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PERSONAL MALE SLAVE TRAINING

  

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Female domination in real life at  OWK

  

  

  

  

  

ACT PROPERLY SLAVE, OR FEEL THE WHIP!
EXPERIENCES WHILE UNDER TRAINING AS A PERSONAL SLAVE TO LADY CHRISTINE

  

PART I - ENTRY INTO OWK

Those readers who saw the report – “Hunted, Caught, Tortured & Punished, will know that the regime in OWK is strict & brutal. They should also know that its activities are not confined to ‘Celebrations’. Work goes on all the time and woe to those who don’t satisfy the demands of Her Majesty QUEEN PATRICIA or HER LADY GUARDESSES and this certainly applies to male creatures like me, who are slaves of the State. While being trained to become a personal slave to LADY CHRISTINE, I discovered just how hard one has to work.

My previous MISTRESS, LADY CAROLINE, no longer has need of slaves and has “passed me on” to OWK. Since then I have visited on two occasions and learned much about how a slave, who truly wishes to become the personal slave of a demanding MISTRESS, must think & act. This report is an account of my most recent experiences. All are true, there is no fiction in OWK.

Despite having visited OWK on several occasions, I had never before undergone a training experience there. The first of these was in late April 2002, the second October.
Some of the administrative procedures, such as Immigration & Customs formalities are routine and described on the OWK web site or appear in reports made by other slaves. But neither capture the cruelly efficient atmosphere a GUARDESS can generate as the ‘slave-under-training’ kneels before HER, awaiting further orders. This, plus the TRAINING and how it lead to my being made an “EXTRA” in two OWK FILMS, I will now recount.

It was October and I was standing by the check-in-desk at “Our Style”- (the OWK Shop) I had shown my passport & gone through a few other formalities and was chatting to David (OWK Caretaker & Minder) with whom I have become friends. Suddenly the door was flung open and LADY CHRISTINE entered the high heels of her knee-boots clattering on the stone floor. SHE wanted to know why I had kept HER waiting! I sank to my knees trying to tell HER I didn’t know that I had. HER leather-gloved hand hit me hard across the face, twice. Then HER riding whip pointed at the boots. I knew better than to hesitate and with head to the floor kissed the instep of each one.
Only half an hour before, we had been journeying back from Prague sitting in the back of David’s car talking -
almost as equals! This occurred because LADY CHRISTINE, LADY LOREEN & David had met me at the airport and the four of us had visited a large theatrical costume store together. Here the LADIES chose gowns for the parts they would be playing in a 19th Century costume drama being filmed in OWK later that week. Needless to say, as a slave I had remained VERY respectful and felt hugely privileged when my opinion about suitability of some of the costumes was asked. This however had been the ‘Outside World’. Equality now was unthinkable! A kick in the side registered that I was to stop kissing. I was told to stand, pick up my luggage & follow.
My previous visit in April had prepared me for what was to happen next – the immigration procedure for entry to OWK. Thought of the process filled me with that wonderful feeling known only to slaves – a mixture of
dread & excitement. As I followed LADY CHRISTINE along the corridor of the Queen’s Palace towards the Administrative Office those feelings grew stronger. Memories of my April visit were stirred as we passed the open trap door and the steps leading down into the Prison. I remembered how I had been locked in one of the cells and passed a relatively peaceful night. The following morning LADY CHRISTINE had come and let me out and put me through a series of exercises on the Sports Park.
I am fairly fit and because she seemed satisfied with my prowess I thought I had made a good beginning –
fool that I was. I had not got out of my sleeping bag quickly enough!
Later that day, a leash was fastened to my collar, I was forced to my knees and dragged back to the Prison. On reaching the bottom of the steps I was ordered to stand and strip naked. I was then spread-eagled in chains between two wooden pillars and given twenty lashes on my backside with HER riding whip. On completion, I thought the punishment was over and uttered thanks for it not being too severe –
fool that I was!
Slowly LADY CHRISTINE moved to my front and fixed HER magnificent blue eyes on mine. For several seconds I stared back, but not for long. It was the first time I had experienced that terrible gaze and it would not be the last. HER eyes can twinkle with amusement, blaze with anger & even display gentle kindness. But on that occasion they were hard & cruel. Now, having seen them like that, I have learned to fear the consequences.
My understanding of the Czech language is almost non-existent and LADY CHRISTINE’S English is not strong. So for me, the
expression in HER eyes often has to be language enough and I knew I was in trouble. I tried to look away, but my face was gripped and turned towards HERS. Then, finger by finger she removed HER black leather gloves and let them fall to the floor. Continuing to hold my eyes, she began to pinch and twist my nipples. First one, then the other. In vain I struggled and squirmed to avoid the pain, but the chains holding my arms & legs were tight. I couldn’t move and the torture continued. Sometimes pinching, sometimes pulling and often twisting. I begged for mercy and my face was slapped. Then the twisting began again.
I lost track of time and to my horror the muscle between my legs had grown erect. Even speaking without permission is against the rules - to have an erection is even worse! I remembered the cruel smile that crossed LADY CHRISTINE’S face as SHE turned away and selected one of the canes stored in a metal basket close by. She flexed it, ran HER fingers along it, then swished it. Next she took off HER leather jacket picked up HER gloves and put them back on. I became even more acutely aware of how beautiful SHE is. Crisp white shirt, skin tight leather trousers & boots, and long fair hair cascading over HER shoulders. SHE is a
LADY, supreme in every way. From that moment on I was lost. I became, and still am HER slave.
Before receiving thirty cruel strokes from the cane, I was made to hold it in my mouth while SHE stood close behind me inflicting more painful torture to my nipples. Afterwards, back in HER apartment and with the aid of a Czech/English dictionary I was made to understand that to be HER slave, only the highest standards would be tolerated and that failure, particularly failure to obey the OWK rules & bye-laws, would be severely punished.

