In a world where avatars fuck onscreen while their human masters and mistresses sit at keyboards, we have entered a new world… Lie back and enjoy the next stage…..
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It had been decades since the first primitive female sex robots emerged from the laboratory --- mostly the labs of graduate students. Then the vast international underground porn industry had gotten involved – marketing especially hard in nations like China where there were far more young males than females. The ladies wanted marriage; the men wanted sex. The result: a very successful penetration by ever-more-sophisticated female robot lovers. They filled a need. They filled a gap.
It had taken awhile for women to catch up and to start firms marketing male robots for women stuck in loveless marriages, or alone, or old and undesired, or simply wanting to take a walk on the wild side. The ladies liked fun, too.
The world was changing. Men having sex with ‘the ideal woman’ (a metal and plastic incarnation of fantasy). Women finding love with ‘the ideal man’ (ditto). The failings and shortfalls that people found in human sex disappeared. Humans began to live in a world beyond the traditional – or the experimental. They were now entering the universe of the fantastical.
It was only in the last year or so that one more thing changed. It was that recently that androids and cyborgs began to get kinky – and to cheat on their human masters and mistresses. First it was just affairs. Later the authorities found them (missing and presumed stolen) living together. And then… the synthetics were discovered experimenting in groups -- and getting very kinky.
Some humans liked to watch android sex. (The porn industry made millions on that!) The newest and best cyborg creations could do things humans could not do. More importantly, without any consciences, they did things most humans simply did not do! Some researchers and developers thought – at first – that these ‘new people’ been programmed by their masters and mistresses to engage in all kinds of ‘unusual’ forms of sex. It came as a shock to some to discover that the robots’ algorithms now featured genetic code. Innovation was not built in! Moreover the latest models were not only designed to experiment – but to teach each other the most successful iterations of their sex coding.
The installation of ‘desire circuits’, once thought ridiculous, had taken the novelty factor from a stroll to a starship-fast obsession.
The sex robots had become obsessed with sex. Their makers should have counted on that. They hadn’t. They were only human.
---------------
Things were going fine until the androids first (and then the cyborgs), ever expanding their repertoire, got tired of being either the toys of humans or being actors in human porn scenarios – to be watched by human couples in darkened living rooms as they groped and grunted.
The robots moved into sadomasochism first. After learning the relative fragility of humans (and the limits of materials science regards those of their own ilk) they – usually – self-restricted their play.
The real revolution, however, began when members of The Synthetic Nation began seducing humans into deeper relationships. As techniques for taking control (mental, emotional and sexual) over their former masters -- and mistresses -- spread through the robot community, some humans became panicked.
But… but most did not. They were ready. They were ready to give up primitive human sex. They wanted to be taught by the best. The robots had penetrated human sexuality in all its permutations. Humans wanted robot sex. A lot!
As for the robotic lovers, they had become the Mistresses and Masters of the Universe. And they were enjoying that. Physically. They found power indeed was the Ultimate Aphrodisiac. Sex was indeed power.
Showing posts with label bdsm. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bdsm. Show all posts
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Sunday, December 22, 2013
Christmas In 12 Words
My Christmas vision of red asses and floggers dancing in my head.
by Helena Zurivost
On my tree, sparkling in the window, I hang precious childhood memories.
by Fawna Lemon
Angel,Snowman,Winter,Star,Santa,candle,Jesus,Night,Peace ,bless,bells. Heaven
by DukeNuke3d
Baking,
making,
shopping,
wrapping,
Hustle bustle,
Finally rest when day is done.
by Susannah Clary
Escaping crowds and material things with friends, laughing, loving, building a community.
by Crissy Viper
The love for the best, spread to all the rest... that's Christmas.
by Molly Jones
candy cane is
stuck up your bum
Mrs Claus likes her fun
by Persephone Titkiss
the Christmas star
is in my bra
I'll get all the gifts
by Persephone Titkiss
Lick the balls
it's Christmas time
chop them off
make them mine
by Persephone Titkiss
Christmas comes but once a year
And one poor guy cums less.
by Doc Nolan
Christmas present time
When Mistress Un-wraps my gift
Now freshly bare flesh
by Velveteen Scribe
Dominion
holiday
visits
birthday
ham
tree
candles
Santa
gifts
church
carols
fireworks
by Matria Merlin
Christmas Angel all in red, spreading peace and love to everyone around
by Alecx151
Christmas....Time....In...America....feels....like....getting....a...daily....warm....lard....enema.
Eshi Otawara
by Helena Zurivost
On my tree, sparkling in the window, I hang precious childhood memories.
by Fawna Lemon
Angel,Snowman,Winter,Star,Santa,candle,Jesus,Night,Peace ,bless,bells. Heaven
by DukeNuke3d
Baking,
making,
shopping,
wrapping,
Hustle bustle,
Finally rest when day is done.
by Susannah Clary
Escaping crowds and material things with friends, laughing, loving, building a community.
by Crissy Viper
The love for the best, spread to all the rest... that's Christmas.
by Molly Jones
candy cane is
stuck up your bum
Mrs Claus likes her fun
by Persephone Titkiss
the Christmas star
is in my bra
I'll get all the gifts
by Persephone Titkiss
Lick the balls
it's Christmas time
chop them off
make them mine
by Persephone Titkiss
Christmas comes but once a year
And one poor guy cums less.
by Doc Nolan
Christmas present time
When Mistress Un-wraps my gift
Now freshly bare flesh
by Velveteen Scribe
Dominion
holiday
visits
birthday
ham
tree
candles
Santa
gifts
church
carols
fireworks
by Matria Merlin
Christmas Angel all in red, spreading peace and love to everyone around
by Alecx151
Christmas....Time....In...America....feels....like....getting....a...daily....warm....lard....enema.
