A Christmas Story In The Dungeon by Mark

A Christmas Story in the Dungeon

The light of the red candles flickered as he glanced nervously around the gloomy dungeon. Piled against every wall were festively decorated boxes – some large, some small and some medium-sized. He was tempted to investigate, but heard bolts being drawn back, and the creak of the dungeon door as it opened. He hurriedly fell to his knees and kept his eyes fixed to the floor in front of him, although he could hear the sound of her heels as she walked across the stone floor. He became aware of her standing over him.

‘You may look’, she said.

He raised his gaze to see her before him, clad in black heels and stockings and a long, close-fitting leather coat.

‘We are going to play a Christmas game’, she announced. ‘I will give you two chances. I will ask two questions, and if you get either one wrong, I will select a Christmas present to open. It is only fair to warn you: I do not think you will enjoy my Christmas present choices.’

He felt the familiar trickle of sweat in his hairline and the churning of his stomach

‘I understand, Mistress’, he said.

‘Good’, she said. ‘Then here is your first question. According to the Christmas carol, what did my true love send to me on the sixth day of Christmas?’

He frantically rehearsed the Christmas carol in his mind.

‘It was the partridge, Mistress!’ he cried. ‘The partridge in the pear tree’.

She sighed. ‘And yet you claim to love me. You are wrong. It was 6 geese a-laying.’

She walked across the room, and opened one of the medium-sized boxes. Inside, a coiled leather whip lay glistening in the candle-light. She strolled over until she stood above him, and began to whip him, each stroke landing in almost perfect parallel to the preceding stroke, His cries filled the air of the dungeon. After 10 strokes, she began again, this time criss-crossing her blows so that each one landed on already welted flesh. His cries grew louder as he sought to sink down into the stone floor to escape the pain. And then, as suddenly as it had started, the whipping was over.

‘Time for your second question’, she said. ‘How many ghosts visit Scrooge in Dickens’s story ‘A Christmas Carol’?

He almost laughed with relief and, somewhere inside, felt a smug satisfaction that he could outwit his Mistress and avoid more punishment.

‘Three!’, he said. ‘The Ghost of past, present and future!’

He kept his gaze fixed downwards in case she noticed the rebellious glint in his eyes.

‘Wrong’ she said.

He was about to cry out in protest, but some inner submissive sense held his tongue quiet.

‘There were 4’, she said. ‘The Ghosts of Christmas Past, Christmas Present, and Christmas Yet to Come …. And the ghost of Jacob Marley.’

He moaned as the realisation set in, and watched forlornly as she strode across the dungeon to the piles of presents. He watched her select the smallest box in the room, and inwardly heaved a sigh of relief. But after she tore the wrapping paper away, and opened the box that was revealed, he felt the fear rise in his throat as he watched the dim candle-light flicker on the cold steel of the pin-wheel device the box contained. Every fibre of his being told him to scuttle across the floor away from his Mistress as she advanced, the harsh metal of the implement barely warmed by the candle light. But his training kept him fixed. Slowly, she rolled the pin wheel across his chest and back, along his inner thighs, against the soles of his feet. Soon enough, the dungeon once again echoed to his cries of pain. Eventually, she stopped.

‘You know, in all this excitement I almost forgot’, she said. ‘We have all week to play with the rest of these presents’ – he flinched as she gestured at the piles of packages stacked around the dungeon – ‘but we must not forget your stocking fillers’.

She slowly unbuttoned the leather coat and slid it from her shoulders. She stood before him in high heels, black stockings, and black leather basque, her weight on one leg, her other stretched languorously before her. She slowly trailed a red finger nail up the outside of her leg as she watched him.

‘Do you like your stocking fillers?’ she asked.

His eyes travelled up from the spike heels, across her nylon-clad ankles and calves, to the full swell of her thighs, and stopped at the sensual divide between the lacy pattern of her stocking tops and her smooth creamy skin. He swallowed nervously.

‘Yes Mistress. I love my stocking fillers. You are the most beautiful woman in the world.’

He gazed up into her eyes as she smiled her secret smile down at him. Holding out her hand, she slowly led him to the bedroom and whispered: ‘Then a Merry Christmas to us all, and God bless us everyone.’

Christmas Shopping by Dash

Christmas Shopping by Dash

We've been at the stores for hours.  You walk ahead, a few steps. I follow behind.

We a drive at the jewelry store.  The bell rings. The woman behind the counter waves as you enter.  The counter near the back of the store has the earrings.

I put some of the bags I'm carrying on the floor. You point to a pair near the top of the display case.

"How about these?" I nod, smile.

"And these?"

"Hmm. Those seem like something my grandmother might wear. Those may not be the most flattering on you."

"Then I'll have to go with these. More carats!"

I laugh. You smile.

"Good choice," you continue. "Go ahead, honey, sing the song. Only two more times." The corner of your lip curls.

I sigh. "…two more times."

"Twelve iTunes gift certificates,"

"Eleven imported chocolate bars,"

"Ten designer tops,"

"Nine pairs of socks,"

"Eight visits to the spa,"

"Seven pairs of jeans,"

"Six pairs of shoes,"

You laugh, "That's right, including those sling back pumps you seemed to have a physical reaction to."

"Fffiiivvvvveee new lipsticks,"

"Four bottles of wine…"

You nod, and laugh.

"Three running tees,"

"Two pairs of diamond earrings...  That sparkle."

You smile. "Pay the woman."

"Yes Ma'am." I hand over my card. The earrings are given to another clerk to wrap. You step in beside me.

"We've got one more stop, baby. Now we'll get something for YOU." You smack my ass. "You might have to sing a little louder after that. You know how the leather muffles everything."

Who Are You Calling HO? by Sub #43

Who are you calling "ho?"
by miscellaneous sub number 43
-------------------

With a grunt and a weary chuckle, Santa stuffs himself into the chimney and zips himself down and out, warping time and space in his festive way.. Before him is a lovely room, with an elegant Christmas tree with presents at its foot. He steps forward to do his work, unslinging the huge bag of non-Euclidean geometry on his shoulder.

Slam.

Santa lands on his face, smashing his red button nose hard into the carpeted floor. He was tripped. Having trouble turning over, he is baffled to see that some kind of rope snare is around his ankles, cinched tight. He ponderously sits up, and takes off his mittens to try to get it off.

Yank.

A tug on his neck pulls Santa back flat onto his back. He is dragged along the floor by his neck, a noose of sturdy rope tied around it. He hears the grunting of a woman, struggling to haul his bulk, and tries to look up to see her, but he can't pivot his head. He is pulled until he is stretched out, the rope on his ankles fastened to some fixed anchor, and the rope on his wrists now pulled taut and tied off at the other end somewhere.

Santa is not afraid, per se. He has seen extremely naughty behavior before, and has had some close calls. But this is new and alarming. He grunts, straining at the ropes, his belly jiggling like a bowl full of jelly. He listens now, but no one is stirring, not even a mouse.

He hears her breathing as she steps into view. A woman in pajamas. Of height, middle build, early middle age. She smiles, but her happy face is not the face of an expectant innocent hoping for a new bike. It is something...different.

"Young lady, I insist that you--"

"Shut up. Do not speak." she says with such finality that he finds himself falling silent, if only to hear what could motivate this woman to speak to him in such a tone.

"Good boy," she purrs, and Santa can feel his face redden with anger.

"Now see--" he begins.

Thwack.

His thigh stings as though cut. She has struck him there with something long and thin that moved to fast to see. The pain is surprising...burning and throbbing and seeming to spread through his whole lower body.

"You will not speak," she informs him. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, but--"

Thwack.

It hurts more this time.

"You will not speak," she repeats, slowly and clearly. "Do you understand?"

Santa nods, cringing a bit, worrying that even that might get him whipped again.

"Good boy," she purrs again. His relief at not getting hit again makes the phrase sound like a thank you, or an apology.

"We have a lot of work to do," the woman explains. "So let's get started. You will address me as Beloved Miss. Say it."

He hesitates.

Thwack.

"Say it."

