Sunday, April 27, 2014

Bought For A Task by Daegan

by Daegan

It may be the natural course of a life: to start bright, foolish, innocent and eager and to gradually, inexorably lose feeling while gaining false "sensibility."  Growing up, do we need to have our ears covered with beeswax before the mind is tuned enough to hear the Sirens' lyrics?

So, in hopes of scraping clean some of the congealed "sense" and caked "propriety" which had come to foul my life I found myself hanging around. In other words... I sold myself at an auction house.

You may have heard of "Trial by Combat", "Trial by Ordeal", or other "legal" reliefs in which the beneficence of the Creator is relied upon to deliver victory or just another day of living to the innocent.  I have no compunction regarding my innocence -- just to have that on the record.

"Trial by Chance."  That's what I wanted.  I thought to let me offer myself stretched over this bar stool, on this rock (my liver always in jeopardy), against this rock wall for instance.  Let me give my Fate to the stone in motion.  They called dice "rocks" in at least some of those noir-ish gangster flicks I feel sure. Let Fate decide what comes next.  It's not an easy decision, if you mean it, to let go in this fashion.

This takes a degree of Faith, another slighted virtue as neon has given way to faster impulses over the aether, which cannot be taught but which can be bought.  Spend enough on pills, thrills, chills, and heartache and you'll be ready for that mainline.

I did not know what to expect, and that was, after all, the point, but I cannot quite explain my initial reaction to Her. She strode, not as if she owned the place, but as if it just bowed down in the wake of her heels and shut its stupid mouth.  Then, She spoke to me.

Why was this incredible woman speaking to me?  Yes, I'd been as courteous as I could remember from those TV training films (sitcoms?) and I had tried not to swallow my tongue in response to the lightning flashing through my skull and to the pounding sudden presence of my heart and muscles, of my skin and bones.

I dared to answer Her.

We talked for over a week, I think.  Always, She would return and find me stretched out in the bonds that held me to that place.  Excitement?  Yes, after several years of numbed existence without the urge to write or rhyme or draw an erotic snorlax in full mating posture, I was looking forward to our next talk like the next breath after diving deep.  A rush and a rustle of Her dress shifting gracefully as She dodged chairs and alighted was more than a ten inch spike of adrenalin in my heart.  We shared stories, teases, looks, smiles, awkward pauses easily overcome and a desire to be together.   As much as possible.

After some time, She bought my tab, and brought me home.

That was all in one world.  In another, my life continued -- not as before, but with the rush of possibility. After She stopped the dice and took my soul for Her own, She gave me a task to perform. I was to attend a wedding over the weekend for a younger cousin.  I was to wrap a fat rubber band around my left wrist.  Foolishly, I didn't plan well and ended up with a thin green one.  Every time I needed to visit the bathroom, I was to snap that band twice.. hard.  Not hard enough to leave a permanent mark, but hard enough to be felt and redden the skin well over an evening of open bar.

I felt.. Well, I confess I was totally excited by my "task."  I wondered if anybody would comment, or would wonder if it was a memento or a remembrance for something or someone.  Of course it was a remembrance.  It was a physical link back to Her.  It was a simple training device to get my blood surging through my ears and to get my heart beating every time I looked down at Her property.

I remember that first sting, spreading around my wrist and up my arm causing the fuzzy black hair to stand on end in a continuing wave towards my core.  I remember wondering if anybody was going to come into the room and see my eyes tight in appreciating Her gift of Her Will in my life.

The task was over too soon.  My skin, red and kissed by her band, longed for more.

Cult by Doc Nolan

by Doc Nolan

He knelt before the altar, head bowed.  The walls were draped in a deep maroon-colored  brocade. Expensive cloth. The incense burner left a haze, through which She was visible --- dimly illuminated by hundreds of candles, held aloft in wrought iron candle stands.

The figure of the man was a living being.  That of the woman was a statue, one hand raised – palm facing out.

He spoke:  “I submit.  You are my source of inspiration.  You are my light.  You give me purpose and meaning.  You are my Manager.  You keep me on task; you keep me focused; you protect me from deviations and distractions.”

He continued his litany.  Music (most likely recorded) played in the background.

Then a gong sounded, and a single woman – dressed in a totally white shift reaching to her knees – entered.  She said to the man: “It is good that you have come here today.  You were told to do this every day for a month and it has not gone unnoticed by the sisters that you have complied.”  She paused. “Today you will be taken up.” He never raised his head.

At these words four other women entered the temple, each dressed identically, all in white.  That was the only thing they shared in appearance, except for what they each carried: a thin rod about a meter long.  Bamboo.  Green.

“Down!” said the first sister.  He silently lay face down on the thick dark carpeting.  “Sisters, is this one adequate?”  Three nodded.  One shook her head.  He could not see this.

“Then it is decided,” said the lead sister.  “He is to be turned over to The Dissenter”.  This time all nodded.  The one woman who had shaken her head approached the supplicant.  She said, “Up on hands and knees.”  He rose to hands and knees, face still focused on the floor.  “Follow!” she said, turning and very slowly walking toward the mahogany door beside the altar. He followed.  The pair disappeared through the opening and it was only a second later that his words sounded from beyond: ““I submit.  You are my source of inspiration.  You are my light.  You give me purpose and meaning.  You are my Manager.  You keep me on task; you keep me focused; you protect me from deviations and distractions.”

The women smiled.  Their leader nodded.  She simply said, “One more.  I will provide you each with one of your own by the end of this week.  Our list is long.  I have many supplicants waiting.  Are you each ready?”

This time each of the women smiled and nodded much more vigorously than before.

“Remember always, my sisters, your position.  You have no obligations to them but one.”

Instantly they responded in the ancient words they all knew.

“We are inspiration and light.  We give purpose and meaning.  We are in charge and manage those who submit.  We keep them on task, focused.  Our job is to protect these males from deviation and distraction.”

With that they removed their clothing and stood naked in front of the altar.  No man was present.  They knew, though, that this was their ultimate source of power: their bodies.  That and knowledge and total concentration.  They filed out from the room.

A male would be sent later to pick up the robes, discarded carelessly on the floor of the temple.
From a distance, the sounds of men could be heard.  They were all variations on a theme.  They were the sounds of men who had been taken up.  The voices of men still waiting to be taken up were not at all of the same timbre.

Her Pleasure by Lady Karma

by Lady Karma

It had been a fun night out.  She hadn't seen her friend for some time, what with work and family life taking over. She so needed to relax and that's exactly what she had done. It had started slowly but by the end of the night she had become rather tipsy and rather horny. This was probably why she had come home feeling as she did.

As she stepped out of the cab, she smiled seductively at the driver.   He was somewhat older then she was, and he was somewhat rugged.  He was not her type but -- hey -- her smile and the chit chat that she had offered him had gotten her taxi rate halved. This was always a bonus. Carefully, without giggling too much, she thought back to the evening as she opened the door.  Taking a deep breath she placed her small bag down near the door and then she locked it. Walking up the stairs, she dropped an item of clothing as she walked up, every two steps, one after another, leaving a trail of clothing for him to see to tomorrow. It was his place to keep the house tidy. It was his place to do many things.

Entering the room she noticed him there, lying across the foot of the bed where her feet would have been had she been asleep already. That was his place sometimes -- especially when he had misbehaved. Stepping quietly, her body bare of clothing, the light from a gap in the blinds gently traced her smooth skin.  It danced down across her slender shape, illuminating the perfect curve of her breast as she leaned down to open a drawer. It was "that" drawer -- the one in which she kept her favourite items. Of course it was the closest one to the bed.  Taking out something she chuckled, then quickly shushing herself.  She was trying not to wake him just yet. A second item and a third item were taken from the drawer. Then, carefully, she leaned over his body. He was asleep.  Gently his breath danced in her ears. It was a sound she enjoyed hearing, even though she didn't let him onto that. She loved hearing all the sounds that he made: the whimpers, the gasps and the yelps -- not only his subtle, soft snoring.

Reaching over she stroked his bare back, knowing that this would awake him slowly.  She placed something onto one wrist and then, taking his other arm as he began to stir, she cuffed the other, both wrists together. Perhaps a little before he awoke, but surely by the time he was cuffed, he was aware of what was going on. She giggled again.  The soft scent of the cherry brandies that she had been drinking caressed the air close to his face.  She whispered against his cheek, "Guess what, pet. I'm in need of some fun -- and you will give it to me. " With that she turned him over so that he lay on his back. "Shuffle up!  Head off the bed, boy! " She spoke in a stern voice. The room was still semi-dark with only the natural moonlight dancing over her body.  Still it was light enough to see that his body stirred, responding to what she had said and done. He twitched and she saw it. Again she chuckled. Once he had moved where she asked, she moved to the side of the bed. His head hung lightly over the edge looking down she stands.  She stood, her legs on either side of his head.  "Pleasure me. Make me cum and you might get something in return. " Again her words were stern and short, not telling much at all. He parted his lips and his tongue darted out.  As she saw this she moved, placing her sweet, slightly wet pussy over his face.  Already she was highly aroused . She bent enough for him to move and to flick his tongue against her. Waiting, she enjoyed feeling the sensual teasing flicks of his tongue as he began to tease her hardening bud. Shivers of excitement moved over her. Gripping his head a little she began to gyrate against his face.  His nose was pressing and teasing the tight star of her behind as she moved forward. Now his chin danced on her clit as his tongue snaked up between her wet, slick walls.

