Thursday, August 29, 2019

By Anonymous

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

and my ex Miss even tho she is blocked etc etc

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

look away and ignore her even if blocked or not

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

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

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

given the circumstaces

i feel so so stuck and trapped

i love my Mistress and im getting married in 2 days

but my ex pulls something in me out badly

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

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

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

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

Confession by Cam

You never really know what someone is like until you meet them.  Yes, we'd met in SL, chatted in text and in voice, swapped pictures - all of that.  You think you know them, but you don't really.  There's always room for doubt; for things unseen.  Not lies or half-truths but omissions.  Little snippets of character or appearance; mannerisms or ways of being, that might put one off.  They say never meet your heroes but if you don't of course you'll never know that they're really just normal people - or the most incredible person.  You have to scratch that card and hope it comes up with bells and not lemons.

Seeing Mistress in that secreted-away café in a Holborn side street for the first time washed away any doubts.  Her smile.  Bell. Her gentle persuasiveness. Bell. And the effortless style of her clothes.  Bell. We sat and chatted - it was weird, meeting someone for the first time that you know so well, so strange yet so familiar.  She asked me if I still wanted to come with her.  I agreed and we walked back to her flat via the shops.  I've been completely hers ever since.

I still look back to that meeting sometimes with fondness - the cafe isn't there any more; well, it is, but it's a different company now.  Some things don't change though.  Her smile, her gentle persuasiveness, and her effortless style.  Nor does my love for her.  Except that it ages well, like a good wine.  Better every year and well worth drinking deeply..

Carbs by Lady Karrie

I am feeling in a really fucked off mood tonight. Oh I swore, too fucking bad. if you had the day i had you would be fucking swearing too or standing in the middle of a busy street, screaminnnnng until the ambulance took you away. to Fuck knows where. So if you are offended slip the fuck away.

It started around 8am,  I left for my first business meeting, makeup beautifully set and hair perfectly blow dried, I slipped out of the apartment to be met with a hurricane of wind and rain.  As I tried to hide my face from the onset a rancid takeaway wrapper blew into my face blurring my vision and my six inch heels stepped into the leftover kebab and fries that was splattered on the pavement. And yeah I feel flat down on my arse. I was fucking furious sitting there stinking of chilli and fuck knows what dripping down my hair. I didn't even notice the split in my Chanel black jeans until after someone in the meeting quietly mentioned it!

At lunch my fucked up arse of an assistant brought me the wrong sandwich even although i had clearly said it was my no carbs day! I had to fucking eat it too. Ok he brought me alternative but when its right in front of you, you arent going to say oh no i don't want the chicken and cheese on Rye ill just have the pissed off looking limp salad are you! Fucking imbecile. Ill sack him tomorrow I cant afford my diet ruined by a fucking clown of a man.

And of course because I had the bread i thought fuck it and sent him out for fat coke and donuts.

And that is why I am totally fucked off today! Ruined my whole fucking diet Monday once more! I cant stop thinking of that idiot feeding me a pile of fucking fat.

And yes I know I shouldnt play when Im angry but do you know what you can fuck off too. Im not in the mood.

Hes waiting for me now.......hes gonna suffer.

"John why the fuck are you not kneeling" I punch him to the floor and kick him hard in the balls. "Answer me cunt"

No response, What the fuck. I get enough ignorance of men at work I am sure as fuck not putting up with it here as well.

I grab his hair tight and pull his head down whilst bringing a knee up into his face.

He squeals.
I am not ready to laugh as I normally would.. hes just annoying me more.

I slap his face hard and scream...thick spittle flies onto his face.."One last chance or I will fucking cut you deep"

"Sorry sorry Mistress you told me that I wasn't to kneel today until you told me. I am so sorry Mistress Very sorry"

For fuck sakes His fucking pathetic sorry sorry was really irritating I cant stand whining.

I grab my knuckle dusters from the nearby chair and smash his face making sure I make contact with his hooked nose. The blood soothes me slightly. His body crumbling to the floor doesn't. Fucking wimp!

"Get the fuck up you spineless little worm " As I drag him to the corner crucifix, he squeals like a pathetic piece of pork. I roughly affix his restraints, pinch his nipples ruthlessly till he screams then I bend for an instant to lick a  delicious trail of blood that oozes into his soft mouth, "Like blood on snow" I whisper.

 I wink and somewhat excitedly, reach for the bullwhip and begin the release.

All that pent up anger, all that fury inside me fuel my game. I dont want stripes I need welts. Ragged. Unkept splattered weals scarring his pale freckled skin. As the sound of the whip cracks steadily through the humid air my cunt begins to drip its delight.

When I am out of breath, when my arm hurts so bad that I cant lift it anymore I awake from the frenzy and am almost startled by the sight before me.

Releasing his restraints I rip my pants off hurriedly and smother his face in my wet cunt.

"Get one hand on your maggot cock and hold it there. No wanking! With the other start fingering me deep. All four fingers. Push them in as far as you can, then deeper, Get your tongue spread out flat on my clit none of that fairy tip shit or doing the alphabet you arse. Thats it Now lap and fuck until I tell you to stop"

Afterwards, I call him to me.

Hes all mushy now, I love you this I love you that. I have only one last instruction.

"Cunt, go down to the shop and get me some Carb-free, Gluten free, Lactose free, Vegan caramel swirl ice cream. Dont forget the flake."




A Guessing Game by Jack

A Guessing Game

Jack's world was black.  A deep, deafening blackness that consumed him entirely - leaving him completely vulnerable.  Not the familiar greyness of a blindfold, where faint shafts of light always seemed to find a way to  sneak around the edges and relieve his deprivation, even if only for a second.  No.  This was a blackness like no other he’d ever experienced.  A blackness so dark it made him truly consider if light had ever existed at all, or if it had just been a fragment of a dream he’d had once?

That would be the black-out contacts Lady Peregrine had told him to put in of course.  Thin films of pure sensory deprivation sitting over his eyes and denying him the fundamental right of light.

Jacks head turned suddenly, hearing movement to his left.  He recognised it instantly, the light footsteps of bare feet.  No.  The light footsteps of two sets of bare feet.  It was amazing how much more detail one could attain from other senses when one was taken away.

“Hello Jack,” said a sweet high voice to his left.  A soft voice, gentle even, but laced with strands of cruel intent.  He could almost hear the malicious smile playing at the corner of those soft lips.

“Hello Lady Peregrine,” replied Jack softly.  His heart had started to quicken, a reaction to her voice he’d never been able to master.  At the same time he started to grow; his cock instantly thickening and lengthening despite a complete lack of contact.  His body had a life of its own around her.

Lady Peregrine gazed down at her latest boy and smiled to herself.  He really had been quite the surprise!  So unpromising at first, full of arrogance and false pretences.  So close to being discarded.  And yet something had caught her eye.  Something had piqued her interest.  And after slowly stripping back his layers like peeling an onion, she’d finally came to find a person she actually liked.  No.  Not even liked.  Adored!  It had been far from an easy journey though - Let's just hope he was worth the effort!  He’d certainly proved entertaining so far, but this would be his biggest test to date. 

Jack was bound, naked of course, to a simple wooden chair she’d placed in the middle of the room.  His arms were secured tightly behind his back and his legs spread and bound to the legs of the chair.  Exposing him completely and leaving him vulnerable to her every whim.  And her whims were not always gentle.  She admired the rope work for a quick moment, it really was very good!  Glancing down at Cam by her side she smiled fondly.

“Excellent work on the rope Cam,” she praised, letting a hand find Cam’s hair and lazily running through it.  “Have you been practicing by yourself puppy?”

“Yes Mistress,” replied Cam gently, trying not to let the pride of her praise show too much.

