A Romantic Breakfast - Alexith Destiny

Earlier this week, the Miss I hope to be owned by, and i had a romantic breakfast together. My confession is that Miss has sweetly and commandingly complicated, beyond all recognition, my love of marmalade. Once i merely saw a citrusy condiment. My love for citrusy jam was simple and pure. It was simply a condiment i enjoyed on toast. You could say, i loved it “as a friend”. Today, the sight of a jar of marmalade makes me blush, and sends a jolt of arousal to the pit of my stomach. My relationship with a jar of marmalade will never the the same again. That’s right. Under the loving but wicked guidance of my Miss a new kink is born. This is the confession of a condimentophile.

Let me go back to how it began.

I woke just before dawn, my half closed eyes only vaguely registering the muted morning light dancing on the bedroom wall. As I drifted into wakefulness I became aware of a thrill of excitement. Still warm under my covers, I searched for the cause of this pleasant mysterious feeling, and suddenly I remembered. This morning I will be having a romantic breakfast with Miss. The excitement was almost unbearable.

Eagerly I assembled the mysterious assortment of items she requested i have available, until finally, my preparations complete, i took a moment to clear my mind. The reality of sharing this romantic and intimate moment with Miss hit me again, and i found myself aching for Her arrival. Aching to be in Her presence. “How lucky a boy am i!” i, eagerly thought.

As the time drew near, my eyes rested on the most peculiar object that Miss requested i have ready: a jar of deep, dark, rich orange marmalade. On my knees in readiness, i peered into the amber depths of my most favourite of breakfast condiments. I suddenly recalled something Miss had said the night before. In a tone as sweet, dark and potent as the marmalade itself, She had told me how important it is to Her that Her boys are well nourished. I shivered.

I shivered again as suddenly, She was there, with me. It was breakfast time.

The breakfast started innocently enough. I brought Miss tea, and we chatted softly as slumber lifted. It wasn’t long though, before i realised that a romantic breakfast with Miss was going to be a lot more than breakfast in bed and the attentiveness presence of Her boy.

Oh how innocent i was!

I lived in a world where a romantic morning meant breakfast in bed, coffee kisses and idle chat. I lived in a world where marmalade sat solidly and respectfully on the coffee table, and the dark shadowy world of condimentophilia remained veiled to my innocent eyes. It was a simpler time.

It started with the wooden spoon. Her voice languid with sleep, Miss had me strip and find my knees. She sweetly commanded me to sharply spank my quivering behind. Blushing, and already aching in hardness, each blow from the wooden spoon caused me to whimper needfully into Her ear.

“Isn’t this romantic?” she crooned.

“Oh yes, Miss” was all i could say in response.

“Are you hungry, boy?” she asked me, as i struggled to regain composure.

“Oh yes, Miss. Oh yes. So hungry”.

I could hear the smile in her voice, as she commanded me to get the bread and the marmalade. I could hear my heart pounding in my ears, as she ordered me to take a handful of gooey, sticky pithy marmalade and to smear it, thickly and generously, along the length of my aching hard cock. On my knees, my head lowered, gazing at the bread waiting on the floor between my legs and knowing exactly what it was there for, I did just as i was told.

The marmalade was cold, sticky and ohhhh so humiliating as i lathered it along the length of my owned cock and over my aching balls.

Miss sweetly whispered in my ear again how romantic it was, to share this breakfast together, and i could only tremble and agree.

As i leant forward for Miss, she instructed me to fill myself with a butt plug while slowly stroking my sticky, marmaladey cock, i could only agree again and again how very romantic it was. I could hear Miss softly laughing as the buttplug stretched me to full slutty capacity.

She then pulled out my nipples snapping pegs on them as she twisted. i could only groan again and again my helpless owned and humiliated agreement at just how beautifully romantic it was to be there with Miss.

“Thank You Miss. Thank You Miss. Thank You Miss.”

