My name is Mistress Feral and I work with Mistress Hermaphroditee for TortureGarden.com. I will compile a fortnightly report on the kind of things we get up to in the dungeons. All of them will be based on real events. The names of the slave will not be disclosed, as no ones interested in knowing them.
I would like to tell you about a slave we have owned for over a year now. He doesnt have a name anymore; he is merely referred to as oi or you. Calling him that would make things difficult to follow, so he will use subbie for the purpose of this piece. We met subbie at a Torture Garden event back in February 1999. He was wandering around amongst a herd of submissives looking for a drop of fulfilment. The feature that made him stand out from the rest was his keenness. His looks were average and he wore average submissive attire: leather trousers, a body harness, wrist cuffs and a collar. In his hand was a sports bag. It looked extremely heavy. An assortment of whips protruded through the half open zip.
"This one seems rather impertinent, Mistress Hermaphroditee," I said, pointing him out with the tip of my cane. "Fancy a go?" "Oh, yes Mistress. Lets will him over," she said whilst tapping the end of her whip against the palm of her hand. As we stood tall and watched him timidly talk in turn to each woman resembling a Mistress, we knew it was only a matter of time before he would get to us. As he drew nearer, I caught his eye. From that moment, his night was to brutally change. With my index finger I summoned him. He gave me a suggestive look. Who me? His expression complimented by a self inflicted, index finger stab in the chest. I nodded my head in a smooth bouncing action. He picked up his pace and worked his way towards us, mumbling something incoherent with each step and stopping just short of falling on me.
He was excited, poor fool. "What are you looking for sub? Wheres your Mistress?" "I dont have a Mistress," he replied. "So what could you possibly... Les hele novellen
