Mistress Dominates submissives: (Femdom, Chastity, Humiliation, Degradation, Sissification)

Barcelona 2019

The sun was bright, beating a path to old town. I followed it, eyes darting between the uneven cobblestone and often hidden street signs. Not that the signs would do me much good, Barcelona was a city of mazes and it was my first day there. Narrow winding streets tangled atop one another in a fight for dominance with no clear victors.

Luckily my GPS system worked. The little red icon called me home like lonely sirens perched topless on beached rocks calling unaware sailors to their death.

I took my time, eyes darting over each storefront as if summing up a line of submissives, posed naked and vulnerable at auction. Dogs yipped and tales of conversations held in Spanish and Catalan floated by. I paid no mind, instead letting my mind clear and my body settle into the full experience of Spain.

After a few blocks, weaving in and out, I checked my phone. Stopping, I looked up to find the fetish shop window, extending high into the sky like a fortresses’ imposing stone wall.

Perusing local fetish gear was high on my list of musts in every new country, along with attending local munches and Femdom parties. Forgetting my ulterior motive for a moment, I let the invisible rope pull me inside where I floated to a rack at the front of the store, teeming with vinyl outfits.

“May I help you?” a sexy young woman with purple hair, dressed in skintight latex approached.

My eyes roamed languidly over her voluptuous form, landing on her massive red lipsticked pout.

“Yes, my name is Mistress Blue and you are?”


“I’m Jacinta,” she held out a hand, and I shook it.

“Nice to meet you Jacinta. Can you tell me your policy regarding in-store D/s play?”

A smile stretched across her delicate features, lighting up her green eyes. “We encourage most forms of play. Especially power exchange and parading outfits on the floor. Unfortunately, we can’t have public nudity or impact play but we do have several large dressing rooms in the back.” she winked, motioning a hand down the center isle.

“Wonderful.”

“Whenever you’d like to bring your partner in, we’re at your service,” she grinned.

An hour later I sat in a cafe, around the corner from the shop. Holding one manicured hand out to the attractive man sitting across from me, I motioned to him with a finger. “Give me your list.”

His bright blue gaze floated up and then back down again, as he focused on a meticulously handwritten piece of paper on the table in front of him. With a slight tremble, he snatched it up and placed it in my outstretched hand.

“Miss Blue?” his voice shook.

Narrowing my eyes, I glanced up.

“May I use the restroom?”

“You may.” I dismissed him with a wave of my hand. He scooted his chair out and stood, a shock of blond hair falling over one eye. “Logan?”

“Yes, Miss?”

“I’d like another tallat.” Only one day in this fair city and I had already learned the correct Catalan word for the coffee I preferred. When in Barcelona…

“Before I use the restroom or after?”

“After is fine.”

“Thank you Miss, I’ll hurry,” he said.

Ignoring him and the other cafe goers who were bustling about, I looked back down at the fetish list he’d provided. It was thorough, and he’d done exactly as I’d asked which was a good sign for a new submissive. Running a red-lacquered fingernail down the list I committed several items to memory. Highest on his list of wants were face sitting, sissification and service. His dislikes were public humiliation, impact play and CBT but these weren’t hard limits. Instead, I duly noted them, for punishment.

Several moments later a fresh, steaming espresso with a splash of milk appeared next to me and Logan slid back into his chair. He sat silently waiting for me to finish like a proper sub.

I took a sip of my tallat. “Your list matches the one I saw online with the addition of places you’d like your limits pushed, is that correct?”

“Yes Miss,” he took a sip of his own espresso, without lifting his gaze.

“Can you elaborate?”

He put his cup down. “I want to experience light humiliation, if it pleases you. It’s something I’ve always wanted to explore publicly, but it’s outside my comfort zone. I know it pleases many Mistresses and my goal is to be a worthy sub.”

“Noted.”

“But Miss… if I may add…”

“Go ahead.”

“I ultimately hope to please you.”

“As it should be.”

He nodded enthusiastically. “And although we’ve only just met, your profile and our numerous online interactions suggest you are adept at knowing what a sub needs, even if he or she may not.”

