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Mistress Satina’s Slutmaid Academy

by Alexia Falkendown

Mistress Satina’s Diary.

Strict discipline is my secret for success in running my select Slutmaid Academy. A strong hand is essential – be it to chastise aspiring Slutmaids’ bared bottoms or stroke their throbbing sissycocks. Behind the discreet satin drapes of my residence in Brighton’s Royal Pavilion Square, I whip and massage my postulants into shape, so that when they receive their Slutmaid Diploma they have that feminine poise and charm which sets elegant ladies apart from baser, grosser, undepilated males.

Aspiring Trannies spend a fortune on satins and silks, wigs and facials, stockings and heels, but without my training and make-over how-tos, accompanied by regular application of cane and dildo to their bared bottoms, they cannot achieve that feminine silhouette, beauty and poise that distinguishes my Academy graduates from a Widow Twankey in the Theatre Royal Christmas Panto or a hirsute transvestite looking uncomfortable in a misfit dress bought at the Oxfam shop.

It is not only my novitiates who require regular visits from Mistress Smack to their submissive slutbutts, but also my Tranny staff. Serena and Candy left mundane jobs en drab in the City to worken femme for me. They are a good support team for Adelaide, my collared bride and Academy Supervisor. But they are sometimes naughty Trannymaids and I need to slap a warming blush to their pretty posteriors with my leather tawse before caning their bouncy bottoms. I fear that they are now so addicted to the painful pleasures of my erotic flagellation technique that they have become gluttons for punishment!

I needed to discipline them last December during our annual Yuletide weekend house party for Academy alumni. We had squeezed ten Slutmaid graduates into our three guestrooms, (a bit of a squeeze, but what girl doesn’t squirm with pleasure when accommodating a tight fit). On the Saturday morning, Adelaide disappeared with two of our alumni for a fitting appointment at Axfords, Brighton’s famed bespoke corsetieres whose stylish Edwardian lace-ups turn even the dumpiest of Slutmaids into a sexy wasp-waisted, curvaceously bottomed siren. Adelaide had arranged for Serena to prepare the buffet luncheon while Candy ran a make-over workshop for the others. Unfortunately, neither remembered to collect the six dozen fresh oysters ordered from Sid’s Stall at the Open Market. I was very angry. I called Adelaide and my two Trannymaids to my office after lunch.

“Your disgraceful mismanagement has ruined my reputation as a hostess. I shall punish you for your waywardness. This is a grave misdemeanour. You will endure the acute emotional discomfort of anticipating the sting of my cane before you are summoned to the Temple tomorrow evening to suffer the humiliation of having your bared bottoms whipped before our assembled Slutmaid alumni.”

I adhere to an imaginatively stylized spanking ritual at both the Slutmaid Academy and in my private household.

“It is Dark Moon tomorrow night and you will offer your bodies to the scourge of Nemesis, at our monthly Dark Moon ritual in the dungeon Temple. Candy, you will be my acolyte for the evening. I have caned you often enough in the Temple for you to know the routine. Put the heaters on, ensure that the wall sconces have fresh red candles, drape the marble altar with the black and gold altar cloth and purify the Temple with incense. Punishment ritual will start at 9 o’clock. All Slutmaid alumni must attend. I expect them to be properly made-up, wearing heels, black seamed stockings and their short-skirted black satin uniforms with frilly bouffant red lace petticoats that show their stocking tops and a hint of red slutknickers. That will be all! Return to your duties!”

A spanking ritual is the essential core of all Domina/Submissive relationships. It is through the flogger, tawse and cane that a total bonding is forged between a Dom and her Sub. They respond to such heightened moments of sensual drama, feeling the deep impact of their close presence upon each other.

Such a ritual can be formal, like my monthly Dark Moon Temple ceremony, or informal and intimately personal. In our private boudoir and bedroom sessions, Adelaide’s thrill comes not only from her willing and trusting submission to my safe and loving control, but also from the intoxicating power emanating from me that enters her receptively compliant body through the hypnotically thudding strokes of my flogger, the sharper focus of my tawse, or the thrilling pain of my cane. I am her mirror. She is the chalice for my energy which I channel into her with each stroke. We become one as her soft body responds to the flogger’s caress, tawse’s kiss and rattan’s sting. She tingles in breathless expectation and acceptance of the painful pleasure imparted by my lovecane’s endorphin-releasing sting to her heated cheeks and the cooling caress of my satin-gloved hand to her striped bottom and those moist pussylips so provocatively exposed between her parted legs. Through the portal of our shared ritual, we enter together into a realm of pure power that takes us to an erotic plateau of unforgettable and indescribable orgasmic intensity.

