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

 

Jul 262018
 

Her lip quivered slightly as she held her shaking hands out in front of her, palms up.  She stood there in nothing but her knickers and squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the stinging cane stroke I was about to deliver. I made her wait for it.

“A maid should carry herself with decorum at all times.  You should be aware of your surroundings and how you appear to Me.  Are you are a neat and appealing addition to My room or are you a cluttered, mess disturbing my equilibrium?  I expect My maids to move with grace and stand, kneel or sit in the proper positions as outlined by My protocol training.  Fidgeting is not tolerated.”

“Yes Mistress.  I apologise Mistress.  I will try harder.” she said blushing.

“Normally I cane your lovely plump bottom, but fidgeting hands are likely to remember to be still if they are throbbing and sore.” 

“Yes Mistress, You are right Mistress.”  She acquiesced, trying to make herself as agreeable as possible. Her arms were beginning to shake and droop a little.

“Hands out straight! Sloppy Missy! Sloppy and disappointing. I think I will double your punishment if you cannot take My instruction seriously!” 

Her face filled with alarm as she promptly lifted her arms back up straight out in front of her. 

Australian Disciplinarian

The cane whirred satisfyingly as it sliced through the air and landed sharply across both palms.  Missy cried out and involuntarily pulled her hands away. 

“Tutt, tutt.” I purred as I pulled them back into place.  “You know you are to present your palms willingly for your punishment.  The whole reason you are here is because you have no control over your posture.  Hold  your hands out straight and do not withdraw them.  You have six strokes, but each time you pull away, we will start at number one again.” 

“Yes Mistress, she said.  I had her full attention now. I like how pain does that.  A well delivered punishment not only corrects errant behaviour but also brings their wandering minds fully into the room with Me. No escaping My sharp attention.  

“Now remember to count and thank Me after each stroke.” 

Again the cane sliced through the air, finding its target  perfectly.  Again the maid’s responses were involuntary as she pulled her hands away and winced in pain. 

“One thank you Mistress, may I please have another?”

“I can see you are not taking My lessons seriously.  You should be grateful I am putting this time and effort into training you. I can see I am going to have to take this up a notch.”  I paused, then continued…

“Stand in the corner, with your nose touching the wall until I return.  She obediently did as she was told.  I sauntered over and placed a 50 cent coin between her nose and the wall. 

“Hands behind your back!”  I quickly locked the cuffs she permanently wore behind her.   “Now, don’t drop that coin.  I expect it to still be there when I return or your punishment will triple.” 

She began to sweat,  which of course, made that cursed coin even harder to hold in place.  I then bent down and pulled her knickers down.  There was evidence of her earlier caning in the form of neat welts on her milky buttocks.  I slipped a gloved finger between the crack.   

“Some say fidgeting means you have ants in your pants” I said.  I plan on training you to be perfectly elegant in your posture and movements no matter what is in your pants.  Do you hear Me?”

“Yes Mistress,” came the miserable reply. 

I gently massaged her tight little pucker and eased it open.  Confused she moaned at this pleasurable touch and struggled to keep the coin against the wall. 

“Arch your back and present your bottom to Me and whatever you do, do NOT fidget, am I clear?”

“Yes Mistress”  she said immediately opening her herself to My touch.  Her rounded hips and small waist were pleasing in this position. 

I slid my finger inside her and a small moan escaped her mouth.  She quivered and the coin came crashing to the floor. 

“My, my Missy, what am I going to do with you?” 

“I am sorry Mistress, I am so sorry.  I won’t do it again.  Please give me another chance?”  she begged.

“I plan on giving you a lesson you won’t forget in a hurry, young lady.”  I smirked, stern but enjoying Myself.

“Now pick up the coin with your mouth, kneel before Me and present it to Me.” 

She  crawled  on the floor with her hands still tied behind her back trying to get the coin in her mouth.  I leaned back to enjoy the view.

After while of scrambling about, her bare bottom bobbing in the air, she managed to get the coin in her mouth and knelt before Me.  I had her drop it in my hand.  It was wet from her saliva.  It would be even harder to hold against the wall now…

I reached down, cupped her chin and looked intently into her eyes.  “Now, you have been a disgrace with your training so far Missy.  You need to learn your place as My maid.  If you ever wish to earn the right to wear the colours of My house, The deVinery, as a fully trained service submissive and maid, you will need to try a lot harder.  Do you understand?”

“Yes Mistress,”  eagerness to obey in all her features.  “I really want to be the best maid I can be.  I really want You to be proud of me so I can serve Your guests and make Your life easier.  I am willing to submit to Your training and will do my very best to please You.”

“Good girl.  Now stand back in the corner and hold this coin in place with your nose no matter what I do to you.  Quick smart!”  I clapped my hands twice sharply. 

She leapt up and presented her bottom beautifully, nose pressed firmly against the wall, hands still cuffed behind her back. 

I slipped a gloved finger between her buttocks and began massaging her hole open again.  Missy strained with the effort of keeping still and quiet. 

I took My time… No need to rush… I was enjoying this game.  I want to train My service staff to be exactly who I want them to be.  I train servants of all genders.  They each have their appeal.   I enjoy the process of moulding them, body and mind.

Missy arched her back slightly more, trying to resist the urge to lean into my touch.  I slid something hard and cool between her cheeks.  It was slippery with oil.  Missy’s breath was sharp as I slid it into her bottom.  It took a moment before she reacted. 

Three, two, one… her skin flushed red and she really began to sweat in earnest. 

“Wha… what is that Mistress!” gasped Missy in confused alarm. 

You do not speak unless  you first ask permission to speak Missy.  You know better than that!”

“Sorry Mistress, permission to speak please Mistress?” 

“Yes you may speak.”

“It burns Mistress!  What is it?” 

It is a lovely ginger root, I peeled and carved into a butt plug for you and then coated in home made chilli oil.  Chilli from My own garden.  Aren’t you lucky!”

“Errrr… yes Mistress, thank You Mistress.  Oh Mistress, it burns!”

“Yes worse than ants in pants I imagine.  Now you will learn how to hold your correct posture and demeanour no matter what.  I can remind you again and again by applying this technique until you learn.  Thank Me for training you.” 

“Thank you Mistress.  Thank you for taking your time to train me properly.”  she said, breathlessly attempting to sound measured and polite. 

“Good, now hold that coin in place while I go and arrange the rest of your punishment.  You still need to receive your six strokes of the cane across your hands without fidgeting.” 

“Yes Mistress,” she gulped, sweat beads turning into rivulets on her forehead, knickers still bunched around her knees.

The corners of My mouth curled slightly in satisfaction as I left the room. I took my time and made Myself a lovely cup of tea and checked my messages.  I rested and enjoyed the afternoon sun refracting through the crystals hanging in my dining room window.  My herb garden was looking lovely!  Especially those bright red chillis. So nice to spend some quiet time to Myself for a moment.

When I judged my maid had spent enough time anticipating My return, and suspected her bottom had perplexed her enough to make her willing and compliant, and her imagination had gone wild with what I planned next, I rummaged through the pantry until I found what I was looking for. 

I re-entered the room and poured uncooked rice in a pile on the floor.  Missy was bent over in the corner.  The coin had obviously slipped down some so she was bent, shaking, trying to hold it in place.  This made an appealing view of her behind, with the tip of the ginger root protruding. 

I paused, silent and just watched for a full two minutes.  I enjoyed hearing her breathing reveal her struggle even as she remained as still as she could. 

“You may drop the coin now Missy.”  I said with casual unconcern.

She dropped it in relief and stood back up in the posture she had been trained to use when standing and waiting for orders.  Shoulder back, eyes down, feet neatly together. 

“Come here Missy”, I said clapping my hands sharply in summons.  She obeyed. She was alert to my every mood and movement, as a good maid should be.  There was nothing in her world but Me.  She was no longer distracted and fidgeting.  She was putting her full attention on what I wanted and how I wanted it. My training was working. 

