At last, after so many weeks of sublime anticipation, the day arrived for his next training session with the Countess.  Dutifully, he followed Her instructions to the letter.  He knew that She was always concerned about whether marks would cause a problem after a session, but he didn't quite understand why She had asked so many questions about his itinerary for the next few days.  It almost seemed as if She planned to keep him captive for longer than the agreed upon weekend.  Nor did he understand why She had instructed him to meet at a public place once again, but knowing the wonderful experience that surely awaited him he obeyed without the slightest hesitation or questioning.

He opened the door at the appointed hour, not a second earlier or later, and scanned the café in search of the magnificent Beauty who had summoned him, but She had not yet arrived.  Walking to the counter, he took a brief moment to appreciate the young woman who took his order.  Her short dark hair and slender build were most pleasant to gaze upon.  Something about her exuded an air of innocence and vulnerability that didn't quite fit in with the worldliness of her tightly fitting clothes and her eyebrow piercing.  It was difficult not to gawk at someone who looked so very intriguing, but he vowed not to become distracted because soon he would meet the Countess again.

The minutes continued to roll by, his cup was almost finished, but still no Countess.  He tried not to stare at the lithe silhouette as the young attendant left her post at the counter to begin cleaning tables.  When she unexpectedly dropped her tray spilling used cups and silverware onto the floor, he was the only one in the store who attempted to give her a helping hand.  She smiled as they picked up the debris together and informed him that his next cup would be 'on the house.'  Just then, the Countess walked in, gave him a warm smile of joyous recognition and instructed him to wait at the table for a moment while She talked to the counter girl in private.

As the Countess returned to his table, he rose and kissed Her outstretched hand in the continental gesture of homage.  She asked if he had been waiting long (knowing full well that it had been almost an hour), but he was gracious enough to give a tactful answer.  She then informed him that he had passed the first test.  The young counter attendant was a friend of Hers, whom She had asked to observe his behavior as he waited for the rendezvous.  The young girl reported favorably about his general deportment, his manners, his respectful demeanor despite the temptations of her attire and, most importantly, his genuine concern for her misfortune as he helped her clean up after that deliberate accident.  The Countess was truly pleased that he had behaved like a gentleman when She was not present, because not every supplicant had been able to pass this first test.

When they entered her apartment, the sound of the door locking sounded rather ominous.  Playing on his nervous fears, She made a dramatic gesture as She hid the key and told him that the locks in this building were very secure.  But he soon abandoned any thought of escape when She removed her raincoat to reveal a skimpy leather outfit that left little to the imagination.  Instinctively, he fell to his knees in awe, and She had to remind him that it might be a good idea to get undressed first before beginning to grovel.  Tripping over himself to disrobe promptly, he finally arrived at that long anticipated moment when once again She would honor him by attaching the collar of obedience. 

The Countess took Her time, slowly walking around him to inspect his body.  His haircut and fingernails passed muster, and She was pleased to observe that he had improved his muscle tone a bit and had lost a little weight since their last meeting.  Of course, he still had a long way to go, and She was prompt to remind him of that shortcoming as She poked and pinched some of his residual flab.  Then She abruptly uttered a murmur of deep disapproval, observing, "No, this will never do." She grabbed him by the ear and pulled him into the bathroom.  "I thought we had talked about this before." She scolded. "You know how I feel about hairy bodies.  Turn on the shower and lather yourself with soap – all over."

He watched with horror as She produced an antique straight edge razor from the medicine cabinet, and began stroking it against a thick leather strop attached to one of the towel racks.  "Using these old instruments is a lost art, but it's something I really enjoy.  And when we're done with the razor, there are always things we can do with the razor strop." She chuckled.  Pretending that Her hands were shaky, She then admonished, "Now remember to stay very, very still.  I don't want to draw any blood – at least not right now – and I certainly don't want to cut anything off.  Even though I have no use for that tiny little thing, it's still fun to torment it.  So, stay still, darling."

