A Day With Mistress Part 3 by Anonymous

                                                                                   
           He  takes a deep calming breath as she releases the whips, letting them fall to the ground. She runs a finger up each side of his body from where her thighs are gripping him to just below his armpits. She slides her hands underneath him (pressing her breasts against his back), finds his nipples and playfully tugs and twists them. He gathers himself, rigid as a statue; every inch of him is alive with feeling, and he moans as she teases them, not caring what sounds he makes.

      She whispers tauntingly, with mock sympathy, "Isn't it just a shame that you cannot cum now, you poor thing?”. His ass rises and falls and he bucks his hips fruitlessly, his hard cock jabbing at empty air. He answers her in anguish, “Yes, Mistress; yes, oh god!”

     She releases his nipples and slithers beneath him, looking at his face as she caresses his ears, which calms him for a brief moment. She spreads her legs around his, her inner thighs warm with the heat from both of them. He looks down at her, his erect cock bobbing in frustration, not daring to break his position. “You're driving me wild, Mistress” ”Down, boy!” she says while guiding him with her hands, pulling him down on top of her, skin to skin, both of their pulses racing.

    Heat radiating from both of them, she wiggles teasingly below him, his cock pressed against her lower belly; they both feel her hard nipples digging into his skin. He groans, driven almost mad by denial, and he starts to writhe slowly on top of her. She squirms demurely upward and, grasping his face in her hands, demands a kiss. He presses his lips to hers -- passively, hungrily.  Mouths open. Tongues exploring once more despite their panting breaths. He curls his tongue around hers in a deep passionate kiss, sucks on her tongue as he starts to undulate on top of her.  As the length of his shaft slides back and forth along her cleft, he can feel her engorged clit along the fat vein beneath his penis.  His glans slides back and over the trimmed pubes on her smooth mons.

      She breaks the kiss to get some air, her head swimming; she reaches up to still his hips, looking into his eyes. He goes still, feeling her hands move over his welts. She inhales deeply, grinning sadistically while tracing the lines on his skin. She rakes her nails over the raised welts, leaving horizontal lines over the vertical lines.

      “You have been a very good boy, but no, you are not allowed to cum." She pushes him up just a bit, getting some room to maneuver. He rises to his hands and knees as she pulls herself through the pillars of his arms, her breasts in perfect alignment for pleasures to be had there.  Then she continues wiggling out from under him, bringing her altar just below his face, She grabs a handful of his hair and pulls his face down close to her core heat. He whimpers and compresses his lips, breathing raggedly as he catches her scent, his cock stiff and aching as his blood boils.

     “Lick me like the hungry boy you are!” she says and then she parts her thighs, providing an unobstructed view of her temple. He moans and lowers his head, brushing his lips lightly over her swollen labia. He places soft kisses along the crease of her thigh, back over her mons, and finally along her cleft. She thrusts her hips up against his face, eager, hungry, needing the service of his lips and tongue. His tongue extended, he keeps it still and drags it upward along her slit, then wiggles it to part her pink inner lips. He then curls his tongue, the tip just flicking under her clit.  
 
    She feels her nipples honed to diamond sharpness. She feels her skin tingling and breaking out in goose-bumps.  Her breath catches from the sweet sensations of his questing tongue. He rests his nose just above her cleft, his upper lip positioned just above her clit; finally, his tongue rises, circles around the base, and moves over the clit hood.

    She takes a deep sudden breath, her knees quivering as he presses his tongue flat against the engorged bud, and then, waving it, curls his tongue slowly. He starts to lick her reverently, his lips pursing, closing, as he tastes the sweetness of her temple. He moans as her walls flex and quiver.  His tongue, flicking now, laps eagerly as he kneels above her on his hands and knees.

    She breathes shallowly, her head falling back. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as he sends waves of pleasure throughout her body. He continues to lap hungrily, swallowing, licking, worshiping her, and aching deep down in his belly as he gives her pleasure. He rolls his tongue up and down, just enough, as he savors her.  He is aroused, obedient and grateful.

     She mutters “Ah, God!” as her body begins to tighten.  His lips press tight against her temple, his nose crinkling against her trimmed pubes; he begins to suck gently on her clit.  "Fuck!" she whispers; she inhales deeply as her toes curl. With his face buried between her thighs, he whispers that he is her dog, her slave, and that he worships her with his entire being.  His cheeks glisten with her juices. He flicks his tongue up and down, bending her engorged clit with the tip of his tongue.

    Her body stiffens, taut, as she braces herself for that explosive release she knows will come when she climaxes. He moans at her taste, bobbing his head up and down over her temple. She grabs his hair, yanking his face into her temple. “Eat it, God dammit!" she hisses and snaps between panting breaths.

