Meet Lady M in person at GlamourCon
Mistress Jean is can mesmerize her prey in seconds with her beauty and grace, as well as her confidence. But she is more than just a gorgeous woman: she's carefree, spirited, witty, intelligent, and so creative. She's also a very talented seamstress, who designs a majority of her costumes. Mistress Jean attended Minneapolis College of Art and Design. It was there she was introduced to the BDSM lifestyle by school friends. Seven years ago she began as a dancer at Ground Zero. Jean danced for four of those years before she was trained as a Mistress by another more experienced Dominatrix. Jean later began as her assistant. Now Mistress Jean is a world class Dominatrix herself, to whom I'm honored to submit twice a week at Ground Zero.
Here are a few of my diary entries from my electrifying experiences over the past three months.
June 21, 2001
Tonight I wore a tiny, greyish-black pair of shorts, which were decorated with Chinese dragons. I coordinated my outfit with a small, shiny, black bikini top. The humid, summer heat was unbearable tonight. Before the evening began, Mistress Jean, David, (another one of her submissive boy-toys, who's generally wearing a small, leather outfit and a long, black cape), Chuck, (my Dom/husband), and I were standing by the bar talking. I don't know why, but all of a sudden I blurted out to Mistress Jean, "David's been very naughty!"
"Oh really, " She commented, looking at David with a stern demeanor. "What did David do?"
"Um," I responded like a little girl telling on her brother, "He kicked me!" I lied.
"I think someone is telling tall tales. David wouldn't do such a thing."
Quickly I strolled off towards the cage to dance, before David could respond or she could ask any more questions. It was after eleven when David came downstairs and told me that Mistress Jean was summoning me upstairs. Immediately I quit dancing. With a huge grin on my face I practically sprinted up the steps towards Mistress Jean's lair. She was working with a male subject when I approached so I waited near the bar. I was wearing a leather, V-shaped collar which had a large hoop at the bottom of the V. David had a long silver chain with two clasps on each end so I hooked our collars together as I waited for my turn to submit to Mistress Jean.
Intermittently, Mistress Jean looked my way, from across the room. However, I couldn't look her in the eyes and averted them to the floor or to another part of the room the second we made eye contact. Being a true submissive it's difficult to look Mistress Jean in the eyes, especially when we're performing. Each time I saw her looking at me I rapidly looked away; my motions were as natural as drinking water.
"Do you want to be spanked standing up or punished in my chair?" Mistress Jean asked when I eventually approached and kneeled before her as I was instructed. I really don't like to be asked a question like that. I suddenly felt like a child. When I was little and got caught swearing for the first time as a child. My father asked, "Do you want the soap? Or a spanking?" I didn't want either, so I said nothing. My father gave me both for not answering. Quickly I had to decide on Mistress Jean's question before I found myself in that same predicament.
"I want to be spanked standing," I answered with a bit of hesitance. Soon my hands were confined by two leather mitts and secured to metal rings which hung from the ceiling. My ass, which was covered only with t-back panties, was facing the audience.
For quite some time Mistress Jean toyed with my body by spanking me with a few of her leather paddles, and cat o' nine tails. She dripped hot candle wax on my skin until my body twitched from the severe sensation. She placed many pieces of ice in my panties and tormented my pussy until it ached from the bitter cold. Then without warning, she had "Nancy", her strong, beautiful, thick mahogany, spanking paddle in her hand. I'd met "Nancy" once in a private session with Mistress Jean, and was now already cringing, familiar with her force.
"Who is this?" Mistress Jean asked, holding Nancy several inches from my face. "Nancy, " I nervously replied in a very soft tone.
"Who is this?" Again she asked firmly.
"Bitch," I spontaneously blurted out.
I knew that was the wrong answer when I felt "Nancy" collide with my ass several times with great impact! Immediately my body jumped with each sound swat. My breath rate increased until I was almost hyperventilating. My legs did the "ouchie dance" every time I felt "Nancy" impact my sensitive skin. I was caught in a dazed state of shock because I couldn't believe I called "Nancy" a bitch. Many times before I thought "Nancy" was a mean bitch, however, I never had enough courage to say that out loud to Mistress Jean. Until now, I didn't dare insult her best friend to her face.
The continuing sting from "Nancy's" spankings quickly snapped me out of my daze. Beads of nervous sweat dripped from every pour, and I knew that I crossed the line with my comment. Mistress Jean definitely let me know that it wasn't okay to call "Nancy" a bitch. By the time my punishment was over, my ass looked like a rainbow of colors, purple, blue, red, and pink. When I was finally released from my stance, Mistress Jean told me to kneel before her feet and kiss her gorgeous, black, patent leather high-heeled sandles.
If a Dominant woman would've told me a few years ago to get down on my knees and kiss her shoes, I would've flipped her off and walked away, regardless of the consequences. Since then, I've grown and have expanded my experience. Now I have this thing for women's shoes and I love to kiss them. It's peculiar how time and experience can change a person's views.
