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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

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


An Introduction

VO Stories

Miss Malcahy's Detention
Nine and a Half Hours

The Weight Loss

I Sign A Contract

The Convict

The Convict


A Caning By Miss Spiteful
Always On The Bare
A Visit To Greenwich
At My Lady's Pleasure
Ball Shackle Story
I Met Claire In A Coffee Shop
Judicial Bastinado
Kevin's Poem
Long Weekend
Long Weekend Conclusion
My Visit
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

The Bossy Bank Women

A Judicial Punishment

The Valkyrie

Episode 1


The Vision
The Agreement
First Blood




Chapter 11 - The Great Escape

For several weeks after the session with Mistress Luna, life was rather quiet and a routine began to be established. It was quite simple. Alexis would awaken me. I would get Mistress Stella’s coffee and take it to her. After a few minutes, she would come to the kitchen and I would fix breakfast for her and for myself. Then she would assign the chores she wished me to accomplish that day. At various times—four or five a day, usually—she would ring her little bell, summoning me to stand before her and summoning ‘her phallus’ to rise to attention. She thoroughly enjoyed seeing how well that conditioned response was embedded in my brain. Then, about every other week, she would host a ‘play session’ in the basement. At these, I, and two or three other slaves, would be the playthings. We would get tied up, spanked, buggered with strap-on dildos, ordered to masturbate and see which of us could shoot the farthest, and any other forms ‘entertainment’ the ladies could think of.

During these days, I thought a lot about what was happening. I was being humiliated, demeaned, and embarrassed. My body was a being assaulted, and I was being forced to do menial labor. It was pissing me off. What could I do about it? I decided the only way I could stop it would be to find some means to escape from this place. I was determined to work on that.

I really didn’t like all this negative thinking. After all, I’m usually a pretty positive guy. There were some nice things to think about. For example, one of the chores Mistress Stella had me perform two or three times a week was giving her a massage. She enjoyed them and so did I. And at least once a week, after a massage, she—as she would describe it—would use ‘her’ cock for what it was designed for. She was always on top on these occasions and she always warned me not to cum until after she did. I found this really difficult, since I wasn’t in control of the action. But after a few times, Stella learned to read me completely. By watching my breathing and my facial expressions, and by the feel of my body tension, she could keep me at a level of excitement just under orgasm. It was fantastic. Then, finally, she would let herself go, slamming down on me and moaning loudly as she reached her climax. When she finally said, “OK, cum for me, Arch,” I didn’t have time to reply. All the muscles in my pelvis would spasm as I would exploded and moaned like a banshee. And those ‘play sessions’—I really didn’t want to admit it, but the spankings and the sensations I experienced from the strap-ons really did excite me. Never-the-less, I remained determined to find some way to escape from here.

* * *

As usual, Alexis was again awakening me, only this time she seemed to be in some kind a a hurry. “Come on, Arch, come on…its time to get up.”

“Why? Does Mistress Stella want her coffee already?” I asked in a low voice, still struggling to open my eyes.

“No, Arch. Mistress Stella is already up…and she wants to see you as soon as possible. You’d better not keep her waiting,” Alexis said in a soft but firm voice. “I’m going to leave you now. I have to go to work. As soon as you’re ready, go to the kitchen. Your Mistress is waiting.”

“Oh god! Not another session with Mistress Luna?” I complained as she turned to leave.

Alexis laughed. “No, Arch. Nothing like that. See ya.”

I rolled out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I did what I needed to do, washed my face to wake up, pulled on my thong—which was really the only piece of clothing I had—and went directly to the kitchen. I was surprised to see Mistress Luna and Mistress Cara sitting at the table drinking coffee with Mistress Stella. Mistress Cara was dressed in the usual casual attire that all the dommes here wear, but Mistress Stella was dressed in business attire and Mistress Luna had on her flight uniform. “Good morning, Mistress,” I said, nodding to Mistress Stella. “Good morning, m’ladies,” I said to the other two mistresses.

“Good morning, slave,” they all replied.

Then Mistress Stella smiled pleasantly at me and said, “Off with the thong, l’il one. You’re not going anywhere. As usual, collar and cuffs is the uniform of the day.”

“Yes, Mistress.” I dropped my thong to the floor, picked it up, and hung it on a peg on the wall. No sooner had I done that than Mistress Stella rang her little bell. I hadn’t expected that, and I was surprised—I don’t really know why—at the immediate reaction of my penis. It began to swell and rise. My feeling of embarrassment in front of the ladies made no difference. My body became warm all over as I blushed. All three women thought this was hilarious, and their laughter just intensified my humiliation. My cock, however, was proud that it had been summoned and rose to the occasion. Obviously, the conditioned response Mistress had created was locked into my brain.”

