The Magnificent Marquesa de Sade finished with Her morning workout trimming the rounded hips and firming Her sinewy legs accentuated by Her exquisite calf muscles arched by Her lovely feet inserted in the smooth calfskin 4″ stiletto high heels. She was indeed a leg fetishist’s dream cum true!

It was Monday morning and the phones rang with the yelping desperation of baying dogs panting for a chance to worship their Mesmerizing Mistress. Marquesa’s trained puppies loved to be collared, leashed and trained by her!

The Marquesa was different (well that goes without saying!) She used a paddle instead of a rolled up newspaper. Besides, Her black Mastiff, Helmut, was becoming jealous of these submissive wimps using his dog dish. Dogs can be very territorial about these things. 🙂

The phones rang again and again, Her schedule filling out for the week faster than usual. Slave boy alvin wanted more of the cane, his poor ripened bottom barely healed. Such a pathetic sub, caught in a little schoolboy fantasy. he just loves the wrist action of the swishing cane whistling through the air, then smacking his petulant bottom.

The searing tattooed red lines are a badge of honor he wears proudly. he was very fortunate for the Mistress especially enjoyed this ritualistic recreation since it was so refreshing to eliminate Her basic annoyances with his endless fawning and exaggerated submissiveness!

Then there was baby stephie. he wanted more playtime with Her even if it meant another bare bottom hairbrush over the knee spanking in that silly party dress.

The Marquesa is all things to Her subs though She pays scant attention to their desires or needs. They must simply accept and deal with whatever treatment She feels She wants to dish out. “Accept it or get out!” is the Mistress’ motto.

That last phone call was a “newbie” She had screened before but there was something that made Her uneasy about him. He would have to wait. After all, the name myron brought images of a psycho Momma’s boy to mind. Yes, that puppy would have to wait for another day. Oh, he said he could be devoted and worship Her very shadow. he said he was trained by some of the best Doms on the East Coast. he had no accent though—no hint of the three “Bs”: Brooklyn, Bronx or Boston—hell, he didn’t even know what a dildo was! Very curious. Yes, myron would have to wait for when things got slow………. very slow.

Later in the week The Marquesa was combing Her gloriously long blonde tresses to make Her curls shine, almost luminescent in the shadows of Her room. Upon each stroke of the comb, She could hear the slurping of Her slave boy below rolling his lathered tongue over and over Her succulent painted toes. Tongue baths from a slave’s mouth lathered with soap was so relaxing for Her.

Her pitiful slave’s privates yearned to be free of the leather harness that encased his raging maleness. She yanked the leash tied to the harness to get Her slave’s attention. “More soap, my little slut! your spittle is beginning to get a bit too dry and harsh. Here, drink another glass of dishwater, then the soap will provide the extra lubrication that is so very relaxing.”

The phone on the other room rang so Marquesa listened to see if it was one of Her favorites. It was that wimp myron! he was a persistent bastard begging to be put through his paces. The Marquesa debated as She watched one of Her other slaves whom She had kneeling a few feet away on the kitchen floor. His hands cuffed behind his back, dildo vibrating in a forbidden orifice and showing a very red bottom with welts criss-crossing his butt. This poor puppy had disobeyed The Marquesa by arriving late for his session. Scrubbing the kitchen floor with a toothbrush in his mouth was very demeaning. The no-name slave whimpered with his nose touching the floor scrubbing away with the tiny brush clenched between his teeth. The steady buzzzzz of the dildo droned on making it all but impossible to concentrate as his downcast eyes stared at the erotic shiny leather high heels on his Mistress’ other foot, the one yet to receive a massage by Her other lucky slave.

