Summary: This one is about a 4 hour ordeal a novice had waiting for his Mistress to show up.

It started with a terse, three sentence message from my Mistress. She is always like that. I was to swim in a pair of ladies panties in the hotel swimming pool, order beer with my lunch and drink it through my asshole, and then wait for her in a particular posture between 1:00 pm and 5:00 pm - blindfolded, with panties stuffed in my mouth, wearing a collar, clothespins on my nipples, and an enema tube in my ass - my hole full of soap water.

My feelings were mixed. I was relieved that I might see her, and terrified of the ordeal that lay before me. I had done many of the things before - but never all at once. Wondering what was going to be the most painful bit I plumped for the enema. I was wrong. Many hours later I remember seeing my pain streaked face in the mirror, looking like someone I have never known, wondering what the hell I was doing in a hotel room far from home, in the middle of my vacation, waiting for someone I had only an email ID of - before resuming my position on the floor. That was the most painful bit and it was not physical.

My first question was "when will she come"? How much time do I have - as if that mattered. I had to buy the panties (I had unsuccessfully tried to make thongs out of the last one I because She wanted me in thongs the day before), buy clothespins, order lunch and eat it and drink a whole bottle of beer (I eat slowly and my rearguard beer intake is even slower). I decided that I had to be ready by 1:00 pm even If it meant an early lunch because YOU DON'T TAKE CHANCES WITH YOUR MISTRESS.

Things got a stage of panic about 12:00 pm. In the meantime I had already scandalized the lifeguard at the pool by dipping into the shallows wearing nothing but a very fashionable pair of lace panties. (This can happen only in India). Room service in India takes forever. As I waited for lunch to be served I prepared the rest of the paraphernalia - a place for the enema water holder, freshly bought clothespins, the spot where I would lie, I went over the posture - hands stretched out ahead, forehead and breast on the floor, knees wide apart, ankles locked, ass in the air....

I wolfed down the lunch but the beer part was a bit of a washout. I can sit on a beer bottle and comfortably take it into my rear a good 4-5 inches. The only problem is to persuade the beer to flow into my stomach - I can only do this in parts. In between I got up and flushed out whatever was in my rectum. Finally I just drank the quarter that remained, in the hope that my Mistress would forgive me if I spoke the truth that I had been about 75% successful.

As 1:00 pm approached my heart started pounding. What if Mistress appeared at 1:00 sharp and I was not ready for some reason. Through a flurry of activities I got ready. First the dog collar, then the clothespins on my nipples, next filling the enema bag with soap water and positioning it in a way that let me lie under it while facing the door. I knew from past experience that I could not hold the water inside for 4 hours and so had made arrangements for extra soap bottles just in case I ran short. Then when I had assumed the required position, I stuffed the panties into my mouth and strapped a handkerchief about my eyes.

The first intake of water through the bowels is always somewhat pleasant and ticklish. So while the soap water bubbled into my rectum, my first unpleasant sensation was of the pain in my nipples as the clothespins bit into them. As it settled on the floor the pain from my nipples was upper most on my mind. My mistress had taught me to lie on my back with clothespins on for short durations of 15 minutes but I had never rested my nipples on the ground with Clothespins on them. And these were plastic - a far cry from the ones I'd used at Dubai - I guess Mumbai is breezier!

Normally when my Mistress asked me to time an act I use my breathing to get an idea. 16 breaths to a minute - 240 for fifteen- I had work now measured out to 3840 breaths. I had never counted to over 250 ever. Could I do it now?

As I lay I became aware of the pains that were assaulting me from different parts of the body. My nipples, my arms, the soap in my hole, thighs, my labored breathing, and worst of all from the knowledge that my ordeal had just begun. I had left the door ajar so that when my Mistress would appear she would see me as I was - I wouldn't have the time to make any corrections as I did so want her to see how faithfully I followed her commands.

What followed next was a parade of pain. My first focus were the nipples. I had always worn clothespins for durations no more than 15 minutes. The knowledge that a pain will end in so and so time is always comforting but I had to bear this for longer than ever before. By the time I crossed the count of 250 I felt I was already at my limit of pain. But by then the soap in my hole was screaming for release

I now understand elements of Chinese torture. There is always something worse. I lost count of time and focused only on the release my hole was- screaming for. Breathe in ... breathe out. 300,301, 302...till I could not endure it any more. I took off the blindfold and lay with my face to the side watching the clock. 1:25 I was aware of a wetness tricking down the cheeks of my ass. I felt the soapy texture of the water and smelt it on my fingers as I wiped it off. I decided I would endure this for another 5 minutes - I didn'tn't care any more. At 1:30 I got up and rushed to the bathroom and settling on the seat of the toilet seat I let out a jet of soapy water.

