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The Sacred Feminine

The Sacred Feminine
Obedience Training
Getting Acquainted
Tested and Rewarded
Moving Day
Good Grooming
Learning To Serve
Training Continues
When The Bell Rings
The Evaluation
The Great Escape
Punishment

The Stories of Yvonne Sinclair

Alice And Anna
On The Beach
The Bisley Boy
Silk Stockings On A Ladder
A Merry Ferry Christmas
Stella and Fanny

The Dominafuhrer

The New Recruit

The Story Of T

Arrival At The Institute

Julia

An Introduction

VO Stories

Jenny
Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss
Programme

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict

Stories

65
A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
Charles
George
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Kim
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
Penitence
Plimsolls
Robin's Electrical Torture
Shoeshine Boy
Slave To The Cane
The Basement
The Colony
The Escape Artist
The Huntress Caning
The Language School
The Worm's View
Webb Encounters
Z

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1

Norseland

The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood

EXIT

EXIT THIS SITE

THE SACRED FEMININE

Chapter 5 - Moving Day

"Good morning, my puppy." Mistress Stella reached into the cage and patted me on the head. "I see you slept quite soundly. You must have been tired after your get-acquainted session with all my lady friends." She smiled and chuckled to herself.

"Good morning, Mistress," I replied sleepily.

She opened the door of the cage and passed the free end of my leash—which was still attached to my collar— through it. "Now, puppy, since I don’t want you peeing on the floor, it’s time for you to go do your duty in the yard." As she said this, she unsnapped the leash from my collar and opened the door to the yard. "Out you go!"

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I crawled out the door. I crawled down the steps and onto the soft grass of the lawn. As I headed toward the line of trees at the back, I thought this humiliation must be a trial to see whether I would be obedient, or a test to learn whether I would again be rebellious and try to leave. I thought about doing exactly that, but how could I? I was completely naked except for the collar and the ankle and wrist straps. I was confused and a little frightened. What the hell is going on here? How did I get into this? I had no answers. I must do as I am told, I thought. I have no choice. I crawled to one of the flowerbeds, lifted my leg and peed. I knew that was not all I needed to do, so I crawled a few feet farther, spread my knees and deposited a load. My god, this was humiliating! I didn’t even have anything to wipe my ass with. I crawled to a soft, grassy spot on the lawn and dragged my butt against the grass, wiping it as well as I could. Finished with my ‘duty’, I crawled up the steps and knocked—perhaps I should say scratched—on the door. Then I sat back, puppy fashion, and waited.

Almost immediately, Mistress Stella opened the door. "Good puppy," she said cheerfully. "Come in. I’m sure you are hungry, and I have your food for you." As I crawled in the door, she walked to the counter and picked up two bowls. She carried them to a spot near the cage and set them on the floor. "There you are, Puppy…enjoy."

I sat back on my heels and asked, "Mistress, may I ask a question?"

"Is it about your food?" she inquired.

"No, Mistress, it is about…"

She interrupted me, saying, "If it’s not about your food, then I have a question. Are you hungry, Puppy?"

"Yes, Mistress, but…"

"Then you have a choice to make. Either forgo you food and ask your question, or eat now and ask your question later," she warned me sternly.

I thought about this only for a moment. "Yes, Mistress," I replied, dejectedly. I crawled to the bowls and looked to see what they contained. One was filled with water. The other had ground meat mixed with some vegetables. I was pleased to see that, at least, the meat was cooked. I’m not sure I could have handled eating raw meat. Knowing better than to pick up the bowls, I bent down and began to eat from them doggie-fashion.

When I had finished, Mistress patted me on the head and said, "Good puppy. Now, you are again slave Arch. Stand up. I have a chore for you, then you are going to get cleaned up and we are going to take a trip."

"Yes, Mistress." I stood. "What is the chore, Mistress?"

"Go outside and clean up after my puppy. In the garden shed you’ll find a poop-scooper and a trashcan with a plastic liner. I’m sure you can figure out what to do."

"Yes, Mistress. And may I ask where we are going?"

"My my, Arch, you’re just full of questions today, aren’t you? You’ll get your answers in due time. Now, get about you chore," she replied emphatically.

"But Mistress, I didn’t even get to ask my other question," I said.

Mistress took her strap off the hook beside the door and said, menacingly, "Arch!"

"Yes, Mistress," I said as I hurried out the door.

