The shouts of domes and subbies frolicking in the water were added
punishment to my present plight as I knelt on the shoreline. I was the
Mistress' clothing tree. To avoid sand getting in any of their belongings
they had designated me to remain with arms outstretched. I was holding
shorts, halter tops, bikinis, towels, panties; whatever they chose to
discard for their midnight skinny dipping. Mistress Amanda's bathing suit
was already wet from an earlier swim, and was drying on my head. I was
humiliated, frustrated and also jealous (the subs were having some
free-time to frolic). I was being punished. It mattered not that my late
arrival was beyond my control. United States Customs held me back from
catching the last van, which transported those of us who were flying in at
6pm Friday night. The Customs agent wanted to know the names of the people
I was "vacationing" with at Smith Mountain lake Virginia.
"Cheyenne who?", she asked. "Don't you have full names for
these people?" How could I say, "Well, it's Lady Cheyenne,
Mistress Amanda and Princess Sierra...." It was 7pm before I was
cleared to go and find my own way to the lake. As I departed, the U.S.
Customs Holding Area the thought occurred to me that this experience was
just like something the Mistress' could have orchestrated!
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Added to my embarrassment and punishment, I had missed the 'auction'
and did not know who 'bought' me. I would find out later. a court of
discipline had meted out a sentence to be administered after the swimming.
Everyone was assembled on the manor's balcony, looking down upon me in my
nakedness. Hands bound behind my back, my male staff, erect but bound with
pink bows, I felt the ridicule of even the other subbies. Not only was I
indicted for being late, but above all, for my 'impudent outbursts' in the
ClubDom chat room. Several incidents of my disrespect and misbehavior were
recalled and I had to read accounts of them out loud from my 'prisoners'
place below the balcony. Guilty! Sentence - to begin by drinking from the
'cup of supreme justice' an ample dosage of saliva deposited by each and
every Mistress present. There was at least a pint of foamy, thick, juicy,
slime to be consumed. Next, the Mistresses would begin to spit from the
balcony above, one at a time. I must catch each and every drop of precious
nectar on my face, preferably in my mouth. For any missed hockers I would
receive '10 lashes by the lake'. The balcony was a good 6 feet from the
ground. A steady lake breeze was blowing in off the water to ensure that
not a mouthful of spit would descend in a straight predictable pattern.
After 15 minutes of incessant gobbers launched at my open jaws the tally
was announced. Direct mouth receptions - 12, (and I could taste the
residue very much); facial targets received - 33; other body parts covered
in spit 1, (mostly my hair which now felt like it was full of shampoo);
MISSED OBJECTIVES ... Eight! Dear God, NO! EIGHTY LASHES! Laughter,
catcalls and derision descended upon me.
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