MsWhip-Atlanta
10-11-2006, 01:24 PM
STORY 2 - SEPT. TRIP
I saw Ms. Whip for two hours on Fri. 9/15, and another three on Sun. 9/16. By the end of my time in the Peach Statethis weekend,I had had enough to give me a new definition of the term serving and suffering and a new appreciation for how wonderful my Ms. Whip.
I drove to Atlanta on the afternoon of Fri. 9/15, arriving at my favorite home-away-from-home, the Westin-Peachtree, by late afternoon. I spent an hour in the gym and another hour running on the treadmill (I was a high school track runner) before returning to my room to shower and rest.
I drove to WhipsWorld at 9 p.m. for the Deviant Dommes party. I had swapped tentative e-mails with Ms. Whip, and we had halfway-planned to hook up either Friday night or Sunday. I was visiting my Atlanta friend on Saturday and going to a Braves game with him and his wife, so I had reserved that day for him. He knows nothing of my BDSM interests, and I prefer it that way.
I saw Ms. Whip for two hours on that Fri. 9/15, along with Ms. Insatiable and Ms. Divinity (?) at the DD party. The other two mistresses were kind/cruel and I appreciated seeing them, but my heart belonged to Ms. Whip and I most enjoyed my time with her. She put me in her bondage tower, where she wrote "Ms. Whip's Whore" on my chest in (thankfully) erasable black ink. As always, she tortured me with a blindfold and forced me to wear my CB-3000.
She roped me into the bondage tower, and cuffed my wrists above me as well. From time to time, Ms. Insatiable and Ms. Divinity would drop by and torture me physically or mentally. Ms. Insatiable would mostly pinch my nipples, while Ms. Divinity would tease me with thoughts about Ms. Whip's boobs. "They're so perfect; don't you wish you could kiss and lick them?" she would ask, to which I would feverishly pant "yes."
And then, it seemed, Ms. Whip would always return and tease me extra cruelly.
Ms. Whip had told each of the other mistresses about my boob fetish, and she looked especially great that night, wearing a bra/bustier that accentuated her lovely cleavage. I was truly tortured.
After a while, the lack of sensation to my penis made it go soft (this is inevitable without consistent stimulation), and Ms. Whip ordered me to put on the spikes. I did so, and suffered all over again for my remaining time at WhipsWorld that night.
--------------------------------------------------------------<
On Sun. 9/17, I called Ms. Whip at 2 p.m. as I thought she had ordered. We had talked briefly on Sat. 9/16, and I thought she had told me to call her at 2 p.m. As it turned out, she was expecting me at WhipsWorld at 2 p.m. Therefore, I pulled into theWhipsWorld parking lot about 2:20 p.m., accidentally late. I would pay for this.
After escorting me though a side door and into her dungeon, Ms. Whip ordered me to strip and put my CB-3000. As she prepared me for her dungeon room, I made a joke that she could leave the blindfold if she wished. She did not find this as funny as I did.
I had long harbored an interest in trying the bondage tables at WhipsWorld, since the feeling of helplessness while being stretched out on a table seemed appealing to me. Ms. Whip and I discussed this, but she decided I should spend my first chunk of time in our usual dungeon room.
For a while, I had been considering offering to take the next step in my slavery to Ms. Whip, through more intense pain/punishment, and I told her so this afternoon. I mentioned that I believed I could take more suffering for her and that I was willing to accept marks for her. She simply nodded and seemed interested. I would regret this later. Be careful what you wish for!
Before I knew it, I was hanging in Ms. Whip's dungeon room, this time from a set of hanging stocks instead of the usual wrist cuffs. She ordered me onto my toes as usual, and I struggled often to balance myself while she left the room and returned periodically.
She began caning me, and displayed a skill with this instrument that I hadn't expected. She seemed to relish it, and although I was happy that she was happy, I started to suffer intensively. She overlayed strokes on top of other strokes, heightening the pain and forcing me to thrash and babble uncontrollably. It was absolute agony.
She kept me locked in my CB-3000, denying me a blissful moment I had experienced in August. It is a supreme exhilaration when I am unlocked from my chastity belt, however briefly, and allowed an erection. In August, Ms. Whip had done this, sticking the tube on the end of my penis, and the sensation of finally being allowed to stretch my penis -- however briefly -- was absolutely wonderful.... This time, I wasn't given this opportunity and I was seriously disappointed, but I accepted Ms. Whip's decision to keep me locked and did not complain.
After an hour or so of dancing and (unsuccessfully) dodging Ms. Whip's cane, she locked me down on her bondage table and fit a small vibrator onto my cock cage. This quickly proved excruciating, since she had ordered me to wear my spikes in the cage, and I had done so of course.
All this time, Ms. Whip had teased me by dangling the possibility of letting me touch her breast, even briefly. This possibility was enough to give me the strength I needed to get though a miserable caning, and likewise I endured the bondage table as best I could, for a chance to experience those beautiful breasts of Ms. Whip's.