By the end of the evening, I was still gently rubbing the burning sting from my ass in the dressing room. Before I left for the night, Mistress Jean told me, "I want an apology letter written to ‘Nancy' by 5:30 PM tomorrow evening-- 72 lines long. Understand?"
Nathan, another one of Mistress Jean's submissive boy-toys commented to me with a serious tone, "You don't want to miss the deadline!"
A strong, string of shivers, caused by my thrill and fear, moved through me like a gust of wind, as I pondered about this new form of punishment and control. No one had ever made me write an apology letter before. Immediately I cringed, thinking about the large painting job I needed to finish tomorrow. Yet, I didn't dare tell Mistress Jean that this letter couldn't be written. I knew my painting had to be sacrificed, and thought about what I'd say in that letter to ‘Nancy' all the way home.
It's now time for me to get some sleep. I have a big day tomorrow! My Dom/husband just increased my assignment to over 100 lines.
I didn't mean to impulsively blurt out that you're a bitch. Please excuse me. I have Tourettes Syndrome and I refuse to take my medication. So I am pleading with my sweet, sweet Nancy to absolve me from last night's sin (on my knees pleading, batting my big brown eyes, pouting with my ruby red lips). My misbehavior was beyond my control. It was as if a demon made me do it. Honest…I wouldn't lie (averting eyes around the room whistling with innocence).
Prior to Mistress Jean's summons upstairs, I'd been dancing like a good girl. The rushing beads of sweat on my overheated body made me so delirious. If I would've been in my right mind, this never ever would've occurred. I'm a good girl who always behaves. You must believe me! Calling you a bitch was of no fault of my own. So, I'm pleading insanity in this letter.
You know Nancy, just between you and me, (Shhhhhhhhh don't tell Mistress Jean…this is our secret.) I think having to write this letter is a bit harsh. Do you think you could talk to your better half, (I'm sorry Nancy, but Mistress Jean's ass is so much nicer than yours) and get her to ease up a bit?
My God! How in the world am I ever going to fill these lines up with how sorry I am for being disrespectful? (Please don't tell Mistress Jean I'm complaining… and rubbing my sore butt and cringing). I kind of feel like Tom Hanks did when he was deserted on that isolated island in the movie, "Cast Away," talking to his soccer ball friend, Wilson, as I write to a strong, mahogany, spanking paddle in this letter. However, for an insane woman I'm perfectly comfortable talking to a piece of wood (searching the cupboards for my psychotropic medication).
June 22, 2001
A Poem For Nancy
Nancy…do you like poems? I wrote you one just for you.
R espect Nancy, …Or
E lse I'll feel her wrath upon my ass
S he'll spank the hell out of me if I'm not a
P olite submissive
E very time I'm naughty I'll have to suffer the
you Nancy for your Dominance and gift of pain
N aughty submissives don't get to paint murals the day
A fter she calls
N ancy a bitch
C ause she's being punished by having to write this apology letter
Y et, sort of enjoys doing what she's told to do by her Mistress.
If it makes you feel any better, my ass hurts so bad having to sit on this hard, office chair as I write you this letter (I am still rubbing my tender, bruised flesh with a pout…ouch).
Nancy, you are the best of
the spanking paddles! There is none quite like you. You're the only one
who can instill waves of great fear within, cause a whirlwind of arousal
when you collide hard against the round curvatures of my ass, and make
my legs tremble and quiver with pain and pleasure. I love how each sweet
smack has the ability to send me into subspace, a tranquil, numb dimension.
I love how my eyes glaze over with that look of being in "bunny heaven"
(Mistress Jean's term) every time you impact with my skin. I love how Mistress
Jean holds you with pride, happy to use you any time she can. I also love
that orgasmic surge of energy which pulsates wild through me after Mistress
Jean is done punishing me with you. You are the Queen of Mahogany!
Nancy, My Mean, Sweet Mahogany Queen
I apologize to you Nancy, my mean, sweet, mahogany queen
Nancy, the spanking paddle from Hell who can bring tears to my eyes
I promise that I'll never call you a bitch ever again
The bruises on my sore butt define your command for respect
You are the dark side of Jean, my Mistress
You are the Queen of Mahogany
I fall under spell each time I see the smooth surface of mahogany
I adore you my spanking queen
I'm so sorry for disrespecting you, Mistress
See my shame and remorse in my eyes
From this moment forward, you have my respect
I promise to never call you a bitch again
Never ever again
Mean, sweet Nancy - Madam Mahogany
You are the one I'll deeply respect
For you are the spanking queen
See my devotion to you radiate in my eyes
I'm so sorry Nancy- my wooden Mistress
Do you forgive me Mistress?