“How is your bottom feeling Missy?” 

“It still burns Mistress”. 

Good, now kneel on the rice in front of Me and hold your hands out straight, palms up.  We are going to start again with the six of the best I promised you.  This time, your posture will be perfect and you will not flinch, am I clear?” 

“Yes Mistress.” 

She did as she was told and kneeled her bare knees on the rice on the hard tiled floor.  Each grain dug into her flesh.  Her bottom was on fire.  However, this time she held her arms out straight and presented her palms beautifully.

The cane sliced through the air and landed across her fingers.  Her body jolted with the pain of it but she did not withdraw her hands.  It took all her concentration, but she did it.  That is what I wanted from her.  I wanted her to put ALL of who she is into each moment of service to Me. 

“One thank You Mistress, may I please have another?”

Time slowed as again the cane sliced through the air and found its target.  I chose whether or not I wished to hit her palms or her fingers.  She resolutely held her arms out, submitting to My punishments. 

“Two thank You Mistress, may I please have another?“  Her pretty plump thighs shook with the effort to remain still, still kneeling on the grains of rice.  No doubt they were digging in against tender knee bones by now.  

Again I caned her, three, four and five times, pausing between each stroke to allow the dread the coming punishment to build. Her muscles shook and her face flushed with the effort of holding still but did not lose her posture.

“You know what they say about the last stroke don’t you Missy?”

“Yes Mistress, it is always the hardest,” she said, clearly attempting not to cry.

I paused even longer before the last stroke.  Her whole body was shaking now in the effort to hold still.  The rice was pushing the edge of what it was possible for her to bare, her bottom alarmingly on fire and her hands covered in angry welts. 

“What have you learned Missy?”

Tears began to flow.  “I have learned not fidget and that the protocol positions You teach me must be adhered to at all times,” she sobbed, “I have learned I must be graceful and aware of how I look to You at all times.” 

“Good girl.” I said satisfied and sent the final stroke flying through the air like a lightning bolt.

Missy cried out and began to cry uncontrollably but did not move an inch.  I was proud of her.  I watched her hold the position waiting for My command to release her.  I watched admiring her devotion shaking through every fibre of her being and enjoyed just how far she would go for Me.  There is a beautiful kind of intimacy in Dominance and submission.  I made her stay there so I could soak it in. 

“I am proud of you My girl.”  I whispered.  Her whole being glowed with the praise.  “You may drop your hands now and get off the rice. 

She crumpled on the floor in relief. 

“Now let Me give you a little reward.  My training is always a little carrot as well as a little stick. Get on all fours.” 

She did so without hesitation even though her knees were so very sore. She arched her back prettily to make her rump available to Me… Her knees the right width apart…  I straddled her, and used her as a seat, sitting close to her buttocks.  I stroked her sore bare bottom and murmured soothing sounds.  Then, when I was good and ready, I let the warm trickle of my golden nectar run down her buttocks and sooth her fiery red bottom.  She sobbed in gratitude.  My quivering, teary mess of a maid was covered in my golden shower, broken and obedient, as is proper. 

However, this is merely one lesson in a long series.  While she has been serving Me a little while now, she was still only early on in my Submissive Training Program.  I held her head and stroked her hair as she cried and clung to my ankle. 

“That’s enough for today”.  I purred.  “Your next lesson will be how to draw a bath of milk and honey and perform a proper bathing ceremony for Mistress. There is protocol for this that must be followed exactly.  However that is enough for now.  I am pleased with your progress.

Find out more about Mistress Artemisia’s upcoming Submissive Training Program by joining her mailing list and following Her on twitter

Find out more about Mistress Artemisia de Vine, Sydney’s Goddess of Elegant Perversion, BDSM & fetish.  Explore Her kinky world and discover the other types of sessions available.

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 012016
 

 

Spankee Artemisia de vine CK“We have our tickets to London young lady!”  announced Mr Possum.  “We are off to experience the spanking and corporal punishment scene like you always dreamed.”

“Then we have three months to get our bottoms in peak condition!  We shall just have to embark on a regular regime.”  I replied with cheek.

Although I am a professional disciplinarian and spankee switch here in Sydney, I know that Mr Possum usually likes to be one dishing out the discipline. Still, I will have you note, I have convinced him to try his own medicine on more than one occasion…

Our bottoms!”  He said in half mocking, half serious surprise.  “It is your bottom that needs conditioning!  You administer the cane to all those wayward gentlemen and only sometimes bend over for your own just deserts.  It is your bottom we shall have to prepare in earnest.  We can’t have you letting down the Australian side in London.  I’d be embarrassed if you couldn’t take it with the best of the English spankees.”

Wooden spoon spanking Artemisia Sydney CK“In London, nearly all the gentlemen are switches, Mr Possum.”  I replied with a meaningful eyebrow raise.  “We couldn’t have you letting down the side either…”  I am not sure if that is really true but it serves to wind him up.

And on goes our fun and friendly banter… Mr Possum may be a client of mine but we have found in each other a fabulous ally in our favourite spanking games and a mutual love of all things corporal punishment.

Artemisia de Vine cane corporal Sydney CK waistI call him Mr Possum because on our second session together, he bent me over, panties pulled down, and pointed to the very small tattoo of a Chinese character just above my left buttock.  In the manner of such things, I got ill considered ink when I was young and foolish and hadn’t heard of cultural appropriation.

“What is that!” he said pointing, his voice full of good humoured exasperation. “It says possum doesn’t it! You know how I feel about possums.   That most definitely deserves extra strokes of the strap!”

Artemisia spanks Zoe MontanaHe had earlier told me a terribly amusing story of his war against the possums in his back yard.  Apparently they had the audacity to poop on his fake grass near the pool.  He had tried all manner of things to stop them until one day he reached the end of his rope.

“I’ll show them!  Poop on my grass will they?  Well they can’t poop there if I cut down the damn tree now can they!  So I cut it down to spite them.” he said in smug satisfaction.

I laughed so hard at this image despite feeling very sorry for the poor possums.  He reminded me of one of the characters from the film, “Grumpy Old Men” going to war on neighbourhood annoyances, and now here I was copping a spanking fuelled by possum peevishness.  Ouch! Was my bottom red!  But oh how we both laughed and laughed over that one.

mr possum stunt model croppedI give all my clients nicknames in my head based on our experiences together so from that moment onwards, I mentally dubbed him Mr Possum.  It took me a few more play sessions together before I was game to confess this to him.  Oh boy did I cop another thrashing for that one!  Still, the name stuck and being a good humoured chap, Mr Possum has accepted the alias.

Spanking Switch Artemisia

Spanking Switch Artemisia

Our sessions together progressed with the natural delight one experiences when one finds another true spanking enthusiast.  We kept talking together about the London scene.  While my dear friend, Zoe Montana, tells me that London scene is no longer like it used to be in her days as a professional spanking model, it has, none the less, been built up in my mind as the ultimate place to go to explore the spanking scene.   It has been on my bucket list for some time to go and work/play.

vintage-suitcases-londonOne day Mr Possum came into some good financial fortune.  “You should spend it on a trip to London so we can go experience the spanking scenes together”.  I threw the comment out there not really thinking he would take is seriously.   Yet here we are, tickets to the UK in hand, beginning our grand spanking adventure.  I couldn’t be more delighted!

In honour of our trip, I have started to blog, detailing our experiences together, including our strict regime of regular discipline to makes sure our bottoms are well conditioned in time for our arrival on 9th October 2016.  We have 5 weeks to experience as much as we can.
With this in mind, I want to reach out to all my UK spanking contacts and those in the scene I am yet to befriend.  I would be so very delighted if you would aid Mr Possum and I in our spanking quest by inviting us to spanking parties, introducing us to the right people and generally pointing us in the right direction.