"Be...beloved Mistress..." he stammers.

"Good boy. This is going to go just fine. Just relax and listen and obey a few simple instructions, and in time you'll find everything falling into place."

Gulp.

Bleeding For You by Anonymous

Bleeding for you

If I told you that I needed you would you understand
What if I said I desired you, would you feel the same
The yearning inside me was not preplanned
Every day with you just continues stroking the flame

Under you heel is where I have always belonged
Lying in wait for your next sharp command
Down at you feet my pride so very strong
I am here I was meant to be for so very long

Your whip marking my flesh is what I desire
Feeling so proud to bear your simple mark
Every sound of you voice sets me a fire
Wanting to have you lead me out of the dark

Where this is leading I have no real clue
Working into the unknown following you lead
I only know my submission to you is true
While every ounce of me is for you to bleed

Desolation by Anonymous

Desolation
motion sick and bound
No knowledge of place or time
To confound the senses.
Self-indulgent vanity
Etched in stripes
Sudoku of the deviant kind.
Desolation
No sight or sound
Vomit tipped desert lips and
Swallowed emotion.
Ravaged night-clad soul
Sarcophagus embalmed with 
Witching hour shadow bruises.
Desolation
Heartsick and stormy
Mirror of the devastation within.
Sanctified upon the altar
Incarnate lustful Goddess
Merciless,yet pure
Nemesis of my existence.

An Incident At Halloween by Anonymous

AN INCIDENT AT HALLOWEEN (WITH APOLOGIES TO AMBROSE BIERCE)

It was Halloween Eve and a slave stood upon a railroad bridge at Owl Creek, looking down into the swift water twenty feet below. The slave’s hands were behind his back, the wrists bound with a cord. A rope closely encircled his neck. It was attached to a stout cross-timber above his head and the slack fell to the level of his knees. Some loose boards laid upon the ties supporting the rails of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners -- two Mistresses, with rifles across their shoulders, directed by the slave’s owner.  The slave’s own Mistress, her pistol holstered, stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of her Domme colleagues, but making no sign. Death is a dignitary who when she comes announced is to be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with her. In the code of the D, silence and fixity are forms of deference when a slave is put to death.

The preparations being complete, the two Mistresses stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. These movements left the condemned slave and his Mistress standing on the two ends of the same plank. If his Mistress stepped aside, the plank would tilt and the condemned slave go down between two ties. He looked a moment at the swirling water of the stream racing madly beneath his feet. A piece of dancing driftwood caught his attention and his eyes followed it down the current. How slowly it appeared to move! What a sluggish stream! He thought: "If I could free my hands, I might throw off the noose and spring into the stream. By diving I could evade the bullets and, swimming vigorously, reach the bank, take to the woods and get away home.” As these thoughts flashed into the slave's brain, his Mistress stepped aside.

As the slave fell straight downward through the bridge he lost consciousness and was as one already dead. From this state he was awakened -- ages later, it seemed to him -- by a frightful roaring in his ears, and all was cold and dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream.  He was not conscious of an effort, but a sharp pain in his wrist apprised him that he was trying to free his hands. He gave the struggle his attention, and the cord fell away; his arms parted and floated upward, the hands dimly seen on each side in the growing light. He watched them with a new interest as first one and then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust it fiercely aside, the undulations resembling those of a water snake.

He came to the surface facing down the stream; in a moment the visible world seemed to wheel slowly round, himself the pivotal point, and he saw the bridge, the Mistresses upon the bridge, his executioners. They were in silhouette against the blue sky. They shouted and gesticulated, pointing at him. His Mistress had drawn her pistol, and the other Mistresses their rifles. Their movements were grotesque and horrible, their forms gigantic.

The slave dived -- dived as deeply as he could. The water roared in his ears like the voice of Niagara, yet he heard the dull thunder of the volley and, rising again toward the surface, met shining bits of metal, singularly flattened, oscillating slowly downward. Some of them touched him on the face and hands, then fell away, continuing their descent. One lodged between his collar and neck; it was uncomfortably warm and he snatched it out. As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he had been a long time under water; he was perceptibly farther downstream -- nearer to safety. The Mistresses had almost finished reloading and fired again. The slave saw all this over his shoulder; he was now swimming vigorously with the current. His brain was as energetic as his arms and legs; he thought with the rapidity of lightning:

In a few moments he found himself upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of the stream -- the southern bank -- and behind a projecting point which concealed him from the Mistresses. The sudden arrest of his motion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him, and he wept with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw it over himself in handfuls and audibly blessed it. It looked like diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could think of nothing beautiful which it did not resemble. A whiz and a rattle of grapeshot among the branches high above his head roused him from his dream. The baffled Mistresses had fired him a random farewell. He sprang to his feet, rushed up the sloping bank, and plunged into the forest.

All that day he travelled, laying his course by the rounding sun. The forest seemed interminable; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a woodman's road. Doubtless, despite his suffering, he had fallen asleep while walking, for now he sees another scene -- perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium. He stands at the gate of his own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have travelled the entire night.

As he reaches the door, a blinding white light blazes all about him with a sound like the shock of a cannon -- then all is darkness and silence!

The slave is dead, his body, with a broken neck, swings gently from side to side beneath the timbers of the Owl Creek bridge.

Halloween by Anonymous

The date is approaching... it is nearly that time of year again. Halloween - when adults can dress up in crazy outfits and act like nobody is watching. It is like SL but with candy!

Halloween is not my favourite time of year but there is something oddly freeing about being able to be someone or even something else for a night.

I've been thinking lately how fun it would be to integrate D/s with Halloween...

He rings Her doorbell and waits patiently hearing footsteps moving towards him. He swallows hard as the door opens and light shines out. A gorgeous Lady dressed as a witch stands before him. 'She is gorgeous!' he thinks to himself. A moment passes as his eyes adjust and then he says "Trick or treat" with a smile on his face, confident that his costume is concealing his identity. She responds "Trick" and quickly reaches out, grabbing his arm and yanking him into the house.

He opens his eyes wide and looks around sheepishly as the door slams shut. Her hand takes a hold of his waistband as she walks in front of him without saying a word. Her heels click on the wooden floor guiding him towards another already open door.

Carefully they descend a steep staircase into a darkened room. He blinks rapidly trying to adjust to the low light, when suddenly the 'clicking' stops.

A firm feminine voice rings out from the darkness "Don't move".

He remains totally still despite feeling something gripping his left wrist and then his right. His heart pounds in his chest as he stands there for what feels like an eternity. The lights flicker on. He looks around and sees Her standing by the wall watching him. Then his eyes start to bounce from one spot to the next locking on to various pieces of equipment dotted around the room highlighted by the directional lighting. He is in... a dungeon.

She walks over to him with a quiet confidence and a slight grin on Her face. "You can move now".

He tries taking a step forward. The chains attached to the cuffs on his wrist go taut and he falls back.

"Now now... what trick would you like to see?" She says laughing to herself as she slowly undoes his pants.

He stutters, lost for words and with one quick movement she yanks his pants and underwear down to his ankles. His cheeks flush as his quickly stiffening cock reveals his excitement at the predicament. She slaps his cock hard sending it bouncing from side to side.

"Did I say you could get hard?" She says tapping her foot impatiently.

"No" he says quietly.

She slaps it again "No what?!"

He squirms and pulls his hips back feeling the sting running up and down his shaft. "No Miss!"

"That's better" She says and starts walking around slowly inspecting him.

Having done a full circle She stands in front of him and produces a large Jawbreaker.

"Time for candy" She says forcing it into his mouth and securing it with duct tape.

She smiles widely seeing both the panic and excitement in his eyes. Taking up position behind him, she slowly gropes his ass, kneading the cheeks together and spreading them apart. Letting go and without any warning she slaps his right ass cheek hard, grinning as his ass tenses up and a red outline start to form. She quickly follows up with two more hard slaps in the same place, laughing hearing his pained sounds and watching him squirm in the restraints.

She drags her nails over the red hand print, watching as the white lines quickly turn red again. Just as she draws her hand back, a loud "ding dong" echoes throughout the house.

