Saturday, February 22, 2014

A Day To Remember by Steven

This has been written as a two-part piece for a "Trials" punishment. (Sentenced for being part of the victorious submissives team in "Name that Tune")

Part 1. (The Calm before the....)

9:27 AM Saturday.....

He opened his eyes slowly and stretched out. The sound of the birds chirping outside the window was always a pleasant sound. The light from the sunny morning locked in a constant battle with his curtains yet still bright enough to make him squint. He lifted his covers to give him some time to adjust and, as he did, the alarm went off.

It was now 9:30 AM. This alarm meant the start of his morning routine and he didn't want to witness the consequences when the routine wasn't met, first hand. The consequences were harsh and yet fair.  The main source of pain would be the knowledge that he had disappointed his Mistress.

He jumped up from his bed, grabbed his towel from the radiator and got into the shower. His Mistress wouldn't want a smelly Puppy, right?. Ensuring that he was fully presentable, he stood before his bedroom mirror and grinned, smiling in the knowledge that it was going to be a great day no matter what happened.  It was his day off work so today he would get to spend quality time with his Mistress.

It was quite cold throughout the house this morning; the sky was evidently clear -- yet none of this really mattered, He would soon be warm. He remained naked (as instructed) when in his Mistress's house, but he took his apron from the back of the bedroom door before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

He spent a few minutes preparing the house for the morning, opening the curtains and blinds, and ensuring the house was clear of any clutter -- etc.

He took out a tray and began to cook the perfect breakfast, Today it was his turn to ensure that Mistress would awake with the treatment she deserved. Her other two pets, Kitten and Bunny had been hard at work in their respective jobs for a couple of hours already. Between the three of them, they always ensured that they were well stocked with the things their Mistress loved. It was great team work and that made Her very proud of them.

10 Minutes later.....

It was soon approaching 10:00 AM and this was The Time that She had chosen to be woken up at on a daily basis. He placed her coffee on the tray, along with the pancakes and syrup, and began to walk through to her bedroom. She didn't have a door to her room; doors just got in the way... He lifted the beaded curtains across the opening and stepped inside.

His hands used to shake nervously when bringing anything to his Mistress, but over time his hands had steadied. He knelt by the side of her bed and he placed the tray on the side table.

The next part was perhaps the hardest part. It was important that he get  the exact tone and softness in his voice the she wanted when waking his Mistress up. All three of Her pets were well trained when it came to this and knew exactly how to do it.

"Good morning, Mistress".  He spoke softly as he knelt, eagerly awaiting Her response.  He tilted his head sideways holding a beaming smile whilst watching her wake.

"Hello Puppy.  Good morning. Give me a moment or two to adjust here...."

She soon came round, helped enormously by the smells of fresh coffee, pancakes and syrup, three of her favorite smells with which to wake up to in the morning.   Then She asked him to keep the tray steady, bedside.

"That was delicious puppy.  Good boy."

He passed Mistress her Amazon Kindle from the chest of drawers (so that she could check on the ongoings of the world) before proceeding back through to the kitchen to clean up.


The service bell rang the second She had heard him finish cleaning up in the kitchen. He rushed back to see that everything was ok.

"Puppy, aren't you forgetting something?"

He lowered his head knowing that this of course meant he had forgotten something.  It would be impossible to measure the thousands of thoughts racing through his mind right now...

"I... I'm sorry Mistress"

"You fucking will be puppy.  Run my bath now!".

He ran it as instructed, with the temperature of the water matched to her liking.  The room was prepared exactly as she needed it.

To get to stay in the bathroom as she took her bath would be a privilege for any of her pets.  Unfortunately, however his taking the empty plate and cup back to the kitchen before running the bath meant that this privilege was forfeited for him today.

The importance of routine would be drilled into him, He was making steady progress but he still had some way to go yet.

"Your bath is ready Mistress; please forgive me".

"Good Puppy.  Now get back to your room. I will get you when I am ready. We're going to be doing something new today, and its going to be A Day to Remember."

The End of Part 1.

Confession by Leasha

It was only mid-morning; the door bell had just sounded, heralding the day's first arrivals. As normal the house sluts, dressed only in their collars, busied themselves, tending to the guests and to their luggage.  It was their job to ensure that the new arrivals made it to their suites for their first night.

In my usual fashion, i was last to rise.  Check-in day was always chaotic.  I enjoyed watching the male sluts walking around, each hurrying to get his task completed before the Mistress awoke.  The looks of panic upon their faces if they slightly fell behind greatly amused me.

I twisted within the silken bed sheets, stretching out like a cat,  long fingers curling against the material that was teasingly tugging at the fabric -- and still hiding her erotic form from the world.

Her full breasts strained against the silken material, longing to be released into the cool morning air.  As the material slipped down it revealed her pert nipples -- hard from the tantalizing memories of the night before.   Lying shrouded in the sheets she closed her eyes and let  her senses be engulfed by her memories.

Her mind drifted back, engulfing her actively in her memories, as the smell of fresh-baked bread drifted through the halls -- the sounds of live music playing in the background.  The palpable smell of excitement in the room returned her to her senses, heightening her arousal, raising it upward and deepening her wanton need.

She recalled exactly how it had felt, the way her body had reacted against the tension of the leather restraints, as they bound her wrists, ankles and thighs to the hard wooden chair. Held tightly by the restraints, her thighs had been spread wide, with her pussy exposed to the roomful of expectant guests. Even in the safety of her bed she shivered, the desire to feel helpless again demonstrated in the subtle movements of her body.

The excitement of sitting restrained in a room full of people had been evident between her wide parted thighs.  Her porcelain thighs had glistened with the seeping wetness of her excited pussy.  With each breath her breasts had risen and fallen, unconstrained.  Her hard, red and swollen nipples had contrasted against her pale skin, seeking to be pleasured by anyone.  She had looked around the room, attempting to find her Mistress -- or anyone else -- to help ease her wanton need.  Lodged tightly within her mouth the black leather ball gag, its size muffling any slight sound that left her swollen pink lips, silenced her. She had fought her binding, craving the touch from her Mistress, her wide blue eyes pleading,  begging, and desperately seeking the touch of her Mistress.

With a click of fingers, her world had gone dark, bound as she was.  Her Mistress had approached from behind, slipping a blindfold upon her eyes, increasing her sense of vulnerability and arousal.  Exhibited, hearing, smelling the air around her, she sought out comfort and release from Mistress.

Unexpectedly, a brisk touch -- that of a flogger -- had caressed her right breast.  Its touch coursed over her body like a jolt of electricity; tingles and ripples of pleasure coursed over her skin.  Alert for any further touch, her whole body had tensed -- arching and reaching out for more.  She had been left stewing in her own arousal, a pained look of desperation across her face; she had been unaware of who might  be watching her -- and from where.

Swiftly punctuating the air, she had heard the tell-tale swish of a whip.  As it approached, her body tensed.  The whip had then landed across her belly, teasingly close to her pussy. She'd let out a yelp of enjoyment as the whip's tail had been slowly draped over her shoulder, its fluttering end  touching her erect nipples. It had providing some relief from her unending need.  With care, Mistress (in whose hand the whip was held) had passed it around her breast, letting its tail linger for only for a moment against her belly.  Before moving silently behind her, Mistress had, with a flick of her wrist, let  the caresses of the whip flicker across the outer thigh.  The had led to the suspense -- of a first touch to her dripping pussy,

With the slender tip of Mistress's finger, she had tested the arousal level of her slave, who -- with a scream of pleasure concealed by the gag -- had attempted to touch Mistress further.  The room had then erupted in a sea of laughter; the onlookers were amused by the slave girl's lust.

A single touch was all she had needed.  Just one more gentle caress and her need would be no more!  Her arousal, the teasing and orgasmic release almost showing itself....  She had sensed Mistress nearby.  The time between caresses of the whip had been increasing, leading her to the most frustrating edge she had ever felt.  She knew her body might betray her.  Just one more touch!  She had waited, with bated breath, holding back as hard as she had ever done -- but  knowing her efforts would prove futile.

It had arrived, the final flick of the caressing whip; it had stroked with precession  -- right in the center of her pussy, touching her red hot swollen clitoris.  She had lost herself in an explosion of pure lust and pleasure, uncontrollably screaming out Mistress's name (muffled) under the gag.  Her body had shuddered and contracted, each muscle betraying the release she had felt,

Once the pleasure had passed, no longer able to hold her head up, she had slipped down into the chair.  The restraints -- once for excitement -- now held her in position.  She found Mistress's soothing  fingers stroking her face, and Mistress's voice whispering sweet words for her ears only.  She laid her head against Mistress's chest.

 After being placed in this warm bed, kissed upon the forehead, and having her restraints removed, she had whispered " I love you Mistress".  In a moment, she had slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Alas these are only the musings of a subbie girl,

The End

Drummer Domme by Anonymous

Folding her arms,  a small, amused and proud smile adorns her lips.  Satisfied at her preparations, I, the subject, lie motionless and tautly bound before her. Elaborate rope-work keeps me in position, strung out, spread and exposed.

Slipping back into her comfortable chair, leaving me at knee height, she feels through her toys. Paddles, crops, floggers and whips of all shapes and sizes. My body, strung like her instrument. She, the composer.

With a wicked, fantastic little smile she makes a grandiose gesture, crop in hand. It begins, little taps and smacks scattered across my back, thighs and arse. Sharp sounds, soft sounds, the pitter-patter of percussion. Heavier hits start to land, causing me to soft squeak, gasp, moan and whimper. The heat builds like droplets of searing rain, but I know it is the start of a deluge.

