Klawdya Rothschild's Vortex

I walk out of My quarters, and cross the hall to the exercise room in the barracks. An entire army of eager soldiers waiting to do My every bidding. And I choose…………..

…………………..you.

Lined up against the painted cinderblock, shoulder to shoulder are My men. The sweat from their backs glistening almost as much as the black vinyl of My pencil skirt and My riding crop. With My officers visor hat in one hand, the crop in the other, I inspect the formation, a rigid line of eyes and flexed muscles pulsing with the anticipation of receiving orders from Me, Czarina Rothschild.

I take you chosen one, and with My bare hands I rip the brown shirt off your body, and pull the belt out in one swift motion.
How sad the canvas belts make no cracking sounds like leather ones…oh well, I guess Ill have to settle for binding your lucky slave’s wrists to your lucky slave’s ankles.

Now that I have you bound and on your knees, I spread cosmetic max all over your chest, and watch you squint as the heat burns before it cools. Strip by strip I remove all the hair on your body, starting with your chest, then legs and work My way up to remove the hair from your balls. And despite your best efforts to show Me that you can be a man and take it, your eyes begin to tear up, the pain is just too much.

Before Im even completely finished you beg Me to stop, and pit you….but I continue and finish.
Now a sniveling mass on the floor, I spit on you, and kick you, for you havent the strength to endure even a waxing.
For your punishment I get out the clippers, and I shave your head, completely bald, and follow it with a pink girl’s shaving razor-so it won’t nic your precious little head.

Then I oil you up, to make you shine with My reflection all over your body, My hairless, be-humbles sack of meat.

“crawl on the floor like the slimy thing you are”
and you slither and writhe on the floor attempting to follow My footsteps.

“while you’re down there…give Me 50 pushups” And I remove the belt and hold it looing over your head.
and you pump away, nearing 30 you grow weary, so I sit on you, straddling your straining muscles even more.

I feel the throb of your aching muscles beneath My skirt, and the rocking of your body makes My corsette heave against My chest all the harder.

“Unlace me, private!” I yell, and you hop to your feet to attend My wishes.
Carefully, undoing the grommets in the front the fragrance of My perfume overwhelms, and you swoon against Me, digging your face into My skirt.

I slap you hard, twice, once in either direction. Scolding you for taking such a liberty with Me. So I slap you, 13 lashes with My riding crop, and with each successive lash I feel the tension within Me rise, and by lash 13 My eyes are dripping with lust.

I kick you over onto the floor, and roll you over onto your back. Tie the belt back around your wrists, leaving a leash for Me to control you better.
I take the dagger out of My boot, and cut My panties and sit on your face. Riding you like the work horse you are I finally buck like the wild untamable thing I am, stuff your mouth with the torn panties, get up and retire to My quarters.

~ by Klawdya Rothschild on November 8, 2008.

Posted in erotica, Musings
Tags: czarina, erotica, femdom, Fetish, military, role play