sub

Nun Of Your Business

August 13, 2018 By Elizabeth Shadow 6 Comments

Mistress Devore shot by Danny Stygion

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, and we are in no way advocates of any kind of abuse, non-consensual behavior, crossing any hard limits, putting anyone in harm’s way (physically/mentally/emotionally/spiritually), or violating one’s boundaries/what was prenegotiated.

With this being said, enjoy the story!

The room was dark except for one small light. It cast a small, dim shadow over where I lay on my bed. It was an old rickety bed. My favorite blanket lay on it, which was blue with silken ends. This was one worldly possession I wasn’t willing to part with when I joined the convent. I lay on that blanket as I writhed in sinful pleasure.

My habit and veil were still on. However, I had a cucumber that I took from the garden jammed in my pussy. I moved it in and out. My fingers on my other hand rubbed my clit. Sometimes, I rubbed a knuckle against it.

I fantasized about these two very attractive men that were in the congregation today. One had black hair, blue eyes, was five foot four, stocky, but fit. The other had light brown hair, brown eyes that looked black, was six feet tall, and had the body of a Greek God. I imagined the shorter man of the two sucking on my tits while the taller man fucked me hard. I began to suck in air and my legs tensed up. Then, I came hard. I placed my hand over my mouth to try and keep quiet. I didn’t want to get caught.

I was panting by the time I was done. My habit, which was the long black robe nuns were known to wear, was a bit wet where my pussy had rested on it. I slipped my underwear back on and righted my bra. Then, I sat up on the bed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. I quickly hid the cucumber in the drawer of my nightstand. “Come in,” I said softly.

Sister Lucina walked in. “Am I interrupting?” She was a novice nun like me. She had black hair beneath her veil and glacial blue eyes. She was much taller than I. She was five foot eight against my four foot eleven.

“No, I was about to pray.”

I had gotten to the door before I heard a “That’s not a bad idea.”

I turned and looked at her. “Of course, that’s part of our life here,” I said dryly before I turned once more.

I heard her giggle. “No, it’s not a bad idea since you just sinned.”

I closed the door to my cell and turned back to her. “What do you mean?”

“Ugh, ugh, ugh…oh yeah…oh, God,” she mocked while she grabbed herself lewdly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said casually- though I felt panic begin to rise within me.

She had the smile of a cat that just ate a canary. She walked to the nightstand and pulled out the cucumber. My juices were still on it. “Explain this then.”

“Um…” I struggled. “I grew it in my cell. I am going to give that to the poor.”

“With your cunt juices on it?” she asked coldly.

“It’s not cum. It’s water.”

My mouth dropped as she put the cucumber in her mouth. She deep throated the damn thing. No…not deep throat. Nearly swallowed it.

“It’s not water,” she said as she walked by me briskly. “I’m going to love telling Mother Hanner your dirty sin.” She turned from me, about to go out the door.

“No, wait!” I protested. “Please don’t. I’ll do anything. Just don’t tell her.”

She turned around with the biggest grin on her face. “Anything?” she inquired.

“Almost anything,” I corrected.

She snickered. “Okay, this could be fun. In order to keep my silence against your dirty sin, meet me in the catacombs beneath the cathedral after dinner. Tell no one you’re coming there and come alone. Got it?”

“Got it”

“Come then,” she purred. “We have to go to prayer.” I joined her.

We didn’t speak to each other during prayer. Well, we can’t any way. At dinner, we didn’t sit next to each other. We sat on opposite corners of the table. I would occasionally steal a glance her way to see if she was looking at me. She wasn’t. She completely ignored me.

I had clean up duty after dinner. When I was done clearing the table, I headed to the catacombs. Sister Lucina was waiting for me outside the entrance.

“Come,” she commanded.

I took her hand and she lead me down into the dark, dank, massive catacombs. She had a flashlight and guided me through this unknown territory. It felt like we walked forever. We finally got to a little room that she led me into. She dipped the candle into a small crevice, and the room suddenly looked as though it had been lit with thousand of candles. She closed and locked the door from the inside. Then, she turned around and looked at me….hungrily. Suddenly, I was very nervous.

“Disrobe,” she ordered. I shook my head. “I said fucking disrobe!” she shouted. I suddenly froze. I was too afraid to move. After a few moments, her harsh expression loosened; she tossed a saccharine smile my way as she learned in closer to me. “You either do what I say or we can forget this and I tell Mother Hanner.”

“Sorry,” I mumbled as I started to take off the habit. I’m left in my white panties and bra.

She again smirks at me. “Good girl,” she said as she took off her habit too. She was wearing black panties and bra. Her belly button was pierced. Her stomach was flat. Her breasts were small with nipples that looked like gumdrops.

She slyly walked over to me and cupped the back of my head. Then, she started to kiss me passionately. I tried to pull away. Her kisses were punishing. Her lips bruised mine. She sucked on my lips hard until they were swollen and began to crack slightly. Her tongue went deep into my mouth and I gagged on it. I could swear she was trying to choke me with her tongue. She pushed me backwards onto the slab-like alter. She pulled my underwear down. I came up to try to stop her.. She pushed me down. Then, she pulled out rope and tied my hands together. She raised my bounded hands above my head and tied it to the altar. A few second later, she again kissed me and her naughty hand trailed down to start putting a finger in me. I moaned into her mouth.

“Like that?” she purred.

“Yeah,” I sheepishly admitted.

“If you don’t fight back, you will enjoy yourself more,” she said before bombarding me with another one of her kisses. She sprang my breasts from my bra and kneaded and rolled my breasts in her hands like subtle dough. She bent her head and began sucking on one of my nipples. She rolled my other nipple in her fingers before slightly pulling on my tit. I moaned as her three fingers moved in and out of my dripping pussy.

After a while, she pulled away and stuck out her tongue. It was long. The tip went past her chin. My pussy clenched in anticipation rather than fear. She winked at me as she knelt between my legs. She licked my clit like a kitten lapping up milk. Finally, her mouth nestled over it and started sucking. She put my clit between her lips and flicked it back and forth with her aggressive tongue. My knees buckled as pleasure engulfed me like a wave.

She continued to finger me with three fingers while she sucked and licked my clit. Then, she replaced her fingers with her long tongue and began to fuck me with it. I writhed beneath her ministrations as she began to increase the pace of her going in and out of me. I groaned in pleasure. As she fucked me, she rubbed her knuckle against my clit. I detonated beneath her, warm cum spilling out. She licked up each drop as I came down from Cloud Nine. She kissed me again, to give me a taste of myself. I tasted salty yet enjoyable.

