Man’s First Day as Mistress’ Slave
Labor and suffering, what other purpose do men have?
Mistress Jamieson converted her basement into a set of spaces devoted to the arts and pleasures of BDSM. She imprisoned a succession of men enjoying their homage and pleas for mercy.
All her prisoners entered voluntarily. Her prey are Mistressless men whose unceasing hope is to become a Domme’s property.
Greedy for suffering and servitude they are vulnerable to cunning women’s wiles. Theodore is a typical specimen. Eager for self-enchattlement he agreed to Mistress Jamieson’s conditions and stipulations. Unhesitatingly signing a TPE he gave himself to her without possibility of reversal.
“You are small enough to be a dog. Now you must live as one. Never stand unless I command.”
The first night Mistress Jamieson locked Theodore in the basement and left. He expected to learn protocols, hoped for a whipping.
Lonely hours in a lightless room crept slowly by. Fantasies of a woman treating him as worthless could not compare to experience.
There was one light: a digital clock. It displayed the passing seconds. Repeatedly looking at the clock stretched each second. Not yet spanked or abused, Theodore wept.
An infinity of time later, lights turned on. Mistress Jamieson entered. He thrilled when the metal band she placed around his neck clicked shut. Attaching a chain, she dragged him up the stairs.
Outside she led him to a bush in the far corner of the backyard.
“Do your business.”
His body would not cooperate. His full bladder refused to empty.
“Defecate now. If you do so in my house, I’ll make you eat it.”
Terror proved to be a laxative.
Exposure and observation humiliated Theodore. Mistress Owner laughed at his shame.
“Chattels don’t have privacy.”
Inside, she pointed at two bowls on the kitchen floor.
“Eat or starve. No hands. Mouth and tongue only.”
White glop did not taste bad. It had no taste. Lumpy and slimy the texture disgusted the new slave. Anticipating, hoping for it, he gulped down the bowl of urine.
Mistress Jamieson pointed to a bucket, rags and brushes.
“Sweep the kitchen and dining room floors. Then mop them.”
Theodore started to rise. She kicked him in the stomach.
“Stupid. I told you not to stand.”
She yanked his chain, dragged him to an alcove. He saw a low stool with chains and cuffs attached.
His Mistress Owner locked him to the stool.
Picking up a short whip, Mistress Jamieson beat her slave’s buttocks, thighs and back.
Hard, fast lashed cut his skin. He bled and blubbered.
“Please, please! Mercy Mistress!”
She whipped him harder. He screamed, squealed, shrieked. She laughed.
The whipping stopped. She unlocked Theodore.
“That was fun. You probably think I was brutal. Ha! You’ll learn better. Now get to work unless you want another whipping.”
Weeping and groaning, the novice slave scrubbed the floor with a heavy dry brush, pushing dirt into a dustpan.
He heard Mistress Jamieson’s feet. Had learned enough to not look up.
Pain seemed to explode in his mind. He fell on his side, gripped his testicles.
His hands provided no protection. Mistress Jamieson continued kicking. He fainted.
Grabbing her slave’s hair, she slapped his face until his eyes opened.
“Get back to work.”
Moving hurt. Fear kept him working past the pain.
Mistress Jamieson called Theodore to come. He crawled to the living room. She sat in an easy chair.
“Slave it isn’t even noon. Are you enjoying life as my slave?”
“Yes Mistress Owner.”
“Liar! You want to go home. To escape. But you can’t.”
Theodore pressed his head against the floor.
“I told you that I enjoy hurting men. But I don’t want men to enjoy the pain.”
Theodore shivered. What would become off him?
“In time you may learn to be grateful to serve and suffer for me. Or if your fancy talk about female supremacy wasn’t honestly felt, you’ll hate every day more than the last.
“Lick my boots.”
His tongue and lips caressed black leather. During the moments of worship, he found a little peace.
“This is your new life. Your only life. Tonight you’ll have your first taste of my dungeon.”
( * I don’t know if Dazzy still produces Femdom artwork. He is one of the too rare Femdom artists who draws mature Mistresses.)