Monday, September 21, 2020

Peregrine's Confession

 As the credits rolled, she glanced down at the end of the sofa where Gus was curled up at her feet, snoring softly. He’d fallen asleep. He ALWAYS fell asleep. It was something of a pet peeve of hers, but tonight was different. Tonight, she’d been counting on it. She carefully disentangled her bare feet from his hands, still sleek from the lotion he’d been applying before he drifted off. Quietly she reached across him to his phone on the end table and settled back onto the sofa with it. 

After tapping in his 4-digit pin, her birthday, of course, she quickly made her way to the apps store and began downloading the hook up app she’d chosen after doing some careful research earlier that day. She glanced at Gus’s sleeping form occasionally, as she created an account in his name and set up his new profile. “Cum slut seeks thick cock.” She pressed her lips together to suppress a chuckle. After transferring and uploading a couple of rather degrading photos of her boy to his new profile, she looked it all over and, satisfied, she clicked submit. 

The next morning, they were sitting down for breakfast. She’d been sitting at the table reading over the news on her phone while he prepared their traditional Saturday morning bacon sandwiches. They both looked at Gus’ phone on the table when it pinged with an unfamiliar notification tone. On the screen was a window that read “Tonight, 8:30, the men’s room at Foggy Bottom.” Her boy stared at the phone without touching it, reading over the words, trying to decipher them. Finally he looked up at her to find her grinning like a cheshire cat. “It looks like you have a date tonight, my darling.” He swallowed hard and picked up his phone to read the message again before unlocking his phone and maneuvering to the new app. She watched him pour over his profile as his face reddened and his mouth hung open. “Yes,” she said, “It’s probably good that you start stretching your jaw now, I have a feeling that will make tonight go a little easier.”

That evening, he dressed under her careful direction. She did the buttons of his shirt for him when his fingers were trembling too hard to fasten them securely. She stroked his cheek adoringly and kissed him warmly on his mouth. “Just remember. I love you. I own you. Whenever there is a question tonight about what you should do next, just do whatever would make me proudest.” Gus nodded, as though in a daze, “Yes, Mistress,” he murmured and she walked him to the front door. 

He caught a taxi and took it to Foggy Bottom. After distractedly paying the driver, he stepped out in front of the rather seedy looking club that he’d never heard of or seen before. There were clusters of men standing around smoking and laughing outside. Against the wall, near the entrance, two men were grinding against each other while making out. It took all he had to not dive back into the taxi and direct the driver to take him home immediately, but he remembered what his Mistress had said…. “Do whatever would make me proudest.” Gus straightened his shoulders, crossed the dirty sidewalk, and stepped into the dark club. 

His eyes adjusted slowly to the dim lights.  On one side was a long, crowded bar. On the other side were booths filled with men. In between were a few occupied bar tables and a stage with a dance pole where a nearly naked man was performing a seductive dance. He averted his eyes and they found, instead, the sign in the very back that read “Loo” with an arrow pointing to the left.

Checking his phone for the time, he saw a message from his Mistress “Do me proud, my little lambchop.” With a deep breath, he made his way to the back of the club and turned left like the sign said. He went into the little bathroom. There was a sink, a urinal, and a stall with a toilet. He was relieved that it was empty. Gus waited, unsure what to do next. 

When the door swung open, the music from the club got louder and then receded into the background again as the door closed behind the man who’d stepped inside. He wasn’t sure if this was THE man, so he just stood there. Then the man reached over to the bathroom door handle and locked it with a resounding click. It must be him. Gus’ mouth suddenly went very dry. He nearly pulled out his phone and texted me to beg for reprieve, but he heard my words in his head again, “do whatever would make me proudest.” 

This wouldn’t be his first cock. Not by a long shot. It would, however, be his first cock without me there watching him and encouraging him. He drew in a ragged breath as the man stepped toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.  The man applied a downward pressure that Gus knew intimately… he was almost grateful for the familiarity of the gesture because it made his next action easier… He dropped to his knees almost without thinking.

Inches in front of his face was the fly of a dark pair of jeans. With unsteady hands, Gus reached up for the button, jerking at it a few times until it freed and then he clumsily lowered the zipper. Above him he heard the man murmur, “So you really ARE the cum slut your profile said you are.” Gus bit his lip to keep from arguing and instead focused on tugging the man’s jeans and underwear down to his knees. Out plopped a semi-stiff, uncircumcised cock. It nearly smacked him in the face it was so close. Gus hesitated. “It’s not going to suck itself,” he heard the deep stranger’s voice from above. 

“Do whatever would make me proudest,” he heard in his head, repeating it over and over again until it was a loop. Prompted by the memory of his Mistress’ voice he took the stranger’s cock into his hand and began to stroke it. He was relieved to find that it wasn’t massive, he’d taken bigger. Still, it wasn’t exactly tiny either. After taking a deep breath, he slid the foreskin back and opened his mouth to slip his lips over the silky exposed head of the cock. The taste was both strange and familiar at the same time.

