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It's a paying job, requiring no specialized training, where a girl doesn't have to undress, run her tongue over anything or get groped. In hard times like these, what could possibly be wrong with that? Writing in Shincho 45 (June), a veteran dominatrix who goes by the name "Mistress Shunkin," a "queen" at one of Tokyo's 200-plus SM clubs, reflects on her 10 years of work in the trade.

What is all this fuss about SM anyway, she wonders. After all, surely we recognize that places lurk deep within the human heart where one's darkest urges should be given play. But hey, what's wrong with that? By venting your innermost feelings in a primal scream of agony --- rather than staying uptight by holding them in --- you can parlay your emotions into a sense of peace with yourself. Which transfers to being at peace with society, which in turn brings peace to the whole world. If that's the case, she suggests tongue in cheek, then being a dominatrix must surely be a noble pursuit indeed!

Nevertheless over the past five years, Mistress Shunkin tells Shincho 45 she has observed marked changes in the type of masochistic males who crawl and grovel at her feet. This more or less coincides with Japan's "iyashi buumu" (boom in the desire for psychological healing) that took root a half decade ago. Prior to that, a dominant mistress pretty much assumed an instantly recognizable theatrical appearance: hair in a page-boy bob, heavy application of eye shadow, fingernails and lips done in deep red, etc. Then it changed, and the dominas suddenly began looking more wholesome, sort of like what she describes as a "gentle executioner." It may sound contradictory, but these women began billing themselves as offering "painless SM" and "enjoyable SM," or only catered to fetishes that were specifically requested by their "slaves."

"I'll only do what you like," reads one gal's ad. "I won't do anything unpleasant."

At the end of an SM session, Shunkin writes in disgust, some of these pretenders to the throne will actually provide restorative services, affectionately embracing their slaves and engaging in something that is suspiciously close to conventional sexual intercourse. In other words, she pouts, increasing numbers of males who patronize SM clubs are such lily-livered wimps, they're afraid to even cringe under a few lashes with the whip, let alone having their queen reverse male-female roles, so to speak, by strapping on a dildo, mounting them from behind and ramming the shaft up their backside.

That said, Shunkin is convinced SM definitely does provide a degree of psychological healing. Perfected sexual behavior is a kind of coming out, and the act of dissipation obtained from "abnormal" pleasure also enables the release of pent-up feelings, something sorely needed for these runners in Japan's stressed-out rat race. As it stands, when confronting a domineering woman, their weenies shrivel. And rather than be disciplined by a queen waving a whip, they prefer to be scolded by a prim but understanding "older sister next door" type.

Shunkin's main dissatisfaction with such wimps is that, well, they just lie there. "Rather than having flaky sexual urges, I'd say these guys have real personality or psychological hang-ups," she pouts.

One day, for example, a 38-year-old man we'll call Mr. H --- a member of a profession and still single --- sent Shunkin this e-mail: "I fantasize how great it would be for an SM queen to sit on my face, put a stranglehold on my neck, and step on my groin. But I can't bring myself to ask her to do these things to me.

"So I'm concerned," he continues, "that this is a one-way relationship without any real communication between the two of us. It bothers me that I am just degrading women. And by doing that, I feel the sense of degrading myself. Maybe I'm just thinking too much."

On one occasion a slave did open up to Shunkin and convey his true inner feelings; but getting it out took such an effort, she never heard from him again.

"I once held down a respectable office job," Shunkin reflects, "but continued to moonlight in the SM business on and off for 10 years. If you stay at a job for 10 years, whatever it is, you wind up getting something out of it. What I got from being a dominatrix was neither monetary rewards nor admiration from the men I abused. The world of perversions is a microcosm of the real world. In it, manners and sincerity are truly the most important things. The conclusion, like Maeterlinck's famous play 'The Blue Bird,' is subdued. You are left bleary-eyed from it all."

May 28, 2005

I was suddenly shocked with a horrid and terrifying sight. An ugly wizened old looking face appeared out of the darkness and was hovering straight in front of my face. Inches and a triangular bar separated the face and myself. It grinned diabolically and showed it’s eroded teeth. A result of a bad diet I thought to myself.
Desperately trying to pull my head away from this face. Half choking myself with the collar that dug deeply into my neck. This wizened face, a face that was by now laughing maniacally and historically. A face that had aged before its time I knew this by examining the body that was attached to the face. The body looked fairly young late thirties but had appalling injuries. Bruises and cut as well as welts and sever lash marks such as that from a whip or cane would inflict. My immediate horror and disgust for this face had now turned to sympathy for this poor soul who had by now lost his mind.
But the sympathy was masked with irritation and shock as this face continued to laugh incessantly out of control. But I did detect a sense of malice in this laughter and a touch of sadistic enjoyment in the eyes of this face. For like this face I too was naked and lying hunched on the floor.
Then the expression of the face changed immediately to utter agony as the laughter ended abruptly. The noise being substituted with the sound of a very loud cracking noise. The sound of a bull whip: I once had heard at a bull run in Spain Hearing the sound of those unfortunate bulls being whipped into order.
The face and the body of this poor creature was in total pain. But dared not to move. Just then another crack and the figure squirmed in extreme agony, I felt sheer pity for this creature and at one had forgiven his rude and malicious entrance seconds before.
Then another crack of the whip, which I saw whipping in and out of my peripheral vision in mili seconds.
This time blood sprayed up into the air, as the figures back ripped open due to the sheer violence of the whip crack.
Mercy have mercy were the thoughts racing through my mind But I dared not say any thing in case I fell foul of the same punishment that befell this poor soul.
Just then as this person writhing in pain on the floor before me I heard a strange, foreign, beautiful feminine voice bellow out in a commanding manner some strange sentence. Immediately the naked figure got up of the floor and scurried on his hands and knees to the pair of legs next to the wall. His collar and posture reminded me of a dog not of a man.

Making my way through the thick brush, I finally saw a clearing up ahead, what appeared to be an asphalt road. Still in the woods, I suddenly heard something, what sounded like a crack of a whip and the approaching sound of wheels rolling over asphalt. I crouched down to hide in the wood and was amazed to see a muscular running man, harnessed to a two wheel sulky carrying a beautiful woman in equestrian attire. Sitting in a small carriage seat, she snapped a long leather riding whip against the back of the running man. She was in knee-high black leather riding boots, tight jodphurs up to her waist, but bare breasted and wearing one of those helmet hats with a chin strap. As they flew past me, I could see that the running man was naked except for boots and a large leather strap covering his privates and pulled up between the crack of his ass. He wore a bit in his mouth attached to her reins and was shackled to the two shafts, which he gripped and pulled as he ran.

Shocked by the sight of a nearly naked man running and pulling a beautiful woman with a whip in a cart, I was unable to call out to them as they sped down the road, away from me. I got out on the road and started to walk, following in the direction of the woman with the whip and the running man. Tired and hungry, I must have walked a mile when I saw two things coming toward me, galloping on all fours. I stopped in my tracks. It appeared to be two large ferocious dogs running toward me, but as they came closer they looked more like dogmen. They had short hair covering most of their bodies, but with more human faces. I turned to try to escape back into the woods, but they quickly surrounded me and stood up on two legs, about six feet tall.

One of them grabbed me by the neck and elbowed me in the nose, causing it to bleed. I tried talking to them, but they merely growled at me. One of them took off the collar it was wearing and put it around my neck, attached to a leash. I had never been so scared in my life at the sight of these two creatures. They took me by the arms and the leash and walked me down the road in the direction I had been going. We walked about another mile, when I saw a huge wall fence up ahead and a gate at the end of the road. As we approached, it automatically opened to let us in.

Inside was a magnificent estate, a stately mansion, perfectly manicured gardens, smaller dwellings on the periphery and what appeared to be a stable. The two dog men walked me up to the front of the mansion and threw me down on the ground.

As I laid on the ground, the woman I had seen in the rickshaw came out, this time straddling the shoulders of the muscular young horse man with her thighs around his neck. I looked up at them - her head must have been ten feet above me. She was still in black leather riding boots and skin tight jodphurs, and still naked above the waist, with the most magnificent breasts I had ever seen. She had a beautiful young face and without her hat, her long luscious hair draped her head.