After I had removed my own poop from the yard, I returned to the kitchen. Mistress smiled at me and said, "Good boy. Now, get to the bathroom, shower and shave. Be sure you do a good job. You have grass stains on your ass. Be quick about it. When you’re ready to go, come to me in the parlor."

"Yes, Mistress. But what shall I wear?"

"Another question, Arch? You’ll wear just what you’re wearing now. Your collar and your wrist and ankle straps."

"Yes, Mistress. Should I wear anything else, Mistress?"

"Damn it, Arch! Do I have to use the strap on your grass-stained ass? Do as you’re told, and do it NOW!"

"Yes, Mistress." I headed for the bathroom immediately.

As I left the room, she called after me, "Oh, and Arch, shave MY balls, but don’t shave off your moustache. I love the way it feels on my pussy!"

"Yes, Mistress," I called back. I heard her laugh.

I had no idea where Mistress Stella was planning to take me. Wherever it was, I was sure I would be paraded in all my nakedness before other people, and even the thought humiliated me. Even so, I felt I wanted to please Mistress. I was surprised at myself for feeling that way, but obeying her was becoming a habit, and along with it came the desire to please. I removed my wrist and ankle straps and stepped into a hot shower. I couldn’t remove the collar, because it was still locked around my neck with the little padlock, but I washed under it as thoroughly as possible. I made sure my ass was particularly clean. After I finished shaving my face, a took the safety razor and began shaving my balls. It was extremely awkward. I was afraid I would cut myself, if I covered them with lather like I had done my face, so I wet them with a little water and began to shave…carefully. I pulled them this way and that, shaving with small strokes of the blade. I did nick myself slightly a couple times, but no serious bleeding occurred. Finally, after ten or fifteen minutes, I decided I had shaved them as well as possible. I put the razor away, mopped up a couple small spots with a bit of toilet tissue where a little blood was oozing, and put my wrist and ankle straps on again. I headed for the parlor, wondering what was going to happen next.

What ever I imagined, I was completely unprepared for what I found…and for what happened next. With the exception of Mistress Luna, all the mistresses I had met the day before were there. In the middle of the room sat a wheel chair, and Mistress Stella was standing beside it. I stopped abruptly; then, not knowing want to do, I smiled and said, “Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, slave,” they said in unison, smiling back at me.

Then Mistress Stella said…ordered, actually, “Come over here and stand in front of this chair, Arch.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I responded as I did as I was told.

As soon as I was standing in front of the wheel chair, Mistress Stella produced a wide, black leather belt which she fastened snuggly around my waist. Then she shackled my wrist straps to a ‘D’ ring at the front of the belt. “Sit down,” she ordered.

“Yes, Mistress,” I responded, puzzled.

Immediately, Mistress fastened a seat belt across my lap and my wrists, strapping me firmly to the chair. At that point the other ladies quickly gathered round. One of them ordered, “Open your mouth, slave.” When I complied, a soft rubber mouthpiece—similar to one used by an athlete for protection of his teeth—was inserted and my lower jaw was pushed upward. Then someone began wrapping gauze under my chin and over the top of my head. As soon as my jaw was bound shut so that my teeth gripped the mouthpiece tightly, gauze was wrapped around my head until it was completely covered, leaving only a small opening for me to breathe and another for me to see through. Finally, my feet were shackled to the foot supports of the wheel chair and I was covered from neck to foot by a light blanket or shroud. I was completely helpless. I was dumbfounded, wondering what was now going to happen to me. There was no use to panic. I had to resign my self to my fate.

As soon as the ladies were satisfied that I was completely covered, and that I looked like some sort of horribly wounded patient, Mistress Stella said, “Shall we go, ladies?” They wheeled me out of the room, down a corridor, and out the front door. Parked in front of the building was a large van with a wheel chair lift. I was promptly lifted into the back of the van and the doors were closed. I noted that there were a number of suitcases in the rear of the van with me. The ladies all took seats and we pulled away down the street.

We drove for about a half hour into very rural countryside. We turned off the main road and proceeded down a lane through a densely wooded area. We emerged onto what appeared to be a small airstrip and pulled up next to sleek, twin-engine jet aircraft—one commonly used as a corporate plane—with no markings except the now familiar gold pentacle and circle logo on the tail. There was a small building that must have been the administration building of the airport, a fuel pump, and a small number of other airplanes parked about. There appeared to be no more than three or four people around the building. They paid very little attention to the activity around the van as the mistresses loaded their ‘patient’ into the plane. The mistresses were very business-like as they transferred me and their baggage aboard. The scene must have looked simply as a routine medical transfer taking place. When my wheel chair was locked in a vacant space in the cabin and the ladies were all seated with seat belts fastened, the engines were started and we taxied directly to the end of the runway. We were quickly airborne.

