Saturday, April 23, 2011

Freedom By Cera

The air was heavy,
the lighting dim.
The music played
mesmorizing me
the soft moans heard
from across the room
as her submission was
her mistress grins with
as her body aches for the next
kiss of her tools
her back arching to meet
her whip
her voice quivering
as she speaks to her
i found myself lost
in them
found my body swaying
to the music
my mind answering her
my body aching for
the touch
the pain
the love
She approaches me
her kind smile
calling me
she rests her hand
on my shoulder
whispering softly
honey,.....its your turn
i look at her
biting my lip
my body shaking
my turn? I whisper
She nods
i walk slowly as she motions to me
she gently takes my wrists
and places soft leather
restraints on them
my mind is racing
she attaches them to chains
the sound of the metal
sending shockwaves through my body

she attaches my wrists to the rack

with people around me
totally unaware
she whispers softly
this is your first time dear
it will be soft
I will not hurt you
will not leave marks
as she begins,
the first hit
shocks me
that what it feels like?
I finally know
then the next
my body begins to respond
soft moans escape my lips
my body begs for more
i want to feel more pain
i want to beg
but am too embarrassed
my mind pleading to be hurt
my soul soaring
i want to be strong
my eyes closed
feeling each paddle
each whip
each flog
with anticipation of the next
my body dripping with
wetness as the pain
controls me
i am swept away
to a place i have never
i have given up my control
this is my submission
my mind and body are free..........

Fingertips By Zaira


A unique, swirling marking
A tool like no other

Skimming the keyboard
Caressing a phone
The world of words sent outwards
From you to me
From me to you

Our fingertips
Building us
Developing us
Leading us
Our fingertips
Arranging our meetings
Driving cars
Your fingertips
Beckoning me forwards
Pointing to your feet
Your fingertips
Turning my chin
Clicking metal
Your fingertips
Brushing back the ends of my hair
Placing metal

My fingertips
Crossed for luck
Tapping with excitement
Trembling with anticipation

Your fingertips
Linked though my hair
My breath
Your fingertips
Pressing my head
Lips to your feet
Fingertips pressing leash open
Lifting my chin

Your smile washing out the background
Overwriting everything
Filling me

Your body
Leaning Forward
Lips warm


I am owned

By even your fingertips

Confessor's Choice By Anonymous

Confessors Choice
(based on the stories of Terry Goodkind)

Chapter One.

The Midlands were a land of Magic.
Alysson lived in the Midlands.
Alysson was the Court of last Resort for convicted felons in the land.

Alysson hated dungeons.
They were sometimes hot, sometimes cold, but…always filthy.
Those that worked here…were not known for their housekeeping skills.
Those sentenced here, had more serious concerns.

She stepped carefully down the carved stone steps.
Avoiding the cobwebs hanging from the low hanging ceiling.
Her appointment, her client….lay ahead.

Alysson was a Confessor.
One of the chosen….chosen by birth.
Her mother had been a Confessor, as her grandmother and great grandmother before.
Women of her line back into the dark past had all been Confessors.
The magic passed down on the female side, generation to generation.
Confessors were loathed, hated, despised……and feared.
Confessors were born with a gift, a gift that came with womanhood.
The touch of a Confessor was the gift of love.
Complete, total, unconditional, unreasoning, unthinking……love.
One touched by a Confessors power, no longer had a will of their own.
They were the Confessors, body and soul….mind and will.
Once touched by a Confessor, they ceased to exist as a separate entity.
They became only an extension of the Confessors will, a devoted loving shell of their former self.
Dedicated to the Confessors every whim. The Confessors touch was irrevocable, it could not be undone.
Everyone feared a Confessors power, and the living death of their touch.
Being a confessor was a curse, a life of loveless devotion.
It was also a …..Profession.
For they were the ultimate judge of life….and death…in the legal system of the land.
When criminals, maniacs, madmen, sociopaths of any ilk were captured, and tried by what ever court held sway and ultimately sentenced to their just reward….the Confessor was their final appeal. They were given the last choice of their misbegotten life….. Death….or the Confessors touch.
Most knew the Confessors judgment would not reverse their fate, and chose to end as they had begun.
If they chose the Confessors hand, the Confessor would reach out and lightly touch them to the clap of a silence that rang like thunder.
Their will gone, the Confessor would then question them about their crimes.
All concern for self preservation gone, they would then eagerly tell the truths they had long denied. Confess to the deeds they had been sentenced for.
The Confessors last duty, was to direct the guilty miscreant to one last effort. To die.
Those touched by a Confessor would joyfully comply, their hearts stopping…with love.

The Confessors power was not on the surface, it was held in….only released at the Confessors need.
Constantly held in, day and night so as not to accidentally do harm.
Like a raging river held back by a mighty dam, the power constantly pushed to be released.
Confessors were taught by their mothers to harness the power, hold it tight.

And now, once more Alysson was called to pass final judgment on a condemned man.
He waited at the end of the row of dank stinking cells.
A man she did not know, that had asked for the Confessors judgment.
A man who claimed he was…..innocent.

Chapter Two.

Edward led a simple life, at least it had been a simple life.
Until he had been accused of the murders.
Edward had been a doctor with a small practice on the edge of town.
His practice treated colds and broken bones, lanced boils and delivered babies.
His patients were from all walks of life, the people that lived around him.
As were the victims of the heinous series of murders that had started six months ago.
Women butchered in the dark of night, women from the neighborhood.
Edward was aware of the atrocities, had certified the deaths.
He heard the gossip, the leaks from investigating authorities.
The papers had been full with fact and….speculation.
What he had not heard…until the last moment was the accusation.
That he had known all the victims.
That they had been patients of his.
That the murders had all been done with….surgical precision.
These things he did not know….until he had been arrested.
His home searched….and the incriminating evidence…uncovered.
His protestations of innocence fell on the deaf ears of those needing a conviction.
A quick conviction and an end to the fear oppressing the citizens of the town.
The trial had been….expeditious. The jury nodding to the prosecutors pronouncements.
The defense had been….transparent in its ineptitude.
The sentence had been…predictable.
Edward had waited in this dark deep corner of the keep.
Waited for the arrival of his last hope.
The Confessors rounds of the country’s criminal repositories took time.
Time most of the state’s guests preferred to extend, delay as long as possible.
Edward had been waiting with anxiety, waiting ….patiently.
He knew little of the Confessors, as a man of science…he was dubious of their powers.
He waited now, sitting on the small cot in his cell….back to the wall, facing the door.
He heard the sounds first…steps in the distance...the jailers shuffling gait.
Other steps….hollow leathery steps coming closer.
And…among those sounds…one set of clear ringing taps….of hard…feminine heels on stone.
The doors lock scraped, the jailer led in the small troop.
Himself, two burly armed guards, a stooped elder male and……
A woman in white, long curly red hair streaming down her back.
His first impression was of…sorrow….pity….she looked at him as a mother to an injured child.
His second look took in the slightly tilted eyes, the full lips…the tender smile.
For a moment…he forgot why she was here….he just stared up at her slender form…enthralled.
She spoke his name, “Edward…You asked for a Confessor…I am here”
He had to close his eyes to bring his mind back to his need.
“Yes, I need you to confirm my innocence!”
She looked back at him with a steady gaze.
“You understand what it is you ask, you understand that whether innocent or guilty…you will be gone…either way….you, Edward….will be no more.”
Edward stared up at here….voice steady….it doesn’t matter. I have been convicted wrongly, but convicted none the less. All that remains…all that matters to me now is that everyone know I was innocent. That there is still a murderer out there. That the search must continue. That my name be cleared of this shame”

Chapter Three

Alysson stood outside the cell as the jailer unlocked the heavy door.
She stood aside as the protective wardens stepped inside.
Let her scribe enter ahead of her, then followed them all into the cramped space.
The others moved to the side, letting her stand in front of the prisoner.
He sat on the bunk, and slowly turned to set his feet on the floor.
Looking up at her with soft brown eyes in a firm featured face.
It was a face of compassion; he did not have the haunted look she so often saw on men in these last minutes.
There was intelligence in those eyes, firmness in the stance of his body….even while sitting.
She was momentarily lost in thought as she looked down into his clear steady gaze.
She called him by name, told him she was the one he had requested.
He made his formal request as required.
She tried to make him understand the consequences of his request.
Innocent clients, as much as the guilty mostly preferred to go to their last day…whole in mind and spirit.
Few would put their reputation, their honor before the preservation of their self, even in last extremity.
Only two in all her past experience had made that choice.
Both innocent of the crime of which they were convicted, though one confessed to other similar offenses.
They had both then become guests of the state, but died shortly after when they could not be with her.
The stress of being separated from her became unbearable for them….and they found ways to end that pain.
She carried that pain inside her, that she could not relieve them of their agony.
She tried to explain this to Edward, but…..he insisted that he must be proven innocent.
That a terrible mistake had been made, but…that his final act must be to protect the innocent still out there from whoever had actually committed the atrocities of which he had been accused.
Alysson looked at him, told him…there would be pain….but it would pass.
That, she would see that his final words were made known. That if innocent, his reputation would be…exonerated.
He nodded his understanding….and watched her eyes as she reached out her hand to him.