Finally it was time. Miss firmly commanded me to take the jar of marmalade, and to plunge my aching teased and humiliated cock into it. I flushed with complete embarrassment and arousal to hear the sticky squelching sound of my cock sliding in and slowly withdrawing. Over and over. I groaned and my eyes fluttered closed as I did as i was told, for Miss’s amusement. So romantic.

As Miss painstakingly counted to ten, the point at which i could finally have my release, the whole world shifted. After an eternity of waiting finally, oh god finally i was permitted to explode in humiliated complicated bliss, cumming violently over the bread in front of me.

She then asked me to pick up the bread wipe it on my marmalady cock and have some breakfast. As I slowly ate the slice of bread for Miss, i tasted every moment of my humiliation. The sweet bitterness of the marmalade, the salt of my cum and sweat, all going down into me and becoming part of me.

So there it is: the humiliating, complicating and above all .... sticky .... confessions of a marmalade lover. Thank You Miss, for O/our romantic breakfast together.

From Anonymous to Anonymous

An IM, she said “I wrote a confession tonight” my heart raced because I loved to hear her voice. I replied, “I can’t wait to hear it Miss, I’m sure it’ll be very interesting”. I smiled to myself and then wrote in IM “smiling”. The first confession was read and it wasn’t from her and then Lady Ravanys said this next one comes from anonymous. It was a confession of a Diminion Mistress who was taken in by an owned boy and it was something about him that really struck her and though she would never act on it she wanted to Dom him. You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face! The local chat was flying with, tell, tell!!! I want to know! And who is it, who is it?? I knew it was me she was talking about from the conversations we had in private. I listened closely until Lady Ravanys was finished with Miss's confession. Nervously I IM’d back “interesting confession Miss, I wonder who was that about?” She replied, “I’m embarrassed now!!”. I was way beyond flattered and so surprised she would confess that in front of everyone even though anonymously.

Our IM’s were never more than a little flirtatious, but we spent a lot of time in IM getting to know each other more and more and I must admit I’m quite taken by her too. Her voice is so sexy and just drives me crazy! The way she carries herself and the confidence, dominance, and sexiness she has just attracts me more. But no matter how much the attraction and want to have her Dom me we can’t act on it and we both know it. I’m owned and care very deeply for my Mistress, but I love to see Miss at the Diminion as I hear her voice in conversation as she talks with others. She is a wonderful woman and her sub is very lucky to have her and I feel lucky to know her. “Looks over and smiles at the anonymous beautiful Miss.”

Ladies Night Out - Marcus Huxxely

The man runs through the dark woods, jumping over fallen trees ducking under low branches, he runs as fast as he can, seeing his way by the light of the full moon, a sudden noise behind a howl echoes through the trees then he realizes the hunt has began.

Why me he thinks to himself, he trips and falls tumbling to the floor cutting his bare chest on a thorn, cursing he quickly gets to his feet and continues to run, looking behind trying to see them but nothing but shadows.

Why me he thinks to himself, just a quick drink and I would be taking the train home, a sudden snap of a trig another howl brings him back to reality, they are closing on me, but what have I done to deserve this, his lungs now burning his pace slowing.

Why me he thinks to himself, I'm just a banker, I work hard and play hard, I meant no harm, a slapped bottom is harmless, I'm sure she loves it, he runs and runs his breath now short, so tired must rest and then another howl, my god they are so close.

Why me he thinks to himself, so what I sleep around, I'm a Man I can do what I like, a Another tumble and a sprained ankle a cry of pain and another howl, he looks behind and see them now running between the trees, and howling at the moon.

Why me he thinks to himself, Maybe I went too far this time but I'm the dominate one, aren’t I?, he stumbles as something hits his legs and crashes him to the ground, more howls and laughter surrounds him as many hands come down upon him.

Well done sisters, a lovely prize a wonderful hunt a man no more but a boy now bound and a new life awaits him, who shall claim him, I shall says a strong voice, no more will he slap my arse the cheeky boy, a collar he will now wear of mine to mark him owned.

