Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Cam's Confession

She told me to crawl to her, so over I went, on all-fours. On my knees, its not easy, but I'd crawl over hot coals for her, so I went, determined.

She told me to kneel up.  She took each wrist gently and wrapped a thick leather cuff round it.  No need for locks; she knows I'm not going to take them off without being told to.  Then she linked them together with the bolt snap.

She threw the pot of skin lotion at me. "Rub," she ordered, "and don't look at me."

I scrambled for the pot as it fell clumsily between my cuffed hands.  Picking it up I struggled with the lid, and scooped out some of the soft, white cream.  I warmed it in my hands before applying it to her feet.  Smearing it all over and rubbing it deeply into her skin, working the arch of her feet, between and around and along each toe.

For what felt like hours, kneeling up, my muscles spasming and my knees aching for relief.  I tried shifting position, but just got a slap. "Stay still and stop moaning!"  The second time, I got a gag in my mouth for my intransigence.  I kept rubbing, over and over, working into her feet.

It was agony on my legs and knees, but I had to carry on serving her, my bound hands working over her feet, while she lounged on the couch, luxuriating in the service I was giving.

Eventually, she tired of the attention being solely on her feet.  She stopped me, pulled the gag out of my mouth, and pushed me down to get to work somewhere else...

Demons & Angels by Mark

Demons and Angels

It is Ward 10 in the local hospital, and he is breathing his last. I often think cancer is our best friend; if it was not for Big Tobacco, things would be way more time-consuming and tedious for us. Oh wait: ’our/us’.  I know, right? Total shock for people like you who are not actually in the whole ‘collect their souls’ business. Turns out there is more than one religion and more than one way to collect souls and deliver them to Hell: who knew? But he is my religion, and my responsibility. My wings and horns and spiny tail and pitchfork, really just psychodrama: to be honest, the Buddhists do it with more style. But I do carry the whole scaly demon thing off pretty well, because he is, like, shit scared.

So, as he lies there on his death bed, I do the echoey voice:

‘You fucked around, drank like a longshoreman, did more lines than a Shakespearian actor, and totally ignored your wife and son. You were an asshole your entire life, and now it’s time to count the cost.’

When I say that kind of stuff, I like to think I am channelling Charlton Heston in ‘The 10 Commandments’. Or maybe it is ‘El Cid’. But, you know, big, important, portentous.

He looks up at me with dying eyes, which, personally, I hate. They spend a whole life screwing around and then on their deathbed they look up at you with the puppy-dog eyes.

‘I am sorry’, he says, and a single tear drips its way slowly down his cheek.

Can I tell you, right now, how much I fucking despise those tears that drip slowly down the cheek? I have him bang to rights, and now, with the whole ‘tear dribbles down the cheek’ thing, there is a last-minute appeal to a court of higher authority. So anyway, I grit my fangs and I phone the Higher Authority: and before you ask, no, you cannot afford my cell-phone plan. 

There is a long delay. There is always a long delay. He is lying there, expiring, and I am drumming my claws on the bedside cabinet listening to the busy signal. Eventually, I get through. They tell me:

‘He hath repented, and his path to Heaven is secure.’

And I think:

‘For fuck’s sake! I have the pitchfork ready and everything. Plus, if I hear that ‘hath’ crap one more time, I am going to tell them to fucketh off.’

Then the asshole dies and slips out of my grasp forever.

But then the phone rings again, and the celestial voice tells me:

‘There is a submissive in Ward 8 who is close to death. He spent his entire life lying to, and stealing from, any domme he could trick into collaring him. He secretly served several dommes at the same time without telling them. He pledged lifelong obedience to each domme and then as soon as it became inconvenient to him, he ghosted them.  On SL, he pestered dommes in IM and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. We do not have a final tally, but estimate he used over two dozen phony alts at the Dominion. He made life so miserable for some of the dommes that they left the Dominion and never returned. You are to visit him and seek his final confession.’

