Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Cam's Confession

The Shock Collar

Mistress is a professional dog trainer, and 110% against the use of shock collars for our furry friends, who don’t know or understand why they’re being zapped with 500 volts of electricity.

But she doesn’t hold that belief for her slaves who can understand and ought to know better than to disobey her entirely reasonable requests.  She’s got a zapper, which is my least favourite toy, and uses it on me regularly.  Its both to keep me in line - I pretty much always fold instantly when she brings it out - and as a simple punishment; not for having done anything wrong but more to remind me of how painful it is and that I ought to do anything to avoid it.  Added to that, she loves the way I wriggle away from it, until the penny finally drops again that if I want it to stop, I have to remain completely still while she shocks me.  The zapper always brings out Mistress’s inner sadist. Repeatedly. On my nipples.

But back to shock collars.  As I said, Mistress has no qualms about shocking boys who really ought to know better, so she bought me a present.  It consists of a handy remote control and a nylon fabric band - the sort of webbing you might find on a rucksack - attached to a black plastic box, anatomically curved, with two rounded metal prongs sticking out of it.  The strap fits around the cock and balls, with the plastic box at the rear, between the legs, ready to deliver shocks to the rear of the ball sack of the unfortunate wearer.

She made me assemble it, fit the batteries - observing correct polarity - and attach it to myself.  I knew what was coming.  Putting the toys together and getting them to work is always my job.  Being made to assemble the devices that are going to be used against you has a particular psychological effect, rather like recalcitrant 17th century sailors being made to construct their own cat o’nine tails.  After a few false starts, she delivered that first jolting shock to my balls. I squeaked and leapt into the air.  Mistress was clearly amused.  After that the shocks came thick and fast, until I was doubled over, begging her to stop.

“That’s not how you ask, is it?” she chastised me, and zapped me again.

“Nuuugh….no Mistress. I’m sorry. How many more shocks would you like me to take?” I replied, ready to agree to any amount she might name.

“Just one more. I can see you’re hard, so after that you can fuck me. But every time you get to the edge and stop, you’re going to get another shock.”

I steeled myself. “Yes Mistress,” I grunted, and kept myself as still as possible for the final zap.

She pulled back the sheets, lay back and allowed me on top, making that face I love as she guided me into her pussy.  I was rock hard and dripping wet.

“Fuck me hard,” she commanded, knowing full well that it wouldn’t take much for me to reach the edge and have to stop thrusting. I rammed as hard as I could, repeatedly filling her cunt with cock.

I looked at her, my eyes begging as she shook her head, lifting her hand up to fill my vision; making me watch as she pressed the button.  We both gasped as the shock forced me into her completely.

I recovered, thanking her, and resumed servicing her. Providing her with the cock she craves, the cock she deserves.  Not long and another pause, another shock.

But something strange had started to happen.  The shocks weren’t dampening my lust.  Sure, they were keeping me off the edge, but I found I was able to fuck long and hard.  I asked her for more. While still thrusting.

“Please shock me again, Mistress,” I asked as we rutted. She looked surprised, but delighted to oblige.  I kept thrusting through the pain.


“Yes please, Mistress.”

“Beg me for it.”

“Please shock me again, Mistress. I beg you. Please hurt me.”

A look of delight came over her face and she pressed the button, holding it down, shocking me for several seconds while I continued to grind into her cunt.  The feeling was so intense; the pleasure of being wrapped in her pussy, tight and wet around me, while my balls were being zapped. Pleasure and pain together.

She stopped, and I continued to thrust. “Pleeeease, Mistress!”

“Do you think you can cum?”

“So close, Mistress….yes.”

She pressed the button down with glee. My mouth opened in shock, but my eyes never left hers.


I thrust, the confusing sensations, pain, pleasure, the tightening of my balls and the twitching of my penis as I delivered her seed to her. As my pumping subsided and I slipped back out of her cunt, she let go of the button, grinning.

She’d found a new delight for us both - making me beg for more shock collar.

Restaurant Dominant

We’re not all about sex and S&M, you know. Really, we’re not.  Sometimes we go out.  We went downtown to see the Mousetrap - the world’s longest-running play.  I can thoroughly recommend it - it is a great plot that will keep you guessing and - despite a little bit of ham-dram - the production quality was quite good.  Despite it being set in the 1950s, there are some good strong female characters.  Neither of us are at liberty to divulge the ending though; we have both sworn a solemn promise to never tell.  So don’t ask.

No, we’re not all about D/s, but even in those everyday, vanilla situations, her dominance shines through.  Prior to the show, we went for lunch in a restaurant near the theatre.  Mistress sat with her back to the wall, me facing her, so my attention was solely on her and not the rest of the room.  I noticed that right away.  Her taking control of the situation.  We got drinks and chose what we wanted from the menu.  The waitress came up to take our order, and Mistress reeled off both our orders.

Now you might say this was convenience; she knew and ordered first, chaining both meals together to make the process swifter and more accurate.  I didn’t think so, though.  It made me aroused.

Mistress seemed surprised when I mentioned this.  That unconsciously, she took control, in a very public place, the power dynamic between us both very clear - at least to me, and with everyone else being completely unaware of what was going on.  Even she was unaware of what she was doing; the control she had over me.

That, dear listeners, is real domination. So subtle, no-one notices. So firm, no sub can resist. I cannot help but follow that lead. I love Her, a true Domme.

The Pleasure of Service
Breakfast - A New Tradition

We’d discussed me making breakfast for Mistress several times but never actually done it.  But this year, we finally got things together and I started making breakfast for Mistress.  The first couple of days, it was quite simple - crumpets with butter and jam.

Then we had a discussion about bacon sandwiches - the proper sort, on cheap white bread, with the bacon cooked until it’s started to crisp but isn’t yet quite a piece of toast, then slathered with ketchup or - for those who love their spice - brown sauce. The Brits among you will know what that is.

Mistress is a foodie, however, so this was not going to be acceptable.  We agreed on sourdough bread, dry-cured bacon, and fresh tomato.  So the following day I went into the local store and got some bacon, and picked up mushrooms as an afterthought - we both just loooove mushrooms.  Mushrooms fried in bacon fat are even better!

Mistress allowed me to wear a tee shirt and shorts to avoid hot fat burns, and I cooked up the bacon and mushrooms - forgetting to season them.  For the next few days, I added some salt and herbs to the mushrooms to make them Michelin-class.  At least I think so.  Serving her this way felt good - another new way of pleasing her.

After breakfast, Mistress would lie on the couch and I’d take off her socks and massage her feet with some lotion - another little act of service

We both found it made the mornings more relaxed, easing us back into our roles, and as an act of service, I grew into it too.  I’ve never been much of a service sub, but I gained a new appreciation for the simple pleasures of service.  I’m still not a service sub - I’m sure Mistress would agree. I think she likes it that I’m her sex slave and can do service as well - and she has other sources of service-based submission, so I know she’s not going without.

Yet again though, I’ve learned another way to please my Mistress and grow into my position at her feet.

Making Tea

Mistress shares her favourite porn with me.  It's the only porn I’m allowed.  One of her favourite themes is dominant women leading men off to their bedchambers, holding onto their genitals and leading them gently and firmly to their place serving her in whatever way she chooses.

It is one of those things that I’d always thought of as being fantasy - I didn’t imagine it would happen; usually we’re already in bed together and Mistress strokes me to erection then pulls me on top of her.

This time, though, I was in the kitchen, making tea.  I’d just put a tea bag in one mug, and was about to drop a bag in the second mug when Mistress approached me from behind, reached round and grabbed my penis, pulling me round, leading me out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her bedroom.

Surprised, delighted, and also thinking “Shit! What do I do with this teabag!?” I dropped it onto a stack of magazines left on the landing.  She dragged me to her room and threw me onto the bed, taking complete ownership, my cock hardening more rapidly than an overmixed 2-part epoxy.

Before I could do anything, she was on top of me, mounting me, riding her cock, her hand between her legs, rubbing her clit.

I relaxed, pushed my hips up into hers, and from my prone position served her as best I could, thinking how lucky and privileged I was to have a Mistress, a lover, who wanted and lusted for me so much.

After she finished, I was sent back downstairs to finish making the tea.  I’d completely forgotten about it, about the tea bag left on the stairs.  Seeing it reminded me again of the control she took over me, completely in command.  I finished making the tea with a broad grin on my face.

Sex and Drugs
More accurately, this should be titled sex on drugs.  Viagra, to be precise.  Mistress had some experience of her lovers using viagra and, despite me not at all needing it, she wanted to experience it with me.

In the UK, it has recently become possible to buy viagra without prescription - so that avoids an embarrassing conversation with the doctor.  In my head I’d imagine it would go something like this:

“Doctor, I need some Viagra”

“Why do you think you need it?”

“Because I’m fucking an insatiable sex goddess and while she’s so sexy she keeps me hard without any real effort, she’s always disappointed when I enter the refactory period and wants to use me like a sex toy.”

“That’s totally unethical. I can’t prescribe it for you.”

“But you’re totally jealous, right?”

“Absolutely. You lucky bastard. Now get out of my surgery.  I’ve got genuinely sick people to treat.  And go see a psychiatrist, you perv!”

So yeah...never been a fan of that idea, and was just as reluctant to actually go into a pharmacy and speak to a pharmacist about it. The conversation would’ve probably gone the same way, at least in my paranoid head.  And there would’ve been other customers in the shop, just to make it worse.

Of course, the Internet comes to my rescue and online service start to open up.  Great - lie about a few things on an online form and get the pills posted to you in a discreet package!  No need for any embarrassment.

As a result, I’m lying there, a Viagra pill in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.  Mistress is leaning over me, keenly awaiting the results of her latest experiment.  There’s a look of almost child-like glee on her face. “Take it,” she urges me.

I’m reluctant.  What if it causes my heart to explode or my head to turn green.  I swallow my irrational fears.  It’s been tested. The authorities deem it safe enough. I pop the pill in my mouth and swallow it.

The sex that follows immediately is good - as always when Mistress and I make love.  But damn...I don’t get soft afterwards.  Holy cow! We fuck again.  And I get to cum again.  It’s like being twenty all over again and I’m still hard!!!