“My turn,” she said as she sat on my chest and positioned her pussy above my mouth. With a deep inhale, I began to lick her. I wasn’t quite sure where to lick though. I tried to mimic what she had done to me. Upon seeing that I was struggling, she positioned her bud above my mouth. “Lick me here,” she whispered. I did what she told me. Over and over.

She started to moan. My tongue dipped into her pussy and began to move in and out of her tight hole. She threw her head back in ecstasy. “Yes,” she said softly. She began to rub her clit with her fingers. I hooked my tongue against her clit and began to go at it. She soon came all over my mouth and I tried my best to lick up every single drop.

When the moment had passed, she bent over and retrieved a special toy from her bag. I gasped when I saw a cucumber. Then, she pulled out a strap- on. The cock was nine inches long with a girth of four fingers.

“Let’s start off with this,” she said, indicating the cucumber. She spit on the cucumber and started to rub the smaller end of it against the entrance of my pussy. Then, she slowly inserted it. I groaned as I felt it fill and expand me. When she couldn’t get it in any more, she began to thrust it in and out. She started off slow and then went very fast.

As I began to moan once more, she got on top of me again and positioned herself above the other end of the cucumber, which was bigger in girth than the end in me. She eased herself onto it and began to hump it. She eventually worked herself down on the cucumber until our pussies met. She kissed me as we grinded and fucked the cucumber between us. She gave a growl as she pushed herself off the cucumber. I gasped since it hurt a bit. “Oh, shut up.”she snapped as her hand grasped my throat. “I’m getting bored. It’s time to fuck you myself.”

She put the strap-on on. Then, she positioned the head of the fake cock at the entrance of my pussy. She was in me with one thrust. She began to fuck me without giving my body time to accommodate its size or girth. This was slightly bigger than the cucumber.

My mouth hung open as she pounded the strap-on into me. After fucking me with it for a few minutes, she grab ahold of the cucumber. Fear struck me again.

“Please don’t put that in my ass,” I begged.

There was a sinister glint in her eyes. “That’s not my intention, my dear,” she said. She pulled out the strap-on. Next, I felt both the head of the fake cock and the end of the cucumber at the entrance of my pussy.

“Please don-” Was as far as I got as she slammed both into my pussy at the same fucking time. I screamed. At first, it hurt like a bitch. Then, I began to enjoy it.

I screamed in ecstasy as she fucked me. My legs tensed up and I began to breath in short gasps. An orgasm was riding me. Then, I came all over her toys. She pulled both the cucumber and strap- on out of me. I was drenched between my legs.Cum ran down my thighs and hit the floor.

Not even letting me enjoy my afterglow, she lifted my legs. She settled her pussy on top of mine, and began to rub herself against my clit.. First, it was slow. Then, she picked up the speed. I enjoyed the feeling of her wet, warm pussy. After a few more rubs, she came. I came shortly after that as well.

She then collapsed beside me and held me. “You’re no one’s bitch except mine. Not even God’s,” she announced, her voice a bit gruff and hoarse.

About the Author

She is an avid swimmer and a stay at home mother by day. She is a published author that specializes in erotica and the supernatural by night. She is a kink submissive. However, don’t let her innocent look fool you. She has a naughty imagination and a defiant attitude. She writes erotica on Fetlife under Lynn82md and her novels under another name.

Links:

Fetlife: Lynn82md

Her novel on Amazon: Immortal Love

Protection

August 13, 2018 By Baadmaster 5 Comments

Mistress Devore shot by Danny Stygion

This article can be filed under “controversial” and “opinion” because it falls into both categories. You can also file it under “important,” because I think it is essential to objectively examine the practice of Dominants placing submissives “under their protection.” Although the “New Guard” has made the “protection racket” less ubiquitous, it still is around enough to be of concern, especially when used for less than idealistic purposes.

First, let’s define what “protection” (often called “mentoring”) means. In theory, it is where an experienced Dominant selflessly protects and guides a submissive. In practice, it ranges all the way from honorable, experienced Dom/mes showing newbies the ropes while protecting him/her from predators (best-case scenario), all the way to conniving Dom/mes using it as a way to quickly become the “de facto Dominant” without any of the responsibilities of a Master/Mistress (worst-case scenario.) Protection has no historical basis in BDSM; I cannot find reference to it in “Old Guard” lore or anywhere else. It appears to be an Internet-inspired phenomenon; many of our younger lifestylers have no idea what “protection” is and isn’t. Maybe this can help explain this practice when they encounter it.

In its ideal manifestation, protection has much to recommend it. An experienced Dominant is the perfect person to guide a newbie through the daunting maze that is BDSM. He/she can show the new submissive the ropes while also screening out potential predators who might seek to take advantage of the newbie’s newness. (That is either a neat phrase or totally lame!) But, life is rarely ideal. For example, let’s say the protector is tasked with screening potential Dom/mes for the submissive. The most experienced Dom/me is neither all-seeing nor all-knowing. I would be more comfortable if the job of the protector were to consult with the sub regarding potential Dom/mes rather than screen them unilaterally.

This practice is just begging to be abused. After all, who is protecting the submissive from the protector? Protection can turn out to be less a teacher/student relationship than a version of “Dom/sub light.” (Of course, if this is what the sub seeks, then this is fine.) And in this situation, the Dom/me is able to take a sub off the market quickly and become the sub’s sole support system. He/she quickly becomes the sub’s de-facto Dom/me – without any responsibilities.

As with any social system, there are bound to be abuses. So, let’s give newbies a few tips that can help them choose a protector/mentor, should they decide to pick one.

