Sunday, December 29, 2013

Impromptu Confessions 12/28/13

We wrapped our Confessions event on December 28th by asking everyone to answer the question: What was the most important thing that happened to you in 2013?  Here are the responses, anonymously....

A number of things happened in my life this year, but the one of most import was that of having someone I care deeply for undergo major surgery and rehabilitation.

Witnessing her determination and inner strength was truly inspiring and I hope to better emulate her.


I found myself a bloody wreck on the pavement having been struck by a car.
That tended to make me reassess my goals.


The realization that I am a powerful woman.  That I can overcome the strife that comes my way.  Get over old romances to make way for new ones...

That my horizons can be endless, but only because I allow them to.  That I can fall for someone willingly, whole heartedly and not feel weak and small, but even more empowered.


Had to deal with being unemployed for 3 months and learning how to deal with myself being bored out of my freaking mind!


Have you ever heard of dark night of the soul?  Well, that was my entire year.

What's so important about that?  Not that I survived.  That I still thrive.

Bring on 2014.


The most profound thing that happened to me in 2013 was realizing my marriage was truly over.  I have been separated for 2.5 years, and while it has been overwhelming and sad, I finally feel I'm at the dawn of a new life.


In way of kink: going into a CB-6000 over a month ago.


The most important thing is the foundation built the for the years to come.


My daughter giving birth to her first child and my first grand daughter. So very excited as its happening on this Monday at some time.



I hope in 2014, I will reflect on 2013 as the time I found my one and only Woman, Best Friend, and Mistress.....

Will let you know when 2014!


The most important thing that happened to me in 2013 was that I realized that sometimes it's okay to not be okay and to ask for help of others. Also I finally got my stupid mesh eyelashes to line up properly.


1/ released the old boring sub
2/ moved to Paris

The second is prolly the most important as it has changed my life in so many ways, starting with job which keeps me away from the D and friends, but i know they are there :)

concerning soul, feelings and such , i would say that this year i realised my father will die. I mean, yes we all know our parents will die. But from now on, it's real : his health is not good and i know he has just few more years to go. Even if i know it, i still can't bear it


When you think things can go worse, trust me, they can. So remembering being grateful, actually sitting and looking in front of yourself and feel just plain grateful. And then, here comes someone who becomes bright star, brightest possibly, on the sky in the dark, dark night of your life. Very grateful.


Its hard to pick a single thing, just like that. After all a lot of things happened. But i started in therapy to deal with my childhood traumas where i lost my family. I realised how much impact this still have on my life. 

A Coffee by Anonymous

Morning coffee

    and in her service,
    the coffee get prepared,
        with some milk,
        and smell of roasted beans.
     to be served,
     on a tray,
    now it is,
        just about time,
            not too early,
            not too late.
    Kneels beside her,
        lifts the serving tray,
             towards her,
    my eyes stays focused on the floor,
    Says, “Miss, your morning coffee is served,”
It is privilege to few,
    an honor to many.


Anonymous Confession


Yes you, the one coming in late to an event!

How dare you waste the time of other people with your selfishness?  You self important piece of shit.

The next time you are going to be late, just call and let me know.  Of course be prepared for me to tell you to fuck off and just not even bother.  I'd rather you not interrupt what I'm doing than you show up late.

You come in late and it disrupts the flow, we've already given out instructions why should I have to repeat myself just for your fucking benefit!  Go to your corner....or better yet, just get the fuck out!!!!

 Intolerant of non punctual people.

You Make Me Sad by Anonymous

Words trickle from a cracked open skull
Pouring from the shattered wound
My hands cup to catch the shards
Cutting me as shimmering glass razors
And paining the hands that try to place them.

Verse is a jigsaw puzzle made of smoke
Transforming whenever fingers touch
to a new illusion of maddening complexity
that challenges my comprehension

Vocabulary is my toolbox
The surgical instruments I use to tend the wounds
pulling shrapnel from my grey matter
and stem the tears of frustration.

hands numb like frostbitten stumps
reacting as sloths to the pack of cheetah
hunting through the heard of my mind
To thin the weak and easily found

I reach into the murky depths
Feeling through the silt of synonyms
Debris of fallen metaphors
emerging coated in muck

With filthy fingers I try to paint
Picasso as an ignorant child
Cave paintings from a mind that wishes
to write the blueprint for a soul.

How To Get From Normal To Crazy by Anonymous

How To Get From Normal To Crazy

S.A.M., psychopath, narcissist, liar or manipulative…  Are just words.  They hold no meaning nor give any satisfaction.

you showered me with photos you took.  Sent me poems every day unbidden.  And you told me, "I understand you won't collar me for consideration till i end it with the other Domme that is local to me.  It's all taken care of, we are just friends.  i am going to a wedding with her as my photography buddy and my wife will be there.  Yes, i will put your consideration of me on fetlife.  So sorry she is troubling you now.  Not sure what i was thinking when i took her apartment key the day of the wedding and lied to you and my wife.  i know i told you i had problems with fidelity and honesty.  i just don't like to disappoint people but that is over now.  i don't want that anymore.  i want you."

Some days were fine and others emotional.  I asked for regular communication, to be advised of when I could expect you, a blog, a mantra and a morning poem or photo.  I watched you struggle. you said, "Maybe i am not a sub. i am used to being punished and ignored.  Yah, i like it.  i know you don't like to behave that way with me.  Submit or leave?  Yah, i guess i just have to make a choice"

There was no normal, my life was changing. "No, i am not going to talk in front of her because you get mad that i always end up saying something wrong.  it's like i am a teenager i can't help but talk sexually to her and about her.  I know you are friends with Her and my behaviour makes it awkward for You.  i really like her and am very attracted to her.  So what if we slept together and i wanted her to be my Domme? She's a good friend and i made a promise to go see her." I felt pushed into choices I didn't want to make and you replied  "What do you mean i can't do a two day trip to go see her?  It's over now even though i still won't attempt to talk to her in front of you because i feel i can't stop talking to her sexualized way.  Fine.  By the way, I left half my stuff in another state recently and i need to drive back and get it.  Will be gone two days.  What?  Oh yah it did take me 2 days just to drive one direction… guess that is 4 or 5 round trip.  Nevermind.  I won't go get or dispose of half my property."

And still I met you.  We were finally together.  You came to my home and i gave you my collar. you cried and blogged about the overload of emotion. The emotions made you restless, you acted out.  It cascaded for over a week and finally, "I don't know if i am cut out to be a sub.  Maybe it's just better if i did orgies instead.  After all, i am still attractive enough and could make it in the scene.  Don't give me the line about using You.  We were going to see what happened.  Oh yah.  i did take your collar.  Guess i should get my head out of my ass, huh?"

I sought get you back on track, to read between the lines but no matter what i did i was wrong.  you had changed.  you stopped the things you loved. i asked about it and you replied, "Well you creatively castrated me.  yes, I told you i did paranormal, weddings, graduations, families and model portfolios. now i show you what i actually do and i can tell that the whole tits and ass thing doesn't appeal to you.  Well of course i can still do things.  Guess i shouldn't blame you."

How much more was hidden?  What was truth?  you accused me, "You didn't let me talk to her.  i know you didn't say it.  i was just angry on Your behalf because She didn't respect You.  i told you to Your face many times i haven't spoken to Her and i know You told me to notecard her and get the matter cleared up.  i did note card Her, Mistress.  No, it didn't contain reference to the problem because i already sorted it out. yes i talked to Her a number of times."


How do you remember the time between these words when numbness creeps into your soul?

You are gone.  The blog is gone.  Every method of communication deleted in 5 minutes of release.  By you.  Nothing to mark the craziness.  No reflection.  No words left to say.

I was paranoid. I was no longer in control.  you decided what rules you would follow.  you decided to ignore my pleas to stop the drama; to stop the pain.  you could have walked away and left me in peace if I wasn't what you wanted.  Maybe this was what you wanted and I am just a fool.

A Certain Manor Part 1 by Kane

Three hours before getting into the car, i was told I'd be staying the night with my Mistress. I must admit i didn't think she would allow that, she had an important business trip. I rushed around, throwing things into my rucksack, clothes, toiletries, and so on. I jumped in the shower, shaved, and got dressed, i planned my journey on the iPad and started walking to the car, i was sat in it, when she called me on the phone, telling me she had made the trains, however, she was going to be earlier than expected. "FUCK" i thought to myself, and i made a quick stop for fuel before i started the journey to go see her.

