Domina Paris

Your mistress won't come

It all began on a Monday, March 3 to be precise. I had an appointment in a Parisian café, stressed and excited at the idea of what was going to happen to me. Settling in, I ordered myself a drink to try and relax and take my mind off things. As soon as I get there, I see a lady of a certain stature, both imposing and mysterious. Our eyes met, and through them I could read that she was the one I'd been waiting for. We exchanged a few words, and in my defiance I realized at once that every word could backfire.

She presents me with a black pouch, mysteriously heavy. "You'll find two objects inside, and I won't explain what they're for," she says. She shows me the way to the bathroom. I enter and lock the door, open the pouch and find a plug of a size quite large for me. It must have taken 5 or 10 minutes, the seconds were ticking away and inserting this object was quite difficult for me. When I came out, I was very embarrassed and couldn't walk straight. The ordeal began.

As soon as we leave the bar, Madame grabs me by the neck. A violent electric shock runs through my body, shaking with pain and shame, but I must remain proud. Arriving at a large door, she orders me to stop. My gaze can't meet hers. We walk slowly down the hall until I'm standing near the front door. We pass through the airlock, and in front of the staircase, Madame orders me to stop whenever she tells me to.

1st floor: "Stop," she says. My heart speeds up, this little metal object weighs more and more... Her words, her look... Every single thing Madame realizes envenoms every cell in my body. "How far do we have to go?

2nd floor: "Stop," she ordered. Every second and every step seems interminable...

We keep going up ... and on the next floor "Stop". I feel as if my body is physically abandoning me, and that only my soul can withstand this pain and this march towards something unknown ... hell itself perhaps.

On the next floor, where I was beginning to lose my footing, he ordered me to stop. "Where are we? Which floor?" My mouth and throat are unable to make a clearly audible sound.

Staring straight ahead, Madame makes her way behind me. She slides the key into the lock and invites me (at last) into her den. As I enter the kitchen, my soul is leaving me, inviting me (already) to let go. The pain brings tears to my eyes, but so does the loss of control.

Things are speeding up, as is my heart. "Get undressed, quickly, faster," Madame ordered me. She repeats it over and over like an echo, the words echoing in my head. Once naked, Madame invited me into her den and sat me down on a chair. It seemed visually comfortable, but once seated, the position reminded me of the heavy piece of metal inside me. Madame ties each of my limbs to the chair and places a cardboard bag over my face.

The deprivation of the senses... a particular sensation of abandonment, but also stimulating for the other senses. The words slip into my head and keep ringing. Disturbing things are happening around me: stinging sensations, nails and a voice. This voice that comes back to me like a return to the attack, "Your Mistress won't come", it tells me. These words invigorated me as much as they angered and stressed me.

One of my biggest pet peeves was just that, finding myself alone with someone who only knew me through a questionnaire and an introduction by my Mistress. "Where am I? Why am I here?" I couldn't stop repeating these words to myself, but my mind took over and I told myself at that moment that this anger must serve to prove to my Mistress that I wouldn't give in to this abuse and that I wouldn't give up any information.

As I feared too, the abuse resumes with an extra notch.

How long was my head in that bag? The illusion of time is unbelievable when you can't see any temporal landmarks, no visual link with the outside world or with time... Would I really want to connect with the outside world? My head does, to reassure itself, but my soul doesn't.

But these questions fade as Madame slips in my ear: "We're not alone, and we're not alone from the start, there's a door next door with a peephole...". Who's been watching me all this time? I felt like I was back in the 40s at the time of the war... I only expected the worst.

The unknown person walks in ... Woman or Man? ... High shoes or Heels or no shoes? ... I had no means or landmarks to try and guess the presence of this person. I forget the presence of this ever-present metal weight inside me.

Hands touch me, slap me, pinch me all over my body. My heart races again, my head spins, my mind begins to leave my body. A feeling of panic and quietude comes over me. The bag over my head gradually prevents me from breathing, but I try to regain control of my body to breathe slowly... But it's difficult. My body is cracking and I can't stop breathing loudly and intensely, my head spinning more and more violently. So Madame decides to tear part of the bag open. Madame also decided to restrict an important sense: hearing, by making me listen to Barbapapa at the top of my lungs. This is what haunted my head until the day I wrote these words.

On my first breath of fresh oxygen, my body relaxes like an orgasm ... This forgotten feeling of letting go invades me for the first time in a while. The bag rips open a little more, freeing my view ... A second orgasm soon follows at the sight of my Mistress. What a relief! Maitresse cages me a little to reassure me, but things are about to intensify, she tells me.

Mistress unties me and orders me to lie down, which I do ... in a while. Words and gestures follow one another. Madame and Maitresse prevent me from seeing what happens next. Maitresse places a towel over my head... I had no idea what it was for until water was poured over it... I'm getting scared... really.

My breathing quickens again, I choke, I cough. I'm fist and foot linked, so many sensations at once I don't know which way to turn. These sensations are so good, but so horrible that they disconnect you from time and space like a bubble. I'm drowning, it's stinging all over... and that's when the metal object stuck in me leaves me, my body reacting so strongly to it all.

maitresse

2 Comments

  1. What a superb, breathless scenario... Wondering which of you has the most imagination to open the doors to subspace?
    In any case, hats off to you. Kind regards

  2. in times of confinement, looking for, reading and hoping for more subtle, more perverse session reports, and being impatient to be able to tell yourself that you're at the mercy of your creativity, exacerbated by those long days waiting to be worshipped.

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