"Don't move" She says with a grin on Her face and walks away.

At the top of the stairs she says "I hope you enjoy your trick, it's time for me to go and hand out treats" and with that she turns off the lights, closes the door and walks away.

Shibari Class by Cam

Mistress has always been prepared to try new things with me, and we've both always liked the look of Shibari, but never knew enough to try it.  I'd suggested some years ago that if there was ever an opportunity to go to a class, I'd like to try.  I love being tightly bound, and despite not being the most supple and lithesome of models, can still get into a tight spot.

So when I saw a class being advertised in south London, I mentioned it to Mistress.  She agreed, being most interested to learn a new skill and so I booked a private session (we like to think of ourselves as exhibitionists, except when it counts).

It's a short bus ride from London Bridge station to the studio, a small space - we discovered it was the perfect size for Mistress' oft-dreamed-about "tiny house" - but comfortably large enough for the two of us and our instructor.  If anyone wants the details, I can provide contact info.  Anna, the instructor, was very knowledgeable, friendly, and had a really open attitude - calling out the more pretentious parts of the shibari community as she saw it; an attitude we both appreciated.

I stripped down to my Speedos (got to maintain some decency!) and we began.  Most of the three-hour long session was quite technical; not all of it sunk it, especially with me as a lot of the time I couldn't actually see what was going on behind me.  But we do now know the looped part of the rope is the "bight", that ropes should generally be long enough for the person doing the tying - the 'rigger' to be able to use easily, how to join two ropes together (I think of it as a 'pretzel'), and so on.

The most enjoyable bit, for me at least, was the feeling of the ropes constricting around me; both the ladder running down my leg, which got incredibly tight (quite delicious) and the harness, with my hands tied behind me, and the ropes running round my chest.  At times, I felt quite floaty, even though the session was, as I said, quite technical and not particularly erotic.  There were a few times when the instructor got...quite close.  Mistress mentioned it to me when we talked after; I'd been quite worried about showing any...ahem...reaction, but I think I managed to contain myself quite well.  This despite having been denied for more than five weeks at that point.

The feeling of the ropes as they snake around my body, the tension held within them, was something I enjoyed experiencing and I'd love to do more.  Unfortunately, Mistress was tired when she tried to practice on me at home, so we've yet to practice properly and there's so much to remember - which makes forgetting easy!  Nevertheless, Mistress will, I'm sure, improve her rigging skills over time and be able to lash me up for lots of fun in future.

Chastity by Leasha

Confessions - Chastity

This is my chastity confession.  I confess that prior to experiencing chastity, my perception was  that this cannot be a difficult scenario, it has to be something if experienced that would be completely manageable and non impactive, how wrong i was.  It soon became clear that as the hours went by, no impact, as the days went by, a little more impact, as the weeks went by, serious impact and again, i confess that i do like a little fiddle faddle with my credentials but try to keep it down to a minimum (two or three times a day seems reasonable, surely!!!!!) but as the period of chastity extends, not being able completely overwhelms me.

I have to confess at this point, due to my Mistress's leaning towards "chastity extensions" i have recently tried to hold in my desires and feelings (trying desperately not to ask for an end date) but i cant hold them in, its impossible, my mind fills with thoughts of my Mistress, the power Miss has over me, how Miss has taken my heart and soul and how it sits in the palm of her hand, to do with as Miss desires.  I become overwhelmed with these thoughts, they build and build to a point where they are in my mind almost on a constant basis. 

This may appear to be to much for some but let me add an ingredient to this scenario that should bring clarity, my Mistress ramps up the "chastity effect" with little activities that i confess, have never crossed my mind to do prior to the life changing day when i was told "don't speak to me...wear this banana and never take it off".  I am told to put on stockings, panties and bras under my clothes, i am told to purchase said lingerie and ask "if it would suit me" whist recording for evidence on my phone, i am told to take pictures and "pose, well!!" and now im a bloody porn star!!!!!!!.

This is where i have to confess that having never even thought about doing such things in the past, now (especially within chastity) putting on such things in the morning before work fills me with sensual thoughts, but please note, not due to the actual attire but due to the fact that i must do so for my Mistress, i have no choice, this (more so in chastity) makes me tingle but as these instructions continue to rain down on me, i ache, i squirm, i struggle, i tingle, i desire, i sigh, i despair, i crave, i feel every emotion possible but most of all, i feel myself sitting in the palm of my Mistress's hand, unable to do anything but the desires that come to her mind, i am forever hers, deeply and truly, my heart my soul my everything are hers, this is not what chastity creates but is what chastity accentuates, this is my confession and i await the consequences that will inevitably come from such a multitude of confessions.

Rorke's Confession

This is an educational tale full of historical and scientific accuracy of how Femdom came into existence.

You see, there was once a time before the Dominion, a time even before Femdom itself, where the neanderthal caveman ruled supreme. Unchallenged as a Apex predator and perfectly adapted to survive, these first men truly were kings of the ancient world. This is where we meet the first submissive male, the male from which all subs are evolved from: Rorkus.

Rorkus was your everyday caveman, strong but quite simple, content to live in his own world of hunting dinosaurs, hitting things with a big club and showing the cave-women what was in his loin cloth. Despite this predisposition to the cave-life, Rorkus always felt something was missing.

One day, after fleeing from a vicious flock of pterodactyls, Rorkus found himself in a far and unfamiliar land. With darkness closing, our hero sought shelter in a nearby cave, little did he know this simple act would change the course of history!

As his eyes adjusted he became aware of another in the cave and he froze. But he did not freeze with fear...for sat on a rock, with legs crossed regally and the mammoth fur dress hugging Her every curve perfectly, was the most mesmerizing woman he had ever laid eyes on. We later learn she is Dommeena, Queen of Femdomia.

Language was not on of the cavemen's strengths and the simple grunting and groaning noises that usually suffice were clearly not impressing this heavenly Lady. "uuummm...urrgghh...mmmmppph", he said to her with no affect other than a disinterested look.

Crestfallen, our favourite neanderthal turns to leave, his club dragging across the floor but a sudden snap of fingers stops him in his tracks. To his sheer joy (and hands-free lifting of the loin cloth) she had moved from her rock to stand before him. A smile flickering on her lips as she guided him down to his knees.

Suddenly, a light bulb went off above his head (that is how the light bulb was invented but it is a story for another time), this is what was missing, this felt right!

Another push laid him flat onto his back and his breath quickened as she lowered onto his face, quite literally being queened by a Queen. Something that has not changed since the cavemen days is the basic male need to cum...so quite naturally Rorkus grabs his caveman cock and starts stroking as queen Domeena rides his face. Obviously it does not take him long and his caveman grunts and groans echo around the cave.

However, Domeena is clearly less than impressed with this performace and just as he is cumming...she pulls his hand away resulting in the first ever pathetic, twitchy, dribbly ruined orgasm! The rest of poor (or lucky!) Rorkus' evening was spent having his balls slapped mercilessly as Queen Domeena took her pleasure from him.

Now, that was just a short tale of the first meeting between Domeena and Rorkus. As most of us know evolution takes centuries, sometimes millennia to fully take hold which is why all the many kinks and fetishes we enjoy today began with what happened in that cave.

Keywords as per Lady Persephone's Trial Instruction: A Queen Queening, Caveman grunting, pathetic orgasm. Word count: 549

A Fun Night For All by Lady Lobbie

My eyes are skimming the pages of my book. Suddenly there is a knock at the door looking up at the clock I wonder who the hell is that at this time of the day. I pull my robe around me and go to the door. Pulling it open there is a guy stood, covered in dirt and sweat. “Oh hello…” he stammers as I peer down upon him “Miss” he adds almost silently. “What do you want? You filthy creature.”  I say tapping my foot. “I need help please my car has broken down.” I scowl at him. “Please Miss.” He whines at me. “ I roll my eyes and for a moment conceder slamming the door in his face, but decide I might be able to have a bit of fun with this one. “Do you think for one moment I’m going to let a dirty filthy pig like you in to MY home?” He looks up at me his eyes closed slightly. “I’m so sorry I know I should not ask but I saw the light on, I tried to fix my car that is...”  I put my hand up to stop him speaking. “Enough, you pig may enter my home only after you are clean and dressed suitably.” I point around to the side of the house to the gate. “Go that way and wait outside the building, do not enter until I have given you permission.”  He nods as he makes his way he stumbles. “Ouch.” I hear him mumble I softly chuckle oh if only he knew what I had planned.