Lady Peregrine smiled one last time down at her love before turning back to Jack.  Her eyes narrowed slightly, twinkling suddenly with malevolent intent.  This was going to be fun!  She started walking around him slowly, admiring her newest boy from every angle as she gently tapped the toy in her hand against her thigh.  She knew the sound of every step would ratchet the tension and anticipation building up in poor little Jack until he was approaching breaking point.  And she hadn’t even touched him yet!  After a full circuit of detailed and slow inspection she stopped directly in from of him and leant forward slowly until her face was right next to his.  Her hand found one cheek as her lips found the other, planting a slow soft kiss at the top of his jaw line.  Jack sighed deeply, nerves momentarily washed away.  And as he sighed he felt her pull back and then drag something soft and slightly damp across his chest twice.  It all happened so fast he could barely register what had happened before he heard her speak again.

“So.  Petunia,” she started, a gentle giggle at her pet name for him doing nothing to hide her excitement.  “You and I are going to play a little game.  It’s a simple game really.  Very simple in fact!  I have written a number on your chest.  And because I’m kind I’m going to tell you that number is something between one and a hundred.  Now all you have to do is guess it!  Simple yes?”

Jack knew this would be far from simple.  The iron malice in her voice was evidence enough of that.  But he knew what was expected by now.  And even if he didn’t the pure excitement racing through him would have directed him down the correct path anyway.

“Yes Miss”

Lady Peregrine grinned wickedly. 

“And if YOU hadn’t begged me to try out these contacts Jack, you could just look down and tell me!  But alas… You were so keen to try them weren’t you?”

“Yes Miss,” repeated Jack sighing inside.  Miss had a way of turning things he’d asked for against him.  Those thoughts however were suddenly interrupted by the introduction of a new noise.  A soft, crackling noise that hummed right next to his ear.

“Oh, and a few extra rules Jack,” continued Lady Peregrine, her voice dropping soft and dangerous.  “For every guess you get wrong, I’m going to shock you somewhere.  Somewhere different each time.  Somewhere… Fun!  And it’s going to hurt!   I’m not going to pretend to you that it isn’t…”

Jacks heart thundered in his chest, a cold nervous sweat breaking out on his chest as he clenched and unclenched his fists in anticipation of the pain about to come.  “Yes Miss” he managed to get out.  But barely.

“One final thing Jack…” continued Lady Peregrine.  “I know you boys think you’re clever.  And I’m sure clever little you will be thinking the longer you take between each guess means the longer you get to recover.  Yes?  Well no Dear.   Cam is about to wrap his lips around that gorgeous cock of yours and start sucking.  He’ll only stop between the time you make a guess and the time I either tell you it’s correct or shock you.  EVERY other second his mouth will be bobbing up and down on that beautiful cock of yours.  And I promise  you Jack you do NOT want to cum without permission, which you most certainly do NOT have!  If you cum before you find the right number, the pain you’ll feel will be ten times worse and ten times more prolonged than what is about to happen!  Understand Duckie?”

Dread filled every single molecule of Jack’s being. 

“Yes Miss” he whispered. 

“Good!  Cam, begin”

Jack felt a set of warm lips wrap around the tip of his cock, but before they could sink down he made his first guess, keen not to let Cam get him anywhere near the edge before he guessed correctly.

“Seventeen please Miss!”

The lips quickly withdrew, leaving Jack alone in his dark little world again.  A world full of nervous desperate anticipation.  One second passed.  Then another.  Then an eternity, or perhaps another second, before…

“AARRGHHHHHHHHHHHH!” 

White hot pain seared through Jack, lightning bolts of pure agony driving through the inside of his left thigh and obliterating his world of black into tiny shards of torment.  His mind instantly dissolved, pain erasing rational thought for the briefest of seconds and replacing it with pure primal reflex.  Instantly the lips returned to his cock, wrapping themselves around him hungrily and driving down on him before he could even think of another number, his mind still a fog of pain.

“Nope.  Try again dear.  There’s only another 99 possible options…

Life and Death on the Ocean Waves by Mark

When the card came in the post, I was amazed. I did not even remember entering the competition. But first prize was a two-week cruise on a swanky ocean liner and I had won it. I had to make hurried arrangements, but was there at the dock, on the day, and climbed on board. But that is just me. As I often tell the chicks who work for me, I am an alpha dog. Good things happen for me. And if they cannot take the hint, they pretty soon find themselves back on the unemployment line. I mean, fuck #metoo, am I right or am I right?

At the docks, I will be honest in saying that the number of hot chicks filtering up the gangway, who must have also won the prize, just made things seem so much sweeter. I wondered if they had any better luck than me in remembering what the hell this competition was that we had apparently entered and won.

The first evening was the Captain’s Dance – and I admit I was surprised the Captain was a chick too: I said that to her, and she just smiled. I suppose she got that a lot. I mean, what are the chances, right? At the bar before the dance, I found myself spoiled for choice: I reckon there were two women for every guy. If I could remember what competition I had entered, I would enter every week. I chatted with a couple of really hot girls, but there must have been something wrong with the booze from the free bar, because after one drink, the room began to spin. Which is really odd, because as an alpha dog I can usually drink the whole night long. A couple of the female crew members helped me down a corridor, and I vaguely remember being surprised that in front of me there was a line of guys, all supported to the left and right by other female crew members. We stumbled in a kind of drunken conga-line into the main dance hall. There was a glitter-ball, but apart from that it was nothing like any dancefloor I had seen before. Across the room were St Andrew’s crosses, padded benches with chains, dog-cages, and chains hanging from the ceiling with cuffs attached. Around the dancefloor was an audience of the women, including those I had seen board the ship and I even spotted a couple of women I had chatted to in the bar.

Things were hazy, but I could roughly make out the women who had supported the guys in front of me fixing them to crosses or shoving them into cages. The women in the audience were roaring appreciation. Then I felt the two women who had helped me from the bar fixing cuffs around my wrists, and moaned as an invisible force jerked the chains tight, lifting me onto my toes. I was spinning around, suspended from the chains, and could see that the women in the audience were moving onto the floor, picking up whips and paddles from the tables around the edge of the room, Soon the dancefloor was rocking with the sound of men yelping and crying. And then as I spun around again, I found myself eye-to-eye with the Captain. She smiled.

‘You are the one who thinks women should not be in authority, is that right?’

‘I think I have been misquoted!’ I stammered. But she reached out her left hand and, pulling my shirt from my torso, grabbed one of my nipples and squeezed hard. My yelps joined the chorus of cries from the other guys in the room. She reached down to my cock and squeezed, and I felt myself grow stiff.

‘Good’, she said. ‘A pain bunny. We like pain bunnies.’

Her mand moved and curled around my balls and squeezed tight. I screamed, but the sound was lost in the noise from all of the other guys’ yells and in the laughter of the women who surrounded them.

‘In two weeks, I am going to the police’ I yelled. The Captain frowned.

I tried to cry out more threats, but as I opened my mouth she shoved a ball gag into it. In the flickering light from the glitter-ball, I saw her receive a whip from one of her crew members. She flexed it in her hands, watching me curiously.

‘Two weeks? Oh dear’, she said. ‘A mis-print in your invitation. You were specially selected. We decided that in your case, there was no need for you to even enter the competition – we entered your name on your behalf. But for you, this cruise lasts two years.’ She smiled sadly. ‘Unfortunately, somehow I do not think you are going to last the whole 24 months.’

As the first blows from the whip landed, the light from the glitter-ball, and the noises of the screaming men around me, faded into nothingness and the last conscious thought I had was an echo of the Captain’s voice:

‘Somehow I do not think you are going to last the whole 24 months’.

