I peer through the peephole in my door and watch you for a moment. Standing on my doorstep, eyes bright and expectant – looking like an eager puppy – if you had a tail, it would be wagging. All bright shiny face and flowers. You must be feeling quite romantic! I smile as I anticipate the next expression on your face. Will it be disappointment (surely not)? Fear perhaps? Yes, that’s more likely. I open the door and it amuses me to see your jaw drop. Just seeing my face and hair tells you everything you need to know – tells you just what to expect. My hair is scraped back tightly from my face – not a single wisp escapes, my expressionless face is painted white, my lips blood-red. You swallow visibly. I open the door wider and motion you inside. I don’t speak, but then my tightly-laced corset hardly allows me to breathe. Even in your apprehension you can’t resist glancing at the sight of my breasts threatening to spill over the top of the corset. I close the door and walk ahead of you and feel your eyes on my exposed buttocks as I walk down the hallway. You had expected me to turn into the cosy living room but, as you feared, we’re going into that other room. That cold room. I open the door and speak for the first time. “Undress.” You know better than to question me. Disobeying doesn’t even enter your mind. I fold my arms and watch you as you drop each item of clothing onto the cold, white-tiled floor. The bright, harsh lighting is hardly flattering to any naked flesh and you shiver – not only because it’s cold in there. You try to lick your lips but your mouth is suddenly dry, so dry. You kneel without being told and I leave the room.

By the time I return your knees are sending urgent messages of pain to your brain and even though you know the torture won’t be over, at least it will soon be different. I motion you to bend over the bench in the centre of the room and bind your wrists and ankles, head down. At this point surely I’ll caress your bottom, stroke your hair perhaps? I don’t touch you. I don’t speak. Instead, with no preliminaries I begin to spank your arse with my light bamboo paddle. The blows come fast and furious – not too hard but in rapid succession. You’re so shocked that you don’t even count the blows but you cry out in pain and surprise. You know that you’ll pay for that – later. The spanking stops and you hear me leave the room again. You don’t know how much time passes but your confusion eases a little and you calm yourself – savouring the sweet pain in your buttocks. This is not like the playful spanking over my knee. No warm thigh against which to grind your hard cock. The position you’re in makes your body ache, your head ache but most of all your heart aches, doesn’t it? Aches for something from me. At first you wanted some gesture of affection, by now you just want any kind of gesture. Anything. You hear me enter the room again. Surely this time…? Again without speaking, without any preliminaries I begin to spank you. This time the blows are slower, but harder. I concentrate on that sweet spot where your thighs meet your buttocks and I sense you holding back your expressions of pain. This won’t do. I won’t have you holding back anything from me. The pain, already at a point where your brain seeks only oblivion, increases. You can hold back no longer, tears run down your face, you sob, whimper, groan. The tears cleanse, heal. All stress and tension seems to have poured from your body with your sweat. With your tears. All pain and distress is distilled from your body. You can tell by my breathing that I’m pleased, satisfied, and the spanking stops. I release the bindings, grab your hair in my hand and force back your head. Surely now comes the kiss, the caress, the loving word? You would gladly endure twice the pain for one kind word. Your cock throbs painfully – now the only tense part of your body. Surely there will be release? I look steadily into your eyes, my face still expressionless, and slap your face. Hard. Just once. Even before I’ve left the room, you’re longing for my return. How long do you wait before you give up and leave?

If this is your fantasy, or if you’d like to explore some other aspect of femdom, then call me or, if you’d like to indulge in a little informal online chatting, look for me in the chat rooms at communitykink.com. If you just want to hang out with friends, relax and listen to some music and erotic radio, then tune in to The Magic Bus at 10:00 pm EST on Sunday evenings.

Empress Catherine 800-601-6975

http://www.voxerotic.com/main.php?action=show&tease=138

If you’d rather listen than read, just click here…

When we last saw Shrimp Boy, he was in danger of being swallowed by the beautiful Giantess. His shrimpy little body was in her mouth and he was being tossed around like a sock in a tumble dryer. Fortunately for Shrimp Boy, not only was the Giantess a vegetarian, but she’d also become rather fond of the tiny man and decided to spit him out. Needless to say, Shrimp Boy was a little shaken after his latest adventure and not a little cranky! He’d been tossed around between the Giantess and her sisters, almost drowned, almost swallowed and even though he’d had his teeny tiny cock teased unmercifully and, even though he’d given the Giantess at least one orgasm, had yet to find any kind of release himself. It was time for the worm (or shrimp) to turn!

