Your Pleasure

Your Pleasure

Not a day goes by,

that i dont burn for you,

yearn for you,

Since the first day I layed eyes on you,

you kindled a fire deep inside of me,

reaching the darkest depths of my soul,

giving life to so many a need and desire,

your love, your touch, your pleasure,

is all that i shall ever require.

To serve and please as you see fit,

not one task you give shall i ever quit,

For your dissapointment would devistate me,

leaving me in ruins.

Your dissappoint to me is as

time to stonehenge,

cruel and unyielding,

degrading me and breaking me down,

leaving only the need to correct my

failings.

But that shall never happen,

that case shall never be,

I cannot allow such things

to make it in our history.

I Love and Adore you way to much,

to let pain and dissapointment slip

onto that beautiful face.

And so i shall do my best,

to keep you happy, and let you see

only the best sides of me.

Dedicated to the beautiful Lady Orchid

~ Zylis Haalan

Confession By Wheels

I'm happy to say Mistress gave me her pussy the other day and of couse i was a bit shocked but more than happy to recieve it. i gently ran my fingers along it, played with it and made sure it was well taken care of, thoughly enjoying every second. But sadly it was short lived. I had to put it back in my inventory and rez it on the ground. Making sure it was eating etc. Yes another breedable Ladies and subs but i won't forget when Mistress gave me her pussy..... cat named Tehgan.

Transformer

Brad smiled to himself.

Walking down the street, arm in arm with Corine, a rare beauty that did not know she was beautiful, a rare woman that did not know her power. Instead, Corine was circling in his orb. This shy, R&D developer, with the incredible IQ, couldn't see her own power.

Three weeks now. He had played her. Dinners, dancing, gifts. He could smell the desire from her. She had given him gifts. The beaten gold bracelet, the diamond studs, the dainty filigreed cross around his neck. She obviously had money, and she didn't mind lavishing him with what she could buy with it. She was still as beautiful to him as when, on the balcony, she had appeared out of the fog, a gossamer ghost in shimmering gold.

This would be easy.

Tonight he decided.

"Shyly" she had agreed. But he saw the desire in her eyes. He wanted HIS place. She demurely suggested hers, though, she said, it was quite out of the way. That was an understatement. Leaning back in the plush leather seat of her Mercedes, he allowed himself to be driven, god only knows where. For some strange reason, unlike him, he dozed while she drove.

It was dark. She pulled up to circular driveway. Ivy climbed the columns of the old money mansion, secluded as only the rich could afford, exuding class as only old money knew it.

He had struck the jackpot.

Up the winding staircase, a masterpiece walking in front of him, masterpieces lining the walls.

She was ready. There were to be no preliminaries, no fine wine, no old cheeses, just straight into this little girl's bedroom, four posted bed, frilly curtains, plush toys, very pink, young, fresh, virginal.

"There's a bathroom to the side there," she said tentatively. "Go freshen up if you'd like."

He knew what that meant. Go brush your teeth. (He knew there'd be an unopened tooth brush.) Go make sure you're clean. Make sure no other needs will interrupt us.

There was one other thing he needed to do, he decided. He wanted her to remember this, and he hadn't had sex with any of his other toys in a couple of days. He didn't want to cum too fast. He surely hoped she'd appreciate this. He removed his pants, and started to play. Gently rolled his balls, pinched his nipples, lightly stroked his glans and teased the rapidly swelling tip of his cock. It took only a few minutes. He didn't get semen in his hair. He cleaned himself with a hot facecloth, took another and quickly wiped his arms, and his chest. He DID brush his teeth. He was right about the toothbrush.

Should he walk into the room naked? Or should he tease a little. The latter might work well, so he decided on just his black jockeys. She'd appreciate the bulge and her imagination would run wild.

He expected her to have changed into something "comfortable" when he walked into the room. She hadn't. Still in the little gold dress, so light it floated, matching the gold in her hair, the gold flecks in her eyes.

She smiled at him, and he saw the golden flecks sparkle.

"Would you mind sitting?" she asked. Give me a few minutes to freshen up myself. "This is lovely leather in this chair. It will feel nice against your beautiful skin." He smiled. She had noticed.

He sat. It did feel nice. The room was warm and dry. He could live here. He smiled again. Better and better.