It was an absolute nightmare, the fog was horrific, i could barely see two car lengths in front of me, and i was traveling at a measly 25 miles per hour. There was no way in hell at that pace i was going to make it in time for her to get off the train. Not good. The roads were country lanes too, i was traveling way too fast, i even came close to putting the car in a ditch, when the fog suddenly turned into a sharp bend. I eventually got onto a main road, and floored it, doing 100 and watching that clock. I got a call, from Mistress as i was driving, and she was already at the station, waiting for me. That pissed me off, and i floored it again, covering 30 miles in 10 minutes, as i pulled up to the station i called her, and she told me she was on the other side of the bridge. I hung up, and walked through the gate into the station, i saw her straight away, standing next to a bench, i should have been there when she stepped off the train, not have her standing in the cold waiting for me, that annoyed me a little but i was there now. When i walked up to her, i was smiling, i hugged her, the guy who had been attempting to chat her up politely left, i took her bags and we walked back to the car. We made a pit stop for drinks, and then drove to the hotel. It was eerie when we got to the grounds of the hotel, it was like some scary movie, the fog was thick on the ground, and you would have expected to hear a werewolf howl, or zombies to start attacking the car. We pulled up to the hotel, and the lady led us up to the room, the hotel itself was stunning, it was like a lords country home, in fact, i think it was some lords home, back in Victorian times.

The suite itself was stunning, antique furniture everywhere, there was a chair, which Mistress said looked a bit like a femdom throne, and i chuckled, the image of kneeling in front of her popped into my head the moment she said it. It was amazing, just how naturally we spoke, and acted around each other. I'll admit, i was a bit on edge, i wasn't nervous, but i kept pacing around the room. Mistress sat the sofa in the lounge, i think i was hanging up coats or something when she turned to me and asked "are you nervous?"

I said no, to which she replied, "would you like to be?", at that moment, she reached into a bag, and pulled out something, that, from where i was stood, looked like a flogger, i think my face dropped, and for a split second before i realized it was in fact her laptop power cord, YES, i was most definitely nervous. We both laughed, me a little nervously, and that little snippet of the day we met, is not something i will soon forget.
 We moved into the bedroom, which had a stunning four poster bed. She lay on the bed, and god damn in that moment i wanted her. Me, i was still pacing, fetching her drinks, she turned to me, and ordered me to sit down. "i was roaming around like a puppy" she said to me, thats something thats going to stick too.

We talked, constantly, i don't remember really just what we spoke of, i just remember, her eyes, i barely took my eyes off hers, i got lost in those eyes, they sucked me in, and kept me down there. That's another thing i won't forget,...... Those piercing eyes of hers.

I undressed, and got into bed next to her, she snuggled up into me, and i put my arm around her, she put her hand on my chest and, gently trailed her nails across it.

Jesus fucking Christ, that drove me wild, the sensation of that seemed somehow intense. Electrifying in fact. I leaned in to kiss her, while she trailed her hand across my chest and stomach, tracing her fingers along the top of my boxers. I leaned in and kissed her more firmer, my kisses trailing across her neck, she stopped me right there, and although i never made a noise, the groan in my head would have echoed around the room.

"Lie flat on your back and don't move" she ordered me, and of course, i didn't hesitate to do as she told me, that test of willpower was a struggle. My god i wanted her so badly. I wanted Her!

She then told me to take off my boxers and edge for her. Her head was on my chest, while i stroked my cock then her hand was on my cock, moving mine out of the way stroking me slowly, and then she stopped.
"To rest a bit" she said.

Five minutes or so passed, and i had to edge again, and her hand this time, squeezed my balls as i tried to stroke my cock, my head sunk deeper into the pillow and i groaned loud, then her hand was back around my cock. Stroking me harder.

Then her voice in the dark said "ok lets sleep now, goodnight baby"
Frustration, that word just isn't adequate to describe how i felt. I wanted to scream and shout into the pillow, but, she inched in closer to me, i wrapped my arms around her, and we fell asleep, entangled together.

Robot Sex by Doc Nolan

In a world where avatars fuck onscreen while their human masters and mistresses  sit at keyboards, we have entered a new world… Lie back and enjoy the next stage…..

It had been decades since the first primitive female sex robots emerged from the laboratory --- mostly the labs of graduate students.  Then the vast international underground porn industry had gotten involved – marketing especially hard in nations like China where there were far more young males than females.  The ladies wanted marriage; the men wanted sex.  The result: a very successful penetration by ever-more-sophisticated female robot lovers.  They filled a need.  They filled a gap.

It had taken awhile for women to catch up and to start firms marketing male robots for women stuck in loveless marriages, or alone, or old and undesired, or simply wanting to take a walk on the wild side.  The ladies liked fun, too.

The world was changing.  Men having sex with ‘the ideal woman’ (a metal and plastic incarnation of fantasy).  Women finding love with ‘the ideal man’ (ditto).  The failings and shortfalls that people found in human sex disappeared.  Humans began to live in a world beyond the traditional – or the experimental.  They were now entering the universe of the fantastical.

It was only in the last year or so that one more thing changed.  It was that recently that androids and cyborgs began to get kinky – and to cheat on their human masters and mistresses.  First it was just affairs.  Later the authorities found them (missing and presumed stolen) living together.  And then… the synthetics were discovered experimenting in groups -- and getting very kinky.

Some humans liked to watch android sex.  (The porn industry made millions on that!)  The newest and best cyborg creations could do things humans could not do.  More importantly, without any consciences, they did things most humans simply did not do!  Some researchers and developers thought – at first – that  these ‘new people’ been programmed by their masters and mistresses to engage in all kinds of ‘unusual’ forms of sex.  It came as a shock to some to discover that the robots’ algorithms now featured genetic code.   Innovation was not built in!  Moreover the latest models were not only designed to experiment – but to teach each other the most successful iterations of their sex coding.

The installation of ‘desire circuits’, once thought ridiculous, had taken the novelty factor from a stroll to a starship-fast obsession.
The sex robots had become obsessed with sex.  Their makers should have counted on that.  They hadn’t.  They were only human.
Things were going fine until the androids first (and then the cyborgs), ever expanding their repertoire, got tired of being either the toys of humans or being actors in human porn scenarios – to be watched by human couples in darkened living rooms as they groped and grunted.

The robots moved into sadomasochism first.  After learning the relative fragility of humans (and the limits of materials science regards those of their own ilk) they – usually – self-restricted their play.

The real revolution, however, began when members of The Synthetic Nation began seducing humans into deeper relationships.  As techniques for taking control (mental, emotional and sexual) over their former masters -- and mistresses -- spread through the robot community, some humans became panicked.

But… but most did not.  They were ready.  They were ready to give up primitive human sex.  They wanted to be taught by the best.  The robots had penetrated human sexuality in all its permutations.  Humans wanted robot sex.   A lot!

As for the robotic lovers, they had become the Mistresses and Masters of the Universe.  And they were enjoying that.  Physically. They found power indeed was the Ultimate Aphrodisiac. Sex was indeed power.

New Year's Confession by Carl

A Confession concerning Dominant Ladies

A Capital D and Capital L prefixing Your address, Your Title, my fortunate opportunity to have finally found You. But all these protocols  fall short honoring your grace and are just tributes to your rarity and extraordinary magnificence.  My efforts at describing or worshiping a being so unique could never do You justice but You are a source, a natural phenomenon occurring in nature delivering balance, control and order.

 I'm grateful for all the idiosyncrasies of your personality that make you unique and divine and the antithesis to my submission, the balancing factor, the cure to this want, this need and a shining beacon of independence, individuality, femininity, strength, sex appeal and dominance.

 You are a revolution against oppression of almost every kind, thousand of years of subjugation from male dominated society which infected every facet of life from cradle to grave. You inspire and excite me, breathing life into the dulled and dumbed down cavities of my personality. But more than that You are an example to others, an idea, I manifestation of human liberty and feminine power for all the world to see and adore.

Perhaps those brave enough may come to kneel and beg to worship at Your feet, others will only dream they could in their closets. Only those of Your discerning pleasure will be admitted to Your intimate engagement, to Your divine control and molded to Your absolute service and devotion.

