Mistress Sierra’s Tiny Dungeon: Part 1

I firmly believe that the D/s life is a journey.

If I’m not learning something about the nature of dominance and submission, my slaves, and even myself, then what’s the point? I was thinking recently of all the lessons I’ve learned over the years. I realized that I learned as much from my experience as a Giantess as I have from anything else. I can’t deny that the feeling of power I get over a puny man is intoxicating. My first few times on Giantess Island were a bit disappointing, though. At the center of my being, I am a sadist. I used up a lot of the poor, pathetic little dears on the island before I found an approach that satisfies my craving to be cruel, and allows these little men to survive.

Ms. Sierra builds a tiny dungeon.

After much thought, I realized I needed a dungeon fit for the little men I want to torment. It took some time, and a lot of imagination, but the chamber I constructed suits my purposes as well as the full-size version in my basement.

A recent session illustrates my point. One of my tiny slaves had been a bad little boy. Yapping, and running all over the place. He needed a lesson that could only be taught in my little dungeon. The look on his face as I plucked him between my thumb and forefinger was priceless. It was so cute to watch him kick his little legs. Outside of Giantess Island, I suppose his cock would have been more than adequate to bring a woman pleasure, but here it was barely the thickness of a strand of my naturally blonde hair.

Ms. Sierra has fun with mousetraps and toothpicks.

I was careful to not crush the little man as I lowered him into the red cookie tin that serves as my dungeon. The sounds of his footsteps echoing off of the shiny metal as he ran this way and that looking for an escape route made me laugh. Tuckered out after just a couple minutes, he stopped, leaning against my spanking bench. In the outside world, you would call it a mousetrap. The old-fashioned kind with a spring-loaded bar. I used my fingers to move the tiny man into position, using my used dental floss to tie him into place over the metal bar with his ass exposed.

I looked over my implements, selecting my favorite. Each whack to his tiny, bare ass elicited a squeal and a whimper that, although not loud, echoed across the dungeon. Who knew a toothpick could be such a lovely implement? When his back and ass were striped red, I used the tip of the toothpick to poke ever so gently at his marks. Okay, I wasn’t that gentle. By the time I bored of pricking him, he was sweating, leaving a tiny puddle at his feet.

Be sure to come back and read Part 2 on Sept.13th and discover what I can do with a little Monopoly shoe, and listen to the full-length audio of the both parts!