Aug 022018
 

I am Sydney-based Pro Domme, Mistress Artemisia de Vine and this piece of BDSM fiction is based on My real training sessions with submissives.

It contains: small cock humiliation, ball busting, cock and ball torture, CBT, human toilet, golden showers, discipline, femme Domme, female supremacy, 
corporate, blackmail, electro play,  anal play including pegging, strap-on & a butt plug.

If you enjoy it, drop Me a line to let Me know. Or better yet, book a session and be assessed for the kind of submissive training most suitable for you. 

Without further ado…

His tongue tip was touching the seat of the ceramic toilet bowl and his body shook with the effort of keeping it there. Just the tip mind. He was doing his best to obey only as much as he had to. It was humiliating enough to be in this position and he was quite revolted at this task.

He swallowed awkwardly trying to keep himself from drooling. He had resigned himself to the slow dripping sweat that relentlessly slid down his face. He was helpless to do anything about it with his hands expertly tied behind his back and his neck collar fastened around the toilet base, but at least he could try to keep the drool at bay. 

He was nervous of course.  Who wouldn’t be?  His knees ached from kneeling on the cold tiled floor. His eyes traced the black and white pattern for what must have been the millionth time… or the hundredth… who could tell?  Time had slowed and then sped up in such unfathomable ways since he had entered The deVinery.  He had no way of knowing how long he had been prostrate before that porcelain throne.

The blinking camera was facing him.  Was She watching him right now? He had no way of knowing.  He had risked taking a quick break once but the all-encompassing electric shock that coursed through his anal plug quickly had him collapsed in involuntarily convulsions, begging for forgiveness. He didn’t try that again.

So yes, he was nervous… afraid even… but he was also strangely calm.  It was a difficult state to describe.  Right now all he had to do was obey.  It took him all his strength to follow the cruel instructions but there was nothing else at all on his mind.  Just obey Mistress Artemisia, no matter what. There was a kind of peace that came with that. The outside world, the city of Sydney that was normally so familiar to him, was a long forgotten dream. He did not feel like he was even on the same planet anymore.

“Arch your back prettily for me slave,” came the deceptively soft voice of Mistress Artemisia, an elegantly perverted lady, ripe with power. 

He jumped. How long had She been standing there?  He hadn’t heard Her enter the bathroom at all.

“I said arch your back, pretty boy.  Present your rear to Me like a pussssy cat on heat,”  She purred with lazy amusement and sauntered into the bathroom.  He immediately strained to comply. 

“Not quite right,” She laughed and grasped both hips, pulling them upwards, rearranging him into a position She found satisfactory. She forced his knees further apart with Her stocking clad foot and then tilted his pelvis so his buttocks parted and his plug-filled anus was fully exposed.  

She pressed against him as She moved him into place.  He could feel something hard between them. What was that? He had no time to focus on working it out.

Her fingers massaged around the butt plug and worked it out of his aching hole. It was a relief to have it gone. 

“I want you in a position that suggests complete availability for My use, do you understand?  After all, do you remember what got you into this mess in the first place?”

“Yes Mistress,” he groaned. 

“What was it you had said about your work colleague again? Remind me?”

“I am sorry Mistress I didn’t mean it!  I am sorry!  It was just locker room talk.  Boys will be boys.  You know it is all a load of bravado.” 

“Tutt tutt, it is a bit late for contrition now poppet” said Mistress running a slow deliberate fingernail from the base of his spine, all the way to the nape of his neck. What was it you said about her again?” Mistress’ voice remained calm but Her grip tightened around the back of his neck.

“I sa… I said… I said that I’d like to ben.. bend her over and give her my fat one until she changed her attitude,”  confessed the miserable slave.  Having to say it out loud to a woman made the banter seem so utterly ridiculous.  Why had he said it?

“Did you now?  Just how fat was this “fat one” I wonder?  “As fat as this?”  With that, Mistress Artemisia firmly grabbed his hair and yanked his head back so he was forced to be eye to eye with a monstrous, shiny black strap-on dildo complete with ball sacks.

“Not that big Mistress!  I couldn’t possibly!!!” 

Ignoring his protests completely, Mistress slapped his face hard and shoved the dildo decisively into his drooling mouth. As he gasped for air she slid it all the way back to his throat. His eyes watered and he spluttered and gagged pathetically.

“You are lucky my dear boy,” She said dispassionately staring down while holding his struggling head in place, “You are lucky that you work for such an unusually progressive firm.  When your boss became aware that you had been caught saying such disrespectful rubbish about women in your “locker room talk” she could have fired you in disgrace, never to work in the industry again.  There goes your expensive university degree… However, luckily for you, she gave you another chance. She had a quiet word with the head of HR and they decided to send you to Me, a Femme Domme Disciplinarian and trainer of wayward men.  Your future in this whole industry depends on My report.” 

With that Mistress Artemisia pulled the dildo out of his mouth and let his teary, mess of a face gulp air. He looked up at her in desperation. 

“That was kind of her wasn’t it poppet,”  purred Mistress.  Her sensual femininity an alarming contrast to Her cruel actions. 

“Yes Mistress,” he stammered. 

“You want a good report don’t you?” She cooed.

“Yes Mistress, please I can’t afford to be fired… I will do anything…”

“As you know, when you use your tongue to speak that sort of filth, all your tongue becomes good for is filth isn’t it?” 

“Ye yeas Mistress.”  slave replied miserably. 

With that Mistress shoved his head right inside the toilet bowl and ordered him to keep his tongue in contact with the side… this time on the inside… He shuddered with revulsion and paused only a second before realising he had no option but to comply.  His boss was going to review the footage of this training and assess his willingness to change, before making her final decision on his future at the company.

He flushed crimson with the utter humiliation of it, but he was completely controlled and owned by these women now.  They had him backed into a corner. 

“I want you to lick, nice big, enthusiast licks all around the inside of the bowl.  Never let your tongue leave the surface.  I want every inch of the inside of the toilet bowl licked clean, is that clear?” 

He gagged again and licked tentatively with the tip of his tongue.

“You can do better than that slave.  Use the flat of your filthy tongue. Nice big licks. I want to hear lovely big slurping sounds slave,” said Mistress as She moved behind him again, slapping his rump hard. 

“Moan like you are supping on the most delicious delicacy… Lovely porn star moans…. Let me hear just how grateful you are for this reprogramming your boss has invested in.  A professional like Me doesn’t come cheap you know!  And don’t forget to arch your back prettily.  After all, if you are going to objectify your female colleagues, you should learn exactly what that feels like shouldn’t you?” 

With that She leaned down and grasped his cock and balls and yanked them back towards her roughly.  Slave squealed and lost contact with the toilet bowl.  Despite himself, he hardened to Her  touch.

“So easily distracted aren’t you! I thought I said to keep your tongue in contact with the inside of the toilet bowl at all times slave? She tightened her grip on his balls and dug her fingernails in. “Get. your. tongue. back. on. that. bowl. boy.”  Each word was a staccato command.

His body tensed involuntarily and he grunted in pain but it was only a second or two before his tongue was back studiously licking that bowl, this time with more enthusiasm.  He was confused by the mixture of disgust, pain, embarrassment and arousal he felt.

“That’s better boy.  I find most men just need the right motivation to learn their place,” said Mistress Artemisia as She relaxed her grip and stroked his balls almost sensually.  She peered at them and commented, “Such little sacks of skin, just little olive pips and yet they are responsible for so much trouble….  and this!” She said picking up his cock with a thumb and forefinger, a look of distaste wrinkling her pretty features.  “THIS little thing is the “fat one” you were threatening to “give” your femme co-worker?”  She mocked incredulously.  This little gherkin is hardly a match for mine now is it? 

“Nooo Missthress” came the muffled reply. 

“Since this is the thing that you used as the symbol of domination against the woman at your work, this will be the thing we punish today slave.” 

Without further warning she slammed her knee into his exposed balls. 

The world went white and he could not think at all.  The sick feeling in his stomach lurched him forward face into the water at the bottom of the toilet bowl.  His open mouth gulped in toilet water and he spluttered in shock. 

As he came to enough for the room to take shape again, all he could hear was the tinkling sound of Mistress laughing.  For some reason, this made his erection harder than he could ever remember.  He was miserable and humiliated and yet… his body betrayed him and desired this treatment. 

Mistress noticed.  “I see you are beginning to respond to your training slave.  You are beginning to learn your place.  You belong on your knees being grateful to lick the toilet women use, don’t you?”

His head rushed with indignation but his body was so turned on he felt possessed by Her.  “Yes Mistress, I’m only worthy to lick up your waste.”

“Keep licking then slave,” she said moving back around towards his head. “I am a firm believer in female supremacy the way your body is responding to being put in your rightful place is proof that this should be the natural order of things.  You men are controlled by your sexual desires.  If I control the cock, I control the man.”

She  stopped talking and straddled the toilet bowl above his head. and slid a finger under the elastic of Her knickers, pulling them aside. 

“Big keen licks now slave,” She murmured as She began to piss her golden nectar all over his head where it trickled down into the toilet bowl. It was warm and potent smelling. Her scent overwhelmed him.  He was revolted and excited all at once. There was something primal and pheromone driven about it. 

“Lick it all up.” She said in a calm tone that brooked no objection. She was a woman used to being obeyed.

He lapped at Her warm golden shower, as it coated the inside of the toilet bowl. “Oh god!” he thought, if the boys at work could see me now! They’d never respect me again, and she’s filming this whole thing! I’m nothing but a pig at a trough, lapping up Mistress’ piss…. and worse still, I like it!”

“Filthy little slut!” murmured Mistress amused, as though She had read his mind. “I will teach you to crave that scent… that taste… you will only ever want to lap up the urine I bless you with. No one else’s opinions will matter to you again. I’ll keep you chained here with no water.  The only way to be hydrated will be to drink my nectar and the toilet water. Once you are trained to love it, you will do anything I say in order to be allowed a taste.

She continued, “I am sure your boss will be most gratified to see that change in you slave but you really are only at the beginning of your training.  By the time I am done with you, you will be eagerly obeying all the women in the office, showing utmost consideration.  You will literally worship the ground they walk on… but first I need to break you before I re-make you.”

She unstraddled him and walked behind him, grasping both hips with Her hands. 

“Drink deeply boy!” She said as the slid the huge dildo into his stretched asshole and thrust hard.  His face was pushed deep into the piss-filled water at the bottom of the toilet and he spluttered and gulped it in, unable to stop himself from swallowing.  

“And now, little whore, I will bend you over and give you My “fat one” until you know your place…” smirked Mistress as She pounded without mercy.  He could do nothing but submit to his fate.

If you enjoyed this smut, you may also enjoy this piece I wrote about a real life maid training scene. or this one where I deliver devastating torment to my slave

To be alerted when Mistress writes more smut or tours to a city near you, join Her mailing list, follow Her on twitter

Sydney Dominatrix Artemisia de Vine

Mistress Artemisia is a real life, Professional Dominatrix in Sydney, Australia. She specialises in in-depth journeys into Domination and submission and enjoys the wide variety of expressions and flavours this can take.  From sensually intimate to cruel and sadistic… She is always in complete control.

Most of Her submissives submit to ongoing training that builds on previous sessions but She does welcome one-off explorers too. However slaves, subs and pets that resonate with Her style, often end up serving Her for years and together they explore the infinite possibilities of the erotic psyche.  There is a whole universe in within…  

See more at devinekink.com

 

Sep 102016
 

The below spanking story is written by professional disciplinarian & switch spankee, Artemisia de Vine and contains: Bare Bottom spanking & caning as well as a double figging, embarrassment, humiliation, assumed patriarchal family roles and eroticised sexist concepts.  Irene teaches her half sister Ella a lesson in lady-like behaviour.  Pictures are of professional Mistress Electra Amore and Switch Artemisia de Vine role playing Irene and Ella.

 

 

Irene’s back was stiff with cold formality and her silver soup spoon clanked a little louder than it needed to against the delicate china bowl. Little droplets of creamy butternut splashed onto the pristine white table-cloth.   Oblivious, her new boyfriend, Harold, continued to sneak glances at Ella’s ample cleavage across the table.

“Interesting choice of frock for a family dinner, sister dear,”  said Irene with a deceptive causal tone.  “Wherever did you get it?”

“Yes it was a great find!” replied Ella, purposely ignoring the hint of venom in Irene’s polite sentiments.  “I got it on sale at that cute little boutique near the old Princess Theatre.  It was the last one left and fits like a glove.”

“Shame they didn’t have any other sizes left.  Perhaps one size up would have been a little more modest.”  said Irene through a fixed smile that did not reach her eyes.

Ella’s sweetly plump face reddened in recognition of her half-sister’s mood.  Her nostrils flared slightly.

Of course taunting Ella had the opposite effect that Irene wanted as now all eyes focused squarely on Ella’s milky bosom threatening to spill out of her low-cut black V-neck with every indignant breath.  To make things worse, an attractive blush blossomed on her chest and cheeks.

