Sunday, November 13, 2016

My Confession by Anonymous

My Confessiion

When I see him, my mouth goes dry. The lioness in my belly rises up, clawing, and she begins growling, searching for him, demanding. I reach up, wiping my lower lip with my fingers, glancing away and believing that I've hidden this intensity yet again.

It was as if he planned to look this gorgeous, bathed in the afternoon sun and sitting in my living room. He taunts me with his muscled chest. As his submissive eyes lower, I reach down, cupping his chin and pulling it up directly, commanding his attention to my face.

It's all I can do not to shove my heeled boot into his chest, knocking him backward, stripping his clothing off and taking him right there. In my mind, that's what I'm doing. I'm raping him. I'm ripping his shirt, raising my hand and pummeling that broad expanse of a chest with the back of my hand and unleashing this beast of a dominant woman that must possess him. But on the exterior, my controlled, practice voice only replies, "I see you're here again. Something you wanted? I have little time for you today..." And I release his chin, my palm itching with the need to slap his square jaw, leaving a pulsing, reddened handprint upon it.

The vein on his neck pulses, and he glances away. "I wanted to see you, Miss. I can't stop thinking about you." His voice slightly falters as I drink in his delicious unease. Through the light fabric of his shorts, I can see just a small bit of bulging beginning to appear. The outline of his cock through his shorts. The whole time I turn to walk away, my knees slightly trembling from the effort of restraint, I know his eyes are feasting on the back of my thighs. It is all I can do not to turn around, grab a fistful of his hair and smother his nostrils with the muscles of my inner thighs, so tightly that he cannot breathe while I bring the toe of my boot down and step on his erection.

I pour myself a glass of tea, "I hope you aren't actually admitting to using self-gratuitous thoughts of me to pleasure yourself." Cupping my fingers around the glass, I turn to observe him. His jaw is working with considerable thought on how to answer my question as I lean casually against the counter, idly sipping my drink. I swallow back desire, an ocean of it, crashing over me. With each movement of my arm, bringing the cool tea glass up to my lips, I press it against my hardened, turgid nipples that threaten to reveal the lust that simply will not go away. I add, "Harboring such erotic thoughts about another person without their knowing about it is shameful." The last words leaving my lips that crave his sweet mouth, to drink in his woeful cries as my lash begins to make love to his flesh, extracting from him the dark gasps of euphoria and sacrifice that I alone can inspire.

"It's true, isn't it, boy? You lust for me. And you've been stroking your cock and thinking about me." I level my gaze at him over the clear rim of the glass. I calmly set it down, expelling a warm, calm breath and standing back up, arching my brow at him. His face reddens, and he stumbles over his words. He chuckles, and then his smile fades. In a moment of rare bravery, he looks up, "I want you so badly, Miss. I cannot help my thoughts." At his confession, my own sex responds, a deep bass drum once, pounding, in my belly and making me swell, the fabric of my panties wet as my throat constricts. I could, right now, walk to him, lay hands upon him, press my thumbs into his windpipe and begin to take his very air away... it's how badly I must dominate him. I need to lay upon him, torture his cock, completely envelop him with my body until he drowns, so desperately immersed in my presence that he can no long live apart from me.

I glance at the door.

"Get out of my sight. I said I had no time for you. You may try again... in a few days" His stomach muscles tense, and he rises, pain flashing in his eyes as he meets mine one more time. Sweet, violent pain screams in the back of my head at my own denial, and as he drives away, I watch his car through the window. Turning, I pick up a very expensive glass vase, hoisting it through the air as it shatters in the direction he last walked, dispensing its brokenness across my marbled floor.

"Soon," I say, speaking only that word. Yes. It's not quite time.

But it's coming.





Dear Diary

I have said it before, but it bears repeating: Dommes are easy meat. Tonight I’ll be going to my favourite club. There are always one or two there, dressed in their latex or leather, standing tall in their high-heel shoes, looking disdainfully around the room. Easy meat.

I always approach them the same way. I am ever so humble.

“Please forgive the intrusion. You look so wonderfully domme standing there. Can I buy you a drink?”

