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Report from a Prisoner Stay with Madame Christine in October 2003

 

 

My six days as Madame Christine's prisoner

 

By slave Bota

 

 

Prologue - The Greetings from Spain

 

It was on the first of my 6 days as prisoner. After welcome formalities in the reception room, Madame Christine led me down to the prison. This time just to place the toiletries and change for T-shirt and underwear outside the bars of Cell No.1. Next time downstairs a few hours later should be different. I had just received a hard punishment for a big blunder. My bottom was on fire and was very, very tender.

 

I supposed that I was now to spend my first hours in the cell, but Madame Christine stopped in the first torture chamber where I was instructed to raise my hands so that She could lock my cuffs to the beam above. Ankle cuffs were fixed to a chain along the floor, trousers pulled down and T-shirt rolled up my back. Once again I was utterly exposed.

 

One of the new torture benches was covered with whips, crops, paddles and canes. Madame Christine picked up a heavy flogger and swished it a few times through the air before saying with a smile: "And now! Greetings from Spain!" I had been expecting something, because I knew that Sublime Lady Ayesha’s slave kôr would try to arrange a surprise for me, but not just now. I didn’t count the strokes, but it went on for quite a while, up and down from thighs to back, me twisting in the bondage. When She stopped, I thought for myself: "This was perfect kôr, exactly enough."

 

Madame Christine placed the flogger on the bench. I expected Her to release me, but here came the real surprise. She picked up a cane and I heard it swishing through the air. "And now! More greetings from Spain!" Madame Christine was smiling and had a great time. And so had I in my own way. I got through the caning also without too much problems, and afterwards I can only say: "This was brilliant kôr. It really added spice to my stay. Thank you!"

 

I believe Madame Christine was inspired. She obviously liked the idea of greetings, for when I afterwards was kneeling down in the cell with bottom up to receive a few cracks with Her crop, She started kicking me quite viciously. Kick "And" kick "Now" kick "Greetings" kick "From" kick, kick, kick "ME!!!" kick, kick, kick. Again Madame Christine was laughing.

 

 

Back in the OWK

 

As you will have understood, I survived this my second OWK stay too. I have arrived home after stopping for a day and a half in Prague. The old town of Prague is amazingly beautiful and I will recommend those of you who have not yet been there to try to visit it once. You will not be disappointed. I had a great time in Prague, but that was nothing compared to my days at OWK. The stay exceeded by far everything I had expected and hoped for. I cannot praise Madame Christine high enough for the training She had me through.

 

 

In the Torture Chamber

 

It is often said that what we see on OWK photos and movies are reality and not fiction. That is true. But it is not the whole truth. If it had been possible to capture on film what went on inside my head when waiting in a dark cell for the unknown to happen, for so to be pulled from cell to torture chamber by a breathtakingly beautiful and breathtakingly scaring Madame Christine, then this movie would deserve an Oscar prize.

 

It happened on four days, I was shackled and locked into the small, totally dark cell with wooden door, furthest into the cell section, only 1,45 x 0,9 m. I didn’t know how long I had been there or how long I would stay, but suddenly I could hear the steps from Madame Christine’s boots on the concrete floor. Coming towards the cell, then turning back. I heard Her walking around for quite awhile, sometimes hearing rattling of chains, and I understood She was preparing the torture chamber for whatever She had in mind. One time I heard Her singing, obviously enjoying thoughts about what should happen. At two of those occasions I actually started to shiver in fear, I have never experienced that before. Several times She was just outside the door, and I thought "Now it is", but then Her steps moved away.

 

When the door opened, I was always stunned. She looked different each time. Always beautiful, each time looking scaringly cruel, but with different hairstyles and in different outfits, all extremely exciting. Every time looking more astonishing than I have ever seen Her at the OWK web site. All covered in black leather, black shiny short dress, leather trousers and tight corset, black shiny tight fitting jump-suit with bare arms and with thigh high boots on 5-6" inch stiletto heels. The first sight was always from below in the dark cell, and I was always shaken when seeing Her towering above me, framed by the flickering light from candles.