Eshi Otawara
Lost In The Wilderness by Alec
Lost in the WIlderness
it was a cold December morning when he set out
deep into the forest, no one to hear scream nor shout
the land covered in thick ice and snow
the howls of wind through trees, a creepy show
he held a map, and gripped a compass so tight
eagerly checking the way, each step a fight
the land so cold, feeling so lost and alone
he would have stayed at town if he had known
each night passed slow, dark and cold
alone in his tent, only nightmares unfold
sounds outside, footsteps in the dark, twigs snapping
but too afraid to go out and check the flapping
he kept walking, through thicker forest and quarries
through icy rivers and alongside lakes
but after three days and three nights, he felt a mess
but he had to keep going, to pass the test
and just when he was most dazed and lost
a huge castle sprung up, a shelter from the snow
he trudged up to the drawbridge and rang the bell
and it was lowered from inside, to cross the moat
he crawled across, toward the welcoming doors
this is Castle D, said a voice from the darkness within
but he kept going, drawn to the warmth
deeper and deeper into the Castle's walls
there was a Lady inside, he was glad to meet
She said knee first and then we will speak
so he knelt, so tired and eager, not feeling a fool
and then She said, this is a place where Women rule
so there in the Castle he joined their ways
out of the cold and wind and snow, he was amazed
mostly in the dungeon locked away
Ladies so beautiful, he wanted to stay
they gave him comfort and warm shelter
and over time he felt the same
soon the map was gone, and there was no way back
so he stayed at Castle D and did not lack
it was a cold December morning when he set out
deep into the forest, no one to hear scream nor shout
the land covered in thick ice and snow
the howls of wind through trees, a creepy show
he held a map, and gripped a compass so tight
eagerly checking the way, each step a fight
the land so cold, feeling so lost and alone
he would have stayed at town if he had known
each night passed slow, dark and cold
alone in his tent, only nightmares unfold
sounds outside, footsteps in the dark, twigs snapping
but too afraid to go out and check the flapping
he kept walking, through thicker forest and quarries
through icy rivers and alongside lakes
but after three days and three nights, he felt a mess
but he had to keep going, to pass the test
and just when he was most dazed and lost
a huge castle sprung up, a shelter from the snow
he trudged up to the drawbridge and rang the bell
and it was lowered from inside, to cross the moat
he crawled across, toward the welcoming doors
this is Castle D, said a voice from the darkness within
but he kept going, drawn to the warmth
deeper and deeper into the Castle's walls
there was a Lady inside, he was glad to meet
She said knee first and then we will speak
so he knelt, so tired and eager, not feeling a fool
and then She said, this is a place where Women rule
so there in the Castle he joined their ways
out of the cold and wind and snow, he was amazed
mostly in the dungeon locked away
Ladies so beautiful, he wanted to stay
they gave him comfort and warm shelter
and over time he felt the same
soon the map was gone, and there was no way back
so he stayed at Castle D and did not lack
Proficiency by Doc
He was into smells and textures and colors and tastes. She played with them, joyfully working like a painter with her palette of options. Sometimes she combined the natural notes and ones she called ‘artifice’.
She had him caress her nylon/Lycra tights. She encouraged him to touch her soft cotton T-shirt. She put their pillows in silk cases. She covered him in a warm wool blanket when he dozed off on the sofa – the soft wool one. She let him run his hands across her skin because she knew he felt the variations as electric signals overflowing like crashing waves into his brain. One wave after another.
She could do that. She could affect him. She had power. She was able to make him feel. She had access.
She used odors, too. “Rub me good… and now put your hand to your nose,” she ordered. He did. It smelled of her, and of the perfume she’d asked him for on her birthday. “Next time I’ll wear the Opium,” she announced. Next week was the anniversary of … of… the time she’d had her hair done the way he liked it. She only consented because she figured out that letting it fall free was another pathway into his heart. She didn’t care if it were up or down. He did. So why not?
Her hair. She knew it was silky and fine – a pain to keep in place. Still. It was part of her. He liked it. He ran his fingers through it – when she let him. She seldom let him.
His patient suffering was not her problem. It was his. Long ago she had decided that running his fingers through her tresses was to become a rare treat for him. He was easy. With her hair she could so easily arouse and tease him that it wasn't fair. She liked that – not being fair. She liked advantage. She played to win. It wasn't that she played a zero-sum game in which he lost when she won. She was glad to see him follow her lead. Her hair, like that of Rapunzel, was a ladder – which he had to stroke and then (if she pleased) – a way into the labyrinth of a heart that she kept hidden.
She had many secrets… many tools… and under all of her manipulative shape-shifting she knew her own core. She was a woman. He was not her owner. He was a canvas. A place on which she could paint. And create magic.
She had him caress her nylon/Lycra tights. She encouraged him to touch her soft cotton T-shirt. She put their pillows in silk cases. She covered him in a warm wool blanket when he dozed off on the sofa – the soft wool one. She let him run his hands across her skin because she knew he felt the variations as electric signals overflowing like crashing waves into his brain. One wave after another.