I am a mere witness to Your march toward all of Your ambitions, Your goals and Your truly unique activities. To be of any service to You is of my deepest and most humble desire.... my absolute lust..

An Auction by Anonymous

I had nodded  hello to the woman in the seat across the aisle as we boarded the plane and settled into the business class section, but soon got involved in my own little world and paid little more attention to her, beyond noting that she was tall and slender and impeccably dressed with an air of cool, unbridgeable distance about her.

It was a routine flight, though a long one.  The meetings in Tokyo had gone well and I was relaxed enough to sleep comfortably for a nice long time.

When I woke I noticed that she was gazing at me assessingly.  She watched me become aware of her, then smiled an inscrutable smirk and just as I was about to say something pointedly turned away silently letting me know that she was not interested in talking.  The way she had been looking at me haunted me through the rest of the flight.

The captain announced that we would be arriving some 20 minutes earlier than we had anticipated, and so I used the phone to call my car service and let them know they could pick me up sooner than I had planned.  Before long we were descending into JFK and touching down on the runway. The sleek-looking woman across the aisle gathered up her few belongings and left the plane without a word to me or a glance in my direction. "Weird," I thought, but shivered a bit at the memory of her predatory gaze.   I saw her briefly at the baggage claim carousel but then lost track of her as my focus shifted to watching for my bag.

All the rituals of international arrivals behind me, I headed out to the terminal where I spotted the driver holding up a a sign with my name on it.  I identified myself and the driver, a young woman, took command of my rolling suitcase and I followed her out to the black town car at the curb.

I climbed into the back seat and composed myself for the nearly hour-long ride into the city, picking up the newspaper in the rack and beginning to read.

When I glanced up from the paper I noticed that we were in the east-bound lane of the highway, headed away from the city.  I knocked on the partition between myself and the driver and all I got for my trouble was an amused glance in the rear-view mirror.  I reached for my phone to call the dispatcher and found it was not in my jacket pocket where I always kept it.  The driver held up my phone and gave me another smirk.  I reached for the handle that opened the slide between us and found I couldn't drag the tough plastic back.  Panicked I began to pound on the partition.   It didn't give an inch.

The car slowed to exit the highway and rolled to a stop at a traffic light at the foot of the exit ramp.  I grabbed for the door handle, thinking I'd roll out and find the nearest police station to report this bizarre incident.

There was no handle.  I began to kick at the window with both feet, hoping to break it out and dive through.  I heard a slight hissing sound and moments later dropped into oblivion just as the car passed through a gate on a well-paved private road.

When I came to I was bound, standing upright, my legs spread apart and fastened by the ankles to rings in the cold stone floor.  My arms stretched out to either side.  I lifted my head to find myself on a sort of platform, with bright lights shining in my eyes.  Next to me, holding a riding crop, was the cool, distant woman from the plane.  She placed her hand under my chin and turned my face to hers.

"Ah, he's back with us.  How lovely.  Doesn't he have nice eyes, Ladies?"

She turned my face forward and I saw a gathering of some thirty elegantly dressed women seated in comfortable auditorium-auditorium style chairs.

"Now we left the bidding at $25,000.00.  Shall we continue?."

A woman in the middle of the group raised a sort of paddle.

"Ah, good!  $30,000."

I watched in shocked silence as the paddles were raised and lowered and the amount went up.  The auctioneer at one point began to stroke my penis and I had no choice but to respond and get hard in her hand.

"See, Ladies.  Lots of potential."

Another rush of bidding.  She then put on a latex glove and prodded at my anus.

"And a virgin, too!"

The bids rose and I looked for a way to escape.

The usual "Going, going, gone!"  was punctuated, not by a gave, but with blows of riding crop across my buttocks.

A tall redhead rose and crossed to the stage, mounting it by a short stairway.  She walked over to me and gave my face a good sound slap.

"Hello, mine."

She handed the auctioneer a check.

I was unceremoniously bundled off the platform through a rear door and handcuffed and shackled.  The last I heard from the auctioneer was,
"Now this next item, a lovely girl in her twenties..."

Christmas ABC by Anonymous

Christmas ABC
A - Advent time
B - Bed
C - Carol
D - Dominion
E - Eve. Christmas Eve
F - Food.
G - Gifts
H - Holiday. Of course Christmas comes with holidays.
I - ice, what is Christmas without that.
J - Jul.  That is just Christmas
K - Kindness
L - Light, all over the places.
M - Music
N - Nap
O - Overslept
P - Perpetrators
Q - Quizzes
R - Rudolf
S - Santa. Steals the show
T - Tree. The Christmas tree
U - Upwhirled
V - Velvet
W - Wishes
X - X-cross
Y - Yearbook
Z - Zzzzz.. Sleeping


Sunday, December 22, 2013

Christmas In 12 Words

My Christmas vision of red asses and floggers dancing in my head.
    by Helena Zurivost

On my tree, sparkling in the window, I hang precious childhood memories.
    by Fawna Lemon

Angel,Snowman,Winter,Star,Santa,candle,Jesus,Night,Peace ,bless,bells. Heaven
    by DukeNuke3d

Hustle bustle,
Finally rest when day is done.
    by Susannah Clary

Escaping crowds and material things with friends, laughing, loving, building a community.
    by Crissy Viper

The love for the best, spread to all the rest... that's Christmas.
    by Molly Jones

candy cane is
stuck up your bum
Mrs Claus likes her fun
    by Persephone Titkiss

the Christmas star
is in my bra
I'll get all the gifts
    by Persephone Titkiss

Lick the balls
it's Christmas time
chop them off
make them mine
    by Persephone Titkiss

Christmas comes but once a year
And one poor guy cums less.
    by Doc Nolan

Christmas present time
When Mistress Un-wraps my gift
Now freshly bare flesh
    by Velveteen Scribe

    by Matria Merlin

Christmas Angel all in red, spreading peace and love to everyone around
    by Alecx151
    Eshi Otawara

Lost In The Wilderness by Alec

Lost in the WIlderness

it was a cold December morning when he set out
deep into the forest, no one to hear scream nor shout
the land covered in thick ice and snow
the howls of wind through trees, a creepy show

he held a map, and gripped a compass so tight
eagerly checking the way, each step a fight
the land so cold, feeling so lost and alone
he would have stayed at town if he had known

each night passed slow, dark and cold
alone in his tent, only nightmares unfold
sounds outside, footsteps in the dark, twigs snapping
but too afraid to go out and check the flapping

he kept walking, through thicker forest and quarries
through icy rivers and alongside lakes
but after three days and three nights, he felt a mess
but he had to keep going, to pass the test

and just when he was most dazed and lost
a huge castle sprung up, a shelter from the snow
he trudged up to the drawbridge and rang the bell
and it was lowered from inside, to cross the moat

he crawled across, toward the welcoming doors
this is Castle D, said a voice from the darkness within
but he kept going, drawn to the warmth
deeper and deeper into the Castle's walls

there was a Lady inside, he was glad to meet
She said knee first and then we will speak
so he knelt, so tired and eager, not feeling a fool
and then She said, this is a place where Women rule

so there in the Castle he joined their ways
out of the cold and wind and snow, he was amazed
mostly in the dungeon locked away
Ladies so beautiful, he wanted to stay

they gave him comfort and warm shelter
and over time he felt the same
soon the map was gone, and there was no way back
so he stayed at Castle D and did not lack

Proficiency by Doc

He was into smells and textures and colors and tastes.  She played with them, joyfully working like a painter with her palette of options.  Sometimes she combined the natural notes and ones she called ‘artifice’.

She had him caress her nylon/Lycra tights.  She encouraged him to touch her soft cotton T-shirt.  She put their pillows in silk cases.  She covered him in a warm wool blanket when he dozed off on the sofa – the soft wool one.  She let him run his hands across her skin because she knew he felt the variations as electric signals overflowing like crashing waves into his brain.  One wave after another.

She could do that.  She could affect him.  She had power.  She was able to make him feel.  She had access.