 

One day after the torture, when I was kneeling holding an ashtray for Her, I could not hold it back, I just had to say it. "Madame Christine, vy jste krásný " "You are beautiful". She actually smiled and said "Thank you".

 

The torture chamber looked both cosy and scary, mostly scary. It was only illuminated by candles, ten-folds of them. She had me through it all. The rack. Bench with pillory. Whipping stool. Bastinado. Clamps. Wax. Canes. Whips, whips and whips all over my body.

 

The rack is for real. She turned the wheel till I could feel the stretch in every fibre along my body. My hands were fixed to a bar which was lifted a little upwards. This made the weight of my body adding additional stretch. The most painful to start with was the ankle shackles cutting into the skin. This also got worse when I started to wriggle under torture.

 

I am used to whips and canes, but when it comes to my nipples, I am an incurable chicken. Madame Christine discovered this at once, and She constantly went at them. The wax they use at OWK surprised me, it was hotter than I expected. When She started dropping it on my already tortured nipples, I was at the limit of what I could take.

 

Madame Christine was sitting above me on the rack, and I was kissing her bottom while She was caning my legs. It started to hurt so much that I lost concentration on the kissing. She felt me slowing down and shouted "Kiss, kiss, kiss!! Kiss properly!!" I got the point, and went at it faster and more passionately than ever before while the cane was dancing quickstep up and down the tender insides of my thighs.

 

The other new bench is made as a pillory. I was locked into it and blindfolded. While She was whipping my body I felt something wet dripping on my face and into my mouth. She was letting me taste some of the delicious white wine She was enjoying. When She removed the blindfold, I looked directly up along Her thighs. The sight was overwhelming. Later on the same bench, now lying on my stomach, I was licking wine from Her booths while She was whipping my backside with a flogger. Once again the pain made me slow down and She shouted "Lick, lick, lick properly!!", and once again I licked wine faster than ever before.

 

Strapped to the punishment stool, I tasted a collection of paddles, whips and canes, all with their unique sting. The single tail whips, Black Lady or Brown Lady are really scaring. They hit with a very heavy sting. I could see that Madame Christine in no way was using full force, but those whips made both marks and impression on me. I know I will be back in the OWK, and I know I will have more severe meetings with those whips. I dread that day, but the thought of it also excites me.

 

Everything I went through those days in the torture chamber were exciting, but one picture is burned into my memory more than anything else. I was standing spread-eagled in the middle of the room and Madame Christine was in front of me, Her face just a few centimetres from mine. Her eyes were amazing, staring at me and looking through me at the same time. I didn’t dare look directly at them but was focusing on Her beautiful lips that were shaping into a smile whenever I twisted in pain under the movements of Her finger tips. I will never forget it.

 

I would do anything for Madame Christine down in those torture chambers. But to be honest, I would probably be willing to do anything for Madame Christine in any case, just because Madame Christine is Madame Christine.

 

 

 

Madame Christine in the prison torture chamber

 

 

The Cells

 

After the torture the third day, She led me back to the small, dark cell, 1,45 x 0,9 m. I was naked apart from collar, cuffs and shackles; and the steel collar chaining me to the back wall. It was rather cruel, considering that it was only two blankets in the cell. But something unexpected happened. Before closing the door She came to the cell with a third blanket that She placed very tenderly over me. I was overwhelmed by the kindness She showed me.

 

Sometime later, I don’t know how long, She got me out of the cell again for my dinner. This time I got it in the torture chamber. It was served from the soles of Her boots and on the prison floor. I was allowed to dress before returning to the cell, where She told me to prepare for the night. I supposed I should return to Cell No. 1 and started to pick up blankets from the small dark one. But no, Madame Christine laughed and pointed into the small cell. The steel collar was locked on. All went dark. I don't think I slept much that night, if anything at all.

 

Next night I was allowed back to No. 1. I have had problems with this cell before, but now it was pure luxury. 1,6 x 1,3 m, seven blankets, possibility to stretch legs through bars, view towards torture chambers. This cell had the lots.