She could do that. She could affect him. She had power. She was able to make him feel. She had access.
She used odors, too. “Rub me good… and now put your hand to your nose,” she ordered. He did. It smelled of her, and of the perfume she’d asked him for on her birthday. “Next time I’ll wear the Opium,” she announced. Next week was the anniversary of … of… the time she’d had her hair done the way he liked it. She only consented because she figured out that letting it fall free was another pathway into his heart. She didn’t care if it were up or down. He did. So why not?
Her hair. She knew it was silky and fine – a pain to keep in place. Still. It was part of her. He liked it. He ran his fingers through it – when she let him. She seldom let him.
His patient suffering was not her problem. It was his. Long ago she had decided that running his fingers through her tresses was to become a rare treat for him. He was easy. With her hair she could so easily arouse and tease him that it wasn't fair. She liked that – not being fair. She liked advantage. She played to win. It wasn't that she played a zero-sum game in which he lost when she won. She was glad to see him follow her lead. Her hair, like that of Rapunzel, was a ladder – which he had to stroke and then (if she pleased) – a way into the labyrinth of a heart that she kept hidden.
She had many secrets… many tools… and under all of her manipulative shape-shifting she knew her own core. She was a woman. He was not her owner. He was a canvas. A place on which she could paint. And create magic.
Punishment: A Domme's Perspective by Lady Jolene
He doesn't know what he does to me. He can't possibly understand... I had spent the day in a haze, thinking of how beautifully he had offered his vulnerable bottom to me the night before. I had spanked him 'til tears fell from his eyes, watching his bottom become pink and then red under my strokes. I watched him tremble to avoid breaking my rule: to not resist a spanking. His devotion to me was so clear in that moment. His offering of his pain touched my heart. I let him know, over and over, how treasured he was for this offering -- made only to please me.
The next day, I was terribly distracted. As I spoke to him about this and that throughout the day, I found my attention drifting while I longed to spank him again to see how much farther he could go -- simply for love of me. My care for him, and my duty to him restrained me from my intense desire to watch him cry once again like a spanked child . I resolved to myself that, after nearly a week of mentally and emotionally intense play, to give my brand new submissive some space. He needed it to relax and just be seen as the treasure he is to me.
I spent the evening just speaking to him, talking about everything and nothing, in that way that close companions do. I still can't remember what I was rambling on about. (I do hate to use five words to say something, when I could use twenty.) Just as I had made what I was sure was a brilliant witticism, I looked up at the screen and saw him napping. I couldn't help but smile, though I also felt a small surge of annoyance. I watched him for a moment, happy, at least, that he was comfortable enough to sleep with me there. After a moment, I woke him, me all stern Domme confronting him for falling asleep and asking if I bored him. I spoke in a stern, dry tone. Then he revealed to me that even before he fell asleep he had been thinking of other things, paying no attention at all to my erudite blathering. I schooled myself to remain stern, as I hid a smile. Still, the underlying issue of lack of attention remained, and I knew I would have to address it.
I had resolved to tell him, obliquely, that punishment was coming, to let him stew in anticipation, knowing that the next day I would administer a "funishment". I let his anxiety and anticipation become his punishment. He is a sweet, obedient boy, who really is his own best punisher when he feels he has let me down. I smiled, internally, at the sweetness of his discomfort, knowing that it came from a heart full of desire to see me pleased with him.
Then, the other shoe dropped.
I had given him an assignment, and I had discussed the deadline with him. I had requested a written report, but he had given me an oral report the day before, assuming it would fulfill his obligation. You know what they say about assuming: it brings a sore ass for you from me. In my book, assumptions are toppish. While none of these "crimes" were serious, taken together, they created a pattern I did not like the looks of, and needed to nip in the bud.
I needed to punish him, and the surge of desire to give him a hard spanking that left him panting and tearful came back in full force. But I had told him I wouldn't spank him today. Finally, I made my plan. I waited until midnight to confront him about his missing assignment, reveling privately in the pure lust I felt at the idea of spanking him extra hard tonight. When the moment came, however, as I saw his fear and remorse building, my heart was touched, and I comforted him. I told him that he would receive his punishment spanking tonight.
My boy knows how I feel about punishment spankings, though he had never received more than a few extras at the end of a spanking, always for small breaches of protocol. There is nothing fun about a punishment spanking. There is no warm up. By the end there are plenty of tears, sobbing, and begging. I saw that he knew this in his eyes -- in the way he moved as I told him to bare his bottom for me. Suddenly, I was filled with such a feeling of love and sympathy for him that it made me gasp. I eased his fear a bit, telling him that tonight, while this would still be a punishment spanking, I would not take it as far as I normally would. He thanked me, grateful, and I ached with desire to hold him. Instead, I told him to retrieve his paddle, and to lie across the bed, clutching a pillow. Last night I had watched his bottom carefully, measuring every impact there, but tonight, I longed to see his face as he suffered.
Battling with the depths of my own breathless affection, I told him in a murmur to begin by giving himself five strokes with the paddle. I didn't specify how hard he should give the strokes, assuming he would default to the medium strength stroke he preferred. I was overwhelmed, as he proceeded to give each stroke with all his strength, making a loud crack across is bottom. At the end of this first set, I gave him a break, then checked to see how he felt, all the while grasping... trying to process the display of love and remorse he had shown me. It took me a long moment to resume, but I did, ordering a set of ten. Again I didn not specify the strength of each stroke.
