Cruel Mistress

A sadist is a person who enjoys, and gets sexual gratification, from inflicting pain on someone else and a masochist is a person who has the same feelings from having pain inflicted upon them.

She is a sadist and there are two completely different masochists in the story. They are well suited and their arrangement gives them all pleasure which is the point of an S/M relationship. Everything which takes place is consensual.

This is a work of fiction with no connection with reality and portrays a sadistic woman and her session with men who are masochists and who enjoy everything she puts them through and they wouldn't have it any other way.

If the theme is one you don't like please don't read any further.

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He parked his car in the same place as every other occasion and walked the two hundred yards to the premises of his mistress. It was a townhouse in the suburbs, divided into two self contained apartments and his mistress used the ground floor apartment.

As he got closer the adrenalin began pumping and he felt as though the anticipation was going to make him burst. He had never looked forward to anything more in his life than his visits to his mistress and the time for his monthly salary couldn't get paid into his bank quickly enough. Today was the day and the transfer to his mistress had been made. He reached his destination and stood before the front door of the house. He had arrived a couple of minutes early but he knew the door would not open until the time of the appointment and, sure enough, exactly on time he heard the electronic lock click and the door swung inwards.

He entered the hallway and stood by the basket that would shortly hold his clothing. He remained motionless until he heard the door close and lock behind him and the interior was plunged into blackness. He undressed in the darkness, placed all his clothing in the basket, and waited for the light to come on. He knew he had to remain motionless until the appropriate light came on.

The apartment has been completely changed from the original layout and consisted of four rooms each quite spacious. Three of them were a living room, kitchen and bathroom with each room containing items for the mistress to use during a session dependent on which room she decided to use. There was a fourth door leading to a basement. He knew the layout because his mistress had given him a tour of her premises on his first visit prior to their discussing his medical history and find out, if any, his previous experience of bdsm. She had wanted to know what his particular fetishes were and what he expected from his time with her, what he considered undesirable, his fantasies, and whether he wanted to be marked.

Above the door to each room was a light which gave out just enough illumination to see your way to that room without walking into anything but having visited each room he was confident that he could negotiate his way without the benefit of any light. He knew from past experience not to tell his mistress of his confidence because if he did she would no doubt set a trap for him. He had no doubt, from experience, it would be a very painful trap. Perhaps he should do it?

The fourth light came on. The one leading to the basement. This was his favourite. It led to the dungeon which was the best equipped part of the house. He paused at the top of the stairs and then began to descend. Three steps down and the staircase steps swivelled and became a chute down which he fell head over heels landing in a heap at the bottom with the wind knocked out of him. That hadn't happened before. It must be new. He lay there for a few seconds, the breath knocked from him by the fall, knowing he must not take too long before he started to crawl across the floor.

The lights in the dungeon were dimmed but he could still see his Mistress's throne. He crawled towards it as fast as he could knowing if he didn't he would suffer.

His Mistress was very much into technology and used it to suit whatever she wanted. The electronically operated door; the lights in the hall; the infra-red cctv cameras; and, as he had just discovered, the stairs that become a chute. She had several remote controls spread around together with controls on the walls and on some of the equipment. You didn't know what would happen in the same way as you didn't know which light will come on. Sometimes the lights go out as the submissive descended the stairs.

The dungeon was twenty feet wide and forty feet long, not quite the depth of the property, and and with an eight foot high ceiling. There was a polished wood floor and the walls were a mix of bare brickwork, full height mirrors, and burgundy velvet drapes. Around the edge of the room were several boxes similar in style to those you find at the end of a bed but smaller. These, and racks on sections of bare wall, contained the equipment Mistress needed to work her magic. Close by the stairs was a wet room, and in the centre of the room a padded horse and a bench. He had experienced being fastened to both of them in the past.