Chapter Four

Edwards’s thoughts had been clear up to this moment.
His one desire to see justice done, for himself and the victims of the crimes he had not committed.
But, for just for a moment….looking into Alysson's eyes, he hesitated….his thoughts strayed to her lips, the tip of her sweet tongue he could glimpse between. For a moment he felt the desire for future days pull at him.
But, at the last he acknowledged hopelessness, smiled up at her and again accepted his role…asked her to speak for him after he was gone.
Edward watched as Alysson's hand approached him, anticipated what would happen…the pain she had mentioned.
He… was not… however prepared for what happened, he never knew if he were the only one to feel the implosion of light, hear the roar of the silence, smell and taste the ozone tang as the pain scorched through his body.
His veins filled with liquid flame that coursed from his heart to his extremities.
His nerves burned then froze with the sting of a thousand scorpions along their length.
The smell of ashes filled his nose, the stench of brimstone, the smell of loss and decay overwhelmed him.
His vision strobed with blinding white, bright as the noon day sun, the blackness of the void at night.
Lava flames burned his sight, deep black water depths froze his consciousness.
At the end of eternity he floated up, the physical pain gone.
He found himself on the floor, on his knees gasping, breathless with a need….a need.
His muscles were locked as the need filled him, as awareness surged through him.
It was her, she stood before him…his head snapped up….he looked for an instant into her eyes.
He immediately regretted his impertinence, looked back at the floor, instantly thought that maybe he had offended her by looking away…looked back up and gasped at her radiance….cringed inside that he had drawn the breath...what if the sound had offended her….what should he do…he held his breath so as not to further displease her. He closed his eyes so that his stare could not offend.
Tears ran from his eyes and down his cheeks as he contemplated the loss of her he would suffer as he suffocated for her, but realized that to please her by his respectful silent death would be reward enough.
As the vestiges of breath in his lungs waned, as dizziness and blackness began to enfold him…he heard her ask. “Edward, can you hear me”
He had to gasp again….as quietly as he could to fill his lungs to answer. “Yes Mistress, yes I can.”
He thought he had never heard a sound so beautiful as her voice; his thoughts focused on it to the exclusion of….all else.
She began to ask questions, he answered immediately, facts and dates and circumstances all pouring forth…no thought to dissemble….only truth, whole, complete truth for this radiant creature whose very breath gave him unutterable joy. To answer her questions became his purpose, his life…..his existence.
He looked up at her and felt the bliss of fulfillment as he answered her questions.

Chapter Five

Alysson knew the signs, knew the pain he felt, knew the loss he could no longer comprehend.
She knew he was now hers….for any purpose she desired….any use up to death she decreed.
She began the questions that needed to be answered with the first and most basic.
“Edward, did you kill those women as you were accused”
His answer did not surprise her; she knew it was not in him to have committed the crimes.
She had known his soul to be pure when she entered the room and saw his face.
Only the confirmation required by the law and his conscience had made his confession necessary.
She continued the questions as the scribe made his notes, she clarified the confusions, verified his innocence and signed the documents which would be distributed about the town….and most importantly…to the authorities that had committed this travesty.
Their’s would be the task to reopen their investigations and find the real killer.
Much of what Edward had said would be useful…he had known many things he had not been consciously aware of that she was sure would eventually lead to apprehension of the true culprit.
He had obviously been framed and a reexamination of the facts would lead to the true villain.
But for now, questions answered…he kneeled before her...eyes wide…and blank.
An empty shell awaiting her command.
She gazed down at his beautiful, now vacant expression…reached out and ran her fingers through his fine hair.
He moaned and closed his eyes, leaning into her hand.
She did not really know him…had not known him before today…
But….looking at him….having listened to his story….she felt she knew him…and missed him.
Confession over, the jailer and guards were anxious to be off….off to tell their friends of the mistake.
That an innocent man had almost been executed….but now lived on as a breathing accusation of incompetence.
Even her scribe watched her with a questioning glint in his eye.
She just stood and looked down at her latest…..victim.
One that would still be around to haunt her dreams, hidden away in some state asylum.
As she gazed down, a feeling filled her that she thought never to experience.
Not this one she muttered softly to herself….not this one....not this time.
It was an oft stated fact that the Confessors touch was irrevocable….and like many facts…It was untrue.
It was a fact that many confessors married. It was a fact that Confessors had children.
All of this required the prolonged and intimate touching of another.
Some where, somehow….that possibility had been programmed in to the magic that filled a Confessor.
Among Confessors, known only to Confessors was the other fact…..the fact that it was possible to be immune to the Confessors touch.
One person in a Confessors life could be made immune to her touch.
That one she carefully chose for her mate, the one that would provide her with the daughter to carry on her line.
Alysson had met many…despicable men in her life…enough that she had thought she would…forego marriage….let her branch of the gift die out.
Looking down at this man though…..brought stirrings of a different feeling.
He was kind, he was intelligent, he was….handsome….and he was gone.
No one had ever applied the touch after a client had.......confessed.
After the mind had been.....blanked
It had never been done before as far as she knew….it might not work…..but before she could change her mind Alysson reached out and with a hand on each side of Edwards face, whispered the silent words of warding.
The words that made one immune to her touch, the one time she would be able to speak them.
She watched…..stared into his eyes….held his face….closed her eyes in silent prayer.

Chapter Six

Edward was in the void, in the center of the glow of her affection.
Nothing else existed in his world but her, no sun, no moon….no tide pulled but hers.
He kneeled and basked in the warmth of her attention, no thought to the future…he had no future that was not directed by her.
As he stared up at her, he saw her hands reach out, saw her sway toward him…he shivered as she put her hands to his face...quivered with joy at her touch.
He heard her whisper words he didn’t understand as she looked down at him.
He felt her fingers tremble on his cheeks.
He felt time…..stop.
There was momentary chaos….a swirling in the blankness of his mind.
There was a coalescing in the ether, mists of thought gathered…stray images flashed.
There was a sound of rushing air…a clank of parts setting….resetting….shelves refilling with….knowledge.
It took a century at least to fill that moment of time.
He felt the warmth like a summer breeze blow through him….he felt himself flood back from he knew not where.
The light came back into his eyes...he blinked….and realized he was on his knees…on his knees in front of the Confessor.
She was above him…eyes closed in concentration.
Time started up again….in the seconds it took him to take his next breath….he realized …..all.
He understood the sacrifice she had just made…..knew the truth of his life.
Knew that he owed this woman his life, knew that a life time would be needed to repay her.
Knew….that his deepest desire was to stay here on his knees by her and fulfill her deepest desires.
Edward knew that all his pain of the last few months had been worth it if it brought her to him to serve.
To serve by conscious choice, to serve with love….and to be loved back.

Chapter Seven

Alysson opened her eyes….saw the tears running down Edwards cheeks…knew it had worked.
Knew without speaking that she had found her life's mate, that they would leave here together.
Knew that she no longer had to hold back her touch….for at least one man.

The end…and…a beginning.

Confession By Shy

The Most Difficult Week a Boy Can Experience

I have recently gone through a most difficult time in my relationship with Mistress. We have been together for 14 months now, and have grown so close. Our relationship has been almost perfect in every sense of the word, although like every good relationship we have had to work through a couple of rough points. Last week we had to work through one of the most difficult times in the past fourteen months.

Here is the story: During the weekend I was on sl quite a bit, stuck in a cage, waiting for Mistress. I was on quite a bit during the weekend with the sole purpose of spending time with the woman i worship, the woman i am completely devoted to, and the woman that I love. She wasn't on during the weekend and it bothered me a great deal. I am the first one to accept rl commitments, and understand they are to occur, but still I was very disappointed that I did not hear from Mistress over the weekend.

Anyway on Monday morning we spoke on skype, like we do almost every morning. I was very rude and disrespectful that morning to Mistress, expressing my feelings about the past weekend. I had not intended at all on being like that, but my emotions and feelings got the best of me and I said some things that I obviously shouldn't have. Mistress rightfully became very upset with me for my "scolding" her, and was quite angry with me. Honestly I have never ever seen her close to being that angry with me. Immediately I regretted what I had said, not because I was in trouble, but because I quickly realized that I had upset her. I love her so much, and all I want to do is make her happy, and that morning knowing I had disappointed her made me very regretful and sad.

She basically told me to leave and get on with my day. I was an absolute emotional mess that day, I couldn't concentrate on anything, and felt absolutely sick for what I did to her that morning. It bothered me the entire day, and I really only wanted to get home to apologize to her and beg for her forgiveness for my unspeakable behaviour.

She told me quite clearly that morning that it would never ever be my place to scold her for anything. I believe her exact words were that she does not answer to me in any way, shape, or form. I was to answer to her, and never ever scold her.