He continued to pleasure her, tasting, moaning, and softly gasping for breath.  She lifted her body up enough to let him breath before moving back down. His tongue went in deeper, harder, and faster, bringing her pleasure as she had asked him to. Her hands still held his face.  Then they moved. Nails danced over his bare chest, while his wrists -- still held beneath him -- left him unable to move given the position he was in.  She began to scratch.  Her nails traveled lightly up and down his body, marking him and giving him pain.   She rolled herself over him. Her body was intensely heating up with need and hunger the closer to impending combustion that she came. An inferno of pleasure started from her very core, moving up her sweet sex and across her tummy, toward her mind.  She had fallen to the depths of that insanity which he seemed perfect at creating -- for her. This perhaps was why she had decided to keep him after their first chance meeting. Again, this was something she would never tell him. Her nails gripped him, pulling down on the small buds of his nipples as she finally snapped. She sent what she hoped was painful pleasure to him.  His moans only intensified her pleasure. Her juices danced over his tongue; he lapped up everything she offered. Still, she rolled against him, fucking his tongue, his lips, and his face. She was using him for her pleasure. Lifting herself up, she felt her mind returning to her.  She was breathing hard, hungry for air.  Her breathing caused her large breasts to lift and fall with each intake. "Well done, boy!" His head was still over the edge of the bed.  His breathing was deep.  His shaft, she noticed as she looked down his body, was hard.  The poor head,  thick and plump, was full of hunger for her.  More exactly, it was ready for release. Turning back to his ear she whispered, "Good!  That's part of it done -- but before you get your fun I want something else. " She lifted something big and black that smelt of latex.

He couldn't see it but it was a ...

[To be continued]

Drift by Anonymous

by Anonymous

The crushing void filled by emotion,
The nameless black occupying my gaze,
It's infinite expanse wreathed in the most effervescent ice,
Cracked and perforated by intrusive veins of silver and the richest ocean blue,
A collar about my very existance,
It captivates me
Entrances me,
Silences me,
I look,
I think deeply,
I contemplate existence,
My very presence in this world
Your world,
This plane where I am permitted to manifest,
To represent my corporeal form for a purpose,
The reason I define myself and strive to exist,
Strive to better myself,
To please you,
That's what it was,
The very reason I continue,
The only definition for my servitude,
It's a picture that is lost to me,
A smile,
For I am lost in the shadow,
I am lost in the whole universe,
I traveled the window,
I leapt into the depths,
Our gazes met,
Eyes locked,
I fell into the image of your soul,
I became lost,
Entrapped within,
An eternity.
Perhaps a single second,
But then,
You spoke my name.

Roses by Miss Eva

by Evangeline Eames

Our roses are not store bought

They are dripping and messy

And drunkenly stagger over your garden wall

Leaves and vines fucking and entwined

They press against the doors and force their way in

Weaving and creeping across the kitchen floor

Limbs snaring around your spindle backed chairs

They dig in their nails and crawl up your cupboards

And stretch up to embrace the cast iron pot

Where our bruised and wild hearts simmer

The Biker - Conclusion by Connor

PREFACE:  The following story concludes "The Biker" story that I began in October 2013. You can find Part One on The Dominion's website in the October 2013 Confessions section (  and Part Two in the November 2013 Confessions ( ). I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it.  There are some of my wishes, thoughts and reality in the three-part series.

This final installment begins with the last few paragraphs from Part Two just to bring you back a bit.
 I wish I could be there to read it for you.  Thanks for listening.



From Part Two>>> "The Miss sat the biker on the couch and she then helped him off with his leather vest, hanging it on the wall opposite, so it would be the first thing he saw when he came to his senses. She knew some of these bikers were more concerned with their damn vest than with anything else.  She made a mental note to ask this one more about that -- if he was 'the one'. As she moved back toward him she grabbed a set of shackles, chains, and locks from a hook on the wall.  She quickly chained him to the couch.

 The sedative was light; he would be in full control of his faculties shortly. As usual. This was the point where she always grew anxious.  When they woke up they would always struggle a bit.  Only the ones that were 'worthy' would stop fighting it and accept what they were -- completely.

The ones that 'carried on' she convinced that they asked her to chain them.  She would say, "Fine if you don’t like it I’ll set you free"  That's exactly what she always did, sending them on their way.  This one though.... He was different than the others...This one she knew was 'the one' she had always dreamed of.

She knew deep down that he was going to be hers forever. The Miss sat in her chair and waited for her boy to awaken….". <<<


The biker slowly opened his eyes.  This was a new feeling; he shook his head and wondered if it was the tequila or the “Jack” that got him. He tried lifted his arms to stretch and was suddenly wide awake! His arms were shackled.  He kicked out his feet; they were locked securely as well!  He looked around wildly, first seeing his colors, then seeing Her.

The Miss watched him as he awoke -- She liked the slow and familiar way her captives would wake up, as if they were at home tucked in bed.  She smiled.  He looked so sweet -- until, like a blast from a gun, he realized that something was different.  His eyes popped open.  The words ”Look at me, boy! Don’t run from me!” screamed in her head as he thrashed and pulled.  His lips moved but she didn't hear him.  She, waiting, watched his body.  She thought: ”Stay with me, my dear one!  You can do it.  Find me”.  She watched intently as his eyes darted around the room, probably hoping his leather vest was in plain sight.  "Yes! He sees it.  He sees me," she thought.   The Miss smiled gently at him. He settled  Inwardly she sighed, feeling relief.  A tear welled up in her eye; she cursed at her weakness and wiped it away.  She stood up and quickly moved in, closer to him.  Aloud she said,”Do you know where you are boy?”

A low steady growl slipped past his lips.  He said ”What the fuck are you smoking, lady? Do you know who I am and what my brothers and I are capable of?" He tugged at the chains, making a show of bravado. Inside, his heart was racing and his thoughts were spinning.  He wanted to drop to his knees and kiss her feet for seeing past the bullshit, but he couldn’t let go of what he was..He wasn't sure what he was!

This woman that had taken him from his brothers with just a glance seemed like “Her”.  He prayed she was, but, what if he was wrong? Then what?  She laughed at the biker on his fucking knees.  Would she take and send out a picture?  He glanced around for cameras.

He groaned from a pain that wasn't a physical pain. It reflected the turmoil of his exposed outer world constantly colliding with the inner world that he dreamed of.  Everything  finally gave way to an explosion of thoughts, feelings and -- most of all -- relief.  All of this came from this strange woman that he didn’t know, but who was suddenly the center of his universe.  He was placing all of his hopes, his dreams and his love into this one time and place with the most beautiful woman he had ever known. He sagged, dropping to his knees in front of her since this was the only place these chains would allow him.  She was there with him, next to him.  "Do you know where you are, boy?" She said these words twice as she watched him, staring at his body as he looked up.  He was angry at himself for allowing his cover to fail. His mind slipped back and forth, from his one world to the other.  A single tear formed and gathered in the corner of his eye.  Before he could shake it free she reached out and, with a slim manicured finger, caught it.  She raised him slowly to his feet.  Where he saw failure and weakness she saw a man.

She knew that the inner and the outer strength that this man had used to restrain himself for her would allow submission that was more powerful than that of any any other ten men’s. That one little tear....  She stared in wonder at the jewel as it glistened on her finger. He watched her.   The biker was ashamed at shedding that tear.  He did not know what it meant to her, something more than anything else she has ever owned. This single fragile drop meant that years of hope and of praying and of searching had finally come to and end.  She moved he finger closer to her lips, at last letting the tip of her tongue reach out to take the tear. She looked at him on his knees and then she carefully removed his shackles.  She whispered to him kneeling there with his head hanging, "Do you know where you are, boy?"  He looked up at her.  He replied, "Am I home, Miss?" She smiled at him.  "Yes, you are finally home.  You are mine...."  She slowly pressed his head to the floor and draped a chain over the back of his neck. "..... and I am Mistress!"

The Dream by Dez

by Dez Panther

There i was... just a normal day at work.

It was getting late and most people had already left. I was stuck at the office. "Why did there have to be two people sick today?  Why did i agreed to do this extra work for them?" i said to myself.  I knew the reason why well enough. It was to get in 'good credits' with my chief, a good looking lady named Maria, a natural dominant. i had had a thing for her since she had started working here. So there i was again, alone on the work floor, with Maria working in her office -- waiting for me to finish up.

Time passed, it was half past seven. With the amount off work left i would be done in thirty minutes and able to be back home in time for my favorite show.  I was excited. I looked up when i heard a pair of heels walk towards me.  It was Maria. "Who else could it be?" I thought. I continued working; then i felt her hand on my shoulder.

"You are still working, boy?" she asked softly. "How much work do you have left, boy?" she continued.

I froze up for a moment and took a moment to breathe. She always called me boy when nobody else was around. It was a thing she did. I assumed it was her way of speaking.  It gave me comfort in a way.

"Thirty minutes, Miss Maria," i replied.

She grinned as she let her hand slide down over my chest. "Thirty minutes you said?"

"Yes Miss...  If i continue working, Miss" i said as i tried to concentrate.

"I am not sure i can wait that long for you, boy" she purred very softly.  I was almost unable to hear her as her hand ran down towards my crotch.

I swallowed, wondering to myself if i indeed had heard her right. I was confused.  I hadn't heard her well enough to be sure she had said that.  She pulled her hand back, and I felt her fingertips run over my belly button back up over my chest. I must have been dreaming what I thought she had said.  It couldn't have meant that she wanted me, could it? Her other hand now left my shoulder.  She said: "When you are done boy, come to my office."

I swallowed hard,  frozen in my chair. Was i dreaming or was i in deep shit? After about five minutes i stood up and i walked to her office. I knocked.

"Yes.  Yes, you can enter."  She sounded a bit pissed. The office was dark and the back of her chair was facing me.   I couldn't see her.  "So your work is all done, boy?"

"No, Miss Maria, but You wanted to see me, Miss?" i replied nervously.

"So boy...  i have noticed you seem to like me.   Now, if you do like me then strip."