“It’s a perfect fit,” said Harold appreciatively, “Very nice indeed”.

restaurant set

restaurant set

There was an uncomfortable adjusting of pearl necklaces and shuffling in seats as the rest of the extended family felt the ripple of tension. Uncle Victor, the religious one in the family, was clearly the most uncomfortable and his bulbous red nose, twitched in disapproval.  Only cousin Jack remained laid back in his chair and looked amused at the show.

Aunt Rachel, a prim, grey haired lady of social graces and an ever-present urge to play peace maker, coughed delicately and interjected, “Irene tells me you have a yacht and are going to spend the summer sailing the Greek Islands, Harold.”

“Yes!” boomed Harold magnanimously, “I was going to announce that after dessert.  You are welcome to join us.  You too, Ella,”   He grinned, returning his attention back to his girlfriend’s half sister.

“Really!  I’ve always wanted to go.  That would be lovely!”  beamed Ella.  Her mind filled with visions of bikini clad sun baking and cocktails on the deck.  While she came from a family of money, she did not have a lot of her own so this was a wonderful opportunity.

spilt-red-wineThere was a clunk and crash as Irene’s wine glass fell to the floor, spraying velvety shiraz down her cream shirt and all over the rich oranges and earthy tones of the Persian rug.

“Oh dear!” she tutted, feathers clearly ruffled.  Her hands trembled slightly as she brushed at the stain, but she only succeeded in smearing the wine further.

“Are you alright my dear?”  Harold asked, suddenly reverting to attentive boyfriend.  There was much fussing and concern for Irene but no one lifted a finger in a practical sense.  Ella thought, not for the first time, that should her family suddenly have to look after themselves, evolution would simply wipe them out.  Their survival skills revolved around how to best hire someone else to do the work for them.

Miss Brown, the family housekeeper, rushed forward with a dust pan and began cleaning up the mess with starched efficiency.

“How clumsy of me!”  muttered Irene, “Please do excuse me while I go change.  Ella, would you be so kind as to give me a hand?”

“Of course!”  replied, Ella, hiding the foreboding she felt welling up in her stomach.  She knew how jealous Irene became if she wasn’t the centre of her lover’s attention.

They had this sibling rivalry since they were teenagers and it still flared up now they were in their thirties.  Irene was a brunette with a perfect hourglass figure and the air of a well-bred lady.  Plump hips, curving into a small waste and flaring back out again to large shapely breasts.  The sort of breasts that hung like fruit on the tree of temptation, thought Ella, with a  flash of her own jealousy.  Irene had the kind of curves that caught the eye of most men and was used to receiving admiring attention.  Surely she could share a little harmless admiration here and there?

Ella was all blonde curls and dimples and was the larger of the two ladies.  Larger curves meant larger breasts.  Ridiculously large.  Her figure may not be quite as perfect an hour-glass but she made up for that with her excessive cleavage.

As soon as the two women were through the hall and out of ear shot, Irene grabbed Ella by the arm and guided her firmly down the hall.  “What do you think you are doing?” hissed Irene.  “If Daddy were here you wouldn’t dare wear such a dress to a family dinner!

“What are you talking about, it’s not that bad! Let go! You are hurting my arm!”

Irene flashed an angry look at her sister but kept her back in perfectly dignified pose as she continued to stride purposefully towards her own quarters.  She didn’t say another word.  Ella didn’t know what was more disconcerting, the fuming silence or the pain in her arm as Irene’s grip tightened.

Finally, Irene relinquished her hold in order to push open the heavy wooden door of her room, revealing luscious cream rugs and a four-poster bed.

“Honestly Ella, I can’t believe you still haven’t grown up!” scolded Irene as she unbuttoned her shirt, revealing an electric blue satin balconette bra that framed her own assets to beautiful  advantage. “It is completely inappropriate for you to wear something like that to dinner.”

“Really Irene, I don’t know why you worry so much.  Harold loves you, he was just having a little peek.  Men do that, they can’t help themselves.”

“You always do this!  You down play the havoc you cause with your immodest dress.  Did you see how uncomfortable poor uncle Victor was!”  She said unzipping her navy linen skirt and letting it pool around her ankles to reveal matching blue satin knickers and a suspender belt holding up seamed stockings.

“I see you have romantic plans for the evening,” Ella teased, “Perhaps tonight’s entertainment will turn out to be good for you after all.  It may bring out the passion in old Harold.”

Refusing to rise to the bait, Irene strode over her to her carved, rosewood wardrobe and selected a simple, elegant, black dress.   She pulled it up over her ripe round bottom and straightened the snug fit around her tiny waist.

“Come here and give me a hand with the zip will you?”

Ella did as she was asked but showed no signs of apology.

Irene’s face was once again the picture of perfect calm as she smoothed her hair and adjusted her earrings in the mirror.  She contemplated Ella in the reflection over her shoulder.

“So think you are coming to the Greek Islands with me this summer do you?”  she asked dangerously calm.

Ella tidied her hair nervously. She recognised that tone and knew her sister was up to something.

“Well yes!” A hint of uncertainty and defensiveness coloured her voice.  “Harold has invited me directly,  you heard.  You know how much I have always wanted to go.”

“Hmmm… I think perhaps he may be persuaded to change his mind about that.”

Ella’s eyes widened.  “Come now, there is no need to be like that.  I know you feel a little jealous right now but it will all blow over in a jiffy and Harold will be all over you in a bikini when we get to Greece”.

“Really?  You still haven’t learned have you.  You have no idea how uncomfortable you make everyone when you wear a dress like that!  You are such a child!  If only daddy was still here to bend you over his knee for a spanking like he did when we were young.  Though perhaps if he had of spanked you more often, you would not be so spoiled now.”

“Oh ha ha.  Now you are just being spiteful.”  snorted Ella

“No actually I am quite serious.  I really have had enough of you flirting with my boyfriends.  I have reached the very end of my tether.  You can prove to me that you have learned your lesson and changed, or no Greek Island adventures for you.”

Worried now, Ella paused and fidgeted with a blonde ringlet, trying to think of a way to pacify her sister.

“Look Irene, it really isn’t that big of a deal… “ she began but was cut off by the icy look Irene shot her.

“Alright, I will go and get changed if it bothers you that much.  Though your lovely Harold may wonder why both of us got changed when wine was only spilled on your blouse.”

“No it is too late for that.  I really want proof you’ve changed.  I can’t have you bouncing those breasts of yours all around the Aegean if I can’t trust that you’ve truly learned your lesson.  You will have to satisfy me or miss out on the holiday.”

Ella sighed impatiently, “Ok fine.  What is it you want me to do?”

A brief smile flashed across Irene’s face.  She could see several moves ahead in this game of chess and could take her sweet time.  Ella had no idea she had already lost.

“I want to give you the spanking you deserve.  If you are going to be so childish, I am going to treat you like a child and give you a sound spanking just like daddy would have.”

Ella just scoffed dismissively.

Irene did not smile.  She stood there, dignified, with one eyebrow raised.

“Oh I am perfectly serious sister dear.  What is more, you will take whatever punishment I choose to dish out until I am satisfied that you have learned your lesson.  That, or miss out on the holiday.  It is up to you.”

Ella’s smile faded as it began to dawn on her that her sister was not messing about.

“You are not serious!”  protested Ella clinging to denial.  “You know how much I want to come on holidays with you!”

Ella begged and pleaded but Irene would not be moved.  It was a sound spanking or no Greece.  Seeing that her only hope of bathing in sun bedazzled water and flirting with shirtless sailors, was to get back on Irene’s good side, she reasoned to herself that a spanking would be over very quickly, but a holiday would last all summer…

Still not really believing she was doing this, Ella said, “So you will be happy with a spanking?  That will sort your mood out and we can all get on with having a lovely time?”

“A proper spanking and suitable punishment until I am satisfied you have truly learned your lesson,” Irene repeated.

“Ok fine, if it will get you out of this sour mood!” conceded Ella rolling her eyes.

irenes-dresserA slight smile curled the corner of Irene’s mouth as she re-applied her frosted berry lipstick in the dresser mirror.  She was silent as she dabbed a little perfume on both wrists and then, taking her time, turned around.  Leaning back on the dresser’s edge, she contemplated her half-sister.  After several weighted moments she reached a conclusion and pronounced it in definite tones, “Go into Daddy’s office and assume the position he used to insist on.  Wait for me there.”

Ella laughed nervously.  “Are you serious?”

Irene replied serenely, “I couldn’t be more serious sister dear.  I am fed up and now I am going to do what should have been done a long time ago.  Go now and wait for me.”  She turned back to the mirror as though Ella’s obedience was an unarguable certainty.

Ella paused but the thought of being left behind while everyone sent postcards from her dream holiday irked her too much.  Besides, it couldn’t be too bad.  The spanking would have to be over quickly she repeated to herself, or else everyone at the dinner table would wonder what had happened to them.  They would not start the next course until both women returned.  Yes, just a quick spanking and it will all be over. As ridiculous as this is, I shall just play along and let Irene have her little power play.  She will feel better soon. Then we can all get on with the fun.”  She slipped out the door and down the hall, red satin slippers silent on thick carpets.

As with all these old houses, artwork hung on the walls with candlesticks and vases on elegantly carved side tables were dispersed at intervals.  She passed a portrait of daddy and glanced up.  He was Irene’s daddy too. How formal and stern he looked in this painting!  His temples greying against his dark curly hair and neatly trimmed beard. Oh how she missed him!  He was such a strong, supportive presence in their lives.  True, he had occasionally had to discipline both girls, and their brother Freddie too, but he had only ever done so for their own good.

Ella rubbed her bottom unconsciously as she remembered being bent over his study chair.  “Irene is right”, she thought, “Daddy wouldn’t be pleased with me wearing this dress.  I guess I hadn’t thought it all the way through…. Still, he is gone now and I am a grown woman.  Besides it was harmless really.  All men look! I can’t help it if I am well endowed”.

office-book-caseShe wandered further down the hall until she reached the brass door handle of daddy’s office.  She hadn’t been in there in years.  As the door creaked open she let out a little gasp.  It was all exactly as he had left it!

His heavy wooden desk dominated the room with it’s carved lion paw legs and leather banker’s top.  A large ornately framed mirror hung on the wall behind his high-backed brown leather chair.  Surrounded on both sides of the mirror were floor to ceiling bookcases full of all her father’s favourites.

Ella kicked her shoes off and sunk her toes into the rug.  Wow, just coming back in here made her feel like a young girl again.  She spun slowly taking it all in. Lamps, maps and oddities her father had picked up on his travels filled every available surface.  Another mirror leaned against the wall by the door. She remembered her father telling her it was too large to hang.  When she was young, she never thought to question why a man would want so many mirrors in his study but now she was older, it struck her as a little odd.

But then she saw the red velvet armchair and forgot all about it.  It was the chair that her long-dead mother used to sit and read in and Daddy had never had the heart to remove it. He had long imaginary conversations with her memory even well after he re-married.  Perhaps he even discussed how to raise her, mused Ella.  But this chair also had another history…

Daddy had spanked his offspring in different positions depending on the severity of the misdemeanour.  If he was giving them a hand spanking for something naughty but not too bad, he would bend them over his knee.  If the crime warranted a bigger swing than was possible sitting down, he had them lean on their elbows on the red velvet armchair raising their bottoms high to make an easy target.  If they were really bad, they had to bend over the desk so their full weight was supported should their knees buckle.

Ella had never been made to bend over the desk but she remembered watching red-faced Freddie bent over it as he received the strap followed by the cane on the day he crashed his mother’s car.  The whole family had been marched in to witness his disgrace and he had been made to lower his pants in front of them all!

Ella shuddered remembering how sore his bottom had looked after that sound thrashing!

Suddenly the door creaked open behind her.  She hadn’t heard Irene walking down the hall across those thick carpets.

“You aren’t taking this seriously at all are you!” She tutted severely as she swung the door open.  “I told you to assume the position and here you are daydreaming!  You are only going to make this worse on yourself you know.”

“Fine!” retorted Ella, rebellion warring with desire to make peace and get it over with.   She strode over to the red armchair with exaggerated fawning obedience and bent over, leaning on her elbows for support like she had as a young girl.  “Yes Ma’am!”

Irene was silent.  She didn’t say a word or make a move to come closer.  Ella began to feel awkward, and a burn of embarrassment rise in her cheeks.  She felt silly bent over in front of her grown sister but stubbornly refused to turn around and see what Irene was doing.

Still the silence continued.  A soundless battle of wills.  Both women determined not to let the other get the upper hand.

Eventually Irene spoke.  “I don’t think you should be afforded the protection of that dress, sister dear” she said with quiet confidence.  “It will only serve to lessen the sting.  No it will have to be lifted out of the way”.  Before, Ella could protest, she stepped forward and swiftly raised the hem of Ella’s offending dress, sliding it up over her round bottom and folding it neatly on her waist.

