Mistress Q and I had a slave today who needed a firmreminder of his inadequacies. The moment he stripped, his little “problem” was obvious, and we wasted no time making it the center of attention.
“You call that a cock?” Mistress Q sneered, her whip snapping against the floor. He stammered out an apology, but we weren’t interested in words—we wanted obedience. With a flick of her wrist, the whip cracked against his thighs, leaving him gasping.
I grabbed his leash, forcing him to kneel as Mistress Q measured him with a smirk. “Barely two inches hard,” she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. Each pathetic attempt to defend himself earned him a slap, my latex-clad hand leaving his cheeks red.
When he failed to satisfy our demands, we turned up the discipline—strikes with a paddle, a crop to his backside, and degrading orders barked at him until he was trembling. Finally, we forced him to the edge, milking a pitiful orgasm from him while laughing at his pathetic whimpers.
By the end, he was on his knees, exhausted, humiliated, and thoroughly reminded of his place. Tiny? Yes. Tamed? Absolutely.
Stay disciplined,
Mistress Azumi & Mistress Q