Miss Gepard Gets Angry – The Workout Part 2

Workout Part 1

With my “sport shoes” in hand, I stood still in front of the studio, in view of my imposed training, somewhat perplexed. However, a friendly “good day” from a passerby snapped me out of my recess. “Oh crap, what was he thinking?” Me, holding a pair of size 45 high heels and looking haphazardly into the air. Politely, I returned the greeting and looked to get to my car and home as inconspicuously as possible.

I let the next 2 weeks pass without training, after all, my feet still hurt from Miss Gepard‘s workout. Although I had actually resolved to practice running in high heels and strengthening my endurance, I kept finding suitable excuses to cheat myself. Two days before Miss Gepards announced performance check I said to myself: “Now you don’t have to start training anymore. It’ll be fine, I’ll just try hard.”

Exactly 4 weeks after the workout was over, like last time, I received an email asking me to present myself immediately for the performance check. Today, 19.00h, it said in Miss Gepard‘s mail. Knowing that I had done nothing to prepare, I confirmed the appointment with a sinking feeling in my stomach and arrived at the studio with my “sport shoes” at 19.00h sharp.

Miss Gepard, visibly in a good mood and elegantly dressed as always, opened the door for me and invited me in. Of course, she had to question whether or not I had trained diligently. The sinking stomach feeling turned into a cramp. For whatever reason, I was probably afraid of the truth, I answered the question with a lie and hoped that this would not come to light.

“Very nice” replied Miss Gepard, “then let’s get started, shall we?” She took me to the bathroom, left me there, then returned a short time later and led me to the room with the treadmill. I was to mount it the same as before and warm up very slowly, while Miss Gepard explained the procedure of the performance control.

The instructions were to complete a total of 3KM. For this, I had exactly 30 minutes. 10 minutes per KM in itself is doable I thought, but being in high heels and still untrained was another matter. “You can choose the speed of the treadmill freely and change it at any time.” said Miss Gepard, but added that I would, of course, still be prepared with something before she gave the starting signal.

The first thing she did was give me an inflatable vibrating plug. When not inflated and not vibrating, it was only slightly noticeable but not really a problem. My nipples were also fitted with adhesive pads for an electric controller. Since Miss Gepard had two more pads left, she stuck one on each of my ass cheeks. As a highlight, I still got a latex mask. Fortunately, it had some holes in the mouth and nose area through which one could breathe well. Sweaty and stressful but that will certainly increase in the long run, I was sure.

Miss Gepard pumped up my plug a little and started the vibration mode. “Three, two, one, let’s go!” She said, and the timer started. I decided to start at a moderate pace. On the display, I could easily read the distance and elapsed time. I was determined to keep the target and gradually increase the speed.

In parallel, however, Miss Gepard also increased her meanness. Two powerful pumping strokes and the plug now made itself very clear and unpleasantly noticeable. As if that were not enough, Miss Gepard also activated the current on my nipples and buttocks. This made it much more difficult for me to walk. Under the latex mask, I now began to sweat considerably.

Miss Gepard checked my split time and indicated that I was below target.

“Shit”, I thought, now comes the payback for not practicing. My feet were already hurting and I should have increased the speed to get back on course. Instead, I reduced the speed and allowed myself a breather. The body sweat was now joined by anxiety sweat because I was aware that I probably could not meet the target.

Nevertheless, I pulled myself together again and accelerated. And again, Miss Gepard did the same. The vibration level was turned almost to the limit and the current pulses now came more frequently and more intense. My feet burned, the clock showed 2.2KM and 29 minutes. I gave up, reduced the speed, and tortured myself to the finish.

Miss Gepard’s mood, looking at the result of the performance check, shifted. She was annoyed. And rightfully so, of course. “Have you really trained?” she asked briskly and with a serious expression. A “Not really mistress.” came out meekly over the lips.

The mood tipped from annoyed to angry. She told me to get off the treadmill, then she removed the power pads from my chest and butt and threw them on the floor. She was really pissed off. She also removed the plug and my mask and threw both to the floor. “Get down on all fours and come with me.” she ordered. I complied.

We went into another room and I had to kneel down. Wordlessly, Miss Gepard put an eye mask and a heavy collar on me. Shortly after, she stuffed two earplugs in my ears and a gag in my mouth.

Last but not least, she put hearing protection on me. I could see nothing, hear nothing at all, and, logically, I could no longer speak. What happened around me from then on I could no longer perceive in any way.

Miss Gepard pulled me by the collar and ordered me to stand up. She led me around the room until I bumped into something. There she pushed me down a bit, whereupon I understood that I must be at the punishment rack and I should probably take a seat on it.

So it was, carefully I took my place and Miss Gepard fixed me on it very tightly.

However, nothing further happened. Strictly bound and without orientation or perception I held out. I can’t say how long, but it was quite a while. Is she still in the room at all? Is this my punishment? How long will I lie here like this? It all ran through my head.

But then a burning pain abruptly interrupted my thoughts. Completely by surprise, I received a violent blow with a cane. The effect was corresponding, I tugged at my bonds and moaned through the gag. Tensely, I waited for the next blow. But again nothing. Quite a while without anything happened.

At least I could recover quickly from the pain. And again suddenly a violent cane stroke pattered on my butt. This procedure was repeated 2 or 3 times. Each with some time in between but enormously violent and completely unpredictable.

I had just received another blow and was already preparing for the break. But again it came differently. Shortly after the last blow followed 5 quick blows. Then again a break, but much shorter than before. Again 5 blows hit, followed by a longer break. This perfidious game drove Miss Gepard quite a while.

Not being able to anticipate what is coming and when is an interesting but also scary feeling. You don’t have time to prepare and tense up. That’s what made the whole affair so intense. In the meantime, Miss Gepard went into a staccato of blows, all of them tight and in short intervals. I tugged and tried to wriggle out of the bondage, which, of course, I failed. Finally, I whimpered a stunted “Mercy Mistress” through the gag.

Miss Gepard gave me one last blow and then stopped. Panting heavily and exhausted, I waited for the shackles to be released. But this also failed to happen.

She’s not going to start again, is she? I thought to myself. She kept me in the dark. Seconds, minutes, I don’t know anymore. Suddenly, a hand stroked my burning butt. Oh no, here we go again, I feared. But instead of new blows on my butt, something cold slid into it. What kind of wickedness is this again, I asked myself, and a short time later I knew.

Miss Gepard gave me an enema in the truest sense of the word. I felt how the water flowed into me and an increasingly oppressive discomfort arose. The discomfort was also contributed by the fact that I did not know how much water she would give me and especially how much I already had within. Eventually, however, Miss Gepard removed what was sticking out of my butt and loosened all the restraints. “Something better not come out!” she threatened and continued while she took off my gag, eye mask, headphones, collar, and earplugs: “Get dressed and leave the studio immediately.”

I briefly oriented myself and surprisingly found my clothes on a nearby chair. Although I would have preferred to sprint directly to the toilet, I complied with the request, of course, got dressed, and left the studio. Miss Gepard threw my “sport shoes” after me and wordlessly closed the studio door behind her.

Stay tuned for part 3….

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FEMDOM TODAY

Miss Gepard Gets Angry – The Workout Part 2

Workout Part 1

Stay tuned for part 3….

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