Rhythmically the strikes land, little red welts of visual noise paint the music of her mind. Each stroke a beat in her bass-line, and I the unintentional vocalist. A chorus of cries fills the air. With composed gestures she conducts the scene, creating a kinky musical of my torments. My body bathes in tingling heat, hot wax-like spatters touch every exposed curve of flesh, painting me red with passion.

Intensely she focuses on my cheeks for a moment, drumming away to her deviant desires, making me squirm and writhe fruitlessly. A harmonic shift in the pitches of protest that I can make, when the pain presses upward in servility. Watery red eyes beg for mercy, as I know begging would be only sweet music to her ears.

A few scattered, firm strikes finish up her performance, and with a satisfied laying-on of her tools upon my back, she gives herself a brief round of applause. My reddened and tingling body is met with soft, adoring caresses and very gentle praise. I have been an adequate instrument for her musical outlet, though it will take quite some time to release me. Time which she is in no hurry to spend.

An amused gaze is what I get first; idle fingers twirl a small lock of my hair. My drummer domme catches her breath while admiring her handiwork, and her toy, for a little longer.

Origins and Destinations by Doc

He met her on a mountain trail.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“Up – up there” he replied.
Pointing at a bare peak far above them, far above tree line.
She looked him.
“Good.”  And she walked away.

Two years passed.
He was sitting in a coffee shop.  A shadow crossed his table.
“Remember me?” a familiar voice asked.
He looked up.
“Yes, the lady on the trail.  The day I climbed to the top of that mountain.”
“Good,” she said, sitting down across from him.

They chatted briefly.
She told him some of her stories.
He shared some of his.
Then she said, “I’ll be in touch.”
He nodded.

He wondered how she would find him.
But she did.
A month later.
In the street.
She smiled at him, and simply said to him, “Come.  Follow me!”
He did.

And that’s how it all started.
A long time later he asked, “Why?”
She grinned and replied, “Why not?”
He clarified, “I meant what for?”
She said, “I was impressed.”
He didn’t say a word.  He noted she’d sidestepped his question.

She brought it up the next time.
“You should know…..” she said.  Then she paused, staring at him.
He filled the silence.
“Know what?”
“That I have plans…”

He then said, “Can I know what they are?”
She simply shook her head.
And then she said, “No!”

He decided that was the best answer she could have given…..

                                THE BEGINNING

She Loves It by Anonymous

Many dates many teases
Orgasms kisses teases hints
She begged for something more
So the scene is set

Back yard day light
She arrives as ordered
Without word stripped her outer wear
Naked underneath

Thigh high boots only remains
Ball gag placed with force
Rope from tree branch
Lashed to secure and please

She watches as I undress
Harness fastened slowly
Walk to let her see what's up
Behind her buried no warning

Vaginal penetration to tease
Heard the whimpers and felt
She responds like the mare she is
Harnessed riding

After the shudders come
Pulling out to slip in anally
Plundering her ass
Make her scream through that gag

Plundered and used
Slapped and spanked
Make her my bitch
The way she really desires

Sonnet For Miss Lela by Ganainm

Did she not take possession of you, boy
In those few moments after you had met
Victory was hers, you were her toy
Iacta alea est, do not forget
Now kneel before her waiting on her whim
Each day, each hour you surrender more
Memories of days before you met are dim
Indeed, you wonder who you were before
She beckons with her hand you draw more near
She gives you your instructions you obey
Let all that used to be now disappear
Embrace what you’re becoming day by day
Leave off the self, attend your Mistress, boy
And you shall find the one true path to joy.

Sonnet For Miss Zest by Ganainm

My eyes became accustomed to the dark
I saw a woman standing at the door
She flicked a switch and suddenly a spark
Struck me as blind as I had been before
Zig-zags of lightning burned into my eyes
Eventually, though, I could look and see
She laughed a bit at my look of surprise
Then slowly, step by step, she came to me
Lifting my chin, she made me meet her gaze
“Obey” she said, and then she slapped my face
X-shaped, a cross stood close beside a chaise
Easily I was led up to that place
Locked on the cross by ankle and by wrist
“You’re mine, now.  Now you’ll learn why you exist.”

Tattoo by Lady Danika

by Danika Stonesoul

I said to him, "Let me mark you..."
... "Let me make you mine."

He looked up from kneeling,
Trembling -- already writhing in anticipation.
and nodded in the darkening gloom
the slatted light through the windows making
shadows against his cheekbones.

The tremor in his voice as he moaned
echoed with the buzz of the tattoo gun

And he took a shattered breath as I
marked his inner thigh
The exquisite needle against the taut skin
the rise of glistening wet beads
that we had to wipe away to see
the shimmering brittle graffiti
of narrow black letters

His eyes flickered down to my art
when it was finished
Perfect notes against the white
expansive line of thigh
He sobbed and I asked, "Why?"
"Is it the pain?"
"Or the permanence you cry for?"

He shook his head and whispered
"Neither." and pressed his head against my legs
And we rocked until finally he said,
"At your hand is where I ever wish to be,
By your touch, I am."

The Invitation by Sandy

I’d met a lady at a pub a few days ago. She was very alluring and seductive and seemed to know what I was thinking without my ever having spoken any words to her.  We’d chatted briefly about mundane things until she was whisked away to speak with others present.  As the dinner party had died down, she’d left quietly.  I was somewhat disappointed to not have been able to speak with her again.

After a hard couple of days at work, I arrived home to find a red envelope with bold black writing addressed to me tucked into the crease of my door, just above the doorknob.  This was an odd place to put such a conspicuous envelope as my mail box was next to the door and it would have been much easier to drop it into it.

I paused to open the envelope and found it to be an invitation.  It was hand written, with very good penmanship, on ivy-bordered card-stock.
“I enjoyed meeting you the other night and look forward to seeing you tonight at 8 pm.  I’m hosting a casual gathering of friends at the address below.”

‘Odd,” I thought, “I don’t recall ever having given her my information.’  Despite my curiosity in this regard and though I sensed danger the thrill of the unexpected and the ability to see her once more far outweighed my caution.  So I immediately went inside and began getting ready for the evening, my mind filled with lingering thoughts of her that night at the pub.

As I drove up, I noted how long the driveway was and that there were thick woods on either side of it.  It ended in a large open parking area with well-landscaped flowerbeds edging both sides of the walkway to the house.

I parked the car, got out and noticed the outside areas were not well lit.  The house itself seemed old but maintained well enough.  Brandishing a bottle of wine, I walked up to the doorstep and rang the bell to the right side of the thick, dark, oak, double door.

I looked around nervously while awaiting an answer. ‘Am I at the wrong place?’ I wondered.  The pace of my heart quickened just as I saw a mounted camera pointed straight at me. Suddenly I heard her melodic voice through a speaker that I’d not noticed before. “You’re early. Give me a moment and I’ll be right there.” She said it matter of fact.  Her tone was pleasant but authoritative.

A few moments passed as I peered over the darkening surroundings of the yard noting nothing of consequence.  My mind was racing with the anticipation of seeing her again and the ability to have a proper discussion, unlike the last encounter.

She opened the door wide and motioned her hand invitingly to lead me inside.  Her scent was intoxicating.  I entered and presented her with the wine.  My eyes drank in every motion of this beautiful creature.  Her soft well-manicured hands took the bottle gracefully from my own.  I followed her lead, following down a long corridor lined with many doors on both sides and a winding staircase at the end.

She stopped suddenly and I immediately followed suit.  She turned to the left and opened a door.  Once again she waved her hand, this time to invite me to go into the room.  She followed me but, just inside the threshold, she said, “Please wait here; I’ll need to chill this. I’m so glad you came, we’re going to have a good time!” Her gesture indicated the bottle of wine.  She then turned on her heel, walked back out and shut the door behind her.

Immediately I saw a rather inviting plush settee in the centre of the room.  So I wandered over and sat to wait for her return.  As I did I let my eyes wander around the room which seemed to be a well-appointed study.  In the corner a large mahogany desk with a large high back chair was flanked by a ceiling-to-floor corner bookshelf with old and new volumes of books.  Facing the desk and corner were two black leather chesterfields and a matching side table between them. ‘Some serious business must happen in this room,’ was my thought as I continued to take in the impressive décor of the room.

I admit I grew impatient and worried as nearly twenty minutes had passed, no other guests had arrived and she had not returned either.  Just as I’d made up my mind to go looking for her, I heard the familiar sound of high heels on wooden floors as she approached the door.  I stood, as a proper gentleman should, upon her entrance and then sat back down.  I was stunned by her wardrobe change.

She entered the room and walked straight to me wearing a tight white blouse, a hip hugging black pin striped pencil skirt, lace patterned nylons, and four-inch Mary Jane shoes. ‘Yes, certainly some serious business indeed,’ I thought with a smile.

She walked behind the settee and placed her hands firmly on my shoulders -- as if to insist I remain there. dI wanted to get up and hold her, to feel her skin and the warmth of her breath, to take in everything about her. My mind wandered and my eyes closed when she ran her fingers through my hair softly. “We’re going to have so much fun tonight.  You will never want to leave,” she whispered in my ear, further exciting me.
The myriad of fantasies flickering in my mind were abruptly stopped by the sudden grasp of my hair in her hands pulling my head back as she said, “Do you understand me, boy?”  Her tone was harsh and demanding in direct opposition from the pleasant cheery voice before.  To my consternation, I saw deviousness in her eyes and wickedness in her smile.

This sudden change in her took me aback. It made me wonder what I might have done to elicit such an outburst.  Had I offended her in some way? Is she a crazy bitch?  What have I gotten myself into?  Do I stay or do I go? Admittedly I was struggling with a mixture of fear and yearning.

She spoke louder, “Answer me boy!” and grabbed my hair tighter in one hand as pressed on my shoulder with the other. Instinctively I replied -- emphatically -- “Let me go!” but...  something inside me stirred and my body did not meet my words.