It was definitely the most amazing morning.  I confess I didn’t keep count of how many times we made love, fucked, screwed, rutted that morning.  It was sex for its own sake. Sex because. Animal. I got to the point where I just could not cum any more - and we continued to fuck!

Viagra is an amazing drug.  Mistress is an amazing woman.  The fact that she can take that much sex and still come back for more just blows my mind.

Traveler by Anonymous

Traveler, wandering the world. All I want, is for you to want me. It was never so hard as it is now, to be without. I want to serve you and give you everything I can but ...Traveler, wandering the world.

I see you here and there and I ache for you to see me, to talk to me, to call me over and ignore me....I'm right here Miss...Traveler, wandering the world.

Your spot in my heart is always empty Miss but you make my heart full. I would belong to you if you took me, but i cant let you, I would lose you...Traveler, Wandering the world.

I'll always be there, but hardly ever here....Your Traveler Miss, wandering the world.

Good Things by Lady Lobbie

They say good thing come to those who wait
well better things come to those who beg
no boy that not up for debate
now on your knees
or in a crate

I do not mind take your time
but for ever minute passed
Ill take you ass and make it mine
I want to hear you
whimper and whine

Come now boy you know its true
don't think for one moment
that I wont take a paddle to you
beat that ass
until it is black and blue

In my collar you belong
on my leash you should be
tell me boy am I wrong?
Come now knell for me.
Together we are strong

Invitation that can't be declined
to become completely mine.

By Lobbie Sommersett  (Riggles)

(1 line by Dec)

Confession by Rhys

I want to thank Lady Peregrine for allowing me to serve at Her pleasure.  In the last month and a week, I have enjoyed and looked forward to each and every conversation.  When I wake in the morning, I do not feel as if my day has begun until I send that good morning message on Skype. 

My thoughts are on Her, even when I am not able to be online.  I find myself wondering how She would react to a situation, or whether a sight would be pleasing to Her.  She has honored me with a place by Her side, and I crave and yearn for the day when I feel a collar locked around my neck, hearing that click, that says in no uncertain terms that I am Hers, and Hers alone.

The shame that fills me when I know that I have disappointed Her, is probably far worse than any scolding or punishment that would be doled out.  I look forward to the day when I know Her completely enough that I can make it through a day, a week, a month, without making some small mistake to earn Her ire.

When She is pleased, the joy that courses through me has me smiling and laughing out loud.  My heart soars when I hear, “good boy,” and all I want to do is be at Her feet forever.  I was privileged to be allowed to perform for Her pleasure yesterday.  It was an experience that allowed me to sink fully into my submission to Her, and it left me with a deep feeling of peace.

Laying side by side with Cam,  listening to Her every direction and order to explore, lick and caress the other’s cock, I wanted nothing more than to both please Her, and to taste him for Her.  Knowing She was “watching” and in full control sent shivers through me.

The moment where I felt the most at peace, the most complete however, was the moment when I was on my hands and knees, with Lady Peregrine sitting upon my back so that She could reach Cam’s lips as he knelt behind me, ready to  fuck my ass.  He kept asking if I was ready, and She told him that it was no longer my concern, and for him to take me.  He did.

I could literally close my eyes and envision Her pleasure with us occurring in real life.  I could envision, once Cam was finished and She slid that cold plug into my ass, having to get up and  get dressed before heading out to go on with our day as if nothing had happened.  That I would know with each movement, that I had his seed deep in my cunt, with that plug keeping it there until She chose to remove it.

I love that Cam enjoyed himself and that we are getting along so well.  I had fears and anxieties that he wouldn’t like me, so being able to relax around him is a wonderful treat.  I love having a place by Her side, kneeling beside Cam, and for the two of us to be able to work together to bring Her pleasure and joy.  I hope with my entire being that I will be lucky enough to earn Her collar.

Anonymous Confession

Someone asked me recently what changed with me. Why didn't I have any desire to be owned any more? And for the longest time the answer was "I don't know."

Cynicism could lead one to think, "Oh, he's just looking to get his kinks fulfilled without putting in the effort to be a good submissive." And there's undoubtedly some truth to that at times. I have had kinks fulfilled outside of a femdom; there's no humble way to say "I can get that taken care of, if that's all that I'm looking for," so I won't make any pretense to the contrary.

But if that was all of it, why would I still feel the need to submit, still feel the aching need to please? Why am I simply calmer and more at peace in a Female Dominated atmosphere? I don't really *do* anything any more, don't pursue anyone, and I'm more than a little standoffish. I just enjoy the company and the conversations, and give input when it's desired, hoping to please.

Then the other day, a Domme friend IMed me. She asked "What the hell is the matter with you? You come in to the circle, and you just sit there now. You don't really talk to anyone."

"I feel peaceful here," I answered. "I still enjoy pleasing. That's still at my core. I still belong here, but I don't want to belong to anyone."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust anyone enough to give myself to them completely any more" I answered. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that again."

And there it was. What surprised me more than how obvious the answer had been...was her reply to me.

"You're not the only one," she said.

Gather The Stars by Lady Karrie

Gather the Stars

She promised she would reach into the night sky and without fear or trepidation gather the stars for their amusement.

He said He would tremble in anticipation of her bequests. That every syllable would be listened to. Revered. Obeyed.

She recalls how with stockinged feet she would gently massage his glistening hard cock until his need weeped for release

He once spoke to her of his furtive desires almost hypnotised by her gentle joy at the more depraved of his appetite

She reached for him once and he was there waiting.

In the darkness He lowered his head  in pain. She was there softly brushing a tear away.

Whips. Floggers. Pinwheels. Knives. Ropes and Leashes were fundamental to their relationship dancing alongside candyfloss, summer cokctails. fairgound rides. french cinema and good conversation.

The fucking rod propelled deeper into his anus as he tugged on the tethers that bound him to the prison stockade. Fuck that he thought and immediately remained still, His anus still raw from his usual morning fucking from Mistress.

She thought of him downstairs in  the dungeon and how he would be trying hard not to fidget. He truly hated that fucking rod!. She Laughed and thought how funny it would be if she tiiptoed in quietly and pushed it right up deep in him....How he would squeal!! Just like that little piggy fat boy in Delieverance....squeal little piggy...she laughed once more then returned her attention to the laptop. All thoughts of fucking rods and dungeons gone. Him included.

He hated this bloody blindfold as well!  it didnt add suspense! Why did all Dominant women think so? FFS men are visual animals they want to see your tits and cunt not imagine them behind the thick itchy blackness!. Goddamn he was getting irritated he wanted to see around their new dungeon. They had just finished it last week. Well he had. Mistress as usual dictated and pointed at things, while he , well he did all the menial heavy lifting work. As it should be yeah yeah but he smiled remembering the fun they had later drinking champagne. They had sprawled on velvet over sized cushions side by side, holding hands looking up together  into the starry night.

 I promised you the stars she said. He kissed her in response.

She looked once more. She loved him. She truly did. He adored her as he said he would.

He wondered if she would be coming down this evening. All he had ever wanted she gave him.

She logged in. New name. New Avator. Oh the thrill of it all. Let the games begin.

He yawned. As he had done for a few months now. 

Mark's Confession

They were somewhere deep in the depths of the city. The room was small, and despite all apparent common sense, the room apparently had no doors or windows …. no point of entry or egress. The walls were intermittently illuminated by a flickering blue that seemed somehow to reflect the electrical interference of badly tuned television screens.

His shoulders ached from the tension as the tight cuffs around his wrists pulled his arms back as he knelt before her. She stood over him. He sensed how close he was to the hem of her tight miniskirt, the double softness of her stocking tops, the ‘V’ at the top of her thighs, the heat of her body. Part of him yielded, and he knew he wanted to give worship, to let his lips meet hers through the filmy nylon of her panties, to allow his tongue to give her pleasure. But he refused to meet her eyes, until the sharp pain of the cattle prod on his ribs bade him look upwards to meet her gaze. She held out her hand. In her palm there were two pills. ‘You may take the red pill, or the blue pill’, she said.

He looked away, determined to be master of his own fate and captain of his soul. But the cattle prod found its mark again, and he gasped helplessly: ‘The red pill’, he whispered. She smiled down at him as she fed him the pill, then guided him between her thighs, where his lips met hers. He felt her fingers tighten in his hair as she urgently pulled his face toward her, slowly gyrating her hips. He felt himself swimming in erotic currents, his lips gliding over her stocking clad legs until they found the raised clips of her garters tugging at her stocking tops, the garter belts themselves leading upward to the warm softness of her silky inner secrets.

As he pressed his lips to her, she looked down upon him. ‘I have never known a sub who does not silently long for this’, she said, as she  rubbed herself over his mouth. ‘But I will let you into a secret. I am not here to give you what you desire, silent or not.’ As she said this, she grabbed him by the hair and threw him across the room. ‘You are here for me, not the other way around’.  She strode forward, and the sharp bite of the cattle prod hit again and again. He cowered into the corner and begged for forgiveness. ‘You mean, you do NOT want to offer me pleasure?’ she demanded. Before he could answer, the cattle prod bit deep again. He begged again to assure he wanted to offer pleasure. ‘So you are saying you want to do what I have already denied you’, she shouted. The cattle prod’s electric charge bit even more deeply. He felt himself losing grip on consciousness. But just at that moment, he spied the blue pill that she had discarded, lying in a corner of the room. As she leaned forward to shock him again, he twisted free and leaped across the room to obtain the pill. His hands were bound, but he seized it between his teeth and grinned at her. She called out ‘No!’, but it was too late, and the pill was swallowed.

The lines of the room wavered for a moment then disappeared. A bright freshness met his gaze. He lay on a field, stretching as far as the eye could see. Gibbets punctuated the scene, with male submissives hanging by the neck, stretched in tortured poses. Others were spread taut over wooden frames, being fucked by Mistresses with giant strapons until they bled. Others yet were tied to whipping posts, their flesh flayed by Mistresses as each Mistress in turn wielded her whip. Across the expanse of green field, all that could be heard was the plaintive cry of the submissive and the derisive laugh of the Mistress. He looked up, and his Mistress sadly smiled down at him: ‘What a shame, we could have had so much fun, you and I, if only you had ignored the blue pill. Welcome to reality’. He cried out his mistake as the invisible shackles dragged him towards the wooden fucking frames, but he had taken the road less trodden, and all was lost.