“Now look here, woman!” he shouted at the top of his little lungs. The Giantess turned to look at Shrimp Boy and at this point our hero thought that perhaps he’d made a bit of a tactical error. “Are you speaking to me, little man?” the Giantess asked, in a low, dangerous voice. As the Giantess bent her face down towards the tiny man he began to rethink his position. Yes, his teeny tiny cock was swollen, hard, sore and throbbing, but he was beginning to think that perhaps he could live with that after all. However, truth be told, even though the Giantess looked cross, she was actually delighted to see the little man stretched to his full height (all three inches of him) and shouting at her in his little piping voice. He stood among the folds of an enormous fluffy towel and reminded her of nothing more than a baby bird, albeit a baby bird with an angry looking splinter of a penis sticking boldly from its body! Shrimp Boy decided he might have to change his tone. “Well, I was just wondering… It’s my penis, you see…” “Yes,” said the Giantess, “I do indeed see. What about it?”. Shrimp Boy swallowed hard and decided that the time had come to decide whether he was a man or a mouse, although in this situation the question was somewhat moot. “Well, I was sort of wondering whether something could be, erm, done about it…?” “Done about it? said the Giantess, “What would you have me do about it? I could perhaps bite it off, then you’d be rid of the problem for good!” and with that the Giantess brought her face close to the little man and bared her teeth. Despite shaking with fear, Shrimp Boy (as we have seen in his previous adventures) had the heart of a lion (although the cock of a mouse) and stood his ground. “I was thinking that perhaps it might be granted some relief?” The Giantess laughed aloud, and the tiny man’s teeny tiny penis wilted slightly at the sight of her glossy red lips and gleaming white teeth. Shrimp Boy closed his eyes and began to say a silent prayer to the god of hard cocks (oh yes, there is such a god, for who amongst us has not uttered the words “Oh god, oh god, oh god,” in situations involving a hard cock?)

The tiny man felt himself lifted and dropped gently into the soft palm of the Giantess’s hand. His eyes still closed, he shuddered as he felt her warm breath upon his body. This time the shudder was of desire – not fear – and his little cock suddenly remembered what it had wanted. The Giantess began again to touch his naked, diminutive body with her large, pink, hot, moist tongue. She touched his cock with the very tip – dabbing at it like a cat. Well, gentle reader, you can imagine the reaction of the tiny man’s teeny tiny cock! It rose to new heights, became as hard as iron and Shrimp Boy began to moan and pant, to sweat and writhe. His face flushed bright red from the heat spreading from his cock through his entire body. He jerked his little hips, pressing his hard penis into the soft texture of the Giantess’s tongue. The tension in his prick and in his head rose to an unbearable point and his entire body began to throb and twitch. Shrimp Boy felt he had reached some kind of pinnacle and was about to be tipped over the edge, when there came a knocking at the bathroom door. A giant voice bellowed from the other side “Are you still in there? What are you doing with him? Bring him out, we want to play with him too!” It was one of the Giantess’s sisters!

What will happen to Shrimp Boy next? Will he achieve his release? Will the Giantess stop what she’s doing or finish what she started? Will he continue to be teased or will he find relief? For the answers to these and many other questions you’ll have to read the next installment of the Erotic Adventures of Shrimp Boy.

If this is your fantasy, or if you’d like to explore some other aspect of femdom, then call me or arrange a text session through sexytexting.com or, if you’d like to indulge in a little informal online chatting, look for me in the chat rooms at communitykink.com. If you just want to hang out with friends, relax and listen to some music and erotic radio, then tune in to The Magic Bus at 10:00 pm EST on Sunday evenings.