Songbirds by Mark

So I read recently in the papers about this guy. He had been deaf all his life, had never since childbirth heard a sound. But modern science had invented this new thing: a cochlear implant. And he was one of the guinea pigs. So they fitted this device, and all of a sudden, he could hear. He explained to the reporter how his world had expanded. He could hear what his wife’s voice sounded like. He could hear his children’s voices. He could hear music. It was as if the world had turned from black and white to technicolour.

One day he was dropping his son off at school. As he got out of the car, he heard this really high pitched sound. But it was not whiny or screechy. Instead, surprisingly, it sounded really nice. He asked his son what it was. His son looked at him.

‘Dad, it is Springtime. The songbirds are singing’.

I smiled when I read this. I went through dark times myself, when the world seemed to be monochrome instead of colour. But then, I met my Mistress, and all of a sudden, I too could hear the songbirds sing.

Mon Capitaine by Anonymous

Mon capitaine

Finally, I had managed to achieve one my dreams, and I had bought a 40 feet sail boat I had laid my eyes on for a lot of time. Consequently, my weekends were devoted to bringing whoever may require that around the bay, giving them board and lodging into the boat itself. What I was earning from that was more than enough to cover the maintenance costs.
That week, I had received a strange reservation mail. It was signed by a Lady Mary, and she had booked the board for the following weekend. I quickly replied affirmatively, but I was feeling something was wrong and was keeping me in apprehension.
On Friday morning I arrived at the jetty, and began working on the boat, to make it ready for the weekend. I used to keep it tidy, so I had not to work that much. I was waiting for this Lady Mary, but at the agreed time nobody was in sight, so I thought it might have been just a joke. I was wrong.
I was below deck, tidying some stuff up, when I heard a calling voice: “Hello, is there anybody in there?” I got out, and suddenly I was blown away. A woman, more or less my age, was smiling to me, apparently very confident, with a small luggage on the ground by her. Her appearance was very elegant: her long hair was up behind her neck and a long light shirt allowed me to foresee a well proportionated breast. A black creased skirt put in evidence two wonderful tanned legs, and at her feet a pair of high heeled black pumps. There was definitely something familiar, but I was not able to find out what it was. I was a bit bothered by the lack of an excuse for being so late. After a brief introduction, I offered her to jump on my boat, gently asking her to remove her shoes before doing that (any kind of shoes were just forbidden over the boat). And it was here I clearly got that would have been a different weekend. She looked at me, smiling, and firmly replying “I take my shoes off only when I say that. Bring me to my cabin, please”.
I didn’t answer back, and maybe that was a big mistake. I grabbed her luggage and led the way to her cabin, which I showed her. I told her we would have set sail quite immediately (we were late, after all), and she just nodded. I came on deck, finished the last little chores, hoisted sails and set course into the deep. The sun was high but enjoyable, and the breeze very pleasant.
After a couple of hours sailing, the main sail well taut and the pace very firm, Lady Mary showed up from the main hutch. She was wearing nothing but a black bikini. “I guess this boat is provided with an autopilot, isn’t it?” – “It is, Lady Mary. Why?” – “I need your help, if you don’t mind, and I would hate to get adrift because of that” – “Just a sec, Lady Mary”.
After some minutes, I was in her cabin. There was a mess, actually, and she told me “My shoes got stuck under the bed, and I get sick if I bow down. Take them for me, please”. I was about answering back and telling her that was not the task of the Captain, but I held back, I knelt down to get her shoes, when I felt her hands on my shoulders and on my head, as if she wished to force me even more down.
On the spot, I did not react. I was clearly not at ease, but something coerced me not to go against her. “My dear Paul, don’t you think this is the exact place you belong?” Paul? How did she know my second name? That discovered a heavy veil on old times…”…and, moreover, I should take offense, don’t you agree? I would have thought you should have recognised me…”
I tried to stand up, but she prevented me from doing that. “No, my dear, I told you. That’s your place. Actually, as you are there, why don’t you greet me the way a lady should be greeted? Come on, I am sure you can make it…”. Her hand pushed my head down, slowly and no hesitation, until my lips were right above her bare feet, toward which I was strangely and inexorably attracted. A shiver run along my spine as my lips brushed against her toes, and at the same time, slowly yet firmly, her nails were caressing my back, leaving a red sign on my skin. Until her hand reached over my ass, slapping it hard twice.
“I think we will spend a nice weekend together…A Lady and a Captain…mon capitaine….or should I say…a Lady and her cabin-boy…..hahahaha….Get out of here now, and make sure dinner is served at nine on the dot”
I rushed out of the cabin, flushed and confused, almost caught unaware by what had just happened, and in the following hours I tried to be distracted by taking care of the boat pace. At the right time, I stopped the boat, furled the sails (we were very far from the coast), dropped an anchor, and started to prepare dinner. I obviously furnished the table for two, trying not to forget any detail, and I mentally reviewed all the food that, refined as it could be, was, of necessity, limited by the pantry size.
At five to nine, after I changed and worn an elegant t-shirt with some nice pants, I knocked at the door of Lady Mary’s cabin, announcing dinner was ready. She told me to wait for her at the table. I got on the deck and, as I was checking everything was at its right place, Lady Mary came out, smiling as she noticed my evident amazement. She was stunning, not a diva, rather very elegant and refined. She looked at me and said “You set for two. Is there somebody here I am not aware of?” – “The second place is for the Captain.” – “Mon capitaine, it is clear you have not fully understood. You are going to eat on the floor, what and if I allow. Very likely, very little”.
The situation was getting ugly. Pretending she was just joking, I accommodated her and started to serve her food, but strangely I didn’t put anything on my dish: Her strategy was working. I just told her “Lady Mary, once again I would ask you to take those shoes off. Heels are the most noxious things for boats.
In response, she told me to get closer and to bow down, and, quite unexpectedly, slapped me hard on my face. “Kneel down, mon capitaine”
I obeyed. Something made me do it. “The most noxious, eh? Good, slide your hands under my heels, so there won’t be any problem…”
I found myself reaching out and Lady Mary, without any uncertainty, dug her heels on my palms, causing an intense pain. “Good, mon capitaine, let’s spare the boat…”, and she dug even more, until a feeble lament got out of my mouth. In the meantime, she had begun savouring the food, clearly satisfied with it. “This quiche is very tasty, mon capitaine, maybe you are a better cook than a seaman, what do you think?” and she sneered while, her heels into my open palms, I was blushing and telling her “What do you want from me, Lady Mary?”
“What do I want? Mon capitaine, I am disappointed you don’t remember. You were not extremely kind, when we first met. Maybe I was a bit different, and for certain I was not wearing such heels….hahahahaha…but it was me, and you were not respectful as you should have. Time to pay for that. And by ‘pay’ I mean I will fuck your mind…(and not just that)…as I wish, and you will be thanking me for everything I give you. Is that clear, mon capitaine?” While she talked, she was smiling and merciless digging Her heels, so that I was frightened she could make a hole. A new Jesus Christ.
As far as possible, I looked up, and my gaze had to be a very suffering one, because she smiled sweetly and told me “Mon capitaine, what’s up? Something is not good? Oh, yes, I almost forgot, you must be hungry too…” She took a long carrot, looking at it for quite some time, and all of sudden she spat on it, a rivulet of saliva slowly trickling on it. Then she grabbed my hair harshly, hurting me. “Open your mouth”. I was exhausted by the tension, my hands still under her heels, my head and neck so strained and my face accessible to her…I obeyed without complaining, and she shoved the carrot in, pushing till I was almost throwing up, lovingly saying “I care for you, strange as that may sound to you. I won’t starve you. This carrot will be your dinner, but tomorrow morning I want to see it still in your mouth, or you will see. Thank me now, as I dressed it just for you.”
I was not able to talk, as the carrot was well invading my mouth, and so I just nodded. It was not a good move. Two violent slaps hit my cheeks, and she said sweetly “A more sincere word of thanks would have been appreciated…but it doesn’t matter…I will have to think about something else” She sat down with all her weight, making me moan for the pain…and quickly dropped my pants, my bare ass fully exposed now. She took a second carrot, bigger than the first one, but she didn’t spit this time and pushed it with no hesitation right into my ass, making me shout again (shouting with a carrot full in mouth I quite ridiculous, I say) and almost faint for the pain. “Wasn’t that good of me, mon capitaine? Oh….I forgot to spit to lube it…well, never mind, carrots are good after all, aren’t they?” She laughed wickedly and whispered “Yes, I think you will be Captain TwoCarrots from now on. The notorious Captain TwoCarrots, very famous all over the seven seas…The perfect name for you…and welcome into your nightmare weekend, Captain Two Carrots…..hahahahaha….”