Mr Possum is currently doing his research to see which professional spankees he would like to visit.  I can vouch for him that he is a respectful gentleman who is fabulous to play with, even though he will leave your bottom rather sore.

From left to right Artemisia de Vine, Harper, Zoe Montana & Molly Malone

From left to right Artemisia de Vine, Harper, Zoe Montana & Molly Malone

I intend to place an advert on spankee finder as a switch because I always wanted to experience being a disciplinarian and spankee in London.  I understand there is a whole different culture around the scene than there is here in Australia.  I look forward to learning about it first hand.  The anthropologist in my is tickled pink.  (Yes I my degree was a major in Anthropology, but I found I preferred a career in kink).

Here in Sydney, I am also a professional Mistress.  I see the BDSM scene and the spanking scene as quite distinct from each other.  Each has its own intentions, practice and flavor.  Although there is overlap between the two, there are noticeably different cultures around each.  While our trip to London is primarily about experiencing the spanking and discipline scene, I also hope to peek into the BDSM scene, but that is a subject for another blog.

13127-artemisia-set01-055

Artemisia disciplining Molly Malone & Zoe Montana

Back to blushing bottoms and chastised disobedience.  As part of the blog I am starting for this trip, I am also starting a special section on my website for spanking stories, some of which I have written myself and others that have been written by my clients.

Mr Possum has written a fabulous series of spanking stories and I will be releasing one of them every week.   Read the first instalment of Jennifer’s embarrassing, fully naked, introduction to the strap by her lady friend and neighbour.

Chapter 1: Jennifer’s Transformation

Chapter 2: A Plan for Jennifer

Chapter 3:  Help for Jennifer

If you would like to submit your stories to my site, contact me here.

Lady spanked mirrorIMG_7257-2 copySome of my own stories are pure spanking scene and others of mine diverge a little.  I quite enjoy scenes that include the humiliation of punishment and sometimes stray into dubious territory of blackmail.  “If you don’t take this discipline, that you thoroughly deserve and is really for your own good, I will tell your parents… include the police… have to fire you… tell your wife… etc.”  Something about the humiliation of being forced to comply really works for me.  Corner time and being made to strip naked against all desire to keep dignity… oh yes!

Spankee Artemisia

Spankee Artemisia

Spanking stories, of course, are limited in that they only tap into the fantasy of spanking role plays.  In reality, spanking scenes can actually be a lot more varied than that.  Sometimes one just wants a sensual slow build up that leads to a crescendo of blissfully painful cane strokes… This can not only lead to a feeling of release but, with intentional breath work, can lead to quite deliriously ecstatic states of being.

Sometimes, one needs a thorough and harsh punishment that brooks no nonsense.  Sometimes one wants to tap into role play or re-live a favourite formative moment.  Sometimes spanking needs to be exactly just so in order to scratch a fetishistic itch.  I like to play with all these possibilities at different times.

If you would like to be part of Mr Possum’s, or my own, grand London spanking adventure, please do contact me to make arrangements.

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

Sign up for her mailing list

Nov 012014
 

 

Mistress Artemisia de vine sassyAs I shoved his face into my toilet and began to secure his head in place with plastic wrap he gagged a little and began to resist.   I grabbed a tuft of his sandy hair and pushed him back into position.  His naked knees scrambled on the shiny white tiles, hands struggling against leather restraints behind his back.  With no way to balance himself he was easy to push around.   He was forced to comply.

“I thought you said I could do whatever I liked to you slave? Are you taking back your promises so soon?”

“No Mistress,  I’ll try harder Mistress,”

“Yes you will… but soon you won’t exactly have much choice in the matter,”  I smiled to myself as a rush of sadistic pleasure coursed through my body.  I love this game.

I tugged on the collar around his neck,  slipping cold metal chains through the loops with an echoing clatter and then wrapping them around the toilet.  I soon had him chained to the cistern, padlocked in place, face squarely over the toilet bowl.  I slipped the key into my cleavage for safe keeping.

“Now you will really have to impress me to be let free slave, and I am going to test your resolve,”  I told him in a calm, slightly amused tone.

“Yes Mistress,”  he replied, his voice betraying his nervousness.

I shoved his face further into the toilet and resumed plastic-wrapping his head in place.   I could feel the power rush coming on, slowing everything down…  making me feel so alive… the throbbing in my veins became connected to the beat of all Life.  The sound of plastic being unrolled, became amplified, squeaking and straining as I stretched it up over the back of his head and down around the toilet bowl… passing it through underneath and back up around again…  round and round until he was unable to move his head at all.

I stood back, wiped the hint of moisture from my brow and admired my handy work, catching a glimpse of satisfaction on my face in the bathroom mirror.  I turned and stared at myself as I stood over my little silk worm snug in his perverted cocoon.

Mistress Artemisia de Vine crop logoMy womanly shape was highlighted by an elegant sheer slip while black fake fur draped my shoulders highlighting my excessive bosom.  The soft curves of my breasts swept down to a tightly corseted waist and widened again considerably to frame voluptuous hips and thighs.  I reached up and twisted the pearls around my neck fascinated by the way my wild blonde curls made me look so deceptively innocent.

I just adored the juxtaposition of such lady-like femininity against the flushed with raw power and cruelty on my face.   I was no mere girl, posing with a whip and looking pretty to tantalize men’s gaze.  My reflection showed a mature kind of attractiveness that can only come from those who have explored themselves… from those that carry an inner knowingness and calm confidence.   My beauty doesn’t come from picture-perfect features,  it comes from being a fully fledged woman in her power.

My attention returned to my slave.  A familiar visage.  Yet another powerful corporate man, naked and bent over in the perfect position to leave him feeling exposed and degraded.  His bottom poked out in easy swiping distance and his s0-called manhood, his cock and balls, dangled nice and vulnerable for me to reach should I so choose.  The way he was fastened there left no way for him to protect them from me…  and he was rock hard.  He was loving this even as he experience a myriad of challenging emotions.

This is what they don’t understand, I thought to myself.  Those sweet eyed, well-meaning, yoga folk and their conscious living.  They are all meditation and green juice but they do not understand that in order to really be whole, we have to own all of ourselves, dark twisted bits as well as the love and light.

Owning our shadow and creating a conscious relationship with it, is part of the spiritual path.   The dark side is in us… always there…  snarling in the depths… hidden in the corners of our hearts and minds…  We are All Things, us mad humans… We are consciousness in an animal body capable of every kind of horror and wonder under the sun…

The more we deny it by trying to control it or suppress it, the more is pops out in other areas of our lives…  and the more it controls us, taking the steering wheel from deep within our unconscious and creating havoc in unexpected areas of our lives. The dark-side butterfly effect.

Owning this aspect of me is what makes me whole.  BDSM is theatre of the soul where we live out all our archetypes… all of them get voice… With consent and awareness this kind of lust, cruelty and power play can lead us Home to ourselves.  Being filthy is the holiest thing I know how to do.

Without warning I stabbed air holes through the plastic with a skewer, sharp metal piercing jagged fissures right near his vulnerable face… him unable to move out of the way.  He could surrender and trust or remain in fear.

He jumped and strained but could not escape… he hadn’t let go yet… He was still holding onto control… to the illusion that he had an impact on the outcome of our play.  The blood pumping through his jugular veins pulsed at a rapid rate…  His breath was sharp and shallow in his chest fogging up the plastic-wrap… Adrenalin.

I let him brew for a while, anticipating what would happen next while I prepared the next part of our little game.  No doubt he could hear me opening draws, scraping metal implements against the bench top…

As I got out the ginger root I had been brewing in the fridge and began carving it into a suitable shape, I could feel the animal in my body mirroring my slave’s rush.   The smell of his fear mingled with the fiery pungency of ginger juice set off the cat-like sadist in me.  A primal urge within just wanted to toy with him… degrade and humiliate him… peeling away the masks of his ego and his resistance until the core of him was exposed…  This lawyer, used to being in control… stuck in his head justifying his existence through logic and rhetoric… denying and suppressing his emotions… his feelings… his instincts… yes, this lawyer was to be broken down.

