Madame Maxine

by Victor Bruno

  But the next slashing cut at once robbed me of my resolution. Instantly, for all my experience, I was a jelly of pleading flesh again.

  “Mercy... Mercy... “ I cried. “No more ...”

  “Keep tossing, slave,” she said, “or I’ll tie you down and give you a proper thrashing.”

  That threat made my blood run cold. A proper thrashing with that deadly crop scarcely bore thinking about. So I went on tossing... and enduring an agonising cut from the crop about every ten or fifteen seconds. The trouble was, since I had spent myself not all that long before, it took me rather longer than usual to reach a climax.

  No doubt Miss Dee was aware that would be the case... and took full advantage of it. I lost count of the number of cuts I received... and all that I know is that when I examined myself later, my bottom was a mass of red and purple weals crossing and criss-crossing each other. It was one of the worst beatings she had ever given me.

  And when you think of it, what for?

  As far as Miss Dee was concerned, it was simply a matter of what she termed ‘discipline’.

  When at last I had spent myself, I expected to be dismissed. But not a bit of it. Miss Dee lay back on the couch and I had to concentrate my mouth on another part of her body.

  Such was the pain in my poor rump, I did so with a film of tears in my eyes. I didn’t care anymore if she thought me a ‘feeble youth’ because frankly, I don’t think any man could have taken the hiding I had done without similar reactions to mine. Many, through lack of experience, would had taken it far less well!

  All the same I kissed and tongued my Mistress as devotedly as ever I had done.

  She was still my Goddess, whatever she had done to me!

  After another half an hour, she ordered me back on my knees... and yet one more ‘rubber’ was thrown to me. I could scarcely believe my eyes... and was also in mortal dread unless she picked up the crop again.

  Without receiving an order, I put the ‘rubber’ over my flaccid organ. Despite the intimate work I had had to do, I had not become aroused. Which is not surprising as I had two strong orgasms in the space of an hour.

  Miss Dee got up off the bed, standing above me, legs somewhat astride, hands on hips.

  “Look at me,” she ordered.

  I did so... and saw the whole of her womanhood marvellously revealed. Seductive, beguiling, yet unobtainable by me.

  “Toss yourself again,” she ordered with even greater disdain in her voice.

  My hand began to move again.

  Yet, despite all I could see, it took me quite a while to come to an erection. And all the time Miss Dee was smiling down contemptuously at me.

  “Call yourself a man ...” she kept saying, “you’re a puny youth aren’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss... if you say so,” I answered.

  She slapped my face.

  “I DO say so,” she snapped.

  “I... I beg your p-pardon... M-Miss ...” I panted.

  How glad I was that, at last, I could feel the juices of lust beginning to surge through me again. I concentrated my eyes and my thoughts on the delicious lips of her sex .. and pumped harder and harder.

  Miss Dee laughed at me openly as i spent myself for a third time, kneeling humbly before her.

  “Get out... filth ...” she said, giving me a kick in the rear as soon as my climax had passed.

  Wretchedly, utterly humiliated, quite deflated, I crawled to the door and made my way back to my desolate room.

  ***

  After something like ten weeks, I had shown my devotion to every inch of Miss Dee’s divine body. Except for her breasts... and I hardly need add, the supreme centre of all her sexuality.

  Once a week, her anus was presented to me and my tongue had to go to work. This was the peak of my privileges.

  On the seventh or eighth week, Miss Dee made it a practise to remove my restrainer immediately I arrived in her bedroom to give her the service she required. However, that did not mean that I could relieve my lusts as I had done in earlier days. All she did was play with me casually herself from time to time, bringing me quickly to erection and then leaving me ‘up in the air’, as you might say. Sometimes, having brought me to erection, she would slap my rampant organ... and none too gently either!

  Then came a very special day.

  “Slave,” she said. “You are beginning to learn the meaning of sexual discipline. And, indeed, to please me in a certain fashion. If you had not done so, you know what would have happened to you, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Miss,” I answered.

  And I certainly did know. She would have been quite merciless. And, though I say it myself, it is a tribute to my ceaseless devotion to that magnificent woman, that I escaped as lightly as I did. She would have been ruthless if, for one moment, she had thought I was not giving her of my ALL.

  “I do not intend to say I am pleased with you, slave,” she went on. “For it is not for a Mistress to say she is pleased. All I do say this, I am not entirely displeased.”

  “Th-Thank you... M-Miss ...” I answered.

  My heart soared. No praise could have been higher.

  “Today,” Miss Dee continued, “you are going to have a very great honour.”

  I waited tense ...

  “You are going to devote yourself to my left breast, for one whole hour ...”

  A spasm of lust went through me. My penis, already in erection, jerked involuntarily.

  “I am honoured, Miss, greatly honoured,” I said. And I said it with a perfect naturalness. With genuine humility. I truly meant it, in other words.

  “Yes indeed you are,” said my Mistress.

  Then she lay back on the couch and beckoned to me. I crawled forward and my mouth moved towards one of the lush orbs I had seen so often, swinging and bouncing before me... upon which I had ached to place my hands or my lips for so long.