I looked up, his gaze quickly flitting away. “That’s right Logan. Most subs think they know what they want but it’s merely based on a fantasy they have. And because fantasies are often better than reality, I like to push people beyond their comfort zones, offering new scenarios that reach past their imaginations.”

His shoulders shook in a full body shudder. “I would like that very much Miss.”

“Good.” I removed a piece of paper from my purse and passed it across the table with a pen. “Here’s your contract. It covers the two weeks I’ll be in Barcelona. If I am not pleased with you, I will end it immediately with no reason given. I forbid you to end it early. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Miss.” He eagerly reached for the pen, signing with only a cursory glance at the contract.

I pulled it back across the table and signed below him. “Good. Now you may call me Mistress.”






The next day I entered the fetish store, glancing around to locate Jacinta. Catching her eye, she flitted over quickly.

“Welcome back. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

“I need an outfit,” I raised my eyebrows.

“Of course, and what is your preferred fabric?”

“Leather is my favorite,” I admitted, “but I’m a tourist and vinyl is the lightest to travel with.”

“It is,” her eyes twinkled. “I think you’ll like the rack on the far wall.” She led me over to a rack teeming with sexy Mistress fetish gear. There were corsets and bustiers, tight skirts and even tighter pants. Almost everything one would need for a complete fetish outfit.

“Thank you,” I said, with a slight bob, causing my thick dark locks to bounce.

“When you’re ready, I’ll gather all your items in a dressing room.” Jacinta strolled away.

I pulled out several corsets with buckles and straps. One with a zippered front, and another with a zippered back. I found several formfitting miniskirts and draped those over my arm. Twenty seconds later Jacinta was at my side holding out her arm.

“Will you need boots and stockings? Gloves? A jacket?” She draped my bounty elegantly over a slim forearm.

“I need boots and stockings.” I had my black overcoat, which I loved to wear over a slutty outfit in concealment. It made me appear dressed for a night on the town until I unbuttoned and removed it.

Jacinta pointed to the far wall, littered with sexy boots and high-heeled shoes. “I’ll go put these in the dressing room marked A.”

I nodded, walked over to the wall, and ran a finger along the pointed tips of each boot. I knew it was risky to purchase knee-highs, and fit them in my luggage, but I didn’t care. I’d always been a sucker for both knee and thigh highs. I grabbed two, checking the bottom for size 36. One leather thigh high that I knew I’d never buy, and one knee high vinyl number that sported buckled hardware.

Jacinta came out of the dressing room and fluttered over. “Fantastic choice! I love those. They’re light, and comfortable, and they wear well.” She pointed at the vinyl pair with the buckles. “Will you need a pair of stockings to try them on?”

“I will.” I glanced down at my sundress and sandaled feet. “I’m not hiding a pair in my g-string.” I winked and she reddened, smiling prettily.

Taking the boots from me, Jacinta walked over to the counter, pulling open a drawer. With her other hand she motioned me over.

The drawer was stuffed with dozens of clean, sexy stockings. I pulled out a pair that resembled fishnets with larger holes. “These will do for now.”

She nodded. “Are you ready to try everything on?”

“I am.” She led me to the dressing room where I paused for a moment to gawk at the doors. They were all covered with black faux leather sectioned into silver studded diamonds.

I nodded appreciatively. Jacinta handed me the boots and the stockings, opening the door and ushering me in.

“If you want my opinion, just come out in the outfit, I love to help,” she purred as I closed the door.

She was flirting with me. I stifled a giggle. Jacinta was definitely my type but a little younger than I usually chose. The younger ones, I’d found, are delicious but often too inexperienced.

I shook away the memory of her perfectly pouty lips. This dressing room was larger than most, the far wall lined with four panels of full-length mirrors. Near the black leather paneled door was a black faux fur stool that could easily sit two. Against the right wall sat a long, bare, wooden bench in what looked like reclaimed oak. My outfits were hanging on large industrial looking black iron hooks that lined the left-hand wall.

