Mistress Marisas Estate Pt 26

I am one of several slaves my Mistress Marisa keeps in her household. I am completely owned as are the other slaves that serve her. These episodes are written with her permission. It is my, our story...

********************************

When told 'Get to THE room!', I know what that means. 'The Room'. It is off the side of your basement playroom. It is the size of a small warehouse. It is sound proof. This is the room you reserve for extreme punishment.

I know you are mad, very mad, irritated would be an understatement. You are almost in a rage, don't know why. I had my face slapped as soon as we came home, soon as we entered the front door returning from your office. You were silent to me all the way home, stone cold silence in the car. I do know that when told to go to THE ROOM I am expected to get there fast, be naked and positioned. I am expected to be kneeling next to the whipping horse.

This is far from erotic. It is real punishment. I don't dare say no, almost start crying just seeing you mouth the words, 'Get to the room!' The whipping horse in this room has a padded bar across the top. It is saw-horse like, restraints at the feet for wrists in the front, ankles in the back. Designed to position my butt up high and stretched tight when restrained over it. There are mirrors on every wall to display it all. An array of paddles, crops, belts, butt-plugs, etc., on shelves and in cabinets, this is a very real punishment room for the most errant of little bitches...and at times for your amusement. There are comfortable chairs and couches around the room for guests should you chose to invite them. And you have on many occasions. I never know why I'm taken there, told to report to it, never know and only find out once I am restrained.

Naked and kneeling next to the horse, have been here for almost an hour, waiting, I shudder as I hear you in the hall.

"Get over the fucking horse! Do I have to drag you there, you ungrateful little shit?"

You close the door behind you. We are no longer heard by the rest of the world. You are in tight black pants, tucked into spike heel 4" just-above-the ankle boots, shiny large silver buckles on straps across the top of your foot, needle point toes. You wear a crisp white starched blouse, more like a shirt with upturned collar, top buttons undone shows your white lace bra underneath, just a hint. You are made up to the extreme, dominant dark and menacing eyes. Bright red lipstick, you always dress for this.

You see me scurry to the horse, afraid, always hesitant. You bend, work fast to fasten my ankles then my wrists at the feet of the horse. Held captive, buckled up tight, barely able to move, can only see the floor in front of me, I can just barely raise my head. I know not to say one word. Only respond to 'Answer me', only when you say that. Not one word.

You push the red 'record' button on the wall. Hidden cameras at the ready, you record every one of these sessions. I have never been allowed to see any of them but know others have.

You take a white-board from the shelf, take a large marker in your hand. I strain to see you write in big block letters, see it in the mirror to my side. You toss the white board to the floor in front of the whipping horse, let it fall in front of my face. I see you writing, 'SEXUAL INDISCRETION, FLIRTING' , written in huge letters on the board. I hear you walk toward the wall, your heels clicking furiously. I don't dare look up at you or look to the mirror. I know to stare at the words before me. I know you expect me to focus on them and them only.

"You fucking little bitch! What was that thing at my office with that stupid office girl?"

I know not to answer, feel you pace back and forth next to me. Every now and then you take me into the straight world, take me to your office dressed in street clothing, have me do menial tasks for you in front of your staff. I was filing papers when a young girl came in and started talking with me.

"You want to fuck her?"

I hear you laugh, genuine full mocking laughter.

"What if I took you and her into my office, maybe tomorrow, closed the door, had you pull down your pants for her?"

You bring the crop up against my padlocked penis restraint.

"She sees your little locked up thing, think she wants a man like that, one that can't get hard? Think she wants a sissy bitch like you?"

I winch, stifle a cry. I don't dare say a word. There is only one response allowed here and that is crying.

"And better yet, what if I unlocked it, had you take it off for her, had you show her that baby like little sissy thing. Think she's gonna want a date with you?"

You pace behind me. I feel your eyes on my exposed body.

"Do you fucking know who you belong to?"

I feel you run your hand up the crack of my rear, then down over the penis restraint, slap it hard with your hand.

"Answer me!!!"

"You Mistress, you, I belong to you, I would never...", cut off in mid sentence...

"Shut up. Fuck! I can't believe what I saw today, cannot believe it. How many times when I'm not around has that bitch talked to you like that? Flirted, you smiling back. Fuck! I can't believe it. Walk in on you and there you are smiling at her like you think you're a real man."

You walk to the back of me.

You do what you do in this room. It's always as hard as you can, fast, never less than fifty strokes. Merciless, it starts.

I scream, cry out, feel the crop across my rear furiously, the backs of my thighs, the sides of my inner thighs and all over my legs. It is all punctuated with...'you fucking spoiled little brat', 'you ungrateful whore'. That and my crying, loud hysterically driven screams.

Welts and bruises cover me. You drop the crop. It all happens in less than a few minutes.

"I am so fucking pissed off at you right now, I have to just stop. I could do some very serious damage to you, easily. Have to control myself"

You walk to the wall, take a paddle down.

"You even think of leading on a girl that, a girl you know you can't have, worst yet even think of betraying me, I'll beat you so bad you won't walk for a month, never let you out of this house again."

You walk to the back of me. Bring the paddle down so swift and hard, the loud 'CRACK' sound across my naked bottom resounds off the mirrored walls, ten times. It is the only sound in the room, 'CRACK', 'CRACK', on and on, that and my screams.

And then it's over.

It's not about your amusement, was all about your rage, my lack of devotion, errant and 'ungrateful little bitch', as you kept screaming at me. You put the paddle back on the wall, put the crop back on it hanger, ignore my hysterical crying, shaking. You walk to the door and open it.

"When I come back you'll read your sign to me, fifty times with apology as usual. And you had better convince me. Don't you ever forget, baby doll, you're my bitch. I own fucking own you!"

You leave, slam the door behind you. I am shaking on the horse, hysterics turn to sobbing. So sorry, so very sorry in my heart, truly am. I have let down the only one I never want to ever let down. I feel hopelessly misunderstood, would never flirt with that girl, never, was only talking with her after she started talking to me, all so innocent. I only want to beg forgiveness, please you, please you, please you. I shake with heavy sobbing.

I see my tears all over the white board shining up at me, see some of the letters run slightly with my tears, 'SEXUAL INDISCRETION, FLIRTING' still clearly mocking me, looking up at me, glaring up at me...know in my heart of hearts I would never betray my Mistress, would only be her devoted little bitch.

I know I will never do anything but lower my eyes if I see the girl again, any girl in your office, ever, only use 'yes, 'ma'am' and 'no, 'ma'am' responses, I have learned my lesson.

I am your slave.