Why me he thinks to himself, because I deserve it, at last he admits to himself, my life is a lie a facade, now feeling defeated and tired from his chase and feeling strange as something is place about his neck, come my boy there’s no time to rest for you have much to learn to know your place.

Why me he thinks to himself.....Why not i'm just a boy.

One - by Cole Wardell

It has been some time since I last wrote a confession for this event. In the past I have shared stories and fantasies that I hope one day may come true. Those of you that have been here and heard those, and the ones the know me have gotten a glimpse into the passion that is in my heart for the amazing woman that calls me her own. This isn't a confession about experiences I dream of sharing with her, but rather this is to share with those that are here a story of growth and understanding. Second life was a place I came not really sure what to expect. I had no intention of making any truly deep connection. I am here, a year later, with the one person that has changed my life so dramatically. It is a year in which I can look back and clearly see my growth not only as a submissive, but as a man. From the outside many people may view Femdom as a place where the woman are strong and the men are wimps that like to be pushed around. I am not really sure I knew what it truly meant until I actually spent time among many of the people that call this place home. When I first knelt at my Mistress's feet I was a boy that was confused, but she saw something that I felt and was unable to clearly express. I am insecure. I didn't know if I would be able to handle being in amongst a number of sub serving the same woman. I feared that jealousy would take over and it would be one of the things that would threaten our relationship. What I realized is that in order to please her and gain all that I hoped from this relationship I needed to challenge myself to overcome those obstacles which I didn't believe I was strong enough to take on. I knew that it wasn't going to be easy, but there was connection with her that I couldn't deny and I knew I had to see it through. We all loose sight of things along the way. We have moments of weakness when those insecurities come to the surface. In those times she was there for me. She understood me and was willing to take the time to help me understand what was happening all the while reassuring me of how much she cared for me in the process. With her I found my focus. I knew who I wanted to be and I have made steps to become that man with her guidance along the way. I thought that our labels defined us. I thought that being a sub meant I could only be so close to the person I submitted to. All the things that we think are true tend to be the things that hold us back from actually experiencing all that beauty that life has to offer. My eyes are open now. I live with the joy of knowing what it truly means to belong to someone and give yourself completely. I have learned to trust that what is truly meant to be will be fulfilled in the end. I know what it means to be patient, what it means to sacrifice, what it means to love, what it means to submit, and when you reach that point you see things clearly and the reward is worth all of the hard work that went into getting there. The path doesn't end here. There is always room for improvement in the pursuit of excellence and so I look forward the life and lesson that are ahead of me with my Mistress, my Love there to share in it with me.

The Box - Tehgan Vaher

The boy met us at the entrance as arranged looking like a movie star from the 50's in his black pants pressed into a razor-like crease, the white dinner jacket gleaming under the lights from the overhead roof of the 5 Star hotel and the thin silk tie tucked under the wrapped double breast of the jacket. The door opens and a hand extends inside the town car for me to take; which I do and use it to bring myself out to look around the front facade of the dramatic hotel. Times like this make me feel like a super star in my own realm and I soak up the ambiance. A thin white card is offered to me which I take and head towards the dazzling shine of the highly-polished brass entrance. I hear the heavy lid of the trunk pop open and the soft thudding of the steamer trunk before I sweep through the revolving door and into the lobby. I don't wait for him, there's no need -- instead I make my way to the elevator and give an approving glance to the hurrying boy as he arrives in time to join me.

The soft dings of each floor passing by mixed with the whispering whirr the motor makes is the only thing which breaks the comfortable silence in the carriage. I study the boy quickly, checking off the items on my mental list and add a note to contact the agency with my approval. The trunk rests atop the elegant brass dolly you find in such quality hotels, my garment bag hangs idly full of the tempting delights carefully selected just for this event. The soft slide of the door interrupts my thoughts and invites me to step through into the elegantly-lit hall. A quick check of the number sequence and down the passage I lead to find the suite.