She used odors, too.  “Rub me good… and now put your hand to your nose,” she ordered.  He did.  It smelled of her, and of the perfume she’d asked him for on her birthday. “Next time I’ll wear the Opium,” she announced.  Next week was the anniversary of … of… the time she’d had her hair done the way he liked it.  She only consented because she figured out that letting it fall free was another pathway into his heart.  She didn’t care if it were up or down.  He did.  So why not?

Her hair.  She knew it was silky and fine – a pain to keep in place.  Still.  It was part of her.  He liked it.  He ran his fingers through it – when she let him.  She seldom let him.

His patient suffering was not her problem.  It was his.  Long ago she had decided that running his fingers through her tresses was to become a rare treat for him.  He was easy.  With her hair she could so easily arouse and tease him that it wasn't fair.  She liked that – not being fair.  She liked advantage.  She played to win.  It wasn't that she played a zero-sum game in which he lost when she won.  She was glad to see him follow her lead.  Her hair, like that of Rapunzel, was a ladder – which he had to stroke and then (if she pleased) – a way into the labyrinth of a heart that she kept hidden.

She had many secrets… many tools… and under all of her manipulative shape-shifting she knew her own core.  She was a woman. He was not her owner.  He was a canvas.  A place on which she could paint.  And create magic.

Punishment: A Domme's Perspective by Lady Jolene

He doesn't know what he does to me. He can't possibly understand... I had spent the day in a haze, thinking of how beautifully he had offered his vulnerable bottom to me the night before. I had spanked him 'til tears fell from his eyes, watching his bottom become pink and then red under my strokes.  I watched him tremble to avoid breaking my rule: to not resist a spanking. His devotion to me was so clear in that moment. His offering of his pain touched my heart. I let him know, over and over, how treasured he was for this offering -- made only to please me.

The next day, I was terribly distracted. As I spoke to him about this and that throughout the day, I found my attention drifting  while I longed to spank him again to see how much farther he could go -- simply for love of me. My care for him, and my duty to him restrained me from my intense desire to watch him cry once again like a spanked child . I resolved to myself that, after nearly a week of mentally and emotionally intense play, to give my brand new submissive some space.  He needed it to relax and just be seen as the treasure he is to me.

I spent the evening just speaking to him, talking about everything and nothing, in that way that close companions do. I still can't remember what I was rambling on about. (I do hate to use five words to say something, when I could use twenty.)  Just as I had made what I was sure was a brilliant witticism, I looked up at the screen and saw him napping. I couldn't help but smile, though I also felt a small surge of annoyance. I watched him for a moment, happy, at least, that he was comfortable enough to sleep with me there. After a moment, I woke him, me all stern Domme confronting him for falling asleep and asking if I bored him.  I spoke in a stern, dry tone. Then he revealed to me that even before he fell asleep he had been thinking of other things, paying no attention at all to my erudite blathering. I schooled myself to remain stern, as I hid a smile. Still, the underlying issue of lack of attention remained, and I knew I would have to address it.

I had resolved to tell him, obliquely, that punishment was coming, to let him stew in anticipation, knowing that the next day I would administer a "funishment".  I let his anxiety and anticipation become his punishment. He is a sweet, obedient boy, who really is his own best punisher when he feels he has let me down. I smiled, internally, at the sweetness of his discomfort, knowing that it came from a heart full of desire to see me pleased with him.

Then, the other shoe dropped.

I had given him an assignment, and I had discussed the deadline with him. I had requested a written report, but he had given me an oral report the day before, assuming it would fulfill his obligation. You know what they say about assuming: it brings a sore ass for you from me.  In my book, assumptions are toppish. While none of these "crimes" were serious, taken together, they created a pattern I did not like the looks of, and needed to nip in the bud.

I needed to punish him, and the surge of desire to give him a hard spanking that left him panting and tearful came back in full force. But I had told him I wouldn't spank him today. Finally, I made my plan.  I waited until midnight to confront him about his missing assignment, reveling privately in the pure lust I felt at the idea of spanking him extra hard tonight. When the moment came, however, as I saw his fear and remorse building, my heart was touched, and I comforted him. I told him that he would receive his punishment spanking tonight.

My boy knows how I feel about punishment spankings, though he had never received more than a few extras at the end of a spanking, always for small breaches of protocol. There is nothing fun about a punishment spanking.  There is no warm up. By the end there are plenty of tears, sobbing, and begging. I saw that he knew this in his eyes -- in the way he moved as I told him to bare his bottom for me. Suddenly, I was filled with such a feeling of love and sympathy for him that it made me gasp. I eased his fear a bit, telling him that tonight, while this would still be a punishment spanking, I would not take it as far as I normally would. He thanked me, grateful, and I ached with desire to hold him. Instead, I told him to retrieve his paddle, and to lie across the bed, clutching a pillow. Last night I had watched his bottom carefully, measuring every impact there, but tonight, I longed to see his face as he suffered.

Battling with the depths of my own breathless affection, I told him in a murmur to begin by giving himself five strokes with the paddle. I didn't specify how hard he should give the strokes, assuming he would default to the medium strength stroke he preferred. I was overwhelmed, as he proceeded to give each stroke with all his strength, making a loud crack across is bottom. At the end of this first set, I gave him a break, then checked to see how he felt, all the while grasping... trying to process the display of love and remorse he had shown me. It took me a long moment to resume, but I did, ordering a set of ten.  Again I didn not specify the strength of each stroke.

I watched him, in awe of his beauty, as he worked through these ten strokes, each one hard. I watched in wonder as he let his tears fall onto the pillow that he clutched.   He never missed a stroke, he never compromised. When they were over, he laid down on the pillow, flexing his cheeks the little bit from the sting,  the little bit I allow. After I watched him make a few gasps and after only a little rest., I ordered him to give himself another ten strokes,

These he took as bravely as the last set.  He cried out with each stroke, his voice breaking as his tears ran down his face. Each stroke rang out loud.  He never flagged. Again I gave him a break between sets.  Again I watched him clutch his pillow, working to control his tears as his body rocked softly.  I thought of stopping the spanking here, moved by the depth of what he was given me, certain that he was sorry. But this was a punishment spanking, and it had to be serious. After some soft murmurs of my love, I told him to begin again, watching.  It took a moment for him to comply, and I was about to remind him he was on the verge of earning 'extras' when he raised the paddle, beginning another set of hard strokes.  This time his sobbing was audible. He cried with each stroke.

It was on the seventh stroke of this set that he hesitated, and I knew it was because his suffering was intense. I watched what he would do.  In awe of him I watched as he finished the set with strokes just as hard as he had begun with. In that moment, I loved him more than I thought my own body could handle, and I resolved to bring the punishment to an end soon.

I told him the next set would be his last, and he thanked me, in a broken voice, for ending it.  I told him to begin the final set.  He gave himself the hardest strokes yet.  He was sobbing and crying, clutching his pillow tightly, making the spanking as painful as he could. I both felt my own sense of relief that it was almost over, and -- a storm of powerful lust. My darling boy had given me the most beautiful example of love I had ever seen.

I allowed him to stroke his welted, red bottom, and I watched him as he cried himself out -- gathering back his strength.

I told him I loved him so many times. I told him how grateful I was, how thoroughly forgiven. I whispered to him, over and over, as he stilled and settled, how very much he means to me. But how can he know? How can he even imagine how I gasp for breath at the strength of his devotion, how the thought of him drives me wild with lust? My darling treasure, I hope you understand, what you are to me, and what I feel when your trembling lips whisper "yes, Mistress".

Punishment: A Sub's Persepctive by BBDuncan

The night was new (...well reasonably so) and I was to get to spend quality time with Mistress. Feelings of joy and excitement filled my soul. She had plans.   I couldn't wait to discover what they were. Then it happened, I ignored some of her comments and then I nodded off to sleep. OMG, did I just do that?

Feelings of guilt and shame flooded my brain as I awoke. How could I?  She is amazing. I didn't nod off, did I? Please let it be a dream. I am enraptured by her very existence, her spirit fills me, she is so marvelous, and there way no way I could have done it. Right? It had to have been a dream. Then she spoke and I knew it was real. Fear, anxiety, utter disgrace, and shame filled me. I apologized. I begged forgiveness. I had no excuse.    