So, I sharpen my horns and my pitchfork, give the old spiny tail a shake as I get up to go, and I think:

‘OK, Mr Ward 8, let’s see you cry your way out of *that* bad shit, motherfucker.’

Her Last Submissive by Mark

              Her last submissive

(A BDSM re-imagining of Browning’s ‘My Last Duchess’)

That’s my last submissive painted on the wall,
Looking as if he were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; the craftswoman’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there he stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at him? I said
“the craftswoman” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Madam, ’twas not
His Mistress’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into his submissive cheek; perhaps
The craftswoman chanced to say, “His cuff laps
Over his little wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along his throat.” Such stuff
Was courtesy, he thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. He had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; he liked whate’er
He looked on, and his looks went everywhere.
Madam, ’twas all one! My whip across his breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some girlish fool
Broke in the orchard for him, the white mule
He rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from him alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. He thanked women—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if he ranked
My gift of a collar in my name
With any woman’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—which I have not—to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if he let
Himself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
His wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, Madam, he smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed him; but which woman passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. And so there he stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet below
The other Mistresses. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, a statue thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Dakota's Confessions

Dakota's Confession:

I confess that I had to take time away from second life, which also made me upset as that also meant I had to have time away from my dear and beloved Mistress. I do not like this at all, but alas bills need to be paid, and money needs to be earned in order to pay them.

I love my Mistress dearly with all my heart and want nothing more than to see her happy and to serve her well, for am I hers, and i'm damn proud of it.  She's been the best part of my life, both in rl and sl, and i'm so fucking lucky that I get to call her Mistress, and to be collared by her.

Having to work is stressful enough for me, but at least at the end of the day, the moment I clock out, I don't have to be in charge of things, as i've given all control to Her. I work to maintain communication with Mistress every moment I get on skype, and i'm very fortunate for that opportunity as well, as I get to help maintain the closeness between us. I'm very much close to Mistress, and I wouldn't even dream of leaving her, and I pray that I don't have to.

So, yes, I confess to having to take time away from Mistress and myself as I need my new job to help pay my school bills, and hopefully some on the side to enjoy my lives on second life and in real life.

    Dakota Putnam

Gather The Stars by Anonymous

Gather the Stars

She promised she would reach into the night sky and without fear or trepidation gather the stars for their amusement.

He said He would tremble in anticipation of her bequests. That every syllable would be listened to. Revered. Obeyed.

She recalls how with stockinged feet she would gently massage his glistening hard cock until his need weeped for release

He once spoke to her of his furtive desires almost hypnotised by her gentle joy at the more depraved of his appetite

She reached for him once and he was there waiting.

In the darkness He lowered his head  in pain. She was there softly brushing a tear away.

Whips. Floggers. Pinwheels. Knives. Ropes and Leashes were fundamental to their relationship dancing alongside candyfloss, summer cokctails. fairgound rides. french cinema and good conversation.

The fucking rod propelled deeper into his anus as he tugged on the tethers that bound him to the prison stockade. Fuck that he thought and immediately remained still, His anus still raw from his usual morning fucking from Mistress.

She thought of him downstairs in  the dungeon and how he would be trying hard not to fidget. He truly hated that fucking rod!. She Laughed and thought how funny it would be if she tiiptoed in quietly and pushed it right up deep in him....How he would squeal!! Just like that little piggy fat boy in Delieverance....squeal little piggy...she laughed once more then returned her attention to the laptop. All thoughts of fucking rods and dungeons gone. Him included.

He hated this bloody blindfold!  it didnt add suspense! Why did all Dominant women think so? FFS men are visual animals they want to see your tits and cunt not imagine them behind the thick itchy blackness!.

 Goddamn he was getting irritated he wanted to see around their new dungeon. They had just finished it last week. Well he had. Mistress as usual dictated and pointed at things, while he , well he did all the menial heavy lifting work. As it should be yeah yeah but he smiled remembering the fun they had later drinking champagne. They had sprawled on velvet over sized cushions side by side, holding hands looking up together  into the starry night.