The Grass Field by Anonymous

The Grass Field
5: She is riding her horse
7: rays of sunshine passing through the air
5: gagged and restrained, he is

Thursday, August 23, 2018

Three Ladies & A Boy by Lady JJ

The boy shivered in the cool air of the wine cellar; of which the red French knickers covering his steel cock cage offered him little protection; as he carefully selected a Sauvignon Blanc from the rack. Swallowing hard at the price tag, he examines it, praying it will be enough to please not one, but all three Ladies. For tonight was his monthly chastity review and his three keyholders had chosen a private wine room as the venue. Having failed his last two, he desperately needed this one.

A deep breath to compose himself before stepping into the booth-like room where all three Ladies sat on a corner style sofa, the light hearted conversation and sporadic laughter greeting his ears. Feeling the instant burn in his flesh to chase away the chill as he he enters their field of vision, the fierce blush generating heat hot enough to fry an egg when their conversation turns to him.

"Oh these are cute!", exclaims the toned, bronze skinned and brunette Miss Jemma, referring to his underwear with a hint of amusement that causes him to look down. A glimpse of her shapely, nylon clad thighs disappearing beneath a velvet purple skirt, knowing full well how much that teases him.

"Thanks, I picked them out when he took me love them don't you, boy?", replies the second Lady in her well spoken manner. Her pale skin and petite form perfectly contrasted with her striking blonde hair and very red painted lips.

"Yes, Miss Madison and thank you for noticing, Miss Jemma", the boy manages as confidently as he can to a chorus of laughter while pouring the glasses of wine, noticing the single key each Lady wears on a necklace or ankle chain...the same key to his lock.

"How adorably pathetic!", the third Lady, Miss Lorna; her long raven black hair spilling down her back against the fitted dress that hugs her curves; adds as she is served.

A smile from the red lips of Miss Madison as she announces, "Well lets get this out of the way...position boy!" Prompting him to hurry to a spot before them and kneel. His legs spread and back straightens, relying on the punishing core body gym sessions at the instruction of Miss Jemma to maintain his posture as fingers interlace behind his head and eyes lower.

The next thirty minutes are a blur to the boy. A heady montage of ridicule, begging on his part, comments on his performance and highlights of his failures. The gist he gathers in his frustrated, humiliating but utterly submissive state is that Miss Lorna was happy with the effort put into properly cleaning and waxing her car, Miss Madison was happy with how his housekeeping skills were coming along and Miss Jemma found him very useful in the stables mucking out her horse.

Trying to hide his smile and relief at the way things seem like they were going, he lowers his head more and whispers a; "Thank you, Ladies"; just before the verdict is read out. As always the vote must be unanimous amongst the Ladies.

"I think it is a yes from me"; says Miss Lorna with a grin and dangles the key.

"There is room for improvement, boy, but I think I will be kind this time...yes from me"; Miss Jemma half smiles and half smirks.

His heart pounds as the last Lady is to vote...

Standing and walking towards him, Miss Madison's tight jeans enter his view, her perfume reaches his nose and he feels the closeness when she stands before him. "Well.."; she starts, "I am more of a Pinot Grigo Lady".

His world shatters in despair before it enters a sudden, blinding pain as her foot finds his balls. The air driven from him and he collapses forward to the sound of collective hysterical laughter ringing in his ears.

"Fuck off and pay the bill, are up at five for chores."

The Invitation by Anonymous

The Invitation

‘Aha! I see we have an invitation’, Mistress said, waving a blood-red envelope and its contents.

He grimaced inwardly. Blood-red envelopes, in his experience, rarely heralded anything good.

‘Oh goodie, Yes Mistress’ he said.

His Mistress smiled brightly. ‘And, it is fancy dress!’

 ‘Oh goodie, Yes Mistress’, he said.

He groaned inwardly.

Then he thought to himself: ‘There’s a lot of stuff I do ‘inwardly’ - I wonder if it is some sort of Darwinian survival thing’?

His Mistress was pacing up and down. ‘You, obviously, will go as a French maid: heels, seamed stockings, black lingerie, satin dress and apron and cap, as usual. And I suppose we’ll just have to try to cut down on the number of male guests who fuck you in the closets. Even I admit that last time *was* a bit of a disaster. I mean, that spit-roast thing was just … un-aesthetic. And to be brutally frank, for about three days after, your breath smelled of … But *ANYWAY* the *BIG* problem is: what am *I* going to wear?’.

He thought for a moment: would I rather be fucked in the closet or fucked in the ass? But then he said: ‘Oh yes Mistress, that is the big problem: what will you wear?’.

‘I think I want to make a statement’, his Mistress said. ‘Something bold! I am thinking: leather, boots, gloves, whips, out-sized strapon dildo’, she said.

He groaned inwardly.

‘Oh goodie, Yes Mistress’, he said.

‘No, no. Go with me on this’ she said. ‘You dressed as a French Maid, Me as a Leather Domina … we could put on a little show with me fucking you in the ass!’

He thought: ‘And that will *totally* put off the ‘let’s all fuck the French Maid in the closet’ types when she decides it is time to disappear and hobnob with the other dommes.

‘Oh goodie, yes Mistress’, he said.

‘I know…  I know what you are thinking’, she said.

‘I *seriously* doubt that’, he thought.

‘’You are thinking’, she said, ‘Where is all the bondage? Where is all the discipline? Where is all the pain?’

‘Actually’, he began ….

‘But that will take care of itself!’ she smiled. ‘Obviously later on I have important things to talk about with the other Dommes. But the maledoms will be dragging you into the closets and fucking you and whatnot, and I am sure there will be some bondage and discipline involved’.

‘Whatnot?’ he thought. ‘What the fuck is ‘whatnot’?’

‘Actually’, he began …

‘I am *so* glad we have sorted this out’, Mistress said. ‘This is *exactly* the sort of thing that can *really* get to me – what will I wear, what are the others wearing. I can get quite stressed. And angry. Infuriated, really’.

He thought for a long moment.

‘I am so glad we have sorted it out too, Mistress’, he said.

She smiled at him, and handed him the invitation, which said ‘Your local church invites you to come along this Sunday for a happy morning of celebration and good fellowship’.

He sighed inwardly. ‘What a wonderful joker my Mistress is’, he thought.

‘You can put that in the trash’, she said. ‘And then pop upstairs and put on your French Maid uniform and fetch my strapon’.

He groaned inwardly.

‘Oh goodie, yes Mistress’.

The Getaway by Anonymous

The Getaway

He raced along the corridor, the tiles cold against his bare feet, the linen wall-hangings, depicting whippings and tortures, a blur as he ran past. He had two problems: he did not know where he was and he would not get far on bare feet once outside. He reached the outer door, and both problems almost magically resolved themselves. Someone had left a cell phone and car keys on a table just inside the door. He swept both up as he ran past and crashed through the door into the freedom of a dark tarmac-covered  car park. Outside, he shuddered momentarily as he thought of what he had just escaped. The two anonymous female guards with their bullwhips, the ones he called The Blonde and The Brunette. But worst of all, The Mistress. She came to him in a flash of memory – gleaming patent boots, tight corset, long leather gloves, the unending pain mingled with his cries for mercy. His thoughts leapt to the present as he heard a door bang. He saw The Blonde and The Brunette run towards him. He clicked the car key fob feverishly. A welcome ‘bleep’ and he was running towards a black car in the far corner of the car park. He threw himself inside, and with a roar of the engine was out onto the road beyond the gate. The two guards wheeled around, found their own cars and then were in pursuit, the headlights of their cars bouncing as they raced after him.

Where to go? He picked up the cell phone, found the route-mapping app and keyed in what he guessed was the nearest town. Almost immediately the mechanical voice of the app said: ‘In 2 miles, take the next left’.  Just before that first left turn, he let one of the pursuing cars come alongside him. He swerved into it violently and grinned as the car slewed off the road while he clung to the left-hand turn.  ‘In 2 miles, take the next left’, the mechanical voice said. Two miles later he had to slow to make the next left, and his rear mirror filled up with the headlight blaze of the other car. He slammed on his brakes, and there was an enormous, screeching howl as the pursuer behind him crashed into his rear bumper and bounced off, sliding sideways into the ditch alongside the road as he made the turn. ‘In 2 miles, take the next left’, the mechanical voice instructed. Two miles later he took the left as instructed and found himself in a dark square of tarmac. At that moment, the car coasted to a stop, its engine dead. He cursed – what were the chances of running out of fuel just then! He got out and found himself looking at a tall wall with a plain metal door at the centre.  He grabbed up the phone and headed for the door – if there was no one home, he could still call the police. He tried the door handle, the door swung inwards, and he stepped inside.

 He found himself in a long corridor. He felt cool tiles beneath his bare feet, and the dim lighting showed up what appeared to be tapestries hanging from the walls. His heart began to race. At that very moment, he heard the metal door behind him swing open. The Blonde and The Brunette entered, their heels clicking on the tiled floor. He suddenly realised:  ‘Turn left … Turn left … Turn left’ … he had gone in a circle! But how could that be? The Blonde and The Brunette approached. He eyed their bullwhips, and fell to his knees, mute, the cell phone dropping from his hand. The Blonde and The Brunette bent over him. The wrist and ankle cuffs were clicked back into place, the familiar dildo gag forced into his mouth, the metal collar padlocked again. The Blonde smiled at him as she wiped away a drop of blood from a cut on her forehead caused by the slide into the ditch. She reversed her bullwhip so that the handle made an ugly billy-club in her upraised hand. Just then, a door at the other end of the corridor opened. The Mistress entered, the light catching on her patent boots, illuminating the soft nylon glow of her stockings, and reflecting in the lace of her corset before vanishing as a dull sheen in her leather gloves. She spoke into a cell phone: ‘You have reached your destination’. He gawped as the phone on the floor beside him repeated her message in a tinny, mechanical voice. He looked up, the Mistress smiled at him, the billy club in The Blonde’s hand fell, and all was darkness.