Per his training, Gus began running his tongue over the head of the cock, swirling it around several times and then massaging the man’s frenulum with the delicate pink tip of his tongue. Gus heard the man above him exhale with pleasure. He thought to himself, “Let’s just get this over with.” He eased his lips further down on it, taking it deeper and deeper. He wet the cock generously with his saliva so it slid easily between his lips pursed around it. Gus kept his hand around the base of the cock, knowing that he’d gag if he took it all of the way into his mouth. Despite his training, he still hadn’t quite mastered relaxing his throat. 

Gus’ head bobbed back and forth on the cock. He kept his lips firm and lush around it while his tongue cupped and licked and kneaded it. He felt the cock growing harder and larger in his mouth. With a hand, he reached up and gently cupped the man’s balls and lightly rolled them around in his palm until they began to tighten up toward the man’s body.  

Gus knew it was coming soon. Unexpectedly, the man gruffly pushed the hand Gus had around his cock aside. With both hands, the man pushed Gus’ head down fully onto his cock, causing Gus to gag. The man chuckled and released the pressure before forcing his cock into Gus’ throat again. And again. His gagging seemed only to spur the man on. Gus tried desperately to quiet his mind and relax his throat. But then the man was cumming in his mouth. The first slimy spurt of semen spat over his tonsils and dripped down his throat. The next roped over his tongue. Gus gagged again, but he knew better than to swallow. He steeled himself for more and the man delivered. With a final grunt of satisfaction, the man pulled himself from Gus’ mouth and wiped his cock clean on Gus’ cheeks. He reached down, pulled his pants up, buttoned them, unlocked the door… and then he was gone. 

Gus still had a mouthful of cum. He was absolutely desperate to spit it out or swallow it, anything to get it out, but he knew the rules. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled his phone out. Swiftly he took a photo of his open mouth, showing the pool of semen cupped on his tongue, and texted it to his Mistress. To his relief, her response was equally swift, but what he read was unexpected. “I want to see it in person, come out here now and show me.” 

Confused, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and poked his head out of the bathroom door. From the doorway, he could see his Mistress perched at a bar table talking and laughing with a strange man. He approached them with uncertainty. When he reached the table, his Mistress reached up and pinched his mouth open. Seeing that the white slime was still present, she turned his head toward the man so he could see too, then she nodded her assent. “You may swallow, Mine.” He obediently choked it down, keeping his eyes on her. 

She looked at him lovingly. “My sweet boy, you’ll be so pleased to know that I’ve found you another date! Two in one evening, aren’t you the luckiest boy in the world?” Gus nodded, unable to speak. He glanced at the man while his Mistress leaned in close… “Don’t worry, I think your mouth is done working… this one is interested in a different hole. Have fun!” She pinched his ass as the man pushed his chair back and Gus compliantly followed him to the back of the bar and turned left into the loo again. He could hear his Mistress’ laughter as the door swung closed behind him. 


New Lover by Anonymous

 I didn't know what sex was until I met her.  My first lover was...

Let's use the word passive.

She would not give. She would lie there, permitting touching but not really enjoying it.

We'd kiss, and eventually I'd be invited on top, guided in and allowed to, well, basically masturbate inside her.  It was frustrating, unfulfilling sex.  I thought that was just how sex was. The man did his thing, the woman lay back and waited for it to be over.

I'd read about female orgasm, wanted her to have one.  I tried my best. I suggested all sorts of things.  All rejected. I thought it was me. So I plodded on, having less and less sex. Little trailing into nothing.

My second lover was a world of difference.  She was passionate, wanton.  She came noisily. She enjoyed sex, enjoyed the feeling of being penetrated, of being filled with semen.  She...

*participated*.

Sex with her wasn't one way; wasn't the inevitable giving up, giving in to the fact that a lack of sex was making me miserable and that it was just another chore.

Sex was her way of connecting. Sex made her feel whole, complete. Wanted.

I made her cum. Again and again. Six or seven times. It was a revelation.  I could please a woman! I could pleasure a woman! I could feel her cunt squeeze and pulse around my cock as she came.  She'd draw me in and ask for...no, demand more.  She taught me devotional sex; how to make love to her for hours on end and to delay my own pleasure.

She'd invite me into her body, let me explore and worship her like a new land or a sacred temple. She'd guide me like a priestess or a sherpa, and we take the journey together.  She'd move beneath me, on top of me, around me, beside me and I'd move with her.

Sometimes she took me. She threw me down onto the bed and stroked my cock until it was quivering and hard and seeping precum.  Then she would climb onto it and ride it.  And yes, she enjoyed pegging me too.  Doing *all* the things that two adventurous lovers do.  Our tastes and kinks aligned.

Making love in the middle of the night, unbidden, just finding each other, half asleep, and coupling.   Or in the middle of the afternoon, a lazy day spent in bed just being together. Or waking up in the morning, hard, eager, and finding her next to me, both of us eager for sex.  Those are the things that would never have happened with my first.  And even now it still amazes me; that total contrast. The look on my second lover's face as I penetrated her, the yells and whimpers as she came.  The wicked grin when she finally decided it was time for me to cum.  All these things are a part of me now.  Something I will carry with me and treasure forever.