Then there was the throne, which would have been suitable for royalty, positioned in front of one of the side walls, in front of velvet drapes. The throne was facing away from him, he crawled towards it and then stopped on his knees with his head bowed. The dais the throne was set on revolved 180 degrees towards him. He heard the snap of her fingers. The signal he was allowed to lift his head.

He saw the toe, the sole, and the six inch spiked heels that were capable, as he knew from experience, of piercing skin and causing severe pain to all parts of the body.

Another snap of the fingers and he was allowed to lift his head a little higher to allow his gaze to see the whole of the shiny black leather knee high boots Mistress was wearing today and his eyes took in the laces that criss-crossed the front of the boots.

Mistress moved a foot towards his face and he knew what was expected. He started to lick around the toe and when she lifted her foot he licked the sole. When she lifted her foot up further he opened his mouth and she slipped the deadly heel between his lips. He sucked on it as though it was the most delicious thing that had ever been in his mouth. Which in a way it was.

He heard Mistress rise from her throne and stand before him, but he was still only allowed to see up to her knees. She walked behind him and then halted. He dare not move even though he knew something was going to happen.

A few second later her foot smashed into his balls. He had expected the crop or the paddle, or perhaps the flogger, and the impact of being kicked shocked him so much he fell forward. It was the wrong thing to do and, as he came back on his hands and knees, he knew it was going to happen again and would continue until he didn't fall. He gritted his teeth and stayed firm waiting for another kick. After what seemed an eternity her boot hammered into him but he remained firm.

The clicking of her heels as she walked away was music to his ears. Once again she snapped her fingers and he stood up. A second snap and he turned around.

She looked magnificent. She had a sensational figure and and stood six feet tall without her six inch heels. Long, lean legs and breasts that were just the right size. Not large but not small. Her wild, black hair hung down, over her shoulders, past her breasts. Her eyebrows were pencilled in to match her hair and today she was wearing purple eyeshadow.

Black leather skin tight trousers tucked into the knee high boots. A four inch wide black leather belt around what must be a twenty two inch waist. Above her waist a black leather top which ended in a high neck collar and sleeves down to the wrist. Emblazoned on the front of the top was a blood red image of the Superman logo. As he watched she slowly slipped on a pair of soft black leather gloves and then beckoned him to approach her. She curled a finger, motioning him to stand before her, he moved into position, and stood perfectly still waiting for her to speak.

"Good afternoon, how are you today?" she murmured in her gentle, almost hypnotic, voice.

"I am well but all the better for being fortunate to be in your presence," he said, bowing his head.

She immediately slapped his face with such force he was almost knocked from his feet.

"I apologise, Mistress. I am well but all all the better for being fortunate to be in your presence, Mistress," he muttered, in his most ingratiating voice.

"You make me so happy when you say that," she said, stroking the cheek she had just reddened.

In truth he knew what to say. On his very first visit she had met him in the hall and, without knowing what was expected, when she welcomed him he had said "Hello". She had immediately given him the same face slapping and told him to how to address her in future. Why had he not do so? Because he enjoyed it when she hit him. So he deliberately made the mistake. He knew it. She knew it. But they continued the charade not because he enjoyed it but because she did.

She put a gloved hand to both his cheeks and caressed them lovingly. Then she slammed her knee into his balls! This was not the first time but he never knew whether she was going to bust his balls or not. She liked to keep him wondering and he liked it that way.

She moved her hands onto his shoulders, held him, and slammed her knee in to his balls again. Holding him by the shoulders she kneed him a third time. Then a fourth. Then a fifth. She removed her hands and, when she slammed his balls for the final time, he couldn't stop himself from sinking to the floor.

She knelt down, lifted his chin, and murmured, "you were very good, Pet. Was it enjoyable for you?"

"Yes, Mistress. It was very kind of you to give me such a lovely surprise." He barely squeezed the truth out as he struggled for breath.

She had kneed him in the balls on previous occasions when she welcomed him but not on every occasion. He never knew what was going to happen. But previously she had kneed him only once so this time really was a surprise.