For Confessions by Patrick

 the penis in all its glory , it hides in fabric only to be let out at opportune times, but once out what a glorious time it has ,, the sliding into a dark tight space or perhaps some personal fun time with Rosy Palmer, either way the blood rushes to the head and then a great explosion, then back into the fabric it goes , one might say wham bam thank you ma'am, is that anyway to treat the penis

Femdom by Christian Lacdael


Blame has somehow fallen my way,
Though I weren't in the guilty fray,
Pained by what she'd not got to say,
We enter a violent ballet,
To my love I eagerly fawn,
Only to end up as her pawn,
Blind to where the line's to be drawn,
I fear getting tattered and torn,
She sheds the guise she's wise to don,
While trust in her is all but gone,
A safety word's not agreed on,
When I'm whom her wrath falls upon,
The hell into which I was thrown,
Contained hurt never before known,
Lashed with pain I started to groan,
But with rapture I in time moan.

Christian Lacdael


What do you get when you mix coconut rope with two sadists and a non-masochist? The answer is a wow experience and deep space. I was talking to a friend, and a great rope top (RF), one morning when we got to talking about the party coming up in a few days. I love rope and she had tied me before many times, so I asked her if we could do a scene there. She graciously agreed to do so. I let my Lady (NK) know about it so she could plan accordingly and while I was talking it dawned on me that this might be a great time to do a co-topping scene if NK felt up to it. We had talked about that type of scene several times before but it never seemed right. This time NK felt was a great time if the RF was willing. I quickly got in touch with the other top and asked her if she would be willing to co-top. Her response was an immediate yes.

In the week leading up to the event I was very anxious because I had no real idea about what they were thinking or even how it might work. I asked my Lady if she had any thoughts about how they were going to work together and she responded in her anxiety inducing non-committal answer "we'll see how it feels at the event." She knows the best results come from my generally not really knowing what's going to happen as the nervous energy always adds to her enjoyment of the event. It also adds to my complete experience in a generally positive way.

The very first time I experienced rope, I got to have a very brief encounter with coconut rope, courtesy of RF, and found I really enjoyed the biting nature of it's embrace. Sadly, since that first experience I had never been tied with it for a scene. My Lady has a short piece of coconut rope, which she uses as a useful sensation to contrast with tickling and spanking. Just the touch of it greatly enhances my reactions and drives me deeper into space as she had discovered, so when we started to discuss the scene at the party the first thing she recommended was that coconut rope be used by RF.

That suggestion actually enhanced my anxiety, because while I knew I liked it, I was already anxious about potentially just being restrained and unable to react normally to my Lady's spanks and tickles. The thought of fighting restraints naturally produced a rational fear and the thought of fighting restraints that caused more pain than jute or hemp due to the rough nature of it made me think real hard about if I wanted to go there. I finally decided, since it wasn't a hard limit and I did want to be restrained by coconut at some point, there was no better time to try it.

After a good discussion, we found the bench vacant and my Lady ordered me to undress. This time was different from other parties, because I had never been tied completely naked and hadn't thought about it until that moment. After my clothes were removed my friend RF started to tie me and I became very self-conscious of the people that decided to stop and watch our scene. It was a new experience because I was standing naked in front of so many people for an extended period of time. Normally, my period of public nakedness was very short because it was usually immediately followed by laying over a spanking bench or over my Lady's knee. This time it was many minutes of people just looking at me fully naked as I was being tied.

I am not normally self-conscious, but for some reason I was at that moment fully aware and self-conscious of my vulnerability. After I was suitably trussed I managed to bend over a spanking bench as the rough rope dug into my sensitive skin. RF began securing my hands and feet as NK began tickling me and then hitting me while admonishing me to be still and not make it difficult for RF. Naturally she was also trying to make me react to make it more difficult for the rope top so she could punish me some more. She is a very thorough sadist and knows exactly what she wants and how to get what she wants. After several agonizing minutes of this torture RF moved completely out of the way for my Lady.

I was already starting to float and began struggling hard to free my self from this predicament. NK got her hairbrush and began to redden my bottom in earnest with each stroke causing me to flinch which caused the rope to bite into my ankles and wrists, not to mention into my chest and back, where I had been trussed up tightly. Every now and then she would switch to tickling me causing more struggling to free myself which meant  more pain against the tickling sensation. It was a euphoric sense of agony causing me to breathe extremely fast and heavy. I finally recognized I was close to hyperventilating and cried out it was time to stop. When my rope top began untying me I went blissfully into space. I was floating on this high for what seemed like ages. My Lady and I found a way to cuddle as I began to come down. I really want to give my thanks to both Ladies for giving me an exquisite experience of pain and pleasure.

I have had some time to think deeply about the experience and was surprised by my self-consciousness about being naked and exposed for an extended period of time. It dawned on me that for some reason I was self-conscious about my genitals. I have never had an issue with people looking at my naked butt before, but full frontal nudity, I discovered, was disconcerting for some reason. I presume it was merely leftover childish insecurity from another era in my life about how people might judge me. I have been trying to figure out if that self-consciousness had any real impact on the entire experience. I am sure I will be giving that some further thought.?

Cam's Confession

Mistress has kept me chaste for a few weeks now. I couldn't say exactly how long. It's not something I keep track of calendrically. I certainly feel it biologically though. The constant tension in the scrotum, the inability to keep the mind from lustful diversionary thoughts.

I promised myself to her. I gave control of my orgasm to her. Not my libido though, not entirely. Sometimes it wanes, especially a week ago when I had a short but nasty summer cold. Though she does control it after a fashion. Every time she tells me how much she adores me, how she lusts after me, all the wicked and naughty things she will do to me, I respond. She makes me want her more.

So I don't cum. I wait instead. I wait for her to take her pleasure, to enjoy using me, teasing me, denying me. I enjoy it when we play, and when we don't; when we just spend the evening discussing dogs, or feminism, or just how fucked up the world is today.

I find ways to let her know how horny I am, how in need of release I am. Subtle clues, which I know she always picks up on. Just a devil smiley, or a slight swelling when I send her her morning property inspection photo. Little ways.

I never ever whine about how I've not cum. Sometimes even just letting her know I'm needy feels like whining, but we've discussed this and she wants to know - needs to know how I feel, how much I want and need her. Both for reassurance and to know when the time is right.

And when the time is right, she always goes out of her way to make it an utterly mind-blowing orgasm. So incredibly hot; making me spill my load, however long it's been, making cum all over the place. Leaving me satiated and thoroughly drained. But never ever losing my submission to her.

I used to do those things - whine and plead and forget to serve properly once my selfish lusts were done. But Mistress pulled me back, time and again. Slowly she trained me to accept and finally to embrace her rule, her control.

So yes, if it pleases her, I'd love to cum right now. But despite my trembling cock and pleading eyes, I won't ask. I'll wait.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Confessions of A Sub by Anonymous


The one that brightens up my day

It was the day after the auction at the Dominion, I was working on the tasks that were assigned to me by the Lady that bid the highest for me at the auction and another Lady messaged me out the blue. I was not used to getting too many messages as I usually keep to myself and do not interact all that much unless called upon. It was the message that was the start to a wonderful friendship. I was in awe, enamored and completely taken in by this Lady like no one else has ever in second life. In a short while I got incredibly close and I am still completely smitten by Her.

I wait eagerly each day for Her messages and Her support and encouragement. It brightens up my day like no other. She is a true inspiration as I admire how hard she works and how strong she is. I admire her for what she has achieved and how she strives and overcomes her difficulties and there is so much I learn each day from Her.

I have never thought I would be able to bond so much with a person on SL, but I am happy it is Her and She is truly special in each and every way to me in just the little things she says and does which could be just telling me to “Go to bed”.

I hope one day that I would be able to proudly say that She is my “Mistress”. It is for that day that I eagerly and patiently wait.

The Past by Anonymous

A confession, hmm where to begin?

Well, I suppose I should start at the beginning. I grew up in an er, let’s say dysfunctional household. My Father was an abusive drunk and my mother followed suit only without the alcohol.
I don’t have many memories of my childhood but unlike those who say that you block trauma from your memory as a defence mechanism, well I ONLY remember the trauma.

Anyway, I digress…. Back to the confession. Gosh this is harder than I thought as I have NEVER told anyone this. ……..

I ran away from the crap at home at the age of 14. I had mere pennies in my pocket but I figured anything was better than the life I was being forced to lead.

I met an older guy on my second day, after having walked around the city all night, cowering in doorways, sheltering from the cold. He was a lot older than me and I knew what he wanted but figured, Hey my Father and his dickhead mates had been taking it from me for free all these years, why not use the only thing I had learnt.

So I went with this guy and gave him what he wanted, but did not realize the danger that was ahead of me. From the second night I met him, he pimped me out to all and sundry. I was 14, alone in the city, scared, penniless and this guy was offering me food, shelter and money, although very little.

I stayed in that situation until I was 17 and I guess too ‘old’ for him and his cronies. I couldn’t/wouldn’t go home, had no money to leave and no friends. So one day he just threw me out on the street and again I was alone and penniless with nowhere to turn.

So, I continued to make money the only way I knew how for two years until I had saved enough to get a small apartment and then, with an address I got my first ‘real’ job’.
I never went back to the streets again.

Fast forward 30 years and I’m now a mother of three amazing kids, have a beautiful home and a fulfilling career.

I worked my ass off to never be in that position again and I have been fortunate enough to never have been.

I have never told ANYONE about my past, just that I left home at 14 to stay with extended family.

So please don’t judge me for who or what I was. See me for the person I am today. A strong, independent, loving woman who now works with vulnerable females.

I guess I know where they’re coming from, although I would never admit that.