"I am Mistress Moreau," she said to me, "welcome to my island."
"I am Alan Pendick," I said as I stood up and extended my hand up to hers. "I was in my boat when a storm came up and knocked me off. I washed up on the shore. Where am I and how far is this island from the mainland?"

"I will soon answer your questions, but first we will give you something to eat and drink and tend to your injury. Your nose is bleeding. How did that happen?"
"That animal over there did it....what the hell is it?"

A glare of anger shown in her eyes and the horseman walked her over to the dog man. From her high position on the horseman's shoulders, she immediately struck it with her riding crop across the face. The dog man cowered and fell to the ground.

"He will be punished," Mistress Moreau said.
"I am all right, but what is it?" I inquired, "it has a hairy human face and body, but it runs on all fours and stands on two legs."
"I told you I would answer your questions, soon, " she replied, "but first come into the house and get cleaned up and have something to eat."

She climbed down off the muscular horse man, stepping down into the cupped hands of the other dog man. The horse man stood still, wearing a bridle in his mouth, boots on his feet, and a leather strap up and around his waist with stirrups attached for her boots. She led me into the palatial mansion and took me into a room with a shower. As I watched her, I felt a compulsion to obey her, to submit to her, to worship her. She seemed so in control, so utterly at ease in her topless attire.

"Here, you can take a shower, Pendick," she commanded me.
"I need to call home or take a boat back to the mainland."
"Soon, but first you must clean up and have something to eat," she said matter-of-factly.

When she left, I took off my clothes and got in the shower, and washed off the glazed on sand and salt. When I emerged from the shower, I looked for my clothes but could not find them. There was nothing, not even a towel for drying off and covering. With both hands over my small dick, I walked quickly out of the room to look for my clothes or some type of covering. I opened a door and saw a large elegant wooden dining table, with Mistress Moreau sitting at the head of the table.

"Do not be ashamed, I want to see the way the gods made you," Mistress Moreau said.

Not knowing what to say, I quickly walked up to the table and sat down at my place. Mistress Moreau had changed outfits...she was now in a black merry widow corset with her breasts still exposed, with garters attached to black nylon stockings and wearing five inch black stilettos.

"I must call home and make arrangements to return to the mainland," I informed her.

"Patience, first you must have something to eat." On cue, out came one of the dog men, but this time dressed in a butler's uniform, bringing out two bowls of salad, placed in front of us.

"I hope you are not a carnivore. We are a completely vegetarian society. No meat. The salad is from the garden. Montgomery, come over here."

The horse man, named Montgomery, walked over beside the Mistress, reached inside the waist strap and pulled out the largest penis I had ever seen. He pulled out the hose and started to stroke it, holding it over her salad bowl. He strummed the long cylindrical shaft, closing his eyes to concentrate, getting it long and hard. He gripped and squeezed his testicles in his left hand, while his right hand pumped up and down the footlong tube. Then, out from the dispenser came the creamy white dressing, spurting on to the lettuce, covering the cucumbers, splattering on to the peppers and the tomatoes. Mistress Moreau picked up her fork and took a bite of the salad.

"Care for some salad dressing, Pendick?"
"No thank you."
"This is how I get my animal protein."

"What is this place and what in the hell are these creatures?"
"I told you, this is my island and my menagerie," she said without further explanation.

As I ate my salad, many things were going through my mind about this strange place and the beautiful Mistress Moreau. I was oddly attracted to her and curious about the island, but at the same time knew that I had to get back to the mainland as soon as possible.

"We have no communication with the outside world," she said rather casually as she continued to eat her salad. "Our communication center was knocked out by a storm and it can't be repaired until we get parts from the supply ship."

"And when does the supply ship arrive?" I anxiously inquired.

"The next one is scheduled in five months."

"What!", I exclaimed then paused for a moment. "What about a boat? If you have charts and navigation equipment, I should be able to sail it back to the mainland."

"I have no boat...I have no need for a boat....I have no desire to leave my island," she responded.

"But I do," I blurted out. "Are you telling me I am a prisoner...and become one of your human animal pets!"

She smiled back at me. Then I noticed something stirring in her lap. Curled up in her lap was a tiny woman, not a dwarf or a midget, but a perfectly proportioned, beautiful black-skinned woman, completely nude. Getting up and stretching, she stood up on Mistress Moreau's lap, standing about 15 inches tall, looking like female wrestler action figure. She stood on the Mistress’ left thigh, so that her head was at the level of the bare left breast, and she opened her mouth and sucked on the Mistress's left tit, the nipple filling up her entire mouth. I could see her wide lips stretched around the big nipple and the sucking action made by her cheeks. The tiny woman put her arms around the enormous tit. Mistress Moreau closed her eyes and enjoyed her breast being suckled.

The tiny woman was a perfect female specimen. She had smooth chocolate brown skin, tiny breasts but big in proportion to her body. She had a toned muscular body and a perfect ass, fleshy but firm. The tiny woman rubbed her naked body against Moreau's chest, slithering her tiny body between the enormous breasts. She returned to suckle on the Mistress' right tit, putting the protruding nipple in her mouth, sucking on it like it was a very large dick.

Mistress Moreau took her right index finger and slowly inserted it into the tiny woman's vagina. The tiny woman squatted down on the tip of the finger, spreading her pussy lips wide, like she was being fisted with the entire arm if she was normal sized. Mistress Moreau moved her finger up and down, in and out of the tiny woman's cunt, wiggling it inside. The tiny woman began to purr with pleasure, then moan and then make tiny screams as the enormous finger in her tiny pussy brought her to orgasm. She continued riding it up and down. Mistress Moreau removed the finger and sucked the juices off. Completely drained by the orgasm, the beautiful black skinned woman laid back down in the Mistress' lap and purred like a pussy.

"Now is the time to answer your questions," Mistress Moreau addressed me.

Chapter 2
"My late father was a brilliant but controversial genetic research scientist. He came to this island twenty years ago to conduct his experiments after he was fired from the University. I was just a baby and he brought me with him. The specimens you see here are all products of biogenetic engineering. After my father died in a tragic mishap, I began carrying on his research. I have made significant progress in the last couple of years."
"This," Mistress Moreau pointed to the tiny woman on her lap, "is one of my creations....a minature human sex toy, capable of both giving and experiencing pleasure." The pussywoman remained curled up in her lap and, of course, said nothing.

"Montgomery is my pride thoroughbred, genetically bred to big, strong, and handsome with a fourteen inch penis." Montgomery, the Caucasian horse man, stood tall and proud, his well developed body and dangling penis obvious to see.

"So you are genetically engineering sex freaks for your own perverted pleasure," I charged.

"Freaks and mutants appear in nature," she asserted, "but my creations are not freaks as you call them. They are genetically enhanced creations, specifically designed for aesthetic beauty and functional superiority."

"But what are you doing is against nature...you are playing God!"

"Humanity has been genetically engineering for a very long time. A long time ago we learned that if a male donkey mated with a female horse, a mule was born, a strong but smaller pack animal used for carrying heavy loads. Mendel taught us that the cross fertilization within a species can result in superior strains of plants. We have learned to genetically modify crops to make them drought resistant, grow faster and be more nutritous. The entire science of domestication and animal husbandry has been devoted to the creation of more productive, less animalistic beasts for human use and consumption."

"Jump down," Mistress said to the tiny beautiful black woman on her lap, which immediately got down and then nonchalantly walked over to a pillow on the floor and curled up on it, the way a cat would. Mistress Moreau stood up and asked, "Pendick, would you like to see my lab and some of my other experiments?"

"Yes, but can I get some clothes to wear?" I said, covering my small penis with my hand.

"See, you are ashamed of what God gave you."

The horse man, Montgomery, walked up to her and said, "do you wish to ride me to the laboratory, Mistress Moreau?"

"He speaks," I exclaimed, "somehow I was not expecting Mr. Ed!"

The reference was lost on the Mistress. She gave me a curious glance and then said to Montgomery, "no boy, I will walk him over. Go to the House and prepare things."