She leaned down, still grasping my hair but letting the other hand cross over from my shoulder across my chest like a seatbelt.  She pulled me into the back of the chair snuggly. Her words began with a whisper elevating gradually up into a commanding delivery as she continued speaking, “We both know you want this, silly boy. I’ve been watching you for days, in your drab boring, routine life. Aside from wanting, you ‘need’ this. So the next thing I want to hear from you is ‘Yes Mistress!,’ Do you understand me?”

I started to shake, fighting off the battle between my mind  wanting to leave, and my body desiring to stay.  My mind raced, wondering how well she might know me and instantly understanding that she meant what she was saying regarding having watched me for days.  How else would that invitation have been placed where it was?  How long had she been watching me?  Was it before we met at the pub? Was she following me after we met?  There were so many questions and no answers to quell my growing panic.  My life had been compromised.

Aside from those fears were the sudden surges of excitement in my body.  Were they confusing me as to how to respond?  If say ‘no’ will she let me go? Or do I just submit to her will?

“I’m waiting for an answer ‘boy!  Fucking answer me now before I beat it out of you!" Her tone was now the strongest yet.  Alluring yet disconcerting at the same time.

I clamoured to find my own voice and stuttered in my response, “Ye..., yes Miss.”

She rose up,  removed her arm from my chest but kept my head held back.  She looked down at me with glaring eyes and yelled, “Did I say ‘miss,’ No! I said ‘Yes Mistress!’ you stupid wanker.  Now shout it correctly and like you mean it, dammit!”

Without further hesitation, utterly giving in, I followed her command. “Yes Mistress,” I shouted.

Her smile briefly morphed into a pleased one;  then she reverted back to her stern look.  She released my hair and walked slowly but intently around to stand directly and closely in front of me. With her left eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face she informed me, “Now, for your training, we’ll begin with lesson one.  You have no right to be on my furniture.  Your place is on the floor.”  She landed a sudden slap to my left cheek and ordered me, “Get off my furniture and on your knees! On the floor ‘now!’”

I hesitated, partly out of shock, and partly out of stubbornness, but began to comply when she slapped me again, grabbed my head and left me tumbling to the floor between her and the settee. “You are too slow! When I tell you what to do, you do it right then.  Do you understand me?” she said as she began to sit demurely, properly on the seat in my stead.

“Yes, I’ll be faster next time” I replied, trying to defend myself and reassure her but somehow knowing it was in vain.

“Did you forget something ‘boy’?” she barked as her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes got darker.

“Forget something? I don’t think so.” I replied, not understanding what I may have forgotten.

She screamed “No, ‘What’?  You stupid boy!” She raised her hand to slap me again but stopped just after I replied “No Mistress!”, I realized my error and noted to not repeat the mistake again.

“Great, now that you understand lesson one, and are getting to understand lesson two; calling me ‘Mistress,’ we can begin on lessons three and four.  Three, you are not allowed to ever speak the word ‘no’ to me.  You will always say ‘Yes, Mistress,’ to me.  Do you understand boy?

“No,” I replied defiantly, “I never asked for what you are doing to me.”

Immediately she kicked my groin, making me double over from the pain.  She took the toe of her shoe and raised my head up by the chin to look at her as she spoke. “Again, ‘you’ do not say ‘no’ to me.  And I don’t care what you ask for.  You will do as I tell you to do, boy.”

With eyes watering and my body winced and shaking, I began to understand the gravity of this and, despite myself, was enjoying it, whether I asked for it or not.  This seemed to be filling a desire I’d not realized I’d had before. With obviously weakened but determined and sincere voice, “Yes, Mistress.”

She removed the toe of her shoe from my chin and placed the sole of the tip of it over my lips as if to quiet me. “Now for lesson four.  Whenever you are in my presence you will worship my feet or whatever footwear I am wearing unless otherwise instructed.  Now kiss and lick my shoes, you pathetic loser.  Displease me, and I’ll beat the crap out of you!  Inexperience is no excuse, so you'd better learn fast!”

“Yes Mistress.” I nodded in deference to her.  Then I kissed the sole of her shoe and began licking the bottom clean before kissing and licking the shiny curves that perfectly fit her foot.

“I may just thrash you late for my own amusement regardless of how you do right now.  You would like that you piece of shit wouldn’t you?

I broke my labours for one moment to nod, smile and respond, “Yes Mistress.” The words were coming so much more easily to me now.  The internal struggle quieted as I accepted whatever ‘this’ is.

She smiles, “Welcome to your new life, slave.  What a life you are going to have.”

Saturday, February 15, 2014

Spontaneous Confessions 2/15/2014

She is my weakness -
my kryptonite...
I am hers, and yet she is distant

She says the big feelings aren't there.

And yet.

I do not give up.
I continue wanting.

For I am hers.


You stand in front of me.
You look down at me.
You control me.
You nurture me.
You challenge me. Always.
My heart surrenders to You, has since long ago.


A Slave Can Dream

your about to leave and you say to me would i like a lift home as its on the way which i agree to as we get near the car your walking behind with Miss Annalieza chatting away as im about to open the door for you and Annalieza you and Annalieza pin up against the car.

you shout at me "put your hand behind your back now wanker"
 Miss Annalieza shout "do it now bitch"
 i do it and you secure my hands as your doing that Annalieza is putting a gag in my mouth once your done you turn me round look at me with an evil look in your eye lean into me and whisper

"now you can come to my home your here for my pleasure" Miss Annalieza then leans forward but as she does she grabs my balls and says " we're going to fucking hurt you and youll love every minute of do you understand me cunt"

you then push my out the way and open the door and tell me to get in as i do Miss Annalieza gos to the other door and then you get in so im sat between the pair of you on the way back you and Annalieza have fun teasing and tormenting me.

all of a sunden you telling Jingles to pull over you need the toilet he stops and you get out you lean in back in and say "get the fuck out the car i need a toilet" i get out and you remove the gag "now get on the floor" i lay down and open my mouth and you squat over my face and release your golden necter and take my trainers off and removers my jeans and underpants. you finish off and get up and then Annalieza takes her turn you use my underpants to dry your self and then when Annlieza finished she does the same and then you wipe my face with them you tell me to get up as im trying you and Annalieza stand laughting at me trying to get up as you keep pushing me back down you finally let me get up and put the gag back in my mouth and then we get back in and we're off again.


I love my toys.

I wish my toys were like the spoons my mother used to collect.  So I could display them on a rack and show them off to my guests.

I wish I could take pictures of them and put them in my wallet, like people do their children.

I wish I could tell people about my need to get my bamboo or rattan straightened out again.

I love my toys.  I just wish I could tell everyone how much.


Tongue-tied --

the engraved assault on the rindy fruit
     of my body
as his voracious fingers hit

and slip in

he is such a fiend.

and I, an ice-quake of shivering
flowers under his touch.

By Lady Danika


I am so very happy to be back where I belong, right at my Mistress' feet. I am so grateful she understands the issues I've been having and has the patience to bear with me as I work through them.

I love you my Mistress, thank you for allowing me to be yours,


Her Mistress's Hand by Anonymous

Her Mistress's Hand

Brought to club dressed as instructed

Black leather and latex

Collar at her neck

Boots to her knees

As I wish just to please

Her Mistress's hand

Ready to command

To administer that divine

Most delicious touch

Fingers, crop, even tongue

Tease and test

Her Mistress's hand

The giver of her sublime

To control and tempt

Take ya to the top

And make ya mine

Yes my lovely

Ya may not realize this yet

But I do possess

Your body and soul are mine

When others have left ya

Your Mistress's hand

Will be here to take ya

Torment and please ya

Yes my pretty you're mine

Surrender to your Mistress's hand

Derek's First Confession

As the light escaped from within the house never had I felt as exposed and excited in all the years of my life.

Alone, kneeling and naked from head to toe on the front porch as directed and on time to the second. The warmth of the late summer evening and the fading evening light almost made it all seem ordinary.

What the hell are you doing derek?!?!?!?

Closed eyes open to the harsh brightness spilling out from within,  casting your form in sillouete making it even more striking thanks to the leather hugging your curves as a second skin… the top, skirt and THOSE boots I had seen once, briefly in passing yet forever etched in my mind.

Shivering as the now evening air brushing over skin warmed by the excitement and adrenaline coursing through it cooled under the sheen of perspiration.

“Good evening derek, right on time and I see you’ve followed my instructions perfectly…. Right down to the bag you neatly  placed on the porch containing your clothes…… trust me  you will feel so much better not being concerned with them and and their whereabouts…. Let’s just leave them out here for safe keeping….. Good work boy…. You seem excited ….”

Time was seeming to stand still which even naked as I was now didn’t matter anymore. It mattered not at all if a neighbor caught a glimpse of this crazy naked man kneeling at the feet of this leather clad woman. In all of the past days, weeks and months nothing could possibly mean more than this moment , this place…this time.

Nothing else mattered now even when you told me to control myself as your eyes put upon the hardness of my throbbing cock there on the porch. The weeks of training had taken on the desired effect …. Stiff as can be but no touching….. no mistakes….. not a drop spilled… except that one……once
What lay ahead behind the door? After all of the time spent, waiting and investing in hopes of being noticed and chosen to be someone’s  boy, head filled with hope and expectations and unknown desires…. I thought I knew…..but I had little idea of this new reality ahead.

From my first visit at the D….. I had decided to take things one day at a time, not read ahead,  be in the moment and let it unfold, naturally and as innocently  as it could  be. Laid back yet with tension constantly mounting.

Purposely I had let Her take me along slowly, seriously yet always with fun and caring,  suggestions and innuendo …. For the most part anyway….always keeping me at bay, arms length, under control….. total control in some ways that were now bubbling to the point of near overflow but no, no mistakes……
Twisting my neck trying to adjust to the newness of the training collar… the next step… the next in our journey……..imagination trying now to anticipate what lay ahead behind that door….eyes darting at Her form, to the street but at this point it was all a blur.. Sounds and sights melding into one… Body tightening… boiling.. burning….

