Slave to Mistress Meryl Ch. 01

I ordered a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne to end the meal, and we sealed the pact with a toast to each other and the future. Back in our room that night, we went crazy with each other, laughing, kissing, caressing, fucking, sucking, whipping. We both felt entirely liberated.

Helsinki, when it finally arrived, was wonderful. I had counted down the days. While our apartment was not large, it had a separate dining area, living space and bedroom. I brought with me all the bondage gear that I could put together, and Meryl brought along a couple of new outfits that she had acquired from Northbound Leather in Toronto. One of the first things that we did was a shopping trip. We purchased tickets for all the symphony concerts we could attend, stocked a small wine cellar, and purchased an inventory of porn and bondage videos that would entertain us for the next couple of weeks. We also visited a hardware store and bought half a dozen screw-in metal rings that we strategically located in the walls of the alcove between the living and dining areas, so that I could be accessible to her from all directions as she whipped me.

Helsinki, a very cosmopolitan city, gave Meryl an opportunity to dress the part of the domina the whole time we were there, and while on the surface my attire was quite conservative, I still wore my leather pants most of the time when we were out in the city. My cock ring was a permanent fixture now, whenever I was with Meryl.

Apart from her own leather pants, Meryl took great delight in wearing one or the other of her two new leather outfits when we were out. One was a black leather trouser suit, cut very tight, and the other was a long black leather dress outlined in yellow piping with which she always wore a black leather studded choker. The message was unmistakable, but we were in a place where no one knew us, so we could be whatever we wanted to be.

The apartment provided us with a taste of what having our own place would eventually be like. In the evenings we ate in more than we ate out -- romantic candle-lit dinners, often after an extended impassioned interlude during the afternoon. I was tied up and soundly whipped every single day of the two weeks Meryl was with me.

In the morning, as we left the apartment, me to teach, Meryl to explore the city, we would carefully leave the apartment as a set piece for our return. The leather cuffs would be hanging from the arch, as would one of Meryl's new leather dresses. The whips and leather gear were carefully arranged on the bed, the training hood on the pillow, ball gag, slave collar and harness below it, one of Meryl's leather corsets next to the harness and with whips and other toys spread around in some sort of pattern -- in hindsight all quite ritualistic. We both already knew that we wanted to surround ourselves with leather as much as we could in our every-day existence, We were now able to indulge ourselves in creating our own small fetish domain, if only for a short while, but it gave us a taste for things to come.

A couple of months later, Meryl had to attend a conference in France, and I managed to make my excuses so that I could accompany her for a week. We were at the conference for two days, but the rest of the time we spent in the countryside. This time, Meryl's outside attire was conservative country -- well tailored tweed suits and elegant gingham dresses. I was starting to realize that she was something of a chameleon. She fitted in perfectly wherever she was.

Most of the time, we stayed in delightful old chateaux with rooms that gave us ample scope to play out our fantasies. Several of them had wooden beams from which I could be suspended. However, on this trip we discovered another way to enjoy our bondage pleasures, one that I had already experienced with Mary Jo. In the countryside we kept coming across abandoned farm buildings, perfect places for a bondage scene. In and around these buildings, at least those located away from any main roads, there were many opportunities for great bondage positions.

As we played in these sites, a ruined farmhouse or outside an isolated building, Meryl discovered that atmosphere was very important for her. She commented to me that she felt very different in these locations than when we were in hotel rooms. If possible, she was even more 'into it' in these places than ever before. Certainly, the backdrop made the sex and the bondage even more realistic.

Some of our sessions in these locations lasted four or five hours. Meryl delighted in restraining me and then taking her own sweet time to play with me. Sometimes, after she secured me to a beam or a wall, she would just stand back and look at me for fifteen or twenty minutes, as if savouring just what she was going to do with me this time. All the time, from behind my hood, I would watch those grey-blue eyes looking into me, and wonder what was going through the

mind behind them.