 

I soon fell into a deep and much needed sleep. It didn't last long. I was shockingly and abruptly awaken by the rattling sound of a crop running over the bars. My mind was in chaos, but I managed to get onto my knees and start kissing Madame Christine's boots through the bars. It wasn't for long, She was just passing by to say good night. When She left through the torture chambers, I could hear Her laughing by Herself. She seemed to be highly amused by the thought of having awaken me abruptly just to wish me a good night's sleep.

 

I was wide awake and I believe it took hours before fell asleep again. It didn't help that it started to get quite noisy in the Palace above. High music and steps on the tile floors. Nobody seemed to think about the tenant downstairs trying to get some sleep. In the pub the following day, I saw the Queen Herself. She was staying a couple of days in the OWK.

 

Later I also spent time in a cell where I had to stand upright, because it was too small to sit down in and because the steel collar was chained high up on the wall.

 

 

 

In the Queen's Prison. Cell #1 to the left. The small punishment cell is far down the dark corridor.

 

 

The daily whippings

 

I was whipped several times each day, also outside the chamber. In pillories, strapped over stools, shackled to a cross in the New House or just bending down on the spot.

 

Madame Christine told me that Her good number is three. I didn't grasp the meaning of it at once, but understood it soon enough. It simply means that any punishment points are multiplied with three to get the number of credit strokes. It could also mean that three more strokes were coming up when I was relieved that all was over.

 

Punishments were easily earned. The odds were against me. Whenever I was told to light Her cigarette, new credits would be added. I was awarded up to 63 strokes for trying to light one cigarette. She just keeps on blowing out the lighter and multiplies failing attempts with three.

 

I believe I received about one thousand strokes through the days, with crop, cane, cat o'nine, Black Lady and paddles. The strokes were adding on each other, and Madame Christine knew exactly where the bruises were fresh. She could with dead accuracy use the crop on top of three layers of trousers and make it hurt terribly.

 

 

Madame Christine's slave

 

When Madame Christine said "My slave, come here" it was as if She was singing. At least it sounded like music in my ears. Hearing Madame speak of me as "My slave" made me warm around my heart and feel I had been appointed to the most attractive position in the world.

 

Each day I had to massage Madame Christine's feet, and each time (except one) was a great pleasure for me. Starting with kissing Her toes, then kissing one more time, licking Her big toe, applying cream, massaging, kissing Her toes and at last She might say: "And now one more time, kiss the big one and your little friend". I couldn't be happier.

 

One day I dropped the cream jar. It didn't break, but cream splashed all over the floor. I made a quick decision and ran into the kitchen before Madame Christine could say anything. There I used quite a long time to find some cleaning paper, hoping that Madame Christine's temper had cooled down when I came back within Her reach. Her temper may have cooled down, I don't know, but it was plenty left. Punishment was handed out immediately, 30 face slaps. I had received countless face slaps already and reckoned I could take these without too much problems. This time was different. 30 full force facky from Madame Christine are pure punishment and nothing else. It was with tears in my eyes I Kissed Her palm afterwards.

 

Madame Christine liked to use face slaps to underline Her statements. One evening She brought my dinner to my cell. It was two slices of dry bread, with raw onion rings on top. I said it looked delicious. Maybe She didn't believe I really meant it, because She had me kneeling in front of Her. Smack "Enjoy", smack, "your" smack, smack, smack "meal!!!!" smack, smack, smack.

 

In the morning, it could be something of the same. Me kneeling in front of Her in the cell. Smack, "I" smack "wish" smack "you" smack "good" smack, smack, smack "morning!!!!" smack, smack, smack. She had made it clear what would be in store for me through the day.

 

 

Horse training

 

A slave is seldom told what will happen. Madame Christine just said "Come with me!", and I followed, stumbling in the chains, wondering where and for what we were going. One day on our way from the pub, She surprisingly brought me into the school room instead of down to the prison. The large room behind the school room is completely filled with incredible amounts of requisites. Madame Christine found body and head harnesses for me and I was soon transformed into a pony.

