Sunday, September 28, 2014

Impromptu Confessions: My Favourite Toy Is...

I love my nails... my teeth... I control the pain... so easily and I can feel it so much better... taste it... they are my tools, my implements of pain...

My favorite toy is...

My Hitachi wand.  The end.

My favorite toy is my vibrating prostate massager.

My favorite toy is... My senses.
The way my body perceives the world,
The way I can interpret what's going on,
My window to the outside,

I love to be at the mercy of my Lady,
Her power extending so far as to manipulate my brain,
Her ability to twist and disrupt my sensation,
I love her manipulation of my world.

My favorite toy is my mind,
The way she plays with my very being,
The way she turns me into her own toy.
My world at her whim.

My favorite toy is my purple corset handle suede flogger.  It was the first real impact toy I bought. Prior to that my mentor had made me a pair of rope floggers to practice with.  Those are still in my toy bag. For sentimental reasons. Madi loves my 'Hello Kitty' paddle; just ask her *wink*


My favorite toy is my chastity cage with 5 pointy teeth that cause painful discomfort at times for the pleasure of my Dommes.

My favorite toy is my Stockroom 'Talon' nipple clamp: five retracting curved wires.  Much tougher than clover clamps!

My favorite toy is my Fleshlight, which i only use under guidance :)

My favorite toy is my ability to use my words to tease and to manipulate his mind.

My favorite toy is my mind and my imagination...  I can bring things to life within my mind before placing them onto paper or bringing them into the real world. Things said, done, or thought by persons, I feed into my imagination.  I then produce unique stories and bring a second depth into my relationships.

My favorite toy is.....a vacuum cleaner.

(couldn't help it)

I'm not Xavier

My favorite toy is a strap-on. As crude as it might sound, it's a dick I never had. And I would honestly choose it over any elaborate and complex toy you could come up with. It's just completely irreplaceable for me and it serves me amazingly well in my play . I could totally write an ode to it if only I could write. Yay.

Diary Of A Dominion Auction Slave by Xavier

                                    by Xavier

The ladies gather near the stage on which i'm kneeling, naked in a cage
I feel their eyes and begin to blush, frightened, yet excited. Wow, what rush

It's my turn. Though nervous and cold, I must impress if I am to be sold

I answer questions and even tell a joke and finally am purchased for a can of coke
Even though the price is low, off with my owner I must go

Day 1

She chains me to the radiator and says "Listen here you pathetic masturbator
I own you now for a week, now cage my cock so it won't leak."

She stripped me naked and my clothes she burnt, then whispered to me "Forget all you've learnt;
You're mine now and by day seven my debauched world will become your Heaven"

Day 2

Mistress kicked me and then she said, "I think it's time that fat ass bled." She strapped  me to her crucifix, then whipped and beat me just for kicks. She used whips, crops and leather belts to cover my ass in angry welts

Day 3

"Two days have gone and I have allowed to pass without invading your pretty ass. On day three I have set a goal to fuck and stretch your glory hole."

She took a strap-on from a case, it was fucking huge. You should have seen my face.
She lubed it up and fucked me deep, I remember that night -- as I could not sleep

Day 4

"Wake up my slave it's day four,  today I'll make you my little whore." I had to wear a dress and heels so high, and was then taken (to a gay bar) to perform forced bi.

Day 5

By day five I had accepted my fate: I was hers to humiliate. She took me to a public park, and -- on collar and leash -- she made me bark.  I realized I had become her dog, to tease and torture, for her to use and flog.

Day 6

 My lady said "Thank fuck it's Friday.  Today my whore the you clean and tidy."  I then made lunch and she invited  friends who fucked me with strap-ons  from both ends.  When I thought she couldn't be any meaner, she made me fuck the vacuum cleaner. With my humiliation complete ,  I knelt before her and kissed her feet.

Day 7

As we got to day seven,  my lady's debauched  world indeed had become my heaven.  She released my cock and then said "Go!".  I turned and cried and pleaded "No!". She smiled softly, gave my cock a rub and said "Xav be happy; you are now a dominion sub."

Zero Day by Doc

                                        by Doc Nolan

(Note:  A ‘zero day’ is a day that a long-distance backpacker takes off from hiking – sometimes spent in town, sometimes ‘on the trail’.  It is a respite from collapse, both physical and mental, after days of trudging up and down mountains through rain and under the baking sun.)

It had been six days.  It was time to rest.  Jimmy had simply sat down and decided, ‘From here I don’t move for the next 36 hours – maybe more!”  It had taken a half hour lying on his back gazing at the cumulus clouds scudding across the blue vault before he had the energy to put up his tent.  The sun was way past noon in the southern sky, but he still had several hours until sunset.   He estimated about 3 pm.

He heard a noise.  A vehicle.  It turned out to be a jeep, trailing a cloud of dust as it crossed the open field from a distant dirt road.

“Well, how are you doing?” shouted Jane.  Yep, she had said she’d come here and she had.  Jimmy was more than a bit surprised.  “How did you know I’d be here today?” he asked.  “Well, I figured you’d show sooner or later if I waited for you.”  Jimmy realized she was right.  She had a lot of patience.

“Oh,” she added, “I brought pizza!”  She grinned.  “Oh my fucking god,” said Jimmy.  “You are kidding!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, sonny,” she said.  “It’s from this morning and is stone-cold.”  She knew he wouldn't care.  She knew Jimmy that well.

As they ate the pizza, there was a long silence.  She spoke first.  “I’ve missed you a lot, Jimmy.” She put her hand on his knee, gently stroking it.  He knew she wouldn't like the truth.  “Uh, Jane, I’m really not in the mood now.  I’m hot.  I’m sweaty.  I’m ridiculously tired.  The only thing I want to do is to sleep.  OK?”  He could tell from her face that it was definitely NOT OK.  He hoped she wouldn’t start a fight.  He didn't have the energy.

“Well, I didn't expect that response, Jimmy!”  She glared.  He felt even more weary now.  She was not into hiking and he supposed she simply had no idea of what exhaustion was.  He forgave her.  He knew better than to say a single word.

“Well, aren't you going to say anything?” she asked.  He shook his head ‘no’.

“I will, then.  I fucking drive all the way up here to meet you and you tell me ‘I’m not interested’.  Right?”

Jimmy nodded, but added, “Let me try to explain…”

She interrupted.  “Make it good, Jimmy.  I am not happy!”  She stopped there.  He was thankful.
“I am very tired.  I want you to spend the night with me in the tent.  I want to hold you and hear you and smell you and touch you.  I’m just saying I don’t want anything more than that.”  She stared at him silently.

He then remembered something.  He reached into his pocket and found it: a mass of green crystals he’d found while crossing a stream.  It was unusual because the rock hadn't been tumbled in the water until it was smooth.  It was newly uncovered.  He had no idea how it had survived and ended up there.

“I found this and I thought you might like it.  Green is your favorite color.”  He waited to see if it would appeal to her – or be dismissed as a ploy.  She smiled.  That was a good sign.

“You are weird, Jimmy!  One second you’re telling me you’re too tired for sex, and the next you’re giving me something pretty.”  She gave him a funny look.  He returned the gaze, equally puzzled.  He didn't see the connection.  He was exhausted and didn't feel any twinge of sexuality and he wanted to give her a present.  Two different things.
They finished the cold pizza and then Jimmy suggested a freeze-dried lasagna (Mountain House).  She didn't seem very excited by the idea but once he’d boiled some water over his alcohol stove and poured it into the bag she seemed as hungry as he was.  Almost.
That night as they cuddled under his quilt, he spoke up.  “I’m sorry I’m not able to ‘do it’ tonight.”
She replied, “Shhhh.  Don’t worry about it.  Some other time you can make it up to me.”
“I will, you know,” he replied.  There was another pause.  Jimmy spoke again.
“Will you meet me at the end of the trail next weekend?”  He waited for her answer.
“I’ll try.  I’m not making any promises,” she said.

“OK.  Just do me a favor of leaving a message on my cellphone if you are not going to meet me.  I’ll get the message once I’m in town and have service.”

“I’ll do that.”  She paused.  “You still owe me, Jimmy.”

Jimmy replied, “I know.  I’ll do whatever you say once I’m back in civilization.  You know I always do, right?”

