Posts Tagged ‘enema’
Super Bowl Torment
My name is Allura and the following is a journal entry that i wrote almost a year ago. i am owned and have been with my Master for about 2 years now. i am required by contract to keep a detailed, written account of any activities or punishments that my Master deems significant and wishes to recall. Master will read my journal regularly and check it for spelling and grammatical errors when He is in a particularly vicious mood and is looking for reasons to punish me; not that He ever needs a reason at all. When He goes away on business trips, Master takes my journal along as comfort and for His sheer pleasure. There have even been times when i am made to stand at “attention” in the middle of the room while my Master reads my very personal journal entries to his friends in order to humiliate me. At times, Master will read old entries aloud while i masturbate when He is in the mood to “play.” With Master Bill’s permission, i am sharing this punishment with you. Anything that is in parenthesis was added solely for your benefit and was not originally in my journal entry. February 1, 2009 This morning began just like every other morning. i woke up at 6 am and began my daily ritual of quickly showering, getting myself presentable, making breakfast and serving You in bed. I knelt quietly beside Your bed in my “in house attire.” (When i am home alone with my Master i am completely naked wearing only my two black leather wrist and ankle cuffs, and a thick black leather [...]
The Bartender and the Slave
I was a bartender. It was a job I loved. I could usually find the kind of woman I wanted to play with by talking to them and sniffing out their submissive sides. So many women who came into bars alone were looking not just for sex, but for really rough sex, and I could read them well. That’s how I found my slaves. I would engage them in conversation and eventually get them to talk about sex, what they liked. I would bring up spanking and bondage and if I saw that spark, I knew I had them. Sometimes I would play with them for a while just a little roughly and concentrated more on the humiliation side. I would tell them to come back to the bar dressed just so, sit on the barstool with skirt raised and naked underneath, spread their legs. I would make them lift their blouses and reach over the bar and play with their tits and nipples. Eventually I would take them home and hurt them, oh how I loved to hear them scream and beg for more pain. One day Sarah came into the bar and I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was one of them, but she wouldn’t give in to it or to me. But she kept coming back anyway. Deliberately not sitting at the bar, trying to pick up other guys, but always looking back at me. So tonight I got another bartender to cover, and I walked over to her. I told the guy she was with that the bitch was mine and I grabbed her by the hair and took her to my van, threw her in the back and chloroformed her and took her home. Now I [...]