Need by Lady Karrie

Need

He doesnt know me fully
Yet he has seen glimpses.
Felt the pain. Carried the bruises.
Jolted from the swing of my hand.

He saw cruelty flare in a glance
He danced alongside the caress
He sipped once or twice
Slipped into the depth

But he doesnt know me fully yet.
He hasnt tasted terror yet
A broken love  Deserted.
Crushed. He doesnt know where his journey ends

I want it that way, His face
Upturned hurt and disappointed
Eyes saddened and empty
Where did all the love go.
Fairytale Discarded

A smack. A punch.
A snarl.
I want him.

Terrified.
Petrified.
Shaking uncontrollably
Begging for his life.

And when he begs,
When he truly begs.
Stunned. Raped. Broken. Vacant
I will beat him again for his weakness

Service by Ryan

Like a pull from beyond, a calling, a need.
Call it what you will but I call it worship.
The dedication and devotion to the One,
The Diety.
Call her what you will but I call her Goddess.
No deed too grear, no want too fancial,. no command roo demanding.
The only purpose is service.
Sufferring is service.
Service is worship.
I serve my Goddess.

by Ryan Brongniart

Silent J by Anonymous

Why must it be that I am silent here
How do I stand out
How do I make you notice me
I am merely a set of pixels
Pixels that I have primmed and fashioned
and nervously put together in hope that you may notice me
I do greet you each time You arrive or depart
I do so with as much as a twinkle of personality that is permitted not enough that you may think me too cheeky or unworthy of your time but enough that you may just fleetingly notice me.
Perhaps a few months is not enough but I am here still trying.
I smile at your jokes but I am not sure if i should commiserate on your mishaps.
Yes I wish to present the gentleman. Yes I am a good guy.
Where does that get me though
Standing here so silent.
I once asked to message you in Pvt but you were busy. I have been frightened to ask again. I have my dreams just now better than that a No once more accosts my senses.
Yet
I see them flock round you. Cheeky Beggars. Begging for attention. Insolent at times. Disregarding rules. They have your time.
They will be gone you know. Gone soon. Fly by nights.
Me. I shall be standing silent.
For however long that takes.
Your gentleman awaits you My Lady.
If you would only notice me.

The Railway Sleeper by Anonymous

"based on a true story"
___________________________________________________

The Railway Sleeper

Enraged she flailed through the door and up the stairs, an air about Her said that she was having what was probably the worst day ever since I had been in her presence. I was just an onlooker to her crazed, inconsolable attitude in which she presented. I didn't dare ask what was wrong, but in amongst her venting I could make out part of what the matter was, however I didn't see appropriateness in which I should question.

I observed and listened and just like that silence fell, all of a sudden as She was taken over by a completely different persona there was calmness, a quietness, Her anger filled vent, just suddenly ended. She was gathering her thoughts of what was ready to come, my unawareness of such predicament was about to crash down soon enough. "Here!" She demanded.  I raced attentively to Her. At first glance, I didn't notice anything unusual or out of place so I may have had a questionable look upon my face. She read my face like a book with many chapters within, it was if She knew exactly how I was thinking.  She chuckled, "Time will tell," as I was inquisitively gazing around.

So here I was, unable to fathom Her request I didn't dare question, so I just patiently sat on the floor by Her. After what seemed like an eternity, her phone rang, "No, no not yet..." she announced. With a slight excitable tone, "Well how long will you be?" she questioned. "Ok, come straight in when you get here, see you soon." And with that, she hung up. My mind blazed with all the questions, I was so desperate to say, ‘Who was that? What was that about? Is everything ok?’  It was like my mind wasn't even racing now, it was sprinting, faster than a marathon runner who's about to achieve gold.

The door opens, up the stairs came one of Mistress' best friends, a guy she had known for many years he was known to me as a master of his trade, he was an expert rigger.  But, he was not of the Dominant persuasion at all, more likely a submissive if he had ever entered into the lifestyle.  But, he was merely just Her rigger friend, who was definitely the most vanilla person she was friends with. His expert knowledge in being able to understand about such things, though, always had me quite confused.

Mistress was almost tugging as his arm, which was quite amusing. I tried my best to conceal my smile, watching this motion and he got a step ladder, with four steps up, just enough to be able to reach the hatch of the attic. It was one of those in an old house, nothing fancy about it, it was just pushed away from his head, revealing a dark, dim attic. Once again, I was left with a wondering mind, what was Mistress’ plan? I knew there was something, but I couldn't yet pinpoint it. Her friend twists his body around in some almost contortionist maneuver. There was a terrible scratching sound from above, almost verging on the scratching down of a chalk board, sending shudders through my spine as this noise always did. I anxiously looked up, and as I did another sound began, a soft jingle of that I couldn't quite place.

I was usually good with not being able to see. I’d become quite accustomed to sensory deprivation, but this time I was rather thrown off by the noises that I was hearing.  I couldn't figure out what he was doing, as he manipulated something within the darkness through the little hatch.  "Is it done?" Mistress asked quite sternly, growing impatient. With that he let go of this plethora of ropes which had been installed with very strong looking D-ring style hooks, he climbed down the ladder and removed it back to the little storage room from where it came.

It was then she explained, "little one, you see We found an old railway sleeper in the attic, it was quite well preserved, so he was able to create something that I've wanted for a long time and I’m sure you have by now gathered what this is for", I softly tilted my head and nodded back in response. She ushered with her hands, "Stand up, My girl" she said. I did so without any hesitation to my Mistress’ words, led by the arm over to where the curtain of ropes hung down. Her friend dismissed himself, and as he left, I heard the door lock in the distance, there was such a silenced sound.  I’d have heard a pin drop in that very moment.  She smiled so wide and began to use my body in motions as if She was the puppet master and me her mere doll. I liked the sense of this and I gave myself to her willingly and She was more than able to use Her body of mine however She deemed necessary.

Suddenly my head was rushing, my wrists and ankles were locked into cuffs, and within moments there I was looking like a captured fly within a spider’s web. The taut bonds, from which I was suspended, providing a sense of security, Mistress expertly maneuvered the tight pulls of the soft ropes over my exposed flesh. Even though the positioning left me feeling a new sense of vulnerability, it also gave me an overwhelming sense of safety, all in the same breath. The breath of which was the only thing I was now focusing on, as the blood rushed tenderly to my head, I remember the face of Her peering down upon me as she stood by me with the biggest warmest smile of pride.