There really is no comparison between them.  I don't resent being with my first lover, or regret anything. But I do wonder still, was it me or her, or were we just not compatible in bed.  Maybe she was really asexual.  It matters not now.  Because now I know what sex can be.

My Hunger Begs by Lady Khelan

     My hunger begs


I have a hunger that begs to be fed 

Shape and curve, silhouette upon my bed

Tangled web, silken weave

Limbs bound, you shan’t take your leave

They satisfy, ache and need

Gagged whimpers, sighs, and cries they plead

Touch of a wheel where passions rise

Mutterings as they agonize

Tickle, touch and quiver make

Click of a tongue, their will doth break

Gripping, pulsating, sweat soaked skin

Pools of wax draw heat from within

Anticipation builds at every wrist snap

Lashings harsh across your lap

The burn and yearn, tingle and sting

The flesh it writhes beneath each swing

Shocking touch, a clamp and a crop 

You beg for more, have mercy, don’t stop

A hint, a sign of amusing remedy

A long deep breath of sweet ecstasy

Ah, the pleasure of my satisfaction revealed

Appeased now, with a kiss it’s sealed

Until next we meet, my dear desire

When my hunger begs and you are required.

Puptastic by Cam

 Puptastic by Cam

I get home and throw my keys into the bowl by the door.  I notice there's a note on the table, on lavender-coloured paper, and neatly folded.  With trepidation, I pick it up, feeling the smoothness of the paper between my fingers. I carefully unfold the sheet, turning it round so the impeccably neat handwriting on it is the right way up.  Not that it matters.  I can read upside-down with aplomb.  I managed to embarrass my old boss several times by reading papers he had carelessly left on his desk that he didn't want anyone reading.  I put that thought aside and look properly at the paper.  There is but one word delicately embossed in dark ink onto the page.

"Walkies"

I feel a flutter of elation, a stiffening and a surge of blood in my crotch.  Followed almost immediately by a feeling of trepidation.  Walkies always means one thing.  Trembling almost imperceptibly, I fold the paper and put it back down on the table.  I begin to strip off my outdoor clothes. When I'm naked, I take my collar down off the hook by the door and walk to the bathroom.

I briefly shower, clean myself thoroughly, and dry myself off before fitting my collar and clicking the lock shut.  I have to be ready before Mistress gets home, so I hurry myself and head for the playroom, where I pick up a butt plug with a long rubber puppy tail attached.  I take some wipes and clean it - not that it isn't already scrupulously clean - lube it and squat, pushing it slowly into my ass until the bulge fits inside me and it locates itself home, filling me uncomfortably but not painfully.

I leave all the restraints alone - I know Mistress will choose them when she arrives.  All I do is fit my puppy hood, making sure the laces are tightly knotted at the back of my head.  I take a blindfold from the row of pegs on the wall and head for the lounge.

In the middle of our lounge is a table.  It used to be a large, industrial cable spool.  It looks a bit like a gigantic sewing machine bobbin, make from rough wood and topped with a thick layer of safety glass.  I tidy away the books and magazines on top, and place down a thin cushion - always careful with my knees.  I know Mistress will tease me about it later - 'old man' she will say - but she knows my problems and allows for them.  My dodgy knee and an annoying propensity for sore throats are my only major medical faults, thankfully.

I turn on the radio, soft and low but audible through the hood to entertain me while I wait.  I climb onto the table, kneeling on the cushion while I attach the blindfold to the puppy hood.  When I'm satisfied I can't see anything, I settle down on the table on all fours and begin my wait.

I don't have to wait long - fortunately the radio show has given me something of a sense of time - about twenty or so minutes.  The news is about to start when I hear the door open and shut again with a bang.  Clearly no-one with you, but I remain on display, not moving from my perch.  Sometimes Mistress has done that - brought someone home while I've been displayed in some way.  There are few things we find more erotic, although it isn't something she does often - its rarity making it all the more special.

Mistress doesn't seem about getting straight down to business today either.  She practically ignores me while she flicks through the post - dropping most of the letters noisily on the table next to me.  She opens one.  I can tell from the pause that she reads it briefly, then tosses that down on the table too.

I'm half expecting a slap and am surprised when it doesn't come.  She turns; I hear her shoes click across the floor as she heads for the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.  Something appropriate for a trip to the local park.  Probably a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. Nothing fancy.  Mistress doesn't need to dress up to be dominant.  I wait patiently while she readies herself, wondering what sort of mood she will be in - she has said nothing to me so far.  I'm getting worried she's in a bad mood.  That usually spells trouble for me, even when I've done nothing wrong.

Oh my god! Have I done something wrong? What could it be? But the note....that's the sort of note that means play, and Mistress just doesn't play when she's furious.  So it can't be that bad. But she hasn't spoken. Maybe that's the mindfuck.

