for him, yet I miss his constant companionship. He's been working long hours and couldn't be with me at Ground Zero last night, which enhanced my sadness concerning Mistress Jean's departure. Awareness of these painful changes seemed to be coming as fast as last night's hard rain.

Yesterday it was difficult for me to distinguish one emotion from another. Feelings of fear, sorrow, anxiety and helplessness all merged together like the many tears which blurred in my eyes most of the day. I did all I could to keep my thoughts and emotions balanced and my mind calm, but nothing helped. Rain had inundated the city streets, drowning me with so many emotions. As I rode to my performance at Ground Zero last night with my friend, David, lightning sparked, then dashed hauntingly across the slick-oil sky, charging the atmosphere with its high voltage strikes. It caused a nervous, almost fearful, surge of energy to awaken in me. It felt as though the world was weeping my sorrow as the rain down-poured upon the car windshield. The tempests of change blew fiercely and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Lovely Lady M and Mistress Jean
"Enslaved" a portrait of Lady M & Mistress Jean

The Finale Begins

I arrived early at the club; the doors weren't even open. Mistress Jean had called me in the afternoon, requesting that I be there early. She had a new cage she wanted to put me in before the upstairs opened with a crowd of people. Just the thought of being locked in a small, circular cage sent shivers of apprehension through me, as well as warmly flushed me with a curious arousal; I'd never been imprisoned in one before. 

It was 9:30 when I went upstairs for our final performance. Awkward silence filled the air as I undressed and Mistress Jean harnessed my body with thick, black rope, binding my breasts eloquently in a sideways figure eight. She brought the rope tightly up between my legs, pressing the heated crevice between my thighs. My excitement trickled while my private lips grew thick with arousal. I ever-so-slightly oscillated my hips in order to cause friction--to feel the rope's pressure. At the same time I attempted to conceal my desire from my Mistress. All my senses felt on fire. My wildly beating heart eventually slowed pace as I concentrated on my breathing and not my fears of confinement. Suddenly, my elbows were painfully bound behind my back with strong, black tape making me feel helpless and frightened. Even so, a comforting warmth washed through me as I surrendered my independence. 

Mistress Jean's man slave Lincoln used his strong body to lift me off the ground, placing my helpless, vulnerable body into the cage. My limbs were huddled close, knees pressed tightly to my compressed, latex covered nipples. My bare buttocks pressed hard against the iron bars at the bottom of the cage. At first this position was thrilling because it pulled the crotch-rope tighter against my wet, engorged flesh. But soon the pain began to slowly crescendo. I could feel my body weight resting on my arms which were pinned behind me against the curved, iron bars.

My sense of sight was blinded with a soft, black blindfold. My speech was silenced, and my mouth impaled with a rubber ball gag. Dread shrouded over me when the top of the circular cage was shut, closing me into a claustrophobic ball of darkness. As time ticked on, my mind pulled and tugged between the polarities of suffering and acceptance. The small confinements, restricting rope, and binding tape taunted both my mind and body. The throbbing ache in my buttocks made my body shift in attempt to find a comfortable position, sometimes grinding the rope more tightly against my clitoris. I couldn't find any way to rest comfortably-- no position was even slightly bearable. I also couldn't seem to find relief for the insatiable ache pulsating between my thighs.

It seemed as though twenty minutes had passed before the numbness and pain in my arms seemed too much to bear. My body grew weary, pressing its weight into my arms even harder, torturing my patience and aggravating me beyond my miens. The closer my mind neared the suffering, I began to feel immense panic. Soon I began to hyper-ventilate. When I thought I could no longer endure, my soul whispered sweet solace in my ear, telling me to surrender my fight and to accept my situation. Eventually my breathing rate slowed as I acquiesced to the pain. The pain was actually becoming exquisite, even euphoric. My state of mind grew peaceful, and my spirit resigned to a serene place deep within. The noises in the club were nothing but a gentle hum in my ears. I couldn't tell who was speaking and what was being said. I felt as if I floated in time and space, becoming one with my mind, body, and soul.