As we walked out of the mansion, across the courtyyard to another building, she explained, "My island is about seven or eight square miles in total area. It is volcanic in origin, and contains five sources of fresh water and a hot spring. It is fringed on three sides by coral reefs, and, as you can see, about 95 percent covered by tropical rainforest. My father built this compound, which consists of my mansion, the laboratory, the stables, the quarters, the farm gardens, and the storehouse. My island is home to over one thousand varieties of plant life, approximately 500 species of fauna, and about 60 bio-genetically engineered quasi-human organisms."

We walked into the building that housed the laboratory. It look liked a standard mad scientist's laboratory. There was chemistry equipment on tables, electrical devices, and apparatus I had never seen before. I was still uncomfortable being naked, and began to feel myself get aroused as I watched Mistress Moreau in her five inch stiletto heels, black nylon stockings, black merry widow corset and her bare breasts, jiggling as she walked.

"My father's experiments in genetic engineering resulted in creations that were more animal than human. Many of them are still alive or are on their second or third generation. Some of them are completely wild and live outside the walls of the compound. I would advise you not to leave the compound for your own safety. My father was killed by these wild beasts, killed by one of his own creations."

I knew that I had to escape. Mistress Moreau was quite beautiful, but she was also quite insane. I needed to find a weapon, a gun or something, to fend off any of these ferocious beasts in order to make it back to the beach. As I walked and looked through the laboratory, I was plotting my escape.

Mistress Moreau continued, "My father's experiment succeeded in cross fertilization of species, but the animal genes tended to dominate. My DNA experiments have resulted in more human-looking organisms, some minatures, others endowed with gigantic body parts."

In two cages, next to each other, there was a naked woman and a naked man. The naked woman had enormous breasts, I am talking humongous breasts. She sat in a chair and her enormous breasts laid in her lap, hanging out over her knees and her thighs. Her nipples were the size of dinner plates. The cage had a table and a toilet in the corner and a two wheeled gurney, which I supposed was for carrying her load when she had to walk.

In the cage next to her sat a man in a chair, with a testicle sack the size of a basketball. The skin was stretched tightly around the hairless scrotum and I could see the red and blue veins crisscrossing the giant globe. It looked very uncomfortable as his enormous ball sack hung down between his legs. The man and the woman just sat there, with imbecilic grins on their faces.

"But why, why do this? Why turn them into freaks?"

"Because we can, Pendick. Science makes it possible."

Chapter 3
"Now, I will show you the House of Pain."
We walked out of the laboratory and across the courtyard to another building. As we walked, Mistress Moreau talked.

"Of course, we all know that genetics alone can not create the perfect race or species. There must be training and discipline. Some behaviors must be learned, through training. They must be reinforced with rewards. Other behaviors must be discouraged with punishments. Mistakes must be rectified, so that they are not repeated."

We walked into the next building. Shackled in the middle of the room was the Dog Man, the same Dog Man that had made my nose bleed when I was first captured. He had a leather strap gag in his mouth, but I could see the look of fear as he saw the Mistress enter the room. As he hung in the middle of the room, his wrists and ankles shackled wide apart so he spread out like an X, I could see that short matted hair covered his legs, his arms, his back, and most of his face and head, but his chest and his pelvis region, front and back were completely hairless. I could see electrical wire clamps attached to his nipples and attached to his cock and balls.

"You have disobeyed the Law. You have hurt a human being. For this you must be punished," Mistress Moreau passed sentence.

She walked behind him, took her riding crop and struck him hard across the exposed buttocks. His entire body swayed. He let out a crying moan, muffled by the leather gag in his mouth. Again, the riding crop struck his ass cheek, leaving a bright red streak. Mistress Moreau offered the riding crop to me, but I waved it away. She smiled and then let loose a swat with full force against his ass. A crying whimper. Then, she began flailing in rapid fire succession, slap, slap, slap against his ass. His strung up body jerked after each hit. His colorful ass displayed streaks of red, blotches of black and blue, and emerging spots of purple. Tiny droplets of crimson red blood began to appear.

She turned the electric current on, and I could see the surge of electricity simultaneously attack his nipples, his balls and the shaft of his cock. His entire hanging body spasmed. He screamed a silent scream. The current was turned off, and then turned on again. Again, I could see the excruciating pain shoot through his body. She turned it off and took the gag off his mouth. The Dog Man panted and beads of sweat appeared on the hairless parts of his body. Then Mistress Moreau slowly increased the voltage, slowly turning it up and as she did, he began at a low cry, then a sharp yelp and finally a piercing scream. It was the most horrific scream I had ever heard. It was agony to watch, but the more he screamed, the more she smiled.

"Stop it!," I said to her, "hasn't he had enough."

"I am doing this for your benefit. Pain and punishment must serve as a deterrent so that it never hurts a human being again."

"But how can pain be an effective deterrent if the guilty perpetrator is a masochist who enjoys pain?"

"Masochism is the deriving of pleasure by suffering pain. Pain and pleasure are associated with each other. When I am inflicting punishment to modify behavior, I am careful not to allow any pleasure, only pain. The pleasure from masochism comes from the increased sensual sensitivity, the eventual cessation of the pain, and the anticipation of cathartic pleasure climax. When I train and punish one of my pets, it knows that it will only experience pain and there will be no pleasure. It learns that if it wants the pain to stop and to experience the pleasure, it must modify its behavior and stop committing transgressions."

With these words, she turned on the juice one last time, sending jolts of electricity to his tortured nipples, his throbbing balls and his aching cock. Once she turned it off, his body went numb, like it had lost all feeling.

"Let him down," she commanded Montgomery, who unbuckled the wrist and ankle cuffs and let him collapse to the floor.

"You are not a scientist," I said to her, "you are a sadistic monster!"

"Not true, Mr. Pendick," she responded, "pain is dispensed to modify behavior. I can also provide pleasure. I reward those who are worthy. I will show you."

We walked back outside. There in the middle of the courtyard stood two beautiful women, perfectly identical twins, both wearing black leather strap body harnesses that outlined their conical breasts, luscious ass cheeks, and hairless pink pussies. Their nipples were pierced with silver rings and connected by a thin silver chain. In their mouths were O-ring gags, attached to the bridle on their heads. Their blonde hair was braided in long ponytails hanging down to their waists. They stood there, at attention, in high heel boots.

Mistress Moreau took a black leather bullwhip and snapped it at the two ponygirls, who commenced running in a circle around the courtyard. The two identical fillies were beautiful to watch, as they high stepped in perfect unison, their beautiful bouncy breasts jiggling as they ran. These two perfect clones must also be the result of bio-genetic engineering. I suddenly remembered that I was naked, as I noticed my little cock getting hard.

Montgomery the stallion walked into the center of the courtyard, his fourteen inch cock leading the way. The two identical ponygirls immediately walked up to him and began rubbing against his naked body. One began rubbing his muscular chest, while the other started stroking his long, magnificent cock. The O-ring gag stretched her lips open as wide as they could go, so much that the head of his cock could fit inside her mouth. The other ponygirl stuck her long tongue through the O-ring gag and began licking his testicles. This was incredible to watch.

Mistress Moreau ordered the other Dog Man to get down on his hands and knees and then sat down on his back to enjoy the show.

Montgomery bent one of the ponygirls over and from behind forced his long magnificent tool into her tight twat. He pumped it in and out of her pussy, pulling it all the way out to the head, and then slamming it all the way back in. He left it inside, all the way in, as the other ponygirl crouched down behind him, stuck her horse tongue out and swirled it inside his asshole. Her long horse tongue went all the way inside. The other one was riding his cock in and out, up and down, like a fucking bronco. This show was having an effect on me, and found myself stroking my begging cock. Mistress Moreau glanced over at me and smiled.

Chapter 4
On an impulse, I decided to make a run for it. Mistress Moreau was preoccupied watching Montgomery fucking the cloned ponygirls. I silently moved backwards and started running to find a place to hide. In my aroused state, my small dick and balls bounced as I ran. I hid behind the laboratory building, but could hear the voice of Mistress Moreau yelling in the courtyard, "Find him, capture him and bring him to the House of Pain!"
I started to climb up the fence while I still had the chance. Mistress Moreau, mounted on Montgomery's shoulders, found me as I reached the top of the fence. From her high position, she got up behind me and injected a hypodermic needle into my arm. I began to feel woozy and fell to the ground.

