Today was the day.
The one and the only Mistress Blair day.
It would be a massive understatement to say that I was slightly nervous. The woman is evil incarnate and I’d had several ‘oh-my-god-I-can-see-dead-people!’ moments when I’d looked at myself in the mirror during the day. I was a dead woman and my ass knew it.
So what does one do when faced with an imminent Mistress Blair arrival and your stomach is waving to you as it churns round and round? You keep yourself busy by:
1. Cleaning the house- Although Martha Stewart is not my middle name, and “domestic bliss” sounds like a dirty word to me, I managed to clean to a slightly higher than normal standard.
2. Polishing your leather teddy- I thought this might be a very good opportunity to remove some dried cunt juices from the pussy area of my teddy considering that this was going to be my attire for the visit.
3. Talking to yourself- I’d been banned from speaking unless ‘spoken to’ so I had lots of things I needed to say to myself and get out of my system.
4. Scrubbing the floor with unusual gusto- This was to be my dining table for the evening so I wanted the ‘3 second rule’ to be as hygienic as possible.
5. Doing your usual ‘getting ready in slut’ routine but feeling absolutely ridiculous doing so- There is something wrong about being half-nekkid in booby-malfunction attire for a dinner party.
6. Brushing your teeth- After all, you need to have the Maclean’s Smile (“are your Macleans showing?”) if you’re going to be licking boots.
And that was about it. I’d successfully channelled my nervous energy and was ready just in time to attach my leash and be kneeling at the door when the bell rang.
So my interrogation sessions in the week leading up to B-Day had included some unusual ‘scripting’ of how I was to act and what I was to do during Mistress Blair’s visit.
Firstly, the rules. There was to be no speaking unless I was spoken to. I would only refer to her as “Mistress Blair”. I would greet her at the door with some boot-licking to show my respect. I would eat my food off the floor and the big doozy of a rule, I would do whatever she said as though she was my owner.
“So if she tells you to suck her pussy, what are you going to do?” Master questioned.
“Suck her pussy,” I responded in my smallest possible voice.
To tell you the truth, that side of things hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was envisioning beatings and and lots of crawling and general humiliation, but not the other whole Pandora’s Box that was opened by submitting to a woman.
I’d never been beaten by a woman before and I’d never had to submit to one. Itwas an interesting experience. But once again, along the lines of my mystery shopper experiences, ultimately to me it doesn’t matter who is using me- I do what is required of me and focus on ‘getting through it’.
So kneeling in the hallway, I greeted Mistress Blair and licked both toe and heel of her lovely lace-up boots. Then she took my leash and lead me into the kitchen where Master was finishing up the final touches to his gourmet feast.
When I’m nervous, I giggle. Well, it’s either giggle or talk to much and on occasion, both. So even though I was on a ‘no speaking unless spoken to’ protocol, I did copious amounts of giggling and made ditzy blonde bimbo comments. I swear, in these sort of situations, my IQ drops at least fifty points.
So anyway, the domly ones took pity on me and I was allowed to sit at the ‘big person’s table’ and eat my meal with cutlery- which, upped my enjoyment levels of the yummy food immensely. During the courses we chatted and I moved around the kitchen, acutely aware of being watched and praying that the ground would open up and swallow me before it got any worse. But the ground didn’t take pity on me and there was some cunt ring displaying, ‘juiciness testing’ and nekkid slavegirl action to follow.
Then the toys came out and it was just a long ride for me into painville.Mistress Blair had brought her crops, strap and pride of joy, the diamante bling hacking whip, aka ‘That!’ and Master had me lay out our toy collection on the lounge room floor.
So trussed up I was and the real fun started. As soon as Master started his “How to Hit a Slave101” lecture, I dissolved into giggles….which then quickly stopped as the pain ramped up. He explained the ‘ok places’ and the ‘bad places’ to hit and then launched into angles and effects etc. It was really all quite clinical and to me, who was the lab rat side-kick, funny and at the same time not.
Then Mistress Blair was invited to ‘experiment’. It was interesting to feel the different ways that they both hit and later on when I looked at the photos, chilling to see the grins and the wicked smiles she had on her face during my trip to painville. Then she posed for a pic with her stiletto-heeled boot placed firmly on my red ass and I could tell that she was enjoying herself immensely.
‘That!’ was torture…omg…the pain that innocuous-looking thing inflicted was incredible. And the witchey one was being relentless with it- over and over again in what felt to me to be the same spot, but looking at the splay of red welts and marks I have today over both sides of my ass, obviously wasn’t. The wrap-around of that thing was OUCHIE!!! and made me want to remind the ‘kind’ folks taking the “Beating101” lecture that the lab rat ISN’T a painslut. Lol.
After the beating, the fashion parade followed. Fortunately, my outfit for Saturday’s party that Mistress Blair kindly picked out for me has COVERAGE! Yay! My long chinese dress in black and red with gloves and boots. The outfit kind of makes me want to pick up a whip and thwack some unsuspecting subbie boys…but I’m sure I’ll be able to overcome that urge.
All in all, it was a very good night and I was happy (after I had left painville) that the domly ones had enjoyed themselves. And you know what? Even during the tandem “you take this cheek, I’ll take that one” beating they didn’t manage to get their floggers in a knot! Humpf…they obviously must of learned that trick in “Tandem beating101”. It figures….(^v^)