We honour Nemesis each month at Dark Moon with a flagellation ritual in our ‘Dungeon’ Temple. As Nemesis is the ancient Goddess of the Scourge and Retribution, this is a uniquely auspicious occasion to mete out punishments for grave misdemeanours brought to my attention during the preceding month. I was pleased that on this particular occasion we had guest participation. They would have the good fortune to share our physical and spiritual ecstasies reached through the threshold of pain-pleasure as my collar bride Adelaide and Trannymaid Serena offered their bodies to the scourge of the Goddess in expiation for their misdeeds.


Adelaide’s Diary

Mistress was in a festive mood at the prospect of whipping us on the altar before the Goddess statue in the Dungeon. Before Mistress bought the house and blocked up the basement entrance, ‘The Dungeon’ had been an eponymous private drinking club for gays when sex between consenting males was still a crime. Now reached by the back stairs, its entrance is guarded by a statue of Anubis, the ancient jackal-headed God of the Underworld. There are three vaulted rooms in what were originally 18th century wine cellars. Mistress turned one room into our ‘Dungeon’ Temple for her Dark Moon and Underworld rituals, and converted the other two into ‘Dungeon’ playrooms where she does all sorts of complicated and painful things to her fetishslut clientele, from whom she exacts a suitably expensive ‘tribute’ for her esoteric services.

As a Priestess of Nemesis, Mistress’s sensual pleasure is always heightened by the presence of an audience appreciative of her flagellatory prowess. Their participation would add a frisson of sexual excitement to our caning, charging the room with pent-up lust for our naked bodies squirming erotically before their salacious gaze as we writhed helplessly beneath the stinging scourge of Mistress’s cane.

Mistress has often told me that she finds my rounded cheeks and pussylips, framed by lace suspender belt, seamed stockings and high heels, a most sensually arousing picture. I must admit that when I watch Mistress cane Candy or Serena, I am equally aroused by the alluring sight of their bouncy butts blushing red beneath her measured strokes. I like to think that Mistress finds me more desirable than the others, however, when I present my plump posterior for the whipping I know she so much enjoys giving and I enjoy receiving. My pain becomes our mutual pleasure and her caning sets us on fire with desire for each other.

Mistress’s ‘Afterglow’ boudoir parties for her household are as much a part of her spanking ritual as her caning. Having surrendered our bodies to her flagellatory pleasures, we retire to her candlelit boudoir where we surrender our bodies anew to her imperious clitoral demands and mutual orgasmic ecstasies. I’m in heaven when she queens me and I suck her pink pearl to climax after climax while Serena and Candy suck her boobs, my clit and their pussycocks.

Serena and I were dressed and prepared for punishment when we entered Mistress’s dressing room at 8 o’clock to help her, as usual, at her pre-ritual toilette. The difference this time was that we and not they were to be caned.

I had twisted my long auburn tresses into a tight chignon to better display the hammered gold torque that was the symbol of my collaring when Mistress took me as her submissive bride last year in an intimate Temple ceremony. I had provocatively ‘undressed’ for Mistress’s visual pleasure. I wore a black lace platform bra to emphasise the ripe fullness of my exposed breasts with the large brown aureoles and nibbly nipples that Mistress, (and the others) so love to suck and tweak. My matching suspender belt framed the smooth softness of my shaved Venus lips that Mistress, (and the others), so love to tongue. It was cut high at the rear to show off my now fashionably plump J. Lo derrière that Mistress so likes to spank, (and the others to fuck); my bare booty was provocatively framed for the occasion by the retro straps holding lace-topped black seamed stockings taut against my ample thighs. High-heeled can-can boots completed my ensemble.

Serena had her shiny black hair plaited into a pigtail and had dressed in red. Her budding powder-puff breasts and pointed nipples were slung in a cupless bra and her sheer red stockings were held up by a red lace suspender belt that accentuated the roundness of her sweet arse and framed her very sociable pussycock. Nine months of packing oestrogen pills had rounded and filled out her once lanky sailor-boy physique, giving her a trendy curvy bottom that Mistress had taken a shine to.

