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The atmosphere you're creating with your words is absolutely exciting. Exquisite art !
Thanks Kathy !
Thanks Kathy !
Your welcome and thank youThe atmosphere you're creating with your words is absolutely exciting. Exquisite art !
Thanks Kathy !
Thank youGreat writing, Kathy!
Well done , thank your for posting it here on this threadWith the authorization of Kathy and while waiting for the exciting continuation of her submissive slave journey, here is the report of an evening of Karine in a BDSM club.
An evening at the club.
Hello, my name is Karine and I am a slave!
My master has trained me and he can now do whatever he wants with me, I am totally submissive to him.
This morning he warned me that he had been informed of a new club about two hours away and that he wanted to go there with me in order to make me the star of the evening, so I prepare myself to be impeccable and perfect for this reception which, just thinking about it, makes me terribly wet.
Started by giving myself an enema then shaved clean so that my pussy was as soft as the day I was born.
I pulled my long hair back in a ponytail so that my face was still clearly visible and that my breasts are not hidden either.
I then went on to make up which I wanted to be outrageous in order to look like a whore because men like it!
I then massaged my pussy and my nipples with a magic ointment that will multiply my libido by constantly inflating my nipples and clitoris.
Getting dressed was quickly done, on my master's recommendation, I put on black stockings up to mid-thigh, shoes with very high heels, long black silk gloves and a leather coat.
So here I am ready and I am just waiting for my master so that we go into the unknown in search of extreme pleasure, his first and then mine if he allows me.
Arrived, we are greeted by a tall blonde woman in her thirties dressed in a black leather jersey cut out to let her breasts pass as well as up to her pussy and her buttocks which are accessible to whoever wants them. !
High leather boots and high gloves complete her outfit.
Once through the door and the entrance hall, we enter a large, semi-lit room.
While my eyes are getting used to the semi-darkness, my master takes off my coat and I find myself naked except for my gloves, my stockings and my shoes.
Several couples are already present, the women are as naked as me while the men are all in costume.
The men are standing while the women are all seated on very low beanbags which means they have to have their knees very high and apart in order to show their privacy as they are not allowed to cross their legs.
All of them have a slave collar around their neck and I see the lady who opened the door for us coming towards me with the same collar as the others and attaching it around my neck, attaching a leash and taking me sit next to the others so that I can also show off my dripping pussy to whoever wants to see it.
To be continued
I love your story, which feels a little bit of experience. I am soaked reading youAs the taxi drives away I look around, feeling alone. I am finally here. When I leave I shall be transformed. That thought pleases me, but makes me nervous. I know I have been indulgent of late and I deserve this, but the treatment is severe and difficult to endure.
The attendants inside check me in and soon I am ready to begin. I am led to my chamber where my clothes are removed. Wearing a short robe I am led to the showers where two female attendants wash me, one directing the spray while the other coats my skin with lather.
After the impersonal shower I am toweled off and led to the medical chamber where I am weighed, measured, and examined inside and out. It is all done very routinely, impersonally, and I enjoy the feeling.
My first appointment is with Mark. I remember him well. A large muscular man who used to be a professional body builder. Now he is the whipping master at the club. I go to him with apprehension. He is pleased to see me.
We begin with a light whipping, me strapped to a vertical rotating column. As it slowly spins around I am greeted with the lash across my back, my buttocks, my legs. He spares nothing, but goes over me well. This is not a discipline whipping but a preparation whipping. I must be toughened for what I am to endure.
The whipping lasts a half hour, and I am tired when it is over. It was not very painful, but my body tingles all over. "Come back after lunch for the other side," he says , and I nod.
I am given an enema before lunch. Fortunately it is a small one, warm, not hot, and as I sit for lunch I already feel overwhelmed. Lunch is a simple salad. It is elegant and tasty, with three kinds of lettuce, several exotic vegetables, and a spicy low-calorie dressing.
After lunch I spend an hour in the warm sauna, and then it is back to Mark. Again I am strapped to the pole, but this time my back is pressed against it. My breasts and crotch are fully exposed to his lash and he does not spare me but whips me all over. This is more painful but Mark is gentle. He does not want to hurt me, only help me to feel. It is wonderful.
After my whipping I go to my room for a short nap, then to Sarah for another enema, this one larger and with warmer water. She leaves it inside me for a good fifteen minutes and when she returns she takes a small wooden paddle from a drawer and spanks my bottom at least a dozen times, sternly warning me not to lose my enema. It is difficult, but somehow I manage. My bottom feels good and warm when she is done, though my face is flushed with shame at being treated like this. It is good none of my friends or associates are here!
My next stop is the weight room, and here the strange man makes me really work. We begin with stretching and calisthetics, and then pump iron on various machines for almost an hour. We work on my pecs, , my abs, my legs, everything. I am exhausted when we finish. My trainer pushed me hard and didn't hesitate to spank me whenever he thought I needed it.
In my chamber the attendants are waiting for me, and again I am showered and washed without being allowed to do it myself.
Supper is light. A clear broth followed by steamed vegetables and small slice of roasted chicken. The meal is delicious, though the portions are small. For dessert there is a small quivering cube of Jello.
