Michou's Secret Garden 

Cabaret Cleopâtre

 

 

A painful experience at Cabaret Cléopâtre:

Since Fall 2001, when we first met, even if it is always difficult to be available at the same time, C and I had a few encounters together. He prefers a Montreal downtown cabaret, at the end of the evening, on Thursdays or Fridays nights. The exhibitionism sessions, to which I am subjected, have become more and more daring. I cannot say that I am getting used to them yet but I now agree more easily to my Master's requirements.

But, for our May 17, 2002 meeting, at Cabaret Cléopâtre, after having resisted for several weeks, I finally agreed to dress the way he asked me to. If you could see me, I believe that you would say that, being a few years younger, I look like the sidewalk hookers, on Ste-Catherine street. At the top of the page, you can see one of my pictures, which was shot a few years earlier, but which can help you imagine the way I look tonight.

Like on that picture, I wear my shortest miniskirt. It is so short that it covers, neither the top of my stockings, nor a part of my garters. It hardly hides my small clitty, even when it is not hard. My blouse is a plain one but, according to the instructions received, it is unbuttonned low enough so that the junction of the two cups of my bra shows. For shoes, I wear the same black boots which mould my legs and which I have worn for our first meeting. They are his favorites but he also asked me to bring a pair of five inches heeled black patent leather pumps, with ankle straps. I would like to say that I wear a nice pair of red panties, which match the color of my skirt, but C did not listen to my supplications and I am naked underneath my skirt. This is the main reason why I refused, during such a long period of time, to wear that outfit.

I admit that this is not the first time that I must go out without the protection of a pair of panties. However, each time I had to do it, I have never worn, neither a skintight skirt, nor a short one. I also admit that, sometimes, I enjoyed the feeling of the wind blowing under my skirt. But the stress related to the fear that my small clitty could show, under or through my skirt, is still too strong and I cannot get used to it yet. This is why, when C, who had noticed that little red skirt on one of my pictures, informed me that I should wear it for our next outing to Cabaret Cléopâtre, I initially believed he was joking.

C told me to meet him at 23:00 but I suspect that, according to his habit, he will probably be at least thirty minutes to one hour late. I, nevertheless, arrive on time because every pretext is good for him to punish me. So, I do not dare to take the chance to let him preceed me. He knows that I fear and particularly hate the riding crop applied inside my thighs and on my sex but he seems to enjoy himself so much when he does that to me that I must endure that treatment almost everytime we meet. Therefore, I do not want to give him any unnecessary chances.

It is probably the same kind of pleasure that he derives each time he makes me wait for him, well in sight, on one of the high stools, located close to the video poker machines, around the bar of this cabaret. According to his instructions, this is where I have been waiting for him, for close to half an hour, now, taking sips at my glass of Perrier Citron. Because, again, according to his instructions, I am not allowed to drink any alcohol, which could, perhaps, help me relax a little. I must acknowledge that I feel extremely nervous. My handbag and my shoebag lay on my lap and I try to maintain my thighs as close as possible to one another. But, despite these precautions, I am conscious that a pair of tight panties would have hidden my nakedness in a much better way.

As I am sitting quietly on my stool, a man comes by and sits beside me. He starts to ask me indiscreet questions which must make my face red, even through my heavy makeup. I hardly answer his questions, hoping to discourage him. Suddenly, I just have time to grip my bags, in order to prevent them from slipping on the floor, when, carelessly, I feel my sex being grabbed by his hand. I am taken by surprise, unable to react to this aggression, which I experience for the first time. Fortunately, as by miracle, C appears beside me right on that very moment and the man dissappears at once. C is a tall man and his size has propably had its effect on the man. But C does not seem to have a clue of what was going on. When I finish telling him about my mishap, he pretends to sympathize with me but the huge smile on his face let me believe otherwise.

C, then, orders his usual Coke from the barman, before leading me to a table, located on the left side of the stage. The show is about to begin. He makes me remove my boots to replace them with the highheeled pumps I had brought with me. Despite my stiff corset and the obvious lack of space, I finally succeed to put them on. C agrees to help me only to buckle the ankle straps of my shoes.

While the spectators are watching the show, C comes to sit beside me. He don a latex glove on his left hand and makes me slide down on my chair so that he could have an easier access to my hole, between my asscheeks.