Look for red flags. If the protector says, “Don’t go on the Internet…don’t talk to this Dom/me or that Dom/me…give me all your passwords…I will screen your friends…I will control all your money…I am your sole source of information, etc.” Any one of these, especially anything having to do with your money, is a big red flag. Even if you are into the new, faddish FinDom/me experience, be wary of anyone accessing your bank info – unless you literally want to chase down your Chase funds!
Both of your agendas should match. See if your potential protector has a hidden agenda that is at odds with yours. Is his/her primary motivation your well-being or is there another aspect to it? Often married men, or Doms with alpha slaves, will use protection as a way of rapidly snapping up an exclusive play partner. If this is acceptable to you, this is fine; otherwise, be forewarned. Make sure both of your agendas match. This is probably the most important aspect when picking a protector.
Check out the protector’s reputation. Ideally, you should have a “protector protector.” As this is not only silly but also impractical, don’t jump under someone’s protection until you check him/her out. If you meet your protector at a local dungeon, ask around (including other subs.) If you met online, find real time people who know him/her and ask! The keyword is “ask.”
Use your “bullshit-detector.” Don’t simply rely on detective work and testimonials alone. Use your bullshit-detector. (If you don’t have one, they are on sale, this week only, at Wal-Mart!) Does your gut tell you the Dom/me is honorable or is he/she being deceptive? Honesty is everything if you plan to trust someone else with critical decisions. So, trust your instincts – your built-in “bullshit detector.”
Don’t be desperate. Often the worst abuse comes when a submissive is at an emotional low point and seeks a “protector” to help sort things out. This is a very human need. However, if you are desperate, it might attract predator Dom/mes who can sense your situation. Search with purpose, not with desperation.
Protector should not be making demands. Ideally, a protector should be there to help you learn or heal, and he/she should not be making demands or asking for control. Unless this is what you want, this should be a red flag.
Don’t get bum-rushed. If your potential protector says, “Now,” this is another red flag. He/she can wait a week or two; the world won’t end. (Although when I watch the news, I am not so sure about that!) Use the time to check the protector out, find out about him/her and negotiate. Which brings us to…
Negotiate. Just as you should negotiate a Dom/sub relationship, you should negotiate the rules of protection. Don’t leave it as a vague concept that basically gives the “protector” more influence in your life than even a Dom/me! Be specific – set hard limits and specify where the protector’s areas of control and/or protection begin and end. For example, many subs want a protector to be with them at BDSM events and parties, so they don’t attend alone. This could be where the protector’s duties begin and end. Or, there could be more. No matter what, the protector’s obligations and limits should be negotiated.
Have fun. As I have stressed over and over again here on kinkweekly.com, BDSM should be fun. If your protector makes the whole process “un fun,” you are losing out. The last thing you need is to make BDSM a chore. (Unless, if course you enjoy not having fun. In which case, disregard this tip!)

Although the concept of protection is an admirable one, one should never forget that one must always be vigilant. Not paranoid, vigilant. I hope these tips will keep you on your toes and, should you seek out a protector, you will choose wisely!

About the Author

After a ten year run as head writer for the legendary bondage.com, and an equally long run as the host of the hit internet show “Baadmaster’s Dungeon,” we are pleased to welcome the one and only Baadmaster to KinkWeekly. His thoughts about all things BDSM will now appear regularly on these pages. From the mental aspects of D/s to the nuts and bolts of S&M play, Baadmaster will cover every facet of this ever expanding lifestyle.

This week in kink: August 6, 2018

August 6, 2018 By Desdemona 3 Comments

Gold Mine: Golden Heart [Self-Portrait by Domina Mara, featuring AV]

Dominatrixes discuss their orthodox Jewish clients and how they relate to kink

Click here to read the full article titled “Finding God In Kink”

Concretia: My Mistress Oasis [Self-Portrait by Domina Mara, featuring AV]

Photographers at San Francisco street fair are comparing taking pictures without consent to sexual assault

Click here to read more about their Ask First campaign

Foliage and Feet: Wooden Porch Fall [Self-Portrait by Domina Mara]

Don’t miss Brandy’s new book titled Brandy. The novel explores domination, which in her opinion is “grossly misunderstood.”

Click here to find out more

Garnet + Guard: Sitting Pup [Photography by AV + Domina Mara]

There are more men than you think that like mutual masturbation

Click here to dive deeper into this fetish

Fall Outdoors: Knee Up [Self-Portrait by Domina Mara]

Siyang Luo and Xiao Zhang recently conducted a neuro-BDSM scientific study concerning pain, empathy, and suffering

Click here to read more

Have some kinky news to share? Tell us about any upcoming BDSM events, new products, dungeon openings / closings, collarings, kink in mainstream media, and anything else you think kinky folks might be interested to hear about. Send your tips through to kinkweekly@gmail.com, and it might just end up on next week’s “This Week in Kink.”

Package From Sir

August 6, 2018 By Paige Voxx 3 Comments

Garnet + Guard: Cuffs Ready [Photography by AV + Domina Mara]

The doorbell rang, just as I was sitting down on the couch to finally read my book. I had been looking forward to it all morning. I had stayed up late the night before, balancing my phone between my breasts and my chin, using the bright screen as a book light. I read anxiously for hours about who killed who. I finally gave up on solving the mystery when I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore. I love reading seductive murder mysteries- If they’re smutty enough.

Coffee in one hand, book in the other, I sighed at the miserable thought of having to put the book back down. At 2:00 in the afternoon, with all of the kids in school, nobody should be knocking on that door. This is my one hour a day before pickup that I set aside for myself. Everyone is supposed to leave me alone.

I set my still steaming coffee mug down on the window ledge behind me, and scooted to the edge of the couch. I paused slightly, angry with whoever was outside, before rising to my feet. “This had better not be that weird guy selling steaks again,” I thought out loud. The no soliciting sign that I painted at craft night last year was apparently invisible to everyone other than me.

I reluctantly walked to the front door. I took a deep readying breath to face whoever was about to ruin my one hour of peace, and then I braved it and turned the knob.

To my relief, there was nobody standing there. This had been a false alarm. I didn’t actually have to interact with another human. Thank goodness.

A plain brown package lay before me on the porch. Definately addressed to me, but unmarked otherwise. I hadn’t been expecting anything that I could remember.

I picked up the package, and carried it to the kitchen. It felt kind of light and airy. I set it down on the counter, grabbed the scissors from the knife block, and opened it like a kid opening a birthday present- excited and greedy. I’ve always loved getting mail.

Part of me expected to see a forgotten order of vitamins, or maybe new windshield wiper blades for the van- the usual boring stuff. However, this was not that kind of package. I feasted my eyes on a thin layer of matte black tissue paper, suddenly transforming this box into a mysterious gift. Not ready to ruin the surprise just yet, I ran my hand back and forth over the soft paper, wondering what I might find on the other side.

Upon pulling back the first fold of tissue, I could see a hint of what looked like a red velvet pouch beneath. After pulling back the second fold, more velvet pouches of various sizes. Each of them placed neatly in a nest of black crinkled paper. This mystery box was most certainly going to be better than my book.