Yes, that's it. The mindfuck. Or maybe it isn't....

I'm still working this out when Mistress returns to the lounge and clips a leash onto my collar.  I feel her fumbling with the d-ring and bolt snap, hear it click softly into place and feel her warm hand on my shoulder as she guides me down off the table.  I melt at that touch, knowing that there won't be much of that this evening.  She leads me off into the playroom, gently tugging the leash to let me know which way and how fast I should crawl for her.

She binds my arms and legs - making me rest on my elbows and knees and half drags, half hauls me onto a small wheeled platform, specially built for the task she has in mind.  I know these movements, I know these restraints, this pattern of events.  I resign myself to what's about to happen, and my head sinks down between my shoulders.

Mistress senses this.  She crouches down, lifting me gently by the muzzle. "Pup," she fixes her gaze on me.  I try to look at her through the eye patches, but just see inky blackness.  We both know I cannot see, and yet the gesture is somehow meaningful, a connection.

"You'll do me proud, won't you?"  I nod my head and she stands up, briskly taking hold of the leash and pulling me on my trolley out the door. She doesn't need to hear or see my response.  She knows the answer, and I know she knows.  So all I do is think it.

"Yes Mistress."

And so, pulled along behind her, we make the short walk to the park.

I don't know where in the park we are, but I can feel the warm afternoon sun on my back, smell the freshly-cut grass and hear the distant birdsong.  We can't be near the lake - there's no sound of geese or splashing from the pedal-powered boats they hire out of a little blue shack by the water's edge.  I remember the afternoon Mistress had me pedal her out to the island in the middle of the lake.  We end into the spinney on the island and I spent the rest of the afternoon lapping at her cunt.

 A rough piece of string around my neck - the sign.  I wonder what she's written on it this time.  She'll show me later, when her fun is almost over - showing me the sign will be part of that; part of it it me knowing what she told the parkgoers to do to me.  I know she'll be watching, but always from a bit of a distance - a bench or a blanket.  Maybe she'll buy a soda from the kiosk and sip it while she watches.

She doesn't have long to wait today.  Very quickly, I feel a tugging - the tail in my ass is being pulled.  I try to relax and let is be pulled out.  I can't move. I can't resist.  I just have to kneel here on all fours, like the pup I am and let whatever other puppy owner is passing by who wants to let his or her hound have some release have their way with me.  I'm still groaning inside while I force myself to make enthusiastic panting sounds, yipping softly occasionally.  My yaps turn to grunts and squeals of pain as the cock enters my ass.

I try to struggle free, to get away but my restraints are too good - Mistress is too well-practiced in this.  I know she's watching me from afar, enjoying her free show. The pain is intense, each thrust ramming into me, digging deep into me. But fortunately, as I've learned, the big ones often don't last long.  He twitches inside me, one last, deep thrust...and his cum spurts into me, filling me with his seed.

I feel my own precum dribble out of my cock, dripping onto the platform, as he pulls out, wiping his cock off on my thigh.  I shake and tremble slightly, full of adrenaline and wanting so much to be back home, showered and clean again.  But of course Mistress will leave me ...ow!

Something is shoved into my ass again.  Thick and hard...slipping into place with his cum as lube.  The tail plug has been replaced.  I can feel someone at the string around my neck...fiddling with the sign as cum dribbles down the back of my leg.

I remain standing there on my trolley, on all fours, plugged, covered in cum as I listen to whoever has just fucked me disappear out of earshot. I wish silently for Mistress to come and get me, letting out a soft whimper as I miss her touch.  But she’s not coming back any time soon.  I get the feeling it will be a long afternoon…

(part 2 to come next time)


Confession by Will

It took Joe's eyes a moment to adjust to the light. He’d been kneeling in the darkness for what seemed like hours. The harsh light that suddenly emitted from the single bulb hanging above him bounced off the hard grey walls of the cellar, forcing him to bow his head and shut his eyes. He shifted his weight around in an attempt to alleviate the pain in his back, but the cuffs that held his wrists and ankles together gave him no respite.

He heard Her before he saw Her. Her leather high-heeled boots tapping against the unforgiving stone floor that had been slowly bruising his knees as he waited there kneeling in the blackness. Through squinted eyes he could just make out the tall and slender silhouette wrapped in tight black leather. Above her knee-high leather boots he could see the pale skin of her thighs and the black silk panties that any man would drop to his knees for.

“I’m back my pet" She said as she walked across the room towards him. "What a patient little slave you have been.”

At the sound of Her soft silky voice, Joe felt a surge of excitement. He felt it surge down his neck and make his heart beat rapidly in his chest. It reached down to to his legs and groin and made them tense uncontrollably.

And at the same time, he felt that familiar movement in the pit of his stomach. He felt the hairs on his arms stand up on end as his breathing became erratic.

“What is She going to do? What could be worse than what She’s already done to me? What could be better?"