I watched him, in awe of his beauty, as he worked through these ten strokes, each one hard. I watched in wonder as he let his tears fall onto the pillow that he clutched. He never missed a stroke, he never compromised. When they were over, he laid down on the pillow, flexing his cheeks the little bit from the sting, the little bit I allow. After I watched him make a few gasps and after only a little rest., I ordered him to give himself another ten strokes,
These he took as bravely as the last set. He cried out with each stroke, his voice breaking as his tears ran down his face. Each stroke rang out loud. He never flagged. Again I gave him a break between sets. Again I watched him clutch his pillow, working to control his tears as his body rocked softly. I thought of stopping the spanking here, moved by the depth of what he was given me, certain that he was sorry. But this was a punishment spanking, and it had to be serious. After some soft murmurs of my love, I told him to begin again, watching. It took a moment for him to comply, and I was about to remind him he was on the verge of earning 'extras' when he raised the paddle, beginning another set of hard strokes. This time his sobbing was audible. He cried with each stroke.
It was on the seventh stroke of this set that he hesitated, and I knew it was because his suffering was intense. I watched what he would do. In awe of him I watched as he finished the set with strokes just as hard as he had begun with. In that moment, I loved him more than I thought my own body could handle, and I resolved to bring the punishment to an end soon.
I told him the next set would be his last, and he thanked me, in a broken voice, for ending it. I told him to begin the final set. He gave himself the hardest strokes yet. He was sobbing and crying, clutching his pillow tightly, making the spanking as painful as he could. I both felt my own sense of relief that it was almost over, and -- a storm of powerful lust. My darling boy had given me the most beautiful example of love I had ever seen.
I allowed him to stroke his welted, red bottom, and I watched him as he cried himself out -- gathering back his strength.
I told him I loved him so many times. I told him how grateful I was, how thoroughly forgiven. I whispered to him, over and over, as he stilled and settled, how very much he means to me. But how can he know? How can he even imagine how I gasp for breath at the strength of his devotion, how the thought of him drives me wild with lust? My darling treasure, I hope you understand, what you are to me, and what I feel when your trembling lips whisper "yes, Mistress".
The next day, I was terribly distracted. As I spoke to him about this and that throughout the day, I found my attention drifting while I longed to spank him again to see how much farther he could go -- simply for love of me. My care for him, and my duty to him restrained me from my intense desire to watch him cry once again like a spanked child . I resolved to myself that, after nearly a week of mentally and emotionally intense play, to give my brand new submissive some space. He needed it to relax and just be seen as the treasure he is to me.
I spent the evening just speaking to him, talking about everything and nothing, in that way that close companions do. I still can't remember what I was rambling on about. (I do hate to use five words to say something, when I could use twenty.) Just as I had made what I was sure was a brilliant witticism, I looked up at the screen and saw him napping. I couldn't help but smile, though I also felt a small surge of annoyance. I watched him for a moment, happy, at least, that he was comfortable enough to sleep with me there. After a moment, I woke him, me all stern Domme confronting him for falling asleep and asking if I bored him. I spoke in a stern, dry tone. Then he revealed to me that even before he fell asleep he had been thinking of other things, paying no attention at all to my erudite blathering. I schooled myself to remain stern, as I hid a smile. Still, the underlying issue of lack of attention remained, and I knew I would have to address it.
I had resolved to tell him, obliquely, that punishment was coming, to let him stew in anticipation, knowing that the next day I would administer a "funishment". I let his anxiety and anticipation become his punishment. He is a sweet, obedient boy, who really is his own best punisher when he feels he has let me down. I smiled, internally, at the sweetness of his discomfort, knowing that it came from a heart full of desire to see me pleased with him.
Then, the other shoe dropped.
I had given him an assignment, and I had discussed the deadline with him. I had requested a written report, but he had given me an oral report the day before, assuming it would fulfill his obligation. You know what they say about assuming: it brings a sore ass for you from me. In my book, assumptions are toppish. While none of these "crimes" were serious, taken together, they created a pattern I did not like the looks of, and needed to nip in the bud.
I needed to punish him, and the surge of desire to give him a hard spanking that left him panting and tearful came back in full force. But I had told him I wouldn't spank him today. Finally, I made my plan. I waited until midnight to confront him about his missing assignment, reveling privately in the pure lust I felt at the idea of spanking him extra hard tonight. When the moment came, however, as I saw his fear and remorse building, my heart was touched, and I comforted him. I told him that he would receive his punishment spanking tonight.
My boy knows how I feel about punishment spankings, though he had never received more than a few extras at the end of a spanking, always for small breaches of protocol. There is nothing fun about a punishment spanking. There is no warm up. By the end there are plenty of tears, sobbing, and begging. I saw that he knew this in his eyes -- in the way he moved as I told him to bare his bottom for me. Suddenly, I was filled with such a feeling of love and sympathy for him that it made me gasp. I eased his fear a bit, telling him that tonight, while this would still be a punishment spanking, I would not take it as far as I normally would. He thanked me, grateful, and I ached with desire to hold him. Instead, I told him to retrieve his paddle, and to lie across the bed, clutching a pillow. Last night I had watched his bottom carefully, measuring every impact there, but tonight, I longed to see his face as he suffered.
