Mistress Kiki of Bristol - A Nervous Debut
I carefully placed the bouquet on the passenger seat. The ladies in my local florists had done a really fine job. The lilies and various purples blended together well, and I had enjoyed my first moment of humiliation of the day, as I had dictated the now attached card.
I managed to sneak a furtive glance as I fastened my seat belt, and delighted in the two young ladies' obvious amusement at their last transaction. Putting her into first, I pulled off (No! No! Not in that way!) and headed for Bristol...
I felt how I did before I played important football or rugby matches. But this didn't quite encapsulate all my feelings. There was something more disturbing mixed in.
As the M4 branched into the M32 I began to recognise that second sensation. 'Recognise' is possibly the wrong term, 'remember' probably describes it better. Dragged up from some primeval experience! Then it hit me. School! It was the same feeling I had had when waiting outside the headmaster's study. More than that though, it was even more defined. Not waiting because I hadn't done my homework, or for talking in class. No, this was serious! This was a 'waiting outside because I had been caught smoking or shoplifting' kind of sensation.
Following the clear and precise (no I'm not creeping, honestly!) directions Mistress had supplied, I soon pulled in and parked, just past the 'House with the lantern'. Extinguishing my cigarette I checked my appearance and picked up the flowers. I couldn't help smiling as I read the card. 'Dear Mistress, I hope these help to brighten your life as you have mine. Your new slave, marcus.'
Besides the butterflies in my churning stomach, I felt good. Anticipation and excitement were winning the battle of my feelings and it felt strange walking down that street in Bristol with a bunch of flowers. I normally only walked down streets in Bristol with a bunch of lunatics! (Sorry, I won't mention it again, but I'm a Cardiff City fan.)
Then I was there. Almost thirty years after the last time, I was stood outside a 'study'. But this time it contained a Head Mistress!
I rang the door bell and waited. I could just make out the sound of the key turning in the lock in the cast iron gate, which provided the Ladies with security, and could just distinguish movement through the small, mirrored glass panel. Then the jingling stopped and the door swung open to reveal a Goddess!
Having established who I was, Mistress quickly ushered me into the cosy reception area of the House duCroix explaining that she didn't want to be seen by passers-by. I don't know why Mistress expressed this concern. She looked stunning in a purple and black PVC mini dress and long, black, shiny, high-heeled PVC boots. The outfit was topped off by fishnet stockings and studded collar. Grrrrr...!!! (Behave yourself, Marcus!)
I was introduced to Madam duCroix, who is Head of the House, and who welcomed me as warmly as Mistress had, which dovetailed nicely with the warmth and the ambience of the room and of the welcoming fire.
After a quick chat to ascertain my interests, limits and previous experience, to which I declared 'none', I was given my safe word, agreed I could be marked by the cane and was shown up the narrow staircase.
The warm ambience of downstairs waned somewhat as I reached the summit of the dark flight which branched into two dungeons. Not really surprising as this is what dungeons are supposed to do. Black and purple dominated in the decor and both rooms were riddled with furniture, toys and other worrying bits and pieces.
I was ordered to strip naked, fold my clothes up neatly and to wait kneeling, with my bottom in the air, till Mistress returned. Having paid Mistress Her tribute, She departed. I glanced around the small annex that was the changing room. It contained more strange looking objects of 'torture', many of which I have now become very familiar with, including Mistress's own personal favourite, 'spiky'.
Yes. This is what I wanted. A beautiful, tall, young Lady giving me orders. I had had one or two other minor experiences, but nothing like this. This was the start of my journey to where I really wanted to go.
The 'journey' began well. Mistress returned and began the session with a 'good boy', as She was pleased to see I was in my correct and suitably submissive 'place'.
'We will begin the session as we will each one.' Mistress continued. 'You will crawl over here and lick My boots to show your devotion to me and your willingness to do anything for Me,' or words to that effect. Having licked Mistress's boots, including the sole and most importantly, the heels, I was given my rules.
These rules have to be remembered and recited at the start of each session. This is not as easy as it sounds. As I have discovered with riding-crop enhanced hindsight. I really do have trouble recalling them. It's not just an opportunity to earn a few extra strokes from Mistress, it's really not! I really do have trouble remembering. Mind you, I do enjoy the extra corporal punishment!