He could feel the heat of Her gaze on the back of his head as She came towards him. He knew how much She loved seeing the fear and arousal take hold of his body. He took a deep breath and raised his head, his gaze meeting those icy blue eyes that first brought him to his knees and made him pledge his submission.

“Now then…” She began as She paced around him “...Because you have been such a patient little slave today, I thought I’d bring you a present. Isn’t that nice of me?”

“Yes Mistress Rachel.” He said, the words stumbling out of his mouth.

“I’m glad you agree.” She remarked as she walked over to the oak chest in the far corner of the room. “Lower your head and close your eyes while I get it ready. No peaking.”

As he heard Rachel walk over to the chest, every muscle in Joe's body tensed. He had learned that chest housed the most sadistic of Mistress Rachel's’ toys. His mind became a swirling fog as every “present” he had received in the past replayed in his mind. He heard the metallic clink of a belt buckle. He heard the sound of leather sliding over her boots and up to the soft skin of Her thighs. He heard the stretch of the leather as the buckle fastened. And then, after a moment’s silence, more taps of those vicious heels to bring Her back in front of him. She stood there for a moment, once again enjoying the psychological torture Her slave was currently experiencing.

“Ready…"

"…Open."

As he looked up at his Mistress, something blocked his view. It took him a second to readjust his eyes upon the long, shiny, flesh-coloured dildo hanging from his Mistress’ hips.

“Well slave… what do you think?”

He could barely manage a murmur as his asshole involuntarily clenched. Yet despite the fear that was consuming him, his cock hardened at the sight of the thick rubber cock hanging inches from his face.

An open-palmed slap across his left cheek brought him back to reality.

“Answer me slut! Do you like your new present?!”

“Yes Mistress Rachel” he whimpered, as the sting of the blow reminded him just how helpless he was. All he could do was lower his head in shameful arousal.

“That’s better.”

He heard the leather of Rachel's boots stretch as She crouched down. Her face was level with his now, and Her voice was almost a whisper.

“And where…” she asked, Her blood-red lips brushing against his right earlobe “…do you think this present belongs?”

Joe knew what She wanted to hear. He knew there was no other answer. He knew that he could use the safe word and it would all be over. But as he looked down in shame at the head of his throbbing cock, he knew that this was where he belonged. Despite every punishment he had endured, he still wanted to please his Mistress.

“In my ass Mistress Rachel.”

Her full lips parted into a wicked smile and revealed a perfect row of white teeth. She stood up, so that Her member hung in front of his face once again. She placed both hands on the back of his head, and ran Her perfectly manicured hands through his thick blonde hair.

“No my pet, this isn’t going in you ass... Well… not today anyway.”

She was getting excited now - he could see it in those cold, piercing eyes. He could feel every nerve in his body tingling with anticipation, arousal and fear.

“You see…” She continued “…there's lots of ways of testing a slave’s obedience: Pain, humiliation, chastity... But there’s a way that’s far more effective than all the others... and far more fun…"

"You see my little slut, there’s nothing that reminds a slave of who’s in charge better than stuffing their throat with a cock. Nothing reminds a slave of just how powerless they are than when they’re on their knees pleasuring their Mistress’ strap-on with their mouth."

As She finished the sentence, She pulled his head forward so that his lips came into contact with the tip of her cold rubber cock.

“You see my pet, today is actually going to be very easy for you. All you need to do is open that slutty little mouth, and I’ll do the rest. Isn’t that easy? Nod if you understand.”

As Joe nodded, She increased the pressure on the back of his head, so that the smooth rounded head of Her cock parted his lips, entered his mouth and pressed against his tongue. She paused there for a second, letting him taste the brand new rubber, before increasing the pressure once more, forcing Her cock deeper into his mouth and to the back of his throat. Joe felt his lips pass beyond the head and tighten around the thick shaft.

His own cock pulsed now as he slowly began to move his head backwards and forwards, feeling every vein on the rubber cock run between his lips as he did so. She allowed him to continue for a few more seconds, before reapplying the pressure to the back of his head and holding it still so her cock rested against the back of his throat again. He could feel the saliva building up in his mouth. He felt like a proud cock-sucking slut.

She released his head and let Her cock fall out of his mouth.

“Spit on it.” She ordered.

Joe spat on to the large pink head of Rachel’s strap-on.

“And again. This is for your benefit not mine, lube up that cock properly.”

He spat further down the shaft, trying to cover as much as possible in a slick coat of saliva. It made Her strap-on glisten in the light as it moved back towards his mouth. Though this time, Joe's mouth opened willingly and his lips passed slowly over the wet head.

And then, just as his lips made it past the head, he felt Rachel's hands slam down on the back of his head as She thrust Her hips towards his face. The bulbous head of Her cock, lubed with his saliva, had no problem forcing its way past his tonsils and deep down his throat.

His whole body tensed as he frantically tried to free his hands from behind his back. But the cuffs were too tight, all he could do was squirm on his knees as the manicured hands on the back of his head grabbed a clump of his hair and held his head in place. The saliva now forced its way out of the corners of his mouth and drooled down his chin as he desperately struggled for air.