These memories all came flooding back as once again I followed my MISTRESS’S leather clad figure striding down the corridor of the Queen’s Palace. On arrival at the Administrative Office door I sprang forward to open it and was kicked to my knees. I crawled in after HER and was ordered to strip. Having already experienced what was about to unfold, I obeyed immediately and prayed that those dangerous and expressly forbidden feelings described above would not become apparent. At first they did not and all was well.
First I was ordered to open my luggage and show what I had brought with me. All my clothing was taken out and locked away, along with those items I had stripped off. I was allowed to keep my sleeping bag – for use in the Prison (thank god!) plus minimal toiletries. Next my watch, wallet, passport & gold St. Christopher neck chain was confiscated and placed in a sealed envelope across which I had to sign my name. As on the previous occasion, I not only
felt like a prisoner I was a prisoner and a slave. After my height & weight were taken, I had to kneel in front of HER desk while notes were recorded in a large book. This took some time and as I knelt I anticipated with dread what was to come next.
At last the recording was complete and LADY CHRISTINE stood up. Slowly she walked to the basket holding the Admin. Office whips & canes and I was ordered to stand.
This was the moment I had been dreading – the initiatory beating every slave endures on arrival in OWK. It was not so much the beating that I feared. The severity is generally not too much to bear – unless one disobeys the rules. But then OWK GUARDESSES are expert at making one do so and my MISTRESS is no exception. SHE took out a thin cane and flexed it. Then SHE swished it through the air twice. I felt myself starting to sweat and tried to tear my thoughts away from what was about to happen. But it was no use, I knew I was in trouble. The muscle between my legs started to stiffen – not into full erection, but large enough to be noticed. A smile crossed HER lips and the cane was replaced. SHE crossed to the desk again and picked up her Riding Whip.
“Over the hurdle! Quickly!” This was said in Czech, but HER whip pointed the way. I obeyed immediately and bent double over the top bar feeling the rough wood press against my stomach. My ankles were kicked apart to the edges of the side struts and my head was pushed lower – accompanied by the Czech word – “Dolu”, meaning “Down”! Then as the whip gently stroked my backside I spread my arms and gripped the front struts of the hurdle, bracing myself for the first stroke. It was not long in coming and quickly followed by five more. They each landed in the same place, but were not too painful. The effect however was what I had dreaded. The muscle I was trying so hard to control was standing stiffly to attention. SHE ran HER leather gloved hand across the narrow band where the whip had fallen.
“Naharu”, SHE said softly. I stood up.
“Hands like this”--- SHE demonstrated – ‘hands behind the neck position’. I obeyed and trembled as the tab of HER whip brushed across my upright member. With a mocking smile SHE put the whip back on the desk, took the cane from its basket again and swished it twice.
“You know rules. Why you break?” HER stunning blue eyes were filled with amusement but quickly hardened as I tried to explain. SHE shouted something that sounded like – “Zahnuti-Oselhnout!” - and shoved me over the hurdle again. This time I had to put my feet inside the lower bar and I was pushed more tightly over the top one. The cane was then held to my lips and I was made to kiss it before being told to hold it in my mouth. Next, she moved round in front of me and took off HER leather jacket, beneath which was a crisp white shirt. SHE lifted my head by the hair looked into my eyes and slapped my face.
“Otrok”, she said softly and moved out of my view. Indeed I thought, I AM LADY CHRISTINE’S slave. I remained in position holding the cane for what must have been several minutes. I don’t know what SHE was doing, but suspect it was a ruse to heighten fear of the pain to come. Eventually, I heard HER move towards me and felt a leather covered hand probe lightly between my thighs. It was immediately withdrawn, the cane was removed from my mouth and swished just once. Then, I heard it swish again just before it cracked across my backside. The pain was excruciating and I wriggled against the hurdle.
“Zastaveni – Blbec!” A hand pushed against my head. “Dolu”! I gripped the lower bar, gritted my teeth and bent as tight as I could over the top one. I was determined to take whatever punishment my MISTRESS was going to inflict without moving or crying out. I managed it, but only just. The cane lashed my tightly stretched buttocks fifteen times before I was allowed to get up from the hurdle. By that time all traces of my erection had long since subsided!
I was ordered to help HER into HER jacket and put the cane back into the basket. SHE collected HER riding whip, pointed it at my toiletries & sleeping bag and stood by the door. Doing as directed I opened it and followed HER along the corridor, down into the prison.
My entry into OWK was complete. Entry procedures had been followed and for the next three days, I became LADY CHRISTINE’S slave and completely at HER mercy.
As to my experiences as HER slave plus the making of two video films, I will tell of these in Parts 2 & 3 of this report.