I followed her directions.  I stripped naked. My cock stood out,  rock hard.

"I sense you are very submissive, boy..... so kneel.  And close your eyes."

I knelt on the floor in front her desk and I closed my eyes. I heard her chair rotate, and then I heard first some cracking noises and then her heels once again. She walked behind me.  Then i felt something wrapped around my face.  A blindfold?  "You can open your eyes now boy but you will address me with Mistress from now on." She walked in front of me.  Her voice sounded as if she might be grinning.

"Yes, Mistress" came from my lips. very naturally. i opened my eyes but the room was still in darkness.

"Oh... good boy!  You have earned this." she said.  I then felt something made of soft leather being wrapped around my neck and around my wrists.

I knelt there, frozen. I then heard a soft click -- a padlock being closed.  I then heard another two clicks. I sensed her moving.  Suddenly i felt my wrists being tugged at by the soft leather.  They must have been cuffs that she had been locking around my wrists. She laughed and before i even realized what had happened i was unable to even struggle.

"Only to make sure you don't run boy" she explained.

I started to get scared.  Why would i want to run? What is she planning to do with me? I started to breathe more deeply with every passing second. She removed the blindfold.  The lights were now on.  I needed a bit of time to slowly get used to light again, but I could see here there, sitting on her desk chair, wrapped in tight latex. My cock was growing harder.  My eyes looked at her hungrily. Surely, I was dreaming. My boss -- the most stunning lady i knew -- had me tied up in her office for her use?

She move her black hair off her shoulder.  She bent forward, reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a whip. "You haven't finished your work yet. For that lapse i have to punish you, boy." She grinned and then got up and walked behind me.

"Yes, Mistress but i didn't wanted to make You wait, Mistress," i said nervously. I heard the whip as she warmed up her swing with a practice stroke.

"Hold still and count boy. You will receive something that is called 'the dozen roses'.  It's for not finishing your work before coming to my office." Almost instantly I felt the whip land harshly on my back. *Thwack*

My teeth bit into into my lip and i started to count. There was nowhere to go.  I was still kneeling before the desk. There was the second blow *thwack* Then a third. My back started to to feel warm after the fourth stroke and from then on I felt my skin burning.  The intensity increased as 'the dozen roses' came closer to the end. "Eleven, Mistress."

I felt my back burning intensely; I felt tears come into my eyes. *Thwack* I swallowed hard. "Twelve, Mistress."  I gritted my teeth, trying not to burst into tears.

"Oh, my boy, you did so good! You deserve a little reward."

She crawled onto the desk, spread her legs, had me move to the edge of the desk, wrapped her legs around my face and smiled. "Now, be good! Please me!"

As i reached forward i could still feel my back burning. She grinned as she watched me squirming. I worked my lips and tongue on her pussy and as I licked around her lips she let out a soft moan. She then grabbed my hair and pushed me closer.  She obviously was getting close to orgasm. She moaned heavily, and then unexpectedly slapped my back with her whip. I again squirmed and my motions triggered her orgasm. i felt her legs squeeze together against my head. I blacked out.

When i opened my eyes i was again sitting at my desk.  i rubbed my sleepy eyes. "Had this all been just a dream? Just a dream?" Then I stretched..   My back was burning.  Had this all been a dream or not? Just then she walked in.  She gave me a evil grin...

~the end~

When She Looked by Daegan

by Daegan

That toy which felt so right and fun in play
Looked scratched, and used and plain by day.
The thing that danced and moved in sheer delight
Which caught the dappled fawn's coat light.

Has come to rest and stuck and sat
A meaner object, an abject THAT.

It was the girl's bright thought that moved
a humbler, simpler, goatish, crude
a risk, a twist, a taut bowstring
She plucked its heart and bade it Sing.

Now it rests in a common heap,
Upon the shelf, in sullen sleep.
Til She take it up and once again
bid it dance and delight in

Her sweet clear heart and crystal dream
to a doll's small mind a Par'dise seem.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Spontaneous Anonymous Confessions 4/19/14

Mistress moans.
I want to cum.
Mistress moans.
I want release.
Mistress moans.
I need to cum.
Mistress moans.
I need release.
Mistress moans.


New Year,
New Season,
New Me,
New You.

Time for us,
To Move on through.
And now it is time,
for you to go.

I will see you soon,
My Love, My Life,
But now it is time,
For me to let you go.

New Year,
New Season.
New Me,
New You.

Take care, my love
For I miss you too.


Love, like life soon fades,
Set free deep in September,
No regrets my friends.

Bragging Rights - Raising A Strong Daughter by Lady Danika

Bragging Rights - Raising a Strong Daughter

by Danika Stonesoul

I am a powerful woman. Yet sometimes, I worry.  Am I good enough?  Am I strong enough? Am I doing things "right?" Especially when it comes to the most important job I have... raising my daughter.

And so this week when my 12 year old daughter informed me that her 6th grade English class had to give "keynote speeches" on a subject of their choice for their culminating project I listened.

We were talking about this and she told me it had to be at least 20 slides long and she had to "dress nice" and I asked her what her topic was. She said, "Oh, Mom. Nothing major. I'm doing the influence of Greek Gods on modern American Society."

I stoped a minute and I thought, wow they've really stepped it up at our local school. "What are the other kids doing?" I ask. She shruged. "Cooler stuff than me. Someone is doing tarantulas and someone else is doing jellyfish. I'm just boring. But I like the Greek Gods a lot."

What I loved best was that it didn't even cross her mind to stoop to the norm. She has no idea how unique her thought process is and no desire to change it or become "less" in order to fit in with the other kids.

I stopped, gave her a hug and yes, it did cross my mind that... "I'm doing something right! Now.... to take her shopping for her first pair of thigh high boots..."

Trickle Of Truth by Anonymous

Her eyes were intense, staring at me, into me, through me, making sure my fears balanced with security. She was reading me like a book to make sure I was ok, and searching for what I may not be able to put into words. "Shaky hands?" Her words curious and composed, reassuring. I held them up, steady, though you'd not think it by the look on my face. "Not even a little, Miss." I responded with faux confidence. "Then lets begin."

My fingers reached down to take a grip of the semi-taped razor-blade that had been sitting in alcohol. "Start with the first letter, make it pretty." Miss encouraged me, carefully watching me as I brought it to my chest. I watched intently, devotion focusing me, fear steadying my hand. With an expressionless face I cut sensation-less lines into my skin, drawing the smallest trickle of blood to fill the grooves to make neat little letters stand out against the whiteness. I did not feel pain, nor a sting or shiver, my mind was blank of all but servitude. I spelt her name neatly into my flesh, and wrote the word that permeates my body.

As I finished the last letter, I began to phase back into reality. My eyes rose from the word to search for hers, and in finding them I received comfort. Her big smile convinced me I'd done well, and that joy broke my focus. A sting in my skin, reminding me of the mark that sits upon me. I manage a smile, enjoying the sensation of sorts, telling me I had done well. "Now anyone can see who possesses you." my Miss states, with glee. "Now you can read what's written on my soul." I simply reply.

The Captive Part 1 by Lady Crissy

The Captive  Part I

All I had told him was that we were going to one of My favorite places, someplace very special to me.  The nature park was a place of solace to Me all through college, a place a bit outside the busy city where I would hike, put a blanket down and simply soake in the peace, the sounds, and feel the breeze on My skin. I knew the land there like the layout of My apartment, the forest, the water, even the boundaries where the wilderness met civilization. I had the perfect spot picked out with water nearby, heavily wooded.  I had never seen anyone back that far into the area mostly because of the thick prickly bushes that created a barrier to the casual hiker and dog walkers that tended to frequent the park.

I bought all the supplies I needed a few days earlier, feeling My excitement grow about the outing with a twist that I have planned.  I even packed for the trip early that morning, everything ready to go so that when My boy and I awoke we could head out after showering and eating. Morning came, and with everything packed we began the drive.We drove chatting about our own memories about the outdoors, about camping, hiking, even about Me being in Scouts.  We laughed about the application of scout knot training in preparing a young Lady to be a Domme.  It made me laugh to remember those times, and I chuckled to think what My former naturalist teacher would think about this outing.

When we arrived, I directed My boy to leave the packs and equipment untl we explored and found the perfect spot.   I explained we could come back and get them, then set up camp.  We took small packs and water and headed out, walking along the trail, Me pointing out some key landmarks he could look for to find his way back.  It was a beautiful day, sunlight streaming in through the treees, the air just perfect - warm but not so warm to make a hiker to feel exhausted.

After walking for about 40 minutes, I stopped to take a break, and sat on a large stone, running fingers over it and greeting this old friend that I knew so well and visited so many times.  My boy sat on his knees in front of My feet  and he I chatted about the beauty of the area, the variety of bird calls, trees and flowers.  I loved seeing that the trip into the woods was bringing out the boyish joy in him.  After drinking some water, I stood silently and put a hand on My boy's shoulder, indicating he should stay kneeling as he began to stand to join Me. I squeezed his shoulder, and with a smile he looked up at Me, quietly waiting for direction or instruction.  I could feel My excitement building, and it was difficult not to give it all away, but I did, and imagined the sweet satisfaction that in the end would be Mine.

End of Part I

Confession by Louis

Last Thursday the world lost writer and Nobel Prize winner Gabriel Garcia Marquez.

Many years ago one of his books, which I read on my youth-- "One Hundred Years of Solitude"-- was responsible for making me understand better one of the most remarkable woman I never knew.  By that time she was entering her 80's. She was in weak health and shared confusing memories like the main character of the book.  She lived among us with the mixing and hugging, the shouting and laughing so characteristic of Latin families. She was there and we all took care of her but in some ways she was no  any longer there -- just like Ursula Buendia.

