The Encounter by Axelle

The Encounter by Axelle Paramour

My adolescents was filled with her face, she was the woman I wanted to be and the one I wanted to be with. Teenage crushes can be consuming. I had moved to the city from my small town because she had in my favorite movie, if she could do something, so could I. When I heard she would be in town, I couldn't help but let me mind wander to the possibilities. It was so unlike me to pursue, but i felt like if maybe I could see her in the flesh and not just on a screen, it would be enough.

I scoured the internet for news, what she was in town for, who she was to meet, where she would stay. I confirmed it as much as I could and when the day came, I worked myself up and sought her out.

Upon arriving, I was slapped with the reality that I wasn't alone in my pinning. Other admires lined the front entrance of the hotel where she would be staying, we all waited on edge, trying to crane our necks to see the tell tale limousine emerge from the distance. When the sleek blackness appeared we all rushed forward trying to catch a glimpse, but the chariot turned the corner onto a side street. Through the commotion, I lost sight of the car and missed her slipping in the private entrance. Missed moments were nothing new to me, I let out a sigh and wondered at what to do now that the opportunity had slipped through my fingers.

It was early afternoon and since I missed breakfast I figured grabbing a bite would soothe my wounded heart. I head across the street to the less opulent hotel's tea room. Walking in I was hit with the silence, so very different from the chaos across the street. The tea room was a cozy place, elegant without being stuffy. I grabbed a table near the back, took my seat, and begin with my newspaper.

She sat a few tables away and immediately I'm overcome with how beautiful she looks in person. I peer at her over my newspaper, hoping our eyes might meet. Then suddenly they do, I'm struck with the pools of blue eyes, momentarily I'm a bit dazed. The corners of her mouth lift slightly and from a place I didn't think I had in me, I'm up. I cross the length towards her and I don't even ask if I may sit down, I just do. I see the pot of tea on the table, I eye it, then her. Her smile widens and she nods slightly. I pick up the tea and pour more into her cup.

She turns the pages over and I can tell her reading is coming to an end. The last refill I offered was silently declined and I fear that she may decline anything else I may offer her too. My mind races, how can I keep her close? Just what else can I do for her? My eyes flicker over the crumbs on the table cloth, that's just it. My devilish little mind fills with a bit of glee and I move to brush them off, accidentally-on-purpose knocking over the cold tea cup as well. She's shocked and a bit taken aback by my clumsiness. I apologize profusely and try to dab at her with a napkin. I look up at her with all the innocence I can muster and suggest that a hot bath may warm her up and clean the tea from her damp skin. She considers and I hold my breath till her decision is made. She utters one word, "Come", and she rises and turns toward the stairs. I allow the smile to cross my face as I follow her up, to her awaiting hotel suite.

She lets us in and heads to the bathroom. I follow, trying to keep my nervousness in check. She looks to the tub, then me, before taking a seat on the bench in front of the vanity. I push back my sleeves and move to draw the bath, checking the water with my wrist and adding some of the bottled offerings on the ledge. i let the water run and go to her, picking up the hairbrush on the counter, I move to comb her hair. She doesn't say anything but let's out a soft hum as she smiles serenely. When she's had enough she heads to the tub, removes her clothes and climbs in. I turn the water off and take a seat on my knees as she begins to wash.

When she comes close to finishing, she looks to me and hands me the sudsy puff, I take it from her and trace my hand over all the places she's already covered, paying close attention to the swells of her breast before moving between her thighs. She parts the and let's out a small pleased sound, I drop the sponge and slip my fingers in there. Slowly I traces her lips, feeling them smooth and soft between my fingers. She reaches out and places her hand on the back of my neck as I continue to tease her, letting them work their way inside.

I can hear her breathing becoming more labored, her other hand is gripping tighter on the edge of the tub. The sight of her breasts rising and falling with the effort has my own sweet spot aching. I curl my fingers a little north inside of her, applying just that bit of extra pressure as the pad of my thumb teases her clit. I lean forward and bring my mouth to her neck, my lips are tracing the outlines of her collarbone. I can feel as her hips begin to rise to meet each beat of my fingers, her hand grabs at the back of my head, taking a handful of my hair. I pick up the pace as my tongue begins to playfully lick at her flushed skin, her moans grow louder and her thighs have begun to shake a bit and I can tell she's close. I tease her clit harder and whisper how much I've loved her and I open my mouth wide, biting firmly on her neck. She let's out a load moan and yanks on my hair as the waves of her orgasm spread through her. It is only when I can feel the last wave leave her that I pull my fingers out and have a taste. She opens her eyes then, looking towards me she breathes, "Good girl".