He heard the door open smoothly behind him. He turned slightly.

His jaw dropped.

The black was the first thing that caught his eye. The open crotch leather. The garters. The long boots. The black leather bra. The cane in her hand. After the first impression, he examined her more closely, becoming aroused at the new possibilities. He smiled. She thought she could play this game. He almost laughed aloud. Arms resting comfortably on the arm of the chair, he saw the look in her eyes. The gold flecks were deeper now, the eyes fiercer, the smile on her pleasant face had an ironic twist. He felt just a little uncertain for a second, but it passed quickly. He wondered what the Dick Tracey device on her wrist was.

She caught his glance. "You're wondering about this? Let me show you."

She held it close to his face. He saw the numerous buttons, all with little icons like something out of a sci-fi movie.

She pressed the first one.

The clamps snapped out of the chair. Snap, Snap, Snap, Snap Snap. Wrists, ankles, neck. He was immobile.

"I watched you mastrubate," she said. "You did that for me. How sweet. You may wish you hadn't though. But I appreciate the thought."

The eyes turned another shade. He thought he saw red this time. He was just a little nervous.

She took out a razor blade.

"Pity you left those jockeys on."

Deftly, with the skill of a surgeon, she cut them away. He breathed a sigh of relief. Too fast. With just a quick little very precise flick, she nicked his foreskin. He saw the drop of blood and let involuntarily let out a quick yelp.

"Lovely," she said. "This is going to be very entertaining."

She leaned close to him. Her breasts were soft. Her legs smooth, lean, well toned inside the black boots. The open crotch was the crowning glory. The golden fleece surrounding the pink lips of the moist introitus. Introduction indeed.

"Do you want me boy?" She still held the razor blade.

"Be VERY still. You wouldn't want me to be careless with this."

Very quickly she drew just a touch of blood from each nipple. Then she bent over and sucked.

She moaned softly. "Man milk. It feeds the soul."

"Now," she said. "How quickly can you cum for me? When YOU release, I'll release."

Despite the pain from his cock, from his nipples, he felt an arousal building deeply inside his balls. He may, in fact, be able to accommodate her faster than she thought.

She touched another button. He felt a tingling in his ears. Then another. The tingling turned unpleasant, like the beginning of an ear ache. Then a third button.

He screamed. A jolt of electricity ran from one stud to the other, and every nerve ending in his body tore at him.

She laughed. "BEAUTIFUL voice. This is THRILLING. I had no idea you'd be this entertaining."

The sweat poured; his teeth on edge; a slight taste of blood in his mouth where he had bitten his tongue.

"Did you like that bracelet? It's not really meant for your arm you know. Here. Let me show you."

She slipped if off his wrist. He tried to grab her, but his arms were held firmly by the clamps.

Slowly, very slowly, she slipped it over his cock, then around his balls. He felt the cool of the metal, strangely erotic.

She went back to her wrist. Pressed softly.

He actually heard it first. Then felt it. The "bracelet" contracting. He squirmed, as much as that was possible. She stopped.

"You'd be amazed at how tiny that can get."

"Lie down you arrogant little prick." Another button. The chair reclined, then flattened, and then another clamp sprung out, snapped around his stomach and then drew him tight.

"You stupid, ignorant, male fucker. Thought you'd hit the jackpot. Fuck the ass of a poor little rich girl and live off her for the rest of your life." Her laughter bounced off the walls.

"Remember what I said though. When you release, I'll release you. Promise."

She bent over him. Took his cock in her mouth. Slowly, skillfully, she teased it. Took it deep. Fondled his balls with the leather of her gloved right hand, pinched his nipple with her left, all the time sucking, flicking the head, then sucking again. He felt the juices building in his prostate. Rising to the base of his penis. She felt it too. Felt the expansion the was the prelude to his orgasm.

She touched the button. The pain tore through his temples. His body spasmed, but not his cock. He screamed. Even louder than before. She stopped. He wimpered. His body a mass of quivering pain.

"Corine," he pleaded.

"CORINE! CORINE! Don't call me Corine you useless piece of male shit. You thought I was a little princess? Call me Princess. Say it. Say it now."

"Princess," came weakly from his lips.

"No no. That's not good enough. Plead with your princess for mercy."

He did. Pleading. Sobbing. "Princess, please Princess. Please have mercy Princess."