After closing Garcia Marquez's book for the last time I started looking at her with much more attention.
I would listen to her histories of war, of poverty, of political arrests and her world,, to me, sounded like something out of a movie.  But that was her life and her history -- her true history.  This woman was born in an age that for us today is totally alien.  There was no electricity, no radio, no cars, no fridges -- none of all the paraphernalia that we take for granted.

She told me of losing a child to a disease that today we can cure with just a few days in bed.  She told me about her husband getting arrested and kept in jail for five years -- just for wanting a fair society where he would not have to be a slave to feed his family.  She told me how she had to sell fish at a market in order to feed her daughters and her son.  She also told me how she had crossed the Atlantic Ocean and had arrived in a totally strange country, just to have some peace and to find a better life.

I would sit beside her for hours and listen to her soft and loving voice.  She had no regrets.  She had no hate in her heart

She left us over 20 years ago but still has been inspiring me since.  Her name was Ana.  She was my grandmother.

She by Lady Karma

She stepped in the room, he knelt..
She walked up, he breathed softly.

She bent down, he closed his eyes.
She whispered greetings, he replied.

She took a leash, he lifted his neck
She clicked it on, he gasped.

She stood but for a moment, he felt like it was forever
She smiled, he sighed happily.

She led him out, he crawled behind her,
She paused, he stirred to her legs.

She felt the look, he gazed dreamily.
She turned, he looked up

She lifted his chin up, he looked to her eyes adoringly
Mine she whispered, Yes Mistress he replied.

She bent down, he could see her tease,
She leaned more, he looked to her chest.

She chuckled, he whimpered
She had seen, he was caught.

She gripped the leash, he moved closer,
She lifted it up, he followed suit.

She spoke a whisper, he tried to hear,
She lent to kiss, he tried to return it

She bite down, he yelped softly.
She grinned and licked her lips, he melted.

She teased him well, he stirred in his pants
She saw.. he blushed.

She chuckles reaching down, he closed his eyes
She gripped tightly, he groaned..

She was laughing, he was whimpering.
He was hers, She knows it.

Lonely Landscape by Lady Panther

Written as an ode to my body in the midst of a sexual dry spell.

The red wheat dances in the breeze
Two emeralds sparkle in the sun
By the rhythmic waters of a leading river
Flowing between the two mountains
And through to the bruised and burned desert
Meeting at a small lonely thirsty lake bed
Yet flowing further toward its fall
Descending into the split forest feeding the foliage
Before plummeting to its awaiting pool
Pounding the boulder and cascading into the ocean
The fertile banks holding the gentle floods
As they pulsate and crash to shore gently
Long stretches of untapped land on either side
This peninsula barren and unpopulated
These lonely lands quivering with an earthquake
Shifting separating further apart
Then laying dormant for years
With only the ocean and sky as its company
These beautiful untapped landscapes
Longing for attention and tending

Selfish Girls by Doc Nolan

Selfish Girls

“You are such a selfish girl – and a tease!” Donna told Anna.  “I am!” replied Anna with a grin.  “I am!”  Donna shook her head, her long cascade of curls bouncing about.  Neither one said a word for a few seconds.

“How could you have poor Freddie locked up like that?”  Though she feigned shock, she was obviously both excited and envious.  Anna decided to ignore the implications of the question and simply answer it.  “It’s easy.  I take this key, put it in the lock, and turn it. Then I tell him, ‘If you’re good, I will reward you.’ Then he usually nods.”  She giggled.  “As I said, it’s easy to lock Freddie down.”
“Why?” said Donna, already knowing the answer.

“I like it.  It gives me a rush.  I like the power.  I like having him frustrated.  Best of all, once he’s locked down I can get him to do lots of things he wouldn’t if he weren’t.”  An evil grin crossed Anna’s face.  “I guess I’m a cruel bitch, aren’t I?”  She said it without a hint of shame or regret.

Donna nodded. “You are.”  And she added.  “It’s cool to watch you work, him, Anna.  I get off on it!”  The ‘cruel bitch’ replied, “I know.  I can see that on your face.  That turns me on too.”

During this entire conversation there was a third party present.  Freddie.  He was kneeling, naked (well almost naked) his eyes focused on the ground.  His last instruction from Anna was ‘Look at dirt, Freddie.’  He knew what that meant.  She often used it when she didn’t want to lock eyes with him.

Donna turned to Freddie, amused, and decided to ‘pile on’.  “Freddie, did you know that I have permission from Anna to use you for my fun, too?”  She smiled over at her best friend while Freddie – eyes still staring at the ground – shook his head in a silent ‘No’.  Donna decided to continue.  “I bet you like to fuck, don’t you….”  He didn’t move.

She added, a bit irritated, “That was a question!”  He immediately replied, “Yes I do, Miss Donna.  I like to fuck.”

Anna spoke up. “Ain’t gonna happen today, Freddie.  In fact it isn’t gonna happen this week. But….” She paused.  “Maybe I’ll farm you out to another horny girlfriend this month if you’re good.  Do you want to be good, Freddie?”  He nodded, silently.

Both women began chuckling.  Donna decided to make her move.  “Anna, I need housework done, and I want to spend the day fucking off and then I want to go out tonight clubbing.  Can I have him for the next 24 hours?”  She waited and after a few seconds got her answer.

 “Sure – but I have a couple of conditions.  I keep the key.  I hang out with you while Freddie cleans, and you and I have a few drinks together.  I suspect you and I can come up with a few tricks if we’re both a bit high.”   She didn’t elaborate.

That was the day that Freddie’s life went from obedience to one of dual service.  They spent the afternoon playing a strange game of ‘let’s see what I can make him do’.  The two women decided that it was a lot more fun than clubbing.

Well after dark, Anna got out the pad and paper.  Anna pulled out her pen.  The two women spent an hour writing down all the things Freddie could be useful for, and then decided on his fate: Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays at Donna’s house; Tuesdays, Thursdays and weekends at Anna’s.  Both a bit inebriated, the two women signed their agreement.  Freddie was now kneeling in a corner, doing ‘time out’ (the last game they’d used to get him out of the way….).

Anna then said, “Well, Donna, what are your plans for Freddie this coming Monday?”  (She held the key so she knew it wouldn’t be “that”.)

“Aside from having him do all my chores, I think” – Donna paused – “I’ll just be a selfish girl.  And a tease.”  She paused, thoughtfully.  “Anna, do you know any guy I might have – fulltime -- after I’ve finished with Freddie?

Donna nodded.  “I wouldn’t worry, girlfriend.  They’re crawling out of the woodwork.  You just need to have the courage to tell men what you want them to do.  They are very good at service if you are a selfish tease. I know!”

Freddie waited for instructions.

A Solemn Confession by Anonymous

Lighthearted words, and thoughtful memories.

These are what I remember from my time here....

I was so different back then. Some of you probably remember me.

I've changed a lot since then...

I would argue that's the very reason I've been away.

But... what then? Where does one draw the line in the sand? What, to you my fellow subs, would you do when you are commanded to do something that you couldn't do?

What if in that time, you were going through a dramatic change? What if you were just no longer comfortable with it all anymore?

I know what I did...... I ran. I ran from the world I knew, straight into one I didn't. Like an endless maze, my restless soul has wandered these past few moons, searching for something that always seemed out of reach.

I got in a relationship, but it didn't pan out. There was no connection.

But what I have a lot of is guilt.

I just left her. No warning... nothing.... Just left. And not the one from the relationship I previously mentioned....

She knows who She is, if She's still around.
I hope She could find it in her heart to forgive me...
...but I wouldn't forgive me.

So I ran away. I took time to try to find myself. Time away to just figure out who I am. She didn't need to see the terrible war I had going on inside. I tried to keep it all in, and heaven knows I tried.

It got to be too much.

They say that the late teens are some of the most pivotal years in a person's life, but I know my early ones were a mess.

It took some time to realize that I was living a lie, but when I did figure that out, my world came crashing down rather quickly. I had to rebuild, reorganize, and just put myself back together.

But when one wanders in a world he doesn't know, he craves that for which he does.

And so, I've decided to return. No covers, no lies, no bs. I just want to be me, and hopefully that is enough.

With love to all the Mistress' and subs,

The Guide by Lady Lobbie

 The guide

The path is dark and long
Quite stillness envelopes you
You startle at a sound
This is all so new

A hand grabs you
You jump in fright
You here her voice
She tells you it will be all right

She holds you hand
Leads the way
From the dark path
In to the bright of the day

You turn to thank her
Your safety in her hands
From the darkness
To the promised lands

Do I Dare by Lady Panther

I watched her throughout the evening, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

She, casual, comfortable, opinionated, and expressive among her friends

And me, the outsider, hanging on every word and wondering if she knows.

Do I dare approach this self-described sadist for a scene?

No, I shall not disrupt her enjoyment with those who adore her.

She looks at me, piercing my eyes as she seems to ponder me.

Stopping in the middle of her conversation with those around her

She says, “You’ve been watching me all night. What do you want?”

Her words, so direct and piercing, my body responds instantly

As everyone’s eyes look at me, my cheeks blush, my head lowers

Yet my cock perks up and I hope they cannot see, especially her.

Do I tell her my desires outright, or simply make some offhanded comment?

“Miss, I overheard you saying you wanted to unleash your inner sadist.”

I said, hoping this would open the door instead of being disregarded

“I am a masochist and would enjoy your time and pain.”

Was this too arrogant a comment for such a woman? Am I overstepping?

Feeling my tension, hearing their various responses as background noise

I can only hear her, watch her, hang on every move, her every facial expression

She smirks and her eyes light up, a devious grin appears and her left eyebrow rises.

“Don’t tease me boy! What type of pain can you endure? What implements to you like?”