I smile as the room is unveiled by the opening door - lavish furnishings, real flowers and artwork highlighted by the soft, amber of carefully placed lamps and accent lighting. The suite is comfortable for a single night or more, never allowing it's occupant to suffer luxury while being away from home. I glide across the thick carpeting leaving tiny divots as a chenille wrap is discarded absent-mindedly onto a chair ... clutch onto the sofa ... shoes finally kicked free to stack against the heavy-wood coffee table. "I'm going to freshen up", I finally state without need of retort. "Set the trunk at the bottom of the bed and start the preparations as were given to you." and into the glamorous ensuite I disappear.

I can hear the soft clicking and clinking of metal kissing together in the other room which is quickly drowned out by the steamy rush of water from the overhead rain shower. Stepping through the glass door, I relax into the heat of the massaging jets and let the stress of the day wash down the drain. Before I've closed the glass door behind me and before both my feet are sinking into the bath matt, the service boy has arrived with an over-sized, pillowy, white towel to wrap around me and start patting my dripping skin dry. Perfectly trained for bath service, he knows exactly how to move around my own movements so I don't have to stop and pose for him to ensure every square inch has been carefully seen to but yet he's never invading in his thoroughness of my vanity. I slip a nail across his face in silent thanks while passing him as my hair is being squeezed into another towel to dry it to a comforting dampness. My outfit has been carefully laid out on the edge of the bed. The Cinzano Rosso is waiting, bucket of ice nearby waiting to cook it down some. The lights are dim and the delightful toys are displayed onto the table. The boy hasn't missed a thing, which I'm not surprised of.

I can hear his breathing heavy and wet within the head hood born of the anticipation, fear and exhilaration of the journey. He's guided easily out of the trunk by the boy - his long limbs slowly unfolding to allow them to relax and stretch back out to full height and support his weight again. The boy stands him before me on display, using the inside of his own patent-clad foot to help my boys feet into a better position. The thin mesh of the thong doesn't hide the thickness of his shaft nor does it support him well, but he's stuffed his cock perfectly into that little piece of wardrobe and I couldn't be more pleased. "Fix his collar." I flatly command and the service boy quickly arranges the 4" wide band of black leather to be centered so the supporting rings are in their correct place. "Set the straps and bring me the clamps." he's told as I rise and make my way over to my slut. The dutiful boy who's been harbouring such terror of the box since his first experience with an untrained woman, of which will be forever altered for him this night forward.

I can smell his excitement as I circle around him - the predatory bird hovering close to the weakened and waiting for her time to swoop down and claim it. His body still holding the thick scent of sandalwood which is a regular part of his hygiene regimen mingling with the heavy scent of natural musk entices me and I inhale deeply to enjoy him. I bet the front of that thong is wet now. I take a step nearer him so he can feel me, the hood blocking any sense of sight and disorienting him just enough to easily put him off guard and keep him that way. I want him to feel the warmth of my body as I press it against his bare chest, the softness of the lace wrapped tightly around my chest brushing against him as I move. I let one of my stockend legs brush past him and I watch as his back stiffens some with his realization of what I have put on - his favourite of course, too bad he will never see it to be sure.

Easily I hook a finger into the back ring of his collar and lead him to walk and follow me to the trunk. The boy has folded out the leather straps which were specifically designed to attach inside and the lid's been shut with the thick padding of leather on top as a mattress. One of the good things about these old-style steamer trunks is they are sturdy and can take a lot of use and abuse - exactly what I need as he is laid atop the pad on his stomach and the clips of his cuffs are attached to the four points of the trunk. It always excites me to see him as such and I stand at his head with my feet parted so he can inhale the sweet scent of my arousal. The soft sigh whispering inside the hood is enough indication to know he's fully aware of this psychological game and I quickly wave the boy to take my place - now stripped and equipped with the polished ring at the base of his shaft.