Within a moment’s breath, suddenly that all abruptly changed, I yelped out. I don't know where it appeared from, but i assumed by the table at the top of the stairs. She was only gone not even 30 seconds till She reappeared. My eyes had been shut gently and I was in a relaxed state when as I felt the warmth gather over my flesh, as if it was burning deep within.  After a few flickers of this sensation and I began to understand it more, and the yelps soon turned to breathless pleasure as I travelled to a place beyond the normality of my mind. I don't really remember being taken down from my bonds, She was so skilled in all of this, my body in awe of Her.  When I awoke, I was wrapped in Her arms in our bed. It was then I saw the most fascinating colors upon my flesh,  She traced the pieces with Her fingernail, with that I wriggled deeper into Her arms as if our bodies had become one and with that, a prideful smile upon Her face, as She announced "That’s My good girl!"

Tuesday, May 21, 2019

Cam's Confession

She told me to crawl to her, so over I went, on all-fours. On my knees, its not easy, but I'd crawl over hot coals for her, so I went, determined.

She told me to kneel up.  She took each wrist gently and wrapped a thick leather cuff round it.  No need for locks; she knows I'm not going to take them off without being told to.  Then she linked them together with the bolt snap.

She threw the pot of skin lotion at me. "Rub," she ordered, "and don't look at me."

I scrambled for the pot as it fell clumsily between my cuffed hands.  Picking it up I struggled with the lid, and scooped out some of the soft, white cream.  I warmed it in my hands before applying it to her feet.  Smearing it all over and rubbing it deeply into her skin, working the arch of her feet, between and around and along each toe.

For what felt like hours, kneeling up, my muscles spasming and my knees aching for relief.  I tried shifting position, but just got a slap. "Stay still and stop moaning!"  The second time, I got a gag in my mouth for my intransigence.  I kept rubbing, over and over, working into her feet.

It was agony on my legs and knees, but I had to carry on serving her, my bound hands working over her feet, while she lounged on the couch, luxuriating in the service I was giving.

Eventually, she tired of the attention being solely on her feet.  She stopped me, pulled the gag out of my mouth, and pushed me down to get to work somewhere else...

Demons & Angels by Mark

Demons and Angels

It is Ward 10 in the local hospital, and he is breathing his last. I often think cancer is our best friend; if it was not for Big Tobacco, things would be way more time-consuming and tedious for us. Oh wait: ’our/us’.  I know, right? Total shock for people like you who are not actually in the whole ‘collect their souls’ business. Turns out there is more than one religion and more than one way to collect souls and deliver them to Hell: who knew? But he is my religion, and my responsibility. My wings and horns and spiny tail and pitchfork, really just psychodrama: to be honest, the Buddhists do it with more style. But I do carry the whole scaly demon thing off pretty well, because he is, like, shit scared.

So, as he lies there on his death bed, I do the echoey voice:

‘You fucked around, drank like a longshoreman, did more lines than a Shakespearian actor, and totally ignored your wife and son. You were an asshole your entire life, and now it’s time to count the cost.’

When I say that kind of stuff, I like to think I am channelling Charlton Heston in ‘The 10 Commandments’. Or maybe it is ‘El Cid’. But, you know, big, important, portentous.

He looks up at me with dying eyes, which, personally, I hate. They spend a whole life screwing around and then on their deathbed they look up at you with the puppy-dog eyes.

‘I am sorry’, he says, and a single tear drips its way slowly down his cheek.

Can I tell you, right now, how much I fucking despise those tears that drip slowly down the cheek? I have him bang to rights, and now, with the whole ‘tear dribbles down the cheek’ thing, there is a last-minute appeal to a court of higher authority. So anyway, I grit my fangs and I phone the Higher Authority: and before you ask, no, you cannot afford my cell-phone plan. 

There is a long delay. There is always a long delay. He is lying there, expiring, and I am drumming my claws on the bedside cabinet listening to the busy signal. Eventually, I get through. They tell me:

‘He hath repented, and his path to Heaven is secure.’

And I think:

‘For fuck’s sake! I have the pitchfork ready and everything. Plus, if I hear that ‘hath’ crap one more time, I am going to tell them to fucketh off.’

Then the asshole dies and slips out of my grasp forever.

But then the phone rings again, and the celestial voice tells me:

‘There is a submissive in Ward 8 who is close to death. He spent his entire life lying to, and stealing from, any domme he could trick into collaring him. He secretly served several dommes at the same time without telling them. He pledged lifelong obedience to each domme and then as soon as it became inconvenient to him, he ghosted them.  On SL, he pestered dommes in IM and would not take ‘no’ for an answer. We do not have a final tally, but estimate he used over two dozen phony alts at the Dominion. He made life so miserable for some of the dommes that they left the Dominion and never returned. You are to visit him and seek his final confession.’

So, I sharpen my horns and my pitchfork, give the old spiny tail a shake as I get up to go, and I think:

‘OK, Mr Ward 8, let’s see you cry your way out of *that* bad shit, motherfucker.’

Her Last Submissive by Mark

              Her last submissive

(A BDSM re-imagining of Browning’s ‘My Last Duchess’)

That’s my last submissive painted on the wall,
Looking as if he were alive. I call
That piece a wonder, now; the craftswoman’s hands
Worked busily a day, and there he stands.
Will’t please you sit and look at him? I said
“the craftswoman” by design, for never read
Strangers like you that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance,
But to myself they turned (since none puts by
The curtain I have drawn for you, but I)
And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,
How such a glance came there; so, not the first
Are you to turn and ask thus. Madam, ’twas not
His Mistress’s presence only, called that spot
Of joy into his submissive cheek; perhaps
The craftswoman chanced to say, “His cuff laps
Over his little wrist too much,” or “Paint
Must never hope to reproduce the faint
Half-flush that dies along his throat.” Such stuff
Was courtesy, he thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. He had
A heart—how shall I say?— too soon made glad,
Too easily impressed; he liked whate’er
He looked on, and his looks went everywhere.
Madam, ’twas all one! My whip across his breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the West,
The bough of cherries some girlish fool
Broke in the orchard for him, the white mule
He rode with round the terrace—all and each
Would draw from him alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. He thanked women—good! but thanked
Somehow—I know not how—as if he ranked
My gift of a collar in my name
With any woman’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame
This sort of trifling? Even had you skill
In speech—which I have not—to make your will
Quite clear to such a one, and say, “Just this
Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,
Or there exceed the mark”—and if he let
Himself be lessoned so, nor plainly set
His wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse—
E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose
Never to stoop. Oh, Madam, he smiled, no doubt,
Whene’er I passed him; but which woman passed without
Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands;
Then all smiles stopped together. And so there he stands
As if alive. Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet below
The other Mistresses. Notice Neptune, though,
Taming a sea-horse, a statue thought a rarity,
Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!

Dakota's Confessions

Dakota's Confession:


I confess that I had to take time away from second life, which also made me upset as that also meant I had to have time away from my dear and beloved Mistress. I do not like this at all, but alas bills need to be paid, and money needs to be earned in order to pay them.

I love my Mistress dearly with all my heart and want nothing more than to see her happy and to serve her well, for am I hers, and i'm damn proud of it.  She's been the best part of my life, both in rl and sl, and i'm so fucking lucky that I get to call her Mistress, and to be collared by her.

Having to work is stressful enough for me, but at least at the end of the day, the moment I clock out, I don't have to be in charge of things, as i've given all control to Her. I work to maintain communication with Mistress every moment I get on skype, and i'm very fortunate for that opportunity as well, as I get to help maintain the closeness between us. I'm very much close to Mistress, and I wouldn't even dream of leaving her, and I pray that I don't have to.

So, yes, I confess to having to take time away from Mistress and myself as I need my new job to help pay my school bills, and hopefully some on the side to enjoy my lives on second life and in real life.