I promise that I'll never misbehave again
In shame I lower my eyes
Vowing to never disrespect you again, Madam Mahogany
Forgive me my spanking queen
I submit to you all of my respect
Last night I crossed the line of respect
I was naughty for Jean, the Mistress
I'll succumb my will to you, my spanking queen
Never will I call you a bitch again
I promise to worship mahogany
See my devotion in my eyes
There's still a bit of naughtiness glimmering in my eyes
However, I'm chanting like a mantra, the word, respect
Presently, I fear you, Madam Mahogany
So I write this poem for you, my wooden Mistress
I'll try as hard as I possibly can to never ever misbehave again
I'm so sorry Nancy, my spanking queen
I now understand the firmness in Mistress Jean's eyes
I'll do my best to show her respect and not call Nancy a bitch again
I promise to behave - my mahogany queen.
Phew! I think I'm done. It's 3:10 PM and the deadline for this letter is 5:30 PM. I've been working on this all day. I really couldn't paint my mural today in order to get this done. Which is punishment in itself, because I love to paint. However, I'd really hate to feel Nancy's wrath so soon for not getting this writing task done. (I am still cringing and rubbing my poor wittle butt!) Although, I'm not complaining. Thank you for the assignment Mistress Jean. I hope this absolves my sins. I'm so sorry for being so naughty.
It was after eleven when I saw David and Michael, both Mistress Jean's submissive boy-toys, come downstairs and head in my direction. Minutes later Michael was carrying me upstairs to Mistress Jean over his strong shoulders. Like a bad girl I spanked him on the ass, which was exposed by his silver chaps. On the way up David pulled my pig tail. When I reached the top and was standing before Mistress Jean, I tattled, "David pulled my hair!"
"Are you narking, little Missy?" Mistress Jean responded with her hands firmly placed on her hips. Immediately I was quiet. I didn't want to get myself into more trouble than I already was in.
"Sit!" Mistress Jean commanded. Quickly I abided and sat in her chair. Every cell in my body trembled with nervousness and excitement as I waited for my hands to be placed inside her leather mitts and next cuffed to the head of the chair. I shivered with arousal and sighed with comfort when Mistress Jean lightly caressed my body with her fingertips. I moaned with pleasure and screamed with pain when six, red plastic hemostats were placed on my pussy lips. I became woozy, and almost faint when she attached one to my clit. I shuddered and screamed louder when drips of hot candle wax cascaded down upon my bare skin, especially when it hit the highly sensitive areas on my body, such as the outer edges of my pussy lips, which peeked just outside my tiny, t-back panties. I giggled uncontrollably when she tickled the insides of my arms and rib cage. Immediately body convulsed with orgasmic agony when she finally released the hemostats, and I felt the blood rush to the areas that had been pinched.
After I was released from the chair, Mistress Jean repositioned me standing, ass facing the crowd. When the leather mitts were finally secured to the ring in the ceiling, she said, "Do you want Nancy?"
Immediately I shook my head from side to side, in the "no," motion. "You Love Nancy." Mistress Jean taunted near my ear as I shivered again, anticipating the wrath of her mahogany spanking paddle. "R-E-S-P-E-C-T- N-A-N-C-Y." She spelled out, referring to the poem in the letter I'd previously written, continuing to tease me. Suddenly my moans echoed through the blaring beats of techno music, reverberating into the crowd, as my ass felt each sound strike Nancy inflicted. I winced in pain and moaned with pleasure for quite awhile, until my legs quivered from my orgasmic bliss.
Mistress Jean released me from the leather mitts when our session had ended. Next, she commanded me to kneel and kiss her shoes. Mmmmmm she always wears the sexiest shoes! This is my favorite part.
When I finished I looked her in the eye and asked if I could give her birthday present to her. (It was her birthday the following day.) I was so excited and could hardly wait. When Mistress Jean said okay, my Dom/husband, gave the gift to me and I placed it in her hands. My heart raced with excitement and anticipation as I watched her open the package. Inside was a very well made cat o' nine tails whip. Its wooden handle was beautifully hand carved, and supported many long, soft, suede, rose-pink strips of leather. Pink is one of Mistress Jean's favorite colors.
When the crowd finished clapping, approving of the gift, I heard Mistress Jean command, "Get down on your knees!" She had her new whip proudly in her grasp. So, like an anxious child waiting to play with a new Christmas toy, I submitted to her. Mmmmm, the whip felt so nice as it hit the surface of my back. It had a very heavy, comforting weight to it, and felt so soft when it swept against my skin, after each strike. I liked this whip so much better than Nancy. Oh my, it felt so nice!
When our performance ended I strolled back downstairs to dance, rubbing the heated, red spots on my ass. I was high as hell from the endorphin rush! The rest of the night was a blur.
Happy Birthday Mistress Jean! I hope your day was the very best!
I wish I had forever to tell you about my adventures at Ground Zero. I absolutely LOVE being a dancer and performance submissive there! Ground Zero is like home. I promise I'll write more soon.
I'm submissively yours,
"The Diaries of Lady M" Copyright © 2001 Lady M. All rights reserved. Do Not Copy or Post.
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