I tried on each outfit. After each combination, I posed in front of the full-length mirrors running my hands over each curve. When I finally found the one that was the most comfortable, and the most flattering, I sat down on the fur stool to slip on the stockings. They were thigh highs that cinched tight with elastic. I would have to buy a garter belt to complete the look. I tried each pair of boots, starting with the leather ones, prancing around the room in tight circles. Then I slipped them off and tried on the vinyl boots. She was right. They had a zipper up the inside and buckles decorating the outside. They started at the ankle and each one was just a little larger than the last. I needed to spend some quality time in them before leaving the store, just to make sure.

Swinging open the door as though I was on a catwalk, I strutted out, chest held high, cleavage on full display. But Jacinta was nowhere. So much for my entrance. I glanced around, but I was alone in the store. The rack of garter belts called and I responded with genuine enthusiasm.

Lost in thought, trying to decide between lace, leather, or vinyl the tinkle of the door chime barely registered. Vinyl was the obvious choice to stay true to my theme. I held up one garter belt, and then another.

Something brushed my elbow, and I swung around, fist raised, heart racing, before I remembered. He cleared his throat below me and I glanced down to find the top of Logan’s head, kneeling at my feet. On his knees, head tilted downward, hands limp at his sides in a proper slave position. I glanced at my watch, his entrance was perfectly timed.

“Are you ready to serve Logan?”

“Yes Mistress, it would be my utmost pleasure.”




“You may rise.”

“Yes, Mistress.” He rose, dutifully keeping his eyes on the ground in front of him.

“Now hold out your right arm so I can use you as my rack and hang my selection of garter belts on you.”

Without a word, his arm jutted out for the garter belts. I hung them daintily over his wrist, organizing each one to drape primly. “Wait.”

He didn’t twitch a muscle. Like a good little slave. I plucked several more belts from the rack. Burgundy, royal purple, cream and cyan. I’d never wear these, but I wanted to shame him, taking full advantage of his discomfort with and desire for humiliation. Starting simple to warm him up and lower his guard. I placed each one over his arm, lining them up with a 2-inch gap between them. “Keep your arm aloft, to display the belts, and parade around the store until I tell you to stop.”

His face turned maroon, but he did not flinch. “Yes Mistress. Shall I start now?”

The timing was perfect. At that moment the bell jingled, and a couple entered. Logan kept his gaze on the floor at my feet.

The woman was shy, submissive, and giggling. The man was dominant, his eyes darting around the store to land on me where he openly ogled my outfit and athletic body. His predatorial eyes roamed up and then back down as slow as molasses pouring from a tight necked bottle. When his eyes reached my breasts, for the second time, I flipped him off. I did it without thinking, my usual response to dominant assholes who think they can disrespect me. An evil grin spread across his face as though he took my gesture as a challenge.

I turned back to Logan, ignoring the asshole. “Yes Logan, now, but…”

His eyes flashed upward for a second, his arm held aloft draped with the multicolored garters. “Yes, Mistress.” He hadn’t seen the predator.

“You will prance.”

“I’ve never pranced before,” he sounded sheepish, his eyes darting up to my mid section before they darted down to the floor again.

“Do your best.”

“For how long?”

“If you ask me questions like that… It will be for a very long time.”

“Yes Mistress, I apologize Mistress, I will prance now.”

“Go.”

Logan spun around and began prancing through the store, his left arm held high, draped with dangling garter belts. I heard peals of laughter as he pranced by the couple. The woman squealed, her voice betraying an Australian accent, “Brad, look at that, this place is crazy!”

I rolled my eyes and crossed to an oversized red velvet chair. Draping myself across it, I watched Logan with amusement. Jacinta, reappeared, and hurried over. “Your outfit looks amazing! I’m sorry I had a customer call, is there anything else you need?”

“I have everything I need for now and you have new customers.” I jutted my chin toward Brad and his giggling girlfriend. They were at the far end of the store browsing through sexy lingerie for her, I assumed. Knowing men like Brad, he’d be trying on everything they bought for her as soon as he was alone.

“Yes of course, thank you, if there’s anything else you need please don’t hesitate to ask.” She quickly strode toward the couple. And that’s when she noticed Logan, prancing around the store. Her brows drew together, and she walked toward him, but when she glanced at me I held up one hand. She looked back at him, and then at me again. I gave her a small nod. Luckily she understood and helped Brad.