by slave erroll

 

 

 

 

PART II - TRAINING

The sound of the heels on LADY CHRISTINE’S boots hitting the stone surface of the prison floor brought back frightening memories of my previous visit. As if this were not enough, the heavy wooden door at the bottom of the steps was open, but the inner gate was shut. SHE placed a key in the lock and turned it, thrusting the iron bars open with a clang. The sound made me shiver. The tunneled walls, the wooden posts with manacles attached, the cages and the rack, were all there, just as I remembered them. What sights & sounds were these instruments of torture witness to? Certainly the crack of thin braided leather cutting into naked male flesh, sometimes followed by pathetic whimpers, or the occasional plea for mercy - I could bare witness to these myself!
Following on as my MISTRESS strode deeper into the prison, I wondered what my immediate fate was going to be. Was I to be chained by the wrists between the posts ready for yet another flogging, or would I be squashed into a tiny cage. Or, would SHE just lock me in Cell No1 and allow me to curl up in my sleeping bag---I doubted it!
To my surprise, Cell No.1 was occupied. Its prisoner was naked and chained. He was kneeling on thinly spread straw without any blankets. It occurred to me that he might be one of those unfortunates who, having committed some heinous offence, had been placed there at his MISTRESS’S request to undergo a period of Severe Training. LADY CHRISTINE ignored him and swaggered on. This gave the prisoner & myself a brief moment to exchange a surreptitious glance. Just as we were doing so however, SHE stopped and I quickly looked away. In the QUEEN’S PRISON, contact of any sort between prisoners is strictly forbidden. Another key was produced and the gate to Cell No.2 was unlocked. I was beckoned forward and ordered to put my sleeping bag & toiletries inside. On doing so I noticed two neatly folded blankets on the floor and blessed my luck when I was not told to remove them. At night the temperature is often regulated to fall below 10 degrees!
Having dumped my kit I was ordered out of the cell which was then re-locked. A leash was attached to my collar and I was led towards the exit. LADY CHRISTINE still ignored the prisoner as SHE passed by his cell, but ran HER whip along its bars. He shivered slightly and gave me a rueful smile. LADY GUARDESS’S in OWK are skilled at such little refinements of cruelty. All designed to build tension and anticipation of painful punishment should their exacting standards or whims not be met.
A tug on the leash indicated I was not to linger. My duties as a partially trained slave to LADY CHRISTINE were about to begin. Climbing the stone steps up to the daylight, SHE shortened the leash so that my face was drawn close to HER backside. At each step, the leather of HER riding breeches moulded HER shapely buttocks more tightly. And once again I was overcome by that delicious feeling known only to male slaves, when they are about to be ordered into the service of a cruel & beautiful WOMAN.