I was immediately picked up by the two ponygirls, and my hands, feet and penis were tied to a long pole. The two strong ponygirls picked up the ends of the pole and lifted it on to their shoulders and carried me back to the courtyard. My naked body swung as they walked, looking like the prize trophy from the hunt, which is what I was. The injection took effect and I passed out.

The next thing I knew, I was strapped down on a table in the House of Pain. I felt that my wrists and ankles were cuffed and attached to the table and broad leather straps extended across my thighs and chest. My head was also immobile, a collar around my neck also strapped to the table. I was blindfolded, but not gagged.

I heard someone enter the room.

The voice of Mistress Moreau: "You don't know what I am going to do to you, do you?"

"No, I do not, Mistress Moreau," I heard myself say. I realized then I was completely under her spell.

"You are now my pet. You have been selected to join my menagerie. Pendick, you now belong completely to me. Your sole purpose for the rest of your life on my island is to serve me, to provide me with comfort, to satisfy my needs and demands. I must see what you are good at. You will not be able to see."

She climbed on top of the table and I could sense her positioning herself over my head. My air was cut off as her soft ass cheeks engulfed my face, pressing against my nose and mouth. She wiggled her hips and grinded her pussy mound onto my mouth. I breathed in deeply and smelled her musky femininity and sweet asshole.

I could feel the rubbery flaps against my mouth. I could feel them spread apart as I stuck my tongue into the opening. My tongue found the tiny knob and began to lap it back and forth. Juices began to trickle out. My entire face was soaked with her juices. She grinded her long loose lips into mine.

The hole moved and I could feel a new texture. My tongue found a dimple and I knew that I was at her tight asshole. The cheeks of her ass smothered my face, so that I could barely breathe. She raised up slightly, as my tongue licked between the crack, rimming the hole, trying to get inside. I could feel her tight asshole pucker against the tip of my tongue.

As my mouth was focused on her holes, I could feel a tingling in my groin, a squeezing of my balls, and a pinprick on my prick. Then, a torrent of the Mistress's urine made its way into my mouth, as I tried to swallow as fast as I could, being force fed her delicious piss. Again, I passed out.

What separates man from the beast? Have man's basic instincts really evolved? Aren't we really meant to work, to serve, to worship, to perform tricks, to amuse, to provide pleasure? What if science could make us more functional? Should we allow science to alter us, to change our genetic code, to improve on nature? Should we continue to experiment, to stretch the boundaries, to test the limits, to discover what we are capable of?

I slowly began to wake up, drifting back and forth between dream and consciousness. With my eyes still closed, I didn't know if I would wake up back in my own bed and the entire visit to the Island of Mistress Moreau had just been a vivid dream. The blindfold taken off, I decided to open my eyes and looked up at the ceiling in the House of Pain. No, I was not back home and it had not been a dream. The events of the last 24 hours had all been real. Mistress Moreau was real and so were her creatures.

I became aware of my wake-up erection. I had seen a lot of sexual things and stimulation. I had been surrounded by sex and the perverted pleasures of Mistress Moreau. No wonder I was hard. Still groggy, I looked down and was amazed at what I saw. There, pointing at my head was my new, bigger second penis.

In both philosophy and psychology cruelty is not the same concept as pain. Pain does not imply cruelty. The definition of cruelty depends on the motive of the lady who inflicts the discomfort. Cruelty is when she feels cruel. If a women feels she is engaged in a useful and helpful task, such as training a slave, then it is not cruelty no matter how much pain she inflicts. If the thoughts of a lady are focussed on such matters as diligent law enforcement, or harmless fun or delightful female bonding, the word cruelty is inappropriate. If the lady is engaged in exploration or research such as testing the efficiency of new whips, or seeing what happens when applying thumbscrews to various parts of the male body, or experimenting with the rack, then the concept of cruelty is irrelevant. She is simply engaged in a quest for knowledge, which is wholly commendable and likely to have both practical and theoretical benefits.

Similarly, if she is thinking how valuable her whipping will be in improving the behaviour of a slave then cruelty does not come into it.

Of course, as far as the male is concerned there is no cruelty, only pain. However, his own state of mind can affect the degree of pain he feels. For example, he might assume from the smiles, the jokes and the laughter that a lady is enjoying his chastisement. This impression that the lady may be feeling cruel could add its quota of dismay and intensify the pain felt by the flesh.

Because cruelty is essentially a thing of the mind it is sometimes argued that cruelty does not exist as a thing in itself and that cruelty is simply another name for female satisfaction at male suffering.

Of course, adherents of the 'myth' theory agree that cruelty existed in the bygone days of male brutality and barbarism. It was indeed a crime. It was immoral, deplorable and reprehensible. The advocates of the 'myth' theory argue that in the new era of female rule the concept of cruelty is old-fashioned, inappropriate and should be discarded and that in any case the term was far too harsh to relate to the exquisitely joyful feelings of ladies taking their pleasures. Females are ladies, and males are brutes.

The argument is that by discarding the myth of cruelty it becomes easier to view chastisement as a normal, healthy and salutary interaction between the superior and the inferior, between the powerful and the weak, between the sublime and the ridiculous. It is simply a fact of life, a woman is more powerful than a man just as the sun is more powerful than the moon. Thus cruelty can be regarded as a label without an object. After all, say the adherent to the theory, it is the duty of every lady to give orders, to inflict pain and to observe the results. And if it is a duty then, by definition, it cannot be cruel.

One advantage of the myth theory is that it provides a neat response to such questions as 'Is cruelty wrong?' An adherent of the myth theory would reply that the question is meaningless since cruelty does not exists.

However, the myth theory does concede that the lady who feels she is being cruel is feeling something. Feelings are feelings, not myths. What the lady experiences, whether it is the joy of power, the appreciation of the rod, the desire to crush males, cannot be brushed away by claiming that it does not exist. Whatever 'it' is, the lady herself may, or may not, conceive it as a feeling of cruelty.

A more serious criticism of the myth theory is that it takes no account of the extended meaning of cruelty which covers the act as well as the motive. Thus, a lady might say 'I was feeling cruel' (motive) 'and as a result I was cruel' (act). In this sense there is an unbroken line from feeling cruel, to picking up the whip, raising it, striking and inflicting considerable pain on the slave. 'I am being cruel' she might say as the slave writhes in pain. Certainly the slave would agree that cruelty was not a myth.

The Inquiry
In order to shed light on the concept of cruelty the Department of Philosophy and Psychology decided that an investigation was needed.
There were two possible approaches. The first was philosophical and consisted of a debate about the meaning of words. For example, if a lady's motives happened to be a heady mixture of sadism, malice, vindictiveness, spite and mischief, would that be regarded as cruel? In such a philosophical inquiry a number of papers might be written and assessed.

The second approach was psychological and consisted of an investigation to determine the facts. After some discussion, the Department adopted this second approach. The aim was to see if some pattern of behaviour could be established. This might then have practical benefits in improving cruelty and such improvements would enhance the pleasures experienced by ladies.. It was also pointed out that in any case most ladies are far more interested in actual cruelty rather than arguing about definitions. For example, if asked 'How do you define cruelty' a lady might say 'Who cares about definitions. What matters is discipline and obedience, strict discipline and immediate obedience.'

The questionnaire
It was decided to make a survey giving three hypothetical examples involving the infliction of pain and ask whether the three examples had anything in common. The examples were:
Example 1: After handing out a face-slapping the lady told the slave to leave. But when he reached the door she had another idea and ordered him to return to her on his knees. She ordered him say 'I am happy, I am glad, I am stupid, I am mad.' When he had finished she slapped him hard and said 'Say it again, and this time with a lot more conviction.'
Example 2: Two ladies harnessed a beast and made him drive them once round the race track to teach him a lesson. Although the male was considerably distressed by the experience one of the ladies suggested an improvement, namely inserting two or three pieces of sharp gravel into one of his shoes and making him run the circuit again. This was done and both ladies found amusement and satisfaction in the result.