  Now they were to be mine to serve.

  Not mine, you understand. Just mine to serve.

  My mouth went to the soft-warm scented flesh. Divine! So fulsome, so resilient. Softer and more lovely than any part of her body I had had to devote myself to.

  It was an agony not to be able to touch that orb with my hands as well as my mouth, but, of course, I dare not. Meanwhile, Miss Dee lay back, breathing softly. No doubt her eyes were closed.

  The pleasure was all hers, as she decreed it must be.

  “You may kiss my nipple,” she said, after about ten minutes of my zealous ministrations.

  I kissed the firmness of the pink-brown projection, hearing her give a little sigh of contentment. In a way, I think, I would have liked to die for her in that moment. Can you understand that? Can you understand what it means to a slave to please his adored Mistress?

  My erection throbbed and throbbed.

  For this was the most exciting sexual act I had yet performed for my Mistress.

  What about her anus, you may say?

  True, that had a greater intimacy, in a sense... but to kiss the breasts of a woman is the act of a lover. Not that I classed myself remotely as that. But, sexually, there was a great advance from the anus to the nipple.

  “You will suck my nipple, slave,” she said. “Carefully ...”

  My heart soared even higher...

  Then my lips closed the firm nipple and sucked and sucked with the most devoted gentle care and attention... as if my life depended on it.

  Perhaps, in a way, it did!

  Miss Dee sighed more. Her breast shuddered from time to time. Then, once in a while, her hand would go down and she would grip my rampant organ with a rapacious intensity.

  “Suck harder, slave,” she ordered suddenly.

  I sucked as hard as I could... adoring doing so. I was pleasing my Mistress... ye
s... I was truly pleasing her. What more could I ask?

  Nothing, I assure you! Absolutely nothing!

  My only worry was that, every time my Mistress gripped my solid bone of flesh, I might lose control of myself and spend myself involuntarily. What would happen to me if my seed spurted over her immaculate body I scarcely dared contemplate! Fortunately, as it turned out, I was able to keep sufficient control of myself.

  After an hour, with my Mistress still sighing languorously from time to time, I was dismissed from my duties.

  Unfortunately, before leaving her presence, she locked the restrainer on me... so for the next hour or so, before the heat of my blood subsided somewhat, I was in a state of frustrated turmoil.

  On the following day, in the same state of nudity, with Miss Dee toying with me from time to time, I had to concentrate my attention on her other breast... and never once did Miss Dee allow me any release. It was, I think, the most agonising piece of sexual discipline she had ever imposed on me.

  How desperately I was hoping she would show mercy on that sixth afternoon. But no. On went the restrainer as usual, and I was sent back to my lonely room.

  It was only when I got there that I made a discovery that sent my pulses pounding wildly. The padlock on the restrainer had not been properly fastened! It was simply locked through one eyelet... this meaning that the whole contraption could be simply removed.

  The temptation was altogether too much after the week I had endured. Naturally, I recalled Miss Dee’s warning about the severe penalty for masturbating within permission... but the risk of her entering my room were really minimal. In fact, she had never visited it after one of our afternoon sessions.

  With trembling hands I took off the leather restraint. There was my prick already more solid with my excitement. I gripped it firmly and felt it stiffen quickly. In no time at all my hand was moving... and the exquisite sensations began to pulsate through me.

  I concentrated my mind on Miss Dee’s body... thinking of actually TAKING her as a woman. Yes, even daring to do that. That heated my blood even more, and my hand began to move even faster.

  Oh how lovely it was... oh yes... yes... yes... so lovely!

  I was fast coming to a climax, but slowed my hand as I did not want that to happen too soon. I wanted the whole thing to last and last for as long as possible.

  My hand was moving at a slow pace and I was lying flat on the bed, my prick, a rigid, throbbing ramrod, when the door opened and in walked Miss Dee!

  “I guessed as much,” she said, her eyes blazing.

  One has heard of people’s hair standing on end if they see a ghost and I am sure mine did at the sight of Miss Dee. Also a kind of prickly flush spread all over my body.

  “This is the rankest disobedience,” she said.

  I could say nothing, my tongue seemed to be paralysed, clinging to the roof of my mouth. Slowly my erection was subsiding. And there was a sickness in the pit of my stomach.

  “That padlock was deliberately misplaced,” said Miss Dee, “as a TEST. Now, despite all my training, you have deliberately disobeyed me, you wretch.”

  What was the use of explaining that I had been so pent up that I couldn’t help myself? Miss Dee didn’t accept excuses like that.

  “Well,” she said, “You can’t say that I didn’t warn you at the outset.”

  The sickness in my stomach increased. The sweat of terror was springing out all over my body. Suddenly I found myself on my knees on the floor, pleading abjectly, slavishly kissing the calf-length boots she was wearing.

  “I’ll never do it again... never... never... I swear... I just couldn’t help it... Miss... forgive me... ooohh... forgive me... Miss ...” I rambled on and on.