“STRIP!” The command resembled the crack of a whip.
We were in the studio of LADY CHRISTINE’S apartment and SHE was lolling at HER ease in a comfortable armchair. The rooms of HER apartment are well appointed. They comprise an entrance hall, a luxurious shower room with toilet facilities, a small kitchen, and a bedroom leading off the studio where I now stood. While hurrying to obey HER order I sneaked a look to remind myself of the “facilities” and noted they had not changed since my last visit. The Iron Cage, the Wooden Cross with its wrist & ankle straps, the leather covered Whipping Bench and of course HER Dressage Whip & Cat O Nine Tails. All were hanging neatly in place from hooks in the wall.
At one stage or another I had suffered them all, apart from the Dressage Whip and hoped to God I never would - some slaves say it is worse than the Bullwhip.
For the second time in an hour, I stood naked before my MISTRESS. Casually SHE looked me up and down, then made a circular motion with HER Riding Whip indicating I was to turn round. “Hands at neck”.
The softly accented English was delightful. With hands laced behind my head I turned my back towards HER and knew I was in trouble again. SHE kept me facing away for several seconds and I felt the tip of HER whip probe between my legs. The muscle there sprang to attention and as it did so I was ordered to turn and face HER again. That same half smile I had seen before crossed HER face and I was not sure whether SHE was pleased, annoyed or just satisfied that SHE had me completely in HER power and could do exactly as SHE liked with me. I tried to apologize but was cut short.
SHE clicked HER fingers, indicating I was to kneel and crawl forward, so my face was close to HER boots.
“Kiss,” SHE said softly. And with hands still behind my head I did as I was told. First one boot then the other pushed beneath my lips. The exercise went on for several minutes until at last I was told to stop and kneel up. My erection was still in evidence and SHE added to my discomfort by stroking it with the leather tab of HER Riding Whip.
“This,” SHE said tapping it lightly. “Only when I say. Understand – slave!”
“Y- yes, M’LADY!” I heard myself stutter.
“Why you don’t have cuffs – here, AND here?” The whip tapped my wrists & ankles.
“David didn’t give to me M’LADY”.
HER eyes froze. “You not ask SLAVE? YOU KNOW RULES. GO, and GET, NOW!”
It was warm in the apartment and as I ran to “Our Style” (OWK’s Shop) to get the articles I had forgotten, the air on my naked body felt freezing. Luckily David was there and gave them to me with a sympathetic smile.
“You may need this as well,” he said. Handing me a leather restrainer. “You won’t want to be wrong twice. Will you?” I put on the restrainer & anklets but reserved the wrist cuffs for LADY CHRISTINE’S attention.
I arrived back at the apartment breathless. SHE was still sitting in the armchair but had removed HER leather jacket. SHE seemed satisfied that I had put a restrainer on and told me to pull my leather slips over the top of it. I was then made to understand that unless told otherwise, that was how I was to dress when serving in HER apartment. My duties were about to begin.
First I had to take off HER boots and pop-socks and place HER dainty feet on a rug. Then I had to brew tea. About this SHE is extremely fussy. It must be served at exactly the right temperature & exactly the right strength. Since it is made from several different herbs, this is no easy task. Needless to say, I got things wrong!
First I broke the teapot handle. Actually it fell off because it was broken anyway, but SHE said I had done it. Then although the strength was correct, the liquid was too hot and I was made to lie on my back beneath the soles of HER feet, waiting for it to cool. From time to time HER feet moved, alternating between my stomach & chest. But occasionally they were pushed hard into my face reminding me of my status as HER slave. Then to my horror, just once, HER foot pushed lightly into my groin and on feeling the forbidden activity there, it pressed down hard which increased the activity----
I was told to kneel up. The expected punishment did not come then however. I was ordered to fetch nail polish remover & pads from HER dressing table. While SHE sipped tea I removed all the polish from HER toenails. I was then allowed to sit on a stool and using a sweet scented oil, massage each foot in turn. This was something I could do well and all seemed satisfactory. SHE even closed HER eyes and gave the odd murmur of approval. It took well over an hour before I was ordered to complete the task and cut the toenails, before applying polish to each one in turn. If one has never done it before, painting toenails is an horrendous job. Especially if the LADY is fussy about smudging or getting lacquer on them. Again, my work was judged “not up to standard”. So I had to clean-off and start again several times. The little toes required particular attention before SHE was satisfied.