Just looking at the blade in Her hand terrified him.  The cold steel sent chills down his spine as She began using it on his back.  It didn't hurt, and there were no accidents.  In fact, the gentle scratch of the razor along his back was beginning to feel rather pleasant, and it was a most sensual experience to feel the razor slide across his buttocks.  This might not be so bad after all, he thought.  Next, She turned him around and proceeded to shave his chest and stomach, and then instructed him to raise his arms.  The thought of losing his underarm hair made him feel very uncomfortable.  He began to fear how self-conscious he would feel the next time he was shirtless on the beach.  He wondered if She realized how naked and vulnerable a man feels to lose that symbol of masculinity – but this would be only the beginning of his symbolic emasculation.  She stopped and leaned back a bit to gaze upon his pubic area.  Glancing up, their eyes made contact, and they both knew what was next.  She reached for the bar of soap and began preparing this area for the caress of the blade.  Rubbing much more than was necessary; She stopped briefly to admire the size of his physiological reaction to so much friction.  "Talk about getting lathered!" She mocked.  Then, stropping the blade a few more times to maximize its sharpness, She began to mow the lawn until it was completely bare.  Not a single hair would be spared.  Even the scrotum and perianal region would be buff.  "The worst is over."  She reassured.  Then, returning to the medicine cabinet, she produced a brand new disposable safety razor and instructed him to do his legs.  After all, it would not be appropriate for a Countess to kneel in order to treat his lower extremities.

Glancing into the mirror as he left the bathroom, he felt very subdued as he walked to the next room and knelt to assume the expected position of submission.  The Countess walked around him, inspecting Her work with the razor.  She ran her hands over his chest, then around his back and down to his buttocks, commenting about how nice he looked this way and how smooth his skin felt, but Her compliments only made him feel more naked.  She inquired whether he had been touching himself since their last encounter, but She refused to believe his answer when he denied such misconduct.  He was instructed to hold out the miscreant hand, and he soon felt the swift sting of Her riding crop as it landed full force across his open palm.  She was pleased that he did not flinch, at least not much, but She pretended instead that this first smack had been just a light one.  She commanded him to kiss Her hand to acknowledge his thanks and submission, and then to kiss the crop for its role in delivering the sweet gift of pain.  Then, he took a deep breath to prepare for the next onslaught, and She did not disappoint his expectations.  A dozen sharp blows on each palm were enough to make Her point.  She asked what he thought of that tingly feeling, and commented that when hands are made sensitive in this manner they become far gentler if they are ever called upon to caress a lover's body.  While he was pondering that advice, She removed two cans of frozen orange juice from the refrigerator freezer, so that he could hold them and quench the fires of this first taste of discipline.  Next, with the dreaded riding crop still clenched in Her gloved hand, She held out both hand and crop for him to kiss in humble gratitude once again.

Since the next treat required a little more dexterity, She removed the gloves so that She could get a secure grip on his nipples as She pinched and twisted them.  She watched the terrified look on his face when She produced a pair of vicious nipple clamps, and took Her time slowly and deliberately applying first one, then the other.  Catching his breath from that shock, he somehow managed to endure the persistent burn caused by those clamps, knowing only too well that the jolt of pain would be even stronger the moment they were removed.  Lest he grow too complacent about these tortures, She decided that this time She would use the riding crop to knock the first clamp off.  In contrast, the second clamp was pulled ever so slowly, tightening its grip until his poor nipple could stretch no more.  She knew full well how strong the fiery sensations would be when blood rushed back into the blanched skin, and afterwards She enjoyed inflicting the additional torture of rubbing and scratching those very sore nipples.  Then, to underscore his utter helplessness, She offered Her hands for his kiss once again, in acknowledgement of Her power.

The Countess continued Her assessment of this puny specimen, touching and groping in ways that She knew would embarrass.  She reminded him that his hairless body gave him a 'girlish' look or, more precisely, the sexless look of a youngster who had not yet reached puberty.  She continued to humiliate by leading him around the room on a leash as one would train a little puppy, by climbing on his back to ride him like a horse using the riding crop for encouragement, and by watching his feeble attempts to walk about in high heels.  She tested his devotion and endurance by commanding him to suck on a lemon and to assume a forward leaning rest position until his muscles first trembled and then failed.  Of course, every hesitation, every failure however small, would receive sarcastic criticism and the promise of additional discipline at a later time.

She instructed him to place a straight-backed chair in the center of the room, and then bend over the back grabbing the seat securely.  The delicious clicks of Her high heels on the hardwood floor faded off into the distance and then returned.  She showed him a heavy wooden paddle with numerous holes, and instructed him to kiss the instrument of his next punishment.  She explained how the holes reduce wind resistance so that the impact is more forceful.  The first crisp smack reverberated through the room as it hit its mark making him wince instinctively.  Seconds later, a burning sensation spread across his buttocks, and he could only imagine the redness that must have ensued.  His allotted portion would be only ten strokes this time, but it felt as if his cheeks were on fire.  She examined the red area, commenting approvingly as She ran her fingernails across the tender skin, and then informed him that this was just a sample.  She guaranteed the real beating would be so intense that he would surely need to be tied down, then sent him to the bathroom mirror to examine his red cheeks as he reflected on this promise.