"I always think of you, Pet. You are my favourite and I always look forward to enjoying you," she said, as she took hold of him by the neck, with one hand, and pulled him upright.

In her six inch spikes she towered over him and looked down into his eyes with pure lust. Still holding by the neck her other hand reached down for his erect cock.

He was proud of his body. He was fortunate, for reasons unknown, to have a body which kept fit without having to work out. His six-pack stayed firm no matter how much junk food he ate. But he wasn't proud of his cock. When fully hard it was closer to five inches than six inches. But it was a decent thickness and with a large head. A saving grace but which did nothing to save his embarrassment.

Holding his cock firmly she led him over to a section of the floor, near the wet room, which was recessed and tiled. The tiles sloped in from opposite sides to create a shallow valley and along the centre line was a row of holes each about the size of a wine cork.

Without being told what to do he laid down, on his back, along the line of the holes and waited. Mistress stood astride him, above his cock. As she spread her feet the leather between her legs opened giving him a glorious view of her shaven pussy.

The golden wine shot out in a torrent as she pissed all over his cock and balls. She stopped pissing, held it within herself, stepped forward over his chest and pissed again, the water running off his chest in yellow rivulets. She directed the torrent all over his face saturating his hair. Without being told he opened his mouth and she finished him off, as usual, by pissing into his mouth. He swallowed everything and, as always, felt well pleased with himself for doing so.

She walked away and, without being told, he went to the wet room in the dungeon which was separated from the main area by a floor to ceiling glass screen. He stepped inside and the door automatically locked behind him. There were three shower heads, one on each wall and he was able to enjoy being under the waterfall. The control to the shower was outside and when she turned the shower on he luxuriated in the hot water, used the shampoo and soap provided to thoroughly cleanse himself, with Mistress watching.

He turned towards Mistress to show her he was clean. She was sipping from a glass of white wine held in one hand and he watched as her other hand moved to stop the shower. Suddenly the hot water changed to icy cold and he screamed with shock. After what seemed an eternity the deluge stopped and warm air came from the ceiling and the walls to dry him. When he was dry she pushed a button on the wall to open the door and he stepped back into the main dungeon.

"Over to the naughty step." She didn't have to indicate where the naughty step was because he'd been on it more than once. It was a rarity if he wasn't put on the naughty step.

The naughty step was a padded bench near the bottom of the stairs. It was five feet long, a foot wide and a foot and a half high and was between the stairs and the throne. He laid himself across it and she straddled the bench to his left.

"Count and thank me, Pet," she murmured.

Her leather gloved right hand came down on each cheek, still bruised from his previous visit, in turn.

"One. Thank you, Mistress...Two. Thank you, Mistress..." He continued counting until each cheek had received twenty strokes.

"Turn." Her voice was curt, as always when providing punishment.

He turned on the bench so that his right side was towards Mistress. This was to give her right arm a rest from spanking him. She then gave him another twenty spankings. His arse glowed bright red and, although the markings would eventually go, the memory and feeling would remain.

"To the cross." As always her tone was decisive and didn't brook hesitation.

Unable to walk quickly he moved over to the cross positioned opposite the bench. He went behind the cross, faced the centre of the room, spread his legs and lifted his arms so that his body shape matched the cross. There was a bar connecting the bottom of the cross and after he had lifted his arms she had fastened his wrists with handcuffs and shackled each ankle into place. She walked round the cross inspecting his cock and balls. There was a circular opening in the cross and his cock, which had been erect from the moment he had stepped out of the shower, protruded through together with his balls.

Mistress removed her gloves, gently caressing his cock with her fingers. She held it in one hand while she drew her nails the length of his cock again and again, both above and below, leaving narrow red lines each time. He could feel her actions making his cock becoming agitated feeling the need to come approach. Suddenly she took his balls in her hand with a grip of steel, her talons digging into his testicles, and squeezed so hard he emitted a scream that echoed round the dungeon.