Signed,
    Dakota Putnam

Gather The Stars by Anonymous

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!  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 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 and fell asleep

Imagine by Anonymous


Imagine this….
(Gently close your eyes now)

Imagine
My red silk robe draped artfully, a hint of skin
just a glimpse of nipple aggressively piercing through fabric
You can just about smell my glistening cunt

Imagine this…..
(feel my soft breath on your throat now)

Imagine.
My fingers enticing my cunt lips to swell and
My clit to pulsate in need
My cunt to quiver and moisten
For the ache, the hunger. The need

Imagine this….
(stroke your cock slowly for me, that’s right use a hard grip now.)

Imagine.
My fingers thrusting hard and deep
Your tongue pulled firmly onto my clit
Pressing your face deeper harder into my cunt
Smothering you in juices. Can you breathe? I wonder

keep lapping, keep licking , keep flicking..

Imagine this….
(that your stupid fucking flaccid cock could satisfy me now)

Imagine
You watching him as he does precisely as instructed
Places his hard cock at the entrance to my cunt instead of yours
Strokes it back n forth across my cunt lips  - just as I like it
Teasing. Tantalizing.
Before feeding me his hunger.

I will look you in the eye as his thrusts make me cum

Imagine that
You stupid cunt

JR Confession


"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east and Juliet is the sun! ...
O that she knew she were!

She speaks, yet she says nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold: 'tis not to me she speaks.

See how she leans her cheek upon her hand
O that I were a glove upon that hand,
That I might touch that cheek! "

The days and weeks go by, like sands in an hourglass, one after the other.  The wandering in the desert and the search for meaning, for purpose for the "yin" to my "yang."  The glove for my hand.  My submission is not a hook that can ge grabbed by any passerby, nor can I attach myself to just anyone.  Rather it is more of magnetism, an attraction that is powerful, elusive and inescapable.

There are those individuals, in SL and RL who just...pull me.  I slyly try to determine if the feeling is returned, that little bit of connected-ness, that slight pull to something.  The lure is not a sexual attraction but the energy felt by a power exchange.  The delicious dance of trust, vulnerability, release and service.  To most on the "D" side of the slash, a submissive's delight in opening up and submitting is an alien feeling, just as a submissive can't experience the delight in taking a leash and opening and taking a submissive's mind.  For me, to feel a Domme's attention is like the scene in Lord of the Rings where Sauron's eye spans the horizon and focuses on you.  Powerless, frozen, helpless in the focused attention. And it is wonderful.

But there is someone, Miss X, who I see -- and feel -- whenever i am here. She is why I came back after my ignominious banishment.  She has had boys, subs, girls, but also is a Dominant who likes to dominate, to take the power.  When she chats I listen and think, yes thats right.  When she comes to a chat or event, I always look at her clothes.  I read her profile, again, for  the 1000th times, to try to come up with a clever approach, a witticism that will draw her focus and energy at me.  I fail every time.

She is beautiful. Erudite, witty and lovely.   She evokes power, grace and charm.  She is real, she doesn't roleplay the role, and bark out orders as a false prophet.  And she makes my heart skip a beat, or two or three.  I imagine all the great feelings we can share, the depths of power and emotion, sexuality and service that we would share, together, in Sl and RL.  But I stay quiet hoping my shine attracts her eye.  It hasn't so far.  Does she know? Does she feel my attraction and deny it, or

I don't know if She even knows I feel, I want to serve, I want to see her smile and create joy for Her.  "The course of love does not run smooth/love looks not with eyes, but with the mind/ and winged Cupid painted blind...". 

Fate will bring us together or keep us apart.

"My time coming, anyday, don't worry about me, no
Been so long I felt this way, I'm in no hurry, no
Rainbows and down that highway where ocean breezes blow..."

Maude by Anonymous

Maude.
As she stood up, Maude groaned in discomfort, shuffled down the bus steps and set her two shopping bags down on the wet pavement. With arthritic hands she tightened her old tweed coat against the bitter wind, pushed a few strands of grey hair back into her rain bonnet and thought how everything was so much more difficult these days.

“Excuse me? Are you alright there?......um… Do you need a hand? It’s absolutely freezing eh!”

Maude smiled and looked up to see a pretty brunette dressed in the usual Saturday night attire of mini dress, thigh boots and black puffer jacket. She was probably about 25 years old and her thick eyebrows looked like two ferrets in season. Her eyes looked kind though.

“Ach I’m ok love. Its just age, you know, and this awful weather. Used to be a time I could run and up and down these roads but ach those days are long gone. I’m Maude by the way.”

“I’m Sharon, well my mates call me Shazza. Have you got far to go? I’m waiting for my boyfriend to get off the next bus but that’s not for another 15 minutes, I could help carry your bags a wee bit?”

Maude, delighted, jumped at the chance “Oh, that would be great love. My hands are aching carrying these. The plastic digs into your fingers and that hill seems to get steeper every day. I’m only at number 96, the house that stands by itself just after the bridge.”

They chatted as they walked, Maude spoke of her two grown daughters, one a successful solicitor in a classy New York firm and the other a social worker in Bethnal Green. Both busy with their careers, new friends and newer husbands.  Not much time for visiting her anymore but she was very proud.

Maude’s eyes glistened. “It’s my husband, George, that I miss the most. Married 45 years and always in each other’s pockets. We did everything together. He even went with me to the Bingo. He has been dead 2 years now and, oh, how I miss him. Ach!  I’m a silly old fool dear. I still leave his tartan slippers beside his favourite chair and I’ve not washed his last whisky glass. Its less lonely that way. He loved a wee whisky when he watched the horses on the telly. Those damn slippers though, I must trip over them twice a day. Then I scream: George, you’ve left your slippers lying about again! Of course, there’s no one to talk back. Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you Sharon.”

“Its just so lovely Maude. Not everyone finds someone that loves them like that. Some men ...
”Maude glanced over at Sharon. “Some men give you black eyes, eh love?”

Instinctively Sharon concealed her face.

“Love, there’s no need to hide yourself, I noticed it earlier when you picked up my bags. The ones on your wrists look fresher.”
Sharon explained that Robert, her boyfriend, didn’t mean to hurt her. It was usually her fault. She would say the wrong thing. Do the wrong thing. Make the wrong dinner or forget his favourite soap. And Robert was under so much pressure at work. Sharon wasn’t being sensitive enough to his stress.

“I love him Maude, I just need to listen more to his needs. Its really great when he’s happy with me.”

Maude sighed and then stopped at her garden gate. “Look this is me. Why don’t you come in for a cup of hot tea and a chat? Leave the beggar waiting around for a bit. Or don’t turn up at all.”

“Oh, I can’t! I just need to be there. Maybe some other time.”

“Come on Love. Look at the state of you, teary and wet from the rain. You need someone to chat to and a hot cup of tea to warm you up. In fact, I have Prosecco - that wine you young ones drink. I’ll open that and join you in a wee tipple. We could have some Victoria cake as well. I just made it this morning.”

Sharon felt guilty. She knew Maude was lonely and just trying to help, but she just could not go in for a cup of or tea or anything else. Robert would go mad with fury if she left him standing at the bus stop. Things had only just got calmer these last few days. She couldn’t upset him.

Maude suddenly stumbled forwards and, falling, gripped onto Sharon’s arm.

Aghast, Sharon gently helped her up. “Maude. Maude are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine. just a wee dizzy spell, I must have forgotten to eat lunch again. Could you see me to my door please love, maybe help me sit down in my chair before you run off to see your fella?”

Sharon agreed, upset for her, and picking up the bags, followed behind. Her phone rang.
“Oh, Hi Rob! Yes, sorry sorry…I have been watching the time yes…Yes but this old woman needed some help and well she just fell. I’m just going to help her into her house. What? No Rob! I would never do that! Her name is Maude we are just at that big house at the end of the bridge … uhm … number 96. Ok, Ok I’ll wait for you here. Rob I am so, so sorry I was just ...”

