Mistress Sin

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Mistress Sin dressed in her finest, tight, white jodhpurs, black leather thigh boots, cute leather top and smart leather wristbands. She strode out into the sunshine and looked at the magnificent landscape. All she surveyed was hers. Her successful modelling career had brought her wealth and power. Now, still only a young woman, she enjoyed the fruits of her labours. Since an early age she had possessed a natural air of superiority.

Hanging out in the fashionable haunts of Paris, Milan, London and New York, she had been introduced to the fetish scene and had enjoyed what she had seen. Over the years, as boyfriends had come and cheated and gone, she had built up a hardness and coldness towards the male of the species. And as time went on, she embraced the fetish scene and had become more and more engrossed in the domination of men.

She strode past her stables, patting her favourite mounts as she went, and plucked a short hunting whip from a hook on the wall. With pinpoint accuracy, she snapped the whip and flicked the head clean off a daisy. She was not in the best of moods and she was ready for an encounter with any male worker who crossed her path. The males who attended to her every desire and the needs of her estate were handpicked submissives from the fetish clubs.

Over a period of years she had gathered dozens of willing slaves and she did not even know how many she owned. All of them had signed a pledge of obedience and had turned their lives over to her.
Taking a cigarette from her solid gold case, she pushed it between her lips and ignited her diamond-encrusted lighter. As the cigarette lit up, she inhaled deeply. The slave glanced up to see his owner exhaling a thick, grey cloud of smoke from between her delicate, pink lips.

She clicked her fingers and the slave crawled on his hands and knees to her feet. Slaves were not allowed to look directly at their beautiful Mistress, and he knelt with his gaze fixed firmly at the ground. She clicked her fingers again and the slave understood this to mean that he was being commanded to raise his head. His head tilted upwards and he looked directly into the bulging crease of her crotch. Raising his eyes further he could see her slender midriff, adorned with its navel jewellery.

The lady inhaled deeply on her cigarette and then lowered it just below the waistband of her crisp white jodhpurs. The man could see her long, glamorously polished nails and the glowing tip of her cigarette. It excited him to look up at his magnificent, sexy Mistress. Without a word from her, he automatically opened his mouth and waited until she was ready.

Presently, after several seconds of waiting, the Lady flicked her long, elegant finger and a lump of red hot ash slowly parachuted towards his face and landed on his outstretched tongue. Then there was a brief scalding sizzle. She showed no emotion as he shut his mouth and began to chomp on the gritty flakes of dust. As he mixed the burnt remains with his saliva, he could taste the foul tang of ash and tobacco.

For a moment, the slave thought that he would vomit, but he knew that this would bring severe recriminations and resisted the urge. Without fuss or complaint, he let the slimy grey paste slip down his gullet and into his stomach.
A second later, Mistress Sin held out her burning cigarette and flicked off another droplet of ash. Without a care in the world, she scanned the scene across the river and basked in the hot afternoon sunshine.

Finally, after the slave had obediently disposed of several flicks of ash, she had smoked as much of the cigarette as she cared for. She took one final, extra-long draw on the filter and inhaled deeply. The tip of her cigarette crackled and sizzled, glowing red hot. Without a second thought, she dropped the smoking poker onto his tongue. The slave subdued a muffled yelp and set to his task of disposing of his Mistress’s waste.

At first the man felt the shock of burning in his mouth. Then, as he extinguished the glow as quickly as he could, he chewed on the Lady’s discarded rubbish. The tobacco and paper broke up easily, but the firmer, brown filter needed additional effort on his part. His mouth filled with smoke drenched paper and cotton wool. It was difficult to swallow, but he knew that he must, or face punishment from his Mistress. She looked down as she heard the gulp and saw the lump descending into his throat.