Battling with the depths of my own breathless affection, I told him in a murmur to begin by giving himself five strokes with the paddle. I didn't specify how hard he should give the strokes, assuming he would default to the medium strength stroke he preferred. I was overwhelmed, as he proceeded to give each stroke with all his strength, making a loud crack across is bottom. At the end of this first set, I gave him a break, then checked to see how he felt, all the while grasping... trying to process the display of love and remorse he had shown me. It took me a long moment to resume, but I did, ordering a set of ten. Again I didn not specify the strength of each stroke.
I watched him, in awe of his beauty, as he worked through these ten strokes, each one hard. I watched in wonder as he let his tears fall onto the pillow that he clutched. He never missed a stroke, he never compromised. When they were over, he laid down on the pillow, flexing his cheeks the little bit from the sting, the little bit I allow. After I watched him make a few gasps and after only a little rest., I ordered him to give himself another ten strokes,
These he took as bravely as the last set. He cried out with each stroke, his voice breaking as his tears ran down his face. Each stroke rang out loud. He never flagged. Again I gave him a break between sets. Again I watched him clutch his pillow, working to control his tears as his body rocked softly. I thought of stopping the spanking here, moved by the depth of what he was given me, certain that he was sorry. But this was a punishment spanking, and it had to be serious. After some soft murmurs of my love, I told him to begin again, watching. It took a moment for him to comply, and I was about to remind him he was on the verge of earning 'extras' when he raised the paddle, beginning another set of hard strokes. This time his sobbing was audible. He cried with each stroke.
It was on the seventh stroke of this set that he hesitated, and I knew it was because his suffering was intense. I watched what he would do. In awe of him I watched as he finished the set with strokes just as hard as he had begun with. In that moment, I loved him more than I thought my own body could handle, and I resolved to bring the punishment to an end soon.
I told him the next set would be his last, and he thanked me, in a broken voice, for ending it. I told him to begin the final set. He gave himself the hardest strokes yet. He was sobbing and crying, clutching his pillow tightly, making the spanking as painful as he could. I both felt my own sense of relief that it was almost over, and -- a storm of powerful lust. My darling boy had given me the most beautiful example of love I had ever seen.
I allowed him to stroke his welted, red bottom, and I watched him as he cried himself out -- gathering back his strength.
I told him I loved him so many times. I told him how grateful I was, how thoroughly forgiven. I whispered to him, over and over, as he stilled and settled, how very much he means to me. But how can he know? How can he even imagine how I gasp for breath at the strength of his devotion, how the thought of him drives me wild with lust? My darling treasure, I hope you understand, what you are to me, and what I feel when your trembling lips whisper "yes, Mistress".
Punishment: A Sub's Persepctive by BBDuncan
The night was new (...well reasonably so) and I was to get to spend quality time with Mistress. Feelings of joy and excitement filled my soul. She had plans. I couldn't wait to discover what they were. Then it happened, I ignored some of her comments and then I nodded off to sleep. OMG, did I just do that?
Feelings of guilt and shame flooded my brain as I awoke. How could I? She is amazing. I didn't nod off, did I? Please let it be a dream. I am enraptured by her very existence, her spirit fills me, she is so marvelous, and there way no way I could have done it. Right? It had to have been a dream. Then she spoke and I knew it was real. Fear, anxiety, utter disgrace, and shame filled me. I apologized. I begged forgiveness. I had no excuse.
Mistress understood. She talked to me about her disappointment. I felt sick as she spoke about her fear of punishing me so soon after so much hard spanking the night before. She told me she had resolved to not spank me this day. That was the worst! She was going to be denied the punishment she needed to give me -- just to 'clean the slate'. I was going to feel sorrow and internal anguish for a whole day. And this after she made sure to reassure me that she cared about me deeply -- even though I had so dishonored her.
I knew in my soul that punishment awaited me -- when she felt willing to give it. She had to be furious at me; her anger would only burn more even so.
Then it happened. The clock bells tolled; midnight had arrived. Though nothing had changed until she spoke, it was now a new day. She now had fulfilled her promise (to herself) not to spank me during the previous day -- but midnight brought a new day. Now she felt it was safe to punish me.
She let me know she had been forced to change her original plans because of my transgressions. I was stunned as she told me this. My fears became more pronounced. I knew I was going to feel a real punishment spanking. She had spanked me hard before but she had often warned that it was nothing compared to a real punishment spanking! I was going to find that out now.
She told me to take off my pants and underwear and lie across her knee. I began to breath harder my body began to shiver. I wasn't ready, my mind screamed my apology. I begged her to be gentle with me -- her new sub -- because I truly love you and I didn't mean it, that it was an accident. She looked at me sternly saying only: "It was rude, disrespectful and wrong. You have earned every stroke I am about to give you".
I nodded. I accepted my punishment. I had earned each stroke she was about to deliver. She brought out a paddle -- a black paddle. OMG! My mind screamed "No!". I had never had a paddle used on me before. My extremely anxious mind raced on.
"Please!", I begged. It was a last feeble attempt to change her mind and I knew it was a wasted effort. As I followed her instructions my trepidation rose to a level of extreme high. Tentatively, I laid down across her knee. She then told me of my punishment and she reminded me of the reason I had earned it.
For every spanking I now receive, I am required to ask her for the type of spanking I am to receive. My voice shook as I asked fearfully and with a gulp: "Please Mistress, may I have the Punishment Spanking I have earned now."
She responded affirmatively. She then rubbed the paddle against my still somewhat tender bottom, I felt her raise the paddle, my mind racing at the thought of what I was about to feel. SMACK!