Sometimes it is hard not to laugh. – they never know I am dom, until it is too late. Until I have revealed all their broken little dreams, their inner confusions, their need to submit. Easy meat.

I will let you know, diary, how I get on. I know you love to hear how they end up crawling and begging after I’ve thrown them out of bed!


Dear Diary

I have not written for a couple of days. It seems strange to think it is less than a week since I visited the club. She seemed like all the others. The usual fascination with getting her outfit *just so*. The cool demeanour. The phony confidence when I approached her. It should have gone so well.

OK, to you, dear diary, I admit I was smitten by her more than usual. She was beautiful, and her eyes – her eyes seemed to pierce through the gloomy interior of the club. If I did not know better, I could almost have believed that she saw right through me. For the first time I found myself on my knees. But that is OK, it is all part of the act – after all, I am ever so humble *laugh*.

I am not sure how it happened, but I did not bring her home.  It is not that she turned me down – not exactly. But, we parted at the club. I am not quite sure how that worked out. But she took my number, so I guess, dear diary, a pleasure delayed is a pleasure heightened!


Dear Diary

No calls from her.

So I went to the club again, and she was there. She looked as cool and beautiful as last time. I went over with a drink, but she did not recognise me! To you, dear diary, I admit I was furious. How could she fail to remember me? I said nothing, I was ever so humble. But inside I was seething, and thinking of how I would visit humiliation on her, when it was my turn.

Her gaze is – how can I put it – smoky. It is like being trapped in the headlights of a car in the fog. It is hard to describe. I am not sure why I have not seen her before. It is almost as though that last time was her first visit to the club. But why would a beautiful domme suddenly appear out of the blue that way?

We talked. I found myself on my knees again. How did that happen? I gave her my number again. I am pretty sure she will call now – after all, I was *ever* so humble! *laugh*


Dear Diary

No calls from her.

I am worried she lost my number. Maybe I wrote it down wrong. It has to be something, or I am sure she would have called by now. They are all the same. Inside, they need a man to be dominant with them. I can’t understand why I have not heard from her. It is probably my cell service – I need to change supplier.

Am already sorting out my outfit for the next club night. Not that I am eager or anything. Just it is always good not to have to rush at the last minute.


Dear Diary

No calls from her.

I went to the club. She was there. She laughed when I asked her why she had not phoned. I could have ground my teeth, but as ever, I was oh so humble. So I meekly asked why she had suddenly appeared just a couple of weeks ago. She said she was from out of town on a ‘special mission’ and that she had been called in by local domme friends. God, how pretentious. I *know* her local domme friends – I have probably dom’d most of them, *laugh*. But I meekly smiled away, nodding up at her from my kneeling position on the floor. (How did that happen? How did I end up on my knees? It is almost becoming a habit.)

But she did say that next week, after the club, we might play a little. Did I like knives? I almost burst out laughing. “Oh yes”, I said, “knives and I are old friends”.

I admit to you, dear diary, that she is beautiful. It almost seems a shame to think of marring that beauty. But as you know, I am ever so humble, and so have to follow the dictates of my nature!

2 April

Dear Diary

I went to the club. She was not there at first, I was terrified she would not appear. Well, no, not terrified, obviously not. Concerned. Yes, that was it, I was concerned. But eventually she arrived. I brought her drink to her, and found myself on my knees before her again. Somehow, I do not seem to mind that so much with her. I expect that I am just building up the tension for when the tables turn, *laugh*.

She talked again about knives. Did I really not mind? I was ever so humble “Oh no Miss, I love them”. She laughed, and for just a moment I had that same eerie feeling that she could see right through me. I shrugged it off. She said she would visit after the club closed, so I gave her my address, then left early. After all, one always has preparations to make!

2 April, Midnight

Dear Diary

Am waiting for her. The room is set. Her life will never be the same again!

2 April, 1 am

Dear Diary

I can hear her heels on the staircase outside my door. I am waiting behind the door. I admit my heart is pounding.


Local man found slain in kinky love-nest!

