Mansion Royal
A slave’s visit to The English Mansion
The soothing splash of the gentle waves punctuated my thoughts as I lay partly covered by a parasol on a white sandy beach on the Algarve. I put aside the book I was valiantly trying to read in the intense heat of the mid-afternoon sun and scanned down my naked body, well naked save for my swimming shorts.
It was in many ways a typical Wednesday afternoon, save for the fact that I was lying out on a Mediterranean beach in relaxation mode. Other than that, though, it was entirely vanilla, with couples and families staking out their small pieces of territory on a busy beach. I had got away myself today, escaping the sometimes inane hubbub of a holiday break with family and friends. It was one of those breaks which seemed to be all activity but which largely consisted of a lot of running around the place just to stand still.
I appreciated my little get away and a chance to lie back and relax, though not perhaps in the real idyllic way I would have preferred, which would have entailed a sexual and most likely a perverse element. There were other ways I would have liked to enjoy a Wednesday afternoon in the sun, but they definitely would be out of character in my present surroundings.
I felt my cock stiffening somewhat. It was prompted in part by some of the scantily clad nubile bodies parading before me, but in large part by the stirrings of memory. For over a week I had been replaying a recent landmark experience and my thoughts inevitably turned again to the images and sounds which had preoccupied me of late.
Two weeks ago, to the day, I had been abroad also, deep in the heart of the English countryside. For many that immediately conjures up any range of rustic images. And indeed, while my location was certainly nestled in rustic splendour, its exclusiveness was characterised otherwise. For this was the English Mansion, the domain of Mistress Sidonia Von Bork, the Shangri-la of pervs the world over, the crème de la crème – the superlatives could keep rolling but still fall somewhat short of describing the experience of being there.
Like at the beach, I had undressed there as well. And there the comparison ends. I had discarded by vanilla wear in favour of boots, panties, and a pink frilly maid number which Mistress Sidonia had instructed me to bring. Transformed to this degree, I was now abroad in a deeper sense, ready to serve and abase myself on film as Mistress ordained.
How was it? Well, thoroughly exhilarating for starters.
Stepping into these iconic locations, so familiar to Mansion viewers, had something of a dreamlike quality. This was Oz, this was Eden. And here was this putative participant, this fortunate slave whom Mistress Sidonia had deemed eligible for an opportunity of slut immortality.
The scene schedule for the day was laid out with a seemingly easy precision, belying no doubt the preparation and work that Mistress Sidonia had put into it. The professionalism was apparent in its smooth running and the ease in which everything was executed.
I was cuckolded, I licked the arse of a bull, I licked his taut full balls, I sucked his magnificent big black cock. I was anointed by his cum as Mistress Sidonia glove wanked him off later that afternoon.
I was hooded and chained and lay under a bed as Mistress Sidonia fucked him with her strap on cock, the action relayed to me through the sounds and the imperious, haughty tone of Mistress’ voice. Mistress yanked my chain, and I was pulled to bear witness to this debauchery.
Mistress Sidonia bent me over and beat me, though admittedly probably not hard enough. The pain is difficult, but it is also purifying for this particular slut, and the adrenaline for Mistress administering the beating is visceral.
I wore tights around my face, subsuming my identity, though I really would have no problem appearing with a wig and some makeup.
Late in the afternoon I played the unsuspecting husband, summoned home from the office to find his wife in the arms of another man. I was instructed to get in close to the action, and I could smell the delicious aroma of Mistress’ cunt.
Mistress Sidonia used me fully on the patio, her glorious pee cascading down as I sought to consume every drop I possibly could. For me this is the ultimate submission, the connection between Mistress and slave solidified through the passage and consumption of her nectar.
Towards the end I had a shower outdoors, beside the iconic hot tub, my mind a riot of images as I replayed scenes from Mansion classics at this feature. All good things cum to and end, and it was soon time to rejoin the vanilla world.
Two weeks later in the Algarve, I threw a towel down over my crotch to camouflage my stiffened cock. I could only marvel at the experience. It had filled most of my waking thoughts and my sleeping ones. To use another analogy, I had been to the chocolate factory – a place I had hardly dared dream of visiting. Laying aside my subjectivity, I hoped that I had measured up in some respect for Mistress and was satisfactory.
I looked around me. Two further images flew into my mind. One was a tray of shot glasses been carried from a bar counter filled with an exquisite concoction.
The other was apt for the beach. I wondered if I took a walk could I possibly come across a bukkake taking place amidst some quieter dunes.
Mistress knows!
by slave p
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