Picking up the phone, the Marquesa answered a bit perturbed, “myron, why must you pester Me like the gnat you are? you know what I do to gnats, don’t you? I swat them, crush them. Sometimes they scream. Are you a gnat myron? Yell Me dear drone are you? I’ll bet your Mommy never let you date. She wanted you all to herself, right? She probably wiped your ass until you were 21! Do you still want to see Me, My panty boy? How much verbal and physical abuse can you take? I will whip you raw if you dare lie to Me! What is that I hear? Are you wanking off on My voice? Slap that meat harder and enjoy it! When I get you here I will own your privates! I don’t like tardy boys so be here at 10 a.m. sharp or I will use the crop on you! The Marquesa looked down at ‘slave no-name’ and pointed Her leather-encased toes at his throbbing, highly appreciative manhood.

Easing Her toes at the tip of his little head, prodding it as the little mouth oozed precum on to the leather, dirtying Her fine apparel, Marquesa demanded the slave lick the love juice off Her shoes or suffer the consequences. Licking like a panting puppy, ‘slave no-name’ bathed Her toes in a tongue bath, cleaning them in a most reverent manner. The Marquesa’s toes were getting pampered as if She were receiving a $100 pedicure.

By the time 10 a.m. rolled around both slaves had gone leaving a shiny kitchen floor and the wrappers of tampons. The Marquesa always had a strange sense of humor. Her slaves undergo a session but never know how She will make them remember it. Both slaves left walking very gingerly, only to await Her permission for removal of those tampons she wickedly supplied for them.

The phone rang and it was Her “newbie” arriving on time, asking for permission to knock at Her door. She let him sit in his car and wait for another fifteen minutes because this wimp was way too eager. She was in control and he’d better know it.

Finally myron arrived at the door, knocking in spasmodic raps to get Her attention. The Marquesa walked to the door, confident She would have this wimp on his knees, begging, in a few minutes. As the door opened, myron stood not as a trained slave but as a mumbling idiot trying to form simple words and not wet his pants due to nervousness. The Marquesa could see this poor soul was worked up into a lather and that he needed to relax and settle down or the session could be a total waste. he could very well have a massive climax before even crossing the threshold!

“Calm down little boy. Let your pulse rate slow down a bit!” But, try as She might, the Mistress’ sadistic nature could not be contained. It was aroused by the sight and sound of this sniveling prey!

“Come in myron. Is that what your mother calls you? you look like a momma’s boy. Did she dress you this morning? Let Me see. Keep your hands behind your back! I don’t want to have to tell you again, do you hear Me? Are you wearing cotton underwear? Boxers? Silk bikini? Or none at all?” Speaking in a belittling manner The Marquesa reached for the front of his slacks, unbuckled his belt, unzipped his fly and pushed his pants down as if his mother were getting him ready for bed.

“Please Marquesa, please no. Don’t . . . i can explain,” myron whined.

“No? Did I hear you say ‘No’? That, slave, is a word not in your vocabulary! Now say ‘please Mistress’—say it! What in the world have you got on? What are these little pink underthings?” chided the Mistress. She was not going to relent until She got it all out of him.

“I thought, well, if i wore these you might go easy on me since this is my first time.” his little lying eyes could not stand the glare of The Marquesa.

“Do you expect Me to believe that? you must think I am stupid! No, you like to wear little girl’s underpants, don’t you? Look at the lace on your bottom! you get ‘hot’ in these, don’t you?”

She pursued Her query like a 3rd grade teacher, shaking Her index finger in his face. “And you told me you were trained by the best Doms on the East Coast! Liar! you are nothing but a sniveling, crotch sniffing panty waist! What do you have to say for yourself? Answer Me now!”

“Mistress, it is not like that at all. i just thought wearing pick would soften your opinion of me instead of hard leather. i mean no disrespect but i don’t care about panties. i’m sorry i ever put them on, really, please believe me. Don’t get upset with me. Honest, i only want to please You, not me . . . lowly me.” Newbie myron was putting forth a lot of effort to reestablish his credibility with the Magnificent Marquesa. He knelt on one knee, clasping his hands together beseeching Her to forgive him for his indiscretion.