We both began to imagine what our experiences would be like in a real dungeon. Meryl particularly wanted to see me stretched out on a rack or a leather bench, or spread-eagled on a St. Andrew's cross where she could torture me to her heart's content. We started to talk seriously about what the design of a dungeon in our future house might look like.

There were so many ways to restrain me in these locations, and Meryl proved very imaginative. So, in my luggage back to Toronto we carried some wild photographs of the two of us in the midst of ruin and decay. For the next few months, whenever I was alone, these photographs became my reminder of just how good life could be.

A month after we returned from sabbatical, I made my own personal move into a small apartment quite near the university. This was more a location of convenience than a place to live since Meryl had moved into her own rented house set on a large lot at the end of a quiet street. By this time, Dick had fallen into a mood of sullen resignation with her, so that she was quite confident that so long as we weren't seen together in the city, we could enjoy a relatively continuous relationship. In fact, during the six months that I had the apartment, I don't think that I slept there more than one night a week, and only then when my boys came to visit.

Among many memorable afternoons and evenings, one event stands etched in my mind during that period. Meryl had wanted to take us both to her family's cottage property, an isolated piece of land about two hours drive from town. We arrived there late one warm September morning, and spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening by the lake. There was no chance of us being seen, so we brought along our leather gear, and spent our time fully dressed in our leather outfits.

After a long, slow bout of lovemaking on the rug we had laid out for ourselves, Meryl positioned me under a tall oak tree where she could attach my leather cuffs to the low thick bough that stretched over my head. Then she proceeded to reach in her bag that accompanied us, and bring out leather thongs and stakes that she pushed into the ground and tethered my ankles to them. Then she laid back and admired her handiwork. For the next hour or two she kept me there, sometimes blindfold in my leather training hood, sometimes with heavy clamps hanging from my tormented nipples, sometimes with my mouth stuffed with a ball gag.

From time to time she gave me one or two severe slaps across the face. Occasionally, she stood in front of me, and alternated whipping with kissing and slow masturbation or fellation of my cock, so that I was constantly, achingly erect. Then she took her black vibrator and played with herself, laying back, looking at me, until she came to a shuddering orgasm. She was obviously aroused, very excited.

She stood up and moved close to me, kissing me through my hood, and then put her lips close to my ear. "Are you my total and complete slave?"

I nodded.

"Would you like me to whip you again?"

I nodded again.

"Say please, beg me."

"Please mistress, whip me, hard, please. Whip me very hard"

From behind my hood I could see as she stood back and picked up the braided whip in one hand and then the cat o' nine tails in the other. She looked hard at me. Then put the braided whip down and picked up my blindfold. After that I could only sense her moving round me as I started counting the lashes. The first count of twenty-five was reached quite slowly. She seemed to be picking her spots. However, the pace of her blows suddenly accelerated, and I suddenly felt a continuing series of sharp, steady lashes coming from directions that I could not anticipate. My chest began to burn as my count passed one hundred. By the time I reached a hundred and fifty, the blows were increasing in intensity and rapidity. The pain was intense. I felt sure that there would be some pretty severe marks after this. However, it felt so good, I was not ready to stop yet.

As she whipped me, Meryl spoke to me. She reminded me that I was now completely her property. That I was her total slave. That she could do whatever she wanted to me. That she was going to make the rest of my life a complete blend of sexual arousal and pain. Lots of pain. Not just physical pain, but mental as well. Denial. The unbearable pain of watching her with her lovers, maybe black ones. Black ones with huge cocks. Would she become addicted to them? How many would she have at one time?

My count rapidly passed two hundred with no sign of respite. My chest, my back, my thighs were being peppered with firm stinging lashes. I sensed that what Meryl was telling me was getting her very aroused again.