After several laps around the store I stood up, blocking Logan’s path. He halted, a second before smashing into me. “You’ve done well, now go to the dressing room labeled A and hang all but one garter on the wall hook. You will strip naked and stand face first against the mirror holding the garter belt of your choosing up with the tip of your nose. Do not let it fall. Is that understood?”

“Yes Mistress, may I put my arm down now?”

“No pansy, you will prance to the dressing room and you may not put your arm down until you’ve hung the belts on that hook.”

His face turned crimson but he gave a small nod and walked toward the dressing rooms, his arm aloft.

I continued looking around the store to make Logan wait. Several moments later I was lost in a rack full of leather, allowing myself several moments of indulgence. Focused on a particularly sexy bustier, a pungent scent wrapped around my neck.

The tiny hairs of my hairline stood at attention and my body stiffened. “If you touch me, I will punch you in the face. If you don’t think I can, and want to take that chance, I will lay you out on the floor, and then I will tell your girlfriend what you have done.”

The air behind me shifted, but he didn’t leave. “You’re just a feisty bitch that needs an attitude adjustment. You think you can intimidate men. We’re bigger, stronger, and…”

I spun around so fast that I shocked Brad, forcing him to take a step backwards. For a moment he looked like he might topple over. I waited for him to regain his balance, looking down my nose.

When he did, I took one step toward him. We were almost face-to-face in my high-heeled boots. “I’m not afraid of assholes like you Brad. I’ve tamed stronger, bigger, fatter, and much, much smarter men than you. Do not fuck with me.”

While I said these words, dripping them out like water from a slowly leaking faucet, I held his gaze. His eyes were dark and angry. I knew this kind of person well. He wasn’t truly dominant; he wasn’t a sadist because it pleasured others. Brad was nothing more than a bully. He had found an unassuming, naïve girl to enact his sadistic, sociopathic, fantasies on.

“What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

My question caught him off guard and he cocked his head and took a step back. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“Fine, I’ll just call her ‘meat’ then, shall I? That’s all she is to you after all. You don’t give a fuck about her.”

Brad’s jaw flexed, but he said nothing.

“You know I’m right, which is why you’re not bothering to deny it. How long have you known her?”

“A low growl emanated from his throat. “Not your fucking business.”

“Is she even legal?”

I completely knew that taunting him might get me punched in the face. But I wasn’t afraid. I was afraid for her. Not for myself. Brad’s arm shot back, locked and loaded.

I took another step forward, jutting out my chest. Sometimes it’s good to show no fear to a bully, and sometimes it’s a death sentence. I chanced that this time it was the right choice, mostly because we were in public, and Jacinta was rapidly approaching us.

“Sir? You can’t do that in my store, you can’t do that anywhere.”

Brad shook his head and looked at Jacinta, putting his arm down. She may have come to my rescue, but I didn’t need her to. Versed in dirty fighting, he may have been able to land the first punch, but I’d get in the last.

“Everything’s fine here,” I said my eyes still locked on Brad’s. He looked between Jacinta and me.

“I was just kidding around,” turning, he walked away.

“Are you okay?” Jacinta asked, her brows disappearing into her hairline.

“I’m fine, I deal with assholes like him all the time.” I waved my arm in front of my face.

“If you want me to call the police…”

“No need.” I flashed a smile, spun on my heels and marched to the dressing room.

Pushing open the door, a genuine grin spread across my face. Logan stood just as I told him to, naked and silent with his nose holding a sweet white lace garter against the mirrors on the far wall.



I took a long moment to ogle his backside, firm and round, perfect for spanking. The muscles of his back tensed as he used them to hold himself perfectly straight.

“You’re a very good boy Logan!”

His face moved away from the wall for a split second and the garter fell.

“Did I say you could move?”

“No, Mistress.”

“That’s right Logan. I will punish you now.”

He winced, his pained face visible in the mirror. “I understand Mistress. Whatever you think is best to discipline me.”

“First Logan, shut the fuck up.”

Another wince and he nodded mutely.