As soon as we had climbed to cruising altitude and leveled off, Charlie appeared. It quickly became apparent that he was acting as the flight attendant, although he was not dressed like any flight attendant I had ever seen before. He had on black leather leggings, soft black leather boots with floppy tops, and a black leather thong. Thus, from the waist down he was entirely covered except for his buttocks. Above the waist he was wearing only a black leather halter, which consisted of suspender-like straps attached, front and back, to the belt supporting his leggings and joined together by cross straps half way between his belt line and his shoulders. He proceeded to take orders for drinks from the mistresses.

After Charlie served their refreshments, the mistresses chatted amicably. It was obvious they had settled in for a flight of some significant duration. I remained immobilized in the wheel chair. Some fifteen or twenty minutes later, when she had finished her coffee—or whatever it was she was drinking—Mistress Stella looked at me and said, “Well, shall we attend to our ‘patient’?” Hearing mumbled agreement from the others, she left her seat and approached me. “Are you comfortable, Arch?,” she asked in a pleasant but slightly sarcastic tone.

With my mouth bound tightly shut I could not respond verbally, so I shook my head emphatically from side to side.

“Well then, we’ll have to do something about that,” Stella said. She removed the shroud covering me and folded it neatly. Then, she produced a bandage scissor and began cutting away the gauze covering my head. It was a great relief when she severed the binding holding my mouth closed and removed the rubber mouthpiece.

I immediately breathed a sigh of relief and flexed my lower jaw two or three times. Then I looked at Stella and asked, “Where are we going, Mistress?”

“You don’t have permission to ask questions, slave!,” Stella barked. “You’ll find out when we get there…and before we do you’ll receive two strokes of my strap for asking a question without permission.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied, looking down at my hands, which were still shackled to my belt and held in my lap by the seat belt.

“Are you thirsty, Arch? Would you like a drink? How about some orange juice?” Stella asked.

“Oh yes, Mistress. I would appreciate that.”

“Charlie,” she called. “Bring me a cup of orange juice for this miserable slave here.”

In sort order Charlie appeared with the orange juice and handed the cup to Mistress Stella. She held it to my lips and I drank it eagerly. When the cup was empty, I smiled at her and said, “Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’re welcome, Arch. Now, how would you like to have me give you a tour of our lovely airplane?”

“I would like that very much, Mistress,” I said, more eager to be released from the wheel chair than any thing else.

Stella knelt down and unshackled my ankles, then she released the seat belt. She did not, however, unshackle my wrists from the belt around my waist. “All right, stand up, Arch, and follow me,” she said pleasantly. She lead me forward toward the flight deck and opened a door on the left. Inside was a very attractive lavatory—much larger and much more attractive than any I had ever seen on a commercial airliner. Across the isle was an equally attractive galley. Charlie was there, seated on a small but comfortable-looking seat. The galley was well equipped, with a small refrigerator, a single burner cook top, a small sink, and a coffee maker. “You see! All the comforts of home,” she commented. The door to the flight deck was just forward of this, but it was closed and Mistress Stella made no move to open it.

Next, she lead me back into the seating area from which we had come. “Isn’t this lovely, Arch? Have you ever seen an airplane with seats this comfortable?” I agreed that it was the most comfortable I had ever seen. Then she lead me through a doorway into a compartment with couches on either side and a table in the middle. “You see, Arch, we can sit here and have Charlie serve us a nice meal, if we so desire—then we can lower the table into the floor and make the couches up into beds when we are on a really long flight. What do you think of that?” Stella said, more by the way of a comment than a question.

“This is truly a lovely airplane,” I replied. “I’m sure I have never seen anything nicer.”

I thought that was the full extent of the tour, but Mistress Stella beckoned for me to follow her further back to a small door at the rear of the cabin. She opened it and said, “Step in here, Arch.”

As soon as I had stepped through the door, Mistress Stella followed, closing the door behind her. Then she turned on the light. I saw the most unusual cabin I could imagine aboard an airplane. The light shone down only in the center, leaving the periphery in darkness. It illuminated a padded, red-leather-covered bench with a small padded platform at the end nearest the door. In the end of the bench, just above the platform, was a hole about five inches in diameter. It took very little imagination to reveal that, if one were to kneel on the platform and lie forward on the bench, his cock and balls would be positioned directly in the hole. Mistress Stella was watching my face closely and smiling wickedly.