Wonder and thoughts shattered at the sound of the chain closing with a snap as you give it a tug, foreign to me …. E\eyes closed , taking deeper breathes, calm now boy…. be sharp now…..this is it. That moment, that one, the threshold… the edge….

One more tug as you  lead me away, into the light,  gently saying… come boy…come with me….it’s time….. let’s begin……

As the door closes with a deliberate thud behind us.
I softly reply, yes Miss…. as You wish…. Let’s begin

My First Play Session by Goliath

The night started with my friend and mentor Miss Dalia picking me up at the bus depot.  As she drove and we talked, I grew increasingly nervous and at the same time excited about the everything lying ahead of me. A thousand thoughts ran through my head (What if I do not like it? What if I cannot take the pain?) and so on and so on.

When we arrived at the party and put down our things Miss Dalia pulled out the toys she had brought and showed them to me one by one. I do not know what the look on my face said but I do know as this happened the thoughts running through my head ranged from (Oooohhhhh) to (Ow.).  We got up in to the play area almost immediately after that.  We picked the cross.  As I striped down (which in and of its self was very nerve wracking for me) I kept telling myself to breath and just do it.  Once I was stripped and up there Miss Dalia stepped in front and talked to me, reminding me to breath and relax. And then she began.

Miss Dalia started with a flogger and I can say I really enjoyed that. The sensation was wonderful, as it started it felt like something like a massage but with an edge of pain to it. The thud of impact as time went by took a greater and greater toll .  It seemed as if every lash went deeper and deeper in to me. All through the play session I could not stop giggling, even when I really tried to hold it back, I could not seem to.

Then Miss Dalia pulled out the paddle now that was a experience. A very, very, good one.  As Miss Dalia began to paddle my rear end I felt like there were tiny fingers of warmth racing up my cheeks…….on my face that is, as I could not stop grinning and laughing to myself.

Miss Dalia then pulled out a thin cane and its fast biting sting bring a very different but very welcome change to my already sore ass. It was then Miss Dalia pulled out the whip. I am unsure of the name of it but it had two whips on one handle. I do not know if was too much too soon but I could only take a few hits with it before I had to cry out yellow.  After I said yellow, I wish I pushed myself a bit more as I think I could have.

Miss Dalia then pulled out this toy that was like a rolling circle with points on it at plus her knells going lightly up and down my back had a huge effect on me, seeing how I am so very ticklish, for the life of me I could not stop chuckling….and I chuckled a lot.

I will say this. Time most definitely flew by. I guess it was true the old saying, Time flies when you are having fun. As Miss Dalia pulled out other toys and went back to others we had already tired, Miss Dalia then stopped and told me we should take a picture of my ass as apparently it was very pink.

To finish up Miss Dalia took the paddle to me again and I had to counts out ten hard hits to each cheek and thank her for each one which I did happily, But it was odd, as she hit me it was hard to count…..well harder than it should have been and at the 8th one on the seconded cheek I thought I messed up and had to start again.  At that point I did not know what to think.

As during the session and for the rest of the night I could not wipe the smile off my face….I even tired at one point.   As the evening went by I found my rear end became increasingly uncomfortable to sit on.  Later that evening I looked and there was a big red squeal on my ass and I laughed and smiled as I lay down to sleep.

In closing I can say I had a great great time. And I really look forward to the next time. Thank you again so much Miss Dalia! :)

Being Someone's First by Lady Dalia

I've known goliath for a year and a half and have been his mentor and protector for over a year.  I take my duties as mentor and protector seriously.  I am happy to say he's been a joy to have in my House.

He's grown a lot, trying new things both personally and in the lifestyle.  The first FemDom party he attended was quite a revelation for him.  His face glowed as he watched the play.  I leaned over and said "You want to play, don't you?"  He mulled it over and then a look of dawning surprise moved across his face "I think I do Ma'am!"

Unlike many boys, he likes to move slow and find someone he really likes and cares about.  He doesn't take relationships or play lightly.  When the idea of him playing with me arose because he was comfortable with me and trusted me, well I had to really think about it.

I like play but I also like the relationship I have developed with goliath.  I wasn't sure if I was crossing 'boundaries'.  I talked to a mutual Domme friend and decided that it would be best if she talked to him to make sure it's something he'd be comfy with and no negative consequences.  Well, we got the ok.

The first date we set came and went due to an ice storm.  The second was set, a local play party.  As the time approached I could tell he was becoming overwhelmed.  There were some not insurmountable reasons given to me why he should not go.  In the end, we worked through them.

I picked him up and he was already rosy cheeked from excitement.  He was alternately quiet and chatty.  His nerves were kicking in.

We arrived at the party and it was already starting to fill up.  I showed him the tools I was going to use because we had negotiated that.  I don't often take the time to show and familiarize subs with what I have, let alone in scene!  He wasn't relaxing and I thought if we were going to have an enjoyable time tonight, I'd better get him up on the cross.  Tense muscles make for not so nice sensation.

We took a cross that was just vacated and cleaned.  He disrobed, leaving just his boxers on.  I knew he wouldn't strip completely and had already told him I'd be 'peeking in' to check on the colour and temperature of the skin occasionally.

Things pretty much went down as he said.  His giggling made me laugh and as I found him more and more a burgeoning pain slut, I cut loose a bit.  I could tell his endorphens were going and changed up the pain levels.  That whip he referred too was a 'lace whip'.  It doesn't crack but will leave welts.  It was time for me to have a little fun and see what he was made of.  Contrary to what he believes it wasn't a couple of lashes before he called 'yellow'.  His prettily marked shoulders and thighs received over 20 lashes.

I went back to toys he seemed to like, increasing the force and varying timing so he couldn't work through the pain as easily.  We finished with my favourite game "Count for me".  Why my favourite?  It tells me just how far into subspace they have gone.

I made sure goliath dressed and had water, then sat him done to chat.  His eyes were glassy and he was talking a mile a minute.  I went to grab us some munchies after he said he wasn't hungry.  As soon as they arrive he realized he was ravenous!

He asked to play again that evening.  I smiled and said "We'll see".  In my mind, I thought, 'no way'.  After an hour, he began wiggling on his seat.  He asked to go to the washroom.  He got back and told me he had really clear paddle marks.  Then he confessed he was getting a bit sore.  By midnight he was yawning.  It was time to take the boy home.

He stayed with me, on my sofa that night.  We talked about the after effects, getting tired, coming down.  He and I, watched television, and chatted casually.  We had a lovely brunch the next morning and I drove him back home, out of town.

We kept touch daily and then he skipped a day.  I asked the next day and he said he had been a bit down.  We talked about post play crashes.  In the end he said it was not a big deal, nothing that would make him avoid playing again.

Why did I do it?  At first it was making sure he had a safe first experience.  Now I know, the smile on a face is priceless.B

Ten Inches by Sillien

She wanted hot cocoa. She was sitting up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her ,halfway through an episode of Supernatural, and god damn it she really wanted some cocoa. A few taps on her iPhone and the message was sent. George came in through the door three minutes later. He took off his snow-covered hat, coat and boots and knelt off to her side, uttering a slight whisper in order to disturb her viewing as little as possible.

“Would you like that with marshmallows, Mistress?”

All that was needed was a barely-perceptible shake of her head and he disappeared into the kitchen. A few minutes later he returned with a steaming mug that he set down on the coffee table. Under a coaster, of course.

“Make me a sandwich. Virginia Ham, Swiss, the usual. Get back outside once you’re done,” she whispered. He dashed off with a nod once more, did as she ordered, and got back outside to finish up the shoveling. Mary paused the episode once she started hearing the scrapes of the shovel against the pavement. She took her cocoa and sat down by the window and watched him. Watched him dig her car out of the ten inches that had blanketed the area.

“Faster,” she texted him. After he checked his phone he picked up the pace, put his back into it, and flung the snow into the pile. A smile formed on her lips. Ten minutes later it seemed he was almost done and another text came. “Would you like to come inside?”

“Yes, Mistress. Please?” he replied.

“No,” she replied. “Stand at attention when you’re done.”

He set the shovel aside with the last heap of snow and stood there, his hands clasped behind his back. For thirty minutes he stood there in the cold, the occasional passer-by giving him a strange glance, with Mary watching, amused, the whole time. And she called him back in.

She was back on the couch by the time he walked in the door. The chill sunk into his bones, he stripped just as the text instructed and kneeled beside his lady.

"Thank you, Mistress. Thank you very much."

"For letting you in? I suppose I couldn't leave you out there all night," she said with a smile.

"No, Mistress. Thank you for letting me shovel for you in the first place."

She smiled and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're welcome my pet."

They both smiled. He glanced at the coffee table. "I am so sorry, Mistress. Was there something wrong with the sandwich?"

"Oh." She had forgotten all about it. "Why don't you have it. You must be starving."

He grinned, said "Thank you again, Mistress," and bit down.

The end.

