tagBDSMMistress Nature

Mistress Nature


The priestess stood on the platform above the assembled women. Her hair was long and black, stretching along the taught lines and blessed curves of her mature body. Not a hair was out of place on her head, and there was not a drop of sweat to be found on her body as the sun pressed its will upon all of them.

"Please!" they cried, their bodies wilting, faces dripping, clothes sopping, and hair disheveled by the summer heat. "Please ask Mistress Nature to be gentle!"

"No", the priestess said, her voice barely above a whisper, smiling as they shook at her reply. "Mistress Nature has spoken. She says that she sees your deeds and hears your thoughts. You have been nothing more than mewling bitches in heat, so in her wisdom she is showing your true nature to the world."

"Now", the priestess continued, "everyone can see you as the bitches in heat you are: dripping wet and yearning for relief from anyone at all. But she will not allow you the release you covet. This is her lash, and you are blessed to receive it. Only when you have proven yourself worthy of her lash will you taste her nectar."

The women began to look up, trying to form an objection, but the priestess' gaze silenced them and set their eyes back upon the ground. One by one, they crawled away.

The priestess smiled to herself. She could see the change in the women, their willfulness was breaking, replaced by a reluctant reliance upon Mistress Nature and her Priestess for the relief that consumed their thoughts. It was merely the first step, but the summer would last as long as was needed.

They all believed that once they respected Mistress Nature's lash, they would never taste it again. The priestess knew what the women would learn in time: once they had truly shown themselves worthy of her lash and tasted her nectar, they would covet the lash as the drowning covet air.

And she would not be gentle.

A month later, the women came to the priestess again to plead to Mistress Nature. The Mistress had spoken to her priestess, that she should be merciful to them as their was one among them with true potential to carry the weight of the people's lusts.

She spoke to the women in empty phrases, waiting for the appointed sign. When she received it, the women were dismissed. The priestess called to the last of them to leave, as Mistress Nature had directed her.

The woman's shoulders were slumped and her clothes were heavy with sweat. She took a few more steps before pausing, turning, and walking back to the priestess.

"Aren't you tired?" the priestess said innocently The woman mumbled about the walk and her labor. "No", the priestess said more forcefully, "are you not tired of having to guide yourself and provide for yourself? Does the burden not press upon you. Is it what you want? Is it who you are?"

The woman said nothing, looking blankly at her own feet. The priestess could feel her words working on the woman's mind. Self-will had bound her spirit, and its ropes were strong but straining. The priestess would pluck at the fibers one by one until the whole apparatus of misery collapsed.

"What..", the woman said, meaning to follow it with 'else can I do'. But even with her own eyes on her feet, she could not speak when the priestess stared at her.

"You may stay. I will provide for you. I will guide you. You will accept my provision, my direction, and my discipline." The priestess paused, enjoying the woman's awed silence", My word will be your only thought, only desire, and only good.

The woman did not speak and would not need to for a long while. She collapsed at the priestess' feet, weeping and kissing them.

"Good, my pet" the priestess said, "this pleases both me and The Mistress. But with each step you will find her harder to please. Her demands will be greater, her judgement more exacting, and her disciplines harsher. But that is a worry for tomorrow. Tonight", the priestess continued as put the collar on her new disciple and attached the leash, "tonight, she will give you unforgettable, unimaginable pleasures so that you may remember and long for them in the coming months as they are denied you." The woman crawled silently to the priestess' side.

The priestess could see fresh clouds in the distance and felt the beginnings of a cool breeze. Mistress Nature was pleased.

The rest of the summer passed slowly for the woman. Every few day, the priestess would parade her naked through the village, exposed to the scorching heat of the sun and the humiliating stares and degrading words of the people. When she was given a respite from the sun, the priestess tested her skin with a whip.

After a few weeks, upon returning from one of their "walks" the collar was briefly removed and the woman allowed to speak. "Why are you making me do this? Why are you treating me like a..." She could not bring herself to finish the sentence, the priestess allowed the missing word to hang in the air for a few agonizing seconds.