“Now, curtsy down to pick up the garter and replace it between your nose and the mirror. Do not move until I say so. Nod if you understand.”

He nodded and curtsied, properly.

“Good. Your other punishment is to balance on one leg, still pressing your face against the mirror, until I tell you to stop.”

Without a word he lifted his right leg and sighed.

“No sighing, or you will be punished further. Hold your leg aloft, dangling it above the ground, no cheating.”

Mirrored back, his brows drew together in serious concentration. While he balance, I removed one of the garter belts, and slid my skirt up and over my hips. Logan’s eyes darted to the movement in the mirror. I made sure I was standing where he could see. I made a show of it, dropping the garter on the floor, and bending over slowly to pick it up, giving him an unadulterated view of my perfectly sculpted ass.

The tiny room shook with the force of Logan’s body crashing to the ground.

I stood back up and spun around with my hands on my hips. He was sitting on his butt, looking quite sheepish. “I’m so sorry Mistress.”

“You know what this means Logan, don’t you?”

“More punishment?” There was a lilt of hope in his voice.

“Yes, Logan, more punishment.”

He remained on the floor, looking at his feet but his lip quivered in a pout of expectation.

“More severe punishment,” my voice was even, eyes narrowed.

His naked body racked with shivers. Whether from the cold or tumultuous excitement I did not know. Or care.

Pulling my skirt back down over my hips, I exited the dressing room, sauntering slowly over to a rack of maid outfits. Eyeing the sissiest one I snatched a size large, having assessed his form. I spun around to bring it back to him and then turned back, snatching up a puffy crinoline underskirt.

Reentering, I held them up. “You will put these on.”

His eyes widened as he looked between the outfit and me. I cocked my head. “If you hesitate, it will be worse.”

“Yes Mistress, I understand.” He rose, on wobbly legs and reached for the outfit.

“I will watch you put it on.”

The look on his face was priceless. Pain and shame. He flushed, down to his neck and his body trembled as he removed the maid outfit from the hanger. Delicious.

It was black with a white apron and white ruffle trim along the collar, puffy sleeves and hem. The perfect sissy French Maid outfit, especially with the underskirt.

When he finished, he turned to face me, his knees locked, his head bowed. I moved behind him to re-tie the apron in the back, enhancing the bow and trailing the ribbons down his crinoline puffed out backside.

Spinning him around, my gaze trailed up and down. “Don’t you look like a proper sissy maid slut? But your hair will not do.”

“W…w…w…what should I do with it Mistress? He stammered.

“You will walk outside the dressing room in your sissy outfit, and browse through the hat selection. Try on at least ten different hats, modeling each one in front of a mirror. When you find the proper head coverling, put it on, and walk around the circumference of the store.”

“Mistress please, please don’t make me do that.”

“If you beg, I will give you a feather duster and you will have to dust the main room for an hour.”

He blinked back tears, sniffled and curtsied. “Should I go out there barefoot?”

A thrill of pleasure skipped up my spine. “Yes, and find a pair of shoes to wear, you little whore.”

Logan’s distress was clearly visible and his shoulders sagged as he opened the dressing room door and slid out with me following closely behind, elated at his misery.

When Jacinta saw him she acted like a complete professional, giving him an encouraging smile. Her eyes darted to mine, and I gave her a wink. She grinned, nodded and went back to her business. I draped myself over the velvet chair, widening my legs so my g-string was visible. Every time Logan looked over at me, he lost focus, which made me internally smile.

I gave him a reproachful glance, and he shuffled over to the hat section.

Several customers entered the store and disseminated to look around.

With his back to me, I watched in the mirror as Logan tried on several hats. The first one he put on was a bowler, perfect for a burlesque act but not for his outfit. Still, he kept on task and studied himself in the mirror, posing with it and even curtsying. The next hat he put on was a top hat, also inappropriate, but he patted the flat top twice and ran his fingers along the brim, bowing to me in the looking glass.

A woman giggled, and a man snorted. Logan’s face reddened but other than that he ignored their reactions. I beamed to let him know how much his humiliation delighted me.