“myron, you know that I know you are lying. your tongue ought to be stretched and whipped raw by My crop! Do you lie like this to your mother? you are good at it. you even had Me convinced for a very brief moment—but—I am willing to give you a little test. Would you like to please Mistress and undergo a simple little test for your Mistress?” With that, The Marquesa grabbed hold of myron’s cheeks, squeezing them so he puckered his mouth like a horse in a bit.

“T-t-test?” myron stuttered, his eyes looking down like a naughty child.

“Yes. Since you are telling me the truth you should pass with flying colors, right?” smirked the Mistress. “Come with Me. Follow Me to the bedroom and stand there next to My dirty clothes hamper. There are several pairs of My panties in there. Take them out and smell them. rub them on your face, that’s it, sniff them, inhale the sweet fragrance of My sex all over them. Remember, you don’t like panties, so this should not phase you in the least.

“See this little cat bell on this leather strap. Put it around the head of your worthless little member down there. Take your pink panties off. See what I am doing here? I am gently wrapping your little manhood in these baby oil-soaked panties. That doesn’t bother you, does it? Select a pair of My panties and open your mouth so I can stuff them in for you to suck on. That doesn’t bother you, does it?”

The Marquesa was doing everything She could to control Her sarcasm. She led the whimpering slave to Her closet with a humiliating pair of perfumed red satin panties pulled over his face. She made him kneel and She slowly closed the closet door. She spoke to him in a whisper as he whimpered in the dark closet through his panty gag.

“myron, do be a dear,” She said, “and don’t play with yourself and be such a naughty boy. Mommy would not like that, now would she? Do you know what the test is myron? No, I bet you don’t. The test is if the panties don’t get you all hot, then you won’t ring your little bell, will you? But, if you were lying to Mistress, then each time that bell rings you are going to get a spank! I will give you twenty minutes by yourself and I will keep count of the little ‘ding-a-lings’! Are you getting hot, myron?”

The silence was deafening, Five minutes passed with not a peep. The Marquesa filed Her ruby red nails with an emory board and then She heard the first little ding, then a second and a third sound from the bell.

“That is three hair brush spanks, myron. I hope you are not playing with yourself in there . . . for your sake.” The Marquesa smiled to Herself and knew it would be only a matter of time.

Ding . . . ding . . . ding-a-ling . . . ding . . . ding . . . !

“myron, you naughty little boy. What are you doing in there? It has been only ten minutes but you are already up to 30 spanks already. I thought you said panties don’t get you excited. Were you lying to Me myron? Those little bell sounds are getting more frequent now and I can hardly keep track. What are you doing? you’re up to 55 now . . . you must be playing with little willie. you are, aren’t you?” All The Marquesa could hear was heavy breathing and moaning from inside Her closet—that, and the constant ding-a-ling of the bell. myron was completely out of control.

The little cat bell chimed out 110 times! by the twenty minute mark. The closet door reverberated with muffled slapping and tapping, much like a dog on his back kicks his paw while scratching his tummy. The bell tinkled its last tinkle as The Marquesa slowly opened the closet door and looked down at the puddle of ego sprawled out naked with one of Her best high heels hammed precariously in his secret little place. The poor little myron had been found out. his lower body still in spasm as a dead give away to his most closely guarded secret: his love of PANTIES!

The Marquesa spoke: “you disgust Me! you lied to Me!!! your ass is Mine and you will not ever forget it. Come in here. Crawl to Me and get across My knee. Do you see this hair brush? you have 125 licks coming and I am in no mood to go easy on you. Do you hear Me? The Marquesa was spitting fire as She yanked the panties from myron’s drooling, disgusting little mouth.

“Please Mistress, i’m sorry i lied but i can’t help it. i was too embarrassed to tell you or anyone,” he sniffled. “Oh please not on the bare, just your hand. i won’t ever lie to you again . . . never, i promise . . . please.” myron pleaded like a recalcitrant child squirming over Her heavenly stern knee trying to cover his little bottom.