They number five, and also have a priority order in which they have to be recited. Firstly, I must always address Mistress as as 'Mistress'. Any other Ladies present shall also be addressed as 'Mistress'. This shows that I have accepted that all Ladies are of a superior status than I, and will therefore address Them accordingly. This rule I find easy to obey and indeed, in recent times, I have found myself addressing Ladies in the street, park and pub as 'Miss' or 'Mistress'. I, of course, can be called anything; 'boy', 'slave' and 'it', being some atypical favourites. Although I am usually addressed disappointingly differently, in the street, park or pub!
Although I have managed to gain permission for the odd kiss to Mistress's hand or feet, and have been permitted to kneel at Her feet and massage the aforementioned wonders of podiatry, I am not permitted to touch any Lady, in attendance at the session. They, however, are free to touch me in any place or way that They wish. Again this is a rule I have not got, or have had, a problem with, and is to show that I have given my body to all Mistresses, for Them to play with, as They see fit. It also shows that I am not worthy to touch any of my Female Superiors.
It is the following two rules that I have most problems obeying. I do not break them out of stubborn disobedience. It is just that the temptation of the first, and my natural instincts on the second, become too difficult to resist.
Cruelly, I am not allowed to look at any Mistress directly in the face. This is very hard to do. Not only is it where you normally look at people, but the Mistresses that I have encountered at the House duCroix have all been most attractive and pretty. I have been thrashed, regularly, for breaking this rule.
However, the next rule, of not being allowed to speak unless told to, is the one that keeps my bottom warmest! Whilst at boarding school, I soon found out that if you could make your tormentors laugh, that they would leave you alone and pick on someone else. 'Smart-arsed one-liners' soon became my defence against the bullies. Humour is what I use to escape difficult or frightening situations. So when I am apprehensive in my Mistress's presence, I spurt out 'funnies'. Well I like them! Nothing rude of course, you understand - I have far too much respect for that. Indeed, I am often referred to as an 'SAS' or smart-arsed slave. I just can't help it! This is not an excuse and I know I must improve on both aspects in order to show my total submission.
Lastly, and it doesn't really need to be a rule, as I find it a normal and natural thing to do, is that I am to thank the Mistresses regularly. I am to thank Them for both punishment and caress, and if they issue me with any order or instruction.
So these are the rules by which our sessions are conducted. Mistress always takes time out to ask if I have remembered my 'safe word' at these times. I always have, although I will not actually say it, as I hate saying it. It is a major part of play to try and resist using your 'way out', unless you really are at your limits, and it is a test of Mistress's skill and technique to take you, subtly, to just beyond your limit, and extract it from you.
The session was now ready to begin in earnest. Mistress began by reminding me not to embarrass Her or myself by asking for any sexual favours. This was not the reason I was here. I had no intention of asking for anything like that. I was here to worship Ladies and be dominated by them. Not to violate one of Them! I feel that Mistress senses this now, as She has never mentioned it again since.
'Stand up! Now run and pick up the spanking stool.' Mistress clicked into gear. 'Hurry up! Place it by there. Don't drag it! It'll leave marks on the floor!'
Firstly, there goes my gold star for being in the right position earlier. An un-forced error! I really couldn't afford these as I would soon be making too many real ones of my own. As Mistress is quick to point out, 'everything is my fault as I am a stupid male animal' and Mistress had told me to pick up the stool and place it in front of the mirror.
This was awesome! I had only met the young Lady some quarter of an hour earlier and now I was being secured, stark naked, over a tall stool by Her. The wrist cuffs I had been told to fetch and put on had clips, and they clipped onto similar ones attached to the stool's legs. I was now in a most vulnerable and humiliating position. Ready for my first beating!
The hand spanking that followed built in intensity like approaching distant drums. I was just glad the rhythm was being orchestrated by Mistress and not Jim Reeves. Mistress soon introduced the spanking paddle to procedures. This can only be described as a leather table tennis bat and is used to 'warm a slave's bottom ready for the cane', as Mistress kindly explained, before administering it and taking the spanking to a new level. The sting attained when the paddle made its loud cracks on my bottom was beginning to become uncomfortable.
My bottom was now 'nicely warmed up' as Mistress discovered as She casually caressed it with Her hand and tickled it with a feather boa. Ah! That really is one of the nicest feelings in the world. Having your hot, stinging bottom caressed and tickled. It is what play is all about. Pain and pleasure, hot and cold, restraint and reward.