Delicious Regret by Anonymous

Delicious Regret

I bit, and it bit back.
Curiosity took ahold of me a little too hard this time.
The hunger set in.
The salivating need to take just a little taste.
Just looking in through the window at such a thing drove me to psychosomatic starvation.
Goosebumps rose.
heartbeat quickened.
Watching people handle it.
Fondle it.
Squeeze it.
Testing it for perceived... Ripeness.
I couldn't take it and I had to rush in.
Putting on my pleasant, conversation mask.
Doing my best to seem like anything but a crazed and needful individual single-mindedly seeking a fix.
I smiled, and bartered, and exchanged for what it is that drove me to this.
And finally.
One agonising eternity later.
I had it.
I tasted it.
I let the sweetness sink in.
And then the bitter bit back.
The sour coursed through me like electric regret.
My face screwed up.
My voice absent rendering my full-mouthed scream silent.
Breath sucked through my teeth in a desperate need for oxygen.
My mind contourting to find a solution to this newfound misery I had oh so recently craved.
Was I too eager?
Did I not prepare enough?
One thing's for certain.
That day really curbed my desire for eating lemons.

Chapter One - The Breaking by Anonymous

Chapter One—The Breaking

They had met online…one of those odd, chance meetings that seem innocuous at the time but end up life changing.  He was there as Dom and She listened to him chat…watched him closely, saw something in him that drew Her, saw past the bluff and bluster.  She started the conversation…it had lasted weeks and in that time She slowly drew him in, made him look within himself, made him understand his true needs and desires in a way that put him off balance, confusing him at first.  Then he saw…saw Her, saw himself and understood his true nature and She had collared him shortly thereafter.  They had moved in together some months later.

The relationship was wonderful…She was beautiful and he had that rugged, handsome look and was honestly, a bit old school.  Out in the world he was naturally protective of Her, opened car doors, pulled back Her chair, always tending to Her needs first and She loved that about him.  He was simple and direct in his approach to life…things simply were and he accepted…he would not talk much about his past life though…She saw shadows there when She asked…deep within…and She just had to let that go…for now.  We all have our shadows She thought to Herself.

The sex was delicious…they were a good match and at times She would take him, although not as hard as She had others in the past and other times they would simply make love, hard and passionate, deep into the night.  He was a good lover, knew how to please and entice and always looked to Her needs first.  She always led, even though he might not realize it and was molding him, even though he was not always aware…bringing him to the point where She needed him to be…to make him into Her vision…to allow him to be the man She thought he needed to be…to release the inner desires he had avoided for so long.

Over the months together, they had fallen into the rhythm of life, both working, both busy with the same issues of any other couple working to integrate their lives.  It happened one morning…She was in teaching mode, working to make a point with him and he was distracted… a big project at work that was consuming his time and he had blown Her off.  Cut Her off in mid-sentence and said he had to go…not even a kiss good-bye.  She had seethed all morning.  There was something about what happened that made Her angry, but also frightened Her a bit as She felt him slipping away.  She would not lose him.

His phone binged around noon and he looked at the IM.  It said, I will be home at 7, I want you at the front door at 6:30 waiting for me, collar, cuffs, ball gag, kneeling on rice and wearing panties…pink.  He read it a second time and shivered.

She walked into the house at 7, put Her purse on the table and looked at him kneeling as instructed, waiting for Her.  She knew the 30 minutes on the rice must have been agony for him, given his old knee injuries…but She didn’t care.  The drool from the ball gag was running down to his chest and She saw the cuffs on wrists and ankles and also the lovely pink panties.  He looked up at Her with defiant eyes…in pain, angry and confused.  She started to turn away and then whirled…slapping him across the cheek so hard that it made him stumble to the side.  He righted himself slowly…his eyes finding Her again…still defiant.

She walked past him to their room…left him kneeling there, waiting.  She undressed and got dressed slowly.  Black satin bra and panties and then pulled on the wonderfully supple leather thigh high boots he had bought for Her while in Spain on business, She rose to return to him, the 4” spiked heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

She attached the leash to his collar…pulled him roughly after Her, forcing him to follow on his knees…She knew he had been there long enough to have the rice embed in the skin, but, to his credit, She didn’t hear a groan or sound as he crawled behind Her.  She was not a dungeon Mistress…didn’t have a specific playroom, making use of everyday things when She needed.  They did, however have a bondage bench in the extra room and it was a simple padded device that allowed Her to restrain if She chose and tonight, She chose.  She pulled him over the bench, attached the wrist cuffs to the bottom rings and then the feet…there were multiple widths and She selected the ones that spread him the most, opening him up to Her.  She leaned down and quickly bound his balls, which did bring a groan and at that She smiled to Herself…he had no idea, thinking perhaps this was just hard sex.

She walked around, Her heels clicking on the hardwood floor as She moved.  Squatting down in front of him She grabbed his hair to pull his face up, making him look into Her eyes.  “Do you want to leave…shake your head yes and I will unbind and release you and you can pack and go”.  He looked at Her, shook his head no.  She smiled at him, a predatory smile that did not touch Her eyes…one that he had not seen before.  She could see in his eyes that he was less defiant…less sure.  “When you begged my collar you said you gave yourself to me…told me you were Mine and I, in return, told you I would take from you everything.”  She slipped a hand to his throat…gently at first…running over it lovingly…then tightened.  She heard a slight gasp as he struggled for breath.  “You are Mine…all of you, even the breath you take is Mine…I have been too soft…I am going to remind you tonight who you belong to”.

She stood…walked behind him…took the heavy leather flogger that hung next to the whip from the bench and ran it across his back and down to his ass as She moved.  She had flogged him before but usually using the pain to accentuate the pleasure…tonight was different.  She leaned and pulled the pink panties halfway down his thighs.  Reached for the ass plug, lubed and shoved it into his ass…not gently as She usually did, working in…She pushed it all the way with one stroke…heard him grunt.  She then drew back and hit him with all Her strength, bringing another grunt from him…then lightly ran Her hand over his ass where it had left a red mark.  She stepped back, the next blow up between his legs, slapping into his bound and red balls which brought both a grunt and a groan.  Then She went to work…flogging him hard…the blows alternating between ass and balls as She listened to him grunt and groan with each.  Not quite the sound She was looking for. 

She walked around the bench again, squatted, grabbed his hair, making him look into Her eyes again…he was sweating now, his eyes less focused.  She turned Her head as She spoke, much as a lioness would her pretty, just before she struck,  “I want you all, I want your screams and tears, and I will have them”.  Tossing the flogger to the floor casually, She grabbed the whip from the hook as She walked by.  Positioning Herself behind him again, She reached back with the whip and let it fly, cutting into his already red and sensitive ass.  The sound he made was more…had a higher pitch and She went to work on him…the whip an extension of Her, a part of Her, Her anger, Her pride and in an odd way Her love.  She varied the strokes so that he could not anticipate and each time the whip touched him it left an angry red welt and She occasionally went up between his legs to touch his bound balls.  She started to sweat Herself from the exertion…gentle beads running between Her large and beautiful breasts.  She lost track of time…had folded into Herself as She delivered the soft leather to his sensitive ass…Her mind drifting to another place, another time.  His sobs brought Her back…low moaning sobs as he was trying to speak around the gag…all She could make out was, please, please, please.  His head and body shaking as he begged.

She stopped…that was the sound She was looking for.  She walked back around…pulled his face up, his eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down his cheeks…he was panting, trying to catch his breath.  She gently took the ball gag out.  Looking deep into his eyes, She asked “Who do you belong to?”  “You my Mistress, You”, came the ragged reply, his eyes searching Hers.  Satisfied with the answer, She reached over to the bed and grabbed the strap-on, attaching it as She watched him.  “Yes my pretty bitch, you are Mine, all of you…kiss the tip of my cock”.  He tentatively reached his lips out…kissed.  “Now, open your bitch mouth, wide”.  He opened.  She had had him suck for Her before of course…but this was different…She actually slipped a little lube on the cock and then took him.  She drove the cock deep into his mouth…felt it at his throat…saw his body convulse as he tried to gag it out…held it there for a moment, letting him adjust, catch his breath.  Then deeper…felt it push into his throat…again, he gagged hard…his body pushing up from the table as he gasped for breath.  She had both hands on his head, holding him in place…held it there, held it…then out...he gasped and wretched, large amounts of drool coming from his mouth, falling to the floor.  She pulled his head up again by the hair, “Are you my pretty bitch, my little cocksucker?”  “Yes”, was all he managed to get out.  She slapped his face hard, “Complete sentences, bitch”.  He looked up into Her eyes,” Yes my Mistress, I am your pretty little cocksucking bitch”.

She looked down at him…red eyes, drooling, tears still sliding down his cheeks, “Good, I have had several men ask me about you at the clubs, we are going to find you a real cock to suck…they will like the pink panties on you I think.  I have one in mind and have watched him work…he loves to take men and turn them into little bitches.  Let’s just say he has peculiar tastes”.  She slipped the cock back into his mouth, gave him a moment and then slowly started to fuck his mouth…deeper with each stroke, would listen to him gag as She got deeper…then finally all the way in…speeding up…taking, fucking his mouth just like his ass.  She listened to the sounds coming from him, moaning, gagging, the odd throat sound when it’s invaded…waited, knew he was on the verge of breaking, fucked his mouth savagely for a few moments more…then pulled out, wiping the wetness of the cock across his cheek.

He had his head down, looking at the floor while the drool continued to come from his mouth…She grabbed his hair, pulling his face up again, “Open”, and he opened his mouth…She leaned and spit directly into it, looked into his eyes and hissed, “You are Mine”.

She walked behind him…heels clicking on the floor…pulled the plug from his ass…put the cockhead at the entrance, hesitated a second and then rammed it into him.  Usually, this was a slow gentle process when She took him, made love to him, but not tonight.  She fucked him savagely…up on Her tiptoes for better leverage, She raped his ass…he cried out from the first stroke…groaning and grunting as She took him.  She pounded him, Her full weight behind each thrust…deep, hard, unrelenting…reaching around to take his nipples in Her hands, twisting hard, making him cry out again and again…bringing them back, slapping his welted and red ass hard making it sting even more.  The only sounds in the room were his groans and sharp cries as She raped him and the rhythmic sounds of the cock moving in and out.

