It was a warm evening, and i decided to walk home. I passed by a bar and decided to stop in for a cold beer or two. As i entered the bar i found it to be extremely crowded. I found a table in the corner with two chairs and i sat down. The waitress finally appeared, took my order, returned with a chilled cold beer and left. I sat there looking over the crowd while sipping my beer.
I noticed a very attractive woman, by herself, enter through the front door; she was looking for a place to sit. Suddenly she appeared at my table and asked if the empty chair was taken. I said no. Before i could rise to assist her, she sat down. After a few minutes of silence i asked her if i could buy her a drink,and she said "Manhattan, please", in a very cold and icy tone. Seeing no waitress, i went to the bar, bought a Manhattan (and another beer), and returned to the table, placing her drink before her, and starting to sip my own beer. She looked over at me with a glare, saying nothing.
Feeling the urge, i excused myself to go to the men's room, and I returned moments later. She was still sitting there; she said nothing as i sat down. Realizing that this was not going to go anywhere, i finished my beer, excused myself, and walked out of the bar.
As i began walking I started to feel a little light-headed. I wondered if 'that woman' had put something in my drink while i was in the men's room.... After i came to an alley and decided to take a shortcut through it, all of a sudden i began to stumble and things went blurry. I half fell to the ground. I could sense and see (through my blur) two figures grasping my arms and half carrying me forward. When i looked up -- through my fog -- I saw the woman from the bar standing in front of me. Then all went black.
When i began to come to, i could not move my arms or legs. I was on my back with my hands cuffed and tied, and my legs were raised high, spread wide, and restrained as well. My ass was high and i felt very vulnerable. I struggled to move. I found myself unable to do so.
Then the woman from the bar appeared. (My goodness she was beautiful!) Through my groggy eyes i could see that she was naked, but what i saw next took my breath away. She had on a very large pink strap-on, and was gazing at me with those steely eyes of hers. Two more women were also close by, and when i was able to focus on them i saw that they also were packing very large strap-ons. I decided that they must have been the two who had half-carried and half-dragged me here from the alley.
One approached me and barked, "Open your mouth!" I did so immediately. Suddenly my mouth was full, as I attempted to take in her large 'female cock'. Then i felt someone probing and slapping my ass, and immediately after a sharp pain as the woman from the bar suddenly plunged her strap-on deeply into my ass. i lost my breath and damn near passed out -- again.
Here i was being forced to take it in my mouth as well as in my ass. Both women were thrusting furiously, but then the pain vanished; it began to feel good. Maybe that was because the third woman had taken my cock into her mouth and was sucking it hard. Soon she took it out and said, in a harsh tone, "Don't cum!" before she went back to sucking it.
Not long after they rotated, one still using my mouth, one taking my ass, and the other at work on my cock. They did this for awhile and then exchanged positions once again. Each was basically raping me. All the while i was very close to the edge -- but I dared not allow myself to go over that edge. This action went on for an hour or more, and they rotated several more times. I heard lots of intense moans and screams, but -- since my mouth was stuffed -- i could not scream or moan.
And then it was over, as suddenly as it had begun. They unbound my hands and legs and i was told to stand. Though i was extremely stiff and sore as, after i stood, i was able to gather my clothes and shoes, and hold them.
The woman from the bar screamed at me: "Never enter my alley again or there will be a repeat of this! You will be gang ravished again if you do!. Now get the fuck out of here". As i stumbled down the alley i made a mental note of the name of the alley. I thought to myself, hmmm "Maybe i WILL return here another time....".
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Dinner Bet by Doc Nolan
She was on the phone
“Yes, he’s finished here. I’ll send him over after lunch. Yes, you too, girlfriend. Yup. Bye!” She hung up the phone
and turned to Eddie. “She expects you at one o’clock.” He nodded. She raised her eyebrow. “Yes, Miss Sharon”, he
said. She relaxed and leaned back onto the sofa. Eddie was on the floor.
“First thing she will have you do is the bathroom. Understood?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I don’t want any funny business over there, Eddie. I know Joan and I don’t trust her to be shy when a man is about. ?
Your job is to keep your eyes down and simply scrub. Understood?”
He nodded.
“When you get there if she starts fucking with you, do you know what you’re to do, Eddie?” Sharon waited for a response.
“I’m to keep working and think of you and if she touches me to simply keep busy. I shouldn’t stare. I shouldn’t refuse
her if she makes any moves. I’m simply to say to her, ‘I can do whatever Miss Sharon allows and I’d love to do that if
she permits me.’”
Sharon looked at Eddie. His cock was at half-staff. “Close enough, Eddie. Close enough.”
After the couple had lunch, she seated at the kitchen counter and him at her feet, she sent him on his way. After she
reminded him to behave.
As soon as he’d left she picked up the phone. “Well, Joan, he’s on his way. If you can seduce him I take you out to
dinner. If you can’t, then you buy me dinner. Yes, it will be interesting either way. He should be there in 15 minutes
or so. Oh, you’re wearing that? Hmmmm. You certainly know his tastes! Well, gotta go. I have Jimmy coming over in a
few minutes. Oh, and Joan, keep Eddie busy for a couple of hours, OK? Bye.
A week later, Sharon turned to Eddie (who had just finished mowing the grass and then showering). “Well, you lead an
interesting life, don’t you Eddie….”
He replied, “Yes Miss Sharon!” Sharon stared at Eddie, and then said, “Joan and I are going out to dinner tonight. We
had a bet. Would you like to know what it was about and who won? “ Eddie nodded.
“Well, you are never going to know. Oh, and Eddie, you need to pick up the tab for tonight’s dinner, boy.”
“How much, Miss Sharon?”
“I think $100 should cover both of us. Did I mention that no matter who won our bet, you would pay?” Eddie shook his
head.
“Oh, and Eddie. I won’t be coming back here until the morning. Joan and I will be spending the night in bed together.
It sure does suck to be you, doesn’t it, Eddie?” He nodded again.
“Oh, and Eddie, put the cam on. I want you sleeping on your pad in the corner of the bedroom. Joan and I will be
checking to make sure you don’t do anything naughty. We’ve discussed it and we definitely do NOT want you masturbating ?
while we’re making love…. Do you know why not?”
“No, Miss.”
“Because we are both cruel bitches who get off on making your life difficult while we get off together. “ Sharon laughed.
Eddie stared at the floor.
THE END
“Yes, he’s finished here. I’ll send him over after lunch. Yes, you too, girlfriend. Yup. Bye!” She hung up the phone
and turned to Eddie. “She expects you at one o’clock.” He nodded. She raised her eyebrow. “Yes, Miss Sharon”, he
said. She relaxed and leaned back onto the sofa. Eddie was on the floor.
“First thing she will have you do is the bathroom. Understood?”
“Yes Miss.”
“I don’t want any funny business over there, Eddie. I know Joan and I don’t trust her to be shy when a man is about. ?
Your job is to keep your eyes down and simply scrub. Understood?”
He nodded.
“When you get there if she starts fucking with you, do you know what you’re to do, Eddie?” Sharon waited for a response.
“I’m to keep working and think of you and if she touches me to simply keep busy. I shouldn’t stare. I shouldn’t refuse
her if she makes any moves. I’m simply to say to her, ‘I can do whatever Miss Sharon allows and I’d love to do that if
she permits me.’”
Sharon looked at Eddie. His cock was at half-staff. “Close enough, Eddie. Close enough.”
After the couple had lunch, she seated at the kitchen counter and him at her feet, she sent him on his way. After she
reminded him to behave.
As soon as he’d left she picked up the phone. “Well, Joan, he’s on his way. If you can seduce him I take you out to
dinner. If you can’t, then you buy me dinner. Yes, it will be interesting either way. He should be there in 15 minutes
or so. Oh, you’re wearing that? Hmmmm. You certainly know his tastes! Well, gotta go. I have Jimmy coming over in a
few minutes. Oh, and Joan, keep Eddie busy for a couple of hours, OK? Bye.
A week later, Sharon turned to Eddie (who had just finished mowing the grass and then showering). “Well, you lead an
interesting life, don’t you Eddie….”
He replied, “Yes Miss Sharon!” Sharon stared at Eddie, and then said, “Joan and I are going out to dinner tonight. We
had a bet. Would you like to know what it was about and who won? “ Eddie nodded.
“Well, you are never going to know. Oh, and Eddie, you need to pick up the tab for tonight’s dinner, boy.”
“How much, Miss Sharon?”
“I think $100 should cover both of us. Did I mention that no matter who won our bet, you would pay?” Eddie shook his
head.
“Oh, and Eddie. I won’t be coming back here until the morning. Joan and I will be spending the night in bed together.
It sure does suck to be you, doesn’t it, Eddie?” He nodded again.
“Oh, and Eddie, put the cam on. I want you sleeping on your pad in the corner of the bedroom. Joan and I will be
checking to make sure you don’t do anything naughty. We’ve discussed it and we definitely do NOT want you masturbating ?
while we’re making love…. Do you know why not?”
“No, Miss.”
“Because we are both cruel bitches who get off on making your life difficult while we get off together. “ Sharon laughed.
Eddie stared at the floor.
THE END
Fuel by Anonymous
For as long as I can remember, my sexual fantasies have revolved around surrendering my freedom to a woman. While I have had the opportunity to act out this fantasy in various ways with partners and professionals, the scenes that play out in my mind while fantasizing are usually more extreme than anything I have actually experienced. I frequently think back to scenes I have had with professionals who understood and catered to my love of bondage.
One particular event still fuels my fantasies and has never gotten old. I had contacted a pro-domme via email that I had seen several times in the past. She indicated she was not working at the dungeon where I usually saw her but would be happy to have me come to her apartment. That invitation alone almost made me pop. This woman is a petite, extremely fit, extremely attractive Korean woman who I found more than just a little intimidating. Upon arriving at her high-rise apartment, the moment I stepped through the door, she ordered me to remove my clothes (which she gathered and put who knows where). She was dressed in tight workout clothes, was showing a little bit of bellybutton, and had on sneakers. Her long black hair was gathered into a pony tail high on her head. She returned after ditching my clothes with a pair of steel handcuffs and with police-style leg irons. She cuffed my hands behind my back and then she directed me to kneel, running the chain of the leg irons between the handcuffs and snapping them around my ankles so that I would not be able to stand. Perhaps make it more fun she muttered something about hoping she "still had the keys to those old things".
I was ordered to make my way across the living room -- on my knees -- to a radiator under a window. It was when I was there that I realized that we were not alone. A voice came from another room, but my captor reassured me it was just her roommate and she was on her way out. My lady told me to look at the floor and not to move. Her roommate entered the room in her winter coat pausing for only a moment to look at me. She just said, "Ha! Good Luck!" and headed out of their apartment.
It was probably a good ten minutes before my captor paid attention to me. We then negotiated the scene: a tie and tease situation in the bedroom to last for two hours. After some professional rope work securing my wrists directly to opposite ends of her headboard, she wrapped a rather hefty rope several times tightly around my balls. She then folded my legs as (Indian style) and tied the remaining tails of the rope that was squeezing my balls to my ankles. She ensured there was plenty of tension.
After putting a leather blindfold on me, she strapped a huge ring-gag into my mouth -- which really worried me. It was just too big! I've been gagged uncomfortably before for long periods and the after-effects stayed with me for days.
I indicated that the gag was a problem and we began a new negotiation. She agreed to change the gag for something more comfortable, but that meant I was forfeiting the "tease" portion of the tie and tease. I reluctantly agreed. A smaller but still significant ball gag went in...strapped tight. Done. I heard her leave the room and close the door behind her without a word. For the first hour I lay in darkness, listening to a mixture of city traffic, email alerts coming in on her computer and a barely audible television. At some point -- unbelievably -- I somehow drifted off into sleep. When I woke up I had no idea how much time had passed. It was such a weird, scary and exciting feeling. Then disturbing thoughts entered my mind: What if she fell asleep? What if she passed out or decided to go out?... Or.... Or....
I made a bit of noise to see if I could get a response. To my relief she immediately entered the room; she asked if I had had enough. I wasn't sure, so she made that decision for me. She began removing ropes and other attachments. Moments later I was dressed and back on the street. -- a bit wobbly and very horny.
(In the enhanced version of this event, she she would have sneaked into the room, slid her super fit pussy down onto my cock and then ridden it for awhile, satisfying herself but not allowing me to cum. That didn't happen, though. Everything else written here did really happen. I have gotten a million fantasy miles out of it.)
One particular event still fuels my fantasies and has never gotten old. I had contacted a pro-domme via email that I had seen several times in the past. She indicated she was not working at the dungeon where I usually saw her but would be happy to have me come to her apartment. That invitation alone almost made me pop. This woman is a petite, extremely fit, extremely attractive Korean woman who I found more than just a little intimidating. Upon arriving at her high-rise apartment, the moment I stepped through the door, she ordered me to remove my clothes (which she gathered and put who knows where). She was dressed in tight workout clothes, was showing a little bit of bellybutton, and had on sneakers. Her long black hair was gathered into a pony tail high on her head. She returned after ditching my clothes with a pair of steel handcuffs and with police-style leg irons. She cuffed my hands behind my back and then she directed me to kneel, running the chain of the leg irons between the handcuffs and snapping them around my ankles so that I would not be able to stand. Perhaps make it more fun she muttered something about hoping she "still had the keys to those old things".
I was ordered to make my way across the living room -- on my knees -- to a radiator under a window. It was when I was there that I realized that we were not alone. A voice came from another room, but my captor reassured me it was just her roommate and she was on her way out. My lady told me to look at the floor and not to move. Her roommate entered the room in her winter coat pausing for only a moment to look at me. She just said, "Ha! Good Luck!" and headed out of their apartment.
It was probably a good ten minutes before my captor paid attention to me. We then negotiated the scene: a tie and tease situation in the bedroom to last for two hours. After some professional rope work securing my wrists directly to opposite ends of her headboard, she wrapped a rather hefty rope several times tightly around my balls. She then folded my legs as (Indian style) and tied the remaining tails of the rope that was squeezing my balls to my ankles. She ensured there was plenty of tension.
After putting a leather blindfold on me, she strapped a huge ring-gag into my mouth -- which really worried me. It was just too big! I've been gagged uncomfortably before for long periods and the after-effects stayed with me for days.
I indicated that the gag was a problem and we began a new negotiation. She agreed to change the gag for something more comfortable, but that meant I was forfeiting the "tease" portion of the tie and tease. I reluctantly agreed. A smaller but still significant ball gag went in...strapped tight. Done. I heard her leave the room and close the door behind her without a word. For the first hour I lay in darkness, listening to a mixture of city traffic, email alerts coming in on her computer and a barely audible television. At some point -- unbelievably -- I somehow drifted off into sleep. When I woke up I had no idea how much time had passed. It was such a weird, scary and exciting feeling. Then disturbing thoughts entered my mind: What if she fell asleep? What if she passed out or decided to go out?... Or.... Or....
I made a bit of noise to see if I could get a response. To my relief she immediately entered the room; she asked if I had had enough. I wasn't sure, so she made that decision for me. She began removing ropes and other attachments. Moments later I was dressed and back on the street. -- a bit wobbly and very horny.
(In the enhanced version of this event, she she would have sneaked into the room, slid her super fit pussy down onto my cock and then ridden it for awhile, satisfying herself but not allowing me to cum. That didn't happen, though. Everything else written here did really happen. I have gotten a million fantasy miles out of it.)
Pushing Limits Part 2 by Duncan
Pushing Limits part 2
She spoke. "Now go get the hairbrush, sit in the chair and spread your legs." I was stunned. She had only done this once before. She was going to spank my inner thighs. "OMG, please Mistress," I begged, "Please not that! It hurts so bad -- even worse than your spanks." She gave me a stare and I knew I had better do as she said. I grabbed the hairbrush, handed it to her, sat on the chair and spread my legs wide. My bottom burned on the surface of the chair. My mind reeled knowing I was going to soon feel worse than ever. She looked me in the eye as she raised the brush.
Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.... Three on each thigh. They burned for Her. She looked at the redness as it began to show "I love You my precious," She said. Tears had refilled my eyes and I mumbled "I love you, Mistress." Three more smacks followed on each cheek. They burned with a fire to rival the sun. My mind screamed. She asked me my number. My soul spoke: "Seven, Mistress." She smiled knowing that the cuddling had had the desired effect. It brought me down enough for Her to continue. Six more smacks Three inside ones hit my thighs. The she gave me another six before asking me again my number. "Nine, Mistress." She smiled "I love you Mine. You are so special to me." She set the brush down and bade me cuddle some more. At last we are done I thought. I relaxed and my numbers decreased in her arms. Her fingers brushed my hair and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then she spoke.
"Now the last part of your punishment. Hand me that brush and lie across my knee again." "What?", my mind said! No, it screamed it!. "Please Mistress. I am so so sorry!" She said, "I know Mine -- but we have not found your limit yet." My mind raced. She is going to find my limit? She meant it. I could see the resolve in Her eyes. I knew that look. I did not have a choice.
