The Making of a Mistress 14 – Temperance

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (14. Temperance), Katia begins her training under Valleri. The Dungeon is explored, Katia goes head to head with her insecurities and Valleri’s whip – and Johnathon may be convinced to play…

“Temperance. A balancing of variables in order to work towards a goal. Of course, in my case, with Valleri, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was working towards. For the first time in my life, I was doing something entirely irrational – even, perhaps irresponsible. My decisions these past few months were based entirely on feeling, rather than anything solid. But how these feelings called to me. How could I do anything but follow?

Mother didn’t approve of my breakup with Calvin, and let me know about it until I was forced to set her ringtone to silent and replace her picture on my phone with one of a six headed dragon. It seemed fitting. But I had to remember, I wasn’t entirely alone in this process. Valleri was guiding me, and even though I didn’t know quite where, it hardly seemed to matter. I trusted her, and my feelings for her, implicitly.

The rules to this new arrangement with Valleri were fairly straightforward. I would still work, and I would pay a portion of my earnings to the household for accommodation and food costs while I resided here. The rest, she told me, I could keep. Outside of work hours, I would perform domestic duties as assigned. I was also to be abstinent from both alcohol, and – oddly – self pleasure. The latter seemed a little unusual, but when one is facing impending homelessness, it pays not to be too choosy.

For the first few days after I moved in, the arrangement was almost too simple. A little cleaning here, Valleri seizing me once or twice for her pleasure there. It seemed like nothing had changed, that it had become better, because at least now, I was where I wanted to be. Of course, I still carried guilt about Calvin’s departure, and this would come to me at night, when I was alone and sober, with no alcohol to dilute the emotions with. But by day, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. A joyful curiosity for my new place under Valleri’s tutelage. An excitement…”


The Making of a Mistress 13 – Death

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (13. Death), Katia “enjoys” Christmas dinner with Valleri and a very distracted Johnathon. Valleri finds new ways to break the ice on an after dinner walk with Katia.

Valleri enfolded me in a long black fur jacket. It smelt of her. I wrapped myself up to the chin in it, surreptitiously sniffing for her as she got herself ready. Then I followed her out into a quiet night. A few inches of snow had settled. The streets were mostly silent. It was about eleven.

We left two pairs of footsteps behind us as we crunched together over virgin snow to the local park, where we’d met on the Solstice. With the slight saltiness of the snow on my tongue, I recalled her own salt-water in my mouth. And just the thought of it lurched my lust to life, despite my prior malaise and nervousness. As I walked with her to the lightning-struck tree, I felt my body prickle against the frisson of her energy and mine mixing. I could almost feel the curious tendrils of her own curiosity penetrating me, skin, sinew and bone.”

The Making of a Mistress 12 – The Hanged Man

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (12. The Hanged Man), wet again at Valleri’s hands – Katia visits Valleri and Johnathon on Christmas Day. Johnathon isn’t impressed with Valleri’s Christmas gift to Katia.

Once again I found myself in Valleri’s shower, this time enjoying a torrent of frigid water from the showerhead. It rained down on my skin like a hail of needles. Valleri wasn’t being deliberately cruel with the temperature. When Johnathon had picked me up from my drunken Christmas adventure in town, I’d been in quite the state. So, on arrival, Valleri had insisted on sobering me up. And while her method was valid, it was also a torment. I squirmed around between Valleri’s strong hands, which pawed and kneaded my skin as if with dough, prior to proofing.

The proof was in my arousal – the raised heartbeat, how I could only look on her with my open mouth and make insensible sounds. She laughed at me, holding me in place as she lathered the fragrant oil around my shoulders. Each stinging drop of ice cold water a trance percussion, building to a frenetic sense of devotion to her. Under the heat of her hands, bubbles formed, sliding over my body – each soft peak, each valley, like white horses, made of lust, inciting me to submission at her hands.

