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Life under Mistress’s loving, but fierce tutelage continued. I reveled in being her bitch, in being Mistress Jamie’s panty boy, her satin slut. She had tempered me, brought me to heel, and made me a better man by reducing me to nothingness, by making my sole purpose in life her pleasure. In service to Mistress Jamie, there was emotional fulfillment. I adored her as I worshipped her as I bowed before her and submitted to her. She was my goddess.

Mistress Becca, the cunt with whom I’d fought for Mistress Jamie’s approbation, had received Mistress’s approval. She had satisfied Mistress’s expectations and demands for what constituted a proper dominatrix. Releasing Becca from her control and command, the newly-minted dominatrix ventured out on her own, yet she was still held in Mistress Jamie’s thrall, and continued to pay obeisance to Mistress. We despised one another as only those possessed by the green-eyed monster of jealousy can despise. This pleased my Mistress. It reinforced her proven superiority to women and men. Becca continued to pay court to Mistress, but now she had her own submissive. A dominatrix in her own right, Becca was still Mistress Jamie’s submissive in the hierarchy. By her release, Mistress Jamie had elevated Becca above her former status as an apprentice and well above my station. It was now my place to submit to Becca. I hated the thought as I hated Becca. At least that cunt was gone and I now had Mistress’s attention to myself, greedy slut that I am.

One afternoon, Mistress grabbed me by my collar and led me to her playroom. She shackled me to a St. Andrew’s cross, and after inspecting her work, inquired, “Are the cuffs too tight, slut? Are you ‘comfortable?’ Don’t answer. I don’t care. I was merely making pleasant conversation—accidentally. Silly me, you stupid, unfeeling, worthless cunt. I don’t know why I even manifest the slightest concern for you or interest in you.”

I nodded as Mistress looked blankly into my eyes and through me. She turned on her heel, walked away from me, approached a cabinet, and opened the doors. Mistress slipped on well-padded, pink MMA gloves. They allowed her to strike with as much force as she desired, but left her fingers free to grab, pinch, pull, and twist.

She approached me. My cock swelled in anticipation. It grew, throbbed, and began emitting the slightest bit of precum, moistening my turquoise, satin, string bikini. “What will she do?” I wondered.

Mistress wore a lime green athletic bikini that would’ve been as appropriate cihangir escort on a beach or by a pool as it would’ve been in a studio. It was designed for vigorous workouts and turning heads. Mistress turned and swelled my heads. I adored and worshipped her.

“Slut,” she pronounced, “I’m agitated, but I don’t know why. You’re going to help me get it out of my system.”

With that, Mistress proceeded to use me as a punching bag. She calibrated her punches, where they landed, with how much force, and how much frequency. Despite her contemptuous treatment of me, it masked a concern for my welfare, for my education, and for my training. She used, abused, dominated, and humiliated me out of love and concern for my wellbeing.

Approaching in a boxer’s crouch, Mistress set upon me. “Thump!” a shot to my midsection. She drove it in as hard as she could. Another, followed by another. All I could do was emit and “Oof!” or “Ow!” as she pummeled me. I strained against the shackles, trying to free myself from the abuse, despite my enjoying it.

“You’re a feisty slut, aren’t you?” asked Mistress rhetorically. “Let’s see what else you’ve got,” she said.

“Slap!” The sting of her padded leather glove turned my cheek red and I cried out as I struggled to break free from the restraints. The sting invigorated me. It aroused me. Never had I ever felt so alive as I had under my beautiful Mistress, Jamie.

Approaching closely, Mistress kneed me my groin. It was hard enough to elicit another cry from me, but not truly painful—thank goodness for small favors. She smiled cruelly and rubbed her knee into my cock and balls, the satin doing nothing to protect me.

She pressed her body into mine, taking in my aroma, using her senses like a hunting cat with its prey. The grinding continued. Mistress teased my nipples, which made my abused cock swell.

She stepped back and began delivering more shots to my body, slaps to my face, and knees to my groin. Mistress Jamie had worked up a light sheen to her beautiful body. Her ripe, round, full breasts heaved. He face glowed with the exertion as it relaxed from the emotional and physical release that beating me had provided her. He breathing was heavy from the work out. I too was breathing hard, but from the working over she’d been giving me.

Undoing her gloves, Mistress next unfastened my shackles, and then led me to her bed. After humiliating me in the playroom, she intended to do so bed.

Mistress pushed mecidiyeköy escort me into her bed and climbed atop me. Reaching into my satin bikini, she put her hand around my engorged cock, and slipped out. She went down on me as I fingered her warm, wet pussy almost to the point of orgasm.