At two hundred and forty, the force in each lash suddenly went even higher, to a level that I had never experienced from Meryl before, and perhaps only twice before with Mary Jo. For the next two or three minutes, lashes rained down on me from all sides in a continuing bombardment. I reached two hundred and ninety. My chest was on fire. Then there was one final slash, and she draped herself round me, frantically tearing off my blindfold.

"Are you alright? I don't know what happened," she panted as she feverishly tore down my hands from the cuffs. "That was scary. About halfway through I completely lost it. It was as though I was in some kind of a trance. All I wanted to do was hit you harder the next time. Are you sure that you are alright?"

By now, we were back on the rug, and I laid her back beneath me, and slid my fiercely erect cock between her creamy cunt lips.

"Am I alright? Am I alright?" I panted, "That was unbelievable. Amazing. Did you really lose control? That's all part of the game isn't it? An anonymous leather clad body totally at you mercy, to do with what you want. To create as much pain as you like? Did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh yes! It was incredible, but I don't want to really hurt you. And you are so marked up. You'll have some heavy bruising in a couple of days time. I love you. I know you enjoy this, but I still don't know what our limits are."

I looked at her seriously from behind the mask. "You set the limits. I'll let you know when I can't take any more. We weren't there this time. Don't hold back because you think that you might be hurting me. That's the whole idea isn't it? You are in total control. Don't let me tell you what you should do. I want to know how far you want to go."

By now we had shifted positions. I was on my back, my head on the cushions that we had brought with us, with Meryl laid back on top of me, her head alongside mine, with the vibrator pressed close to her pussy lips as I fucked her from behind. She was close to orgasm.

"Oh Yessss," she gasped, "Oh yessss, that feels so good. I enjoyed myself like never before. I almost had an orgasm as I was whipping you, do you know that. If I had had a cock in me, I'd have cum all over the place, just like I'm about to do right now.......Ooohhhhhhhh."

Afterwards, as the sun set behind us, we lay together under a second rug, and looked at the darkening skies together.

"I think that I'm beginning to understand us better," Meryl said as she took a slow drag on one of the cigarettes that she infrequently allowed herself when we were together. Dick would not allow a cigarette in their house. But she knew that I loved to watch her smoke, something she had only started to do since we met. "The pain isn't just a supplement to the pleasure. It is the pleasure all by itself. I hadn't realized quite that before today."

She rolled over on top of me and looked me in the eyes. "With us it's not so much torment, as torture, right Rod? I'm learning how much I enjoy torturing you, which is quite different from merely giving you a good whipping as we make love. I'd never have thought that anyone could get real pleasure from torturing someone, let alone me, but I know that you love it so much, I just want to see what new extremes I can invent each time we're playing. This is about torture isn't it, not just pleasure and pain?"

"It's whatever we want it to be," I replied, "I have to admit that I've always seen you as someone who is capable of the greatest love and faithfulness. But almost from when I first knew you, I could sense that there was an incredible capacity inside you for being truly dominant. I can see it in your face, particularly when you smile.

I think that you are just starting to find out what that means and how pleasurable it can be. I suspect that we are both going to discover a lot more about ourselves yet. You are going to be capable of inflicting much greater cruelty on me than maybe we both think now, and I have a feeling that I'm going to be begging for it. I've always told you that as well as writing the greatest pornographic novel, I want to experience the ultimate erotic submission, whatever that might be. If that's torture, then so be it."

"You know, Rod, I love you so much I'll do whatever makes you truly happy. If you really want to know what it's like to be truly submissive, then I love you enough to make it real for you. And you love me enough to allow me to whatever I want to cause you pain. Anything? Anything at all?"

I nodded in agreement, looking deep into her eyes.

She paused, thoughtfully, "So what if I took this cigarette and stubbed it out on your chest? Would you like me to do that? How about if I use you as my ashtray whenever I have a cigarette in future." Meryl had been reading about smoking fetishes recently and she had been intrigued.......and excited. Using your future husband as your ashtray, now that was wild!

"Whatever you want Mistress," her submissive lover replied, "You make the rules."