He turned back to the hats and concentrated on trying several more. I counted as he did so and was pleased that on his twelfth try he settled on a lace coverlet that matched the trim of his maid’s apron perfectly. He shuffled back over and curtsied.

“That is the perfect little hat for your sissy outfit,” I mocked approvingly. “Now go find a pair of shoes.”

While he perused the shoe section I checked my phone, feigning boredom. Logan glanced over at me nervously and quickly nabbed a pair of mary jane pumps in what looked like a size forty-eight.

One couple was whispering and pointing at him while another man stared, wide eyed with an open mouth. He practically radiated with the color of envy.

I made Logan do several twirls in front of me to snickers from the judging crowd. But when he finished the envious gentleman clapped and others joined in.

Logan was so uncomfortable that his entire body flushed red. I grinned from ear to ear.

Crooking my finger he followed me back to the dressing room.

“Stand in the corner facing me,” I instructed.

He did as he was told. His hands clasped nervously in front of his apron. He wobbled slightly on his heels, obviously challenged.

I tried on several garter belts, raising my skirt and flashing him my ass and black g-string. His eyes widened and his jaw slackened as he watched me. I put on quite a show, slipping each garter belt over my hips and lifting one boot clad heel onto the stool as I fastened the top of each stocking to the clip. My eyes traveled between my job and Logan, who was speechless, exactly as I prefer my subs to be.

When I had decided on one particular garter belt, I removed my stockings and sat on the dressing room stool. “Logan, come here.”

He moved quickly, standing in front of me without making eye contact.

“Drop to your knees and worship my feet.”

He dropped quickly to his knees and jutted his arms out to cradle one foot. He massaged it roughly, and I pulled it away. “Gentle.”

“Sorry Mistress, yes Mistress, please may I try again?”

I lifted my foot again, and he gently clasped my heel. With the lighter strokes, he massaged the soul and the balls of my toes. After ten minutes I pulled my foot away and gave him the next one. He repeated the process. It was luxurious. When he finished, I put the first one back in his hands. “Now with your mouth.”

Logan groaned aloud and dropped his face to my foot. His hanky hat slid to the floor as he greedily sucked on each toe, groaning and pressing his thumb into the arch as he held it. With my other foot, I pushed up his skirt and fondled his cock. It was already hard and dripping. He would have to buy this maid’s outfit, or pay for it to be dry cleaned. I massaged his dick with my toes while he massaged my toes his mouth.



After several long minutes of foot worship I removed the foot he was mouth bathing. Squeezing his cock as hard as I could with both feet, I reached forward and grabbed it with my hands. His bright blue eyes grew large with surprise when I squeezed as hard as I could and sunk my fingernails into his erection. Shrieking with surprise and pain, he jolted but like a good slave, he remained in place.

“Do you like the pain,” I grinned down at him, my eyes narrowing.

“No Mistress, but if you do, then I do.”

“Your cock is of no use to me therefore it should not be hard in my presence, unless I command it. If it gets hard without my permission, I will take care of it. Is that understood?”

“Yes Mistress, of course. My cock is of no use to you and I must be punished for my indiscretion.

Beneath my fingers it sprang back to life. I dug my fingernails into the sensitive skin of his balls. His head snapped up to the ceiling, his eyes screwed shut. “You like that Logan?”

“No! I mean, yes Mistress. It’s what I deserve for angering you.”

I stood up letting his cock drop from my grasp. His head fell back to face me, eyes cast downward.

“Move that bench to the middle of the room, then get on your knees and place your limp, useless cock on the bench.”

Scrambling quickly to do as I requested, he lifted the heavy bench and moved it to center of the wood floor. He dropped to his knees and placed his useless dick on top. His shoulders shook.

A noise like a slap, outside the dressing room caught my attention. “Wait here without moving,” I exited the room, leaving him alone and walked down the bank of dressing rooms until I heard a weeping voice

“Brad please,” his girlfriend sniffled.

“Please what? You little bitch. I said put it on,” Brad growled.

I paused with my hand on the knob.

“But it makes me look like a prostitute,” she whined.

“Am I the one who supports you Madeline?”