The world falls away, among many there are only us in this moment, this dance.

As I respond quid pro quo to her questions and she peppers me with more

Our negotiations continue until finally satisfied, she rises and approached me.

She looks at her friends as if providing a familiar signal to them and she says

Two simple words that I shall never forget; “Let’s go!”

Sunday, April 6, 2014

Apathy by Doc

She had started by saying, “I think we have a problem.”  He had to agree.  She had a problem and therefore he had a one too – not the same one, but a problem nonetheless.  He didn’t like solving predicaments.  That wasn't one of his options.

“You don’t seem to ‘care’ very much.”  He had to agree.  Nothing much moved him emotionally lately.  It puzzled him that she would consider that important.  He did as she wished.  He then recalled the definition of problem that he had carefully hand-copied and put on a notecard, taped to his computer: “Problem: a matter or situation regarded as unwelcome or harmful and needing to be dealt with and overcome.”

“Are you listening?,” she asked.  She was irritated.  He quickly nodded.  “Yes, Miss!”   He looked at her face and it was obvious she didn’t believe him.  He noted that she’d made to simple statements and that he’d heard both of them.  What was the comment about not listening implying?  The caution light in his head lit up, warning him not to even think of voicing that thought out loud!

“Well?”  She was asking a question, but he wasn't quite sure what he was expected to say.  He gave it a shot.  “I was listening, Miss.”  That seemed to mollify her.

“Do you agree?”  He nodded and said, “Yes, Miss.  We have a problem.”  His mind recalled key words.  Unwelcome.  Harmful.  Needing to be dealt with.  He added, “You don’t like my emotional flatness, Miss.  You don’t find it welcome.  You think it’s unacceptable.”  She nodded this time.  He breathed a mental sigh of relief.  He’d given the right answer.  He didn’t always – and then things really got unpleasant.

“What do you plan to do about it, then?” she asked.  His mind went blank.  “I think what you’re asking me is how to get me to feel things, right?”  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, my, god.  You are sooo frustrating!” she said.  He knew he had fucked up.  He hadn't expected her to get emotional about a question.  She had blindsided him on that.  He knew it was time to make some kind of recovery.

“I mean,” he said (somewhat insincerely), “that I know you’re not very happy and that I need to do something to fix that.”  Actually he had no clue what to do to repair her distress.  He did everything she told him to do.  She said, ‘The house needs to be vacuumed’.  He then vacuumed.  She said, ‘Aren't you supposed to be washing the dishes?’ and he took the hint and headed for the kitchen.  She reminded him that the mailman had come and gone; he went to the mailbox and got the mail.

He’d been thinking all this when he realized she was waiting for more commentary from him.  “I try to do whatever it is that you tell me to do.  I obey.  I perform.  And I try to do everything assigned to the best of my abilities.”  Her face said it all.  That wasn't enough.

He really didn’t want to grin and smile and pretend that he knew what she wanted him to do to show ‘caring’.  Frankly he resented the fact that all his work seemed to be dismissed as irrelevant.  He reminded himself that his emotions were themselves irrelevancies.  ‘Actions speak louder than words’.  That saying had been engraved in his mind from early childhood.  Only later was it overlaid by ‘What have you done for me lately’ and ‘Money talks; bullshit walks’.  He tried to remember when he’d last bought her a present.  Valentine’s Day.  That was less than two months ago.  Maybe it was time to buy her something nice? Or to take her to a restaurant?  She liked going to restaurants.  “Would you like to go to Mai’s this weekend and have pho?  Or buy some bahn mi thit to bring home?”  She smiled.  Over the hump, he thought, cheerfully.


“I meant that you and I need to start showing some emotions – or this relationship is going nowhere,” she said.  The brief smile hadn't lasted very long.  He thought she might be asking for sex, but rejected that idea quickly.  When she was ‘in the mood’ she’d simply say, “Why don’t we have sex tomorrow?”  She’d then smile.  (He would nod.  He almost always was in the mood for sex.  She knew that.)  And then they’d fuck.  He liked that; so did she.  But somehow this conversation wasn't about either performing household chores, or buying her presents, or performing in bed so that she came (...preferably multiple times).

She looked at him.  “You really don’t have a clue what I mean, do you?”.  Ooops.  She knew.  He had to reply honestly, “You want me to feel certain emotions and I don’t seem to be having them is what I hear.  I’m sorry.”  She said nothing.  She looked at him, appearing very unhappy.

“Forget it,” she added, before turning and leaving the room.

He felt relieved.  He now had time to think over ‘the problem’.  Now came the hard part: figuring out how to generate emotions inside himself.  He decided it was ‘doable’.  The problem now was ‘How much time do I have?’  He wondered if she’d walk out before he’d solved the puzzle.

                                                                THE END

First Meeting by Anonymous

Her daughter graduated that year and left for college and, when he was at the bar getting drunk off whiskey, she packed her bags and left -- leaving it up to her attorney to have the divorce papers she'd filed sent his way.  He'd get them soon enough.  Her little Chevy Cavalier didn't hold much... but the trunk and back seat were full and the radio was on and she headed south.

They'd met online. The one who called her "Miss." It had actually been a year before and there really hadn't been anything sexually intimate about the relationship yet -- though he had sent her a birthday card when she'd turned 42 and also a gift certificate for e-books at Christmas. They'd been friends.  They'd talked about joys and sorrows and they'd shared their fetish dreams in so many words, though they'd never indulged in them together.

But it came as a surprise when she felt her heart hammer in her chest at the prospect of meeting him for coffee at Bricktown.

She pulled up in front of the hotel and a valet took her keys.  She was wearing one of her wine-colored gypsy skirts and a white of-the-shoulder 'poet shirt' and a long strand of beads (that slid over her breasts like a black ink waterfall).  He would be waiting for her at the restaurant. They'd agreed to this... and she felt the flutter of uncertainty in her stomach. For a moment she considered turning on her sandals, getting back in her car and heading out.

Then she heard someone call out, "Miss?" from the doorway.

He had seen her from the lobby and had come out to meet her; he came forward in a few long strides, took her bag with strong hands and smiled.  It was one of those boyish grins that said, "I saw you first".  She couldn't help but grin back. "You were supposed to be inside at the restaurant," she said suddenly.

"Miss: you would have chickened out," he replied with a soft grin.

That was probably true. She let him take her bag and she even placed one hand in the crook of his free elbow. He seemed genuinely pleased.  She looked up. He was bloody tall. She'd seen pictures, sure, but she'd not expected a one-foot height difference between them. Her diminutive five-foot frame was dwarfed as he stood next to her. Without much thought, she pinched the inside of his arm and repeated: "You were supposed to be inside the restaurant."  

He nodded, leaned down and whispered (just for her): "Miss, I was, but if it pleases, I did not want to miss our meeting. Punish me later if you so wish."

She felt the jolt of curiosity. They'd discussed such things in depth online.  Now an opportunity had presented itself. She smirked.  "Indeed... Carry my bag up to my room! I want to take a shower..."

[to be continued....]

Initial by Lady Danika

Stop. Uncap. The scent of ink.
A sharpie marker.
Get it hard. That's it, Mine.

Yes, baby. Pull... shudder, groan.

I see your hands shake.
Penmanship forgotten.
The letter on your shaft
shaky and misshapen in your haste
To mark what once was yours
As mine.


You kneel, head down, eyes up.
We revel in it.

It Begins With You by Anonymous

It begins with you in bed sleeping had a long night out with your friends and you were out late…you came home tired and drunk and say hello to me and your other guy in the house and tell us to undress you and help you to bed...we disrobe you Miss and tuck you in. You sit up and tell us to wait by the bed until you wake up.

We both were already naked so there was no need to have us strip...we waited through the night like we were told…watching you...when the morning sun hit your face you slowly stirred...stretching long and moaning like you were having an orgasm, myself and the other guy straightened up because we know how you don't tolerate slouching very well ...raising up let us watch you as your stretched...the sun on your naked body ...your nipples hard ...we loved how you ignored us ...letting us soak you in......then you reach over and grab me by the ear and pull me up to growl at me to bring you ice water ..Then push me away and grab the other.

When I get back I see you have taken him and attached him to one of the collars you keep tied to the bed must have woken up in a good mood because you have a paddle and not a whip. His ass is half red from just the short time I was gone. You take the water from me and look me up and down, you then tell me to get on the bed and put my head to the footer and spread my legs for haven’t uncovered anything but your breasts Miss. You take the ice cubes from your glass and put them in my hand and tell me to cup them to my I say yes Miss, you smack me and growl...faster...and I don’t want you hard. I thank you for the ice to help me stay flaccid…even as we both know it is futile.

You slowly climb out from under the blankets and start to tease the other...stroking his half hard cock...rubbing your hard nipples up and down him, watching me so I don’t get hard. I cup the ice closer against my cock and balls finding it difficult to stay soft, you yell at the other that if I get hard he will have to suck my cock and you yell at me that if he does I had better not cum and if I do I wont again for a month

I shiver from the cold...pushing the thought of my cock being sucked out of my head, it doesn’t help as you pull him down on the bed and sit on his face smothering him...leaning in close to me as you grind say to him as you stare at me...fuck me with your tongue boy...I know I cant look away or I'll be in trouble

You sit up and slowly and move your hips back and forth lifting now and then so he can breath, you rub your breasts and clit..teasing me...I bite my inner cheeks to distract myself but it doesn’t work, you grab a small switch and hit my thigh, yelling at me... your cock is growing...stop it!
I wince because your light taps are not light by any standard Miss....
you aim the switch at my cock as it gets harder.

