The Nemesess Ch. 02

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Correspondence from older (50-70), dominant ladies most welcome.


The next few weeks passed slowly for Chris. He was initially terrified of his new Mistress, – after the ordeal of his ‘breaking in’! However, his new Mistress (Theresa) didn’t want a simpering bundle of nerves to play with. Dominance for her was a varied and protracted feast; full of spices and unexpected flavors.

When Chris was so rudely ‘broken-in’ a few weeks before, he had no idea that Theresa had been filming the event. He was kept in bondage for a week afterwards during which time he suffered many other humiliations. These events were also filmed. It was the most embarrassing day of his life, when his diabolical Mistress invited some of her friends round for a film evening. Things got even worse when copies were handed to the guests to take home with them. His Mistress explained afterwards that if her new slave attempted to escape or was willfully disobedient then the films would find there way onto the internet.

His final humiliation was having his penis locked in a chastity cage in front of the laughing ladies, after which they decided to play a game. Chris was paraded before each of the dominant women, instructed to curtsy and then each in turn lifted her skirt to reveal her underwear. When they had finished this humiliation he was instructed to tell each woman in turn what colour knickers they were wearing — from memory. Each time he got it wrong, the offended lady was allowed to cane the helpless slave. A fine time was had by all — except Chris.

So, when Chris was eventually released from bondage, because of the embarrassing clothes that he was now forced to wear and the fear of public humiliation lest the films found their way on the internet, he was still within the control of his tormentress. Perhaps he could have nailed his courage to the sticking place and gone to the police, but, the truth was, he was still excited by his Mistress, and somewhere deep, deep down inside; in a place he had no name for, he felt something he had never felt before — a sense of belonging — a sense of security. And the more certain he became that Theresa never intended to release him, the more intense that perverse sense of security became. In more ways than one — he was trapped!

Theresa refrained from using the most extreme forms of correction – for a while. She began to wear clothes that she knew her slave liked. Her new toy was entranced by well cut skirts and glossy blouses; high heels and stockings. Silky slips made his eyes glaze over with sordid inner thoughts.

Theresa and her Sissy settled into a routine. Chris found himself almost permanently in chastity. The effect of this was to prevent him from fantasizing about other women — it was too painful. The only woman whom he could not stop thinking about was the damn woman who placed his cock in its confinement in the first place — Theresa, his Mistress. With every day that went by he became increasingly obsessed and excited by his captor. It seemed that wearing the chastity cage served to increase his desire and tendency to fantasize about this sadistic woman — a fact that Theresa was well aware of!

Chris had to learn the rules: — when to curtsy, how to wash and iron clothes, when to speak, when not to speak…etc, etc. When he went to bed he had to wash thoroughly and then change into his night clothes. When he put himself into his cot he had to secure both his legs and one of his arms to the manacles attached to the cot. Some time later his Mistress would come into his room and secure his remaining wrist to the side of the cot. If Chris hadn’t performed his chores to her satisfaction or if she simply felt like it, Chris would be punished in one of a variety of ways before he was allowed to go to sleep.

Occasionally, his Mistress would instruct him to wear his yellow silk nightdress. When this happened Chris would be overjoyed. Every time she had instructed him to wear his yellow nightdress his Mistress had removed his chastity device and had given him hand relief — it was the most wonderful sensation he had ever experienced! The thrill of being intimately touched by a truly dominant woman whilst he was helpless and in his pretty nightdress was an experience that he could hardly contain.

On these occasions, Chris’ Mistress had a book that she would often use to help her control her slaves completion. It was a large photo album. Inside were pictures that she had collected from magazines and the internet. Most of these were drawings from the golden age of female domination — the 40′, 50s and 60’s. Men in petticoats and sissy dresses, dominant wives and governesses; there were helpless men in baby-doll dresses. There were images of men in chastity begging for release, and also, to Chris’ discomfort and anxiety, there were a significant number of images that featured various forms of asphyxiation. mersin escort

Chris’ Mistress would prop Chris up on a couple of pillows and open the book where he could see. She would select a page, slide her hand up her Slave’s nightdress and whisper her sweet nothings: –

