Mercy! He cried
© Contessa dei Fiori, 2004
I met this client recently who had been in contact with me for quite some time. He kept saying how experienced he was and how hard he liked to play. Darn! I thought. If he likes to play as hard as he claims, then my toys will be too soft for him. So off we went to a sex shop to buy him some more appropriate toys.
Ever been to a Greek sex shop? It is an experience on its own! This particular one near Omonia Square was run by two skinny widows with grey hair and faces like dried up raisins. The store was packed solid with dildoes and vibrators of every conceivable size, lots of DVDs/videos piled up high on the floor, a small amount of sexy lingerie and a limited array of S/M tools. It was not like Soho, but it would have to do.
I selected a hard leather flogger with a dildo handle. For some obscure reason the ladies had covered the dildo with a condom but by the time I realised what I was touching, my hand was already smeared with lubricant. I did the only sensible thing: I wiped it on my client’s sleeve.
Slave wanted a vibrator as well, but for some reason all vibrator sets were sold without their batteries. Lady told me the batteries are no good anyway as they wear out with time. 'Oh that doesn't say much about your stock movement!' I commented lightly, but my humour was lost on the sour faced woman.
I threw some pink Thai beads on the pile after discussing the pros and cons of moulded beads vs. beads on a string with the lady. Slave was red as a beetroot and kept staring at the points of his shoes from a safe distance. I think he found the humiliation aspect of his fantasy hard to swallow. Made him pay and we were at the door when the lady called after us. 'Don't you want to take your purchases?'
Somehow we got to his place and I was shocked to be met by piles of books and documents strewn all over the place. He is an academic, you see, and these types are not known for their organisational skills. I needed a wee rather badly, but his bathroom was tiny with the toilet stuck in a corner between the bathtub and the wall. I hate tight spaces so I ordered him to strip and lie down on the floor so I could wee on him.
'But Mistress, what about your shoes?' he asked staring at my lovely stiletto heels with abject adoration. 'Don't worry, if they get spilled on, you'll just have to lick them clean,' I replied as I hiked my skirt up and pulled my underwear aside. With a sigh of relief I released an endless stream of hot urine over him. It pooled into the natural crevices of his body like his bellybutton and the groove in his chest and the rest of it trickled down the floor and flowed towards his head.
‘Did you enjoy that Mistress?’ he enquired and I laughed. ‘Of course I did, you silly sausage, why else would I do it?’ I responded and wiped my right shoe on his calf as there was a suspicion of a droplet of pee on it.
The deed done, I went to set up whilst he had the task of disinfecting the bathroom floor and purifying himself.
‘Five minutes!’ I shouted from the lounge as I pushed some books away to make space for my toys.
‘There is no hot water in the tank!’ his voice responded from inside the bathroom.
‘Too bad, you still need to shower!’
I struggled to get into the black PVC catsuit that he had bought me from my wish list. It hugged my curves snugly.
He appeared in front of me in all his hairy naked splendour, his beer belly nearly hiding his erection from view. His hair was matted with water and he smelled of shower gel.
The session went under way with a few hiccups. First he had forgotten to lock the front door and was worried that someone might just walk in. As he was tied down with his hands behind his back, I went to lock the door. I began using the paddle on him, but he became worried the neighbours would hear us, so I went and put some music on. Then he realised he had left the water heater on and it might overheat and explode. I switched it off from the mains. It was impossible to concentrate with such frequent interruptions!
I paddled him to vent my frustration, but the guy cried mercy, so I stopped as pre-agreed.
Not knowing what to do with him, I ordered him to undo the zipper of my catsuit to reveal my buttocks and asked him to read my G-string. He did not speak English well and had trouble doing it. Eventually he managed to make out the words Kiss Me. ‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ I said impatiently. He buried his face into my plentiful behind and planted respectful little kisses all over its surface.
The interval over, it was time to get serious again and flog him. I began gently, merely caressing his back with the long leather strands. He moaned and wiggled. The lead on his collar and his wrists were attached to a hook on the door frame and he couldn't escape. He was wearing cloverleaf nipple clamps attached to a ring around his genitals. Every slight movement he made was sheer torture for him.