The fucking affected Her as well…the strap-on rubbing Her as She fucked him, She found Herself taking it deep then grinding against it against herself as it rested there…Her desire flaring up.  She finally pulled out…heard him still panting hard…took off the strap-on and let it fall to the floor.  She released the restraints…pulled him up on shaky legs by the leash…pulled him to the bed and pushed him onto it, face up. 

 “You don’t get to fuck Your Mistress tonight bitch, in fact, not sure you will ever get to do that again, we will see.  But you will pleasure Her”.  She mounted his face…lowering Herself down onto him and said one word, “Lick”.  He did, desperately…he licked and sucked Her and as She moved and ground on top of his face sometimes his tongue would be in Her pussy, then ass…each time he tried to lick and suck and tongue as fast as he could…desperate to please Her.  It did not take long…She was already so wet and hot that when he first slipped his tongue into Her, it hit Her like an electric shock…after only a few minutes She pushed Her beautiful breasts together…moaned and came onto his face…grinding and moaning, cumming again and again as the waves washed over Her…his face slick with Her as She collapsed for a moment onto his stomach to catch Her breath.

She got up…pulling him by the leash after Her and then sat down…making him stand in front of Her.  She reached out and untied his balls…now bright red.  She leaned back…spread Her legs as She sat…Her breasts falling low and looked up at him.  “Stroke for me bitch”.  He looked at Her…then into Her eyes…his hand slipping down to find his cock then slowly starting to stroke for Her.  He blushed as his cock responded so quickly, growing hard in his hand…looking at Her…looking deep into those sometimes unfathomable green eyes, a hawk’s eyes…She missed nothing. 

 Moaning low as he stroked, the precum coating his hand.  “Faster, bitch”.  And he did, increasing the speed, feeling the familiar tingle in his balls…knowing he would cum soon, could not help it.  She looked at him, “Cum into your hand, bitch, now!”  He did…the command from Her so strong…he raised his other hand and came…shooting out huge spurts, most of it on his hand, some overshooting, landing on the floor.  She pulled the leash down, forcing him to kneel…leaned in, watching him closely, “Now, lick bitch and make sure you don’t miss a drop”.  He dropped his eyes…brought the hand to his face, licking the warm cum from it, licking between the fingers, sucking the fingers in to get each drop. Then She looked down and he knew…he went to all fours, leaned and licked the last drops from the floor.

She pulled him back up by the leash…pulled his face to Hers, “Who do you belong to” and he whispered, looking deep into Her eyes, “You my Mistress, always”.  She reached, unsnapped the leash, took his hand gently, led him to the bed, laid back and pulled him down, his head resting on Her chest…She listened to him…felt him, knew him and soon his breathing slowed…She murmured gently, soothingly, over and over, “Yes my love…Mine”.  She stroked his head as he lay there and soon She felt him drift off and thought to Herself…I wonder what dreams will come.

In the morning, he woke, having slept late and She was already gone as She had an early morning.  He wandered out to find coffee and there on the counter some clothes were laid out along with a note. He picked it up and read:

Good morning my love…I have left some things for you.  You will wear these whenever you are in the house alone or when I am there, no matter who I have with me.  Over time, you will be able to earn your other things back, but for now…  Kisses.

He looked at the folded items…sheer, black maids apron that would cover his chest and fall maybe just below his waist and sheer, black lace panties.  Next to the clothes was a collar, pink, with white letters spelling out “Bitch”.  He looked towards the door as it beckoned to him, as it offered him freedom and then he lowered his head, felt his face growing red and slowly slipped off the robe and put everything on.

So Simple by Anonymous

It all used to be so simple.

A tug on my leash would wake me up, and I'd crawl to her side of the bed. A few precious moments of cuddling before we struck out to face the day. We each knew our jobs and we did them well. The morning went by with a breeze, and before I knew it I was out the door and sitting into a room with 30 other people. None of them knew I had a welt across my ass from forgetting to put honey in her tea. Or the bruise on my chest from faultering as her footrest while she was halfway through her second episode of project runway the night before.

After a few hours in class I'd get a break, get up off the hard plastic seat. Smiling to myself at the feeling as blood slowly returned to my butt. She'd already picked out my lunch for me. No need to worry myself having to choose. I sat quietly and ate, smiling at the other people as they passed.

Before long, my day out in the big scary world was finished and I'd head back home. It's a comforting feeling coming home to a warm familiar house. A place where everything made sense and I knew what to expect. I didn't have to worry about whether my pillow was comfortable. I didn't have to make sure I woke up on time. What clothes I'd wear. What chores I would do, or what I would have for dinner. I just had to be good. 

I'd walk in the door and close it gently behind me. A quick change from what I wore that day into a collar and cuffs, and I set to work. I was usually home a while before her which gave me time to get everything in order, just the way she liked it. The bed made, mail retrieved, trash emptied, and dinner started. When I heard her car pulling up in the driveway, I took my place at the end of the entry way, with my knees and forehead touching the ground, and my wrists crossed behind me. She would take the leash down from the hook, and gently snap it to the ring in my collar. A quick but firm tug was all it took for me to follow. I'd watch her feet to know where to follow, which was usually a quick inspection of my work, then back to finish our dinner. When she let me finish cooking, her dinner was elegant and tasty. Mine was unceremoniously scraped into a dog bowl.

I remember when we first met, all it took was a stern look to guide me from the door over to the chair across from her at the table. Her fierce eyes evaporated into a sweet gentle smile, which lit up the room with an effervescent glow. Her curly black mane framed her face like a painting. I stared at the way she effortlessly moved her lips as she spoke, while I struggled to keep my composure. Her fingers gently brushed mine as I held onto my cup, sending an electric tingle down my spine. I could feel my heart beating loudly in my chest, ringing through my ears like the footsteps of a giant walking through the valleys and ridges of my brain. The giant made it impossible to sit still and not squirm against seat of the chair. I squeezed my legs together, and felt the nervous tension rise from the tips of my toes to the top of my head.

We sat there until long after the coffee had gotten cold. That night was the first night I'd felt content in a long time. I wrapped myself up tight in my blankets and opened my windows to let the cold night air sink into my room.

It was few months later she suggested I move in.

She pushed my servatude further than it had been pushed before. The previously terrifying feeling of a hood slipping over my head, being laced tightly before locks solidly clicked shut in buckles of each strap. Instead of feeling claustraphobic, it felt comforting and safe. I learned to be a towel rack while she showered. I was her foot warmer when she was cold. On special occassions I was even allowed onto the furniture to snuggle or watch a movie.

It was a magical time in my life where everything made sense, so it was tough to let go when I graduated. She took a job in another city, and I was pushed out the door. I miss having someone in charge. I miss having someone I can make smile when she's had a tough day. I miss the calm feeling of my senses being taken away one by one. Until eventually there's nothing but my heartbeat.

Brotherhood by Reason

Miss Saramoa shouted "Brotherhood!" yet again as I was standing over Banana, a giant taco shooting gun aimed right at her forehead, ready to splatter a delicious burrito all over her face.
"Brotherhood Reason!"

And at that very moment I wondered, what is this "brotherhood" Miss keeps talking and shouting about.

Ever since I met my lovely Mistress I was very possessive about her, even her sub(who got sacked for being jealous) bothered me despite me not even being under her consideration yet!
I never thought of or wanted to share her with anyone else yet somehow this friendly, banana-wearing, Britbong clown managed to make a place for herself in our relationship.
We've been trough a lot of adventures together, a bit of lows and a lot of highs, and I won't deny I tried to get her in trouble as much as she tried to get me in but at the end of the day, after all the annoyance I am still glad my buddy Banana is here, bringing us a lot of laughter on a daily.

Is brotherhood between subs this sense of comradery, friendship and willingness to tolerate sharing your beloved Mistresses attention with another person or just a way for Mistress to tell us to behave?
I don't know, but I sure hope this made for a good enough confession to submit and get me out of trouble!

The Therapist by Lady Dalia

The Therapist by Dalia Fermi

My phone rang about 10am that morning.

“Miss Dalia?”


“It’s Benny. I need to see you, an emergency session.”

I sighed.  “I can squeeze you in at 4:45pm”

“But… but… you close at 5pm Ma’am”  he spluttered.

“I fail to see the problem Benny.  You seem to be under the delusion that your life and problems matter and somehow *laughs* you are more important than me.  Meet me then or not at all” I hung up the phone.

4:45pm.  4:50pm  4:58pm Benny arrives drunk at my door step.

“mish Dalia, I can explain” He said, his eyes taking in my legs and curves beneath a sweater set and fitted skirt, eyes remaining lowered, stopping at my high heels.

“You’re drunk Benny” I said letting him in.

Benny flushes, “erhm yes but…”

“You have 2 minutes.”  I start gathering up my paperwork and closing up my filing cabinet.

“Are you going to listen?” he whined.

“Stop being a child.  I can listen and work at the same time, you pathetic excuse for a man.”

“Yes Ma’am.” he paused and continued  “Well I had a dream.”

I look over at him and started shaking my head.  He flushes some more.

Benny and I had worked extensively on his delusions of masculinity and attractiveness.  Throughout our work he continually acted out his delusions with an unhealthy  obsession with me.  His dreams had been filled with visions romancing me,  having sex with me and most ludicrous, he believed in these dreams that I actually returned his misplaced affections.

“No, it was different this time!  I dreamt I was out on the street.”

I turned to look at him.  Benny was skinny, in a awkward, geeky kind of way.  His hair wiry and red.  He looked at me expectantly.  I gave him a slow spreading smile.

“Benny you’ve had a breakthrough!” but still I shook a single pointing finger at him “You know the drill.  For anything of these breakthroughs to mean anything you have to assume a position that shows you fully understand.  Inside matching outside Benny” I said in a bit of a sing-song voice.

Benny got on all fours and I smiled kindly.  “Much better!  Tell me about the dream”

I continued to close up my office and he crawled around, following me, as he explained, “I was lying on the street not far from here.  I was drunk.”  I snorted and he blushed deeply.  “I had vomited all over myself and the sidewalk.  For some reason, I couldn’t move.”  He stopped speaking as I removed my sweater set to reveal a black satiny boned corset.