“Yeah”, said Jane.  “You do.  This I’ll let pass.  Anyway, you look like shit, frankly, Jimmy.”

“Yep!  I know.  Thanks for understanding, Jane.”

She replied with a chuckle, “Now go to fucking sleep, you asshole.  And when we get back together, remember that you said ‘I’ll do whatever you say once we’re back in civilization.’

The couple were soon snoring.  Neither of them even heard the coyotes yodeling under the full moon that night.  They just snuggled, warm and dry in the middle of nowhere.   The sleeping couple both believed that promises made under a full moon are never to be broken

Stormy Weather by Anonymous

                                    by Anonymous
I love the rain,
I love the sound of a million tiny impacts making dents and marks upon the landscape.
The scent of the world being drawn into the air by moisture.
The distant rumble of far off thunder.
The flash of lightning splitting the sky, turning night to day.
The crack of a near by release of energy.
Pure unabated nature.
It's destructive,
It's nurturing, it wets the eyes of those who gaze into it's depth.
It reminds me of my kinkiness.
I feel a kinship with the land when it rains.
My fingertips caress the hundreds of little red marks from the day's activities,
The energies wrought upon my by the raging storm of my Lady,
Who's fury and passion split the air around me and crack against my skin.
Eyes wettened by her rumbling storm.
I listen to the rain, and I hear passion.

Please MIstress by Leasha

                                        by Leasha

I awake slowly, uncurling from the tangled mess that once was the neatly positioned sheets, yawning, stretching out. The alarm lies silent on the bedside cabinet, its florescent numbers blinking 09:00, I had slept all night.  Reaching over, I feel out towards the opposite side of the bed. Nothing.  “Mistress”.   Still nothing, the bed sheets, cool to the touch.  Mistress has not been in them for awhile.   Looking around the bedroom, my clothes sit neatly folded on the chair.  Mistress’s hang on hangers on the back to the door. She can’t have gone far. And then I hear it, the telltale sound of a dishwasher. “Ahh, cleaning.” I breathe a sigh of relief. Mistress is just doing Mistress Things. Laying my head back against the pillows, I whisper in a murmur “five more minutes, just five; then I will get up,” I yawn once again before rolling over, snuggling back under the covers and drifting off into a soft sleep.

“BEEEp BEEEEp BEEEp”  -- “What the hell.” I wriggle around the bed, searching for source of the harsh beeping. In my sleep-filled stupor I reach out towards the bed side table. “ What” I cry, tugging my arm upwards.  Panicking I tug my other arm upwards.  Nothing, I cannot move, "Mistress” I scream. “ Mistress”.  Over and over I call out, only to be met with silence.  Tugging more intensely, I find that my legs are also stuck. I cannot move from the bed. “Mistress, please” the desperation, seeping from every syllable, blends into a choked begging. Tears form in the corner of my eyes, threatening to burst forth with each moment of silence. “ Mistress, please” I beg as one of the tears breaks from the rest.  “ Please, please”.  I break down, lost in a sea of tears, my barrier breached. Sobbing, heaving breaths, I pull and pull and pull against the restraints holding me to the bed. “Mistress, please, Mistress.  Where are you?” I cry over and over, descending further and further into wracking sobs. My words drift into unrecognizable patterns of sobs, panic and desperation.

Leaning back on the bed, I realize that Mistress is not coming. Crying will not work. Calling out her name over and over will not get me anywhere. I take slow, deep breaths, attempting to calm my breathing. She has to be here somewhere.  She would not leave me completely. I feel it again: complete, utter hopelessness.  Desperation, longing and panic fill my senses and take over from rational thought.  She has left me. I cannot control that thought.  All logical thought leaves me. “Mistress,” I scream utterly panic-filled, and hyperventilating. Tears stream down my cheeks: snotty, wet, disgusting tears. I thrash about the bed, pulling with all my might on each arm. I cannot break the restraints. Completely deflated, sitting up in the bed, my arms still tightly fastened to the bed, I lean forward. Strands of my hair slip forwards and cling to my hot, wet, tear-stained face, whilst only small, soft sobs leave my lips. The rising and falling of my chest begins to slow, whilst my heart continues its attempts to break free from my chest. Exhausted from my screaming I collapse further forwards. My lips pitifully mouth one last word, “Mistress”.

A drumming sound catches my attention. I look up, with her fingers against the door frame, drumming, there she is -- standing in the doorway, one arm positioned against her hip, a questioning eye brow raised in annoyance. She just looks at me. “Mistress”.  I breathe a sigh of relief as the panic subsides. She has not left me. I am not alone. The look on her face paints a thousand words.  You know the look, the one that says, 'what the fuck'  whilst making you shit yourself almost at the same time. I know that look.  Containing myself, I lower my gaze, looking down at the disheveled bed spread. Then I hear it, that huff of air, as Mistress just turns away, returning to what she was doing before my pitiful scene.

I lie back down, resting my head on the pillow.  At least I know for sure that I am not alone.  That makes my predicament slightly more bearable, until it hits me: that horrid, unyielding, never satisfied, forever taunting, once it is in your mind it is stuck feeling. I have to pee!!

I wriggle back and forth, trying to make my mind think of other things.  The weather? Nope, it is raining.  That doesn't help, so I think about lunch.  Mmmmm, what will be for lunch?  Nope, that does not last long.  My mind moves onto thinking about a nice cup of tea. Nothing is working. I hold my legs together as tightly as I physically can, all the while wriggling around, biting my lips. Should I call out? The look from Mistress earlier was a "dare to call out again and see what happens" look. Did I dare to call out?  No, I'm not that desperate. I can wait. So I do, for what seems like an hour, I lie wriggling, thinking about other things, attempting to distract my mind. I cannot do it any longer.  It is slow torture. I cave. “ Mistress” I call. “ Please Mistress.” Nothing.  I sit up once again.  That's the biggest mistake ever, since it puts more pressure on my bladder, I let out an involuntary squeal of alarm. “Mistress, please,” I try calling out a little louder, “I really have to go!”  The desperation is once again creeping into my voice as I plead.  Silently I think: 'Please Mistress, come through'. My groaning turns to whimpering.  Still Mistress is not there. The longer I wait the more the tightness in my tummy increases.  “Please, please, Mistress”.  I hear the creak of the floorboard outside the bedroom. I tug harshly against my restraints “Mistress, I need to go”. Without a word, she enters, pulls the key from round her neck, pulls one of my wrists free and then drops the key onto the bed. She then is gone again.  In my flustered state, I fumble with the key, putting it in backwards, up-ways, back-ways, any way but the right way.  I dance around  before finally getting my second wrist free.  With both free hands, the removal of my ankles takes less time.  Scrambling across the covers I make a dash for the door. I tug the handle, yank it open, run (well, more hop/dance down the hall) and go straight into the bathroom. As I sit down, the question niggling in the back of my mind is answered. (Where is Mistress?) Standing in the doorway, twirling the key, Mistress waits until I am done, and then silently escorts me back to the bedroom. All my attempts to speak are shot down with 'that' look: the look that says 'keep trying'. Back to bed I go and, the restraints refastened, am left alone, spread eagled, but without covers this time.

Lunch time comes and goes.  The light from the window slowly dims, and still I lie on the bed. About 3 pm Mistress peers around the door, laughing to herself.  Still I lie still.  I do not dare break the look. When 6 pm arrives Mistress enters the room, folds her arms, and looks down upon me.  Cautiously I raise my eyes and meet her gaze. Am I finally to be freed?  Yer and right spring to mind.  Alas I am right.  Mistress picks up a small locked case sitting by the bedside.  The code to the lock only she knows. Inside the purple dome of a Hitachi is visible against the black foam lining the case. My heart sinks.  I know what is coming next. Mistress smiles a wickedly evil smile, plugs in the wand and looks down on me. I cannot hide my fear. My body trembles as I recall the last time this device was used on me. She slips a harness around her waist and clips the Hitachi into place.  I groan softly and lean my head against the pillow.  I tense my eyes shut as I lie and wait.  I know the rumble of intense pleasure immediately followed by even more pleasure -- before ultimately leaving me in immense pain. Mistress slips the wand into the harness. I wait, breath bated. I won’t lie.  I am exceedingly turned on at this moment, but she just walks away. I open one eye peeking after her.  A breath I have been holding in finally slips from my lips as I lie waiting -- again.