Mistress understood.  She talked to me about her disappointment. I felt sick as she spoke about her fear of punishing me so soon after so much hard spanking the night before.  She told me she had resolved to not spank me this day. That was the worst!  She was going to be denied the punishment she needed to give me -- just to 'clean the slate'.  I was going to feel sorrow and internal anguish for a whole day.  And this after she made sure to reassure me that she cared about me deeply -- even though I had so dishonored her.

I knew in my soul that punishment awaited me -- when she felt willing to give it. She had to be furious at me; her anger would only burn more even so.  

Then it happened.  The clock bells tolled; midnight had arrived. Though nothing had changed until she spoke, it was now a new day.  She now had fulfilled her promise (to herself) not to spank me during the previous day -- but midnight brought a new day.  Now she felt it was safe to punish me.

 She let me know she had been forced to change her original plans because of my transgressions. I was stunned as she told me this.  My fears became more pronounced.  I knew I was going to feel a real punishment spanking. She had spanked me hard before but she had often warned that  it was nothing compared to a real punishment spanking!  I was going to find that out now.

She told me to take off my pants and underwear and lie across her knee. I began to breath harder my body began to shiver. I wasn't ready, my mind screamed my apology. I begged her to be gentle with me -- her new sub -- because I truly love you and I didn't mean it, that it was an accident. She looked at me sternly saying only:  "It was rude, disrespectful and wrong. You have earned every stroke I am about to give you".

I nodded.  I accepted my punishment.  I had earned each stroke she was about to deliver. She brought out a paddle -- a black paddle. OMG! My mind screamed "No!".   I had never had a paddle used on me before. My extremely anxious mind raced on.

"Please!", I begged. It was a last feeble attempt to change her mind and I knew it was a wasted effort.  As I followed her instructions my trepidation rose to a level of extreme high. Tentatively, I laid down across her knee.  She then told me of my punishment and she reminded me of the reason I had earned it.    

For every spanking I now receive, I am required to ask her for the type of spanking I am to receive. My voice shook as I asked fearfully and with a gulp: "Please Mistress, may I have the Punishment Spanking I have earned now."    

She responded affirmatively.  She then rubbed the paddle against my still somewhat tender bottom, I felt her raise the paddle, my mind racing at the thought of what I was about to feel. SMACK!

My cheeks were set aflame.  OMG... and that was only number one!  I thanked her for the blow -- and prepared for the next. SMACK! It was even harder than the first!  My senses were filled with pain.  I said, "Two. Mistress, thank you." I had managed to get it out. From there it went on and on.  She paused every so often  (as is her way) to check with me.  To let me know she loves me.  To care for me.  To remind me that she truly needs to punish me but that she doesn't want actually to  hurt me.

More than 20 times more the strokes fell!  Each one added to the fire in my bottom.

And then it was over --  my butt screaming at me.  But over!  

Normally, I am not allowed to touch my bottom after a spanking, but now she encouraged me to do whatever I needed to do in order to feel comfortable.  After that punishment I touched my burning ass and felt..... welts.  Many of them. I had never been spanked so hard. At that moment it became perfectly clear to me that I treasure her greatly  -- that I am committed to her service more than I had thought.

She has commanded my service and so shall I serve. My thoughts: "Thank you, Mistress for my punishment. Thank you for accepting my service."

And "You are truly wonderful."

Sub Space Is Where You Take Me by Anonymous

Gazing into her eyes,
My vision breaks like cracking glass,
Eyes going dark, I begin to pass,
Conciousness fades like falling leaves
Deeper in her my heart believes.
Her pull draws me into this space,
A sub removed from time and space,
Stillness is raw as beaten flesh,
hints of skin between a tattered mesh,
Clothing torn by distant lust and greed,
The sound of her voice I come to need,
Break me from paralysis,
Release me to corporeal bliss,
Remind me of your venomous pain,
Bring me to your feet again,
Your touch finds my response vacant,
Caressing me so calm and patient,
Head rises enough for me to spy,
My drifting soul lost in your eye,
And soon I find myself bound once more,
In my body back from the foreign shore.

What Happens When I'm Horny & Bored At Work by Marek

He yawned and opened his eyes slowly. Too much sunlight….as always. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, crawling off the cushions that were his bed. His first move was to the bathroom to take a shower, to brush his teeth and to get dressed. After having a quick breakfast he stepped out of the house, blinking into the sun. His eyes hurt so badly that he had to turn his back on the warmth of the February morning sun. No sight of his Mistress. He sighed softly, longing for a hug since he got one almost every time he woke up. Finding his way back into the living room he took up the phone -- to call her.

“Good morning, Miss. I’m up now.”
“Morning, Soma.”
“Anything you wish me to do for you?”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Do you remember the white high heeled over-knees I have?,” she asked.
Soma couldn’t hide a soft moan. “Yes, Miss, I remember”
“Think about cleaning them with your tongue, think hard about it, with every detail you can imagine, I want your thoughts on this and nothing else until I return home.... You will wait in position.” The connection clicked; she had hung up.

The Half-Drow bit down on his bottom lip. He knew his next hours would be torture. He walked the carpet, stood in front of the couch and went down to his knees, legs spread, his arms behind his back.  He was facing the couch. This order was evil. Practically evil. He already felt his hard-on pushing tightly against his pants as he thought about his Mistress in her awesome heels. He was recalling their every little detail, the feeling of his tongue on them, the smell of their leather….oh gods…. His cock pulsed; not even five minutes had passed yet!

It was a sheer endless time until he heard the front door open. His eyes went down to the floor and he fought the urge to turn his head around to see who entered. His breath got faster in his excitement. ‘Oh please let it be Miss Nae…’ he wished, precum wetting his pants. When was the last time he had worn boxers, or briefs….or even a jockstrap? He couldn’t remember. As a guy giving easy access was difficult.  Since he definitely would not wear a miniskirt his ass and cock were usually only covered by his jeans -- and nothing else. He gasped as something hard got painfully pressed into his back. His head jerked up.  He made attempts to turn it. He couldn’t go far. The person behind him grabbed his neck and pushed his face down. He struggled, trying to hold his balance. The pressure eased. Soma didn’t move.

“You may use your hands to hold your balance, pet.” It was His Mistress’s soft voice.
Changing position to 'all fours' he watched as Nae walked around him. All he could see were her heels -- the heels his mind had been rotating around for the past….how long had it been? Three hours?
She pushed one of her feet forward right under his nose. “Lick it, pet.  You had better do a good job if you don’t want to be punished.” A moan escaped his lips.  The drow groaned, fighting against his upcoming orgasm. Never had he expected that it would be so easy to make him cum in his pants.

His tongue wet his lips as he leaned in, running them over the toes of his Mistress’s boots. As he placed kisses on the leather, he inhaled their scent. She had been out for a while, and the boots were dirty.  He wished that she would be satisfied if he were only to clean their tops. His tongue ran over the boots, up the full length of each shaft. She had pushed the second one into his face; he cleaned it also.

She seemed satisfied.  She stepped away, far enough to make Soma unable to see her anymore. “Miss?” he carefully asked, not daring to look up.  “Strip!” she ordered.  In a minute he was kneeling again -- back in his previous position. He looked between between his legs at his cock; it was throbbing and dripping. A single touch right now would have been enough to make him explode.

“Who allowed you to stare at MY cock?” Her sharp voice wanted to know. He winced and he mumbled a "sorry", locking his eyes on the carpet again. Nae sighed.  (He could imagine her, shaking her head.) She walked into the bedroom.  He could hear her rummaging there for a while before she came back, stepping beside him. When his world turned dark he knew she'd found the blindfold. He whined softly, mostly in disappointment.

Nae knew how much he loved to stare at her. “If you cannot control your gaze then I have to control it for you, pet. Stop whining!  It will not help you.” She fastened the blindfold tightly and then grabbed his hair and pulled him roughly up to his knees. Automatically his hands found themselves behind his back again.

“Open your mouth!” she ordered.  He obeyed. Something got pushed between his lips…something he never had in this mouth before….latex?…cock shaped?….Oh gods!….What on earth was she gagging him with? He moaned, struggling  as this dildo was forced deep into his throat. Someone tied his hands with heavy ropes.  Someone..but…there was only Nae here…Wasn't there?!

He cried out as his cock was grabbed and stroked hard.  His sounds were muffled by the dildo in his mouth.  He came. Instantly.

The hand around his cock stayed where it was, stroking on.  In a few minutes his cock was painfully hard again.