You yell at me to climb up on the other and spin on him telling me to straddle him ...startled and worried because I don’t want what I think is going to tell me to sit and slowly slide back, my hard cock on his chest, you smack me again and push me back. I feel his cock pressing up against me, he twitches, I cringe. I know he is more than willing to oblige your threat, where I don’t want anything to do with it. He lifts his hips pushing harder against me…you watch…your eyes twinkling.

I am scared and aroused at your intense mood this morning...never having seen you so perk this early...something is going to happen...good bad or otherwise something is going to happen.

You pull me up as he pushes up...I feel the tip of his cock probing ...I clench...then you push me back down and pull up again quickly ...giggling...then just as quickly you pull me around and off of him and flat out on the bed and jump on my face.

With your ass over my nose and your pussy over my mouth, you begin to grind down hard and I can't breathe...I lift my arms and feel the switch hard on yell at me then him... be still or I won’t get up! And you boy take his cock and stroke it! I get scared...I don’t want my cock locked up for a month again...his hands are warm...damn him...he strokes slowly and steady...he knows how long I can last and also how short I can last having seen my hand on cock under our Miss’ direction many times.
I hear you laugh...I imagine he is tell him “if he doesn’t cum you will be locked away for a week”...he hates the cage.

It is a battle between him and me and only you will win Miss...I feel his grip tighten a bit. You lift for a moment...your pussy is getting maneuver your tight asshole against my nose and rub, using my nose to excite you....your switch circles my nipples..Then you tap them. He strokes faster and my cock gets harder...the wetness from your pussy drips onto my lips...I start lick at it but you feel it and swat me don’t even have to grind down even harder.

You see my hard cock in his hands and tell him to lick it...I moan...I feel his tongue up and down my shaft...I know you are excited your grinding is faster and harder...I get less time to catch my breath.

You rub and pinch your nipples…reaching down to rub your clit ...I imagine licking your fingers Miss...The sweetness of your pussy dripping off the tips of your fingers....licking them, tasting you...
I know I won’t last...Mine is not the first cock he has had in his mouth and he knows full well what’s at stake if I don't cum...He doubles his efforts.

My cock is rock hard in his mouth...he is stroking it as he sucks and press in...I feel a slight shudder...I moan as your pussy presses on to my whisper in a husky tone...tongue...I press my tongue up into your pussy Miss tasting know I love your taste Miss and you know I lose all ability to maintain any control, you moan loudly, he moans as well, I can't hold back much reach down pushing his head to my cock…I gasp and explode!...moaning and cock will be encased for a month or more..But at least I came ...and best of all was allowed to taste Mistress...

My Boy by Lady Karma

Winds were passing, upon the time,
I never realised it then, that you'd be mine.

I'd take your words, dancing soft and light,
and speak to you, most of the night.

As days passed, one by one,
I found myself, hating when your gone.

Soft and gently, it all begins,
then darker the thoughts, such are sins.

Wanting you knelt, upon the floor,
Wanting you naked, and so much more,

The hunger in side, the want and need,
Planting in my mind, just like a seed

Of how I will take you, make you mine,
Have your submission, till end of time

So Noodles, as you close your eyes to sleep,
In your thoughts, I shall creep

Till there is nothing more, that can you think
till every edge, I make you brink

Dripping hot, my needy little toy
my one and only submissive boy

The Wedding Day by Anonymous

The time leading up to my wedding was very hectic.  Ann was involved in all of the details and was constantly sending me all over town to pick up things and to handle all of the busy work. She wasn't a Bridezilla at all but She did want everything to be done the way She wanted.

For the most part things went smoothly.  A couple of times i would come home and She would be very upset or frustrated about some aspect or another.  The first time it happened it had to do with the bride’s maids’ dresses.  They had come in on time but were the wrong color. She was insistent that they fix the color and do it in time for the wedding.

When i got home She was on the phone yelling at someone responsible.  After She hung up She told me what the problem was.  I was fully prepared to feel at least some of Her wrath.  I even volunteered, saying, “If it will make You feel better i’m willing to suffer for You.”  And i meant it.  While She had been on the phone and then, as She had told me what was going on,  i had, as was my custom, stripped down to just Her dirty panties.  Then i knelt at Her feet. i was being a very submissive boy for Her.

But She didn’t take me up on my offer.  Instead She chuckled and pulled me tight onto Her lap, hugging me and telling me what a good slave i was.  She let me kiss and lick and suck Her feet all evening.  Then that night i got to eat Her to two orgasms.

There was one time where She did take it out on me.  It seems that the store had given me the wrong items when i went to pick them up. Ann had ordered special champagne flutes for the wedding toast at our bridal party.  The store had given me the wrong ones.

Now, in my defense, i had never seen the flutes and She had never told me which ones i was supposed to get.  I simply went to the store and asked to pick up her order.

When i got home with the wrong ones there was hell to pay.  She used a crop, a paddle and a belt on my ass.  She also used the crop on my cock and balls.  On one of Her femdom video tapes She had seen a zipper (clothes pins lined up with a thin rope beneath them to then be yanked off).  She did one to my cock and balls and it was excruciating.

With a butt plug inserted up my ass i was told to take the flutes back to the store and to exchange them.  I still didn’t know which ones i was supposed to get but when i got to the store i explained to the clerk the mistake and she looked up the order.  She made the exchange and when i got home with the right ones Ann was happy but she didn’t say anything about my punishment.

The closer we got to the wedding it seemed the hornier Ann was getting.  I was eating Her to give her at least two (if not more) orgasms a day.  For my  part, in the months leading up to the event i got one ruined orgasm.  Other than me getting to eat Her and occasionally worshiping Her feet, Ann pretty much ignored me as a submissive.

When i would say things like, “Mistress, may i please be allowed to worship Your ass,” She would smile and say that She was planning some fun things for me for our honeymoon.

When the day of the wedding finally arrived, things, for the most part, went smoothly.  There were a few minor hiccups, such as us having to move the ceremony indoors because of the weather.  But that didn’t seem to dampen Ann’s spirits in any way.  By the time the pictures were taken and we could then get into the limo to drive us to the reception She was almost giddy.

Our driver knew to take us the “long” way around so that we could enjoy some quiet time.  Also, there was a bottle of champagne in the limo for us to enjoy.   I immediately popped the bottle and poured Her a glass and then poured one for myself.  We toasted.  She made me pull down my pants to make sure that i was wearing the correct panties, special ones that She had purchased at Victoria’s Secret.  She then produced a butt plug and inserted it up my ass.

I sat on the floor of the limo before Her, kissing Her feet, as we hurriedly drank that first glass of champagne.  As soon as Her flute was empty i poured Her another.  She asked for my flute and then she managed to pee into it.  She had to cut herself off in mid-flow so i offered her a second flute -- but that still didn’t totally empty Her bladder.

She told me that i had better start drinking because i had to empty both flutes before we got to the reception hall.  I barely made it.

The reception was as wild as any and everyone, me included, drank too much, but everyone seemed to have a good time. Ann and i eventually said goodbye and made our way back into the limo.  It was a short drive to our hotel and soon we were alone.  Since Ann had to pee i was stripped and given a golden shower.  I first licked Her clean and then continued to lick Her to an orgasm.  I was allowed to get cleaned up before returning to the bed.

When i came out of the bathroom Ann was lying there, grinning, more than a little drunk, and wearing a brand new strap on.  My butt plug was removed and my asshole soon was filled with her dildo.  She fucked me pretty raw.

Eventually i was allowed to clean both the dildo and the butt plug and to return to bed.  She dressed me in a cute little nightie, a teddy and matching panties.  I ate Her to two orgasms and then i licked Her asshole until She fell asleep.

The next morning would begin our honeymoon.

The Weekend: The Arrival by Lady Panther

I arrived at the airport on time, thankfully, and exited the plane, excited, nervous, anxious and with a slight erection in expectation of this weekend.  We’d talked about it for so long and, yet, I still knew nothing of what She would do with and/or to me.  The not-knowing was part of the charm of this particular excursion to the States.  I’d been here before but never for this reason.

As I went through the normal activities of disembarking from the plane and handling customs and baggage my mind became focused so as not to be late.  I got my bags and followed her instructions as to where to meet my ride.  Upon looking up and as I approached, there was this well-dressed bloke in a limo driver’s suit holding a large white card with my last name on it.  I headed straight to him, exchanging pleasantries with him as he took my bags and led me to the limo.  As we walked my mind was worried about the expense She’d taken in getting a limo.  She could have made me just get a cab instead.

We arrived at the limo and he opened the door to let me in proceeding to pack my bags into the trunk.  Once comfortably inside, I saw a small selection of drinks which might have gone unnoticed except that they were only selections  from my homeland which piqued my curiosity.  I took a deep breath, a sigh of relief, as I heard the driver open his door, climb in, shut his door and start the ignition.

As we pulled away from the airport I heard the doors lock and I laid my head on the back of the seat.  Suddenly I heard her voice over the speaker system. “Welcome, slave.  I trust you had a good flight and that you are relaxing as my driver takes you to your destination.  It will be about a 20-minute ride so help yourself to any of the beverages and snacks I’ve chosen for you. Additionally, in the compartment to your left is a letter with specific instructions that you will want to read before the ride is completed.  I will see you at six pm sharp.  Follow the instructions or else!”

I must admit that hearing her voice put a big smile on my face and my body quickened.  As her statement concluded I spied the compartment she’d mentioned and I promptly opened it.  The note was typed in a lovely feminine font in her customary “signature color”, which also made me smile.  Before I could read one specific word the man’s voice came over the intercom system.

“Mr. Slave, are you okay back there? Do you need the air conditioning turned on?” he said with a smile in his voice.

I searched around for a button to push to speak back to him when he stated, “Just speak. I can hear you.  There are no buttons to push.” I smiled and replied, “Thank you, and no -- the temperature is fine.”

