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At the Mercy of the Mistress

catherine — Tue, 14 Apr 2009 01:48:51 +0000

Another Erotic Bedtime Story by Catherine.

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

He knew he shouldn’t have had all those drinks – but it really had seemed like a good idea at the time – especially since he was in such good company. He wasn’t usually very successful with women – he was a bit shy and he knew they thought him a bit of a wimp. Tonight, though, tonight was different. Maybe it was the alcohol? Yes, that would be it. Made him seem cool, masterful, in control – that’s obviously why he’d been able to pull this gorgeous woman. He was lying on her bed now, naked, flat on his back – trying to make the room stop spinning. She was in the bathroom “getting ready” she’d said. Whatever that meant. Doing whatever it is women do before they get fucked. Before they get fucked by some cool dude. “Cool dude” he said aloud and then spoiled the effect with a giggle and a burp. Now if he could only stay awake long enough…

Suddenly he was wide awake. For some reason his arms were aching a bit and the woman, what was her name again, was back in the bedroom. At least – it WAS her wasn’t it? She didn’t look the same as she did before. The casual jeans and t-shirt were gone and she was wearing some sort of black leather bikini with sharp-looking studs all over it and a pair of stiletto-heeled black leather boots reaching half-way up her smooth thighs. Her face was almost completely obscured by a black leather mask. Her demure ponytail was gone and her long red hair flowed down her back. She looked wild, frightening and her eyes glittered coldly from behind the mask. He tried to sit up and realised why his arms hurt. They were tied somehow to the head of the bed. He panicked. He struggled to get free, completely sober now, and realised he was handcuffed to the bed and that there was no getting free. He began to babble incoherently. Saying things that, even to him in his confused state, sounded ridiculous. About how he’d better be going now. About how he had an early start in the morning. About how nice it had been to meet her. He was stunned when, without a word of warning, she slapped him hard across he face. So stunned that she was able to ram the ball gag into his mouth and fasten it behind his head. “Okay, okay, nothing to worry about” he tells himself, “obviously this is that kinky sex I’ve heard about. It’ll probably be fun…” She does, after all, look spectacular in that outfit. Her breasts rising above the black leather and the view from behind as she bends over the bedside table is enough to revive his startled cock. He hears her rummaging around in the table’s drawer and moving things on its surface.

Finally she straightens up and speaks, “You’ve got two choices – hot or cold?” “Hot or cold?” He asks himself, “Hot or cold what?” He tries to speak through the gag. “I can’t tell what you’re saying so I’ll give you both. I’m feeling generous tonight!” and she laughs as she grabs his ankles, pulls them sharply above his head and fastens them to the headboard. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like it at all. His knees are pressed into his chest and he can hardly breath. His thighs are spread wide exposing his – well, his everything! His cock stirs and hardens – throbs even. Somehow this feeling of helplessness, of being completely exposed, is arousing. He hears her strike a match, between his spread thighs sees her light a long white candle and raise it above his full balls. The hot wax drips directly onto his exposed testicles. He yelps through the ball gag and writhes in pain – desperate to break free. She’s relentless and without pity. The pain is intense and yet, and yet, so exciting! “Now for the cold” she says – her tone matching the word. Without any preliminaries she roughly slides two ice cubes deep into his arsehole. His eyes feel as though they’ll pop from his head – his throat feels raw from trying to scream. “I’m not sure that they’re far enough in” she says, standing above him now. Standing on the bed in those thigh-high boots, the soft supple leather gleaming in the candlelight, the scent of the leather mingling with that of the candle. She raises one foot, nudges his poor burned balls with the sharp, pointed toe and slowly begins to slide the six-inch stiletto into his arse. He almost faints from the pain and the shock – the burning cold of the ice. She works the heel slowly in and out of his tight, puckered little hole as he whimpers and groans. “Better keep still – you wouldn’t want me to lose my balance, would you? There – that’s better!” she says as she grins at him. “Now then, what next?” “Next?!” The panic begins to rise in him again – “What could possibly be next?” What indeed…?