Example 3: A lady, after whipping her slave at the low pillory, changed her mind about releasing him. She lit a candle and placed it several inches beneath his private parts. He showed no immediate signs of distress. She told him that she would release him after her supper and she locked and bolted the door noisily behind her. The warmth from the candle became heat, the heat became pain and when she returned he was almost demented with the agony.

Some 28 ladies answered the questionnaire.. More than half (17) said they saw no connection between the three examples other than the well-deserved infliction of pain. One said 'The only pattern was that the ladies were teaching the slaves a lesson,' Another respondent noted 'The slaves suffered and there's no harm in that. In each case it was just innocent fun.'
However, the other 11 ladies noted that each example was in two halves - the original planned chastisement and the additional unplanned torment. As one respondent put it 'Each lady provided extras and it's the extras that are so satisfying and salutary.' Another lady said 'The unplanned actions revealed commendable ingenuity'.

Follow-up study
Having analysed the results the Department carried out a follow-up study. This was in-depth and consisted of face-to-face interviews
There were a number of unexpected results, the main one being that the ladies, having had more time to think about the three examples, appeared to treat them as real rather than hypothetical. One lady, commenting on the second example, said 'I expect they put the nasty gravel into one shoe rather than both shoes in order that he would have an silly limp,' Another lady asked 'Why did the lady lock and bolt the door. Was it so that the slave would realise he was alone and helpless? Was it so that he could concentrate on the gradual increase in pain?'.

In the follow-up interviews it was found that all the ladies accepted that there was a pattern. The following extracts from some of the interviews give an indication of the general opinion.

I now realise there is a pattern. Each example has an extra and in each case the extra was different from what had gone on before. It was not a matter of 'Give him a few extra whacks.' The poem was different from the slap and so on. The extras were a contrast. They were imaginative and decidedly pain enhancing.'

'In the first example the slave must have suffered more from the last slap because he had just been saying how happy and glad he was. The slap must have emphasised reality - that he was not happy and glad but was stupid and mad.'

'The examples were very interesting. In the case of the gravel in the shoe the mental torment would have been increased because the slave realised that the lady was having fun by putting the gravel in one shoe only so as to make him limp. His second drive was a contrast between his right and left legs. The extra was a lovely little addition to create amusement for the ladies and pain for the slave.'.

'What I noticed particularly was that the pain from the candle was in complete contrast to the pain from the whip. The source was stationary, seemingly small and apparently harmless, yet fiendishly persistent and getting worse and worse as the heat built up. Also, it was pain detached from the lady herself. The locks and bolts were a great idea. His isolation was ingenious. No amount of screaming would end the pain. Yet scream he would. Absolutely. Louder and louder until his throat gave out. Lovely gorgeous fun.'

It can be seen from these extracts that there was general agreement that extras played an important part in all three examples. At the request of the Philosophy Department it was agreed that at the end of each interview the interview should post the question 'Were the extras cruel?'

There was a very mixed response. 'Certainly not', replied one lady emphatically. 'It was all innocent fun and having fun isn't cruel.' Several other ladies agreed, giving their answers on the lines of. 'It was merriment not cruelty.'

Taking the opposite view one lady said 'Of course the extras were cruel, that was the whole point.' Another said 'Admirably cruel. Nothing improves a slave as much as cruelty, the more cruelty the better.' A similar answer was 'Extras are heavenly. Cruelty is certainly the most fulfilling pleasure a woman can have.' Another declared 'Cruelty is the spice of life, Things would be really dull without it.'

Several ladies just laughed when asked the question and one, smiling knowingly at the psychologist, said 'I'm a great believer in cruelty. We get a lot of satisfaction out of it, don't we. And it certainly makes the slaves really keen to obey our every whim.'

None of the ladies who thought that extra were cruel showed any misgivings about being cruel themselves. On the contrary, they seemed utterly convinced that cruelty served a double purpose - it benefited slaves and provided good healthy amusement for ladies. One lady answered the question with a laugh and smacked her whip gleefully on her riding boot.

Only one lady hesitated in her answer, saying 'I don't know what cruelty is but I do know what a good caning is. That's what I give them and that's what they get.'

It was abundantly clear that all the 28 ladies were highly appreciative of the concept of imaginative extras, and most ladies said they intended to utilise the idea on suitable occasions. As one said 'I realise, of course, that the examples were all theoretical but what's good in theory must be really fantastic in practice.'

Extra value
After the interview data had been collated a seminar was held attended by all 28 participants and by senior members of the staff of the Department. The aim was to produce possible suggestions for future action.
This session was remarkably jolly, caused by female bonding as well as the presence of champagne. All agreed that extras were as entertaining for ladies as they were educational for the slaves. 'The secret ingredient is the mischief' remarked one lady 'because the slaves recognise the devilment and that adds to the pain they feel.'

Several ladies commented that extras encouraged creative thinking. The general view was that extras would be as amusing and delightful to ladies as they were demoralising and painful to slaves. 'I just love to make them squirm, mentally as well as physically,' was a sentiment that was mentioned on more than one occasion.

Others pointed out that in cases such as the grit in the shoe more than one lady was involved and the incident helping female bonding. As one lady put it 'Shared enjoyment is educational for us as well as them. We learn as well. We observe the various techniques and methods and develop our skills. And that's on top of having a really fantastic time together.'

The seminar decided to set up a journal dealing with extras that would contain ideas, articles, letters and possibly illustrations. It was also agreed that the Psychology Department would organise sessions so that ladies could see innovative extras in action. These sessions could take place in the Club during the evening leisure periods. One lady remarked joyously 'When the slaves get to hear about this they're going to be ecstatic!' Another declared happily 'What lovely fun. And we'll give them something to laugh about.'

The Department concluded that the investigation into cruelty had been most instructive and that future benefits were likely to occur.

 

