By Anonymous

I'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

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!

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.