Disrobing Mistress of her black pencil skirt, rose-pink silk blouse, designer bra and camiknickers, we laced her into the black sateen Basque corset she wears for flagellatory exercise, fastening its six suspenders to her black stockings. Her corset fits like a cobra’s skin, moulding itself to the sleek contours of her well-kept body; emphasizing her trim waist, the swell of her rounded hips and the curve of her firm buttocks, so well tuned for thrusting dildo action on Tranny butts. It erotically displays her ‘Brazilian’ that leads down to the ‘camel toe’ of her ever-hungry lovelips from which her hooded pearl protrudes so invitingly beneath her see-through knickers. The custom-made corset’s open cup underwiring supports her bared breasts, giving them proud prominence while leaving them free to swing as she whips her chosen victim.

Having tightly laced Mistress into her basque, I ran my hands down over the swell of her bottom and then lightly over the full voluptuous roundness of her breasts. Her thrusting nipples stiffened at my fleeting touch. She cupped a breast, inviting my lips to its heavy succulence. “Suck me, my Sweet!”

I smiled happily at her endearment and began to suck greedily; my hand dipping into her tight knickers to caress her cunt, now moistly hungry for my mouth to assuage the hidden tension that was building in the core of her uterus.

“Kneel behind me,” she commanded Serena. “Pull down my knickers and clasp my bottom in your undeserving hands and spread my cheeks wide to expose my hidden glory hole and lick it! Suck its tightness!”

Serena hastened to obey. She knelt and, pulling down Mistress’s knickers, parted her toned cheeks to expose the hidden puckered orchid of her magnificent arse, so erotically framed by corset and taut stocking suspenders. She nuzzled her head between the spheres and began her oscular devotions.

“Genuflect and tongue me, my Sweet! Worship at my altar while Serena buzzes around the fragrance of my flower,” she commanded me.

She pressed me down to the wetness of her now exposed cunt and stood, legs apart, hands on the swell of her corseted hips; an awesome, silver-haired Domina exacting tribute from her vassals.

I have a serpentine tongue! It was time to show it! Mistress’s blood-engorged clitoris peeked out invitingly from its pink hood; a ‘bijou petit pénis’ seeking my lips. An orgasm now would put her in a more benign mood when she took up her cane to punish us.

“Sweet Mistress!” I murmured, rubbing the tip of my nose up against her clitoris. I began to lick, nibble and suck at that most precious of pearls, coaxing it from its pink hideaway into prominent arousal before darting my tongue into the musky recesses of her bower to luxuriate in her fragrant wetness.

“Sweet Mistress,” I whispered again in adoration. “I worship at your altar.”

Mistress gripped our heads, forcing us to nuzzle ever deeper into her furrowed recesses. She closed her eyes, a smile of pleasure radiating over her aristocratic features as our ministrations fanned the glow in her belly to a flame.

“Suck me, my darlings,” she panted hoarsely. “Bring me to orgasm!”

Our combined oscular frenzy brought Mistress finally to her explosive climax. She stiffened and pressed my face fiercely against her pubic bone, rubbing my nose at her throbbing clit. She clenched and unclenched her buttocks against Serena’s darting tongue, urging her ‘cherry-licker’ ever deeper. Her juices began to trickle, flow and then flood.

“Drink! My beloved,” she whispered huskily, her eyes closed in ecstasy. “Drink your fill from my sacred chalice!” She shuddered as the orgasmic wave crashed over her, washing through the deep rivers of her body. She came with a throaty sigh, flooding me with a hot cumsquirt that left me gasping as I lovingly lapped at her streaming joyjuices.

Mistress stood, tautly motionless; an erotic statue on her high orgasmic plateau.

She slowly relaxed and opened her eyes.

“Enough! You are well-trained sluts! You have worshipped well. The fire you lit has smouldered, flared, flamed and died. Your altar lustrations are over until after I have caned you.”

The antique French Empire mantel clock on the ormolu cabinet whirred. Three chimes heralded the quarter; 8.45pm.

Mistress raised us from our knees with a sated smile. She kissed Serena and then me, savouring the flavour and fragrance of her own lovejuices on my lips.

“You are diverting me from my duties! I shall whip you both even harder for such deviousness!” She always says this after we have given her a pre-punishment cunnysuck and orchidbuzz, but her post-coital kiss belies her threat.