My role was to bring him face to face with all of that, dragging him squirming and screaming to stare his vulnerability in the eye…  To shatter the illusion of order and control…   Initiate him into his very fear of helplessness, and ultimately, into facing his own inevitable Death… where he could finally surrender to the peace of the void beyond.  Freedom.  Home.

But he is not on this journey alone.  I may be acting as his guide but I am on a journey of my own.  There is pleasure seeing him stripped of his dignity.   There is pleasure in cruelty and in feeling powerful… In playing God.  When engaged with through conscious exchange of power like this, it can lead me Home too.

The game is this.  I strip his ego down until he submits and surrenders remembering who he really is under all the constructs while at the same time I build my own ego up until it is a fiery supernova, exploding and setting me free to be my core, authentic self.   We are both heading to the same destination… him through the front door and me through the back.

Mistress high heelsHe could no doubt hear my slow deliberate steps as my stiletto heels clicked ominously on the tiles, signalling my approach.  His body tensed, every sense alert.

I began speaking to him in a soothing, hypnotic, lullaby tone while I traced one finger down his spine… down the small of his back…  slipping between his buttocks… and circling the ring of his anus.  My voice and sensual touch a contradiction to my words…

“Now darling slave, I am going to make you suffer for my pleasure.  There is no escape from this so you may as well accept your fate.  I enjoy seeing you squirm, hearing you beg and knowing you are doing this in service to Me.  There is nowhere to go… no where to be… there is only Me.  I am your entire world… your entire Universe… until I choose to let you go.  Nothing else exists but your submission to Me and whatever I choose to inflict upon you.  Do you understand?”

He swallowed, sweat breaking out and glistening on the little blonde hairs on the back of his neck even as he leaned into the pleasure of my touch.

“Yes Mistress”

“Good boy”

I continued the hum of soothing sadistic lyrics, all the while massaging and opening his anal sphincters in preparation for my next little game.  I took my sweet time, allowing his hunger to be penetrated to grow.   I could feel myself entering ‘the zone’ in connection to him.  My words dripping like poisonous honey from my tongue, curling like incense smoke through the air… slipping into his ears and wrapping around his mind…  The wildness of the forest… both Mother and Destroyer entering his body…  The more he unfolded and floated, the more we became in synch…  My breath matching his…

The world disappeared and time became an irrelevant concept.  There was only us in this moment.

He began moaning in need, leaning into my finger in an attempt to get me to enter him.

“You like that don’t you little slave?  I think you want something from me don’t you?”

No words, just moaning…

“Oh you don’t want anything from me?  I guess this is all you will get then,”  I teased.

I pressed against his hole with pleasurable little pulses and waited while he worked through his confusion about how he was supposed to act.

“Yes Mistress, I do, but I am your slave to do with as You will.”

“I like it when you beg like the horny little slut you are, slave”.  I could feel his hope rising… his anticipation of being filled and fucked warring with his embarrassment at being made to speak his desires out loud.

“Is there something you would like from me slave?”  I asked again.

He leaned into me in an attempt to get out of saying the words, trying to show me what he wanted with his body rather than suffering the humiliation of begging.

I stopped all stimulation and stepped back, leaving him bereft of my touch.

“I will only ask you one more time, and if I do not hear what I want to hear then you will miss our entirely.  Now, is there something you want from me slave?”

“Yes Mistress, please fuck me Mistress”.

“Oh you want me to fuck you do you?,” I mocked, as I leaned back in and began to seduce his arse hole again.

“Yes Mistress”

“Well then you had better beg for it my pretty boy.  I do so enjoy seeing a powerful man on his hands and knees, face in the toilet, begging to be sodomised.  Please do entertain me before I get bored and wander off.”

“Please fuck me Mistress, please fuck me up the arse,”  he said, embarrassment and resistance making his voice faint.

“Louder please.  And tell me what a little whore you are.  How you will do anything to please me.”

“I am your little whore, Mistress! Please fuck me up the arse!  I will do anything you say Mistress, please just fuck me!”  he said with more conviction this time.

“Now we are getting somewhere, but I am not convinced yet.  I also want warn you that should I grant you this wish, there will be a price.  There is always a price.  Are you willing to pay it?”

“Yes Mistress!”  he was starting to sound more urgent, “Yes I will do anything you say, I am your little slut, your play thing.  Please degrade me, use me, do as you please to me!  I am yours Mistress.  Please fuck me!”

ginger butt plug, figgingWith a satisfied smirk I slipped the head of the newly carved ginger butt plug  into the opening of his hole and began easing it into him.  The effects of ginger take a while to kick in so at first he just writhed in pleasure, opening himself to me.

“Take a deep breath, then breathe all the way out and push down as though you are trying to push the toy out,” I instructed.  As he obeyed, I felt his sphincters relax and I slipped the rest of the ginger in.  The wide base held it firmly in place so it didn’t disappear altogether. I generously thrust it in and out stimulating his prostate and coating every sensitive area with fresh ginger juice.   He bucked with pleasure… to start with…

Then the burning began…

He became confused as his pleasure turned to intensity.

“Mistress!  It burns!  What is it Mistress?”

“What is it?  It is what I want it to be,”  I replied amused.

He began to writhe with a different kind of urgency now as he struggled to process this new experience.   I strapped the butt plug in place with rope and cleverly positioned knots, stood back, folded my arms and watched.  I was purring like the pussy who got the cream.  I do so love to watch a man struggle until he realises the full extent of his helplessness.

The burning built steadily in strength and with each passing minute his begging for me to remove the ginger increased.  He wriggled and strained against his restraints to no avail.

“Oh does that burn does it slave?”  I asked in mock innocence,  “I did tell you there would be a price didn’t I?  You thought it was all about your pleasure didn’t you slave.  Did you think because you paid a tribute for this session, I was here to get you off?  Actually, you are here to entertain Me.”

The more I mocked the harder his cock became, even as he suffered.  More importantly, his normal mind-state had shifted.  He was no longer dominated by the logical, ‘talking self’ part of his consciousness.  He was drifting into a different place within.

“Yes Mistress, I am Yours to do with as you please,”  he squeaked.

I reached down and pinched his nipple, hard, knowing that he would clench in sudden pain, squeezing more ginger juice out and setting off another level of burning.  I followed this sensation with a mixture of pleasurable cock sensations and volley of hard slaps against his buttocks.   Pleasure, pain, pause….

He grunted, his bottom blossomed with red hand prints and an endorphin rush kicked in moments later.   He was getting close now, I could feel it… close to the edge… he just needed a little shove and he would drop, deep, down into subspace and fly… and I would be right there with him, feeding off his reactions and riding high with my own twisted Top space.

“Oh poor slave, you are burning up.  Would you like me to cool you down?”

I didn’t wait for an answer.   I straddled his head, one leg over each side, my thighs pressing against his ears.

“Tell me again how you are just a thing to be used for my entertainment slave.  Tell me again how you are nothing but a fuck toy.  An object.  Owned body, mind and soul.

“Yes Mistress he cried out, inhibitions abandoned now, “I am everything you say.  I am Yours entirely!”

With that, I reached down, slipped my knickers to one side and spread my pussy lips wide open.  I felt the tingles of rushing energy through my body as the urge to urinate built until I could hold it not longer.  I began to relieve myself on his head…  As I let go of my very full bladder, another, more difficult to define, dam broke within me and I snarled with the pleasure of it. I was all powerful Goddess, marking My territory.  Piss splattered on the plastic wrap, forming yellow pools of urine…  and then showered steadily down through the carefully positioned air holes… pungent streams of piss trickling down his face, drenching him thoroughly…  Wayward rivulets entering the corners of his mouth which he licked at greedily, fully in his animal self now…

That was the trigger we both needed.  I felt his whole energy shift.  He just dropped in utter surrender with me riding his back all the way Home.  A moment of living awareness… of being all that is left when the social scripts and ego illusions are torn away…   Just being pure consciousness flying together in ecstasy.

