Mistress Kiki of Bristol - Unable to Please
Having showered and dried I awaited the torrent of abuse and insults I was about to receive. It felt like waiting outside my line manager's door, the day after my team had had a particularly unproductive shift. However, this differed somewhat... I waited, kneeling. Naked!
'Rules? What are the Rules?' Mistress demanded as She swept into the red and grey dungeon. 'Come on! Hurry up, you stupid bastard. ' Mistress had begun Her tirade. I somehow managed to stammer my way through the House Rules without error and therefore, without further admonishment.
'Stand before Me. Hands on head. Feet three feet apart.' Mistress ordered. I quickly obeyed. 'Have you actually got a cock? It's hard to tell. Especially with this unsightly bush.' Mistress ran Her hands through my pubic hair to emphasise Her point as She continued Her inspection. 'Oh yes!' She squealed in exaggerated excitement upon locating my cock. 'Here it is, and it's even standing to attention, erect!'
Mistress 's hand covered Her mouth as She continued giggling. 'I think we'd best shave that bush of yours or I shan't be able to view your cock properly.' Mistress called down the stairs for the houseboy, spart, to bring Her a razor, some gel, water and a towel. 'And be quick about it.'
I stood, nervously, as ordered. I was about to be shaved. Shaved in my most private area. Shaved by a beautiful Girl. Could I cope?
In my few and far between fumbles that constituted my sex life, I had always tried to avoid foreplay. Well aware of the smallness of my cock, I had always tried to hide it during my limited sex life. Now I was about to have my privates shaved, in full open view, by a Girl!
I could hear slave spart moving around downstairs, hurriedly carrying out its orders. All male creatures carried out all orders, issued to it by a Lady at The House, quickly and to the best of its abilities. It was an unwritten law.
All too soon spart was trotting upstairs to deliver its humiliation-inducing cargo to the landing. 'Top of the stairs, Mistress.' spart announced, far too cheerfully for my liking, having successfully completed its task. Then dismounting without so much as recognition from Mistress.
'Up on My whipping bench. On your back.' Mistress headed towards the top of the stairs as She issued Her demands. 'Lie back and lift your legs. As if I was changing your nappy.' I nervously obeyed... I was on full display! 'Shall I ask My friend, Nikki, if She will give Me a hand?'
I was mortified as Mistress called downstairs. Mistress again giggled as She watched the panic and distress sweep across my face. It was with relief that only spart answered the call. That would have been my particular private nightmare come true. Two Girls looking at my inadequate winky. Thankfully, it was just Mistress teasing. 'Having a laugh. Chill.' As She put it. 'Nothing, spart. Go away!'
Mistress returned with a Tupperware bowl of warm water before returning to the landing for the razor, gel and towel. Mistress placed them on the stool adjacent to the bench where I lay like a turkey on Christmas morning. On my back, nude, legs lifted, knees apart.
My soon-to-be-removed bush and inadequacies clearly exposed. Would it be offensive to Ladies to call it 'the gynaecological position' without a chair?
'Might as well be changing your nappy. After all, besides the hairs I'm about to remove, it looks just like a little baby boy down there between your legs.' Having laid the towel down, Mistress moistened my pubic hair with splashes of the warm water before adding a generous spurt of gel. It bubbled and foamed as Mistress massaged the lather through my pubic area with Her gloved hand. My legs, instinctively, stretched open to accommodate Her hand. I wanted to spread wide. As wide as I could, so this pretty young Girl had a total and clear view of my pathetic little cock.
'It's like a slug!' Mistress commented as She swept the razor through my pubic forest again. 'Couldn't call it a worm. It's too short and stumpy. You ought to be ashamed,' She kindly added, stifling a giggle.
Mistress held my scrotum as She shaved my 'marble sized' balls bald. 'And these are no bigger than processed peas,' She noted, adding to my shame. 'Have they fully dropped? Do they produce?' - Was this a script, or did She naturally know how to hurt? Definitely the latter.
This was just what I'd hoped for. Yes, I was red with embarrassment and shame, but this was just how I'd imagined it in my fantasies... and it was certainly the fantasy I was, for once, best equipped for.
Soon Mistress was towelling dry between my well-spread legs. My little willy hardened to Her touch through the fast moving towel.
Though I doubt She even noticed!
Having finished Her very best Sweeney Todd impersonation, Mistress considered my castration as a possible solution for the problem I was yet to be disciplined for. I trembled at the very thought and prayed that it was Mistress 'having a laugh'. I forced myself to 'chill'.
Thankfully it was... Mistress had a 'wicked' sense of humour (not)!
Mistress called for spart and running at Mistress's bidding, it removed the shaving stuff but not before being ordered to 'Look at the creature. Notice anything strange?' Without hesitation spart replied stating that it thought 'the creature had a small cock'. I don’t think it was pre-arranged or rehearsed! It just added to my shame.
Mistress now had a silver flight case on the stool. She searched through its contents as She issued the order that I 'keep my legs well-spread and as they are', warning that I would be secured should I fail to do so. Returning to where I lay, it appeared Mistress had located the first item of torture She was to use on my trembling body... I shivered.
The pin wheel traversed my upper thighs. It gave a sensation of pain and tickling. I instinctively pulled away. 'How dare you move?'