‘I want you to come, my pretty little sissy. Come for your Mummy Mistress. Oooh look, would you like to be a pretty baby slave like him? Shall I make you my pretty little baby sissy. We could go to a special shop and have some special dresses made — would you like that? My poor little, helpless sissy girl — all trapped in your pretty dresses and no escape. Ooh, look at the picture – see the little pansy man doing his curtsy for his Mistress’s friends? Do you remember when that was you? You’ll have to meet some of my friends again soon, won’t you? Ooh, look, the helpless sissy is having his botty whipped — he must have been very naughty. Are you going to be a naughty little girl? — ARE YOU? Come on, let yourself go. Be my little Sissy pervert and squirt your ‘baby milk’ into your knickers. I promise, sometime soon, I will wear my silkiest dress and slip and I will let you do something nice. Come on..let’s have it…… There’s a good girl!….. ‘

All too soon, Chris would lose control, and find himself surrendering his ‘baby milk’ along with his pride into his silky knickers. His Mistress would then put him in a sleeping hood — he could breathe but there were no holes for his eyes. Before she left the room she would always remind him to include laundering his bed linen and bedclothes to his list of chores for the next day. Then, he would be alone — in the darkness – soaking in his own cold shame

But it had been a week since Chris had experienced relief from his Mistress — and things were getting very uncomfortable. At that moment he was wearing his work dress – a short (just below the knee), flowery dress — a sort of 60’s style ‘A’ dress with a zip at the back. His padded bra gave him a pair of cross-your-heart breasts — very obvious and slightly slutty. He was busy doing the dusting.

Chris was finding chastity to be a very heavy burden. He found that the only way to stop thinking about his Mistress and thus avoid the discomfort of another thwarted erection was to concentrate upon his housework.

Theresa was watching her slave work. She was well aware of the strategy that he had adopted to lessen his frustration and discomfort — and it annoyed her.

‘Are you feeling a little uncomfortable in your chastity cage, petal?’

He was fine until she’d said that! Now, he couldn’t stop the swelling that was beginning in his knickers.

‘Come over here and sit next to me, dear.’

Chris walked over to his Mistress curtsied and sat down. He could smell her wonderful perfume.

‘Do you find me attractive, Sissy?’

Chris froze – his head log-jammed. It was the last thing he had expected her to say. After an uncomfortable pause, the floodgates of decorum finally failed and poor Chris gushed all over his Mistress! The words couldn’t come fast enough! He told his Mistress that he had never been so excited by a woman. He told her of his terrible desires and his terrible frustrations. He told her how he was tortured by the hem of her skirt. And, he told her of all the unimagined heavens that he knew to be found in the soft enclosing folds of her satin slips. He said that if ever there was a woman that made him wish that he was not a sissy, it was her. And how he wished that they might try together, to be a normal couple — perhaps even marry?

When Chris confessed all this, his voice quavered in a way that secretly delighted Theresa. It informed the dominant woman of just how hopeless her slave’s situation had become. She had him!

His Mistress then said: –

‘I expect that you would like to put your head up my skirt and press your face against my slip, wouldn’t you sissy?’

Chris nearly coughed up his liver.

‘Oooooh, yes please Mistress.’, His physical discomfort was plain to see.

‘Well then, why don’t you pop down to the laundry room and iron the things I have left on the chair. When you have finished choose something nice for me to wear and when you come back I shall see what I can do.’

Chris curtsied and rushed down the stairs. When he saw what his Mistress had left him to iron he nearly doubled up with pain. There were seven lovely silk and satin slips.

Each of those slips nearly drove him mad. Each one smelled so delicious and felt so liquid smooth. Each one reminded him of his wonderful, terrible, irresistible Mistress and his agonizing need for relief.

Through seven hells of silk and satin he eventually emerged — stirred and shaken. He went to the sink and splashed some water on his face to calm himself down. His cock was a war zone kocaeli escort and it hurt terribly. He composed himself as much as he could and then went back upstairs carrying his Mistress’ cream satin slip.