When the ladies stopped laughing, I looked at Mistress Stella and said, “My I ask a question, Mistress?”

“Yes, Arch,” was the reply.

“Are you planning to go somewhere today, Ma’am?”

My, my, you’re so perceptive,” she replied sarcastically. “Yes, Arch, I’m taking a little trip. I have to fly back to the Stellar Cosmetics offices; and, as you can see, Luna is doing the piloting. I’ll be gone for perhaps a week. While I’m away you will be under the control of Cara. You are to be as obedient, responsive, and respectful to her as you are me—or, at least, as you are expected to be to me. Since you are a newcomer here, I expect you will transgress occasionally. On such occasions Mistress Cara will correct and instruct you, just as I would. Do you have any more questions, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Go ahead, slave. Ask your question.”

“Will Mistress Cara be staying here, or am I to go somewhere else with her?”

“She will be staying in one of the spare rooms. She will show you where it is. You will be staying in your usual room…that is, if and when you have spare time or are permitted to sleep. Is that all right with you, Arch?”

“Would it make a difference if it weren’t, Mistress?” I responded.

“Don’t be a smart-ass, slave. You know damn well you have no say in the matter.”

At that point Mistress Luna spoke up, saying, “I think it’s time for us to head for the airport, Stella. I need to pre-flight the aircraft and be ready to go when the other passengers arrive.”

“Right, Luna,” Mistress Stella said. “All right, Arch, behave yourself, and serve Mistress Cara well,” she said, looking at me. At that point she took me completely by surprise. She walked over to me and kissed me on the cheek. Then she patted my bare ass and said, softly, “Bye, bye.”

Mistress Luna and Mistress Stella exchanged goodbyes with Mistress Cara, and they left. As soon as they were gone Cara said—ordered, actually, “Get these dishes cleaned up, Arch…and do it quickly. I want you to take me to do some shopping. I’ll be back for you shortly,” she said and left the room.

I removed the dishes from the table, washed them, put them away, and made sure the table was wiped clean. Then—in an attempt to make sure she did not take me out naked—I got my thong off the peg where I had hung it and put it on. Next, I walked quickly to my room, put on my harness, dutifully clipping it to my cock and ball ring, and stepped into my sandels. As soon as this was done, I returned to the kitchen.

I got back just in time. No more had I walked into the room than Mistress Cara came back. She looked at my attire and commented, “Making decisions for yourself, are you, Arch? Well, fortunately, you made the right decision this time.”

I found that comment offensive; but, trying not to show it, I smiled at her and said, as pleasantly as I could, “I was just trying to take pride in my self so that you would not be embarrassed by my appearance.”

She smiled. “very tactful answer, Arch. But you can be assured I won’t let you embarrassed me—or, if you do, you will suffer the consequences.” Having said that, she picked up her purse and a riding crop, and said, “Come with me. You do the driving.”

We went out to the parking area and got into one of the electric carts. With Mistress Cara directing me, I drove to a part of the island I had not seen before. It was a beautiful little cove partly surrounded by sandy beaches and partly by a rocky shoreline. On the side away from the beaches were a number of neat little shops offering clothing, knick-knacks, dishes, glassware, etc. In the bay numerous, small and moderate-sized sailboats and power boats were teathered to mooring buoys.

Mistress Cara directed me to one of the clothing shops and instructed, “Wait here, Arch. I’m going into this shop for a few minutes.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I replied.

As I sat on the cart, waiting, an idea began to work its way through my mind. I have had some experience with small boats. What if I were able to get away alone, while Mistress Stella is gone, and find my way here without being caught? Could I ‘commandeer’one of these boats and get away from this island? If I did, is it likely that I could find a place to land that is not under the control of these dominating women? Or, if not, might I be able to sight another boat or a ship at sea and be rescued? It might be worth a try. As I sat there, I could think of little else. I would have to watch carefully for an opportunity. I gave no thought to potential consequences.

Three days had passed since Mistress Stella left. All was going well—that is, I had not gotten into any trouble with Mistress Cara. I was bing very careful in that regard. I had prepared three meals a day for her, and she had ordered me to do a number of chores. One of them had been to mow the lawn in front of the house. This she had insisted I do completely naked. I had not gotten accustomed to being nude under circumstances in which anyone and everyone, acquaintance or stranger alike, could look at me. This was most humiliating.and I resented it. My resentment encouraged me to be as diligent as possible about looking for an opportunity to make my escape.