“Mr. Slave, help yourself to the refreshments.  Is this your first time to the States?" He asked congenially.

“No, I’ve been in the US before, just not to this state” I replied, getting a small bit annoyed as I would much rather be focused on the letter from my Mistress at this moment in time than on him.  Since I didn’t want to be rude I expounded a bit adding, “Usually on business, but this time for a holiday.”

“Well I’m sure it will be a nice holiday with your Mistress….” He kept chattering but I honestly didn’t hear anything he said beyond this point as I began to blush at knowing that he knew.  I tried to shake it off for a moment, long enough to hear him finish up by saying, ”You’re a braver man than most.  I wish you lots of luck.” And with that he turned on the stereo which promptly pumped out my Mistress’ favorite tune.

It became clear why this limo instead of a cab.  The specific refreshments. Her welcome message. The limo driver.  This song.  The instructions (that I was still needing to read).  I try to concentrate on her letter but his voice kept lingering in my head “You’re a braver man than most…”  My thoughts raced back to all of the times that I’d heard from others about how sadistic she could be.

 What had I gotten myself into?

Impromptu: Cuffed, Blindfolded, Gagged

Cuffed ... unable to resist temptation
pleasures setting the beat of my heart
my body quivers with warm tingles
as Her lips kiss my most sensual part

Blindfolded ... surrounded my mystery
sweetly my senses she does torment
a gentle breeze passes by my nose
then lingers ... Oh Her wonderful scent

Gagged ... allowing pleasurable moans
Her hands softly caress over my breast
arousing my juices my nipples perky firm
mumbles of "more please, Mistress" was my request

Impromptu: Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

Roses are red, violets are blue
I lost a bet, so here's a poem for you.

You ask this poem, be nothing but true,
I wonder if this, is meaningful too.

Since the day we met, something's ado,
I cant imagine, my life without you.

So now I have you, I ask what shall I do,
my partner and love, should I make of you!

A crop, a whip, red markings too
This could be fun for me -- if not you

So on that thought, I offer to you.....
Roses are red.. and violets are blue.

Untitled by Anonymous

Damn you
Invader of my mind
how did you get in there?
What is worse, I don't want you out!
When did you break my walls
Allowing the floods to ravish
my body, my soul, and my future.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Confession by Monty

It might have been any other day in his life.  Another week had come and gone and he was looking forward to a nice lazy weekend, not really expecting anything much from it.

Least of all had he expected that he would meet her, someone who reminded him so much of himself, someone who would reflect so much of his own personality.  It was almost uncanny. He woke up late, far later than usual to be honest, and unbeknown to him, he had already met her the day before.   The time spent had been very casual, and while a pleasant feeling had been there, he had not allowed himself to think much more on the matter.  As the day went by not much transpired.  He then heard her speaking and he saw her, but still did not realize that she was slowly burrowing her way into his mind.

His mind slowly began spinning, his thoughts of her becoming more frequent until he had to admit to himself that she had been on his mind all day.  He had no idea how this had happened. Was it something she had said? Something she had done? Deciding that the only way to make sense of his feelings were to write them down he decided to do just that.  He sat down and wrote a letter, not really intending for moment that would eventually end up in her hands. Every thought he had of her went on this paper, every emotion stirred by her.   In short, everything that he had been thinking of all day. He looked at the time, realizing he had spent well over three hours composing this rather simple letter. Was it really that hard to explain to himself what he was feeling, and what he wanted?  He sighed heavily, put the paper aside, and decided he was done.

Later that day, she was back again and he found his heart skipping a beat at the sight of her. He had not admitted anything to her of course -- not openly at any rate. As a matter of fact, he was still coming to terms with his feelings himself. He did, however, strike up a conversation with her that day.  They spent most of the evening chatting, and before he knew it he had told her about the letter he had written. He shared it with her; he shared his thoughts that had never really been intended for anyone else.

She read it, and she smiled as she did. He felt as if he wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, not because he was ashamed of what he felt, but because he felt he had failed to put into words what it was that he was experiencing. To his surprise, soon after she had read what he had written about her, about what he had been thinking, she revealed that she had indeed done something similar.

She had written something as well, and whilst his had been a shambles of a letter with thoughts and ideas crisscrossing the paper, she had put together something that would have been an experience for anyone, a first draft of how she could imagine a man's submission. He had been allowed to read this, and he did so with great interest, hanging on most every word as the images begun flaring in his head as an effect of her words. As he put her letter down, his face slightly flushed and his heart racing he looked at her, he didn't say anything.  Was this.. in reference to him?

Silently he sat for a few moments before he parted his lips to speak.  No words came. It was as if every want he had expressed in his mind had been filled in that single letter she had written, as if she had been inside of his head, picking out the bits that she knew would make him gasp, that would make him nervous, and had then put every last one of those things down for him to read.

"This was written.. for me, 'bout me, Miss?" he asked her cautiously. She nodded with a bright smile on her face, that face, her smile. It made him melt, and he didn't have the words to tell her how it made him feel, but every time she flashed it at him, he knew exactly where he wanted to be: with her, by her side, one way or another.

The evening went on and they kept on talking.  Time flew, and before he knew it, it was already past the time when he was supposed to leave, so, with a sad smile, he admitted to having to leave her. Before he left she let him know that she expected him to do some 'writing' with her the next day, since they had already written to each other. The time was set and, eager for it to arrive, he went to sleep.

When morning came he got himself ready for work as usual. She would remain on his mind all day. As the day finally drew towards the end of work, he spoke to her briefly.  She let him know that he needed two ribbons. Without question he accepted this, his own dirty mind already having an idea what they might be used for. Little did he know, what he had in mind would be prove insignificant compared to what she had planned.

As he came home he took some time to practice a few positions she had told him the night before that she enjoyed . It was fairly easy, he thought, to master them and to then take a couple of photos. The painstaking part would be to find one he deemed good enough for her. The hours seemed to slow before she was to arrive.  His mind was very much focused on what was to come, or, at least, what he thought was to come.

The hour struck and within moments they were together. She had prepared some things for his writing:  a simple desk, a small cushion, and a blackboard. He felt slightly confused. He honestly had not expected that he would get  much actual writing done; he still had no idea what would happen.

She commanded him to strip and to position himself in one of the positions she had taught him.  He did so and she smiled slightly before she began writing on the blackboard. "Get hard" he read as she moved out of the way. He looked at her with eyes wide but he only briefly hesitated. He grabbed hold of his cock and begun pulling at it to make it hard; that did not take long. Soon he was sat on the cushion with a massive erection visible to the lady standing before him. He lowered his head and read the blackboard once more.

"Stroke with your left hand, and write with your right" he read. He smiled slightly and then did just that. The smile was simply because he knew, then and there, that he would get little or no writing done. His breathing grew heavier as he stroked for her.  She prompted him to write, and she inspired him. Very little of what he put down on paper was actually very readable, but he was not scolded for this.  Clearly that was not her intention. Soon the words written on the blackboard prompted him to switch hands.  He did, finding it even harder to write with his left hand; even less was put down on the paper.  His breathing became heavier and faster. Clearly he was growing closer to release.  Throughout this all she guided him, telling him what to write, and what not to, telling him if he was to stop touching or to go faster. He was obedient. He wanted this. He wanted to belong to her.

Somehow each time he came too close, she knew -- and made him stop. He did not know how much time had passed before she  once more looked at him with that smile on her lips. At this point he had not been allowed to touch for awhile.  Her smile turned a little bit crooked as she spoke: "You have 30 seconds to cum".   She stated it matter-of-factly.  Almost instantly he was frantically stroking trying to reach his climax in the time allowed. He did not care if he was loud or if he sounded silly. He was desperate to cum and he had a feeling that if his time limit were missed, he would not be allowed to do so.

The time passed, second by second, and he grew more frantic in his stroking. The sounds were obvious; nobody would have been oblivious to what he was doing were they to have heard him. With three seconds left he grunted loudly and managed to cum.  His cum shot from his cock-head and over his own body.  The sticky mess reached his chin, covered his chest and slowly dripped down from there. His breathing did not really slow.  He was panting,as if it had been a huge effort for him to cum, though he was utterly content.  Soon he composed himself.

"Thank you Miss," he said in a clear tone, though he was still rather breathy. She did not say much. Clearly, she had not finished with him. He was told to go clean himself up and, putting the paper and pen aside, he did so, only taking a few minutes to wash the cum off his body so that he would once more be presentable. He returned to the cushion and he seated himself before her again.   He resumed writing.

Honestly, he thought that was that. He figured that she had had her way and that she would now make him finish the story he was working on. He was very much mistaken. Within a couple of minutes the blackboard screeched once more as she wrote again. "Get hard" it said once more. He looked at the board, and then he looked at her, not overly confident that he could manage to please her with only a couple of minutes between commands.  Nonetheless he did as the board commanded and he  once more began touching himself in order to get himself erect for her.  It took a little bit longer this time than the first time for sure, but soon enough he was again hard . She had been watching him, criticizing him for taking too long. Her comments had only spurred him to try even harder.  It clearly worked.

"Now then..." She spoke aloud this time. "I want you to stroke your cock for me again. Come on.  Do it now!" Her voice was like honey to a bee for him. He could not help but want to obey her, and -- as her command was to touch himself -- he was not exactly objecting to that.  He begun stroking -- fast hard strokes for her. A moment later she again was writing on the board.

"Thirty seconds to cum" it read. He groaned.  He did not think he could manage another orgasm so quickly, but again he frantically stroked to please her, to give her what she wanted.  This time she had set a timer on the desk. It counted down the seconds and he could see his opportunity slipping from him. The seconds dropped away one by one as he stroked like a mad man. In the last few seconds left he knew it was futile, but, even so, he did not stop. He kept stroking to and then through the time limit and then stopped, with a loud groan followed by what was almost a laugh

 "Miss.. I'm sorry I could not!" he exclaimed, addressing her.  She laughed and smiled. Clearly she had not expected that he would cum.  Was there an ulterior motive to this, or was she  perhaps just enjoyed his squirming? With a little nod she pointed towards the ribbons she had made him buy earlier that day.