A low grumble of vibrations starts.  Sensations shimmer through my lower body, moving upwards, coursing through my intimate areas. Finally they reach the most delicate area of all, my clitoris. Nestled tightly between my thighs the harness ensures the wand -- not yet on full power -- cannot move far. As the vibrations travelthey send wave after wave of sweet pleasure through my clitoris. I groan louder and louder as the wand presses upon me  As I tug at the restraints, her every movement presses the wand tighter against my pussy until I can no longer hold back. I let out a cry of pleasure.  My orgasm shudders though my body.  The vibrations, which continue through my release, never fully allow my body to come back down. I strain hard against the restraint and I wriggle around the bed.  I tug my feet apart.  My breasts jiggle with every movement, intensifying the pleasure emanating from the wand. My clitoris, still swollen from the first wave, presses hard against the wand, each touch causing another gasp and squeal. My breathing increases.  I gasp audibly, whilst attempting to hold myself together.  No, I cannot.  I cannot hold back!  I orgasm a second time and scream with pleasure, my back arching upwards. My toes curl into the softness of the bed, the sheets beneath my pussy.  The wand shows exactly how aroused I am.  Sticky, wet cum seeps from between my swollen pussy lips, coating the wand and marking the bed sheet. I breathe hard and fight against the wand. Licking my now dry lips, I see a smile on Mistress’s face, from the side.  She is standing against the wall with her arms folded.  She is watching, waiting.  She knows I cannot keep this up.

I moan, writhe, buckle and squirm, as I attempt  to gain some relief from the onslaught of the wand, I cannot free myself from its clutches.  Once again I begin heading towards another climax.  The pain of it is starting to etch its way onto my clitoris. I scream -- breaking the communication silence with Mistress, I call out her name “Mistress” whilst clawing at the sheets.  My back arches once again and a feral groan escapes my lips. The brief periods of relief between orgasms are beginning to get shorter and shorter . After orgasm number three a slick sheen of sweat glistens against my pale skin.  The vibrations of the Hitachi are still going strong.  Between deep groaning breaths I scream “ Mistress! Please!” Tears slide down from my eyes and glisten on my cheeks as pleasure slowly turns into pain.

My tears turn into pleading, begging groans.  My body quivers against the Hitachi, still fighting to get free  I am lost in my own orgasms. I cry out in anguish. “Mistress please, please, stop”. I can no longer sit upright and the muscles in my stomach quiver, unable to support my own weight.  Orgasm number four sends pleasure waves through my body but no relief  is granted from this release.  My swollen lips and clitoris can take no more.  The light film of glistening sweat has changed to a thick coating.  My tears, once only trickling, now stream from my eyes as I beg with every fiber of my body: “ Mistress! Please!”.

The wand stops.  Mistress stands with the Hitachi's plug in her hand, a satisfied smile on her lips.  She turns to leave the room. Completely exhausted I lie in a puddle of my own cum and juices.  I am still held in place by my restraints. I fall asleep and do not know how long I lie there, but Mistress eventually comes in and releases me from the restraints.  A glass of water is on the nightstand when I awake.  I drink deeply from the glass.  Mistress sits beside me.  In my eagerness to drink I had not seen her there. I open my mouth to speak, but her fingers touch my lips.  Without words she silences me, laying my head down onto her lap, Mistress comforts me stroking my head.  Once again I drift into sleep.

My Cumming Party by Anonymous

                                        by Anonymous
“My Cumming Party” is (mostly) a true account....

It’s the night before a very important meeting at work and I am resting in my recliner watching the evening news when you text. Your text is clear in its instructions.

“Invite Miss Elizabeth to your cumming party, tonight, 11:30 pm.”

I read it over a few times then respond simply “Yes, Miss Jane”. I insert a happy face emoticon.

Miss Elizabeth is at work, but I sendher a formal invitation on Yahoo Messenger.

“Miss Elizabeth, Miss Jane has instructed me to invite you to my cumming party.”

“What time boy?”

“11:30 pm, Miss”

“Inform Miss Jane I will be there.”

And with that the communication ends -- for a few hours. Then the phone rings; it is Miss Jane.

“Boy, find at least 12 clothespins before the party… least 12.” she says and hangs up.

I immediately start through the house looking for clothespins. The obvious place is the kitchen cabinets. “Now every bag of chips and crackers will be stale” I thought, “but I get to cum!”

With that I log into Second Life and wait. Miss Jane is the first to log in. Then Miss Elizabeth. Miss Jane sends an RLV TP and I am plucked away with RLV force. I land  inside a very lovely living room, but the ladies are not alone. There are seven other ladies in attendance. All of them I know, but by name alone. I kneel as Miss Jane says on voice “Boy, strip in both worlds”. The cat calls from the guests ring in my ear, but I strip completely. Miss Elizabeth gives the next command. “Take off the cage, but leave the back ring on -- like a cock ring.  We want you rock solid.”

“I already am”, I mutter.

Over the next half hour I have clothespins all over my body: on my lips, my tongue, my scrotum, my nipples, my ears, my eyebrows, the tip of my cock. Then the edging starts. The audience loves the show.  My Mistresses enjoy my torment.

On the third attempt at edging and with clothespins still clinging all over my body, I fail. I spray hot cum all over my stomach and chest (from being in a reclining position). Many laugh at me both in voice and in text but My Ladies are not amused.  There is complete silence.  Total silence!  Is this planned? Did they orchestrate this silence? I am still breathing heavy, and I am still sticky since I have not been given permission yet to clean up.

And then…...SL crashes….and my Grooveshark music stops.  I try to relog...but nothing.  My stupid internet has crashed during one of the hottest humiliating experiences that my Mistress’s have ever granted me.  I am completely naked at my computer -- covered in my own cum -- with clothespins still torturing me.

I frantically text Miss Jane, but I get no response. I send her and Miss Elizabeth emails from my phone -- but nothing. After ten minutes I clean up.  After having cum for the first time in over 20 days, I go to bed….I am, though, beaming.  Beaming in my humiliation for the pleasure of my Mistresses.

[The End]

A Day With Mistress Part 1 by Anonymous

                                by Anonymous
    She smiles and runs her fingers through his hair, then gathers it in her fist, yanks, and lets go of it. He shudders happily, saying, “I love it when you do that.”

     Ignoring his words, she grasps the chain, squats low to the ground, yanking the chain straight down, pulling him with it, making him collapse forward to brace himself with his hands.   He moans as he follows, arms wide, bracing him on all fours. "Stay!" she commands while she walks purposefully behind him.
     “Yes, Mistress”, he says breathlessly, before feeling the warmth of her hands placed firmly on his hips and pulling his rear upward, putting him properly into position.   He feels the fine hairs on his body stand up; he starts to breathe faster, raising his hips high. He remains silent, quivering in anticipation; his body flushed and suddenly registers his state of submission.

      She runs her fingertips ever so lightly over his warm skin, covering the distance between his displayed cheeks up to his shoulder blades.   She continues her inspection, and rubs his back with tickling touches.   He remains on all fours, his knees wide apart and he gets a twinge in his nether regions, from being down on the floor like a dog. He responds automatically, immediately, slightly aroused, and keeps his head down and ass high.

      She stops rubbing his tingling skin and walks in front of him, grabbing his hair pulling his head upward so she can look into his eyes. He looks upward with glassy eyed devotion and adoration, his cock stirring even more. She moves closer and tilts her hips forward, pressing her crotch to his nose with a devious laugh.  He almost snorts. The urge to kiss her there is almost overwhelming, but his conditioning keeps him from doing so. Still he wishes, oh, he wishes he could.

     “Oops, did I forget to take these off?” she says flippantly. She releases her grasp on him and begins to bare her temple from the silk panties she is wearing beneath her short skirt. She drops them on the ground and steps out of them ,then turns away from him and bends to collect them, taking entirely too long to complete the simple task just to tease him more.

      He bites back a moan, his cock stiffening, but he maintains his position.   With a lump in his throat he wants to whimper as he looks at her, admiring her legs, her ass, and he aches to worship her with lips and tongue.  He can hear the leash chain rattle with every deep heaving breath he takes.