Ella tensed, shocked, but was determined not to give Irene any more satisfaction than necessary.  She didn’t know how to respond.  Her mind raced.  Here she was a grown woman,  nearly forty years old and her little sister was determined to make this punishment as humiliating as possible by lifting her dress and exposing her knickers!  Frantically, she tried to remember what underwear she had thoughtlessly put on that morning.

Irene stood back and admired the effect her action had on her sister. She had noticed Ella’s quickened breath.  Her plump, creamy bottom was framed in full-brief black satin underwear and matching stay up stockings.

“Planning on seducing someone wearing those stockings were we?”  asked Irene with deadly calm.

“No not at all!” Ella exclaimed, realising that her choice of undergarments would ignite Irene’s jealousy all the more.  Especially if she thought she had designs on Harold!

“You really have no shame do you sister?” Irene shook her head, her face the picture of offended modesty.  She tapped her black patent shoes against floor in irritation.

“Well if you insist on having your breasts out for the whole world to see, I don’t see why you shouldn’t also have your bottom exposed.  It seems fitting considering how you got into this mess after all!”

Irene reached out and slipped her thumbs underneath Ella’s underwear  and began to pull them down.

“Are you serious!” croaked a mortified Ella, standing up in horror and wriggling to get away.

“Absolutely!  You keep asking that and I assure you I am serious. It is time you learned the price of your immodesty and since our daddy isn’t here to teach you I shall just have to take you in hand myself.  Now stand still.  I won’t believe you have learned your lesson until you understand the impact your actions have on others and show you are willing to make amends by taking your deserved punishment.

Ella just stood there in disbelief.  Did her sister really want her to bare her bottom!   She stared at her Irene, trying, and failing, to come up with a response.  She gapped but no words came out.  All rebuffs had fled her mind.  It really was a no win situation.

After several tense moments she realised that her only choice was to protest and lose her trip to Greece or obey and get this over with.   Feeling thoroughly embarrassed she painstakingly bent back over the chair, gripped the arm to stop herself from leaping up again and submitted to Irene’s humiliating directions.

Irene made a small sound of victory in her throat and leaned forward in a cloud of musky perfume and self-satisfaction. Again she hooked her thumbs under the elastic and theatrically pulled down her sister’s underwear.  She took her time knowing full well the embarrassment she was stirring in her sibling.  She pulled them down low enough to ensure no modesty remained but then let them bunch neatly.  She was fastidiously neat and always had been.

Then she stood back to enjoy the effect.  She knew she had hit the mark because Ella’s breathing was a short and sharp despite her attempts to hide her shame.  Teaching Ella her lesson was not without its enjoyment.

The bottom before her was a lovely one.  Not the rear of a slender young teenager but rather full, ripe, woman’s buttocks.  Plump, soft and inviting.  Ella’s body rather reminded Irene of renaissance nudes, only with larger breasts.  Somehow the loveliness of Ella’s rear only incense her more. It seemed to Irene that the whiteness of her sister’s skin was crying out to be marked crimson for her unladylike crimes.

“Are you feeling embarrassed Ella?” she asked.

“Well yes, this is a bit unusual!”  replied Ella, attempting to keep her dignity.

“Really! Well now you know how I felt when you humiliated me in front of the entire family with your display, flirting with Harold like that!  Goodness knows what they think of me now!  You really deserve to feel utterly embarrassed by your own behaviour but since you do not seem to have the sense to, I shall make you feel it now as part of your punishment.”

Ella groaned.  She should have known it wouldn’t be as simple as a quick spanking.  Irene was a woman scorned.

Spankee Artemisia de Vine Spanker Electra Amore

Spankee Artemisia de Vine Spanker Electra Amore

And then, without warning, came the first jolting slap.  It surprised all thought from Ella’s mind! Before she could even yelp, the first was followed closely by the staccato ring of five more hard spanks that left her breathless and wriggling to get out of the way.

Irene was business-like in her delivery.  Open handed stings, one after the other.  The shock of it made Ella bounce forward and squeal.  She hadn’t been ready for that!

“Oh hold still, you baby!  That is only child’s play.  I plan on warming your bottom nicely before we rejoin the others.  The more you wriggle about the worse it will be for you. Now get back in position.”  Irene’s voice was all confident command now that she felt in control again.

Ella slumped forward before she could catch herself.  It had hurt a lot more than she remembered but it had been a couple of decades since she had been forced to suffer this indignity.

“If you do not get back in position Ella, I will have to assume you have changed your mind on our deal.”

With reluctant obedience, Ella centred herself, weight resting on her forearms so she could raise her bottom high as she had been taught.  Strange how it all came flooding back… all those instructions on how to hold yourself in the way that was expected by her father.

However that wasn’t good enough for Irene.  She took hold of Ella’s shapely hips and re-positioned her, arching her back even further making Ella feel even more exposed.

“What is more, sister dear,” continued Irene in her patronising voice,  I want to know you appreciate the effort I am taking to bring you back in line… for you own good… and the good of the family.  I want you to demonstrate your gratefulness and thank me after each set of six spanks and politely ask me for more.  If I think you have learned your lesson I will stop.  If not, I will comply with your request and continue to dish out your discipline. Do you understand me?”

Ella realised that she was not going to get out of this with her dignity anywhere near in tact and decided her best plan was doing her utmost to please her sister to make this whole ordeal end as soon as possible.

“Yes Irene” she agreed, trying to keep the sullenness out of her voice.

“Yes ma’am”, you will call me ma’am until this is all over.  After all wasn’t it you who started that with your earlier sarcasm? Besides, you lost your right to be my equal when you jiggled your breasts like bait on a hook in front of my boyfriend.  Like a tramp!  A proper hussy! You weren’t brought up to behave that way now were you?” lectured Irene gaining momentum.

Then without waiting for an answer she began spanking her sister hard.

“One, two, three, four, five, six!”

Ella reeled. She gasped and couldn’t think clearly. She hadn’t expected her sister to be so strong!  She had hardly time to catch her breath when Irene tapped her foot impatiently and demanded, “I’m waiting!”

Ella gritted her teeth.  “Thank you ma’am, may I please have another set of six?”

Oh my she was never going to live this down!  Irene was going to lord it over her all summer now.

Whack, whack, whack, whack, whack, whack!

Ella’s bottom was really getting hot now!

“Thank you ma’am, may I please have another set of six?”  It was just so grating having to ask for more.  She longed to rub her sore bottom but didn’t dare provoke her sister further.

Irene’s arm showed no sign of tiring as she delivered another round of stinging retribution.  It seemed as though she was going to keep it up all night!  Each slap bit into Ella’s soft flesh, and sent it jiggling.

Several more rounds of this passed and it seemed as though Irene would never be satisfied.  She continued to imprint her no-nonsense lesson into her sister’s flesh until finally, Ella burst out sobbing.  “Please!  I am sorry!  I can’t take any more!  Please, I’ve had enough!”

“There, there!” cooed Irene, rubbing her sister’s sore bottom to comfort it.  “You say you are sorry is that right?”

“Yes I am very sorry!”

“Maam.  Say I am sorry ma’am”.

“I… I am sorry ma’am”  choked Ella between sobs, relieved that the ordeal was over.  Irene’s hands felt so lovely and cool on her sore, swollen bottom.

“But interestingly,” continued Irene, “What I heard is that you only apologised because you wanted the spanking to stop.  Not because you have really learned your lesson at all.”  She paused for effect and let that sink in, then continued,  “I will tell you what.  I will stop spanking you and let you return to the family meal if you agree to continue this punishment after dinner.  That will give you some time to recover and think about your actions.  Perhaps you will form a more genuine apology then.  Otherwise we can just continue with the spanking now.  It is your choice”.

Ella’s poor bottom was so red!  She couldn’t bare the thought of another round of spanking so she reluctantly agreed and stood up to cover herself.

“Oh, and there is one more thing…” said Irene with the air of one springing a trap, “You are to feel the sting of embarrassment that you caused me for the rest of the meal”.

Ella looked around and wiped her tears.  What was this new turn of events?

“Did you know that uncle Victor was telling me the most fascinating story just the other day, continued Irene, fumbling around in her handbag.  “Do you know what they used to do to young girls caught in inappropriate self… er… young ladies with promiscuous inclinations shall we say… back in Victorian times?”

“Er no…”  said Ella nervously.

ginger-figging-spanking-ck“They were quite clever, our forebears.  They had to train inappropriate behaviour out of the young ladies and they had just the method to do it.  They used these!”  she said reaching into her tan leather handbag and producing something wrapped in a handkerchief.  She began unwrapping it to reveal a yellowish tan object.

Ella leaned closer for a better look.  At first she wasn’t sure what she was looking at and then she caught its scent.

“Is that ginger?”  she asked puzzled.

“Yes my dear, it is indeed.  I have taken the time to skin it and carve it into a suitable plug shape especially for you”.

“What are you going to do with it?” asked Ella eyes growing wide with suspicion.

“Why I am going to do just what our ancestors did when a woman behaved like a little hussy.  Have you heard of figging my dear sister? If you think with your lady parts, then I shall teach you not to.  Now bend over”.

“What!”  spluttered Ella.

“You heard me.  Bend over.  Unless of course you would prefer me to continue spanking you?  We have been gone some time now and someone is sure to come looking for us.  Imagine if it is uncle Victor who opens the door to the site of your bare bottom.  You will have to explain to him exactly why you are in this predicament.  Would you prefer that?”

Ella was horrified!

“If it is cousin Jack they send to fetch us, I doubt he will keep his mouth shut.  He will find the whole thing terribly amusing!”

“Ok, ok!”  Ella agreed in desperation, “I’ll do it!”  Her whole face rivaled tomatoes for redness, as she bent back over.  Even her ears burned crimson to match her bottom.

inserting-ginger-figgging-sydney-spankee-ck“That’s right dear, now arch your back so I have a good view of that bottom of yours.  Stand with your feet a foot apart. Quick smart!”  Irene clapped her hands smartly.

Disbelievingly, Ella obeyed.  She had gone through too much now to miss out on Greece.  If she did not commit to the ordeal until the end, all she had already suffered would be for nothing.  She had to submit to her jealous sister’s retribution.

Something cold, hard and moist slid up her thigh and between her legs.  Her sister’s warm fingers spread her gently but firmly open and she felt the tip of the ginger nestling against her lady parts.  Irene made sure to get ginger juice everywhere sensitive before gently pushing the root inside her sister.  She pushed it in deep but left the flared based on the outside for easy removal.  This method also ensured the ginger juices would rub against the most sensitive area near the opening.

“Stay there, I am not quite done.” commanded Irene.  Ella groaned.  What now?

She felt a second ginger root plug against her buttocks.  Where had that come from?

Irene slipped a knee between Ella’s thighs,  and use it to push them further apart.  Once Irene was happy that Ella’s position made her nicely open and available, she spread her buttocks without preamble. “Now remember you brought this on yourself sister dear” Irene smirked, as she began to roll the tip of the ginger root around Ella’s alarmed pucker.  Taking her time to work her sister’s hole open, she slowly inserted the second root in her bottom.  Two roots!

Ella couldn’t quite believe what was happening! It didn’t seem real. She felt so full and uncomfortable!

Reverting back to business-like efficiency, Irene pulled Ella’s underwear up over her smarting bottom and gave her buttock one last satisfied slap.

“If you are to prove that you are genuinely sorry, you will make recompense by wearing those ginger plugs for the rest of the meal.  Each time you feel them, you will remember that the shame of it is a reminder of the humiliation you put me through earlier.  The sensation of the roots will remind you to check your behaviour and ensure it is ladylike and modest.  However, you are not to change out of that dress!  You are to wear your bosom out for all to see for the rest of the meal, knowing what a disgrace you are.  You wanted to put yourself on display after all…”

Ella stood up slowly.  She felt the rough fibres of the ginger root nestled inside her.  It was a strange, hard feeling.  Even more disconcerting was that a part of her felt pleasure against her will.  Still she couldn’t believe her sister would do this to her!  It felt so invasive!

“Come now, we must get back.”  Irene grasped Ella by the arm and pushed her out into the hall in front of her so she could enjoy watching her sister trying to walk normally down the long hall towards the dining room.

corridorElla stumbled, straightened and then stepped carefully, keeping her back erect.  She tried walking one way, and then another but nothing seemed to make the alien objects feel any less intrusive.  One painstaking step after the other…  Try as she might, she couldn’t quite achieve a normal gate.

Irene laughed quietly.  “ Quickly now, they will be wondering where we have got to!”

Just as they walked through the entrance of the dining room, the burning sensation began.  Ella stumbled a little as stinging heat began to pulse in her most delicate of areas and her face blushed full sunset crimson.  Oh what was this new hell?  She longed to rub herself to get some relief.  She half turned to duck back into the hall.