Mistress screamed. 'Get down and move the whipping bench over there.' I moved it to where Mistress pointed. 'I'm very disappointed.'
'Sorry, Mistress.' I spurted. Why? I was actually apologising for moving when someone was dragging a spiked metal wheel down my leg. Still, I reiterated my apology, and meant it!
I leapt up and was keenly aware that I had to spread my legs and bend over as I struggled to drag the whipping bench into position. Was She looking? Could She see anything? Why was I worrying? She'd seen bigger before. Probably this week. Probably today. Probably in the last hour.
Soon Mistress declared Herself happy with the positioning of the bench and after having cuffed my wrists and ankles with shackles, had me resume my prostate position. 'Lift your legs.' Mistress demanded and She attached bulldog clips to each ankle cuff. These in turn were attached to ropes on two separate pulleys.
Before hoisting me into a convenient position, which left me balancing on my upper back and shoulders, held there by the hoists on my ankles, legs doubled back over my head, Mistress attached a three-foot leg spreader between my ankle shackles. I certainly wouldn't be moving this time. Or at least, very little. I hung like a side of bacon in the abattoir.
I was becoming intensely aware of my nudity, accessibility and vulnerability. Mistress emphasised this as She casually administered four sharp spanks onto my well-presented balls. 'Ah. Does that sting or did I miss altogether?' She mockingly enquired. 'Yes, Mistress.
Thank you, Mistress.' My spineless, heavy-breathed response.
Emphasising my vulnerability, Mistress applied Her latest, sadistically selected, instrument of torture to my openly displayed genitalia and all its sensitive areas. Giggling as my anal bud involuntarily puckered under Her touch as the stainless steel, spiked, roller ball crossed it. She repeated Her action... It puckered again. Mistress giggled again.
Next, it was wooden clothes pegs. Four or five were clipped to my scrotum and Mistress mocked, derisorily, as She was only able to fit three pegs on the length of my cock. 'Not much of a target. Still, never mind.'
With a deep intake of breath, my body froze, as I noticed that Mistress now had a riding crop in Her right hand. The sudden realization of what She had meant by Her last comment hitting me like an express Intercity 125... Mistress was going to use the riding crop to whip the attached pegs from my genitals.
Having been told to keep still, for my own sake and not to spoil Mistress's aim, entertainment and fun, not to mention what would be in store for me should I not, Mistress began Her game.
It was now I discovered I had five pegs attached to my scrotum. With impressive accuracy, Mistress had, first of all, whipped off the three on my cock. It had taken four strokes, one missing its intended target (I think!). I had squealed like a pig as Mistress's crop had lashed across the end of my diminutive penis. Now I was squealing again, as Mistress connected once again with the last peg. Stubbornly, it refused to relinquish its pinching grip.
Bored, Mistress reached between my legs and tore the peg from my skin. She didn't bother to open it. The sting was worse than any pain I had felt previously. I wished Mistress would just rub my balls. Anything to soothe the stinging pinch where the last peg had been. Please. She didn't.
Anything but, as She now took a chocolate-scented candle from its holder. 'Hot wax, boy?' Mistress walked in between my roped legs. 'Take your mind off the stinging between your legs... give you something else to think about.' Mistress was so kind. 'Test My aim as well. Never had such a little willy to hit before. Think I'll take a photo or two on My phone after. The Girls won't believe how tiny it is unless I show them!'
Needless to say, Mistresswas every bit as accurate with this pyrotechnical form of torture as She had been with the now discarded riding crop.
My mind had wandered to a table full of pretty young Girls at a pub laughing, in shocked disbelief, at the pictures of my pathetic little willy on Mistress's phone. The first dribble of hot wax landing across my exposed penis head. Exposed as my foreskin was pulled back due to the erection I was experiencing, soon bringing me back to the present. My erection, quickly, subsided as my penis shrunk even smaller than usual in a vain attempt to hide. But there was no bush for cover anymore.
Again I cried out in pain as Mistress declared bull's-eye upon dripping wax onto my rapidly disappearing jap-eye. 'Champagne!' I screamed. Mistress resisted pouring more wax onto my groin and released my shackles.
'Up, boy, and turn yourself over. You are to be punished for all the young Ladies' time you have wasted.' Mistress's tone had changed from teasing to disciplinarian.
I heard the clink of buckles being done up before Mistress returned, behind me. The cold of the lubricating gel made me jump as Mistress held my buttocks apart as She liberally applied it. My anus puckered again as Mistress slipped Her little finger up my arse. I don't think She noticed. She didn’t giggle. ' This is what your willy feels like when you put it in someone.' Mistress wiggled it. 'Barely notice do you?'
I prayed the question was rhetorical as I was far too ashamed and humiliated to have answered. Suddenly, Mistress announced that 'This was how it was meant to feel'. I gasped for breath as She roughly took me with Her strap-on.
Some fifteen or so hard thrusts later, Mistress withdrew, whilst unbuckling Her 'weapon', She began to clearly explain why I was now to be thrashed.
It was for wasting young Ladies' time. I was guilty of talking to and buying Girls drinks. Trying to chat them up when I knowingly had such a small cock that I could not possibly pleasure a Lady, let alone satisfy one. For wasting their time when they could have been talking to 'a real man'.
Mistress selected Her cane...
With thanks to Lady Emma for her stories from slave spart. 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”.