 

She led me by the reins to the riding hall for training to pull carts. Good exercise, great fun and excellent slave training too. Blind obedience and blind trust in the Lady. Shackled to the cart, I was directed all around the area by pulls in the reins, cracks from the whip and encouraging shouts from behind. I was drilled in running straight forward until She indicated stop or turn. On one of the rounds in the sport park She had me running out of the track and down the lawn to the pub. She shouted for full speed. Madame Christine had seen that Madame Sarka had arrived at OWK and She had just come out on the pub terrace with Her dog. Madame Christine wanted to meet Her in a styli fashion. I ran as fast as I could. Luckily She had me stopping just in time.

 

Madame Christine and Madame Sarka went inside for a friendly chat.

 

I was told to stay put - with Madame Sarka's dog (real), a shaggy little beast called Shaggy, running around me. I don't know if the dog just don't like horses or that it remembered me from my last OWK stay. In any case it barked quite aggressively at me. I had serious problems with that dog last time. We were in a continuos fight over my water and bread bowl, and it seemed to continue now. Madame Christine tried later to calm me down by saying that I didn't have to worry about my food, because Shaggy knew that dogs get better meals than slaves. If Madame Sarka had not been Madame Sarka, I would have told Her to teach the beast some manners. But I know that that is not the way to speak to Madame Sarka - manners would have been severely taught, and that would not have been Shaggy's manners.

 

Madame Christine came out at last and drove me up to the riding hall. I was blindfolded and She had me pulling the cart around and between all the columns in the hall just guided by the reins. It went very well and She actually said "Good", and proudly I replied "Thank You Madame". That was a mistake. It cost me 30 hard strokes with crop on the spot. Horses don't speak English at OWK. All they are allowed to say is "Oahahahahah" or something like that.

 

Before we were finished, She had me running in a circle under direction of a lash and a signal whip, training on various steps and trots. There are still lots to learn, but I felt I made good progress that day.

 

 

 

Madame Christine. Head Mistress of the Queen's Stables.

 

 

The Beast and the Creature

 

Even though I had seen Shaggy get better food and also be free to run around without chains, I am not really aiming for a human dog career. Dog reflex obedience training is however always good for any slave. Madame Christine had me through a few hours drill, and I must admit that my attention to Her was improved by the end, but I must also admit that it took quite a few cracks from Her crop to get me up to standard, and that it also triggered quite a few laughs from Her side.

 

Afterwards it was lunch in the pub. Quite right, the food I was served in a dog bowl was definitely of better standard than my normal slave feedings. Even chicken! The problem was that my snout was too short to get down into the bowl. Madame Christine laughed a little at my efforts, but started to help me by putting pieces into my mouth. What did I do in return? I bit one of Her fingers!

 

"You stupid dog! I am not your meal!" She ran out of the pub, but came back a few minutes later with a cane in Her hand and beckoned me to follow Her down the long corridor to the hall. Trousers down and on my knees. She sat on my back and started in real anger to cane the backside of my thighs in rapid succession. It was not many strokes. By feeling the skin with my fingers afterwards, I counted about 10 on each. Back home with a mirror I could see that I would keep 5 of them as memory for at least 2 weeks. Madame Christine’s finger was fine. She looked at my welts a few times and found them to be as they should be too. The anger was out of Her body and I had received what I deserved - we could continue training happily as before. She actually let me place my head on Her thigh where She coddled me behind the ear.

 

I told you about my problems with Shaggy. One day we were almost at truce. Madame Christine was sitting at the end of the table, eating a delicious lunch. I was sitting on a slave stool on Her left side and Shaggy on a chair on Her right. Madame Christine sat in the middle and handed out scraps. One piece for the creature and one for the beast. Shaggy and I were scowling at each other to see who got the best treats. Madame Christine in the middle was highly amused and had a great time, but so did Shaggy and I too.

 

 

The Daily Chores

 

Being a slave meant much hard work. Washing dishes, washing floors, washing dishes, sweeping prison, cleaning torture devices. It should be perfect and it should done quickly. Madame Christine was not satisfied with my speed and started to set time limits for the chores, always with an amused smile. She knew the outcome. It was impossible to keep them, but I fell into the trap of trying the first time. Cleaning the pub with sweat streaming while Madame Christine sat at the bar, enjoying the scene. I wasn't even halfway down the corridor when She came and announced that time was out. 30 strokes for not completing my chore. Back in the pub, "Have you cleaned breakfast table?" "no Madame" "have you cleaned behind bar? "no Madame". 30 more strokes for negligence.