I promised you the stars she said. He kissed her in response.

She loved him. She truly did. He adored her as he said he would.

He wondered if she would be coming down this evening. All he had ever wanted she gave him.

She logged in. New name. New Avator. Oh the thrill of it all. Let the games begin.

He yawned. As he had done for a few months now and fell asleep

Imagine by Anonymous

Imagine this….
(Gently close your eyes now)

My red silk robe draped artfully, a hint of skin
just a glimpse of nipple aggressively piercing through fabric
You can just about smell my glistening cunt

Imagine this…..
(feel my soft breath on your throat now)

My fingers enticing my cunt lips to swell and
My clit to pulsate in need
My cunt to quiver and moisten
For the ache, the hunger. The need

Imagine this….
(stroke your cock slowly for me, that’s right use a hard grip now.)

My fingers thrusting hard and deep
Your tongue pulled firmly onto my clit
Pressing your face deeper harder into my cunt
Smothering you in juices. Can you breathe? I wonder

keep lapping, keep licking , keep flicking..

Imagine this….
(that your stupid fucking flaccid cock could satisfy me now)

You watching him as he does precisely as instructed
Places his hard cock at the entrance to my cunt instead of yours
Strokes it back n forth across my cunt lips  - just as I like it
Teasing. Tantalizing.
Before feeding me his hunger.

I will look you in the eye as his thrusts make me cum

Imagine that
You stupid cunt

JR Confession

"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun! ...
O that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold: 'tis not to me she speaks.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek! "

The days and weeks go by, like sands in an hourglass, one after the other.  The wandering in the desert and the search for meaning, for purpose for the "yin" to my "yang."  The glove for my hand.  My submission is not a hook that can ge grabbed by any passerby, nor can I attach myself to just anyone.  Rather it is more of magnetism, an attraction that is powerful, elusive and inescapable.

There are those individuals, in SL and RL who just...pull me.  I slyly try to determine if the feeling is returned, that little bit of connected-ness, that slight pull to something.  The lure is not a sexual attraction but the energy felt by a power exchange.  The delicious dance of trust, vulnerability, release and service.  To most on the "D" side of the slash, a submissive's delight in opening up and submitting is an alien feeling, just as a submissive can't experience the delight in taking a leash and opening and taking a submissive's mind.  For me, to feel a Domme's attention is like the scene in Lord of the Rings where Sauron's eye spans the horizon and focuses on you.  Powerless, frozen, helpless in the focused attention. And it is wonderful.

But there is someone, Miss X, who I see -- and feel -- whenever i am here. She is why I came back after my ignominious banishment.  She has had boys, subs, girls, but also is a Dominant who likes to dominate, to take the power.  When she chats I listen and think, yes thats right.  When she comes to a chat or event, I always look at her clothes.  I read her profile, again, for  the 1000th times, to try to come up with a clever approach, a witticism that will draw her focus and energy at me.  I fail every time.

She is beautiful. Erudite, witty and lovely.   She evokes power, grace and charm.  She is real, she doesn't roleplay the role, and bark out orders as a false prophet.  And she makes my heart skip a beat, or two or three.  I imagine all the great feelings we can share, the depths of power and emotion, sexuality and service that we would share, together, in Sl and RL.  But I stay quiet hoping my shine attracts her eye.  It hasn't so far.  Does she know? Does she feel my attraction and deny it, or

I don't know if She even knows I feel, I want to serve, I want to see her smile and create joy for Her.  "The course of love does not run smooth/love looks not with eyes, but with the mind/ and winged Cupid painted blind...". 

Fate will bring us together or keep us apart.

"My time coming, anyday, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
Rainbows and down that highway where ocean breezes blow..."

Maude by Anonymous

As she stood up, Maude groaned in discomfort, shuffled down the bus steps and set her two shopping bags down on the wet pavement. With arthritic hands she tightened her old tweed coat against the bitter wind, pushed a few strands of grey hair back into her rain bonnet and thought how everything was so much more difficult these days.