Such a beautiful length of swollen meat this boy has for mine, hardened and flawless as it's pressed against the rubber of the hood. As previously arranged , now he knows he has the full run of my boy under my supervision and guidance - my focus is now on breaking my boy through his fear and the servant boy is focusing on bringing him pleasure. The mouth is opened in the hood and a deep, almost convulsive gasp fills the air. I know that sound well and I smile as I ease myself down into the chair and claim the poured-glass of Cinzano the boy had prepared while I was tormenting mine . I see the pink tongue seep through the opening to lap at the tip of his cock and I feel the warm stirrings of my sex start to rise knowing this indeed will be a wonderful night to remember.

There's something of a cruel and brutal pleasure you take when you have set up a forced-bi situation with two delicious men. I watch carefully as the boy takes mine through a series of dirty and deviant acts which brings them both closer and closer to explosive pleasure. He tugs his cock free of the hungry, needful sucking of my boy's mouth and groans in guttural pleasure at the string of pearly precum still links them together. The wet slapping of his cock against the hood milks louder and louder moans from mine as he bows his back in hungry posture forcing his ass up and thighs to part. Mine has been blessed with an extreme amount of meat hanging between his legs and it's not long before it's pumped up and busted out of the small fabric which covered it only an hour before. I can see he wants a good fucking. His ass is primed and aching to be filled and taken. I reach down and gently tap the hardened bud of my clit a couple times before shifting some and waving the boy to come and sidle up behind mine.

He thrashes some in the chains, realizing what's coming next and I can feel his apprehension. I rise and move back to his head and pull the lace crotch of the teddy aside and lower my pulsating pussy down onto his swollen and well-used lips. "Show your Mistress how much you appreciate all the work she's put into this evening's activities." It's not long before I can feel my clit jumping and wanting to explode and coat his face with my own cream but I pull back. I sacrifice my own immediate pleasure to relax him and bring him out of his panic space to be eased into his pleasure again as the boy is comfortably balanced on the pad and gliding his thick cock deeply into my boy's ass.

I pull the hood off and look down at his soaked head, hair plastered to his face ... drool and precum flowing freely down his chin. "You're a sexy bitch you know, mine." I growl to him as I lean down and bite the top edge of his ear. "How lovely you are right now, posed on your belly with this man stuffing his cock in and out of your tight ass. I want you to enjoy it and I want you to cum when you need to but you will ask him to fuck you as hard as he can before you do and while you do. Disobey me and you will regret it." I move back to the chair to get comfortable and my pinching fingers find my nipples trapped under the silky lace as the pleasure-filled grunts and whimpers grow louder and louder, tainted with urgency and I watch the lovely sight before me.

The boy reddens my boys ass with some carefully placed slaps of his hand and the screams of beastly need rises out from my boy. "Don't forget what I told you, bitch." I remind him and he follows with the most need-filled plea I've ever heard, and in fact I didn't know he had in him. The service boy's body flexes and drips with sweat as he pistons his cock in and out of my boys ass, the slapping sounds sharp and almost drowning out the words begged to him. I move back to the head of the box and wait for him to relax and ride out the last wave of bliss before leaning down to purr into his ear "You did very well mine." my hand waves to dismiss the boy who retreats to the washroom to clean up, he not be a part of this tender moment which is so important to the session "I'm very proud of you. I want you to rest there and regain your strength. I'm going to unclip you but I don't want you to move or speak. Just think back of the events and let them tattoo themselves onto your soul."

I unclip the four chains and let them gently fall against the side of the trunk to not disrupt his journey down into his space. My voice coos softly and I hum a favoured tune of his to help ease him out of any pain he might be in. Now and then my hands finds him to massage a red mark here and there. I know he enjoyed himself and I can only hope this good experience will over-shadow the bad and rid it of his mind. Now, for the next one ....