Maude shook her head.“Tsk! You deserve better you know Sharon. But off you go. I’m fine really. No point in him walking all the way up here, and he’s obviously angry. I might also give him a piece of my mind treating a lovely girl like you so badly and that would make matters much worse!”

Maude grabbed back her bags back, despite Sharon’s weak protestations and shooed her off back down the road. “Take care Sharon and thanks for the help, look after yourself.”

Sharon, upset at doing everything all wrong again and terrified about the consequences, remained silent as she ran back towards the bus station.

Maude closed the front door, engaged the safety chain and shuffled along the drab musky hall.  The suffocating silence washed over her. In the kitchen, scatterings of mildew flourished amongst the peeling wallpaper and dirty dishes were piled on every worktop surface. She grabbed two teacups, rinsed them under the cold tap, switched the kettle on to boil and opened a new packet of rich tea biscuits.

“You can come out of the cupboard now George. Put the claw-hammer back in the toolbox. You won’t be needing it tonight. She told some idiot our address on her bloody mobile phone. Oh, and those bags at the front door, they’re full of air fresheners. Put some more downstairs. The last one under the floor is beginning to really stink. You’re going to have to get your axe back out soon before the heat of summer arrives. Pretty soon you’ll need to get off your lazy arse and help me snare some pretty subbie playthings. I’m much too old for this game on my own.”

“Yes Mistress” he said

Maude sat down on the sagging sofa, dipped her biscuit in her tea, put her feet up and settled down to Coronation Street. She thought of George, He was a good little submissive boy - always did her bidding but her taste over the last few years had veered towards females. They cried so sweetly at the torture. The issue of consent in Femdom however always pissed her off!

Tuesday, February 19, 2019

If by Anonymous

If
If I had not a boy you would be mine.
If I had not promised him
If I had not met him first
If I had not swore monogamy
You would be mine.

If I could trust you
If I could believe in you
If I could see beyond the tales
If I could touch you real life
You would be mine

But he is safe
But He is love
But He is subservient
But He is peace
But He adores
You cant be mine.

My Mistress by Anonymous

My Mistress
You bring so much light into my often dull and dark life. I spend every minute waiting to be with you and in you company even although we have never spent much time at all one to one. You are so intelligent and funny and I really enjoy your style of dominance.
I would love to be able to tell you that I feel this way. That I dream of serving you in whatever way you deem fit but I know I am not good enough. I hear the other boys flirt with you and I just cant do that. I don’t know how to. I fear I would bore you. I would hate to bore you.
So I kneel here from afar basking in all your light until the darkness returns.

Trials Confession by Cam

I had a long day on Thursday - up early for work and home late after a full day. So it wasn't surprising that I fell asleep on the sofa.  Mistress had told me I wasn't required for Trials.  I'd wrongly assumed this meant she didn't need me until Skype time.  I'd got comfy on the sofa, catching up on Gold Rush, and dropped off.  I woke to Mistress messaging me angrily, telling me to get my ass into SL.

Oops. Fouled up again, and I'd been doing so well - feeling in a very subby and needy mood as I'd been in chastity for something like two weeks.  It would probably be more like four after this little slip up.  Nevertheless, I rushed to Her virtual side and started listening in to Miss Eva berating some other sub for being guilty of whatever trumped-up charge the poor soul had been fitted up with.

Then it was...my turn? I almost didn't believe it when Her Judgery called my name.  Oh well, this'll be some little thing, I thought, still a bit confused and sleepy.  I'll stay in text as I usually do and be forced to wear a funny avatar for a week, and that'll be th...voice?!  Miss Eva is demanding I voice?!  I quickly turn on my mic and start to stammer out answers - totally discombobulated, as Mistress would correctly call it when we spoke about it after.

My disbelief had turned to shock and was now turning to horror.  Getting naked - even off-camera, felt very exposing...then getting myself hard in front of everyone.  While I tried to focus on Mistress (She To Whom My Camera Is Turned), to compound my confusion and general going-to-pieces-in-subland-ness I called Miss Eva "Mistress". Ohhhhhh crap was I in for it now.  This was a "Miss Lidsa" moment.

Fortunately, Miss Eva just laughed that one off.  But I was to start slapping my balls now.  Something only Mistress has ever told me to do and never in front of everyone else.  So open and vulnerable, exposed.  I did as I was told, totally giddy with my denial and the total mindfuck Mistress and Miss Eva had cooked up for everyone else's delight.

But it was soon over, and Lance's turn (again!) to go up before Miss Eva.  Relief washed over me, but I still felt I needed to be punished more.  A good thrashing would've done, but Mistress knew better and took me to Skype to bring me back down before bed.

So from anger, to a thoroughly immersive play session, to loving aftercare.

That's why I love Mistress.  I'm such a lucky boy.

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.

A Valentine's Dilemma by Anonymous

A Valentines Dilemma
Do I buy you roses, the deepest blood hue?
Or would you take the thorns and rip my skin in anger?
Do I buy you the richest dark chocolates?
Or would you melt them in a bain-marie and scorch me?
Do I buy you the most coveted designer perfume ?
Or would you laugh and spray it in my eyes?
Do I buy you a 2 week holiday to Jamaica ?
Or would you go without me and tell me about all the men you were going to fuck?
Do I buy you a red corvette?
Or would you tie me up and drive over me a few times ?
Do I buy you Chanel earrings?
Or would you pierce my cock with them and make me wear them everyday?
Do I buy you the latest wide screen television?
Or would you drop it on me from a great height?
It is safer to buy you nothing at all
Or would you beat me up and shit on me for being such a greedy cunt?
Please Mistress when you say nothing at all do you mean it or not?

