Under a Mistress’ Spell – Episode 3: Departure

erotica ebooks by Emanuel J

Departure

One second eats another, each dying hour is replaced by a new one, one day follows the next in a constantly flowing stream that cannot be stopped or dammed up. Relentlessly, it is getting closer, the weekend of the boot camp, which I am afraid of and which I am only looking forward to a little bit in the furthest corner of my dark soul.
As requested by the mistress, I have submitted a day-off for Friday, so that we can leave in the afternoon. I wanted to go to the country, I gave as a reason in the store, and somehow that is true.
At twelve o’clock on Friday, I appear at my mistress’s, who has also taken the day off. And who is dressed as usual, with jeans and a T-shirt, a white one today. As requested, no, ordered by her, I brought my blue sports shoes. She ties them together and hangs a little sign with my name on it, then does the same with Sofie’s red sneakers and stows both pairs in one of the transparent plastic bags, of which there is a whole range here thanks to the sex shop.
Sofie, who has not had to take time off because she schedules her own working hours, asks the question that also interests me: “What do we actually need trainers for?
“I don’t know,” says the mistress. “All I was told was to ask you to bring them. Just let yourself be surprised.”
Sofie looks pretty in her short colourful summer dress, which is appropriate for the temperatures. But her face does not appear summery fresh, but rather skeptical. “And what should I pack?”
“Nothing. The little you need, you’ll get there. That means you can take a toothbrush with you.”
Sofie’s look is filled with consternation, but she says nothing and wants to put the toothbrush in her handbag.
The mistress shakes her head again. “The bag stays here too. Possessions only burden.”
“But my smartphone. I need that.”
“Nope. No phone calls there. No tweets or anything.”
Now Sofie is close to tears. “But I can’t do without it! Must keep in touch. I’m not living without this thing.”
The mistress remains cool and hard. “It is strictly forbidden. You’ll live.”
For a moment it looks as if Sofie wants to rebel, but then she submits to her fate. “Maybe there’s some good in it. Even though I can’t imagine it.”
The toothbrush is provided like mine with a name tag and stowed away in a side compartment of the trolley, which the mistress has packed for herself. Although it is full to the point of bursting, she can still close the zipper with some effort.
“Now we have everything,” she says and tugs her ear thoughtfully. “But I should tell you something else. You do as I say!”
Oh! Of course, we know exactly what that means. But it is difficult, very difficult even, to do this in broad daylight. We look at each other with embarrassment – and both of us get a resounding slap in the face.
“Will you be good?” the mistress rebukes angrily.
Nothing else remains for me but to open my trousers and push them down together with the black bull-head thong I am wearing today. Then one after the other we dip our middle finger into the lubricant the mistress is giving us and gently stick it into each other’s ass, whereby no panties under Sofie’s dress makes it easy for me. And, of course, we have to move it, bend it dutifully, let it penetrate deeper, take it half out again, make us as hot as we can.
Smiling, the mistress watches us. “That’s it.” Her gaze becomes serious and she raises her index finger as a warning. “You will not disgrace me at the boot camp.” She screws the lid on the black can and watches us attentively like a trainer watching her team just before the competition. “You won’t have it easy, but having it easy can’t be a goal either, because you won’t get anywhere with it. Whatever happens, remember that it also has its good sides. In any case, I can only advise you to follow all the rules to the letter. I have never been there, but I know someone who is one of the organizers and he told me that there is no tolerance and forbearance there.”
Somehow this doesn’t sound good at all, but rather as if all fears were justified.
She smiles reassuringly. “You must not be despondent. After all, it’s what you wanted. And so far, as far as I know, everyone has survived.”
That’s a great comfort. The only question is how they survived. I refrain from making it clear, as I won’t be heard anyway. We are allowed to take the finger out of us and have to suck it out of each other, not looking at each other, as there is reason enough to be ashamed of. Quickly, I then pull up my thong and pants as if I still had a good reputation to lose.
“Okay,” says the mistress. “Here we go.”
I have to take the trolley, Sofie the plastic bag with the shoes and the mistress carries the burden of responsibility. More or less in good spirits we boot down the stairs, luckily without meeting anyone. The mistress’s little blue car is parked not far from the house on the roadside. My place is in the back seat, the mistress determines, and I squeeze myself in with difficulty. Sofie makes it a bit more comfortable for me by being nice enough to push the passenger seat a little bit forward. There are people who travel more comfortably, but probably not slaves who you take to a boot camp.

We drive on the four-lane arterial road past my fuel oil store to the motorway and from there in the southern direction, leave it however soon again and drive on a federal highway in western direction by flat countryside. After the first half of May had been quite cool, a few days ago it became early summer warm; the sun shines from a deep blue sky and it is almost thirty degrees. Fields with yellow-flowering rapeseed, still green wheat and young corn alternate and high church towers greet from small villages, which we carelessly pass by left and right. I have never been to this area, I don’t know the names of the villages, I feel like I am abroad. Even the mistress does not know the way and is directed by Sofie, who uses her tablet PC as a navigation system. If we were to get lost hopelessly, that might not be the worst thing, I think, and at the same time, I secretly hope that we will find our destination, because I am a little curious about it.
The landscape becomes more hilly and somewhere in the middle of a forest we turn onto a small road, drive back into the open country, cross some settlements, pass a pasture with grazing cows.
“Stop,” says Sofie, scratching her pretty head. “Somehow we’re in the wrong place.”
Without grumbling the mistress turns on a dirt road and drives back to the village we just passed through and which lies like it got extinct in the midday sun. Only an old mother drags herself bent down and supported by a stick on the narrow sidewalk.
The mistress stops next to her and Sofie lets the glass buzz down. “Excuse me… Could you tell us how to get to the manor?”
With surprisingly alert eyes, the little mother lurks into the car. “To camp? To the crazies? Where people are locked in cages, whipped and left to the dogs and horses to fornicate?”
What on earth is that old witch saying?
Probably fearing that the old woman could cause even more mischief, the mistress bends over to the window. “No man shall be left to the dogs and horses for fornication. These are ghost stories. Where is the manor house?”

The old woman points straight ahead. “There! And then left. I wouldn’t go there.” She turns away and gropes along quietly, babbling to herself.
The mistress lets the car roll and disturbed Sofie looks at her from the side. “That’s not true, is it?”
“Of course not. The whole thing with the dogs and horses is completely out of the air. You can see what people in the country fantasize about.”
But she does not deny that they have the cages and the whip, so I notice. Everything is probably not the result of the eccentric fantasy of the country bumpkins after all; we can only hope that the story with the dogs and horses does not turn out to be true after all. Doubts seem to gnaw into Sofie as well, at least she is now even quieter than before and seems even more apprehensive.
After the church in the centre of the village, the road makes an arc to the left and there is a small sign on a paling fence with the word “Camp” and an arrow pointing to the path t…

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