He gaped.  “Mish Dalia!  That’s not right!”  He gulped out, turning his head away slightly but could not avert his eyes.

I sighed again and then inhaled deeply, explaining as patiently as I could,” Benny you are such a disappointment.  This is simply a test.  If you really had truly realized your place as WORTHLESS in this world, you would not be reacting to my lingere.”  I slipped on a blazer, buttoned it up and looked for my pearls.

“if you’d only accept that you have no reason for existence, you would have eliminated all these internal conflicts and the pain upon rejection after rejection.  It’s only in fighting against these truths that you have a problem Benny.”

Benny looks down and nods fully abashed.  “Go on,” I prompted, grabbing my purse.

“Well that’s it” he said, as I walked to the door.

I reached out a well manicured hand to the brass door knob and paused, thinking.

“That’s it?  That is the emergency?”

Benny started to sweat now.  “yesh, Mish”

I opened the door.  “Follow me”

“But but but” he spluttered.


“But they’lll know!”

“Inside and outside, Inside and outside matching Benny.  How many times do I need to tell you Benny?” I said through gritted teeth.

Slowly he made his way through the door, outside to the front stoop of my decaying brownstone.  I make my office here so that I am closest to my loser clients.  Once an affluent area it is now filled with crackheads, whores, and their pimps.

Benny winced as his nostrils were assailed by the strong smell of urine, being closer to the ground than usual.

I lightly made my way down the steps, turning to him encouragingly. “Come along”

Benny eyed the group of men lounging in the empty lot adjacent to my building.

“Benny, nothing is going to happen that you don’t want”  I smiled and he took a deep breath and crawled.  We walked towards them and an older woman, aged by years on the street stepped forward. 

“Good evening Miss Dalia!”

“Good evening Susan!  How’s business?”

“Just great!  I can’t keep up” she said rolling her eyes at the two homeless men behind her.  She laughed and revealed two missing front teeth.

Benny took in the vision of her, jaw dropping.

“I think you have another admirer here Susan”

Susan came forward raising her already tiny skirt, revealing a bald, sagging vagina, glistening with cum.

Benny started retching and made good his dream by throwing up.

I reached down, turned his face toward me and slapped him.

“Manners!  I think you need to make up for your rudeness to this hard working woman.”

Benny started crying. “Please Mish Dalia, no”

“Benny, what did I tell you about these reflexive responses?  You know they are only weak protestations echoing the bullshit lies you tell yourself about being worth something”

And we had worked hard on it.  Months of psycho drama where he learned to suck my dildo and begged to take it up the ass had lead to this day.  I beckoned to the filth crowding around.

“Drop your pants Benny”

“You can’t do this to me” he whimpered.

“Benny, I am not doing a thing to you.  You must be more accountable for your choices that have led you to this.  Now drop your pants Benny.”

With shallow, ragged breaths he did as he was told. 

“Is he a fag?” The first man asked.

I considered and shrugged,  “Maybe”

As Benny’s mouth opened to scream “no” his breath was cut off with a kick to the stomach by Susan.

“Fucking’ cunt, waiting on your knees, taking my business”

The first man, excited by the violence, eagerly walked over to crouch over Benny’s ass.

“I’m not hard enough” said the second man.  I slapped Benny again, as Susan unzipped the mans pant’s and guided his dirty smelling cock to Benny’s open, panting, sobbing mouth.

As the smell hit Benny, he began gagging and retching only to be frozen by the sensation of the first man’s cock up his ass.

“Smile pretty Benny” I said, snapping a picture of him with my cell. His wide eyes looked up at me and filled with tears. “This is for when you try to slip back in denial”.

I kicked his wallet free of his sagging pants and carefully picked it up.  Removing all the cash from it, I turned to Susan.  “He’s terribly sorry to have taken all you business”.

Susan cackled, “Heeee! For that price, I’d train him myself”

Smiling sweetly at Benny, I said “No, tonight will be enough. We have developed such a close working relationship.  See you at your regular time Benny”

As I walked to the corner to catch a taxi, I could hear Susan rasping out instructions to Benny on how to be a better whore.  I relaxed.  He was in such good hands.

Devotional Sex by Cam

Devotional Sex - Cam Inventor

Mistress introduced me to the concept of devotional sex quite early on in our relationship.  For those of you who haven't heard the term before, the term can mean a lot of things, but is principally about having sex where the man provides the woman with orgasms, while letting her decide when he can cum, or not.  There's supposed to be a lot of times that they couple where she gets to cum without him. This maintains the man's arousal and (hopefully) makes sex more fulfilling.

There's a concept of the woman being the "Queen" and the man being the "Prince"; he is subservient to her and honours her by pleasuring her.  For the Prince to ask to cum is frowned upon as, in the spirit of chivalry, he is supposed to wait patiently until she allows him release.

I'd read this in a particular way.  I'm already pretty submissive in terms of initiating sex, even when I want it desperately, but from the outset I read into it that the Prince wasn't to initiate, wasn't to request sex from his Queen.

That's the way it was for years between us.  I'd wait patiently for Mistress to initiate sex.  Never, thankfully, very long.  Mistress loves sex even more than I do.  But she craved more - she loves to know that she's desired and wanted.  Having to take the lead all the time can be difficult.

That all changed recently, when we were reading a book which some of you may know - Uniquely Rika.  I don't agree with everything in the book; some of it I actually find quite offensively sexist.  I'm not going to go into the book at length here; you'll all I'm sure have read it and have your own opinions, both good and bad about it. What I did find fascinating though were the passages on devotional sex.  They depict a version of it which was quite different to my understanding.

This is a world where the man can show his desire.  He can initiate sex.  He just. can't. cum. At least not when he pleases.  I discussed this with Mistress and ... what a revelation.

All this time I've been missing that point.  She wants to feel needed and wanted and *lusted after*.  Initiating sex with her is one way I can do that.  She wants me to show her I. want. Her.

I still can't cum when I want.  I still can't ask to cum, at least not directly.  I'm still the submissive.  But I get to show her I want her. I get to initiate sex with her.  She can of course refuse, and that's fine.  I suspect she rarely will though - as I said, we both love sex so much.

There's a whole new world that just opened up to us.  Keep looking, keep exploring, keep *thinking* and I'm sure you too will find new worlds of sex; whatever stage or however old your relationship is at.

Panties by Anonymous

This story is about my first experience of buying panties. As simple as this task might seem, it actually requires quite a deal of planning. First you need to make sure that the store is not near where you live or work, so you might not have to see the store people again or you don't end up seeing a friend or colleague at the store. Next you need to consider if it's a store that sells articles for both men and women or it sells articles specifically for women because what sort of a man would just budge in a ladies store out of no where. Next you need to plan your actions inside the store, whether you want to go straight for the panties or walk around for a while in the store and then "stumble" upon some nice looking panties and be like " ohh.. i was not here for panties but i would take it). Next ,Should you just buy the panties or buy other articles too as 'decoys'. Should you buy an expensive 1 just to give an impression that it was a gift for someone special for some panned night.
After planning all this i chose a distant store selling articles for both men and women. I entered and started to roam in the men's section for , keeping an eye on the ladies section. then i slowly made my way towards the ladies section, hands behind my back. there were like 3 or four 4 ladies in the ladies section, they started to give me strange look from the edges of their eyes that made me sort of uncomfortable. i thought to wait for a moment till they move on and then find and go through their panties selection in peace, I stood there, searching for panties maintaining safe distance from other ladies. then a man walked in the ladies section and i thought what the hell he is doing here. the man walked towads a woman in ladies section. and i was like.. ohh fuck, did he saw me standing here and found it suspicious so he decided to accompany his woman. right then a staff lady came to me and said something in her language (which i don't understand) but i took it as if she was asking "can i help you?". i replied "i am just looking for some nice panties for my girl". damn... my heart gave a thump... i should have said "dresses" and not "panties". panties were supposed to be something that i just would eventually end up buying . but to my relief she did not understand a thing i said. she muttered something again. people in the ladies section now were looking at me with keen interest. As a last effort i ran my eyes through the ladies section but could not spot the panties. i just gestured with my hands and said to the lady" never mind". i moved back to the men's section. i again started to roam the men's section waiting for my next opportunity to strike back like a lion. After a couple of minutes there i realized it has gotten way too awkward. screw this, ... Amazon exists for a reason...... i thought and left the store.

Banana's Confession

To have power over the mind is a skill beyond comprehension for many but I confess that I now know my Mistress has control and power over my mind.  Slowly but surely I have fallen into her hands.  I have a significant degree of mental strength born out of my curiosity, desire to learn and lifelong experiences.  This strength enables me to manage the mental manipulation I have and continue to experience.  I hold this mental strength close as it guides me through my Mistress' journey, which is sometimes orientated around significant degrees of embarrassment and humiliation.  Systematically, slowly and steadily my Mistress takes my mind and with words, actions and requests, removes my comfort levels by introduces me to degrees of embarrassment and mental suffering never felt before.  However, as time goes by, I slowly become accustomed to my existence and my anguish, embarrassment lessens, the level of comfort increases, and to a point, my existence potentially becomes the norm.  If there is ever a thought that this state could be reached, my mind is taken to another level.  This results in a new level of humiliation and causes me to suffer mentally and causes confusion in my own thoughts, confusion in who I am or what I may be or may become.

This is the power my Mistress has over me and I confess that as my comfort levels again reach an accepting state, the power my Mistress has over me and her capabilities comes to the fore once more.  I confess that I contemplate the capabilities of my Mistress and what she could do, I could be moved on to another level of humiliation, I could be held in this accepting state, I could be taken down a long-term path, i could suffer further.  All these thoughts try to enter my mind but thinking just causes the previously confused state I found myself in, so I no longer think, i just accept my Mistresses desires, control and power.  I submit and call upon my mental strength to take me through any resultant experience if it arrives, learning and evolving with ever step.

