I could hardly keep the huge smile off my face as I unlocked the front door; I was going to spend Christmas with my Mistress!
Her card arrived in the post on the 15th. It was by no means a traditional Christmas card: no snow scenes, no pictures of Robins or Santa but instead a picture of a black leather stiletto-heeled boot pressing a man’s head into a bowl of pale yellowish liquid. Instead of “Merry Christmas” the inscription read “If you’re very lucky this could be you”.
Mistress had included a note and a key with the card, it read –
“You are going to spend Christmas at my house as I have a surprise for you. If you’ve already made plans cancel them!
You will arrive at my house in time to serve me breakfast at 08:30 Christmas morning. Let yourself in with this key. DO NOT wake me any earlier or you will suffer.
Make sure you clean yourself thoroughly beforehand – both inside and out. Bring a bag with whatever you think you will need for a two-night stay. You may NOT have anything to eat! Drink only a little water.
Bring my breakfast at exactly 08:30 – tea, orange juice, toast and two 4 ½ minute soft-boiled eggs.
There will be a box in the hall with a note on top; follow the instructions to the letter.”
I had been so excited that I had hardly slept since her card arrived; wondering what was in store for me.
I had been visiting Chanelle (or Mistress Chanelle as I had to call Her) for a few years now. She was a professional lady in Her mid-forties whom I had contacted via an adult contact site. She was taller than me at 5ft 10in, with a lovely face, blonde hair that she usually wore shoulder length, legs that went on forever and an arse that I never got tired of worshipping (which was just as well since She frequently smothered me with it). She wasn’t a full-time Dominatrix but previously also had clients with more mainstream tastes.
Myself, I was in my late fifties and although I had known since my teens that I was submissive to women I had married a woman who thought that doggie style was the depth of depravity; and that on those rare occasions when she was interested in sex at all. I was 5ft 7in tall, overweight, and an erect penis length of just over five inches. My one saving grace was an above-average I.Q. of over 150.
Initially, I could visit Mistress Chanelle only rarely, but following divorce and then a substantial lottery win - not enough to put me in the Sunday Times Rich List but sufficient that with careful planning I wouldn’t have to work again - I could visit more frequently.
Within the parameters of a Dominatrix/client relationship we “clicked” and became friends; although this did not stop Her from treating me with increasing severity, which She said She genuinely enjoyed. Over the past year or so our “relationship” had evolved into something approaching a lifestyle arrangement. I still had to pay for Her time - as is only right; but instead of visiting Her when I wanted it was She who decided when and for how long I would be permitted to report to Her. She got the inspiration from reading Mistress Scarlet’s blog and journals; She particularly relished the articles about Mistress Scarlet’s visits to Governess Malice’s “Institute” and decided that in the future, She follow a similar regime with me.
After starting this arrangement She decided that I would no longer be permitted a safe word. Early in O/our “relationship”, on more than one occasion in the throes of lust I had said that it was a fantasy of mine to be an owned, no-limit slave with no rights and no possible way out of my situation. Her ominous reply was that She would think about how to make that happen.
Recently I had noticed subtle changes in Her demeanour and attitude towards me. Mistress now rarely used my name – preferring instead to use a variety of abusive terms; She hardly ever bothered with “aftercare” after a session and Her sadism was becoming more inventive, prolonged and extreme, ignoring any limits that I asked for. However, She said that She was getting tired of “playing at this” and that She would soon stop. I thought She meant that She would no longer allow me to visit Her and I begged Her repeatedly not to send me away.
For the past six months, Mistress had kept me in chastity, releasing me rarely and then only after I had suffered considerably for Her amusement (She had not permitted me to climax for over a month). She had started with a plastic CB6000S, and then graduated to an all-metal device. This would not allow me to get hard but the metal frame left enough space for Her to torture my cock with Her nails, applications of Linnex or anything else She could think of.
On Christmas morning I got up at 06:00. After shaving I gave myself two enemas (no matter how often I do this I still hate them), showered, packed a small bag, drank some water (remembering Mistress’ instruction not to eat) and left just after 07:00. This would give me enough time to get to Mistress’ house in time to serve Her breakfast at 08:30. I guessed that there wouldn’t be much traffic around at that time on 25th December.
After I got to Mistress’ house I parked next to Her car on the drive and collected my thoughts for a few minutes before opening the front door. Inside I found the box and note in the hall. This is what I read:-
“Slave, read these instructions completely first.
Strip completely. Put all your clothes and anything else you’ve brought in this box. Leave out your wallet with your ID and credit cards, car- and house keys and my door key and place them in the clear plastic wallet. In the box, you will find a leather hood, collar, wrist- and ankle cuffs, and a six-inch length of chain, five small padlocks and one large padlock.
Put the hood on - I don’t want to see your disgusting face when I wake up. Tie the hood laces and then secure the hood with the locking collar – make sure the D-rings are at the front and both sides – and lock it with a small padlock. Then lock the wrist- and ankle cuffs with more small padlocks. When you lock the ankle cuffs lock the chain to them.
Once you have done all of this, lock the box with the large padlock.
You will not find keys to the padlocks, so make sure you do all of this correctly the first time. If you fuck up I will kick you out when I get up, whether or not your clothes and keys are locked in the box.
After this make my breakfast and bring it to me at exactly 08:30, together with the clear plastic wallet.”
So at 08:25, I was in Mistress’ kitchen stark naked except for my chastity device, leather hood (which covered the top half of my head leaving small eye and nostril holes with a larger opening for my mouth), collar and cuffs on my wrists and chained ankles (all padlocked on); preparing Mistress’ breakfast lap table. At exactly 08:30 I opened Her bedroom door, placed Her breakfast by the side of Her bed, knelt, and gently shook her awake.