Male Slavery and the Process of Natural Selection
It is an established biological fact that within the sub set of bipedal primates called Homo sapiens sapiens the male of the species usually has the largest muscle and skeletal structure. What has also been well known to most dominant females is that the brain of the male creatures, while neurologically similar in size and structure to their own, never fully develops. In addition to this significant cognitive limitation the dominant Female has long recognized that the male creatures will invariably display many other forms of primitive intellectual development such as confrontational and aggressive behavior and uncontrollable sexual urges. The most advanced and highly intelligent Females have already concluded that these creatures are of little value to them unless they can be domesticated and used as slaves.
While the male’s size and strength has given them certain advantages in the past millenniums these physical attributes are of less and less value as the world becomes more civilized and technologically oriented. The single chromosome of difference between the superior females and the male creatures is slowly but inexorably demonstrating that the male’s size and strength are only of short term value in the outcome of the process of natural selection. As the dominant females acquires more control of the political process and the material assets that support society the need to use males for even procreation of the species will become irrelevant until, finally, the only use for these creatures will be to serve as working slaves for the dominant female.
As with any animal that is domesticated the process initially requires some type of physical discipline to keep the creature’s limited attention span focused on the work his owner has assigned. It is also useful to have some type of identification system such as a collar or a brand so that property can be easily identified. Collaring is also a useful tool with slaves since it serves as a constant physical remind to them of their status, animals owned as property by superior Females. The locked slave collar is also a convenience when it is necessary to move them on a leash or secure them for punishment. This assists the trainers and owners in maintaining complete control of the creatures movements until it can be taught to obey the commands of its owner. Most domesticated animals, such as horses and dogs, require only occasional discipline once they have been trained. Unfortunately, male creatures require much more. The superior female knows that a well administered corporal punishment session given on a regular basis will help the creature learn to repress his wild animalistic impulses and focus on the commands of his Mistress. Unfortunately, these traits can never be totally suppressed which makes it necessary to constantly supervise and discipline the slaves. The pain clears their mind and helps them to remain focused on their work. This can become a boring and repetitive job for the highly intelligent Female trainer often leaving her exasperated and understandably frustrated with the creatures poor efforts. Wisely they know that only sterner measures will succeed and they redouble their efforts.
The Status of Prisoners and the Functions of the Queen’s Court
Recognizing this problem, Her Royal Highness, Queen Patricia, has founded a Kingdom where strict Female supremacy is the law of the land . Here male slaves can be taught such tasks as cleaning or other menial domestic chores. Once broken to the slave collar then properly harnessed and trained male slaves can also provide transportation or be used in games and races. Some slaves, with discipline and training , can also be taught to beg, fetch, play simple games and perform tricks for the amusement of their owners. The creatures that prove most difficult to train are used when the tasks require nothing more than simple hard physical labor. It is interesting to observe that the slaves employed in these labor gangs are not unhappy or disappointed with their status. Many will honestly admit that their greatest pleasure comes when they are performing such tasks as digging ditches or cleaning and scrubbing the white stones which line the Queen’s pathways. Perhaps this is because the male creature, as he sweats and strains in the hot sun, naked but for the slave collar locked around his neck, finally comes to the realization that being under the domination and control of Females is his natural place the social order.
One has but to observe how effortlessly the dominant female directs and commands a large gang of work slaves. Fearlessly walking among these large creatures she keeps them focused on their work. After a short period of adjustment the slaves are happiest when they are being closely watched and supervised by the beautiful young women of the Queen’s Guard. Her stern commands followed by a few expert strokes with her cane are all that is necessary to maintain complete obedience. In this environment of total Female dominance even the male slave’s limited intellect finally recognizes this contrast between the sleek and beautiful female who stands over him, clean and comfortably dressed with a cane held casually in her hand and his own status as her slave. This sense of total humility and complete submission is now profoundly reinforced by his own nakedness and vulnerability. The slave is kneeling on the ground where the dirt and the mud excite his primordial roots. He feels the sweat as it drips from his body while the Female stands over him and reminds him to keep working; emphasizing her command with the sharp point of her boot. The nearness of her beauty continues to excite him but now these impulses are kept under strict discipline and control so that his strength is channeled to constructive labor for the benefit of his owner.
Some slaves may experience a great sense of humiliation when they are first pressed into slave labor as they try to resist their natural submissiveness to all women and the Females explicit dominance over all male creatures. The naturally dominant female quickly identifies this and has perfected many ways to exploit the humiliation of the male as part of his slave training. This begins by keeping the creatures naked at all times. Total nudity intensifies the humiliation and accelerates the training by reminding the slave that his body is truly the property of his Mistress. Nakedness also keeps the slave acutely aware of his total vulnerability and , more importantly, the natural rights of an owner to see and have direct access to her property at all times. She is entitled to feel or examine his body whenever and wherever she chooses. He learns to make himself available to her at all times for whatever may be her whim, to please her or be punished as it may suit her moods. A slave also learns that he neither eats not drinks without the permission of his Mistress. She controls not only what and when he will eat or drink but also where. It is not at all unusual for new slaves to crawl behind their Mistress or trainer to the dining room. Naked in their locked slave collars they are taught to kneel and wait patiently on the floor beside the chair of their owners until the Mistress may decide to toss some scraps from her plate on to the floor. Despite his hunger the slave is trained to wait until give permission then lower his head and eat from the floor of if he is so fortunate, a small dish. Sometimes a Mistress may find it useful, or perhaps just amusing, to smash the scraps under sole of her boot. The slave then enjoys not just the scraps but also the honor of licking her boots and the floor until both are spotlessly clean.
When training male slaves the superior female owners must always remember to give precise instructions in a firm and commanding voice. Sadly the simple creatures will invariably misunderstand any conversation with a female that does not contain strict instruction. This is an unfortunate and common failure in all male slaves who will interpret the lack of firm command as license to behave in a manner wholly inconsistent with their lowly state. Worse yet, the creature’s brain will think that the dominant female has initiated some type of sexual assignation. For all these reasons the process of training male creatures, so that they may have some limited value as a slave to all females, requires that they be vigorously disciplined and kept under close supervision and control at all times. When their actions do not reflect the deference and absolute obedience that is due to their natural superiors it is necessary to refresh their short term memories.

Early in the slave’s training he is taught to associate the sting of the whip or the sharp and fiery bite of the cane with the spoken command his Mistresses or as an inducement for greater effort. Pony boys and rickshaw slaves know well the whistling snap of the carriage whip in the expert hands of a Riding Mistress as they run naked before the cart-a mere snap of the whip in the air is often all that is necessary to urge them on although a few good strokes across the cheeks of the backsides or a snap or two across their flanks may also get more speed from the lazy pony. Queen Patricia is a renowned sportswoman who has invested considerable time and effort in the sport of ponyboy racing. Mistresses from around the word now bring their ponyboys to her extensive facilities for training. Each fall Her Majesty hosts the Annual International Ponyboy Championships where riders come to match their skills in a series of races. The expert instruction of the Kingdom’s Principal Riding Mistress and her staff coupled with rigorous training and discipline programs of The Queen’s Stables have produced several winning mounts.
Perhaps a slave may scream or beg for mercy when he is being punished. The female owner knows that it is not the pain which makes the slave cry but rather the disappointment his is experiencing for having failed to please his owner. Somewhere deep in his tiny brain he knows that he deserves to suffer for these mistakes and that his Mistress is only trying to make him a better slave. For this reason a Mistress will often allow her slaves to express their appreciation for her training at the conclusion of these corrective sessions. While the welts of his Mistresses whip are still fresh and burning across the cheeks of his ass and back of his thighs the naked male slave is most eager to show his Mistress that he has learned his lesson. The Principal Riding Mistresses of the Kingdom, Madame Christine and Madame Loreen sometimes allow the pony boys who are about to be disciplined for a lack of effort to lie face down on the gravel track after a hard training. Then as the lay naked in the dirt with their wrist cuffs locked to the back of their collars the Sublime Lady will generously allow them to lick their muddy boots as the are beaten with the riding crop.
Giving male slaves a chance to lick and kiss their boots and allowing them the opportunity to grovel shamelessly at their feet during or just after punishment are but two of the ways that a magnanimous Mistress will let the slave beg for another chance to serve. Tearfully thanking her the slave again acknowledges that such punishments are necessary for his proper training. It may also offer some amusement for the Mistress from the tedious task of punishing slaves who make the same mistakes. While the mistakes of most slaves result from their inherent laziness and stupidity, some slaves actually think themselves intelligent enough to try and disobey the commands of their owners. When they are ultimately caught they compound the matter by trying to lie in response to the questions of their Mistress. Such behavior, when willfully committed or of such a repetitive nature that normal corrections do not seem sufficient may be referred to the Civil Court of the Kingdom for adjudications. Established by her Majesty, Patricia the First, the Civil Court of the Kingdom provides a legal structure where the perpetrators of these crimes against the natural order of female supremacy can be tried and punished in a manner that reaffirms the absolute dominance of all females. The sentence of the Court when executed publicly by the Queens Guards, makes the punishment fit the crime, the punishment fit the crime. It extracts from the prisoner a payment in pain, suffering and humiliation wherein he willingly represents a source of amusement and merriment for the Ladies of The Court and their Guests. It also sets an effective example to other slaves.
Her Majesty, in her infinite wisdom and mercy, also realizes that once these poor pathetic creatures have confessed to their crimes and been sentenced by the Court they should be allowed to demonstrate the sincerity of their contrition. Upon hearing the Judge’s sentence male creature finally realizes that his Queen and absolute ruler has just granted him a last chance to receive absolution for his crimes if he can demonstrate a true contrition for his mistakes. This is sometimes a difficult test for the simple minded male. The creatures tiny brain must now try to comprehend the fact that if he truly wants to again become a loyal and obedient slave he must now demonstrate for the Judge and the members of the Queen’s Guard who will administer the sentence of the Court that he is truly appreciative of the punishment he is about to receive. The Throne Hall of The Queen’s palace places him on a great public stage where he must display the utmost humility and submission. There is no mercy to plead or beg for since the only payment he can offer the satisfy the sentence of the Judge is the coinage of pain, minted by the long slender punishment canes of the Queen’s High Executioners on the soft and tender skin which he must willingly offer as he presents himself at the boots of each Lady. The following story tells how one prisoner was finally able to understand the need for true contrition and humility and how he found redemption in the Great Hall of the Queen’s Palace.