I go to my room finding out a tight skirt and top and make my way to the door I look at for him and see him standing looking at the building just beyond my home. I see him shivering and smile, I swing open the door and he jumps and chuckle again. “Don’t worry pig this won’t hurt,” I say to him adding “me.” Under my breath, I move over the door and pull out the key unlocking it I push it open I gesture for him to enter and follow behind him I switch on the lights and at the same time I swing the door closed locking it just as fast. He blinks as the light comes on I hear him gasp before him is my play room; a large cross dominates the space. Over in the corner is well I guess you could call it a shower it’s more 2 tiled walls with a shower over it and a hose to one side. “You may shower here, take your shoes off before you cross this space, threw the door you will find a laundry room, I do hope I don’t have to instruct you on how to use a washing machine. When you are naked and your clothing are on to wash you may come back and stand in the shower.” I point to a door at the side of the room and he nods and makes his way to it. When the door closes behind him I go over to the shower area making sure the water is a suitable temperature for a pig like him. He enters the room I see his hands are trying to cover his worthless cock I snigger. “I don’t know why you are so worried about me seeing that pig it is but a little useless worm a bit like you.” I sneer at him he drops his hands and stands on the shower tiles I turn on the hose and aim is for his cock he flinches. “Miss.. the .. water.. is.. cold..” He says his teeth chattering from the cold I watch his cock bounce as I turn the hose on and off.  “Oh I know, I’m hardly going to waste hot water on a pig like you now.”  I hose him down “Turn around and bend over, I don’t want to miss one bit.” The cold water hits his ass and I adjust the size so a fine stream is now gushing and I use this almost like a whip on his naked ass. “Ouch, mmm Thank you.” He grunts, “Open your legs pig I want to see that useless cock of yours.” He parts his legs and as I guessed he is semi hard I tut. “You boys are all the fucking same thinking about your needs before that of a woman.” I turn the hose off and hang it up. He is still bent over trembling. “Ok pig, go dry yourself and wash the towel you use in that room you should also find something to wear.” 

When he comes out the room I see the apron he has chosen is Barbie pink with frills and I can see the tip of his cock below it. “Now I think I need a bath come pig.” We make our way back to the house as we enter I see him relax and smile. “Oh you think your safe in here do you?” I grad a spatula from the side and slap his ass with it. “You little pig are never safe, now go run me a bath.” I point up the stairs. “Left first door." Call me when it’s ready” I watch his ass as he makes his way up stairs. After around 15 min he calls “Miss, your bath is perfect for you.” I make my way to him. He is outside holding the door open for me, inside he has lit the candles and the bath is full of bubbles. He bows “Miss, if this pig can help in any way please just ask.”  I look at him “Well at least you can do one thing right pig. Enter and get on your knees.” I take my clothing off and slip in to the bath I see a slight budge under his apron and chuckle. I slowly cresses my breasts covering them in bubbles letting out a moan I gaze at him he gulps. I reach up on the shelf for my waterproof toy flicking it on it admits a soft buzz. I plunge it in to the water and slowly rub it over my clit grunting with pleasure my eyes never leaving him. Watching him watching me his excitement growing with every moment until I orgasm I notice a small spot on the apron. Placing the vibrator on its shelf. “Aww poor pig do you want one?” His eyes light up. “Yes, oh please Miss.” “Go in to my room and bend over the bed.” I tell him. I get dry and dressed and enter my room he is bent over facing away from me. I pick up a crop and bring it down on his naked ass with each word I slap his ass. “What (1) makes (2) a(3) worthless(4) pig(5)like(6) you(7) think(8) I (9) will(10) let(11) you(12) cum(12). Now (13) go (14) get (15) your (16) stuff (17) and (18) get (19) out (20).” I stop and he stands “Thank you Miss.” He says and leaves I fall on to the bed and in to a deep sleep

Inside A Mistress' Mind by Lady Saramoa

Reason was given  a task to do !
Reason was given a chance to fix his mistakes!
Reason had an opportunity !
So he had 9 confessions to write within Friday and he failed!
To be fair I can understand writing is an art! and not everyone can do or feel comfortable doing it! But he had a task and he failed!
So he will be given 9 different punishments about the things he loves the most!
And for this event I delivered a confession myself
As always... we have to cover their asses!

Saramoa


She got walked in the bathroom, got undressed and finding a way to de-stress after a long day at work, changing the lighting with a couple of scented candles, and adding some soothing sounds… soaking in a nice hot bath for at least 20 minutes…

Noisy thoughts run into her mind… phone doesnt stop ringing and she recognize some of the personalized ringtone of her submissives coming in… they need directions, they need to know what to do, they need her!

She is angry at one of them… and she needs to find out the right punishment for him… “so what is important to him”? – she thinks out loud.

OBEDIENCE is expected. It is something that is non-negotiable!

Leaning on the towel bar she clothe herself with a all white thick robe, she tie the sashes together walking out her room. 

Having a look at the phone, reads all the messages :

-    “when are we online today, Mistress” – she smiles –
-    “That was embarassing, Miss, I can’t stop thinking about it tho” – she laughs out loud –

She applies scents to "hot spots," areas that are the warmest, like the small of the back, the stomach, the back of the neck, and the ankles.

Preparing a small dinner for her to eat curled up on the couch, while TV keep talking about horrific brutality of the real life, but her mind is somewhere else: “If someone wants to see what is important to a submissive, determine what they are wiling to let go of” – someones’ said -

Annoyed by the average people around her, she can’t wait to go back to them… those who gives her pain, love, strength, purity, sensuality, eroticism, loyalty, honor, respect, integrity, trust, truthfulness and commitment.

She has needs.
She has expectations. 
She is demanding.
She turns off the TV and turns on the PC…
Her boys are there : “Hello Mistress!” – “Good evening Mistress” - she grins -

THE END

Saramoa

One More Night by Anonymous

Late at night, I'm deep in my sleep, yet my body writhes. Another fantasy plagues my dreams and it tortures my soul.

I am kneeled before the door dressed in collar alone. It's 5'oclock in the evening, and I hear the car door close. She's stressed, angry, ticked at her work. Damn chauvinist pig of a supervisor has Her clawing the wood.

And there I am again, like a slave for Her. The door opens and She glares down to my poor position, and I shiver and shake. Hold my composure as she grabs my leash...

Now I cross my heart and I hope to die... Break from my dreams to find that one more night.....

I'm tied to the bed, face down, muzzled, arms tied behind my back. Legs spread wide tied at the ankle, knee bars in between. And I don't wanna pull them down as their spread up high... Anal hook will pull too tight.....Add a blindfold and I'm off tonight....

Cause there's something really amazing about being Her playtoy. She can tease and mistreat me just to Her wish, and what can I say, what can I do, I could never protest, No, I'll most certainly love this to my last dying breath...

See the pain it sears through the skin.... Just like the whip She uses to break me within.... It's not some sick fantasy just at night., Cause I wish She'd use me for her Own brutal high.

Let's those legs down, hook, out, and I feel so open... Well that won't last long as she climbs on the bed... Oh, oh, and I know what's coming on its way. The muzzle to a ball gag, to keep me quiet.

Now back and forth She swings with me.... Like a dance for two, but She's the lead. She guides me back and forth just how She please. She goes rough-hard against me like she's going to war. Sometimes I wonder if she pictures me as her premier enemy, yeah. And despite my attempts to stay quiet, I can't help but beg for it.... Guess what she says is true about me, I'm just a little slut. I'm a whore, and I'll be it ever more. But I'm all Hers, every bit of me belongs to Her grasp.