She stirred, opened Her eyes, and said, “Is it eight-thirty already? I was having a lovely dream, how dare you interrupt it!”
With that, She unexpectedly slapped me hard across the face. It didn’t hurt as much as it might have done because of the hood, but She still hit me hard enough to knock my head aside.
“I’m sorry, Mistress, but You did say to wake You at this time”
“Don’t answer me back, worm. Give me my breakfast, and kneel there while I eat.”
She sat up in bed, affording me a glimpse of Her recently-enhanced breasts (which after I had begged to, She graciously allowed me to pay for) underneath Her translucent blue negligee. After placing the lap table on Her bed I knelt by Her side, waiting for further instructions and growing increasingly hungry from the smell of Her breakfast.
“I can’t enjoy this with you there gawping at me. Go down to my Playroom, secure yourself in the Toilet Box and wait for me!” She snapped.
I crawled out of Her bedroom and went down to the basement, to the area that She referred to as Her Playroom, but that anyone else might call a dungeon.
Mistress lived in an older house, built in the days when houses still had basements. Although it wasn’t isolated it didn’t have any close neighbours and the very large garden was not overlooked by any other properties. After we had started meeting more frequently I asked Her if She had ever considered converting the basement into a dungeon. She replied that it had crossed Her mind but that She was generally too busy to give it much thought. I told Her that if She wanted I would investigate what would be needed and I would help with the costs if She decided to go ahead.
After a few months, Mistress had a working dungeon, which She refused to call that as she disliked the term, preferring to call it Her Playroom. It had most of the usual furniture and equipment – a St. Andrews cross, whipping bench, cage, suspension hoist, and a plethora of rope, chains, tape, whips, canes, gags, and other implements for bondage and torture. Mistress Chanelle discovered a love of electrical torture and bought several items. Although Mistress said that She loved beating and whipping me what She liked about electrical torture was that She could inflict pain ranging from mild to excruciating (and very occasionally pleasure) with virtually no effort on Her part.
I’d heard of some police stations that had been closed down and were going to be demolished, and after having a word with the contractors I’d managed to buy the bars, doors and fittings to make two cells; one had open bars (think American Western films) with a bed and toilet and several rings bolted to the floor, ceiling and bars. The second was an isolation cell; it was built into a corner of the basement: three sides were of breeze block construction again with several rings bolted to the walls, floor and ceiling (with a toilet but no bed) and with a similar barred door to the first cell.
There was also a solid metal door outside that. When the solid door was shut, the isolation cell was virtually soundproof. The lights for both cells were near the basement entrance, well out of reach of the cells. Both cells were about six-foot square, with an extra three feet between the barred door and the solid door of the isolation cell.
The Toilet Box was hinged along the rear side, with locking catches and D-rings on each side. It had a plastic bowl with a cut-out where a slave’s neck would go, and a solid lid on top of the padded toilet seat. The box was raised slightly and secured to a padded board about two feet wide and six feet long. This board had a D-ring for a padlock or carabiner at the end furthest from the box, and several wide leather straps with locking buckles along its length.
I opened the Toilet Box, making sure the bowl was positioned correctly inside. Next, I padlocked the chain between my ankles to the D-ring at the foot of the board, after which I strapped down my legs – above and below my knees, my thighs (adjusting the chastity device to be on top of my thighs), my stomach and chest to the board. I put my head in the box, closed the toilet seat and lid and locked the catches. Finally, using a couple of carabiners that were on the board, with some difficulty I secured my wrist cuffs to the D-rings on each side of the box. I was now trapped and completely at my Mistress’ mercy (or lack thereof)!
After what seemed like an eternity I heard the soft padding of feet down the steps and across the basement floor. The lid of the Toilet Box opened and there was Mistress Chanelle’s face above me. By way of greeting, She ordered me to open my mouth and spat in it. She then informed me that She had a very full bladder and this was the first of the Christmas treats She had in store for me. She lowered Her glorious arse (still wearing Her panties) onto the seat and pissed in my open mouth and all over my hooded face, soaking Her panties and covering me with Her Golden Nectar. After this, She lowered the lid and I heard the sound of wet clothing being removed and dropped.
I heard Her move around the room, collecting various items. Then I felt Her remove my chastity device, after which She started to wank me. A few seconds later I felt Her hot, wet lips around my cock as She sucked and licked me to full hardness. Mistress Chanelle is justifiably proud of Her oral skills and I thought
“This must be my surprise. This is wonderful, Mistress is going to give me a blow-job for Christmas.”
Just before I was about to cum everything stopped! After a couple of minutes, Mistress took me in Her mouth again. Once again just before I was about to climax She stopped. Mistress repeated this for another four or five times, each time edging me a little closer but stopping just short of allowing me to climax. By this time I was almost out of my mind with desperation; with my head still inside the toilet box I begged Mistress to let me cum, and crazily tried to buck up and down on the board to try to get some form of release. While I was still hard, but not about to immediately ejaculate Mistress tied something around the base of my cock and I felt something sticky being applied to the head.
Next, She rolled what felt like a thick condom down my cock; after which She separated and tied my balls – not tight enough to threaten circulation but just enough to keep them apart – and I felt the same stickiness being applied, followed by what felt like two condoms being rolled over each testicle. I realised what She was doing as She had done this several times before. Mistress had stuck electrical pads to the head of my cock and each testicle and looped conductive tubing around the base of my cock, securing all the pads with condoms so they wouldn’t come off.