This was not where we engaged in sexual climax to end the scene… This was just the launching pad…  Just the beginning of our play…

Mistress Artemisia de Vine Sydney Pro Domme AzureAbout 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. 

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…

Sep 272014
 

Australian Disciplinarian

Part One 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 that theme…  Contains adult themes, over-the-knee (OTK) bare bottom hand spanking, caning, corner time, behavior correction, humiliation, coercion, sexism and forced cross-dressing.

‘All of it!’ I said sternly, as he struggled to swallow another large mouthful of gloopy, cold porridge.   Paul, a lean but muscular man in his 40’s, loosened his imported grey & cream silk tie and looked up at me sullenly from his seat at the kitchen table.  He ran a hand through his cropped walnut hair with perfectly manicured fingers and wrinkled his nose in distaste.  He stared up at me, an unspoken protest in his hazel eyes and a crimson frustration on his pale white cheeks but chewed on with silent determination.

Out there, in the corporate world, he was a manager.  He was the type who was so self assured he never questioned his entitlement to bark orders, have others run his errands and to plonk himself down in the most comfortable seat without a thought for anyone else. He was used to having others do as he told them.

Here he obeyed me.  He didn’t dare not to.

‘Fifty chews before each swallow,‘ I ordered him,  ‘I want you to meditate on each mouthful and remember how you got yourself into this situation.’

He sighed heavily but obediently spooned another mouthful of claggy oats into his mouth and began chewing resentfully.   The sound of his rhythmic munching matched the ticking of the gilded clock on the wall above his head.  I counted in a clipped tone to ensure he knew I meant exactly what I had said.  50 chews.  No more, no less.

Two springy rattan canes rested on the bench in front of him reminding him of what was to come.  One junior cane, 8mm in diameter and 60cm long for so-called lighter strokes and one senior cane at 10 mm thick, 80cm long, heavy enough to make a decent impact on the flesh that one would not forget in a hurry.

Paul couldn’t get out of the punishment but how many cuts he received, depended on how well he took the rest of his discipline and how satisfied I was that he had learned his lesson.

I ran my palms down the thighs of my fitted skirt to straighten out imaginary wrinkles, cleared my throat in a prim, lady-like manner and leaned down towards him.  My cream shirt, though buttoned sensibly did little to hide my large round breasts.  Nothing I wore ever managed to hide them.  They just rebelliously protruded with alarming regularity.

‘After each mouthful is swallowed I want you to say, “I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again”, do you understand me?‘  I ordered in a calm, no nonsense tone.  ‘Your wife has sent you to me to correct the behavior that is destroying your relationship and you will not leave here until I am convinced your behavior is permanently corrected’.

He nodded, chewed for a little longer, swallowed and repeated quietly, ‘I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again’.

‘Loud and clear please, say it again so I can hear you properly’.

He blushed, an internal struggle on his face as he felt the injustice of his position.

I bent down to pick up the junior cane and flex it provocatively.  ‘It seems you are not taking this seriously Paul.  Perhaps you need six of the best to motivate you?  Stand up, drop your trousers’.

His eyes widened in protest, ‘But I did what you said!’ he complained.

‘Why are you arguing with me?  Is that doing as I say?’ I said with one raised eyebrow.  ‘Need I remind you that you agreed to this Paul?  It is unconventional marriage therapy but extremely effective.  You need to convince me you are thoroughly reformed before your wife, my sister, will take you back.  The more you resist, the longer this will take… and the redder your bottom will be.  I suggest you do not keep me waiting’.

He visibly swallowed the words he longed to say, this educated man used to having his own way…  Used to having female personal assistants do his bidding… Used to taking his wife for granted in a million little ways…

I calmly stared him down until he complied.  He stood up, pushed the wooden chair back making a dramatic scraping sound against the pristine white tiles and began fumbling with the clasp on his back leather belt.

‘Look is this really necessary?  Can’t you just cane me over my pants?‘  his embarrassment at being treated like a naughty little boy causing his voice to crack a little.

‘You do realise that delaying will do nothing to get you out of this Paul?‘ I replied ignoring his discomfort.

The strap will adjust your attitude

He sighed heavily again and removed the belt entirely, folding it neatly on the table  beside him and then when he could find nothing else left to delay the matter, he reluctantly dropped his perfectly creased, pinstriped pants. He stood there looking at me, waiting for his next instruction.

I let the corner of my mouth curl in the hint of a satisfied smile.  I leaned back, arms folded across my breasts and looked at the image before me.  Paul still had his crisp white office shirt and pinstriped vest on, his tie loosened around his neck but his pants made an appealing pool around his ankles and shiny, black polished shoes.  He looked distractingly appealing in those gray cotton briefs.  He was an attractive man.

He would make a beautiful husband for my sister Clara if he could only be taught to respect women.  He was single child whose mother had doted on him and he took his wife’s efforts in their relationship for granted as a result.  His attitude was also causing problems amongst the female staff at work.

What it came down to is that he was spoilt.  I am a firm believer that it is never too late to take a man over my knee and give him a sound spanking.  Strict discipline is thoroughly under-rated in today’s politically correct world.  I had seen my sister suffering in her relationship with Paul and eventually she became so exasperated that she came around to my way of thinking.  We had put our heads together to plot a way to get Paul the behavior correction he so clearly needed.

‘Since this is your first ever corporal punishment experience Paul, we will begin with a thorough hand spanking to warm up your flesh.  This is a kindness on my part for which you should be grateful.

He just stood there silently.

‘When someone is kind to you Paul, it is polite to say thank you’.
He hesitated.

‘Thank you,‘  he mumbled.

‘Thank you who?‘ I asked?

He just looked confused.

‘Thank you Ma’am,‘  I instructed. ‘For the remainder of our time together you will always refer to me as ma’am to remind you of your place’.

‘Yes… Yes, ma’am,‘ he said not sure if I was joking of not.  He would soon discover I was deadly serious.

Fetch me that chair,‘ I said pointing to the one he had previously occupied.

He complied, turning to give me a lovely view of his perfectly formed buttocks as he shuffled across the floor compensating for the fact that his pants were playing the part of shackles around his ankles.

He placed the chair in the centre of the room and stood back to give me access.  His full attention was on me.  This was an improvement from his usual oblivious selfishness.

Your bottom will smart for a week!

I, took my suit jacket off and hung it neatly over the back of the chair and sat down, straight backed and proper.  I rolled up my shirt sleeves, adjusted my pearl necklace and slid my skirt up a little to make myself more comfortable.  As I did so, a little more of my nylon clad thighs became visible.  I pretended not to notice and patted my leg.

“Lean over my lap Paul.  Place yourself so your bottom is in easy reach of my right hand’.

‘Yes.’

‘Yes who?‘  I purred dangerously.

‘Yes Ma’am,‘  He quickly corrected himself and awkwardly tried to lay himself over my lap.   I had to grasp his waist firmly and pull him closer to me to ensure he did not fall off.

This is for your own good you know Paul,‘ I said leaning forward and neatly pulling down his underwear to expose his pale round bottom.

‘Now look here,‘ said Paul wriggling himself free and standing up indignantly, ‘ I have agreed to submit to your unusual methods because it is the only way that I can get my wife back, but you are her sister!  My sister in law!  I have to see you at Christmas dinners and social events!  I did not not agree to be humiliated like this!  It is just not right that you pull down my underwear!’