The dream then breaks, and I open my eyes. Clock reads 8 am in an empty bed. I can't explain the red marks that have broken my skin. My shoulders ache, but I hope to see that again. Still part of me feels real empty. Go to work but I'd rather be on my knees. I'll go through the day, back to bed in the same way., and pray again for One More Night.


(Lightly based off the song "One More Night" by Maroon 5)
~SSL

Touching by Cam Inventor

Touching - by Cam Inventor

Mistress loves to touch her property.  Let me tell you about a few of the ways.  Sometimes, when we are curled up in bed together, she’ll reach her arm out, slide her hand under her property’s balls, and curl her fingers round them, enclosing them in her palm.  This isn’t a foreplay thing, or punishment.  It isn’t stroking or squeezing.  It is just holding. Owning.  I love it when she does that. It makes her boy feel all warm and loving. And very submissive.

Sometimes, she’ll have her property undress before her.  She’ll make it stand there, naked, while she touches it all over.  Some of it is inspecting, analytical; which is exciting.  Some of it is pure curiosity; wonderment - and he loves how she finds that wonder.  It makes the ordinary, extraordinary.

Other times, she’ll chain her property up in a cupboard and hang weights off her property’s balls while she gets herself ready to torment him further.  She’s still touching it even then; letting his mind wander. When she’s ready, she’ll take her toy out, ready to play with it, and the last form of touching I want to tell you about today.

She’ll make her toy stand, those weights pulling painfully, while she crops him, clamps his nipples, makes him swing those weights back and forth, stroking her toy’s cock until it’s rock hard, right on the edge, then snapping her hand away.

And as it softens again, she delights.  Her attention has made her toy start to leak, its precum draining out of the end of her toy’s cock, forming thin strands as it drips slowly.  This is where she wants her toy; helplessly leaking into her hand.  Totally in her control, kept right on the edge but denied any release.  This is when her touch controls him totally.

Her touch makes him hers.  That’s why she loves to touch it.

New Boy by Brian

Dreams

I was standing and watching from the foot of the bed as I was laying in my bed sleeping and you were there kneeling over my head and you looked to be running your fingers over my cock through my boxers.  From the foot of the bed I could clearly see your hand motion yet you were not touching me, my cock was hard and then cum just started pouring out into my boxers but it was like an unnatural amount and you started laughing as I laid there spurting and then poof you were gone.  I looked down feeling the cum sliding and dripping over my skin, I laid there in some strange state of satisfaction as I felt the flow stop and now it ran down over my balls.  Content and relaxed I slowly drifted off again, when I woke up I realized it was nothing more than a dream and that my balls were still full of cum after 10 days of denial.

Experiences

The Glory Hole
The forced bi learning curve.  For weeks we talked about and looked at all sorts of forced bi porn, images and so on.  This was something that I never found any sort of interest in at all (I was and had always considered myself straight in my mind).  It was such a turn on for you and was just kind of there for me.  In time I slowly began to look forward to our conversation about it and looking at the images and then after weeks I found that I was searching this out for myself of my own free will.  At times it makes me still feel a bit uneasy, but with the level of excitement it brings to you it brings also a new level of excitement to me.

After a time there was talk of the glory hole, with this came new levels of excitement but also fear of the unknown.  You had prepared me for that moment for 5 weeks before sending me there.  I was dressed in pink panties and a little tag that stated "Waiting for Mr. Right"  You instructed me to go in the stall and sit there, I was anxious and afraid and there I sat.  It seemed like an eternity and no one was interested in the slutty boy kneeling there in the stall.  You called me home after some amount of time and I felt I had failed you, I was disappointed to let you down.  A few days passed and we went back, I was determined to prove myself to you, I sat and waited, watching and looking around.  You arrived and you stood and watched, You found some soap and made me stand there with the pink panties pulled down around my thighs bent over for all to see.  I waited worried about what may happen as you stood and watched me.  There was little excitement and again I felt that I had failed you.

I was now determined to suck a dick for you at the glory hole, I found myself going there on my own trying to accomplish what you wanted so badly.  I sat in the stall waiting and as you arrived I sat again disappointed when suddenly a cock slipped through the hole.  Now the disappointment was gone and the fear kicked in.  I was afraid to touch it like it was the plague, I knew you would be disappointed in me again so I leaned forward letting my tongue slide over the tip.  The cock grew hard and I closed my eyes and slide my lips over it sucking and bobbing my head slowly at first then more as I knew you would only be pleased if I made the cock cum.  It did not take long and I felt it pulsing in my mouth before it started to spurt. the cock pulled back and shot most of the load onto my face as I sat there shaking.  I had "Done it" it was not as bad as I had made my mind up to believe.

You took me home, you were proud of your new boy, you were turned on and so was I, turned on more than I had ever seen you.  I had done it and you were throughly excited about it.

I have not been back since that day to the glory hole, I am sure you will send me again when it pleases you.

Anonymous Confession

I am one of the unowned subs, one of the quieter ones, who comes and goes and tries to help build and sustain The Dominion community.  You have probably seen me off and on, off to the back kneeling and listening.   I have friends, both on sub side, but mainly with the Dommes.  I have gotten to know several of them and they make me smile, laugh and that special feeling that only a dominant woman can produce.  That is the reason  come around, to the dances and to the events.  I think some perceive me as aloof or disengaged.  I am not partnered up (even though it has been close)

But there is another reason, really.  I hope to find that special someone.  That Domme that I can serve, make smile, feel proud and to enjoy the power, intimacy and connection that can exist between a Domme and Her sub.  It is my pleasure just to be in that relationship and to share the feeling, openness and honesty that it creates.  I have come close, and met some truly wonderful people.  But it wasn't meant to be.  Maybe it will come back and that spark we feel will grow again, but for now, the search continues.

But maybe people see me as boring.  I don't wear an animal avatar, I don't go crazy in the events or trials; I don't speak and say provocative things in the courtyard.  Most times I sit and listen, watch and observe.   and I don't have a Mistress to engage with here.

But ...and this is my confession... there is a deeply submissive and kinky side to me.   Scratch that hard cold surface, and a stew of sensual thoughts and desires resides within.  My fetishes are locked up tight, but they venture into things and places I haven't shared with anyone.  They maybe common kinks and fetishes on the vast menu of D/s, but I suspect that most of the Dommes here would be shocked, stunned and amazed that I was into that.  Total power exchange, name calling, total submission, cross dressing, pegging, forced bi, avatar control, speech and voice restrictions, all those sorts of power tools.  That is much different from what I share on my profile, in my chit chat or even in more in depth discussions.

You all know me, but what you don't know is that inside, there is a strange odd world swirling around waiting to be opened and exposed.  I have my crushes here, and some Dommes just blow me away.  I get shy and quiet and could never approach them,   I just hope they take a liking to my wit and personality and recognize that my attempts to engage them, however feeble and meek, are the ways I try to engage and attract you and try to give You what a sub can give.  And yes, I still have those crushes and still want to engage those women in my own oblique and halting ways.

I will continue my search for Her, my Dulcinea, my One.

Confession by Anonymous

"White Lion 6.00 Tuesday.Don't be late. Mistress"

It's ten to six,getting dark and pissing down as I walk past the doors of the White Lion for the seventh time.I even managed to approach the door once before turning away at the last second. With each failed attempt I'm getting angrier with myself.I've driven 160 miles to get here,I can't back out now.I know I want this,no,not want I need this,the chain biting into my cock is evidence enough of how much I yearn for this to happen.I won't back out now surely?

How the fuck did I get here?

"Mistress seeking sub/slave for possible L.T.R." I wasn't sure what I wanted,I knew I'd fantasised for a long time about being"owned",but if I had the chance would I be too scared?I figured there was only one way to find out,so I sent off email number 67 without any real expectation of even getting a reply...I was wrong.

Two days later,Mistress wrote back asking me to give more details of what my hopes were,my fetishes,if any and what my hard limits were.I replied saying I love bondage,humiliation and mild pain and that my limit was anal penetration.