      Rising slowly, her hands rub over the backs of her calves, her thighs, and her ass. She turns to face him, and let him watch as she runs her hands over her belly and up to her breasts, her nipples hard and shaped like little nestle morsels.   She smiles in devilish delight at his torture of only being able to drink her in with his eyes.

      He shakes visibly, bunching his thighs and buttocks; it makes his penis rise and fall. He blushes hotly while she walks towards a table just out of sight behind him, and selects two evenly matched 3 ft. signal whips. She picks them up, and walks back just out of reach of the eager, taunting ass that is so well displayed for her.

      His every nerve on fire, nipples hard as buttons, and his skin dimpled with perspiration. He moans softly and curls his fingers, then remembers, and lays his hands flat on the floor. Tense, he concentrates on trying to relax,  to calming himself. He barely even blinks, wanting to be a good boy...

[To Be Continued....]

Sunday, September 21, 2014

Spontaneous Confessions: My First Time

....looking at FemDom porn.   *whistles*   It really shocked me at first, but then I looked closer, and closer, noticing the devices, the leather, the buckles.   I got so turned on, but I couldn't enjoy my erection.  You see, my gf at the time had challenged me to look at it, knowing I would like it.   I told her I wouldnt, and she bet that I would.  The bet was that if I liked it, I couldn't masturbate until I admitted it to her.  Well, she won the bet.  lol

The first time I had a boy kneel at my feet was incredible.  I have to say, I had seen subs kneeling for women in SL many times, but never understood the draw of it.

Then I met this sweet boy at the Dominion soon after I arrived.   I told him to come over and kneel for me, and he did.   I watched him kneel and heard him call me Miss on voice and I was amazed how it felt.  I was surprised and it turned me on!  I had not expected that.  It just felt right.  I realized I deserved it, this obedience.  And then realized it would be even more special when it signified something deeper between my own sub and I.  So, I waited a long time and then found the right girl.  She was so sweet and sensual.  And when she kneeled for me the first time after I collared her, I sighed.  When she asked me what was wrong, I told her ' "Not a damn thing, everything is right."

I will never forget the first time

that I was spanked.   It was by a friend that is a Domme in RL, and I was scared.  Not scared for the pain, but scared to try it.  I had not until then, and I didn't know back then what it meant that I even wanted to try.  But I did.  So I bent over her legs and I felt the paddle come down.  I was shaking, but I did not say a thing.  I found I was gritting my teeth, and felt I was resisting somehow.  The paddle kept coming though, and finally....  I cried.

It wasnt because it was painful, though she brought the paddle down hard, but because I had been so scared to feel pleasure from it.  I was scared it meant there was something wrong with me.  Then I cried, and when all was done, it got so much easier to be happy being who I was and appreciating it.

I will never forget the first time I was masturbating (as I had since I was seven years old)... and white stuff began coming out.  I had no clue what was happening -- but since there was no blood, I figured it might be "normal" and that it might have something with all the hair that had just started growing around my privates...

I will never forget the first time I ever met my Mistress.

I will never forget the first time I realized the amount of control I had over another human being.

I will never forget the first time I...was tied up spread eagle on a bed and felt the cane, crop, and flogger on various parts of my body from the Mistress I had at the time and found out I liked it very much.

I will never forget the first time I...
Watched a porno.  I was 13.  I snuck in to my Dad's stash, which I knew was tucked deep within my parent's closet.  It was VHS, and I remember being so scared of getting caught, even though I knew they were both at work until 5pm.  I forget the name of the movie, but it was some cheesy flick about a women's gym.  While some men were in the film, it was my first exposure to girl-on-girl action.  I remember feeling really excited, and a bit grossed out (hey I was 13!), but I watched it until the end and thought, "Damn that was a stupid movie."  But I never stopped watching from that point on.  Porn became a guilty pleasure.

I will never forget the first time I wrote her name
With glinting steel, crimson ink,
And no small measure of pain.

When my body reveled in her complete control,
And bathed in the joy of her pleasure,
An act of pure obedience.

It was a touch that I detested,
Wounding myself at her will,
My desires, tested.

When thick red tears rolled down my chest,
When your name was written upon my chest,
My submission, finally expressed.

I will never forget the first time I...

Drew blood... it was purely by accident, mind you, and we're lucky nothing bad came from it.  Unless you think my new found fetish is bad.  My need, my yearning for it... Would you call it bad?

Would you think that drawing it out, breeching the protection of thin layer skin at his most vulnerable spots... bad?

Reverently inhaling that thick, metallic smell, knowing, learning his essence.  That which keeps him tethered to this earth... too much spilt and it can be dangerous... not enough precautions and there can be infection.  The preparation, mentally, physically... the care going into it.  It's a ritual.

*licks that streak of life running down his skin*

I will never forget the first time I...

i could call a boy 'Mine'.

The Dominion Ladies Serve It Up!

Go Ladies, Go Dommes, Go Mistresses and Sir!
The Ladies of Dominion are here to share some words.
Lipstick, high heels, boots and leather,
We're smart and sexy and stand strong together!

We expect the best, better come with your A game,
We'll kick you to the curb if your lines are lame.

We roll with class, sass and attitude.
We're so sorry if you find that rude (NOT!)

They talk about us, they say we're bitches,
We leave their sorry asses crying in the ditches.

The D is our home, and we are here to represent,
Don't hate on us, no need to get bent.

Go Ladies, Go Dommes, Go Mistresses and Sir!
Now... as... you... were!

You've been served!  (laughs, jabs, taunts)


Time and Service by Doc

I went to my high school reunion.
Met someone – too late.
Told her I'd write her a story if she’d give me a topic.
She never did ask for my story.

I read the story of Billy Pilgrim, unhinged in time
Flying about.  Out of control.
Meeting and losing Montana Wildhack.
On Tralfamadore.

Sharon and Louise.   College guides into the mysteries of femdom
Though they were only a bit less clueless than me.
I fell through a succession of their successors
Passed on from one woman to the next.

I served with no hope of anything much
Except perhaps to leave some memories.
I read the words (in translation) of Lady Midnight
A fourth-century Chinese courtesan

“Wild geese set out for their south lands
And city-bred swallows wing northward.
If you’ve lost your way, my far-off love,
Just follow the autumn wind back home.”

I bounce around the halls of dead time
Like a billiard ball, rebounding
From mistress to mistress.
Part of a game of pool in which I don’t know my role.

She is smoking.  (Who is she; I recognize the face and can’t recall the name.)
No, that was in times past.  She isn’t the same woman.
In time present she is flirting with a guy I don’t know and don’t care to know.
In the future who knows if any of us will remember this day.  Most likely not.

“What’s your wish, Miss?” I ask
She stares at me as if I’m speaking Portuguese.
She is married to a guy who tells her she has no wishes or dreams.
That makes me want to cry for her.

I’m told I should not feel compassion for my broken sisters.
I hear, “Move on; leave her in the ditch.”
I cannot.  I see myself in her.
I am she and she is me and we are family.

Objectify?  I know we’re all just clay pots.  Objects.
I trace my fingers in her grooves, incisions in the clay, letting her know I value vessels.
Clay or gold – all the same.  She is (like all lost loves) a container full of memories.
And I treasure memory.

Unhinged from time, I travel about through time.
Yesterday is today.  Tomorrow is the past.
I try to please.  To delight.  To enchant.
But -- I make a bad wizard.

The ladies in my sordid biography in fact –
Need magicians to turn them into princesses.
And I need princesses to turn me from lost Billy Pilgrim
Into a hayseed prince from rural Texas.

In the meantime I fly about.
Lost with just a single compass needle.
It points to the latest woman.
Who offers guidance as I fly through the night.

Anonymous Confession by A Domme

I rarely play with the same person twice.  The reason?  Emotions get in the way.  People have great difficulty separating 'personal' from 'performance'.  You see this in the workplace during annual reviews and evaluations.  "Constructive criticism" is the corporate term.  An oxymoron.  Most people just focus on the criticism.  It's how human beings seem to be wired.