“There you two are!” bellowed Harold in his American accent.  “We were about to send out a search party!”  The whole table turned to witness the two women’s entrance.  Ella felt their eyes burning into her.  She had never felt so naked!   With her bottom smarting and her privates on fire she was sure they all knew!  She was suddenly aware of how little her dress actually covered.

“Are you ok Ella dear?” asked her step mother, sounding concerned.  “You look rather unwell.”

Irene leaned in and hissed in Ella’s ear.  “You are to stay the whole meal and then meet me in daddy’s office afterwards for your finale or the deal is off.”
“No I’m fine, really.”  Ella unconvincingly replied to her step mother.  “Please I am fine.  Don’t let me hold you all up any longer.  Let’s begin the next course.”

She felt as though the distance to the dining table had suddenly extended to the length of a foot ball field.  She was sure that everyone could tell she was walking strangely and each awkward step seemed an exercise in slow motion humiliation.  Worse, she couldn’t hurry because each movement made more ginger juice release and mingled with her own natural juices, trickle down into every fold and crevice. Each sway of her hip as she walked made the burn became so much more intense.

Finally, after what seemed an age,  she reached her destination.  However, instead of relief she face a new ordeal.  She winced as she sat down on the hard chair.  Both her sore bottom and the movement of the slightly protruding ginger plugs reminded her rudely of her predicament.  She experimented, rocking backwards and forwards trying to find a comfortable position but it was no good.  As soon as one area got some relief, the other area experienced more pressure.   It took all her self control not to wriggle and fidget as another wave of burning ginger juice took effect.

Irene’s mood was utterly transformed from earlier.  She played the lady, all full of graciousness and banter, talking to all the guests.  No one would have guessed what had passed between the sister’s only moment before.  Or perhaps this marked change in both women would mean they did suspect… did they?  Ella blushed again hoping they did not.

quail-asparigus

She sat miserably at the table feeling terribly exposed.  She became ever so aware of her under-covered bosom just as Irene predicted.  She blushed whenever anyone spoke to her and was so polite and demur that Harold loudly exclaimed he thought her a different person to the sister-in-law-to-be he had been bantering with only twenty minutes before.  He had such a loud voice and kept drawing the attention of the whole gathering back to Ella over and over again.  However instead of enjoying it this time, she cringed and tried to deflect the attention back to her sister.

Irene’s eyes glittered with amusement as she watched Ella squirm under the attention she had previously enjoyed so much.  Despite this sign of Irene’s appeasement, each time Harold’s eyes lingered a split second longer than they should on Ella’s cleavage, Ella sense of dread increased.  What would happen to her when she was next alone in daddy’s study with Irene?

Ella’s senses were heightened and she became sensitive to everything around her.  Everything her family said seemed to be an accusation in disguise.  The meal dragged on.  Several people asked for second helpings of quail and asparagus, drawing out the process even longer.  Ella couldn’t concentrate and left her own meal hardly touched.

The worst of it was when Uncle Victor, the insufferable, self righteous, religious one of the family, leaned in close to her and began talking to her about the sermon he had particularly enjoyed last Sunday.  It was terribly confusing to have burning and, well, confusing feelings in her lady parts while her uncle was talking about the bible to her!

bible-smiteOh how he droned on, his eyes boring into her intensely!  His yellow teeth obliviously chattering a condemnation of her sins. Or at least that is what it seemed like to poor Ella but he couldn’t really know.   Could he?

“It isn’t in fashion to preach from the old testament any more but I find comfort in the clarity severity brings don’t you?”  He asked without waiting for an answer.  “The God of the old testament was much more decisive!  If one strayed from the path, He wasn’t afraid to send them swift and just retribution to bring them back in line.  He wasn’t caught in any namby pamby political correctness!  The Almighty is the very definition of justice!”

Did he know?  No! No? Of course he didn’t.  Did he?

Irene took perverse delight in asking Ella to pass her various things.  Usually directly after Harold had paid a little too much attention to Ella.  Irene deliberately chose objects that required Ella to lean forward and stretch out in order to comply.  This had the unpleasant effect of rocking the protruding parts of the ginger against the chair and starting another round of burning as more juice was released.  Ella was forced to smile politely at her sister as she passed her one object or another, all the while feeling a renewed alarming sensations in her nether regions.  Irene maintained piercing eye contact as she leaned back forcing Ella to lean ever further forward in order to achieve her task of passing the salt or sauce.

Finally, dessert was brought out and placed in front of each member of the family.  Baked pears with almonds and… “What is that lovely spicy flavour I detect Miss Brown?” asked cousin Jack.

pears“Cinnamon and ginger,”  she replied amicably.

This was just too much for poor Ella to bear.  She dropped her spoon with a loud clatter and it sprayed ginger covered pear juice all over the tablecloth before it clanged loudly to the floor.  This is the second time that evening that the carpets suffered new marks.

Of course, all the noisy fuss meant all eyes turned to Ella again and she was forced to struggle to keep her composure as she bent down to pick up the slippery silverware from the ground.  She wished the earth wold swallow her whole! The position she was forced to get in to reach for her spoon really did make certain hidden objects notably uncomfortable and she couldn’t help a small grunting moan escape her lips.  She felt sure she would die of shame right there.  With the private parts pulsing alarmingly and all eyes boring into her… Irene was stifling a laugh in her napkin…

Would it ever end?

Eventually it did. The last spoon scraped across the delicate china ware and the last morsel of desert was licked from the corner of aunt Rachel’s mouth.  The family began pushing back their chairs and moving away from the table.

Irene came around behind Ella and whispered in her ear.  “I think it is time for you to retire to the office.  I shall be a bit longer of course.  This time I expect you to assume the position properly.  Lean over the desk this time.  Expose your bottom in preparation for me and wait.”

Ella’s stomach sunk.  The desk!  That meant Irene had saved the worst till last.  She didn’t know if she could take anymore!  However, if she didn’t go through with it till the very end, all she had suffered would be for naught.  It seemed the further she got into this mess, the more committed she became to getting through till the end.  She couldn’t go back now.

Far more contritely, than her earlier brash self, she whispered quietly, “Yes Irene”.

“Yes who?” asked Irene with a meaningful eyebrow raise.

Ella’s heart skipped a beat.  Every one seemed busy talking amongst themselves and not paying attention, but what if someone overheard?  Still she didn’t dare refuse.

“Yes Maam”.  She said, madly blushing.

“Much better”.

****

Artemisia de Vine

Artemisia de Vine

As soon as Ella was alone she rubbed her poor burning parts.  How she had longed to all meal but hadn’t been able to.  The burning had settled down now but the uncomfortable roots remained in place, reminding her of their offensive effects.

This time, she did not dawdle.  She went straight to her father’s large wooden desk and leaned across it.  The cool leather felt soothing against her breasts.

As she reached down to lift her own skirts as per her instructions, she caught a glimpse of herself in the large mirror behind the desk.  In the reflection was also the large mirror behind her on the wall.  She was horrified to realised she could see herself from every humiliating angle.

Had her father done this deliberately?  How strange!

Still, unwilling to give Irene more ammunition, she hurriedly lifted her dress and lowered her underwear.  The little knobs of ginger protruded rudely but stayed in place.

And she waited… this time Irene was in no hurry.  Ella was left to look at herself in this humiliating position in all the mirrors and consider what had gotten her into this situation.

From this angle she could see that yes she really was exposing a dangerous amount of bosom.  When she leaned over like this, they very nearly fell right out!  She was unable to look away herself and had to concede that yes it was a rather distracting thing to wear to a family dinner.  No wonder Harold had been unable to stop peeking at her!

Still, she waited.  Her bottom exposed to the door.  Should anyone but Irene walk in she would but thoroughly humiliated indeed!

Finally she heard voices in the corridor.  It was Irene and who was that she was talking to?  She heard low talking and then loudly, “Ok good night dear!  I will be with you shortly.  I just have one last thing to finish up before I come to bed”.

Then in she walked.  Her eyes caught Ella’s in the reflection and held them like a spotlight…. Irene was fully exposed to her sister and felt about an inch tall.  She could not get away from that all seeing gaze.

Instead of walking in and closing the door behind her, Irene leaned against the door frame with one hand hiding something behind her back.   The effect sent panic through Ella.  Although no one was in the hall, anyone could wander by at any time… yet Irene seem unconcerned.

“And what have we learned this evening Ella?” She asked with disconcerting confidence, making no attempt to keep her voice down.  We will be going ahead with this next phase of discipline no matter how well you apologise but I hope you have had a very good think about your behaviour and have prepared a suitable apology because the severity of your next punishment depends entirely on how convinced I am.”

With that, she produced a cane from behind her back and flexed it suggestively.

“ The cane!  I have never been caned before!  Where on earth did you get a cane from?”

“From me,” said a male voice as another figure stepped through the door.  It was uncle Victor clothed in religious zeal, twitching nose radiating judgement!

His eyes darted down as he took in the full picture before him.  “Hmmm… quite the spectacle!  But then again you are used to making a spectacle of yourself aren’t you my dear.”  He said without emotion.

Ella felt a wave of humiliation rise like fire through her whole body.  Her hands automatically darted to pull down her dress and cover herself.

Electra Amore roleplays Irene & Artemisia de Vine play Ella

Electra Amore roleplays Irene & Artemisia de Vine play Ella

“Don’t you dare move sister!” warned Irene darting forward and placing the tip of the cane under Ella’s chin.

“Uncle Victor is daddy’s brother and since daddy can’t be here to pull you in line, I have had a good talk with Uncle Victor.  He too had noticed your outrageous behaviour of late and agreed something needed to be done about it.  You will stay in this position and be witnessed in your disgrace.
“It is my duty, of course, to preserve the harmony in this family as far as possible now that my brother has gone.  When Irene talked of your ongoing problematic behaviour earlier this week, we came up with a plan.”

“He had known!”  thought Ella,  “That hateful man!  Oh how Irene must be loving this!  She knows how much Uncle Victor gets under my skin.”

And then out loud, “Wait a minute! You planned this?  Earlier this week?!”

“Yes sister, we did.  Tonight is not a one off.  Your behaviour has been unacceptable for some time.  We knew that it would only be a matter of time before you did something we could make an example of.”

Electra roleplays Irene telling off Ella (Artemisia)

Electra roleplays Irene telling off Ella (Artemisia)

Ella fumed!  She had been tricked into this!  Yet she didn’t dare move.  There she was, bent over and exposed with the ginger roots effectively nailing her to the desk… the very punishment uncle Victor had told Irene about! Yet she dared not stand up.  She had come too far now.  She felt weak in the knees and grasped the edge of the desk with white knuckled desperation.

“Yes, while I am the man of this house now that your father is gone, it would have been inappropriate for me to administer this particular punishment.  We had to arrange it so that your sister would be the one to perform that little procedure.”

He continued, “Your grandfather used to dish out discipline to your father and I when we were growing up and it did us the world of good.  He was a strong believer that physical pain was not enough of a deterrent on its own.  He believed that a punishment should also be embarrassing in order to be effective and should suit the nature of the misdemeanour or character flaw.  Your flaw, is flaunting and mis-using your womanly wiles so this is the most appropriate way to purge you of this habit.  Your father was too lenient on you after your mother died Ella, and it shows.  I am here to make up for that lack.  I hope tonight’s demonstration has hit the mark.

Now, for your apology.  I am here to witness and decide the severity of your caning depending on how convinced we are that you have learned your lesson.”

Ella gulped.  She could see herself in all the mirrors and multiple reflections of her relatives too.  It seemed that the room was full of jealous sisters and looming religious zealot uncles, all witnessing her disgrace.  Fractal accusations of her character.  She had better make this good.

“I hadn’t realised that I had been causing such a problem!  It all seemed harmless to me but I see now that I have been selfish.  I have created distance between you and Harold, Irene, and for that I am sorry. I shall be much more considerate in future”.

Her words were met with silence.

“I really am sorry”.  She added hastily and was surprised to find she meant it.  “I was childish and inappropriate”.

After a little more silence, her uncle finally spoke.  “Do you agree that you caused pain to your sister and deserve to feel pain in return?

“Yes I suppose that is true.  Yes I do deserve to receive the cane.  The pain of losing Harold would have been far worse than canes.  I will accept my punishment.”

Irene nodded triumphantly.

“Six of the best and we will say no more of it,” pronounced uncle Victor.  He fully entered the room and finally shut the door behind him much to Ella’s relief.  He then sat down, sour faced in the red velvet chair and crossed his legs to observe proceedings.

Irene moved over and tested the cane by swishing it through the air.

“You will thank me after each stroke as before, counting as we go,” pronounced Irene.

“Yes Maam,”  replied a contrite Ella.

Electra Amore playing Irene & Artemisia de Vine playing Ella bare bottom

Electra Amore playing Irene & Artemisia de Vine playing Ella bare bottom

Irene stood to one side of her sister and reached down to hold her by the hips, adjusting Ella’s bottom so it was in the most convenient position.  She then began tapping the cane against her sister’s bottom to practice her aim.  It was still a little pink from her earlier spanking.  Irene took her time.  Then, the cane whizzed through the air and bit neatly into Ella’s flesh.