After a few more emails I was ordered to get a webcam so my training could begin."Training",simple word,but it awakened long buried feelings,I wanted to be trained,to please Mistress and I felt no shame or guilt,more a release and longing to submit.

For the first webcam session I had to be naked,(as I would be for all subsequent sessions).We chatted amiably about this and that for a short while,and in the middle of talking about the weather,one word appeared on the screen in capital letters,"KNEEL". I fell to my knees instantly,and waited,and waited,and waited.Finally words appeared again,"Wank for your Mistress,slave,but just as you are about to climax,remove your hand"

I felt incredibly embarrassed that this woman I'd never even met held so much power over me.At the same time I was very very excited by the idea of giving up choice and control.

I started running my hand up and down my cock,slowly at first then more rushed and frenetic as the moment of climax approached.I don't know how I managed it,but just at the last second I pulled my hand away,leaving my cock pulsing on the brink and with pre-cum dribbling down the shaft.

Another message showed,"Good boy",it said,"Again"

This was repeated six times over the course of an hour or so. After the sixth the message simply said,"Well done slave,I will be in touch" and the screen was blank.

There were five more sessions that involved candle wax and cock and ball bondage.At no time was I allowed relief.

After the last session I was ordered to buy a length of chain and a small padlock and given instructions on how to bind my cock and balls with it.I was to do this after wanking and climaxing so my cock would be flaccid.I was to bind them in such a way that the chain would be tight fitting but not cut off blood supply,but if I got the slightest semblance of an erection,the chain would bite into my cock painfully.

Once I had done this I was to post the keys to myself,but not open the envelope when it arrived.This I was to hand over to Mistress unopened when we met.

Shit! We're going to meet?!Now it was getting scarily real.

I had a few days holiday owed and we arranged a rough date and place to meet.

Right! I'm going in this time.As I turn I see a woman coming from the opposite direction toward the pub,she's about 5'8",wearing a 3/4 length black leather coat that's belted at the waist showing off her full figure.Her stiletto healed black leather shoes click clacked on the pavement as she drew nearer,I could now make out the full scarlet lips and shoulder length auburn hair and finally,her startlingly beautiful green eyes. She was now just a couple of paces away from me,and smiles warmly at me.

Oh fuck,no going back now.

She takes her hands out of her pockets," Hello, Derek",she says,"Nice to meet you at last"

"Hhhello,Mistress",I manage to stammer She moves as if to kiss my cheek,but instead places her lips close to my ear and her hand reaches down and gives my balls a painful squeeze,and she whispers, "Mine I believe"

Weight by Anonymous

It's heavy,

The weight of your hand upon my head guiding me down,
The chains dangling from my wrists,
The weights

It's heavy,

Your gaze down at my willing compliance,
Your judgment of my interpretation of need,
Your presence,

It's heavy,

The expectations of me as a tool for your pleasure,
My own idea of what this means,
My mind,

It's heavy,

But I am weightless with but one thing.

That.

Smile.

Anonymous Confession

I walk over a rounded, wooden bridge, and hear the tap of my heels as I walk down the stone steps. A field of lavender spans out in front of me, and I run into its midst, inhaling its fragrant aroma. Lying down, I close my eyes and just breathe; enjoying the sun on my face. I think about the beautiful world in which I live.

After a time of reflection, I continue my walk down the carved steps to see a wishing well. There I see you standing; looking into the water. I believe I've seen you before, but decide that whether I have or not to approach you.

You hear someone walk up behind you, but before you are able to turn around, you feel an arm reaching up, brushing your cheek as the soft skin of my fingers cover your eyes. You feel my body press into your back as I raise on my toes and whisper, “Stay still,” my breath hot on your neck. “Keep your eyes closed.” I command, as I purposely drag my lips along the back of your ear.

I remove my hand from your eyes. “No peeking,” I say with a smile in my voice. You feel a one-inch strip of leather sliding around your throat; the smell of rawhide reaches your nose. The belt slowly cinches tighter, until it slightly restricts your breathing. I feel your heart beating faster as I pull you back into me by the belt which is looped around your neck and held fast in my right hand.

With my left hand I push firmly on your shoulder. “Kneel.” I order. I can feel your Adam's apple move the strap as you swallow; your body lowering. I slide the belt around so the end slides through the buckle, tightening the noose until it fits perfectly around your neck. Pulling a small pocket knife from my brassiere, I snap it open and using the sharp end I twist a small hole through the leather. I slip the prong through securing it into a makeshift collar. You hear a small click as the pieces of metal touch. The excess length of the belt becomes your leash.

I move around to stand in front of you; belt draping from my hand. It is intoxicating to see you on your knees before me; your eyes still closed; obeying. I take a couple of minutes to drink it in. Then I authorize you to open your eyes as I pronounce, “It is a perfect day for a wish.”

As we both regard each other; streams of sunlight dancing around us; you smile and say, "Yes, Miss."

The End

Impromptu Confession by Lady Lobbie

 open the door taking a quick glance to the rug to my right; yes there he is naked and kneeling. I walk through the home inspecting his work running my fingers over the surfaces nodding I make my way back to the living room. He is still there his breathing is slowly and steady. I sit down with a sigh I see him twitch and grin. “You have done well today slut.” I inform him “Thank you Mistress.” He responds without lifting his gaze from the pale pink rug on with he kneels. “But your day is not done.” I see him gulp and chuckle. “Get your ass over here now fucker.” He crawls over the floor towards me. Still no looking up “Look up at me slut.” I commend him with he does with a worried look. I kick my shoes off one at a time making sure they hit him “oooff, Thankyou Mistress.” I slowly peel my stockings off his eyes following ever movement I’m making. I suddenly shove my toes in to his mouth he starts sucking and licking them like the good little slut he is. I sit back relaxing. Quickly growing bored I kick him in the balls with my free food he mumbles “Fhankyou Mistress.” I pull my foot from his mouth and glare at him “Have you not been taught not to speak with your mouth full?” I ask. He looks down again “I’m sorry Mistress, I’m but your slut, I’m here to please you. “  I shove my other foot in his mouth to shut him up. He once again sucks and licks my foot. I swing my free leg back and forth seeing him wince ever time it comes forward.  Feeling relaxed I pull my foot from his mouth and swiftly kick his balls once, twice. “Thank you Mistress.” He says his eyes streaming. “now slut, food and drinks chop chop. Oh and you better keep your foot out of your mouth because only mine belongs in there.”

Maddie's Punishment

The following is a punishment task fulfilled by Maddie Short and issued by our judge at The Dominion Femdom's Trials & Punishments.

gertrude stein once said that punctuation is for the feeble minded but she used a hyphen and a period and i found her words nestled between quotation marks so there is that there are also numbers your number is up on my wall in neon i was told bright flickering pink or magenta there are other numbers too one year three hundred sixty five days of picking grass out of the green indentations in my knees and after that long anyone would have their number come up also four four being the charges leveled against me the root of which is ultimately cleverness but it is hard to be clever without the aid of a comma to signal breathing because cleverness requires breathing take a breath i told myself while naked and rocking gently in the cage before my turn on the chopping block however i came away with all limbs intact and a severed sentence or was it severe i am unsure as i have been stripped of my tools and relegated to an unpunctuated existence at least for the duration of an apology which i still have yet to elegantly word but i will get to that because the Dommes of the Dominion do not allow dalliances alliterative flourishes aside my time my number was eventually to run out after all the grass had been well plucked and replaced in the courtyard where my series of transgressions occurred a slip of the tongue a ringing phone a cleverly crafted moniker all of which didn’t slip past the seemingly singularly focused but in truth multivariate Dommes of the Dominion no they do not miss a thing that is how a girl that sat quietly and rocked to and fro with the regular sway of a metronome ended up with her name in neon after all just breathe i say to myself now but without punctuation there is no signal to do so just endless rows of words perfectly aligned to lead to the simple statement that i am sorry but not sorry that my name ended up a number in neon however this is not an apologia but an apology so i suppose i need to qualify my desire for cursive argon numerals i try to be good in every meaning of the word be it girl or submissive or steward of the Dominion but goodness is at times forgotten like blades of grass plucked from the knee and carried by the breeze to disappear into a field of which it can seem only the weeds stick out dandelions buckhorn pigweed stand tall amidst our matted sea of grass they stand above but i for a moment as a blade of grass stood tall and was noticed but probably for all the wrong reasons probably four to be exact four momentary transgressions more weed than grass so an apology is truly due and i am truly sorry however that is not to say that i regret my moment when i rose high enough to drink in the brilliant light of the sun that is not to say either that i will intentionally break the rules again but perhaps maybe i am a different species of grass altogether the sort that grows high with a small thistle on the tip the type that is rooted in cleverness breathe i tell myself once more just remember to breathe in spite of the absence of commas they are not necessary neither are apostrophes or periods or quotation marks and gertrude only ever hinted at the immutable truth that neither a sentence nor an apology needs a finite end?

