Bad Memories by Killian

 So, bad memories, where to start? I don't enjoy humiliation, it's not a kink of mine, so in the spirit of confessions, the title and over-sharing I'll go with this one.

They say it takes tens of thousands of hours of interaction for humans to reach an acceptable level of social comfort, or roughly to the age of 25. As a young man in my early twenties I had absolutely not reached that point. I was a perfectly happy child, rarely in the limelight and content with mostly solitary pursuits. I was never really much use with women, I never felt particularly comfortable with them and the memories are so very painful in hindsight.

I never did manage any experiences at college despite living my best life through IRC. So when I made it to London for a first real job I was determined to pursue my lifelong dream of submission. I did what any sensible person would do - I hit the message boards and with a remarkable degree of luck the first advert I responded to somehow landed a NSA attached date with an extremely attractive woman who was perhaps 15 years older than me.

Incredibly, she was for real. As attractive in real life as her pictures, and seemingly as enthusiastic as promised. We met on a Saturday morning in a smart Central London hotel. I was painfully awkward when I think back to it, but she complimented me for wearing a shirt as we made our way up in the lift to the room. I put my arm around her, it wasn't so bad, maybe this was going to be ok.

In her room, a small suite, she suggested I lie on the bed and she disappeared for a moment to change into the most gorgeous lingerie that years late I still don't think I've ever seen better. We see the past in rose-tinted glasses, but I can honestly say she was the most beautiful person I've ever been with. I had stripped down and laid back on the bed. She straddled me while I was still barely able to speak, we kissed, my hands in her hair, and then I realized that I could not get it up. She tried her best, and god knows it was nothing to do with her, but I couldn't get a response. She offered a handjob, but I was broken and I could maintain enthusiasm. I apologized profusely, made my excuses, and left, ashamed.

And so began a lifelong problem that I've still not managed to overcome. I'm sure it's psychological, but decades later I've never quite managed to overcome it. As bad memories go it's hardly the most traumatic, but of all the negative experiences I've ever had, whether personal or professional, this is the one that still hurts the most.

I never heard from her again, I look her up every so often, she's still stunning.

Anonymous Confession

Femdom life and a committed female led relationship are not always whips, chains, leather and lace.  Rather it is a life of service, devotion and rules, structure and guidelines.  I take pleasure in pleasing Miss, seeing her smile, making her life easier and better.  She delights in the peaceful life guiding us.   I have given to her, she takes, and it is a natural power exchange.  But one that is not selfish or life  committed solely to Her whims and solitude path.  She enjoys pleasing me inasmuch as it demonstrates her power and ability to cause that pleasure and her regulation of our energy and dynamic that empowers her.

Last Saturday started as a desultory affair.  I had been working all week and was rather stressed.  I had performed my daily service including cooking, cleaning and organizing our flat.   I folded her clothes, but my usual delight in feeling her panties, her clothes was missing.  My mind was occupied, even as she prompted me to snap out of it, focus and find meaning in devotion to her and us.  As much as I tried, I couldn't break the cycle.   Saturday is also my "hygiene" day.  Mistress unlocks my chastity device at the beginning of the day, places it in the cleaner for cleaning and disinfecting as I shower/ It is then replaced when she desires. After a workout, shower, and after I shave all of my pubic hair, after I am then inspected for hairless smoothness as she desires, it is replaced.  Usually, but not always.

This Saturday was different.  After showering and a shave, as I awaited inspection, I found instruction: kneel at the foot of the bed and await Her.  I was afraid...I knew this week was difficult and displeasing.  Not full of the seamless power structure and ebb and flow of life, but rather distraction and dissonance.  Punishment to refocus surely awaits.

After what seemed like ages but was probably no more than 10 minutes Mistress came in the room.  And an appearance she did make.  Clad in birght shiny skintight latex from head to toe.  Black, shined up and oiled, hugging every curve, showing every inch of her divine body, pulsing as she moved.  Perched atop tall (but not outrageous) heels, she strode in.   Her hair was tied up and back to frame her lovely face which betrayed a glint in her eye and the power she felt.

My body and cock instantly responded of course.   My freed cock, instantly sprang to attention, responding to her, involuntarily almost.  I couldn't have stopped the raging erection if I had tried, which I didn't try to.  I reacted to her, as she desired, and I was helpless.  In rapture, yes -- but powerless in her presence.  In addition to my cock, my nipples tensed, my body tightened, air sucked out of my lungs, and my eyes focused on her.