That evening I came home and we talked for a while. She outlined a very strict punishment for me which included not having her company for the week, being confined to the Dominion in jeans and sneakers, carrying a sign that read "I am a spoiled rotten ingrate piece of shit". Now keep in mind it was a very big sign!! She also told me that I was to write her a notecard each evening begging for forgiveness that would also include qualities that I believe should be present in my submission to her. I was also to kneel on rice for 20 minutes each night, during which time I was to pray for her forgiveness.

The week was pure hell for me. I could not stand being without her, I could not stand going without her attention. The rice, and the notecards were actually easy to handle, and I knew if I was to have any chance to gain her forgiveness I would have to do my punishment with pride and honor. She came on each night to check on me like the wonderfully amazing woman she is, but did not bend one bit on the punishment, something I absolutely respect in her, and have done so the entire time we have been together..

It was a most difficult week for me, not because I was doing this punishment, but because I knew it was hard for Mistress too, I had disappointed and upset her, and felt absolutely awful for what I did. Each day I felt like total shit, and beat myself up (not literally) every day because I had never ever wanted to upset her. I love her with all my heart, and knowing that my actions caused her to be upset made me very sad. I thought all week about my role in her life, my role as a sub. I wrote each night begging for forgiveness and prayed that she would take me back on Friday and find it somewhere in her wonderfully huge heart to forgive me. I was so upset that I might had screwed up something that has become an integral and wonderful part of my life.

On Friday morning Mistress came to the Dominion, released my restrictions, and let me back home. She had forgiven me for my actions but made it very clear that this type of behaviour would not be tolerated ever again. I was so eternally grateful for her gesture, and felt extremely lucky that she was willing to forgive me. We spent a wonderful weekend together and I worked extremely hard to ensure my submission to her was honest, true, and complete.

So what have I learned through this entire experience:

It is not my place ever to scold or correct Mistress. My existence is to serve her, please her, and submit to her completely.

I am so very lucky to have such a generous and forgiving Mistress.

I love her even more than I thought I did, and the thought of losing her last week made me physically ill. The week only served to reaffirm my complete love and devotion for her.

I must be completely devoted to Mistress, unconditionally at all times.

I have to be selfless in my behaviour and know that I need to forget about my needs, and only concentrate on Mistress' needs.

I am never to question Mistress on anything, no matter what.

I am not to contradict Mistress. What she says is gospel.

I must totally appreciate when she provides me with her attention, her love, her devotion for me, and appreciate everything she has done for me, and everything she will do for me.

I need to be gracious and thankful for her punishments, her direction, her guidance, and her Dominance, and most of all for her love.

Servitude - It is my place to serve her as she sees fit, when she sees fit. My job is to be her servant, to make her life better and easier.

I have to be honest at all times, and be truthful in my words and actions with her.

I have to prove to her that she can trust me in my words and actions. My word has to be my bond.

I have to focus my thoughts and emotions on her, and I have to know that the quality of my submission is measured by how much time i hold her in my thoughts and feelings. I have to be attentive to her needs and wants.

I have to be obedient and do what I am told without question or hesitation.

I have to strive to be a rewarding and entertaining part of her life.

I have to accept who and what I am, my good points and my bad points. Knowing my limitations and still keeping the thought that things can change and knowing I will change as well.

I have to communicate openly and honestly about what is in my heart and mind.

I have to be patient.

I have to be respectful at all times.

I have to willingly complete tasks set out by her, and I also need to apply my observations to the things I do that please her, knowing how to please her, doing what makes her happy, and making her proud of me through my words, actions, and behaviour all the time. I am in her service, and must make it my only mission to serve her all the time as she sees fit, whatever that might include.

It is my job to pamper her, please her, and bring her happiness.

It is my job to spoil her, treat her like she should be treated all the time.

My behaviour and actions are a reflection on Mistress. I must remember that all the time, and have to ensure that my behaviour does not reflect poorly on her.

I have to be proud of my submission, knowing it is my calling, my duty. I have to take pride in the fact that she is willing to have me as her submissive.

It is my job to suffer for her, all the time.

My job is to sacrifice for her, to ensure that my actions are a sacrifice to make her happy, to make her life better, and easier.

In closing Mistress, I say this to you in front of all your friends and colleagues. I am so very sorry for what I did last week. I love you endlessly, and am making it my mission to prove my worth to you every second of every day.

I love you Mistress Kivrin


Apology By Heath

I am terrible at writing so this wont be pretty. I wanted to let you know that I am sincerely sorry for the lack of consideration that I have shown you. I never intend on hurting others but sometimes I just don’t realize how my actions affect them. When it was all laid out in front of me by you in our chat or even more so within the trial lastnight I really felt awkward and not in a D/s being humiliated type of way. The feeling was more of shame and guilt that I hurt someone whom friendship I value. I really didn’t want to participate at that point any further but I continued in hopes that it would show in some way that you are important to me. In my life I am scared of deep connections and it causes me to run but in no way is that my intention. Miss Joie I hope you will accept my apology and help me to work through my many insecurities in which you know so well.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

The Beginning By Denai Denja

The Beginning

There he was ...

It had evolved so naturally ... one moment into the next ... from the incidental meeting in a building class to the cushion at my feet ...

He was a recent acquaintance becoming a friend . That day we both had gotten caught up in sim restarts and crashes ...and tired of being boosted all over hell and gone, ended up in my apartment .... just to catch our breath.

We sat down to talk about building ... photography ... a mutual friend ... sl quirks ... and this thing of being a Mistress. He looked over at a chair I had by the fireplace.

"This is the sub chair?" he asked. "Though it seems a little high."

"No ...that is my chair. His is the cushion on the floor. "
I rise and move to sit in the low comfortable chair.

Looking at him sprawled on one end of the sofa, I smile. "Are you very curious about this?"

He sits up and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "A little. "

"If you have questions .. I do not mind answering, if I can. "

He nods, obviously considering. "I don't think I would make a good sub ....or a good master. "

"It is not for everyone." I assure him.

"If anything, I would be a sub."

I sit quiet ...watching him turn it over in his mind. He smiles.

I invite him: "Kneel on the cushion ... see how it feels. " Laughing at the startled look on his face, I offer this assurance .. " It is safe here. " I raise my hands, turn the palms up, then down. "See ... no collar. "

He nods, chuckles nervously ... then moves to kneel on the cushion in my boy's place. Of their own accord, his hands rise to rest on his widespread thighs, palms up and open in supplication.

I lean back in my chair, relaxed, my hands resting loose on the upholstered armrests. "Now ... take a moment. Feel it. "

"Ok." he says.

He inhales deeply ... exhales slow. Silence drifts .. eddies ...pools.

"Look up at me. " He raises his head and his eyes open wider as I catch his gaze. "What do you feel inside? "

I feel him hesitate ... " I am not sure. Part of me feels this is not a good idea. "

I nod, listening.

"And another part feels excited. "

Smiling slightly, I ask "How so?"

"I feel that being overpowered can be thrilling! "

"Yes, it can be. " I lean down and touch his cheek gently ... comb my fingers through his hair. Softly I speak. "You see, this thing ..between Domme and sub ... is a thing of the senses."

He lowers his eyes, dropping his gaze.

"It is about power given ... not taken."

He nods and murmurs, "I see."

I lean closer, quietly inhaling the scent of him. "We seduce the minds, the wills ... "

He trembles ... I watch as his flesh prickles into gooseflesh.

My lips brush his forehead gently ... I whisper "The connection ... is between souls."
Drawing back ... I lift his chin with one slender forefinger ... slowly I trace the line of his jaw ... nail pressing lightly into the firm flesh ...

He gasps !

Tracing the shape of his full bottom lip with my thumbnail, I murmur, " I do not plan to ... take .. you." Pausing to press the thumb over his elegantly moulded mouth, I say, " You are tasting ... that is all. "

He breathes again. "Good." His eyes flicker. "I trust you, miss, ... even in this."

I smile into his eyes. "This is a very private thing. " Leaning forward , I take his mouth in a sudden kiss, whispering against his firm sweet lips " ... and cisco is Miss. "

Releasing him from the thrall of the moment, I laugh gently and relax back into the cushions again. "Best get up, sweeting .. before you ... Fall."

I grin ...watching him scramble to his feet. Shaking, he steps back a pace.

"Do you understand better now? "

"Yes. I do."

I nod. "Take care who you kneel to ...and where ...and when." Laughing softly, I gesture him to sit again on the sofa. Looking a bit dazed, he moves awkwardly to do so.

Chuckling quietly to myself, I watch him as he gathers his thoughts.

"I have never knelt before anyone. " He looks up from studying the rug. "And I will do so with no one else."

"You have a delectable soul, cisco. Have a care who you share it with. "

"I will." His expressive eyes intent on my face, he exhales slowly.

"You know, cisco is just as intoxicating from my side. Do not seek this casually." Watching him carefully, I offer ... "Would you like to taste that?"

" No , not now. Maybe some other time."

Nodding ... and grinning, I proffer ... "Perhaps after you have stopped shivering inside? "

With a short sharp laugh, he looks back down at the rug. "I dont think I have a master in me. And you're right. I am still shaky. "

"Breathe ... just breathe. It may pass. "

His dark rich voice comes again, husky and low " .... and wanting more."