But this was not to be. After suffering intensely on the bondage table, Ms. Whip led me into her dungeon, where I humbly asked for some cool-down time in a cage. She agreed to this, but only after forcing me to choose between her breast or a cage. I chose the cage, not because I didn't want to see/touch her boob, but because I would at least be able to spend more time with Ms. Whip.
I was soon locked into a dog cage, kneeling in front of Ms. Whip while we talked. We discussed the day's session and some common ground we have regarding out-of-town trips. I've always wanted to serve Ms. Whip beyond sessions at 1763, and she's always looking for (very trustworthy) slaves to accompany her on trips to L.A., Las Vegas, etc. We talked about this.
We also talked about Ms. Whip's collared slaves, and I took this opportunity to offer myself as a collared slave. I have truly always wanted to belong to a mistress as much as possible, and I have now known Ms. Whip more than almost any other mistress I have served (I've only served a few). I didn't make the offer lightly. I'm serious about it.I know most guys consider it a termporary game or a slight diversion, or they don't consider the long-term ramifications, but I'm much more dedicated and loyal. I know what I'm offering, and I know I can deliver what I'm pledging.
So Ms. Whip and I talked about possibilities, and how I could best serve her as a collared slave. My heart stirred, and stirs still, when I think about the chance to serve her for a whole weekend.
Soon, Ms. Whip unlocked my cage and led me out. Before leaving, she invited me to look at my backside in a mirror. I did so, but could only detect a portion of what she had done. I thanked her, paid her, hugged her, and promised to see her again soon.
Four hours later, back in Tallahassee, I happened to glance in a mirror again. For some reason -- the lighting, the angle, etc. -- I saw Ms. Whip's work much more clearly. My backside was an angry, deep purple and red, as the result of deep welt marks from Ms. Whip's cane. I accepted these marks. They demonstrate my adoration for her.
I drove back to Florida tonight fascinated anew by Ms. Whip, and thrilled at the thought of serving her again soon. I hope she collars me, and I hope she considers me for her next trip (April 2007?). I know I would make her proud.
Until then, I can only wish and hope to see Ms. Whip again sometime before the end of the year. She has been an ever-increasing joy to serve and suffer for, since May 2005. The more I serve her, the more enraptured I am and the more helpless I feel.
Ms. Whip, you are the sun in my sky, the stars in my night and the queen of my dreams. I adore you in every way, and can't wait to prove that to you all over again, as soon as possible.
Best wishes always,
Jay
I saw Ms. Whip for two hours on Fri. 9/15, and another three on Sun. 9/16. By the end of my time in the Peach Statethis weekend,I had had enough to give me a new definition of the term serving and suffering and a new appreciation for how wonderful my Ms. Whip.
I drove to Atlanta on the afternoon of Fri. 9/15, arriving at my favorite home-away-from-home, the Westin-Peachtree, by late afternoon. I spent an hour in the gym and another hour running on the treadmill (I was a high school track runner) before returning to my room to shower and rest.
I drove to WhipsWorld at 9 p.m. for the Deviant Dommes party. I had swapped tentative e-mails with Ms. Whip, and we had halfway-planned to hook up either Friday night or Sunday. I was visiting my Atlanta friend on Saturday and going to a Braves game with him and his wife, so I had reserved that day for him. He knows nothing of my BDSM interests, and I prefer it that way.
I saw Ms. Whip for two hours on that Fri. 9/15, along with Ms. Insatiable and Ms. Divinity (?) at the DD party. The other two mistresses were kind/cruel and I appreciated seeing them, but my heart belonged to Ms. Whip and I most enjoyed my time with her. She put me in her bondage tower, where she wrote "Ms. Whip's Whore" on my chest in (thankfully) erasable black ink. As always, she tortured me with a blindfold and forced me to wear my CB-3000.
She roped me into the bondage tower, and cuffed my wrists above me as well. From time to time, Ms. Insatiable and Ms. Divinity would drop by and torture me physically or mentally. Ms. Insatiable would mostly pinch my nipples, while Ms. Divinity would tease me with thoughts about Ms. Whip's boobs. "They're so perfect; don't you wish you could kiss and lick them?" she would ask, to which I would feverishly pant "yes."
And then, it seemed, Ms. Whip would always return and tease me extra cruelly.
Ms. Whip had told each of the other mistresses about my boob fetish, and she looked especially great that night, wearing a bra/bustier that accentuated her lovely cleavage. I was truly tortured.
After a while, the lack of sensation to my penis made it go soft (this is inevitable without consistent stimulation), and Ms. Whip ordered me to put on the spikes. I did so, and suffered all over again for my remaining time at WhipsWorld that night.