I cannot afford, nor do I desire, to get 'too involved' with anyone.  That may sound insensitive, callous, or guarded, but it is my own preference.  Does that mean I don't establish relationships with people?  No, of course I do.  But those relationships have clearly defined boundaries, and they are on my terms.  The borders may be transparent, even flexible at times, but there is no negotiating of them.  I choose their height, length, width, and depth.

I communicate very well.  However, if you don't like what I have to say, that is for you to process and work through.

Do I care about your response?  I'm not evil nor malicious, so yes, to a degree.  But I will not fret extensively about it.  We are adults, let's act the part.  I cannot fix it for you.  I will ?
not force you to accept my decisions or even expect you to agree with me.  Dominant, or Submissive, your actions and reactions to life and everything that exists are your own.  Be accountable for yourself.  Quit blaming your bad behaviors or inability to cope on external factors.  Go talk to a counselor if you need help figuring it out.  I am not a counselor.

Some people get really affronted when you refuse to engage with them.  "What do you mean you don't want to play with me?  What did I do?"  You did nothing.  I just don't want it.  Finito.  It is not the end of the world.  Move along.

In The Room by Samina

In The Room

"Pain. The deal is your pain for my pleasure. Is that clear?"

The naked girl kneeling on the carpet nodded slowly, never lifting her eyes from the floor. She needed to serve, to give, and if her pain was required, so it would be given.

She remained kneeling, mute, as her Mistress's hands slid over her shoulders, down her breasts to home in on her erect nipples. She remained mute as they were pinched between thumb and forefinger, then crying out as they were twisted and pinched.

"Tender little titties are they? Delicate little things? Well let's see how tough they are shall we? Will you do that for me, give me your tits as a present?"

The other nodded, blinking away the traces of tears that were already gathering.

"Well offer them to me then. That's right, stick them so that I can get at them.."

The slap of the whip, six tails of soft black leather; the soft sounds of pain, sob and cry, mingled in the still air of the shuttered room. The kneeling one raised her head, chin lifted by the handle of the whip. Spot lighting caught the diamond tears welling.

"That was a taster, a morsel to whet my desires: have you more to give me?" The old, deep hunger was welling up in her; breathing slow and deep she felt alive, her skin sang. Bending low over the offering before her she drank in the aroma of fear and of pain, tasted the air, moistened her lips, bloody with intent.

The silent one was held by her Mistress's eyes, but betrayed by her own hands that pushed forward her tender gifts. Her Mistress pointed with the whip to a floor cushion, rich blue velvet, draped with pure white cords. A jewel cushion, to display a rare gem. Once seated she would be giving herself utterly.

Seated she was, and a fine display. Bound, still kneeling, thigh to ankle and wrist to thigh, her breasts harnessed by virgin cords, gleaming against the dulling red of the flesh. She looked straight ahead: she looked up at her Mistress and her body opened to let forth its offering.

No hurried slashings or dull beatings, but each stroke measured to make the pain sing. Left and right, downstroke and up, painting her with an even coat of fire. Her moans became cries and her tears coursed freely.

"Lean back, tip your head back." Her Mistress's voice was becoming shaky and ragged.

Through the haze of tears she saw the broad strap: she felt her Mistress's hand on her stomach and her muscles knotted. Her tears congealed and set into iron, she threw back her head and thrust herself screaming into the stroke. Doubled up and then offering herself wildly again.

Her Mistress lunged over, body taut, engorged with power; her nails dug into the bruised flesh and their howling mingled as she forced the open screaming mouth onto her own aching body in a shattering crescendo.

The Mistress lying drained and sated on the bed looked heavily at the figure, still bound and jerking spasmodically on the velvet cushion.

"That was a good gift, thank you...."

Conditioned by Lady Saaskje


You belong to me.
Your mind is mine, I will scout, I will maraud.
Your body is mine, I will rape its landscape, set fire to its topography.
I will plunder you and claim my domain.
You will fall on your belly at my feet and beg
For mercy.
Your fear is my intoxicant.
I am drunk on your terror, your surrender.
You serve me.
You obey me.
You worship me.
I am your God, boy.
I am your religion.

Suits You by Samina

Suits You

The rubber suit is waiting for me and I hate it.

She's always been kinky for latex. I've known that ever since I met her, but I was OK about going out to the fetish clubs in some abbreviated skin tight black latex if it kept her happy. Now it's as if she's using my growing dislike of it as another weapon in her armoury. Hence the suit - the rubber punishment suit. There's her cruel streak too, but I can live with that. Each to her own.

She's here, and in a good mood too. Maybe she's forgotten or changed her mind. But no, she's smiling and lightly licking her lips. Bad sign.

"Get me the instruments, darling."

Instruments. Her/our pet name.

"And don't forget your rubbers, sweetie."

I strip off while she idly whips the air and slaps the cushions. Corporal foreplay.


She nods slowly and watches appreciatively as I squeeze myself into a pair of black latex cycle shorts. She picks up the heavy leather split tawse and motions to the arm of the couch.

I lay, waiting for the strap to fall but nothing really prepares you for it. The fiery pain; the feel of it curling around you. I clench my teeth and endure. The rubber serves a purpose: it protects a little and allows her to strike hard, really hard. She enjoys that.

She hauls me up by my hair. "Open up for me."

She loves this position. I stand, legs apart, hands clasped behind my neck, facing her. She can see every twist of pain that runs across my face when she uses that strap inside my thighs.

"Stand proud, darling. Titties up unless you want them clamped."

I can't help crying out as the strap curls around my leg, biting and stinging despite the rubber.

"Look at me, darling, I want you to keep looking right at me."

My eyes are filling with a crystal haze of tears she as works all over the tops of my thighs inside and out.

"Hold out your hands"

Cane on hands: guaranteed tears.

She lightly licks a thick salt tear from my cheek and puts little steel clamps on my nipples.

With stiff and swollen hands I ease down the shorts. She wants to cane me and canes cut. On my bruised flesh the caning is agony. Sometimes I can get through it, but not tonight.

"All you have to do is ask," she murmurs in my ear.

I ask. Another couple of strokes and I beg. At the sight of the paddle I plead to be allowed to wear the rubber suit.

She leads me up to bed, still crying, clad from elbow to knee in the thick, translucent amber rubber, like an outsize romper, zip locked at the collar. Laying in bed she nuzzles at me, tasting flesh and rubber, hugs me and brings us both to shattering climaxes. She sleeps.

The rubber suit is on me and I hate it.

Sunday, September 14, 2014

Impromptu Confessions: I Can't Believe That....

I can't believe that I can have amazing chemistry with a person in one respect and then have everything else go to shit.  It makes me sad.  Live and learn.

I can't believe that I broke.
I can't believe that I cracked,
That I shattered,
and folded,
and knelt,
and begged,
and pleaded,
and desperately needed,

I can't believe that I...

... spent two hours of my life *excited to watch* the 'Unauthorized, Behind the Scenes of Saved By the Bell."

What a let down that was.

I can't believe that I'm a life form living on a tiny speck of dust called 'Earth' in such an enormous universe amid billions and billions of suns and that out of the billions of years I actually am occupying one tiny sliver of time in all that vastness.  Stranger yet:  I'm trillions of times larger and more complex than any single neutron or proton or electron.  Strangest:  I know these things (unlike a rock or a comet or a black hole).

I can't believe that I didn't see it sooner... the beauty in broken things. In Japan, when vases break, they repair the cracks with gold... the art of doing this is called "Kintsugi" and the idea is the importance of embracing the flawed... the imperfect... as something that makes us beautiful, real, and worthwhile.

~~Danika Stonesoul

Voices In His Head: An Experiment by Doc

                                            by Doc Nolan

He was looking at her intently.  Mostly her breasts.  She was looking at him in return – weirdly.  The voices in his head began chatting…  Voice number one started the discussion inside his brain….
#1:  ‘Well, there you’ve done it again.  Staring!  She’s probably upset that he is so fixated on her body!
#2:  Hey, don’t get so paranoid!  Maybe she’s glad someone is noticing her… maybe she feels invisible and neglected.
#3:  Sure!  You honestly think no one notices her?
#2 Again: Well, you never know…
#4:  Will you guys shut up?  She’s talking!