Returning to the room, he promptly knelt to kiss the Countess' hand in gratitude for a taste of the paddle.  Her smile showed that She was pleased with his subservience so far.  She led him to the table for supper, but found it difficult to repress an evil grin as his sore bottom squirmed to find a comfortable place when he sat down.  They enjoyed a civilized conversation about the arts and current events, over a light repast of salad and a couple of glasses of wine.  This was followed by some quiet relaxation, She reclining on the couch and he sitting near Her feet on the floor, listening to soft music in dim candlelight and the seductive smell of incense.  Such remarkable contrast with the more intense sensations of his earlier discipline.  Yet, he realized that both extremes were gifts from the Countess, and both experiences were to be treasured.

Having been satisfied with enough mellowness for now, She instructed him to prepare a bubble bath for Her and to make sure that the temperature was just right.  She allowed him to watch as She disrobed and to help Her into the bath and listen to Her contented groans as she purred in response to the soothing heat of the water, while he knelt at the side of the tub.  Later, She sat up and instructed him to rub Her back with a loofa sponge, which he did with gentle reverence, although he couldn't resist the temptation to offer one small kiss to Her back at the very end of this service.  Rising from the tub, She gestured first for a towel and then Her bathrobe.  When he finished scrubbing the tub, She allowed him the privilege of brushing Her hair for the next half hour, complimenting his technique but reminding him that hairbrushes also have another more sinister use for little boys who misbehave.

Now, thoroughly refreshed and relaxed, the Countess was definitely ready to play.  She showed him a pair of unforgiving leather shackles that matched his collar, then placed the devices on his wrists, locking them securely.  A pair of thicker matching cuffs were affixed to his ankles.  Next, She connected the shackles to each of the four corners of Her bed, pulling the tethers tightly so that he lay spread eagle and vulnerable to all Her creative whims.  She commenced this round of torment by squeezing his flaccid manhood through a series of steel rings called 'the gates of hell,' and then began some light teasing, observing his reaction as She touched him gently in many places.  She held Her head close to him and allowed Her hair to caress his skin, and watched in delight the way his cock rose in swollen agony against the unforgiving rings.  Then, She escalated the sensations as She played some more with his nipples, teased his genitals a bit, then returned to the nipples a little more roughly this time while She asked him if he had ever considered getting a piercing.  The question was punctuated with a sharp pinch to one nipple to suggest the pain involved with that kind of activity.

Before he could answer that question, She asked if he was familiar with the Sun Dance ritual.  She explained how each year members of the Lakota nation would pilgrimage to their holy mountain in Wyoming for a rite of passage.  Young braves would first endure having their pectoral muscles pierced with sharp bone fragments, which in turn were secured to cords attached to the ceiling of a large teepee.  Suspended in this painful manner they would chant and dance throughout the day, exerting more and more pressure on the piercings, until their muscles tore open and they fell to the ground exhausted.  The resultant scars served as proud symbols of their manhood.  She told him to look at the fixture on the ceiling.  "There used to be a chandelier in this room," She said, "before the building was renovated.  I doubt it could hold your full weight, but I'm sure it could handle a lighter load.  Perhaps next time, I can put a sharp needle through one of your nipples, then tie a string from the nipple to the ceiling.  Wouldn't that make for a delightful torment as I pulled the string tight?  Wouldn't the pain be exquisite if I then began to pluck the string like a banjo?"  She continued to twist and pull on both nipples as he pondered this possibility.

Turning Her attention to his stomach, the Countess reminded him that much more progress was needed with regard to eliminating flab.  "Perhaps it might help to increase blood flow to the area." She speculated, as she hit him sharply with a ruler.  "Hmm, look how the skin changes color.  Let's try that again."  She mused, and then recounted how, as a young Girl, She used to watch how the boys played in the schoolyard.  One of their sadistic games was to capture someone, overpower him, lift up his shirt, and administer a 'pink belly' by slapping his stomach until he begged for mercy.  She had always felt just a little envious watching their game, but now She could appreciate that it was also fun to do this to an adult with a soft, plump tummy that jiggled with each slap of the ruler.  After several dozen smacks, She stopped to admire the crimson glow and She observed that his skin had become very warm to the touch.  "I wonder if we could patent this as a way to get rid of cellulite." She pondered, but he was simply relieved to know that She had stopped this particular torment.