Fear racked my brain as I picked up the brush and handed it to her. I lay, with great trepidation, once more across her lap deeply breathing in and out. Anxiety was wracking my nerves, and my bottom was still stinging from part one of her punishment. I felt the back of the brush rubbing against my warm butt. I felt it pulled away, and I knew it was coming back soon, to bring pain to my tortured butt. Fire seared across my cheeks as She landed three on each cheek. After a short break then three more to each cheek again. Tears filled my eyes and began running down my cheeks, I gasped and I sobbed. I begged for her mercy. She asked me my number again. "Yellow!", I responded, but I was so very close to red. She added six more to my burning behind, three on each side.
Color she had asked. My mind screamed red but I said Yellow. I was thinking: You can give more for Her. "Yellow, Mistress." Six more rained on my cheeks, followed by another six and then a third set of six. My soul finally said Red and I screamed "Red!" She stopped and she set the brush down, She kissed my hair and she then soothed my cheeks. "I love you Mine. You cannot begin to know how much." My body was still wracked with pain but her soothing voice and her tender words eased my aching bottom. I sobbed: "I love you, Mistress." She laid me on the bed, on my back, and kissed away my salty tears. She was smiling at me.
Her hands reached for Her cock, She began stroking it loving Her toy. The fire in my Butt was quickly replaced with a burning in my groin, "Ohh, Mistress," I mumbled. "OMG", as She continued to stroke. Rapidly I reached the edge. "Mistress, I am edging! OMG, I'm edging." She continued to stroke, saying "Don't you cum yet, pet." I held back -- struggling -- barely able to hold off. She looked at me smiling and said "I love you, Mine. You performed so beautifully for me today. Cum for me now!"
She had barely uttered the words when I came -- hard. Her Cock spurted it's seed high into the air. There was a look of extreme pleasure on her face as I came for Her. Exhausted, I finally couldn't take anymore. My body relaxed. No more strength remained in my arms. She smiled and simply said "Please clean up your mess my boy; when you are done you may cuddle with me." I did so. I rapidly cleaned up my cum and then cuddled with her, falling asleep in her arms.
My last waking thought was "I love you Mistress --so very much."
She spoke. "Now go get the hairbrush, sit in the chair and spread your legs." I was stunned. She had only done this once before. She was going to spank my inner thighs. "OMG, please Mistress," I begged, "Please not that! It hurts so bad -- even worse than your spanks." She gave me a stare and I knew I had better do as she said. I grabbed the hairbrush, handed it to her, sat on the chair and spread my legs wide. My bottom burned on the surface of the chair. My mind reeled knowing I was going to soon feel worse than ever. She looked me in the eye as she raised the brush.
Smack, smack, smack, smack, smack, smack.... Three on each thigh. They burned for Her. She looked at the redness as it began to show "I love You my precious," She said. Tears had refilled my eyes and I mumbled "I love you, Mistress." Three more smacks followed on each cheek. They burned with a fire to rival the sun. My mind screamed. She asked me my number. My soul spoke: "Seven, Mistress." She smiled knowing that the cuddling had had the desired effect. It brought me down enough for Her to continue. Six more smacks Three inside ones hit my thighs. The she gave me another six before asking me again my number. "Nine, Mistress." She smiled "I love you Mine. You are so special to me." She set the brush down and bade me cuddle some more. At last we are done I thought. I relaxed and my numbers decreased in her arms. Her fingers brushed my hair and I breathed a deep sigh of relief. Then she spoke.
"Now the last part of your punishment. Hand me that brush and lie across my knee again." "What?", my mind said! No, it screamed it!. "Please Mistress. I am so so sorry!" She said, "I know Mine -- but we have not found your limit yet." My mind raced. She is going to find my limit? She meant it. I could see the resolve in Her eyes. I knew that look. I did not have a choice.
Fear racked my brain as I picked up the brush and handed it to her. I lay, with great trepidation, once more across her lap deeply breathing in and out. Anxiety was wracking my nerves, and my bottom was still stinging from part one of her punishment. I felt the back of the brush rubbing against my warm butt. I felt it pulled away, and I knew it was coming back soon, to bring pain to my tortured butt. Fire seared across my cheeks as She landed three on each cheek. After a short break then three more to each cheek again. Tears filled my eyes and began running down my cheeks, I gasped and I sobbed. I begged for her mercy. She asked me my number again. "Yellow!", I responded, but I was so very close to red. She added six more to my burning behind, three on each side.
Color she had asked. My mind screamed red but I said Yellow. I was thinking: You can give more for Her. "Yellow, Mistress." Six more rained on my cheeks, followed by another six and then a third set of six. My soul finally said Red and I screamed "Red!" She stopped and she set the brush down, She kissed my hair and she then soothed my cheeks. "I love you Mine. You cannot begin to know how much." My body was still wracked with pain but her soothing voice and her tender words eased my aching bottom. I sobbed: "I love you, Mistress." She laid me on the bed, on my back, and kissed away my salty tears. She was smiling at me.
Her hands reached for Her cock, She began stroking it loving Her toy. The fire in my Butt was quickly replaced with a burning in my groin, "Ohh, Mistress," I mumbled. "OMG", as She continued to stroke. Rapidly I reached the edge. "Mistress, I am edging! OMG, I'm edging." She continued to stroke, saying "Don't you cum yet, pet." I held back -- struggling -- barely able to hold off. She looked at me smiling and said "I love you, Mine. You performed so beautifully for me today. Cum for me now!"
She had barely uttered the words when I came -- hard. Her Cock spurted it's seed high into the air. There was a look of extreme pleasure on her face as I came for Her. Exhausted, I finally couldn't take anymore. My body relaxed. No more strength remained in my arms. She smiled and simply said "Please clean up your mess my boy; when you are done you may cuddle with me." I did so. I rapidly cleaned up my cum and then cuddled with her, falling asleep in her arms.
My last waking thought was "I love you Mistress --so very much."
That's Why by Anonymous
My ears perk, faintly hearing your breaths about my ears, drawing oxygen into the furnace of your deviant mind, churning out endless reams of evil things to do to me.
I lie still, forcibly so, eyes staring deep into the endless black abyss that encompasses my visual world, keeping me guessing, the cruelest torture.
Of all the things I should fear, It's my own imagination that is the most twisted, of the depths of pure decadent pain which you could be plotting to unleash on my eagerly expectant form.
Beads of sweat from such agonizing anticipation make my skin glisten, chilled in the still, silent air, only broken by your breaths.
In my mind I picture you loomed over me, brandishing a most evil whip of cruel tapered beauty that cuts the very air with each idle motion of your wrist while you ponder where to strike first.
My fingers curl into fists, bracing for an impact I am sure is to cut me into two, teeth grinding and clenching together.
The mystery is broken when I hear a soft laugh, A flick of paper.
I am mistaken.
My mind is making fool of me again.
You are enjoying your book.
My head fades back into reality, the soft pleasurable weight of your calves on my hips.
The ache of the bindings that keep me pinned to your table.
No, that's not quite right, you didn't turn a page, it sounds different.
I hear the soft, bemused mutter.
"You are so beautiful like that."
My face all a puzzle, at least, obvious to you.
I make a small smile, picturing your sly grin of satisfaction at your handiwork.
Elaborate ropes keeping me your compliant captive.
A heel digs into my side sharply, painfully, resetting my jaw to that grimace of expectant pain.
"That face, that's the one that makes me giggle"
And I hear your soft, pleased laugh again, tainted with deviant joy.
My heart rises, hot flushes of happiness swell in my chest and flow down my spine to cauterize the pain.
That laugh, that's why I let you do this to me.
No, Why I beg you to do this to me.
To use me.
Just for that smile.
That's why.
I lie still, forcibly so, eyes staring deep into the endless black abyss that encompasses my visual world, keeping me guessing, the cruelest torture.
Of all the things I should fear, It's my own imagination that is the most twisted, of the depths of pure decadent pain which you could be plotting to unleash on my eagerly expectant form.
Beads of sweat from such agonizing anticipation make my skin glisten, chilled in the still, silent air, only broken by your breaths.
In my mind I picture you loomed over me, brandishing a most evil whip of cruel tapered beauty that cuts the very air with each idle motion of your wrist while you ponder where to strike first.
My fingers curl into fists, bracing for an impact I am sure is to cut me into two, teeth grinding and clenching together.
The mystery is broken when I hear a soft laugh, A flick of paper.
I am mistaken.
My mind is making fool of me again.
You are enjoying your book.
My head fades back into reality, the soft pleasurable weight of your calves on my hips.
The ache of the bindings that keep me pinned to your table.
No, that's not quite right, you didn't turn a page, it sounds different.
I hear the soft, bemused mutter.
"You are so beautiful like that."
My face all a puzzle, at least, obvious to you.
I make a small smile, picturing your sly grin of satisfaction at your handiwork.
Elaborate ropes keeping me your compliant captive.
A heel digs into my side sharply, painfully, resetting my jaw to that grimace of expectant pain.
"That face, that's the one that makes me giggle"
And I hear your soft, pleased laugh again, tainted with deviant joy.
My heart rises, hot flushes of happiness swell in my chest and flow down my spine to cauterize the pain.
That laugh, that's why I let you do this to me.
No, Why I beg you to do this to me.
To use me.
Just for that smile.
That's why.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
A Certain Manor Party 2 by Kane
I heard her shout my name. "We're late", She said. I jumped out of bed, a little disoriented. I didn't really know where the hell i was at the time, and it took a minute or two for me to realize. Mistress laughed at the sight of me, my head a little dizzy, holding myself up by a post of the four poster bed.
Mistress had to be at her meeting and needed to get ready, so she rushed around doing her hair and make-up. She started ironing her clothes -- putting a burn in her blouse in fact. I offered to finish the rest off for her while she busied herself with other things. I fetched her a drink, and started ironing her jacket. Finished, i handed it back to her, and she pointed out that there was a crease near the shoulder.... so i ironed the whole thing again -- this time getting it right.
Mistress got dressed, and we rushed down to the car. I drove her to her meeting, dropped her off, and then drove back to the hotel. After i had breakfast and went up to the room I started packing up her things. Then i did mine, putting everything in one room, double checking to make sure i hadn't left anything lying around. It was about half past nine, and Mistress would be in her meeting 'til about half past one. I had time to kill (as i didn't need to check out till 11), so i loaded a movie onto my laptop, playing it for background noise. Triple checking that neither of us had anything left lying around in the room I saw Mistress's coat on the back of the throne where i had placed it last night. She had jokingly said i needed to sew buttons and that she had brought a sewing kit. Well, i certainly wasn't going to go rooting around in her stuff, but -- since i had noticed a small travel sewing kit in the bathroom -- i grabbed that and sewed up her coat. By then it was 11, so i grabbed all the bags, put them in the back of the car, and drove to the car park.
I waited for Mistress's meeting to finish at half past one. I sat reading to kill time; there wasn't much else i could really do. I moved the car up closer to where i had dropped Mistress off. She came out about 15 minutes later.
Mistress suggested we go for lunch, so i drove her into the town center, where we walked around looking for a place to eat. It was raining and a few times i offered Mistress my coat -- but she said she was ok. She looked as if she were freezing to me but i didn't want to argue. We eventually chose on a place called Nando's, a Spanish place i think. The food wasn't great, but the my company was amazing. Those eyes captured me -- again. Jesus, i could lose hours and hours of time gazing into those gorgeous eyes of hers!
Don't misunderstand. There is much more to her than her eyes. Her hair had felt like silk as i ran it through my fingers during the night. Her perfume was a bit intoxicating. To be honest, when i leaned in to kiss her neck i took a deep breath of her. I've never known a scent to arouse me, but, whatever she was wearing, it definitely did. Her breasts.......OK, we wont go there.
Anyway.....
Time was ticking and Mistress's train was about an hour away. Near the station we sat in the car waiting. Suddenly Mistress turned to me and said "I want to watch you edge". So i drove to where i'd parked the car the last night, when i'd met her at the station. It was pretty secluded. I inched down my jeans and started stroking my cock for her. A few times she moved my hand out the way to touch me. When she did i got this "ahhhhhh" feeling... Her touch was.... yeah.... She eventually let go of my cock telling me to stroke it, but this time she took my balls in her hand (or should i say her fist) and started squeezing as i stroked it. She squeezed harder, then harder still. She must have literally crushed them in her fist since i felt this incredible stabbing pain in my stomach. i jolted. i wasn't in too much agony, but still I'd never felt a pain like that. For her giving me that, i was grateful. She lit a cigarette as i continued to stroke my cock, and then she threatened to put the end if it on my cock.....Yeah, that freaked me out. I begged her not to, sort of holding her hand. I wasn't trying to force the cig away from my cock. I just held it there, nervous as hell that she was going to burn me with it. Her hand was so incredibly soft. As i stroked a few times more, ash fell on my balls. I jumped a little. That made her chuckle. I wanted to cum for her (trust me i really did) but after she had crushed my balls in her fist the throbbing pain put a stop to that. Strange how i just can't seem to cum when i'm in pain. Maybe the two are linked in some way.
Next she told me she wanted to whack my arse. I flipped around in the car, my ass in the air as best i could manage. She took her paddle brush and started hitting me with it. I forgot to count. She started over. I thanked her for hitting me and counted -- and then i lost count, i just kept mumbling "Thank you, Mistress". OMG it fucking hurt! OMG, yes it fucking hurt. I couldn't unclench my ass cheeks so it REALLY fucking hurt. I think Mistress went past 100 count! (As i've said, i'd lost count at around 30 or something.) My ass felt on fire. Sure, it was stinging. It was painful. When she finally asked me to pull my jeans up it stung. When i sat down it stung. But, OMG it felt soooooooooo good, too. Add that pain to the pain in my balls, still hurting from her squeezing me, and then add the weird sensation in my stomach. All these together with a very very sore ass. All in all though it was a blissful pain -- if there is indeed such a thing.
Alas, the train was due in 10 minutes -- so we walked into the station and waited for the train to pull up. I held her. I didn't really want to let her get on that bloody train. So, to be honest, when it pulled up, i felt a twinge in my stomach. I carried her bags and placed them on the train. I kissed her one last time. She stepped on. She found a seat. I blew her a kiss as the doors to the train closed. I turned around quickly and i welled up. I'd taken about four steps towards the car when tears started rolling down my cheeks. I held my head down, hiding them from anyone who might see me.
That was the moment that i realized, without a doubt, that i really loved her.
Mistress had to be at her meeting and needed to get ready, so she rushed around doing her hair and make-up. She started ironing her clothes -- putting a burn in her blouse in fact. I offered to finish the rest off for her while she busied herself with other things. I fetched her a drink, and started ironing her jacket. Finished, i handed it back to her, and she pointed out that there was a crease near the shoulder.... so i ironed the whole thing again -- this time getting it right.
Mistress got dressed, and we rushed down to the car. I drove her to her meeting, dropped her off, and then drove back to the hotel. After i had breakfast and went up to the room I started packing up her things. Then i did mine, putting everything in one room, double checking to make sure i hadn't left anything lying around. It was about half past nine, and Mistress would be in her meeting 'til about half past one. I had time to kill (as i didn't need to check out till 11), so i loaded a movie onto my laptop, playing it for background noise. Triple checking that neither of us had anything left lying around in the room I saw Mistress's coat on the back of the throne where i had placed it last night. She had jokingly said i needed to sew buttons and that she had brought a sewing kit. Well, i certainly wasn't going to go rooting around in her stuff, but -- since i had noticed a small travel sewing kit in the bathroom -- i grabbed that and sewed up her coat. By then it was 11, so i grabbed all the bags, put them in the back of the car, and drove to the car park.
I waited for Mistress's meeting to finish at half past one. I sat reading to kill time; there wasn't much else i could really do. I moved the car up closer to where i had dropped Mistress off. She came out about 15 minutes later.
Mistress suggested we go for lunch, so i drove her into the town center, where we walked around looking for a place to eat. It was raining and a few times i offered Mistress my coat -- but she said she was ok. She looked as if she were freezing to me but i didn't want to argue. We eventually chose on a place called Nando's, a Spanish place i think. The food wasn't great, but the my company was amazing. Those eyes captured me -- again. Jesus, i could lose hours and hours of time gazing into those gorgeous eyes of hers!
Don't misunderstand. There is much more to her than her eyes. Her hair had felt like silk as i ran it through my fingers during the night. Her perfume was a bit intoxicating. To be honest, when i leaned in to kiss her neck i took a deep breath of her. I've never known a scent to arouse me, but, whatever she was wearing, it definitely did. Her breasts.......OK, we wont go there.
Anyway.....