Valleri had expressed her dismay at the state I’d arrived in. Quite unecessary, she’d stated,  it cannot continue. As my face fell, the kindness seeped into her voice again. She commented with approval that I had been a good girl to remember to maintain myself in the other ways. Still dazed, I asked – what other ways? At this, she slid a hand approvingly between my thighs, over the bare skin. I felt the pulse of her blood hot hands against my frozen genitals as if it were moving through my own body. As if we were one. She pulled up then and I rose, to tiptoes, wanting her. Her gaze held mine, allowing nothing, her dark irises crackling with the intensity of control. As I leaned in to kiss her – for I couldn’t help it – she pulled away, taking her hand with her.. A refusal. Perhaps a punishment? I felt instantly ashamed. She sighed then, placing a hand to my cheek, her voice dark and deep like a siren on coastal rocks. Comforting and chastising me.”

The Lovers: A new Fern for my garden of delights… (part 3)

I felt Paulo flinch as I drew the paddle forward, just glancing his bottom. Kicking him to the floor, I paced around to his front pulling his head up by the hair, prying his mouth open with the paddle and bidding him bite on it. From my pocket, I drew the keys to his chastity device.

“But I am merciful, am I not?”


“Oh, for heaven’s sake don’t speak with your mouth full, Paulo.”

Paulo’s teeth loosened their grip on the instrument and it fell to the floor with a dull thud.

“YES Mistress!”

“Good boy. Now… you held up your end of the bargain, and so I shall hold up mine. I suppose you would like the cage off, wouldn’t you? You must be terribly compressed in there – all blue and purple and terribly cold. Poor Paulo.”

Paulo nodded sadly. The boy gave good face. Sometimes I’d wonder to myself if he’d be a better actor than a musician. I jammed my hand between his legs, fondling his sac roughly, his thighs clenching around my wrist, until key met padlock, and released him from his confinement with a soft click.

And speaking of soft… He pulled the cage away and placed a hand around his flaccid contribution tenderly, as one might to a wounded bird. Of course, I laughed at him.

“And so I imagine you have plans for this week? You and Felicity? Maybe make her a nice meal, then lay her down and make love to her like the man you sometimes pretend to be?”

“Oh yes, Mistress.”

“I bet you can almost feel yourself entering her beautiful garden of delights, so warm and soft and tight around you…”

.The poor man had been useless for two months now. Well one might suggest that he had always been useless, but I only meant in the regard of intercourse. Paulo’s eyes had that one hundred mile stare as he nodded, mouth agog in lustful hunger, as if prepared to eat a large banquet – alas he would remain hungry at least a little longer.

“My dear Paulo, would you be so kind as to show Fern in? She’s waiting outside in the hall for you.”

He looked down at his nakedness and saw that he was naked. He reached for the neatfly folded pile of clothes on the counter.

“NOW Paulo. Thank you.”

Paulo scuttled off into the hallway. I waited a few seconds to hear Fern’s greeting followed by his gasp of dismay as she stood to show him her new metal undergarments…

The Making of a Mistress 11 – Justice

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (11. Justice),  Katia returns home to Calvin, who confronts her after her wild night out at Valleri’s…

“And faced with this knowledge, I was caused to question my own intentions. I had known where this potentially might go, and yet had continued. Perhaps in one sense I might excuse myself by saying that this came from nowhere – all those weeks, she taught me art, just art, so I thought that was all there was. But there had been that shower when she had shaved me. That kiss. Those little moments and touches that were anything but innocent. The hints and the little looks.

I couldn’t lie and say I didn’t want it too. That while she sat so close to me while I was drawing, that I didn’t want to lean in and kiss her. But I had left the boundaries for her to define, whilst also waggling myself provocatively over them, and in doing so, I had cheated. No one had made me cheat, I had gone there all by myself. If only I could have been under her skirt for longer, perhaps hid out there for years. But as soon as that episode ended, as soon as I washed myself clean under the shower, as soon as I bade her and her party goodbye in the park, I was bashed headlong into a wave of dissonance about walking back into my previously defined life.

