By Slave Billy

She glided into the room on impossibly long legs. Scandalously revealing jet black leather contrasted with ivory skin, and lustrous hair framed a divine face. My heart quickened at my first glimpse of Mistress Sayako.

It struck me instantly how easily she could own me. I simply knew, just as she knew my desires and urges before we even met. The fantasy I sent her was abstract and oblique, filled with poetic impressions and irrational imagery, rather than a laundry list of perversions. Somehow I sensed that Mistress Sayako would be able to interpret these vague dreamscapes into reality. She did it masterfully.

Her pace was impeccable. The session flowed seamlessly from sweet seduction to cruel and pitiless debasement. It was like watching a radiant copper sunset fade into the blue black of dusk, then descend into utter darkness.

So many memories from the session are seared into my mind, and come rushing back throughout each day:

She commanded me to strip, and attend to her on all fours. My naked flesh was exposed to cool air but sweat beaded on my brow as I licked each dainty toe. She spoke softly to me, and I was sweetly enticed into submission. Then, helpless, I was treated with disdain and scorn.

She smothered me with her ass, and I didn't want her to pause for a second; I was angry that I needed to breathe. She choked me with her treacherous heels and rammed them deeply down my throat, and I only wished I could accept more.

She ordered me to lie on my back. I gazed up adoringly at Mistress Sayako, and she commanded me to stroke myself as I contemplated her form. The first blast of hot piss on my cock caused it to twitch in pleasure. I'd been commanded not to come, but I was powerless, and lost control. The waves of beautiful urine splashing hot and forcefully on my body caused me to erupt. She redirected at my mouth and I drank greedily. So delicious! I find myself craving the taste days later.

She placed me on a leash and later masterfully bound me in rope, but the true bindings, those that remain, are the emotional ones wrapped around my heart. My only desire now is to have them twisted ever tighter until my heart is choked by Mistress Sayako. I yearn to throw myself on the altar of her vanity, to discover how she'll test and push my perversions, how she'll elicit from me whatever she craves.

I know I'm a junkie, that I'll need fix after fix of Mistress Sayako. And I know that the more I get, the more I'll crave. I willingly gave myself to her that day, and now I yearn to be completely devoured by her. I waste hours wondering how she might choose to cultivate my depravity for her selfish pleasure. I fantasize about how she might mold me to her specifications. I wonder how she will choose to destroy me. Her beauty is like fire, her power like a forge. With those qualities she can hammer and fashion me to her tastes.

When I contemplate now the complexity of her personality, it seems like the four seasons in one instant: the verdant creativity of spring, the wasting heat of summer, the sublime beauty of autumn, and the cold and barren solitude of winter. I close now to ponder her intuitive powers, her fiery radiance, her profound physical gifts, and her icy elegance.