Time was ticking and Mistress's train was about an hour away. Near the station we sat in the car waiting. Suddenly Mistress turned to me and said "I want to watch you edge". So i drove to where i'd parked the car the last night, when i'd met her at the station. It was pretty secluded. I inched down my jeans and started stroking my cock for her. A few times she moved my hand out the way to touch me. When she did i got this "ahhhhhh" feeling... Her touch was.... yeah.... She eventually let go of my cock telling me to stroke it, but this time she took my balls in her hand (or should i say her fist) and started squeezing as i stroked it. She squeezed harder, then harder still. She must have literally crushed them in her fist since i felt this incredible stabbing pain in my stomach. i jolted. i wasn't in too much agony, but still I'd never felt a pain like that. For her giving me that, i was grateful. She lit a cigarette as i continued to stroke my cock, and then she threatened to put the end if it on my cock.....Yeah, that freaked me out. I begged her not to, sort of holding her hand. I wasn't trying to force the cig away from my cock. I just held it there, nervous as hell that she was going to burn me with it. Her hand was so incredibly soft. As i stroked a few times more, ash fell on my balls. I jumped a little. That made her chuckle. I wanted to cum for her (trust me i really did) but after she had crushed my balls in her fist the throbbing pain put a stop to that. Strange how i just can't seem to cum when i'm in pain. Maybe the two are linked in some way.
Next she told me she wanted to whack my arse. I flipped around in the car, my ass in the air as best i could manage. She took her paddle brush and started hitting me with it. I forgot to count. She started over. I thanked her for hitting me and counted -- and then i lost count, i just kept mumbling "Thank you, Mistress". OMG it fucking hurt! OMG, yes it fucking hurt. I couldn't unclench my ass cheeks so it REALLY fucking hurt. I think Mistress went past 100 count! (As i've said, i'd lost count at around 30 or something.) My ass felt on fire. Sure, it was stinging. It was painful. When she finally asked me to pull my jeans up it stung. When i sat down it stung. But, OMG it felt soooooooooo good, too. Add that pain to the pain in my balls, still hurting from her squeezing me, and then add the weird sensation in my stomach. All these together with a very very sore ass. All in all though it was a blissful pain -- if there is indeed such a thing.
Alas, the train was due in 10 minutes -- so we walked into the station and waited for the train to pull up. I held her. I didn't really want to let her get on that bloody train. So, to be honest, when it pulled up, i felt a twinge in my stomach. I carried her bags and placed them on the train. I kissed her one last time. She stepped on. She found a seat. I blew her a kiss as the doors to the train closed. I turned around quickly and i welled up. I'd taken about four steps towards the car when tears started rolling down my cheeks. I held my head down, hiding them from anyone who might see me.
That was the moment that i realized, without a doubt, that i really loved her.
Carl's Confession: Demo Slut
* Trial
Last night was probably the best night I’ve ever had in Second Life....
Some wise people have said that the description of an event usually does it a disservice to it and, from that point of view. it’s wiser to savor your memories and not try to relive them through language. But that’s no fun.
It all started at “Trials”, an event at The Dominion femdom where submissives are put on trial by Dommes on all manner of trumped up charges -- from knocking them over to sending them unsolicited pictures of yourself in panties. The Dominion “Justice system” is a play-book for police and judicial corruption. It has all the under-handed techniques and arbitrary applications of makey-uppy laws of any kangaroo court. To date no one has ever been found innocent… of anything…ever.
I was arrested for a political offense: calling for an amnesty for all subs. Therefore I was required to attend Trials. Long story short: I was framed. I turned up at the Dominion and Miss Eva was there. Being a diligent police officer she told me to get naked -- first in SL and then in RL. After that she had me licking real panties while on mic before requiring me to write "SLUT" across my stomach in lipstick. As an unwanted sissy I couldn’t help myself. I had to comply. Eventually she instructed me to send her a photo of myself in RL wearing pink panties and with "SLUT" written on me with lipstick. This commenced my humiliation of the evening.
When I was called to trial the first thing that happened was that I was accused of having sent the picture unsolicited to Miss Eva. I really had no defense nor any witnesses willing to testify on my behalf. I do remember who the other witnesses were. I was found guilty and sentenced to public masturbation.
The problem here was that Judge Persephone was asking me on voice how hard my cock was. Never wanting to lie I had to tell her it was soft -- because I had just cum about an hour ago. I didn’t really want to think about it but there were about 20 or 30 Dominion Ladies and their subs all listening as I failed to get a hard on for Miss Persephone -- on voice. For a moment I thought I was on the “orgasm train” but then it passed me by. I was left, humiliated, embarrassed and not having pleased the Ladies. I was roundly cast aside having served my purpose. I carried the verbal abuse and unsatisfactory comments with me.
I’m a bit of an Emo and at this stage I was wondering had I been any use at all. Did I have erectile dysfunction? I was laughing with Miss Eva about the event in IM (the various performances). I also was secretly gearing up to go and finish myself off somewhere privately. I'd definitely had stage fright masturbating in front of 20 dommes earlier.
Just as I was about to leave I heard Miss Eva say, “Carl will do it” in local chat. I chirped up and asked, “Do what Miss?”. This act of kindness and ;volunteering me out' turned into something I’ll always be grateful for.
* Miss Dalia
It turned out that this well-established dominatrix and femdom/BDSM instructor and educator was short a volunteer for a demo for her class that evening. I knew Her and had been infatuated with her from the moment I met Her. I always knew, however, that I was completely unsuitable to serve Her because she is real and perfect and experienced, with high standards. She is educated and informed and would not entertain any of my fuckery for even a second. She is a bit older than me. She has an amazing voice that oozes erotic sex appeal. I don’t agree with her on everything but I know she has well thought out ideas. She is totally for real. I hope I have made it clear how absolutely 'to die for' she is.
Now I once had the opportunity to assist her once before -- about a year ago -- when she then too was short a volunteer for a demo. She then had me humiliated publicly , having me finger myself on voice and cum in front of a crowd of Dommes. She is the type of lady you would volunteer to have her practice amputation on you -- just to get a little of her attention.
After my last experience I was infatuated, but I was cast off and ignored once I had served my purpose. I felt as though perhaps I was the only volunteer available -- and just settled for, used to complete this task. I still really liked her, but I knew she thought I would get all emo and stalky so space grew. Contact dwindled.
Suddenly, with Miss Eva’s comments, I was back in the mix. I now had another opportunity to, hopefully, make a good impression on Miss Dalia. She asked me if I fancied embarrassing myself twice in one day. She had NOT been impressed with my performance earlier. I said I would be delighted to be of any assistance at all. I didn’t even know what I was volunteering for. It turned out to be a tease and denial demonstration.
Now I was never a fan of denial but one thing was for sure this time: I needed to have an erection.. The event was in two hours. I went to a quiet place and wanked -- without having an orgasm -- until the event started.
Just before the event I IM'ed Miss Dalia, She told me to come to The Courtyard. When I arrived I kneeled off to the side of Miss Dalia; there was another boy kneeling on the other side of her. People were piling into the courtyard. It looked as if it were going to be busy, I just tried to concentrate on serving and pleasing Miss Dalia, listening to her hypnotically sexy voice.
*Tease and denial demo
I didn’t know what to expect but I knew I was going to do my best to serve and please Miss Dalia. Come hell or high water! The demo started with Miss Dalia asking the other sub volunteer a few question about himself and his position. She then instructed us both to be naked. It was all conducted in a matter of fact way, but my nerves were going 90! Miss Dalia was instructing us, separately, to get our cocks hard, She instructed me to use the pads of my thumb and fore-finger to stroke myself. This was frustrating (as one likes to get a good grip when wanking). Miss Dalia made further inquiries with us as to whether we had precum showing and then how close we were to cumming. Of course She instructed us not to cum without her express permission.
At this stage Miss Dalia went on with the discussion, entertaining the attendees with comments and questions. I felt like a slut masturbating at her feet while she led a public debate. But, thankfully, Her hypnotic tones makes it easy to think it’s just the two of you when she is addressing you. In any event this was the only opportunity I was going o get to impress Her at all. I had to take it -- even if it did mean masturbating to the edge of cumming in front of a crowd of people.
The Discussion continued. Then Miss Dalia informed us that this was a competition and that the crowd could vote on who was best -- and who could win the opportunity to ask her a question. I was a bit puzzled. I didn’t know what question to ask. The hornier I get the more stupid I get and I was thinking of asking her "What panties are you wearing?" or "Would you like to join me for a coffee?". Of course the logical question to ask was “May I cum now Miss Dalia please?”.
The other sub won. The crowd voted for him. The question he asked was "May I be allowed stop edging?" He was -- or at least sounded -- very aroused and on the edge, with ragged breathing and broken voice. His Mistress intervened and insisted he be made to have a ruined orgasm -- one of the topics of conversation. He was made to orgasm but, just as he did so, to put his cock in ice-cold water. It sounded as if he had been robbed of pleasure, the pleasure of pumping all that sperm out.
Then Miss Dalia asked me how I was doing and I answered, honestly, that I could come any minute. She made me beg her for permission to cum. I begged and begged. She refused. I had to stop touching myself in order to sop myself from cumming without permission. Her voice was totally taking me over and I was grateful for the opportunity to serve her or amuse her. Most of the background faded away. She told me to cum but not to stop stroking once I had cum. I said, "Yes Miss! Thank you, Miss!" She didn’t think that was very appreciative and told me so. This led to me unleashing a tirade of gratitude and begging and thanksgiving and trying to show her how grateful I was -- as my orgasm built. In seconds my whole body was locking in that all consuming pleasure of orgasm as I shot my load directly onto myself. She just said “Keep stroking! Don’t stop stroking!”.
I had to obey Her. I wanted to stop once my orgasm was over but She made me continue. I could have stopped but I knew she had ways of making me pay so I kept stroking. Within seconds pain and over-sensitivity set into my cock. My corona was tinkling with over stimulation. I was suffering and moaning in pain. I could hear her sexy, devious, and completely sadistic laughter. I begged her to allow me to stop. She wouldn't and, because of the over stimulation, I started to piss. Now I was a total mess, Miss Dalia was calling me all sorts of names for pissing myself but the one I remember was “You dirty slut!”. In terms of my humiliation and femdom fantasies it was heaven. By any normal measure of human dignity I was exactly what She said, “A dirty slut”.
Thus ended the tease and denial demo. I was sent off to tidy myself up.
Last night was probably the best night I’ve ever had in Second Life....
Some wise people have said that the description of an event usually does it a disservice to it and, from that point of view. it’s wiser to savor your memories and not try to relive them through language. But that’s no fun.
It all started at “Trials”, an event at The Dominion femdom where submissives are put on trial by Dommes on all manner of trumped up charges -- from knocking them over to sending them unsolicited pictures of yourself in panties. The Dominion “Justice system” is a play-book for police and judicial corruption. It has all the under-handed techniques and arbitrary applications of makey-uppy laws of any kangaroo court. To date no one has ever been found innocent… of anything…ever.
I was arrested for a political offense: calling for an amnesty for all subs. Therefore I was required to attend Trials. Long story short: I was framed. I turned up at the Dominion and Miss Eva was there. Being a diligent police officer she told me to get naked -- first in SL and then in RL. After that she had me licking real panties while on mic before requiring me to write "SLUT" across my stomach in lipstick. As an unwanted sissy I couldn’t help myself. I had to comply. Eventually she instructed me to send her a photo of myself in RL wearing pink panties and with "SLUT" written on me with lipstick. This commenced my humiliation of the evening.
When I was called to trial the first thing that happened was that I was accused of having sent the picture unsolicited to Miss Eva. I really had no defense nor any witnesses willing to testify on my behalf. I do remember who the other witnesses were. I was found guilty and sentenced to public masturbation.
The problem here was that Judge Persephone was asking me on voice how hard my cock was. Never wanting to lie I had to tell her it was soft -- because I had just cum about an hour ago. I didn’t really want to think about it but there were about 20 or 30 Dominion Ladies and their subs all listening as I failed to get a hard on for Miss Persephone -- on voice. For a moment I thought I was on the “orgasm train” but then it passed me by. I was left, humiliated, embarrassed and not having pleased the Ladies. I was roundly cast aside having served my purpose. I carried the verbal abuse and unsatisfactory comments with me.
I’m a bit of an Emo and at this stage I was wondering had I been any use at all. Did I have erectile dysfunction? I was laughing with Miss Eva about the event in IM (the various performances). I also was secretly gearing up to go and finish myself off somewhere privately. I'd definitely had stage fright masturbating in front of 20 dommes earlier.
Just as I was about to leave I heard Miss Eva say, “Carl will do it” in local chat. I chirped up and asked, “Do what Miss?”. This act of kindness and ;volunteering me out' turned into something I’ll always be grateful for.
* Miss Dalia
It turned out that this well-established dominatrix and femdom/BDSM instructor and educator was short a volunteer for a demo for her class that evening. I knew Her and had been infatuated with her from the moment I met Her. I always knew, however, that I was completely unsuitable to serve Her because she is real and perfect and experienced, with high standards. She is educated and informed and would not entertain any of my fuckery for even a second. She is a bit older than me. She has an amazing voice that oozes erotic sex appeal. I don’t agree with her on everything but I know she has well thought out ideas. She is totally for real. I hope I have made it clear how absolutely 'to die for' she is.
Now I once had the opportunity to assist her once before -- about a year ago -- when she then too was short a volunteer for a demo. She then had me humiliated publicly , having me finger myself on voice and cum in front of a crowd of Dommes. She is the type of lady you would volunteer to have her practice amputation on you -- just to get a little of her attention.
After my last experience I was infatuated, but I was cast off and ignored once I had served my purpose. I felt as though perhaps I was the only volunteer available -- and just settled for, used to complete this task. I still really liked her, but I knew she thought I would get all emo and stalky so space grew. Contact dwindled.
Suddenly, with Miss Eva’s comments, I was back in the mix. I now had another opportunity to, hopefully, make a good impression on Miss Dalia. She asked me if I fancied embarrassing myself twice in one day. She had NOT been impressed with my performance earlier. I said I would be delighted to be of any assistance at all. I didn’t even know what I was volunteering for. It turned out to be a tease and denial demonstration.
Now I was never a fan of denial but one thing was for sure this time: I needed to have an erection.. The event was in two hours. I went to a quiet place and wanked -- without having an orgasm -- until the event started.
Just before the event I IM'ed Miss Dalia, She told me to come to The Courtyard. When I arrived I kneeled off to the side of Miss Dalia; there was another boy kneeling on the other side of her. People were piling into the courtyard. It looked as if it were going to be busy, I just tried to concentrate on serving and pleasing Miss Dalia, listening to her hypnotically sexy voice.
*Tease and denial demo
I didn’t know what to expect but I knew I was going to do my best to serve and please Miss Dalia. Come hell or high water! The demo started with Miss Dalia asking the other sub volunteer a few question about himself and his position. She then instructed us both to be naked. It was all conducted in a matter of fact way, but my nerves were going 90! Miss Dalia was instructing us, separately, to get our cocks hard, She instructed me to use the pads of my thumb and fore-finger to stroke myself. This was frustrating (as one likes to get a good grip when wanking). Miss Dalia made further inquiries with us as to whether we had precum showing and then how close we were to cumming. Of course She instructed us not to cum without her express permission.
At this stage Miss Dalia went on with the discussion, entertaining the attendees with comments and questions. I felt like a slut masturbating at her feet while she led a public debate. But, thankfully, Her hypnotic tones makes it easy to think it’s just the two of you when she is addressing you. In any event this was the only opportunity I was going o get to impress Her at all. I had to take it -- even if it did mean masturbating to the edge of cumming in front of a crowd of people.
The Discussion continued. Then Miss Dalia informed us that this was a competition and that the crowd could vote on who was best -- and who could win the opportunity to ask her a question. I was a bit puzzled. I didn’t know what question to ask. The hornier I get the more stupid I get and I was thinking of asking her "What panties are you wearing?" or "Would you like to join me for a coffee?". Of course the logical question to ask was “May I cum now Miss Dalia please?”.
The other sub won. The crowd voted for him. The question he asked was "May I be allowed stop edging?" He was -- or at least sounded -- very aroused and on the edge, with ragged breathing and broken voice. His Mistress intervened and insisted he be made to have a ruined orgasm -- one of the topics of conversation. He was made to orgasm but, just as he did so, to put his cock in ice-cold water. It sounded as if he had been robbed of pleasure, the pleasure of pumping all that sperm out.
Then Miss Dalia asked me how I was doing and I answered, honestly, that I could come any minute. She made me beg her for permission to cum. I begged and begged. She refused. I had to stop touching myself in order to sop myself from cumming without permission. Her voice was totally taking me over and I was grateful for the opportunity to serve her or amuse her. Most of the background faded away. She told me to cum but not to stop stroking once I had cum. I said, "Yes Miss! Thank you, Miss!" She didn’t think that was very appreciative and told me so. This led to me unleashing a tirade of gratitude and begging and thanksgiving and trying to show her how grateful I was -- as my orgasm built. In seconds my whole body was locking in that all consuming pleasure of orgasm as I shot my load directly onto myself. She just said “Keep stroking! Don’t stop stroking!”.