Caught Between Pain and Pleasure

Thirty long minutes seemed to pass. The euphoria lulled. It took all of my energy to continue my surrender for the severe, tingling pain in my arms and buttocks began agitating me again. Chaotic thoughts scampered through my head: despairing thoughts about Mistress Jean being gone from the club; mournful thoughts about my husband's new career and how much I missed him; resentful thoughts because the DJ was playing my favorite songs and I couldn't dance to them. I shivered with frightened thoughts about the possibility of losing my home in a few months. Distressed thoughts about taking my Web site down flooded me. Inside I screamed with furious thoughts about how much I resisted all this ceaseless whirl of changes in my life. No longer did I feel peace. 

My heart raced with panic once more. A sickening swirl twisted, knotting in my lower belly. My sex throbbed from starvation. Fear was like a monster waiting to pounce and devour. And then once again I heard calming whispers begin to chant inside my head, "Acceptance, surrender, agonized bliss, sublimely painful, endurance, fortitude, calmness, and balance." Those words seemed to soothe me into a sublime state beyond the conscious mind.

My solitude didn't last long. A tremor of panic struck like an unexpected storm when I heard Mistress Jean's sweet voice say, "How's it going, darling? Can you make it another ten minutes?" Immediately all my thoughts zeroed in again on the pain in my arms and the intense numbness I was feeling. My breath rate increased behind the ball gag. I felt as if I was suffocating. I didn't think I could endure another ten minutes. It seemed forever to me. I was caught within the center of a panic attack. Mistress Jean sensed something was wrong. Instantly, my gag was removed. I told her about my arms--  how I couldn't feel them any longer. At once, my arms were released from the bound tape. My face pinched in an excruciating grimace as I felt the blood rush back into my agonized limbs. I gasped for air while struggling to bring my arms around my body and to raise them in order to grip the bars near the top of the cage. Hot prickles of pain shot through me. My fingers felt paralyzed, cramped in the claw position, which made grasping the bars nearly impossible. When I managed to do so, Mistress Jean gently massaged my arms until I had feeling in both of them again. Her touch was soothing and comforting, making the pain worth just those few moments of tenderness.

True Surrender

Soon, I was left alone again inside that small, cramped ball of darkness. My blindfold was still on, but the ball gag dangled loosely, unbuckled around my neck. I felt a bit disappointed and a bit ashamed that I'd succumbed to the suffering. I wanted to please Mistress Jean, making her last night a great one. I felt as if I'd failed somehow and flushed with shame. Of my own free will I placed the ball gag back into my mouth, and attempted to buckle it behind my head, beneath strands of my hair. I was relieved when Mistress Jean's husband assisted and finished the task, for my fingers were still aching with numbness. Afterwards, I gripped my hands on the bars above me; regaining my focus to finish the last ten minutes inside those curved bars of steel.

The pain in my buttocks throbbed immensely, nearly causing tears to form in my eyes. I had to surrender all thoughts once more to make it until the crowd formed upstairs. I had no time for self-pity or shame of failure. I regained my focus and concentrated on my breath, trying not to think about how I appeared to the crowd--vulnerable to eyes I couldn't see. I tried to steer my focus away from how helpless and mortified I felt barely clothed and completely confined.

Mistress Jean's voice soothed my turmoil of emotions when I heard her say, "The crowd is in awe of how beautiful you look in my new cage." 

A great sense of pride washed over me as I smiled as best as I could with the ball gag, blushing hotly. I heard incessant chatter from the crowd ricocheting from wall to wall. The voices vibrated, creating a loud, fervent hum. From the sound and their energy I could tell the upstairs was packed with people. 

I knew my time inside the cage was coming to an end. I sighed with relief when the top of the cage was finally opened. I felt triumphant I'd made it through without serious panic. My emotions switched once again. I felt so helpless-- almost embarrassed-- when slave Lincoln lifted my body out of the cage and carried me to a chair. He embraced me with his strong, muscular arms. My face pinched again into grimace, my mouth opened wide with a silent scream, and my body writhed in pain when I was placed into the chair. I experienced the exquisite agony of my sore buttocks pressing into the seat.

Fire: Body & Soul

Still blindfolded, fear inundated me once more as I felt small pieces of flash cotton (used in fire play) being carefully placed on my heaving chest and quivering stomach. My skin was still very sensitive ever since Mistress Jean and I'd done fire play the Saturday before. I wasn't sure I could endure it again so soon. Still, I craved to go farther into the scene. I had to still my excitement and exhaustion, so that the cotton pieces would remain in place. 