Standing over such a beautiful arrangement of textures and colors began to feel a bit intimate. The combination of red and black reminded me of being naughty, and the velvet pouches reminded me of fancy things like champagne and lipstick. I picked up the first pouch, released the drawstring, and reached inside.

“Oh my,” I whispered to myself. No wonder this box had given me a slight tingle between the legs. Resting in the palm of my hand now was a gorgeous set of silver nipple clamps. I had never actually held a pair of the real things- I had only used the clothespins from my laundry room. So, standing there doing so now, an hour before the kids were to be let out of school, felt a bit forbidden, which made me enjoy it that much more.

I explored the clamps with my fingertips first. Then, lifted one of them up to my lips, and ran it side to side across my smooth pout. Yes, I would like these very much.

I returned my new beautiful silver play things back to their delicate pouch, set the pouch down in the box, and then reached for another surprise. The anticipation of what was to come was causing me to bite my lip and bounce on my toes.

Picking up speed now, as the tension was beginning to build, I unveiled the next treasure from the chest. Reaching my hand into the bag, I felt a handful of what felt like thin leather strips. A big grin came over my face. Whoever sent this to me knew what made me wet. They had an understanding of my cravings, and wanted to see to it that I quenched my thirst.

A beautiful black flogger was now in my procession. This isn’t something that I would have ever wanted to use on someone else, but rather, something that I had been begging to be used on me. In that moment, I felt goosebumps rise on my skin, thinking about the tassels slapping down against my bare ass, and traveling up my back, to my neck, back down, and ending with another slap. And then another. And another.

I let out a gentle “mmmmm” sound as I brought the flogger up to my face and inhaled. This was lovely. This was going to be great fun.

I couldn’t imagine what could possibly be in the remaining 3 bags, but as my greediness picked up speed, so did the pulse in my clit. With the feel of the flogger still fresh on my mind, I continued.

The next bag was slightly larger than the last, and had more bulk. I wasted no time ripping the contents away from the velvet sack.

“…Oh yes, please,” I demanded. If only the giver of such treats were here to see my body’s reaction. I loosened the buckle of one of the black padded cuffs, slipped my hand through the opening, and then pulled it snuggly to my wrist. I closed my eyes, and let myself fantasize about being naked, locked up, and writhing with the need to be taken. I could almost smell the sex in the air, and feel the heat of someone’s breath on my neck as I fought against the restraint that prevented me from grabbing what I wanted, and bringing it to where I so desperately needed to be felt.

Blinking myself out of my lusty haze, with the cuff still on, I picked up another bag. Through the velvet, I could immediately feel what it was. Long, but not too long. Thick. Heavier than the last items. …please God, let this be a cock.

The idea of a hard, throbbing cock in front of me sprang to mind, and the words “be a good girl and kneel” rang through my ears. And then out of the red colored sachel came a gift that I knew would be put to extremely good use.

Holding the lifelike dick in my hand, I dropped to my knees. Remembering how good it was to lick the salty tang of a man who was ready for you. I brought the dildo up to my face, held it directly in front of me, and began running my closed lips up and down the shaft.

I loved to suck. I loved to tease with my tongue. I loved to take it all the way in, hold it, and release it only when I was desperate for breath. I loved gasping while saliva poured from my mouth. I loved looking up at him and seeing the look of pure pleasure on his face. I loved making him proud.

This wasn’t the real thing, but in my mind it could have been. This wasn’t like my other toys. This didn’t take batteries or vibrate. This was a solid piece of artificial flesh, covered in realistic veins. As I held it there in front of me on my kitchen floor, I felt the flower between my legs begin to bloom. I was wet, and wanting.

Without getting up off of the ground, I reached up into the box for the last bag. I wasn’t sure there was anything left to get- I was so seduced by the things already given.

…until I unwrapped a pair of black lace vibrating panties.

He knew me so well. He knew all of the things that I wanted. Both in bed, and in the box.

I took a deep breath in as I questioned what I should do next. How could I possibly say no to self pleasure with all of these beautiful tools layed out for my enjoyment?? I still had time before I had to leave the house. I had time to fulfill my aching needs and desires.

I stripped off my t-shirt first, and tossed it onto the ground. I slid my hands into the cups of my bra, and popped out each breast like an erection coming out of a pair of tight pants. I located my new nipple clamps, and without any hesitation, attached them to my willing pink nubs.

The feeling that came with the intense pressure nearly knocked me off of my knees. I moaned and crashed my hands and forearms up against the cabinet. My ass started to wiggle immediately, and all rational thoughts were replaced with animalistic instinct.

I needed a cock inside of me.

Moving my ass from side to side, like a puppy wagging her tail with excitement, I forced myself to focus. I reached down, and began to slide my way out of my sweatpants and underwear. Trying to be graceful, but behaving more like a wild creature, I fumbled with the vibrating panties, until I had gotten both legs through, and pulled them up over my aching pussy and ass. The weight of the nipple clamps were pulling me into an ass up position, lowering my swollen breasts more and more. If only I had a man standing behind me with a fistful of my hair.

I quickly found the remote and flipped the switch. The waves of electricity combined with the constant tugging on my tits now had me gasping and thrusting. All I needed now was something to suck on.

I had never sucked on a fake cock, and I knew it wouldn’t be as pleasurable as the real thing, but in that moment, I would have sucked on nearly anything. So, there I was, bent over on my kitchen floor, attaching a dildo with a suction cup to the same cabinet that hid my cutting boards.

At first, I felt a little embarrassed- the idea of putting my mouth all over this silicone toy seemed ridiculous. But my shame was short lived as the rumbling between my legs could no longer be ignored. I opened my mouth, leaned forward, and licked.

With a mouthful of cock, I let myself release all of the noises that I had been holding back. Muffled moans, interrupted only by the thick barrier of flesh in my throat. My pussy grinded against my vibrating panties as I sucked, and I felt the waves of intense pleasure gradually building.

I started moving my hips faster, sucking harder, and groaning louder- imagining a man before me and a man behind. One man looking down at me, brushing his hand along the side of my face, whispering “atta girl,” as he thrust himself deeper and deeper into my mouth. One man kneeling around my backside, a hand on my ass and a hand at the base of my neck, grunting with every backwards buck that I made against him.