PART ONE - THE TRAIL
As he knelt on the cold dungeon steps the prisoner finally began to understand for the first time that his status within the Kingdom had changed. He was now not just a slave but also a prisoner and unless he showed his sincere appreciation for the sentence he would soon receive he may be expelled from the Kingdom. As a well trained slave he tried hard never to disappoint or displease his owners because he has realized instinctively that male creatures are the natural slaves to all women. Service in their pleasure becomes the highest form of his existence since they are his natural superiors in all things. Now he deeply regretted having been less than truthful with his Mistress and was very sorry. In a few minutes he would be lead before the Sublime Lady Judge who would hear the case against him. He would wait naked and chained at her feet while she considered the changes knowing that when she speaks it will be the final sentence of the Court. The prisoner must accept and endure whatever punishments she may decide. Only by accepting the Court’s sentence could he ever hope to be allowed the honor to again serve as a slave in the Kingdom. Perhaps this may seem strange if you have never been a slave and worshiped women as our natural rulers. Yet only those creatures who have truly groveled at the boots of a strong and dominate female can fully understand what it might mean to be declared a creature unworthy of this honor and expelled from the Kingdom. A true slave has come to understand and appreciate that only through punishment and humiliation can we become better slaves.
The staircase from the floor of the dungeon is steep and narrow. Carved out of the massive rock walls that formed the original foundations of the Queen’s palace it reflects the ingenuity and practicality of the ancient rulers who recognized the need to bring prisoners quickly from the lower depths to the Great Hall so that their suffering and pleas for mercy may be of amusement to their guests without inconvenience. When Queen Patricia, by Royal Decree, established the Civil Courts of the Other World Kingdom she had also wisely seen the usefulness of the stairs and preserved much of its original construction. The dungeon itself was little changed other than the installation of new cells and cages and these had been built around the original stone foundations-keeping the rock walls as dark and cold as those that held its first prisoners.
Now, just as in centuries past, prisoners wait fearfully on the bottom steps, knowing that they have been called to judgment before a court that knows them for what they are, ungrateful slaves who have willfully disobeyed the lawful commands and instructions of their owners and must now be punished. Only through sever pain will the slave truly comprehend the error of his ways and only by sincere suffering and contrition can he again be allowed the honor to serve at the feet of his female superiors.
At the command of the Queens Guard the slave, naked and shackled with heavy chains, crawls from his cell to the bottom steps and kneels. “Binding position” she snaps and he obediently crosses his wrists behind his back. In a moment his cuffs are locked together. Now she stands in front of him. A beautiful and strong woman in her black leather uniform who totally controls and dominates the naked slave who kneels before her. Taking a chain leash from her belt she clips the end to the steel ring embedded in the slaves collar. She jerks it hard to raise his head then slaps his face with her gloved hand.
“Look at me “ she says slapping him again several times in quick succession. Shocked and frightened he looks timidly into the deep blue eyes that now hold him powerless in their icy stare.
“I will soon lead you up the stairs and into the Civil Court. You will obey me at all times and show the utmost respect to the Sublime Lady Judge.” Then with a cruel smile she wrapped the leash tightly in her fist and pulled upward, forcing the slave to raise his head as the wide leather band of the slave collar closed around his neck. Bringing her face very close to his she said softly. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes Mistress’ he gasped as the collar stretched and choked his neck.
“I hope so” she said, “For whatever punishments you are made to suffer for your crimes in the Great Hall tonight-remember slave-when you think it is finished –I will still be waiting for you-to lead you back down these stairs—and you will spend the rest of the night in my dungeon.” Then releasing her grip she drops him back to his knees.
“They are the same,” she thinks to herself as she sits down in a comfortable chair beside the stairs. Tying the end of the leash to the arm of the chair she lights a cigarette and leans back in the chair. Relaxing she stares idly at the naked slave who kneels on the rough stone steps with his head bowed. She laughs as tries to shift his weight slightly and take some of the pressure from his bruised knees. “Keep still” she snaps with a sharp tug on his leash. “Now bow you head and wait until you are called and think about how eager you are going to be to please me and the Judge.”
Resigned to his fate he could but listen to the muffled sounds coming through the floor just above his head. Screams of pain and female laughter filled him with anxiety.
“How many” he thought to himself, “have knelt on these steps.”?
After what seemed like a long wait he saw the small red light at he top of the stairs begin to flash. This was a signal that the trap door would soon be open and for the Guardess to have the next prisoner ready. The Mistress crushed out her cigarette on the stone floor. “I’ll have him lick that up later” she thought. “He’ll be eager to have the chance.” Standing, she stretched her arms and walked behind the slave. Running the tip of her cane over the cheeks of his ass she tapped him lightly then ran her gloved had over the smooth flesh. “I think they will all be using the long punishment canes tonight. They make such a nice sound on impact.”
Laughing she cupped the cheeks of his ass and squeezed them. “When you come back down the stairs these will look like two red tomatoes.” Her hand continued to play with him--stroking his flanks and the back of his thighs. “And here Madame Sarka will given you many long fiery red kisses to remember her –she adores the way a long punishment cane can raise welts.”
She unsnapped the lock on his cuffs and climbed up several steps until she stood above him with the leash in her hand. Placing her boots on the step just above his head she jerked the leash. “Now lick the dust off my boots.”
Bowing his head he placed his lips on the highly polished leather of her boots and licked them. He knew that when she mounted the stairs and entered the Great Hall her boots should be gleaming in the lights as was befitting a beautiful female. Then, above his head he heard the door opening.
“Enough” she snapped and climbed up the stairs into the light. With another sharp tug on his leash he began to climb up the steps. Like an animal that is suddenly drawn from a darkened cave the slave scurried up the last few steps of the dungeon staircase on his hands and knees and on to the floor of the brightly lit Hall. Following the tug of his leash he followed his Guardess on to the floor of the Great Stage. The rough stone steps of the dungeon staircase were now the beautifully polished wood of the stage floor. Momentarily blinded by the bright lights in Great Hall of the Queen’s Palace the prisoner could only blink his eyes. Keeping his head bowed and close to the floor he kept his eyes focused on the shiny black heels of his Mistresses boots. Not daring to raise his head he felt rather than saw the rush of activity and the presence of the Sublime Ladies and other Royal Guests who had filled the Great Hall.
The male creature had been in the hall last year, as a slave in service to one of the Sublime Ladies of the Kingdom –now as he knelt as a prisoner he still remembered it’s magnificence and how overwhelming it had been. The style and quality of the furnishings were truly magnificent. The Queen had spared no expense to recreate an imperial setting with rich and luxurious sofas, chairs and tables. The walls had all been carefully painted or covered with heavy draperies and textured paper. Ornate sconces held electric candelabras that bathed the great room in a warm and soft light. He had been on a leash then too-but it was more of a decorative prop that showed his dedication and submission to his Mistress. Kneeling beside her chair in the Great Hall he had waited with his head on the floor. Someone had put an ashtray on his back and even though he knew that it was not his Mistress –since she did not smoke-he remained perfectly still. Above his head the Sublime Ladies and their guests watched the sessions begin, sipping their drinks and laughing with delight as the first prisoners were brought up. Other slaves sat on the floor beside their Mistresses and were also allowed to drink and smoke. They also seemed to enjoy watching the slaves as the Sublime Lady Judge began the session. He remembered that, in some strange way, he was just as glad that he had not been given those privileges; preferring to serve as an immobile piece of furniture. But he could hear the Judge and sometimes the slaves as they answered her questions-many-it seemed to him were accused of minor offenses and breeches of conduct and were more than eager to beg for mercy then to be sentenced to the whipping post on the following morning.
He remembered the hush that had descended on the hall as the next slave was called as though everyone knew that this next case would be very serious.