And mentally, too, my perspective shifted.  Not to the struggles of the world, not to my looming punishment but to her, to the  Latex, to the shine.  She knows I adore latex, the look, the touch the smell, the squeak.  Oh the lady doth torment me even as she appears as a vision before me!    I have been conditioned I suppose, to respond to her.  I shifted from awaiting inspection of my shaven body to focus on her.   On Her power, her smell, her very presence.  These are the moments that seize and course through me, make my life full of color, feeling, emotion.   Gratitude for such a presence in my life.  Passion that is not only inspired but provoked, yanked out and awakened. from daily life.

After I recovered a semblance of my wits, she strode over, and put her finger under my chin to life up my eyes to meet hers.  I would have fallen over if she desired, I suspect.  Rather she said, "Time to focus, slave boy.  Remember me.  Who I am for you."  I mumbled "yes Mistress,"  knowing she saw my body's display of her power, my reaction and powerlessness.  "Now you will be mine and follow, not think, follow."  She then handed me a bottle of oil, and said simply.   "Worship your goddess."

I took the oil knowing it meant I was to shine. To feel the latex, smell it.  To feel her body, feel her body through it, under it, as I served. I stood, and as I did my hard cock brushed against her leg...and I felt the twitch in it, the reaction.  Desire, inspired and created, a gift from Miss.  Not punishment, but freedom.

As I lotioned rather mindlessly, in circles, and poorly I suppose, i felt her hand grab my hard erection. Lightly, almost lovingly, as she whispered to me "And how is my cock?  He seems to enjoy this?  Has he missed me?" I croaked "Yes, Miss."  even as she knew the answer, as if there was any other possible reply.  

"My cock will orgasm when I say, and will deposit your devotion on my boot, do you understand?"  

 

"Yes Miss, of course."  As her rhythm sped up and my mind went blanker and blanker, feeling her power, her will, her control over my body, but also my mind.  My sexuality, my emotions, my lust.  I felt the powerful urges, the physical clenching and tightening as the hormones surged through me.  Pre orgasm desire, holding out but also letting her dictate my reaction, as if i could make such a choice, now.

As her cock got harder and harder, She simply said "Now!"

Her cock and my body responded as trained and a spurt of white semen came out and covered her glistening boot.  My eyes clenched shut as my body orgasmed.  I went blank for a few moments, feeling the ecstasy and emotion.

And I knew what came next.  Miss simply pointed to her boot.  Wordless.   I knew what she wanted, even as I despised the act -- clean her boot, eat my orgasm and feel the power she had, over me, over my orgasm inside me.  I knew she liked watching that struggle, surrender and visual representation of power incarnate.I lowered myself and put my tongue out to lick up my orgasm.  The gooey, salty taste that even now, years into our relationship and countless orgasms later, that made me gag and recoil. But I did it, as I always do, because I know it pleases her.

After I completed my task, I looked up to see her smile.  "Good boy" she said, and with that turned around and left the room.   I stared at the Latex covered ass and just smiled.   My Mistress.  My Life. Her World.

Puptastic by Cam

 Puptastic by Cam

I get home and throw my keys into the bowl by the door.  I notice there's a note on the table, on lavender-coloured paper, and neatly folded.  With trepidation, I pick it up, feeling the smoothness of the paper between my fingers. I carefully unfold the sheet, turning it round so the impeccably neat handwriting on it is the right way up.  Not that it matters.  I can read upside-down with aplomb.  I managed to embarrass my old boss several times by reading papers he had carelessly left on his desk that he didn't want anyone reading.  I put that thought aside and look properly at the paper.  There is but one word delicately embossed in dark ink onto the page.

"Walkies"

I feel a flutter of elation, a stiffening and a surge of blood in my crotch.  Followed almost immediately by a feeling of trepidation.  Walkies always means one thing.  Trembling almost imperceptibly, I fold the paper and put it back down on the table.  I begin to strip off my outdoor clothes. When I'm naked, I take my collar down off the hook by the door and walk to the bathroom.

I briefly shower, clean myself thoroughly, and dry myself off before fitting my collar and clicking the lock shut.  I have to be ready before Mistress gets home, so I hurry myself and head for the playroom, where I pick up a butt plug with a long rubber puppy tail attached.  I take some wipes and clean it - not that it isn't already scrupulously clean - lube it and squat, pushing it slowly into my ass until the bulge fits inside me and it locates itself home, filling me uncomfortably but not painfully.

I leave all the restraints alone - I know Mistress will choose them when she arrives.  All I do is fit my puppy hood, making sure the laces are tightly knotted at the back of my head.  I take a blindfold from the row of pegs on the wall and head for the lounge.