“STOP!!” she demanded. “Stop, you goddamned fuck!” she commanded.

It was to no avail. My lust had overridden my senses. Mistress demanded that I stop fingering her just short of an orgasm. I was stubborn. I’d failed to learn and jockeyed for position as we wrestled in bed. I was going to fuck Mistress Jamie, demonstrate my worth, my value, my own dominance. I would be on top. Flipping Mistress on her back, I tried to cram my now fully engorged cock into her tight, increasing moist, pussy.

I can’t begin to describe the intensity of the struggle, the passion, and senses inflamed. We kissed intensely, tongues and lips fighting for control. Teeth biting lips and tongues. Our hands grasped for control over each other as fought.

Mistress Jamie is as powerful and skilled as she is intelligent and beautiful. She forced me, wrapped her hand around my throat, and with the other slipped her bikini panty to the side. She mounted my stiff cock and slowly slid down the shaft, her pussy warm, tight, and wet. It was like a warm, wet, glove gripping me. Mistress’s ass cheeks rested firmly against my hard ball sack. Mistress was in control, as always.

Releasing her hand from my throat, Mistress stretched out along my chest, until her hands tightly held mine down, locking me in place. She could feel my pulse deep inside her, traveling up from her cunt as she squeezed your cock, not allowing any movement, all the way up to her breasts squashed against my heavily beating heart. Mistress Jamie’s lips covered mine, muffling any further sounds I tried to utter, her tongue ravishing and plundering my stunned mouth.

Mistress rose back up, beginning slowly, astride my stiff cock. Her face grimaced slightly but then lit up in pleasure. Mistress Jamie began riding me, slowly at first, up and down, milking my cock, the mushroomed cock head brought right to the tip, to the point of near release, only to have her slide back down, rhythmically squeezing all along my engorged shaft. We stared into each other’s eyes intensely. She pressed down harder, trying to take as much of my cock as her cunt was capable of taking.

Increasing pressure from my growing cock fed Mistress’s wicked domineering ego and kurtuluş escort drove her intensity. I tried bucking for release. Mistress felt an uncontrollable wave wrack her body. Her thighs tightened. She couldn’t think of anything but sating her raw need for me. She was hit with an agonizing, pleasure-filled, drawn-out orgasm as she pounded my balls with her ass, as she rode up and down, warning me not to cum as her hot juices spiraled down along my shaft and along the curve of my warm, satin-covered cheeks.

As Mistress felt me about to explode, she dismounted, with a hard slap across my cock and balls explained to me that a bikini bitch doesn’t deserve to cum inside of any Mistress. She paused, post-orgasm, and decided that I had been such a naughty satin slut that I should jerk off in bed, lying next to her, as she kissed me.

I grasped my engorged cock, sticky and wet with Mistress Jamie’s juices and began stroking slowly, my hand traveling up and down the shaft, stopping just short of my tender, throbbing head.

“Cum on my panties, bitch,” commanded Mistress.

Dutifully, I knelt before her, my legs straddling hers. She twisted, teased, and tormented my nipples, slapped, and choked me, as she enjoyed my humiliation.

“Cum now. Do it!” she ordered.

I obeyed. I shot my load on her lime green, bikini-pantied cunt, and moaned with the release. My breathing was labored, my heart pounding.

“Clean it up, slut. Lick your cum from my goddess-like pussy and clean it properly. Bitch cum doesn’t belong on me,” she ordered. “Make sure you get all of it, bitch,” said my goddess.

I did as ordered and licked my cum from her panties. My cum was thick, salty-sweet, and delicious. As I licked more deeply, more powerfully, Mistress Jamie shuddered in yet another orgasm, her body convulsing, wracked in delicious torment and delight.

Relaxing for a moment, Mistress Jamie announced “I’m done with you. I need something else, someone else in my life. You’ve been a nice little amusement, but in the end nothing much to me, nothing much for me. I need a man who can stand up to me, a man who can withstand me, a man who’ll romance me. You’re not that man. You’re not much of a man, are you?” she concluded rhetorically.

I was crushed. I knew not what to do, where to go, or what joy or meaning my life would have. My mind scrambled trying to think of how I’d displeased her, how I’d disappointed her, how I’d failed her.

“Clean out your possessions. I expect you to be gone in two hours. Don’t bother contacting me ever again,” said Mistress Jamie. With those words, Mistress Jamie, the woman with whom I’d shared a tempestuous, lustful, wondrous relationship, was out of my life. Here ends our tale. I miss her. How I miss her so and wish she’d have me back in her life.

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