Discipline Disciple: Femdom Fiction

Discipline Disciple by Prospero 13
Mistress Sidonia Von Bork’s best boy & her most devoted slave

I await her attention, caged in the dark, not enough room to stand or lie down, just enough space to be profoundly uncomfortable. The physical agony is nothing to the pain of being banished from Her presence. I yearn for the sight of Her beautiful face.
Finally! The ominous clicking of her heels down the long corridor.
The key in the lock. The key to my heart.
“Here, doggie! Walkies! You filthy little MONGREL!”
If I had a tail I’d be wagging it. As it is, I’m rock hard. Her harsh voice. The shiny black boots.  The immaculate jodhpurs. The  knowledge I’ll be able to sniff her heavenly arse. She will cane me hard, from cold. Sheer agony.

She rubs deep heat embrocation on a thick, doggy-tail dildo, then opens my cage, yanks my lead hard and I scramble out quickly. I maintain tongue-out, panting for breath, doggy demeanour. Yet Mistress is displeased.
“Come ON! I’m giving you away. Or I’m having you put down! You’re USELESS!”
I’m out, on my knees, paws held out for her inspection. Ow! That riding crop stings. Six on both hand, front and back, and twelve across my rump. For the cropping I must have my face to the floor, licking the ground, still panting.
“Come on! Rump UP!”
I am her mongrel. I can’t help crying out but remember to convert my weak yelps into a canine whine.
“Sniff my ARSE! You disgusting, little HOUND!”

“Dogs will lick anything,” she says, squatting over my open mouth and eager face.
“Lick me clean. Now!”
I do her bidding. Who would dare disobey? I clean and cherish her, licking her up and down, polishing the sweet little rosebud of her anus then daring to dip my tongue inside her ring of glory.
How precious is the sound of her pleasure! She sticks her bottom out, riding my tongue.  Five minutes later she desires her own company once more. She leaves me alone with only a bowel of her pale, almost tasteless nectar.

Many hours later She returns.

Mistress Sidonia canes very hard. From Cold. You may be a hard man but no one can take a whipping with a dragon cane without eventually begging for mercy. Sometimes Mistress Sidonia just sits and watches, drinking a cocktail while a fellow Mistress thrashes me relentlessly. There’s always a long pause between each stroke, while they laugh and taunt me.
“He’s dancing well today, isn’t he?”
“Almost as if we’d put a peeled ginger root covered in deep heat right up that worthless arsehole of his.”
“We should add Chili seeds to the mix. Spice him up a little.”
They are cruel. And so, so lovely.

“Why should I waste my energy whipping you, boy?” She demands. “You haven’t earned the right to a whipping from me. Get your nose between my cheeks and sniff my ARSE!” Mistress Sidonia grabs my hair and yanks my face upwards. I can smell her leather gloves, her unique musk, I am agonizingly close to her. My heart beats only for HER. I attempt to rest my head on her beautiful bosom but she spits in my face.  I love Her. She despises me. Such is life.

by Mark Ramsden  exclusively for TEM. See his Skin Two blogs here.