Rachel's voice cut through his panicked mind.

“That's it slut, take it all. Struggle if you'd like. You're not going anywhere.”

His eyes were screwed shut, his face was red and every muscle in his neck and back was straining to get away from the thick shaft currently lodged in his throat.

Then just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, just when he thought that he’d reached his limit, the grip on the back of his head loosened and he fell backwards onto the hard concrete floor.

As he greedily breathed in the stale air of the cellar, he could feel his Mistress looming above him.

“Get up you pathetic slut, I haven’t finished with you yet.”

The voice in Joe's head was screaming at him to stop. But he didn’t want to stop - he couldn’t. His Mistress wasn’t finished with her slave, and he needed to please his Mistress.

He struggled back to his knees, now painfully aware of the cuffs keeping his hands and ankles together. Rachel grabbed the hair on the top of his head and pulled him upright. No sooner had he raised his head, then the veiny shaft was back between lips and sliding down his throat. Despite the discomfort, his cock continued to throb rhythmically.

“Look up at me.” She commanded “I want to look into those terrified eyes.”

Through his tears he could just make out the sadistic smile and commanding stare that reminded him of just how powerless and vulnerable he was. He began to struggle again as his gag reflex tried to remove the bulbous pink head buried deep in his throat.

“Are you struggling down there my pet?” Rachel asked. "What would you give right now to breathe just one breath? Do you want me to stop?”

Rachel administered another slap across Joe’s left cheek before he could even make a sound in response.

"Tough shit! You're not ready to breathe yet, you haven't earned it. I'm not pulling out until I look into those tearful, vulnerable eyes and I see the last flicker of resistance melt away. This is what submission feels like. You are nothing now but a cock-sucking slave."

A part of Joe wanted to stop, to tap out and leave. But as he knelt there on the dirty floor of the cellar and looked up at his Mistress through tear-drenched eyes, he began to realize that this is where he belonged.

Rachel let go of his hair and he fell to the floor once more. For a few seconds there was silence.

“Remember slave…" came the voice from above him, “… that this is obedience. And obedience is pleasure."

Despite what he had endured, Joe felt oddly calm. Every concern, trouble and responsibility he had outside of this cellar meant nothing now. In this moment, all that existed was the pink-headed strap-on for him to service with his mouth. All he existed for was to choke down that cock for his Mistress’ pleasure.

He rose to his knees once more, opened his mouth and leaned forward.

For the first time in his life, he was free.

Warm Up by Anonymous

 Warm Up. (anonymous)

As she sat there, nonchalantly tapping her fingernails in a rhythmical manner against the glass topped side table, happily I’d assume, I could hear in the distance her gentle relaxing music, by the fireside. I was conscientiously going about my chores silently listening to the sounds from the next room. Suddenly I was beckoned. I adored the fact I was to grace her every whim, and I quickly stopped what I was doing and neatly left the cleaning supplies in a desirable fashion, and raced to her side brushing down my clothes so I looked presentable. Nobody wants to see disheveled mess, nothing should be too much effort, and it wasn't. I approached the door cautiously and before I had chance to utter a word she signaled, with just a finger, to my placement, which I very much obliged too. I carefully tucked my skirt, as I knelt down by her feet looking up towards her I rocked back slightly onto my heels. There was a momentary silence which gave me a moment to notice the small things, I could tell she had a busy day, from which I admired the deep plum tone on her fingernails which looked beautiful against her complexion and her new hair style the way it was slightly curled and now sitting just above her shoulders, I could tell she had been busy with appointments. I waited patiently for her to speak, just taking in her everything about her, I inwardly smile. "You should know something," she announced, to my slight confusion, as it’s not the usual way she would begin a conversation. I politely responded with a curious tone "yes Mistress?!", she went on to tell me of her upcoming plans for the night, how she was aiming to be meeting an old friend in town later that evening. 

Mistress handed me a small bottle and motioned to the job at hand - it was like I was in tune with her, we seemed to sing the same notes – so, I got to work. I took off her heels and began to gently massage her feet and legs making sure to cover ever part with her rose scented lotion, the scent radiated the room and I could tell she was enjoying the effort and time I was taking on every inch of what I was allowed to caress. I love to serve in this way, but it came much to my surprise when she after a while she stopped me, for I could have done this all night. But, I remembered she had her plans to maintain, and perhaps it was time for her to get dressed. Without words, a motion to put her shoes back on and to follow her, I, of course, promptly did as such. We went to the bedroom where my remaining supplies from earlier sat upon the dresser, she smiled, and sat on the edge of the bed, "here my girl, beside me" she said in a softened tone. I knelt down as directed, when, rather suddenly, I felt my skirt slightly moved. Her fingernail was tracing down my flesh, causing a shiver ran up my spine as if her finger had continued its path. I jolted forward slightly, I felt like ice had suddenly attacked all the warmth in the room, it left me almost presenting myself in an involuntary movement, much to Mistress' amusement. Yet, with the new found almost splayed position, I found I couldn’t move, as if my body had just went on a power outage. But, Mistress was soon to charge my body back up quickly, and without warning. There was no time to prepare, and I let out a sudden yelp as a strike hit upon my bare flesh, I twisted myself slightly to look at Mistress over my shoulder, and upon seeing her delighted expression I thanked her, and I guess that prompted the next three blows, which warmed me inside and out. I felt as though they were rewards for my thankfulness, and it filled me such pride. I took in the sensations, overwhelming me in that moment, allowing my mind to fall into a wonderous state, when a distant yet abrupt alarm sounded. As it bleated out, Mistress stopped it without a hesitation, and chuckled. "While you were busy downstairs, my friend texted that she had something has come up. So, my plans have changed, too."  I could not hide my smile this time as she almost whispered but, with such conviction " This is just the a warm up, as now, tonight *you* are my plans."