 

I learned my lesson. From then on I tried to forget the time limit and concentrate on quality. That way I only received strokes for not completing the chore. The time limit was impossible in any case.

 

I had just finished dish washing. The kitchen was perfect and sparkling. Madame Loreen entered. "You finished?!" "Yes Madame". Madame Loreen wouldn't have been Madame Loreen if She couldn't by magic find some dirty dishes from out of nowhere. Back at the sink again, we started talking about Prague and She gave me some advice on where to go. She was eating while I was washing, and I got the impression that She made dirty dishes faster than I could clean them. At last Madame Christine rescued me, She needed me for other chores.

 

One day I had cleaned two of the Ladies' toilets and put all my best into making it fine. Madame Christine actually said She was pleased, yes, so pleased that She said I had earned two bonus rewards and that I could kiss Her bottom two times. Then I did something stupid, I said that my number was also three and that I should kiss six times. Madame Christine got angry. Her good number was no joking matter. I quickly made the two kisses before She changed Her mind, and presented myself for the punishment I knew would come.

 

 

The Celebration

 

The last day, Friday, was a special day. Madame Christine ordered me to kneel down on the middle of the floor of the pub. Usually I was the one who went into the kitchen, but not today. When She came back, She was holding a slave bowl in front of Her containing a first cut of dry bread with a lit candle on top and decorated with three slices of lemon. She was singing "Happy birthday to you". I was told to blow out the candle and I made it in one attempt. I thanked Her for the cake and offered Her a piece of it. She declined and said that I should enjoy it all myself, including the lemon slices which She said would give the cake the right flavour of sweetness for a slave.

 

My birthday celebration was not finished with this. Madame Christine would also hand over presents from Her, and She would do it with a cane. She would combine the presents with outstanding punishment credits. It became quite a large calculation and She needed to do it on a piece of paper. She later wrote "From Madame Christine" on it and added

a :-). This piece of paper is now one of my treasures. The bottom line showed 189 strokes.

 

 

 

The present was handed over in the Long House pillory. All strokes did hurt, but they were not all full force. A rapid series of medium strokes on top of each other is also almost unbearable. The full force ones came suddenly at irregular intervals and more and more frequently towards the end. By twisting my neck I could see Her when She was on my left hand side. There I could see Her take the typical wide stance and rotate Her upper body for the full force strokes.

 

I survived and thanked Her properly afterwards. She cleaned my bottom with a paper napkin and told me I had menstruation. I was a living question mark, but She explained that this is what the Ladies call bleeding bruises from whippings. I also heard Madame Christine say "menstruace" to Madame Sarka when we returned to the pub.

 

It was certainly a gift to remember. I just made a check, my bottom has a surface like a washboard when I am writing this. I thought this was this, and that we were finished. But Madame Christine did not. When She led me down to the prison I believed it was to get my belongings. But no. Madame Christine told me to strip down in the torture chamber and lay down on the rack. Whipping of tender inside of thighs, bastinado and nipple torture with clamps and hot wax. Afterwards She was sitting on the other bench with me kneeling in front of Her. She instructed me to kiss Her boots and pointed at a specific point on the shaft. This point gave Her perfect angle for hitting my bruised bottom with Her crop Madame Christine had trained me at licking with full concentration without being disturbed by pain from whippings. This requires that focus on the licking is so strong that the pain is suppressed in the consciousness. It is not easy, but I am proud to say that I managed it for the second time, down there in the OWK torture chamber on my birthday.

 

 

Epilogue - Na shledano OWK

 

Before I finish, I just have to say: Madame Christine is not only a cruel torturess. She is also a very nice and friendly person with an easy smile and a great sense of humour. And beautiful.

 

She followed me outside the walls of OWK to say good by. When She removed my collar, it was really a plaintive moment for me. And when sitting here writing this, I actually wish I was still wearing it.

 

I cannot wait to see Madame Christine and the other Ladies at OWK again.

  

  

  

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