I had to obey Her. I wanted to stop once my orgasm was over but She made me continue. I could have stopped but I knew she had ways of making me pay so I kept stroking. Within seconds pain and over-sensitivity set into my cock. My corona was tinkling with over stimulation. I was suffering and moaning in pain. I could hear her sexy, devious, and completely sadistic laughter. I begged her to allow me to stop. She wouldn't and, because of the over stimulation, I started to piss. Now I was a total mess, Miss Dalia was calling me all sorts of names for pissing myself but the one I remember was “You dirty slut!”. In terms of my humiliation and femdom fantasies it was heaven. By any normal measure of human dignity I was exactly what She said, “A dirty slut”.
Thus ended the tease and denial demo. I was sent off to tidy myself up.
Dancing With The Hurricane by Anonymous
You are steadfast against my approach
Thinking that your soul is secured
From my mighty winds and rain
As I near, you do not flinch
Daring me to come straight for you
Intimidating as I linger staring you down
You are built on dreams and hopes of love
An easy target with no solid foundation
Assuming you are safe from my wrath
Pounding rain unleashed upon you
Your spirit being beaten and battered
Do you still believe you can withstand
My winds sweep you up into my embrace
You enjoy the flight as we dance
True to my nature I release you
Plummeting full force unexpectedly
Crashing down and utterly shattered
Thinking that your soul is secured
From my mighty winds and rain
As I near, you do not flinch
Daring me to come straight for you
Intimidating as I linger staring you down
You are built on dreams and hopes of love
An easy target with no solid foundation
Assuming you are safe from my wrath
Pounding rain unleashed upon you
Your spirit being beaten and battered
Do you still believe you can withstand
My winds sweep you up into my embrace
You enjoy the flight as we dance
True to my nature I release you
Plummeting full force unexpectedly
Crashing down and utterly shattered
Empty: A Domme's Confession by Anonymous
Hummus.... It makes Me gag now to think about it, even though once I loved the stuff because it was something I shared with you over laughter and with much love....
And pita bread... I once promised to let you eat My pussy juices off those pure white triangles. To let you lick your lips and your fingers and duck your head with that secret smile of yours...
We never had breakfast in bed. I promised to let you lick the crumbs off the sheets if I dropped any and kiss the corners of My mouth so I didn't have to use a napkin....
I was going to send you My panties -- after I'd worn them of course. A pair at a time. The lacy satin Victoria's Secret pairs I let you buy Me for Christmas. I was going to let you sniff them and hide them in your desk drawer at your office....
We were going to have one of those town houses with a big kitchen and a pool and a covered garage. We dreamed about how you would come home after work. I'd let you take off your shirt from the day's business and put on My collar and come kneel at My feet...
This is all gone now. "I want you but we don't always get what we want," is what you said to Me. It was your choice to walk away from everything I'd built for us -- for you. Your choice, not Mine. And I ache with it. The emptiness that fills the walls of My soul, which you inhabited for so long, is a painful reminder that really it is I who cannot have what I want....
I am so changed by all of this. The history, the story, the longing, the hurt....
And pita bread... I once promised to let you eat My pussy juices off those pure white triangles. To let you lick your lips and your fingers and duck your head with that secret smile of yours...
We never had breakfast in bed. I promised to let you lick the crumbs off the sheets if I dropped any and kiss the corners of My mouth so I didn't have to use a napkin....
I was going to send you My panties -- after I'd worn them of course. A pair at a time. The lacy satin Victoria's Secret pairs I let you buy Me for Christmas. I was going to let you sniff them and hide them in your desk drawer at your office....
We were going to have one of those town houses with a big kitchen and a pool and a covered garage. We dreamed about how you would come home after work. I'd let you take off your shirt from the day's business and put on My collar and come kneel at My feet...
This is all gone now. "I want you but we don't always get what we want," is what you said to Me. It was your choice to walk away from everything I'd built for us -- for you. Your choice, not Mine. And I ache with it. The emptiness that fills the walls of My soul, which you inhabited for so long, is a painful reminder that really it is I who cannot have what I want....
I am so changed by all of this. The history, the story, the longing, the hurt....
Her Boy by Anonymous
Dark eyes, hidden by darker hair invade my dreams at night,
Proud to be your beloved boy, humbled on my knees,
Bittersweet emotion squeezed from my every cell
As her sharp teeth viciously bite my lip and her rough hand is tangled up in my hair,
She sucks the language off my tongue…
Tender kitty paws turn to kitty claws and rip me bare,
Reminding me of my place…
Exposing me to you, emotionally, mentally…
She pushes the buttons on my electro-shock therapy
And then, picks me up, soothes and takes care of me.
Her doll to dress, and then undress accordingly…
She brings out the whore in me… and then the innocence
I cry with her, die for her, and am reborn every time she says…
“Boy, you may open your eyes”
Darkness, yet I can hear you…
Deafness, yet I can feel you
I bear the marks of your discipline on my soul, like scars and bruises…
Evidence of my failures
Unworthiness, yet again I try to find your smile,
Because your pleasure is my priority and time zones the enemy,
Keeping me from brutality’s best and the worst of humanity
Proud to be your beloved boy, humbled on my knees,
Bittersweet emotion squeezed from my every cell
As her sharp teeth viciously bite my lip and her rough hand is tangled up in my hair,
She sucks the language off my tongue…
Tender kitty paws turn to kitty claws and rip me bare,
Reminding me of my place…
Exposing me to you, emotionally, mentally…
She pushes the buttons on my electro-shock therapy
And then, picks me up, soothes and takes care of me.
Her doll to dress, and then undress accordingly…
She brings out the whore in me… and then the innocence
I cry with her, die for her, and am reborn every time she says…
“Boy, you may open your eyes”
Darkness, yet I can hear you…
Deafness, yet I can feel you
I bear the marks of your discipline on my soul, like scars and bruises…
Evidence of my failures
Unworthiness, yet again I try to find your smile,
Because your pleasure is my priority and time zones the enemy,
Keeping me from brutality’s best and the worst of humanity
Kaleidoscope: Service Sub Heaven, Service Sub Hell by Doc
“Stand up! Kneel down!”
Voices in his head
“Put it in the laundry. Why are you doing that?”
Yes, Miss. Right away ma’am.
Now a post. Now several paragraphs – interrupted.
A nap. Or am I dreaming? Awake, I’m sure now!
Into Second Life; zipping out again.
Assigned missions
Sliding into FetLife, prompted by an email.
Task done. I answered.
Where is that yellow pad with all my assignments?
Listed as they came in.
I don’t want to disappoint. I make them angry when I forget.
Good will only carries so far.
“What have you done for me lately?”
I’m sorry, Miss. I’m not excusing it, Miss. I’m simply explaining, Miss.
She disappears. Another comes. Softly and comforting
Until she runs off to party. Leaving me kneeling on a cold stone patio.
Alone.
I log off to vacuum.
Last night I fell asleep at 10 – the second time.
I don’t remember the first, only that I woke at nine.
What happened at 3 a.m.? Hmmmm.
I woke before the sun. And now it seems like midday, though it’s only nine.
Time zones.
Good morning, Miss. “It’s afternoon! Where are you at?”
I check to see if the sun is out. First out the window, then in SL.
How did I get back here? My memory….
I almost forgot. She told me to edge. I promised I would.
And never, never go over the edge.
“No, Miss!”
I perform as ordered. I ache with longing. In my mind I hear her chuckling.
My coffee pot beckons. I yearn for the sound of the grinder, the warm glow of the burners.
The timer ticking off the 5-1/2 minutes it takes to disgorge nine cups.
The 60 seconds to heat the milk in the microwave.
Everything is measured and in order.
Except my life.
My life is that of a frog, hopping from lily pad to lily pad . Over deep green waters.
Under a bright blue sky.
The sun is invisible; I am bathed in light.
Voices in his head
“Put it in the laundry. Why are you doing that?”
Yes, Miss. Right away ma’am.
Now a post. Now several paragraphs – interrupted.
A nap. Or am I dreaming? Awake, I’m sure now!
Into Second Life; zipping out again.
Assigned missions
Sliding into FetLife, prompted by an email.
Task done. I answered.
Where is that yellow pad with all my assignments?
Listed as they came in.
I don’t want to disappoint. I make them angry when I forget.
Good will only carries so far.
“What have you done for me lately?”
I’m sorry, Miss. I’m not excusing it, Miss. I’m simply explaining, Miss.
She disappears. Another comes. Softly and comforting
Until she runs off to party. Leaving me kneeling on a cold stone patio.
Alone.
I log off to vacuum.
Last night I fell asleep at 10 – the second time.
I don’t remember the first, only that I woke at nine.
What happened at 3 a.m.? Hmmmm.
I woke before the sun. And now it seems like midday, though it’s only nine.
Time zones.
Good morning, Miss. “It’s afternoon! Where are you at?”
I check to see if the sun is out. First out the window, then in SL.
How did I get back here? My memory….
I almost forgot. She told me to edge. I promised I would.
And never, never go over the edge.
“No, Miss!”
I perform as ordered. I ache with longing. In my mind I hear her chuckling.
My coffee pot beckons. I yearn for the sound of the grinder, the warm glow of the burners.
The timer ticking off the 5-1/2 minutes it takes to disgorge nine cups.
The 60 seconds to heat the milk in the microwave.
Everything is measured and in order.
Except my life.
My life is that of a frog, hopping from lily pad to lily pad . Over deep green waters.
Under a bright blue sky.
The sun is invisible; I am bathed in light.
Pushing Limits Part 1 by Duncan
Pushing Limits part 1
Today Mistress pushed my limits. We have had a long time with casual interaction only she yearned for more from me. I yearned to please her too. As much as I possibly could. Today She took control and demanded my service. To Her that owns me I happily submitted. I did not know exactly how she wanted my service but willingly gave it to her. I gave of myself for her service and pleasure.
I was anxious when she made the pronouncement I was going to be spanked, but not just any spanking. It was a spanking of discovery. Today She wanted to know my limits. I was scared and yet I found peace in knowing she would not cause me real damage -- only the pain I could endure, to the limit of that endurance. I knew she would care for me after, but now she needed to be controlling and punishing. I asked if I had done something wrong and she said nothing major -- only minor misdeeds which will also be forgiven with this spanking.
She ordered me to go get my paddle, and hairbrush and to kneel before her naked. I was growing more anxious with every order. She was really going to push hard. I had never been spanked with both implements before, so I was nervous. I apologized for my misdeeds and begged, hoping she would be lenient with me. Her resolve was strong. She accepted my apologies, but Her mind was set. My punishment was sealed. All I could do was follow Her instructions, offer my submission and endure my fate.
She looked at me with her eyes burning and expectant. I had almost forgotten in my anxiety. "Please Mistress, may I have a spanking now?" A quick smile crossed her lips, her eyes returning once again to the steer punisher which inhabits her soul. "Yes, Mine you may." I stood and lay across Her lap my butt raised high, ready for the torturous pain to begin. I knew my true place, ready to suffer for Her.
I felt the cool leather of the paddle start to caress my cheeks. I felt the anxiety building as I waited for her first spank. "Why doesn't she start?". "Please Mistress, start so it can end and so that I can resume my place in your good graces." Still I waited as she admired her sub, knowing in Her mind what I was about to endure for Her. The caressing stopped.
SPANK! The hard leather paddle came down upon my butt, and the pain seared through my skin, my brain reporting the burning of her first stroke. Barely recognizing the pain, the second SPANK. Then another blow and SPANK SPANK SPANK. 3 more blows fell across my cheeks. I urgently felt the desire to clench but fought it knowing I had a long way to go. Earning more strokes was not a wise thing to do. I hoped She would see my will to endure and be lenient in Her heart for Her pet that She Loves so.
I felt the leather once again caressing my cheeks. As the the stinging was still going away from the first set -- SPANK followed by nine others. They scored my cheeks and turned them to what I was sure was a dark red. Yes, that would make Her stop. They would be very red and She would take pity on me. She told me She loved me; I replied in kind expressing how much i Love Her. Then as the last word escaped my lips on came a rapid fire stream of pain as Her paddle rained fire on my already sore bottom. Ten more times. Harder than the first two sets. I gritted my teeth and moaned out my sorrow begging for relief. She smiled at what a good boy I was and asked "How do you feel?" I gave my number. I was at a 'six'. Really? Only a 'six'? What was I thinking? Why not tell her an 'eight' or a 'nine' to force this session to end early.
My love for Her forced me to be honest. She would know. I had endured worse than this before and She knew it.
I breathed in and out, deeply relaxing as much as I could -- my bottom stinging and warm. She raised the paddle and brought 10 more of the hardest SPANKS I had ever endured. My mind reeled ; tears began to form in my eyes at the pain She had inflicted. I begged her to stop. She merely asked for my number. I responded "seven". My mind told me only a "seven" really ; I mustn't lie to Mistress.
She spoke, "I am going to give you the five hardest you have ever received from the paddle. Now! I will understand if you clench a little but don't do anymore than you need do or you will get more. Do you understand?"
My mind was reeling, HARDER?! She hasn't hit me Her Hardest yet? I braced myself just in time... SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!!. My cheeks were set aflame with a pain that made my soul scream. I clenched up as little as I could. I couldn't not clench. OMG! "Mistress," my mind told me, "Please stop!".
I began to cry sobbing. I asked her to stop. I pleaded. She simply asked "What is your number?"
My mind screamed but my soul knew I where I was at at. "Nine, Mistress!"
She said, "Go grab a blanket and come cuddle with me for a few minutes!" I grabbed my warm blanket and returned to cuddle -- with Her arms holding me. She kissed my hair and said, "I love you Mine." I melted in her arms, my bottom stinging from her strokes.
"I love you, Mistress." It was over...or so I thought.
Today Mistress pushed my limits. We have had a long time with casual interaction only she yearned for more from me. I yearned to please her too. As much as I possibly could. Today She took control and demanded my service. To Her that owns me I happily submitted. I did not know exactly how she wanted my service but willingly gave it to her. I gave of myself for her service and pleasure.
I was anxious when she made the pronouncement I was going to be spanked, but not just any spanking. It was a spanking of discovery. Today She wanted to know my limits. I was scared and yet I found peace in knowing she would not cause me real damage -- only the pain I could endure, to the limit of that endurance. I knew she would care for me after, but now she needed to be controlling and punishing. I asked if I had done something wrong and she said nothing major -- only minor misdeeds which will also be forgiven with this spanking.
She ordered me to go get my paddle, and hairbrush and to kneel before her naked. I was growing more anxious with every order. She was really going to push hard. I had never been spanked with both implements before, so I was nervous. I apologized for my misdeeds and begged, hoping she would be lenient with me. Her resolve was strong. She accepted my apologies, but Her mind was set. My punishment was sealed. All I could do was follow Her instructions, offer my submission and endure my fate.
She looked at me with her eyes burning and expectant. I had almost forgotten in my anxiety. "Please Mistress, may I have a spanking now?" A quick smile crossed her lips, her eyes returning once again to the steer punisher which inhabits her soul. "Yes, Mine you may." I stood and lay across Her lap my butt raised high, ready for the torturous pain to begin. I knew my true place, ready to suffer for Her.
I felt the cool leather of the paddle start to caress my cheeks. I felt the anxiety building as I waited for her first spank. "Why doesn't she start?". "Please Mistress, start so it can end and so that I can resume my place in your good graces." Still I waited as she admired her sub, knowing in Her mind what I was about to endure for Her. The caressing stopped.
SPANK! The hard leather paddle came down upon my butt, and the pain seared through my skin, my brain reporting the burning of her first stroke. Barely recognizing the pain, the second SPANK. Then another blow and SPANK SPANK SPANK. 3 more blows fell across my cheeks. I urgently felt the desire to clench but fought it knowing I had a long way to go. Earning more strokes was not a wise thing to do. I hoped She would see my will to endure and be lenient in Her heart for Her pet that She Loves so.
I felt the leather once again caressing my cheeks. As the the stinging was still going away from the first set -- SPANK followed by nine others. They scored my cheeks and turned them to what I was sure was a dark red. Yes, that would make Her stop. They would be very red and She would take pity on me. She told me She loved me; I replied in kind expressing how much i Love Her. Then as the last word escaped my lips on came a rapid fire stream of pain as Her paddle rained fire on my already sore bottom. Ten more times. Harder than the first two sets. I gritted my teeth and moaned out my sorrow begging for relief. She smiled at what a good boy I was and asked "How do you feel?" I gave my number. I was at a 'six'. Really? Only a 'six'? What was I thinking? Why not tell her an 'eight' or a 'nine' to force this session to end early.
My love for Her forced me to be honest. She would know. I had endured worse than this before and She knew it.
I breathed in and out, deeply relaxing as much as I could -- my bottom stinging and warm. She raised the paddle and brought 10 more of the hardest SPANKS I had ever endured. My mind reeled ; tears began to form in my eyes at the pain She had inflicted. I begged her to stop. She merely asked for my number. I responded "seven". My mind told me only a "seven" really ; I mustn't lie to Mistress.