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

Sensory Deprivation

catherine — Mon, 03 Nov 2008 04:34:52 +0000

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

Didn’t you think it a little strange when I asked you to meet me at the corner of the street – especially that particular street in that particular neighbourhood at that particularly late hour? Perhaps you were just pondering the strangeness of it all when that big black limo pulled up and those four men bundled you unceremoniously inside. You were overwhelmed by the unexpectedness of it – by the sheer force of numbers. With that hood over your head and the loud music playing inside the car there was no way of knowing where you were driven. And now here you are bound hand and foot to a chair. You’re completely naked – apart from the hood over your head – but there’s so much rope wrapped tightly around your body that you may as well be clothed. You’re blindfolded, white noise is played through ear buds and you’ve lost all concept of time. Have you been here days or weeks? There’s no way to measure the passing of time. Occasionally someone will come in and put food in front of you. Well, sometimes it’s in front of you – sometimes it’s just out of reach – the smell tantalising. You’ve tried to measure the time between meals but it’s impossible. Sometimes you’ll be fed some sumptuous meal and then what seems like minutes later you’ll be fed again. Sometimes the meal is not so sumptuous is it? It’s rancid and foul but you’re so hungry that you’ll eat anything – now it must be days since you were last fed. Or is it? At first you worried about what might have happened to me but now your mind is incapable of coherent thought. A couple of times you’ve caught the merest hint of my perfume – or have you? You’ve tried screaming – or at least you think you have – you can’t even hear yourself through the ear buds. At first you were outraged – angry, then afraid but now you’re beyond even the humiliation of being hosed down periodically to remove the filth accumulating on and around your body. You’re beyond all human emotion – reduced to a trussed and stinking whimpering, bundle – and then you smell me – my perfume my flesh and your blindfold is removed, the ear buds pulled roughly out and you tremble, cringing before me. I’m dressed in a way you’ve never seen before. Gone is the rather conservative business-woman. Instead I’m wearing thigh length black leather boots, a black leather corset so tightly laced that you could span my waist with your hands. My hair is drawn back tightly from my face – my face completely devoid of colour except for the rich crimson lipstick – a colour that matches perfectly the tiny satin panties I’m wearing with the corset. My breasts swell indecently over the top, threatening to spill out completely if I move too suddenly. I stare at you completely without expression and uncover a tray full of, well, “instruments”. As you look at them the hair begins to rise on the back of your neck and you hear me say, “Darling, what do you think the opposite of sensory deprivation must be? Sensory overload? Let’s see, shall we?” and you realise that the torment is not over, but instead, only beginning…

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, 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 Pearl Thong

catherine — Mon, 15 Sep 2008 04:01:22 +0000

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

NB: Be a little patient at the beginning of the audio – there’s a long pause at the beginning – just time enough to get comfortable…

You’re waiting. Still waiting. I told you to be ready and you are that – more than ready! Naked, on your knees cold and shivering. The anticipation is exquisite. What mood will I be in today? Cruel or kind? What will I be wearing?

You hear a sound from outside the room – the sound of stiletto heels coming down the hallway. Even though you’re so cold, you begin to sweat. That sick feeling in your stomach spreads. The door opens and I enter wearing a long black silk robe. I smile at you – that smile that makes you just a little, nervous. I walk over and stand in front of you – so close that you can feel the heat from my body, smell my perfume, and… leather. I drop the robe and, in spite of yourself, and even though you know it’s forbidden, you look at me. I’m wearing those black leather boots, you know, the ones I had custom made at great expense to you. The ones with the stiletto heels, the pointed toes, the ones that reach to my thighs, the ones that hug my legs so closely – like a second skin really. You raise your head to look at my body – my bizarre outfit. Well, on anyone else it would seem bizarre but on me, somehow it works. I’m wearing a tight white tank top – surely two sizes too small – and meant for a boy judging by the way my breasts strain against the fabric. The cold air in the room makes my nipples harden, even as you watch. Your cock stirs in response. I’m also wearing a pair of black lace panties, pretty enough, but it’s not until I turn around that you see their secret – a thong, a string of perfect pearls slithering between the cheeks of my arse. Each pearl like the tear of a submissive. That secret place you’d love to explore but that you know you never will. I say, “Kiss them” and you know what I mean. Your lips are dry and you tremble as you lean forward to kiss the pearls. You press your lips to the first pearl and inhale as you feel the smooth, cool texture against your mouth. The fragrance is intoxicating – the combination of my perfume and the blatantly female aroma of my body. You kiss each pearl in turn – each one feeling warmer than the last against your lips. Nothing else exists for you. There is only this moment – only the scent filling your nostrils and the feeling of the pearl against your lips – your face against my skin. You’re panting now – straining to take advantage of this rare intimacy. Your cock is hard now – like a dog straining at a leash. You kiss my pearls so tenderly don’t you? When all the time you want to bite them – to rip them off – expose what’s beneath. But you don’t. You’re a good dog for your Mistress. You reach the end of the line of pearls. Unless I part my legs, you can go no further, and you know that will never happen. I turn around to face you and stroke your head, your face and you know your Mistress is pleased with you. You bend, kiss the toes of my boots. I lift each foot in turn for you to kiss and suck the heels – each hard unyielding pointed heel – symbol of your submission. You remain on your knees – facing the floor as you hear me leave – slamming the door behind me. You’ve had your reward for the devotion you show me – there’ll be no more today. Or will there? You wait…

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 at communitykink.com. I can be found there on Sunday evenings at 10:00 pm EST hosting my radio show, The Magic Bus.

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