The idea of being with two men at once made me wild. The sucking sounds of my mouth on the cabinet cock turned me on even more. Oh, how I loved the sounds of pleasure. The slurps and slaps had always been so sexy. I wanted to hear a man enjoying my pussy. I wanted to hear his balls slapping against my cunt. I wanted to hear our vigorous efforts of pounding each other. I loved it all.

My thoughts shifted, and it was no longer a faceless man standing in front of me, petting the side of my face as I fucked him with my mouth. Now, it was the man who sent me this package.

Picturing his approving face and devilish grin sent an extra sharp push straight to my clit. With a few more moves of my hips, I was choking on the imaginary load in my mouth, and clawing at the floor beneath me. Screaming and trembling uncontrollably as I found my extended release.

With no breath left in my lungs and no thoughts left in my mind, I hovered there on the floor for several minutes, hips slowing their circles, mouth releasing its grip.

If only he could have seen what a good girl I had been. If only he knew how hard he had made me cum.

As my heart rate started to steady, and the squeezing between my legs came to an end, I pushed myself up off of the ground, body rejecting the movement, my wrists screaming in stiff pain from holding myself up so furiously.

Turns out this had been much better than an afternoon with my book. And oh, how I would have to find the perfect way to repay my Sir.

About the Author

Paige is a 34 year old dreadlock mama, currently living in Virginia, exploring her deepest desires to be primally dominated. She has spent the last 12 years as a housewife, but has quietly fantasized long enough, and is now beginning her kinky journey to self realization and true pleasure. Paige writes erotica based off of a combination of personal fantasy and experience.

Fetlife: TangerineSpeedo

Submissive Dilemmas

August 6, 2018 By Baadmaster 5 Comments

Gold Mine: Golden Whispers [Self-Portrait by Domina Mara, featuring AV]

Last week’s article, right here on kinkweekly.com, was about Dom/me dilemmas. One of our readers, bossynblunt, asked, “Can you write a piece like this for s-types?” Sounded like a good idea, so here goes. I will present this in two parts – the first part will discuss slave contracts. This will include the more demanding, edgy and complex “Chastity Contracts.” The second part will offer some of my patented “Tip Lists.”

First, let’s talk about slave contracts. (I have offered some basic slave contracts in a previous article — https://www.kinkweekly.com/article-baadmaster/slave-contracts-v-2017/ ) A contract is usually given to a slave well after the D/s relationship has started; anywhere from three months to a year is most common. So, what happens if the contract has clauses that you simply cannot accept or were not negotiated? Must you be quiet and just live with them simply because you are the submissive? What are your options?

If the contract demands things you never consented to, violates your stated hard limits or bears no correlation to protocols you have previously negotiated, this speaks badly of his/her skills as a Dom/me. In this case, you should simply reconsider signing. After all, a contract must be one that you can honor. Signing a contract that you cannot possibly live up to is a prescription for failure.

On the other hand, even if there are just a few points in the contract that don’t sit well with you, you must discuss them. Suffering silently is never a good strategy. Even if you have to Top a little, at the very least you should know why the clauses are in there. A good Master or Mistress will gladly explain the contract to you; he/she will usually amend it if he feels it is in the interest of the relationship. If there is something you want included or excluded in the contract, you must communicate this to your Master or Mistress.

Communication, unity of purpose and trust are especially critical in more complex D/s agreements such as chastity contracts. Herein the specifics of the length of chastity, the devices used, how often – and how – release is allowed, the responsibilities of both the Key Holder (usually a Domme) and the submissive, and many other details are best clearly stated in a contract. I will offer some “Chastity Contracts” in future articles.

Though “slave contracts” in any form have no legal standing in American courts of law, and can be abrogated at any time by either partner (do not forget this), they do have the force of custom and the clarity of each party’s obligations that make these contracts so valuable – and sexy!

Now for some scening Tips for Submissives:

By requesting a safe word, you are not expressing distrust of the Top. Many submissives feel that by requesting a safe word (if the Dominant does not mention it), they are stating that they do not trust the Top. Nothing could be further from the truth. The act of submitting shows trust in and of itself; by allowing yourself to be tied up and caned, for example, are you not demonstrating trust of the highest order? Having a safe word does not alter this assessment. You either trust your Top and play or you don’t trust your Top and don’t play.

If a Dominant says he/she “doesn’t allow a safe word,” pass. Yes, there are many TPE Master/slave couples who, after awhile, eliminate the safe word within their relationship. But no responsible Dominant will ever say “no safe words” right out of the box. If a Top, when negotiating a first-time scene with you, says, “I never allow a safe word,” be careful. This is a big red flag. In this case, you might say the absence of a safe word says don’t trust the Top — not the other way around!

Once you are actually playing, follow these tips.

Don’t think of “safe-ing” as ruining a scene. There is a common misconception that using a safe word – especially at a play party – is like losing a baseball game. I have heard “I’ve never safed” stated as if it were a badge of honor. Unless you are entering the Masochist Olympics, the safe word was never intended to be a criterion for submission. The purpose of a safe word is to keep play safe. Duh! If you feel that your limits have been exceeded, for any reason at all, use the safe word!

Don’t assume that using a safe word will ruin a potential relationship. Another reason I have heard for avoiding “safe-ing” is the fear of ruining a potential relationship by disappointing the Top. But if you think about it, this is back-asswords reasoning. One of the most important aspects of a BDSM relationship is trust. If you do happen to safe, you are inadvertently testing how trustworthy the Top is. Does he/she stop immediately? Or does he/she ignore your safe word? I am not saying use a safe word to test your potential Dominant – that would be cheesy. But if it does happen, you might stumble on to just one more decisive factor you can use when looking for a potential Dom/Domme.

Better safe than sorry! If the scene is too much for you, on any level – mentally, physically or metaphysically – use your safe word. Don’t think about any false considerations mentioned in the previous two tips. In fact, don’t think of anything — other than uttering your safe word. For any reason, real or imagined. Even if the scene could have gone on, better safe than sorry. Remember, you can always scene again; safe-ing simply ends the scene – nothing else!

If you are into heavy scening, have a safe signal. When you scene heavy, you might go into very deep subspace. In this state, you might not be able to utter the safe word. Make sure you pre-arrange a safe signal. In general, you should only heavy scene after you know the Top for a while – after some trust is built up and you know his/her style and skills.

These are just six of the many tips for submissives I will be sharing with you in subsequent articles.