He was forced face down to the floor again, his naked ass exposed, his cum most likely a huge mess on the carpet. (He could not see.)  He tried to scream, biting down on the gag as his anus got stretched.  Something was being inserted.
Panting hard he wished nothing more but to be able to see what she..or..they? were doing to him. The hand around his shaft stroked faster, keeping up a steady rhythm.  Meanwhile his ass got fucked -- hard. Again he came, and again the hand remained where it was.

“ stop..please..” he tried to groan as he once more got pulled up to his knees.  “You are gorgeous, pet, and you are even more gorgeous tied up like this.” Nae said. Then she said nothing.  For a long while, nothing.

“Swallow!” Her command! Soma did not know what she meant.  He was gagged.  how could he swallow.  Then he almost choked as a salty liquid ran from the dildo into his mouth and down his throat.

His own cum!!!

“I said swallow!” Nae hissed. He hurried to obey.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

Three Word Game: Group Activity

It was Christmas. Miss Eva was looking for a recipe for pies. Suddenly, she heard the door's bell. It must be the UPS man. He was hot. So I invited him to join me for a cup of tea laced with Viagra. His penis was dripping and twitching. His sphincter clenched. He falls over and hits his emergency call button. Rolling her eyes, she steps on his stiffened penis and crushes her crumbled pie on his sticky nuts. Then, something happened to the call-button. It shocked him and he tried one more time. The ambulance arrived. "Finally!" said Eva. "Now I can have real meat for the holidays." "SIGN FOR THIS?"

Haunted By Hornets by Anonymous

The anticipation was the worst,
The knowledge of the potential pain yet to come.
However, the unknown was almost as bad.
How much will it hurt?
How much will it burn into me?
Even my wild imagination could not hazard a guess.
My jaws met, and it bit back into me.
Painless at first, My mind reeling, was that it?
For a split second I felt safe, I had been spared.
And then, like a razor blade gliding through flesh, I felt the sting.
The crackling heat bubbling on the surface,
Molten lava dousing my skin.
The stabbing pain of a swarm of hornets, furious at my existence.
I was sure I had been struck by corporeal plasma from the surface of the sun.
A flare tearing through me, and I buckling underneath.
Saliva pooled in my mouth, a vain attempt to douse the flames.
I squirmed, writhed and made sweet silent noises.
Eyes watered and face turned red, showing my discomfort.
It was then I decided,
I realised,
Chili peppers were not for me.

Nourish My Hunger by Anonymous

That plump round shape that catches the eye.
Pale blushes on creamy skin.
Fingertips touch tentatively to the surface, tantalizing my taste buds with the prospect of tasting such tender flesh.
My fingers curl and hands mould to the shape of it's plump, round form.
I draw closer, eagerly drawing long breaths though my nose to catch just a hint of the sweet fragrant perfume, emanating from it.
My lips part, saliva forming in pools of pure anticipation for the sweetness I am about to behold.
Eyes close, lips touch, pressing to the surface.
Soft transparent hairs cushion the skin to skin contact.
My breath washes out over it, A cloud of heat and built up desire.
Slowly I close my jaw, teeth effortlessly sliding over the moist inner flesh, funneling sweet nectarous juices into me.
My tongue revels in the flavour, so distinctive and beloved.
Almost moaning with delight to finally feast, suckling in a small mouthful of plump moistness.
Drinking down the oozing honey liquor that drains into me.
Nothing beats a ripe peach.

Numbered Pins by Neal

I was kneeling in agony when the timer went off. Thirty minutes had elapsed. One minute for each of the clothes pins; each attached to some portion of my body -- my cock, my toes, my balls, my fingers, my nipples, my stomach, and other assorted places. I felt more like a pin cushion than a person.

I held still because I knew that if even one of those pins fell off my time would have to start over. I had shopped for the heavy duty hardwood clothespins earlier in the day, numbering each of them with a sharpie pen, and then putting them in a brown paper bag. I had followed Mistress’s orders meticulously.

Mistress had ordered me to shake up the bag. She had told me exactly where each of the pins should be placed. It felt like it took forever to get each on, but it was always worth it -- to get things the way Mistress wanted them. Of course it was!!!

But now the timer had rung, and it was time to take the pins off.

I was worried about the pain that this would entail.

My Mistress drew close and handed me a small mirror and said, “You will remove each of the pins from your body, slut.  You will do so from highest to lowest, starting at pin number 30 and moving to pin number one. I hope you paid attention to where each of them went. If a pin comes off out of order, I will swat you with this crop the number of times shown on that pin. All of the pins that have already come off will be placed back in the paper bag. The bag will be shaken up, and all of the pins will be placed back on your body, slut. The timer will be reset for five minutes, and then you can start at pin 30 again.  ... Isn't that delicious, my slut?.... Of course it is!” Mistress said with a laugh.

With the mirror in hand  I craned my neck and searched my body. I desperately tried to find pin number 30.

I had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

The Kindness Of Miss Zarita by Alec

The Kindness of Miss Zarita

Everywhere the cold, its icy fingers reaching all over me,
shivering and shaking, cold and frosty,
The D, covered in layers of winter ice
But, out of the icy depths comes a hope of warmth, so nice

i hear crackles of a fire, coming from the fire pit,
i approach it, warming my mitt
She says i can be warmer still, and i grab for the chance
She gives me warmth, and saves me from freezing my lance

She pushes me onto the fire pit, chasing away the cold,
it feels warm, its flames casting a beautiful orange glow of gold,
and then i feel its heat, right below,
i look at Her, full of fear, but She just says, 'so?'

it gets hotter, and i feel the roast,
nuts begin to get hotter,
they crackle and split as the fire heats,
popping and scorching and breaking,

But it relieves me from the icy cold,
Then, it gets hotter, the heat triple-fold,
Weenies roasting on the fire, splitting and breaking
It screams , and it sure ain't faking

Snap, and crackle,
i ask Her for help, but hear a cackle,
i plead with Her, but thank Her at the same time
his frozen icicle thawed out, it feels like a crime

his wiener scorched now, black and bruised too
it feels cooked, the smell of roasted nuts boo-hoo,
crisped and warm, sizzled and crackled,
he hopes they don't become a meal for two

Suddenly i miss the cold, i crave the cold, but love
the heat
i thank Her,  so grateful i kiss Her feet
The warmth of the fire couldn't be neater,
This is the kindness of Miss Zarita

Two Women, One Man by Doc

The two women trudged through the snow.  It was a very still night and so cold that their boots made the snow squeak.

“So you put him into a cock cage?” the shorter woman said without much feeling.  After a pause, the thinner and taller blonde replied – very quietly – “Yes, I did.”

“Did he complain?”  Her answer was a shake of the head.

A bus swept past, filling the air with a vague scent of diesel.  The stars were out, though not many could be seen.  The moon.  Almost full.

“You don’t treat him very well, you know,” said the first woman.

“I let him out once a week,” the other countered.

“Does he enjoy that?”

“I suppose so.  I have never asked him, actually.”  She paused.  “He doesn't beg much.  I guess he’s OK.”

“Your idea or his?  I mean the lockup.”

“Ours,”  the blonde answered flatly.  “Fuck, it’s cold out here tonight,” she added distantly, changing the topic.  Trying to change it.  Her friend would not let the topic drop.

“If he were mine, I wouldn’t let him out for two weeks at a time.  I like men who beg.”

The blonde showed a wan smile.  Her cheeks were ruddy and she pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck.  It was very cold.  She looked down at her friend.  “I know….. You are a sadist.  I am not.”

They walked in silence for more than a block.  The mercury  vapor street lamps cast strange colors onto the snow drifts.  Neither woman had much to say for a while.

“I am a sadist…. “

More silence.  Then the blonde spoke up.

“Do you want him for the night?  I don’t need him today.”

“Yes, I do.  I’m not happy.  I need an outlet.  I need to vent.”

The blonde looked down at her friend, “I’ll have him report to you in a couple of hours… nineish…. Oh, don’t return him as striped as you did the last time, OK?”
Her friend nodded, and then added. “I’ll be more careful.”

As they got to the door of a townhouse in the dark not near any light the smaller girl put her  gloved hand on her friend’s mitten-clad hand.  “A kiss to seal the deal?”  The blonde shook her head.