Man Cave by Anonymous

Man Cave

“Dear, it’s time to get in the car”
“The car Dear, it’s time to get in the car.”
“Sweetie, I told you last week we were going somewhere today, you forgot already?’
“I must have.  Can it wait till tomorrow?  The big game is on in an hour.”
“Oh, you will not miss the game.  I promise.”
“The last time you told me to get in the car like this you took me for a colonoscopy!”
“I had to just get you there Honey, you would not take yourself.”
“What is it this time?  A root canal?”
“No, no…please relax.  Your blood pressure will go sky high!”
“I knew it, you ARE taking me to the Doctors!”
“Dear, it’s time to get in the car”
“You know I hate surprises.”
“I know Darling but I am sure you will like this one.”
“Ok, ok, but this had better be fast.  I don’t want to miss the kickoff”

“Where are we?”
“It’s a new place.  Just opened a month ago.  Everyone is raving about it.”
“By EVERYONE you mean your girlfriends, right?”
“Yes, but they tell me that their husband loved it too, once they got here.”

“Wow!  Look at the size of that TV!”
“See. I told you it was not a root canal”
“Are those designer beers in that case?”
“Look!  There’s Frank over there on that leather couch.  I work with him.’
“Well, he looks happy.”
“Hey Frank!  You gonna watch the game?”
“Absolutely buddy, right here.  I am here for the duration.”
“Hey Honey, do you mind if I stay and watch the game with Frank?  I am sure you can find something to do with your friends.  Think of it as a days’ vacation from me.”
“Well, if you are sure you want to stay. "
“That’s ok, there is always the after game wrap up if you are a while.”
“Then, I think I might just take you up on that offer.  Thank you Dear.”

“Hello Ma’am, are you dropping off or picking up?”
“Dropping off please.  My girlfriends just rave about this place.”
“Well, that is very nice to hear, let me tell you your options.”

“The basic fee is $60 for four hours. This includes snacks and soft drink or water etc.  It does not include alcoholic beverages of course. “
Now if your man wants a beer or cigars there is an extra fee per item, I will give you our price list.”
“Thank you, I am sure he will want a beer or two.”
“If you need to board him over night he will have his own individual kennel, with his own 72 inch flat screen TV.  It is even equipped with a private urinal, right next to the tempurpedic cot so if he is the type that needs to get up during the night he won’t have to go more than a few inches!  It is one of the features that makes our place stand out from the competition”.
“Yes, better plan on an overnight stay.”
“The overnight includes a “manly-sized” dinner and a “lumberjack” breakfast.  Does he have any food allergies?
“Not that I know of.”
“The fee for a one night stay is $200.
“Wow, Isn’t that a little steep?”
“Well, yes Ma’am but it does include two meals, community play time, and nature walks.”
“Oh, okay, that works for me..”
“Aright, please fill out his form and include his doctor’s phone number, the name of an emergency contact and then sign it please.”.
“Thank you, I think this will work out very well, I will pay when I pick him up tomorrow?
"Of course, any extras will have been added to the bill by then.”
“See you tomorrow!”

“Oh!  Excuse me Ma’am I forgot to ask.  Do you want him bathed and groomed before you pick him up?”
“Yes, that would be lovely. Thank you again. Bye for now”

A Sticky Situation by Anonymous

A Sticky Situation

I was instructed by a lady to not to stroke my cock. I could only press and squeeze it. It was my training to think of something that I fantasize of. That is not what I will confess here, not my fantasizes, but my dreams. As I did not stoke my cock, I got no hand stimulated ejaculation. The Lady wanted update on my progression, and I told her that I keep on just squeezing the cock. She responded, she wants to know responses.

After days, and a week of no cumming, I felt the pressure build up in the system. Luckily was after about two weeks I dream in my dream that I was offered a gag that I did bite, it was sort of looking like a dog-bone. As I did bite it, it had two hanging leather pieces that automatically folded around my head, and straps that fixed it to my head. Suddenly I had no vision, no sight, and my hearing was suppressed. My hands got tied behind my back, and suddenly I felt my cock all stiff and a pressure building up, could not prevent an ejaculation. Felt the warm sticky cum in my pants, and bed. Ouch,  damn, it was only an dream, a fantasy dream, but oh so real in that moment. I so wish it was not just another dream.

Spring 2018

Monday, February 26, 2018

Anonymous Confession

In response to the #metoo inspired discussions hosted by Miss Eva in Nov/Dec 2017.

Miss Eva asked if all men are complicit in the societal abuse of women.

Yes, I am. I'm complicit. I have been and continue to be. I'm part of society, not apart from it. I can try to ignore rape culture, toxic masculinity, the sex-obsessed media that's forced down our throats day in, day out. The sort of messages that are designed to make women feel inadequate and men feel entitled.

But I'm not an island and ignoring it, dismissing it, laughing it off as locker room talk isn't going to make it go away.  Complicity comes in many forms.  I've never catcalled a woman, or made inappropriate advances. Frankly, I'm too uptight and introverted to even ask for the time of day most of the time, but that doesn't make me a sex equality hero.

I've not recognised such behaviour in the past, or worse, I've gone along with it. I'll give you an example. A woman whom I respect greatly (and I was line managing at the time) pointed out to me after a meeting that we'd both said the exact same thing. Only I, as a man, had been agreed with and that she, as a woman, had been quickly shut down. I hadn't noticed. I really hadn't noticed. Replaying the meeting in my head made me realise just how right she was (about the sexism. We already agreed she was right on the technical point she had been making). It stunned me. I tried to change things from that point forward, sometimes with more success than others.

It needs to be confronted, challenged, changed. I hope that with #metoo, women talking about their experiences provides the catalyst for men who care to take action. Because let's be clear, it's not women who need to change (yes there are some, but I'm allowed to generalise here). It's overwhelmingly men.  I don't deserve to be put on a pedestal for believing that men and women are of equal worth (not *exactly equal*, because that's a silly assertion) and that everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect. Frankly, it's purely selfish - *I* want to be treated with dignity and respect. But who the f--- am I to insist on that treatment without the courtesy - nay the duty - to extend it to others?

This, and the events of the recent past, have shown me (not shocked me, it's too depressingly obvious that this has been and continues to be almost endemic) that I need to step up and challenge inappropriate behaviour. I won't always get it right, but I'll make the effort. And I don't expect praise or applause 'because I'm a man'.

So what do I expect?  I expect that you, regardless of your gender, just nod quietly, support people against the inevitable backlash, and commit to being more like them than you are now.

The Bell by Cam

Cam and Rob's companion stories are inspired by this image:

She takes her phone from her ear and looks at it, smiling. Tapping the screen to end the call, she looks at us both.

"I know it's a bit short notice but I'm having a little soirée tonight, boys."

"Yes Mistress," we both chime in unison, looking up at her from our kneeling position.

"I'll need service," she says. "Which of you is going to do that for me?"

"I will, Mistress," replies my fellow boy, eagerly. Perhaps he's thinking he'll get played with. I bow my head, being a little too slow off the mark.

"Good. That's settled," she says. "Go get into your maid's outfit.". He crawls on all floors out to get dressed. I watch him go, grateful for not having to wear the maid's outfit, but regretting that I'm not going to be serving.

"What would you like me to do, Mistress?" I ask, nose scraping the floor. I'm hoping it will just be a caging for the night. Boring, but not too harsh a punishment for my lack of speed.

"Oh. Well," she chuckles. "I've been meaning to get my bell fixed. How can I summon the maid without a bell? But it's still not working." She taps a finger on her chin. "I shall need...a bell boy!"

I'm puzzled by this, so I kneel upright and look at her quizzically.

"A bell boy, Mistress?"

"Yes! Stay here. No, wait...go get yourself clean and meet me back here in five minutes."

I crawl out to the bathroom, prepare myself and head back to the lounge. Mistress comes in a moment later, carrying a large metal contraption; a heavy metal plate with a pole sticking up from it, some rope and a large metal ring, about 20cm across.  She noisily thumps the plate and pole down between the two sofas and throws the ring and rope down onto one of the chairs.

She pulls a large dildo out of one pocket, and a bottle of lube out of the other. "Lube up," she commands, throwing the bottle down to the floor in front of me. While I busy myself, she screws the dildo into the top of the pole and undoes a screw, dropping it down with a loud clang.

The dildo pole is now at a height I can squat onto. It's clear what Mistress has in mind, so I position myself over the pole and slowly squat down onto the dildo, easing it into my ass.

It feels good; well lubed, and I moan softly. My brief pleasure doesn't last long though, as she grabs the pole between my legs and starts to lift, forcing me to stand. As I reach my full height, she thrusts the pole up into me until there's no chance I can get myself off. Mistress locks off the pole with a screw, leaving me impaled on the pole in the middle of the room.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she chuckles. "It's a girl's night in. So you won't be allowed to see or hear." She turns tail and heads out of the room, leaving me there. Returning a few minutes later, she cuffs my legs, chaining them together, my hands, secured behind my back, before rolling foam plugs and pushing them into my ears.  They make a crackling sound as they expand, filling my ear canal, and muffling the outside world almost completely. The hood is next, blinding me and sealing me inside, I feel a little dizzy as the laces tighten round the back of my head.

Resigned to my evening, being put out as an ornament, I'm then shocked and aroused by the feeling of her hands around my balls, as the rope is tied around them, stretching them. I can feel some weight pulling the rope taut, pulling my balls down, making them swing gently between my legs. I'm puzzled as to what this is, but cannot ask.

I drift off, alone, into subspace, and time passes. After a while, I feel the heat and presence of people in the room, some 'accidentally' brushing past me, making my cock throb and stiffen. I wonder what's going to happen, and why I've been placed on display in the middle of the room.

Things get imperceptibly louder inside the hood, within the earplugs. Several people in the room. Suddenly, there's a sharp pain in my crotch. Someone pulled hard on the rope. I howl in pain. Moments later, I dimly hear the clink of glasses.

More time passes, terminated by another sharp pull, another yell. And again the muffled tinkle of glasses.

The evening is punctuated by yanks on my balls, my yells filling my hood. It slowly dawns on me.

I am the bell.