‘You did agree to do whatever it takes to convince me you are worthy of Clara, Paul.  She is my little sister and looks up to my opinion in these matters.  If I tell her you are contrite and truly sorry then she will give you another chance.

However, you are right, you do not have to go ahead.  You can leave at any time.‘  I said picking up my mobile phone and searching for Clara’s number.   I soon found her plump smiling face in amongst my contacts.  Her deceptively cherubic face framed by neat blonde hair tied back in a sensible ponytail.

‘Look!’  I said holding up the phone so he could have a good look at her image.  Her large soft eyes, porcelain skin and impressive cleavage reminding him how much she meant to him.

Elegantly perverted Mistress Artemisia de Vine

She was definitely my sister!  We looked very much alike.  We both sported womanly curves, and a mature sort of attractiveness, though I was a little taller and 3 years older.  She was 35 now and running out of time to have children.  She needed  her husband to grow up so he could become good father material.  Something he clearly wasn’t going to be capable of if he was still acting like a child himself.

‘We can video call her right now and tell her you’ve called the whole thing off if you would prefer,’ I said matter-of-fact.

I pressed dial before he could answer and his eyes widened.  The phone took a moment to register and then began to ring.

One… then two rings…

‘No dont call her!  Just give me a minute!  Can’t we be reasonable about this?‘  He pleaded, trousers still around his ankles.

I just continued to hold the phone so he could clearly see it was still ringing while I calmly stared him down.  We both knew she could answer at any second.

‘Ok!  I’ll do it!  Just hang up.  I’ll do as you say.‘  he conceded desperately.

‘Yes you will,’ I smiled smugly, enjoying his consternation, and clicked the red disconnect button with my thumb.  ‘And for making such a fuss I have decided it will be two sets of six cane strokes.  Now quickly, stop wasting my time, bend over my lap’.

‘Yes… Ma’am’, he said remembering the Ma’am part just in time.

I tapped my foot impatiently on the tiles and nodded towards my thighs.  “Assume the position then.  Quick smart.”

He reluctantly complied, a look of disbelief that this was actually happening on his face.

Once he was firmly back in place, I sat there silent for just a moment, letting the anticipation build.  Paul had never been spanked in his life, let alone caned.  I was going to thoroughly enjoy breaking in his virgin bottom.

The stinging slap echoed through the kitchen, bouncing off the neat rows of china dishes and spice jars.   Paul jolted.

I remained silent and waited, letting the sensation sink in…  Letting the uncertainty of my next move build in his mind…

‘How many spanks will there be Ma’am?‘  he asked.

‘I think three rounds of three minutes each.  Each round will get a little firmer than the last until you are well and truly red and sore.  I will see if I think you need more at the end of that’.

‘Is that a lot Ma’am?‘  he asked, trying not to word his question in a way that would not provoke me further.

‘It is a light-average warm up.  Since this is your first time receiving this sort of discipline we will need to see how you bottom responds and proceed accordingly’.

I reached my hand into my jacket pocket, and retrieved an egg timer.  I then leaned down  and placed it in front of Paul on the floor.  ‘When the sand runs out we will stop for a break’.

Slap!  My cupped hand delivered another stinging blow, this time to his right buttock.  My hand print showed red against his snowy cheek.

Slowly at first I delivered a rhythmic succession of firm but not extraordinarily hard thwacks.  First one buttock and then the other… Paul was doing his best to take this alien experience with a manly stoicism.

No nonsense discipline

Smack! Smack! Smack!  I leisurely treated each cheek to equal treatment, pausing between each sharp slap to let Paul fully absorb the sensation.  He took his first ever hand spanking in stiff silence with his eyes fixed on the grains tumbling through the narrow necked egg timer.  Eventually the last granule slipped through and I ceased my first round.

Paul’s muscles relaxed and slumped forward.  I made a mental note.  We would need to work on his posture too but for now he had taken his punishment well.

‘Very good Paul.  We are beginning to get somewhere.  Two more rounds of that and then we will begin in earnest’.

He grunted but did not reply.  I gave his bottom a good rub since his hands were occupied holding himself up.  I generously kneaded for a good minute and then remembering how he had showed so little consideration for Clara, abruptly decided that was enough molly coddling.

‘Ok, now for round two’.

This time I did not wait for him to brace himself.  I just began a steady drumming against his flesh.  Faster this time and quite a lot harder.  He began to curl up on his toes, clench his buttocks and holding his breath but not making a sound.

Amused at his inexperience, I noticed how he was making things more difficult for himself. ‘It will hurt less if you remember to breath and relax your muscles Paul,’ I said over the top of stinging spanks. He didn’t pay any attention, too overwhelmed by the painful indignity he was being subjected to to comprehend what I was saying.  I just shrugged and continued to lay into his pretty flesh.

I steadily built the intensity as the punishment wore on.  By the end of two minutes he was twisting his hips slightly to get away from each blow.  As we got closer to three he began letting out involuntary grunts with each blow.

‘Ten seconds to go I said turning the heat up even further with a volley of smarting spanks.  I heard his gasp and he begin to wiggle as his composure started to slip.

Five more seconds… 4… 3… 2… 1…

His breath was a valve letting out bottled up steam as I stopped hitting him and gave his bottom another rub.  He slumped in momentary relief.

‘Do you remember why you are receiving this discipline Paul?‘
‘Yes Ma’am, for disrespecting my wife Ma’am’.  He said breathing faster than usual.

‘Yes that is correct, what was it you said about her cooking again?‘  I said reaching down into my briefcase and removing a printed out email.

‘I… I can’t remember exactly,’  more than a hint of nervousness in his voice.

‘Let me remind you then shall I?,”  I said using his back like it was my desk.  ‘You said, her champignon chowder was as flavorless as porridge.  Apparently your work colleagues found this rather amusing.  You all got a jolly laugh at her expense after she slaved away over a hot stove all afternoon for you.  Isn’t that right?’

‘Well yes when you put it that way it does sound rather bad.  I was just trying to get a laugh.  Lighten the tension you know.  It was important for the business deal’.

‘Is the business deal so important that you would sacrifice your Clara’s dignity to seal it?‘ I asked deceptively mildly.

‘Ah no, I guess not’.

‘She also has a full time job you know and yet every evening she comes home and cooks dinner for you both while you loosen your belt in front of the TV with your feet on the coffee table.  She goes to all the trouble of cooking a lovely meal for your work colleagues to help you seal the deal you so desperately want and all you can do is humiliate her by publicly making her the butt of a joke.  A joke in poor taste at that.  What do you have to say for yourself?’

‘Well, in my defense it really was a bland chowder,‘  he argued missing the point entirely.

I sighed, ‘ It looks as though I will need to clear my calendar for the rest of the week.  You are such a slow learner that we may need to repeat this process every evening until you finally understand the gravity of your behavior and how it is destroying your marriage’.

‘Look I am sorry.  I do get it.  It wasn’t a nice thing to say.  I will take care not to be so flippant in future,‘  Paul quickly corrected himself.

‘Hmmm… we’ll see,‘ I responded in a voice clearly unconvinced, running my fingers along the fold creases of the email.

It seems this problem is a lot deeper than just one incident though isn’t it.  There is a real pattern of behavior that needs correcting from the foundation up.  Clara has some other complaints.  Let’s see what they are shall we?’

Paul shifted nervously, still awkwardly draped across my lap.

‘1. Laziness at home.

  1. Not following instructions when asked to help
  2. Being ungrateful, especially about cooking
  3. Being too consumed by your work and yourself
  4. Demanding intimate relations

‘My, my Paul, this does seem to be a deep seated problem doesn’t it.  I want to you think about these complaints and how you can improve yourself if you want to ever feel the sweet arms of my sister around you again.  I want to you to think long and hard while you receive your next round of spanking.