    He nods and drags his tongue along her slit: down to dab at her perineum, and back up before eagerly sucking and lapping her clit. His lips and tongue trace every crease and fold, up and down, back and forth.

    Her mind lost, her walls flutter and clinch unto themselves, and her honey spills forth in waves. He flicks his tongue right beneath her anus and drags it over her gaping slit.  Then he sucks in her clitoris as she climaxes. He moans, opening his mouth as she gushes, and he swallows hungrily.

    She can barely breathe as she lets it all go, wallowing in sweet sensation.  He keeps his mouth glued to her temple and stays that way while her climax peaks. After her shuddering subsides, he then kisses her temple reverently.

     As she catches her breath he kisses spots along her inner thighs. She gathers her wits and commands him to clean her. He moans happily and drags his tongue along her thighs, along her temple, and along the crease of her ass.  He dutifully cleans her skin of her orgasmic fluids, and his tongue moves back over her mons, across the sticky spot of fluid left from his glans earlier.

    She lies there swimming, dizzy, ethereally spent as he continues with his tasks  He even licks a trace of fluids off of the floor. She lies there peacefully, her eyes closed, as he repositions himself between her thighs.  His forearms and hands are pressed flat on the floor, his thighs are open and his ass is raised high as he rests his forehead on the floor just in front of her temple.

    She slowly returns to the mundane world, shaking off her orgasmic fog. She then pulls him up, kisses him, absorbs her juices and slowly, passionately, sucks his tongue.  His mind reels.  He had ached to worship her in that way, to show his devotion, to serve her. She breaks off the kiss, looks him in the eye, and says nothing. She then rises and stands briefly before him before she silently but quickly walks away.  He bows his head and says “Yours, Mistress, I am yours.”

The End

Impromptu Confessions 4/10/14

If you could have fictional character or celebrity be your Domme or sub who would it be and why?  

Jessica Rabbit would be my Domme, cos she would be able to do ne of those power punches when angry and I would rocket to the moon. That would be cool.

Karl


Think how awesome it would be to owned bye Lara Croft (Tomb Raider) Mad whip skillz... rich,  adventurous,  not bad looking ...and i would get to fight and raid tombs as well  Win win


Captain America or Johnny Depp



I have a little crush on Sookie of Trueblood, I would love to be her Domme!


Captain Kathrine Janeway, cause shes hot, an she is like the only female captain ever in star trek no one screws with her ever!! she is bad ass, an well I like her cause I have an older woman fetish thing going on.  hahahahaha


I would have choosen Sean Connery as a submissive
He is a very sexy man, full of strength, smart, and a true man.
Who wouldnt want him to submit to your every whim?

the celebrity i would choose to be my Domme would be Uma Thurman in her role as Poison Ivy in the Batman movie. The reason is that her pheromonedust would make me do whatever she wanted and this would be just like it is now with my Mistress.

Billie Piper as Rose Tyler in Dr. Who.....  A sense of humor, willing to launch off on adventures, brave,  and fun.  Cute, too.  I think I'd be able to be totally open and honest -- and that she'd be ok with that.  Perhaps I'm influenced because I often feel like Dr. Who, visiting Earth, amazed at humans and how they think.   

for a dominant

two words

grace

jones

Confession by Rock

Just over 2 years ago, I disappeared from not only the Dominion, but also from the RL BDSM scene.  I had thought that I'd met my match, and I was ready to marry the Lady that I was with.  We met on SL and journeyed to the Dominion together, and for her I gave up everything, only to discover that her interests lay in online roleplay only.  When we met in real life, we found that she did not like being a dominant and we did not have as much in common as we had originally thought.  It destroyed a part of me when we separated after 3 years, and it has taken a long time for me to find my way back.

I was not expecting the surge of emotions that have flooded to the surface as I re-enter the fray. It has been wonderful to get back in touch with this side of myself. I find myself craving, deeply needing, to let my submission out again. I have missed the emotions that flood over me when I am on my knees at someone's feet, the feeling of "completeness" that I feel at that moment. I am missing the feeling of a collar buckled tightly around my neck, the cool metal of a leash dangling against my chest, the shiver that runs down my spine as I feel the gaze of a dominant upon my body. These feelings and emotions play at me.

I seem to be overly excited, overly mischievous, the hunger inside me seeking a way to be fulfilled. It is challenging to rein that in, to pull myself back. I fear that in the time I have been away, the training and self control that I used to pride myself in has slipped away somewhat. I need to work hard to get that self-discipline back, so that I may be an object of pride to the one I hope to serve. So much to think about, so much ground to make up...but I can do it.