Each evening since Mistress Stella left, Mistress Cara took me to the room where I had given Mistress Stella a massage, and had me do the same for her—that is, give her a massage. Nothing else. She had stripped naked and lay on her belly on the table while I rubbed her with fragrant oils and massaged her arms, back, buttocks, and legs. I could feel the tension go out of her body. She became very relaxed and was ready to go to sleep as soon as I had finished. The first two nights, at the conclusion of her massage, Mistress Cara took me directly to my room, told me to go to bed, and locked the chain from the head frame to my collar. Then she went to her own room and, as she indicated to me the next morning, fell immediately into a deep sleep. The third night was different. As I massaged her, she fell asleep on the table. I was not sure what I should do—whether I should leave her sleeping on the massage table, or try to wake her and take her to her bed. Finally, I decided I could not leave her there, so I gently shook her shoulder. “Mistress…Mistress,” I said softly in her ear.

“Wha?” she responded without opening her eyes.

“You’re asleep, Mistress. Let me help you get to your bed.”

“Mmmm…yeah,” she mumbled, opening her eyes only slightly.

I helped her slide off the table and tried to put her arm around my neck so I could help her walk to her bedroom, but before I could support her, she collapsed onto the bed across from the massage table—the bed that Mistress Stella and I had used so delightfully. She did not move. She was sound asleep.

Now was the time. I was alone, unchained, and unobserved by anyone…and it was dark outside I went to my room and put on my thong and sandals; then, I went to the kitchen and rummaged around in some of the drawers. In short order I found what I was looking for—a flashlight. I was in luck. It was waterproof. I went immediately to the parking area and got aboard the electric cart nearest the driveway. Without turning on its lights, I drove it down the long lane toward the road. No one heard me leave, because the electric carts run almost noislessly. When I got to the road, I turned on the lights and headed for the little harbor that Mistress Cara and I had visited just three days earlier.

I drove along the road around the cove until I found a beach that was well away from most of the buildings and appeared to b deserted at this time of night. I parked the cart in a part of the parking area that could not be seen easily from the street. Taking with me only the waterproof flashlight, I walked quietly to the water’s edge and looked out into the darkened bay, looking for the outlines of the boats I had seen there on my daytime visit. I was looking for sail boats, having decided that stealing a power boat would be too likely to attract someone’s attention. It took no time at all to spot two sloops swinging gently at their mooring bouys. Both were dark and both were reasonably close to shore. I slipped into the water and swam to the nearest one. When I got there, I remained quiet in the water with an ear pressed against the hull to see whether I could hear any signs of occupancy by the owners. All was quiet. I found the boarding ladder and climbed aboard. Even without turning on the flashlight, I was able to quickly locate the hatch to the cabin below decks. I tried to open it without success. Covering the lens of the flashlight with the palm of my hand, I turned it on and examined the hatch more closely. To my great disappointment, I found that it was locked by a hasp and strong padlock. I didn’t dare try to break into the cabin for fear of making noise, and I felt I needed to get in to see whether there were any provisions—particularly water and, hopefully, a little food. I pondered what to do next.

Quickly I decided. I slipped overboard and swam to the next boat. I repeated my listening procedure with the same result. Again, I climbed aboard by way of the boarding ladder and found the hatch to the cabin. To my great relief, this time there was no lock. I went below, turned on the flashlight, and looked around. I wanted to cheer at what I found. The owners of this boar were not the neatest people in the world—the cabin was quite messy—but this worked in my favor. Lying about I spotted several bottles of water, and in a portable cooler I found at least a dozen cans of beer. In a cabinet I located several bags of snack food. I was in business.

I turned off the light and went on deck. Crawling forward, I untied the mooring line and tossed it overboard. Then I returned to the cockpit and found the halyard for the sail. Fortunately, there was a gentle off shore breeze. I raised the main sail partway and—with some difficulty, I must admit—manipulated the steering so as to turn to stern into the wind. When the boat was headed toward the exit from the harbor, I quietly raised the sail and began to move. There was enough light that I was able to make out the shadows of other boats, and I carefully steered around them. In what I estimate to be about ten minutes I was beyond all other boats and nearing the outlet to the sea. It was very quiet, and I was beginning to congratulate myself for making my escape. Suddenly, the silence was broken by the sound of a powerboat starting up behind me. I heard the engine rev, and in no more than a minute I was illuminated brightly by a spotlight and the boat was speeding toward me.

The boat pulled close along the starboard side. I could not see who was on it, because the glare of the spotlight obscured my vision. Boat hooks engaged the rail of the sailboat, and an authoritative female voice barked, “This is the police! Lower your sail immediately!”

I had had it. My reply was to do as ordered.