Please Me by Anonymous

Please Me

I watch as you wet the thin soft strips of leather
my skin becoming goose-fleshed in the coldness of your presence
then I look into your eyes and I am not afraid
I see love and trust
and I know I am safe.
"Lie down." you whisper in my ear
then playfully nibble my lobe before releasing me.
I do as I am told.
You stand over me
and I shiver once again.
Taking four of the strips
you encircle my wrists and ankles.
The leather is soft and wet against my skin.
You secure the loops
each tied tightly to a corner of the bed.
I am vulnerable
helpless to your every desire
and it excites me.
You come close to me
slithering up between my spreading thighs.
You lie your weight upon me
flesh upon flesh
your fingers intertwine with mine
You kiss me
your tongue forcefully parting my lips
your mouth savagely devouring mine
then you pull away.
I try to follow
my mouth hungry for more.
But I can not reach you.
I struggle against my constrains
longing to touch your chest
your mouth
You move further away
and I wilt with unfulfilled desire.
But soon you are back
towering over me once again
a bundle of leather strips held in your hand.
You teasingly tickle my stomach with the wet tips
barely brushing my skin
making tiny swirling s shapes on my skin.
the sting of pain
as you slash the leather whips across me.
I wince
tears well up in my eyes
and spill onto my cheeks
the welts appear instantly.
You slash again.. .
and again..
and I cry out
with the ecstasy of pain.
My skin is set alive
on fire with desire and pain
I close my eyes
and wait
then I feel it.
the leather...
as it slides between my legs
teasing me
promises of pleasing me.
I am your prisoner
a prisoner to the pleasures of pain.
Release me..release me
please please me...
The leather strikes my wettest desire
hot burning desire
Then it happens....
I feel your warm lips
kissing my wounds
licking them
nurturing them.
and the pleasure
from the sheer sweet relief
 is too much to bear.
Your tongue
traces the raised path of welts on my stomach
and I know your destination.
I raise my hips
trying to rush your journey
but you will not be rushed.
You trace and retrace the path
always stopping short....
tease me..tease me...
please, please me...
Then without warning you are there.
Your tongue
swirling in folds of warm flesh
your lips
at my swollen bud
You linger here
at this most sensitive spot
traveling every crease and curve
My muscles tense
my back arches
the leather cuts into my skin
Your tongue thrusts into me.
Your hands grip my hips.
You are buried
in the flow of my love.
Your mouth
your tongue
your lips
your teeth
bringing me to heights of pleasure
only dreamt of before.
The leather has dried
and I am unable to move
even slightly
but my body convulses in waves of orgasm
straining the very limits of my flesh
and soul...
An animal wail escapes from my throat
a moan
a growl
a primeval howl.
I am yours until the end of time
your slave
your love
your prisoner

Confession by Aarman

Her control

As always i had come to Her calling right away. She had gave me an address in a hotel to meet Her and I only had a few hours to arrange everything to get there and give Her the attention She deserved from me.

As I checked in into the room I came to see a note on the desk with the print of Her lips in the envelope, glowing in red. At least I thought it was her lips, and I could quickly imagine Her luscious lips.

Inside the envelope there was a short note that told me to get naked and put on what She had left on the chair for me to wait Her.

It was a surprise to see it was a combo of red panties and red thigh high stockings, which immediately in my hand felt so nice and soft.

So I stripped nervously feeling a bit silly and contradicted, but decided I would go with it, after all I knew I would do anything for Her, and She knew that too, so that’s why she had decided to push things a bit.

I slipped into the panties, they were tiny and soft and I could feel them getting between my ass cheeks exposing them and barely covering  my hardening cock. I knew they would never cover it, but felt so good around them.

Then I slided the stockings on my legs, clumsily by feeling how soft they were and folded my clothes before getting on my knees.

My hands were behind my back and my legs open as I sat on my heels, waiting. I could feel my cock nervously dripping precum all over the red panties, ashamed.

Soon enough I heard the door open behind my and He heels clicking before Her hand grabbed my hair and pushed it to the ground. I had no choice but to fall down on my face as my hands were still behind my back and She then pushed my back to make me arch it.

“Ass up high and legs wide open slut”, she said with her soft and lovely voice, knowing the word slut would get me right to the edge as always.

As I comply and opened my legs wider, I could feel her soft “Mmm hmmmm” coming out from her voice, and I knew I was on my way to amuse her, but what did she had in mind I didn’t know.

I then could feel how quickly she moved the panties out of my crack and exposed my ass. She had talked on how she would use my ass one day, and I was expecting it as She teased me from the crack to my balls and my hard cock inside my panties.

I let a moan scape as She teased my exposed cock head through the soft fabric of the panties and my body quickly begun to tremble, and as soon as it did a firm spank landed on my ass. Her tender hand didn’t stop there and made me jump and jump as I tried to concentrate, count and thank Her for each hit.

I remember She went all the way up to 20 without stopping. I felt exposed, horny and in pain, but was loving to be at Her mercy once again.

She then stopped and didn’t say a word, just left me there trembling, wanting and in heat. I could feel the back of my legs tense and my ass skin stinging; my heart beating fast; my breath was hard to manage as well.

Soon I would feel Her hand grabbing my hair and forcing my head up, and as I tried to come to react I felt She shoving something on my mouth and going deeper than I expected.

“Suck on It good my little slut”, where Her words and then I realized it was a gag She was tying behind my head firmly.

“That will teach you to keep your mouth ready for my pleasure slut”, She said. “Now stand on your hands and knees”.

I quickly stood up on them as She order, feeling the gag so close to my mouth shoke reflex point, at the moment I could feel Her hands grabbing my nipples and placing a peg on each, something that I didn’t assume was going to make me as horny as it did.

Then She just left me there for a while and stood in front of my, watching as I trembled, wanting to move, shaking from the arousement.

I don’t know how much time passed while She looked at me, but my knees where starting to become uncomfortable and just on that moment She walked towards me and crouched on my left side just out of my line of sight.

“You don’t move without permission slut”, She said and I nodded, as I could feel the drool sliding by the sides of my mouth.
She then started to tease my swollen cock head and I begun to moan on the gag, and She kept doing it until I was trembling and begging to cum through the gag, but She stopped and started to tease my butt hole.

“What does my slut want?” She asked while laughing and teasing my ass now and I tried to replay buttering some words through the gag in my mouth.

She kept teasing my ass crack and I kept feeling pleasure from Her touch and presence there. Was this the time She would finally penetrate my ass as She said She would? I felt a hunger for more and
Her other hand rubbing on my spine, pushing my back to arch until She grabbed my hair again and pushed my head to the floor.

A soft whisper of Her beautiful voice on my ear was all I needed: “cum my slut”, she said. “Show Me you are My whore”.

Her words echoed in me as I couldn’t control myself and the teases on my ass send shivers through my spine just as much as the words and I felt a rush of intense pleasure as the moist on the panties from precum turned into a dump of cum shooting from my cock.

I moaned as my knees become tense and I felt a sweet release before every sensation became heightened again. The gag on my mouth, the drool, the pegs on my nipples, the soft panties on my hips and the soft stockings on my legs.

As I kept trembling She grabbed my hair again and push me back before burring my face on the puddle of cum I had made.

“A whore should always feel the hot cum on her face”, She said. I was spent, without energy lost but noticed what She had said. She had refer to me as a she.

She then pushed me to lay on my side on the floor, my face covered in my cum and the gag and the pegs still on me.

“Good job my little whore”, she said smirking at me. “Now it’s time for me to go. Get clean and get dressed, and keep those stockings on as a remainder of who owns you my girl”.

Afterwards:A Domme's Confession by Lady Danika


A Domme's Confession


he walked away.
I thought to do the same --
not from him
but from myself.
and --
It is subtle sometimes
that slight -- shift

towards something that was not.

It begins with broken glass
and shards that cut
and blood that runs
down your fingertips
in rivulets

And then it moves
And the fire that heats it
doesn't burn your hand
but tastes like sugar
on your tongue

It pulls together like beads
and can be strung
glittering like rubies
on a strand

And then pain is --

Shame by Anonymous

Last night I did as told Miss. I debased myself for you Miss, disgusted myself...

Propped upside against the sofa, naked, with my shoulders, neck and head on the carpet and my legs arched over above me, I finally had my flaccid penis dangling above my face. The strain of holding the position was intense and my mind was reeling against the act I was about to perform, questioning, demanding I return to my senses.

But then the vision of you, my Miss, sitting over me, looking down between my legs, over my cock and into my eyes was with me. You laughs at and spank my offered buttocks, then let your hand wander to my upside down sack, beginning to squeeze and massage. That vision grips my mind...

Involuntarily, my cock begins to stiffen, to harden. I look at it in dismay, the swollen flesh jutting at my face, just 12 inches away. Without understanding why, I move my hand to the shaft and grasp it firmly. The flesh throbs in response. Slowly I begin to rub. The ache in my shoulders spreads into my back, the weight of my legs dangling above me taking it's toll. I rub faster; it will not be long. Not long at all...

Again I imagine my Miss staring at me, taking in my degraded state in triumph. "Faster!" you order...

Again the small voice in my head, my self respect pleads with me to stop. But at the same time I feel my climax rising... The last chance to stop... But my hand no longer obeys my reason, faster and faster...

I explode, my cock spitting dollops of hot cum onto my cheek, into my right eye, across my lips, into my mouth, over my chin and down onto my neck. My shame is complete. I am no longer I in this brief moment... I swallow the warm salty slime in my mouth.

And then my reason returns, self loathing and disgust at what I have done. I block out thought and clean myself quickly, washing my face in cold water and trying to spit the salt from my mouth. I crash into an dreamless sleep but wake in the morning to the taste of salt...

Saturday Morning by Anonymous

The Saturday Morning

The erection was being pressed into the mattress as I came awake. She had climbed onto my back as I lay face down.

“Good morning mine”, She said.

“Good morning my Mistress”, I replied feeling Her weight like a soft blanket atop me but very aware of that erection. Warm breath touched my ear as She spoke and wisps of long hair played on my turned cheek. The lovely moments of waking on a lazy Saturday, I mused.

Her feet were between my ankles and forcing, forcing in the gentle way She has of almost insinuating, my legs to splay open for Her. Hands on my wrists, She was also laying my arms out at the top of the bed leaving me spread eagled under Her.

