Miss Maxwell’s Meat

Filming was far more fun than i could have imagined. Having spent the prior evening crying on my back at my irrational fear of electric, waking up next to my Queen was a pleasant ordeal. Seeing Her innocent perfection in Her floral pajamas instantly filled me with soft butterflies and a cheesy grin. How did a bunny ever get so lucky as to bring tea in bed to this beautiful Woman and be allowed to worship Her whilst She fully woke and prepared for Her day of creative torment.

The first clip began but my nerves never came. The focus wasn’t on the camera but holding a champagne bottle inside myself whilst staring up at my beautiful Queen, how She softly spoke of my cheekiness and naughtiness, my need to be punishment. With each peg i forced silence and stillness, desperately not to upset Her. All i could focus on was making Her proud, giving Her an amazing day to remember. Our first filming day together.

Keeping silence whilst gazing at Her glistening eyes, no moans, no whimpers, nothing, that was the hardest task of the day. My body was desperate to relax, to allow moaning and purrs as the hot drips of sadism landed on my breasts and face, as my voice was removed from my with a smile. Already desperate from the mornings foot worship i could feel the stickiness drip down the pegs, the pleasure of being dominated by Miss Suzanna growing exponentially between my thigh with each mark She dripped onto me. The struggle is different to just denying yourself, instead its a deeper feeling, trusting you’re body not to fail you. Forcing yourself to forget oneself and think only of Her desires, my wants no longer relevant. How could i focus on the monotonous numbing pain of the pegs or hot wax when i was looking up to my Queen, on my knees looking up at pure radiant beauty.

The irony being before meeting Miss Suzanna, foot worship was near enough a limit and yet merely the thought of kissing Her soft feet, of giving Her pleasure through worship excites my girl parts. When Miss informed me of the next clip I couldn’t wait for a chance to worship Her and show my devotion to Her pleasure.

Emerging bravely from the cage my eyes followed Her fishnets, kissing the patent heels adorning Her perfectly petite feet and wondering how Miss would make this simple task of worship spectacular. Before i had chance to lift my lips from Her heels i found my head crushed against the rough carpet, my freshly made up face rubbing between coarse fibres and the grooves in the ball of Her right heel. Certainly a first but it felt natural, i instantly relaxed and realised i was to behave, to do whatever my Mistress desired without question or struggle. I was Hers, mind, soul … and body. Her little toy to do with as She desires, to love, destroy and mark till Her deviant mind is content.

“Kneel-up bunny”

I immediately regretted kissing without consent. Her bottom was just there, so close, so perfect. It seemed an invitation in itself wiggling in front of my naive face. I could barely contain myself with excitement but it was all gone. I didn’t intend to be greedy, i just lost myself in the moment, staring at the soft decorated skin before me and desperately craving worshipping Her. Having been edged and frustrated for several days had insured my every thought was of Her. Of Her creative sadism, of Her perfect decorated, the curves, the details, the taste. I wanted it so badly i forgot to have manners.

The curve on the front of Her foot met my soft dripping labia gently the first time, the squishy slappy sensation was different to anything I had felt before. Unlike spanking or whipping i could see Her, Her sparkling eyes bore into me as Her foot connected with my skin once more. The charming ruthless smile dared me to move as my body froze and automatically surrendered even further into Miss Suzanna’s grasp. My pain was no longer of relevance, seeing Her smile whilst in Her malevolent element was more than i needed to ensure focus. Bright blue eyes as deep as the oceans and whispering a thousand nefarious ideas into my soul, a silent sirens call entrancing my soul into an ever deeper submission.

Tied down on the bed i was ready. I was so ready to orgasm for Her. my pelvis was already wiggling at the concept and yet i knew the depravity of the situation, that my denial and pain on release would only bring about pleasure for Miss Suzanna. That She would thrive from my suffering especially knowing how much i needed it. Kneeling over me, Her derriere so close to my face I could nearly taste Her excitement. The delicious smell of pleasure grew only stronger as She teased and denied, denied me of a climax, of pleasure and of breath. Rose embroidered lingerie did not do Her exquisite body justice, the perfection in Her toned torso and strong thighs cannot be complemented by mere fabric. my desperation only grew with each removal of breath, focusing only on the seductive tones that filled the boudoir as they spoke of my torment i could barely contain myself, my ankles pulling against the restraints fiercely begging for their freedom. There is no freedom for Bunny Maxwell, only the fate that Miss Suzanna desires.

My moans and squirming grew violently with each vibration Miss allowed, the sheets soaked and dripping from my torture as She forced the climax. My body unknowing how to respond lost all control, convulsion after convulsion after convulsion as She pushed the vibrations deeper into me, holding them there long after i had finished. The afflicting torment developing from agony to release into desperation for the sensory overload to finish. Grateful for oxygen i had no choice but to wait out the contractions, sweat softly amounting on my body as She revelled in Her predicament and control over my body.

The moment in between clips was unusual in the sense I had yet to think about any transition, such intensity and so many emotions stirred, my devotion falling desperately deeper and losing myself into my surrender; yet the moments between i was shaken back to a reality. My Mistress giggling and sweet, making tea and massaging Her feet as though She has not been torturing me mere moments before. It was magical in it’s own concept, how smooth the transition from high protocol slave to relaxed sub came around each time.

