Never let it be said that the BDSM scene is not tolerant and broad-minded. It attracts such interesting people. Mistress Helga appreciated her life in a multi-cultural society and was pleased to have chambers on the edge of Manchester’s most famous Asian area. She was fascinated too by the variety of men, occasionally women, who came to serve her. She particularly enjoyed the transformation she effected, turning so many of them in 15 minutes from drab, stressed office workers to maids and sluts, or subs bound in leather and masked, not knowing where the next blow to their buttocks was coming from. She loved the shiny happy faces of those ensnared in her world with no hope of escape and, more importantly, no desire. To talk to them was an education. Helga’s university was the University of Life.
Today she was seeing a regular client, David. David was a well-spoken Cambridge graduate who had been seeing Helga for about a year. It was to be his seventh visit. He had been very nervous on his first visit but Helga had seen him grow in confidence over the course of subsequent visits. Of course a certain amount of confidence in a sub is no bad thing but all things have their limits. On David’s previous visit Helga felt him becoming cocky, indeed taking her for granted. If he had forgotten his place in the natural order of things it was time for him to be taught. She had devised a session of exquisite humiliation for him, one in line with the principles of diversity and multi-culturalism she held so dear.
Shortly before two o’clock David rang the bell of the chambers as arranged and, as usual, the door opened as if by itself Mistress hiding behind it, not wanting the neighbours to see her black PVC dress, long gloves and cap, complemented by sparkling thigh boots. David entered expecting the usual peck on the check and a coffee and chat on the sofa before starting. He was shocked to hear Helga say firmly
He knelt but looked about him bewildered.
“You are a worthless ordure and I’m going to punish you. You need taking down a peg or two and by God am I going to do it. Now crawl into the front room, take your clothes off, fold them into a neat pile and wait for me, on your knees with your head bowed. You are worthless and I am going to make you feel worthless. “
David was already rock hard but relief was still two hours away and conditional on good behaviour.
Helga adjourned to the kitchen for a cigarette and a cup of coffee and made David wait nearly ten minutes just to muddle his head a little more. She walked silently to the front room before flinging the door open to find David, as ordered, on his knees, shaking.
“Look at me” she commanded. David looked up and she saw the fear in his eyes. Now she had him where she wanted him, confused and not knowing what to expect.
“I have a little treat for you today” she said. “I’m going to introduce you to Asian culture. You’re going to be my Bollywood tart. Wait there.”
Helga went to the dungeon and took down from the rail the outfit she had chosen for David, It was an authentic salwar kameez bought on the Wilmslow Road, in pink with shades of gold and blue. To set it off she chose a pair of shiny sandals.
“Stand up” ordered Helga and David, stark naked, stood up to await dressing.
“You’re going to wear this today, it’s a salwar kameez, it’s gorgeous and very feminine and you’re going to be my Indian slut. You’re going to go for a walk round the block with me.”
“Please mistress no…”
“Silence. The word “no” does not exist in this dungeon except for those wanting a punishment they will not enjoy. One hundred strokes should leave a few welts to explain to your wife”
“Please mistress, please” David was looking terrified.
Helga laughed. “Yes slave; you will please mistress won’t you?”
Again incipient disobedience had been nipped in the bud. David was crushed, Helga knew he would go meekly to his fate. So he put on his lacy knickers and the pink salwar kameez . Again he felt an erection coming but Helga saw it straight away and one fierce lash brought his errant manhood to heel.
“You come when given permission. You know the punishment for ejaculators”
David was ordered to stand still and Helga skilfully applied tint and make-up to give him a more coffee coloured hue with black eyelashes and a black flowing wig. Surely Aishwarya Rai herself never looked so ravishing. There was dark lipstick, lovely jet black mascara. Helga’s shopping trip to the Wilmslow Road had been well worth it.
“Look at yourself in the mirror” she commanded and David stood amazed before the full length mirror Helga kept in the hallway. He had long curly black locks, his lips were prominent in dark red and his eyes highlighted in black. He wore a pink salwar kameez, with shades of blue and gold detailing; the trousers were tight and fitted snugly round the ankles. On his feet was a pair of gold sandals.
“What do you look like?” asked Mistress.
“Like a Paki” David replied and almost before he had uttered the word Helga’s hand slapped his face with a force that momentarily stunned him.
“How dare you use such words about ladies of any race you worthless piece of filth. Every woman is superior to you, you lowlife, you reptile. You’re my little princess what are you?”
“Your Indian princess Mistress “
“No you’re not. You’re a worthless piece of filth” Helga slapped the other cheek.
“I am a worthless piece of filth”
“Exactly. Before your next appointment I require 200 lines from you. I am a worthless piece of filth and beg for punishment”
David was ordered into the dungeon and strapped to the whipping bench. The pink trousers were slid expertly down, followed by the lacy panties, to expose David’s pink buttocks.
“You are going to receive twenty strokes for your impertinence. After each stroke you will count then say ‘I worthless piece of filth thank you mistress’.”