“Yes, but I thought…”

“Well, there’s the problem.” Brad sneered. “Number one, you are much more desirable when you don’t think. Number two, you live in my apartment rent free, I buy you all the pretty things you could ever want. I pay for all of your food. So darling, I hate to break it to you, but you are a whore. You’re my whore. If you don’t like it, you can go live on the streets instead.”

Madeline sniffled again, soft sobs breaking my ears.

If I charged in there and made a scene, Brad would probably land a punch this time, and Madeline would be too afraid to leave him. I had to play my cards right and wait.

I moved back to my dressing room and opened the door. Logan was in the same position, his flaccid penis still poised on top of the bench.

Standing next to him I used his shoulder for balance. He bit his lip, chewing on it for a moment and then squeezed his eyes shut.

“Open them and watch,” I commanded

Opening his eyes, Logan’s brows pulled together as he blinked hard. Still using his shoulder for support, I raised one boot clad foot and brought it down on his flaccid cock. Logan flinched, but did not move.

“You may hold on to the bench for support. But do not move your cock.”

He nodded, his fingers wrapping around the edges of the bench. I ground the flat part of my boot down on his member before stepping on the entire shaft and pushing my spiked heel against it as well. He did not pull away; he did not try to stop me.

“Do you know why I’m doing this Logan?”

“Because my cock is useless.”

“Yes, that is certainly part of it. Your cock has only one use, and that use is torture. But you also need a good cock stomping to remind you who’s the boss.”

“You are Mistress, you’re the boss. Now and always. I am but your humble servant.”

“You will make no more mistakes Logan. You will listen and comply to everything without question.” As I rattled off the instructions, I pressed down as hard as I could on his now flattened and useless dick.

“Yes Mistress, I will always do my best to honor and obey.”

I couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across my sadistic face.



I gently touched the top of Logan’s head, he kept it bowed while the rest of his body remained rigid.

“Lay down on the bench face up with your legs straddled on both sides.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Logan stood and did as instructed, lying carefully on his back with one leg on either side of the bench.

“Now you will be rewarded by pleasuring me.”

His lovely blue eyes grew large and his hands shook slightly as he clasped them on his belly. “I would be honored.”

I straddled his body, tightening my thighs, so they clenched both hips. Blinking quickly, his eyelashes fluttered, not sure where to look.

“Watch me,” I instructed.

His eyes flew open, and he pinned them on my skirt as I slowly raised it to reveal the latex g-string panties covering my wet snatch.

I inched forward, his eyes glued to every movement. When I hovered above his face, I stopped. “With one hand you will pull the bottom of the panties aside, and hold them there.”
A trembling hand reached up to comply. His deft fingers slid under the slick material that covered the lips of my pussy. He gasped audibly as he pulled the material to one side, revealing the pink perfection of my glistening labia.

Adept at squatting, I lowered myself onto his face. “You will alternately lick my clit and finger my pussy. Start gently, or you will be punished.”

Logan’s tongue darted out, licking down my wet slit. His other hand danced up my inner thigh. A finger gently swirled around my opening. I took charge of the pressure, raising and lowering myself until I was satisfied. His greedy tongue lapped at my clit, alternating between flat and pointed, light as a feather, all the while swirling a finger in and out of my opening.

I rode his face for at least ten minutes. “I will lower myself further down, and I want you to suck on my clit and sink two fingers deep inside of me. You will fuck my pussy with your fingers and suck hard on my clit.”

Logan groaned, and I arched backwards trailing my fingernails hard down his stomach behind me. Clutching the sides of his hips, I used him as leverage and dropped my body deeper into his mouth.

He clasped on to my swollen clit, his mouth sucking furiously. While still holding the panties aside with one hand he plunged two fingers in and out of my cleft.

I rode him, to completion. Raising and lowering my hips, fucking his face as the orgasm built. Sliding one hand further down his belly, I wrapped it around a fully erect cock. “You will come with me as your reward for being my good little sissy whore. Is that understood?”

He squeaked beneath my weight. I ground my pussy hard against his face back and forth, using his tongue, mouth and fingers as my personal fuck toy. At the same time I pumped his cock, squeezing hard. My entire body arched back, breathing hitched and legs shaking.