“Excuse me? Are you alright there?......um… Do you need a hand? It’s absolutely freezing eh!”

Maude smiled and looked up to see a pretty brunette dressed in the usual Saturday night attire of mini dress, thigh boots and black puffer jacket. She was probably about 25 years old and her thick eyebrows looked like two ferrets in season. Her eyes looked kind though.

“Ach I’m ok love. Its just age, you know, and this awful weather. Used to be a time I could run and up and down these roads but ach those days are long gone. I’m Maude by the way.”

“I’m Sharon, well my mates call me Shazza. Have you got far to go? I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get off the next bus but that’s not for another 15 minutes, I could help carry your bags a wee bit?”

Maude, delighted, jumped at the chance “Oh, that would be great love. My hands are aching carrying these. The plastic digs into your fingers and that hill seems to get steeper every day. I’m only at number 96, the house that stands by itself just after the bridge.”

They chatted as they walked, Maude spoke of her two grown daughters, one a successful solicitor in a classy New York firm and the other a social worker in Bethnal Green. Both busy with their careers, new friends and newer husbands.  Not much time for visiting her anymore but she was very proud.

Maude’s eyes glistened. “It’s my husband, George, that I miss the most. Married 45 years and always in each other’s pockets. We did everything together. He even went with me to the Bingo. He has been dead 2 years now and, oh, how I miss him. Ach!  I’m a silly old fool dear. I still leave his tartan slippers beside his favourite chair and I’ve not washed his last whisky glass. Its less lonely that way. He loved a wee whisky when he watched the horses on the telly. Those damn slippers though, I must trip over them twice a day. Then I scream: George, you’ve left your slippers lying about again! Of course, there’s no one to talk back. Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you Sharon.”

“Its just so lovely Maude. Not everyone finds someone that loves them like that. Some men ...
”Maude glanced over at Sharon. “Some men give you black eyes, eh love?”

Instinctively Sharon concealed her face.

“Love, there’s no need to hide yourself, I noticed it earlier when you picked up my bags. The ones on your wrists look fresher.”
Sharon explained that Robert, her boyfriend, didn’t mean to hurt her. It was usually her fault. She would say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Make the wrong dinner or forget his favourite soap. And Robert was under so much pressure at work. Sharon wasn’t being sensitive enough to his stress.

“I love him Maude, I just need to listen more to his needs. Its really great when he’s happy with me.”

Maude sighed and then stopped at her garden gate. “Look this is me. Why don’t you come in for a cup of hot tea and a chat? Leave the beggar waiting around for a bit. Or don’t turn up at all.”

“Oh, I can’t! I just need to be there. Maybe some other time.”

“Come on Love. Look at the state of you, teary and wet from the rain. You need someone to chat to and a hot cup of tea to warm you up. In fact, I have Prosecco - that wine you young ones drink. I’ll open that and join you in a wee tipple. We could have some Victoria cake as well. I just made it this morning.”

Sharon felt guilty. She knew Maude was lonely and just trying to help, but she just could not go in for a cup of or tea or anything else. Robert would go mad with fury if she left him standing at the bus stop. Things had only just got calmer these last few days. She couldn’t upset him.

Maude suddenly stumbled forwards and, falling, gripped onto Sharon’s arm.

Aghast, Sharon gently helped her up. “Maude. Maude are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. just a wee dizzy spell, I must have forgotten to eat lunch again. Could you see me to my door please love, maybe help me sit down in my chair before you run off to see your fella?”

Sharon agreed, upset for her, and picking up the bags, followed behind. Her phone rang.
“Oh, Hi Rob! Yes, sorry sorry…I have been watching the time yes…Yes but this old woman needed some help and well she just fell. I’m just going to help her into her house. What? No Rob! I would never do that! Her name is Maude we are just at that big house at the end of the bridge … uhm … number 96. Ok, Ok I’ll wait for you here. Rob I am so, so sorry I was just ...”