I now had to fill the enema bag again.... I do it. I also took the clothespins off - a rush of blood into my nipples made me double up with pain. Then fear - primordial fear. What if Mistress saw me now? I was not supposed to sitting there contemplating on the produce of my ass - I was supposed to be supine, waiting. What if she walked in now? How would I ever explain? And worse still how would I convince her that I had done all she had commanded me so far?

I put the clothespins back. This was worse than doing it the first time. I was driven to my knees with pain and did'nt care if she walked in and found me bent over a chair begging. I was begging. I was kissing her feet and burrowing between her knees crying for mercy. My Mistress would understand if she saw me like this and would forgive me.

Slowly as the pain subsided I got up, repositioned the enema bag again, and took my position facing the door. I knew I was never going to take the clothespins off again. I must have been lying like that for over 20 minutes when I realized that the enema was not really working anymore. I took my blindfold off and saw that the water level in the bag had not reduced. My enema kit sometimes malfunctions - the tap does not work. Will it happen again? Could I tell my Mistress that and perhaps save myself some pain? I fiddled with the tap and sure enough soon found a cooling watery presence seeping into my insides. Drat!

. Meanwhile I was finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. The blindfold accentuated every physical sensation. I now began to realize how easy it is for one to endure pain when there is someone watching or if one could see. Being blindfolded deprives one of any external references - the entire experience is internalized and that much more intense. I had left the door ajar so if someone were to walk in I'd have at the most a couple of seconds to assume the required posture if I were out of position. The clothespins had to stay, and so did the enema tube. My arms were aching but it was nowhere as close as the pain I felt in my nipples or the pressure in my bowels. My mind started to work to relieve me of my pain and yet stay true to my Mistress's commands. But there was little I could do. I knew I could not take the blindfolds off and retie them in the time it would take my Mistress to enter the room. I was helpless. I could in principle have easily locked the room and settled down to watch TV or something but that would not be fair...

TV gave me an idea. I could still hear. I got up and quickly tuned to BBC and lay down again. There was a series of newscasts and a short interview that I'd heard already. Iraq, Bush being his usual anal self, and the Jews in Israel still stuck to images of the Holocaust like Siamese Twins. For a while I dwelt on the Jewish problem. I imagined I was suffering on their behalf and then an announcement about fresh incursions by the IDF into Palestinian areas shook me off . I heard the voice of a young Palestinian child searching for her mother amidst the ruins, and felt like throwing up into the panties stuffed in my mouth. As I lay and retched I cried over and over again "Mistress, please forgive me. Mistress, have mercy and relieve me from this" My face was wet with tears. I took off the blindfold and looked at the clock. It was just 2:20. A great weariness overcame me and I got up again to relieve myself.

When I returned to my posture again I had resolved not to get up gain till 5:00. The pain in my breasts meant nothing. This was my Friday passion - I would endure. I had by then worked out a position that was least uncomfortable. My breasts were firmly on the ground and I did not care about the pain in my nipples anymore since I knew how much more painful it was to take the clothespins off and put them on again. All I had to deal with was the pain in my arms that seemed to be reappearing and the enema tube stuck in me. I resolved to count my way through to 5:00 pm. That still left about 2400 breaths. I was getting there, but there was still much to do...

By then however my nose was getting blocked and I began to find it increasingly difficult to breathe. I guess this had much to do with the fact that I was concentrating on my breathing to mark time and the panties in my mouth were not helping. Also the posture my Mistress required me to assume sort of presses the nose on to the floor making breathing through the nose difficult. As I focused on my breathing the pain in my nipples, arms, legs and the pressure on my bowels sort of disappeared. But my breathlessness was in sharpy focused. I coughed repeatedly into the panties and nearly choked at times. And all this in a state of complete darkness. I would try to open my eyes against the pressure of the blindfold to relieve the discomfort and succeeded in loosening the blindfolds on more than one occasion. I'd fearfully tie them back listening for the slightest sound outside the door that would announce the presence of my Mistress.

I was praying. Hard. All I wanted was my Mistress to appear and relieve me from my suffering. It was not that I was suffering much, but the idea of suffering alone without a reference to time (save my breathing) was a torture. I imagined my Mistress walking through the door. I imagined directing her to the tools of torture I had laid out carefully in the cupboard. My mind veered between fear and joy... would she be happy to see me lying in abject obeyance to her commands or would she stretch this torture further?

I imagined tucking my head between her knees and begging for relief and mercy as I would to a punishing mother. I imagined her running her fingers through my hair and letting me kiss her feet as a reward. Then the very next moment I would be assailed by doubts. Perhaps I was not doing it the way she wanted me to. Perhaps she wanted top see me lying in my own shit and not finding me so would proceed to punish me more. I imagined being kicked in my nuts till I was gasping for mercy or being trod upon - my nipples with Clothespins crushed under her heels.

I got hard as I was thinking all this and was terrified that that she'd see me like that. So I got up and put rubberbands on my cock - 3 at the base and 4 at the tip just to make sure that I did not lose control. That gave me another reference for pain for some time till I realized that my Mistress had not asked me to do it. What if she got offended? This was not about sex. This was slavery. I took the bands off and lay down again...