By this time it was past 6pm. “El Choumata” – the OWK pub was open and I knew SHE would want to go there and meet the other GUARDESSES. I wondered about the errors I had made. Would I escape punishment perhaps? How stupid of me to think so! Within a very short space of time I realized that my first Training Visit had been a merciful introduction. A test if you like, to see whether or not I had the potential to become a proper slave. My duties and punishments for failure during the next three days were a Heaven and a Hell! Some of the “hell” was about to follow.
As I tried to zip HER feet into a different pair of boots – thigh length with spiked heels, I had my face slapped half a dozen times and was told I was an idiot. The leather was tight and it was difficult to tuck HER breeches inside without causing discomfort. In the end SHE kicked me away and fastened them HERSELF. Yet again I had performed badly. After helping HER into HER jacket, I was allowed to put my own clothes back on – trainers, track suit trousers & sweat shirt with “SLAVE” embossed on the front. The leash was re-fastened to my collar and I was led out of the apartment and hauled towards the Long House. Every so often SHE gave it a vicious tug jerking my head in the process. On approaching the door I sped in front and opened it. My reward was being kicked to the floor and having to crawl into El Choumata on all fours.
Of the five people already there, I knew three. David, who was serving behind the bar, along with a guy I had never seen before and LADIES CLARA & LOREEN, who were sitting up at the bar. Also, sitting on a small stool at LADY CLARA’S feet was the man I’d seen in the Prison. He now had his clothes on.
Without being told, I kissed the insteps of each LADY’S boots, then still kneeling, dragged up a stool for LADY CHRISTINE. SHE perched HERSELF on it and ordered red wine. I stayed kneeling while the three LADIES drank several glasses and chattered in Czech. After about half an hour LADY CHRISTINE took hold of my hair and lifted up my head. There was a half smile on HER gorgeous face as SHE gently patted my cheek.
“You no understand what we say,” she said.
“No M’LADY.”
“You listen MADAM CLARA & MADAM LOREEN, they speak English better!”
“Yes M’LADY.” My head was turned towards them. LADY CLARA spoke first.
“MADAM CHRISTINE says you are a willing slave but you are careless and not skilled. This is correct?”
“Yes, M’LADY.”
“Come here slave.” It was LADY LOREEN who spoke. Before moving the half a meter to where SHE sat, I looked up at LADY CHRISTINE, who let go my hair and flicked a finger. I moved across but kept my head level with LADY LOREEN’S booted feet. SHE put one over the other and lifted my head with the tip of HER whip.
“Why were you careless slave and why are you not skilled?” she asked flexing the whip.
I told HER about the tea pot handle and the tea being too hot. Also smudging LADY CHRISTINE’S toes with silver nail polish and not being able to put HER boots on properly.
“Fool, I didn’t ask you WHAT, I asked you WHY!”
“I don’t know, M’LADY. Perhaps lack of practice M’LADY.”
“I think lack of punishment. What do you say CHRISTINA?”
The words I heard sounded like – “Ano ja souhlasit.” And I assumed the worst. Quite correctly!
I will not forget the next three quarters of an hour. Followed by the other two, LADY CHRISTINE led me down to the Long House Hall. First, I was made to polish their boots. This involved brushing, using the correct polish and buffing. But that was not enough. I was also made to clean the soles & heels – with my tongue.
When they were finally satisfied, I was ordered to strip, stand in front of them and repeat my faults. I was then locked into the large wooden pillory permanently kept in the hall, while they discussed what punishments would be most fitting. The language used was English, so clearly they wanted me to understand. Although I dreaded what was to come I thanked God, David & the other two men had not been told to come and watch.