He glanced up, wishing to hear a word of appreciation or approval from her, but she said nothing. She looked angry and raised the sole of her boot to his mouth, inviting him to show his reverence and lick it clean. His tongue quickly protruded and slathered across the thick coating of muck which was covering the hard leather. She had walked through the stable yard and across the fields, leaving her boots sullied with compacted dung and dirt.

The slave’s tongue muscles worked hard as he lubricated and licked away the filth from under her feet. Her long, sharp heel slid between his lips and dug into the back of his throat. He began to choke, but managed to stop himself.
Bit by bit, the muck cleared from her boots. He chomped on the brown sludge and forced himself to swallow it. Then, when he had satisfactorily finished cleaning both sets of her soles and heels, she kicked him over, making him topple like a skittle.

The slave lay beneath her, his hands clasped at his sides, looking up the length of her slender legs. Her buttocks jiggled sexily and he had to concentrate with all his mind to stop himself from producing an erection. From his point of view, she looked magnificent, like the true Goddess which she was. Slowly she raised her foot and carelessly rested her sharp stiletto heel on his throat.

Even the slightest pressure of her weight made him choke. He dare not move, scared that her heel would slip through his skin and puncture his neck. He lay perfectly still. Mistress Sin twisted her foot delicately from side to side as she increased and decreased her weight onto her foot. The slave breathed deeply, concentrating as hard as he could on not upsetting her.

The beautiful, young model brushed his face with the point of her stiletto and brushed it threateningly across his eyeball and nostrils and ear. One slip and he knew that he would instantly lose his sight or hearing. If this disaster befell him, he wondered what his Mistress would do with him. Would she keep a one-eyed slave? Or merely dispose of him as she had with others who were damaged or were past their sell by date? He knew that she was dicing with his life, and she did so without a care in the world.

Mistress Sin crouched down and knelt her knee onto his face. She pressed down with increasing pressure until he thought his cheekbones would crack under her weight. Although she hurt him, he could not help but adore her. He could smell the sweet perfume on her and felt exhilarated and eager to please.
Her strong fingers gripped him across the mouth and squashed his face. She held his nose and flattened the palm of her hand across his mouth. He did not resist, even though he thought he was going to pass out.

After a couple of minutes, Mistress Sin released her grip as the man’s face turned bright red and he looked as though his skin would burst. He gulped desperately for air, his head spinning wildly. Another few seconds and his life would have been snuffed out. She knew this and felt gratified that she wielded the power of life or death. His body went limp and he slumped into unconsciousness.

She used her boot to roll him over onto his front and then stepped onto his back. The next thing he knew as he came round from his slumber was the feeling of extreme pressure on top of him. Two points stabbed into his flesh with such intensity that he couldn’t breathe properly. Then, as she jumped up and down on him, the spikes dug into him with such cruelty that he thought he would pass out.

As she listened to his whimpering and wheezing, she became annoyed. Taking the whip from her side, she swung it through the air and caught him with two smart cracks across his buttocks. The sting of the lash made him jump so that he became instantly alert. He wriggled beneath her boots, like a burning snake.

“Stay still!” she yelled at him.

She made sure that she pressed her heels well into his flesh as she walked up and down on his back. He suppressed his screams and tried to hold himself as rigidly as he could. If his movement caused her to fall, then he knew that he would suffer.
His skin cut and his bones cracked as he supported her full weight. She bounced up down, pricking her stilettos into him.

Leaning down, she uncoiled her whip and placed it around his neck. As she pulled on it, he knew that it was her signal for him to rise to his knees. As quickly as he was able, he pushed himself up onto all fours and waited.

He could feel her standing over him, the leather of her boots brushing the sides of his chest. She slipped the whipcord over his chin and yanked it up so that it rested under his nose.

Now, with the slightest pressure, Mistress Sin could cause him discomfort to his nose. The whip was taut and with even the slightest movement he was in pain. The slave was taken by surprise as she suddenly bent her legs and dropped onto his back. Her buttocks bore down on him and his backbone buckled like a willow twig. She continued to shift about and he could feel the strain in his muscles.