I gasped for air when I felt a massive surge of hot energy pulsate fast through me. Apparently the first piece of cotton was lit, and flames danced over my scorching skin. Immediately my body relaxed along with the warmth and my sex moistened more from the blissful agony. My bosoms heaved and my body shivered, yet, I had to still my body as I felt more flash cotton being placed on my skin. My body tightened with fear once again, anticipating the burning rush. With a deep breath and a long, slow exhale, I surrendered just as I did in the cage. My body jolted and heaved when the flash cotton was lit and fire danced over my body again. I languished in the warm, soothing sensation.

Ecstasy overwhelmed when Mistress Jean tortured me with her vibrator, which she placed under the tight rope, still rubbing hard between my thighs, twitching with lust. My hips gyrated against its delightful vibrations. I drowned my senses in the pleasure, trying to lap up the bliss. Just when I felt I'd explode into a sea of euphoric waves, the teasing vibrator was removed, and I felt Mistress Jean releasing me from her chair. My drenched sex still ached without satisfaction. I didn't have time to think about my needy lust, because an immense sadness subdued my spirit. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to have to say goodbye. This was the worst of the pain I'd experienced the whole night.

A Tearful Goodbye; A Hope-filled Tomorrow

I didn't cry in Mistress Jean's cage when the pain became unbearable. I didn't cry when the fire inflamed my body. But I did cry when I finally had to say goodbye to her. Quickly, I gathered up my clothes before she or slave Lincoln could help me back into them. My mouth trembled so sadly as I neared her. I tried to bow to her with grace and appreciation. I even tried to kiss her hand to say thank you for the evening. But I could do neither. All I could do was quickly embrace her then sob like a baby in its mother's arms. But not for long; I didn't want to make a spectacle of myself, nor demonstrate to the crowd any more of my vulnerability, to let them know how much I truly loved Mistress Jean.

Quickly, I scampered through the crowd, blurry eyed. I tried to focus my eyes to find my husband, but they welled up even more with tears when I remembered he wasn't at the club on this night. My sobs came harder and fiercer as I descended the nightclub's steps, making my way to the dressing room with a deluge of tears pouring down my cheeks. When I'd finally composed myself as best as I could, I left the dressing room, snuggled up to my friend Mary for awhile, then danced the night away on that catwalk and cried. My pain fueled my feet to dance as my heartache dissolved into the music. By the end of the night I was feeling that calm feeling I felt in the cage: the feeling of complete surrender and acceptance. I danced with all my heart in tribute to Mistress Jean, wanting her to be proud I didn't remain in the dressing room, crying.

When I put my head to rest on my pillow last night, I thought about how I can't control the changes in my life and how I must learn to accept and learn to find the bliss life offers, regardless of all the misfortunate events which occur. These past few months have stripped me bare of most everything. They've made me naked, exposed to the ways of life, feeling a vulnerable humility to my situations. Regardless of how much I cry, kick and scream, I know deep within that the ultimate thing to do is surrender to the struggle, and accept what comes to me minute by minute with as much dignity and as much courage I can find within myself.

Some people may think that the BDSM lifestyle is a dark and kinky ritual. For me BDSM is spiritual and light, and I honestly feel it has made me into a better person. Mistress Jean, my husband, and my difficult path in life have been, in my mind, akin to fine artists who've taken stone that was very cold, and began to chisel and sculpt the stone into something made of warmth, grace and beauty. I am that stone, for I have come alive through their efforts of love, and through my participation with them in this way of life. For that, I am grateful.

Thank you Mistress Jean and Sir Charles!

Submissively Yours,

Lady M

Copyright © 2002 Lady M. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post in whole or in part. 
"Enslaved" Graphic Illustration Copyright © 2002 Lady M. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post in whole or in part.

Lovely Lady M Lady M is Mind Caviar's exclusive real-life sexual submissive, performer, columnist and pin-up. The chronicles of her sexual adventures, BDSM experiences, as well as her performances at Ground Zero, a fetish club in Minnesota, will be posted here for your titillation and voyeuristic amusement on a quarterly basis. 

Lady M continues her amazing tell-all diaries which transport us to her world as a BDSM sexual submissive and performance artist for Mistress Jean, and as a loving slave to her lifemate and husband, Sir Charles.

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