It was decided that for breaking the tea pot handle I should receive Ten Strokes. For the tea being too hot, Five Strokes. For smudging the nail polish, Ten Strokes and for not fitting the boots properly, Fifteen Strokes. They also discussed which whips would be used and it was agreed that riding crops should suffice. However LADY LOREEN’S thought the last fifteen should be administered with a cane and to my horror, got HER way!
LADY CHRISTINE gave me the first ten while the others watched from the comfort of a leather sofa. LADY CLARA then gave me the next five. After this they went back to the bar and left me to contemplate the strokes to come. My backside burned and I longed to be able to rub my hands on the welts but the pillory held my wrists securely. Would I be able to stand the next Twenty-five without begging for mercy? I had the feeling LADY LOREEN wanted to hear me do so. After what seemed ages – probably only ten or fifteen minutes, they returned.
LADY CHRISTINE looked into my face & gently asked, “You OK, slave?”
HER words were music. I WAS HER SLAVE and would do my utmost not to let HER down. “Yes M’LADY. Yes!” I said. SHE stood hard against me and twisted each of my nipples in turn. I felt the warmth of HER leather -clad body and the result was predictable.
“You have my permission slave,” SHE said smiling and stayed there while LADY CLARA & LADY LOREEN each laid on five strokes.
Then came the cane. First LADY CLARA - Five Strokes. I wriggled and squirmed, gritting my teeth in an effort not to cry out. Thank God SHE did not overlay the strokes but they were hard enough. After which it was LADY LOREEN’S turn. SHE is an expert with the cane and likes using it. Before striking SHE swished it making me jump. Then it began. It was truly terrible. SHE overlaid nearly every one and my backside was on fire. I cried out, but did not beg for mercy. When SHE had finished I heard HER give a little grunt of satisfaction as SHE handed the cane to LADY CHRISTINE and I wondered what it meant.
Finally came LADY CHRISTINE. SHE drew the cane’s length across my mouth and told me hold it between my teeth. While I did so, HER cool hand rested against my bottom cheeks and gently massaged them. Then, SHE took hold of the cane again and substituted it for HER hand. “Now you know, SLAVE. You must do jobs properly, OR”---- the thin rod tapped my burning flesh and when I flinched, SHE laughed and ordered me to kiss it.
“Five strokes, SLAVE. You will count and thank – in Czech, OK? AND, no beg for mercy!”
“Yes M’LADY. I will try M’LADY,” I whispered, conscious that the two LADIES sitting behind me, legs crossed on their comfortable sofa, would almost certainly watch and listen with interest. Once again the cane swished and I gritted my teeth in an effort to withstand the inevitable pain to come.
I am proud to say I managed it, but only because LADY CHRISTINE was merciful. No strokes were overlaid and although hard enough to make me cry out, none were hard enough to make me lose count or fail to thank HER in Czech. What is more as I knelt to kiss HER boots plus those of LADY CLARA & LADY LOREEN, I was given brief smiles & pats on the face – sure signs of approval from LADIES in OWK!
My day’s training was nearly over. I was allowed to dress and walk back to the ‘pub’ without a leash attached to my collar. Once I had served wine to the LADIES, I was introduced by David to the guy I had seen in the Prison. He was a Brit called Charles, and there at the request of his UK based MISTRESS. I can’t remember the name of the other man, only that he was from East Germany and that later we both took parts as “extras” in the big ‘Costume Drama’ I will tell of in Part 3 of this report. Suffice to say that the rest of the evening was delightful. Much chat between LADIES & slaves, although as always, the latter were VERY RESPECTFUL.
It was gone midnight by the time Charles & I were taken down into the Prison. The previously relaxed atmosphere hardened, leashes were put on and we were hauled away. Before being shoved into our cells, boots had to be licked, prison clothes had to be put on and we were reminded of the penalties for talking. The gates were then locked and the lights put out. I crawled into my sleeping bag, said good night to Charles and despite the hard stone floor, slept until the first rays of sunlight pierced a grill in the wall and relieved the gloom.
Charles was already awake & we were chatting about our respective lives & the merits of OWK, when suddenly the doors & gates clattered open. MESDAMES CHRISTINE & CLARA. had arrived! Needless to say they had heard us. So the beating we suffered before being put through our morning exercises came as no surprise. Another day’s training had begun!