--------------------------------------------------------------<
On Sun. 9/17, I called Ms. Whip at 2 p.m. as I thought she had ordered. We had talked briefly on Sat. 9/16, and I thought she had told me to call her at 2 p.m. As it turned out, she was expecting me at WhipsWorld at 2 p.m. Therefore, I pulled into theWhipsWorld parking lot about 2:20 p.m., accidentally late. I would pay for this.
After escorting me though a side door and into her dungeon, Ms. Whip ordered me to strip and put my CB-3000. As she prepared me for her dungeon room, I made a joke that she could leave the blindfold if she wished. She did not find this as funny as I did.
I had long harbored an interest in trying the bondage tables at WhipsWorld, since the feeling of helplessness while being stretched out on a table seemed appealing to me. Ms. Whip and I discussed this, but she decided I should spend my first chunk of time in our usual dungeon room.
For a while, I had been considering offering to take the next step in my slavery to Ms. Whip, through more intense pain/punishment, and I told her so this afternoon. I mentioned that I believed I could take more suffering for her and that I was willing to accept marks for her. She simply nodded and seemed interested. I would regret this later. Be careful what you wish for!
Before I knew it, I was hanging in Ms. Whip's dungeon room, this time from a set of hanging stocks instead of the usual wrist cuffs. She ordered me onto my toes as usual, and I struggled often to balance myself while she left the room and returned periodically.
She began caning me, and displayed a skill with this instrument that I hadn't expected. She seemed to relish it, and although I was happy that she was happy, I started to suffer intensively. She overlayed strokes on top of other strokes, heightening the pain and forcing me to thrash and babble uncontrollably. It was absolute agony.
She kept me locked in my CB-3000, denying me a blissful moment I had experienced in August. It is a supreme exhilaration when I am unlocked from my chastity belt, however briefly, and allowed an erection. In August, Ms. Whip had done this, sticking the tube on the end of my penis, and the sensation of finally being allowed to stretch my penis -- however briefly -- was absolutely wonderful.... This time, I wasn't given this opportunity and I was seriously disappointed, but I accepted Ms. Whip's decision to keep me locked and did not complain.
After an hour or so of dancing and (unsuccessfully) dodging Ms. Whip's cane, she locked me down on her bondage table and fit a small vibrator onto my cock cage. This quickly proved excruciating, since she had ordered me to wear my spikes in the cage, and I had done so of course.
All this time, Ms. Whip had teased me by dangling the possibility of letting me touch her breast, even briefly. This possibility was enough to give me the strength I needed to get though a miserable caning, and likewise I endured the bondage table as best I could, for a chance to experience those beautiful breasts of Ms. Whip's.
But this was not to be. After suffering intensely on the bondage table, Ms. Whip led me into her dungeon, where I humbly asked for some cool-down time in a cage. She agreed to this, but only after forcing me to choose between her breast or a cage. I chose the cage, not because I didn't want to see/touch her boob, but because I would at least be able to spend more time with Ms. Whip.
I was soon locked into a dog cage, kneeling in front of Ms. Whip while we talked. We discussed the day's session and some common ground we have regarding out-of-town trips. I've always wanted to serve Ms. Whip beyond sessions at 1763, and she's always looking for (very trustworthy) slaves to accompany her on trips to L.A., Las Vegas, etc. We talked about this.
We also talked about Ms. Whip's collared slaves, and I took this opportunity to offer myself as a collared slave. I have truly always wanted to belong to a mistress as much as possible, and I have now known Ms. Whip more than almost any other mistress I have served (I've only served a few). I didn't make the offer lightly. I'm serious about it.I know most guys consider it a termporary game or a slight diversion, or they don't consider the long-term ramifications, but I'm much more dedicated and loyal. I know what I'm offering, and I know I can deliver what I'm pledging.
So Ms. Whip and I talked about possibilities, and how I could best serve her as a collared slave. My heart stirred, and stirs still, when I think about the chance to serve her for a whole weekend.
Soon, Ms. Whip unlocked my cage and led me out. Before leaving, she invited me to look at my backside in a mirror. I did so, but could only detect a portion of what she had done. I thanked her, paid her, hugged her, and promised to see her again soon.
Four hours later, back in Tallahassee, I happened to glance in a mirror again. For some reason -- the lighting, the angle, etc. -- I saw Ms. Whip's work much more clearly. My backside was an angry, deep purple and red, as the result of deep welt marks from Ms. Whip's cane. I accepted these marks. They demonstrate my adoration for her.
I drove back to Florida tonight fascinated anew by Ms. Whip, and thrilled at the thought of serving her again soon. I hope she collars me, and I hope she considers me for her next trip (April 2007?). I know I would make her proud.
Until then, I can only wish and hope to see Ms. Whip again sometime before the end of the year. She has been an ever-increasing joy to serve and suffer for, since May 2005. The more I serve her, the more enraptured I am and the more helpless I feel.
Ms. Whip, you are the sun in my sky, the stars in my night and the queen of my dreams. I adore you in every way, and can't wait to prove that to you all over again, as soon as possible.
Best wishes always,
Jay