Maude shook her head.“Tsk! You deserve better you know Sharon. But off you go. I’m fine really. No point in him walking all the way up here, and he’s obviously angry. I might also give him a piece of my mind treating a lovely girl like you so badly and that would make matters much worse!”

Maude grabbed back her bags back, despite Sharon’s weak protestations and shooed her off back down the road. “Take care Sharon and thanks for the help, look after yourself.”

Sharon, upset at doing everything all wrong again and terrified about the consequences, remained silent as she ran back towards the bus station.

Maude closed the front door, engaged the safety chain and shuffled along the drab musky hall.  The suffocating silence washed over her. In the kitchen, scatterings of mildew flourished amongst the peeling wallpaper and dirty dishes were piled on every worktop surface. She grabbed two teacups, rinsed them under the cold tap, switched the kettle on to boil and opened a new packet of rich tea biscuits.

“You can come out of the cupboard now George. Put the claw-hammer back in the toolbox. You won’t be needing it tonight. She told some idiot our address on her bloody mobile phone. Oh, and those bags at the front door, they’re full of air fresheners. Put some more downstairs. The last one under the floor is beginning to really stink. You’re going to have to get your axe back out soon before the heat of summer arrives. Pretty soon you’ll need to get off your lazy arse and help me snare some pretty subbie playthings. I’m much too old for this game on my own.”

“Yes Mistress” he said

Maude sat down on the sagging sofa, dipped her biscuit in her tea, put her feet up and settled down to Coronation Street. She thought of George, He was a good little submissive boy - always did her bidding but her taste over the last few years had veered towards females. They cried so sweetly at the torture. The issue of consent in Femdom however always pissed her off!

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

If by Anonymous

If I had not a boy you would be mine.
If I had not promised him
If I had not met him first
If I had not swore monogamy
You would be mine.

If I could trust you
If I could believe in you
If I could see beyond the tales
If I could touch you real life
You would be mine

But he is safe
But He is love
But He is subservient
But He is peace
But He adores
You cant be mine.

My Mistress by Anonymous

My Mistress
You bring so much light into my often dull and dark life. I spend every minute waiting to be with you and in you company even although we have never spent much time at all one to one. You are so intelligent and funny and I really enjoy your style of dominance.
I would love to be able to tell you that I feel this way. That I dream of serving you in whatever way you deem fit but I know I am not good enough. I hear the other boys flirt with you and I just cant do that. I don’t know how to. I fear I would bore you. I would hate to bore you.
So I kneel here from afar basking in all your light until the darkness returns.

Trials Confession by Cam

I had a long day on Thursday - up early for work and home late after a full day. So it wasn't surprising that I fell asleep on the sofa.  Mistress had told me I wasn't required for Trials.  I'd wrongly assumed this meant she didn't need me until Skype time.  I'd got comfy on the sofa, catching up on Gold Rush, and dropped off.  I woke to Mistress messaging me angrily, telling me to get my ass into SL.

Oops. Fouled up again, and I'd been doing so well - feeling in a very subby and needy mood as I'd been in chastity for something like two weeks.  It would probably be more like four after this little slip up.  Nevertheless, I rushed to Her virtual side and started listening in to Miss Eva berating some other sub for being guilty of whatever trumped-up charge the poor soul had been fitted up with.

Then it was...my turn? I almost didn't believe it when Her Judgery called my name.  Oh well, this'll be some little thing, I thought, still a bit confused and sleepy.  I'll stay in text as I usually do and be forced to wear a funny avatar for a week, and that'll be th...voice?!  Miss Eva is demanding I voice?!  I quickly turn on my mic and start to stammer out answers - totally discombobulated, as Mistress would correctly call it when we spoke about it after.

My disbelief had turned to shock and was now turning to horror.  Getting naked - even off-camera, felt very exposing...then getting myself hard in front of everyone.  While I tried to focus on Mistress (She To Whom My Camera Is Turned), to compound my confusion and general going-to-pieces-in-subland-ness I called Miss Eva "Mistress". Ohhhhhh crap was I in for it now.  This was a "Miss Lidsa" moment.