About the Author

A Special Treat for Donna: Part 3

July 30, 2018 By Donna Queen 6 Comments

Click here for Part 1

Click here for Part 2

As we sat back and languidly sipped our drinks, a series of attractive young men summoned the courage to approach and ask to join us. Madame had the ones she approved sit close to me so I could go to work on them. This was my night to be a bad girl without fear of provoking Madame. I had full permission to flirt and tease to my lascivious heart’s content. I whispered dirty thoughts, nibbled earlobes, softly stroked inner forearms with my nails, unbuttoned shirts, and lay my hand on crotches. I loved exercising the almost magical power to raise erections at will. I found it thrilling and wildly stimulating. Madame fully intended for me to respond as such, of course. She wanted me white hot with lust when it finally came time to beckon Nick into our lair.

I found myself particularly taken with a pint-size cutie pie sporting thick, shiny, black waves, dazzling white teeth, luscious lips, and huge, soulful brown eyes with mile-long lashes. Although I generally preferred big men (being quite a big girl myself), I occasionally found myself fancying a certain muscular, banty rooster type, and he surely fit the bill. He had the body of a flyweight wrestler or maybe a gymnast, and displayed a razor-sharp wit and intellect. He said he was a Harvard junior, and I had no reason to disbelieve him. Not to traffic in stereotypes, but I felt pretty sure he was Jewish. He could have been Greek, I suppose. It hardly mattered.

I started to make out with him (those lips!), but pulled back after Madame cautioned me not to ruin my expensive makeover. We whispered lewdly and openly groped, oblivious to the surrounding mass of people. He slid a hand up my dress and attempted to take hold of my stirring cock. I quickly yanked his hand away, gave it a slap, and said, “Thank you, honey, but we’re done now.”

He regrouped and attempted one more approach, but Madame stepped between us, took tight hold of his upper arm, pulled him up to a standing position, and with her patented, dagger-eyes she said between clenched teeth,“You are dismissed.” The cute boy shook himself loose and vanished into the shadows. Madame and I erupted in peals of raucous, terribly unladylike laughter. We can be such awful bitches!

Shortly before midnight, Madame announced that it was time to go. She phoned Nick, and by the time we retrieved our coats and exited the club, the limo was there waiting. We rode home behind the privacy glass, holding hands, kissing, and giggling just as we had at the beginning of the evening.

Upon arriving home, each of us took an arm and escorted Nick up to our dual-purpose Play/Discipline Room. The Play/Discipline Room was large, opulently furnished, and amply equipped for all sorts of erotic fun, as well as for the administration of the most serious of disciplinary action. Madame had Nick remove his uniform, put on a warm silk robe, and sit down on the comfiest chair in the room. I brought him a cold beer in a frozen mug.

While Nick waited and sipped his beer, Madame took me to an adjacent dressing room where she freshened my makeup, strategically perfumed me, and dressed me in my laciest, frilliest corset, with thong, fully fashioned silk stockings, and strappy sandals with 5” heels, all in a matching deep purple. Madame also took a few minutes to completely lube and stretch my ass in anticipation of the fucking to come.

Madame brought me out and had me model my outfit for Nick. She then instructed me to stretch out seductively on one of the beds. Nick removed his robe and joined me, his cock already fully erect. He gazed at me with his gorgeous brown eyes and began to kiss me passionately. I ran my hands all up and down his smooth, powerfully muscled, young body until I settled on his beautiful straining erection. I took his shaft into my mouth and started sucking. His cock was smooth, sleek, and delicious. As I sucked, Madame gave my ass an occasional hard slap. These slaps were friendly and sensual, not punitive, and gave me a much different sensation. My cock hardened as my pleasure grew.

After several minutes of intense foreplay, Nick was ready and so was I. I rolled a condom over his dick and lay back to take him between my widespread thighs. Before Nick could get himself into position, however, Madame ordered him to stop. She had been sitting in a chair alongside the bed, watching intently and masturbating.

“Nick, before I permit you to have Donna, I want you to fuck me for a few minutes.” I looked at her in startled puzzlement. She explained, “Donna, I have allowed you to fuck me and cum inside me on many occasions. That is the ultimate intimacy and it is an indispensable part of our lovemaking. Now I wish to reciprocate. By penetrating my pussy before he fucks you, Nick will serve as a living vessel to place my juices inside you, as you have placed yours inside me. This will complete our circle of intimacy and seal our love as never before.”

“But Madame,” I queried. “Couldn’t you accomplish the same yourself using a dildo?”

“My precious one,” she replied. “A dildo is nothing but cold, inanimate plastic. Nick is a warm, living, breathing human being. I need you to feel the heat and pulsating vitality of living flesh deep inside you as my most, intimate essence is transmitted to your most intimate recesses.” As Madame spoke these words my heart swelled with ever-growing adoration. This special ritual was to remain a constant feature of all our future stud service sessions.

Nick mounted Madame in the missionary posture, thrust his swollen dick into Madame’s dripping cunt, and fucked her vigorously for several minutes, as I watched and enjoyed Madame’s forceful pelvic counterthrusts, rhythmic breathing, and delicate, girlish moans. She ordered Nick to pull out and he turned his full attention to me.

I lay back as I had before and opened my legs to welcome Nick into my warm, moist cave. Nick eagerly accepted my invitation and proceeded to fuck me with the same intensity as he had fucked Madame. Unlike Madame, I am exceptionally noisy during sex, and soon I was letting fly all manner of full-throated vocalizations, including some odd spoken phrases I had never uttered before and will likely never utter again. I can’t recall exactly what I said, but Madame was amused, as always.

Nick took me doggy-style for a time, and then we moved to the spooning position. As Nick continued to drive into me, Madame kissed and licked me, pinched my nipples, and stroked my cock. Within a few minutes I burst forth all over Madame’s belly, which she had strategically positioned for me to cum on. Shortly thereafter, Nick approached a shuddering climax. Following Madame’s instructions, Nick withdraw his cock from me and he, too, rained his thick cum across the full, golden expanse of Madame’s smooth, tanned belly. When it was done, I hungrily licked Madame clean of our blended ejaculate.

Madame and I were too exhausted to escort Nick to the door, so we both kissed him tenderly, and sent him on his way with another cold beer for him to enjoy when he got home. After Nick left, she took me by the hand and silently led me up the stairs and into our bedroom. She picked up a wooden hairbrush from her vanity and sat down in an armless accent chair which she kept in our room for one purpose. I knew what was in store. I had been indulged quite enough tonight, and it was time for me to be forcibly reminded of my place as Madame’s obedient bitch. I knelt and kissed Madame’s feet, then stood and draped my torso over Madame’s warm, ample thighs, where I awaited that which I both feared and craved.