She mounted him. She rode him gently at first. Smoothly. Taking him deep, then quickly and lightly just the first inch or two, playing him on her clit. Then deep. Then wild. She, cuming several times, but never giving him the satisfaction of hearing her pleasure. But he felt it. He felt the ripples, the hip thrusts of her orgasms. He felt his own juices rising again. She did also. Again the button.

Then the bracelet. Tighter.

"I could cut it all off with this you know, if I just press too hard or too long. I could castrate you right here, right now. One castrated prick of an arrogant prick."

He knew she could.

On and on it went. Sucking. Riding. Pain. Tender kisses. Vicious pinches.

To the edge. Then the pain.

She sat in front of him. Playing with her buttons. Looking deep into his eyes.

"Do you wonder what might have happened had you not sat in that chair?" Another button. Ropes snaked over the bed and the bed flipped upright. Another button. A wall rotated and chains hung from the hooks. Another button. The dresser morphed into a cross. More and more buttons. Clamps sprung on stools; blunt pointy objects protruded, worked in and out; metal masks dropped from the ceiling. The buttons and their possibilities seemed endless.

"My toys are my recreation. But one only man at a time, only one toy at a time."

"I tire of you."

He had no control of anything. His body wasn't his; his mind wasn't his; and his genitals certainly weren't his.

"Please Princess. Release me. Please." He pleaded.

He saw her eyes soften slightly.

She pressed the final button.

Again, he felt heard it first. Then he felt it. His ass. Something was rising beneath him. Slowly. Penetrating and vibrating. Slowly it worked its way. Warm. Something slippery running into his anus. The vibration directly on his prostate. The tip of the probe expanded. The warmth grew. His cock grew hard. Hard to bursting. The semen built at the base of his penis. The head of his cock swelled to enormous purple proportions. It swelled to pain. And he exploded. The semen fell back on him, burying him in a cocoon of lava that he could imagine them breaking him out of centuries later. Everything fell back into himself. He thought he was incapable of any feeling whatsoever.

She smiled. "I'll leave with one gentle reminder," she purred.

Reaching to his chest, she pressed the filigreed cross.

It grew warm. It grew hot. He smelled burning flesh. It took moments for him to realize it was his flesh burning. He screamed an endless scream. Then he melted into blissful black.

He awoke in the fog. On a bench. He faintly remembered a gossamer vision floating away from him. Possibly it was all a dream.The studs were gone. The bracelet was gone. The cross was gone. Except for the brand. On his chest. A beautifully ornate scar, in the shape of a cross, still swelling, still burning. Her mark.

The note he found in his pocket read: I had fun. Did you? My name is not Corine. Attempts to find me will be futile.

He knew he would spend a lifetime searching.

Tales of Dominion Episode 1

Disco Man and Panzer Boy Adventures

Tales of Dominion Episode 1

“Foundation” By:Eroyan Barmy

The winter cold bit at her through what remained of her clothing. She wrapped the rags of her dress as tight as she could about her body but still shivered as the wing whipped around her. Her feet were almost frozen as long ago her shoes had been soaked through as she had to fight her way through snow drifts.

They had cast her out of her home and the small colony for her beliefs. Cast her out into the winter and snow for her thoughts and wiliness to voice them. She didn’t think that women had to live beneath anyone. That they couldn’t make their own choices or even choose for others, she had stood up and spoke against the leadership for their rules to hold women down. She was exiled for it.

The fear they held on the other women left her alone, there was pity in many of the men she had known in the colony but they were too weak to stand with her or to afraid as well. She had been stripped of property, wealth, and title. But she held her head high as she walked away from them. She would never return would not come back begging to be taken back and begging that she would behave as they wanted her to. She would walk away till she died first before she gave them the satisfaction.

She had walked till she could not feel anymore then continued on. She felt each scratch and scrap of the wild on her flesh. She gasped at each chilled breath she had to take. Her body would not stop shivering and the winter cold was a merciless Mistress. Soon she thought I will lie down and die let it take me. The night was coming it would be the end of her.

Miles from where she started she came to the great river and turned toward the line of low hills nearby. She remembered in the spring how they are covered with wild flowers, how she had come here and met some of her secret boys now and then. To play and enjoy each other, it was here she thought that her bones should lie. At least this place never failed her even if the weakness of her boys at the colony did.