In the middle of our lounge is a table.  It used to be a large, industrial cable spool.  It looks a bit like a gigantic sewing machine bobbin, make from rough wood and topped with a thick layer of safety glass.  I tidy away the books and magazines on top, and place down a thin cushion - always careful with my knees.  I know Mistress will tease me about it later - 'old man' she will say - but she knows my problems and allows for them.  My dodgy knee and an annoying propensity for sore throats are my only major medical faults, thankfully.

I turn on the radio, soft and low but audible through the hood to entertain me while I wait.  I climb onto the table, kneeling on the cushion while I attach the blindfold to the puppy hood.  When I'm satisfied I can't see anything, I settle down on the table on all fours and begin my wait.

I don't have to wait long - fortunately the radio show has given me something of a sense of time - about twenty or so minutes.  The news is about to start when I hear the door open and shut again with a bang.  Clearly no-one with you, but I remain on display, not moving from my perch.  Sometimes Mistress has done that - brought someone home while I've been displayed in some way.  There are few things we find more erotic, although it isn't something she does often - its rarity making it all the more special.

Mistress doesn't seem about getting straight down to business today either.  She practically ignores me while she flicks through the post - dropping most of the letters noisily on the table next to me.  She opens one.  I can tell from the pause that she reads it briefly, then tosses that down on the table too.

I'm half expecting a slap and am surprised when it doesn't come.  She turns; I hear her shoes click across the floor as she heads for the bedroom to change into something more comfortable.  Something appropriate for a trip to the local park.  Probably a pair of jeans and a loose t-shirt. Nothing fancy.  Mistress doesn't need to dress up to be dominant.  I wait patiently while she readies herself, wondering what sort of mood she will be in - she has said nothing to me so far.  I'm getting worried she's in a bad mood.  That usually spells trouble for me, even when I've done nothing wrong.

Oh my god! Have I done something wrong? What could it be? But the note....that's the sort of note that means play, and Mistress just doesn't play when she's furious.  So it can't be that bad. But she hasn't spoken. Maybe that's the mindfuck.

Yes, that's it. The mindfuck. Or maybe it isn't....

I'm still working this out when Mistress returns to the lounge and clips a leash onto my collar.  I feel her fumbling with the d-ring and bolt snap, hear it click softly into place and feel her warm hand on my shoulder as she guides me down off the table.  I melt at that touch, knowing that there won't be much of that this evening.  She leads me off into the playroom, gently tugging the leash to let me know which way and how fast I should crawl for her.

She binds my arms and legs - making me rest on my elbows and knees and half drags, half hauls me onto a small wheeled platform, specially built for the task she has in mind.  I know these movements, I know these restraints, this pattern of events.  I resign myself to what's about to happen, and my head sinks down between my shoulders.

Mistress senses this.  She crouches down, lifting me gently by the muzzle. "Pup," she fixes her gaze on me.  I try to look at her through the eye patches, but just see inky blackness.  We both know I cannot see, and yet the gesture is somehow meaningful, a connection.

"You'll do me proud, won't you?"  I nod my head and she stands up, briskly taking hold of the leash and pulling me on my trolley out the door. She doesn't need to hear or see my response.  She knows the answer, and I know she knows.  So all I do is think it.

"Yes Mistress."

And so, pulled along behind her, we make the short walk to the park.

I don't know where in the park we are, but I can feel the warm afternoon sun on my back, smell the freshly-cut grass and hear the distant birdsong.  We can't be near the lake - there's no sound of geese or splashing from the pedal-powered boats they hire out of a little blue shack by the water's edge.  I remember the afternoon Mistress had me pedal her out to the island in the middle of the lake.  We end into the spinney on the island and I spent the rest of the afternoon lapping at her cunt.

 A rough piece of string around my neck - the sign.  I wonder what she's written on it this time.  She'll show me later, when her fun is almost over - showing me the sign will be part of that; part of it it me knowing what she told the parkgoers to do to me.  I know she'll be watching, but always from a bit of a distance - a bench or a blanket.  Maybe she'll buy a soda from the kiosk and sip it while she watches.

She doesn't have long to wait today.  Very quickly, I feel a tugging - the tail in my ass is being pulled.  I try to relax and let is be pulled out.  I can't move. I can't resist.  I just have to kneel here on all fours, like the pup I am and let whatever other puppy owner is passing by who wants to let his or her hound have some release have their way with me.  I'm still groaning inside while I force myself to make enthusiastic panting sounds, yipping softly occasionally.  My yaps turn to grunts and squeals of pain as the cock enters my ass.