So, looking down into my eyes, Meryl slowly and firmly ground the lighted end of her cigarette into my chest, just above my right nipple. I flinched as the sharp burning sensation bit into my flesh, but she knew everything was fine as I reached up and drew her towards me in a deep kiss, as the ecstasy of the act ran through my brain and body.

That day changed and deepened our relationship in several subtle ways. The first of our contracts was established as we drove home incorporating two initial agreements. First, from now on there would be no sex for me without some accompanying pain. Second, there were to be no limits on what Meryl could do to cause Rod pain, none at all.

Afterwards, Meryl was much more aggressive when she punished me, and indeed started to turn our sessions more into extended periods of torture for me, for example, she started to leave me in bondage for longer periods of time, often with the metal clamps cruelly biting into my nipples. During these times, she might read a book from our growing collection of erotica, watch a porn movie, or even leave me alone with my thoughts for a while.

In addition, along with the physical pain, she started to introduce some subtle mental games into our relationship. She used me as her only ashtray, flicking the ash off her cigarettes onto my tongue, and the scars on my chest grew more numerous.

Then, not long after our day at the cottage, she made me go for a week without being able to fuck her. Instead I was forced to eat her whenever she asked, and bring her to orgasm with my tongue and a vibrator. At the end of the week, seeing how desperate I was to bury my cock in her cunt, she teasingly suggested that maybe we should add on another week to my 'punishment'.

However, she was so horny herself, she relented very quickly on that threat, although I should have realized then that it would not be that difficult for her to give up my cock if a better alternative were available. Little did I know then how things would unfold over the next few years!

Meryl had discovered that she had a great capacity for expressing her love for me through cruelty. She knew that more than anything else I wanted to be submissive. That I loved being tortured. Perhaps because we were so much on the same wavelength, nothing we tried was too much for either of us. More than me, she read copiously on bondage, submission and torture, and she was always taking our play one step further. But we really needed a place where we could let our imaginations run riot.

We both agreed that we would only move in together when my separation agreement was firmly established, and when we could purchase our own place, so on weekends throughout the fall of that first year, we headed out of town to search for the perfect domain. It wasn't easy to find it since we had established some very demanding criteria. We would be spending a lot of time at the house as apart from my teaching, I had always worked from home, and Meryl had only a small office at the university, so we would be at home together most of the time, apart from when we were traveling.

We knew that we were looking for a property with at least fifty acres, within half-an-hour of work. We wanted seclusion, lots of trees among which we could wander unobserved. We also wanted some water to look out over. The house itself had to have three basic spaces, a wing that could house our children when they visited and other guests who came to visit, a central living area, and a wing in which we could create our own private space. We were firmly agreed that no one but us would ever be allowed into the inner sanctum in this area. Finally, we wanted outbuildings, for example a barn, in which we could indulge some of our heathen pleasures from time to time.

No matter how hard we tried, we could not find the perfect spot. If the house was right, the land was too small or exposed. When the land was right, something else was wrong with the house. However, finally on one glorious warm, bright sunny day, we drove down a winding driveway, through the maples, and gazed upon a delightful century-old stone farmhouse, complete with outbuildings at the rear, and as we would discover a few minutes later, a big old barn a few hundred yards from the house. If there was no lake, that just meant that we could be sure that there would never be anyone to intrude on our privacy.

Inside, the house was a disaster. We realized that we would have to gut it completely, but in a way that meant that we could recreate the place to our own taste. It was also clear that there was not enough room inside the house as it was presently constituted to have truly private spaces for us and our guests. The ground floor was roomy, with a center hall and staircase. However, the basement was quite wet and damp, it would take a lot of work to make into an acceptable dungeon. The second floor contained one really large bedroom and several smaller ones. We liked the high ceilings and the fireplaces in almost every room. But the real treat lay at the end of the large bedroom. We found a narrow door opening on to a second staircase which led to an unfinished loft that ran the length of the house.