Stumbling over the hill top the day had finally released its hold and gave way to night when she reached the hills. She could barely walk for the shivering of her body and in a small dip in the hills she collapsed in a place where the wind couldn’t reach here. But it howled just over her head in fury at not being able to continue its torture upon her. She struggled to rise but the snow was so warm so inviting. Sleep it whispered to her and she knew it was death that spoke. Sleep it said and she knew she shouldn’t but maybe a moment just for a while. Sleep it purred and her eyes closed.

She awoke….was she dead? Her eyes focused on a log roof. Looking around slowly she could hear the howl of the winter wind muffled by strong walls of a wildness cabin. A fire burned bright and warm near her and she was in a sturdy bed covered in blankets and furs. Her dress hung from a peg near the fire long dried out. She tried to move but only groaned as her body told her its weakness. Her hands and feet were wrapped in cloth but someone had dressed all her wounds tenderly.

She heard the crunch of snow and not knowing what to do, one of those rare times she didn’t she closed her eyes and waited. The door banged open and there was a muffled curse that came from the creature that entered. It appeared to be a person wrapped head to toe in fur clothing and a huge armful of wood in its arms. As quickly as it could it hurried in and dropped the wood and shut the door to keep out the winter howling in.

She kept her breathing steady and did her best to just watch as this person put a few more logs on the fire and then slowly unwrapped itself. It was a man, a wild man. His hair was long and un-kept. Beard was full and there were twigs in it as well as leaves. She could tell under the leather clothing that he was broad and large; the hard living of the wildness had hardened his body.

She watched him go about making a broth of some sort and putting some in a bowl he finally turned toward her. Strangely he bowed to the bed and then came closer. Settling in a chair by her bed he had begun to speak to her as if she was awake. Just talking about how cold the winter was and the rabbit that had scared him to death as he was gathering firewood. He was blowing across the hot broth and she could smell how good it was and did her best to fight her stomachs desire to growl loudly. His laughter was a booming heart filled laugh at himself over the rabbit as he cooled the broth a bit. He continued to speak of everyday things till finally he took a spoon full and carefully ever so carefully brought it to her lips.

He spoke softly and hopefully that she must eat. She couldn’t tell because her eyes were still mostly closed but in his voice she could hear the hint of desperation the hint that he had sat here before doing this hoping she would wake and eat. How long had she been asleep she wondered now. His voice urged her to eat almost begging that she must eat it had been to long already she had not had anything.

She waited and waited not sure what to do. He sat there urging and praying that she would eat. It had to have been several minutes he held that spoon just waiting. She was just about to eat when he put the spoon back in the broth and she thought that’s it he has given up. But no he simply got another spoon full of warm broth this time and held it again to her lips and continued trying to get her to eat. She opened her eye slowly and looked at him fully. He hadn’t noticed he was weeping and speaking of thing he should have done. Got to her sooner should have told her he loved her from the first moment she saw her. That he had been afraid she would not care for a wild man especially with her grace and stature.

Slowly she took the broth into her mouth as she watched him and drank it down. It was wonderful not just the fact she was hungry but the taste was heavenly. She licked her lips gently and looked at him. He had finally noticed. His eye lit up like stars and he laughed again that wonderful booming laugh again as tears flowed freely down his cheeks in joy.

She couldn’t help but smile and thou she had not found her voice yet she nodded when he asked if she wanted more. He fed her till she could not eat anymore and told her how he found her and brought her to his cabin two days ago. How she needed to keep her hands and feet wrapped in the cloth till they were healed from the kiss of winter.

She listened to all this and nodded and did her best to speak back to him but her voice was just not there. She still had to heal but she knew she was safe. He spoke of hunting tomorrow to get a few skins to make her winter garb for her dress was defiantly not something to wear outside around here. Listened as he said she should get some rest and he would be here if she needed anything.

She watched as he cleaned up and then carefully as if a Goddess was in his cabin he tiptoed and lay down on the floor. It was then she realized that this man had given her his own bed made sacrifices that no boy or man she had known in the colony would make for her, even if she had not been exiled. She watched him for a long moment till his breathing became even. Felt her own eyes grow heavy at the warmth of the bed and the fullness of having eaten.