-- Cam Inventor's Confession: February 2017 --

"I've a treat for you," she said, as she slowly stripped me of my clothes, peeling off my work shirt, my trousers, reducing me from my professional, workday self to my true inner-self, her boy, her slave.

I clasp my hands together behind my back while she heads over to the dresser.  "Funny," I think. "She's left the collar..."  Then I see her slowly pull the hood out from the drawer.  It's thin, supple black leather, very sensual.  She knows I love wearing it.  She loves the space it puts me in when she pulls the laces tight.  She loves how quiet and still I become, how submissive it makes me.

"Mistress..." I start, but she holds the neck of the hood open and I immediately, obediently bow my head and she pulls the black leather over me.  It's an open-mouth design, but something about it stops me from talking, like a hooded bird of prey, patiently waiting for the chance to fly again.  Only the soaring I know I'll be doing is in this hood.

I moan softly as she moves behind me, one hand languidly stroking my shoulder.  The laces start to tighten, pulling the calfskin tight against my face. Slowly, by degrees, the hood gets tighter, the laces cinched lower and lower, until she ties them in a bow at the back of my neck.  I raise my head and wait for her to fit her collar back round my neck, over the neck of the hood, and the distinctive little metallic click as her lock seals me in again.

Just a finger on my shoulder, her nail delicately scoring my flesh.  It is all I need, the signal to sink to my knees.  All this time, I've been silent, but now, standing before me, she leans down, lifts my chin with her finger and waits for me to ask.

"Mistress?" I begin to ask the question, inevitably knowing it won't be answered.  But the doorbell cuts me off and she drops my chin like a child discarding a toy.

I hear her open the door, voices excited in the hallway.  Hers, and another.  Another female.

"Yes, he's in here. Would you like a drink first? Water? Or coffee?" she asks, being as ever the perfect hostess.

"Do you have any iced tea?" the other woman asks.  "Of course," she replies, and I hear her voice fade as she heads to the kitchen "I'd get him to get it for you, but..."

Within a couple of moments, there are two women standing one either side of me.  I squirm slightly, not knowing who this new person is.

"Cam," her voice, unmistakable my Mistress, "this is Erica.  She's a friend.  She's a Domme.  And for the first time, I'm going to share you with someone else.  Isn't that nice?"

I nod and reply, throat dry, cock stiffening involuntarily. "Yes Mistress. Very nice."

One of my two tormentors leans down and slaps my chest, hard.  I grunt. "Thank you...Mmmii..."

"Miss Erica," Mistress instructs, letting me know who it was.

"Thank you Miss Erica," I reply.

The pair get to work on me, slapping, cropping, flogging me.  Starting warming me up, reddening my buttocks, my thighs.  Learning how far, how hard to take me.  Taunting me; Mistress asks me how many times I've cum inside her without permission. Forced with slaps to my thighs, stinging blows, to admit it's been twice now so far.  And the circumstances of each.  Humiliation.

Objectification, too.  New toys come out to be tested on me; nipple clamps, what feel like bulldog clips (which I never see, but hurt like hell when they're ripped off my cock and balls), and a thin carbon fibre rod called a misery stick, marking me with tiny sharp welts all the way up my thighs.  I'm made to feel like an experiment, a competition to see who can leave the nicest mark.  I don't know who wins, because I don't know who's doing what.  The mystery both adds to the eroticism, and to my subby distress.

I want to stop it, to cry out and make it all stop.  But I don't want to let Mistress down and I'm so deep in subspace too that I'm just riding the waves of pain and pleasure, tossed around on a sea of sensation.

It's not long enough though (it never is when it stops!), and all too soon it's over; I'm released, unhooded, and sit, blinking and squinting despite the dim, dank afternoon light.  The three of us sit for a while, and all I can do is grin while the ladies chat - a few well-directed questions to bring me back to normality, still grinning like an idiot though, and Miss Erica leaves.  We're left alone.  I run my fingers over the welts and red marks, wincing at my sore nipples.

That was over a week ago.

The marks have gone, but I'm still grinning.  And I'm more in love than ever with Mistress.

February Confession by Anonymous

One day while sitting on a park bench, I had the most awful thoughts.   I pictured myself watching the Ladies walk by, dressed to the nines but all of the had their little secrets with them in their handbags.  I began to notice that all the men that accompanied them were several steps behind the ladies.  I didn't think much of it until one lady sat down on the bench across from me.  There was no man with her and her gaze appeared to fall on me.  I am not sure if it was paranoia but every time I looked up from my book I caught her blue eyes staring at me.  I smiled and nodded in her direction but she merely scoffed and stood.  I thought she was going to leave but she sat down next to me.  Without a word she handed me her black purse and in a very curt voice she told me to open it.  Inside I saw a hard thick black plug with several ribs on it.  I knew what this was as I had seen them in videos I would occasionally watch.  I must have blushed because she told me that I was going to wear it.  I smiled and chuckled and informed her that I was not going to wear such a thing for her or anyone else. She didn't think that was too kind of me because she simply slapped me in the face and again said I was going to wear it.  Quite frankly I was taken aback by her forwardness and  audacity at making such a demand on a complete stranger.  I placed her handbag back on the bench and stood to leave when she grabbed my arm and violently pulled me down.  Her gloved hand grabbed my throat and squeezed and looked directly into my eyes. "You son of a bitch, how dare you assert yourself towards me in that manner", she said, hissing as the words flowed from her soft lips.  She released my throat and produced a cell phone and dialed three numbers.  Still in shock from such rough  treatment, I heard her say that a man was resisting her desires and commands and was requesting assistance.  I thought to myself that this was a joke and it must have been some of my mates pulling a gag on me.  Again I tried to stand but my efforts were met with the same action as before.  Stunned once again I tried to speak but she slapped me and once again seized my throat.  I couldn't speak and couldn't move.  I saw a motion out of the corner of my eye and realized what it was.  A female police officer had arrived.  I thought that would be the end of it.  The lady released my throat and as she did I began to protest but was quickly shushed by the officer. "What seems to be the trouble here Miss" the officer said.
"This insolent man is refusing my advances and I want him punished"
I tried to speak again but was backhandedly slapped by the officer.  "That will be enough out of you"
They both looked at me and the Officer laughed.  "This man will be a challenge but I know you can handle it" the officer said to the lady.
Oh Yes, it will be fun.  She reached down into her purse and pulled the plug out and told me to stand. " I am going to place this in your pitiful excuse for an ass and you will be mine for all eternity.

It was at that moment when I woke up.  I was breathing hard as I realized I must have fallen asleep.  When I was able to focus I looked around and there, across the path from my bench was a Lady, with a black purse, and a slight bulge inside it.

My Confession About The Auction Process by Kaiser

                             My confession about the auction process

 To be slightly cliché, let’s start at the beginning. No, not when I first joined second life but when I was given the order to join the auction from Lady Persephone at Trials and Punishments. Though if you ask me, it was a punishment but we will put that aside for now.

 So, where was i? Ah yes… Let’s start right after the Trials and punishment event, the moment when it was decided that I will be sold in front of the dominion. At the time, I didn’t know how many would be there, so let’s just say that my heart was going a mile a minute. Though that anxiety was offset from the fact I was just done with trials, was I worried? Yes but as they say, “we must cross that bridge when we come to it.