Empress Catherine
800-601-6975
http://www.voxerotic.com/main.php?action=show&tease=138

If you’d rather listen than read, just click here…

Her apprentice stood there, her head down; she went too far, she knew that. But she couldn’t help herself, the excitement she was feeling as she entered the room with her Mistress, the pride she felt to be so honoured. Touching Mistress’s cane, she was overwhelmed, and she struck, hard and carelessly, with no restraint.

Now, even as she stood there in shame, she felt that tingling feeling, the excitement that ran through her body.

Punishment was coming she knew that, but that excited her as well. “You have shown such a lack of discipline, of will”, she heard her Mistress say. “Kneel before our guests”. The Apprentice did as she was commanded, her face burning bright with equal parts embarrassment and excitement. The onlookers watched intently, the excitement in their eyes growing as Mistress walked purposefully to her apprentice. “Pain is the gift you give”, Mistress whispered, and with that She slapped her apprentice fully and hard across the face. So hard the apprentice’s eyes watered, her face burned. Mistress then knelt behind her apprentice, whispering again, “release it, give me your pain.” Then the apprentice felt Mistress’s lips softly kiss her stinging cheek. “I want your pain, little one”, Mistress said as she pulled down her apprentice’s leotard, exposing her lovely full breasts and erect nipples. Still kneeling behind her apprentice, Mistress slowly reached for a long lit candle. Bringing it close in front of her apprentice, she said, “Pain is why you are here, pain is what you want, pain is the ultimate pleasure my little one”. Slowly she brought the candle below her apprentice’s exposed nipples, the heat from the flame was intense and she cried out softly, and her Mistress smiled. “Yes, give me your pain, revel in your gift, feel how it excites you so” Mistress said as she passed the candle below the girl’s nipples. The apprentice could feel her Mistress behind her, so close and warm, her breasts touching her back, her hand slowly sliding across her body. It was so intense, so exciting. The apprentice felt the pain, but she also loved the pain, and felt her Mistress share that feeling, share her gift.

The apprentice cried then, tears of understanding and love for her Mistress, her Mistress who gives so much, shares so much. “You know now little one” Mistress said, “The gift given is to be savoured, to be immersed in to be felt in your body and soul.”

If this is your fantasy, or if you’d like to explore some other aspect of femdom, then call me or arrange a text session through sexytexting.com or, if you’d like to indulge in a little informal online chatting, look for me in the chat rooms at communitykink.com. If you just want to hang out with friends, relax and listen to some music and erotic radio, then tune in to The Magic Bus at 10:00 pm EST on Sunday evenings.

Empress Catherine
800-356-6169
http://www.voxerotic.com/main.php?action=show&tease=138

THE RESTAURANT – another erotic story by Catherine.

You like this place don’t you? You like it because of the cordon bleu chef and the fine wine cellar but most of all you like the deference. You like walking through the door and having all the staff bow and scrape. Makes you feel like a big man, doesn’t it? Only you and I know different. I know what you’re thinking. You think that walking in with me on your arm will only enhance your reputation. Well. We’ll see. You think perhaps that you’re only my bitch in private? Well. We’ll see.