She took his head in her hands, and kissed him gently on his forehead.

"Good boy. You've done well. I do so love you when you make me happy." She smiled as she kissed him lightly on the lips.

She bent down and secured his balls by wrapping a thin leather cord around them, dividing them into halves. At the end of the cord was a hook on to which she attached a lead weight shaped like a bell. She dropped the weight. An ear splitting scream came from his lips and he could feel the tears running down his face. She took a pristine white handkerchief from her pocket and wiped away his tears.

"I so love it when my boys scream," she said, calmly. "So much more satisfying than using a ball gag."

She took one of the paddles from the wall and moved behind him as he waited for the inevitable impact. When it came it took him by surprise because, compared with what was usual, it was very gentle. She gave him five strokes on each cheek and he was thinking it was his lucky day until she struck with more force than ever before and continued to fifteen strokes. Despite it taking him by surprise, he made no sound and was very pleased with himself.

"That was a test," she murmured in his ear. "You came through with flying colours. Now count for me again."

She proceeded to give him another twenty strokes of the same intensity. He counted and thanked her for every one, heaving a sigh of relief when she stopped, despite the fact he was enjoying his treatment as he always did. He waited for her to unshackle him and then heard the swish through the air the instant before the crop connected.

"Begin counting again." There was never any change in her voice as she issued her commands.

When she finally stopped he had counted up to fifty and his ass was throbbing like hell. What had he done to deserve this treatment today? He was sure that he had done nothing to anger her and yet this punishment was far beyond anything that he had ever received. She came in front of him and, with a broad smile, removed the weight and strap from his balls and released his other restraints. When she stood up and he knew what was expected.

"Thank you, Mistress," he said, in his ingratiating voice.

Taking hold of him by his cock she lead him to the fucking bench. Without being told he bent over the end, letting his arms drop over each side, and she shackled his legs and then his arms. As usual he felt the syringe containing the lube penetrate his orifice. She preferred to put the lube into his anus this way because she said it made penetration easier and it wasn't messy. As soon as the syringe was removed, before any lube began leaking out, she pushed a finger in and spread it around the crack in his cheeks. She had fucked him so often, sometimes two or three times in a session, she was able to insert three fingers right away and only needed to work the lube around for a few seconds. He wondered what size she was going to use today. Not that he had any choice.

He heard her open the drawer containing her toys. She deliberately never had one ready, she liked to surprise him, because she didn't want him to mentally prepare himself. Sometimes she only used the six inch trainer but occasionally the Ripper. It's name explained its size and the effect it had on a shafted alleyway. He felt the head of today's strapon enter. As she pushed it past his sphincter and it stretched him he knew it was the ten inch. The one with the ridges that rippled backwards and forwards through his sphincter. It was large enough to be able to fuck him and have him feel it's effect for a long time afterwards. Being fucked by a strapon always made him feel good because, whatever the size, he was making Mistress happy.

What was going on today? All the punishment he was receiving was far more than he expected. The kneeing in the balls. Spanking. Paddle. Crop. Weighted balls. Now the ten inch strapon. He had been on the receiving end of each of those but not all during the same session.

Slowly she eased the strapon all the way into him until he felt her balls pushing up against his arse. After taking it easy for the first few strokes, she rammed herself in as far as she could go and although his body tried to move away he was held by the restraints. Instantly she pulled almost all the way out and then immediately rammed it balls deep again. She fucked him, fucked him hard, and he loved every stroke. She slapped his arse, his already sore arse, as she fucked him, sticking her fingers in his mouth and pulling backwards, arching his back as she pulled him on to her shaft.

His mind started to whirl, his focus on his surroundings began to vanish, and he tried to hang on but eventually lost consciousness. When he regained his senses the strapon was no longer in his arse and he felt totally empty. He ached like never before and he didn't feel as if he could crawl let alone walk. Mistress had never ravaged him so good.