Before she let safe and comfortable sleep envelope her she smiled at the wild man her rescuer and though there is a man of worth. Perhaps here is a good foundation to live again. She drifted to sleep soon after hoping her body would catch up with her mind to live again. She wanted to tell this man her name and learn his. She thought about the colony for only a moment. They may have cast out Lady Dominion from her home and thought they had taken all from her. How wrong they were.

Separate Selves

First, I’d like to thank the Ladies of the Dominion for providing this forum to write a confession in regard to balancing my vanilla and submissive lives. But before doing that, let me first confess to feeling intimidated by the well-written past ones of other Dominion members I was fortunate enough to read. While I enjoy writing – particularly in a Femdom context - feelings of trying to ‘measure up’ with my word-smithing and conveying heartfelt emotion continually creep into my head as I type. These feelings are actually a manifestation of an aspect of my submissiveness – desiring to prove my worthiness to the women to whom I submit, hoping for their praise. Probably a vanity I need to work on, but I’ll save that for another confession.

While in relationships, I’ve had difficulty expressing my submissive needs to the person I’ve been with. Fear of rejection, or their being met with severe disapproval, or an irrevocable shift in the relationship I would be unable to handle past short-term pleasures, all have conspired to largely keep my thoughts to myself. In hindsight, a few of the women I’ve been with probably sensed my submissiveness, but I was too burdened by my own fears to take notice. As a result, I’ve secretively sought out alternatives outlets to express my submissive side. My desire to serve, my need to act and be treated as an obedient slave in a strong woman’s presence, my craving for her punishments, and my passion to adulate and worship – all found their refuge in others. I have allowed women, who at times I have barely known, to touch, prod, poke, electrify, tie-up, slap, spank, and clamp various parts of my body– including my most intimate ones – in the name of experiencing the sweet gratification of submission. And often ‘allowing’ them to do so has in reality meant pleading for the punishments I craved for them to impart. I can only imagine the shock and embarrassment a vanilla partner would have felt were she to see me crawling on my belly toward a woman I referred to as my ‘Mistress’ just so that I may beg for her next punishment, or the right to brighten the shine of her leather boots with my tongue, or most embarrassingly, to pleasure myself under her watchful eye.

These are the images I carry with me – sometimes pleasure, sometimes burden. Like the man who dreams he’s a butterfly and wakes up one day pondering whether he or the butterfly is the actual dream, it is difficult to say where my reality lies. Am I the conventional man with submissive fantasies or a natural submissive masquerading in a suit? I don’t pretend to know the answer to that question at this time, but asking it aloud and publicly in the Dominion at least places the question in naked sunlight for observation by myself, my brothers and sisters here, and the benevolent Ladies who rule. It would be a comfort to dream and live as one, so I don’t find myself needing to hide my keystrokes or the marks of my correction.

I hope to do a better job of balancing these alternative senses of self I carry with me every day going forward. Certainly, the Dominion provides a supportive community for sharing and exploring the feelings I have largely kept under wraps from others, and in so doing, I suspect will help me be less guarded with them. For that opportunity, I’d like to once again thank the Ladies, and fellow subs/slaves, of the Dominion. I confess (that word, again), when I first heard of the Confessions Event from Miss Zarita, I was reminded of the forced ‘confessions’ political prisoners are often persuaded to give for wrong-doings they never committed. While that may make for a fun role-play in itself sometime, I realize in writing mine that that isn’t the case at all here. It is a very unforced (maybe prodded a bit) way to share intimate thoughts and feelings with a caring community of like-minded individuals.

The Price Of Pain Ease

(With apologies to Fritz Leiber)

times it is bad, most of the times it is worst than that.

I have always had it, even as a kid it would roll over me like a black and smothering tide. How it is tied in ( no pun intended) to my submission, I do not know, just that it is.

I take upon myself, that is to say it is probably unwarranted, huge amounts of guilt and responsibility.Well, that likely is a part of my subby side. Of late

it has been worst. Some days I want to creep into the Dominion and asked to be put into a cage, bondage at least on a leash. I have a lot of Lady friends Who are Dominate in nature and practice and prolly would oblige

me out of friendship and inclination but I would never impose on a friendship in that way.

I feel the need to expiate or at least outlast my pain, by the deliberate infliction of pain....

oh wait.. this is waaaay too grim.. and i can do better than this...