As soon as the sail was lowered, the voice comanded, “Secure the boom, then lie on your belly on the port side bench with your hands behind your back!”

Completely dejected, I complied with the orders. As soon as I was on the bench, a figure stepped from the powerboat to the sailboat. It was a large—not fat—powerful-looking woman dressed in blach boat shoes, black leather shorts, and a black halter top over which was a short, black, leather vest. The vest had a gold badge on the left breast and the pentacle and circle logo on the back. Under the logo was the word POLICE. As soon as she set foot on the deck of the sailboat, she strode over to me. “She did not speak, but quickly secured both my wrist and ankle straps—in my haste to get away, I had not thught to take them off—together with steel clip rings. Then she said, “Take him off!”

I could not immediately tell to whom she had spoken, but I quickly found out. Two more burley female officers, younger-looking but dressed in the same manner as the first, boarded the boat. They quickly grasped me under my armpits, lifted me up, and carried me over the gunwales and onto the powerboat. There they shackled my wrist cuffs behand my back to a cleat in the cockpit.

After thoroughly inspecting the sailboat, they towed it back to its mooring bouy and resecured it. Then they headed for shore. No one spoke to me until I was securely locked in a small cell at the police station. Then the officer who first apprehended me came to the cell and, standing outside the bars, asked - demanded, actually, “What’s your name?”

“My name is Archer Daniels, Ma’am,” I repliede in a quiet voice.

“You will address me as Officer Spiteful!” she hissed at me. “And you are a slave! Slaves don’t have two names! Who is your Mistress, and what does she call you?”

“Mistress Stella Smith.—and she calls me Arch,” I replied, softly.

“Slave Arch, you mean!” she barked. This was not a question. She wrote something on a clipboard and left.

* * *

I remained in the cell for three days. Mistress Cara came to see me, but she was told I had to wait for Mistress Stella’s return, since I was Mistress Stella’s property. Besides, Mistress Cara was not-at-all pleased to find me in the predicament I was in, and I sispect she didn’t want to get me released, even if she could have.

When Mistress Stella finally returned and came to see me, she was very angry. She spent very little time talking to me. She told me simply that she had acknowledged that I was, indeed, her slave; and that she had to appear in court with me at nine o’clock the next morning.

When the next morning arrived, my wrist straps were shackled behind my back, and my ankle straps were connected to a short length of chain. I was hustled into an elevator and up to a court room on the floor above. I was taken directly to what was, obviously, a prisoners dock—a small cage with vertical bars—that was located to the left of the judge’s bench. Mistresses Stella and Cara were both there, as was Officer Spiteful and a small number of observers. The judge entered and sat down. She was a middle-aged woman of average build. She wore a black robe and a stern look on her face. Without preliminaries, she inquired, “What is this case?”

Officer Spiteful stood and responded, “The case of runaway slave Arch, property of Mistress Stella Smith.” Then she sat down.

The judge asked, “Is Mistress Stella Smith in the courtroom?”

Mistress Stella stood and answered, “I am here, Your Honor.”

“Good,” the judge commented. Then she looked at Officer Spiteful and said, “I have read the charges. What is your testimony regarding the circumstances, Officer?”

Officer Spiteful did not go to the witmess stand and she was not sworn in. She simply again stood, and stated, “He was apprehended late at night four nights ago, alone aboard a stolen sailboat, sailing toward the harbor mouth, obviously, trying to escape.”

“Did you apprehend him?” the judge inquired.

“Yes, Your Honor,” Officer Spiteful replied.

“Was the sailboat damaged?” the judge asked.

“No, Your Honor. It was returned to its mooring and the owner found no damage and nothing missing,” Officer Spiteful answered.

“Alright then, the slave is hereby found to be guilty of attempted escape. The charge of theft of the boat is hereby dismissed—the boat being undamage and returned to it’s owner, and nothing having been stolen from it. I will pronounce sentence,” the judge declared.

I was shocked. Apparently, I was to have no defense of any kind. I couldn’t help myself. “Is nobody going to speak in my defense?” I asked aloud.

“Shut up, slave! You have no defense!” the judge snarled. The sentence is twenty strokes of the cane, to be applied to the buttocks of the convicted slave by Officer Spiteful on the public canning rack at a time and under circumstances to be declared by her. Mistress Stella, you shall take your slave home and see that he is delivered for his punishment, at the time and in the manner directed by Officer Spiteful. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Mistress Stella acknowledged.

“Good! The slave is released in the custody of his mistress, one Stella Smith, pending presentation before Officer Spiteful for execution of the sentence. Next case.”

I was released immediately to Mistresses Stella and Cara, and they took me home - without speaking to me.

To continue reading this story, visit Punishment

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