Red Shoes by Dany

shoes, every submissive man's weakness. Dany (now butch) loves shoes, especially red ones. This then, is a confession.

It must have started long ago with a foot fetish. Being submissive, one is always attracted to a woman's feet and the wonderful footwear that goes along with it. The high heels, the leather shoes, the smooth textures everything brings with it a sense of superiority over the male 'sub'. Red shoes however, are the prettiest. There's something about the color red that makes it so attractive. I'd be down on my knees kissing red shoes in a second. I'd love to get my tongue over a pair of wonderful red shoes and kiss them, and clean them, an act of submission to the dominant female. You Miss Persephone have red shoes with a tall heel, the smooth contour laced in black, the smooth red texture else where. Everything from the tall, sharp pointy heel to the smooth leather makes me want to beg for an opportunity to kiss them. Getting an opportunity to clean them with this dogs tongue would be one of the rare opportunities of my life. You are a Lady this dog respects the most, and certainly one who is much much superior to this lowly dog. dog noticed that there was a small strap that was part of the red shoes, wrapped around your ankles.  It looks amazing.
    Every inch of me wants to kiss those wonderful red shoes more than anything else in the world. this dog would do anything for that opportunity and will be honored if you give it to him. Looking at a lovely pair of shoes makes this dog hard, and it makes him want to stroke. The amazing smell of leather haunts this dog everyday. He hasn't sniffed leather in months, and is dying to get the littlest of bits.
    Red shoes are my weakness, looking at a pair makes me a helpless dog, on his knees, naked, ready to serve.
-slave dany

Parking Lot Assignment by Jeffery

The Parking Lot Dilemma

The rain pounded down on the windshield, seemingly with no intention of letting up. He sat in the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel so tight little specks of the rubbery material came off in his hands.
How had it come to this? What was he really doing here in the parking lot of this bagel shop? And was he really going to go through with this?
His pulse thudded in his neck like a mountain stream does when the snow melts. He fought to control his breath and rested his head on the wheel for just a moment. Then he lifted his head and let out a long, slow sigh.
He knew he was going to go through with this. He had no choice.

For weeks, it had been that way. She brought him to his knees quickly and he knew almost immediately he would do anything for her. She knew it too, and used it to her full advantage. From the moment they met, he bought the drinks, held the car door for her, pulled out her chair. That first night she told him “You’re so well-behaved. I like that” and something in the way she said it made his cock stir.
He blushed and she saw it and smiled.
When he drove her home she turned to him and simply said “Come inside” and before he really knew what was happening she had forced him down on his knees and ordered him to pull her panties off and lick.
He found himself doing it willingly and she barked orders at him and yanked his hair hard to put his mouth in the right places at the right time. She came over and over and over until he lost track of how long he had been kneeling there and all his could smell was the smell of her juices as they flowed all over his face.
She pulled his head out of her crotch and dragged him to the couch. She undressed him and took his swollen cock inside of her, cumming again and removing herself before he could. Then she took him into her hands and jerked him off. Whispering gently and shushing him until he came. She took a salty puddle of his cum onto her fingers and shoved it into his mouth. He sucked her fingers dry.

For weeks it continued and he yielded more each day. She told him to crawl across the floor to her. He did. He felt her press the dildo against his ass and somehow he knew he must let her. She ordered him to kneel next to her while she ate. She called him boy. And one night she smacked him and called him a little slut and the mix of shame and desire he felt welled up in him and made him so hard that he almost burst and single tear slid down his cheek.