I try to struggle free, to get away but my restraints are too good - Mistress is too well-practiced in this.  I know she's watching me from afar, enjoying her free show. The pain is intense, each thrust ramming into me, digging deep into me. But fortunately, as I've learned, the big ones often don't last long.  He twitches inside me, one last, deep thrust...and his cum spurts into me, filling me with his seed.

I feel my own precum dribble out of my cock, dripping onto the platform, as he pulls out, wiping his cock off on my thigh.  I shake and tremble slightly, full of adrenaline and wanting so much to be back home, showered and clean again.  But of course Mistress will leave me ...ow!

Something is shoved into my ass again.  Thick and hard...slipping into place with his cum as lube.  The tail plug has been replaced.  I can feel someone at the string around my neck...fiddling with the sign as cum dribbles down the back of my leg.

I remain standing there on my trolley, on all fours, plugged, covered in cum as I listen to whoever has just fucked me disappear out of earshot. I wish silently for Mistress to come and get me, letting out a soft whimper as I miss her touch.  But she’s not coming back any time soon.  I get the feeling it will be a long afternoon…

(part 2 to come next time)

Warm Up by Anonymous

 Warm Up. (anonymous)

As she sat there, nonchalantly tapping her fingernails in a rhythmical manner against the glass topped side table, happily I’d assume, I could hear in the distance her gentle relaxing music, by the fireside. I was conscientiously going about my chores silently listening to the sounds from the next room. Suddenly I was beckoned. I adored the fact I was to grace her every whim, and I quickly stopped what I was doing and neatly left the cleaning supplies in a desirable fashion, and raced to her side brushing down my clothes so I looked presentable. Nobody wants to see disheveled mess, nothing should be too much effort, and it wasn't. I approached the door cautiously and before I had chance to utter a word she signaled, with just a finger, to my placement, which I very much obliged too. I carefully tucked my skirt, as I knelt down by her feet looking up towards her I rocked back slightly onto my heels. There was a momentary silence which gave me a moment to notice the small things, I could tell she had a busy day, from which I admired the deep plum tone on her fingernails which looked beautiful against her complexion and her new hair style the way it was slightly curled and now sitting just above her shoulders, I could tell she had been busy with appointments. I waited patiently for her to speak, just taking in her everything about her, I inwardly smile. "You should know something," she announced, to my slight confusion, as it’s not the usual way she would begin a conversation. I politely responded with a curious tone "yes Mistress?!", she went on to tell me of her upcoming plans for the night, how she was aiming to be meeting an old friend in town later that evening. 

Mistress handed me a small bottle and motioned to the job at hand - it was like I was in tune with her, we seemed to sing the same notes – so, I got to work. I took off her heels and began to gently massage her feet and legs making sure to cover ever part with her rose scented lotion, the scent radiated the room and I could tell she was enjoying the effort and time I was taking on every inch of what I was allowed to caress. I love to serve in this way, but it came much to my surprise when she after a while she stopped me, for I could have done this all night. But, I remembered she had her plans to maintain, and perhaps it was time for her to get dressed. Without words, a motion to put her shoes back on and to follow her, I, of course, promptly did as such. We went to the bedroom where my remaining supplies from earlier sat upon the dresser, she smiled, and sat on the edge of the bed, "here my girl, beside me" she said in a softened tone. I knelt down as directed, when, rather suddenly, I felt my skirt slightly moved. Her fingernail was tracing down my flesh, causing a shiver ran up my spine as if her finger had continued its path. I jolted forward slightly, I felt like ice had suddenly attacked all the warmth in the room, it left me almost presenting myself in an involuntary movement, much to Mistress' amusement. Yet, with the new found almost splayed position, I found I couldn’t move, as if my body had just went on a power outage. But, Mistress was soon to charge my body back up quickly, and without warning. There was no time to prepare, and I let out a sudden yelp as a strike hit upon my bare flesh, I twisted myself slightly to look at Mistress over my shoulder, and upon seeing her delighted expression I thanked her, and I guess that prompted the next three blows, which warmed me inside and out. I felt as though they were rewards for my thankfulness, and it filled me such pride. I took in the sensations, overwhelming me in that moment, allowing my mind to fall into a wonderous state, when a distant yet abrupt alarm sounded. As it bleated out, Mistress stopped it without a hesitation, and chuckled. "While you were busy downstairs, my friend texted that she had something has come up. So, my plans have changed, too."  I could not hide my smile this time as she almost whispered but, with such conviction " This is just the a warm up, as now, tonight *you* are my plans."