“You’ll be late for your appointment! Be ready when I sound the Temple gong. Tonight’s ritual is unchanged except that you must expect a severe caning instead of mere erotic titillation.”

She kissed us again. “But think of the ‘Afterglow’ pleasures we shall later share in my boudoir. While I whip your pretty butts, remember our Academy’s motto: ‘Spare the Rod and Spoil the Pleasure’! Your pleasure will come later from my loving hands and lips and Candy’s ever-obliging pussycock!”

Cunnilingus is one of the most beautiful and satisfying experiences we women can share together and, as Mistress’s collared bride and Household Supervisor, I ensure she is kept well satisfied in this respect, particularly before a punishment parade when it’s my bottom in Mistress’s sights.

Mistress is always hyper-tensed before a punishment ritual and has little time then for ‘special effects’. But when we are relaxed in her boudoir, I cunnysuck her for an hour or more at a time, breaking off to kiss her breasts and lips while Serena and Candy explore below. Later when we are alone together in our four-poster bed we suck each other, sharing multiple orgasms, enjoying the fullness of our mutual arousal, orgasm and flow. Thus do our bodies become one in a blissful union of Mistress and Bride.

A gong sounded. It was 9 o’clock. The Temples double doors were opened and we could see into its womb-like red stuccoed interior. It was dimly but warmly illuminated by the flickering candlelight of wall sconces. Two ceiling spotlights cast a red glow over the black and gold altar upon which we would act out Mistress’s sacred punishment ritual.

Candy was at the door to lead us to the altar. She wore the Temple acolyte’s robe of black velvet. It clung sensuously to her Tranny breasts, belly and bottom, now so curvaceously and desirably feminine after her hormone treatments. An interesting bulge where her pussy should be, showed the outline of her sweet trannycock and balls. We would milk them later.

“When I purify and consecrate your bodies with incense, breathe deeply of its fragrance,” Candy whispered conspiratorially. “Its narcotic and euphoric ingredients will calm you and take you to a dream level where pain becomes pleasure and time stands still.

The moment had come. Serena was quivering from the dread thrill of fearful anticipation. I clasped her hand and we stepped forward to our fate.


Mistress Satina’s Diary

I was standing at the Nemesis altar, cane in hand, when Candy led the two miscreants silently up the aisle. When they reached me, Candy genuflected before me and moved to the charcoal burning sensor standing on a side table. She placed an ‘egg’of Kyphi resin on the hot coals and swung the sensor, igniting the sweet smelling incense of Ancient Egypt.

“Do you freely offer your bodies to the sacred scourge of Nemesis on this Night of the Dark Moon?” I asked.

“We do, Priestess!”

“Then humbly place yourselves over Her altar and prepare to honour Her with your cries of pain.”

The girls bent over and settled themselves, taking the weight of their bodies on their straightened arms so that their breasts hung free in pendulously erotic abandon.

Acolyte Candy stepped forward. “Spread your legs to part your bottom cheeks. You must expose your sacred orifices to the gaze of the Goddess to be properly presented to Her. Raise your heads and arch your back to display your bottom for the cane.”

The girls obeyed quickly and ‘presented’. I could see the pink tightness of Adelaide’s puckered flower above the swollen labia that would later welcome an ‘Afterglow’ tongue, pussycock and dildo. Adelaide’s lovelips, visible beneath her bottom’s under-curve, were lewdly open, a driblet of juice glistening in the spotlight’s glow. Serena’s heavy balls and long pussycock dangled enticingly free between her stockinged legs. I wondered whether my caning would bring her usually lively member to excited erection on this occasion!

Candy swung the smoking sensor at the Goddess statue, over the altar and then over the bared buttocks displayed before us. “We consecrate this caning offered upon Your altar. May Your Sacred Scourge bring the cleansing pain that leads to divine ecstasy.”

The girls held their pose, inhaling deeply the thick smoke of the incense’s sweet narcotic fragrance wafting over them. A tremor of fear coursed down Serena’s stockinged thigh, her butt muscles twitching.

“Present your bottoms!” Candy called loudly.

The two girls arched their backs once more, raising their shiny bottoms.

I took my caning stance to ensure that the girls would receive each stroke’s full impact on both cheeks. I rubbed the cane along the flagellator’s ‘Sweet Spot’, that exceedingly tender line where bottom curves into thigh, and I visualised smacking the soft flesh there.