A red welt raised immediately and Ella gasped!  Even with her new attitude, she wasn’t ready for how much the cane would hurt and she nearly forgot to thank her sister.

“One thank you Ma’am, may I please have another?”  she wheezed trying to catch her breath.

Before she had time to gather herself fully, the next stroke was whirring through the air with surprising accuracy.  When had Irene learned to use the cane?

All thoughts of such matters quickly disappeared as the cane hit home of the third time.  Ella’s bottom was on fire!

“Three thank you ma’am, may I please have another”.

Uncle Victor was silent in his chair but Ella was keenly aware of his presence. His self righteousness crawled all over her skin.

Artemisia playing Ella

Artemisia playing Ella

Whoosh! The cane struck again. And again.

“Four thank you ma’am, may I please have another?” Moaned Ella

“Five thank you ma’am, may I please have another?”

And finally, pausing just for moment, Irene struck her sister one last time.

“Six thank you ma’am.”  cried Ella bursting into tears.  “I’m so sorry Irene.  I didn’t know how much I had hurt you.  I really didn’t.  I am sorry”.

“There, there” soothed Irene, rubbing her sister’s bottom in comfort.  “Shshshshs….  It’s all ok.  You’ve learned your lesson and everything will be alright now.

Artemisia as Ella: Six of the best!

Artemisia as Ella: Six of the best!

Irene’s hands were cool and soft on her Ella’s sore bottom caressing the six, neat, red welts in a row.  Ella felt strangely childlike being comforted like this and somehow it really did make her feel better.

“I don’t think you need these anymore either,” said Irene, as she slipped her fingers lower to get a grip on a protruding ginger root.  She gently tugged on it and removed the plug from her sister and dropped it in a near by wastepaper basket.  Then, running her fingers down, she felt for the other root and tenderly removed it too.

“I wonder what the cleaner will think of that!” She laughed gently as the second root joined the first.  Ella looked up at her sister through tear stained eyes and began to giggle too.  The two women turned and hugged closely,  Irene still rubbing poor Ella’s bottom.

Uncle Victor simply said, “Good.  Now kiss and make up like good girls”.    He leaned back, uncrossed and re-crossed his legs in irritating satisfaction as Irene wiped away Ella’s tears and the two women kissed affectionately on the lips.  Things were looking good for a harmonious Greek holiday.

***********
hug-afterwardsRead about Artemisia’s Grand Spanking Adventure coming up in London Oct-Nov 2016.

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Jul 252016
 

Artemisia de Vine discipline role play CKWarning, explicit pics and stories about Sydney-based Mistress Artemisia de Vine and her slave.

Her: “You didn’t!”

Me: “Oh yes I did!”

Her: “No way!”

Me:  “Yes, I absolutely did.  I superglued googly eyes to his cock”.

We two Mistresses laughed till we cried at the diabolical absurdity of it.  Tears literally streaming down our faces.  God I love my job!

Being a sadistic humiliatrix doesn’t always have to be terribly strict and stern.  Sometimes it is just damn entertaining.

Mistress Artemisia's Sydney slave CKThough the scene didn’t start out that way.  He kept me waiting 8mins and this is never a good idea.  I instructed him to enter the shared courtyard bathroom and strip naked.  His clothes were to be placed in a neat pile, with his tribute on top and he was to wait.  Cold…  Knowing it was a bathroom used by those in the offices downstairs…  He obediently waited.  He’s submitted to me several times before and knows it is best to obey…

When I eventually did throw the door open and help myself to his pile of clothes, he looked quite pale.  So nervous he was shaking.  I stood there fully clothed with the door open, knowing anyone could walk up at any time.  He had no where to hide.  I savored his panic and took my time…

“You made me wait 8 minutes!”  I said with a raised eyebrow.  I didn’t need to say another word as the point was clearly made.  His eyes darted behind me to check if anyone was there.

I slowly turned  and walked across the open courtyard.  It is semi private but should a neighbor from a nearby building happen to look at just that moment… I instructed him to walk behind me and I walked slowly and deliberately… him naked and me holding his clothes… him bereft of his only shield should someone walk up the stairs…

Finally I had him inside… His heart was racing, eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light.

I locked his clothes away…

“Today’s rules are very simple”, I said with a cocked head and seductively knowing smile.  I reached over and firmly cupped his chin, tipping his head up… my face inches from his.  Forced, intense eye contact.

“You are to remain erect at all times, but you are not to cum.  If you do cum, you will eat it of course.  I will make you lick every last morsel and we will continue anyway even though you are not aroused.  How you feel about it is irrelevant.  I don’t care if you are no longer enjoying our play because you are not horny.  You will obey anyway and I will not be returning your clothes until I am done with you.

Keeping an erection doesn’t sound too hard now does it?

“No Mistress”

Sydney slave edging, Mistress Artemisia CK“But you must keep that erection no matter what I do to you… We will be bring you right to the brink of climax again and again but you must not cum… This is called edging.  Do you agree to these terms?” I asked, deceptively seductive.  Afterall that sounds like a pleasurable session does it not?

“Yes Mistress”

I let a cruel smile spread slowly across my face as I held his gaze in a vice.  “Good,” I purred.

Now, now, dear readers I shall not give away all my secrets… You need to come submit to my whims to discover my tricks…

Suffice it to say that by the end he didn’t know if he was coming or going.  Two and a half hours of slowly building, pleasure, pain and desperation had him doing anything I wanted.

I had him desperate to keep his erection but made it terribly difficult by insisting he repeat back passages from “The History and Art of The Dominatrix” word for word.  Each mistake or incorrect word had… er… consequences…  Yet focusing on getting the reciting correct made it terribly difficult to maintain his erection… which also had consequences… painful ones.

Rather than opening up, this slave armors himself and steels himself against me… trying to endure everything I throw at him.  I needed him to open and surrender so I was distracting the part of his mind that is normally in the driver’s seat in order to let another part break on through… I did this by making that part of his mind focus on reciting while simultaneously overstimulating him in waves of sensations…  Sensory overload… anal and cock stimulation and torture… Sudden and intense pain…  alternating between nearly cumming and then experiencing pain to bring him back from the edge… over and over…

“The Dominatrix archetype overthrows social norms and conventions, upholding the female position of superiority and power”.  He recited with desperation in his voice…  Trying so hard to get every word correct to avoid that terrible no win, rock and hard place…  How I loved watching his struggle, not knowing what to focus on.

In the end all he could do was surrender…  by that stage he was delerious and he would humiliate and degrade himself in any way at all that pleased me…

Sydney slave superglue googly eyes CK…And what pleased me, amongst other things, was supergluing googly eyes to his cock.   Oh how I laughed and laughed!

His utter submission and eventual orgasm was cosmic.  His ego gave up and away he went… into subspace…

But that is not the end dear readers.  It is in the afterglow of this deliberate madness that some of the most profound things happen.  It is afterwards, in the still quietness where he lay broken and blissed on the floor…  Breathing the way I taught him… That is when he truly was free.

“There is no drug like this!  This is so different!  I haven’t ever felt like this before.  You’ve done it again Mistress!  I think you can’t possibly come up with something new to do me and yet you do every time! And every time we go further!  This is… there are no words… This is just wow!  You really really do know what you are doing.”

“Well done slave.  Well done.” I smile fondly as I stroke his forehead and let him soar.   I glow inside.  Peace, connection and bliss through perversion.   This is my art.

Feb 062015
 

 

Male slave kneeling storiesBlindfolded and on all fours he waited for instructions, his ears alert to every sound.

I waited, watching his shallow, sharp breathing.  He had offered himself to me in service and wanted to be trained to worship me just how I like it. Little did he know what that would actually mean.

I ran a finger deliberately down his spine, teasing his buttocks and then tickling his balls. Twining my fingers around them, I pulled the sack skin tight and quickly slid a tie around the base of his cock. With a twist here and there it wasn’t long before his package was snugly bound in a classic cock-tie that separated his balls from each other and from his penis. This held him stiff while also drawing the skin of each testicle taut, enhancing sensitivity.

“So you’d like the honor of worshipping my intimate nooks and crannies would you slave? My wet, velvety places?” I asked in an amused but seductive voice.

“Yes Mistress, very much so, Mistress”.

“There is a price you know. Such an honor does not come free. Are you willing to pay?”

“Yes Mistress, do whatever you like with me Mistress”.

Without hesitation the whirring of the cane sliced through the air and bit into his soft buttocks. Two, Three, Four, Five, Six in a row… Cold strokes with no warm up.

Slave yelped in pain and surprise but held his position with a dedicated determination to take whatever I dished out. While his efforts where admirable, if he thought that was the only price he would have to pay he was mistaken.

While the red welts were still blossoming across his bottom, I attached a rope to his cock-tie and I soon had his balls tied to the bed railing behind him.  This meant his cock and balls were tugged on if he tried to move at all.

I then sauntered around him to lay myself down in a luxurious pile of cushions in front of his bowed head.  I slipped my g-string off, flicking him in the face with it, and spread my legs… My pussy just out of reach…

“Can you smell that my dear slave? Take a deep breath and breathe me in. Does that smell good to you? How badly do you want to serve me? You can worship me if you can reach me… Prove to me that it is about my pleasure, not yours…”

He hesitated.  He longed to please me, to taste me, but he would have to strain against the cock and ball bondage in a very painful way to make me come.

He reach forward, struggling to reach me. He was clearly in quite some discomfort and couldn’t help moaning in pain as he endeavored to prove himself to me.

I moved slightly further away and laughed, “Come on slave, I thought you wanted to worship my pussy? I thought you said it wasn’t about your pleasure, it was only about mine?”

He groaned in dismay and strained to reach me, this time clearly in quite a lot of pain as the bondage pulled on his cock and balls. Still desperate to reach the holy grail nestled between my legs, he pushed himself…

“You know I take quite a long time to come slave, we could be here for a while… my clitoris is higher up… come a little closer…”

 

Mistress Artemisia de vine sassyBased on a real life session with Sydney-based Mistress Artemisia de Vine
Disclaimer: Don’t try this at home unless you’ve been shown how to tie the cock and balls in a way that will not damage the ductus deferens when tugged. See Artemisia’s  website here

Find out more about Slave training Goddess Worship Sessions here

Follow her on Twitter: @ArtemisiadeVine

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Jan 102015
 

 

 

Artemisia de Vine femdom Sydney CK logoDear Diary,

Today I enjoyed testing the flesh of a new slave.  I was in a cruel, sadistic mood and wanted to see what he would do to please Me.  I stripped him of his name and his eyesight by placing him in a hood and then made him prostrate himself before Me.  Slave position… Kneeling with forehead to the ground, hands out in front, palms up, offering himself to Me, his Mistress and his Queen… legs spread to expose his soft, vulnerable places for Me to inspect.

I reminded him that while wearing My collar, he is nothing but a vessel for My entertainment… That it wasn’t about his pleasure but all about Mine… and that I was in a petulantly bored sort of mood in desperate need of a diverting distraction.

He foolishly agreed to be my toy and I purred to Myself.  Let the games begin!

Mistress Artemisia slave sadistic sydney CKI soon had him trussed up, nicely vulnerable… exposed…  legs spread in the air and hands fastened securely above his head… helpless to escape but still able to move a little should he struggle.  This small amount of movement was intentional.  I had a little game planned for him.  I like to torment the mind as well as the body…

In our pre-play consultation, I had discovered slave particularly loathed golden showers.  Useful to know…

I placed marbles on his belly and told him that if he kept perfectly still no matter what I did to him and kept the marbles from rolling off, he would please Me and eventually be set free.  However if the marbles rolled off I would be displeased and he would have to drink My golden nectar.

exposed slave bondage sydney CKThis of course was a diverting game for Me.  I was a entertained for a good couple of hours…  I enjoyed visiting all sorts of teasing unpleasantness on him… nipple torture… cock and ball torture… different unexpected sensations from gentle stroking to sharp searing in delicate places…  and of course, with such a nicely exposed asshole I was too tempted not to torment it.

“Oh but slave, you should be honored to drink My golden nectar.  It is an elite vintage.  I could bottle it and sell it for a fortune.  Other slaves would be delighted to taste My tang on their tongue.  I should make you gargle it and guess the bouquet.  Can you hear Me drinking more water in preparation?  I am brewing a special batch just for you.”

To this slave however, the thought was revolting so the imagery kept him even more obediently still.  As much as I would enjoy forcing him to drink, I actually had other plans.  Torture is so much worse if you choose it yourself… To him drinking My urine was hell.  So much so that he would willingly beg Me to do other painful things to him, and dear diary, I do ever so love a begging slave.

Still while I had him nicely bound and psychologically tormented I may as well see what else I could get out of him.  There was no rush, I didn’t want the game to end too soon.  I wondered what dirty things were in the secret corners of his mind that he had never told a soul?    What things would make him he die of embarrassment  if his friends, team mates and colleagues knew?  I do like having leverage over My slaves and knowledge is power.