"Noooooo...." Abruptly I stand, putting an end to this. "I have aiden. "

I turn away as he quietly rises and walks to the door.

Secret Submission By Anonymous

I have a confession -- I've not told anyone this confession -- not even my own journal for fear it will be found. I am in love. I'm in love with HIM! Him who tore my heart out years ago and yet still makes my belly flutter, my knees weak, and my cunnie flood hearing his voice.

He was always VERY dominant and I listened to him -- that was before -- before I started explaining FemDom to him. To my surprise, he was happy to give up control. Happy to bend at my will like a small sapling in the wind -- I don't try to bend him too much -- I don't want him to shatter like glass.

Slowly, I've been training him without him even realizing it. Little things at first. He always calls me Miss now. He thinks it's cute and a quirk. I know it's respect.

When he says, "I'll call at 8pm -- he calls." If he doesn't call I won't speak to him for days. I won't let him cum -- and yet he doesn't even realize I control that -- yet. He's slow to realize that my voice, my wants, have become his now. The girl he broke years ago has now been slowing bending him to her will. He may be a foot taller. He may be 100 pounds heavier. He may be Lord and Master of his own realm -- but with me his is 100% MINE.

No others know of his secret submission. They don't know he likes to have than tan ass spanked or tells me his fantasies about having anal beads shoved up there or a butt blug -- a butt plug he has to wear FOR ME! He doesn't even know he's being trained. It's strange for I want to tell him. But, he won't believe it. He won't realize that I am his Mistress. He does what I say. He wears what I like. His cologne is because it is MY favorite.

I wonder when he will realize that he is mine. I wonder if he will ever realize what I've done to him slowly in increments so small that he himself doesn't even realize who holds the power now. When he kneels before me he thinks it's a game. Though, I am starting to wonder if he really is that thick. He is intelligent. He is very cultured. I think he just hasn't admitted yet to himself that he is mine.

He calls that magnificent cock of his MINE now. It is mine. I control when he touches it, how he touches it, and when he will spurt that warm cum for me. I control those moans, those groans, and even his urges.

He is mine. I love him. Does he know it? Only time will tell.

Regret By Anonymous


All the words I've heard used to describe regret are wrong. It’s a sound… a pull… it’s a taste that I can never swallow down. That is what regret is.

You once laughed at my stupid, fallible, submissive ways. I watched myself transform in Your hands, more amazed by the transformation than You were. You punished me. You spoke quietly to me when I had disappointed You and I cried, and again I was amazed at how much I stretched and twisted and pushed myself from the inside out, just to transform for You, under Your gaze. I was a living, writhing, soul.

I'm a ghost now, haunting my past, and haunted by it. I pace my memories, but I can’t stay there long. So I look to the future which stretches before me, abstract and remote. I try to turn my face from the hopes I carefully tended, now run wild into a jungle of fantastical, lurid, chaotic confusion, beyond my reach and beyond my strength to cut down. I turn my eyes instead to the blank horizon.

My love, my indecision, my desire, my fear, my stupidity, my cowardice … they were all fragments that brought me here, to this place. But how do I return? What should I leave behind? What pillar of fire can I follow to escape these ruins of shadowy memories and hopes beyond my strength to contain? Or do I stop pacing at the edges of what I knew. Do I let go and let the wilderness swallow me. Perhaps I will reemerge somewhere else? What will I be, then? Who will I be?

Will I still hear that sound, feel that pull, have that taste of regret bitter in my mouth?

Yes, I know I will. So I don’t walk away. I can’t. I may be a ghost but I still want just as fiercely as I always did. I want to feel Your warmth, Your possession, Your grasp. It hurts. I want to again stretch and twist and writhe to transform for You, warm, alive and owned.

You owned me completely. There's so much more that we could have shared; that we should have shared.

So I wait, and want, and taste regret.

My Deep Dark Fantasy By Anonymous

I confess a secret. Actually, I confess a deep dark desire, call it a fantasy even. In my fantasy it isn't about me, it isn't about my pleasure. It is about her, as it should be. It's about my fingertips softly caressing her skin.

It's about the soft husky voice whispering in my ear, encouraging me to go on when doubt settles in. It's about her gripping my hair and pulling me closer, brushing the tip of her thumb over my lips, before beckoning me over with her eyes.

Her eyes .. you could drown in those crystal clear eyes. They are more gorgeous than the bluest of oceans. It's about her mouth soft and inviting, as my lips quiver.

It's about her being in total control as our tongues touch and explore each other's mouth. It's about wanting to go slow, savoring every moment, every touch, but at the same time, it's about lust, desire, wanting to move on, exploring each bit of skin with my hands, followed by my mouth.

It's about hearing those soft approving moans coming from her mouth. It's about the way she giggles when I whisper in her ear that she might very well be the first non redhead that sets me on fire.

It's about listening to her body, to see what kind of effect my actions have. It's about watching her, opening herself to me, but staying in complete control.

It's about kissing her fingertips and playfully sucking on her fingers before bringing her hand between my legs, where it's warm .. and wet. It's about hearing her gasp when I slide my finger between her wet folds and the desire that burns deep within me to find out wether she tastes as delicious as she smells.

It's about teasing her endlessly, before sliding my finger inside her and bringing my mouth closer. It's about pleasuring her, hitting the right spot, keeping the rhythm she needs .. for me to give her .. what she wants. What I in my deepest fantasy want to hear, feel, experience .. It's about her climaxing, moaning, growling, and all those other sounds that come with that sensation.

It's a fantasy. It's a desire. But most of all, it's about her. As it should be.

From SL To RL by Omega Althouse

I know Confessions is full of sexy stories.. this one is low on the erotica but it's my hope you might find it a little inspiring nonetheless.

At Zarita's urging I wanted to talk about my boy and I. You see, we met here on Second Life, and now we live together. We've shared a house and our lives for two years and we're expecting a baby together.

So how did we get there?

Well, it wasn't even in a femdom sim where we met. I used to help run one of the largest RP sims in SL, a place called Toxia. Amongst my duties there was running one of the player factions. My character was a vampire. She was always polite and reserved but it was clear that was a very thin veneer to shield a very dark and predatory being indeed.

Grr-Brool was a coyote shape changer, a Lycan. Even though the sim mythology had vampires and lycans at war with one another, he and I both felt drawn to one another. Our friendship built slowly, our romance even more slowly. As the faction leader there were no shortage of boys (and girls) keen to curry favour any way they could, and it wasn't always easy to tell the self-serving empty flattery of keen social climbers from sincerity.

Grr-Brool was different. He caught my attention not with flattery or fawning, but by working hard in the faction and always being at hand to assist me. It seemed as though whenever I needed something, there he was, at my elbow, cheerfully and eagerly offering. What's more he proved himself a competent and capable 2IC, I learned that I could trust him to not only follow my instructions but anticipate them. He earned my trust, slowly but surely. It was also clear that serving me, and making me happy gave him a deep satisfaction.

Of course while the "in character" (IC) things were going on, we were also getting to know each other "out of character" (OOC). We learned that a lot of the elements in each other's characters that attracted us were not an act, but drawn from our RL personalities. We found we had a lot in common... we moved in the same circles (albeit in different cities). There was a wide swathe of commonality between us. We were both poly, goth, with common pursuits and passions.. it was an auspicious start.

Of course, there were barriers as well. I lived in Brisbane, he lived in Melbourne. We both had carreers, committments, friends and family that tied us to where we were. He was in the midst of a very messy marriage breakdown, I was struggling as a single mum with two jobs.. at times it seemed as though the impediments to us being together "for real" were insurmountable.

In hindsight, I beleive these barriers have actually contributed very positively to our relationship now. "Easy come, Easy go" was never going to be our motto. The endless hours we spent on Skype and in IM windows meant we discussed a very wide variety of subjects, exploring each other's preferences... everything from how we wanted to raise our children to whether anchovies on a pizza are a delight or an abomination... it was, and still is, a source of wonder and joy to both of us that we are both similar and delighfully opposite-but-complementary in equal measure.

After over a year of interacting together in SL, the fates aligned to allow us to meet face-to-face for the first time. A conference bought him to Brisbane. To say we nervously anticipated the meeting was an understatement. Would the bond we both felt translate into "real life?"

As I waited for his plane to arrive, I found it difficult to keep my composure - so many emotions. Hope, fear, anticipation..

Finally he appeared. As our eyes locked we both knew - this was real. The connection was there. The mutual attraction was strong. He strode over through the crowd of other disembarking passengers and got down on one knee immediately. For a moment I thought he'd actually stumbled.. and perhaps it looked that way to the crowd around us, but neither of us were paying any attention to them.

I put my hand on his elbow and bade him to get up. At well over six feet tall, he towers over my five-foot-four.. I've still got no idea how he manages to look "UP" at me from that vantage, but he does. I took his hand, and put my arm around him and we walked through the airport. Already our feet were in step, it was effortless, as though we had been walking together all of our lives.