Using all his concentration, the slave tried his best to hold himself still. He could feel her soft, warm buttocks pressing down onto his bare flesh. Although he found it difficult to hold his position, he was strangely aroused by having her backside actually in contact with him. She rubbed herself up and down the knobbles of his spinal cord and he imagined the pleasure which she was giving herself.

Her vulva slid across his back and he thought that he could feel her juices flowing. She slid the stock of her whip between his teeth and pulled herself forwards, then pushed herself backwards. The slave’s arms began to quiver and he was scared that he might drop her. His muscles ached terribly and he struggled to keep her aloft. He was aware of her feet dangling down his side and the fact that he was supporting her full weight.
Mistress Sin’s sharp heels dug into the slave’s thighs and caused him to groan. Then, as she dug her stilettos into him again, he finally got the message that he was supposed to move.

Slowly, and mustering all his strength, the slave shuffled forwards. The hard concrete scuffed his knees and hands as he moved. Bit by bit they slowly progressed. She made him trot up and down on the concrete, first forwards and then backwards.

After several minutes of traversing for his owner, the slave became tired and slothful. Raising her whip, she swished it around his buttocks, landing several strokes, each producing a loud crack. Instantly the male became revived and put more effort into his task. Mistress Sin was gratified as she felt her mount squirming beneath her buttocks.

When she had finished using the man as her horse, Mistress Sin stepped off and stood before him. She turned her shapely bottom towards his face as she placed her heels onto the backs of his hands.

The slave was securely pinned to the ground, with his tongue perfectly placed to lick her boots. His tongue carefully polished the black leather, licking away every speck of dirt.

When the man had cleaned the back of Mistress Sin’s boots from top to bottom, she patted the cheeks of her bottom. The slave strained to raise his head, until his nose was firmly planted into the cleft of her bum cheeks.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his face in tight to her bottom. He inhaled deeply and sniffed the sweet perfume of her backside. Looking round, she could see the bulge in his trunks expanding.
Mistress Sin turned around so that her slave’s face was in line with her crotch. He nuzzled up to her, like a greedy hound. Without any control on his part, he found himself gently licking at the front of her boots and jodhpurs. An aroma of sex filled his nostrils, and his cock throbbed violently. Her whip snaked across his back and she gave him a swipe across his rump. As he yelped, his face butted into her groin.

“Enough!” Mistress Sin snapped.

She pushed him away and instantaneously caught him with a hefty slap across the side of his face.He groaned, and before he knew it her knee jerked upwards into his chin. His pathetic moans continued and she landed her fist full force into his face.

She wanted strong slaves, not ones who made objectionable noises every time they suffered a little pain. Her fist thrust into his nose again and again. After warning him several times, he finally fell quiet, his nose bent and battered.

The Mistress dragged him up by the hair and commanded him to stand against the wall of the building. Then, standing back a few paces, she uncoiled her whip and lined it up against his arse. Her hips sprung round like an uncoiling spring, and her lash snapped hard against his flesh.

“Stay still!” she demanded.

The slave wriggled and squirmed as her whip hissed through the air and smacked him hard across his rear. Gritting her teeth, she continued to lash the slave until beads of perspiration were running down her face. She was determined to make an impression upon him, both physically and mentally. As she panted with sheer exhaustion, the man began to weep, his body shaking with pain.
He felt the whip slip around his throat and pull tight. He began to cough as his airway was crushed and he felt suffocated. Her knee jabbed into his back as she pulled harder on the whipcord, choking him and making him turn bright red. A strange feeling of excitement ran through his veins and he felt a surge of sexual stimulation. The more she strangled him, the higher his sexual desire rose. Then, finally, his head started to buzz and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Mistress Sin wasn’t sure whether the slave would awaken, or whether she had sent him into a state of permanent sleep. He lay at her feet and she kicked him in the ribs to see whether he would react. The man let out a slight cough as he dribbled down his face. From this reaction, Mistress Sin assumed that he was still alive. She kicked him again, and again, until his eyes opened and he looked as though he was paying attention to her.
“Get up, dog!” she commanded.