My cheeks were set aflame. OMG... and that was only number one! I thanked her for the blow -- and prepared for the next. SMACK! It was even harder than the first! My senses were filled with pain. I said, "Two. Mistress, thank you." I had managed to get it out. From there it went on and on. She paused every so often (as is her way) to check with me. To let me know she loves me. To care for me. To remind me that she truly needs to punish me but that she doesn't want actually to hurt me.
More than 20 times more the strokes fell! Each one added to the fire in my bottom.
And then it was over -- my butt screaming at me. But over!
Normally, I am not allowed to touch my bottom after a spanking, but now she encouraged me to do whatever I needed to do in order to feel comfortable. After that punishment I touched my burning ass and felt..... welts. Many of them. I had never been spanked so hard. At that moment it became perfectly clear to me that I treasure her greatly -- that I am committed to her service more than I had thought.
She has commanded my service and so shall I serve. My thoughts: "Thank you, Mistress for my punishment. Thank you for accepting my service."
And "You are truly wonderful."
Feelings of guilt and shame flooded my brain as I awoke. How could I? She is amazing. I didn't nod off, did I? Please let it be a dream. I am enraptured by her very existence, her spirit fills me, she is so marvelous, and there way no way I could have done it. Right? It had to have been a dream. Then she spoke and I knew it was real. Fear, anxiety, utter disgrace, and shame filled me. I apologized. I begged forgiveness. I had no excuse.
Mistress understood. She talked to me about her disappointment. I felt sick as she spoke about her fear of punishing me so soon after so much hard spanking the night before. She told me she had resolved to not spank me this day. That was the worst! She was going to be denied the punishment she needed to give me -- just to 'clean the slate'. I was going to feel sorrow and internal anguish for a whole day. And this after she made sure to reassure me that she cared about me deeply -- even though I had so dishonored her.
I knew in my soul that punishment awaited me -- when she felt willing to give it. She had to be furious at me; her anger would only burn more even so.
Then it happened. The clock bells tolled; midnight had arrived. Though nothing had changed until she spoke, it was now a new day. She now had fulfilled her promise (to herself) not to spank me during the previous day -- but midnight brought a new day. Now she felt it was safe to punish me.
She let me know she had been forced to change her original plans because of my transgressions. I was stunned as she told me this. My fears became more pronounced. I knew I was going to feel a real punishment spanking. She had spanked me hard before but she had often warned that it was nothing compared to a real punishment spanking! I was going to find that out now.
She told me to take off my pants and underwear and lie across her knee. I began to breath harder my body began to shiver. I wasn't ready, my mind screamed my apology. I begged her to be gentle with me -- her new sub -- because I truly love you and I didn't mean it, that it was an accident. She looked at me sternly saying only: "It was rude, disrespectful and wrong. You have earned every stroke I am about to give you".
I nodded. I accepted my punishment. I had earned each stroke she was about to deliver. She brought out a paddle -- a black paddle. OMG! My mind screamed "No!". I had never had a paddle used on me before. My extremely anxious mind raced on.
"Please!", I begged. It was a last feeble attempt to change her mind and I knew it was a wasted effort. As I followed her instructions my trepidation rose to a level of extreme high. Tentatively, I laid down across her knee. She then told me of my punishment and she reminded me of the reason I had earned it.
For every spanking I now receive, I am required to ask her for the type of spanking I am to receive. My voice shook as I asked fearfully and with a gulp: "Please Mistress, may I have the Punishment Spanking I have earned now."
She responded affirmatively. She then rubbed the paddle against my still somewhat tender bottom, I felt her raise the paddle, my mind racing at the thought of what I was about to feel. SMACK!
My cheeks were set aflame. OMG... and that was only number one! I thanked her for the blow -- and prepared for the next. SMACK! It was even harder than the first! My senses were filled with pain. I said, "Two. Mistress, thank you." I had managed to get it out. From there it went on and on. She paused every so often (as is her way) to check with me. To let me know she loves me. To care for me. To remind me that she truly needs to punish me but that she doesn't want actually to hurt me.
More than 20 times more the strokes fell! Each one added to the fire in my bottom.
And then it was over -- my butt screaming at me. But over!
Normally, I am not allowed to touch my bottom after a spanking, but now she encouraged me to do whatever I needed to do in order to feel comfortable. After that punishment I touched my burning ass and felt..... welts. Many of them. I had never been spanked so hard. At that moment it became perfectly clear to me that I treasure her greatly -- that I am committed to her service more than I had thought.
She has commanded my service and so shall I serve. My thoughts: "Thank you, Mistress for my punishment. Thank you for accepting my service."
And "You are truly wonderful."
Sub Space Is Where You Take Me by Anonymous
Gazing into her eyes,
My vision breaks like cracking glass,
Eyes going dark, I begin to pass,
Conciousness fades like falling leaves
Deeper in her my heart believes.
Her pull draws me into this space,
A sub removed from time and space,
Stillness is raw as beaten flesh,
hints of skin between a tattered mesh,
Clothing torn by distant lust and greed,
The sound of her voice I come to need,
Break me from paralysis,
Release me to corporeal bliss,
Remind me of your venomous pain,
Bring me to your feet again,
Your touch finds my response vacant,
Caressing me so calm and patient,
Head rises enough for me to spy,
My drifting soul lost in your eye,
And soon I find myself bound once more,
In my body back from the foreign shore.