During that first sweet visit we had ample opportunity to explore our other mutual interests.. we both walked away from that encounter knowing we were meant to be together.

Making that happen hasn't been easy for either of us, but we both agree, it has been worth the effort.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

A Love Story...D Style By Anonymous

Love, lust, bliss, betrayal, revenge
The tale of Z and V and Pammy E
The Triangle!

This is a tale of two clitty’s….well….three clittys actually.
It all started with a blissful meeting in the courtyard.
Two souls with but one desire…..domination.
It was a marriage made in….desperation and madness.
The merging of Pammy and Zarita was fore ordained.
It might even have been five ordained down under.
They looked into each others eyes….and
When they stopped laughing
Said each to the other…..lets do it
Those of us sitting around the courtyard all moved away
When either of these two says lets do it…wise women step back
But….in this case…it was a case of nuptial insanity
One can only suppose that Pammy had finally been driven over the edge by Billy
As for Zarita….well she’s an who knows what thoughts run rampant there
But the upshot is...they had decided to tie the knot...and it turned out…they both had rope
After some negotiation on who would be the bride and who the groom
It seems they both wanted to be the groom
They shanghaied Lady Gabrielle to do the honors and sanctify their bliss
I’ve heard it was a lovely ceremony, lots of laughter, lots of tears
Sort of like Jade edging that noob in voice…but I digress
The deed was done and with much rice throwing and waving…
The honeymoon was set to commence….best two out of three falls I believe.
The rest of the courtyard crowd breathed a sigh of relief as the happy couple
Attempted to carry each other over a threshold, resulting in much torn lace I fear.

We skip forward in our tale now….to Sweet Seductions Dance Hall and Nooky Emporium.
Here we find Pamala DJing her hot little tush off as usual…wearing virginal white
Off in the corner, we see Lady Veronica in a scanty black top and almost there bottom
I believe Veronica could be seen momentarily twirling her luxurious black hair
Just above her lip…like Simon Legree stroking his mustache while sizing up his latest train track victim
I’m sure Pammy was distracted by all the usual chatter and sexual innuendo
Much of it from her own gestures and DJ track…but still
No one knows what exactly possessed her to let the nefarious Veronica
Grab the collar around her neck, leash her and bend her to her libidinous will
Well…I suppose we all have a few ideas of what might have been going thru her mind
This is Pammy we’re talking about after all
But….even so….Veronica of all people…I mean…it is no coincidence the Veronica and Vamp both start with V
Veronica in High School was named the "girl most likely to"…..just that…"girl most likely to"…
No one thought to be more specific….it seemed obvious to everyone at the time
And here was poor Pam, kneeling at the end of her chrome steel leash
It was a shocking sight…Pam abject and kneeling...blind folded…ball gagged….......and still talking
Veronica barely able to stand from hysterical laughing…occasionally passing out on the floor
I suppose it was the stress of the situation that made Pammy forget that her collar would automatically notify her true love when someone else claimed her affections
But…it happened....and
The notice went out to Zarita of Pammy's infidelity…I believe the air pressure dropped in the whole D sim as
Everyone sucked in a quick breath…just in case it was our last.
The air vibrated, leaves fell from the courtyards pixel trees as Zarita spoke those immortal words
“You Bitch!”
This of course excited Veronica even more and she immediately insisted on TPing to the courtyard.
(cue the Good, Bad and the Slutty background music)
As Pammy and Veronica rezed in the courtyard…Pammy at leash end kneeling
There was a stunned silence, .....a couple of nervous chuckles .....and one loud guffaw
(and I’m not going to apologize for that again, I couldn’t help it…OK!)
The courtyard habitués slipped silently to each side, just out of likely bullet trajectory
The air between the parties sizzled…though that could have just been someone’s microphone line open and making static
Many of those there waited with trepidation, some even waited with tense expectation…but most of us just sat back with a snack and a brew with our feet up eagerly anticipating some spectacular fireworks
Myself…I hit the TP button and hid in another sim for a while til the flames had died down…so I can’t tell you exactly how it was resolved.
I can say that I came back later and found that Pammy was now on Zarita’s leash
So I can only surmise that cooler heads prevailed when all parties realized that Pammy was really just playing the two of them off in the hopes of getting all the wedding presents for herself.
However it happened, Zarita had forgiven Pammy for being the slut she pretended to be and had taken her back under her generous care and protection…though she still kept a tight grip on her end of the leash.
Veronica I noticed was on the other side of the courtyard already beguiling some poor fool subby into thinking she’d be his kinky salvation.
So…things settled back to normal for the courtyard…and all the perverted flora and fauna calmly awaits the next outbreak of Dominion madness.

Authors note: This story is fiction, I did not actually witness any of the events depicted…so it had to be fiction since I also didn’t bother to interview any of the participants. The names however have not been changed to protect the innocent…since I happen to know that none of the characters in the story are innocents. In fact, now that I think about it, the only one that may need protection is your humble author.

The Boy of My Dreams by Destiny Teardrop

I awoke suddenly and grabbed the alarm clock, my bleary eyes just about making out the time…..7.32am! Argh, I’ve over-slept. I leapt up and made a start for the bathroom, then suddenly it dawned on me, it was Saturday! With a groan I stumbled back to bed and pulled the duvet up around my shoulders. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift back to sleep but instantly, there he was again….the boy of my dreams.

I thought he’d gone, that the dream would fade as most dreams do, but no, as soon as I closed my eyes he was there, on his knees, smiling softly up at me, as if he had waited for me, dutifully, obediently.
Let me try to describe him to you. It’s difficult, because he’s a dream you see, he doesn’t really exist. You wouldn’t look twice at him in the street, he’s a pretty average looking guy. Average to the every day person, but oh so amazingly, exceptionally special, this boy of my dreams. He’s clean-shaven today, but sometimes I like him a little rough, with some stubble. He’s quite a manly boy. A man’s man.

My boy is intelligent and caring. He thinks of others and their needs . He has a kind heart. He is not callous, or harsh, but he isn’t weak either . He has a strong character and a delicious laugh. He doesn’t lie. He’s a man of principles.

This boy is very, very funny. He makes me laugh, a lot. He writes me poetry and sings me songs (even though his voice is really bad) and, most importantly, he worships me. He truly, really worships me. In the Spring, he brings me daffodils with my morning tea. He makes my crumpets just as I like them. He understands that I love ducks and that I often walk to the river to feed them and to talk to them. In fact, he loves that I love ducks. He loves that I am confusing and unpredictable. He loves that I can be the most loving Domme he’s ever met, but sometimes the most harsh. He adores the fact that my words can cut him in two, yet every time I do, it only cleaves him closer to me.

When we are out in public, he walks proudly beside me. My boy is a gentleman. He protects and cares for me. He is proud to be seen with me and I am proud to be with him. He discreetly does as he’s told in public. Often he pre-empts my needs and shows his devotion in subtle ways.

He is my rock.

My boy wears my collar with such great pride. He smiles and sighs with happiness, often. He sits quietly at my feet when I doze and massages my weary, aching toes after a long day at work.

He gives up all control to me. He loves that I give him routines and rituals. He wants to give more, always more and I want to take. The more I take, the more he gives. His submission is endless.

This boy embraces all that I am and all that I will be. He supports me in all my endeavours. He is loyal and faithful and he never takes me for granted. He knows how lucky he is.

My boy is romantic and loves that I am too. He never, ever forgets that he is my slave and knows that even when we dance and hug and cuddle together, he is my property, always.

My boy is fiercely submissive. He’s scared of disappointing me. He trusts me. He opens himself up to me and lets me push him, further, deeper into his submission, to places he never knew existed. He tells me that I am his One; that he has waited all his life to give himself to me. He is full of endless passion and desire. He cries hot tears of frustration and despair for me and he yearns, always, to be at my feet.

He surrenders his mind, his body and his soul to me.

I smile softly to myself and sigh as I fall more deeply, blissfully, into sleep. Sometimes I wish I didn’t wake up. For here, in my sleep, I am content, fulfilled, happier than I have ever been. For only in my dreams does my boy exist.

Vacation By Anonymous

When you hear the word vacation or holiday the mind often turns to beaches or camping. You may think of visiting a foreign country or even the family. The idea of relaxing and forgetting about everything sounds so appealing. But to some a vacation is an escape. The type of escape they get to explore more deeply who they are. For the past couple of day I have done just that. I enjoyed a week exploring.

You may think this is a confession of saucy whispers and naughty tells. It is not that at all. Not really sure it is a confession. It is really a thank you.

It is a thank You to the beautiful Miss who has the keys to my collar and much more. The week was not in the least what was planned, but she did her best with the circumstances. She logged on at 3am in the morning to be there to support me as I shared everything before the crowd. Told me to “breath” in IM when I was choking up. That was a very intimate moment i shared with her. She reads me extremely well. Scary to be honest *giggles. She has one of the most beautiful souls and I know deep down she has my best interest safely within her heart.