“You are a cheap, dirty little whore, do you understand me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What are you, bitch?”

“I’m a cheap, dirty little whore, ma’am.”

“That’s right, you filthy cunt. But you’re my cheap, dirty little whore, you shameless cocksucker, you wanton anal slut, and don’t you ever forget it! I may have allowed you to behave badly tonight, but bad behavior never goes unpunished in my house. There will always be a price to pay, and you are about to pay it. In full”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for all that you do for me.”

Madame began with just a few light slaps with her open hand, and then steadily increased the force of her blows. I yelped and softly moaned as she spanked my well-fucked ass harder and harder, faster and faster. She paused for a moment, gently stroked my flaming cheeks and inspected her handiwork. She pried open my ass cheeks, roughly jammed two fingers inside me, and pulled at and stretched my sore sphincter to remind me of what a nasty anal slut I was. Madame then picked up the hairbrush and resumed paddling me with the flat wooden back of the implement. Each smack hurt more than the last, but left me aching for more. Receiving Madame’s harshest discipline was my greatest joy.

When Madame finally finished, she had me stand up and display my stinging bottom to her. She rubbed some cooling lotion into my inflamed skin. I examined my ass in the mirror and admired the beautiful pink color she had lovingly brought forth, along with just a touch of purple bruising on each cheek. I was proud to bear my Mistress’s marks and wished I could show them to the world so all would know I belonged to Madame and no one else.

Now thoroughly spent, we barely managed to grope our way to our bed before we collapsed into a tangled, snoring heap. Another perfect night together.

About the Author

In the early to mid-2000s, Donna Queen enjoyed a brief, unexpected, but memorable career as an amateur transgender porn star, with a devoted worldwide following. She is now fully transitioned and happily married to a wonderful woman, and is no longer active in the porn scene, although her pictures and videos remain widely distributed and she often receives fan requests for new material. While she no longer makes visual porn, Donna is a gifted writer of fiction in multiple genres, including BDSM erotica. While Donna writes primarily from her own perspective as a lifelong submissive, she also demonstrates a sure grasp of the dominant’s point of view. Although her work is first and foremost powerfully erotic, Donna strives to create fully realized and authentically human characters, and her stories always reflect her loving, generous spirit and delightfully wicked sense of humor.

DOM/ME DILEMMAS

July 30, 2018 By Baadmaster 5 Comments

Last week, right here on kinkweekly.com, I offered newbie Dom/mes fifteen tips. But what about the more experienced among you?

Many of you have gotten to a more advanced phase in your BDSM journey. It is at precisely this stage, when you know a lot but still have some questions, that you might need some pointers. These are issues that you might not want to talk to fellow Dominants about. But many of you have experienced – or will experience – these kinds of dilemmas.

Here is a troublesome predicament that greets many a BDSM play-based Dominant who collars – or otherwise commits to a LTR – a submissive after having been together for a while. The Dominant, in scenes, finds that he/she does not play “as hard” after becoming a “serious” couple. Oft times the way it is phrased is, “I cannot bring myself to mark my submissive during play anymore.” This is especially true when the Dom/me is not a sadist, in the strict sense of the word.

This is what I refer to as “prized possession syndrome.” Before claiming the sub, you flogged, caned or paddled the submissive for as long and as hard as you desired (unless the sub safed, of course) with few other considerations. You were both trying to please yourself and simultaneously impress the sub. (Face it, you wanted to impress the sub!) And the submissive was impressed – because he/she accepted your collar.

There were no other factors at this point other than the play itself. But once you became committed to the sub, other considerations became part of your play. You now might not want to mark or otherwise harm – no matter how lightly – your “prized possession.” You might be more self-conscious of what you perceive your sub’s opinion of you will be. Yet your submissive just might really want you to “do it the way you used to do it.”

The best way to deal with this is to understand that this is a very common problem. Just be aware of it and negotiate your scenes a little more carefully. State that “I am going to go harder on you this time, like when we met” and, once you submissive consents, be as aggressive as you were when you first were scening. If the submissive knows you are aware that you have been hitting less forcefully, you eliminate the risk of the submissive “topping from the bottom” in mid-scene to prod you to return to the ways the submissive liked. (You never want to hear “You hit like a girl/boy.”) Stay in control of the scene. And the best way to stay in control is for the submissive to know you are aware of what you are doing – both when you go light and when you decide to go heavy.

Another thing I hear from Doms in 24/7, D/s relationships is, “This is hard work.” Call it “Dom/me fatigue.” Well, to paraphrase the expression, “Dommin’ ain’t easy.” Taking responsibility – “owning a slave” in D/s parlance – is quite a task. But is it any more work than having a vanilla partner? And the vanilla partner offers far less in terms of what you need than a submissive one does. The trick here lies in what the definition of 24/7 is. If 24/7 means – and it does to some – micromanaging every moment of the slave’s time, then you will probably be exhausted. It comes with the territory. There is nothing I can offer to change that. But most Dom/mes do not want to micromanage – yet they do want to be in charge overall. All D/s relationships are different, of course, but the principles remain the same. To be able to maintain a 24/7 Master/slave relationship over a long period of time, one must have “breathing room.” The tendency is for Dom/mes who reach the “first plateau” with respect to experience is to want to do too much. Much like the quarterback who wants to call every play, this Dominant will soon find him/herself exhausted. And the whole thing will cease to be fun.

The best way to deal with “Dom/me fatigue” is to realize that once you have collared your slave, you have done most of the hard work. Let the power exchange work for you. Have fun with it. If you need a day off, simply take it. You are the Dom/me – and that allows you to pace your relationship as you see fit. As I have stressed ad nauseam here on kinkweekly.com, 24/7 does not have to literally mean twenty-four hours seven days a week. It can

mean that you own your slave full time; but you do not have to be Domming him/her every second of every day. If you have a particularly needy slave and you find it draining, train him/her to be more self-sufficient. To repeat, you are the Dom/me. And although it comes with responsibilities, it also enables you to structure the relationship as you wish.

Once you get the rhythm down, you will find that being a Dom/me is not, and should not be, that draining. It should actually be an awful lot of fun!

