| This work Copyright (C) 2001, by Caitlain McCarren. I
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To close, this story, while work of fiction, describes adult
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"Mistress," I cried, "this is terribly uncomfortable."
"Yes dear, I know."
"Mistress, could these be loosened," Iasked?
"It hurts, Mistress," I said.
"I know it hurts, wench, it's supposed to. Do quiet down,
lest you make it neccessary to gag you."
I let an uncomfortable period wind out, squirming in my
bonds, and exclaimed, "Mistress, this really hurts a lot."
"Shut the fuck up, wench, you serve me best when you are
"But it, ow!"
"If you speak out of turn again you will force me to gag you
and beat you. Are you new?"
"Yes, Mistress," I said. "Thank you, Mistress."
"There are some rules you are to follow while in my presence.
The first and foremost is, SILENCE, wench. Do not speak
unless neccessary. Usually this means don't speak unless
posed an interrogative. It is sometimes allowed to speak if
you are in imminent danger of bodily injury. Exception
occurs when I placed you in danger of bodily injury, and you
all ready have my full attention."
"Speaking is discouraged because it indicates that you have
some ability to change what is, or what is to be. You do
not. It is that simple. Do you understand, wench."
"Yes, Mistress. I understand, Mistress. I'm not to speak,
Mistress," I babbled.
"Good, short sentences, clearly defined answers, one would do
well to answer in just that fashion."
After what seemed another interminable period of unknown
time, I blurted out, "Mistress, when may I be released from my
"Good grief, you are insufferable. That last utterance will
cost you the bite of the whip. Do not vex me so. You will
be released when I release you, no sooner."
"Yes, Mistress," I complain, "but this bondage pains me so. Could it not be
"That utterance will cost you eleven more bites of the whip,
wench. You seem to be stupid. Were you captured or did you
"I was captured, Mistress," I said. "Could you release me please?"
"No. The fact that you were captured bought you this last bit
of sympathy from me, but, I warn you, vex me not again. You
are to remain silent until such time as I tell you different.
You are a slave. Here you have no control over anything but
your submission. The rules of submission are few, and
in addition to the aforementioned injunction of speaking,
include total submission. You must yield to me in all things
I don't specify overtly. Simply, this means you must ask my
permission to do anything, anything at all."
"Next, it is expected that you will obey any command I give
you, and anything I say is a command, wench."
"Last, it is expected that you will comply with my wishes and
directives. That is to say, it is expected that you will
accede, acquiesce, agree, concede, conform, follow, or to
otherwise observe any thought I may speak or any command I
may voice, immediately, without hesitation, exactly, to the
best of your limited ability."
"I now give you liberty to answer two questions. Consider
well your answers before you utter them, lest you cause me to
beat you mercilessly. First do you understand these rules,
silence, submit, obey, and comply? The answer had better be
"Yes, Mistress," I answer, complying.
"Better, wench. Follow the rules and hopefully there will be
little need for what I'm about to do. You have left me no
choice, I must punish you for your ill considered outbursts.
Back up to the wall and place your hands upon it, palms flat
but reaching as high up the wall as possible."
I backed up and positioned myself as she requested, jockeying
momentarily, for a good purchase upon the wall and upon the
floor. I knew I would need the bracing.
"Well done, wench. I see an explanation of the rules has
taken hold in that inscrutable little brain. Trust that you
and I will unlock all the miniscule thoughts and fantasies
which inhabit those small lobes. I'm sure we will unlock the
wide expanse of the pleasures of pain for you. We shall
start immediately. You are to keep silent while I administer
your punishment. Not a peep, or I'll administer the full
twelve and twelve more, then we'll start over. Look up at
me, I want to see your expressions of pain and horror."
The pain was excruciating. The first two landed over my
shoulders. The third struck at my stomach between my rib
cage and my navel, biting viciously and knocking the wind out
of me. The next two wrapped around me and struck at both of
my bare buttocks, both high and low, exciting my sex and my
nipples, which hardened tight and high. The sixth struck at
the backs of my thighs. The seventh at the backs of my
knees, causing me to falter and spread them wide. The bitch
took the opportunity to strike, painfully, at the insides of
my thighs, first left side then right. But, I did not move
my feet or hands. I was flushed red, pained more deeply than
I had ever known, helpless as was possible to be, and as
deeply excited as I had been with my best sexual partner.