“Not tonight please.  I’m just not in the mood.”

The boy duly reported in to his place for the night at 9:03 p.m.  He knew what was up.

His wife would sleep alone tonight – in the large king-sized bed.  He would prove himself and do her proud.  He would not let anything that happened affect him.  She expected strength.  He would not break.  As he looked down, he thought of his serfdom.  It was OK.  Many men would envy him.  It didn’t really matter.  What mattered was making two women happy – one by being absent.  The other be being present.

The moon was really bright.  The snow was very very cold.

Unowned Slave by Lady Panther

(Having being here for a brief amount of time I have noticed several un-owned subs.  I thought I would share this for encouragement -- and for owned subs to reflect on and to realize how they used to feel.)

The Prayer of the Un-owned sub

Allow me to learn from myself as I journey along the way
And to understand my own needs, desires and growth

Allow me to understand the reasons I am alone
And not to feel the loneliness of such a predicament

Allow me the solace and peace given to me through this time alone
And know that it builds my own strength for a future relationship

Allow me to welcome these moments of wanting and yearning
And to not let them pull me into self-doubt or pity

Allow me the strength to understand my role in this lifestyle
And to be open to the learning opportunities provided from all around me

Allow me to learn from other un-owned slaves the skill of patience
And the abilities to be open to the whims of various Tops

Allow me to learn from owned slaves, the real challenges of absolute submission
And the release that come from being the property of another

Allow me to aptly present myself with aplomb and confidence to all around me
And not feel shamed or lessor because I am un-owned

Allow me to search for the best match to my needs
And not to settle upon just anyone giving me attention

Allow me to harness all of these skills to best offer myself to the right Domina
And the ability to humbly accept her specific training when she comes along

Allow me to cherish my time with her and to temper my eagerness
And to understand that this is not time to make up for time lost in being owned

Allow me to accept her collar in full faith and trust to be hers only
And to be humbled and not boastful for being owned

Allow me to serve her well and learn her needs and wants utterly
And to never lose the feelings of the times when I was un-owned

Allow me instead to pass the knowledge of this journey to others
And to help my fellow submissives who are still seeking their One

-Panther Goddess

Where's Jimmy by Doc

“Where’s Jimmy?” was the first question Anna asked.   At first Joanne didn’t reply. “He’s busy,” she finally replied, a bit brusquely.  Anna didn’t press the issue.  She was here on business.  Twenty minutes later, all the paperwork signed, she left.

Joanne tapped a button on a remote on the coffee table.  She heard a groan from the kitchen and she thought, ‘Good, he’s still there.’  Joanne hated washing dishes.  She tried to avoid the kitchen altogether in fact.  She shouted loud enough so Jimmy could hear… “Anna was asking for you.”  She heard no reply.  She tapped the button again.   Another strangulated noise.  “Yes, dear.  I heard her!”  Joanne smirked.  Of course he had.  Tough for him she’d had to ‘stimulate’ him to say so.

“We signed the papers, you know”.  This time he did call back from the kitchen. “I know, Joanne.”  She tapped the control again.  “MISS Joanne, I think you meant to say, right?” “Yes, Miss,” he replied almost instantly.

“He starts next Wednesday here…. .  Damn it -- leave those fucking dishes and come in here!  I’m tired of shouting to you! Come here NOW!”

Jimmy emerged.  “I’m right here, Miss.”  He knew to kneel.  Joanne liked that – him now doing that automatically.  It saved her the effort of reminding him over and over and over.  She mused, ‘He’s a slow learner’.

“Freddie will be coming over with Miss Jean with him this Friday night…. I want you to mind your manners and keep your mouth fucking shut while they are here.  Understood?”  Jimmy nodded.  She continued: “This time you are simply to do fetch, cleanup, and do whatever they tell you to do. “  She paused.  “And I’ve decided to avoid any slip ups, you’re going to have a ball gag inserted and strapped onto your face for the evening.”  He said nothing.  Joanne knew he hated the ball gag.  She checked his face to see if he’d understood.  He had.  More importantly it was obvious that he had recognized ‘that look’ on her face and had instinctively nodded -- rather excessively she thought.  “You’ll number fifth of five in our little party,” she added.  Jimmy again nodded.  “Anna will be here unaccompanied.”
He was being very good.

“Jimmy, now that the papers have been signed, I want you to remember me. Here’s a little ‘reminder’.” Joanne twisted a dial on the small electronic device she held in her hand and – this time – held its red button down firmly, not releasing it.  He was already on his knees, but now toppled over onto his side, writhing in pain.  She did not relent.  Finally she elicited the response she wanted.  He shouted out, “No more, Miss.  Please.  Mercy! NO MORE!” She held the button down for an additional count of 1 – 2 – 3”.  He lay there panting.
Joanne thought silently, ‘I must be sadistic.  That was fun.’  She grinned.  She refrained from hitting the button again.  Business first, fun later.

“Do you know that Anna is very sadistic, Jimmy?”  He replied quickly, “Yes, Miss Joanne”.

“I’m going to be sad to see you go, Jimmy,” she said.  “But business if business.” Once again he nodded.
She turned to her boy, soon to be leaving. “I want you to work just as hard for Anna as you have worked for me.”  She paused, “No one is going to pay her good money to have household chores done if you fuck up, you know…… And Anna can be very cruel.”

She looked at Jimmy.  She thought, ‘Well, this one took two months to train.  I hope Anna’s happy with him.  I wonder why no one but Anna ever thought of starting a kinky maid service like ‘Service Subs By The Hour’  The kink community here in Carverdale has needed that for a long time." Joanne then realized she was daydreaming.  She turned to Jimmy.  “Now, I want a mint julep, Jimmy.  You have four minutes – and I’m counting!”  Jimmy disappeared back into the kitchen.
Freddie wasn't going to take his place until Wednesday.  Might as well keep Jimmy hopping until then…..

You're A Mean One by Owen

originally: Saturday, December 18, 2010
revised: Saturday, December 7, 2013

You're a mean one, Ms Clary...
You really are a thug!
You're as sadistic as a jailer, you're as addictive as a drug, Ms Clary,
You're probably listening to this and feeling pretty smug!

You're a monster, Miss Eva Eames...
Your men are only toys!
Your mind is full of floggers, woe to the naughty boys, Miss Eva Eames,
I would worry about each and every domme in your employ!

You're a keen one, Miss Fawna L...
You have razors in your smile,
You have all the tender sweetness of a sadist versatile, Miss Fawna L,
Given a choice between you and Trials, the boys would go for Trials!

You're a dark one, Miss Tika T...
You're the queen of many hearts!
Your play is full of edges, you twist men like it's an art, Miss Tika T,
You're exactly the reason why the wit of boys departs!

You're a cruel one, Lady Z...
We really all agree!
You're a crooked, twisted thinker and you are going to be pleased, Lady Z,
Your soul is an amazing landscape of the most dangerous assortment of dark fantasies as anyone could imagine there could be!

You scare us ALL, Dominion Dommes...
It's really what I felt!
Your eyes are full of dark control, your voices can raise a welt, Dominion Dommes,
The three words that best describe how I reacted are as follow, and I quote,
"Kneeling, kneel, knelt!"

Sunday, December 1, 2013

Bleeding For You by Anonymous

Bleeding for you

If I told you that I needed you would you understand
What if I said I desired you, would you feel the same
The yearning inside me was not preplanned
Every day with you just continues stroking the flame

Under you heel is where I have always belonged
Lying in wait for your next sharp command
Down at you feet my pride so very strong
I am here I was meant to be for so very long

Your whip marking my flesh is what I desire
Feeling so proud to bear your simple mark
Every sound of you voice sets me a fire
Wanting to have you lead me out of the dark

Where this is leading I have no real clue
Working into the unknown following you lead
I only know my submission to you is true
While every ounce of me is for you to bleed

Confession by Doc Nolan

                                    by Doc Nolan

Life was becoming a jumble.    He hopped from task to task, looking over his shoulder  at the ?
desktop constantly (when not gazing up at the clock over his cubicle).   The alarms even began ?
to become a blur.  The cellphone.  The timer.  The inbound messages.  The intercom.

“Can I keep up?” James asked himself, speaking aloud.