She spoke, "I am going to give you the five hardest you have ever received from the paddle. Now! I will understand if you clench a little but don't do anymore than you need do or you will get more. Do you understand?"
My mind was reeling, HARDER?! She hasn't hit me Her Hardest yet? I braced myself just in time... SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!! SPANK!!!!. My cheeks were set aflame with a pain that made my soul scream. I clenched up as little as I could. I couldn't not clench. OMG! "Mistress," my mind told me, "Please stop!".
I began to cry sobbing. I asked her to stop. I pleaded. She simply asked "What is your number?"
My mind screamed but my soul knew I where I was at at. "Nine, Mistress!"
She said, "Go grab a blanket and come cuddle with me for a few minutes!" I grabbed my warm blanket and returned to cuddle -- with Her arms holding me. She kissed my hair and said, "I love you Mine." I melted in her arms, my bottom stinging from her strokes.
"I love you, Mistress." It was over...or so I thought.
Storm Of The Soul by Anonymous
Exposed to your wrath oh mighty Mother Nature
The cool breeze sweeping over me in the gloaming
Lashing at my cheeks, nose and watering my eyes
I hear your approach bearing down upon me
As the skies grow ominously dark and foreboding
The clouds thick and choking out the sunset
The sweet misleading smell of a cleansing rain
Brought forth by whipping leaves on groaning trees
The birds cease to sing forth their melodic tunes
Creatures scurry for cover as I stand firm before you
You streak your glorious lights in ribbons across the sky
Eliminating my bleak and dreary surroundings
The sky roars with booming clarity of anger
Vibrating all existence beneath the heavens
Tears of sorrow fall en mass drenching the ground
Your discontent grows, feeding upon itself
As you hover, howl and weep to uncaring souls
Vent and let your lightening strike me down
For when it’s all done, we are one, you and I
Bound in our misery and glory and raging alone
The cool breeze sweeping over me in the gloaming
Lashing at my cheeks, nose and watering my eyes
I hear your approach bearing down upon me
As the skies grow ominously dark and foreboding
The clouds thick and choking out the sunset
The sweet misleading smell of a cleansing rain
Brought forth by whipping leaves on groaning trees
The birds cease to sing forth their melodic tunes
Creatures scurry for cover as I stand firm before you
You streak your glorious lights in ribbons across the sky
Eliminating my bleak and dreary surroundings
The sky roars with booming clarity of anger
Vibrating all existence beneath the heavens
Tears of sorrow fall en mass drenching the ground
Your discontent grows, feeding upon itself
As you hover, howl and weep to uncaring souls
Vent and let your lightening strike me down
For when it’s all done, we are one, you and I
Bound in our misery and glory and raging alone
The Game Is On By Sillien
It was three weeks before our wedding and Mary had tossed me out of our flat. Apparently I wasn't taking the planning seriously enough, but it has since dawned on me that the reasoning was made-up nonsense intended to get me to spend the night at Sherlock’s. That’s my Mary.
The sun was just going down as I walked through the door of 221 Baker Street. Sherlock acted as if I was a nuisance, interrupting something of great importance, but I had learned better. We had some fish and chips delivered and sat down to eat, reminiscing about days gone by and the time he had spent abroad dismantling Moriarty’s network.
It was then that his phone made a sound. A sound Mrs. Hudson once referred to as “rude.” It was the sound of a sigh, highly sexual woman sighing. The Woman sighing. I hadn't heard it in well over two years, long before the day Sherlock Holmes did not die. He stared at his mobile and said nothing.
“Sherlock?” I nudged him. “Sherlock, isn't that…”
“Yes,” he answered. “She’s back. Apparently ‘witness protection’ didn’t quite suit her, did it?”
“Right, right, I suppose it wouldn’t contain someone like her for long.” I had thought her dead all this time. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, Sherlock, what does the bloody text say?”
“It reads, ‘Where you found your finest livery.”
“‘Finest?’ Well that makes no sense, now does it? I mean, you always seem to be wearing the same clothing day in and day out and I would hardly say any of it is your “fine…” He cut me off as always.
“Not that sort of livery, John! Think! She’s referring to the finest taxi ride I’ve ever had. The one where you and I first met.”
“Ohhh, I see now.”
“Come, we must head to that school library now, John! The game is…”
And now it was my turn to interrupt.
“I’m rather confused about one thing, Sherlock, that I can’t quite wrap my head around.”
“Yes, yes, what is it, John? Spit it out! The game is…”
“Well, you see, you were gone. For over two years. And that,” I pointed at his mobile, still on the table,” is NOT the same phone you had back then. You’ve gotten yourself a new one, haven’t you?”
“John, if indeed you intend on making a point of some kind, I would request you make it soon.”
“Why do her texts still have the same notification tone? By all rights they shouldn't. In fact, the only reason I could imagine the same noise is being used is because you…”
“Because I programmed this phone to make that noise whenever she texted me.”
I nodded and smiled, my satisfaction clear as day on my face. “You hated that noise. The expression on your face was that of a schoolboy hearing chalk on a blackboard every time she messaged you. It humiliated you, a reminder of a time when that woman outwitted you. Well, the first time that woman outwitted you, at least…”
He looked at me and said not a word.
“Well, look at us, tarrying about. Come, Sherlock. The game is on!”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was nothing at the library. We searched high and low, the two of us. It took him much longer than it should have to realize that we had fallen for a ruse. But why? To what end?
“We must hurry, John. Back to Baker street! Something is amiss!”
Upon our return it was clear that someone had been there. Things had been tossed about from drawers, the cushions on the sofa tossed, books pulled from the shelves. It had been a minute before we realize that someone was still there, sitting in the kitchen, their back to us.
Sherlock squinted and spoke with authority. “Whoever you are, I suggest you tell me what your intent is, before I call…”
He stopped. He seemed woozy. In fact, so did I. The figure stood up and turned to face us. A woman. Wearing a gas mask. And then everything went black…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I found myself in a chair, tied down. Gagged. Still in 221B Baker street. I looked across the room and saw Sherlock. He was stripped naked and tied down to his desk. Then she came into view. The Woman. Irene Adler. Dressed in the leather I saw all that time ago in the pictures from her site. She gave me but a glance, and then turned towards him.
“Sherlock...I warned you about this, didn’t you. That I would have you on this desk…”
“And begging for mercy. Twice. Yes, I do recall. I also recall telling you I do not beg.”
Why was he not gagged? I wondered to myself. There was a gag sitting there, right next to his face, though.
“Poor Doctor Watson is probably wondering why you aren't gagged right now.” Her eyes darted at me. “Because he will not scream for help. Oh, he’ll scream, but not like that. The great Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t dream of it, would he?”
“What do you want?”
“It should be obvious, my love. I want my damned phone back. It’s completely useless to you. You are going to tell me where it is.”
He laughed. Her cupped hand smacked him on his pale butt-cheek.
“The game is on, Mr. Holmes,” she said, mocking him.
First came the riding crop. Light little taps at first. “A little higher, please. Little higher. Oh yes, that’s the spot,” Sherlock quipped. The taps came down harder, each swing accompanied by a loud ‘thwap!’ Those pale-white buttocks were turned a little rosy. More interesting to me was the look on The Woman’s face. Her eyes narrowing. The corner of her mouth turned up in a grotesque smile.
She dropped the crop rather suddenly and in the blink of an eye picked up a cane. “Thwack, thwack, thwack!” the cane struck Sherlock’s arse. He was grunting now. Angry red stripes appearing on his backside. Just when it seemed another swing was going to happen she curled her gloved fingers around his scrotum and tugged, pulling his testicles away and bunching them into a tight little package that she started to thwack. I could hear the pain in his whimpers. She had barely even started. I could not help but notice his tumescence.
Minutes passed before she stopped. She pulled a strange-looking block of wood out of her bag. I would later learn that it was called a ‘humbler’. It served much like her fist had before, pulling his balls away from his body. A shiver went down my spine as she attached a strap-on sex toy to her pelvis and lubed it and Sherlock’s arsehole up. Without hesitation, The Woman slid the rubber cock into him and pounded him. She grabbed the humbler as if it were a handle. A glint from Sherlock’s face told me the man was crying as she raped his virgin asshole. She let go of her handles every once in a while to smack his raw ass and call him her bitch.
It all came to a head while, her cock still deep inside of him, she reached around and took his nipples with her fingernails. She dug them deep. She pinched. Twisted. Tugged hard, her pelvis still pounding him, until, suddenly, one hand let go and shocked him with a punch straight to his scrotum. He wailed through the tears, crying out “Mercy! Irene, please stop! I beg you for mercy. I’ll tell you, please…”
She leapt into action, swiftly taking the gag that rested near his face to strap it on. I blinked, confused by what was going on. She swiftly packed up all of the implements she had brought with her, minus the rope. She was hoping someone like Mrs. Hudson, or maybe even LeStrade would find us like this, I imagine. I noticed her taking a videocamera I hadn’t spotted earlier. This was all on tape.
Adler slipped on a trench-coat, strode over to Sherlock, and spoke in his ear. “I said ‘twice,’ Sherlock. One down, one to go. Then you may tell me where my phone is.”
And with with that she patted him on the head, gave me a wink, and waltzed out of the flat, her heels clicking down the wooden stairs of 221B Baker street.
The End.
The sun was just going down as I walked through the door of 221 Baker Street. Sherlock acted as if I was a nuisance, interrupting something of great importance, but I had learned better. We had some fish and chips delivered and sat down to eat, reminiscing about days gone by and the time he had spent abroad dismantling Moriarty’s network.
It was then that his phone made a sound. A sound Mrs. Hudson once referred to as “rude.” It was the sound of a sigh, highly sexual woman sighing. The Woman sighing. I hadn't heard it in well over two years, long before the day Sherlock Holmes did not die. He stared at his mobile and said nothing.
“Sherlock?” I nudged him. “Sherlock, isn't that…”
“Yes,” he answered. “She’s back. Apparently ‘witness protection’ didn’t quite suit her, did it?”
“Right, right, I suppose it wouldn’t contain someone like her for long.” I had thought her dead all this time. “Well don’t keep me in suspense, Sherlock, what does the bloody text say?”
“It reads, ‘Where you found your finest livery.”
“‘Finest?’ Well that makes no sense, now does it? I mean, you always seem to be wearing the same clothing day in and day out and I would hardly say any of it is your “fine…” He cut me off as always.
“Not that sort of livery, John! Think! She’s referring to the finest taxi ride I’ve ever had. The one where you and I first met.”
“Ohhh, I see now.”
“Come, we must head to that school library now, John! The game is…”
And now it was my turn to interrupt.
“I’m rather confused about one thing, Sherlock, that I can’t quite wrap my head around.”
“Yes, yes, what is it, John? Spit it out! The game is…”
“Well, you see, you were gone. For over two years. And that,” I pointed at his mobile, still on the table,” is NOT the same phone you had back then. You’ve gotten yourself a new one, haven’t you?”
“John, if indeed you intend on making a point of some kind, I would request you make it soon.”
“Why do her texts still have the same notification tone? By all rights they shouldn't. In fact, the only reason I could imagine the same noise is being used is because you…”
“Because I programmed this phone to make that noise whenever she texted me.”
I nodded and smiled, my satisfaction clear as day on my face. “You hated that noise. The expression on your face was that of a schoolboy hearing chalk on a blackboard every time she messaged you. It humiliated you, a reminder of a time when that woman outwitted you. Well, the first time that woman outwitted you, at least…”
He looked at me and said not a word.
“Well, look at us, tarrying about. Come, Sherlock. The game is on!”
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was nothing at the library. We searched high and low, the two of us. It took him much longer than it should have to realize that we had fallen for a ruse. But why? To what end?
“We must hurry, John. Back to Baker street! Something is amiss!”
Upon our return it was clear that someone had been there. Things had been tossed about from drawers, the cushions on the sofa tossed, books pulled from the shelves. It had been a minute before we realize that someone was still there, sitting in the kitchen, their back to us.
Sherlock squinted and spoke with authority. “Whoever you are, I suggest you tell me what your intent is, before I call…”
He stopped. He seemed woozy. In fact, so did I. The figure stood up and turned to face us. A woman. Wearing a gas mask. And then everything went black…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I found myself in a chair, tied down. Gagged. Still in 221B Baker street. I looked across the room and saw Sherlock. He was stripped naked and tied down to his desk. Then she came into view. The Woman. Irene Adler. Dressed in the leather I saw all that time ago in the pictures from her site. She gave me but a glance, and then turned towards him.
“Sherlock...I warned you about this, didn’t you. That I would have you on this desk…”
“And begging for mercy. Twice. Yes, I do recall. I also recall telling you I do not beg.”
Why was he not gagged? I wondered to myself. There was a gag sitting there, right next to his face, though.
“Poor Doctor Watson is probably wondering why you aren't gagged right now.” Her eyes darted at me. “Because he will not scream for help. Oh, he’ll scream, but not like that. The great Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t dream of it, would he?”
“What do you want?”
“It should be obvious, my love. I want my damned phone back. It’s completely useless to you. You are going to tell me where it is.”
He laughed. Her cupped hand smacked him on his pale butt-cheek.
“The game is on, Mr. Holmes,” she said, mocking him.
First came the riding crop. Light little taps at first. “A little higher, please. Little higher. Oh yes, that’s the spot,” Sherlock quipped. The taps came down harder, each swing accompanied by a loud ‘thwap!’ Those pale-white buttocks were turned a little rosy. More interesting to me was the look on The Woman’s face. Her eyes narrowing. The corner of her mouth turned up in a grotesque smile.
She dropped the crop rather suddenly and in the blink of an eye picked up a cane. “Thwack, thwack, thwack!” the cane struck Sherlock’s arse. He was grunting now. Angry red stripes appearing on his backside. Just when it seemed another swing was going to happen she curled her gloved fingers around his scrotum and tugged, pulling his testicles away and bunching them into a tight little package that she started to thwack. I could hear the pain in his whimpers. She had barely even started. I could not help but notice his tumescence.
Minutes passed before she stopped. She pulled a strange-looking block of wood out of her bag. I would later learn that it was called a ‘humbler’. It served much like her fist had before, pulling his balls away from his body. A shiver went down my spine as she attached a strap-on sex toy to her pelvis and lubed it and Sherlock’s arsehole up. Without hesitation, The Woman slid the rubber cock into him and pounded him. She grabbed the humbler as if it were a handle. A glint from Sherlock’s face told me the man was crying as she raped his virgin asshole. She let go of her handles every once in a while to smack his raw ass and call him her bitch.
It all came to a head while, her cock still deep inside of him, she reached around and took his nipples with her fingernails. She dug them deep. She pinched. Twisted. Tugged hard, her pelvis still pounding him, until, suddenly, one hand let go and shocked him with a punch straight to his scrotum. He wailed through the tears, crying out “Mercy! Irene, please stop! I beg you for mercy. I’ll tell you, please…”
She leapt into action, swiftly taking the gag that rested near his face to strap it on. I blinked, confused by what was going on. She swiftly packed up all of the implements she had brought with her, minus the rope. She was hoping someone like Mrs. Hudson, or maybe even LeStrade would find us like this, I imagine. I noticed her taking a videocamera I hadn’t spotted earlier. This was all on tape.
Adler slipped on a trench-coat, strode over to Sherlock, and spoke in his ear. “I said ‘twice,’ Sherlock. One down, one to go. Then you may tell me where my phone is.”
And with with that she patted him on the head, gave me a wink, and waltzed out of the flat, her heels clicking down the wooden stairs of 221B Baker street.
The End.
Whispers Of Memories
Gentle touch,
Lucid dreams,
Remembered loves,
Forgotten screams,
Chorus of observers tapping their feet
Singing along to the same silent melody
Ghostly writers scrawling their prose
Puppets acting out a smoldering fantasy
Freedom of expression
A communal blaze
Alter of submission
Hard earned praise
Blood sweat and tears
From heart felt passion
Real desires and fears
Genuine reaction
The hand of the giver
Doles out to the soul
Sweet nourishing nectar
To our literary bowl.
Rejoined by the conductor
Who makes this a sauna
Our inebriator
The lovely Miss Fawna
Lucid dreams,
Remembered loves,
Forgotten screams,
Chorus of observers tapping their feet
Singing along to the same silent melody
Ghostly writers scrawling their prose
Puppets acting out a smoldering fantasy
Freedom of expression
A communal blaze
Alter of submission
Hard earned praise
Blood sweat and tears
From heart felt passion
Real desires and fears
Genuine reaction
The hand of the giver
Doles out to the soul
Sweet nourishing nectar
To our literary bowl.