Now he sat in this parking lot, wearing pink lace panties underneath his light-tan khakis, with a butt plug shoved in his ass. Every time he shifted in the seat he felt the plug dig in a little more. He noticed he was sweating.
Someone would notice. They would have too. His pants would get wet on the way in and someone would notice. They would laugh and he’d be humiliated.  And of course that was what she wanted. But…it was just coffee and a bagel she ordered him to get. Five minutes in and out…he could handle that, right? His cock was hard and the fabric of the underwear caressing his balls only made it harder to think. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was his overwhelming desire to make her happy. He had to do it. He craved her approval like nothing else he had craved before.
She even toyed with him this morning as she set the trap, right after she got done straddling his face and enjoying another orgasm.
“You’ll do this for me like a good boy, won’t you?” It was a mixture of and order and a coo, said in way that made him want to drive through a brick wall if she told him to do so. She pressed a long leg into his cock as she asked. “You want to please me, don’t you?”
He moaned out loud and she brought the plug and the panties to bed and ordered him to roll over. She rubbed the cool lube on his hole and shoved the plug inside quickly, making him grunt.
Stepping into the panties he got dressed and she rubbed up against him, kissed him and grabbed his crotch before he left. “No umbrellas allowed,” she hissed.

He couldn’t waste anymore time. He opened the door, hiked his pants up and made a break for it, stepping awkwardly between the raindrops to keep the plug in place.

He was breathing heavily and drenched when the door to the shop closed behind him. As he glanced up at the menu, a familiar voice made him jump.

“Hey sexy,” she said in a voice loud enough for everyone in the shop to hear. “Nice panties.”

He froze in fear as he felt his cock go rigid.

To be continued?

By Jeffrey Wordsmith

Friday Night Part 4 by Lady Raffila

Seated at her dressing table, the mistress glanced over a rather large selection of fragrances lined up on the gleaming mirror surface of the table.  Her sub stood
behind her. He gently teased a lock of her deep red hair with a hair brush, trying to untangle a knot.  His brow line knotted into a frown as he concentrated on the task.

"Don't pull it, be careful, god don't pull it," he muttered to himself, mindful
of the mistress tender scalp and even more tender sensibilities.  If he caused her
the slightest bit of discomfort, he knew he would pay dearly for it later.

The mistress sat straight and still.   She wasn't in any mood to torment the sub, while he struggled with her long hair. Even mild humiliation could be risky, while he held the hairbrush.  Her head ached dully, she wanted the brushing to end as quickly as possible.

"Did you know that they use Obession at zoos, spraying it around the big cats to stimulate
their sense of smell?"  she asked.

"No, mistress, I did not know that," he replied.
The mistress was a fountain of odd facts.  The sub had learned many strange bits of
information, during his service to her.  He sometimes found a way to pop one of these unusual tidbits into his conversation to impress his family, when he went to see them on Sundays.

He wondered if his mother would cook one of his favorite meals this week. Only two days til he could go home to see her.  He liked the way his mom piled the food on his plate and urged him to have second helpings.

His mistress refused to offer him a second helping and often made him reduce the amount of food on their plates. She said it was the easiest way to watch your weight. "Portion
control" she called it.  "Half-starving ourselves," he'd think to himself.

He was a strapping big boy, little fat and lots of muscle.  Mistress liked him to take body builder poses so she could feel his muscles.  He liked flexing for her.  She made him
practice flexing and unflexing the muscles supporting his penis, too.  He could make it jerk and jump inside her.  She seemed to find that movement very erotic.  He found it
fun, only if she'd let him release, which she rarely would.  And never inside her.

The sub sighed, wondering when she might let him release normally again.  She's taken
a fancy to milking him, which he loved and hated.  The mistress sighed too, wishing
her hair dressing would go more quickly.

She's purposely chosen a cosmetology student, when she'd selected a new sub for herself.
When the boy had passed his exams and received his license, she let him work for a year
in a good salon, before deciding he'd reached a level of competence sufficient to her needs.  At the point, she required that he stay home and devote himself exclusively to her.

Friday nights, she was exhausted after a long day at work.  She wished that the femdoms could secure a Saturday night from the dungeon.  "Wouldn't it be lovely, she said to the boy, "if we could take a nap and not have to rush thru these preparations for tonight?"  He nodded, "yes Mistress, these Fridays are very hard on you."

She smiled.

"Well hurry up and finish the hair, boy, so that we can get going." she said with a trace of
urgency.  She grabbed the bottle of Obsession, sprayed some on her neck and looked at the boy in the mirror of the dressing table.
"I wonder if I should turn him into a big cat?"  she mused silently.

 The boy caught her look in the mirror and felt a sudden twinge of fear.