I gloved up and pretended to lube up his bottom in preparation for penetration.  However I instead of lube I used a generous amount of deep heat, massaging it into his delicate pucker and slathering his balls with it.  I then stood back and waited for him to realise what I had done.

Artemisia's slave Sydney hood CKIt didn’t take long… Soon whimpering began to escape his lips and he looked distinctly uncomfortable.

The marbles teetered dangerously but slave was determined not to taste My urine.  He managed keep them balanced in a neat row on his quivering flesh.

“Your bottom is looking nice and vulnerable slave?  How is it feeling?”  I asked in amused mock sympathy.

“It burns like nothing else Mistress!” He said breathing sharply and clearly miserably but still determined to prove himself to Me.

“Oh good.  That pleases Me. Though… it is a rather tight hole…  I think it needs stretching, don’t you?”

He gulped, not sure how to answer.

“What no answer slave?  I shall take that as a yes.  Unless…  unless of course you entertain Me in other ways?  I paused a moment to let hope simmer…  Perhaps you’d like to tell me a story? ”

“A story Mistress?”  His confusion was priceless.

sadist ass spreader speculum femdom BDSM CKI didn’t answer for a moment.  I lubed him up and penetrated him with my finger for a while, then inserted one of my favorite toys… the ass spreader…  He would have felt cold metal sliding into his anus.  Probably initially a relief against the burning… I gave the screw a few turns so it slowly began to open his hole, giving him a taste of what was to come.  His confusion about what was happening brought a smirk to My face.

“I tell you what slave, I will begin stretching your asshole open nice and wide.  You will soon want Me to stop.  When you have confessed to Me a dark secret fantasy you have never told a soul I will cease stretching and apply tabasco sauce.  This is a new level of burning but you will beg for Me to do it… unless you want Me to continue to open your hole wider… and wider… and wider…

In order for Me to stop stretching you, I must be convinced it is a true story you have fantasised about slave and I will know if you are lying.  If I am not convinced I will continue stretching until I am.  Your hole is delicate and tight so I would hurry up if I were you”.

A lovely dilemma.  He does not want more burning.  Chili on top of deep heat is significantly unpleasant but very soon the stretching would be so much worse.  Again, I do love it when slaves beg me to torture them…  The trick is to get them to beg for the lesser evil.  I also love humiliating them.

“What is more slave, I am going to make a little video of this.  I am going to record you confessing your perversions to Me.  Perhaps I will keep them secret and safe… perhaps I will put them on the internet for all to see… It depends on how well you please Me”.

I turned the screw a little more, widening his hole to show I meant business.

“Now begin.  Make it good”.

This was a terribly fun game for me!  It went on for some time, with Me slowly turning the screws and opening him wider and wider.

Needless to say I forced some very entertaining confessions from him…  Confessions that had him blushing furiously and Me laughing all the way.  I could tell he was blushing because even though he wore a hood his chest turned bright red.  Beads of sweat turned to riverlets on his flesh… He confessed about fantasising doing some truly dirty things with people who would be shocked if they found out.  I will keep this information in the vault for now…  This knowledge will prove useful in future I am sure.

chili Mistress Sydney anal tortureBy the end he was begging in earnest for Me to fuck him with a tabasco sauce covered dildo… Which I did with glee.  I pushed that chili covered phallus into his strectch and aching bottom, generously spreading more sauce on his sensitive pucker and some for his balls too.

Ooh didn’t slave squirm!    Yet as much as sweated and groaned, he obediently held still enough to not drop the marbles.   I laughed in delight the more he suffered for Me.

This amused Me for some time but Mistress always wins so the marbles had to fall.

I let him think he had almost won his freedom then, without warning, yanked the nipple clamps off.  He cried out in shock and an involuntary convulsion dislodged those marbles and sent them rolling across his flesh almost in slow motion… then one after the other there was an ominous clang and clatter as they dropped to the floor and rolled across My dungeon.

“Oh dear, slave, after trying so hard for hours it looks as though you will still have to drink My golden shower after all.  Not a drop is to be spilt…”

I let that simmer for a moment…  Slave whimpered in dismay…

“Unless of course you beg Me to cane the soles of your feet instead, and thank me for the privilege of being beaten.  What would you prefer slave?”

bastinado sydney mistress foot tortureBeating the soles of the feet is called  bastinado and is really quite intense.  I knew this slave was a sportsman who had to go running later that night… which would prove difficult with sore, bruised feet…

Predictably, slave was soon pleading with Me to use the cane on his soft tootsies…

I took my time to let anticipation build and then whoosh! The cane sung as it sliced the air and sunk into his restrained feet.  He was beautifully tied up in rope bondage with no hope of getting away from Me.   After each slice of pain, he shuddered and gasped, trying to get his breath back.  As soon as he could form the words he dutifully thanked Me for my sadistic attentions and begged for more.

“Stroke One, thank You Mistress, may i please have another…”

Another cruel thwack biting into his tender feet.

“Two thank You Mistress, may i please have another…”

More and more…

“Twenty four thank You Mistress, may i please have another…”  he whimpered, clearly unable to take much more.

Finally I was satisfied.

Well… not quite. I had one last cruel game to play before I sent him back out into the world.  I untied him and led him to the shower.  I had him stand there naked in front of Me.

“Now slave, would you like you to be allowed to cum today?”

“It’s up to You Mistress”.

“Yes I know it is up to Me, but would you like to?”

“Yes Mistress,” he answered uncertainly.

Good then perhaps I will reward you for suffering for Me.  Play with yourself and let me know when you are getting close to climaxing…  However remember I own you.  I own your cock and I own your cum.  You are not to cum without my permission, do you understand?

“Yes Mistress”

I watched him with My arms folded and an amused expression as he tugged away pathetically at his cock.  It was sore and red from the earlier cock-caning and other CBT ministrations but I have learned a man will walk through fire in order to be allowed to cum.  He played with himself, looking both embarrassed and turned on.  His cock began to stand to attention and it wasn’t long before it was straining and stiff.  I watched him start to get close… his eyes closing, his chest heaving and his face making a grimace like they all do when about to orgasm.

“May I please cum Mistress?  I am so close!  Please may I cum?”

Without warning I grabbed the shower hose and turned a full blast of icy water all over him, shocking him out of his arousal.

“Why of course not you dirty little slave!”  I laughed as I held the stream of water mercilessly on him while he scrambled into the corner to get away.  “Of course you can’t.  How entertaining that you thought this was about you!  It is of course all about Me.  Think about that as you struggle around the running track with sore feet and blue balls tonight.  Every step a reminder that you are here to serve Me.”

Based on a real session with Mistress Artemisia de Vine.

NOTE:  There are always layers upon layers of psychological play going on underneath the actual activities in any given scene.  Every scene is negotiated to suit the individual wiring of both myself and the person I am playing with and consent and de-brief is very much part of this process.  I am always struck by the beauty of someone who is so thoroughly cracked open in submission… the trust in me to guide them safetly through this torment…

Slave’s primary intention for the session was not to get horny. It was to submit. Horny feelings may or may not be part of that. What he needed was to truly believe he was not in control anymore and to let his ego go in surrender so he could fly. 

My role is to take on all the ego so he can be free of his…  There is great pleasure in power tripping… Win/win really.  Ironically we end up in the same place… He gets there through the back door while I get there through the front.  There is magic in the intimacy of Domination and submission. 

Mistress Artemisia de vine sassyABOUT THE AUTHOR: Artemisia de Vine is a Sydney-based, professional Domme and switch who specialises in BDSM with awareness.  She is passionate about tuning into the unique erotic wiring of each individual she plays with to create imaginative scenes relevent to their personal journey.  She loves to explore pleasure, the Mysteries of Existence and just what fabulous madness is possible when we peak under the covers of civilised behaviour and nudge our boundaries.   She accesses all the aspects of human nature normally forbidden to us in everyday life, like humiliation, shame, fear, cruelty and power but does so from a place of compassion, consciousness and intension for the holistic well-being of all involved.  She is at heart, a kinky shadow worker exploring the ways in which owning our dark side can make us whole.

If the link between BDSM and shadow work intrigues you, you may be interested in reading this blog on Conscious Kink and Humiliation Play.

Another play scene story that may intrigue you: BDSM as Theatre of the Soul: An erotic tale of Sadistic Degradation

And A tale of public Humiliation
A
nd Dear Diary, Today I made my slave…

Website: www.consciouskink.com
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Sep 272014
 

Professional Disciplinarian SydneyPart Two of a spanking story based on a real domestic discipline and corporal punishment role plays I do with some of my clients.  The basic premise of the script is their idea.  They choose to play the errant husband who wants to be punished by their sister-in-law for taking their wife for granted…. Or very similar variations on the same theme…  Contains adult themes, over-the-knee (OTK) bare bottom hand spanking, caning, corner time, behavior correction, humiliation, coercion, sexism and forced cross-dressing.  


Start with PART ONE here: bare bottomed, OTK, hand spanking…

‘Bend over and place your palms flat in front of you Paul,‘  I said pointing to the solidly constructed wooden table.

He appeared to steal himself for what he knew was coming next but to his credit his did not protest.  Perhaps he thought it best to get it over with.  He laid himself over the table, red spanked bottom poking out from under his business shirt and splayed his fingers out in front of him.

I rummaged around in the draw for a moment watching with amusement as Paul’s head cocked to the side trying to work out what I was doing.  He didn’t dare turn around to look.

Eventually I found what I was looking for and hummed to myself as I walked slowly up behind him, black heels clicking ominously on the tiles.  I bent down close so he could feel the warmth of my breath against his ear as I quietly but firmly explained what was going to happen next.

‘See these marbles?’ I asked holding two large, multi-coloured class orbs in front of his face.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes who?‘

‘Yes Ma’am,‘  He quickly corrected himself.

‘That’s better.  I am going to place these on the backs of your fingers,’ I said following through as I spoke, ‘They need to stay there without rolling off while you receive your discipline.  Each time they roll off we will add another cane stroke to your set.  You currently have two sets of 6 to get through.  Do you understand?’

‘Yes Ma’am‘  he said dismayed.

‘Good boy’.

I stood back up and slowly walked around the table and picked up the junior cane.  “We will start with the lighter of the two since this is your first time”, I said bending the flexible rattan for dramatic effect.

I walked back out of his line of sight, each step deliberate and pronounced in the kitchen acoustics.

‘This is going to hurt.  A lot.  You are going to take it like a man because you know you deserve it and you want your wife back.  This is your penance,’ I stated with no room for argument.  ‘How well you do will have a direct effect on what I choose to tell Clara and you know my influence with her is strong’.

I paused to let that sink in.

‘Between each stroke you will breath all the way out and then when you have gained your composure, you will count the stroke and thank me for taking the time to correct your behavior.  You will say, “One thank you Ma’am, Two thank you Ma’am” and so forth.   Is that clear?

‘Yes Ma’am’, replied Paul with no hesitation this time.

‘Good because if you lose count or forget to thank me, we will begin that set again’.

Paul shifted his weight slightly but did not comment.

I lifted Paul’s shirt out of the way and folded it neatly back exposing him fully.  His bare bottom was swollen and red but as yet unmarked in any way that would last more than a few hours.  It was time to correct this.

‘We tend to remember the lessons that are seared into our flesh Paul”, I said  finding my stance and getting the measure of my swing.  I tapped the cane lightly across both cheeks.
Then taking my time, I drew back and sliced through the air with a perfectly placed stroke.   vivid red welt blossoming across his bottom.

Paul’s sharp intake of breath made it clear he felt it.  Every inch of it.  He let his breath out hard and adjusted himself slightly but the marbles stayed balanced on the back of his hands.

“One thank you Ma’am,”  he said with stiff control that clearly took an effort.

I tapped to take aim again and then whoosh, the cane whipped through the air and landed half an inch below the first welt.

“Phewwww,”  he breathed but did not falter.  “Two thank you Ma’am”.
A third, then a fourth stroke biting into his skin and the already tender flesh beneath.  I could see him wincing and clenching his jaw but his hands remained perfectly still.

I laid out two more strokes with artistic precision.  ‘Five thank you Ma’am’  then ‘Six thank you Ma’am’, he managed to make it through the first round.

‘Good boy Paul.  I can see I am starting to get through to you.  Now tell me about what you have thought about.  How are you going to be proactive in making changes dramatic enough to make you worthy of my sister?’

He cleared his throat and offered, ‘I will definitely help more around the house’.

‘Help you say? To say you are helping implies that housework is your wife’s responsibility and you are assisting her in her duties.  That isn’t good enough.  I need you to understand that housework is as much your responsibility as it is hers.  Do you understand?’

‘Right yes, of course, you are right,’ he said hurriedly, realising his mistake too late.