I read for a while before bed, but soon fall asleep. It is barely dark outside but I am too tired to keep my eyes open.
In the morning I am awakened before dawn and led by an attendant to the showers. There are many of us here, all women. Two attendants spray all of us with water and our own attendants wash us down. It is strange. There is much laughter and giggling and yet I can see many of the girls have been treated severely, their buttocks and thighs whipped. In a few days I shall be like them, perhaps even today. Will I be ready?
I am taken outside and naturally I am not allowed any clothing. First is the whipping, this time by a petite female . She binds me to the cross-post with my hands above my head and whips me all over. She uses a cloth whip with many tails, and it does not hurt at all--it only _feels_. It is hard to describe. In some ways it is too light, and I want more, but in other ways it is too intense.
Occasionally during the whipping the woman stops and caresses my body. She feels my skin and tells me I am beautiful, and then she whips me more. Finally, after a long time (it felt like hours but was about forty minutes) she puts down the cloth whip and picks up a heavy leather strap. With this she whips my bottom and thighs, and this _hurts_. No games here, this is pain. I writhe and cry out but it does no good. She spanks me until my bottom flesh is roasting, and then she sprays me with water from a squirt bottle, the fine mist settling all over my body. Then she whips me with the cloth whip for another ten minutes.
After my hour of whipping I am led to the sweatbox, a small metal container in the middle of the courtyard. There are several of these. They are like miniature greenhouses, with curved roofs that dissipate the sun's rays. Inside is a small bed where I stretch out, still naked. The woman locks me in.
Time passes slowly. I drift in and out of sleep. It is very warm. Not hot, but warm. My body glistens with sweat and my buttocks and thighs sting. After an eternity the woman returns. "How long was I in there?" I ask as I climb out. My body drips with sweat.
"Two hours," she says, and leads me to the whipping post again. My arms are bound above my head and this time the whipping is with a real whip--threads of leather dangling from a wooden handle. It is still a light whipping but now the blows sting. The woman moves all around me, varying the blows. She never strikes the same place twice. She'll catch my bottom with a blow and then my breasts. Another will come from the front but slap the backs of my thighs. She whips my belly and back, my chest, the front of my legs, and even brings the whip of between my legs. I am soon moaning softly and whimpering. It does no good.
The whipping continues now with a thicker whip, and it leaves marks. Tiny welts begin to appear all over my body: my breasts, my belly, my inner thighs, my buttocks, my back, my calves. I cannot stop weeping. It hurts very much.
With the whipping done the woman takes up a long riding crop and strikes the back of my legs and my buttocks a couple dozen strokes. Each blow leaves a thick welt pulsing and throbbing, and I scream with each application.
After the cropping the woman splashes me with two buckets of salt water, one to my front and one to my back. My body burns with feeling. She unchains me and takes me to the mudbaths where I am covered with thick, gooey mud that feels deliciously cool and wonderful against my stinging flesh. I am left in the mud to soak for an hour. I am blissfully happy.
The icy spray used to wash off the mud is horrible. It stings but numbs my body. I am forced to rotate my body every which way so that the spray can wash me clean. The mud has invaded my entire body, especially between my legs, and I know that I shall have to be thoroughly cleaned later.
A white terry-cloth robe is provided and I head for the cafeteria for a late lunch. I am famished and hope that there is more than salad. As I walk, my body aching, I think of what lies ahead, part of me, a deeper, perhaps more intimate part, is feverishly excited. I know that this place will transform me, it will be worth the effort.
Thank you , I am glad you enjoyed itI love your story, which feels a little bit of experience. I am soaked reading you
Thank youGreat, Kathy!
The hoped-for sequel with a remarkable star, you.
I really like the perspective of you, the slave, telling the story. You are, after all, a very good slave. Good work, Kathy. You are a good writer as well.As the taxi drives away I look around, feeling alone. I am finally here. When I leave I shall be transformed. That thought pleases me, but makes me nervous. I know I have been indulgent of late and I deserve this, but the treatment is severe and difficult to endure.
The attendants inside check me in and soon I am ready to begin. I am led to my chamber where my clothes are removed. Wearing a short robe I am led to the showers where two female attendants wash me, one directing the spray while the other coats my skin with lather.
After the impersonal shower I am toweled off and led to the medical chamber where I am weighed, measured, and examined inside and out. It is all done very routinely, impersonally, and I enjoy the feeling.
My first appointment is with Mark. I remember him well. A large muscular man who used to be a professional body builder. Now he is the whipping master at the club. I go to him with apprehension. He is pleased to see me.
We begin with a light whipping, me strapped to a vertical rotating column. As it slowly spins around I am greeted with the lash across my back, my buttocks, my legs. He spares nothing, but goes over me well. This is not a discipline whipping but a preparation whipping. I must be toughened for what I am to endure.
The whipping lasts a half hour, and I am tired when it is over. It was not very painful, but my body tingles all over. "Come back after lunch for the other side," he says , and I nod.