Rejoined by the conductor
Who makes this a sauna
Our inebriator
The lovely Miss Fawna
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Previously On Downton Abbey by Lady Nej
"Previously on Downton Abbey…" by Nej
Bates arranges riding crops in a pleasing display on the dining table belowstairs, a smile playing on his lips. Thomas presses up behind him, erection rubbing against his buttocks. "Think the Mrs will let you out of your cage tonight, Bates?" Bates moans softly. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Thomas gives his ass a grab and licks his ear. "I'm counting on it. Your ass is a cherry I'd love to pluck."
Mrs Hughes allows O'Brien to pour her a cup of tea then attaches a glittering leash to her collar. "You will attend Mrs Bates tonight, O'Brien. Do I make myself clear?" O'Brien's cheeks redden as she nods, eyes downcast. "You're my bitch now girl. See that you remember your place." O'Brien bursts out, "So that's it then? One blackmail attempt and I'm your bitch? And I suppose that means no fucking for me tonight…" Mrs Hughes is not amused. "Mrs Patmore, do you mind? Only I've just put m'feet up!" "Right you are!" Mrs Patmore grabs O'Brien's leash and attaches it to a meathook, suspending her on tiptoes. With one swift flick of her knife O'Brien. is disrobed "Oh, you'll get fucked tonight slut. This rolling pin will fit that tight cunt of yours." She turns to Mrs Hughes. "It's marble. A little bacon grease and it'll slide right in." Mrs Hughes smiles. "I shall look forward to that. But right now, Mrs Bates needs lacing up!"
Carson shifts slightly in his restraints, flexing his anus in anticipation and wetting his lips. He's proud that he's maintained such a well equipped dungeon, the bench he's currently strapped to is of the finest quality, as is his leather hood. He flinches as he feels the sting of the crop against his naked thighs, Mrs Hughes has such a firm hand. "Thomas and Bates, take your posts!", his aching cock throbs at the sound of her voice. Mrs Hughes retreats to her throne as the men take their places. "On your word, Mrs Bates." "Now! And Bates, if you don't cum when I give the word it'll be another fortnight until the next chance." Carson is proud of the note of command; Mrs Bates has come a long way. Suddenly his mouth is filled by what must be Thomas' cock, his ass filled by the now un-caged Bates. That explains the high colonic he was ordered to give himself that afternoon. Mouth and ass filled, eyes covered, he misses the hungry look Thomas gives Bates… as well as the cruel smile playing on Mrs Bates' lips as she counts faster……
Bates arranges riding crops in a pleasing display on the dining table belowstairs, a smile playing on his lips. Thomas presses up behind him, erection rubbing against his buttocks. "Think the Mrs will let you out of your cage tonight, Bates?" Bates moans softly. "We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Thomas gives his ass a grab and licks his ear. "I'm counting on it. Your ass is a cherry I'd love to pluck."
Mrs Hughes allows O'Brien to pour her a cup of tea then attaches a glittering leash to her collar. "You will attend Mrs Bates tonight, O'Brien. Do I make myself clear?" O'Brien's cheeks redden as she nods, eyes downcast. "You're my bitch now girl. See that you remember your place." O'Brien bursts out, "So that's it then? One blackmail attempt and I'm your bitch? And I suppose that means no fucking for me tonight…" Mrs Hughes is not amused. "Mrs Patmore, do you mind? Only I've just put m'feet up!" "Right you are!" Mrs Patmore grabs O'Brien's leash and attaches it to a meathook, suspending her on tiptoes. With one swift flick of her knife O'Brien. is disrobed "Oh, you'll get fucked tonight slut. This rolling pin will fit that tight cunt of yours." She turns to Mrs Hughes. "It's marble. A little bacon grease and it'll slide right in." Mrs Hughes smiles. "I shall look forward to that. But right now, Mrs Bates needs lacing up!"
Carson shifts slightly in his restraints, flexing his anus in anticipation and wetting his lips. He's proud that he's maintained such a well equipped dungeon, the bench he's currently strapped to is of the finest quality, as is his leather hood. He flinches as he feels the sting of the crop against his naked thighs, Mrs Hughes has such a firm hand. "Thomas and Bates, take your posts!", his aching cock throbs at the sound of her voice. Mrs Hughes retreats to her throne as the men take their places. "On your word, Mrs Bates." "Now! And Bates, if you don't cum when I give the word it'll be another fortnight until the next chance." Carson is proud of the note of command; Mrs Bates has come a long way. Suddenly his mouth is filled by what must be Thomas' cock, his ass filled by the now un-caged Bates. That explains the high colonic he was ordered to give himself that afternoon. Mouth and ass filled, eyes covered, he misses the hungry look Thomas gives Bates… as well as the cruel smile playing on Mrs Bates' lips as she counts faster……
Breakdown by Lisa
I kept warning Mistress in the nicest way..... Miss the gas gauge is quite low. Maybe W/we should stop and fill up. She responded on more than one occasion that there was plenty of gas, and that everybody knows their own car and that She was quite capable.
Not one to argue with such a confident statement on Her part, I just leaned back, feeling secure that the ride would continue without any untoward events. I even started to doze off as the hum of the tires sounded on the road. The soft music from the radio, lulling me to sleep.
Then during my slumber I began to feel the car jerking.then sputtering,as if the engine was gasping for air. Frightened I jumped trying to focus as soon as I could. Mistress quickly aimed for the side of the road; rolling into a small rest area. The place was graced with only one streetlight, and full of the smell lingering from the close by bathroom..
As W/we both got out of the car I said in dismay, "Oh Miss. What now?" As She ran to the bathroom She yelled "be right back, I gotta pee". I watched Her run and pull Her phone from Her pocket. She'd been checking it a lot this trip. Noticeably often.
Walking back her boots kicked up the dry dusty ground, I enjoyed Her approach to me with that smile that weakens my knees, giving me that desire to kneel. Living for those moments in fact. A sign of Her pleasure. And right now, its her pleasure to see me.
Mistress didn't stop walking till the usual distance. Two more strides brought Her to my face, in my face. "What you smiling at slut?" She ran Her hand into the side of my hair, made a fist, and pushed me to my knees, into the sandy earth. Knowing to look down I heard the metal clank of Her belt. "You think you will just lounge while being stranded here? Triple A wont be here for hours." So for making Mistress run out of gas there will be a price to pay."
I hear the zipper open. "I will keep you busy. Mistress has a few ideas." Being a trained bitch I knew by the sign of Her releasing my hair that there must be something for me to do.
I reached for the top of Her pants and pulled on them. The tight black denim putting up a fight. Rocking them off. One side then the other. Stopping at the top of Her boots.
Now She reached for the top of my head. Guiding me to turn, Her ass leaning against the warm hood of the car. One of her boots pressed up against my pussy. The other behind restricted without complaint since Mistress enjoyed a little tie down every once in a while.
Once wiggled into place below her. Her legs began to brush my nipples as I was being forced toward my Mistress's beautiful cunt. This was quite a treat as it didn't happen often. My body began to twitch and shake as the shock waves of physical pleasure began to rush through my clit from riding Her boot. That combination of pleasure is amazing.
Being pressed into Her I dart my tongue in and out. Mistress reaches down and grabbing my nipple tightly, twists it and pulls. Giving me a moment of real pain just as She lets out a moan. Almost punishing me for making Her feel good. God I loved that.
Mistress began to rock against my face. I Pressed harder , moving my tongue up and down Her slit. Bending Her knees slightly, exposing more of Herself. Allowing more of Herself into me. Onto my lips She shared Her taste with me.
I hear Her moans stifled sometimes. I'm sure She wants to shout. She is a human, and it feels good. Maybe it was the woods; the idea of total seclusion. Or maybe I was just that good. She thrust Herself hard into me. Gave a few short gasps, A grunt, and a scream. The smile on my lips was interrupting my task. To help Mistress ride this orgasm long and hard. Just like She did..
The end
Not one to argue with such a confident statement on Her part, I just leaned back, feeling secure that the ride would continue without any untoward events. I even started to doze off as the hum of the tires sounded on the road. The soft music from the radio, lulling me to sleep.
Then during my slumber I began to feel the car jerking.then sputtering,as if the engine was gasping for air. Frightened I jumped trying to focus as soon as I could. Mistress quickly aimed for the side of the road; rolling into a small rest area. The place was graced with only one streetlight, and full of the smell lingering from the close by bathroom..
As W/we both got out of the car I said in dismay, "Oh Miss. What now?" As She ran to the bathroom She yelled "be right back, I gotta pee". I watched Her run and pull Her phone from Her pocket. She'd been checking it a lot this trip. Noticeably often.
Walking back her boots kicked up the dry dusty ground, I enjoyed Her approach to me with that smile that weakens my knees, giving me that desire to kneel. Living for those moments in fact. A sign of Her pleasure. And right now, its her pleasure to see me.
Mistress didn't stop walking till the usual distance. Two more strides brought Her to my face, in my face. "What you smiling at slut?" She ran Her hand into the side of my hair, made a fist, and pushed me to my knees, into the sandy earth. Knowing to look down I heard the metal clank of Her belt. "You think you will just lounge while being stranded here? Triple A wont be here for hours." So for making Mistress run out of gas there will be a price to pay."
I hear the zipper open. "I will keep you busy. Mistress has a few ideas." Being a trained bitch I knew by the sign of Her releasing my hair that there must be something for me to do.
I reached for the top of Her pants and pulled on them. The tight black denim putting up a fight. Rocking them off. One side then the other. Stopping at the top of Her boots.
Now She reached for the top of my head. Guiding me to turn, Her ass leaning against the warm hood of the car. One of her boots pressed up against my pussy. The other behind restricted without complaint since Mistress enjoyed a little tie down every once in a while.
Once wiggled into place below her. Her legs began to brush my nipples as I was being forced toward my Mistress's beautiful cunt. This was quite a treat as it didn't happen often. My body began to twitch and shake as the shock waves of physical pleasure began to rush through my clit from riding Her boot. That combination of pleasure is amazing.
Being pressed into Her I dart my tongue in and out. Mistress reaches down and grabbing my nipple tightly, twists it and pulls. Giving me a moment of real pain just as She lets out a moan. Almost punishing me for making Her feel good. God I loved that.
Mistress began to rock against my face. I Pressed harder , moving my tongue up and down Her slit. Bending Her knees slightly, exposing more of Herself. Allowing more of Herself into me. Onto my lips She shared Her taste with me.
I hear Her moans stifled sometimes. I'm sure She wants to shout. She is a human, and it feels good. Maybe it was the woods; the idea of total seclusion. Or maybe I was just that good. She thrust Herself hard into me. Gave a few short gasps, A grunt, and a scream. The smile on my lips was interrupting my task. To help Mistress ride this orgasm long and hard. Just like She did..
The end
The Dark by Heather
More often than not the room is pitch dark. It's hard to see in the darkness. The darkness feels as if it is going to suffocate me. Sometimes my eyes will adjust to the dark and I can pretend as if nothing is wrong.
Sometimes there's a flicker of light. I cherish the light, I don't see it often. The lights comes in various ways. I have no control over the light, it comes and goes when I least expect it. The light does not come often, but when it does, I memorize the room. My fingers will wander over the furniture, I memorize their shapes, as not to bump into them when the darkness returns.
I flip through the photo albums of trips long forgotten, people cherished and memories made. They light my heart, they make me feel content and loved.
The light forces me to acknowledge the existence of the door. I can touch it, but I cannot always open it. The world outside of door scares me. There is darkness and shadows outside, I am afraid they will drag me back to the darkness. Some nights I venture out in the world at night, because I do not want to be seen in the light by strangers. I walk as fast as I can alongside the river, the water somewhat calms me, but my heart is always pounding. I constantly look over my shoulder, afraid that the darkness will take me. I'm always happy to return to the door, to the safety of the five walls, even when darkness falls.
I want the light that brightens the entire room, the light that is so bright, it doesn't cast shadows. The bright light that gives me courage to take long trips and see people who have not forgotten about me. I want the light that puts a smile on my face when I listen to the music and dance through the room. I want the light to stay.
But the light fades. Sometimes the light gets so bright, the light bulb gets overheated and it shatters into a million pieces and the darkness consumes me in a split second.
There are days where it gets more difficult to return to the light, because I am constantly afraid someone is going to take it away. I build walls inside the walls that already confine me and it is difficult to find my way through the maze.
The darkness makes me feel like a burden. I hate the darkness, because within the darkness I only find dark thoughts and it's overwhelming, but at the same time it has been a constant factor in my life, I am used to it.
It is a frightening safety.
My darkness is responsible for my insomnia.
My darkness wears me out.
My darkness was recently given a name.
Dysthymia. Chronic depression.
Welcome to my world.
Sometimes there's a flicker of light. I cherish the light, I don't see it often. The lights comes in various ways. I have no control over the light, it comes and goes when I least expect it. The light does not come often, but when it does, I memorize the room. My fingers will wander over the furniture, I memorize their shapes, as not to bump into them when the darkness returns.
I flip through the photo albums of trips long forgotten, people cherished and memories made. They light my heart, they make me feel content and loved.
The light forces me to acknowledge the existence of the door. I can touch it, but I cannot always open it. The world outside of door scares me. There is darkness and shadows outside, I am afraid they will drag me back to the darkness. Some nights I venture out in the world at night, because I do not want to be seen in the light by strangers. I walk as fast as I can alongside the river, the water somewhat calms me, but my heart is always pounding. I constantly look over my shoulder, afraid that the darkness will take me. I'm always happy to return to the door, to the safety of the five walls, even when darkness falls.
I want the light that brightens the entire room, the light that is so bright, it doesn't cast shadows. The bright light that gives me courage to take long trips and see people who have not forgotten about me. I want the light that puts a smile on my face when I listen to the music and dance through the room. I want the light to stay.
But the light fades. Sometimes the light gets so bright, the light bulb gets overheated and it shatters into a million pieces and the darkness consumes me in a split second.
There are days where it gets more difficult to return to the light, because I am constantly afraid someone is going to take it away. I build walls inside the walls that already confine me and it is difficult to find my way through the maze.
The darkness makes me feel like a burden. I hate the darkness, because within the darkness I only find dark thoughts and it's overwhelming, but at the same time it has been a constant factor in my life, I am used to it.
It is a frightening safety.
My darkness is responsible for my insomnia.
My darkness wears me out.
My darkness was recently given a name.
Dysthymia. Chronic depression.
Welcome to my world.
Zarita's Poem by Lady Lauren
one finger , two finger three finger four
five lashes , six scratches seven gashes
take more
eight , nine , ten
Ill have you again
when Im through with you
you'll be a puddle of goo
you're not worth my time
you filthy, swine
so stop your bleeding
and start pleading
kiss my fine ass
go fill up my glass
service is key
to be with Me
five lashes , six scratches seven gashes
take more
eight , nine , ten
Ill have you again
when Im through with you
you'll be a puddle of goo
you're not worth my time
you filthy, swine
so stop your bleeding
and start pleading
kiss my fine ass
go fill up my glass
service is key
to be with Me
Do Subs Exist On Fetlife? By Lady Dalia
I was having one of those days. You know the kind. When questions such as, "Does a submissive exist on FetLife?" fill the mind. Lucky for me, I had time too look.
I searched locally. Four thousand, nine hundred and sixty kinksters, FetLife says. It won't sort by designation so sorting through 294 pages I went. After 18 pages I saw an interesting profile.
Now he had the word 'chattel' in his name, which for any woman at the Dominion, could be a turn off but I persevered. His profile stated, "This is a tall order, but if you don't seek you will never find. Sincere, single gentleman in ~blank~, Ontario is seeking to serve and genuinely submit to a dominant Woman - and just one at that.
The key is compatible personalities and styles. I don't come with a must-do shopping list of needs and wants that I expect you to fulfill. On the contrary, I have to actually submit, and quickly learn what amuses, pleases and truly gratifies a sensual goddess…"
Now I must admit he had me until sensual Goddess.
I did a bit of finger tapping against my lip. Would he be worth the effort to contact?
"Hi, I was going through listings on Fetlife and saw your profile. I am intrigued by your reference to service, mainly because most I encounter here do not have the same idea of it as I do. It seems you might." And on I went describing a bit about me and where I would be locally, in scene, in the near future should he wish to chat.
Within a few hours, I received a reply. He offered some of his experience and tried to further explain his views on D/s. He suggested I read "Uniquely Rika" to get an idea of what he sought. Guess what I am currently reading? Yes, we were on the same wave-length. He also stated he'd be attending the same munch as I, that night.
I paused here. I don't mind meeting others. I am a sociable person. But… there is always a but… I have recently ended a relationship and need some time before plunging into another. What started as a theoretical exercise now involves another person. I thought to myself, "It's just a meet. I don't have to speed along any faster than I wish." I smiled and responded. We traded the 'what do you look like and what are you going to wear?' info.
I arrived at the munch fairly early. Greeted the host and said hi to some friends. I met a few new people with whom I sat as I ordered some pub-style dinner. I scanned the room.
