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.