I walked around the table and placed the junior cane down only to replace it with the senior cane.  Let’s mark this new resolution into your flesh with this, the most painful punishment you have received yet,’  I said, completely devoid of emotion. ‘Time you will thank me exactly as before after each stroke but you will also ask for another stroke to show me you are serious about mending your ways.

I found my stance and practiced my aim again while reminding Paul, ‘This stroke is to remind you that until I say otherwise, it is in fact now your duty to ensure the housework is done.  This is to make up for all the years you have taken Clara for granted, you will now take the role she used to take and if you are lucky she may “help” you every now and then.  Just like you used to “help” her.’

Without waiting for him to agree I pulled back my arm and laid a hard fast stroke right across his bottom.  This time, he couldn’t keep silent.  A jagged moan involuntarily escaped his lips and the marbles wobbled dangerously on the backs of his fingers.

It took him several moments before he gathered himself enough to say, ‘One thank you Ma’am, may I please have another?’

I smiled to myself.  Now my methods were really starting to take effect.  ‘Good.  Let’s see what else you have learned.  What else are you going to do to change your behavior?  Make it good.‘

‘Er… I will be more grateful, especially for Clara’s cooking’.

‘Yes you will, and in order to really value the effort put into cooking, you will now cook as often as you expected Clara to for the foreseeable future.  You will even make a special effort to learn great recipes for her favorite dishes and slave away for hours to lay on three course meals for her and her friends to help her socially network.  You can do this on top of your full time job just like Clara used to do for you.  Do you understand?’.

‘Yes Ma’am!‘ he replied unwilling to argue.

‘I will visit unannounced to spot check you cooking is up to scratch’.

The cane whistled through the air and sliced into his bottom with vicious precision.  His body shuddered  under the impact and he eventually whimpered, ‘Two thank you Ma’am! may I please have another?’

‘Good.  Now what else have you learned?’

‘That I mustn’t demand intimate relations‘ he replied.

‘Correct.  After working all day in an office, coming home and doing the cooking and the housework while you rested with your feet up, the last thing a wife wants is intimate relations.  As part of making yourself worthy of Clara you will be signing up to learn the art of female arousal from a practitioner of the erotic arts and you will attend tantra classes together so you can learn how to truly pleasure a woman.  Not just pleasure, but connect to her, because funnily enough, it is not just about you.  May this cane stroke imprint that deeply on your flesh, ‘ I said as I took aim and delivered my hardest stroke yet.

Paul squirmed and let out a cry.  There was a rolling sound and a loud clunk as both marbles fell off his fingers, rolled across the table and skitted onto the tiles with an echoing clatter.  Instead of staying firmly on the table as requested, both his hands were now rubbing his bottom furiously.
‘Forgotten your instructions already I see,‘ I said calmly, hiding my amusement, ‘Both marbles on the floor! Looks like we will have to add two cane strokes to your total for this set, bringing it up to 8.  Six is the traditional number of course.  Just be grateful I am only adding two strokes and not adding two extra sets of six to keep things neat and tidy’.

Paul groaned.  ‘I can’t!’ he said.

‘Well you can stop at any point of course I reminded him, ‘but it would be a shame since you have come so far.  Five more strokes and you will be finished and my sister will consider taking you back.‘

There was silence as he considered this.

‘‘Pick up the marbles Paul,‘ I said with deathly calm.

He looked at me with concern in his eyes but immediately dropped to his knees to search for the glass spheres.  I just watched and waited, arms folded.

Eventually he found them and presented them to me.

This time he bent over the table without being asked.  I replaced the marbles on the backs of his fingers, leaning in close, brushing against him.
‘What else have you learned Paul?’

He was straining to come up with anything now.  His distress was a playing across the theatre of his face.

‘May I suggest that perhaps this cane stroke could remind you not be so consumed with yourself and your work but also make Clara a priority in your life?’

‘Yes, yes of course!‘  he agreed, relieved to be given a clue. ‘I will pay her much more attention and listen to her feelings and all that,‘  he said guessing at what was required of him.

‘Something like that,‘ I replied amused.  ‘You will no longer only think about how Clara plays the support role to your dreams and passions but will actively play the support role to hers.  That means attending her work functions and listening to the things that are important to her.  It also means arranging to take Clara out to the kinds of entertainment she enjoys.  You will be the perfect opera date for her without a hint that you are bored or disinterested.  Is that clear?’

‘Yes Ma’am,‘ he gulped.

I took aim and delivered the next two strokes in quick succession, cruelly on the same spot.  This was a new level of pain for Paul and he reeled but did not slump for shear terror at the prospect of losing the marbles and having more strokes added to his sentence.

“Four and five thank you Ma’am! May I please have another?’

‘Good I thought to myself.  He really must care for my sister after all to endure this to be given a chance to get back together with her.  At his core he wasn’t a bad man.  He was just spoilt.  Luckily for him there is a cure for spoilt.

‘Repeat after me Paul, “Clara deserves to be treated like the Goddess she is!”

Without hesitation he repeated my words back to me and judging by the tremble in his voice, he actually meant it.

‘Good man,’ I said rewarding him by no longer calling him a ‘boy’ in acknowledgement he was now beginning to behave like an adult.

The last three strokes were no less severe but I no longer tormented him with penance.  I delivered smarting blow one after the other giving him just enough time to gasp and thank me.  Six, seven and finally with a solid crack eight.

He let out sob before he could gather himself.  I nodded to myself in satisfaction.  I had made an impression.  Paul’s re-wiring was under way.

I removed marbles from hands and he sat down with a thump only to spring straight back up again when he realised how sore his bottom was.   He attempted to hide the fact that there were tears in his eyes, and discretely blew his nose into a tissue.  I didn’t say a word until he finished and stood uncertainly waiting to be instructed.

‘Paul, I am going to call Clara and have her pick you up.  In the meantime I want to you to put your trousers back on and stand in corner and wait for her to arrive.  I suggest you use that time to think up the very best apology you can muster’.

He looked miserable but bent down to retrieve his underwear obediently.

‘No not those underwear Paul,‘ I said confiscating his cotton briefs, ‘These ones’.  I held up a pair of pink lacy panties.  You will wear nothing but lady’s knickers until you learn to respect femininity.  You will wear them to work under your expensive suits and you will wear them at home as you do the housework.  They will serve as a reminder to self-correct your behavior as out go about your business.’

Paul’s eyes widened in disbelief at this indignity.  He stood there for a moment then reached over and picked up the lingerie I offered him fir thumb and forefinger as though they would burn him.  His face burned with embarrassment and his jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth but he dared not utter a protest.  He slowly bent down and slipped the offending hot pink panties on, pulling them up over his smarting bottom, dressed himself agin in his neat pinstripe trousers and belt and placed himself in the corner.

The image of him standing there, nose to the wall, waiting patiently was the image of an entirely new Paul.  His re-programming was well under way.
***
A week later I spoke to Clara on the phone.  ‘How are things going with Paul?‘ I asked.

‘Amazing! gushed Clara.  ‘I don’t know what you did to him but it has been all flowers, attentiveness ever since he came back from your place.  He cooks *and* does the dishes!  There have been a few small slip ups where he drifted back into his habitual ways but all I had to do was mention that perhaps he needed some more sister-in-law therapy and he pulled himself into line quick smart!  Just goes to show that your unconventional methods really work.’

Professional Disciplinarian SydneyAbout the Author:  Artemisia de Vine is a Sydney-based professional disciplinarian pasionate about all things spanking, domestic discipline and corporal punishment.  She is a true switch and plays the role of both Spanker and Spankee.  She specialises in traditional domestic scenes, from the playful to the intense including behavior correction, role play and ecstatic spanking sessions.  See more here…

Jun 082014
 

 

man suit spanking caning scene 1Sneak peek into a real life scene with professional spanking and discipline switch and spankee Artemisia de Vine.  Normally she dishes out the cane strokes but this time the tables are turned and she has to submit…

Bent over in this position, I could peer through my plump thighs and see his shiny black shoes peeking out from the hem of his impeccably pressed trousers… a part of his three-piece suit.   I could also see the cane he held firmly in his hand.  I felt a surge of fear and excitement.

artemisia sydney spankee bottom cane logoI had been elegantly dressed for an evening out but instead I now found myself in a very compromising position.  I was bent over the table with my dress hiked up to my waist exposing my panties.   The tastefully seductive ones I save for special occasions that match my stay up stockings.

He stood there silent, letting me feel the moment.  My heart racing and my cheeks red with the embarrassment at being treated in such a humiliating way.  I felt indignant but part of me was reluctantly thrilled.  Spinning on such a cocktail of warring emotions I felt so alive…  Every moment a sip of eternity… My full being alert and wondering what would happen next.

After what seemed an age, he leaned down over me.  I could feel his masculine body pressing against mine…The crispness of his suit against my skin…  his breath against my neck.

“I want you to be a good girl and hold that position while I spank your bottom until its very sore and red,”  he whispered, every word quietly authoritative and deliberate.  “Then I am going to cane you.  You cannot get out of the cane.  Those searing welts will bite into your flesh.  However, how many strokes you get depends on how well you take my spanking, do you understand?”

I gulped, knowing I was about to experience pain.  Fear and embarrassment surged through me but also a desire to please him.  To take it well.  Just because he wanted me to…

“Do you understand?” he repeated sternly.

I forced the words out my throat,  “Yess, yes Sir”.

******

Snippet from a real life switch, spanking and discipline play scene where the tables were turned and I had to submit to what I normally dish out…   What would you do in his situation?  What would you do in mine?

If this sort of play appeals to you read about sessions available here…  

I know, I know, that was a terrible tease wasn’t it!  Here is a full domesstic discipline spanking and caning story I wrote about Paul who is punished by his sister in law for taking his wife for granted.

Nov 212013
 

Artemisia de Vine antique queen final kinklogoIt has been four years since I became a full-time sexuality professional… a whore.  Wow what an incredible journey it has been!  I have grown so much as a person and as a professional to become the Goddess of Conscious Kink and the Erotic Arts I am today.  I have worked under many names and in many different roles and learned a wide variety of erotic arts from feathers to whips…  following the erotic cookie crumbs on a journey of sweat, flesh, cum and self discovery.

This morning I let my mind drift back in time to a pivotal moment a couple of years before I decided to enter the adult industry.  I now see that it was my initiation into whoredom.  The memory touched me so much I wept.  I want to share it with you.  I want to honor the people who may not realise they played a part in making me who I am.

I’ve always been a sexually curious adventurer.  My friends would say, “Can’t you talk about anything else besides sex?”  I’d be quite baffled at that.  It was my passion and fascination.  It was my thing.  I’ve also always been drawn to look into the “whys” and “hows” of the human psyche.  It became a natural thing for me to want to explore sexuality with awareness.   However it has been a long journey and I started with practically no knowledge and a deep, destructive sense of shame due to my strict upbringing.

My adventures in self discovery led me to try all sorts of outrageous things… BDSM, swinging, group sex, ritual sex, exhibitionism and more.  You name it, I tried it.  I lost count of how many lovers of all genders I’d had well and truly before I turned professional.  Through it all I remained a spiritual being who aimed to have integrity.  Oh I made mistakes aplenty, but my intention was to remain in integrity for my own well-being and for that of my play partners.

One day I flicked through the Melbourne Kink Festival program and saw that there was going to be a women-only night at the local gay sauna and sex-on-site venue.  I’d been there before on mixed nights and it was a beautiful set up.  Gorgeous pool with Grecian pillars and palms… Large spa… Sauna… and a variety of booths upstairs for sexy play time.  There was the porn room… A few group sex rooms… private booths… sex swings… glory hole boxes (where I met a man who was to become my partner for two years when he did such a good job licking my clit… but that’s another story).

The thought of this place filled with naked women exploring together certainly appealed to me.  I have a wide variety of friends and connections to lots of different social scenes.  That day I decided to invite a whole bunch of friends who identified as pagans to some degree or another.  While I do not identify as  pagan as such, there is overlap in my way of thinking and theirs and I have a great love of wild, irreverent, loving, earth-based spirituality folk.  I wondered what would happen if we mixed nudity, the relaxation of skinny dipping and the freedom to be sexual with a bunch of folk who enjoy ritual, spirituality and erotic exploration.

The night started as expected.  A few drinks, relaxing and gossiping in the spa… letting water relax the muscles… feeling it froth and bubble in interesting places…  We swam and romped on big floaty toys in the pool, laughed and let our hair down.

In ones and twos a few folk wandered off to explore the hidden, dark crevices upstairs.  I wasn’t really in that head space yet so decided to check out the sauna.

As I entered it was suddenly very dark.  It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but even then all I could see was clouds of steam and hints of shadowy figures. I guess it was designed to make sex anonymous because I couldn’t see who else was in there.  I was aware of several other figures, the smell of wet cedar, eucalyptus and the distinct aroma of naked female bodies.