Fortunately, Miss Eva just laughed that one off.  But I was to start slapping my balls now.  Something only Mistress has ever told me to do and never in front of everyone else.  So open and vulnerable, exposed.  I did as I was told, totally giddy with my denial and the total mindfuck Mistress and Miss Eva had cooked up for everyone else's delight.

But it was soon over, and Lance's turn (again!) to go up before Miss Eva.  Relief washed over me, but I still felt I needed to be punished more.  A good thrashing would've done, but Mistress knew better and took me to Skype to bring me back down before bed.

So from anger, to a thoroughly immersive play session, to loving aftercare.

That's why I love Mistress.  I'm such a lucky boy.

Traveler by Anonymous

Traveler, wandering the world. All I want, is for you to want me. It was never so hard as it is now, to be without. I want to serve you and give you everything I can but ...Traveler, wandering the world.

I see you here and there and I ache for you to see me, to talk to me, to call me over and ignore me....I'm right here Miss...Traveler, wandering the world.

Your spot in my heart is always empty Miss but you make my heart full. I would belong to you if you took me, but i cant let you, I would lose you...Traveler, Wandering the world.

I'll always be there, but hardly ever here....Your Traveler Miss, wandering the world.

A Valentine's Dilemma by Anonymous

A Valentines Dilemma
Do I buy you roses, the deepest blood hue?
Or would you take the thorns and rip my skin in anger?
Do I buy you the richest dark chocolates?
Or would you melt them in a bain-marie and scorch me?
Do I buy you the most coveted designer perfume ?
Or would you laugh and spray it in my eyes?
Do I buy you a 2 week holiday to Jamaica ?
Or would you go without me and tell me about all the men you were going to fuck?
Do I buy you a red corvette?
Or would you tie me up and drive over me a few times ?
Do I buy you Chanel earrings?
Or would you pierce my cock with them and make me wear them everyday?
Do I buy you the latest wide screen television?
Or would you drop it on me from a great height?
It is safer to buy you nothing at all
Or would you beat me up and shit on me for being such a greedy cunt?
Please Mistress when you say nothing at all do you mean it or not?