And so the flogging began. David gasped with delight as the paddle hit its target.
“One. I, worthless piece of filth thank you mistress.”
He was left waiting for the second stroke. And the third. Helga liked to vary the frequency of the strokes to confuse her slaves. There was a house rule that if a slave miscounted the flogging started again. One slave had miscounted at stroke 99 of a hundred stroke punishment for disobedience to orders. She recalled with satisfaction his tearful pleading to be excused. But he could not, surely, expect mercy. Mercy there came none although she spared him having to count the second time round.
David was grimly determined to concentrate and the twentieth stroke was administered and counted without mishap. It hurt as he pulled the panties and pink trousers over his glowing back side.
It was now time for the main event. David knelt before Helga’s throne as ordered. Helga sat down, resplendent in PVC and gleaming thigh boots. She lit a cigarette and said, imperiously:
“You’re going to dance for my entertainment.”
“Get up and stand in the corner facing the wall.”
David did as he was told. Helga flicked the switch of the CD player and the sounds of Bollywood music filled the room.
David turned round and tried his best to sway from side to side.
“Not like that you stupid twat!”
“Swing your hips, I want to see your fat gut shaking like a jelly. I want to see sweat pouring off you. And use your hands!”
Helga clapped her hands as a signal for the dancing to begin. She drew deeply on her cigarette.
David hesitated, unsure of himself.
“Dance again,” commanded Helga and do it properly!”
She turned up the volume a notch and David began to wobble his middle aged stomach and swing his hips as he made his way across the room . He dared not look at his Mistress. He wobbled back across the room. Helga grabbed him as he passed in front of her throne.
“Genuflect you worm!”
David did as he was told, and as he bowed his head Helga grabbed it and pulled him towards her. She took one last drag on her cigarette and blew smoke into David’s face.
“Now go and dance and do it properly.”
Confused and humiliated, David struggled to his feet and had a third go at pleasing Mistress. He writhed and squirmed, attempted what he thought to be Indian hand movements. And at that moment of deepest shame he felt his penis harden and make the pink trousers bulge. Helga, of course, missed nothing.
“You pathetic piece of filth! Does that turn you on? Or are you having forbidden thoughts about your Mistress?”
It was too late to give Mistress that assurance and David was forced to his knees , dragged forward until he felt Helga’s booted thigh trap his head in a dark tunnel.
“You miserable piece of filth. Lick my boots.”
And David licked the wall of his sweet prison right up to the tops of her boots where he could feel the stockinged flesh that was forbidden to him. To worship Mistress’s body was a privilege granted to few.
Then he was sent to dance again. For twenty minutes, driven by fear as much as the need to please a superior being, he swayed and sashayed and wobbled, not daring to stop and finished up with a vigorous ten minute pole dance. When Helga commanded him to stop he was red and sweaty with the effort, ready to drop. He stood waiting for further humiliation and scorn.
“What time is your session booked to end?”
David answered “At four o’clock Mistress.”
“It’s five to four now” said Helga “Bit I’m not letting you go yet. I have something planned for later .”
But Mistress I have to do the shopping.”
“Shopping?” asked Helga scornfully. “Phone your pitiful vanilla wife and tell her to do the shopping. Tell her you’re working late.”
David made the telephone call as ordered and was led, still dressed in salwar kameez, to the cage.
“I have one more session. Slave Michael’s a bit of an exhibitionist so he won’t mind you watching. But you’ll be caged so you can’t escape.”
David went meekl y to his fate. The cage was small and uncomfortable and he had to watch as Slave Michael was given a merciless flogging for breaches of chastity before being taken into another room from where his moans and screams rent the air. David marvelled that the neighbours couldn’t hear.
It was nearly seven o’clock when Mistress Helga came to release him from the cage. He was stiff from three hours of close confinement and desperately needed to stretch his legs.
“Well done slave, Mistress is pleased with you. And Mistress wishes to reward you for your faithful service.”
“How Mistress if I may ask?”
“You may ask. We’re going for a curry and I will pay. We leave in five minutes.”
“Thank you mistress. Please may I go and change?”
“No you may not. You’re going as you are.”
David’s face showed the horror that was gripping him.
“No Mistress please no.”
“The phrase I expect to hear is ‘yes Mistress’. You are not permitted use of the word no.”
Several hours of relentless mockery and humiliation had broken David and he climbed meekly into her car for the short drive down the Wilmslow Road to Helga’s favourite restaurant. Walking down the street was bearable, just, it was by now dark, but the bright lights of the restaurant were coming ever nearer and offered no such safety. When they reached the door David knew there could be no escape. He felt a firm push in his back as he walked through the door.
He was sure that time had stopped, that the whole city had fallen silent to feast on his humiliation. Every smile was a grin, behind every hand was a snigger. With every effort he could muster to take the bass tones out of his voice he spoke. He suddenly felt confident. He loved his Mistress and pleasing her was the only thing that mattered.
“Table for two please.”