My moment of relief over, Mistress fetched a thin, whippy cane, which was hooked on the back wall. Swishing it through the air, so that it made that all too familiar sound to ex-public-schoolboys of my age, She tapped me lightly with it.
'They used to cane you at your school, didn't they?' Mistress asked in a teasing way, knowing full well that they did from my letter. Mistress had a look of wishing She had been a teacher there, when She laughed, having heard me tell Her that female teachers had regularly caned the bare behinds of boys at my school. I certainly wish She had been there!
Then it landed. I heard the swish through the air then the burning sting. I gasped with shock as I took a sharp breath. 'Oww!' Then the second landed and the pain of the first stroke was eased by the fiery burning of this second assault on my buttocks. Another ten followed and I am proud to say I took them all with no mention of a certain French wine-growing region, which is my safe word.
As I lay, still shackled to the stool and breathing heavily following the ordeal I had just been put through, Mistress again caressed and stroked my now red and blue striped and welted bottom. I met 'spiky' for the first time. The spiked roller tingled as it traversed my bruised behind. Then I thought Mistress was applying some soothing cream as I could feel the coldness of it against my oven-like backside. She wasn't! Mistress was merely paving the way for Her next moment of fun and my next moment of humiliation and pain.
The soothing cream turned out to be a lubricant, and as Mistress slowly traced the valley between my buttocks with Her finger, She compounded my humiliation by asking if this was how Matron had done it at school. I was so ashamed I could hardly make my affirmative reply audible. I think Mistress enjoyed making me repeat 'Yes, Mistress. Thank you, Mistress.' so She could hear the embarrassment in my cringing voice.
Suddenly and without warning, Mistress inserted Her long, slender finger into my anus. Once again I gasped with surprise and let out a profanity. 'What did you say, slave?' Mistress demanded to know. When I jokingly replied that it was Welsh for 'Thank you, Mistress', She laughed, before ordering me to shut up and spread my legs wider. As a second digit joined the first.
See what I mean? I really am weird. I can take a hiding and other humiliating things, but I still have to make smart-arsed comments, even if that arse has got a finger or two jammed up it! But again I feel a bit of humour is good for the session and I love Mistress's cheeky little laugh.
Our session was welcomely interrupted by Madam who had a message for Mistress. Mistress asked if Madam would like to probe me. Madam accepted the invitation as casually and as matter-of-factly as She would have if asked whether She required a cup of tea. Madam swapped places with Mistress who, helpfully, held my buttocks apart to make Madam's task easier and I was soon thanking Madam for intensifying my shame.
Whilst Mistress dealt with the telephone, Madam continued her probing while Her other hand reached down and gently squeezed and weighed my testicles.
'This slave has dangly balls. Have You put weights on them?' Madam enquired of Mistress as She returned.
The two Ladies discussed and examined my private parts, as they would an animal at auction, as they released me from the stool and attached the weights. These were attached around my penis and testicles, and stretched them and made them hang down heavily between my legs. I was now made to open my legs and squat slightly. The two Ladies then stood one in front and one behind me and played 'football' as they kicked the weights hanging down from my genitals, accompanied by hoots of laughter.
At full time I don't know what the score was. I was more concerned with making sure that the passing was short, there were no long balls or square ones, and God forbid, the balls were all back in the bag at the end of the game!
Next I was stretched on the rack and hot wax dripped on my body. The nipples, armpits and penis being the most painfully sensitive places. Upon release, Mistress had me clean and polish one of Her many PVC outfits, and the session finished with me 'horsing around', as Mistress put me in a harness and reins, and I was made to give the Ladies rides on my back, up and down the hall.
Of course, when Mistress ordered me to make a sound like a horse, I couldn't resist saying, 'Hello, I'm Mr. Ed', for which I was suitably dealt with by Mistress's always handy riding crop.
Having kissed Mistress's feet and thanked Her, I was dismissed to take a shower and dress. I left The House duCroix absolutely buzzing and jumped in the car bubbling like a bottle of 'Champagne'. Shit! I've said it now! But sorry, Mistress. It doesn't count. Unfortunately the session's over till next Thursday. Just one thought revolved in my mind though - WHY HADN'T I DONE THIS TWENTY-ODD YEARS AGO? So thank You, Mistress and Madam duCroix for giving me a very memorable debut.
With thanks to Lady Emma for her stories from slaves. Stories or feedback from slaves would be welcomed and may be published on the site, with permission. Email info@mistresskiki.co.uk with the subject “Slave Stories”.