And it was about to get worse.”

The Making of a Mistress 10: The Wheel of Fortune

In the latest “Making of a Mistress” (10. The Wheel of Fortune), Katia and Calvin approach their move to Slough. Valleri mentors Katia in art as their friendship blossoms. And wine is not the only thing Katia imbibes at Valleri’s Solstice party…

I couldn’t imagine a part of her I wouldn’t like. Let me taste all of you, I asked. Suddenly embarrassed at myself. She peeled off her garment and bade me lie down. The floor was hard –  cold, but my desire burned hot enough to negate any discomfort. I did as I was asked, then she crouched above me, enfolding me in a veil of skirts, heavy with the scent of her. She stroked my hair as she crouched above my face, and hungrily I dove forward to find more treasures there, feeling her buck against my face, clinging to her thighs so as not to lose her. This moment.

“All of me?” she gasped, crushing me into her. I gasped under her. Yes, yes – I said. She chuckled, as the tide changed – sweet milk to hot, salty fluid. I opened my mouth wider as she released a golden stream into it, It was salty, warm and yet still smelled of her. I was both disgusted with myself and deeply aroused. All I could do was keep my mouth open, until it stopped. Then she began to dance upon my lips more intensely. She was a wheel of blades, over my previous innocence. Tearing all asunder. I let her macerate against the lips that prior to this had only worked in service to the acceptable. Teeth and tongue, she now commanded, lips and moans she now possessed. I was roiling in lust, delight and hunger – completely her possession. When she came with a roar, she pressed her lips to mine in a kiss that stole my breath. I didn’t need it anyway, if this cost to her body’s pleasure at my own was so easily paid, I’d give it away ten times over.

Poem: “Darkness” by Khattab

Here is a beautiful submission by one of my followers this week:

“Darkness, it runs through me
It’s like walking through a graveyard of submission and dark seas
Darkness, something that we both love and hate
Something called a crazy mysterious path of darkness and light is like watching people mate”

— Khattab

I think embracing one’s “shadow” aspects is important. Out in the light, they are rarely as terrifying as they seemed before. I’m always happy to help hold the torch, as well as the whip, on your personal journeys with me… 🙂
Your Mistress,

The Making of a Mistress 9: The Hermit

In this latest episode of TMOAM, Katia commences her training with Valleri. Soap suds, shaving, and a growing sense of unease. And Katia spies Johnathon in a state of dress “most perculiar”…

Valleri came for me, with a definite stride that made me flinch.

“You’re not a child, Katia. Come on, before you ruin the floor.” She guided me back in the bathroom, pulling off my robe abruptly and fetching the towel. The way she patted my hair, so slow and sensual, delighted me, though at the same time I felt most embarrassed at my nakedness. The chill from the landlight window blew past my body, raising a hilled terrain of goosebumps down my torso, and hardening my breasts as she moved to towel them too. I felt myself stiffen against her touch. A touch I both feared and desired.

“You’re nervous,” she smiled. “Is this your first time with a woman?”

I stammered something like, not exactly. I’d kissed my best friend in the toilets of the local bar when I was eighteen, after all. A byproduct of first-time drinking and loosened inhibitions. It went no further than a wet and rather sloppy kiss and a bit of awkwardness afterwards. I certainly hadn’t sought that sort of thing again. At least until now.

“You’ll tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable,” she said, moving the towel down over my belly and slowly sliding it between my thighs. I felt the cool touch of a finger around the towel as she moved it back and forth, reclaiming the moisture of the bath and calling, in turn, more moisture from within.