Starshine by Mark

It had been tough. No use denying it to himself. In a universe where women held all the power, for a guy to get onto a passenger starship without a ticket had been harder than he had imagined. He had felt their imperious gazes on him every time he passed one of the female security guards. But he had done it! Though if he had known how tough it was going to get, he might have stayed at home on Alteres 4. No use dreaming about that. The femme-cops there had his number. He had a sheet as long as the Chief of Police’s bullwhip.
‘May she rot in hell’ he thought, as the old whipmarks pulled taut across his shoulders.
It had seemed easy. Go down to one of the starship’s recreation areas, get one of these bimbos drunk and hide out in her cabin until Earth-dock. And it had worked like a dream. The cutey in the satin minidress met his eyes as soon as he strolled into the bar. They drank drink for drink. Though, funnily enough, it was him who began to feel woozy after that very first drink. Probably out of practice. Eventually, she helped him along to his cabin. He could not remember the walk down the passageways – that was funny too, now he thought about it.
But it was when they got there. If only he could forget all that too. The cuffs, the cane, the whip,  the nipple clamps, the dildos ….
‘Stop thinking about that crap’ he told himself, ‘You made it!’
After the beating and the fucking, when she had fallen asleep, he cautiously opened his eyes from pretend slumber, and scanned the cabin. That was when he had seen it. The ship’s low-level night-time lighting just made it sparkle even more. He had stolen a lot of women’s jewellery. He knew the market. But he had never seen a piece quite like this one. Shaped like a star, it was, and encrusted in what looked like diamonds. He eased himself into a sitting position on the bed, then immediately thought better of it as the previous night’s dildos made their effect known. He stifled a groan, got up, tiptoed across the room, and grabbed the sparkler. Picking up his clothes, he eased out of the door and slunk off to find a dark corner, like a rat in a sewer.
Eventually the trip was over. Earth was in sight, and the ship was ablaze with activity. He smuggled himself into a disembarkation line and tried to look innocent. The wait seemed to take forever but, eventually, he was face to face with one of the female security staff. She eyed him stonily.
‘Anything to declare’, she asked?
‘Only my winning personality’, he smiled back at her.
Her gaze hardened.
‘OK smart Alec, into the scanner’, she said.
Shit. He had to admit, he had not thought of being scanned. But the chick in the black uniform hadn’t looked too impressed with his opening gag.
‘Typical femme cop’, he thought to himself, ‘they have no sense of humour’.
He met her gaze again, felt the old familiar chills in the pit of his stomach, and meekly stepped into the scanning suite.
Then all hell broke loose. Sirens whined, women ran everywhere, mostly towards him. He flinched, but where could he go? There was one door in and out. The female security guards burst into the scanning suite and whipped him to the ground.
The stony-faced bitch sauntered in and looked down at him.
‘You are hereby arrested for theft’, she said, holding the sparkler out for him to see.
‘No. no’, he said, ‘that is a family heirloom!’
She smiled cruelly at him.
‘Don’t you know that no man can ever possess one of these?’ she said, as she dragged him onto the passenger concourse.
He gawped.
‘Honest to God, I won that in a card game from a guy who is a real close friend!’
The stony faced bitch laughed again.
‘You’re a liar, and this is stolen’.
He felt the room swim around him.
‘But how can you possibly know’, he whimpered.
A familiar voice grated behind him.
‘Because, you stupid fuckwit, that is my Marshal’s Badge! I am a Marshall in the Women’s Interstellar Force for the Suppression of Men. No man is ever going to wear one of these.’
He spun around to see Her standing before him. She snatched the badge from his hands and pinned it to the jacket of the uniform she now wore. He eyed her in a daze, from the sharp, spike-heel boots, up her stocking-clad legs, beyond her miniskirt to the uniform jacket where the badge now glistened brightly, then, finally, his eyes met her gaze.
‘Cuff him’, she said to the women security officers who now encircled him, grinning like wolves.
‘Take him to the cells. When I am finished, he is all yours.’
As he was dragged off, he could hear the whoops of delight behind him, and the female guard on either side of him whispering awful things into his ears. Then he was thrown into the cell, the automatic door closed, and all he could hear was the frantic beat of his own heart.

Missing by Anonymous

My day
I really miss a lady in my life, a lady who wants to own me, who sees me.
One that cares for me.
Begging, I know you exists there somewhere, please let me find you and let to know you.
Better to be a shelf of hard titanium, with sharp elbows?
Is it greed and shame that are the driving forces on Earth?

The Munch by Lady Karrie

The Munch

I saw her as soon as I walked in. She was standing in the corner of the public bar – some frothy pink cocktail in her hand. She was fidgeting nervously with the canary yellow umbrella – I waited until  I caught her eye and then I winked.
Her reaction – a girlish giggle and a lowering of her eyes – told me all I needed to know.

I had known her online for about a year or so - I was nervous – sweaty hands and a need to rush to the toilet every few minutes. This was a big deal to me! I had grown fond of her quiet aura and wanted to make a good impression at this munch. Noone else here knew who I was so I took the name sticker and wrote Steve the pig. I wondered if she would recognize me. I had always been quiet at events. Sometimes I even put on a false accent so that people wouldn’t ask me to speak.

I bought her another of her cocktails and she thanked me in a offhand manner. It might have been shyness but one never knows. I hoped that she was interested in me – I was in her!! You meet a lot of these women around Femdom sites you know. They just cant get a man any other way! They aren’t even dominant – they don’t have a dominant bone in their body. They were probably bullied all their lives too! Most of them just hated men or wanted someone to fit the bill for their pathetic online shopping or bingo games! And this one – Jenna – was ripe for the picking. I mean come on what kind of Domme drinks pink frothy cocktails.  A few more of these though and shed be on her knees sucking my pulsating cock.