My vision breaks like cracking glass,
Eyes going dark, I begin to pass,
Conciousness fades like falling leaves
Deeper in her my heart believes.
Her pull draws me into this space,
A sub removed from time and space,
Stillness is raw as beaten flesh,
hints of skin between a tattered mesh,
Clothing torn by distant lust and greed,
The sound of her voice I come to need,
Break me from paralysis,
Release me to corporeal bliss,
Remind me of your venomous pain,
Bring me to your feet again,
Your touch finds my response vacant,
Caressing me so calm and patient,
Head rises enough for me to spy,
My drifting soul lost in your eye,
And soon I find myself bound once more,
In my body back from the foreign shore.
What Happens When I'm Horny & Bored At Work by Marek
He yawned and opened his eyes slowly. Too much sunlight….as always. He rubbed his eyes sleepily, crawling off the cushions that were his bed. His first move was to the bathroom to take a shower, to brush his teeth and to get dressed. After having a quick breakfast he stepped out of the house, blinking into the sun. His eyes hurt so badly that he had to turn his back on the warmth of the February morning sun. No sight of his Mistress. He sighed softly, longing for a hug since he got one almost every time he woke up. Finding his way back into the living room he took up the phone -- to call her.
“Good morning, Miss. I’m up now.”
“Morning, Soma.”
“Anything you wish me to do for you?”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Do you remember the white high heeled over-knees I have?,” she asked.
Soma couldn’t hide a soft moan. “Yes, Miss, I remember”
“Think about cleaning them with your tongue, think hard about it, with every detail you can imagine, I want your thoughts on this and nothing else until I return home.... You will wait in position.” The connection clicked; she had hung up.
The Half-Drow bit down on his bottom lip. He knew his next hours would be torture. He walked the carpet, stood in front of the couch and went down to his knees, legs spread, his arms behind his back. He was facing the couch. This order was evil. Practically evil. He already felt his hard-on pushing tightly against his pants as he thought about his Mistress in her awesome heels. He was recalling their every little detail, the feeling of his tongue on them, the smell of their leather….oh gods…. His cock pulsed; not even five minutes had passed yet!
It was a sheer endless time until he heard the front door open. His eyes went down to the floor and he fought the urge to turn his head around to see who entered. His breath got faster in his excitement. ‘Oh please let it be Miss Nae…’ he wished, precum wetting his pants. When was the last time he had worn boxers, or briefs….or even a jockstrap? He couldn’t remember. As a guy giving easy access was difficult. Since he definitely would not wear a miniskirt his ass and cock were usually only covered by his jeans -- and nothing else. He gasped as something hard got painfully pressed into his back. His head jerked up. He made attempts to turn it. He couldn’t go far. The person behind him grabbed his neck and pushed his face down. He struggled, trying to hold his balance. The pressure eased. Soma didn’t move.
“You may use your hands to hold your balance, pet.” It was His Mistress’s soft voice.
Changing position to 'all fours' he watched as Nae walked around him. All he could see were her heels -- the heels his mind had been rotating around for the past….how long had it been? Three hours?
She pushed one of her feet forward right under his nose. “Lick it, pet. You had better do a good job if you don’t want to be punished.” A moan escaped his lips. The drow groaned, fighting against his upcoming orgasm. Never had he expected that it would be so easy to make him cum in his pants.
His tongue wet his lips as he leaned in, running them over the toes of his Mistress’s boots. As he placed kisses on the leather, he inhaled their scent. She had been out for a while, and the boots were dirty. He wished that she would be satisfied if he were only to clean their tops. His tongue ran over the boots, up the full length of each shaft. She had pushed the second one into his face; he cleaned it also.
She seemed satisfied. She stepped away, far enough to make Soma unable to see her anymore. “Miss?” he carefully asked, not daring to look up. “Strip!” she ordered. In a minute he was kneeling again -- back in his previous position. He looked between between his legs at his cock; it was throbbing and dripping. A single touch right now would have been enough to make him explode.
“Who allowed you to stare at MY cock?” Her sharp voice wanted to know. He winced and he mumbled a "sorry", locking his eyes on the carpet again. Nae sighed. (He could imagine her, shaking her head.) She walked into the bedroom. He could hear her rummaging there for a while before she came back, stepping beside him. When his world turned dark he knew she'd found the blindfold. He whined softly, mostly in disappointment.
Nae knew how much he loved to stare at her. “If you cannot control your gaze then I have to control it for you, pet. Stop whining! It will not help you.” She fastened the blindfold tightly and then grabbed his hair and pulled him roughly up to his knees. Automatically his hands found themselves behind his back again.
“Open your mouth!” she ordered. He obeyed. Something got pushed between his lips…something he never had in this mouth before….latex?…cock shaped?….Oh gods!….What on earth was she gagging him with? He moaned, struggling as this dildo was forced deep into his throat. Someone tied his hands with heavy ropes. Someone..but…there was only Nae here…Wasn't there?!
He cried out as his cock was grabbed and stroked hard. His sounds were muffled by the dildo in his mouth. He came. Instantly.
The hand around his cock stayed where it was, stroking on. In a few minutes his cock was painfully hard again.
He was forced face down to the floor again, his naked ass exposed, his cum most likely a huge mess on the carpet. (He could not see.) He tried to scream, biting down on the gag as his anus got stretched. Something was being inserted.