Since too much detail can become boring to some readers, I will not dwell too deeply on it. But some may be curious about the broad outline. To them I would say, visit OWK and experience the magic. For example, a typical day will involve the following:

  • Taking breakfast to your MISTRESS’S bedroom at 0900hrs precisely
    Penalty for incorrect or cold food - 10 lashes
    Penalty for lateness . - 10 lashes
  • Massaging HER feet.
    Penalty for poor performance - 10 lashes
  • Massaging HER naked body
    Penalty for poor performance - 30 lashes (if an erection is seen - 50 lashes)
  • Acting as a Pony Boy
    Penalty for poor performance - Being whipped while running 4 x round the track
  • Any form of “Disrespect.” - Between 10 & 100 lashes depending on the offence

Additionally, your MISTRESS may elect to starve you for 24 hours. During this time, if you are caught stealing food from the kitchen you can expect at least 50 lashes. If by the end of the starvation period you have behaved & performed properly, SHE will allow you to eat scraps thrown by HER or from any of the other GUARDESS’S plates. They may of course choose to make you beg for them before crushing the more tasty morsels beneath the soles of their boots first.
The floggings you receive may be carried out in your MISTESS’S apartment or in the Long House Hall, or even in the Elizabeth Bathory Suite. The latter is the most magnificent apartment in the OWK, comprising not only a LADY’S bedchamber, but also a fully fitted Torture Room. The whips and canes that may be used on you are many and varied. They range from the Riding Crop (the least painful) through, the Cat O Nine Tails & the Dressage Whip, to the wickedly painful ‘Black Lady’. The latter differ in length but each one is an evil snake of tightly plaited leather. All can be seen on the OWK web site.
At one stage or another during my training sessions, I have suffered most of the above. But as a result, I have not only become a better and more respectful slave, I also believe I am quite welcome to visit OWK again and am more likely to be called to “act” as an extra in their video productions.

by slave erroll

 

  

  

  

  

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