She paused long enough for me to right myself, as best I
could, and look back up at her. Then in quick succession
came the last of the blows, one on each nipple, right then
left, and down my stomach from waist to sex, seemingly
disemboweling me, and sending me plunging to the floor
suffering wave after wave of crashing pain and pleasure.
She waited patiently, until the sensations died back, and she
could at last be heard over the din of the blood coursing to
my head and through my ears. The next thing I heard froze me
with fear. "I didn't say you could come, you stupid bitch."
I couldn't think or move. If I thought my head was pounding
before, I was positively rattling the china in the cabinet of
my dementia, now. It brought back all the pain, and, all the
crashing pleasure, wave after wave. I desperately wanted it
to stop, but it wouldn't let up. I was desperately afraid
the mistress expected a repeat performance, and I knew I
couldn't live through it, but, it wouldn't stop washing over
me, wave after wave after...
When I came to my senses she was standing over me, kicking me
in the ribs, adding insult to injury. "Back to the real
I struggled mightily to comply but fell twice, striking my
head once upon the hardwood floor. She assisted me by
grabbing my bound wrists in one hand, my bound elbows in the
other, and twisting the former under the latter until they
rolled under and up my back where she bound them to my neck,
leaving me helpless and in excruciating pain. I couldn't
help myself, I yelped, and winced at having heard my own
"A poor but marginally acceptable performance, wench. Of
course you will be punished for coming without permission,
twice. You also failed this test, which means twelve more
strokes, and a repeat of this exercise. To impress upon you
the gravity of breaking the rules you will spend three days
standing upright in my presence in posture training
"It may be possible to mitigate this transgression of the
rule of submission. We will play a game, these are the
rules. I will ask a question. Answer well and as long as
you remain silent, post, we will set aside this correction,
speaking will immediately reinstate it. Answer poorly and we
will double the terms of the correction and exercise it
immediately. I still expect you will follow the rules from
"Nod your head up and down if you understand the terms of our
I nodded affirmatively.
"You may of course simply take the punishment as stated and
we will follow up with an immediate correction, no need to
gamble at all. However, if you should fail the terms of your
correction I shudder to think what my fertile mind may come
up with to punish you further. Simply nod your head up and
down if you care to play. Roll your head side to side if you
I didn't know what to indicate. One choice, three possible
outcomes, none of which pleased me in the least. "Come,
come, now, my dear. This delay borders on a transgression of
the rule of compliance." I chose to gamble. Monty Hall, she
was not. I indicated my choice by nodding, hopelessly.
"Very well. Now the question. Have you a name dear and what
I hesitated again and she flicked the whip, catching me under
the left breast. I bit my lip and did not cry out. A moment
later I blurted out, risking her wrath, "Mistress, I seek
clarification. Would it be acceptable to answer your
question with a question?
"Intriguing! All right, because you are new and because I
sense guile I would punish anyway, you may answer with a
question. Try me not. This better be worth the effort for
"Mistress, would you like me to have a name and if so what
would it be?"
"Well done! You have indeed answered well. Remember keep
silent from now on and don't think yourself too clever. You
have one credit brought about by fear, necessity, and
obligation. Do not test the waters of your lesser position
again. You may not be so clever or lucky next time."
"By the way, deary, if you did once have a name keep it to
yourself. Better to forget it entirely, if you can. You
will have no need for a name here at all. Forget your name
and any life you thought you had outside of this room, lest
you force me to erase it entirely. Soon enough your identity will be subsumed by the new one we will create
* Implied *
* Subjection, but requir'd with gentle sway, *
* And by her yielded, by him best receiv'd, -- *
* Yielded with coy submission, modest pride, *
* And sweet, reluctant, amorous delay. *
* Milton's Paradise Lost, book iv, Line 307. *
* Something to say from the submissive's point of view? *
* Hard to find the "right" words? Want it in a story? *
* Tell me about it by mail at firstname.lastname@example.org. *