The male’s strength was severely sapped, but he knew that he must obey his Mistress if he wanted to avoid being beaten or kicked again. Pushing himself up, he got onto all fours. She patted her boot with her whip and started walking. He knew that her signal meant that he must follow. And so, painful step by painful step, he strode along behind her, his eyes affixed to her smooth, rolling buttocks.

She expected him to walk to heel, like a well trained dog. When she paused, he paused, when she quickened her step, he quickened his step. And so they strode across the field, the Mistress and her faithful dog. After some minutes they reached the riverbank. She sat down on the water’s edge and lit a cigarette. He remained, on all fours, eagerly awaiting her next instruction.

Picking up a nearby stick, she flung it into the river and called out, “Fetch!”
Gasping for breath, the male scurried up to his Mistress and dropped the stick at her feet. She patted his head affectionately and gently stroked his face. Then, without pause for him to rest, the Lady tossed the stick back into the water. At full speed, the slave dived in and swam towards it. Mistress Sin sat idly smoking as her dog retrieved the stick time and time again. She could clearly see that he was cold and weary, but she continued to play the game. Each time he dived in, the man found it more and more difficult to retrieve the object as it drifted away on the current.

The slave crawled back onto the bank for what must have been the tenth time of asking, and stumbled wearily towards Mistress Sin. She patted him affectionately and then pressed the remains of her lighted cigarette between his lips. He managed to chew it before it burnt him too badly, but it made him even more breathless. His heart pounded visibly and his chest rose and fell like a set of overworked bellows.

Without a second thought, Mistress Sin stood up and threw the stick into the river again. This time it went further than before. The slave romped into the ripples, his arms flapping under the water for all he was worth. Progress was hard and tiring.

“Fetch it!” Mistress Sin ordered, seeing the stick floating away towards the turbulent waters of the weir. The slave redoubled his efforts, splashing and kicking frantically to get to his Mistress’s precious stick. Each time he tried to catch it, the twig ran an inch out of reach. The slave could hardly breathe and his head bobbed up and down, under the water. In sheer desperation, the man managed to turn himself around and kicked for the shore. He took in mouthfuls of water as he swam desperately towards the bank. The current took him away from the land, and he used his last ounce of strength to finally push himself where he needed to go.
As Mistress Sin watched the weakling male scramble out of the water, she could see that her stick had fallen into the weir and she saw it disappear in a torrent of bubbles. The slave pulled himself up onto a rock and lay there in a state of exhaustion. The Lady stabbed her heel down hard onto his back, and a stream of water trickled from his mouth. After a few moments, he coughed and spluttered.

In a state of utter annoyance, Mistress Sin stamped down hard, again and again, on the slave’s weary body and head, pressing him onto the cold rock. He remained stationery, apart from the heaving of his chest and an occasional shiver.

“You are useless to me!” she told him.

The slave tried to apologise, but his words were drowned out by the gushing water. She tried kicking him and whipping him to make him move, but her efforts were fruitless. Mistress Sin was not a woman of great patience, and she could not tolerate insubordination. As far as she was concerned, the recalcitrant male had lost her property and was wilfully ignoring her.

Mistress Sin angrily yanked at the male’s hair and slowly thrust his head down into the water. The slave tried desperately to fight against her, but he was too weak. Mistress Sin was a powerful woman, and she flexed her bicep and pressed down harder. Millimetre by millimetre, the slave’s face was forced towards the water.

There was an explosion of bubbles and he thrashed his arms as his head went under. Mistress Sin held him firmly, until finally there was no fight left in him. She rolled him over with her boot and watched him float away.
She knew that before he had drifted even a hundred yards, the fish would drag him under and he would be gone forever.