First Confession - Clyde Decycla

Mouth dry, heart racing, I have been awaiting this moment for for what seems like an eternity. Though I just saw her yesterday, her absence is more than I can take. Knowing she will be home soon, causes me to perspire.

On my knees, hands behind my back, I look intently at the locked door in front of me. Knowing that once she comes home and has had time to refresh herself, she will come and unlock my bedroom door which she has carefully prepared for me, and expect a proper and respectful greeting.

Suddenly I hear it, the rattling of keys, the turning of a door handle, and a stomping of her magificent boots. With every clank of her heel on the floor, my heart races and sweat forms on my brow. I imagine her looking in her mirror and smiling at herself, as she knows how divine she really is. I hear her clear her throat, softly moan as she brushes back her hair, and giggle as she knows her slave is dying to see her.

Like a faithful servant, I kneel at the door just waiting, knowing that it could be at any moment she unlocks my door to present herself. However, the thought also occurs to me that Mistress might just as well decide to keep me locked up in the darkness of my room for another day and deny me the opportunity to see her. Such a thought is more than I can bear.

An hour passes bye, by now I know she has sat down in her favorite chair, listening to her favorite CD while reading her favorite book enjoying a moment of peace. This is good news for me in that she has yet to have dinner, it causes me to think she will let me out soon to prepare her favorite meal of the day for her.

And now my heart almost stops, as I hear her sigh and stand up. Hearing a different type of clanking on the hardwood floor, knowing she has changed out of her knee high boots to her favorite pair of high heels, with her magnifcent red painted toe nails breathing feely. With intensity and purpose she walks to my door, I close my eyes in great anticipation, as I hear her reach for the door.

She turns the lock, and opens the door slowly, and from my darkened room, my eyes are blinded by the bright light that shines around Mistress Ravanys as her angelic form is outlined by a glowing light shining around her. As my eyes adjust to the brillance before me, I see her cold yet exotic stare beating down on her slave. And then, with the shift of her right foot, my Goddess extends her right heel and rest it between my thighs, and with her eyes gives me crystal clear instructions.

With great respect and adoration, I bow myself low to the ground, and with my parched mouth, I lick my lips to moisten them, and worship at the feet of this one of a kind Goddess, pressing my lips to each individual toe, laying prostrate before the Queen.

And knowing that my day has now just begun.

The Teacher - by David Lorefield

The time is 12:08pm.

I am kneeling in the corner with my hands on my head, naked except for the two clothes pegs on my nipples and the two on my scrotum. I feel full of remorse and shame. I know why I’m here and I know that I deserve to be here. The ten appointed minutes are nearly up but I know that this isn’t the end of it. This ritual must be repeated on the hour, every hour, until 5pm. I am ashamed, for being so stupid as to incur the displeasure of She that I love most in the world. I castigate myself in my mind with the lash of my feelings, sharp-edged and ready to tear the flesh from my bones. As the clock reaches the deadline, I gently remove the pegs from my sore nipples and ball sac. I rub my stinging skin with saliva soaked fingers as I have been instructed by my Mistress before and pick up my phone to send Her confirmation of a completed task. My next task is due at 12:30pm and is of a different nature.

The time is 12:30pm

I kneel once again, naked but unpegged. I begin to rub my flaccid cock in the hope that I will be able to edge for my Mistress, as commanded. At first, I can’t get through the still strong feelings of shame and sorrow. Fear grips me while I imagine how I can explain my inability to get hard and edge for Her. I drive these thoughts to the back of my mind and bring forward images of lust, my fantasies of my Mistress standing over me in Her sublime naked perfection and me kneeling in front of Her. As the scene plays out in my head, my cock responds and hardens more with each stroke of my fist. As She pushes Her sex into my face, I can feel the growing pressure in my balls. Sensing the impending explosion, I stop………..breathing hard ……. slowing …… until the pressure begins to subside. I pick up my phone once more and send the message – done.

The time is 1:00pm.