The first year had not been like this at all. In fact I had not actually met Her in person until recently. The virtual relationship had been fantastic, but nothing like this. To see Her smile and hear Her quietly amused laugh was much better than over the phone. And then there was touch….my mind was wandering when Her voice brought me back.

“Roll over mine” She commanded and straddled me.

She is magnificent I thought as I looked up to Her smiling eyes. Holding my stare, She reached down and took the cock I had pledged to Her. Rubbing the cock head against herself like a dildo, She readied Herself and slid the cock between Her lips mounting me. Not moving yet, She said “mmm very good mine, hold still now, no thrusting your hips boy”.

Hands on my chest, She raised Her hips and slid up and down slowly several times, teasing me. I had been with Her a week and had not cum once. The training in reality was the same as I had become accustomed to with Her on-line: She liked to edge in order to get full attentiveness when talking to me and gentle teasing on a frequent basis was followed by periods of no contact at all even when very close to me physically. Very challenging that, standing just inches away yet not being allowed to reach out to hold Her silently, praying She would invite me to dance.

Smiling, She could see the effort I was making not to raise my hips and not to cum. Seeing Her so beautiful, smiling down at me while stimulating Her cock in the most intimate way I can imagine. My legs were starting to quiver with the effort of controlling my body’s urges, knowing more than anything, I just wanted to enjoy the pleasure of serving Her and that meant denying that physical urge.

Her laugh told me She could see it, that struggle, and that She was enjoying Herself.

The pace picked up along with Her concentration and Her eyes closed. Licking Her lips as the tension in Her built, She started to make sounds of pleasure. Changing position to press Her clit against Her cock shaft I desperately wanted to hold Her but kept my arms flat on the bed above my head.

The first orgasm was relatively mild but followed almost immediately with a noisy almost violent burst of energy that left Her breathing deeply and lying on my chest. I could feel Her vaginal muscles relax around the erection that remained inside, Her nectar leaking out around it onto my abdomen.

She made a satisfied sound saying, “that will do, for now mine. You may clean, boy”.

With that, Mistress dismounted and rolled onto Her back, opening Her knees. I scrambled into position and raised Her hips as I lowered my tongue to clean Her outer lips and inner thighs. She was not in a rush as it was the weekend so I took my time, enjoying Her strong scent and the taste of Her. My tongue entered Her low and moving slowly, it went deep, curling upward to collect as much of Her juice as possible. Kissing Her clit, I repeated the pass again, swallowing what I collected.

Looking up I made eye contact. “Very good mine”  She said.

Sunday, February 9, 2014

The Vagina Monologues Original: My Vagina Is Scared by Lady Tora

This is an original piece written and performed by Lady Tora at our 2014 Vagina Monologues Event.

“Cunt cunt,” say it, tell me “Cunt.”  “Cunt.”

My Vagina is scared.  I had to go for follow up Pap Smear because the first one, part of my yearly health check up, came back with "abnormal cells".  This is the first time my Pap Smear has not come back without a healthy result.

My Vagina is scared.  I have had three additional Pap Smears in the last two years since that first "abnormal" one and more recently a Col-pos-co-py.  A Col-pos-co-py is a special microscope used by a doctor to view a woman's cervix and vagina.  A Biopsy of any tissue can be taken at this time too.

My Vagina is scared.  During the Col-pos-co-py my doctor took a Biopsy from my cervix and I am waiting to find out the results.  What happens if the Biopsy finds something?  Does that mean the "C" word?

My Vagina is scared.  Cervical cancer is second only to breast cancer in women.  In Canada, where I live, every six hours a woman is diagnosed with cervical cancer and one woman loses her battle with it every day.

My Vagina is scared.  Cervical cancer is not hereditary like breast cancer can be.  Cervical cancer is caused by sexually transmitted HPVs or human papilloma viruses.  The majority of the known types of HPVs cause no symptoms in most people and most HPV infections in young females are temporary (clearing in 1-2 years) and have little long-term significance.  However, when the infection persists, in 5-10% of infected women, there is high risk of developing precancerous lesions of the cervix, which can progress to invasive cervical cancer.

My Vagina is scared.  There are 4 "stages" to cervical cancer.  At stage one, a woman's survival rate is 80-93%.  At stage two, the rate drops to 58-63%.  At stage three, it is cut almost in half to be 32-35%.  And finally at stage four, there is only a 15-16% survival rate.

My Vagina is scared.  Treatment for cervical cancer includes surgery that can range from having the affected tissue removed from the surface of the cervix to full out hysterectomy where the uterus and the entire cervix is removed.  A course radiation and/or chemotherapy can also administered.

My Vagina is scared.  GET REGULAR PAP SMEARS.  Most women would not think twice about getting a hair cut or a pedicure.  Why is the health of your vagina not more important?  A woman should be getting a Pap Smear yearly starting at age 21.  Progression to invasive cancer can almost always be prevented with regular screenings as it usually takes YEARS for precancerous cells to develop to actual cancer.

My Vagina is scared.  EDUCATE yourself on how to prevent or at least limit your exposure to HPVs.  If you have a daughter 16-18 years old, seriously consider her getting one of two available vaccinations.

My Vagina is scared.  I have gotten back the results of my Biopsy and it is negative for both Dysplasial and Mal-lign-ant cells meaning that at this time I do not have pre-cancer or cancer cells BUT because my Pap Smear results have come back positive for abnormal cells again, I will have to go for another Pap Smear in 6 months.  I may need another Col-pos-co-py and Biopsy in the future but my doctor will closely monitor me to ensure that if I do develop pre-cancer or cancer cells they will be able to treat them as early and quickly as possible.

My Vagina is scared.  Not only for me but for every woman.

The Vagina Monologues Original: The Bind by Lady Axelle

This is an original piece performed for our February 2014 Vagina Monologues event.

THE BIND by Axelle Paramour

I can distinctly remember my first conscious memory of my vagina, the first moment it occurred to me that my "down there" was different from an arm or a leg. I was five years old, it was during nap time and my mat was positioned directly across from a little ginger haired boy. He was whispering about striking some sort of deal, an "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours" sort of thing. Well I knew what I looked like, I saw it every day in the tub, but what I didn't know was what boys had, I only did have the one sister. I was curious, and the fact that the shades were drawn and we were suppose to be sleeping piqued my devilish sensibility. I pointed to him and whispered, "You go first". I remember being puzzled at the little appendage between his legs. What on earth did they do with that? I flashed mine and I'll never forget the look of disappointment that covered his face, like he was expecting more or something. I felt like some sort of dud.

I'm nine and I'm standing in my front yard, I watch her coming up the block, a spec till she envelopes my vision. She is tall, lanky, and blonde; the complete opposite to my short, chubby, brown haired self. But for some reason she stops and strikes up a conversation with lil ole me. I'm immediately both flattered and dazzled by her. She is three years older and talks a mile a minute. She explains she lives round the corner with her grandparents and goes to some private, bible thumping Christian school for girls. She asks all about going to school with boys. If I talk to them, if I have a boyfriend, have I been kissed yet? I tell her I don't really notice them and ask her if she wants to come climb in my tree. She accepts and among the leaves and branches proceeds to corrupt my young and impressionable mind. She asks me how much I touch myself and when I give her a bewildered look she explains how it's done. I have been perfecting the practice ever since.

In the fifth grade, a couple of years later, I bring home a note from my teacher, asking my mother to contact her because she is concerned on my vast knowledge of sexual education as well as my vagina and she  also does not appreciate being corrected in class. I argue with my mother and explain that it was all her fault! She was the one to give me the books about puberty, she was the one that told me it wasn't a shameful thing, and she was the one that assured me everyone knew about it! You see my mother was not the type to talk about such things, being born and raised in an era were polite conversation forbade such discussion. So when a couple of years before I began asking, "What's happening to me?", she bought me a book bearing the same query.

It became a ritual for a time, she would come over Friday nights, we would rent movies, and stock up on sugary delights. She's 14, a year older than me and has teeth that remind me of a bunny. She has a boyfriend and she tells me all about him, about the things he does to her and how nice it feels. Just listening to her weave the little tales gets me excited, makes something stir deep within me. I snuggle closer to her and melt when she does the same. We're watching some movie that could qualify as soft core porn, when my leg brushes against hers and I make some sort of off handed comment about how soft it feels. The smile on her face widens, she explains some trick about using hair conditioner as a shaving cream and invites me to feel with my hand. I trail my fingertips over her soft flesh and eye her, she leans in to kiss me and I don't bat an eyelash when her hand covers mine and guides me towards her cunt.

It happened when I was fifteen. I went to bed on night the same girl I had always been and awoke the next morning to a stranger. My path forked, a part of me ceased to exist and what was left carried along down this arduous road alone. What he did to me became a pillar in my life, most things are measured against it. Before he did it, after her did it. I have never been able to look at him the same, never meet his eye without suppressing rage. But the heart is a tricky, tricky thing, it can betray us and make us love those that we would rather hate. For a period of time my pussy became nothing but a source of pleasure, I severed the tie between it and my heart. I would never again allow it to become so precious that it's existence could break me. Sex? Yes. Sex and Love? No. I viewed each experience with a reckless abandon, I feared nothing because death was always the ultimate consequence and I had little regard for my life.

They call it an awakening, the moment when the fog lifts and you can see till forever. It was the summer after graduation and it's cover is what intrigued me. A woman, her legs crossed, bent over, her hands on her ankles, and on display. I felt myself getting wet, just looking at it. I watched the film in a kind of awe. I had imagined, I had fantasized, and I had envisioned a life like this but never did I think it could be real. I wasn't the only girl who trembled in delight at the thought of horrible and deviant things being done to her, I wasn't the only girl who touched herself and conjured up ghastly little scenarios, I wasn't the only girl who wanted so much more then what society told her was acceptable. I had always been tantalized by the darker things, drawn into the shadows of the forbidden. And in this unearthing, I had found a home.