Tall, stocky and silver-haired may have seemed a good description at the time, till you realize most of the people at this munch were middle-aged. I had 7 candidates. The last thing I was going to do, was go around the room asking each one if he was the one who I was to meet. Besides, I wanted to make sure he was serious and I was the only woman wearing a grey turtle-neck sweater in that place. Would he be brave enough to approach?
Hours passed and I enjoyed myself. No word from anyone claiming to be him. I returned home a bit miffed. There was a message on Fetlife.
"I am here"
I messaged him and said I didn't have data on my cell and couldn't have seen that message; that I had been there and couldn't figure out which one he was. After a bit of prodding he revealed he had sort of figured out who I was. He explained where he was sitting and I have a good idea of who he is now.
Did it mean he didn't like what he saw though? His next message gave me his cell number to avoid that problem in future and asked me to try again. I agreed, although to tell you the truth I don't really find him attractive or my type.
We were to meet at 1pm today when I got a notice just after noon hour that he had to cancel. His plans had been advanced to an earlier hour. Could we meet during the week he asked? I thanked him for letting me know and said I'd get back to him.
Was this cold feet? Terminal shyness? Was this an anticipation-more-important-than-reality game? Do I give up? I wasn't going to pursue it further when I got another message. Can we meet tomorrow? So I responded with a time and re-affirmed the location.
I still don't know if there are subs on Fetlife. Third time will be a a charm or a permanent bust. If not, there are only 276 pages more to go through locally. We'll see what happens.
I searched locally. Four thousand, nine hundred and sixty kinksters, FetLife says. It won't sort by designation so sorting through 294 pages I went. After 18 pages I saw an interesting profile.
Now he had the word 'chattel' in his name, which for any woman at the Dominion, could be a turn off but I persevered. His profile stated, "This is a tall order, but if you don't seek you will never find. Sincere, single gentleman in ~blank~, Ontario is seeking to serve and genuinely submit to a dominant Woman - and just one at that.
The key is compatible personalities and styles. I don't come with a must-do shopping list of needs and wants that I expect you to fulfill. On the contrary, I have to actually submit, and quickly learn what amuses, pleases and truly gratifies a sensual goddess…"
Now I must admit he had me until sensual Goddess.
I did a bit of finger tapping against my lip. Would he be worth the effort to contact?
"Hi, I was going through listings on Fetlife and saw your profile. I am intrigued by your reference to service, mainly because most I encounter here do not have the same idea of it as I do. It seems you might." And on I went describing a bit about me and where I would be locally, in scene, in the near future should he wish to chat.
Within a few hours, I received a reply. He offered some of his experience and tried to further explain his views on D/s. He suggested I read "Uniquely Rika" to get an idea of what he sought. Guess what I am currently reading? Yes, we were on the same wave-length. He also stated he'd be attending the same munch as I, that night.
I paused here. I don't mind meeting others. I am a sociable person. But… there is always a but… I have recently ended a relationship and need some time before plunging into another. What started as a theoretical exercise now involves another person. I thought to myself, "It's just a meet. I don't have to speed along any faster than I wish." I smiled and responded. We traded the 'what do you look like and what are you going to wear?' info.
I arrived at the munch fairly early. Greeted the host and said hi to some friends. I met a few new people with whom I sat as I ordered some pub-style dinner. I scanned the room.
Tall, stocky and silver-haired may have seemed a good description at the time, till you realize most of the people at this munch were middle-aged. I had 7 candidates. The last thing I was going to do, was go around the room asking each one if he was the one who I was to meet. Besides, I wanted to make sure he was serious and I was the only woman wearing a grey turtle-neck sweater in that place. Would he be brave enough to approach?
Hours passed and I enjoyed myself. No word from anyone claiming to be him. I returned home a bit miffed. There was a message on Fetlife.
"I am here"
I messaged him and said I didn't have data on my cell and couldn't have seen that message; that I had been there and couldn't figure out which one he was. After a bit of prodding he revealed he had sort of figured out who I was. He explained where he was sitting and I have a good idea of who he is now.
Did it mean he didn't like what he saw though? His next message gave me his cell number to avoid that problem in future and asked me to try again. I agreed, although to tell you the truth I don't really find him attractive or my type.
We were to meet at 1pm today when I got a notice just after noon hour that he had to cancel. His plans had been advanced to an earlier hour. Could we meet during the week he asked? I thanked him for letting me know and said I'd get back to him.
Was this cold feet? Terminal shyness? Was this an anticipation-more-important-than-reality game? Do I give up? I wasn't going to pursue it further when I got another message. Can we meet tomorrow? So I responded with a time and re-affirmed the location.
I still don't know if there are subs on Fetlife. Third time will be a a charm or a permanent bust. If not, there are only 276 pages more to go through locally. We'll see what happens.
Little Meeting Dizzee by Lady Little
meeting dizz in sl....
Well, I was hanging around the dominion etc for a while...and was 'single for almost a year' starting to think that there must be something wrong with me, like maybe i should wear more rubber/ leather etc.
Then I was talking to dizzee in and off...and he seemed like a bratty trendy kid..but funny to talk to etc...but i didnt think in a million years he would be interested in me, cos im just not cool enough etc etc...
Anyway, we get talking and turns out he is interested in design...so we share something in common and we began to form a good friendship.
Of course i was holding back until i could get to the point of seeing him on cam, cos i dunnu...it would seem more real then.....so we talked on cam everyday for about 6 months! and got super close friends
then one day dizzee says...he is going to rome for a few days and would i like to join him!...so i am thinking yes this could be like neutral territory to meet...and we agreed that we would meet strictly as friends...just in case we found each other hideous in rl.
so we booked an apartment in rome and met at the airport..i was super nervous and mostly worried about how sweaty my armpits were..and also i was anxious of the fact that i was taller than him lol.
but was good..when we got there we were told that they had to change our apartment...cos of a double booking...and they moved us to one right next to the Trevi fountain!!..
waiting for the girl to come and open the apartment dizz asks me if i want a beer and i am like yeah..and he just scuttles around the corner and comes back 1 min later holding 2 beers lol
after 3 days in rome dizz tells me he is now going to Frascati for his brothers wedding and would i come with him!! and im like wtfa ok...so we get the train and then i am at his brothers wedding with his whole family etc !! and that was that..we have lived together now for almost 2 years...
Well, I was hanging around the dominion etc for a while...and was 'single for almost a year' starting to think that there must be something wrong with me, like maybe i should wear more rubber/ leather etc.
Then I was talking to dizzee in and off...and he seemed like a bratty trendy kid..but funny to talk to etc...but i didnt think in a million years he would be interested in me, cos im just not cool enough etc etc...
Anyway, we get talking and turns out he is interested in design...so we share something in common and we began to form a good friendship.
Of course i was holding back until i could get to the point of seeing him on cam, cos i dunnu...it would seem more real then.....so we talked on cam everyday for about 6 months! and got super close friends
then one day dizzee says...he is going to rome for a few days and would i like to join him!...so i am thinking yes this could be like neutral territory to meet...and we agreed that we would meet strictly as friends...just in case we found each other hideous in rl.
so we booked an apartment in rome and met at the airport..i was super nervous and mostly worried about how sweaty my armpits were..and also i was anxious of the fact that i was taller than him lol.
but was good..when we got there we were told that they had to change our apartment...cos of a double booking...and they moved us to one right next to the Trevi fountain!!..
waiting for the girl to come and open the apartment dizz asks me if i want a beer and i am like yeah..and he just scuttles around the corner and comes back 1 min later holding 2 beers lol
after 3 days in rome dizz tells me he is now going to Frascati for his brothers wedding and would i come with him!! and im like wtfa ok...so we get the train and then i am at his brothers wedding with his whole family etc !! and that was that..we have lived together now for almost 2 years...
Candy's Little Confession
At work in my new job i was asked to deliver a package to a woman up stairs. I walked up all happy and cheerful, said, good morning to her. And she tore strips off me. she verbally humiliated me in front of a room full of her colleagues....abusive - yes. Wrong in the work place - yes. but after my embarrassment subsided it turned me on.
The Bug by Anonymous
To all the beautiful, intelligent, wonderfully obedient, and truly submissive people out there in FemDom land. Thank you for your service, devotion, humor, conviction and confidence in who you are. It is a pleasure -- in multiple ways -- to be around you.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BUG
You disgust me, you loathsome creature. You pathetic excuse for a submissive. You buzz around in my space, trying so hard to get attention, showing your ass, your insecurities, your lack of manners, and your arrogance, with every piece of shit that falls from your mouth.
You try to sting the Ladies who have rejected you, or to whom you go unnoticed. So threatened by their beauty, wit, playfulness, ferocity, power, and yes, experience.
You hover, looking for an opportunity to dive and bite, thinking you are funny with your belligerent outbursts; or your feigned disinterest in being owned, and dominated by women who are so superior to you.
You are but a foul fly on the wall, regurgitating rhetoric. I would swat you, but the thought of getting close enough to do so repulses me.
Besides... in time... you will be squashed, you will be zapped, you will be exterminated. And knowing this brings me insurmountable pleasure. Bug be gone. Good riddance!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
THE BUG
You disgust me, you loathsome creature. You pathetic excuse for a submissive. You buzz around in my space, trying so hard to get attention, showing your ass, your insecurities, your lack of manners, and your arrogance, with every piece of shit that falls from your mouth.
You try to sting the Ladies who have rejected you, or to whom you go unnoticed. So threatened by their beauty, wit, playfulness, ferocity, power, and yes, experience.
You hover, looking for an opportunity to dive and bite, thinking you are funny with your belligerent outbursts; or your feigned disinterest in being owned, and dominated by women who are so superior to you.
You are but a foul fly on the wall, regurgitating rhetoric. I would swat you, but the thought of getting close enough to do so repulses me.
Besides... in time... you will be squashed, you will be zapped, you will be exterminated. And knowing this brings me insurmountable pleasure. Bug be gone. Good riddance!
How I Didn't Become A Lesbian - Yet! By Lady Clarissa
HOW I DIDN’T BECOME A LESBIAN
It was inevitable that at some point, i would attempt to dive a muff. This happens each time i meet some disappointment with a boy, a sub, a slut, a lover or whatever the style of this representative of male gender is. Though i must confess i have a crush on sluts, but this is another story.
That day, there was no particular event that sparked the change, no it was more a whole bunch of disappointments : the perfect guy who drops you for a football match, the slut only who is interested in covering his own needs and kinks, the seemingly lovely guy who reveals to be the perfect liar or the 24/7 unlucky guy having all the misery of the world trampling on his feet.
That day i thought of all the advantages to be a lesbian : soft skin even in the morning, no more rough stubble, someone enjoying shopping and fashion, someone who wouldn’t ask the size if sent doing the shopping, someone who would better understand me, be reliable. Yes, that’s it : reliable.
On top of that, i was just back from visiting my gay friends. They all seemed hot, soft and oversexed. Their life was like Desperate Housewives before despair started. I wanted in. Shortly after my trip, they invited me for a trheesome. The idea of buying a ticket just for an orgy sounded weird. The idea of seeing their pussy was even more weird and them seeing mine was on top of my list of « not to do things » for this year. If the orgy had happened, it would have fast become one of their best stories « Hey, remember the night we had a threesome with your weird friend ? »
« of course, that was the worst sexual experience i have ever had ».
I decided to visit a gay & lesbian place and see what was going on there. Actually, i found a nice place, doing some gay&lesbian parties but not exclusively gay. To get in the mood i had two shots of tequila to start with.
There was a party going on and some nice girls were there. I found my target : a cute brunette, Elora Blackdrop in an outfit i would have loved to borow sometime. She looked over at me. I look that as a sign of mutual attraction but it was probably because i was drunk and giving her accidental fuck me eyes. I wanted and i didn’t want at the same time. Finally, i decided to im her and say something like « hello you’re cute . She said « thanks » and Instead of inviting her for a dance, i said back « Friend me so that we can meet again ».
I got a notecard from the group of the sim, advertising for the « special straight party » still going on. Damned, that girl wasn’t lesbian. My bad… But shed im’ed me back, that was quite surprising. I took a look at her profile : « real guy loving cross dressing in SL. Good slut, good fuck ». Gosh. I had been mistaking, that was really not the good target ! I de-friended « her » so to say and tp’ed out to Bondage Ranch.
I had one of these great moments of self intropsection in a zen environment.
I was thinking of all this, quietly sitting there (as everyone knows Bondage RAnch is the best place for medidation) when i noticed two « dommes » fighting for a sub, insulting each other, gripping and pulling hair, beating each other harshly. Waooo. What did i say… reliable ? ermm maybe i should re-consider my position. Nah, this is just because i’m at the wrong place, the bitch ranch.
I should change and visit the very true Realm of bitches ; this is how i landed at the D.
Unfortunately there were only male subs there. So i had a closer a look at the Dommes. Afterall, why not ?
I first came to the point when i have this serious conversation about guys, with a sister in arms, which amounts to nothing more than:
« Guys smell, I’m gonna be a lesbian ». Panther, Lauren and Zarita approved silently.
Immediately some kind staff members asked « how may i help you ?». But i wasn’t that brave in that moment and i pretended being afk for a while and having missed the proposal, typing a « back » in local chat after few more minutes.
So yeah, I’ve decided I should give this whole lesbian thing a go. I’ve heard many talk about it, but who actually TRIED it?
I need a plan. A good one.
1/ MEET SOMEONE :
I’m still unsure i’m bi and the only girsl i’m into are pretty girly girls. The ones in the shampoo commercials with the long glossy manes, who i’m envious of. But the only girls i see on the street that i think are gay, are the ones in tank tops with tatoos and short hair. That’s embarrassing.
–
2. GET A DATE
I’m a girl, she’s a girl, so exchange numbers and ask her out, already! Think positive: SHE WILL SAY YES.
Don’t expect to get that funny butterfly feeling you get when a boy sends you hot submissive texts, though. Push past that and don’t give up. Boys, Pff. Who needs them.
So i get a date, go out for a drink with her, talk as we’re future best friends and i take her back home. Yes, i can do this. And make love to her. It will be amazing. I can run my fingers through her hair ; you know the long hair from the shampoo commercial. Her skin is super soft and she’s all giggly one second and sexy smoldery-eyed the next.
Maybe I could think about a third, more masculine party while I’m doing it? Sometimes the top setting on the vibrator isn’t enough or the plastic is all cold, or I could hate the feeling of her puny little girl fingers inside my vagina. Wouldn’t this be a lot easier if I would just do it with a guy ?
Nah ! guy smell, who need them ?
I said that outloud. I didn’t realise. But everyone there at the court yard heard me that is for sure.
Zarita said « i can teach you how to be a lesbian »
Lauren laughed and Panther asked « i wonder who would be on top »
Zarita replied « me of course » while i was saying at the same time « i would let her believe she is ».
I always had a kinda roos fetish, due to Skippy who was my hero, so i have set my muff ermm i mean my heart on Z. But Z was more interested in getting confessions than in converting me. « Clar, would you write a little something for this week confession, pleaaaaaaaase »
Before leaving Zarita added « I LOVE YOU CLARISSA>> you can have the first LESBIAN lesson free! »
[15:59] ℒauren ℳordly (lauren.mordly): Ill try Z for you some short little thingy [16:00] Zarita (zarita.shan): I love you too Lauren. you get a free ticket to the Lesbian ORGY with me and Clar
‘This is how i ended, writing something about my first attempt to be a lesbian for Confessions.
Now i want my lesson.
It was inevitable that at some point, i would attempt to dive a muff. This happens each time i meet some disappointment with a boy, a sub, a slut, a lover or whatever the style of this representative of male gender is. Though i must confess i have a crush on sluts, but this is another story.
That day, there was no particular event that sparked the change, no it was more a whole bunch of disappointments : the perfect guy who drops you for a football match, the slut only who is interested in covering his own needs and kinks, the seemingly lovely guy who reveals to be the perfect liar or the 24/7 unlucky guy having all the misery of the world trampling on his feet.
That day i thought of all the advantages to be a lesbian : soft skin even in the morning, no more rough stubble, someone enjoying shopping and fashion, someone who wouldn’t ask the size if sent doing the shopping, someone who would better understand me, be reliable. Yes, that’s it : reliable.
On top of that, i was just back from visiting my gay friends. They all seemed hot, soft and oversexed. Their life was like Desperate Housewives before despair started. I wanted in. Shortly after my trip, they invited me for a trheesome. The idea of buying a ticket just for an orgy sounded weird. The idea of seeing their pussy was even more weird and them seeing mine was on top of my list of « not to do things » for this year. If the orgy had happened, it would have fast become one of their best stories « Hey, remember the night we had a threesome with your weird friend ? »
« of course, that was the worst sexual experience i have ever had ».
I decided to visit a gay & lesbian place and see what was going on there. Actually, i found a nice place, doing some gay&lesbian parties but not exclusively gay. To get in the mood i had two shots of tequila to start with.