He presented himself to his Mistress, curtsied and offered her the garment. She took the slip and gave her slave a sweet smile — something he hadn’t seen before! Then, without warning, she slipped her hand up his skirt and, ever so gently, stroked the silky material of his knickers where it touched his balls. He nearly fainted. Without a word, she then stood up and left the room.

It seemed an age before his Mistress came back down the stairs. When he heard her footsteps his heart popped up into his mouth – his cock was desperate. Had she changed into the cream slip? Would he be taken out of chastity? What was she going to do?

She sat down before him. For a while she ignored him and busied herself with minor items of personal grooming. She knew that her Sissy’s mind couldn’t help itself but wander up her skirt and linger about her silky underwear. She knew her slave inside out.

She thought to herself: –

‘He is so superficial. You could probably dress a custard tart in a skirt and slip and get an erection out of him!’ ‘

Quite suddenly she lifted her skirt and said to her slave: – ‘Sissy, be a good girl and smooth out my slip — make it look nice!’

After his outpouring earlier, when Chris confessed his desire for a more equal, sexual relationship, it was more than a little deflating to be referred to as a ‘girl’. Nevertheless, he was only too eager to oblige. But when he felt the arc of his Mistress’ leg beneath her satin slip he also felt the desperate swell of his cock against its cruel confinement, and his budding pleasure was instantly crushed. Her cream slip was a promise of heaven far too hot to touch — and yet he had to. Eventually, Chris’ Mistress was satisfied with her slaves efforts and obvious discomfort. She covered herself with her skirt and left him locked in the midst of his desire and disappointment.

It wasn’t quite the experience that he had been hoping for. But then his Mistress said:-

‘Why don’t you pop upstairs and prepare yourself for bed. And you can put your yellow nightdress on – There’s a good girl.’

Chris almost danced from the room. He dashed upstairs washed and put the yellow silk nightdress on. He then shackled his feet and one of his hands to the sides of the cot and waited for heaven to walk into the room.

It wasn’t long before his Mistress was securing his free hand to the side of the cot. Chris was breathless with excitement:

‘I suppose that you are expecting me to let your cock out of that thing?’

‘Oooh yes, Mistress! — Yes please.’

‘Well, it’s a pity you forgot to curtsy when you left the room to go to bed. Now, instead of receiving pleasure you are going to remain in that cage for at least a month and in addition you are going to be severely punished. I spend all my time training you to be the perfect slave and then you disappoint me. It is my intention that you shall be the best behaved slave amongst my little group of dominant women and I am going to make damn sure that you never forget to curtsy again.’

The bottom fell out of Chris’ world. He was sure that he had remembered to curtsy. Whether he had remembered or not it would have made absolutely no difference to what was about to happen to him. This was an evening that Theresa had been planning for some time! ‘Punished, mistress?’ There was a quaver in Chris’ voice.

‘Oh yes. You have been a disobedient pervert who cannot keep his mind upon what his Mistress requires of him and, because of that, I am going punish you with a polythene bag.’

‘A BAGGING? But why? Please…oh please, please’.

‘Now SHUT UP and listen or it will be worse.’


‘LOOK, Shall I put the bag over your head now — SHALL I?’

‘No, please….’.

‘Well then! Before I put the bag over your head and secure it with the elastic band and smother torture you, I am going to give your baby balls a new experience.

‘It works like this! I’ll set up the camera so that we can record the whole thing for the ladies. When that’s done I will come and stand next to the cot just like this and that will be your cue to say — ‘Mistress Mummy, I have been very naughty and my baby balls need to be smacked — you must say it with a baby lisp — you understand. Then when I ask you to, I want you to hold up your nightdress as best you can and hold your knees apart. Then, I will oblige by slipping your balls into the loop at the end of a riding crop so I can hold them still whilst I slap them with another riding crop..You, of course, will then wiggle about because of the pain; – not that wiggling about will do you any good, though – I will samsun escort have the little guide rod — remember? I will be able to keep your baby-balls exactly where I want them.