She says (aloud), “It’s nice to meet you.  I wish I knew what you were thinking; I’d love to know”

 #1:  ‘Thank god she doesn't.  At least she hasn't noticed ‘Mr. Embarrassing Member’ down there showing off and getting hard again.  What as ass!
#2:  Hey, even if she did notice, maybe she’d be happy to have some effect – other than setting off a discussion here.  Mr. EM at least shows himself honestly.  More than you guys do….
#3: ‘She sure has nice breasts’.
#5: If you guys weren't so tied up, maybe I could engage in some outward flirtation!
#4:  Yeah, number five makes a good point. <Pause as he guffaws at his pun’>.

He says, “It’s hard to say exactly what I’m thinking – but you are an impressive woman.  I think we should get to know each other – if you want to!’

#1: <Groan>.  What an asinine comment.
#5:  Hey, he’s out of practice!  Give the guy a break!
#2:  I think he’d do anything she told him to do right now… This guy is pathetic.
#3:  Nah.  He’s not pathetic; just desperate.
#5: <Laughs> She’s cute, but he is definitely both pathetic and desperate! <Laughs again>.

She says, “If I were a man I might ask you to come and see my etchings.  <She grins>.  But I think you are interested in other things – aren’t you?”

He replies, “I hope I’m not offending you, but I noticed you earlier.  You are very ‘attractive’.

She says, “You were very obvious.  Now, follow me.  I have some tasks I think you might do for me.   Fun things.”

#1:  ‘She is shameless.
#5:  Don’t get your hopes up <grin>.  You’re dreaming!
#2:  You two are disgusting.  She’s just being nice.
#5:  Sure!  We’ll see!

He says, “Huh?  Tasks?”

She says, “I’ve heard about you.  Mr. Clean.  Right?  Well, my apartment needs vacuumed and dusted.  I want you to do that for me.”

He gulps.  “Yes, Miss.”

#1:  She is taking advantage of him!
#2:  Agree!
#3: So what?  If it makes her happy you know he’ll perform.  He always does.
#5: <Again laughing>.  Hey, #1, cheer up!  We all know he isn't going to get laid.
#1: She’s not very nice.
#5:  No shit!  But she sure is nice to look at.
#4:  Will you two shut up.  He’s going to do what he’s going to do.
#5:  And that will be exactly what she tells him to do.  Ha, ha, ha.

And that’s pretty much what happened.  She was taking advantage of him.  He did go to her home and dust and vacuum (and he washed a load of clothes and ironed them too!).  She teased him a bit to make sure he’d come back.  And no – he didn't get laid.

He wondered if SHE had voices in HER head….

It really didn't matter.  He knew that going in.  It was all about voices in his head – chattering back and forth.  The outside reality was not really that big a deal.  The voices were his reality.  That and the ladies who took advantage of him.

Letter to My Daughter: Limes by Lady Danika

Letter to My Daughter: Limes
by Danika Stonesoul

To my beautiful daughter,

I was eleven the year I took my first flight to New York to see my Aunt and Uncle. I thought they were rich because every time we drove by a Sonic, my Aunt would point and whine and my Uncle would do a U-turn in traffic to take her for a lime-aid.

I didn't really like the lime-aids back then... they were too sour for my taste, but my aunt would give me the cherry out of hers and I would sit in the back seat of the car and suck on it like it was candy, pulling the stem into my mouth and pushing it through my teeth with my tongue.

When I was older I could tie a knot in a cherry stem with just my tongue and my teeth (believe it or not, your Grandma taught me how).

I acquired a taste for limes when I was 21 the first time I had one in Mexico with some tequila.  It wasn't like a lime-aid at all.  I remember laughing as the men watched and waited for me to get tipsy, which, to their disappointment, didn't happen.  I am dark haired and my eyes are so black you can't see my pupils.  Most of them called me "Señorita" and a couple asked why I had married the "dirty gringo."  Then they would say a few words in Spanish and cackle like hens. You'll understand when you are older, and this will, perhaps... make you laugh.

Limes are also good for cleaning. I once discovered that limes are great thrown in the garbage disposal after your 16 year-old son sends his fishing worms through it.  At least I hope to god that was worms I tugged out of there so long ago like intestines...

Sometimes, I find myself at the grocery store in the produce section, handling the small fruits... rolling them in my palms and remembering my aunt as my uncle would do a sharp U-turn for her lime-aid.  She told me once that when I found a man who would do U-turns in traffic for me over a lime, I would know that I had found the right man.

The thing is, relationships are about give and take and lots of compromise... and a whole lot of hard work. There really is no such thing as the "perfect" relationship, and maybe not even the "perfect" love. We as human beings are inherently flawed, and we bring all those flaws to the table when we try to make a love match, or a marriage, and sometimes that seems to magnify them to greater proportions and make problems that should be "fixable" seem almost insurmountable.  It's always an uphill climb of course -- with any relationship, and sometimes you have to ask yourself, is the view at the top worth the risk of falling?

I have been incredibly lucky in some very important things with my life... despite many dark moments which often threatened to figuratively swallow me up.

And here is the lesson I learned, Sweetheart: Love's most important (and sometimes difficult) lesson, is that it is worth heartbreak to love someone who has helped to make you whole.

With all my love and hope for your future,


Haikus by Lady Tanarra

i shall dominate
obliterate all you are
and leave you broken


choke on my fat dick
you dirty little cum slut
then cry about it


smacking your balls hard
until they are blue and fat
begging for mercy


beneath me your place
eyes to the ground not a sound
being a good boy


she rules with stern force
her heel on my throat pressing
i breathe on her whim


in my cage i sleep
ass is welted and i weep
my heart you shall keep


don't defy me boy
the consequences will prove
obedience pays


high heels and leather
keep my boys on a tether
knees scuffed and bleeding


the darkness will help
shield you from the awareness
my wrath is coming

Gasp by Anonymous

Lips curl,
Grip tightens,
Eyes water,
Lip bitten,
Cheeks flush,
Sweat drips,
Heat pounds,
Pulse quickens,
Need grows,
Gaze locked...

"Do you need something, My boy?"

Your fingertips start to leave red imprint in my skin, so tight that more than the very air I need is restricted, but the blood in my veins slows to admire your presence.
My face grows red with a maelstrom of emotion and sensation.
All of my needs are centered around you.
Which one is most pressing?
My head weakly nods, eyes never wanting to leave sight of yours.
The hand between my legs grips tighter, it's furious motion the source of many of my dilemmas, and oh so many more pleasures.
You smirk, That dangerous smirk when you know I'm right where you want me.

"What is it that you might desire at a time like this?"

Your eloquence mocks my inability to even move with any sense of articulation.
Eyes flicker downwards into the abyss of the unseen, trying to catch a glimpse.
I whisper out one word, it's all I can think of.


Your head tilts in a knowing fashion, mouth opens to speak in that affectionate mocking tone.
You pause.
Hold back.
Tongue sneak out to savor this moment.
Taste at the desperation I exude.
Pressing your cheek almost to mine and with a very sultry whisper, you bare your mercy.


Whispered right into my ear.
I shudder, my body giving in.
Quivering with the final release.
I struggle to take a full breath.
You tut into my ear.

"I didn't let you have that yet, Pet."

At The Office by Gaeth

I had been watching her in the office.  She walked by my desk every morning on her way to her posh corner office with the beautiful views of the city.  I saw her large mahogany desk and the big leather chair behind it when she opened the door to go in.  Then the door closed.

People went in and out all day.  Important-looking people with brief cases, harried clerk-like types like myself with sheafs of paper, messengers delivering envelopes.

My department was not directly related to hers so we had very little interaction.  If I caught her eye, she might nod "hello" but that was the extent of it.   So I was surprised when she stopped at my desk one evening just as I was preparing to go home.  She stood over me for a moment as though considering my merits.  As though I were a purchase she was pondering.

Then she nodded, having made her decision, and said, "Come with me."

She turned and walked toward her office and I followed.  I had to follow.  I had no choice.

She stood just inside the door as I entered and then closed it behind her, turning the latch.   She placed her back to the door and said, "My job creates a lot of tension.  Sometimes I need to relax.  Tonight you will help me do that, won't you?"

I said, "Sure, anything I can do."

She smirked and said "Anything?   Good.  You will remove all of your clothes and kneel beside my desk chair.  I will be back in a few minutes."