Back on my knees again, I take the pegs and attach them one by one. I wince as the peg clamps onto my left nipple. Less than one hour since it was there last and the memory of pain remains. I peg my right nipple but the peg slips off, pinching the delicate flesh and making me cry out. I place the two remaining pegs on my balls and place my hands on my head. My thoughts are turning, coming to bear not on me but on my Mistress. I think of how much She deserves my best and how pleased I am to carry out Her instructions – even when they result in some discomfort. I begin to feel happy that in my obedience and penitence, I may, just may, be bringing Her some small measure of delight. I am so lucky to be Hers.

The time is 1:15pm.

I have finished kneeling and have removed the pegs. As I press the button on my phone to send another message, I contemplate the rest of my day. In 15 minutes, I will edge again, and will repeat this every hour on the half-hour. My whole afternoon has been, and will be spent in the service of my Mistress by the repeated application of specific pain and pleasure.

There is only one lesson to be learned, a reminder of the ultimate truth of my existence. I am Hers. Everything I do, every thought and every deed, is for Her. My Mistress is the centre and the focus of my world. I won’t forget this again.

The time is 5:30pm.

It’s time to write my Mistress a full report of my feelings throughout the day. I sit at the computer and recollect my passage from sadness back to happiness. I know that my punishment isn’t yet over, but most of my shame and sorrow have subsided. I know that my compass now points true to the One who brings order, care, command, control and ecstasy to my life. I owe Her everything that I am, not just because I am Her property but because She deserves it, and without Her, who would I be?

The End

Another Anonymous April Admission

I confess that there is a boy at Dominion who I really really like. I would never ever do anything about it, because he's owned, although I'm not sure how happy he is, for reasons I cannot say, but I am so attracted to him. He makes me tingle when he speaks. He just has that something that sets my pulse racing. There is a connection, a spark, that is undeniable.

I have no reason to want him, I have plenty to keep me occupied and I dearly love my own boy but recently, he and I spent a little time talking and despite all of the above, I hunger for him.

I am a well-respected, ethical, morally good person and I will do nothing about these feelings but it helps to share them, if only for a moment.

Steamy Anonymous Confession

From a Dominion Mistress.

It's been three weeks since my vanilla friend decided he wanted to submit to my dominate dark side, and again I will admit it has been better than a pocket rocket on a roller coaster.

This boy has taken every command I've eloquently issued, watched every delicious, filthy frame of femdom porn I could list for him to view and review, and has probably edged my personal initials around his cock head in triplicate. Yes, he's learning, and loving his new found submission with addictive passion.

He has once again traveled out of pocket today, and I left him with a naughty little RL task to roadtrip his cock to.

I love inspiration, I adore knowing that the tick of my watch might bring a certain number of duties for a boy to take into hand.

Three oclock on a clock might me different things to certain folk, but to me, 3pm means cock time in my world. Three oclock is always the hour to touch his cock, think of me doing heinous acts of debauchery to that troublesome appendage inside his trousers, at 3 he must find a way to touch his cock. I care not what he might be doing, speaking to, or where he is. Three means Mistress, and of course he is instructed to tell me where and how he did it.

Today is no exception. On the way to his out of town destination, he must touch himself when he sees a mile marker on the highway, that alone seems like a fun task for a fella, but he will be giving himself a nice wank for every mile marker while in a heavy gauge, chrome weighted cockring. He will feel the weight on his person, feel the seductive chrome against his flesh, and struggle to keep it on during the four hour destination drive.

He is instructed to stop every hour, find a rest stop of some kind, get out his Stroke 29 cream, and stroke my entire name, letter by letter, then put his naughty cock back in his trousers and travel forth. While he is driving, he will be listening to a cd I personally burned of me, his loving Mistress speaking to him and masterbating with a new Hitachi wand. He can not cum, not until I have him in my clutches again, and my live voice is in his filthy excitable head filling him with temptation.

I can't wait to read his homework journal.

Wickedly yours,

A Dominion Domme.