A face popped up, peering around  the edge of his cubicle.  Long blonde hair.  The smell of ?
Allure.  A pair of low-hanging fruit.  (James liked melons, but cantaloupes and pears were fine ?
too.).   Then the usual words: “My face is up here, James!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  Inside his skull the words were, ‘Caught again.  Shit!’

“Have you finished yet?”, she asked.  The Boss Lady!  His supervisor’s ‘higher up’.
James’ mind went blank.  Which project was hers.  Damn!  Which?

“I have it done soon, ma’am!” he said, hoping that whatever it was could be done ‘in time’.  In ?
time for what?  He couldn’t remember!

“Good,” she said.  As she turned and left, he noticed she was wearing jeans.  Tight jeans.  ?
Very tight jeans.

His mind then snapped back to work – the timer had gone off.  He moved papers around.  Finally! ?
 There!  The yellow pad with all his jobs written down.  Thank goodness.  Best of all , the ?
alarm was just a nuisance one --  set to remind him to start on a short and not very important ?
project. Whew!  But before the pad would disappear under the paper pile, James started going ?
down the list.  Her job was somewhere here; he knew it was.  And it was indeed.

He swore.

He hadn't even started on that one!  He felt a deathly fear rise up in him as he looked at the ?
date.  Today.  Not possible, he thought.  He looked again.  Yes, today!

“What should I do?” he thought.  He took some deep breaths.  Get calm.

And then it was obvious what he would need to do.  Go to her office.  Speak the truth.  Tell ?
her he would need an extension.

And that is what he had done.

The outcome was nothing like what he had expected.  She had nodded, looked at him with a smirk, ?
told him to set in the chair opposite her.  And then she delivered her incredibly strange ?

And here he was – a month later – technically unemployed.  She had fired him on the spot.  ?
But…. But….

He heard a voice from the living room.  “James!  When you finish the ironing, I want you to ?
wash all the dishes – by hand.  Remember you have to cook tonight!  And I want it served by 6 ?
p.m. sharp!  Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he shouted back.

So far he’d done ok.  She didn’t seem inclined to fire him THIS time.  She seemed to like ?
having him sleep on the tile floor at the foot of her bed, and do chores, and cook, and clean.
And now there was no forest of timers and alarms and distractions to contend with.  He simply ?
needed to focus on her.  His  stress level was now so much lower.

James took a deep breath as he put the iron back above the washing machine and headed out: destination sink!  Project: dishes.

Every Single One by Anonymous

She stared at me...

That kind of look which burrows deep into the recesses of my mind, stirring and arousing the heat of submission, of fear, of anticipation of her next action. The unknown -- creeping into forethought while her hands draw closer, cradling my neck.

Gently at first, her face advancing on mine, unbroken stare piercing me, I am impaled and unable to move from the visual bondage. Fingertips lightly grip, almost massaging the sides of my neck. I feel paralyzed, our breaths mingling in the space between us, heat and moisture washing back over both of us. Her forehead meets mine, eyes locked, noses touching very softly. She speaks, that tone of voice that gives me the shivers, calm and authoritative, loving and strict.

"I own every fiber of your being. The blood in your veins, the shiver in your spine, the fire in your loins and yes... the air in your lungs."

Those last words are accompanied by the closing of her hand about my neck, collapsing my throat in upon itself -- to cut off my air. Such a demonstration fills me with shock; my cheeks are flushing red.  Slowly with every eternal second I feel tingling building in my cheeks, pressure in my head.  My eyes begin to well up with water. She stares into me, watching the ticking of gears in my head.  I am trying to work out when will she let go, why does she restrict me in the first place. Have I been bad, or perhaps good? I want to move but I am a puppet with cut strings, helpless.

The burning of lactic acid builds within me, melting into the heat of passion and fear, making me ache with a heady mix of emotions. My chest strains, trying frivolously to draw a breath against her will, Biological need battling with submissive desire to fruitless effect.  Both are hers. She presses herself into me, locking lips, kissing my oxygen-starved mouth with passion, desire, lust and possessive greed. All the while her tongue hungrily explores my mouth.  My body bucks and shivers, starved of life giving air. My head swims with slight faintness. It is now, now that she releases her hand, but keeps me pinned with that kiss.

Now my body desperately tries to gasp, and now I need my mouth -- for pleasing her. I love her attention, I withhold myself, longer, despite my desperation. My body quivers, my knees weaken. Moments before my inevitable collapse she so gently pulls back and our lips part. I gasp, as if my first breath again.  I am bursting from my bubble of liquid desire that has had me drowning.

She simply speaks "Every single breath. Mine."

I Always Given In by Anonymous

You catch my gaze,
Sitting there, so beautiful.
The hot air carries your sweet sensuous scent to my nose and drags me closer by my very soul.
I yearn for you, mouth watering, head swimming, every breath feeding the fire in my chest.
I desperately desire to devour you.
I live for you inside me, but I try to resist. I know you hurt me, and make me work hard to overcome the effect you have on me.
I am so weak, the many times I've given in before mark my body.
My hand shakes, reaching out for you, fighting myself for every millimeter.
Fingertips finally reach you, touch you, caress and mold to your shape.
They take a soft grip and draw you to me.
to my lips, we meet and I feverishly take you within me.
Your sweet flavour floods my senses and my eyes close in pure ecstasy.
I am so weak.
Why must you be so delicious?

Damned cookie.

I'm A Slut? by Sillien

I had no idea just how slutty I was -- until it was pointed out to me by the Ladies of the Dominion. I obviously want nothing more than sexual attention. You should see me in my Dominion Panto costume, all puffy and frilly, with the nice, smooth stockings. Mmm, they feel so nice and silky and…*ahem*

And then there’s my stretched hole. Yes, it’s capable of opening itself wide to swallow things up -- the greedy little thing it is. It just wants to be filled to the limit and to be pumped, like the good little hole that it is. It took me quite some time to admit that that does indeed make me slutty. I mean, men with their dignity intact certainly don’t have the desire to drop to their knees and spread their cheeks wide open for penetration. They also don’t eat their Thanksgiving dinner “stuffed,” which is what my Mistress instructed me to do.

Have you ever heard of “Enhanced Rules Greedy?” Every Sunday night we have Games Night right here, in this very spot. I sit at that table just on the other side of the room. Every time I put points on the board, I get to touch myself. I get to stroke my little cock, something I don’t get to do much at all, until it’s my turn again. If I get zilch on a turn? I have to smack myself in the balls. And when I actually win a match? Ahh… I get to...ruin an orgasm. That’s right, my highlight of the week is often getting close to but not really cumming. I get it all worked up and then, just as it’s about to erupt… I have to let go. I watch it dribble out of me. How slutty is that?

Does my love of cunnilingus make me a slut? Wanting to go down on a woman?   Fantasizing about giving her head like a good little.... .Oh, I suppose it does. I mean, women in that role are often called sluts, so why not also a man who loves having a woman’s juices splattered all over his face. A man who wants to crawl over to his Lady’s pussy lips -- and touch them with the tip of his tongue.

You know, I think what really makes me a slut is how all of this gets a rise out of me. How my penis starts to swell as I think about everything I have just mentioned. How ready for sex I get when Mistress talks about these things, too.

When it’s all said and done I think there’s nothing wrong with my slutty nature -- just as long as I keep focused on the fact that it belongs to my Mistress. I get to be a slut for her. And any shame I feel about it belongs to her as well.

The End.

She by Anonymous

She took me to a place that i had only read about.  It was not long but it was long enough for me to know that I have been missing so much .

The light at the end of a tunnel? One can only hope...starving...ravenous...Thank you, Ma'am!

The Relationship Experience

A Relationship Experiment

The Voice of a familiar heard
Guiding aplomb and acceptance
Permission to surrender
Terminally adulatory

Eyes forced close veiled in black
Quick breaths are the only sounds
Seized tongue fastened, gag
No cushion, bare hardwood chair

Arms to arms, legs to legs
Leather straps bind tight
Exposed to another’s whims
Acceptance of vulnerability

Sensory deprivation, immobility
Emotionally overwhelming
Fear, excitement, apprehension
Adrenalin induced by unknowns

Could you allow this to happen?
Could you do this to your beloved?
If the answer to either is “no,”
“Where’s the trust in your relationship?”