Somewhat dumbfounded, I asked a stupid question. “What is this for, Mistress?”

“My gracious, Arch! Another question without permission.” She sighed. “Now we’re up to four strokes of the strap. Any more questions?”

“No, Mistress.”

With that, she unclipped my wrists from my belt, and, leaving them attached together, said quietly, “Kneel at the spanking bench, Arch. Lie forward with your arms extended above your head.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I said in a whisper. I positioned myself as instructed, closed my eyes, and awaited the inevitable.

The inevitable was not long in coming. “Remember, count the strokes and thank me for each one, Arch. You must express appreciation for instructive punishment.” Without awaiting a reply from me, Mistress delivered the first stroke…THWAAAACK.

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…ONE…Thank you, Mistress.”

THWAAAAACK

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…TWO…thank you, Mistress.”

THWAAAAACK

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH…THREE…thank you, Mistress.

And, finally, the hardest yet…THWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCKK

“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH…FOUR…thank you, Mistress.”

“Good boy!,” Mistress said. Then she opened the door and ordered, “Get up and follow me.” She led me back to the main cabin, shackled my wrists to my belt again, and ordered me to sit down in one of the plush leather seats. When I was seated she strapped me in with the seat belt, just as I had been strapped in the wheel chair. The coolness of the seat felt good on my stinging ass.

The flight continued uneventfully. The ladies chatted quietly and Charlie served them additional refreshments. I was now quite comfortable in the soft, padded seat, and I soon fell asleep. I don’t know how long I slept. I was awakened by a disembodied female voice—I thought I recognized it, but I wasn’t sure—saying, “Fasten your seat belts, please. We are making our final approach. We will be landing in ten minutes.” Ten minutes later I felt us touch down. All I could see out the window was asphalt, a few buildings, and what appeared to be palm trees. I had no idea where we were. As we taxied toward the buildings I saw a few small planes and one that appeared to be identical to the one we were in. The building we were approaching had the appearance of a small airport terminal. On its front I saw the familiar pentacle and circle logo, and flying above it was a flag with the same device. It was, obviously, quite warm outside, as indicated by the numerous people I could see who were all dressed in tropical clothing. All the men were bare-chested, and wearing shorts. I thought a couple of them appeared to be wearing only thongs, but I wasn’t sure. We stopped in front of the terminal building, the main cabin door was opened, and the stairs were deployed. At that point the ladies stood and Mistress Stella clipped a leash onto my collar. She unbuckled my seat belt and said, “Come on, Arch. We’re here.”

I, again, became acutely aware of my nakedness and I hesitated. “But, Mistress…” I started to say.

“More questions without permission, my slave?,” Mistress Stella said, sternly. When I shook my head, she said, “Come with me…NOW!”

“Yes, Mistress.”

As she led me toward the front of the aircraft, I could see that the cockpit door was open. I was amazed to see, standing in the doorway, Mistress Luna. She was dressed in navy blue slacks and a white blouse—like a man’s shirt, actually—with the characteristic four black stripes on the shoulders that signify a captain…the pilot. She must have seen the look of amazement on my face, because she smiled sardonically at me and asked, “Did you enjoy your flight to paradise…slave?” Then she added, “I hope so, because you had only a one-way ticket.”

I was so stunned, both by the realization that she must have flown the plane and by her last comment, that I could only mumble, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Mistress Stella gave a tug on my leash and I had to turn quickly to follow her down the stairs. Once we were on the tarmac we stood to one side of the plane waiting for luggage to be unloaded. When Mistress Stella’s appeared, she unshackled my wrists and said, “Pick up my bags, Arch, and come with me.” As soon as I had the bags in hand, Mistress set off toward the terminal building, leading me by the leash. I was mortified—being naked, being led on a leash, and carrying two suitcases like a hired porter. I stared at the ground just in front of me and studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone. We proceeded directly through the open-air terminal building—the climate being tropical, there was no need for walls and doors—and out to a parking area. There were no automobiles. Rather, there were numerous electric four-wheeled carts. Each had a padded seat that could accommodate two or three people and a canopy to provide protection from the sun. Behind the seat was an open area that could be used for hauling. Mistress Stella led me directly to one of the carts and instructed, “Load the bags on the back and get in the passenger seat. I’ll do the driving…this time.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied enthusiastically. I was glad for the prospect of getting out of here. I didn’t know where we were going, but I hoped it would be more private than this.