Without warning I began to spank him as hard and fast as I could without pause for the next three minutes.  I have a lot of practice correcting the behavior of errant husbands so my arm is quite strong.  This time he soon forgot his dignity and squirmed trying to get away from my hand.  With one smooth movement I adjusted Paul so he was only draped over one thigh while the other stocking-clad leg wrapped over the top of his to hold him solidly in place.  Then I just continued dispassionately, determined to teach him a lesson.

He was really feeling the effects of being reduced to a naughty boy now!  Unable to squirm away and unable to stop moans of pain escaping his lips, he no longer resembled the arrogant man who had earlier entered my kitchen.  He looked like the naughty little boy he was.
Last ten seconds, I said and really drew on my reserves to lay into him.

9…. 8… 7…

Paul grunted with each solid thwack.

6… 5… 4…

I had to really hold him still now…

3… 2… 1…

I stopped as suddenly as I had begun and gave myself a moment to catch my breath.  Paul just lay there panting and limp.  He would have to learn to take his punishment with more dignity in future.

After a moments pause, I untwined my leg from his and helped him up and gave him a chance to rub his own swollen, red bottom this time.  It really was blushing furiously now.  By the look on his face it was really smarting.

I stood up, straightened my skirt and brushed back a blonde curl that had managed to escape my tidy bun.  I stood unimpressed with my hands on my hips waiting for Paul to stop massaging his buttocks and give his attention back to me.

After giving him a moment to orient himself I reminded him, ‘This isn’t over yet Paul.  I want you to sit down and continue eating that whole bowl of cold porridge, meditate on why you are here for 50 whole chews per mouthful and thank me gratefully for feeding you between each bite.  Do you understand?‘

He nodded.  It did seem to be finally dawning on him how serious I was about this.  He went to pull up his pants.

‘uh-uh,‘ I shook my head.  You will remain trouser-less until this ordeal is over.  You may remove your shoes and pants entirely and fold them neatly.

He nodded, defeated and bent down to do as I said.

‘You may put them neatly in the laundry basket for now,‘ I instructed.

He did as he was told.  After placing his belonging neatly in the basket he came back and stood in front of me waiting to be told what to do.  His eyes were fixed on his toes.

‘Good’, I observed to myself,  ‘He is learning to follow instructions’.

‘Sit down Paul, there is still the matter of the porridge’.

He  sat down much more contritely this time, gingerly adjusting his sore bottom on the hard wooden chair and he began to eat.

I stood over him the whole time, watching like a hawk and counting his chews.  ‘You had better make sure you chew exactly 50 times or else I will add extra cane strokes for each chew you miss,‘  I threatened.

Glumly he continued, completely focused on getting it right.  “Thank you for the porridge Ma’am.  I will never be ungrateful for my wife’s cooking again,’ he parroted at the end of each swallow.  I was starting to believe it was sinking in.  However there were other items on that list of complaints from Clara so this was far from over yet.

Eventually he gulped down the last bit of porridge and I allowed him a glass of water.  He even thanked me without being asked to.  A definite improvement.

‘Now we are going to move onto the actual punishment Paul, I said eyeing the canes.

SEE PART TWO HERE…

Read other spanking and discipline stories here including: Ella is Taught a Lesson in Lady-like Behaviour: Punished by her half sister.

About the Author:  Artemisia de Vine is a Sydney-based professional disciplinarian & switch passionate 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 scenes, from the playful to the intense including behavior correction, role play and ecstatic spanking sessions.  See more here…

Feb 232014
 

If you have not already read part 1, I suggest you start there.  See part 1 here… 

Mistress high heelsI turned and began walking through the shopping centre, each high-heeled step a deliberate movement of seduction.  He fumbled with the phallic vegetable and bottle of lube I had insisted he purchase.  I could hear his nervous breath as he attempted to hide the objects in his hands while we walked through the busy centre.

He followed me, uncertain of what I planned to do after the earlier humiliation foreplay in the fruit and vegetable section of the supermarket.

I took my time, stopping to look at the various window displays, taking note of my victim’s flushed cheeks in the reflection of the glass.  I enjoyed toying with him.  No doubt his mind was busily trying to work out what I was going to make him do with that impossibly big phallic vegetable.

His skin was bright with embarrassment.  The more he visualised just what I was going to make him do next, the more he felt as though every passing shopper also knew exactly what was about to happen to him.  Exposed… embarrassed… aroused…  desperately wanting to get away from the laser beams of their eyes yet feeling completely turned on by it.

I bent over in my tight, shapely skirt and adjusted my shoe slightly.  I watched with amusement as I saw him shift his jeans uncomfortably… blood flowing unbidden to his crotch making his pants grow tight and stiff.

“No where to hide little mouse… “ I purred.

Next I asked him to purchase me a large drink while he was still holding on the embarrassing objects and struggling with the fact he was semi erect.  Not  hard enough for anyone else to notice, but hard enough to make him very self-conscious.

He ordered the drink, avoiding making eye contact with the cashier, no doubt imagining she knew exactly what was happening in his dirty little mind. She didn’t of course, but that didn’t stop his face from turning several shades more crimson.

I seductively licked my lips and began sucking through my straw, leaving lashings of red lipstick kisses all over it.  I just watched him through heavy lids as I slurped and sucked every last drop down.  Eye contact can speak volumes.  He squirmed…

When I was done I had him dispose of the cup and I walked slowly and deliberately towards the stairs to the second floor where the cinemas reside.  We walked together in tense, excited silence.  Every sense alert, pulsing and alive.

I could feel his relief as we entered the darkened foyer of the cinemas.  It was easier to not be noticed here.  Not so much light and the thick, red carpet muffled the clickety clack of my ridiculously high heels.

unisex-toiletI sauntered over to the unisex toilet and waited until there was no one around.

“Quickly now, in we go!” I said eyeing the bathroom door.

He hesitated but my face expression told him I would tolerate no disobedience so he slipped inside.  It was a large cubicle.  Big enough for what I had planned…

“Hand me the vegetable,” I said calmly.  He passed it to me.  It was a bright green vegetable I didn’t know the name of.  It was covered in wart-like bumps and was as long as my forearm… and certainly a lot thicker…

“Mistress, I… I don’t know if I…”  he began stammering.

I just looked amused and raised one eyebrow.  “You don’t know if you can what, slave?”

He eyed the vegetable and gulped.

Without breaking eye contact, I opened the bottle of lube and deliberately poured it all over the vegetable like chocolate sauce on an ice cream sunday.    Clear, slippery gel wound its tendrils down the vegetable in thick ribbons.

“But… I’m sorry Mistress, but I really don’t think I can take that!” he stammered.

“Is that so, slave?” I purred, again amused.

I reached over and grabbed a handful of hair at the scruff of his neck yanking his head back, opening his mouth and pulling him off-balance.

“I suspect you will do as your told don’t you?”  I whispered so close to his ear that my breath tickled his lobe.

“Besides, I told you there would be… consequences... if you chose a smaller vegetable than I did, didn’t I, slave?”.

His eyes widened but he didn’t answer.

“I can’t hear you” I purred… “Didn’t I warn you slave?”

“Y…Yes Mistress” he stammered.

marsian phallus 2I thrust the tip of the marsian looking phallus in his mouth and watched him strain to take it in… lube spilling down his chin.  He mumbled and moaned but it was muffled by the vegetable unceremoniously stuffed in his orifice.

“Now that I have your full attention, slave, I am going to give you some instructions.  I want to you to listen very carefully and obey to the letter, do you understand?”  He nodded, eyes wide and mouth still full.  I thrust the vegetable in a little further and watched impassively as he struggled to take it.

“In a moment I am going to let you go.  When I do I want you to unzip your jeans and pull them down to your ankles.  I then want you bend over the toilet, resting your hands on the flush tank and present your bottom to me.  You need to be very quiet so we are not overheard. There could be people right outside the door.  Do you understand?

“Yes mistress” he mumbled through the vegetable gag.