It’s a thank You to those who played along with silly votes on fetlife. You didn’t have to take the time to play along, but you did, and my hopes are you all enjoyed. It’s thanks to those who encouraged me all week to embrace the opportunity to explore. The same ones that did not laugh when I shared the playful stories of being in the grocery store and trying to straighten my bra strap so no one noticed. It is a thank You to all the ones that IM just to type “hug”. And a big thanks to the gang that considers me one of them…..Honest we are all innocent. It is a huge thank to a Miss who in the background always keeps me focused with kind words and playful correction with my Miss’s approval.

So no saucy details as most were shared at various times in the week and honestly it is kind of fun to keep a few secrets. The final Thank You is to my second family, the Dominion. To you I type “Hugs”.
Signed, anonymous

First Night's Dance By Anonymous

First nights dance

The night was warm
The dance club was hot
The tunes were steamy
I was…perspiring
I was….slightly intoxicated
I was….more than a little horny
I was dancing….alone
There were plenty of others on the dance floor
Swaying to the music
I swayed….alone
And she…. watched from the far side of the room

I swirled…I flexed…I held my arms over my head and spun slowly around
I kicked…I bent…I closed my eyes and dreamed to the music
My skirt flared out and twisted with the tunes
And she…. watched from a stool by the bar

I sang along with songs I knew
I hummed along with songs I didn’t know
I made up dirty lyrics to songs and whispered them to the room
And she…. watched and listened from her side of the dance floor

I tired and began to dance slower
My breath came ragged and I knew I should stop
I stopped and stood just listening to the music
And from behind me she said…can you manage just one dance more

I turned
I held out my hand
I held her in my arms
I pulled her tight against me
I breathed in her scent
I danced on air
I looked into her eyes
And she…. looked back into mine

We didn’t talk
We didn’t discuss
We didn’t decide
We turned and walked toward the door
And she… was mine

A Journey By Michael

Hi there - i am submissive......yes i know not easy to believe but true nonetheless.
To be honest i have known i was submissive for quite some time. Years now i would think. So i know i am submissive. i am guessing You reading this here in SL know i am submissive.
But in the land of RL not many do, well none really - in fact those closest to me have had no idea - until recently that is. You see a couple of weeks ago i decided to (upon advisement from some very intelligent special Ladies who shall remain nameless) tell my wife of my, up until this point, secret desires and fetish for being submissive. So this isn’t actually my confession – my conversation with my wife was – well I suppose this is a confession about that confession. A bit “Inception” like really.
Anyway, over the years i had made many attempts to subtly and sometimes not so subtly, talk to her of my non- vanilla predilections. I do love my wife very much but the reaction was never a good one – she is a vanilla girl through and through – and was never keen to experiment or try anything I spoke of, regardless of how I put it or phrased it or suggested it. So I had resorted to playing online and feeding my obsession that way. For years I had done this - until recently.
A couple of weeks ago I sat down with her and told her of what I was –how it made me feel and what it meant to me. No surprises that she was a little stunned at first. Probably also at second and third too. But she eventually rose from the floor and we continued to talk. I would have to say that she doesn’t really understand it at all and really wanted me to stop any activities associated with my deep desires. So I left SL and concentrated on other things. It wasn’t easy but I knew the likely price of such an admission.
This story does have a happy(ish) ending though. We have continued to talk and just in the last couple of days we agreed that it would be beneficial for me to come back into the D/s world again. And here I am. She maintains she doesn’t want to know about this side, but we shall see. The good thing I guess is that there are many more discussions to come I hope. And more confessions perhaps.

Revenge By Anonymous

My new life as a boy had been everything i had hoped for. Three months into serving 24 / 7 as my Mistresses' live-in house boy, i felt that, finally, i had come of age. I remember thinking that i had truly found the heart of what full, soul-deep submission means. Childish notions of constant subspace had gradually given way to this golden haze of daily servitude to my gentle, loving Mistress.

I remember those days as being hypnotically regular, and calm. Early rising to prepare breakfast exactly as my Mistress liked it, followed by a rigorous work out and then a slow, sometimes painful but always pleasing day of house work. In the evenings, i was my Mistresses' toy. Whether with stinging flesh or aching desire, i was happy, and very cherished. i had become a full-time boy and everything was as it should be, i remember feeling.

How strange that just a few months prior to this, i had been on the verge of giving up on submission altogether. My dark, keening fantasies of servitude and service were almost locked away, forever. At this time, Second Life had been my only outlet for expressing my submission. I was a "fledgling sub" when i found Dominion and then, whether through extremely good or extremely bad luck, one tempestuous night i stumbled across a glittering, cruel and truly Dominant Woman. i had instantly been swept into Her maelstrom. Gleefully and gratefully, i accepted first a trial collar and in time a full collar to Her.

Exultant, i began to be able to taste the degradation, sacrifice and humiliation that had always made me shiver and ache. Under Her powerful command i had learnt the taste of my floor, my own cum, my piss and most deeply and darkly of all, i had learnt the taste of my own submissive, craving soul. At first i served well, but then a splinter of doubt and irresolution widened into a chasm. In a horrifying blur, all went wrong and .... i fled. i nearly gave up on my submission in those dark weeks. It was only through sheer luck and the mercy of my current Mistress, that a second chance had been afforded to me.

All had been such a blur.

I remember lying on the floor beside my Mistresses' bed, tormented with memories of how craven i had been. Oh i was happy now to be serving my gentle, loving Mistress, but it was when all was dark in the dead of night that i dwelt on the glittering, cruel supreme dominance of my first Mistress in SL, and found myself wondering, and yes... the truth be known.... regretting. Her cruelty had been my drug.

Then, one morning i arose, and performed my usual duties, the golden haze of habit and gentle service warming me from my sleep. It was only half way through breakfast that i realized something about my gentle Mistress was different. An air of expectation and nervousness hung around her as she ate her breakfast. Finally she lifted her eyes from her mug of coffee and said with an unusual air of hesitancy, "tonight we will have company, my boy".

"Oh yes, Mistress?" I inquired, curiosity and a fluttering of nervous butterflies in my stomach.

"yes, my boy. Your old Mistress is in town and would very much like to see you in your new life"

Oh god... instantly my golden haze of pleasant submission turned to nauseating dread in the pit of my stomach. Anxiety and nervousness weighed me down like lead. Gently at first and then with increasing persistence, my words stumbling out of my mouth in their haste I begged and pleaded.

"I don't feel ready, Mistress!" .... "She hates me, Mistress"... "Please, Mistress, not tonight, please"...

In the end, i realized that, as i pleaded and begged, i was just angering my Mistress. i realized that she could see how much i feared this cruel, glittering Lady of my past, and She knew that this Lady still had a powerful hold on my heart and mind. Finally, in equal parts irritation and arousal my Mistress gagged me, gently slapped me across the face and set me about my chores. As the door closed.. well slammed behind Her as She went to work, i had a whole drooling gagged day of anxious housework to do before i knew i would come face to feet with my ex Mistress. Through the day i shifted dizzyingly from fear, to excitement, to shame to fear. The hours ticked by too slowly.

The door burst open to the sound of laughter and confident, poised banter. My heart leapt and sank in the space of a second, as She entered the room. I had only seen Her picture from when I had served Her in SL, and now here She was, the coldest, cruelest most demanding Woman i have ever met in my life. She didn't walk into the room, She strode into it and occupied it, just as She had occupied me, in every sense of the word. Whilst her physical form was neither tall not imposing, her presence was electric. I shivered, and my mouth went dry. I struggled to lift my eyes to meet Hers when she coldly greeted me, and I felt the heat of Her dominance wash over me like cold sunlight. It was too cold and too hot to be near her. I was afraid, and both She and my Mistress could see that fear and hear it in the shaking hesitance of my voice. I knelt before a powerful Woman whom i had wronged. I knelt before a Woman whose dominance and command still had a deep thrall on me, as much as i hated to admit that even to myself.

"Hello boy", She said.

With great effort I meekly bowed and muttered my greetings.

She stepped forward, and She was in my space. My neck ached as she took my chin and lifted my face to meet Her eyes. Everything shrunk away and dimmed as She gazed down on me. In her gaze I knew all that i needed to know. She did indeed despise me, deeply and potently. She had unfinished business with me.

Finally she let go of my chin and I immediately glanced desperately across at my gentle, loving Mistress who now reclined in her favorite armchair. She had seen everything that had passed between us. There was compassion in Her eyes but I realized with a shock that, She would not intervene. Her voice soft, but with a determination in it that i had never heard before she said,

"Tonight you are Hers."

"Please, no" I croaked. I felt something I had not felt in a long time: true fear as a submissive. The last few months had been warmth and light, but tonight I shivered in fear for my soul.

"I'm sorry" I whispered to my ex Mistresses' feet as she closed in on me, a coil of rope in Her slender practiced hands.

"Yes, you have said that before" she said with a voice as cold as slate, as She descended upon me.

She was deathly silent as a coil of rope passed around my neck. Not a sound escaped her mouth as She deftly captured my wrists in the coils of rope and I felt them tighten in the small of my back. Only her slow breathing whispered across my ears as i felt the rope cinch about my waist, my forehead pressing against the cold floor painfully as my knees were forced up under me, and apart.

