My new slave was doing so well till last week. I knew punishment was in order, but it became obvious that that was what he desired when he continued to do things obviously wrong.

He first didn't call or email when leaving town, so he missed our scheduled day and time. He next didn't bring what i had ordered for lunch, but had instead brought something completely different. Then when he finally arrove it was an hour late with no call, and when I called, he had cut off the ringer till he was there.

Now why is it that these boys don't grasp that punishment doesn't necessarily mean spanking. It means a consequence of action dictated by those in authority which is given in a way so unpleasant as to discourage one from ever making the same mistake twice.

As a sadist I find no pleasure in administering punishment. I find causing pain a bore and sometimes even an annoyance when it is required rather than done because it merely pleases Me. I do not give punishment when enraged, nor do I yell. I think such things are a sign of a Dominants lack of self control, and therefore an opening to be manipulated easily by their emotions and ego... and some bottoms are not really submissive so they often delight in provoking Dommes in this state.

In punishment there is no consensual negotiation. In punishment there are no safe words. In punishment there is no compassion in the act, and no warming up. Any compassion afterwards is to the discretion of those administering or sentencing the punished slave.

Up until this point, he was a very good boy. He had been good beyond that of most I have met seeking to be My slave. I did take this into consideration and though I used My favorite and most brutal paddle, I did not lay into him with the true might of My naturally heavy hand. I also didn't give more than 100 strokes. Regardless his ass was deeply marked by the light lacquered pine paddle with in the first strike.

That paddle is so light it flies with no effort so when I desire to, I can paddle non-stop for an hour with out tiring. It is so slick and light that I knew I had to gag hi before we started because the screams would have been loud, and we already were going to be too noisy with each swooping "whack".

When done his ass was solidly colored very dark and the flesh was swollen and thick. I now won't be able to use him in shoots till he has returned to normal, so his usefulness will be limited for the time being... though I will be seeing him tomorrow to follow up on how he is doing after today. Till then I will be playing with others who had been waiting for a chance.

Ms. Genevieve

Labels: bdsm. punishment, diary, slave

Ah, this morning's breakfast was like none I've had before...not because of the food but because of the view.

My favorite toilet bitch is one I met only 3 weeks ago, and have seen him 3 times since. He is an attractive boy but utterly filthy and I only make him filthier!

Today, as I ate the breakfast he bought Me, I had him serve as a foot slave as I ate. That isn't so unusual for even the most inexperienced Mistress, so this was not to a seasoned pro such as Myself either. There most definitely was a catch... isn't there always?

You see, I am not known for wearing shoes most of the time and that leads to the most blackened soles you have seen, I'm surprised I never did this before with the result I had this morning. The filth must have been worse than ever!

I had the slave do a very good job cleaning the blech black from my soles by the use of just his teeth. It is most pleasurable, not only as a sorce of sadistic entertaibment, but as a sensation...prrrr.

He worked so diligently as he was in near tears from the filth, taste, humiliation and degradation that I soon started to notice hi mouth and chin were covered in saliva that resembled Tammy Fay Baker's mascara stained streaks. His tongue had turned black like a child who has been sucking a jawbreaker.

This ended as I came to the close of the meal, but the session continued well beyond. The following play was not for the weak of stomach, nor faint of heart, and is most disgusting as he is a toilet. Even this half of the session was the same old act but taken to a whole new level today.

We must have been unusually extra synced to each other today. By the end of the scene he and I were so into our respective headspaces that he was crying while shouting out something in Korean and I swear to god I understood it.

After we stopped and before he hit the shower I asked him if I was mistaken or did I accurately understand what he was saying despite our language barrier. I asked him, "Were you just praying for forgiveness for being so fithy in Korean.". I was right; he was.

Unfortunately, I had an appointment for an interview for a documentary at noon, and he had arrived late so we didn't have time for as much of a cool down/after care as usual. I had to rush him out after our most hardcore of 3 very intense sessions together.

Wow! What a way to start the day.

Have you ever gone so deep in play, so hardcore, that you not only have tears but there is no need to speak the same languages? You have come to a point so connected that you could probably speak in tongues and still communicate clearly with each other.


Mistress Genevieve

Labels: diary, feet, toilet