“I shall cane you alternately, stroke by stroke and pause between each set of strokes for you to assimilate the pain received and anticipate the pain to come. Adelaide, you will count each stroke aloud for you both and thank the Goddess for Her cleansing scourge. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Priestess!”

There was an eerie silence as my ‘sacrificial lambs’ and I awaited Candy’s command. I drew back my cane.

“Commence Punishment!”

Crack! Crack!

I brought the cane across in two quick strokes to stripe each exposed bottom, doubling the whippy end’s stinging impact with a flick of my wrist.

The rattan whipped across their soft cheeks in a searing streak of fire that hit unerringly on the ‘Sweet Spot’ in a jolting explosion of pain. Both shot bolt upright, clutching their burning globes, eyes closed, mouth open in silent agony. For a moment, they made no sound. Then they screamed …a piercing cry of pain. They rubbed their bottoms feverishly at the angry scarlet stripe that appeared across their cheeks as if by magic. I had now left a burning red line as my marker.

“Resume your position immediately or I shall add strokes for being uncooperative!”

“One! Thank you, Goddess!” Adelaide murmured as they draped themselves once more over the altar.

I stepped forward to run my hand over the angry weals I had just raised on the two bottoms, feeling their heat before stepping back and taking aim again.

Crack! Crack!

A second scarlet line seared its fiery path across their buttcheeks, just above the first. The miscreants grunted but steadfastly maintained their position, despite the pain I was inflicting.

“Two! Thank you, Goddess!”

Crack! Crack!

I delivered the third stroke with a wrist flick that etched a painful crimson welt above the second. Adelaide shrieked at the burning agony I had inflicted upon her gorgeously plump booty. Three parallel red lines now scorched the dimples of her now involuntarily twitching cheeks.

“Three! Thank you, Goddess!”

Crack! Crack!

I whipped across another stroke, eliciting a further anguished scream from them. They were now panting, beads of perspiration dampening their faces as the shock of pain coursed through their bodies.

“Four! Thank you, Goddess!” Adelaide sobbed.

Crack! Crack!

It was the hardest stroke yet. Serena screeched and started to rise, intending perhaps to shield her tortured rump from the rattan’s scorpion-like sting, but thought better of it.

“O-oooh” Adelaide cried, as a fifth angry welt joined the others across her curvaceous bottom, now quivering in spasms of pain. I paused to caress her ravaged cheeks, luxuriating in the feel of heated stripes and her helpless squirming; movements I found most sensually arousing.

“Five! Thank You, Goddess!”

I glanced at my acolyte. She stood mesmerised. While not erotic for the victims it was certainly arousing her, judging from the growing bulge of her pussycock pinioned inside her knickers beneath her robe.

I positioned myself for the final stroke, cutting diagonally across the five parallel welts; the infamous ‘Gate’ cut.

Crack! Crack!

Scarlet lines of pain on each butt joined up a pattern of livid agony; a fiery crimson memento that would turn to deeper shades of purple by morning.

“Six! Thank You, Goddess!” Adelaide broke into a deluge of tears, thankful that her ordeal was over.

I admired the colourful picture I had etched and stepped forward once more to caress the heat of the raised welts, running my palm lovingly over the results. I surveyed with pride the sharp parallel lines of pain crossed by the final diagonal cut I had scored across the tortured plumpness of Adelaide’s rump and the daintier spheres of Serena’s Tranny arse.

Candy stirred herself and swung the sensor again to sanctify the girls’ tortured flesh with Kyphi incense .

“Rise now and kiss the Scourge of Nemesis!”

The girls rose painfully, turned and knelt to kiss the scourge. I laid it on the altar, where it would lie until next required.

I took Adelaide and Serena into my arms, holding them close, kissing their tears away. Caning those bottoms had made me wet with desire. My throbbing cunt ached now for the orgasmic release that I always need after the power surge of such a ‘Domina High’. No caning is complete without that release, for both caner and caned. It was high time for ‘Afterglow’ party play! I never waste good playtime! I led my hot threesome out of the Temple and up the Stairway to Heaven!

‘Afterglow’? That’s another story! But I will tell you that Adelaide milked two pussycocks to their desired release while I gave her the thrusting pleasure of my strap-on dildo! Then we really got down and dirty!

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