I found myself undressing and carefully placing my clothes on a chair.  Not "the chair."  Not, "her chair".  Just a chair.

I knelt on the floor next to "her chair".

A Satisfying End To A Long Day

    She arrived home to an empty house -- empty except for the caged boy in the playroom.  The Ladies were out; it was stormy... it had been a long day.  She wrung out Her umbrella, hung Her coat and walked to the playroom.  Her house boy was kneeling patiently behind bars, eyes to his knees.   Mistress stepped to the cage, placed Her index finger over Her lips and made a shushing sound.  She let the boy out and leashed him before sternly strapping a gag harness over his head.  She was in no mood for  talk.  A firm slap on the ass and the boy got on all fours; he crawled behind Mistress, at Her heels as She sat, exhaled, and stretched.

    The boy spent the next hour meticulously cleaning every spot on Mistress' s boots.  Allowed to lower his gag, he shined Her heels before he lapped every inch of the leather.  When done, without prompting, he slid down the zippers on the backside of each boot and removed them both.  Her feet were cleaned and massaged before his hands worked over the calf of each leg.  His training ensured no commands were necessary.   Mistress relaxed, let him work, and thought over her day.  The boy got back to his knees and Mistress leaned down to him.  She clasped Her thumb and index finger on his chin and opened his mouth.  With a swirl of Her tongue She spit a think wad of saliva into his mouth.  This was all the boy needed before She pressed the gag back into his mouth and tightened his harness.  A quick snap of Her fingers and a swirling motion of her index finger followed; the boy quickly turned on his knees into 'position'.  Mistress chuckled.. After a week of edging him and denying him she enjoyed his whimpering pleas for release, She appreciated how extra attentive he was to Her commands.  It was always a plus when Her training showed results.

    On his hands and knees, his back arched and his legs spread, the hungry slut swayed his ass for Her, expressing muffled moans through his gag.  She tugged firmly on the leash to further stretch his neck and to arch him.  She reached down for Her thick, extended toy.  Pleased that his ass was almost stretched properly, She ran the tip of the dido up and down its length.  The starved slut pulsed and pressed against it.  Her arm lifted before Her palm slammed down onto his bruised ass cheek. A hard pull on the leash and, without a word, the slut grunted and proceeded to buck.  His body snapped back and She pressed the tip into his ass before She swayed back and fully mounting him.  His body then rocked and pulsed, riding fully on the tool as Mistress held it firmly.  Drool dripped down his chin; he panted and struggled to grunt though the tightened gag.  Jamming his knees against the floor to brace himself, he fucked and rode Her tool.  Hard. The boy would be sufficiently stretched within days.  To finish with him, She had him press back all the way -- fully mounting the dildo and stroking his cock.  Four times he was brought to the edge; four times he was denied.  All of this much to the pleasure of Mistress.

    Her foot then pressed his ass cheek.  She slammed him down, dismounting from him harshly.  He crumpled to the floor before snapping back to his knees in correct posture.  He was sure to keep his bruised and heavily used ass off his heels.

    Mistress then stood up walked him back to the cage; she kept the leash taut to ensure that he heeled properly.  She opened the door, unleashed him and led him.  He would spend the entire night gagged -- as a further reminder of his place.  Mistress felt that Her time training was well spent.

    She thought, "This boy may just work out after all!"

In My Darkness I Am A Slut by Daxie

He sits on the edge of his couch, his elbows on his knees, his hands fumbling over each other.  Another wave of chest-wracking sobs flows through his body as tears flow from his eyes.  Eyes looking off to nowhere -- seeing but not comprehending.  His mind is full of mischief and runs through the course of the events of the last hour.

His mind wonders why he allows dominant women to control him so easily, inspiring his mind and body to do things which if anyone else asked him to do he would politely decline.  Yet, when spoken by a Domme, he has no choice but to comply with her words; it’s an inner craving to be useful and needed.  He needs to provide pleasure to them with no regard to his own pleasure.  His pleasure is not deserved and therefore ignored.  Every time becomes easier and easier.   He concludes it isn't the first time nor will it be his last.  He gains knowledge each time he finds himself in this position.

He thinks back to how he got to this point.  It always seems to start innocently but then, as the night moves on, it turns dark.  He once sat in a chat room with a few people he had talked with before.  One was a Domme named Nikki, another was a fellow submissive who goes by “Rock”.  Somehow the conversation led to guys sucking other guys at the request of this Domme.  The turn on for the Domme was to inspire a man to go where he had never gone before.  For the submissive, the gleam of pleasure he knew it would  provide for the Domme.  The prospect of bringing a smile excited the submissive.  So as the talk continued, he wanted to give a gift to Miss Nikki:  the surprise of him sucking another man’s cock.

Nervous yet excited, he dressed up into a very slutty fem outfit just for this purpose.  He found a willing guy on craigslist and within an hour a meeting had been scheduled.  He continued to talk to his friends while he waited for the man to arrive. Only upon hearing the doorbell did he excuse himself.

He nervously walked to the door in his lil outfit.  The man was nice, about 6’1 220, and very polite; he introduced himself as Mike.  As he walked up the stairs( leading Mike to his apartment) he could feel the Mike’s eyes on his body and on his ass.  There was very little covering it.   Mike placed his hands over his new friend's ass.  He caressed it and squeezed it.  Mike pulled his pants down and looked over, noticing the hard cock.  Mike's cock was nice -- around 7” long --  shaved.  It smelled nice.

Yes, 'he' was me.....  Without a word of guidance, I leaned forward grabbing Mike's hard cock in my hand and licked his shaft before putting it into my mouth.  From there it was a blur of licking and sucking  I was  trying to focus on breathing and on controlling my weak gag reflex.  Time had no meaning.  All that was in focus was Mike’s cock. Suddenly, I felt the spurt of juices hitting the back of my throat.  After the initial shock I continued with my motion: swallowing.  I was feeling him pulsate in my mouth, and then shooting even more.

When it was done Mike asked if he could suck my cock.  I declined, not worthy of that pleasure.  He politely let himself out, never to be seen again.

The memory over I quickly hopped back online to report back to Miss Nikki what I had done.  I reported back and discussed what had transpired moments before. Miss Nikki congratulated me.  When she asked what I felt now, I responded:   “Guilt and shame; I feel slutty”.  This produced more than a few “lol’s” from Miss Nikki.  I did the same, not wanting to share the tears that had started to build up.  I excused myself from chat and sat on the couch.  That brought me back to the present.

Exhausted physically and emotionally I went to brush my teeth and to get ready for bed.  I purposely avoided looking in the mirror, not wanting to see the red eyes and the lil slutty outfit that awhile ago made me feel sexy but that currently makes my skin crawl.

Lastly I walked to my bedside table and pulled out my medication for sleep.  I grabbed the sleeping pills and notices that I had plenty.  I sat there for a long period of time just holding them -- thinking.  In the end I took just my prescribed dosage and I picked up my bestest friend, Bo Jangles, my cat.  Holding Bo closely and listening to his purring one last thought went through my head before sleep grabbed me.

“I’m alone in my darkness, which is home to me.  Darkness is my comfort.  I’m only useful and needed when I’m a toy, person’s property, and not a person but a thing.  I am useful when I’m a slut!  In My Darkness I am a Slut”

 -Daxie (the me in he)

Saturday, September 6, 2014

What Makes Me Hot....

What makes me hot every time?

The list.

I'm not kidding.

Yes, I have one.

1. Honesty
2. Loyalty
3. Pride - (if he's ashamed of his submission, then his shame reflects on Me)
4. Confidence
5. Open Mindedness
6. Creativity
7. Ambition & Initiative - (laziness is not attractive)
8. Punctuality
9. Manners
10. Fortitude
11. Masculinity

~Danika Stonesoul

What makes me hot every time is when a Lady grabs my leash

What makes me hot every time is when a sub anticipates my needs without me having to say or do anything. That moment when I realize something is waiting at my fingertips for me the second I desire it and that someone who adores me was thoughtful enough to anticipate my needing it .... THAT never fails to make me smile uncontrollably and makes me want to devour the person who did it. THAT gets me every time.