The waiter could have been chosen specifically for my purpose. Young, handsome and a delicious combination of a little cocky, a little shy. I devour him with my eyes and make sure that you see it. We pore over the menu and discuss our choices like any other couple. Like those at the neighbouring tables – those well fed, well-heeled respectable couples. So comfortable. So smug. Just like them – well, to all outward appearances anyway. When the waiter returns to take our order I give him one of my special smiles. You know the one. The one you’d sell your soul for. The one you only see in your secret dreams. I let you order the rich food, the expensive old wine and, just as the waiter’s about to leave, I catch his arm – “Wait…” He waits. Of course he waits. I turn to you. “What the hell do you think you’re doing – ordering for me? Did I give you any such permission?” My tone is low but carries to the nearby tables. The conversation at those tables falters, stops. Of course they’re all too polite to turn around, but they’re listening. Ears pricked like eager hounds. “You can’t eat all this rich food – you’re already too fat – and the wine! You know you have that little problem, so cancel the wine. No – I’m not going to drink it – you don’t seriously expect me to drink that swill, do you? I’ll have a bottle of your most expensive vintage champagne. What’s the most expensive dish on the menu? I’ll have that.” You blush. You remain silent. The waiter blushes, but his eyes sparkle as they look into mine. He leaves (no doubt to describe the scene to everyone in the kitchen) and the conversation around us resumes. Conversation at our table, however, is non-existent. I don’t want to talk and you don’t dare. When the waiter returns with our food and places yours in front of you – the plain salad and water I ordered for you – you make a sound that’s almost a whimper. I give you a warning glance and you look down at your plate. As the waiter serves me he doesn’t know whether to look into my eyes or my cleavage so I give him ample opportunity to do both, leaning forward and looking up at him. I thank him sweetly and you look at my plate aghast. It’s covered in lobster and all manner of tiny sea creatures. Seeing your face I immediately begin to berate you. “How could you order this for me when you know I can’t eat it. You know I’m a vegetarian and yet you order this – how could you?!” My voice is even louder this time and the conversation dies like wheat before a strong wind all across the room. I push the food disconsolately around the plate like a spoiled, petulant child. I nibble in a desultory fashion at the vegetables on my plate and then push the plate away. Your face is still red and is beginning to sweat. I sip a little champagne, push the glass away and stare at you. Your face reddens even more. Your shirt collar suddenly looks a little too tight. “Aren’t you going to eat your food – you wasteful bastard?! Don’t you know people are starving all over the world and you’re wasting food! Eat!” You eat, or at least you force mouthfuls of food down your tight throat. After a while the waiter returns, murmuring about dessert. I tell him that what I’d REALLY like for dessert is standing in front of me but that something chocolatey will do for now. He returns with a small mountain of chocolate covered in cherries. There begins an exquisite form of torture – one that I particularly enjoy – as I eat the dessert in a most seductive manner. Your mouth hangs open a little as you watch. I lick and suck chocolate, molesting the cherries with my tongue. You gasp as the last cherry falls from my lips and into my cleavage, the melted chocolate and cherry juice drooling into the warm, dark cleft. “Well?” I demand. You swallow hard and reach tentatively towards my breasts. You stop half-way and pick up a spoon. The spoon advances on my cleavage. You change your mind and put down the spoon. You reach again for the cherry with finger and thumb outstretched. With shaking hand you extract the cherry. “How dare you!” I scream at you and stand up sending glasses and cutlery flying. You stand, bewildered, not knowing what to do next. “How dare you touch me in that manner!” and I slap your face as hard as I can. And it hurts. I can see it hurts. Hurts from the reddened palm-print across your face. Hurts from the burning humiliation inside. NOW the people turn. They can’t help themselves. Any pretence at conversation has ended. People gape openly. I stalk towards the door, the waiter in hot pursuit, you trailing miserably behind – misery and humiliation almost visibly rising from you. At the door I make a point of giving the young waiter my card. “Why don’t you call me some time darling, I’d love to hear from you…” He smiles at me and grins, hugely, at you. In the taxi there’s more silence but I can sense the humiliation subsiding a little. I put my hand on your thigh, slide it slowly up to your cock. I squeeze your cock gently in my hand – it’s already hard but responds eagerly to my touch. I squeeze harder. There’s that little whimper again. When we reach your apartment I get out first, allowing the doorman to hand me out. “Good evening Mr. X” he says to you as you begin to climb out. I make sure the taxi driver is also looking as I turn and smile sweetly at you. You’re a little confused and you pause, halfway out of the taxi. I bend towards you, moist lips puckered and you raise your face towards me. I take your chin in my hand, gaze lovingly into your eyes, eyes full of gratitude just like a whipped puppy who’s been forgiven. I spit deliberately into your upturned, unsuspecting face. The face that still bears the mark of my previous assault. I turn and walk away, laughing softly to myself. I’m hungry. Perhaps I’ll go somewhere and eat…

If this is your fantasy, or if you’d like to explore some other aspect of femdom, then call me or, if you’d like to indulge in a little informal online chatting, look for me in the chat rooms at communitykink.com. If you just want to hang out with friends, relax and listen to some music, then tune in to The Magic Bus at 10:00 pm EST on Sunday evenings.

Empress Catherine 800-601-6975 http://www.voxerotic.com/main.php?action=show&tease=138

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