Logan ground beneath me and his dick pulsed in my hand. “Do not come until I tell you to.”

He made an affirming sound in his throat. I rode the wave of orgasm, as it shot up from my belly through my spine, sending tingles and waves down both my arms and up through my neck. I moaned as I came and pumped his dick harder. “Now.” I panted as his cock released, spurting hot semen at the same time my orgasm blew out the top of my head.

Letting go of his deflating member, I sat up and kept riding his mouth. He made no sound, other than sucking my swollen clit. The second orgasm raged through my body mere seconds later. I stretched my arms overhead, letting the pleasure run up my core and through the tips of my fingers.

Before I stopped, I rode his mouth for the third one. His tongue moved quickly back and forth against my dripping slit. I rose a little and then ground down hard against his face as the third orgasm rocketed through me. Logan groaned and followed the movement of my rising hips.
When I finished, I stepped off his face. “Do not move yet.”

I changed back into my street clothes; using the wet wipes I always kept in my purse to clean myself up. When I was fully dressed I tossed the packet of wipes on Logan’s sticky stomach. “Clean yourself up, clean up any mess you left in the dressing room, get dressed, gather all the clothing including your maid’s outfit, both pairs of shoes, and meet me at the counter.”

“Yes, Mistress.” His voice shook.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and exited the dressing room. As I pulled the door shut, I heard a soft crying several dressing rooms over. Walking over, I gently knocked.

“I’ll be right out,” Madeline’s voice wavered.

“Are you alone? Can I come in?”

“Yes,” she stuttered.

I pressed open the door. She sat on the floor on a fur-covered stool, her chin on her hands, tears streaming down her face.

“Brad?” I ventured.

“Yes.” She sniffed. “He got mad and left me here.”

“Do you live in Barcelona? Or are you visiting?”

“I live here, with Brad. I’m Australian.”

“Can you go back home?” I reached in my purse and handed her a tissue.

“Thank you.” She took it, and wiped her eyes. “I can’t. I’m on my own. I ran out of money while traveling. I was looking for a job when I met Brad. He offered to let me stay with him, if I kept the house clean.”

Nothing’s free. “Are you happy with your situation there?” I knelt down next to the stool and looked into her eyes. A pool of melted hazel, and smeared mascara met mine.

“No, I feel like a prisoner. I have nowhere to go and no money of my own. I’m like his slave. I clean his house and he buys me nice clothes and keeps a roof over my head.”

I nodded but held my tongue.

“When he’s nice, he’s amazing, but during the past few months it’s been less and less often.”

I rocked forward onto my toes and stood up, looking down at Madeline. “Do you want to stay or go? I will help you, but you have to really want to leave him.”

She set her jaw. “I want to leave.” Looking up at me, her small face shrank behind waves of blond hair and tear stained cheeks.

“You’re sure? There will be no going back.”

She nodded, her eyes growing bigger. “I’ve never had the opportunity before but if you’re offering, then yes please. But how?”

“Who pays for your phone?”

She looked down at her feet. “He does.”

I put out my hand. “We’ll start there then.”

She pulled it out of her bag and without a word handed it over. I threw it on the ground and stomped until I crushed it. She gasped but didn’t stop me, no doubt realizing he was tracking her through the device.

“You can stay with me, no strings attached, until we get you settled. I’ll buy you clothes, help you find a job, get you a new phone and set you up in an apartment. Do you trust me?” I held my hand out again, and she placed hers in mine.

“I do.”

I helped her to her feet, and we exited the dressing room together. Logan was waiting at the counter, holding two shopping bags.

“You bought all the items?” I asked, and he nodded.

“It was my pleasure.”

That was kind of him but we hadn’t discussed it. I’d offer him money later, for my outfit.

“Thank you but it was not required. We’ll discuss it later. For now, you can follow behind Madeline and I as we find some appropriate clothes for her.”

“Thank you Mistress, may I carry all your bags?”

“You may.” I smiled at Jacinta, kept a tight hold of Madeline’s hand and exited the store. We weaved through old town looking for other clothing stores as Logan trailed obediently behind us.


THE END


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