On the entire walk through the hotel, Mistress April continued to berate me, and she wasn’t concerned if anyone else was in earshot. It was like she was inside my head, because the humiliation created a reaction that only led to further embarrassing opportunities.
“Are you getting aroused,” she questioned as two younger women looked on and giggled. “You are not normal boy.”
She absolutely knew it wasn’t possible for me to get an erection, as much as I wanted to, but the bulge caused by the steel, chastity tube and the prominent wet spot on the front of my shorts said otherwise. She reached up and grabbed my ear, pulling me towards the elevator to the parking lot. Inside we were alone again.
“This will be much more than you bargained for slave, you will be paying for every transgression – every grammatical error in your writing, every missed deadline for a task, everything,” she spoke as she reached in her bag and took out a small black book. “More than eight months of you fucking up is right here, and our first order of business is for you to pay for each of them.”
As we reached the underground parking lot, it felt completely empty. She led me to an unassuming silver, Toyota Camry. As we approached, I instinctively walked to the passenger side.
“Where are you going idiot,” she snapped. “You ride in the boot. Now strip!”
I looked around before starting to take my clothes off, which earned me a stiff slap to the back of the head. I then swiftly removed my piss-stained white t-shirt and gray sweat shorts, crawling into the trunk. Since I had watched so many of Mistress April’s videos, I knew what was next and lifted my head to awaiting the strict hood I knew was coming next.
“Look at you slave, brownie points” she pulled the mask over my head and reached back into her black leather bag, taking out a police-issue stun gun. “This part you didn’t see coming.”
I felt an initial jolt, and then nothing. The next thing I knew, I was being shaken awake by what felt like a leather-gloved hand on my naked body.
“C’mon idiot, let’s go. Wake up,” she said as she shook and slapped me. “I don’t have time for this foolishness.”
I got enough of my wits about me to work my way out of the trunk and she led me just a few steps. I could tell I was outdoors being led up a some steps into a building. It definitely had the feeling of a home, and that was confirmed when she violently ripped the hood off my head.
“You know the proper position slave – on your knees, nose to the ground,” she didn’t even give me time to follow her orders before driving her bare knee into my groin. “Idiot! How do you expect to survive in my home if you can’t even follow the simplest of instructions?”
I dropped to my knees, grabbed myself with both hands and dropped my nose to the ground. She put the sole of her boot on the back of my head as so proceeded to read the time and date of each, so-called, offense in her notebook. She followed each with what penalty it carried.
“That makes a total of 70 strokes of my cane and 100 lashes of my favorite whip,” she said in a very judicious way. “This must be carried out before you set foot any further into my home.”
She urged me to my feet and led me to an office room immediately off of the main room. It had a large, executive desk with a chair and stockade in front of it. She led me to the stockade and put in my head and arms, securing the top piece leaving me in a very vulnerable position, and unable to see anything behind me. She walked around and sat at her desk.
“Slave, the 70 strokes of the cane will be administered in your current position on your ass. You will then be immediately moved to the wall where you will receive 100 lashes from my single-tail whip. After that, you will be left in solitary confinement for a time period of my choosing,” she looked up with a sadistic smile on her face. “As you are aware, the agreed-upon terms of your stay do not come with a safe word, so there is nothing that you can do to prevent this from being carried out.”
With that, she stood up an removed a cane from the wall on her left. She seemed very happy with her choice as she let it cut through the air. She walked in between me and the desk, close enough to my face that I could clearly smell her scent. Once she was out of my field of vision, I could only listen for her voice to know what would happen next.
“One,” she spoke clearly as the cane struck my freshly groomed ass. “Oh slave, I’ve never drawn blood on the first stroke before.”
The pain was unbelievable as she kept going without letting up. I definitely fell into a state of being unaware very early on – my brain and body basically shut down.
“Slave, wake up,” she was screaming in my face. “You pissed yourself! You pissed on my floor!”
While she was talking, she was releasing me from the stockade. She again violently pulled on my ear and pulled me down towards the floor.
“Lap it up idiot! Lick up all that piss,” she towered over me shouting. “All of it!”
It was the first time I had ever been forced to invest my own urine, but as I did, I glanced up at Mistress April and saw her smiling. The unplanned accident, and its consequences had definitely added to the situation.
“Up slave. On your feet,” she suddenly called me to attention. “Let’s go. One hundred lashes takes some time.”
I was led to the wall where she pushed my nose against it, cuffing my arms, legs and upper thighs to limit any mobility. I was able to turn my head just enough to see the look on her face as she pulled back to land the first blow – it was a look of anger and focus that turned into satisfaction as the first 10 landed in almost the exact same spot. And with that, I once again blacked out.
“Get the fuck up slave! We’re not playing this game,” she held smelling salts under my nose as she spoke. “We’re starting from one again and you will be awake to feel each of them.”
Feeling the fire from each blow, and hearing her count them off by one was excruciating. I clearly remember when she landed number 40, and thinking that it wasn’t even halfway through.
“I am pleased slave,” she purred as she finished. “You followed my instructions perfectly – you didn’t pass out.”
It was the craziest feeling of pride that I’d ever felt. That positive reinforcement for simply accepting a beating felt like the greatest reward I’d ever been given. When she uncuffed my wrists, I collapsed to the ground.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/x7zgwz/my_visit_to_cape_town_part_2_bdsm_real_femdom
Would really appreciate hearing your thoughts on this series. u/MistressAprilZA is also deciding whether to have me back for more based on how my retelling of this visit is received.