“Get your hands away from your bottom myron,” The Mistress demanded. Place them on the chair rungs underneath and keep them there or we start over again. That’s better. Now let’s understand each other. The first 25 licks will be on the same area of your bottom. The next 25 will be above that area and by the time we reach 100, your ass will be roasted. The next 25 licks will sting your tender thighs just under your cheeks and that will make your skin crawl. you will not be able to hold back the tears because I am in control. I could break you with my scolding alone!” As She spoke, The Marquesa tapped the wooden hairbrush lightly against his fleshly elastic bottom as he flinched in anticipation.

Whap! Whap . . . whap . . . whap! The hair brush landed with a steady rhythmic cadence leaving red splotches on the ripened skin of little myron. The same area received smack after smack, causing a puffing of the skin swelling into a throbbing red and white circle tormenting myron to kick and scream for mercy. Twenty five well-placed staccato spanks landed with uncanny accuracy, causing a searing as if tanning leather.

The Marquesa stopped to admire Her precise handiwork as myron sobbed uncontrollably over Her knee. She squeezed the bottom cheek as if She were a shopper at the market in the tomato section, looking for bruises, caressing the ripened fruit. Poor myron’s bottom looked as if 150 shoppers had already been there and squeezed too much.

The Marquesa’s hands clutched the throbbing bottom of Her wannabe slaveboy. She continued to massage Her sissy sub, coaxing him to take deep breaths as She kneaded the plump orbs like fresh dough ready for the oven.

Breathing deeply, myron held on to the chair rungs until his knuckles turned white. his mind wandered from the pain to the pleasure, from near submission to self gratification. The Marquesa could feel myron’s manhood swell between Her thighs as She practiced tapping the brush in a little dance on his butt. She clamped Her thighs, holding his rigid tool in place with a death grip like a praying mantis ready to emasculate poor myron for any vein attempt to leave Her lap without permission. he started to moan partly to end the torture but, more so, to enjoy being under Her spell.

The Marquesa wanted myron to stop his incessant whining. She wanted him to empower Her as if absorbing all his energy into Her leaving him spent. She worked him into a fever pitch, watching him fret, mumbling incoherently at Her feet as his rosebud started to pucker much like a baby in the arms of his mother ready to suckle. he was on the verge of pain breaking through to experience the freedom of pleasure. The Marquesa retained control by inverting the brush and using it as a probe on his butt. myron was breathing heavily as if in a panic, pleading to avoid the raw probe, fearing a thrusting assault like a virgin bride on her wedding night.

“Oh please Mistress, don’t. i beg You. i will obey You. i will never lie to You ever, ever again. Please finish my spanking and let me weep in private,” myron begged.

The Marquesa scoffed and proceeded to pop the hair brush off his bare butt over and over, raising the instrument of pain over Her head and swinging it in long, decisive arcs. Each lick landed with a crescendo, disturbing the tranquility with a rifle shot sound causing myron’s hips to thrust, grinding them into Her thighs seeking a place to hide. The onslaught of the brush continued. myron’s tears sputtered out, his swollen eyes like a leaky hose.

The Marquesa stared down at him with Her emerald eyes. She was haughty and in control. She was a study of cruel beauty. Her blond tresses cascaded down to Her breasts as they heaved to and fro during the lightening strikes of branding his defeated haunches. Marquesa stopped the flagellation, placing Her index finger on his head, turning him away from Her gaze to return to the proper position. myron was deaf to Her commands and the faint echoes of the cracking sobs. A total breakdown of will power: then a man………….. now a little boy!

The Marquesa rested, looking down admiringly at myron’s butt as a butcher looks at his hamburger. She pushed him to the floor and he lay there like a limp dishcloth. his cheeks had a life of their own, a spasmodic throbbing reverie. She took him by the ear and dragged him to the corner where She stood him facing the wall. The Marquesa was not finished, not by a long shot.