‘Now Petal, gradually, I am going to slap you balls a little harder. But, don’t worry, as soon as you feel that you can’t take it any more you can close your knees or push your nightdress down or shout out and then I will stop and we can finish your punishment with the bag. OK? And perhaps, just perhaps, if you are a good girl and can take a lot of baby slaps on your baby balls, perhaps Mistress Poly won’t be too cruel. But mind, sissy cry-babies get extra baggings.’

Now,come on — let’s pull your knickers down so you are ready.

With this done she went to a drawer and retrieved all the things she needed. She then set up the camera and turned it on.

Chris’ was on the verge of panic and his heart sank through the bottom of his cot when his Mistress finally returned.. Theresa expected him to request his own punishment with a pathetic little baby voice. He knew better than to disappoint her.

‘Pleeeth, pleeth, pleeth Mithtreth, I have been naughty and my ballth need a ggod thlap.’

Chris pulled his dress up as best he could and spread his knees.

‘OPEN YOUR LEGS WIDER His Mistress Barked. ‘And with that, she began — slap…, slap…, slap.., slap………..

Chris was soon writhing about trying to escape the constant and increasing assault on his tender parts. There was no escape; he was at too great a disadvantage. She simply held the rod tightly and positioned his testicles precisely for the next slap of the crop. She alternated from one testicle to the other. Although Chris’ body twisted and turned, his balls remained exactly where his mistress wanted them to be.

‘Oh please please, please….PLEEEEEEASE!!!’ He shrilled.

‘Do you want me to stop?

‘NO mistress no — oh please mistress….. please PLEEEEASE.


‘Just tell me when to stop, petal’.

And so it went on for some little while until Chris could stand it no longer.


He pushed his nightdress down and closed his legs. But his mistress roughly pulled his nightdress up again

‘Are you ready to see mistress poly?’…slap slap slap


She finally ceased her chastisement.

Chris wanted to plead with his terrible tormentress; to sob and beg for his freedom. But, he knew it would be to no avail and might even make things worse. It seemed that time was moving too fast. All too quickly, his Mistress had the polythene bag in her hand. She was now shaking air into it so she could slip it over his head. Now the bag was coming towards him. Chris tried to raise himself on his elbows as she approached with the bag. His fingers searched frantically about — for something.

Unexpectedly, she stopped, placed the bag upon the chair and went to a drawer. She returned with two straps and a head scarf.. She looped them through her slave’s elbows and secured them tightly to the sides of the cot so he was even more helpless than he was before. Then she blindfolded him with the scarf and said:

‘I am using a smaller bag today — it will be easier to get it over your head if you can’t see it coming.

She shook the bag so he could hear it and watched him squirm and twist away from where he thought it was.

‘Suffocation time for Sissy.’

She smiled down at his blind panic. He twisted and arched, but it was useless. With a quick movement she had the bag over his head — it was all over!

When Chris felt the bag come down and cover his face, he let out a desperate cry. He felt as lost as Prometheus in his darkness. He begged for mercy as he felt something secure the bag around his neck and fix it into place. He knew that the real suffering had only just begun!

He soon ran out of air and he sucked desperately. Air reluctantly entered the bag —


His tormentress observed his panic calmly. She was no stranger here! Expertly, she manipulated the polythene bag to let a precise amount of air into the bag. In this way she could keep her slave upon the very brink of terror – indefinitely.

Chris could not see the expression if intense, sadistic concentration on his Mistress’ face as he struggled in his darkness – her face only inches from his own.

He could not see, but only felt her little touches, as she managed and perpetuated his suffering with tiny little gulps of life.

He could not see when his Mistress’ hand slipped beneath her skirt and pressed a little button there.

And if he hadn’t been fighting for his life he might have heard a little tell-tale sound…

But, he didn’t hear it, and so he had no idea that as his cries slowly ascended the scales of panic and of agony, they were fanning the flames a bright fire burning within his Mistress – a fire that would increase its heat in proportion to his suffering and which would eventually bring her shuddering to her own private ecstasy.

But that wouldn’t happen for hours!

It was going to be a very long night, for Chris.

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