 In the days leading up to it, it’s safe to say that the anxiety didn’t get any better, oh no. That would be far too easy wouldn’t it. Instead, the butterflies kept on coming, you’d think it was mating season for the dreaded species of stomach butterflies, I need some bug spray I think, that or a net. Not going to lie, I strongly considered trying to wriggle or worm my way out of the auction, just to try and relieve myself of those dastardly butterflies but I pushed through.

 Finally the fated day arrived and honestly, I felt great, the occasion never really dawned on me, which was until i was told to strip naked and stepped into the display box. Soon the dominion started to fill up, a little at first but soon there were about 30 people there, it almost like my heart sunk. Then the nerves started. I personally think that the dominants were in league with the butterflies but I will give the benefit of the doubt, after all, who wouldn’t like to see a poor submissive panic.

  I was hoping to go last, would give me any chance to cool down mentally but fate wouldn’t allow that, would it? Evidently not because I was selected to go first and let me tell you, the order to come up and display myself in front of all of those faces, nearly had me  keel over, I doubt that would have upped my value any.

   Honestly, I wasn’t expecting much interest in me, if you know me at all, you know that my fears are possibly justified but we will not go over that here. Then came the moment I had to actively sell myself and my points to the dominants gathered, I had to dance describe what would be attractive to a buy for those around me. I think it well, because I did get one bid from someone, then came the most dreaded moment of all, I had to sing. Now, I am not that good a singer, but the fact I did it is what matters, the song I picked could have been better but it was my mistake.

 It’s safe to say that yet another huge sigh of relief was let out once the whole thing was over, it was very stressful but in all honesty, the humiliation aspect of it was fun. Would I do it again? I doubt it but it was a good experience. Now, what happened after I was bought? That is a story for another time. For now, it’s the confession of my auction, I hope you enjoyed reading it.

KaiserVonDerp.

Love Is by Anonymous

Love is finding you are having a conversation with your Mistress when you are sitting by yourself.
Love is finding time actually does move more slowly when you are apart.
Love is laughing before you know the end of the story she is telling you because you share the same sense of humour.
Love is finding joy in the quiet times.
Love is my Mistress writing me a book called ‘Because I love you’.
Love is finding your submission is over-matched by her domination.
Love is her never having to say ‘I guess I’ll have to choose between using the cane OR the birch’.

Once Upon A Time by Anonymous

Long ago there was a famous Mistress in Bagdad who sent her slave to market to buy provisions and in a little while the slave came back, white and trembling, and said, ‘Mistress, just now when I was in the marketplace I was jostled by a woman in the crowd and when I turned I saw it was Death that jostled me.  She looked at me and made a threatening gesture,. Now, please Mistress lend me your horse, and I will ride away from this city and avoid my fate.  I will go to Samarra and there Death will not find me’.  The Mistress felt sorry for her favourite slave whom she loved and lent him her horse, and the slave mounted it, and he dug his spurs in its flanks and as fast as the horse could gallop he went.  Then the Mistress went down to the marketplace and she saw me standing in the crowd and she came to me and said, ‘Why did you make a threating gesture to my servant when you saw him this morning?’  ‘That was not a threatening gesture’, I said, ‘it was only a start of surprise.  I was astonished to see him in Bagdad, for I have an appointment with him. Tonight. In Samarra.’

Voyeur By Firelight By Shadow Gehring

It was a cloudy, cold night. The air still dripped of the rain that had recently passed through, but the sun's rays peaked through the clouds at Her last glimpse of Atlanta for the day. I found myself at a place I didn't know, with no expectations for an event that I had never seen. Not really.

Yet here I was.

Earlier in the day I had first met the people of the group at a Biker Bar in Austell. It's dingy low lighting with the distinct scent of cigarettes made me uncomfortable. I was out of my zone, out of my element. A trend that would continue.

The munch had gone well, or so I thought, with vibrant discussion still ringing in my mind I made my way to the private farm. Here, was a haven that was built for a daily life for those who had a dark side, and my first ever play party.

They said it was okay to sit back and watch, and so I decided I would. It wasn't long before several scenes started up, but one of them in particular still sticks out to me.

It was later on in the evening, around 11 or so. I had gone into the house to converse a bit with a couple other kinksters, though I didn't say much, again, mostly listened. I decided to head back out. The layout outside consisted of the house. Out of the front door, a small barn held the upper dungeon, and farther down the driveway, there was a larger barn that was called the lower dungeon.

The upper was much warmer, lit by both the light and heat of a propane heater, I opened the door and went inside. Instantly my ears were graced by the sound of a pained scream. My eyes were drawn to the back of the dungeon where a Miss and male sub were engaged in a scene upon piece of equipment. It looked similar to a vertical rope wall, about 8 and a half feet high, 5 and a half wide or so. Instead of ropes, it was lined with thick leather straps, deep red in color attached to a wooden frame. Tied to it, a male, naked from head to toe, save for the chain collar around his neck. I recognized him from earlier in the evening. With him, a Miss. I never spoke to Her one on one, and I never caught Her name. She was confident in her mannerisms, much so in a way that demanded respect and submission.

It was enough to make me squirm, shiver and shy away, but no, I forced myself to watch.

I came in late to the start. She was already on him. In her hand, a tool I wasn't familiar with. I later learned it was a dragontail. It's handle shined in Her hand as the single strap lashed against his skin. I couldn't really tell what he responded with. His body tensed at each hit, a moan or a groan, even a scream escaping with the harder hits. She was quick to switch to something else, change the feeling of what was hitting him. Next up came a cane. Thin, black, unyielding to his back. She quickly tapped him, each hit getting steadily harder, louder to the rest of the room.

I shivered, imagining how It might feel to be underneath that cane, but imagination failed me. It was unable to register how that felt. Before I knew it, she had a wooden paddle out. It was solid oak, inch and a half thick. No give. Captivated, I watched how his entire body jerked at it's impact. She swung hard and fast, with an expert hand that guided the end right to the very spot She desired. Words were uttered, though their definition and meaning held nothing but gibberish to those outside of the scene. She went back to her bag, beginning to rummage through it before She pulled out a black paddle. This was much different than the first. It was smaller, black, but leather. And it had a nasty surprise waiting on its end.

She pulled him off the rope wall. I realized that he had only been hanging on to the rope wall via his hands. Onto his hands and knees he went, and immediately She sat upon his back, facing backwards as she brought the paddle down. The glint of pyramid shaped metal ends flashed through the firelight room, followed by a smack and a scream as they slammed into bare skin upon his ass. I shivered, nearly closing my eyes, but I was enraptured. I found some part of me, some dark voice deep inside, that simply said, "Don't you wish you were under such care? Don't you wish you were there?" He was quickly approaching sub space, and a few more slaps with the leather - metal studded paddle put him in a place where She felt it necessary to stop and begin after care. It consisted of little more than putting up her things and leaving him a mess upon the floor while covering him in a black sheet.

It felt like it had been nearly an hour, but only about 30 minutes had passed. I didn't get into any scenes... nor did I really want to after that. It wasn't that I was alarmed by it, not totally. It did however make me consider if this was a path I wanted to go down. It made me realize just how little I knew, and how much more there is out there. And this was only the start.

I left a little after 12:30. My mind a haze of wandering thoughts and memories of what I had witnessed that night. My first play party was over, and the only play I had engaged in was voyeurism. Somehow I think that was the only play I needed to engage in that night.

~Shadow.

What Are We Made Of? by Anonymous

So I Find my self asking what are Submissive made off

Leather and lace
Whips and chains
all things that can bring much pains
thats what naughty submissive are made of.

Pink ribbons and frilly skirts
blushing cheeks and pretty things
paddles on there soft soft skins
thats what sissy are made of.

wagging tails and muzzled mouths
tapping hooves and gleaming manes
we can take a hold of the reigns
thats what pets are made of.

But what would they all be with out

Class and beauty
grace and power
just enough to make them cower
thats what Dommes are made of