The Making of a Mistress 8. Strength

In this chapter of “The Making of a Mistress” Katia and her coworker Joanna discuss a BDSM contract. Johnathon appears mysteriously in the local greasy spoon, and MadDog gifts a timely “oracle”…

I had opened the envelope on the way home from Valleri’s, pulling out the letter inside. It appeared to be some sort of checklist, heavy with the scent of typewriter ink – that dusty old smell that reminded me of the grandfather on my father’s side, who I’d met a few times in early childhood. He spent hours in the upstairs office, hammering out letters to customers, with the vexed heavy-handedness of the perpetually overworked.

It was a list of terms to a BDSM relationship. It listed a number of things, many of which I’d not heard of and some of which I had heard of, that horrified me. Surely she wasn’t planning all of this? But by the looks of it there was consent. Electrical wands? Swallowing semen? Tampon training? Surely this was something every girl knew – and then I read the addendum in brackets – in the ass. Certainly everything I’d ever learnt about tampons was that they were not to be played with and they certainly didn’t go there. What about toxic shock? Good grief.

Alongside each item were three boxes where the reader was to specify their willingness to perform it. Looking at the list, there were quite a few I knew I’d never stoop to. In fact, it was most of the list. Calvin would never approve. Perhaps a little paddling, but even that seemed to be pushing the line. And how would this help me with my art? The further from Valleri’s place I got, the less certain I became of her offer. By the time Calvin answered the door to me and enfolded me in a hug, I was almost certain I’d have to rethink it.”

The Lovers: A new Fern for my garden of delights… (part 2)

A few moments later, Fern was fastened into the silver framed girdle. With a soft click, the latch was fastened around her pale white hips. She shook herself in it,  amused by the tiny tinkle of the lock, her soft breasts heaving above her cinch belt.

“How is it?”

“I’m surprised…  it’s more comfortable than I’d expected. Paulo often complains…”

“Yes, I know. I probably hear more whining from him than I do from the old ceiling fan in the kitchen. Us women, of course, we know how to bear discomfort with grace, don’t we?”

“We do.” She smiled.

We glanced at each other for a few moments. I said nothing. Allowing her mind to spin a little. Of course, she expected me to lead her – everyone does. But sometimes I like to see what my submissive has to say when I step back a little. Of course, she wasn’t my submissive. Not yet. Yet, I had a hunch that that may change. She shrank under my gaze, turning a deeper shade of crimson, making little sounds of unease.

“So… uh. What should we do now?”

“What would you like to do, Fern? I could put on a cup of tea for us.”

“What about Paulo?”

“Paulo can wait. Patience is a virtue he has yet to perfect.”

“I’m… a little hot.” she said. “Could you turn on that fan?”

I mentioned, as I said before, it was in poor shape. All stuff and no substance. Much like Paulo. But perhaps, I mentioned, she might take off her clothes and try sitting on the red velvet chaise in the hallway. There was something so sensual, I informed her, about the feel of velvet against the skin. If she wanted the full effect of the sensuality of my accommodation, she absolutely had to try it.

So she did as she was told. I helped her out of her belt and blouse, “accidentally” running a finger over one of the stiff pills on her chest.

“Not so hot, it would seem.” I remarked. Fern giggled as her blouse fell to the floor. I slid around her, hands on her rib cage, like a pole, to the back fastening of her bra. Why these three simple fastenings confound and fascinate men so much is a mystery to me. Gently I released all three, and her bosoms spilled from the retreating fabric.

“You’ll wait here, my dear. Take a seat on the chaise. I’ll be back shortly.”

I clipped swiftly back down the hallway to the door of my dungeon to find, when I opened it, Paulo sitting like Rodin’s “The Thinker”, chin poised against his fist, seated glumly on the toilet chair.

“AND WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” I roared, scaring him to his feet, “DID I TELL YOU TO SIT?”

“No Mistress!”

“That’s right. I did not. I think you are getting a little too comfortable in here. Perhaps that cage should stay on for another week.”

“No Mistress. Please! I’ll do anything.”

I picked up a paddle from the wall, automatically promting him to drop to his hands and knees before me. Placing a stiletto heel on his trembling back, I crouched and drew the paddle back for a resounding swing.