Preston and Manchester Mistress - Madame Margi - Slave Fantasy 4
Doctor Margeron Story by hugh
THE STORY SO FAR continued---- I do hope it might qualify me to go further into reality... hugh
I had arrived and sat waiting in the lounge for the Dr Margaron to return. It could not have been a more torturous moment as I tried to collect my wits, which I must do if I was not displease the Dr. Having now seen her in person, I found it impossible to overcome the turmoil and anxiety in my breast. So dauntingly imperious was she I just didn’t know how I was going cope. At last, after what had felt on the one hand an age on the other a matter of seconds, but was probably in reality two or three minutes, the Dr returned, entering the room as if on some business, to collect a patient’s file (mine I supposed) She completely ignored me but made sure, with her back to me, opening the file and consulting the documents, that I had plenty of time to take in that all-commanding rear view: such horrendously high heels, such strict seams, such a stern skirt, such, a grim waist and the red blouse that stretched tight under the monstrous stress and tension created by her overbearing bosom now mercifully in all its black conical containment out of sight…
Her silent presence was powerfully oppressive. At last she turned, closed the file, surveyed me with a very penetrating glare that made me cast my eyes to the floor, and instructed me to stand and follow her. She ascended the stairs and I followed (words fail me, such was the prospect). She directed me into a small bedroom and ordered me to undress and to wait until my name and number were called and off she went, leaving the door open. I did as instructed and waited, my ears pricked (and not the only thing), my limbs leaden. The Dr was obviously busy because she took a full five minutes, perhaps more, before calling my name up the stairs, in a sharp metallic tone. Now my panic redoubled as down the stairs I stepped to my doom. I hovered at the door to the lounge which served the Dr as her interviewing room and entered nervously to see the Dr commanding the centre of the room. She had changed out of her skirt and blouse and was now wearing her rather short white housecoat and her black opera operating gloves as an extra sinister touch, and in her hand a black riding crop.
It was impossible not to see the intimidating bosom, its sharp cone points now hardly contained under the opened coat. It was impossible not to see the heavy duty black suspenders tensed as they bit like penile vipers into the dark stocking tops. It was impossible not to…. ‘Shut the door!’ snapped the Dr with sudden irritation, and ‘Kneel here!’ she commanded pointing to a spot on the floor just in front of her. Now she stalked round me, slowly, stealthily, silently, like a predator with its victim, stroking her whip along my back, coming full circle, using her whip to push my chin up. It was torture to meet her gaze, her eyes heavily made up, and torture to see her lips so heavily painted in bright red, an excess of red for danger. She made a cruel mouth at me and then began. ‘I am the psychiatric consultant specialising in sexual disorders. On inspecting the notes forwarded to me I regard matters as being in need of urgent observation and treatment.
I note that you have exceeded the deadline provided by an unacceptable period of time. Failings of this sort are a common symptom of more serious underlying indiscipline. Let me advise you that my approach is disciplinary and my treatment is intended to reduce you to a psychologically brain-dead condition and I begin by reducing your range of thought to a very narrow vocabulary. To begin, you will address me AT ALL TIMES as Madam; you will do exactly as you are told WHEN you are told, by which is meant AT ONCE; you will NOT speak, unless instructed to do so, and then you will speak clearly and respectfully; should you deem it necessary to draw my attention to any matter you will raise your hand and WAIT until questioned, and you’d better not prove to be wasting my time. Do I make myself clear? WELL??!!...’
So she began and continued in the same style. It wasn’t what I had expected and I was terrified… She stepped away and stalked off to take her seat on the sofa, crossing, uncrossing and recrossing her legs as she tried to get comfortable, and she now sat rather to one side so that her raised leg showed her black side suspender stretched almost to breaking point. It seemed to express precisely me state of mind. I knelt there as she surveyed me in grim silence, watching me with obvious distaste, observing how I coped, toying with her whip, pausing to adjust first one stocking top and then the other.
‘Approach!’ she snapped, finally. I moved towards her, until I was dangerously close to her. She placed the flap of her whip against her raised heel. ‘Three words beginning with S…This,’ she demanded, ‘is a… what?’ ‘A stiletto heel, Madam,’ I stuttered. ‘And this?’ she stroked her whip along her seam. ‘A stocking seam…Madam.’ ‘And this?’ she ran her thumb under the length of her taught side suspender – those black gloves! ‘A suspender…Madam.’ ‘And they are all?’ ‘Black, Madam.’ ‘Yes,’ Madam observed, ‘like your future…. Now, repeat after me: black stiletto… black seam… black suspender…’ She rose. ‘And again!’ She stalked round me, and came to a halt with her back to me, and stood hands on hips, ‘and again!... and continue until I tell you to stop!’ So I did, staring mesmerized, like a rabbit in the headlights, and reciting the catechism until Madam ordered me to stop. ‘Now!’ she barked, stepping back almost onto me, ‘Worship my left stiletto… and the seam, to the top…. And round to the side suspender… and down… Now my right heel!’ When she was satisfied that I had performed correctly she turned and ordered me to go to my room and to WAIT until she came. After a suspenseful delay Madam stalked into the room, a broad strap in her hand. ‘STAND!’ she barked. ‘Hold onto the back of the chair! Bend…!