A little more easily discernible was a flat concrete slab in the centre of the room with four columns reaching to the ceiling, one on each corner.  To the eyes of pagans this looks very much like an alter.  Without hesitation I plonked myself down right in the centre of it and stretched my legs luxuriously apart, resting one foot on each pillar.

I hadn’t really thought it through.  I wasn’t really aiming for any sexual encounter to be honest.  I just saw the “alter” and that was my natural reaction to it.  I sank down, breathing in the steam and looking up at the tiny blue pin pricks of star-like lights in the ceiling above me.

There was suddenly bright light and a rush of cold air as someone else entered… then another… People were chatting in ways that seemed to me to be breaking the spell of the place.  Ordinary talk had no place here, I thought.  Here is a chance to let go of the normal way of thinking and sink into something else… Something primal and instinctual.

After a while the atmosphere seemed to win over and the chatter stopped.  I could hear breathing and was aware of my own steamy inhales and exhales.  My mind alternated between thinking in every day thoughts and drifting into the erotic dreamscape.

Then out of the silence it began.   A voice began quietly chanting the names of the Goddess as she appears in different cultures across time and space.

“Isis, Astarte, Diana… Hecate,Demeter, Kali, Innana…”  

This is the way of pagans.  A way to enter into that different head space and draw on the archetypal woman across history.

Another voice joined hers… Then another…  Soon I could hear women’s voices chanting from every corner of the room and I was in a sound bath in the center.  I felt goosebumps as their words washed through me.

Gently, a hand touched my ankle, giving me the chance to pull away if I wanted to but I invited it in.  Another hand gently stroked my arm… my forehead… My mind resisted letting go at first but I chose to stay with the experience and let it unfold.

More chanting and humming… more hands stroking my thighs and belly… So sensual and giving in their touch…  No thoughtless grabbing to take from my flesh… No this was an honoring… Their touch energised and aroused me.

The chanting began to naturally build in volume as the women let go of their inhibitions and just went with it.  Naked, free, letting their self expression pour out their throats and through their hands.  Someone began rubbing my feet and other hands massaged my breasts, tickling my nipples…  I felt arms slip around me, holding me so I could let go…  and the large, soft breasts of a woman  I recognised rested against the top of my head… As the others chanted, this remarkable woman, this self-identified red witch, began to whisper in my ear.   Her breath was warm against my lobes…

She played with words pictures and poetry to create impressions… snippets of things long ago… of myth… of legend… of temples to the Goddess where sacred prostitutes were once honored… of times when Goddesses were revered… she whispered of incense… flesh… spirit… of embodied, empowered women… menstrual blood… lovers entwined… erotic  pleasure… dance… the visceral and the ethereal…  Cunt… Whore… Slut… Spirit… Heart… as words of empowerment not degradation…

All the while the hands all around me, too many to count, stroked me all over… Yes they had reached my pussy now.   I was aroused but did not want to cum. It was not the kind of arousal one gets from sexual fantasy.  It was not even genital focused, although there were pleasurable sensations there don’t get me wrong!  This was more like an erotically fuelled, full body, heart and soul experience.  It was awakening all aspects of me with little erotic, electric impulses.  I felt like the bars of a radiator newly turned on, blossoming fiery red heat.

I have no idea how long I lay there and received this spontaneous blessing from my sisters.  It was both a lifetime and but a moment.  We all sensed something significant was happening but I didn’t bother my intellectual mind by trying to work it out.  I just let go… sunk down… opened up… became the moment…

I became aware my mind was thinking all sorts of strange things because it was overloaded… Where I was, wasn’t mind-territory and my mind couldn’t make sense of it.   It started bubbling up all sorts of silly things.  I giggled… then laughed… a great big release inside me… Stopped thinking and just experienced.

At some point the moment ended.  Without anyone leading, the hands began to slip away and the voices began to lower and eventually silence.  I lay there a little longer not knowing what to make of it.  I suddenly felt a little awkward to be honest and didn’t know what to do next.

I don’t remember how I left that situation.  I do remember wandering into a dark room upstairs not long afterwards and having a steamy encounter on a sex swing with a woman I didn’t know.   Off I went on my adventures of sexual self discovery again, this time with my body fully blessed, supported and honored…  Connected to sexual women since the beginning of time…  Connected to the dance of life everywhere.

Looking back now I see that as my initiation.  At least, one of my initiations into the work I currently offer the world.

Even though I rarely offer vaginal penetrative sex anymore in my professional services, I still love the word whore.  To me it draws on all the domintrices and professional kinksters of all stripes as well as  sex workers, erotic body workers, tantrikas, temple dancers, strippers, courtesans, street walkers, spankees, surrogates and all the other sexuality professionals through time.  These women, transfolks and men are my whore ancestors.  Like others call on their blood-line ancestors in times of celebration or hardship, I draw on my whore family.

The beautiful spontaneous moment that happened in the sauna has left its mark deep in my flesh… in my cells… in my atoms…  Although my current professional offerings centre mostly around BDSM, and other forms of kink play as well as conscious sexuality and erotic bodywork,  I have worked as a private escort, brothel worker and much more in the past.   I have experienced first hand what it is like to be reviled… cast out… called the scum of the earth, treated as though I am no longer human and even driven out of town because of my occupation. Mostly by people who are not clients but who are being self righteously whorephobic and consider me a threat just for existing.

Sex workers are my friends and number highly in the ranks of my chosen family.  We are a tight knit group because the every-day prejudice we endure forges battle bonds that run deep.

We give so much.  We are counsellors, pleasure bringers, sex educators, compassionate, affectionate company, slutty playmates that give permission to be fully sexual in a world where there is still shame around such things.

Like all professions, there are a wide variety of people in the adult industry, with a wide variety of mind sets and skill sets.  Some suited to the work and others not so much.  What we all have in common is prejudice and persecution world-wide.  Even where sex work is legal we can still be driven out of our homes, lose our kids, lose our day jobs, be socially ostracised, become unemployable…  Those in places where it is not legal suffer being forced underground where they are more vulnerable to violence and afraid to seek police help in case they are jailed themselves…. For, you know, performing mutually consensual acts with other adults…

I don’t need to go into it too much.  You know just how socially unacceptable it still is to be a sex worker.  Just take a moment to imagine telling your friends, family, current work place etc that you are a sex worker… Feel for a moment what that would be like…

To stand up and be who I am despite all that takes a lot.  To forge my own unique style of kink and sexuality services is a tricky job.  It’s also a deeply rewarding personal calling that has enriched me in more ways than I can count.

The world does not often honor people like me… but these women did.  They honored me deeply.   They may never know how important it is for people like me who follow their natural calling into whoredom to be so deeply honored.  I just want to thank them.  I still do not know exactly who they all were but I thank them from the bottom of my heart and from deep inside my cunt.

********************

Artemisia de Vine is currently writing a book about her adventures called “Lessons from a Whore” and another on “Conscious Kink“.   If you would like to keep track of her writing, join her mailing list or subscribe to her blog on her Conscious Kink website or her more sensual site for those interested in the Conscious Erotic Arts.   

All material in this blog is copyright. Picture is of Artemisia by Shane Light from Liquid Light Studios.  

Nov 122013
 

Mistress high heelsWe wore ordinary clothes to blend in.  Well almost.  I couldn’t resist a tight, shapely skirt, lashings of red lipstick, seamed stockings and elegant heels.   People tend to notice my very generous cleavage too so I never really blend in.   However I wasn’t in full dominatrix attire and he was dressed plainly in jeans and a t-shirt.

I calmly watched his nervous fingers fidget.  We met in a shopping centre and he had no idea what was going to happen next.  He just knew he had asked to be humiliated in public.  He tried to look casual but his chest rose and fell with the quickened breath of someone whose senses were on high alert.  Alive excitement…  Anticipation…  Fear…  I could smell it.

“Follow me” I said and slowly began walking through the shops.  There is no hurrying in heels that high so each step was deliberate and seductive.   He followed, eyes on my every movement.   Past cafes and boutiques, past stationary and tobacco shops  we walked those white tiles and flouro lit walk ways until we found ourselves at the supermarket.  Busy check outs whirring and bustling.

He looked at me waiting for me to speak… wondering what on earth I had in mind… the corners of my mouth curled in amusement.  I turned and walked in.  He followed me, his every fibre tuned into me, his Mistress.  I had his full attention and I intended to play with it.

We entered the fruit and vegetable section taking in the smells and sounds… and the shapes… yes the shapes…

supermarketI ran a finger provocatively over a zucchini and leaned down to look intently into his eyes.  With a voice low and throaty enough to only be heard by him I gave him his instructions.  “I want you to take your time and walk through the entire fruit and vegetable section until you find the largest phallic shaped vegetable here and bring it to me.   Make sure you get it right because there will be… consequences… if I find a larger one… ”

He paused, eyeing the people all around us, not quite sure.  I clapped twice sharply, “Off you go” I commanded loudly.    He skitted into action noticing the sudden attention being drawn to us.   Attention is like heat that can sizzle your skin and sear your bones.  We literally can feel people’s eyes on us and our bodies respond.  Energy is energy whether it is sexual energy or the energy of embarrassment… or more potent still, shame.  Some of us know how to weave that shame energy into pleasure by eroticising it and what an intense hit it can be!  I watched his face flush momentarily with a mini rush of  it.  Humiliation foreplay…

He walked around carefully looking at all the fruit and vegetables, occasionally picking one up to measure it against another.  I could see him both wanting to hurry up but also fearing getting it wrong.   Eventually he approached me with a very large cucumber.

“Are you sure that is the one you want to choose”?  I asked loudly enough for those around to overhear.   He hesitated, unsure, and then nodded.

marsian phallus 2I just looked at him a moment, giving nothing away.  I  then walked deliberately to the section he hadn’t noticed.   I held up a marsian green vegetable covered in little wart-like bumps. I didn’t even know the name of it.  It was the most bizarre, alien looking thing.  Long as my fore-arm and slightly wider.  I looked at him over the tip of it… “I suspect mines bigger than yours, wouldn’t you say?”

He gulped and nodded.  I let that sink in for a moment.

“I’ll just get you to hold onto that while we do a little more shopping,” I said suddenly deceptively casual. I handed him the marsian phallus, turned and walked off down the aisle with him trotting behind.   Without hesitation I walked straight to the personal hygiene aisle and stopped with a loud sigh in front of the lubricants.

“Pick one” I said pointing, “Oh and make it a big one because we are going to need a lot” .  I eyed the vegetable he was carrying.    He blushed bright as a christmas light but obediently grabbed a bottle.   He tried to hide it in his hands but it was still quite obvious what it was.   Again the corners of my mouth curled in amusement.

I took my time walking the different aisles looking at the merchandise, never paying much attention to my victim as he awkwardly followed me around carrying the marsian phallus and lube as inconspicuously as it is possible to carry such things.  There really are no shadows to hide in a flourescent-lit supermarket.  I let the tension build.

Eventually I stopped and asked him to meet me out the front of the supermarket after he had paid for his two items.   “No plastic bags as they are bad for the environment,” I purred with a wink.

cash registerI watched with amusement as he waited in line clutching his items while trying to look perfectly normal.  I enjoyed his struggle to buy everyday items while imagining everyone knew what they were for.  I could see him shift uncomfortably on his feet, keeping his eyes down… trying to make himself small…  There certainly were some raised eyebrows and amused looks as he stood there, seemingly forever, waiting for his turn to plonk the items down  in front of the cash register.

Finally it was his turn and he placed the items in front of the bored cashier.  She looked up  and what was in front of her registered in her mind.  She paused a moment, stifled a smile but then, to her credit, she carried on as normal but you could see her mind ticking over.  It’s hard not to make an association between the two items and my victim knew it.

“Do you want a bag for these?” she asked.  He risked a glance at me standing several metres away.  “Ah, no thanks” he stammered.  Time seemed to slow down excruciatingly as she processed the items.   My victim stood perfectly still,  but the scarlet creeping into his ears was a dead give away.  His body was rushing with embarrassment…  exposed…  tingles of humiliation rising through him… mind overloading as his feelings became so strong he could do nothing but experience them… desperately wishing he could run away but at the same time, loving it.

He hurriedly paid, dropping his money twice in his fumbling attempt to get out of the spotlight as quickly as possible.  He picked up the lube and alien cock-vegetable and rushed over to me, partly relieved that he was through the first ordeal but also clearly wondering what on earth was going to happen next.  His impulse was to rush off but I made him wait.  I just stood there and let him feel it for a moment.

“You look a little flushed dear” I said with a twinkle in my eye.

– by Artemisia de Vine –

See Part 2 to find out what happened next…

Note:  This story is based on a real session early in my career as a professional dominatrix and humiliatrix.  I specialise in play sessions that allow people to engage in their natural kinky wiring in an aware way.  I am often asked how I can both deeply care for my clients and also thoroughly enjoy humiliating them.  I have written a blog about that here… 

All material in this blog is copyright to Artemisia de Vine and may not be duplicated in anyway without express written permission.