It takes ten years from that night before I trust myself enough to allow the first person to scale my walls and find a place in my heart. I saw in him someone who was searching and longing for something they couldn't define. He was tender and vulnerable in a way that only made me see him as strong. When the day came that I found him between my thighs, feeling the gentle and cautious questioning of his touch, I knew with a certainty I was safe. The link between my vagina and my heart had been repaired. Liberation doesn't always come through fire and brimstone and sometimes we do not always hold the key to our own locks. At times it can be a taken hand and the constant of another. And when I finally freed myself from those shackles and learned that beauty of loving someone and making love to someone my vagina was freed.

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Friday Night Part 9 by Anonymous

The disclaimer:  Friday Night is an ongoing writing exercise. A series of episodes that take place between a mistress and her boy on Fridays, before a femdom play party.  Each features a different kink.  Earlier this week, the gauntlet was thrown in the courtyard to write about  hemorrhoids for confessions. The difficulty level was increased by the need to acknowledge the Dominion's Women's Leadership theme.

Friday Night, Part Nine

Dabbing leather polish on the surfaces of the mistress' causal but elegant messenger bag, he admired her choice of a streamlined toy bag.  Many of his fellow subs arrived at the Friday night femdom play parties, wheeling in suitcases.  He felt dashing with the bag slung over his shoulder, the long crop case positioned across his back.  It left him with a free arm to escort his lady.

 "I wish I had a free hand, now." he said under his breath. With a cloth in one hand and the leather paste in the other, he couldn't grab a Kleenex. The polish irritated his sinus.
He felt a tremendous sneeze coming.  Wrinkling up his nose, he tried to stave it off.

He set down the polish and the cloth on the newspaper he'd spread on the table, and scrambled towards the Kleenex box across the room.

"AhAhAh.... ker ker... Choo"   The sneeze exploded.  He felt the snot drip from his nose onto his upper lip. Grasping futilely at the empty slot of the tissue box holder, he cursed himself silently for not remembering to add Kleenex to his shopping list.

Startled, his mistress looked up from her desk.

"What's wrong with you, boy?  Are you catching a cold?"

He turned his face away, but she'd already glimpsed the drips rolling out of his nose.

"Oh my god.  Get a Kleenex, that's just disgusting"

Her eyes turned to the box.

"Empty? There's no tissues?"

He lowered his head and watched the drips fall from his nostrils onto his canvas apron.  The material was too thick to absorb them.  They rolled slowly down his chest.

"Sorry, mistress.  I must have forgotten to replace them."

She nodded.

"Well, we'll deal with that later.  Look in my purse, I think I have a packet of tissues in it."

She poked her own nose back into her papers at the desk, as he jerked his head up to stare at her in astonishment.

"Are you sure, Mistress."

He was not allowed to even touch her purse, let alone go inside it.

She waved a hand at him impatiently.

"Just get it.  I am running too slowly.  We can't be late tonight. I have to do the class at  8.  Did you forget that it's my turn tonight to do the new dommes intro class, before the party starts?  You seem to be forgetting a lot these days."

Her desk, usually a sleek shiny space, was massed with books, papers, old journals.  He'd had to replace the printer ink earlier in the day; she'd printed reams of notes.

"No of course not, Mistress.  Is it going well?"

She waved at him again.  Dismissively.

"When I finish tweaking the first bit, I'll let you listen to it.  You can tell me what you think."

Whenever she had to do a public presentation, she spent hours in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, practicing her delivery.  She's already forgone her practice time in writing and re-writing, so he knew she must be more nervous than usual.

He could feel another sneeze coming.  The remains of the first were congealing on his lip and beginning to stain the apron.  But he stood still, transfixed in front of the mysterious
compact doctor's bag that his mistress loved to use.

Whenever that style of purse came into fashion, she bought two or three.

"I refuse to carry a purse suitcase", she'd explained, early in their time together.
"I want everything neat and tidy."

It was the same strategy she employed with the toy bag.  Streamlined, Zen simplicity.  Quality over quantity.

He opened the purse.  He couldn't see the tissue packet.  Did the mistress have one?

He rummaged about, trying not to disturb the contents.  In spite of her insistence on tidiness, he could not figure out her organizational system.  Everything seemed jumbled together. There were compartments, several of them.  He guessed the tissues must be in one of them.  He unzipped open a side pocket, reached in, pulling out keys and a plastic tube.

Preparation H.  He read the label. Hemorrhoid cream.  He read it again. He stood transfixed.  Unable to remember why he was inside his mistress' purse.  He shook as head as though to clear his mind.

"Tissues. I am looking for her packet of tissues," he said to himself.

He shook his head yet again.

"Why does she have Preparation H?"

He tried to remember if she'd mentioned anything about discomfort in the nether region.  He tried to recall if he'd seen or felt anything different the last time she'd allowed him a lengthy, lovely visit there.

"Oh god no.  What if it's for me?" he wondered.
"What would mistress do to me that would require Preparation H?"  

The minutes passed.  He gripped the tube, the tissues forgotten, his nose twitching, his  mind reeling with images of himself writhing in pain, tied tightly to a table, his asshole exposed. His mistress standing over him clutching the Preparation H.  What was she planning?

"What the fuck is wrong with you, boy?"

He snapped to attention. He pushed to tube back inside the purse.

"Nothing, nothing. My lady.  So sorry. I couldn't find the pack of tissues.  Please excuse me for a few minutes."

He rushed into the bathroom. Cleaned up his face, dabbed at the mess on his apron, blew his nose with toilet paper and returned to the study, where his mistress was stapling
a sheaf of papers together.

She smiled brightly at him.
"All done" she said.
"At last."
"Now listen up and tell me what you think."

He gazed at his mistress.  Standing tall and straight behind her desk.  Her russet hair curling around her shoulders.

"Shall I kneel?" he asked.

"Of course not, you twit.  You're supposed to be a domme.  Pretend you're a new domme and sit down on the chair.  Listen and tell me if this is ok."

 He tried to banish the Prep H images from his head.  He lowered his butt to the seat.

"Oh my god, my asshole is itching?"

He could feel it itching.  How could he scratch it?  He couldn't.

He tried to listen carefully.

She began to speak. With a tone authority, with a lilt of compassion.

"Our theme this week is women's leadership.
We're exploring our memories. We want to know.
Who has inspired you?
What women were your heroes as you were growing up?
Was there one special woman who helped you become the person you are today?"

He decided it must be hemorrhoids. Hers. She must be suffering. Was she?  He tried to remember if she'd been sitting gingerly, did she show any sign of irritation as she sat on that hard chair all afternoon, working on this presentation?

"What do you think?  Did you like the woman I chose for myself. Is she the right role model for this group."

He was aghast.

"Oh shit shit shit." he moaned.   She'd done the entire introduction to the class discussion and all he could remember were the first few lines."

"Shit?" it's really that bad?"  she asked.

He knelt in front of the desk.

"Mistress, please forgive me.  I have been a bad boy.  I forgot to get the Kleenex, I went inside your purse. I found Preparation H.  I can't clear my head.  I missed most of your introduction to the discussion."

He leaned forward as far as he could and touched his forehead to the floor.

She didn't say a word.  He couldn't see her, but she'd thrust her shoulder back even farther than they had been, her posture now ramrod straight.

Finally she said, "What exactly is the problem here?"

He whispered, "Preparation H, Mistress. Why?  Why do have a tube in your purse."

Another long silence.

Finally she gave the command for him to raise his forehead from the ground. He settled back onto his heels in the position she desired.

"Look at me" she said.

He raised his eyes to her face.

"Laughing? How can she be laughing?" he asked himself as he saw the tears in her eyes and the wide grin. The deep shadows of her dimples creasing her cheeks.

"You silly silly boy."  It's for wrinkles  The Preparation H is supposed to plump up your face.  I was going to try some for tonight, because the lights in the room we use for classes are so bright. They're too harsh.  My face is going to look like a road map."

"What did you think it was for? Hemorrhoids?"

"Er, yes, well no.  I don't know Mistress. I thought maybe you were going to surprise me with it.  Maybe something very sadist for the play party tonight."

This time she laughed out loud.

"Oh you wish, don't you?  A Preparation H treat for you!"

She walked over to her kneeling boy. Smacked him on the head with her sheaf of papers and laughed again, as she went off to the dressing room to get ready for the party.

Episode 2: Previously On Downton Abbey by Lady Nej

"Episode 2: Previously on Downton Abbey" by Nej

Carson supervises the passing around of coffee to the family, then exits behead the staff with a small bow, closing the door behind him. The Dowager leans towards Cora. "Tell me, is Carson smiling or am I imagining it?" Cora smiles. "Last night Mrs. Hughes let Carson be the cum dumpster for the dungeon." Her Ladyship smiles with delight. "Oh that is wonderful news. I'm sure he performed admirably." Edith pipes up. "I say, who took Bates' ass cherry?" This earns a frown from Cora. "Mrs Bates would have that honor, one would hope!" says the Dowager with mild surprise. "Of course it was Mrs. Bates," says Cora. "Edith, you should know better."

Edith sips her coffee with a small smile. Robert stands quietly beside the fireplace pretending not to hear. He can feel the tips of his ears blush as he remembers his own first dungeon night as a married man. Cora had quite the impressive strap-on collection, still does as a matter of fact. The pinch of his cock cage brings him back from his reverie, but he can't stop the color rising to his face. Cora notices and winks at him, the wicked look in her eyes indicating an interesting night is in store.