I flogged him with a bit more intensity. I was getting hot and excited. He wriggled more and moaned louder. Then he cried out: ‘Mercy, Mistress!’
‘Mercy?’ I enquired in disbelief, ‘you the seasoned masochist and you beg for mercy with a mere lick of the flogger?’
‘Please Mistress, Mercy!’ he repeated. I stopped.
I grabbed his hair and forced him to look at me. I was very disappointed. I lectured him for misbehaviour, for lying to me and claiming to be more experienced and resilient that he was. ‘You are robbing me of my pleasure!’ I complained.
‘Please, Mistress, tell me how else I may please you,’ he begged.
I sat on the chair and unzipped my catsuit. It was too hot and I was sweating in it. I let him stew for a bit before releasing him from the hook. ‘You are such a pathetic whore,’ I told him. ‘Come suck my cock!’ I trapped the dildo part of the flogger between my knees and taught him how to give head to an imaginary cock sometimes holding his face in my hands and guiding him down on the dildo and other times pulling him back by the hair when he got over enthusiastic. I could tell he was being turned on by his humiliation, but I did not like him stealing glances of my flesh through the open catsuit, so I slapped his face hard and took him by surprise.
‘Don’t be so insolent!’ I scolded him. ‘Get me the Thai beads!’
He walked on all fours and fetched them in his mouth. He knew I had disinfected them carefully prior to play. Out came the glove and lubricant from my play bag. He laid over my knee as I sought out his orifice. He was very tight, but I suspected he was playing the virgin. I smacked his buttocks and told him off. I teased his anus with my finger and slid the beads in, one by one, but with great difficulty as he kept fighting me all the way.
‘You are such a worthless slave! You are doing everything in your power to defy me and rob me of my pleasure’ I complained.
‘Sorry, Mistress,’ he responded. I felt tempted to push the beads in without concern for his comfort, but I recalled the Hippocratic Oath (the closest to a code of behaviour for Mistresses) and restrained myself.
Eventually I ran out of ideas. Everything he had asked for (intense pain, anal play and bondage) seemed to cause him distress instead of pleasure. I removed my catsuit and remained in my black balcony bra and red and black G-string. He nearly fainted with excitement.
‘May I please please you, Mistress?’ he asked.
I gave a brief sarcastic laugh. ‘Please me? You’ve done everything in your power to displease me so far!’
He indicated towards my crotch, insinuating he could perform oral worship on me.
‘You want it?’ I asked him softly with an alluring smile on my face.
He placed his hands on my hips and nodded with enthusiasm. ‘Yes, please!’
‘Well, you are not having it!’ I retorted cruelly and kicked him back.
I tied him up on a chair with the vibrator attached to his cock. I sat on the chair opposite with my knees apart and watched him struggle as the vibrator did its work. I placed my hand on my crotch and felt the wetness seep through the fine material of my G-string. Damn you! I cursed and pulled my hand away. As usual, the mere act of controlling a man had made my juices flow. The guy’s eyes were observing my every move till suddenly they closed tight as he gave in to his silent orgasm.
‘Clean up that mess!’ I ordered him and retired to the bathroom to get cleaned and dressed.
………..
I went home that night wondering what had gone wrong in the scene. This man had asked for severe sadism and backed away as soon as I touched him. He told me he had enjoyed the session, but I was not happy about it. Later on we chatted on the internet and he made the following shocking revelation:
‘Mistress, why did you listen to me when I cried mercy? I wanted you to go on despite my protestations!’
I tried to explain to him that I am not an abuser; that I abide by the safe, sane and CONSENSUAL adage, but it was wasted on him. Same as the importance of a safe word had been wasted on him.
Can’t help wondering though how another, perhaps more seasoned, Mistress would have handled this situation…. Would she have given him what he wanted, i.e. abuse, or chosen not to complete the session?
........
The guy remained in touch and we met a couple more times socially. We both came to the realisation that for him the fantasy of submitting to a cruel sadistic Mistress was enough; he didn't need the reality. He later got his kicks out of seeing his photographs on my website and reading about himself.
Even though the years have passed, I still remember him every time I look at my profile picture. I remember all of my men and it is these memories that keep me warm inside. You'd think that a Mistress would be important to subsm but the truth is they were important to me. Every single one of them!
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