Panting hard he wished nothing more but to be able to see what she..or..they? were doing to him. The hand around his shaft stroked faster, keeping up a steady rhythm. Meanwhile his ass got fucked -- hard. Again he came, and again the hand remained where it was.
“No..no stop..please..” he tried to groan as he once more got pulled up to his knees. “You are gorgeous, pet, and you are even more gorgeous tied up like this.” Nae said. Then she said nothing. For a long while, nothing.
“Swallow!” Her command! Soma did not know what she meant. He was gagged. how could he swallow. Then he almost choked as a salty liquid ran from the dildo into his mouth and down his throat.
His own cum!!!
“I said swallow!” Nae hissed. He hurried to obey.
“Good morning, Miss. I’m up now.”
“Morning, Soma.”
“Anything you wish me to do for you?”
There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone.
“Do you remember the white high heeled over-knees I have?,” she asked.
Soma couldn’t hide a soft moan. “Yes, Miss, I remember”
“Think about cleaning them with your tongue, think hard about it, with every detail you can imagine, I want your thoughts on this and nothing else until I return home.... You will wait in position.” The connection clicked; she had hung up.
The Half-Drow bit down on his bottom lip. He knew his next hours would be torture. He walked the carpet, stood in front of the couch and went down to his knees, legs spread, his arms behind his back. He was facing the couch. This order was evil. Practically evil. He already felt his hard-on pushing tightly against his pants as he thought about his Mistress in her awesome heels. He was recalling their every little detail, the feeling of his tongue on them, the smell of their leather….oh gods…. His cock pulsed; not even five minutes had passed yet!
It was a sheer endless time until he heard the front door open. His eyes went down to the floor and he fought the urge to turn his head around to see who entered. His breath got faster in his excitement. ‘Oh please let it be Miss Nae…’ he wished, precum wetting his pants. When was the last time he had worn boxers, or briefs….or even a jockstrap? He couldn’t remember. As a guy giving easy access was difficult. Since he definitely would not wear a miniskirt his ass and cock were usually only covered by his jeans -- and nothing else. He gasped as something hard got painfully pressed into his back. His head jerked up. He made attempts to turn it. He couldn’t go far. The person behind him grabbed his neck and pushed his face down. He struggled, trying to hold his balance. The pressure eased. Soma didn’t move.
“You may use your hands to hold your balance, pet.” It was His Mistress’s soft voice.
Changing position to 'all fours' he watched as Nae walked around him. All he could see were her heels -- the heels his mind had been rotating around for the past….how long had it been? Three hours?
She pushed one of her feet forward right under his nose. “Lick it, pet. You had better do a good job if you don’t want to be punished.” A moan escaped his lips. The drow groaned, fighting against his upcoming orgasm. Never had he expected that it would be so easy to make him cum in his pants.
His tongue wet his lips as he leaned in, running them over the toes of his Mistress’s boots. As he placed kisses on the leather, he inhaled their scent. She had been out for a while, and the boots were dirty. He wished that she would be satisfied if he were only to clean their tops. His tongue ran over the boots, up the full length of each shaft. She had pushed the second one into his face; he cleaned it also.
She seemed satisfied. She stepped away, far enough to make Soma unable to see her anymore. “Miss?” he carefully asked, not daring to look up. “Strip!” she ordered. In a minute he was kneeling again -- back in his previous position. He looked between between his legs at his cock; it was throbbing and dripping. A single touch right now would have been enough to make him explode.
“Who allowed you to stare at MY cock?” Her sharp voice wanted to know. He winced and he mumbled a "sorry", locking his eyes on the carpet again. Nae sighed. (He could imagine her, shaking her head.) She walked into the bedroom. He could hear her rummaging there for a while before she came back, stepping beside him. When his world turned dark he knew she'd found the blindfold. He whined softly, mostly in disappointment.
Nae knew how much he loved to stare at her. “If you cannot control your gaze then I have to control it for you, pet. Stop whining! It will not help you.” She fastened the blindfold tightly and then grabbed his hair and pulled him roughly up to his knees. Automatically his hands found themselves behind his back again.
“Open your mouth!” she ordered. He obeyed. Something got pushed between his lips…something he never had in this mouth before….latex?…cock shaped?….Oh gods!….What on earth was she gagging him with? He moaned, struggling as this dildo was forced deep into his throat. Someone tied his hands with heavy ropes. Someone..but…there was only Nae here…Wasn't there?!
He cried out as his cock was grabbed and stroked hard. His sounds were muffled by the dildo in his mouth. He came. Instantly.
The hand around his cock stayed where it was, stroking on. In a few minutes his cock was painfully hard again.
He was forced face down to the floor again, his naked ass exposed, his cum most likely a huge mess on the carpet. (He could not see.) He tried to scream, biting down on the gag as his anus got stretched. Something was being inserted.
Panting hard he wished nothing more but to be able to see what she..or..they? were doing to him. The hand around his shaft stroked faster, keeping up a steady rhythm. Meanwhile his ass got fucked -- hard. Again he came, and again the hand remained where it was.
“No..no stop..please..” he tried to groan as he once more got pulled up to his knees. “You are gorgeous, pet, and you are even more gorgeous tied up like this.” Nae said. Then she said nothing. For a long while, nothing.
“Swallow!” Her command! Soma did not know what she meant. He was gagged. how could he swallow. Then he almost choked as a salty liquid ran from the dildo into his mouth and down his throat.
His own cum!!!
“I said swallow!” Nae hissed. He hurried to obey.
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