Airport Tale by Doc

He’d sat in the airline terminal for two hours after the flight had arrived.  She wasn't on it.  He sat because he really had no other plans.  When it was obvious she had changed her mind, his mind was left quite empty.  No one looked at him strangely as they might have had he been in a park on a bench waiting.  In an airport they look for lonely and abandoned luggage.  Not for lonely and abandoned men.  Passing cops only look for lonely and abandoned men in downtown parks.  Vagrants.  No one here would say, “Move along, pal.  Do you have a place to stay, or do I need to take you in?

He actually hadn’'t expected her to get off the plane – deep down inside.  It had been something in her voice that had made him waver and lose faith.   Actually he hadn't lost faith; he had come to the airport, right?  No, what he’d lost was hope.

Finally it was time to go.  Some clock ticked inside him.  It kept saying, “Don’t look back.  Don’t look back.”  He didn't.  It was time to look forward.

The next morning was bleak.  It was raining.  He decided not to make any coffee at first – but he changed his mind.  Staring blankly at the wall he decided to make a phone call.

“Joan?  Is that you, Joan?”  It was.  Joan was not the woman he’d been waiting for at the airport.  Joan was simply the friend that told him that he really needed to be at the airport for United Flight 666.

“Yes, so how is she?”

“Uh, she wasn't on the plane.”  Silence.

“You mean she missed her flight?”  They both knew that wasn't the reason.

“Nope.  It’s like Marjorie.”  That was code.  They both knew the story of Marjorie.  She’d been gorgeous when she arrived – early – on her wedding day at the church.  Two hours later she had been whisked away.  Crying.  The groom had changed his mind.  He never showed.
“Have you phoned her?”

“Nope.”

Joan asked, “Are you alone?  Are you just sitting there alone?”  He nodded before realizing she could not see him over the phone.  “Yep.”

An hour later Joan was at his home.  Two hours later they were making love.  Three hours later she was frying eggs and he was dicing vegetables.  Four hours later he was washing dishes as she sat silently watching him.  Five hours later they were again making love.

It was a week later when she moved in.   She never told him she’d made sure no one would ever get on the plane to meet him.  She never told him she had contacted her competition to tell her he was already taken and wouldn't be at the airport to meet her.  She lied.  She was playing for keeps.

And a year later she dumped him.  It never occurred to him to phone his former love.  That was history.  Everything was history.

The morning after Joan moved out he decided not to make any coffee at first – but he changed his mind.  Staring blankly at the wall he decided to make a phone call.

“Phyllis? Is that you, Phyllis?  It was.  Phyllis was a friend.

She spoke quickly, firmly and clearly. “I told you the airport thing was fucking nuts.  I warned you about Joan.  You never listen!”  He nodded before realizing she could not see him over the phone.  “Yep,” he finally said.

She then said, “From now on, I make the decisions.  You have fucking miserable judgment.  I’m much better at running your life than you are!  Don’t you agree.”

What could he say?  He simply said, “Yes.”

“I’m coming over there!  Meet me at the door.  And have two drinks waiting!  You know what I like!”  With that she hung up.
An hour later Phyllis was at his home.  Two hours later they were making love.  Three hours later she was frying eggs and he was dicing vegetables.  Four hours later he was washing dishes as she sat silently watching him.  Five hours later they were again making love.

Six hours later he was kneeling beside the bed.  He had made love to her, but she’d made it clear that his job was to make her cum – and to not cum himself.  “I’m in charge now”, she’d said.  “You suck at running your life, and I’m taking over.”  He’d nodded.  She was playing for keeps.

This all happened over nine years ago.

Phyllis is still quite happy at how things have turned out.  For that matter so is he.  He doesn't quite understand why. People frequently comment on the couple.  One of the most absurd things they say is “They were destined to be together.”  Destiny had nothing to do with it.

Bad judgment, stupid choices, and sheer blind luck brought them together.   There are no guarantees they may not tear them apart.  Life is like that.

Anonymous Confession

I hear her scream and my heart drops.  I hear the yelling! my god!

i love her now as much as yesterday but why does it seem more?

you are my thoughts and dreams and love you Miss.  Don't leave like that, don't be scared and in pain.

I need to protect her and she wants to protect me...I am the fodder and she is the general.

Dont be scared, I will be what you need at the times i need to be it.

Be careful My Mistress be careful

A Day With Mistress Part 2

                                     A Day With Mistress - Part 2
                                                           
          She positions the whips for the first strike, then snaps them simultaneously in the air, they make one loud synchronized "CRACK!" , the sound amplified, intensified by their dual flinging.    She pulls them back and starts to work them as though playing double-dutch, the first stokes landing softly upon his plump luscious ass cheeks. He bucks and yelps; abashed, he stammers "th...thank you Mistress!" as twin lines of fire shock and arouse him while equally relieved that she didn’t land them with as hard as the sound alone was..