Mon Capitaine 2 by Anonymous

 Mon Capitaine – 2

The weekend on the sailboat was just the beginning. On Sunday afternoon, when I left her at the pier, she gave me an appointment for the following Friday. I was supposed to show up at 6 p.m. at her house, she said smiling. She would give me the address.

"See you next Friday, Mon Capitaine!" - she said laughing, and I couldn't help but shiver.

While I was tidying up the boat, I tried to think about everything that had happened. And it was all extremely strange. I have always been a man of few words, very cerebral, used to control events as much as I could. And yet, this time I realized that I had abdicated and let myself be dragged into a flow of events absolutely out of my control. However, it was not so much this that struck me, rather the fact that she had managed to make me take a completely subordinate, even submissive attitude. While I was cleaning the deck I was wondering if my nature was just like that, a submissive person: and my answer, perhaps out of natural self-defense, was negative. Yes, it's true, I had never been a tough guy, and in fact, I had a reputation of being a very kind person, but certainly, both at work and in my love life, I wasn't one to be prevailed upon. And yet...

Shaking my head, I put the last ropes in the peaks, giving a last look, and then I went away in silence.

The week passed quickly. I had tried not to think about her, except to try to recall when I had met her. I began to remember: it had been at university, but the memory had faded away. I seemed to remember that she was very fond of me and that she made it quite clear to me. On the other hand, I hadn't shown any interest in her, in fact I had snubbed her. That was what I remembered, but it was as if I had removed the fact.

On Friday morning I received a message on my mobile phone, with her address. It corresponded to an isolated area outside the city. I prepared myself, even bringing something just in case I had to spend the night there (inside I was certain of that; we hadn't talked about, but I was sure I would only be dismissed on Sunday night, and I packed my bag accordingly.

Just before 6 o'clock, I was in front of the gate of a rather old and well-kept villa. There was no name on the intercom, the agreed signal was two rings on the cell phone. At 6 o'clock the gate was opened, and I entered, knocking on the front door. When I saw it, I startled. She was very beautiful, wearing a simple blue tailleur that left her beautiful legs uncovered. She was elegant without being conspicuous; but above all, she exuded, with every movement she made or word she pronounced, a feeling of authority, of self-awareness that made me feel uncomfortable. She made me sit down and sat in front of me, crossing her bare legs and smiling at me.

"So, mon Capitaine, have you pondered about our meeting? Have you remembered who I am and when we met?"

“Yes, more or less.”

"No, no... with me you can't use ‘more or less’, I'm not a ‘more or less’ person. Do you remember the days of the University or not?"

“I do, yes:”

"Well, then you remember that you were not particularly nice; and I am a person who does not forget. As they say, revenge is a dish best served cold. And I intend to eat it all. Kneel here, close to me."

Nothing forced me to do that. I could have got up, told her to go to hell, and gone. But I did not. A force superior to my will forced me to obey. I knelt down where she told me, right next to her armchair. And as I did so, I felt a feeling of warmth invading me. I could not understand myself, and it bothered me, but I knew that I had no choice.

"Great. Let's start by setting the rules. I will always be Lady Mary for you. But you will not have a name here. You will simply be Mr. Hiero. You will wonder what that means. Well, not because you are my hero... just memories of university... common memories, aren't they? Do you remember who the hierodules were? The slaves of the temple...who were often and willingly used as prostitutes...hahaha".

It was as if her voice, and her laughter, in particular, entered into vibration with my soul, creating a state of waiting and uneasiness, but at the same time of desire and inescapebility. I bowed my head as if to accept what she had said, and she, slowly raising my chin with the tip of her shoe, said in a low voice "Every sentence, every conversation, must always end with your "Yes, Lady Mary". Is that clear?"

“Yes, Lady Mary.”

"Good. Also remember that if I don't tell you otherwise, you will always have to look me in my eyes. Never avoid my gaze. The eyes are the mirror of the soul, aren't they? And I want to eat your soul, drinking it over a good glass of wine."