Now, repeat the three words…’ I began. ‘Black stiletto… Black seam… Black suspender… Black … (now Madam struck a low-level steady blow, punctuating my utterance) stiletto… Black…. Seam. Black… suspender…’ And again… So she administered my first lesson. ‘Now,’ she snapped, ‘get on the bed, AT ONCE! Lie face up…’ she ordered me crossly until I was in the required position. She stood over me, the black cones seeming even more incapable of containing her and looking the more deadly for the contrast they made with her white housecoat. ‘We will proceed to the initial partial lobotomy,’ She glared down at me, her mouth cruelly open, her teeth bared, before she knelt astride my head, and lowered herself onto my face, and easing her pelvis forward and back worked herself off on me. I struggled briefly to breathe. My wandering hands felt the hard severity of her thighs, brushed along her suspenders…As in grim silence the Dr drove home her advantage.
When she was satisfied she rose and stood and ordered me off the bed and leaving me there to reflect on my lot, disappeared. Five minutes later I heard the command again… and down I went. She seemed really very cross now and shouted at me to ‘Get in!’ and backheeled the door shut in a very irritable way, ‘KNEEL!!!’ she barked and assuming her seat on the sofa picked up one of her black corsets she had left there, placed it over her knee so that the suspenders all hung down limply, and barked at me to approach. ‘Open and close each of the suspenders!...’ I struggled being terrified to be so close to her and my fingers trembled. ‘GET ON WITH IT!!’ she exploded. ‘And again! And again!.. Now repeat, Black Suspender… Black Suspender……’ When she was satisfied she ordered me to put the corset on the floor at her feet and spread it properly. She then lifted her foot, the one the supported the raised leg, and dug her stiletto into the black satin. ‘Now,’ she snapped, ‘Unfasten all the suspender clasps and refasten each one by the count of six!...One… two… three… four… five… six… STOP!’ Of course she paced it so that I would be finished, and now launched into a harangue, and stood over me, both heels on the corset. ‘Unfasten each of the suspenders, and again to the count of six!!’ only this time as an incentive she stung my tail as she counted, sharp little stings with her riding whip….
More catastrophe! Fury from the Dr. ‘Upstairs!!’ she barked. I now knew what happened upstairs and waited in dread. There is nothing more cruel than keeping a victim in suspense. So the Dr took her time before entering the room. This time it seemed she had put on even more red lipstick. But more awful, jutting out from behind her housecoat was a monstrous black strap-on. She shut the door firmly and stalked towards me in a menacing way. ‘Stand,’ she barked, ‘hold onto the chair… bend…!!!’ as she ordered me she pushed me into position and a felt her dildo prod the cheek of my rump, brush against my thigh… There was a mirror and I turned my head so that I could see her lining up with the strap in her hand. ‘Repeat the words!’ she ordered and repeated the earlier beating. ‘Now KNEEL!’ she barked, ‘and HEEL!’ So she oversaw again the circle of worship. When that was done she instructed me to kneel up, and now, sweeping her housecoat back beyond her hips, she stood before me, her strap-on pointing at me, menacingly.
She glared at me and made the cruelest of mouths as in mockery she slipped her black-gloved hand about the strap-on and commenced to strop it, slowly, and then more forcefully. ‘Repeat the words!’ she barked, as she stropped, and so I did. Then when she was ready and tired of my voice, she stepped up and thrust it into my mouth and rammed it forward and back, as she was having a turbo charged orgasm. I struggled to support myself by clasping her hips, which she permitted, as she cupped her blackgloved hands about my head and drove on and on. When that was done she left me again and I awaited her summons. This would be the last of the session and I was in for performance appraisal and disposal. Her deadly summons came and down I went and entered the room to find her perched on the sofa.
‘SHUT THE DOOR!’ she snapped. ‘Kneel here!!’ she barked, toying with her riding crop, he leg crossed up high, and she proceeded to survey me. She gave me a very severe dressing down, criticised every aspect of my performance and attitude, and warned me that if there were no signs of improvement at my next appointment, drastic measures would be taken. ‘Now,’ she snapped, ‘take that corset upstairs, and WAIT in your room!!’ Up the stairs she came, and methodically, in deadly silence, she tied me face down on the bed, the corset under my face. There she left me while she prepared herself, returning with a rubberlash of many strands and ritualistically warned me that I must NOT ejaculate without permission. She trailed the ruberlash across my back. She knelt on the bed and pushed the back of my head, to push my face down against the corset. Then she stalked round the room. ‘Repeat the words!’ she commanded and I began, waiting for her to strike, and quicker and quicker, then everything went black… and… Madam relented.