The sweat on my skin now turned cold as I struggled against the ropes. It had all happened so fast. I ached to catch sight of the comforting eyes of my Mistress but all i could see was floor. All i could do with effort was look back under my body to see my own balls and cock hanging impotently between my legs, and there behind me, Her boots impossibly black and shiny, stood this glittering, cruel Lady whom i had wronged. I never thought i would see Her again, and she now stood over me as i struggled helplessly, my forehead already aching against the cold marble floor.

Slowly she lowered Herself into the other chair in the room, as i whimpered naked and prone on the floor at Her feet. I watched as inch by inch her black, patent leather boot slid forward. Helplessly looking back between my own legs I saw her boot finally come to rest inches beneath my dangling laughable balls and cock. I tried to swallow and couldn't. Tears welled in my eyes and I ached to just at least be able to shuffle forward enough to be out of reach of that dark boot that rested, in total threat, beneath my sensitive, delicate balls.

All i could do was lie prone, my ass cheeks apart, and stare at that ominous threatening boot, hoping against hope that her threat would be the sum total of my punishment. Caught in this terror of pain, and this pain of terror, i waited for my ex-Mistress to make Her intentions known.

As this torment swept over me, dimly i was aware that the two Ladies in the room were talking. They had met in SL and had many friends to gossip and reminisce about. I caught nothing of the details, and heard only the casual, laughing tone in their voices. It felt painful to my ears, contrasting so violently with the metallic taste of terror in my mouth as I watched that boot moving left to right between my sensitive exposed balls.

I don't know if it was the small pathetic whimper that finally escaped my lips which ended this horror of waiting, or if it was just the lull that finally crept into the two Ladies conversation, but my whole body went rigid when slowly i saw Her boot gliding upward.. I yelped as the hard leather finally made gentle, gentle contact with my balls. It wasn't cold. It wasn't painful, yet... i had been waiting in agony so long, the final touch of her imperious boot felt too overpowering to endure.

"please" I whimpered, hot tears choking my throat. I shocked even myself with the abject terror in my voice.

i gritted my teeth as suddenly, pain blossomed inside me. Her boot pushed more and more firmly against me, as i watched helplessly. i felt each ball painfully squashed and trapped against her boot as she wiggled her foot from side to side. I heard her snicker softly as my body jolted each time my balls squished painfully away from the hard insistent upward force of her boot. The pain only distracted me for a moment, from the total, abject, crushing humiliation of my predicament. My hips wiggled, and i whimpered forlornly as I tried desperately to avoid the pressing pressure of her cruel boot as it crushed my balls over and over. The worst part of all this was that i could feel both Ladies eyes upon me. They were quiet now. My desperate struggle with the boot playing out before them.

Then, all turned into sparks of light. It happened so swiftly that the first kick was over before i had the chance to register what was to come. Then, over, and over and over her booted foot kicked my helpless prone balls. I screamed in pain and clawed at the floor trying to crawl away from the onslaught, and toward the gentle caress of my Mistress. But there was nothing i could do. i closed my eyes and screamed impotently into the floor as blow after blow from her booted foot slammed into my conquered balls. Finally i even gave up trying to squeeze my knees together. The ropes were too tight, and my body finally understood total defeat. I sobbed as i accepted each vicious kick, whimpering in abject defeat just praying that the moment would finally pass.

Finally, Her booted foot delicately rested on the floor between my legs. Exhausted, I let out a sob of anger, total frustration and total relief and gratitude that the pain had stopped. A deep ache radiated from my beaten up balls up into my belly and I wanted to throw up. I rest my head on the ground, body shaking, slick with perspiration. All was quiet in the room but for my hoarse breathing, thickened with tears.

I hated her in that moment. I hated her. Oh i feared her, and dammit I still desired her, but i HATED her. and i hated my Mistress for letting this happen to me. i had never been treated with such total disdain. My desperate struggle to avoid pain and protect my sensitive balls had never been entertainment before. I wanted to hide. So much. Eyes clenched shut, tears flowed down my face. My fists clenched as i struggled desperately to be free. I wanted ice on my balls. I wanted privacy to cry. I wanted to be able to cover up. Most of all I just wanted to be AWAY from this Lady who had extracted such torment from me.

And then... god.. her softly melodic but icily cold voice whispered into my ear. I shied from her voice as I shied from her glittering boot. I feared what was to come every bit as much. Her voice slid into my soul, and I knew that only i could hear. This terrifying whisper into my ear was mine alone to hear and experience.

"You hurt me."

I drew my breath to beg forgiveness, but her fingernail at my throat gave me all the signal I needed to hush, and listen, and nothing else.

"You hurt me, and now i am going to hurt You. Deeper than You know".

Still gripped by terror i felt her hand reach back, and grip me. I jumped and a whine escaped my throat. I wished to my soul that my Mistress would stand up and stop this, but all was silent from her part of the room.

Her fist closed around my tormented cock, and slowly at first, but then with ever increasing briskness, she mechanically jerked me. It hurt so much. Her tight fist extracted arousal from me, as a farmer extracts milk from a cow. I struggled and bit down on my lip, determined that in this at least She would have no satisfaction. I did not want to give her the satisfaction of my arousal. At first the pain and my hatred of Her was enough to keep me limp. Hoarsely groaning my tormented cock remained soft as She painfully, briskly hand fucked my bruised cock, her fist slamming painfully up against my balls each time, making me jump and writhe.

My lips pursed as my brain screamed the word over and over again, that I longed to scream in her face.... "Bittchhhhhhhh!"...

"leave me alone i whispered" instead, and in return i heard her cold dry laughter.

Pinned by the ropes I struggled as ... oh god... i felt my pathetically beaten cock responding to Her.. i hated MYSELF as much as Her for my own pathetic fallibility. Her hand mocked my sex and arousal as she viciously grabbed at my manhood, and i felt myself harden in Her hand...

I groanneddd a long hot pathetic groan of hopeless arousal, and i hated Her as i thrust helpless against her hand, unable to find release but unable to stop my begging thrusting into her cruel palm.

I could stand it no longer... i drew a breath and hoarsely groaned it to the room "You Bitttcchhhhhhhhhh" I sobbed into the ground as She tortured me.

"Oh my God!" I heard my Mistress utter in sharp display and i heard Her stand and walk over to me... I shook in fear, struck dumb and aching to explain to my Mistress that this was too far. The pain too deep. The humiliation too total for me to endure.

"How dare You" I heard one of them say, and i quaked in surrender as I looked back between my legs just in time to see this Lady's hand slowly straighten and draw back.

"Nooooo" i screamed ... "oh god noo!" i babbled for mercy, and forgiveness... i begged with every ounce of my being to please, please feel no more pain.

Her hand flew in a sharp vicious slap to my groin and i felt my sensitive balls fly around wildly. My vision darkened as I saw her hand draw back and fly once again viciously to my balls, excruciating pain making me cry silently in wracking sobs as I watched her hand come down again, and again and again, reducing my manhood to the total sensation of pain, pain and more pain.

I woke the next morning to a different, deeper pain, in the pit of my stomach. I was naked on my mattress, but was covered in a blanket. Dimly I tried to understand what had happened, and then it all came rushing back to me. I curled up into a ball and sobbed. I wanted my Mistress to come to me, and rock me and comfort me, but the house was silent. Mistress must have gone to work and not wakened me. I wondered if she had stood over me and decided to let me sleep out of mercy for what had happened to me last night.

Finally, out of a need to go to the toilet I crawled off my mattress, and crawled to the bathroom. With effort I urinated and showered, tenderly massaging my balls. I cried a little more, and started asking myself questions. The most pressing question I had was, why did Mistress allow all this to happen? Why did she let Her do that to me?

Day drew to evening. As i knelt waiting for my Mistress to arrive home, my bewilderment turned to resentment. Finally i heard Her key in the lock and i looked up at Her defiantly and resentfully as She walked through the door and slowly crossed the room. She stood before me a long moment, appraising the resentment in my face. Then, slowly, she pressed her booted foot down onto my battered cock. I gasped, my body and emotions shocked at this new pain, and tears of shock and pain welled in my eyes. I looked up at the Mistress whom I had served in such a golden haze of familiarity for so many months, and i saw a different Woman. A coldness and cruelty now lay behind her smile.

"Things will be different from now on" She whispered as her boot ground my manhood into the floor.

The golden days were over.

Confession By Lady Willow

Switch? I don’t think so!