The Countess then lit a candle and began to teach him how the temperature of melted wax varies depending upon how high the candle is held over the victim's body.  Then She showed him the difference between a single drop of wax and a large splatter.  The stimulation of a waxing was especially effective after having received that 'pink belly' treatment earlier.   When there were no longer any unassaulted spaces left on his stomach and torso, She blew out the candle and immediately pressed the hot wick against the tip of his penis.  Once the spilled wax had cooled sufficiently, She began to remove the wax, scraping it off with a fearsome looking Bobbit knife, and reminding him how much worse things would be if he hadn't lost all his body hair earlier.

Somehow, each new torture brought him that much closer to the Countess, and each new challenge was endured because it represented another opportunity to surrender to Her forceful personality.  Having removed the last of the wax, She now began to apply soothing lotion onto his sore skin.  She massaged him gently, delivering pleasant sensations this time.  Her nimble fingers found their way to the sides of his ribs, and the gentle rubbing soon turned into delightful tickling.  Then the tickling became more relentless, as Her fingers found their way to his unshaved armpits.  Soft giggles turned into laughter and then into hysterical screaming, as the furious attack by Her fingers continued.  He caught his breath, as She paused just long enough to shift Her position and begin attacking the soles of his feet.  Breathless, and almost sobbing now, he begged her to stop, but Her response was simply to change the venue of this latest torment from feet back to underarms and ribs.  The endless assault continued, switching sites several more times, until he thought he would go mad from giddiness.

As he caught his breath from the tickle torture, the Countess began to unfasten his bonds, but She left the leather shackles attached to his wrists and ankles.  She instructed him to lie down on the floor, face up, and then proceeded to tether him once again.  His arms were stretched above his head and secured, wrists together, to the foot of Her bed, while his ankles were attached to a long chain that extended to a heavy piece of furniture several feet away.  Satisfied that this new bondage position would accomplish its goals, and noticing that his impertinent erection still had not subsided, She began to stroke and tease one last time.  "You were certainly well behaved enough not to mention it," She counseled, "but I know what's on your mind right now.  You're thinking that you're going to 'get off' aren't you?  And you're even thinking that I'm going to do it for you.  Well, let me make it very clear that this isn’t going to happen tonight, kiddo.  In fact it may never happen at all this weekend.  And, just to make sure that you do understand this, I'm going to give you a severe chastisement to underscore the reality that I'm the one in control here."  She then began massaging his testicles with liberal amounts of what at first felt like a cool lotion, but within a minute he began to realize the true nature of his fate as he recognized the tingling burn and the distinctive aroma of mentholatum.  "This will help teach you humility, young man." She lectured.  "I know it hurts.  It's supposed to hurt – especially today, since your scrotal skin is still a little raw from the shaving – but I don't want to hear any screaming about it.  I don't want you waking the neighbors, understand?"  His breathing accelerated, he squirmed to no avail to get away, his teeth clenched, and his eyes began to tear from the pain.  "If you scream, I'll gag you, but first I'll put some of the ointment on the inside of the gag." She threatened, as She sat on the bed watching his dreadful suffering.

After about 20 minutes of hellish terror, the burning began to subside.  He heard her walk to the bathroom, presumably to wash any residual ointment from her hands and make other preparations for bedtime, and he reflected on his fate in the silence of the empty bedroom.  He had always known that the Countess was the kind of Woman who meant business.  Nor had he ever taken this weekend lightly, but now the reality of his complete powerlessness really began to sink in.  Her discipline could certainly be severe at times.  Yet, he knew that it was also a loving discipline – hard love to be sure, but always with his greater good and self-improvement in mind.  That insight had always made him feel so secure when he was near Her and now made it easy for him to surrender willingly for the entire weekend, no matter what cruel fate lay ahead.

She returned to cover him with a down comforter against the night chill.  Planting a gentle kiss on his cheek, She reassured him that he really had been a good little boy tonight, and then advised him to go to sleep.  The light went out, and as he lay on the hard floor, he heard the sound of a vibrator, followed by rhythmic movement on the bed, contented groaning, an abrupt but muffled cry, and then silence.  Despite all his discomfort and frustration, he was genuinely happy to know that She had enjoyed some sexual release at the end of the day.  

continue to Saturday