  “What did I promise you if I ever caught you at this?” she demanded.

  The words were still vivid in my mind ...

  “The... biggest hiding of my life... M-Miss ...” I answered.

  “Quite correct, slave,” she said. “And that is what you are going to get!”

  As she had done that first day I had arrived at her flat, Miss Dee secured me over the back of the solid armchair. I was sweating even more with dread... and still pleading.

  She had given me many terrible beatings in her day, so it did not bear contemplating what she was going to do to me on this occasion!

  When I was secured absolutely helpless, with my rump and my thighs conveniently presented to her, Miss Dee spoke.

  “I am going through the complete repertoire, slave,” she said. “From the tawse to the whip. You can yell the place down... these walls are completely soundproofed.”

  “NO!” I cried, “have mercy... Miss... I’ve not been all that b-bad... I’ve tried... I’ve tried so hard ...”

  That was quite true. And it would have not have possible for Miss Dee to have complained about ninety-nine point nine percent of my behaviour.

  “I always keep my promises,” was all Miss Dee said.

  ***

  Cruelly she left me there alone for half an hour so, as she said, I could contemplate what was coming to me.

  And, by God, it did!

  I was in a state of the most abject dread when she returned.

  “We will skip the single-thonged tawse,” she said, “and begin with the double-thonged one. Eighteen strokes.”

  Then the flogging began.

  Miss Dee used the full strength of her right arm for every stroke, laying them on from alternate sides.

  Painful as they were, since I had become relatively hardened up again, I was able to take the first dozen with little more than gasps and grunts. But before the eighteenth had cracked across my suffering flesh, Miss Dee had me yelling.

  It would have been an adequate enough punishment for any fault... but this was just a beginning!

  Another half hour passed while I was left alone. Left alone with the fire throbbing on my buttocks... and an even greater dread of what was still to come. Most of the time I prayed for strength to withstand it.

  My nerves flared as the door opened.

  “The cane,” she said simply. “Another eighteen.”

  It whistled and lashed down. It was the old, supple rattan cane of former days. How well I knew its bite! But its bite was doubly worse on flesh already tenderised by the tawse.

  This time she had me yelling from the outset. Yelling with pain and for mercy.

  Remorselessly the rod continued to fall with calculated venom... skilfully placed with maximum force... contorting me in squirming agony.

  I was sobbing and my eyes were misting with tears by the time she had finished. And I was not ashamed.

  And all this, I reflected with woeful self-pity, for one minor moment of yielding to temptation. Still, she had warned me. Thus I had disobeyed her.

  That made it a matter of principle with Miss Dee. That was something which could not possibly be overlooked.

  “No more!” I cried out when she returned a third time. “Haven’t... I... had enough already!

  “The birch,” she said relentlessly, “twelve strokes.!

  Oh merciful God! But at least she had not made it eighteen.

  She flayed me mercilessly with the heaviest birch in her armoury. A great mass of supple, bushy green twigs which splayed out and across the whole of my tormented bottom flesh every time it descended. I felt the flesh breaking, the trickling of blood down my thighs. I howled like an animal. Never had I known such pain.

  Well, she had said she would make it the biggest hiding of my life. She was keeping her word.

  But surely, I told myself, she can’t give me any more. Surely she cannot be so cruel.

  I ought, of course, to have known Miss Dee better by then!

  “The whip,” she announced when she returned. “Another dozen.”

>   The whip! That was something she had never used on me before. My nerves flared and I cried out even before it descended.

  And when it cracked like a pistol shot across my lacerated hindquarters, curling and biting around my flank, I knew the meaning of true pain.

  “NO!” I shrieked, “you’ll kill me!”

  Miss Dee, need I say, knew better. She was quite well aware of what the human frame was capable of standing... of what flesh and blood could endure. Mercilessly she continued to lay on the whip, striping me from the top of my buttocks to half-way down my thighs.

  I howled throughout, as each stroke exploded across my flesh and, seemingly, in my brain.

  By the time the last stroke fell, I was as near as fainting as made no difference.

  I was allowed to stay in bed for a whole week to recover. Miss Dee would come with simple food three times a day, and also liberally smear my wounds with healing ointment.

  She was very considerate. Like a nurse or a mother. Indeed, she treated me rather like a little boy. Despite everything, I am sure my adoration for her had grown.

  Another thing. She no longer put the restrainer on me. Quite rightly she had assumed that after such treatment as I had had, I would never attempt any foolish disobedience again. Thus I would lie there in erection for a greater part of the time, I reckon. In a way, it might have been simpler if I had the restrainer on. But there you are.

  On the third and sixth day of my recovery, Miss Dee permitted me release - and I almost wept tears of gratitude for that.

  ***

  After that week I was strong and well again, even if my buttocks and thighs were still marked. So, I knew, it was back to my duties again.

  The summoning bell came and I hurried to her bedroom - now unrestrained.

  Miss Dee was lying sprawled across the bed. As I rose from my knees, she pointed almost casually down to the softness of her bush. “Slave,” she said, “you will show your Mistress true respect and reverence.”