There was a party going on and some nice girls were there. I found my target : a cute brunette, Elora Blackdrop in an outfit i would have loved to borow sometime. She looked over at me. I look that as a sign of mutual attraction but it was probably because i was drunk and giving her accidental fuck me eyes. I wanted and i didn’t want at the same time. Finally, i decided to im her and say something like « hello you’re cute . She said « thanks » and Instead of inviting her for a dance, i said back « Friend me so that we can meet again ».
I got a notecard from the group of the sim, advertising for the « special straight party » still going on. Damned, that girl wasn’t lesbian. My bad… But shed im’ed me back, that was quite surprising. I took a look at her profile : « real guy loving cross dressing in SL. Good slut, good fuck ». Gosh. I had been mistaking, that was really not the good target ! I de-friended « her » so to say and tp’ed out to Bondage Ranch.
I had one of these great moments of self intropsection in a zen environment.
I was thinking of all this, quietly sitting there (as everyone knows Bondage RAnch is the best place for medidation) when i noticed two « dommes » fighting for a sub, insulting each other, gripping and pulling hair, beating each other harshly. Waooo. What did i say… reliable ? ermm maybe i should re-consider my position. Nah, this is just because i’m at the wrong place, the bitch ranch.
I should change and visit the very true Realm of bitches ; this is how i landed at the D.
Unfortunately there were only male subs there. So i had a closer a look at the Dommes. Afterall, why not ?
I first came to the point when i have this serious conversation about guys, with a sister in arms, which amounts to nothing more than:
« Guys smell, I’m gonna be a lesbian ». Panther, Lauren and Zarita approved silently.
Immediately some kind staff members asked « how may i help you ?». But i wasn’t that brave in that moment and i pretended being afk for a while and having missed the proposal, typing a « back » in local chat after few more minutes.
So yeah, I’ve decided I should give this whole lesbian thing a go. I’ve heard many talk about it, but who actually TRIED it?
I need a plan. A good one.
1/ MEET SOMEONE :
I’m still unsure i’m bi and the only girsl i’m into are pretty girly girls. The ones in the shampoo commercials with the long glossy manes, who i’m envious of. But the only girls i see on the street that i think are gay, are the ones in tank tops with tatoos and short hair. That’s embarrassing.
–
2. GET A DATE
I’m a girl, she’s a girl, so exchange numbers and ask her out, already! Think positive: SHE WILL SAY YES.
Don’t expect to get that funny butterfly feeling you get when a boy sends you hot submissive texts, though. Push past that and don’t give up. Boys, Pff. Who needs them.
So i get a date, go out for a drink with her, talk as we’re future best friends and i take her back home. Yes, i can do this. And make love to her. It will be amazing. I can run my fingers through her hair ; you know the long hair from the shampoo commercial. Her skin is super soft and she’s all giggly one second and sexy smoldery-eyed the next.
Maybe I could think about a third, more masculine party while I’m doing it? Sometimes the top setting on the vibrator isn’t enough or the plastic is all cold, or I could hate the feeling of her puny little girl fingers inside my vagina. Wouldn’t this be a lot easier if I would just do it with a guy ?
Nah ! guy smell, who need them ?
I said that outloud. I didn’t realise. But everyone there at the court yard heard me that is for sure.
Zarita said « i can teach you how to be a lesbian »
Lauren laughed and Panther asked « i wonder who would be on top »
Zarita replied « me of course » while i was saying at the same time « i would let her believe she is ».
I always had a kinda roos fetish, due to Skippy who was my hero, so i have set my muff ermm i mean my heart on Z. But Z was more interested in getting confessions than in converting me. « Clar, would you write a little something for this week confession, pleaaaaaaaase »
Before leaving Zarita added « I LOVE YOU CLARISSA>> you can have the first LESBIAN lesson free! »
[15:59] ℒauren ℳordly (lauren.mordly): Ill try Z for you some short little thingy [16:00] Zarita (zarita.shan): I love you too Lauren. you get a free ticket to the Lesbian ORGY with me and Clar
‘This is how i ended, writing something about my first attempt to be a lesbian for Confessions.
Now i want my lesson.
Friday Night Part 7 by Anonymous
Friday Night
part seven
He looked over at his mistress, not obviously, He shot her a sidelong glance. He didn't want to make eye contact. She was tapping one finger on her desk. Tap tap. Over and over, she tapped her finger nail against the hard wood.
She rarely wore nail polish so he didn't have to worry that she'd damage her manicure.
He made a note to check his manicure kit for cuticle oil. The skin on her hands seemed dry. He added extra-strength healing hand lotion to his mental shopping list.
She sighed.
Aside from the clock ticking and the nail tapping, the room had been silent for hours.
He bent his head back down to stare at the screen of his laptop. He was sprawled on the couch. She was upright at her desk.
The short winter afternoon passed slowly, in silence.
Finally he could stand it no longer. He stood up. Closed the laptop. Set it aside. Tucked his long-sleeved crisp white dress shirt into his tight black trousers and moved to her side.
He knelt down very close to her knee.
"Would you like some tea, Mistress?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Not now, pet," she replied.
He continued to kneel by her side.
Another thirty minutes passed. He thought he had counted every tick of the clock. His knees ached. His back strained in the stiff upright posture he had assumed.
Did she not realize he was waiting for her instruction?
Was she unaware that it was getting late? The sun was setting. He didn't want to make any preparation for their Friday night play party, unless she told him they would be going. He knew she didn't like to be rushed, refused to make any last minute dashes to the car. But it was getting late. Too late. Did she mean to stay home?
Why did she say nothing? Why was she ignoring him? What had he done to deserve this?
"It's not about you" she would say sometimes, when he fussed.
"Is this about me" he thought.
"No. It's not about me. It's about getting her ready and making sure she's got everything she needs, fluffing her up and getting her into the car, driving her over smoothly." Sometimes, he said to her as they rode in the car, "I like to think of you as a precious egg, that I must walk all the way carrying in my hand, so that you arrive in perfect condition."
Whenever he said that, she would sigh, look at him with disdain and wave her hand in his face. "Whatever" she'd murmur.
He knew that .. she knew.... he loved the wave of dismissal, his efforts seemingly unappreciated.
At last, he could not hold back his question.
"Mistress, should I prepare your toy bag? Everything is clean and fresh inside, but I would like to buff up the leather a bit, if we're going this evening."
She looked down at him. She smiled. She glanced at the clock.
"6:00 o'clock" she said very quietly.
"Not bad" she said. "With the exception of the tea offer, you lasted four hours and 35 minutes under the silent treatment."
"Oh it's sad." "You were so close until you blew it with the tea offer." she added.
He blinked. "The silent treatment?"
He never heard her use the phrase.
"What game is she playing?" he wondered
"I told you at 1:25 this afternoon, 'Don't bother me. I am busy thinking.' You offered me tea at 5:30 and now of course the question about the toy bag at 6 o'clock. Well, not bad, but not good either. You will pay for this tonight. How many lashes of the single tail do you think this merits?"
He looked at her in astonishment. He had no idea what to say.
Finally, he answered, "As many as you wish, Mistress."
He hated even one lash. He wanted to say, "No lashes,Mistress, because you didn't explain this was a game or a task".
But he realized she'd given him a command, a straight forward one. "Don't bother me." she'd said.
He bowed his head.
"Go buff up the bag now, we're going to be late."
She ran her hand through her long red hair and smiled to herself.
part seven
He looked over at his mistress, not obviously, He shot her a sidelong glance. He didn't want to make eye contact. She was tapping one finger on her desk. Tap tap. Over and over, she tapped her finger nail against the hard wood.
She rarely wore nail polish so he didn't have to worry that she'd damage her manicure.
He made a note to check his manicure kit for cuticle oil. The skin on her hands seemed dry. He added extra-strength healing hand lotion to his mental shopping list.
She sighed.
Aside from the clock ticking and the nail tapping, the room had been silent for hours.
He bent his head back down to stare at the screen of his laptop. He was sprawled on the couch. She was upright at her desk.
The short winter afternoon passed slowly, in silence.
Finally he could stand it no longer. He stood up. Closed the laptop. Set it aside. Tucked his long-sleeved crisp white dress shirt into his tight black trousers and moved to her side.
He knelt down very close to her knee.
"Would you like some tea, Mistress?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"Not now, pet," she replied.
He continued to kneel by her side.
Another thirty minutes passed. He thought he had counted every tick of the clock. His knees ached. His back strained in the stiff upright posture he had assumed.
Did she not realize he was waiting for her instruction?
Was she unaware that it was getting late? The sun was setting. He didn't want to make any preparation for their Friday night play party, unless she told him they would be going. He knew she didn't like to be rushed, refused to make any last minute dashes to the car. But it was getting late. Too late. Did she mean to stay home?
Why did she say nothing? Why was she ignoring him? What had he done to deserve this?
"It's not about you" she would say sometimes, when he fussed.
"Is this about me" he thought.
"No. It's not about me. It's about getting her ready and making sure she's got everything she needs, fluffing her up and getting her into the car, driving her over smoothly." Sometimes, he said to her as they rode in the car, "I like to think of you as a precious egg, that I must walk all the way carrying in my hand, so that you arrive in perfect condition."
Whenever he said that, she would sigh, look at him with disdain and wave her hand in his face. "Whatever" she'd murmur.
He knew that .. she knew.... he loved the wave of dismissal, his efforts seemingly unappreciated.
At last, he could not hold back his question.
"Mistress, should I prepare your toy bag? Everything is clean and fresh inside, but I would like to buff up the leather a bit, if we're going this evening."
She looked down at him. She smiled. She glanced at the clock.
"6:00 o'clock" she said very quietly.
"Not bad" she said. "With the exception of the tea offer, you lasted four hours and 35 minutes under the silent treatment."
"Oh it's sad." "You were so close until you blew it with the tea offer." she added.
He blinked. "The silent treatment?"
He never heard her use the phrase.
"What game is she playing?" he wondered
"I told you at 1:25 this afternoon, 'Don't bother me. I am busy thinking.' You offered me tea at 5:30 and now of course the question about the toy bag at 6 o'clock. Well, not bad, but not good either. You will pay for this tonight. How many lashes of the single tail do you think this merits?"
He looked at her in astonishment. He had no idea what to say.
Finally, he answered, "As many as you wish, Mistress."
He hated even one lash. He wanted to say, "No lashes,Mistress, because you didn't explain this was a game or a task".
But he realized she'd given him a command, a straight forward one. "Don't bother me." she'd said.
He bowed his head.
"Go buff up the bag now, we're going to be late."
She ran her hand through her long red hair and smiled to herself.
A Boy's Return by Tomas
A BOY’S RETURN
“I can be harsh”, the Lady said, a note of warning conveyed in every word.
“So What?”, my brain said, with the wisdom of a moth flying full speed to a forest fire’s light.
But then, that was all the wisdom that I had.
One year earlier, barely a day after Christmas, 22 years of my life with my wife, my soulmate, and the only woman I had ever really loved had vanished in a single horrible night.
With it, I had lost every dream, desire, ambition, goal and purpose that I had known in my adult life. Only the evolution-inspired desire of humans to continue living had kept the flicker of life lit and, once I realized that, it too had little power over me.
There was no purpose.
There was no joy.
There was no other woman in my life, and I was certain there never would be.
I wandered among men, knowing relationships there would be different. And they were. But the wear and tear of life, not to count the nearly six decades of age, had left me largely alone in that life too. White parties had given way to far too many white hairs.
Places of joy evoked little but wistful memories.
And then an odd thing happened.
I read.
I read articles and books and websites and passed time with a good moment here, an ok moment there, and many others in between.
And in a soppy romance about gay leathermen, a fictional psychologist discussed a fictional boy and agreed that the source of the boy’s unhappiness was that he was a sub with no one to serve, no orders to obey, no purpose – and I knew the boy was me.
In the flash of a light, I also knew a place that required nothing but knees and the courtesy that every woman deserves every day and everywhere – Dominion.
I had been there years before. It had been good and restorative and enabled a return of joy to my life, to my wife, and to my family after years of dealing with the love of my life, and my life itself, being injured by the cruelties of her progressive illness, her pain, and the modern medical nightmares inflicted on her. She had known, and approved, and we had survived the recession and then planned to rebuild, until the night of tears.
This time, I thought, Dominion might at least let me be me, if only for a while.
I would go. I would kneel. I would greet. And in the time between, I would have a few moments to feel like me, a sub, but a sub with orders – kneel and greet – and to obey. I knew this wasn’t the focus there – I wasn’t there to serve the ladies. Indeed, I was being selfish. But hey, I’m a guy. What is new about a guy being selfish when dealing with women?
I decided simply to be honest. I wouldn’t need an owner, just time in the courtyard. I wouldn’t need to speak, just to greet. I could do that, and maybe only that. If asked, I would tell the truth, and then I likely would be left alone. My life might be short, but at least I could be me until the end.
So I came.
And she spoke.
And I told my story.
But she didn’t leave.
And I screwed up.
And she responded.
Was she harsh? Maybe, a little. “So What”, said my brain.
And the moth flew faster.
But it wasn’t a forest fire. It was the light of a Goddess. She was nurturing, and caring and dominant all at the same time.
Christmas came and left, and I was still here.
Purpose came back.
Joy returned.
And life is on the road again. Where it goes, I don’t know, and I don’t care. Life is in the journey, and I have work to do.
Yet, this is Confessions, not therapy. I confess. Ich gestehe. J’avoue. Watashi wa kokuhaku suru. Wǒ chéngrèn. I came here with intentions other than to serve the good ladies. I was selfish. I apologize.
It also is a time to say thank you. Thank you to Miss Eva for maintaining this place of safety and courtesy and service. I cannot express the good you have done, not just for me but for other men I have known here as well. It must have been difficult at times over the years. But you have done a good thing.
Thank You to the Ladies of the Staff for carrying out the vision.
“I can be harsh”, the Lady said, a note of warning conveyed in every word.
“So What?”, my brain said, with the wisdom of a moth flying full speed to a forest fire’s light.
But then, that was all the wisdom that I had.
One year earlier, barely a day after Christmas, 22 years of my life with my wife, my soulmate, and the only woman I had ever really loved had vanished in a single horrible night.
With it, I had lost every dream, desire, ambition, goal and purpose that I had known in my adult life. Only the evolution-inspired desire of humans to continue living had kept the flicker of life lit and, once I realized that, it too had little power over me.
There was no purpose.
There was no joy.
There was no other woman in my life, and I was certain there never would be.
I wandered among men, knowing relationships there would be different. And they were. But the wear and tear of life, not to count the nearly six decades of age, had left me largely alone in that life too. White parties had given way to far too many white hairs.
Places of joy evoked little but wistful memories.
And then an odd thing happened.
I read.
I read articles and books and websites and passed time with a good moment here, an ok moment there, and many others in between.
And in a soppy romance about gay leathermen, a fictional psychologist discussed a fictional boy and agreed that the source of the boy’s unhappiness was that he was a sub with no one to serve, no orders to obey, no purpose – and I knew the boy was me.
In the flash of a light, I also knew a place that required nothing but knees and the courtesy that every woman deserves every day and everywhere – Dominion.
I had been there years before. It had been good and restorative and enabled a return of joy to my life, to my wife, and to my family after years of dealing with the love of my life, and my life itself, being injured by the cruelties of her progressive illness, her pain, and the modern medical nightmares inflicted on her. She had known, and approved, and we had survived the recession and then planned to rebuild, until the night of tears.
This time, I thought, Dominion might at least let me be me, if only for a while.
I would go. I would kneel. I would greet. And in the time between, I would have a few moments to feel like me, a sub, but a sub with orders – kneel and greet – and to obey. I knew this wasn’t the focus there – I wasn’t there to serve the ladies. Indeed, I was being selfish. But hey, I’m a guy. What is new about a guy being selfish when dealing with women?
I decided simply to be honest. I wouldn’t need an owner, just time in the courtyard. I wouldn’t need to speak, just to greet. I could do that, and maybe only that. If asked, I would tell the truth, and then I likely would be left alone. My life might be short, but at least I could be me until the end.
So I came.
And she spoke.
And I told my story.
But she didn’t leave.
And I screwed up.
And she responded.
Was she harsh? Maybe, a little. “So What”, said my brain.
And the moth flew faster.
But it wasn’t a forest fire. It was the light of a Goddess. She was nurturing, and caring and dominant all at the same time.
Christmas came and left, and I was still here.
Purpose came back.
Joy returned.
And life is on the road again. Where it goes, I don’t know, and I don’t care. Life is in the journey, and I have work to do.
Yet, this is Confessions, not therapy. I confess. Ich gestehe. J’avoue. Watashi wa kokuhaku suru. Wǒ chéngrèn. I came here with intentions other than to serve the good ladies. I was selfish. I apologize.
It also is a time to say thank you. Thank you to Miss Eva for maintaining this place of safety and courtesy and service. I cannot express the good you have done, not just for me but for other men I have known here as well. It must have been difficult at times over the years. But you have done a good thing.
Thank You to the Ladies of the Staff for carrying out the vision.
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