      She begins the whipping, leaving pink streaks in her wake, but no welting, yet, as the fun has just begun.   He moans in reaction, raising his ass higher, each kiss of the whips arousing him even more. He cries out softly “Oh, Mistress!” as she walks the whips up from his ass covering the span of his entire back and down again towards his ass, the strokes landing in quick, light succession streaking outward from his spine..

      He bends and arches his back with each blow, he can feel the petite sudden and multiple pains along where the lashes strike.  The pain is like a drug to him, the stinging marks blending together, stirring up hormones, endorphins, taking him deeper, and he cries out “Oh, god, my Mistress!”, his cry turning to whimpers, even as he struggles to keep his ass raised high, his entire body quivering.

      She lingers over his shoulder blades a moment, never missing a stroke as she straddles his back, her warm wet pussy planted firmly on his bare, sweaty, whip marked skin. He lowers his head, his skin hot and marked as he bears her weight.  He arching his back, he feels the dampness of her temple, the twin cheeks of her glorious buttocks, as she takes her seat, using his lower back as her throne.

      She slows the frequency with which she whips him, even as she increases the strength of their impact.  She starts to writhe on him, her hips moving back and forth, her flowing temple smearing her joyous cream on his back, stimulating her engorged clitoris.

He feels the change, from burning sting to aching thud, and keeps braced, sore, throbbing and aching, and wanting more. He can feel her engorged clitoris rubbing on his back, and it makes him shake, makes his palms sweaty. His eyes tear up and he is filled with consuming emotion, on fire with submissive passion.

      She breaks her rhythm, flings the whips over her shoulders, and snaps them harshly on both cheeks behind her, leaving vertical streaks over top of the horizontal streaks on his ass. He yelps, and bucks forward, gasping as twin lines of fire burn his buttocks. He takes a deep breath and whimpers "thank you, my Mistress!" as he takes in the pain and his body heaves under her.

      She feels the sudden bucking beneath her and pulls her whips in, makes some adjustments and starts with a new rhythm and new targets.  She says “I know you can take this for me; yet you need only say one three letter word for it to cease.” He sobs and whimpers, dizzy as he tries to think of the word, in vain.  She begins using short wrap-around strokes striking his pectorals; one lands directly on his pierced nipple, and he sinks even deeper as the lashes fall; the pain is pleasure, even as he struggles to find the word. He stammers, saying he can’t think of the word and she replies in a soft voice, even as she continues to swing the twin signal whips, “Red, the word is red.” He feels dull and stupid, it should have been so obvious, but that feeling subsides in the wake of other feelings of lust, pain, desire, submission.

     She grinds her hips, rocking back and forth on his back, her breathe quickening. His balls draw up, his penis stiffens and throbs as he grovels on hands and knees, moaning as she rides his back, undulating in rhythm with her rocking.

    She stops whipping him, clutches them in one hand and wraps the twin lashes around his neck. She loops them, pulls them taut enough to have a bite in them, now making a leash of both. He pants and writhes, his back curling, ass rising and falling, his skin marked and hot from the whipping.

She holds him steady with the whip leash and reaches behind her, to tease and play with his balls. He whispers huskily "oh, Mistress!", inhaling sharply as her fingers curl around the heavy sac. She says “Shhh!” in a soft soothing tone, as she plays with his balls, gathering and releasing them several times.  Rolling and massaging the left then the right, left, then right again. He pants but remains silent, shivering beneath her. He can feel her thighs clamped tightly around him, her temple, her ass resting on his back.

      She pulls his balls back and upward toward his anus, and he breathes raggedly, feeling the harsh tug, his back bent into a bow, head yanked back, pulled into a painful and unnatural position. She digs her fingernails into his balls presses them in rapidly, randomly, causing pin prick sensations in different locations along his stretched balls. He whimpers softly, raggedly, his ass jerking and bunching until she lets them go, relying on gravity to make them bounce quickly back into place, causing him additional discomfort, followed by immediate relief.

       
To Be Continued....

BDSM by Samina

BDSM

Please excuse me if i bleed on you,
It's just something i do,
and i do it well.

Please excuse me if the pleasure
becomes too much to bare.
I will shake and moan like your slut,
Prostrated on the floor.

Please excuse me if i present myself,
naked and vulnerable,
bent upon your raised knee,
and beg for a red tinted spanking.
Please take out your frustrations on me.

Please excuse me if i honour you with my scars,
My Mistress's badge,
on a notepad of skin.
Proud. Dark. Bound. Yours.

Please excuse me if i appear normal
to the naked eye,
While i dream of my submission to you,
Perfect and complete.

I have fought you, my love, for far too long.

I no longer dwell inside this conformity,
You may consider it an abnormality.
So i throw away my dignity,
and i relish in my truth.