Mrs Hughes shuts the door firmly behind Braithwaite. "That's one mess sorted." She turns to find Tom on his knees beside her chair, eyes down. "What's this then?" Tom remains silent, his face flushed. "Speak boy!" Mrs Hughes softens her tone slightly. "The door is closed Tom and none will hear. We are quite private." He looks up at her, eyes brimming, "Please Mistress." She touches his cheek tenderly. "Well, just this once, boy. For old time's sake." She smiles at the relief in his face. "Over the stool, trousers down." Mrs Hughes takes a cane from the stand beside her chair. "You'll be spared nothing. And Tom, you'll do without any foolishness for a week." He nods furiously, "Yes Mistress, no Mistress" and bends over the stool, buttocks exposed. Mrs Hughes nods in satisfaction; Lady Sybil did well with him. "Ten strokes, you will count." She brings the cane down with a firm, well practiced stroke. "One" Tom gasps at the sting and lets the tears flow freely.

Daisy watches Thomas stalk towards the boot room, his face contorted with suppressed fury. "What's his problem?", she asks Mrs Patmore, who snorts in contempt. "That one. He thinks he's entitled to all the ass cherries around here. If he's not careful, he'll end up as whipping boy at the next dungeon." "But won't he enjoy that?" Daisy is puzzled. In her experience Thomas was a pain slut. She says as much to Mrs Patmore, who gives a truly evil chuckle. "Not if it's you who does the whipping, girl." Daisy blushes. Mrs Patmore looks at the boot room door thoughtfully. "Yes, a good whipping and a night giving his ass to you girls. Might be just the ticket, I'll have a word with Mrs Hughes. Now mind that sauce, girl! Save your whipping arm for them that deserve it!"

I Am Enough by Lady Chacha

Back when Miss Monday was truly a Miss at the tender age of 19, after I had dropped out of school to help support my sister and my sister's family... after I nursed my nephew through three different body casts and missed my homecoming, prom and graduation, I found myself working at a major discount store chain as a cashier.

I helped my Mom make ends meet in a tidy little condo. Not long after I worked at this store,. (I'll give you a hint... it starts with a M and ends in arshall's) I received word that my Abuelito (grandpa) was in the hospital, terminally ill with cancer. So, I would grab rides and go visit him when I could, and I got to speak to him before he had deteriorated to the point of not being able to speak. I apologized for having been a burden to him, when he just starting to get ill, sorry for being in the way... apologies that didn't need to be made really.

I wasn't responsible for having been dumped in his life, in his home. But what do you say to someone you know is dying? Someone who has always been stern and hard on you, for reasons that you don't really understand? That's when he started gesturing in that way he had and told me... “Cuando un arbol esta cresciendo, y tu ves que esta cresciendo mal, que esta chueco, lo amarras con hule y lo enderezas para que se cresce bien.” which means... “When a tree is growing, and you see it growing wrong, it's coming out crooked, you tie it down with straps and you straighten it out so it will grow right.” I nodded and smiled, patted his hand and let someone else talk to him while I tried to figure out what exactly he meant by that. It was true, he was tough on me, always. Out of all the granddaughters, it could be said I was the least favorite. I came to grips with that. But this tree analogy was a new one on me. What exactly had to be straightened out? I was a family girl. I took care of my family, looked out for them and gave of myself. I didn't do drugs, I didn't have sex yet. I didn't drink or party every weekend. I wasn't knocked up.

The only thing I could think of was that I was not  the Catholic he thought I should be. I wasn't married, I wasn't cooking and cleaning like a good Mexican woman. I wasn't fitting into his idea of what a Mexican woman should be. Now, tradition is a good thing. It helps us retain our roots, keeps us reminded of where we come from. But when Tradition and someone's expectations in relation to Tradition makes them blind to what is in front of them, then that's just wrong.

There was nothing wrong with me. There IS nothing wrong with me. I'm loving, kindhearted, fiercely loyal. For years, I've carried around this invisible expectation with me... like a heavy chain around my neck. It kept me from lifting my head and really seeing what is in front of me. There was a part of me that wanted to fulfill his expectations. I wanted his approval. I don't have many men in my life to speak of, it would have been nice to have had someone's approval. I didn't need to be staked and straightened, Abuelito. I needed to be seen for who I am, encouraged to be the best me I could be... and I needed to be loved. Disappointments and failures, this is life. You wanted me to be what you wanted. You wanted me to give you a good reflection. So you could say “that's my granddaughter”.

Life .Sorry Abuelo. This is for me. My life.
It's taken me twenty five years to realize this. It's taken me twenty five years of wanting someone who has been holding me to some ridiculous ideal to be proud of me... to realize I need to be proud of myself.
This life is for you.
Take it, live it and know that you're the best.
You are enough.

Inspiration by Lady Karrie

I cant talk
I wont talk
I dont talk about my Mother
You see, I just cant talk about her
Its too raw, too painful, too deep
Those scars.
Well, they will never heal.
Time doesn't heal you know.
It's all a god damn lie.

I dont want to remember the date she died.
I dont want to visit the place she lies.
I dont want to.

She was beautiful
she was my Mother,
When she entered a room.
Without even seeing her.
You felt it.
Her femininity
Her strength.
Her presence.
You were drawn to turn to her
Hypnotized by that power.

She had very little in terms of material possessions.
She had little money.
Always struggling
She always fought, never lay down.

She had never left our little village.
Never felt the Mediterranean sun on her pale shoulders
Or dipped her blood red painted toes in a warm sea.

In her small bedroom.
In front of the her perfume strewn dressing table.
I saw her gaze at her reflection her eyes were vacant
I asked what she was doing.

Those words tear though me still..

"I am being punished by God, she said. I have been vain. I have dwelt
too much on my beauty. Ive cared about my looks too much and
Ive not always been a good person, God is punishing me"

Those words still rip me apart
Fuck you God
Fuck You!

The cancer ate her away piece by piece,
like a plague of locusts descending on a beautiful ripe field of corn.
This proud woman, this ferocious fighter, this powerful female
Day by day i watched it devour her
piece by piece i saw it consume her

Doctors, nurses, even her friends couldn't bear to look at her.
This Quasimodo, this monster, that this damned plague created.

i held her hand,
With adoration and love.
through those last days
those last hours
those last seconds
Fuck You........ God

My mother inspired me. She continues to do so.

I wish I could be as much a woman
as my mother was.

Brave. Independent. Strong. Loyal. Fierce. Loving. Beautiful.

I dont talk
I wont talk
I cant talk about My Mother.

Inspired by A Star by Garth

Inspired by a star
by Garth

Her fiery beauty fills the land with light.
But though I desire her with all my might,
my eyes cast down lest I loose my sight.

Her warmth felt by all living things.
Her closeness creates the season it brings,
she banishes sadness and hope springs.

My entire world is on her leash,
it orbits around her with out cease.
No matter where i go i'm in her reach.

With out her my heart would scar,
nothing else is on par.
Up on high she is my star.

She is, "Mistress Gabrielle Rhapsody"


Madeleine Broome by Lady Eloise

Inspirational Women,

There are so many that I've known, met, loved then despised, enjoyed and was motivated by, felt an instant kinship, kindred spirit for, and knew I was destined to be friends with.

 In Second Life, I have a handful of such ladies that I adore, one of course is little Miss Evangeline Eames, who introduced me to this amazing woman, Miss Madeleine Broome.

I met Judge Broome at the first Femdom in SL I ever ventured into. It was all odd and exciting, bizarre and crazy good at the same time. This Femdom had a high council and she was Judge.
I don't think it is a secret that she is an attorney in RL, or that she is whip smart either. I had not been voicing much in SL as of late, and I was sure prone to do the old wise platitude of "Been seen, not heard" until I got better at using my headset. I listened a lot. And what I heard was the sound of family. Like, my RL family coming from the direction of this really pretty avatar. I thought, "Well, sweet Jesus on a Ritz cracker, pass the Bourbon, this girl is Southern now!" I was tickled. I thought, now that is pretty amazing. A domme who sounds traditional, thinks modern and has probably the same upbringing I have. She was cool as a cucumber, friendly, but had this edge about her that I recognized in myself. She did. not. play. She was charming, and lovely, and spoke when spoken to, but there was no nonsense about her. I thought, now, if she will just be my friend in this crazy place.
 Well, we'd bump into each other from time to time, had a friend or two in common, and shared a love of blues music and spanking an ass. I learned she lived a few states over from me, and has a green thumb, and is as accident prone as I am. WE both have weird injuries from time to time, broken toes, fingers, shoulders, collarbones, and we can both laugh about it which is the best part.
I could go on and on about how beautiful she is in RL, I mean a knock out, her avatar is just a tiny rendering of how pretty she is, but what is even more outstanding is the beauty she has inside. She works tirelessly at her job, loves her friends with loyalty and passion, she enjoys restoring and renovating historical homes, and finds time to be a  "Big Sister".. yep, she is a RL mentor to a young girl, and takes time out of her life to help the unfortunate. That speaks volumes to me about the generosity of this woman.
 Give me a dog loving, generous of spirit, charitable, Bourbon drinking, blues loving, southern Domme who loves hard and can grow a tomato any day of the week. Maddie sends me encouragement when I am down, sends me emails to check on me, funny cards and delicious treats in the mail during the holidays. I'm lucky, I hope she continues to rub off of me, all that do gooding is contagious. I love her, and hope she'll always, always be my friend.
 Many of you will remember her being the Auction Master and Femdom Magazine Editor, even the Second in command here at Dominion, and that my friends shows the kind of trust she issues without trying.
 Get to know Madeleine Broome, its worth it I promise, she is a treasure to me, I love her, you will too.
I hope to get her to Texas this year and spoil her rotten a little if she'll let me. One more thing.. she loves The Walking Dead TV show about as much as I do, and she can probably whip your ass at triva.
Hint, she is single, but particular. I love that about her. And never, never send her tulips.

I love you LMS