I still dream of it, of the glittery silicone being forced into my bottom by Miss, how such a petite woman is capable of so much pleasure and pain. I had been craving Her, everything from Her and everything i received. Bent over the cold leather bench, lube dripping from my asshole She drove Herself deeper and deeper into me. my voice was no more. Myself was no more my own. I lie strapped down, back arched, hair pulled and filled so full with what felt like the endless glittery existence of Miss Suzanna Maxwell. Starting with gentle hip movements relaxing me, allowing my soft gently moaning as She took control of my body, our souls connecting, Owning my essence as She drove me into a state of sheer ecstasy like an orgasm that never ends. My muscles adoring Her, contracting around Her and inviting my Queen to play with Her fuck toy as She pleases. Grabbing my hair my back was forced deeper into an arch as She fucked harder and harder, driving Herself into me, roughly forcing Herself into Her fuck toy, remind me of to whom i belong. I yearned to see Her face, to hopefully we greeting with that sadistic smile I love so much. I managed to turn my quivering body to grasp a look be greeted by Her Spit. my face now coated in Her juices as i lost myself into the unrelenting pounding, fully aware of my place, vulnerable and at the mercy of my Mistress as She finished the piece by carving Her S into my back, reinforcing the days lessons.

The day did not relent (nor Miss Suzanna for that instant) with the final two scenes developing into greater intensity but perhaps of a more familiar form. Casually being drip fed water from Miss’s bottle like a puppy lapping up the refreshment took a rather unexpected turn. The water betrayed me, soaking my face, breasts and hair i lie there shocked at my wet predicament. The sharp sting that instantly caressed my dampened cheek followed by the arousing laughter of an entertained Miss Suzanna was enough to bring me back into the room and ready for my next fate. my girl parts tingled as my body revelled in the stings and shock. Adoring how used and Owned i felt, how Miss wanted people to see my submission to Her.

The embarrassment of wincing at the first few agonising strikes forced my mind to focus, no little, no silly just focused breathing and accepting my vulnerability. Accepting that i would do anything to be Her toy to play with and now was the time to prove that no matter the struggle. The antagonising harsh stings of the large cane left my bottom throbbing from each hit as though i had never felt the can before. The stings drove deep into my muscles as my back arched forcefully against the leather restraint knowing efforts were futile. my hands were free but that meant little, submission has never been forced for Miss Suzanna, it was never taken. my surrender has always been willingly given, the desire to please Her, to see Her happy and give Her control overrides any pain, my love for my Mistress forcing my body to comply with Her insatiable sadism, pushing it to its limits and then further until my Queen is content.

Intoxicated by Miss’ mystical energy i lie quietly whimpering as my blood dribbled down my thighs, enchanted by Her voice as my life substance poured from my body at Her request. Nothing was mine, the bloody initials marking me proved that. The villian and hero of my dreams, how can She make such pain so pleasurable, make blood into art, mark me deeper than skin could imagine. The only response my body could manage was a large grin across my quietened face as i floated in this paradox of agonising pleasure. She had painted my spirit with Her sparkle and i would forever be grateful.

Strung up on tip toes i awaited my final test. Endorphins continuously flooding my body meant i could focus on Her beautiful face and golden flowing hair as She flogged my breasts, each strike so carefully laid in a forceful intricate pattern as though She were choreographing a dance between the leather and my skin, each complementing the other as the soft kisses warmed me. The whips were not quite so soft. Squealing and forced to remain on my toes in the centre of the room i had no escape from the monotonous savagery of the stings. The short leather whips showing less mercy than Miss as She elegantly played with their tails, landing each sting so perfectly against my skin despite my struggles. Each leather kisses boring into my soul, testing me to see if i could withstand a real whipping. Floating by my wrists in a sea of adrenaline and confusion my toes found their way back to the surface only to jump once more as three leather kisses cut through my soft flesh.

“These are only baby ones”

I couldn’t help but apologise, i wanted to be a big girl, i begged my body to take it, to make Her proud and allow Her to truly revel in Her sadistic nature. i could do it, i forced my legs to remain calmer, to steady the shaking and hoped i had not deterred Her efforts to train me. Miss continued to caress my skin with Her unrelenting stings, each one feeling deeper than the last as She marked Her meat. Her leather pants catching my eyes as She toured my body, eyeing me up like meat on a hook, deciding which area to carve next. As the adrenaline lost its effect my legs began to shake, my body pushing through the pain into a new landscape of quiet screams and merciless agony. The world melting away, i don’t even recall the camera’s being in place. I could have been captive by Her malevolence for days, lost in the moment of surrender. Finding solace in Her laughter at my weak body reacting to Her touch. Miss placed the whip before my face and as though we practiced it i knew to kiss Her weapon of choice for it was not the whip that pushes me to be stronger and better but Miss. Sweaty and exhausted i was lowered from the bars, naturally falling to my knees ready to kiss Her feet, drained desperation fueled my lips to Her boots. To kiss them until told otherwise. Her sharp nails once more running through my hair releasing gentle whimpers as i relaxed into my safe place.

How can someone so small hold so much power and energy, to release unequivocal sadism and yet so much kindness and care. To form such beauty and art from mere flesh and leather. my perfect. So many magical marks to remember our first filming day as i rested my head on Her lap, floods of endorphins still coursing through my veins as She sipped tea and allowed me to float in the peaceful ecstasy She had created. my only thoughts on hoping She was proud of me and wanted to play again and push my limits even further for Her amusement. my adoration and love for my sadistic tinkerbell only having deepened and discovered new cravings, filthy debaucherous cravings, to taste all of Her and worship all of my Queen. Aching for days and dreaming of being allowed to kneel before Her once more, at Her mercy to do with as She pleases.