I am given an enema before lunch. Fortunately it is a small one, warm, not hot, and as I sit for lunch I already feel overwhelmed. Lunch is a simple salad. It is elegant and tasty, with three kinds of lettuce, several exotic vegetables, and a spicy low-calorie dressing.
After lunch I spend an hour in the warm sauna, and then it is back to Mark. Again I am strapped to the pole, but this time my back is pressed against it. My breasts and crotch are fully exposed to his lash and he does not spare me but whips me all over. This is more painful but Mark is gentle. He does not want to hurt me, only help me to feel. It is wonderful.
After my whipping I go to my room for a short nap, then to Sarah for another enema, this one larger and with warmer water. She leaves it inside me for a good fifteen minutes and when she returns she takes a small wooden paddle from a drawer and spanks my bottom at least a dozen times, sternly warning me not to lose my enema. It is difficult, but somehow I manage. My bottom feels good and warm when she is done, though my face is flushed with shame at being treated like this. It is good none of my friends or associates are here!
My next stop is the weight room, and here the strange man makes me really work. We begin with stretching and calisthetics, and then pump iron on various machines for almost an hour. We work on my pecs, , my abs, my legs, everything. I am exhausted when we finish. My trainer pushed me hard and didn't hesitate to spank me whenever he thought I needed it.
In my chamber the attendants are waiting for me, and again I am showered and washed without being allowed to do it myself.
Supper is light. A clear broth followed by steamed vegetables and small slice of roasted chicken. The meal is delicious, though the portions are small. For dessert there is a small quivering cube of Jello.
I read for a while before bed, but soon fall asleep. It is barely dark outside but I am too tired to keep my eyes open.
In the morning I am awakened before dawn and led by an attendant to the showers. There are many of us here, all women. Two attendants spray all of us with water and our own attendants wash us down. It is strange. There is much laughter and giggling and yet I can see many of the girls have been treated severely, their buttocks and thighs whipped. In a few days I shall be like them, perhaps even today. Will I be ready?
I am taken outside and naturally I am not allowed any clothing. First is the whipping, this time by a petite female . She binds me to the cross-post with my hands above my head and whips me all over. She uses a cloth whip with many tails, and it does not hurt at all--it only _feels_. It is hard to describe. In some ways it is too light, and I want more, but in other ways it is too intense.
Occasionally during the whipping the woman stops and caresses my body. She feels my skin and tells me I am beautiful, and then she whips me more. Finally, after a long time (it felt like hours but was about forty minutes) she puts down the cloth whip and picks up a heavy leather strap. With this she whips my bottom and thighs, and this _hurts_. No games here, this is pain. I writhe and cry out but it does no good. She spanks me until my bottom flesh is roasting, and then she sprays me with water from a squirt bottle, the fine mist settling all over my body. Then she whips me with the cloth whip for another ten minutes.
After my hour of whipping I am led to the sweatbox, a small metal container in the middle of the courtyard. There are several of these. They are like miniature greenhouses, with curved roofs that dissipate the sun's rays. Inside is a small bed where I stretch out, still naked. The woman locks me in.
Time passes slowly. I drift in and out of sleep. It is very warm. Not hot, but warm. My body glistens with sweat and my buttocks and thighs sting. After an eternity the woman returns. "How long was I in there?" I ask as I climb out. My body drips with sweat.
"Two hours," she says, and leads me to the whipping post again. My arms are bound above my head and this time the whipping is with a real whip--threads of leather dangling from a wooden handle. It is still a light whipping but now the blows sting. The woman moves all around me, varying the blows. She never strikes the same place twice. She'll catch my bottom with a blow and then my breasts. Another will come from the front but slap the backs of my thighs. She whips my belly and back, my chest, the front of my legs, and even brings the whip of between my legs. I am soon moaning softly and whimpering. It does no good.
The whipping continues now with a thicker whip, and it leaves marks. Tiny welts begin to appear all over my body: my breasts, my belly, my inner thighs, my buttocks, my back, my calves. I cannot stop weeping. It hurts very much.
With the whipping done the woman takes up a long riding crop and strikes the back of my legs and my buttocks a couple dozen strokes. Each blow leaves a thick welt pulsing and throbbing, and I scream with each application.
After the cropping the woman splashes me with two buckets of salt water, one to my front and one to my back. My body burns with feeling. She unchains me and takes me to the mudbaths where I am covered with thick, gooey mud that feels deliciously cool and wonderful against my stinging flesh. I am left in the mud to soak for an hour. I am blissfully happy.
The icy spray used to wash off the mud is horrible. It stings but numbs my body. I am forced to rotate my body every which way so that the spray can wash me clean. The mud has invaded my entire body, especially between my legs, and I know that I shall have to be thoroughly cleaned later.
A white terry-cloth robe is provided and I head for the cafeteria for a late lunch. I am famished and hope that there is more than salad. As I walk, my body aching, I think of what lies ahead, part of me, a deeper, perhaps more intimate part, is feverishly excited. I know that this place will transform me, it will be worth the effort.
Thank youI really like the perspective of you, the slave, telling the story. You are, after all, a very good slave. Good work, Kathy. You are a good writer as well.
Thank youI liked this story. Well written Kathy!