While I am watching a waiter who is doing his business nearby, I cannot repress a shiver when C applies some lubricant and introduces one of his fingers inside my body. But, soon, he applies so much presure, in order to enlarge the opening of my anus, that the sharp pain almost makes me scream. I tell him that he is hurting me too much but he does not release the pressure. Instead, he increases it. When he makes several unfruitful attempts to introduce an object inside of me, the pain becomes unbearable. And, he makes me slip my buttocks off the seat of my chair, so far away, that only my lower back rest on it and, without the help of my hands, I would fall down on the floor.

When he makes another introduction attempt with the object, I close my eyes and try to relax as best as I can so that he could put an end to my torment as fast as possible. This object, which he tries to insert inside of my body by force, seems too large for my bottom hole but, I, finally, can feel it slide in, anyway. What a relief it is and I  must admit that I also derive some sort of pleasure when my sphincter starts to relax.

But, that pleasure does not last for long as C is trying to insert another object, again, which I can feel to be of about the same size as the first one. The pain I must endure is as sharp as before but last for a shorter period of time, when I can feel my sphincter starting to close on it again. And, what a relief it is when I realize that he get rid of his latex glove and I am allowed to sit straight on my chair, again. On the other hand, I have great difficulties to get used to these objects which fill me up now. I am under the impression that they will come out and I do not want it to happen because I fear to endure as much pain as I had to when they were introduced inside of my body, previously.

I tell C, who, in the mean time, has moved back on the chair in front of me, about my difficulties. I thought he would try to reassure me. Instead, he threatens to punish me severely, if I do not manage to maintain these objects inside of me.

When he realizes that I have calmed down a little, he orders to me to get up and to walk to the restrooms, in order to comb my hair.

As soon as I stand on my feet, I come to realize that the height of my heels and the objects which fill me up now give me the impression that I will have to sit back. But, gathering my strengths and encouraged by C, I finally manage to put one foot in front of the other. But, it is with great difficulties that I try to keep my knees straight and my thighs close to one another. Moreover, I can feel the eyes of many spectators watching me now.

With the help of the nearby handrails, I finally enter the restrooms where one of the household hookers starts to scream at me, using the pretense that I am stealing prospective clients. I am so much in a hurry to go out of there that I forget my hairbrush on the counter.

Probably starting to get used to the height of my heels and to the foreign presence which invades my body, the return trip to my table is done more easily and without the help of the handrails. C makes funny comments on the way I walk but he seems rather proud of me. In any case, he has got a huge smile on his face.

The show is still going on (or is it another one which has started) but C tells me to gather my things. We are leaving.

Reaching the exit, at the top of the staircase which goes out to the street, and in front of the cloakroom girl and the doorman, C asks me to give him the leash and the collar that he instructed me to carry into my handbag. He fastens the collar around my neck and affixes the leash on it. Then, he starts to go down the stairs with the leash in one hand. Still in front of the doorman and the cloakroom girl and before I have time to put one foot on the first stair, he brings one of his hands under my little skirt and introduce one finger inside my anus. And that is the way he leads me to the bottom of the staircase, almost to the sidewalk full of passers by. This time, he makes me walk in front of him, while I try, with the help of my handbag, to hide my nakedness and to prevent the wind from raising my skirt.

As I reach the next street corner, on Ste-Catherine street, there is a lineup of people who are waiting to get inside a cabaret. There is no way for me to avoid them and pretty quickly they are all watching me. I feel so humiliated (and, had I known it at that time, I might had died on the spot since one of C's socks is hanging between my asscheeks, almost down to my knees). At the next street corner, my car is in sight and I can finally start to relax a bit. I am the one who drives and I follow the directions which are given to me.

While driving and trying hard to stay focussed on the road, C uses his hand to maintain my clitty in constant erection. Thus, when we park the car on a hill, close to Des Pins street, when he uses his lips instead of his hands, pretty quickly, a flow of cum surprises him.

When it is time to say goodbye, C gives me the satin red box, which contained the Chinese balls which were inserted inside of my body, earlier in the evening. As they are still there, he offers to me to take them out but I refuse fearing that he would hurt me again. He then warns me not to remove them on top of a toilet bowl because they could break it.

Back home, taking my time and a lot of precautions, I finally get rid of these infamous Chinese balls. As I am doing it, I realize that they had been wrapped in one of C's socks. And, after checking their size, I find out that their diameter is 1¾ " (45 mm) thick. A personal record! Now, I understand why I had so much difficulties to walk properly during the evening. Fortunately, I am still alive but I feel so mortified to have had to exhibit myself like that in public.

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