The priestess placed her hand on the woman's cheek for a moment, then removed all but one finger from her face. She traced the finger down the woman's sweaty body. She grazed a nipple, which twitched from hardened to painfully so. She slipped down her stomach, down to her thigh, and over to her inner thigh. The woman's legs spread on their own as the finger reached the woman's vagina. She suppressed a moan as the finger moved along her lips. They were very wet, and she knew it was not sweat. The priestess withdrew her finger.

She held the finger up to the woman's face, and the woman leaned forward and licked it clean. It was a strange taste, but not one she minded. It was a new experience, but it felt obvious and natural to her. Finally, the priestess spoke: "because this is what you want. Because this is who you are."

The woman nodded and bowed her head. She took back the collar and tightened it around her own neck. "This", she thought, "is what I want. This is who I am."

Autumn had been amazing. The heat of the summer had passed, and the priestess had been more lenient with the whip. The people returned to the fields: to plow and plant, to tend the crops, and to harvest and celebrate the yield. As a pet of The Mistress and servant of the priestess, such labors were not for the woman. She was an offering for the laborers.

Whatever the task one of the men or women had, they did it faster and better knowing that her body was waiting as their reward. If it was a group job... she had 3 holes, 2 hands, and enough endurance to go as many rounds as the job called for.

When the village was too busy for her to tour the various fields and work-sites, the priestess would simply tie her up in a central location and let the workers come to her. They knew what they needed, and she was happy to comply.

She was always naked, but without embarrassment. Anyone who desired to see her had already done so, all who wished to touch her had had ample opportunity to do so, and all who wished to fuck her had most certainly done so several times and in more ways than she would have thought possible a year before. She took pride in the names some of them called her: "whore", "slut", "cum-dumpster", "cock-sleeve", "pussy-pet"... "Of course", she thought, "this is who I am? What else would I want to be called?"

At the end of each day, she was exhausted and sore, but happy. Cum dripped off and out of her as she drifted into sleep. "How", she asked herself "did I ever think I was happy before Mistress Nature freed me?"

But winter... winter was hard. The air was cold, and clothes felt wrong on her skin. There was little work to do, so the labors needed no motivating, rewarding, or release.

She had wanted to continue honoring them for the work they had done and to start encouraging them for the work they would be doing come spring, but the priestess had been very clear that Mistress Nature regarded it as unacceptable. Each season had its joys, its sorrows, its labors, and its disciplines, and if she could not accept winter's she should not expect spring's.

For the first few weeks of winter, she had been permitted to touch herself. It was a poor substitute for the villagers with their shouts, their grasping, groping hands, and their rough refusal to concern themselves with her comfort or pleasure. No matter what she called herself, how hard she slapped herself, how tightly she bound herself, or how coarsely she fucked herself, it was never the same. All she could give herself was a flicker of faint pleasure and a brief period of blunted desire.

But then the priestess put a stop even to that. The woman, for all the progress she had made in those 5 months, sulked at that turn of events. Though she continued to obey, she began to do so grudgingly. She wished to speak, no longer trusting in or rejoicing in the gift the priestess had given in taking her voice.

The priestess had wished to address the matter immediately, but Mistress Nature instructed her to wait. The priestess asked for no explanation and was only told that the woman's will would need to be stronger for her discipline to break it properly and productively.

Days passed, with both the priestess and the woman in ill moods. Then The Mistress gave the priestess word that the woman's discipline was to begin.

The priestess led the woman to the atonement table by the leash attached to the her collar. She pushed the woman onto her back at the center of the table, binding each hand and foot to a corner.

She slapped the woman hard across her face. "Mistress Nature compelled me to let you wallow in your disobedience, but now she has had me bring you here. This is a place for brats to prove they can yet be made into something other than worthless." The priestess slapped the woman again, harder this time, to provide the other bookend for her statement.

"To whom does your body belong?" the priestess asked, coldly and forcefully. The woman did not respond. "To whom does your mind belong?" When the woman did not answer, the priestess tightened her straps. "To whom does your pleasure belong? To whom does your desire belong?"