What makes me hot is every-time is when he unabashedly opens himself to me, allowing me into his vulnerability, taking all his softness and tender emotion and allowing me to wrap myself in it.  He keeps me warm, hot, wanting.  The wrinkle of his brow as he adjusts himself to the discomfort, the flare of his nostrils and the sigh that escapes him.  He pushes through it... for me.  His willingness and devotion is what makes me hot.  Every . Fucking . Time.

What makes me hot everytime is when a (Lady or sub)

The RIGHT guy kneeling at my feet always gets me hot and bothered. I find that physical demonstration of submission so exciting, always, without fail.

 What makes me hot everytime is when a (Lady or sub) ........ is smart, articulate and dirty.

What makes me hot every time is when a sub screams my name in the midst of pain!

What makes me hot every time is when a Lady has two subs playing tug of war with their subs being tethered to each other via their balls.  Watching those subs struggling to please Ladies facing them at opposite sides.

What makes me hot every time is when a Lady makes me publicly beg to cum!

What makes me hot everytime is when a (Lady or sub) ........

takes me in Her very sensual way, with a drop of kink, a prise of surprise and a sigh with Her voice, when She uses me, for Her, and also for me. 
Connection :)

What makes me hot every time,
What really stoked the smoldering inferno of my lust,
When a lday,
That awesome,
Awe inspiring Lady whom tugs that leash,
Grabs me by my throat and pushes me to the wall,
Eyes locked intently,
Peering into the foggy darkness of my soul,
Examining the glimmers of submission that rain like falling glass,
Making my pupils sparkle,
When she leans so close I can feel the heat of her skin,
She wash of her breath,
Growling in primal predatory dominance,
Making the hairs on my skin stand up on end akin to the feeling of impending danger,
As if a tigress hung over my shoulder,
I could heel her hunger sprawling over me like tendrils,
Gripping me,
Wordlessly reminding me of my presence in all of this,
As her grip tightens,
Breath becomes difficult,
And I savor the calm before such sweet tender violence.

What makes me hot every time is when my sub curls up against me with his head on my chest, especially if he is sucking on my breast.

A nerdy but deep voice in a sub is always a turn on.

I love smart, sexy and sincere boys.

A sweet, firm ass

I love low honest moans of need and desperate sincere begging.

A True Story by Lady Vixie

I'm at an all-women's party at my regular dungeon and we're all in a circle introducing ourselves. A lady whom I shall call R. catches my attention. She says she doesn't like to flog much, nor does she bottom much, but she would like to find out what all the fuss is about; what it's like to be flogged.

I volunteer to show her the ropes. I'm helpful that way. It doesn't hurt that she's gorgeous; blackish hair, thin, small but perfect breasts, ass just asking to be spanked. Her nipples are noticeable through her top. She is braless.

We negotiate briefly and I motion her to a cross. She disrobes, leaving her panties on. I'll allow that, for now.

I take a moment to appreciate her, which is well worth doing.

We hug. I always start with a hug. I motion her to the cross again. She declines to be restrained. Next time, dear, next time.

I start with my hands, as usual. Oh, what an ass. I spank it gently. Four, five, six times. A little harder now. Then a little more.

I get out my deerskin flogger. It's made of the lightest deer hide, perfect for warm-ups and flogging breasts and other sensitive parts. I work over her back, her shoulders, her butt. She moans occasionally. I ask her if she likes it. She does.

I have her turn around, and gently work on her breasts. They're probably A-cups, but purrrrrrrrrrfectly shaped. Her nipples are like the erasers on a pencil. I put the flogger in my back pocket and go to work briefly on her breasts with my fingers. She moans contentment. I ask her, perhaps unnecessarily, whether she's enjoying herself. She is.

Time for a bit more pain. I get out my elk flogger, which is made of soft, heavy elk hide. It's a lot whumpier than the deerskin one. I turn her back around and work over her back, shoulders, and butt all over again. She makes wonderful noises. She's obviously liking it, but I ask just to make sure. She says yes, she is.

I've previously rigged up my Neon Wand to an outlet via an extension cord. I've only had it a month or so, but I really like it. They're safer and gentler than a violet wand, as they're made of solid-state components (integrated circuits) rather than discrete coils and stuff. I use a portable ground-fault circuit interruptor (GFCI) for extra safety.

I turn her around again and put the wand on minimal power. She can't feel it. I turn it up a bit and get a reaction. I turn it up a little more.

I'm using the comb attachment, which is good for general use. I work over her breasts several times, going down her front almost, but not quite, to her pussy. She says it tickles her nipples. Gee, what a shame. They are fully erect now.

Time for a game of pull-on-the-nipple. That goes well, so I do it again, a little less gently. She moans. I confirm once again that she's having a good time.

I ask if I may lick her breasts. She consents. I do. Oh, god. I lick and suck her nipples, gently at first, then getting my teeth somewhat involved. She moans deeply, contentedly. I'm having quite a time as well.

Unfortunately, my back soon intruded and I had to take a break. We conversed for a while, then continued along the same lines.

Soon my back intruded again, but I don't mind too much. "Always leave them wanting more," a friend of mine says.

She leaves the party early but I'm sure I've made a new friend.

The End.

Chaos A Poem By Doc Nolan

by Doc Nolan

It wasn't the work.
It wasn't obeying.
What was broken was communication.

We lived on different planets.
I in the world of procedures, plans and execution
She in a world of nuance and emotion and inference.

She was the Boss
But I couldn't figure out what was going on.
Lost in a fog of words that never seemed to point anywhere specific.
She was equally frustrated.

It wasn't working.

It was broken.

We never came to a meeting point.
We simply spun around and around,
She refused to give up.

I saw no future but I hung in.
Why not?
Even if we couldn’t communicate, seeing someone nearby was reassuring.

I waited.
I still am waiting.
Some things take centuries to play out.
Even disasters.

Life is often a series of disasters strung together.
It’s called tragedy.
It’s a core part of life

The House Part 3 of 3 by Anonymous

The House Part 3

Sophie firmly grasped the leash and pulled me into the guest house by the pool. I stepped over the threshold and through the french doors. My bare feet touched the hard cold white marble floor. I shivered.

She guided me over to a polished stainless steel ring secured in the wall. It was rather high. I was facing the wall when Sophie unlocked my cuffs from behind my back, then lifted my hands over my head and secured them to the ring. Naked, collared, cuffed, in a strange house. My heart was pounding and with each breath...I tried to settle. Telling myself this is what I wanted...I have always wanted to be a slave to a beautiful Mistress. I didn’t dare try to look behind me. I had been so lost in my thoughts that I had missed the door opening. It was then when I felt a small hand slip up the back of my neck before taking firm hold of my hair.

Then with a yank “Melissa?” it was her….it was Miss April…...“Melissa you didn’t think I would allow another slave to discipline you did you?” she laughed “Oh no, slaves never discipline...let alone a male slave...never in my house…You just have to obey her….like a supervisor....Sophie do you have my crop ready?”

Miss April never turned to talk with Sophie...she just held her hand out and open like a surgeon. Sophie placed a brown leather riding crop in Miss April’s hand, then went across the room and knelt.

“Melissa, you have one infraction, the button, such a shame” she grinned and her voice and tone changed to one of wicked delight “Now I believe that was 10 hard strokes on each ass cheek….and Melissa….this punishment, no warm up. no need to count.”

With that the first stroke landed with a hard and clear “WHACK” and I screamed. It was not like any other discipline I had had before...this was real without a warm up. Miss April was not playing around.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth. Each whack skilled, measured, and controlled. It only took a few more for me to feel the first tear in my eyes. My body trembling...the final strokes came faster and harder...whispering to myself “this is what i need, this is what i desire.”

“THUMP” as a pile of files hit the desk and the distinct sound of phones start to fill my ears…

 “Melissa...Melissa” the female voice called out with increasing authority. “Melissa...stop day dreaming silly girl.”

“oh oh…..April I’m so terrible sorry” frantically I say as the realization it was all a dream.

“Melissa, it is fine, it happens to all of us...but I need the marketing reports, my dry cleaning needs to be picked up, and Scott has a few new tasks for you when you finish with those things. Now be a dear and get to it.” April said as she walked off with Scott...her senior assistant.

I sighed..gathered my thoughts….and with eager desire to please and impress  April...I get started.

The End