Armadillo or Arm a Dildo, Endanged Species or Comic relief ?

Ok.. so i am like Majority depressed and rather than be a bother to All and all.. i decided to put my self up for Trials. i figure that i'd prolly get a good spanking at the very least out of that..

Well the best laid plans of mice and Avatars aft gang a galy..as well as get totally screwed up. Somehow the Court ended up with a Texas theme and i was first on the chopping block.. er. docket...and it was decided that

because i am such a big attention whore.. yes the truth is OUT !.. that i should wear a tiny avatar of an armadillo for a week. That of course would attract absolutely and utterly no attention to me. !

Well it was not the punishment i craved, pain to wash away the guilt.. but i REALLY liked how amused the Ladies were at the sight of this ... and i found myself liking it as well.. and the advantages that it brought me.. i can now use the cat door to get in and out of the house !

i like this look and relish the laughter and the pleasures that it brings to the Ladies.. and make utterly horrible and sham less jokes and puns on myself... it took me out of my depression and lifted me high.

After a week i will prolly go back to my normal look.. but with a slight change.. now i have found another, heather way to deal with things... the Armadillo may ride again... or be ridden.

peace

Reward

I was not long in the world of D/s when my Miss decided I needed to have my horizons... broadened. In the giddy time we'd been together I'd seen many things and experienced things which I thought fictitious or simply hyperbole. She had dug deep into my secret needs, listened intently to my every shameful desire... And from them selected for me a reward I thought I'd never experience.

We were at the club that weekend. A well-appointed private home with an amiable host. And I was a bundle of jangling nerves as I waited for the surprise I'd been promised. I had been good. Ever so good. Done every little thing my Miss asked and more. I had abandoned my self, my sense and my reason to her. I was her creature. And her creature, she said, was to have a treat.

After what felt like eons of the usual social fencing, I was shown into a room by my Miss. In it was one of her dear friends, and her two boys. It was a beautiful room with hardood floors, and light airy decorations and a hint of vanilla in the air, mixing with my Miss' perfume.

I was stripped bare, my heart pounding, not knowing why there were others present for this. Was I to be humilated, to confess my bases kinks? I felt my knees shake, as my Miss hovered at my ear.

"This is for you, my silly cow" she said...her breath warming my ear and causing my every hair to rise. And she led me to the boys, and they took me between them. Their hard bodies pressing me close, flattening my breasts and ass as their erections dented my belly and pressed between my cheeks.

My heart pounded. I'd only told her once. And I knew them, but did not KNOW them. I knew their Miss but did not trust her. But... I trusted mine. And as fear and arousal fought within me she whispered again. "Your little fantasy has become mine... I want to see how you cope".

And thier hands took my shoulders and thier lips pressed against my skin and, perhaps at the behest of thier Miss, their hips began to grind into me, making my heart leap and race, as my hands sought distractedly and confusedly for the right thing to do. The right touch, the right action. But I couldn't think. Thier breath on my skin, and thier erections, thier fingers on my breasts... I had to surrender. To the sensations, to their hands, to my own hunger, and to the deep tingle that was making thier every move a spreading shiver through my body.

Before long the awkward press of bodies resolved itself. My miss guided me to straddle one and... he slipped so easily into me. So smoothly. The cry from my lips was unavoidable as I felt my pussy fill. She remarked at how much I must want this, how wet I must be, what a fucking whore I clearly am... And It washed into me. Inflaming me until I couldn't bear to open my eyes. There was too too much to feel, to hear, to smell. My Miss was always right.

And then the second boy came... Heralded by my Miss' fingers smearing my rosebud with lube as she had so many times before. He was not gentle, and I stiffened and spasmed several times as he shoved his cock into my ass, the sting of it making my eyes water... and then ... I was there.

I remember the moment It crystalized for me. Perhaps it was only a second. The moment when I knew I was stuffed full, two cocks lying along each other deep within me... throbbing, thier owner's bodies pulsing and heaving with breath... Oh it hurt. Oh it was wonderful. Oh my god what was I doing? Oh what a fucking whore I was. A whore beneath her eyes. Beneath her friend's eyes. My Miss was so right... always right. I was a fucking slut. And here I was, suspended in elysium made of cock...

And then, the moment broke. They began to move... And I lose track of my story.