Mr Gregor Samsa was found slain in his apartment yesterday evening. Neighbours said they had contacted local police services after hearing loud screams emanate from the dwelling. Police said they are baffled by the crime, and by the SM paraphernalia found at the scene. The lead detective said they were especially puzzled by an inscription carved by a knife on the decedent’s chest: ‘I am ever so humble’. At this time, law enforcement officers have no suspects, and it is predicted by sources within the department that the crime will remain unsolved.

Confession by Julian

Since several years ago a fantasy circulated in my mind, but I did not know how to describe it. Not even it had words to define it.

Everything began with diverse forms of masturbation that I carried out.

I remember sometimes, when I was alone at home, I was aroused with diverse images,  mainly women with high heel shoes, dressed leather, or simply naked and heels.

I liked to stay aroused, but, logically, when I masturbated thinking about those images, I reached orgasm soon.

But I noticed also that, specially, I liked to be aroused without getting to reach orgasm.

Little by little I was improving the masturbation technique. Sometimes I worn a condom and I rubbed with the pillow until almost to get the orgasm.

Other times I only rubbed the tip of my penis with two fingers forming a circle, in such way that it stimulated much the nerves of glande, but never arrived at orgasm. Sometimes that technique made me literally crazy.

Nevertheless, the moral thoughts appeared again. Sometimes I thought about myself like I was crazy or that I was doing some wrong, because it was weird to stimulate to myself until almost arriving in the end, but finally not to arrive and to stop. Nevertheless that aroused to me enormously, because it extended to much the time of my erection.

With time I discovered that it had a name: Tease and denial.

Thanks to Second Life I discovered that many women liked so much that practice and it aroused to them enormously. It really turn them on doing that to men.

Later, I discovered another practice, but this time it was necessary to use a device. It was like a cage that was placed in the penis and prevented the erection. The name did not know either.

In the first moments I was scared. That olds thoughts come back, conscience remorses in case I was doing something mistaken.

But, simultaneously, I felt an attraction for that. In the end I dared to buy one of them. CTB 6000 was called.

I have worn at home sometimes, and I have to confess, that although I am scared and I would not like to wear it permanent, yes, I would like to prove it sometimes.

Confession by Anonymous

i do have a confession to make .......

im getting married to Mistress in 2 days ........

and my ex Miss even tho she is blocked etc etc

her standing there in the same club close to me does have an effect on me
her being near me has a effect of a urge to just talk to her
or at least be her friend in some way and its hard to just .............

look away and ignore her even if blocked or not

a lot of emotions come up and im not sure what they are

i have been told not to IM her ever again
and shes told me not to contact her etc
but she stands near me and i just want to just

i guess my confession is im thinking about just being her friend but its that or would that be possible

given the circumstaces

i feel so so stuck and trapped

i love my Mistress and im getting married in 2 days

but my ex pulls something in me out badly

and im not sure what it is i just need them to just

im not sure so i guess i confess to thinking about unblocking them and asking them something

i know its wrong and i know i wont do it but the temptation to do it ...... is very great when there in the same room ............

i guess i want that one more night and be done with it but i cant ....... Mistress told me not to IM her again .......

Autumn Pleasure by Lady Persephone

It's cold, bone chilling drizzle falls unrelentingly, he shivers.
Pale skin becoming translucent as blood flees to vital organs.
Cold bites My finger tips.
Ropes of now berry and leaf bare brambles are coiled at my feet,
It is obvious as to what now must unfold.
The carelessly flung summer leaves bedeck the arbor, sheltered from prying eyes.
Retrieving soft grey leather gloves cast aside to strip the man, I wiggle into their warmth.
Unfurling a spiked length of stem, I begin to weave my pleasure on his flesh.
Pliable, even after first frost, I twirl the fronds around him,
Thorns pressed to cut and bruise that bloodless skin.
Pain dances in his eyes as pupils betray the claw-like  pain created by the barbs.
My laugh condenses in the autumnal air.
Cold and pain tussle between his thighs, an elastic drool clinging to erect hairs.
Knowledge that pleasing me is the only reward,
A thousand wounds impressed upon his body
Each one a token of his submission
Carved in love
Received with honour.