By then I had gotten used to the sounds outside. I could make out from the steps of approaching people the kind of footwear they had on. I wouldn't imagine my Mistress wears sneakers - so I kept my ears open for anything in solid heels. Also I could make out whenever the lift door opened - that would give me a few precious seconds to correct my posture if required. There was quite a lot of traffic in the corridor outside, and I could hear the lift door open and slam shut every now and then. With each approaching footstep I'd imagine my Mistress walking in - only to be disappointed as the sound of the footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

Meanwhile my bowels were crying for relief. I held on desperately. I tried to work puzzles in my head to keep my mind occupied. I screamed into my panties against the darkness that surrounded me and every now and then shook with paroxysms of coughing. Meanwhile drips of my shit were running down my legs on to the carpeted floor. I reached behind and felt the sticky ooze that was drying on my ass. When I smelt it I shook into a fresh bout of coughing and retching. My stomach was also acting up in strange ways and I felt ill. Lying down in darkness I remembered the delirium that used to assail me when I was a child. Every sound seemed louder than it was and I had the sense of being locked in a huge room. The sound from the air conditioner seemed to come from far way, and although it was cool beads of perspiration dripped from my scalp. This often presages a blackout.

My head was humming and strange tunes played in my head . The darkness about my eyes and the difficulty in breathing amplified every discomfort. When I could no longer bear it anymore I took my blindfold off I saw that it was only 3:45 pm. I had to get up again to relieve myself. This time there was less soap - I produced a stream of brown liquid. I also bent over the shitpot and threw up I poured the last remnants of the soap water into the enema bag and took up my position again. I was exhausted... but the thought of my Mistress walking in had me lie down again. I no longer cared about the pain. All I wished was for my Mistress to walk in and save me.

It is always easier to hold water again after a round of enema. When I lay down this time I had only the breathlessness and the blindfold to contend with. My nipples were sore and a dull pain seemed to be coursing through all parts of my upper body. I had by then a pretty good idea of where people were on the corridor outside. I had learnt that the only thing I could do to relieve myself was to push the panties out of my mouth with my tongue in a way that let me suck it back into my mouth very quickly. This way I figured my Mistress would see me the way she wanted without knowing that I had cheated in some way. It was much more comfortable and no one would know.

This allowed me to breathe much more easily and I slowly counted my breaths. Although the breathing was easier, all the other pains returned to haunt me. My armpits ached, and the clothespins tore at my nipples every time I moved and my knees were sore. Every now and then my back would start trembling with the tension.The only consolation I had was that there could be worse tortures - for instance I could be tied up, and have earplugs stuffed into my ears. Even the thought caused me to retch and cough into the panties. By the time I reached a count of 1000 I was passing brown liquid into the enema bag and also dripping to the floor again. The last thing I wanted was a mess - so I got up and wiped off the floor, sprayed some deodorant and relieved myself.

I had run out of soap water and filled the enema bag with water alone. It was then I saw my face in the bathroom mirror. I did not look like anyone I had known before. The face that stared back at me was a different person - My Mistress's creation. It was already a quarter past four. I knew then that my Mistress would never come. That I had never seen her, heard her could well mean that this was a giant hoax. My Mistress did not exist. Someone was taking me for a ride. This was my first experience and someone was playing games with me. I wanted to stop - this was not me. Why was I doing it? What would I gain? Would I ever see my Mistress? My mind dwelt on all the things she had said and refused to believe that someone was fooling me. Why couldn't she call at least? Just the sound of my Mistress's voice would make this so easy. The worst thing was to imagine that I was undergoing all this for nothing. My mind was assailed by doubts of all sorts.

But I had already come too far to back out now. Even if my Mistress did not appear I would have to go through with it - after all I could not lie to her. I filled the enema bag up (with water this time) and lay down again. The phone rang almost immediately. It was housekeeping telling me that I had left the door ajar and left a "Do not Disturb" sign outside. I did not lock the door still. The only concession I allowed myself was to push the panties out with my tongue when the breathing got too difficult. I was counting my breaths and felt much relieved now that I had thrown up. I felt that if I tried I could even fall asleep in that position. The nipples were sore but I had gotten used to the pain. The water in my rectum felt cool and unlike the soap did not make me feel like shitting. As I reached a breath count of 500 I knew that my ordeal was soon going to be over. I was almost at peace and too tired to feel bad that my Mistress had not showed up. It did not seem to matter anyway. All I wanted was to serve my time and get this over and done with. I spent the last quarter hour trying to remember passages from the Bible and snatches of poetry I had learnt in school. Nursery rhymes. When I took my blindfold off it was already past 5:00 pm. I had endured. I removed the towel under me , with brown stains from the many dribbles down my ass, took the clothespins off , showered and slept.

My Mistress never showed up.