Journal

We lay together, tangled legs on the bed and explored each other’s mouths fully. Tongues dancing and the occasional teasing nip of her lip with my teeth. Occasionally I’d glance over and see the slave boys very deliberately not looking. It really turned me on to imagine how hard they must be in their locked chastity devices, how much suffering they were going through. The torment of knowing that their two hot Mistresses were just beginning a long night of sex and carnal enjoyment in one another. Without them being required. For them to be rejected and for us to find sexual satisfaction in each other while they could only imagine and languish in pain.

A refreshing mojito in the bar, along with a shared surf and turf platter (by shared, I mean I let slave eat the messy chicken wings I didn’t want) and I was ready to go back to the room for some fun before it was time for dinner. A pre-session warm-up, if you will.

Instructing him to strip down to thong and chastity device beneath, I got my weapons of choice ready. I’d brought plenty of equipment and particularly looked forward to using the sensory deprivation hood (albeit without phallus gag which a friend accidentally kept after borrowing the piece) as well as my long flogger and a strait jacket.

I don’t believe that BDSM ‘sadists’ are sadists in the vanilla sense of the word – or at least they shouldn’t be. If you want to inflict pain or harm on others with or without consent you shouldn’t be in the scene. If someone doesn’t get some kind of fulfilment out of the pain then why would they consent? They are always linked. What you get might not be strictly pleasure, it may not always be enjoyment – but it is always fulfilment. When I push your limits, when I verbally humiliate you, when I bully you, when I make you feel miniscule, when I frighten you, when I exhilarate you simply with my Dominant presence, I am fulfilling what you need. It’s actually a very kind thing. Even when you’re crying and feeling broken and hating me and wondering why the fuck you think you’re submissive and a slave and how you’re allowing someone half your age to treat you like this and how I can make you feel like this when no one else can or has ever been able to.

I met with her twice during the first month in which I was in chastity. Those meetings confirmed to me that she was not just a special Mistress but a wonderful woman. A woman who warrants the utmost respect. Intelligent, talented and caring to those deserving that care and love. That however, certainly did not include her slaves.

She also had the capacity and desire to treat her slaves with cruelty and took pleasure from being evil. She has taught me the true meaning of slavery. I am not allowed to merely accept my weaknesses, inadequacies and those things I am denied. I must learn to absorb myself in those sacrifices and failings so that I suffer and hurt. The internal sense of self worth that previous Mistresses have effectively encouraged me to retain have been stripped away by her. My ego, pride and dignity have painfully been stripped away and I embrace the true inadequacies that make me a slave.