October 29, 2016
I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing. – Anais Nin
I want to tell you about a hilarious time when I brought my Mistress at Ground Zero Nightclub a big, yellow box of Whitman chocolates. I was feeling very naughty. I felt the desperate need to prove just how much I wanted to get into trouble.
(Many of my readers have been following my blog for a very long time. Some of you are familiar with my years as a Bondage A-Go-Go Dancer at Ground Zero Nightclub in NE Minneapolis. I used to write about my experiences for a column called the Lady M diaries at MindCaviar.com( Jamie Joy Gotto Houck). I used to create all of the erotic art for this e-zine and for Peacock Blue (Oceania) and Custom Erotic Source – which was owned by Sage Vivant.
I was a performance submissive at Ground Zero Nightclub. I began submitting to a Dominant named Daddy on the main stage, before becoming Mistress Jean’s aka International Fetish Models Jean Bardot’s submissive in her torturous lair in the upstairs loft. It’s been a very long time, since I’ve performed at Ground Zero as a submissive. Please forgive me if my details are foggy and laced with fiction. I’m sewing fact and fiction together to create a memorable story as content for my blog. My letters are raw – these are rough drafts for upcoming books. I like to think of them as raw journals or diaries. I’m catching glimpses of time before they slip completely away from my memory. These letters are more for me than for my readers. If you enjoy reading them – it’s a bonus for me.
Because it’s near Halloween, I thought of candy. I’m hoping to post memories of some of the great Halloween skits that I’ve performed in at Ground Zero Nightclub in NE Minneapolis very soon.)
“Life is a box of chocolates – you never know what you are going to get.” – Forrest Gump
I had been a Bondage A-Go-Go Dancer at GZ for approximately two years prior to becoming Mistress Jean’s submissive, who performed regularly upstairs in the loft. Today, the loft no longer exists. I didn’t really know any of the performers until MJ befriended me, taking me under her wings and making me the submissive she opened her show with every night GZ hosted its Bondage A-Go-Go nights. I hadn’t been Mistress Jean’s submissive for long before I trusted her enough to do something that might get me into serious trouble.
“I’m feeling really naughty tonight,” I said to my husband, Mr. C, sitting in the passenger seat of our vehicle, on our way to the nightclub. “Can we stop and get a box of chocolates on our way to the nightclub? I have a sinister idea.”
The cold, frigid, Minnesota Fall weather had my body feeling achy and tired. The muscles in my low back and neck screamed in pain and my nerves felt like they were on fire. I wanted to do something that would get me in big trouble with my Mistress. I craved for a large, endorphin rush created by punishment. My sick mind required more physical pain than what was normally inflicted upon me by MJ on a normal GZ night.
“I thought you were giving that box of Whitman Chocolates to your Mistress?” My husband asked after we exited Walmart – entered our car again, finishing our journey to the nightclub. I had removed the cellophane wrapper and opened the top of the large, yellow box.
“I am,” I replied, poking my fingers into the yucky chocolates, taking half bites out of some of them, and spitting them back out onto a paper napkin.
“Why are you destroying all the chocolates which you don’t like? I don’t think it’s a very good idea.
“It’s part of my plan.” I smiled wickedly. “I feel so naughty tonight. I’m itching for trouble.”
We both laughed.
“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Mr. C interrupted – his voice now sounding more serious than ever. My wicked laughter trailed off into nervous giggles. Yet, I’m still headstrong and go forward with my nefarious idea.
It was close to midnight when I brought them upstairs to MJ torturous lair at GZ. It was the time she generally summoned me upstairs to begin the BDSM show. This is when numerous patrons would flee upstairs to see me get punished by Mistress Jean. We always had a large audience for the opening BDSM act of the night.
“I brought you a gift,” I told my Mistress, presenting her with an opened box of Whitman chocolates.
MJ appeared happy and pleased when I presented her with my box of destroyed chocolates, until she opened the lid. I recall hearing MJ expel one of her wicked laughs that sent chills down my spine.
“Mia, why is there chocolates that look as if you poked the bottoms out with your finger or some that appear as if you took a bit out of it?”
I shrugged my shoulders as if I knew nothing. My lips curled upward in a naughty grin. I quickly averted my eyes away from hers, peering down towards the floor.
I nervously gulped down air as I sat down upon the tortuous, vintage, dentist chair.
“Open your mouth.”
I reluctantly did as I was told.
“Why are all the chocolates in this box ruined?” MJ appeared tall and gorgeous wearing a tight black corset, a small pair of black panties, a beautiful black bra, fishnet stockings and gorgeous, black, fetish boots.
“Because I wanted to find out what chocolates were good and which ones were bad.” I replied sheepishly. My heart pounded with apprehension as MJ began to shove all of the gross chocolates into my mouth one my one. My mouth filled with sugar, caramel and other gross goo like cherry and walnut cream – Gross. I gagged as a multitude of gross chocolates were being shoved into my mouth. I didn’t want to swallow.
Not too many people know that the worst kind of punishment for me is having sugar on my teeth and being tickled. I welcomed physical pain, but sugar on my teeth and tickling could make me cry. I also hate having food in my mouth that I don’t like. To me it’s like having an uncircumcised cock in my mouth that hasn’t been washed for a month. My plan for receiving intense, physical pain back fired.
I had to sit with melting chocolate in my mouth for what appeared to me to be a long time. I appeared like a hamster with its cheeks stuffed full of food. Regardless of how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself swallow the goo and sugary substance down. I could tell that MJ and Mr. C were enjoying that my evil, wicked plan to bring MJ chocolates on this night didn’t work the way I intended. They both were hiding their sadistic grins as sheer panic widened my eyes and disgust deformed my face. I recall how the chocolate, caramel, and other grossly filled chocolate irritated my teeth. The sweetness of numerous gross chocolates mixed in my mouth made me want to violently vomit all over my Mistress’ gorgeous shoes. I knew if I did this vile, horrible act, my little joke would become a terrifying nightmare.
To me, it seemed to take forever to swallow them down my constricting throat. I wished for a glass of water to help dissolve the sugar in my mouth. My stomach wanted to regurgitate, my face cringed, and my heart beat raced with fear and disgust. My mouth felt slimy with chocolate, caramel and crème goo when MJ secured my hands in leather cuffs, bounding them above my head. It would’ve been the same if I had a month worth of spoiled, rotten cum in my mouth. I pushed my discomfort from my mind as I jutted my buttocks outward, anticipating my punishment. It was difficult to grunt, groan and moan with a slimy, sugary bunch of chocolate in my mouth. This was the worst of the punishment. I could hardly enjoy the spanking part because my mind was so obsessed with washing my mouth out with water and brushing my teeth. I couldn’t slip into the zone. I couldn’t focus. My naughty plan backfired on me. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t slip into a calm, surreal subspace as my ass was being beat by a sturdy wooden paddle.
This was the last time I thought of purposely getting into trouble with my Mistress by bringing her a box of ruined chocolates during my long duration as a submissive at Ground Zero. My idea to be punished severely back fired. I couldn’t really enjoy the spankings, but MJ and Mr. C sure enjoyed my suffering, chuckling to themselves after I was liberated from my punishment – grateful that I pack a toothbrush in my purse.
We laughed for years after this crazy dilemma I got myself into. I never have truly enjoyed eating chocolates every since.