Marquesa then rubbed baby oil on myron’s flaming cheeks. She forced his mouth open and jammed a bar of soap inside, rubbing it all over his wagging tongue.

“Suck on this you whiney little wimp. Do it or I will start all over again on your butt!” The Marquesa was annoyed beyond words.

She soaked his pink panties in baby oil and had him step into them. “myron, now I want to know if you really want to be dressed like a little girl or do you want to continue the punishment for lying to Me?” She waited and then spoke, “you want to be a little girl, don’t you? That is why you wore the little pink panties, isn’t it?”

myron started to nod “yes” but then denied it. She pulled him to the sink where She washed his mouth out with soap as She now whispered him, “Liar, Liar……” She proceeded to spank his sissy ass until he finally admitted the truth: he did want to wear little girl’s clothes!!

The Marquesa reached for a strap harness and placed it over his shriveled excuse for manhood, entwining and pulling his cock back between his legs so he no longer showed any bulge. Wearing anklet socks and clunky Mary Jane patent leather shoes was very humiliating for him—and extremely exciting!

The ribbon vest was one thing but the curly blond wig was the ultimate insult to his last vestige of masculinity. The Marquesa taught him to curtsy and named him “myra.”

Bemused Marquesa decided to give the sissy one last chance to redeem himself by confessing all his lies. “Tell Me about your hidden fetish and maybe Mummy won’t use the hairbrush next time, maybe Mummy will only use Her hand for the next 75, My sweet.”.

Myra, now truly submissive to Her whims, crawled over Her lap confessing like a choir boy in church. It is not that he is gay but he likes the frilly girl things, he tells Her, because his mother wanted a girl and his favorite playtime was with the other girls playing dress up. The frilliest are so risque, he must covet them to satisfy his cravings.

“Is that all, Myra? Is that everything?” The Marquesa queried as She rubbed Her hand across the bare bottom.

“No, not really,” Myra answered, “i am still my Mommy’s little darling. Only now it is my wife Eleanor who has taken Mommy’s place. She permits me o call her Mommy when we fantasy play.”

“Does she put you to bed every night?”

“Yes,” Myra admitted, looking down at the floor with his secret shame now out in the open to this all powerful Woman.

“Do you have a beddy bye time, My sweet?” She asked, now very much amused.

“How did You know?” he asked, bothered that Marquesa knew everything!

“Honey, all little girls have bed times, isn’t that so? What else?”

“Well, Friday was bath night and Mommy humiliates me some more . . . ” she answered from her uncomfortable position over her Mistress knee.

“She shaved you—down there—didn’t she?” Marquesa said . . . She had all the answers!

“How do You know all this?” Myra asked in a panic at The Marquesa’s discovery.

Myra’s head was pointing down at the floor when a pair of women’s shoes and ankles came into view.

Sssmmmaaaccckkk! Out of the blue a thunderclap jarred the room as another matronly spank walloped his bottom!

“Because, myron, I told her, that’s why! The Marquesa knows all about your dirty little games. I followed you here and told her everything. Now what do you have to say for yourself?” Eleanor mocked.

“Mommy dearest . . . how did you . . . but I can explain . . . i never meant for you to see me like this!” Myra pleaded to his wife in a complete panic.

The Marquesa got up from Her chair, dropping myron to the floor. She handed Her hairbrush to the Eleanor and turned to the cowering young man on the floor, sissified in his little girl attire. “I am sure you will remember never to lie to Me ever again, My little wannabe! your mommy is very upset with you so consider My spanking just a warm up!” The Marquesa said as She turned to Eleanor, “she is all yours. And don’t let the sorry state of her bottom deter you. Goodnight myron. Come back when you can tell the truth . . . that is, if your mommy lets you,” She said with a laugh.

As the door closed behind little myron and his mommy, The Marquesa could hear the faint smacking of the hairbrush and the howling of Her wannabe sissy slavetoy.