I noticed her as I approached the bar. She looked much more stunning than her geeky avator, Maybe the avator was to put submissives off her – keep them away. They all had this fantasy idea of what a Domme looked like you know. All leather and severe cut jet black hair. Think Morticia Addams and you wouldn’t be far wrong. Jenna however looked stunning in jeans and a green velvet top - her red hair hanging loose over her shoulders. I would have approached her right then - maybe asked if she wanted another one of those pink cocktails but there was some other guy stood chatting to her. I would have to wait.

She was hanging on to every word I uttered. It is easy you know to hook a Domme. Most submissive men are all longing and wistful looks, None of them have my confidence – my swagger. The Dommes like that you know. They think they are getting a real man not some gayboy.
Not that Jenna was a Domme – she was too girly giggles and soft looks from under her lashes. She was basking in my attention. She would be mine. Another Domme switched to my masculinity. I cant wait to see my cum ruin her face.

Jenna believed in fairytales and happy ever after – she had told him that she even kept her Christmas tree up in her hallway all year round. She sang often at Dominion events and hosted some of the less popular events. Jenna deserved the very best of life and I  hope that I will be the one to support her in her journey. I took a sip of my Jack Daniels and Coke and continued to wait for the sleezy guy to leave her alone.

I was getting tired of all this courting. At times I was forgetting to be subservient and a cocky rude answer was escaping my lips. I had to reign that in. I had to make her believe that I was the shy needy submissive that worshipped her. Otherwise those pink shiny lips wouldn’t be around my cock later and my hands wouldn’t be all over those tits.

It had taken a lot of soul searching to realise who I was and who I wanted to be to a woman who would inspire and accept ownership but I had lacked courage to see it through. I glanced over to the bar  I was becoming increasingly nervous. The sleazy guy now had his hand resting  on Jennas knee. I was  quite shocked that she hadn’t swept it away. We had spoken of our dreams and she had let me into her secret self. I felt honoured at the trust she gave me and couldn’t wait until our own first touch.

If this bitch didn’t hurry up and take me upstairs to the private play room then I was going to dump her fat arse and move onto the next foolish Domme. There was one right to the left of me and her mascara would look good running down her face whilst my cock gagged her.

I will give it maybe 10 more minutes then if Mr Sleazy doesnt depart I will just barge in between them both and ask her if she would like to chat. Surely it would be okay to do that. She didn’t quite look sober. Will she be mad at me I do that. Should I just stay here and continue to wait.

I take her hand and lead her upstairs to the private play cell -  well we would have been still sat there at that bar talking  crap with all the leather clad weirdos staring us at if I hadn’t. There was one guy in particular that had been staring over all night! Fucking loser! Him and his tweed blazer! Gayboy!  Now to fuck this bitch good!

Jenna sways as she climbs the stairway, at one point she stumbled on the frayed carpet - the guy is almost dragging her upstairs. I know that room from a previous visit and  it is an extreme space – limits are ignored, normal rules dont  apply.
I hope Jenna knows what she is doing. Well it is not my problem.
I stand up and leave the bar.

I took a slither of ice and run it along my forehead, it is humid and stuffy in this room. Pete the bartender always makes  sure I have a bucket of ice up here. He also makes sure that alcohol is never in my cocktails.

 A steel fan blows my hair away from my face and I look down once more.

James handcuffed and horrified is kneeling to the side of me his stupid big eyes pleading, snot running all down his face, mouth prised open – waiting.

I move the knife slightly closer to  his throat.

Steve is standing naked  stroking his cock to my instructions inching it closer and closer to james mouth.

I have known Steve for almost a year. This is his first test of obedience – I had left the door open for him as planned last week. He is serving  me well.

As for James. Well what a little cocksucker and his night of humiliation has just began.