"Power's twin is responsibility."
--Willa Gibb's (1954)
Mind Caviar, Vol. 3 Anniversary Issue, 2003
I was held bound in a precarious stance. The most difficult thing about this position was my attempting to maintain my balance on one high heel. I knew that if I moved in any way it would pull the knots in the rope would become tighter on my skin, and fiercely pinch me. I breathed deeply, in and out, attempting to fight off a panic attack and yet maintain my sanity through my constricted position.
Are we almost done? I questioned, with agony in my mind, my eyes still closed, as I waited for Sir Charles to finish shooting pictures. Suddenly my body jolted with surprise, and I squirmed when I felt Sir Charles' right hand slide beneath my panties and tickle my slippery wet clit. My body jolted from the shocking sensation. I then felt the knots on the rope strain around my limbs, firmly pinching my skin, making me wince. With his virile hand, Sir Charles deftly stroked my sex, rubbing and flicking until it throbbed with extreme sensitivity, and I could hardly withstand the pleasure.
Sir Charles continued until I just knew I couldn't maintain my focus on my balance any longer. My body thrashed, squirmed, and writhed while he continued to play with my cunt. I began whimpering from the pain caused by the tightening rope. I did all I could to sustain this session, and surrender my will to the moment, hoping to find that sublime place which exists in between the pleasure and the pain. However, I couldn't find the ability to transfer my wild chatter of thoughts into that silent, numb existence. With my last bit of strength I pleaded for Sir Charles to stop. He nefariously ignored my pleas and continued to torment me with his hands until tears started to pour from my eyes. Finally, after I felt like a tangled marionette, he stopped. At once my body went limp; dangling awkwardly, no longer balanced in an elegant position.
When I was finally released from the rope, and the circulation began to flow again in my limbs, Sir Charles sat down on a chair nearby, and dominantly told me to bend over his knees. Titillation rushed hotly to my cunt, aching like a needy whore. The smooth curvatures of my ass ached with wantonness. My anticipation simmered just below my skin, awaiting the first sound smack upon my flesh.
"Are you ready for your birthday spankings?" Sir Charles asked, placing a small, pink ball gag in my mouth.
"Uh huh," I mumbled, nodding my head, thrilled. Eagerly I pulled down my panties in a rush, stretching my body over his knees, rapaciously raising my ass high in the air. My body flailed and quaked with orgasmic pleasure upon each succulent strike. When my bottom burned with a fervid sting and glowed a warm pink, Sir Charles ceased my spankings, removed the ball gag from my mouth, and gently caressed my pain away, in such a loving way, with the lightness of his hands. Drool dripped from my lips, stringing from the ball gag. Now I purred like a kitten, relaxing limply upon his knees, my eyes twinkling with euphoria, my mouth, with red lipstick smudged around it, grinning from ear to ear.
"Stand up." Sir Charles instructed. Abidingly, I removed myself from Sir Charles' lap, rubbing my butt with my hands, indulging in its warmth. Instinctively I turned my head over my left shoulder to admire his work, observing Sir Charles leave the room with my peripheral vision. Minutes later I heard the water running in the bath. When Sir Charles returned he picked me up, cradled me in his arms like a little girl, and carried me into the bathroom where the tub was filling with rich, silky suds. Gently he placed me in the hot bath and washed my body from head to toe, easing away the soreness in my limbs and bottom, sometimes softly stroking my clit, kissing my lips, and fondling my breasts. When my bath was done, he gingerly dried me off and carried me to the bedroom, placed me down upon our bed and made love to me for the next several hours.
Sir Charles is now fast asleep in bed, appearing like an angel beneath the sheets. I couldn't sleep. I had to write about this night before the memory of it slipped away. Thank you, Sir Charles, for a wonderful night. This will be a birthday to remember.
© 2002 Lady M. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post in whole or
Lady Mia is Mind Caviar's exclusive real-life sexual submissive, performer, columnist and pin-up. The chronicles of her sexual adventures, 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 sexual submissive and performance artist for Mistress Jean and as a loving slave to her lifemate and husband, Sir Charles.
you'd like to read more adventures and diary entries, visit Lady M's web
site at LadyMErotica.com.
While you are there visit Lady M's portfolio on-line for photos modeled
by Mia Jennings, our delicious Lady M, and taken by Charles Jennings.
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