“Yes, Lady Mary.”

"Good. Now go and get changed in the first room on the right, along the corridor. You will find everything you need to wear for the whole weekend on the bed. Nothing more, nothing less. Or maybe something more, every now and then... I'll be waiting for you in 10 minutes. Go."

I got up and walked away to the pointed room. Upon entering, I noticed a bed with clothes on it. In fact, just a garment, a kitchen apron. As I took off my clothes, I wondered why that garment was there. Humiliation, of course, but what else? Its purpose was to degrade me, but I thought, or perhaps hoped, there was something else. I looked in the mirror, and the yellow weaves cotton apron made me absolutely ridiculous.

After ten minutes I was kneeling next to her again, without being asked or ordered. The apron covered my waist, my chest and my legs, but it did not cover my ass, nor could it hide my exuberant erection. Which she didn't let escape, when she said to me, "Ohoh...Mr. Hiero is excited...so I have chosen the right name... And so, better to begin immediately, after all, a weekend passes quickly... Follow me, I feel like fancying some coffee".

I got up and followed her to the kitchen, where she sat down on a comfortable chair and said to me: "There you can find everything you need to prepare my coffee, I hope you are capable of it".

“Yes, Lady Mary.”

"But, to make things more fun...let's see if your B-side, so exposed, can be used to play...memories on the boat, carrots, no? hahaha"

She approached me as I was tinkering to make her coffee, and I felt a hand resting on the back of my neck, and at the same time, I felt something pressing against my ass hole... "I suggest you to relax, and to be cooperative...it won't hurt that much..."

It was a plug that she was inserting little by little, without any hesitation, into my ass. I felt like dying, but I didn't want to give in to her, so I kept working on the coffee, almost pretending nothing was happening, while an atrocious pain was spreading all over my body.

"Bravo Mr. Hiero! Come on, it's almost all in, where it's going to stay for a while..."

She sat back down and said, "Great. I want my coffee black and sugar-free...as black as the color of the pompom hanging from the plug...just a beautiful sight...hahaha".

I blushed dramatically. The tone of her voice, everything she said to me, instead of making me angry and rebel, softened me up as if she emptied me of my will and filled me with something that was not mine, but that took possession of me, inexorably..

She looked at me a little bit, quite amused, and then, coming out of the room she said: "When it's ready, serve my coffee in the living room".

The pain began to fade, but I felt humiliated. It was a part of me that I didn't know and that came out. That's what I thought while preparing the tray, with the cup of steaming coffee.

I went back to the living room, where she was waiting sitting, nonchalantly flipping through a newspaper. I approached her and knelt down, offering the tray.

"Great. The smell is inviting. You'll get some too when the time is right, don't worry." She took the cup and sipped the coffee, with evident satisfaction as she stared at me. "Bravo, Mr. Hiero. So you know how to do something, other than taking care of a sailboat...". While she was talking, she moved her legs, until she put one foot on my thigh and one on the evident bulge that I could not in any way hide.

"How horny are we... Soon we will have to do something about it, don't you think? Don't tell me that you discovered something you didn't know? That maybe you like to be fucked in the ass, and that you like to be treated like a little slut...hahaha".

Her foot was pressing on my member, giving me strong feelings, while the pain that was spreading out from my ass, in waves, was just as much strong.

"Yes, I would say that slut is the correct word, don't you think? And we will use this little slut, we will use it well, until this is your only raison d'etre: to serve me and fully be my slut".

In this way, little by little she advanced towards me, until her face was only a few centimeters away from me. She graciously took my chin, saying to me gently but peremptorily "Open your mouth, it's time for your coffee".

I opened up my lips, always looking at her. She smiled at me and little by little she drained an abundant trickle of saliva, mixed with coffee. "Don't swallow now, but only when I tell you to. I want you to feel clear that I am inside of you, in your ass and in your mouth".

Feeling her saliva while her smiling eyes were fixed on mine was like a shock. I think she noticed, because at the same time she smiled at me, put her hand on my shoulders, and forced me down so that the plug was pushed even more imperiously into my ass. "Mr. Hiero...my little slut and my spittoon...you should be careful, one could say that you almost love me...hahaha".

She smartened herself up little by little, gave me the cup back, and told me that I should serve dinner at 9 p.m., inventing a menu from what I would find in the kitchen. After having served the dinner, cleaned and cleared (she did not tell me if and what I would have eaten too), I would have to keep her company.

"...And you'll see, you'll like it...well, I certainly will like it...and that's the very important thing, isn't it? Hahahahah."

I headed towards the kitchen and began to prepare dinner. I did not know exactly what was in store for me. I did not know what further humiliation I would be subjected to. But little by little I realized that, slutty or not, being in her hands, manipulated like a thing, made me feel alive and that I would do everything to give her pleasure.

The only question was: how far would she push me? But I knew I could not answer. Not yet, at least.

P.S. The only thing I know is I am still alive. That weekend was the beginning of everything. A storm. Other confessions will answer, telling what really happened.