Being A Dog by Dany

Being a dog, literally.

my name in SL is dany nexen, and i have been lucky. lucky to have good Mistresses in the past. These have been Ladies that have taught me a lot, about submission and also about being a good person. i tried to be a good slave, and for the most part i hope i did well. It was however in those 'busy' RL times that i've sucked (a lot). Miss J is one of the best Ladies i've ever known, and although we do not talk anymore,  i still feel that i owe her another apology. For what you ask? As Miss Eva puts it .. i just 'fucked off'. i was put on trials and was made into a dog. i've been contemplating the idea of being a dog for a very long time. i feel that after all this, since i am finally moved on, i shall stay to be a dog. i shall also try and be the best of dogs. being a dog in SL, i would let my Miss control me fully in RL. Over the years, this has been a key learning. RL control is vital to any D/s relationship. i am finally ready to completely let go of my RL sexual desires. The one thing that i never did was lie. i never lied about anything, but it still feels like i cheated. I missed writing emails like ordered, i missed keeping in touch. it is only appropriate that Miss J was angry, and i was finally let go. i miss Miss J , those were some of the best times in SL.
    it makes me sad; but also presents me with an opportunity to tremendously improve myself. i shall now try and be a good dog, one worthy of a Ladies time, scraping off her hard wood floor for a piece of leftover bread.
    slave is moving on, from being a dog, to ironically .. being a dog! It is time to put the past behind me, and put all the the learning into being a a good slave, a dog, a lowly submissive dog.
   
    -slave dany
   

Afternoon In The Playroom by Anonymous Domme

I set out all my toys in a deliberate display.  I want their eyes to widen when they come on the room.  I want to see their faces as they see what has been prepared, what is waiting.  For a few weeks I have picked out a soundtrack and have queued it up.  Four hours’ worth of scene music picked to move like an amusement park ride.  Starting soft and slow, building in intensity and urgency, climaxing and then; restful, peaceful music until it all starts again.  Once the room is set, I go to my room to meditate and prepare myself for the afternoon.


When the first sub gets back from my errands I am sitting waiting for her.  She walks in, addresses me, sees how I am dressed, and drops to her knees.  Her face is turning slightly pink, and she has a huge smile.  As she is spoken to softly, she risks several glances up at me.  I love when they do that.  The coy longing, sneaking looks, letting their eyes play over my skin.  How I feel wanted when I notice their gaze and they drop their eyes to the floor suddenly, the flush of being caught mixed with desire dancing plainly across their flesh.


She gets up and crosses the room as asked kneels directly in front of me.  I slide my fingers through her hair and grab a handful forcing her head to tilt up a bit.  Her eyes widen in shock and then desire as I press her face against my crotch “Kiss me.” Is all I command.  And wordlessly she does as asked and kisses the outline of my sex, I can feel her hot breath even through my panties.  “Now follow me.  And crawl.”  Heading to the playroom slightly faster than she can follow I leave the door open and turn in time to watch her enter.  She giggles a bit and lets out a little gasp “Mistress!” as she sees all the toys laid out and the bench.  My grin is ear to ear as I get the response I am hoping for.


I tap the bench and she lays on it.  “Feet on the floor and your ass right to the edge.” I tell her, smiling.  She does as told and I work my magic.  I know her body, the way her skin moves, the way it tastes, her scent, how to make it ache with desire, need and release.  I begin tying her to the bench, and touching, caressing, stroking, teasing her.  I pull at her nipples and bite one as I pinch the other until she is gasping.  I run my nails down her stomach, up the insides of her thighs.  I make her squirm and wiggle on the bench and then slap her hard across the face and tell her to be still.  This does nothing of course but make her wet and want even more.  I love it.


Finally I slip my fingers between her moist lips and probe her sex gently.  “Look at you, that pussy of yours is so wet. You naughty girl, did I give you permission to be so wet?” I tease.  She just moans “No my Mistress.”  I chuckle and slap her pussy hard then place my damp fingers in her mouth.  “Clean them off good my girl.” And she suckles her juices from my fingertips with great care.  I finish my work and she is there naked, spread open on the bench, tied down and completely at my mercy.  Just the way I like it.


As it turns out…  also just in time for my boy to arrive.  Yes this is going to be a terrific afternoon, I can tell.  But as for the rest of you listening….  You’ll have to wait until next week to see what I have in store for this pair.

Anonymous Confession

Jealous doesn't seem right, but it's the word that comes to mind. I watch as you divide your time, ever mindful of what is theirs and what is mine. I'm still searching for the words to articulate how I feel about this, maybe they haven't arrived because I'm afraid of the conclusion.