At the far end was a raised stage where the Judge sat in a great arm chair surrounded by the royal guards. A beautiful and elegant woman she smiled at the young guards and then ordered the next prisoner to be brought forth. Then as he watched two slaves raised a large trap door from the floor of the stage. A beautiful young Guardess ascended the stairs and stood on the stage beside the door. Tugging sharply on the leash she held in her right hand the creature crawled out of the trapdoor and knelt on the polished wooden floor of the brightly lit hall. His ankles and wrists were fettered in iron shackles linked with heavy chains which made his movements awkward and confined. Locked around his neck was a wide steel collar. Heavy chains linked the shackles. As the room grew silent he felt a tug on his leash.
“Raise you head and sit up my slave” his Mistress had said. “I want you to watch this .” The slave remembered how difficult it had been for him to obey, making it necessary for his Mistress to again tug sharply on his leash. “Watch this all carefully,” she had said as she stroked the back of his head. “I want you to see what happens to slave who lies to their Mistress.”
Now he was that slave.
“Bring out the next prisoner” The Judge had spoken quietly. There was never any need to raise her voice for all were ready to obey her instantly-especially the prisoner. He felt the tug on his leash and obediently crawled beside the Guardess as she walked across the stage towards the Judges chair. The Judge extended her leg slightly allowing the prisoner to kiss one of her boots.
“Bind him for trial.”
The Guardess pulled the prisoner to his knees and strapped him to a heavy wooden stand beside the Judges chair. His collar was locked to the center beam and his arms were stretched and locked to the cross beam.
“Spread you knees”
The Guardess stands in front of the prisoners and smacks the inside of his thighs with her cane. He quickly spreads his knees-stretching his legs as wide as he can.
“Keeps you head up and look at the Supreme Lady Judge”
He is stretched and naked before the Judge who sits comfortably in her chair. She looks down at some papers on her desk them looks up at the Prisoner.
“The charges against you are very serious. It says that you have lied to your Mistress and other Sublime Ladies on several occasions” she pauses and takes a sip of wine-“Is this true?”
“Yes Mistress” he began in a low voice watching the Lady Judge for some sight sign of recognition as he spoke. She said nothing but reached for her wine glass and held it to her lips. Thinking that this was some indication that he should continue he said,
“ But it was really a misunderstanding and the slave is very sorry that...”
No sooner had these words left his lips then he saw the Judge nod her head ever so slightly towards the Guardess. At that instant he realized what a terrible mistake he had just made but it was already too late.
“The are so stupid” she thought to herself as she saw the recognition of his error flash in the eyes of the naked male creature who was bound before her. “How many of these creatures have crawled before me thinking they could still talk their way out of the crimes that they had committed?”
In the next instant, his primitive brain heard the distinctive sound made by the slender rattan wand as it sweeps through the air. He eyes flicked to the side as the cane of the Guardess flashed down in front of him and struck across the tender flesh on the inside of his thigh. Withering against his bonds he gasped and cried as the streak of fire leapt across his skin. The Judge lowers the glass from her lips and holds it for a moment in her hand. The light in the hall reflects on the elegant lead cut crystal, its facets flashing in the soft light. The Judge watched closely as the arm and shoulder muscles of the naked male that was chained before her convulse hopelessly against their bonds.
She watches the pain and bewilderment in his eyes as the prisoner now looks up at her fearfully. Placing the glass on the table she smiled at him.
“Just yes or no-- That is all I want to hear you say.”
“Yes Mistress” he gasps for he can say no more.
She looks down at the papers on her desk. It is very quiet in the Hall-reaching for the pen she begins to write-she looks up at the prisoner again as if she is trying to decide something then goes back to her papers.
“It is sad” she mused to herself for a moment as the whimpering of the prisoner subsided. “Sometimes they seem to act as though they understand what they are. But then they always disappoint us and revert to their old habits.”
The prisoner watches the pen in the hand of the elegant woman who sits before him in judgment. He hears it faintly scratching the paper. These small marks he now realized will soon be translated into flashes of terrible pain that will lace across his unprotected flesh. He knows that his punishment has just been decided and that with the stroke of her pen she has sealed his fate.
The Judge places the pen back in the ornate stand on her desk. She looks at the slave. Her voice is strong and compelling. “I find that the prisoner is guilty of all the charges made against him by his owners and other Sublime Ladies. Furthermore the creature does not yet seem to realize the seriousness of these transgressions against the natural order of Female Supremacy and by his actions has also shown the Court that he is without the proper remorse and humility that would have justifies some mercy. It is there fore the Judgment of this Court that the prisoner must now crawl before the designated executioners of the Queen’s Imperial Guard. The slave will approach each Guardess with the utmost humility and humble beg for a stroke from her cane so that he can demonstrate his contrition for his offenses. The Court will observe his actions and any lack of sufficient sincerity will necessitate the repetition of the stroke.” She paused for a moment and taking a sip of wine watched the slave’s reaction. The slave will crawl until each Guardess is satisfied that he has accepted at least ten good strokes from her punishment cane.”
The slave’s eyes jerked wide and his mouth gaped open wordlessly.
The Judge looked at him. Amused at his pathetic but predictable reaction she raised her eyebrows and asked. “Did the creature make some sound?”
The Guardess laughed and ran her the tip of her cane over his exposed cock and balls. “I think he was just so happy with the Courts sentence that he couldn’t control himself. Isn’t that true slave?” She rubber the tip of her cane teasingly over then length of his cock and tapped his exposed balls
“Yesss Mistress” he moaned in a low voice. For as he trembled in anticipation of the sentence his cock was being aroused by the cane of the beautiful Guardess.
The Judge and the Guard laughed.
“Prepare him for the sentence. Let us all see if he truly appreciates the opportunity that the Court has given him.”
The Guardess unfastened his bonds. As he fell to his knees on the floor before the Judge she extended her booted foot. Shamelessly he kissed the feet of the woman who had just sentenced him to the punishment canes of the Queens Guards. With a sharp tug on his leash the Guard leads him to the bottom of the stairs and has him kneel on the edge of the long red carpet that stretches down the center of the Queen’s Throne Room for some thirty meters. He kneels in a daze as the Guardess removes his shackles leaving him totally naked but for his slave collar. Lifting his head he watches with dreadful anticipation as the five member of the Queens Guard who have been chosen to carry out his sentence take their places. Resplendent their tight black leathers they laugh and joke with their friends as they spread out along the length of the carpet about five meters apart. The boots all have sharply pointed toes and long spiked heels. In their hands are the official long punishment canes. They are custom made to the Queen’s exacting specifications. In the skilled hands of the Royal Executioners these instruments allow the dominant female to stand above the kneeling slave and deliver the maximum striking force anywhere they choose. The cane’s 90 centimeter length makes it easy for the Mistress to stand comfortably over the slave and still easily mark the creature. A sturdy leather grip with a convenient wrist strap makes it easy to hold. Made of the finest birch wood and carefully shaped to a 9 millimeter diameter throughout its length. The cane is well balanced so that despite its size and length the supple wood still bends slightly. When it is swung at full arms length it arcs through the air and snaps cleanly into the soft flesh. At her whim a Sublime Lady who weighs but half that of the naked male creature kneeling before her can easily paint a series of long red stripes across the sensitive flesh on the backs of his thighs to the top of his exposed ass cheeks. Now, as they take their position along the carpet they swish these awesome tools of punishment through the air, forming a gauntlet of pain through which the naked slave must crawl. The Sublime Ladies and the Queen’s Royal Guests sit comfortably long the sides of the carpet. Since the carpet is only seven meters in width everyone has a good view.
Standing a few meters in front of him is Sublime Lady Sarka. She swings the cane in a long graceful arc, a smooth fluid motion that extends from her shoulder through her wrist. Her long raven black hair glistens in the lights and watching her the Ladies can see her smile as the whistle of the cane fills the hall.
It is now time for the punishments to begin. The slave waits on his hands and knees but cannot move for he is paralyzed with fear. Suddenly he feels the sharp pointed toe of the Guards boot kick him in the soft cheek of his left ass. He looses his balance slightly and falls to his elbows. Another hard kick follows and he lurches forward.
“Don’t keep Madame Sarka waiting” calls the Guardess with a sadistic laugh”.
“She’s so looking forward to seeing you!”