In my world women run the show, plain and simple. Men are employed as assistants, secretaries and gophers for the top ladies in my firm. My story begins with my exciting promotion and the awarding of a large new client account. With such position comes an additional work load that requires an assistant to see it through. Deborah in HR had called up to my office to advise me that she thinks she had found the perfect boy to fit my requirements. He was new to the company, just moved to the city from some far off place I had never heard off. Although he seemed rather brazen, Deborah assured me he was skilled and would be able to perform; perhaps keeping a tighter leash might do the trick she suggested.
From my office door I had a direct view of my new assistant. He sat quietly at this desk, taking in the new surroundings with what looked like a bit of a smug expression. I watched him for a moment as he tested his keyboard, rearranged the pens and stapler. As if his sixth sense had suddenly kicked in he turned his attentions to me, our eyes instantly locking in a somewhat intense gaze. Like the alpha of a wild wolf pack I held the look. I didn’t blink, nor turn my attentions elsewhere. I was surprised at how long he keeps his eyes on mine before breaking, but soon averted his stare to papers on his desk. I grinned at his defeat and secretly applauded myself for the show of dominance.
For several weeks this seemingly harmless event became regular routine. At some point in the day I would watch him, and when he felt my stare he returned the look, holding it long enough to slightly raise the hairs on the back of my neck before his eyes would drop and he returned to his work, this alpha bitch always winning out in the end.
As a deadline closely approached I came to realize the short hours of the work day were just not enough to get everything completed on time, and some afterhours work would be required. I suggested to my assistant, although somewhat unorthodox, that we continue working on the account that evening in my condo. He was quick to agree, and suggested perhaps he would bring over some take out.
My large dining room table lay covered in files, papers and other necessary equipment required to complete the task at hand. I returned from the kitchen with 2 glasses of wine and offered him one even though I was certain he was not worthy of the expensive vintage. We mulled over the papers, comparing notes, making necessary changes to the calculations and in the end putting together a rather impressive presentation. I picked up our empty plates and returned to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As I turned I was shocked to find my assistant hovering only inches away, his hot breath touching my face. I froze instantly, I never allowed anyone to get that close. The look in his eyes was seductive yet assertive and I was at a loss for words. He leaned into me, forcing me back against the dark marble counter top. His lips touched my neck, gently at first then quickly becoming rougher. I parted my lips to allow the gasp to escape. This was beyond anything I had ever experienced before. Of course I was experienced with men, but always they succumbed to my instruction, I always took the lead. A slight sigh of relief developed as he dropped to his knees before me, this was a position I was comfortable with; I was expecting him to wait for a command. Instead he hoisted up my skirt, its heavy material locking it in place from sliding back down over my hips. He buried his face into my crotch, his nose digging in as if a hog routing around for scraps. His teeth clenched down on the silk fabric of my panties as he started to pull them down, I was thankful I was shaved completely as his actions would have certainly pulled out a few hairs.
My mind was swimming, my inner thighs damp with excitement. He popped back up in front of me, smiled and spun me around so fast I nearly lost balance, my hands sprawling out across the counter to steady my weight. He pressed himself tightly against me, the sound of a zipper being lowered echoed through the kitchen. I froze again, unable to move, for the first time at his mercy. I felt his large shaft slapping softly against the cheeks of my ass, was he spanking me with his cock? The nerve. His manhood explored up and down the crack of my ass, he stopped when he reached my clit, grinding it with the tip. He reached up and pulled the elastic from my hair, now freed it fell down around my shoulders. He grasped my shoulder with his left hand and pushed my face down against the cold stone surface. With his right he rammed his now very hard cock deeply past the wet petals of my sex. The action was fast and intense, I gasped but that soon turned to low deep moans. My hips slammed into the counter with each pounding, there would be bruises I was sure of that. Before it began it was finished. I yelped as the orgasm overwhelmed me, he groaned and pulled out as quickly as he had entered. I was still unable to move, I felt the added sensation of the combination of our sex juices sliding down the inside of my leg. As I turned I caught only the glimpse of him has he walked out the door. That night I lay in bed, I kept the damp undies on, the smell of our carnal actions still lingered in the air.
The next morning began like all others. I woke up, showered, dressed in a classic black pant suit, gathered the papers from the night before and left for work. I walked slowly down the row of cubicles, the familiar morning greetings assaulting me as I passed. I sat at my desk, flipped through files, did some organizing, answering emails, all the things I normally did. Until now I had not bothered to look up, why I wasn’t sure. But as much as I was trying to forget the previous night it had begun to invade my mind. I raised my head, my eyes casually drifting out my office door, only to land on my assistant. His attention was already there, had he summoned me this time to our daily routine? As always I locked in the stare, determined to put him in his place. Something was different though, his eyes sparkled, the corners of his mouth were lifting into a grin, and then he winked at me. My eyes bulged, my bottom lip dropping, probably to the floor and with that I blushed and dropped my gaze…dammit he had won.

Jillidoll's Confession By Jillian

I woke up that morning anxious for the day ahead. I was told by my Miss that I was going to be put "on trial". This ment very little to me but brought on a strong curiosity. She told me I was being charged. But refused to tell me what for, and wouldnt give me the slightest clue as to what lay ahead. This excited me. Attention for the attention whore? All eyes on me? Would I be humiliated in front of everyone? Yes! just my taste.

My time came. Stripped naked and nervous I heard my name called out by the The Judge. She was ready for me. Kneeling naked and helpless my heart raced. I loved this. I was excited, giggling nervously as I heard the charges read out to me I had been disrespectful to my Miss. Calling her a cheater and crudley informing her that i had a boner. Sure it was all fun and games in my mind. But the Judge thought different. I was asked if I had privacy, which I did. I was then told to find something to spank myself with...a wooden spoon? None in the house. A ruler? I didnt have one of those either. The ladies in the audience requested a spatula. I had one of those! I raced to the kitchen and opened the drawer to discover it was metal. Nervously I pulled it from the other utensils and hurried back to the bedroom.

"I found a spatula Your Judgery!" I happily said. I wasnt afraid. I knew I could handle it. "Drop your pants, you will spank yourself ten times, after each apologising to your Miss." The Judge ordered me. Easy I thought so I began. SMACK "Miss Siofra, Youre little attention whore is sorry." SMACK....I was stopped. "You need to count for us. Start over." The Judge told me. I began again. Only to be stopped again. "You need to hit harder Jilli." She told me. I was in enough trouble as it was, I wasnt even going to attempt to argue that the spatula was already forming to the shape of my ass. I began again, Smacking the metal spatula against my ass, after each time reciting "Miss Siofra, Youre little attention whore is sorry." At about number 5, maybe 6 I was in total subspace, my eyes were closed softly as i groaned with each smack. Soft whimpers pushing past my lips. My ass was throbbing, and it felt incredible. I was so lost int he moment i started thinking about what an attention whore I was. Shame on you Jilli, you know better! I was punishing myself. Tears threated to stream past my eyes, so i squeezed then shut. Don't cry you big baby! Take your punishment! No use, they came...a sobbing voice rang out as i finished my punishment. "Miss Siofra! Youre little attention whore is sorry! Ten." I dropped the spatula on the bed, i shut off my mic as i sobbed. Shame on me. Who do I think I am?

I was passed back to my Miss. Kneeling i felt bitter, the bitterness turned to anger...but just as quickly turned to submission and respect. I had forgotten my place. I had been tried. And i had accepted my punishment. I am hers. Her little attention whore. Who had learned through the trial, that there is a time and place for everything.

Doubt By Lady Siofra


Somehow that word doesn't seem something a Domme should say. Doubt. Just the sound of it send shivers down my spine. I however in my nature, question everything I do. Its something that has been triggered from going up with nothing but doubt and negativity in my life. While I won't push it onto others, I will question myself, my thoughts, and my feelings. It used to be to a point where I let it push so many away.

These days I have fought it more and more, trying not to let it ruin my chance to more meaningful connections.

How does this relate to a Femdom confession? Easy. I found myself once again scrutinizing each angle and poking at this new gift i have been given. Its something I've always wanted, something i am so excited for.
However I look at the shiny bow, wondering. Will I gift break this toy? Will i grow bored of it? Can I handle it?

Most of you listening know by now its the gift of her submission to me. Countless time I have started down this road. Countess times I have allowed myself to rush forward and believe that this time it will work. This time she'll stay around long enough to let me wrap that collar around her neck and close the lock.

Do I wonder if she'll stick around? This is SL where people can up and vanish.. So honestly? Yes I wonder. Do I wonder if a lot of what she does it just to impress me because she wants this? Yes I wonder. I am a women who thinks, and sometimes thinks to much. I put up walls out of instinct, make up tests to prove that i am write or wrongs.

So now I look at this gift again and wonder, am i really Ready?

The answer is, Yes, a deep felt terrified Yes. Does this make me any less of a Domme? Never, because i have the boobies to prove i and a strong woman who knows deep down she wants this, and deserves its. I know this girl is in it for the whole ride and strives to be my main focus.

So Jillian, when you wonder yourself in moment of doubt. Know sweet Dolli, that here in these words I have poured out my feelings and have given you the first key to unlock the first door to my maze.

Tongue By Lady Cera

Hard, wet probing
sliding up my thigh
oh, so teasingly slow
I quiver as I sigh

I arch my back hard
hoping to bring it in
two moist lips begging
to feel that original sin

Up a little higher now
I shiver and wriggle that way
breathlessly moaning out loud
mmmmm, please let it stay

Oh, yes yes yes
that's the spot, my love
no! don't move at all
I'll move on your tongue...