"I want that ribbon, made into a bow tie, around your cock," she said, still smiling. He reached for the ribbon, and he cut a piece of it off. He then carefully slipped it around his shaft and he tied a knot, trying hard to make the bow tie as perfect as he could for her.

"Good boy, now what do you think that ribbon means?" she asked. He thought for a moment, his mind aflutter. The first orgasm and the denial of a second one, combined with trying to write something, had him stuttering and fumbling for words. He could not think straight.  'Was this the effect she had on him?', he found himself wondering.

"I uhm.. perhaps.. It's.."  He fell silent.   The answer might have been obvious, but his mind refused to function. She laughed at his incoherence, clearly amused by his bewilderment.

"This first ribbon symbolizes what might be. It's a symbol of what might in the future be a collar around your neck. For now it means your cock belongs to me." She paused briefly. "Now, why do you think you have two ribbons?"she asked him.

Again his mind could not grasp what she wanted.  He stumbled trying to find an answer and finally blurted out  "I do not know, Miss!" His voice was pleading and conveyed that he felt he was letting her down. That was the last thing he wanted to do. She still looked amused;  she did not scold him or degrade him in any way for not knowing.

"The reason you have two ribbons is because if that cock belongs to me, I do not want a dirty ribbon around it. You need to be able to change it when you get yourself dirty."

He found himself smiling. His mind was running; every word she had said about the meaning of the ribbon to the cleanliness of it, stuck with him. He found himself straightening up for her, and a sense of pride washed over him.  He now felt that he had earned something from her.

With this they finished their 'writing' for the day. She asked him if he wanted to continue writing together, and he promptly responded that this was something he was very eager to do indeed. They spent the remainder of their night together.  When it was finally time for them to part he went to bed still wearing his ribbon.  It was tied tight around his cock. Her cock.

Kisses by Lady Crissy

The first kiss, on his nipple,
tongue darting to flick.

The second kiss, on his neck,
teeth biting down.

The third kiss, on his ass,
nipping and pulling at the flesh there.

The fourth kiss, on My cock,
licking lips first to moisten.

The fifth kiss, with a smile on my face, on his lips,
possessing with passion and pressure.

Marching Etc. by Doc

Drilling regular verbs,
Washing dishes,
Giving backrubs.

Pumping iron,
Hiking up mountains,
Giving her head.

Going to class,
Reporting for orders,
Turning in reports,
Scrubbing the floor.

Returning greetings,
Smiling for the camera,
Complimenting couples on their home,
Telling her that her dress is very nice.

Passing through metal detectors,
Signing the deposit slip,
Clicking on the word ‘agree’,
Saying ‘Yes, dear!’

Life consists in going along.
Not staying out past curfew.
Obeying the rules.
Making her happy.

It’s all about being part of society.
“Love it or leave it.”

We are social animals.
We live in the web.
We love spiders.
They spin webs for us.
We struggle vainly, but ultimately
The Black Widow needs to eat.
We need to be consumed.
We need to have a purpose.

She knows that.
So do we.

We are part of great whirling mandala.
Yin and yang.
Caught together in that mystery.
Ultimately to be devoured.
Our demise just one more phenomenon
In a mad, mindless world.

Our sacrifices give it purpose
We imbue it with meaning.

We love it.
And then we leave it.

Origin by Lady Danika

Sometimes we find our power in darkness -- behind closed doors, behind fear, behind tragedy. Sometimes it is buried deep within us and we find it only after it is pulled forth and snapped against our skin like a rubber band. It was there all along, sure, but sometimes we have to face bitter truths first...

This is my story... the origin of my Dominance and where it was born.

On my 16th birthday the boy I had been dating told me he had a gift for me.  We went back to his house and into his bedroom. We hadn't been dating long but I'd been to his house a few times. His parents were indifferent people, seldom there and working often.  He took me to his bedroom and closed the door for privacy since his sister was home. And then he locked it so she wouldn't come in. He'd done this before and so I didn't think much of it.

I sat down on the edge of his bed since there were no chairs in the room. It was a small room after all. And he turned on music... I will never forget the song. "I Swear" by John Michael Montgomery began looping in the background. To this day, I vomit if I hear that song...

That was when he jumped me and pulled the butterfly knife.  He said, "Scream and I'll cut you." And I believed him... and so I did what he told me to do. I took off my clothes and he took my virginity... violently... while I lay there with a fist in my mouth and a knife to my throat.

Afterward, I told my mother. She accused me of lying and then refused to talk about it any more. I never mentioned it again.  Instead... I started sleeping around. If it had two legs and a cock, I slept with it. Self imposed punishment I suppose. I thought I deserved it. Or I thought, if it was my choice, somehow I controlled it.

A year later, I met an older man. He was 37 and I was passing for 18.  He had no idea that I wasn't -- for a while.  I'm sure that would have changed things.  He took me under his wing. For a long time we were just friends. He told me I was beautiful. I remember the night we met. He used a handkerchief to wipe the too-red lipstick off my face and took the Mad Dog out of my hand. "You're underage. You don't want to get caught with that."

He became my protector... though it was clear pretty quickly who controlled the relationship.  For the first time ever I had power. A few months later he wanted sex... Instead of forcing me, he asked and I said, "No" and he listened and I liked it. I liked saying, "No."  Instead... I teased him, making him lie on the bed while we were both fully clothed... straddling him and pushing my mound into the bulge of his swollen cock beneath his zippered jeans until I came and he groaned and turned his head and bit his pillow.

I broke up with him when I left for college. He wrote me desperate letters for a long time afterward.  Sometimes they were angry... sometimes they were pleading... sometimes they were sad. I took pleasure in them all... mainly because they made me feel powerful. I could say "No." I had the power to say "No."  It was a heady thing even though I missed him.

When his mother died, I almost send him a sympathy card.  I sometimes regret that I didn't.

The Macabre Train: The Conclusion by Lady Panther

He’s shocked out of his ecstasy with one ‘thwap’ of pain across his ass.  She begins to land several small stinging strokes with something he’s never felt before.  His mind tries to identify the source of the pain; it feels familiar but not quite the same as a cane.

The welts appear immediately on his ass, unmistakable red stripes as she disperses them evenly over his entire buttocks.  Smiling as she works this instrument, she instructs her slave to get to work again. “Suck him dry, my sweet!”

Her slave quickly crawls before the man and licks the juices of the lady who was kind enough to leave her essence behind on him.  She savors every lick and teases the man as she does.  So turned on by her Mistress working him over, as well as the build up to this expected moment, she is hungry and eager to please.  She takes him into her mouth and massages him with lustful expertise.

His legs shaking, his body so used, his strength weakens from the small loss of blood and the sensations he’s borne already.  The noose tightens as he dangles there, becoming even more drained.  He tries to summon himself to no avail. He’s unable to fight the need to orgasm, yet frustratingly unable to do so now without more pain.

He thrusts himself into the slave’s mouth. She does not back down as she knows her purpose in this.  Her Mistress stops with the light whacks across his buttocks.  She stands back a pace and applies some cinnamon oil along the very thin black and very flexible car antenna.  Ensuring the tip is well oiled, she draws it back like a bow and simply lets go.  The tip digs into his upper back as the rest summons a large line of a welt.  She repeats, drawing back the same length and letting it go.

The Mistress re-oils the antenna and meticulously goes back over all of the former strikes.  She increases the bowing of the antenna, increasing the pain, splitting the welts as she goes.  Blood mixing with the oils, his skin utterly marred and burning with the sting and the heat of the oil.  Her relentless strikes are delivered with the smile of a sadist.  The gleam in her eye is unmistakable to those around her as she works this canvas.

He whines in pain and pleasure again.  His thrusts into the slave increase in pace as the pain reverberates like shock waves throughout his body.  His body thrusting upon each stroke of her tool, further increasing the tightness of the noose, his air harder to draw, the blood flow to his brain decreased as it is concentrated in his manhood and his wounds.

She bends down to gain a better angle on his sweet spot thinking, ‘this man won’t survive much longer, and if he actually lives he won’t be able to sit for days when I’m through here.’ She draws her re-lubricated antenna back at its full angle and lets it go.  It slices into his skin effortlessly. She draws it back again, releases, and again and again.

His body fully abandoning him, he presses his behind backward for the strokes and forward for the sucking. His knees buckle as he reaches his orgasm, shooting his load into the now elated slave as he effectively hangs himself. The boy has paid his debt finally.

She rises back to her feet and the Lady with the knife cuts the noose first followed by the tethers of the wrist cuffs and then the ankle cuffs.

The sub moves back as the Ladies all surround him with apt concern and smiles while they reposition him comfortably on the floor of the car.

“Who is this delicious criminal? You never told us.” One lady says as she treats the wounds on his chest.

“I’ll show you.” She says, as she removes the sack cloth and the duct tape on his mouth.  She removes the soaked panties from his mouth and listens for breathing.  She pulls out the smelling salts she had in the ready, opens them, and places them to his nose.

He awakens instantly.  She removes his blindfold and says with a smile, “You did so very well, Owen.”

Gasps of shock and awe, eyes darting to each other as the Ladies realize the full implications of what they’ve just done and with whom they’d just done it.

The Lady stands and smiles. “You’re welcome, Ladies, and Owen, your slate is now clean!”  She walks out of the car as the Ladies are left stunned and happily surprised and their subs tend to Owen’s wounds.

                                                    The End..