Starshine by Mark

Starshine
It had been tough. No use denying it to himself. In a universe where women held all the power, for a guy to get onto a passenger starship without a ticket had been harder than he had imagined. He had felt their imperious gazes on him every time he passed one of the female security guards. But he had done it! Though if he had known how tough it was going to get, he might have stayed at home on Alteres 4. No use dreaming about that. The femme-cops there had his number. He had a sheet as long as the Chief of Police’s bullwhip.
‘May she rot in hell’ he thought, as the old whipmarks pulled taut across his shoulders.
It had seemed easy. Go down to one of the starship’s recreation areas, get one of these bimbos drunk and hide out in her cabin until Earth-dock. And it had worked like a dream. The cutey in the satin minidress met his eyes as soon as he strolled into the bar. They drank drink for drink. Though, funnily enough, it was him who began to feel woozy after that very first drink. Probably out of practice. Eventually, she helped him along to his cabin. He could not remember the walk down the passageways – that was funny too, now he thought about it.
But it was when they got there. If only he could forget all that too. The cuffs, the cane, the whip,  the nipple clamps, the dildos ….
‘Stop thinking about that crap’ he told himself, ‘You made it!’
After the beating and the fucking, when she had fallen asleep, he cautiously opened his eyes from pretend slumber, and scanned the cabin. That was when he had seen it. The ship’s low-level night-time lighting just made it sparkle even more. He had stolen a lot of women’s jewellery. He knew the market. But he had never seen a piece quite like this one. Shaped like a star, it was, and encrusted in what looked like diamonds. He eased himself into a sitting position on the bed, then immediately thought better of it as the previous night’s dildos made their effect known. He stifled a groan, got up, tiptoed across the room, and grabbed the sparkler. Picking up his clothes, he eased out of the door and slunk off to find a dark corner, like a rat in a sewer.
Eventually the trip was over. Earth was in sight, and the ship was ablaze with activity. He smuggled himself into a disembarkation line and tried to look innocent. The wait seemed to take forever but, eventually, he was face to face with one of the female security staff. She eyed him stonily.
‘Anything to declare’, she asked?
‘Only my winning personality’, he smiled back at her.
Her gaze hardened.
‘OK smart Alec, into the scanner’, she said.
Shit. He had to admit, he had not thought of being scanned. But the chick in the black uniform hadn’t looked too impressed with his opening gag.
‘Typical femme cop’, he thought to himself, ‘they have no sense of humour’.
He met her gaze again, felt the old familiar chills in the pit of his stomach, and meekly stepped into the scanning suite.
Then all hell broke loose. Sirens whined, women ran everywhere, mostly towards him. He flinched, but where could he go? There was one door in and out. The female security guards burst into the scanning suite and whipped him to the ground.
The stony-faced bitch sauntered in and looked down at him.
‘You are hereby arrested for theft’, she said, holding the sparkler out for him to see.
‘No. no’, he said, ‘that is a family heirloom!’
She smiled cruelly at him.
‘Don’t you know that no man can ever possess one of these?’ she said, as she dragged him onto the passenger concourse.
He gawped.
‘Honest to God, I won that in a card game from a guy who is a real close friend!’
The stony faced bitch laughed again.
‘You’re a liar, and this is stolen’.
He felt the room swim around him.
‘But how can you possibly know’, he whimpered.
A familiar voice grated behind him.
‘Because, you stupid fuckwit, that is my Marshal’s Badge! I am a Marshall in the Women’s Interstellar Force for the Suppression of Men. No man is ever going to wear one of these.’
He spun around to see Her standing before him. She snatched the badge from his hands and pinned it to the jacket of the uniform she now wore. He eyed her in a daze, from the sharp, spike-heel boots, up her stocking-clad legs, beyond her miniskirt to the uniform jacket where the badge now glistened brightly, then, finally, his eyes met her gaze.
‘Cuff him’, she said to the women security officers who now encircled him, grinning like wolves.
‘Take him to the cells. When I am finished, he is all yours.’
As he was dragged off, he could hear the whoops of delight behind him, and the female guard on either side of him whispering awful things into his ears. Then he was thrown into the cell, the automatic door closed, and all he could hear was the frantic beat of his own heart.

Missing by Anonymous

My day
I really miss a lady in my life, a lady who wants to own me, who sees me.
One that cares for me.
Begging, I know you exists there somewhere, please let me find you and let to know you.
Better to be a shelf of hard titanium, with sharp elbows?
Is it greed and shame that are the driving forces on Earth?

The Munch by Lady Karrie

The Munch

James
I saw her as soon as I walked in. She was standing in the corner of the public bar – some frothy pink cocktail in her hand. She was fidgeting nervously with the canary yellow umbrella – I waited until  I caught her eye and then I winked.
Her reaction – a girlish giggle and a lowering of her eyes – told me all I needed to know.

Steve
I had known her online for about a year or so - I was nervous – sweaty hands and a need to rush to the toilet every few minutes. This was a big deal to me! I had grown fond of her quiet aura and wanted to make a good impression at this munch. Noone else here knew who I was so I took the name sticker and wrote Steve the pig. I wondered if she would recognize me. I had always been quiet at events. Sometimes I even put on a false accent so that people wouldn’t ask me to speak.

James
I bought her another of her cocktails and she thanked me in a offhand manner. It might have been shyness but one never knows. I hoped that she was interested in me – I was in her!! You meet a lot of these women around Femdom sites you know. They just cant get a man any other way! They aren’t even dominant – they don’t have a dominant bone in their body. They were probably bullied all their lives too! Most of them just hated men or wanted someone to fit the bill for their pathetic online shopping or bingo games! And this one – Jenna – was ripe for the picking. I mean come on what kind of Domme drinks pink frothy cocktails.  A few more of these though and shed be on her knees sucking my pulsating cock.

Steve
I noticed her as I approached the bar. She looked much more stunning than her geeky avator, Maybe the avator was to put submissives off her – keep them away. They all had this fantasy idea of what a Domme looked like you know. All leather and severe cut jet black hair. Think Morticia Addams and you wouldn’t be far wrong. Jenna however looked stunning in jeans and a green velvet top - her red hair hanging loose over her shoulders. I would have approached her right then - maybe asked if she wanted another one of those pink cocktails but there was some other guy stood chatting to her. I would have to wait.

James
She was hanging on to every word I uttered. It is easy you know to hook a Domme. Most submissive men are all longing and wistful looks, None of them have my confidence – my swagger. The Dommes like that you know. They think they are getting a real man not some gayboy.
Not that Jenna was a Domme – she was too girly giggles and soft looks from under her lashes. She was basking in my attention. She would be mine. Another Domme switched to my masculinity. I cant wait to see my cum ruin her face.

Steve
Jenna believed in fairytales and happy ever after – she had told him that she even kept her Christmas tree up in her hallway all year round. She sang often at Dominion events and hosted some of the less popular events. Jenna deserved the very best of life and I  hope that I will be the one to support her in her journey. I took a sip of my Jack Daniels and Coke and continued to wait for the sleezy guy to leave her alone.

James
I was getting tired of all this courting. At times I was forgetting to be subservient and a cocky rude answer was escaping my lips. I had to reign that in. I had to make her believe that I was the shy needy submissive that worshipped her. Otherwise those pink shiny lips wouldn’t be around my cock later and my hands wouldn’t be all over those tits.

Steve
It had taken a lot of soul searching to realise who I was and who I wanted to be to a woman who would inspire and accept ownership but I had lacked courage to see it through. I glanced over to the bar  I was becoming increasingly nervous. The sleazy guy now had his hand resting  on Jennas knee. I was  quite shocked that she hadn’t swept it away. We had spoken of our dreams and she had let me into her secret self. I felt honoured at the trust she gave me and couldn’t wait until our own first touch.

James
If this bitch didn’t hurry up and take me upstairs to the private play room then I was going to dump her fat arse and move onto the next foolish Domme. There was one right to the left of me and her mascara would look good running down her face whilst my cock gagged her.

Steve
I will give it maybe 10 more minutes then if Mr Sleazy doesnt depart I will just barge in between them both and ask her if she would like to chat. Surely it would be okay to do that. She didn’t quite look sober. Will she be mad at me I do that. Should I just stay here and continue to wait.

James
I take her hand and lead her upstairs to the private play cell -  well we would have been still sat there at that bar talking  crap with all the leather clad weirdos staring us at if I hadn’t. There was one guy in particular that had been staring over all night! Fucking loser! Him and his tweed blazer! Gayboy!  Now to fuck this bitch good!

Steve
Jenna sways as she climbs the stairway, at one point she stumbled on the frayed carpet - the guy is almost dragging her upstairs. I know that room from a previous visit and  it is an extreme space – limits are ignored, normal rules dont  apply.
I hope Jenna knows what she is doing. Well it is not my problem.
I stand up and leave the bar.

Jenna
I took a slither of ice and run it along my forehead, it is humid and stuffy in this room. Pete the bartender always makes  sure I have a bucket of ice up here. He also makes sure that alcohol is never in my cocktails.

 A steel fan blows my hair away from my face and I look down once more.

James handcuffed and horrified is kneeling to the side of me his stupid big eyes pleading, snot running all down his face, mouth prised open – waiting.

I move the knife slightly closer to  his throat.

Steve is standing naked  stroking his cock to my instructions inching it closer and closer to james mouth.

I have known Steve for almost a year. This is his first test of obedience – I had left the door open for him as planned last week. He is serving  me well.

As for James. Well what a little cocksucker and his night of humiliation has just began.