There were tears welling up around the woman's eyes, and her shock was giving way to helplessness. "To whom does your body belong?"

"The Mistress"

"To whom does you mind belong?"

"The Mistress"

"To whom does your pleasure belong?"

"to The Mistress, and to you."

"To whom does your desire belong?"

"To the Mistress, and to you."

The priestess took the end of the woman's leash, pulled it down over her body and under her leg, and then stretched it up her back until it latched onto the back of her collar. With every breath it rubbed against her clitoris and labia. Soon, it was slick with her arousal, making the sensation even more maddening. The priestess placed something small between her leash and her clit, and the warmth of her body made it start to vibrate. Taken together, it was almost too much of the woman. But only almost.

The priestess spoke again, "Your body, your mind, your pleasure, and your desire all belong to The Mistress and she has entrusted them to me. When she wants them, you are to give them without hesitation or qualification. When she orders you to share them, you are to do so without regard to what or with whom it is demanded. When she orders you to wait, you are to wait."

"Your body is not for your pleasure, it is for the pleasure of The Mistress and those to whom she gives it. Your desire is not for your will, but for her desire and her pleasure."

The priestess put a blindfold over the woman's eyes. "Now, you are to wait. You are not to speak unless spoken to, and you may not have an orgasm."

"And if I do...?" the woman asked, terrified and pliant.

"You would not ask if you were not preparing to fail", the priestess answered coldly, "Do. Not. Fail."

With that, the priestess walked away, leaving the woman in darkness and silence.

The woman had no sense of how much time passed in that state. She did not know that was 2 days later when the priestess returned. The priestess untied her hands and feet, and led her to a stall to urinate and defecate. When such practicalities were complete, she pushed her, still blindfolded, to the ground. In front of her were 2 bowls: one of food and one of water. The priestess led the woman's face to each. "This is how The Mistress wishes you to be fed. You are her pet, waiting for her and her pleasure, and this is how a pet should be."

She ate and drank eagerly, though each movement brought the leash into fresh contact with her tender flesh.

When she had eaten to the priestess' desire, she was pulled to her feet and rebound to the table as before.

Each day at the same time, the priestess would return to care for the woman. Over the next few weeks, exercises were added to the regimen so her muscles would not atrophy during her correction. The priestess next began adding brushing the woman's hair to the daily respite. Then she added washing and perfuming her skin. The priestess would allow no other to touch the woman, both to ensure the woman was tightly bound to her and because only she knew how to lead her to the precipice of the ecstacy her body demanded, hold her there, and them draw her back.

Soon after, the priestess began whispering to the woman "You are a whore... a slut... but you are The Mistress' whore... you are my slut. Without me, you have no mistress. Without The Mistress, you are unloved and unlovable; you have nothing and ARE nothing. But with her, you are an honored whore and cherished slut. Let go. Let us free you."

The priestess repeated these words every day until the woman was repeating them to herself over and over again in the silent darkness, until finally they became her own words and "I am" replaced "you are". By then it was nearly spring and her penitence was complete.

Returning to the world of sight and sound was terrifying for the woman. She was unhappy when her leash was not held. Her desire to hear the priestess' voice and obey her will overwhelmed even her need for sex.

One morning during the last days of winter, the priestess gave the woman a bowl filled with a strange potion. The woman drank it without question, as The Mistress surely willed. At the time she felt no different, but the next morning woke with much larger breasts and feeling overwhelmingly aroused.

The priestess, sensing the woman's thoughts, explained to her what the potion had done: "Mistress Nature wants you to be bountiful, and she wants you to be ready for your ministry. You are her cup of blessing to be given to her people. For this, you must always have more of her blessing to share and room to hold more of their pain."

The priestess continued, "You will never be satisfied again. No number of cocks, no bounty of pussies, no amount of cum, no surfeit of pleasure will ever sate your desire or lessen your hunger. You will ALWAYS want more, need more, and be ready to give more."