We drove for almost a half hour. Shortly after leaving the airport we were proceeding along rather sparsely populated roads. Eventually, we arrived at a long, palm-tree-lined driveway. At the end of it, out of sight of the road, was a very large, lovely-looking house. It was one storied with a red tile roof and well attended landscaping all around. I surmised that several people must live here; because, parked at the side of the house, beyond where we had stopped, there were several more carts like the one in which we were riding. No other homes were in sight. As we pulled up at the front, Mistress smiled pleasantly at me and said, “Well…here we are, Arch. This is where you are going to learn to serve me…my slave.”

Mistress Stella stepped off the cart and walked around to the passenger side. She unfastened the leash from my collar and, as she did so, she said, “Bring my bags and follow me.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I picked up the bags and followed in her wake toward the front door.

She opened the door and stepped through ahead of me. Without turning, she told me, “Close the door behind you and come along. Bring the bags.” She walked briskly through a beautifully furnished and decorated living room and we headed down a hallway with several closed doors on either side. At the end of the hall she led me into a beautiful bedroom suite—I assumed it was the master suite—and, pointing to the large bed, said, “Put my bags there.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I placed them carefully on the bed, making sure the opening was toward the outer edge.

“Now, follow me.” She turned quickly and walked back into the hallway through which we had come. She opened the first door on the left, and, stepping back, said, “This will be your room…at least for now. Have a look.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” I stepped through the doorway. As I did, I noticed the door had a deadbolt lock, which appeared to operate only from the outside. Inside, on one side of the room, was a single bed with head and footboards made of metal rods or tubing. Beside it was a small nightstand with a small lamp. On the wall was a wood strip with wooden pegs. There was a small two-drawer cabinet, but no closet and no chair. Also, there was no window. On the floor, on the side of the room opposite the bed, was a cage nearly identical to the one I had been forced to sleep in previously. I wondered whether I would ever be permitted to use the bed. I tried not to react…but I wondered what was coming next.

“Wait here, Arch. I’ll be back for you in a few minutes. Right now I’m going to change into something more appropriate to this lovely climate.” As she left, she closed the door and I heard the deadbolt click into place.

I had no choice but to be resigned to my fate—for now. I stood in the middle of the room for a few moments. Then I decided I could at least sit down. Having no choice but to sit either on the cage or on the bed, I chose the bed. I don’t know how long I waited, but it wasn’t long. I heard the deadbolt turn and I jumped up just as Mistress opened the door. As she entered the room, I saw that she was dressed in a way I had not seen her before. She wore a colorful, knee-length, tropical skirt with bright flowers on it, a tight white stretch top with no shoulder straps, and white sandals. The white top covered her breasts completely but showed them off beautifully, with just a little cleavage and each nipple making a little bulge. There was a red flower in her hair. She was carrying a tray with a drink and a small plate of food—it appeared to be a sandwich of some kind—on it. She set the tray on top of the cage and said, “Here is some food, Arch. I hope you appreciate it, because you won’t find me serving you in the future. Eat quickly. I’ll be back shortly.” With that, she turned and left the room, locking the door behind her again.

I had just finished eating when I hear the deadbolt being unlocked. This time Mistress opened the door and ordered, “Come here, Arch.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

When I stepped through the doorway, Mistress removed the belt from my waist. Then, she pointed to a bathroom directly across the hall—the door to it had been closed previously, but it was now open—and said, “Go to the toilet, and prepare yourself for bed. I’m sure you’re tired after our long trip. We have a busy day ahead tomorrow.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I responded again. I entered the bathroom and started to close the door.

“Leave that door open, slave. You have no privacy here unless I decide to give it to you.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Doing as I was told, I peed and washed my hands. Then I returned to the hallway. “All finished, Mistress,” I said.

“Now, to bed with you,” Mistress instructed.

As soon as I lay down, Mistress pulled a length of small but stout chain from her pocket, along with two small padlocks. One of the locks she used to fasten an end of the chain to my collar, and the other she used to lock the chain to the headboard of the bed. “Good night. Sleep well,” she said, pleasantly. Having said that, she left the room. This time she left the door open. There was no need to lock it. I certainly couldn’t leave.

To continue this story, visit Good Grooming


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