I released the scruff of his neck and removed the marsian phallus vegetable from his mouth.  He immediately unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, exposing his very hard cock standing in full salute to me.

I smiled to myself.  Here was a complete stranger I had never met before doing my every bidding.  I took a moment to savor that thrill.  He had contacted me through my professional dominatrix website and we had negotiated a session.  Even though I am a professional with an excellent reputation, it still takes guts to trust and obey someone you do not know.  There is an art to seducing submission out of someone and I love every second of it.

He turned around and assumed the position as instructed.  He no doubt heard the snap of my latex gloves.

“I like being fully dressed when you are all vulnerable and exposed slave”  I whispered throatily.   “Being bent over and humiliated suits you…”

I slapped his perky arse cheek and slithered a lubed finger down his crack, making him jump.

inside toilet cubicle“Shshshsh my wicked boy, we both know you are going to do as you are told and open up for me”.  I reassured him in a lullaby voice of honey seduction. “We both know you like to be fucked and I am going to invade your most secret places”.

I pushed a finger into his arse.  He gasped with the shock of it but soon relaxed into a moan of pleasure.

His hole was tight and we both knew he would never be able to take the vegetable phallus but I was enjoying playing with his head.  With my other hand, I rolled the vegetable between his butt cheeks and down through his thighs to tickle his balls.  I began gently thrusting my finger in and out, massaging his prostate with every stroke.

We could hear the muffled sound of people in the cinema foyer, going about their business.

He began moaning quietly and rocking back and forth, obviously enjoying being penetrated.

“I think you like it don’t you slave?  Tell me how much you like being fucked up the arse slave?  I want to hear you beg for more.”

“Yes Mistress!  I love being your slave.  I’ll do anything you say.  Please fuck me Mistress”.

“You’re a little slut aren’t you slave? Tell me how much of a horny slut you are.”

“I’m your horny little slut, Mistress. I’m your little slut.  Please fuck me Mistress!”.

At this point he was so aroused he would have done anything at all and I knew it.  I thrust a few more times and then stopped abruptly, leaving him empty and desperate for more.

“Now slave, I am going to give you a choice.  You can either take this delightfully large marsian phallus all the way up your arse or you can open your mouth and let me use it as a toilet.  I did drink an awful lot you see…  I want you to drink every last drop of my golden nectar and thank me for it.  Which will it be?”

He hesitated.  I drummed my fingers impatiently.  “Hmmm?”

We both knew that he was revolted by the idea of drinking my piss but that the phallus was impossible for his tight, untrained arse to take.  It wasn’t really a choice.  He would have to become my living toilet.

I held the marsian phallus up for him to assess.  “Which is it to be?”

“I.. I will take the golden shower, Mistress” he stammered.

“Good boy”.  I smiled.  Now lie down on the ground and open your mouth.  I want to hear you say that you are my toilet.

He lay down obediently and half opened his mouth nervously.  He didn’t say anything.  I could feel how humiliating it was for him to say those words out loud.  His cock was harder than ever but still he struggled.

“I want to hear you say it slave” I repeated impatiently.

“I, I am your toilet Mistress.  I am yours to piss on.  You may piss in my mouth and I will drink every last drop.  I am yours to do with as you please”.

“Yes, yes your are.” I purred.

Pouring oil or golden liquid.I slowly hitched my skirt up to reveal my black satin g-string.  I slipped my fingers under the elastic and flicked it against my skin.  I stepped across him so one of my high-heeled shoes was on either side of his head, giving him an exquisite view up my skirt.

I slowly slipped my panties off, sliding them down my plump, stocking-clad legs.  I slipped them down all the way to my ankles so they stretch taut across his nose and mouth filling his nostrils with the scent of my pussy, hesitated a moment, then flicked them off altogether.

“Open your mouth little slave.  Open wider than that.  For if you do not drink every drop, my golden shower will spill all over your shirt and you do not have a change of clothes”.

I let that sink in.

Then I stretched luxuriously and bent down into a squat, positioning my pussy only inches from his face.  So close, yet so far away…

He opened very wide, not wanting to spill a drop.

At first it was just a trickle… a little splish, splash… I controlled the stream in short bursts letting it gush into his open mouth and roll over his tongue.  I heard him struggle not to spit it out… struggle to keep his mouth open…

His cock was so hard I could have used it as a crow bar.  He may be revolted, degraded and humiliated but he was enjoying this as much as I was.

“Taste it slave.  I want you to taste my golden vintage like a wine.  Savor it. Swish it around your mouth, there’s a good little toilet”.

I squirted another warm gush into his open mouth and watched him struggle to obey.  It was a little too much for him however as some spilled out the corners of his mouth and dribbled down his chin and the front of his chest.

I held the phallus up for him to see clearly.  “Drink it ALL up or you will have to take this after all” I threatened with an amused voice. “It will be very entertaining for me”.

He doubled his efforts to comply with my wishes and I began to gush in earnest making it very difficult for him to swallow in time without my piss going all over him.

Just at that point there was a sudden banging on the door.  A male voice, obviously an employee of the cinema, said, “Excuse me but you need to come out of there.  You were both seen entering the toilet and you’ve been in there far too long.  You need to come out immediately!”

puddle“Just a moment please” I said sweetly while continuing to piss all over my slave.  The surprise knock had made me jump, spraying my golden shower all down the front of my slave’s shirt.  He was soaked.  I may as well finish the job I thought sadistically.  I sprayed one final gush all over his face and clothes.

My slave was in a panic.  He had been getting off on the idea of maybe getting caught but to actually be caught!  Well that was the ultimate humiliation!

I calmly stuffed my panties in my handbag and disposed of the vegetable and lube bottle in the bin.

I then folded my arms amused as my slave tried desperately to clean himself up. He wiped his face with toilet paper as best he could but there really wasn’t anything for it but to come out covered in my golden nectar.  He looked terrified!

There was more banging on the door from the manager.  “I really must insist that you come out of there immediately” he said in a commanding loud voice.  This of course attracted attention of passers-by.  When we did open the door there was a small crowd to greet us, all staring at us.

I stepped out perfectly neat and tidy in my tight skirt and seductive heels… a small wicked smile on my face…

My slave followed out awkwardly behind me covered in piss and unable to do a thing about it.  I walked slowly and deliberately across the hall with all eyes burning into us.  I can’t imagine what they were speculating.  Could they smell the urine or did they think it was water on his shirt?

car parkI know my slave had never squirmed so much in painful, arousing embarrassment in his life!  He was both horrified and secretly loving it.  I did not hurry a single step.

Down the esculator and back in to the main shopping centre, we walked the slow parade of shame.  Soaked in my scent he was forced to walk at a sedate pace through the flouro lit halls.  The walk seemed to last forever.   A smile curled my lips every step of the way… enjoying every awkward moment of humiliation… every excrutiating moment of exquisite torture.

After what seemed like an eternity, we reached the car park.

I turned, noticed his straining erection had returned… and simply winked at him… then walked off to my car without another word.

I just left him standing there in the delicious torment of degradation and arousal.  I left him burning with need for release.  Ah, a Mistress can be so cruel.

******

He wrote to me later to tell me that was one of the most extraordinary, unusual and arousing experiences he had ever had.  He has a thoroughly wicked and hot story to climax to over and over for years to come.

******

This story is based on a real session in my early days as a professional dominatrix and humiliatrix.  All sessions are negotiated and consented to and my slave had a safe word he could have used to stop any activities at any time.  I had no intention of actually getting caught and involving innocent by-standers but it just happened that way.

I have written a blog here about how humiliation can actually be a deeply loving and conscious way to approach kink.  Check it out here…

For those interested in sessions with me, I am currently based in Sydney, Australia.  See my website for further details.

This story is copyright and may not be reproduced in any way without express, written permission from me, Artemisia de Vine.

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.

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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.