"Furthermore", the priestess continued, "The Mistress wills that you be bred. After the labors of spring you will most certainly be carrying a child. This will continue for every spring for as long as you are able, for by your bounty will the village be bountiful, and by your fertility will The Mistress' people be fertile."

Her large breasts quickly became a point of pleasure and pride for the woman. She loved how they strained towards the ground like the drops of arousal ever leaking down her legs. She loved how they skipped as she walked and how, whenever she turned, they needed a moment to catch up, overshot the mark, and then bounced back. She loved having the largest breasts in the village after having had merely average ones. She knew of no words that captured the lowness and highness of her place, but she loved it without them.

Spring was a blur, much as Autumn had been. The men and women needed relief, reward, and inspiration, and it was her body's purpose to give it to them. She ended each day dripping cum out of every hole in her body, covered in semen, bruises, and welts; she was sore and beatifically happy.

By the end of spring, it was clear that she was pregnant.

Summer, like winter, was a time of rest for the laborers, but Mistress Nature and the priestess had plans for the woman beyond leisure. First, the Mistress gave her a plug to wear in her anus. It was large, but the villagers had put things wider and longer in there far more vigorously. It served only as a faint echo of earlier pleasures; able to entice but too weak to satisfy. It was only later that she realized that it had been made to mimic a cow's tale.

The priestess had the woman's breasts pierced and weights hung on them. With every movement she made, she felt a shock of pain tear through her breasts, followed by an afterglow of pleasure spreading through her body until it slowly leaked out her vagina and dripped down her legs.

Next, the priestess attached a bell to the woman's collar. It was not a beautiful bell in either appearance or sound. It was an ornament for someone who did not merit nice things, only crude, functional ones. The woman delighted in her bell, knowing that it fit who she knew herself to be.

Between the heat of summer and her pregnancy, it was hard for the woman to be paraded through the village. At first, the priestess merely allowed her to rest periodically. When she was tired, the priestess would make her drop to her hands and knees to regroup. With a jolt, she perceived herself as others saw her: her tail hanging limp, her breasts dangling almost to the ground, and the crude bell clanging hoarsely. This thought neither troubled not excited her, it simply was.

The priestess sensed the woman's thoughts and knelt down next to her, gently caressing her cheek. "Do you think you are like a cow?" the Mistress said, "A cow produces milk, produces calves, and does work. You do only one of those things, and will never do more than two. Silly whore, you are good for far less than a cow." The woman smiled at the blessing of the priestess' voice.

Soon after, her breasts began to leak milk. It was slow at first, but the occasional drops soon became a succession of them until even a gentle squeeze would unleash a stream of milk.

When, due to the combined weight of her belly and breasts, she was no longer able to walk more than a short distance, the priestess had the temple servants lead her through the village on a cart like a prize animal. The people still shouted words like "slut" and "whore", but with an almost worshipful awe.

That Autumn was different than the one a year before, but equally satisfying. Her belly was impossibly large and her breasts were incredibly heavy. The priestess would put her on a cart, take her somewhere in the village, and attach her leash to a pole. When the villagers arrived, she would remove the woman's plug and unleash the crowd upon her.

As worshipful as the people had been at a distance, they were cruel up close. They would slap her, hit her, and grope her aggressively. They would shove their cocks and pussies in her face to be serviced. They would fuck her ass with cocks or whatever imitation thereof amused them. The woman moaned in pleasure, as it was the treatment she both deserved and wanted.

As Autumn turned to winter, the woman went into labor and gave birth. She had 5 children weighing 9 pounds each and at least as many orgasms. The priestess gave the babies to the temple servants to raise and then punished her for her orgasms.

They milked her every day that winter, as they would year round for many decades. The plug, the bell, the weights, and the blindfold were her constant companions over those cold months. Her mind could think of nothing but sex, so during the winter while waiting for Mistress Nature's blessing, she simply turned her mind off. She was as unthinking and pliant as a tamed beast. She was free.

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