About the Author

The Pleasures of BDSM

July 23, 2018 By The School of Life 3 Comments

A Special Treat for Donna: Part 2

July 23, 2018 By Donna Queen 6 Comments

Click here to read Part 1

Madame went to her email to comb through the dozens of responses she had received. The large majority were complete duds, of course. Some with no pics at all, some offering nothing but tiresome dick pics, or worst of all, those hairy waist-down panty boys. Yuck. There were also the usual functional illiterates for whom spelling and punctuation appear to be irrelevancies.

Among the first cut we noted several who were very cute and wrote charming introductions, but one in particular stopped us dead in our tracks. It was Nick, a limousine driver whom Madame had fired for behaving inappropriately with me (it wasn’t his fault, as I had initiated the contact and aggressively pressed the issue). He was more gorgeous than ever, and even Madame could not fail to have been moved by the heartfelt apology and plea for forgiveness in his accompanying email. And Madame was indeed moved. “You want him, don’t you, baby?” I nodded my affirmation. “Then we shall have him.” Madame stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead. I tingled from head to toe.

In a flurry of emails, instant messages, and cell phone calls, Madame made all the arrangements for a Friday night assignation with Nick. He was to arrive in his limo, in uniform, and drive the two of us to the restaurants and clubs we’d selected for that evening, just like on a regular job. We wanted to make him wait an excruciatingly long time before he’d get to lay a finger on us.

The wait through the week was excruciatingly long for me as well. In my excitement I became even more absent-minded than usual, which is saying a lot. I have more than a touch of ADHD and it is only through Madame’s discipline that I have learned to manage it with any consistent degree of success. Madame was kind and indulgent through much of the week, but by Thursday afternoon I was bouncing off the walls, and Madame, who was working at home that day, decided it was time to reel me back in before I went utterly bonkers.

The breaking point came when I suddenly burst into her study, unannounced, dumped a heap of dresses on a sofa and loudly announced, “Madame, I just cannot decide what to wear tomorrow evening! Why can’t I ever make up my mind? Will you please help me choose?” The juvenile Hayley Mills could have played Donna in this movie. A split second after the last word exited my lips I knew I’d crossed the Rubicon. The skies darkened and I heard the not-so-distant rumbling.

“Donna, dear,” she said with ominous impassivity. Her volume and projection rose steadily as she spoke. “Do you see what I’m doing here? Do you see? Look and think about it for a moment. That’s right, Donna. I AM WORKING!!!!! I have been working ALL DAY on a project that I have been working on ALL FUCKING WEEK! I am not finished with it and I have to meet a FUCKING DEADLINE tomorrow morning so I can be free to give my spoiled, little brat a special gift that I’m beginning to think she doesn’t deserve and NEVER WILL!” I wanted to burrow under a rock and curl up like a potato bug.

“I want you in the kitchen in five minutes. Naked, except for those pink strappy pumps of yours. The ones with the 6” heels you hate because they hurt your toes and make you feel awkward and clumsy. Go. Now. But not without putting those stupid dresses away and OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

In a hair under five minutes I arrived in the kitchen, naked and tottering on those outlandish pumps. Madame ordered me to lean on the cold granite of the center island and spread my legs apart. She went to the refrigerator and filled a small dish with ice wedges from the automatic dispenser. She pried my ass cheeks open and without any preliminary stretching she inserted a wedge into my anus. Another. Then another. Five in all. I had never felt anything quite like it. I quickly developed what I could only describe as a sort of anal brain freeze. The dull ache soon radiated throughout my pelvic region. Madame forced my legs back together and spanked me for a minute or so with a steel spatula. When the spanking was done she dug her nails into both cheeks, leaving behind her trademark ten of those familiar pink concave crescents.

“Down on your knees, cunt.” I complied. Madame turned her back to me, lifted up her skirt, and presented her wide ass to my face. “You know what to do.” I thrust my face into the deep crevice dividing Madame’s glorious rump and started licking enthusiastically. Steadying herself with one hand on the island, Madame picked up her favorite vibrator with a clitoral stimulator, and began to masturbate with it as I licked. Madame must have been extremely aroused, as she came quickly and very noisily. I could feel the spasms coursing through her whole body, her ass cheeks contracting and squeezing my face. When her shaking and shuddering finally subsided, Madame handed the vibrator to me to be thoroughly washed and put away.

“Donna, you are to remain naked and wearing those shoes for the rest of the day. You will not sit unless and until I grant you leave to do so. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I spent the remainder of the afternoon dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing the kitchen and bathrooms, and preparing the evening meal. Madame periodically checked my work. If satisfied, she would give me a sweet smile and a kiss on the lips. If not, then a slap, a bite, and/or a pinch. I had the feeling she’d turned down the heat to keep me acutely aware of my nakedness. I rubbed my arms and shivered. My nipples contracted and stayed shriveled and taut for hours. By nightfall I was frozen stiff and my toes were crushed and numb. Madame wrapped me in a blanket, lay me down on the bed, took my shoes off, and kissed and massaged my aching toes. She filled the master bathroom with scented candles, drew a hot bubble bath, and left me to luxuriate for a full hour. She returned to towel me off, apply moisturizer, and put me in my coziest pajamas and robe. A cup of hot chamomile and half a chick flick later, I was comfortably asleep in Madame’s arms.

Having completed her project Thursday night without further Donna-related disturbances, Madame was free to take Friday off and give me a full “day of beauty” in preparation for the evening’s fun. All spankings, paddlings, whippings, etc. were suspended for the day, to ensure that my bottom remained smooth and inviting for Nick. Before we left the house, Madame filled a small flask with her strong, bright yellow morning pee, which she carried in her purse through the day. Anytime I embarrassed or irritated her, she would have me take a sip as a pungent symbol of her firm possession and unyielding control. She pee-spiked all my drinks that day as well, from my morning orange juice through the evening’s cocktails. I confess that I rather liked receiving these reminders. I had to suppress the occasional urge to misbehave just so I could enjoy another taste of Madame’s delightful essence.

Manicure, pedicure, massage, facial, waxing, hairstyling, and makeover – Madame treated us to the works, and when we were done I felt positively gorgeous. Male heads practically spun off their heads as we two beauties sauntered by. More than a few women registered comparable reactions. Nick didn’t stand a chance. No one did.

At 6 p.m. sharp Nick’s limousine pulled into the driveway. Madame and I had each put away several glasses of white wine while we were dressing. I chose a scandalously short, sparkly cocktail dress in teal, cut on the bias to emphasize my long , perfectly shaped, tanned, smooth legs. With my tan I needed no hose, and I love the feeling of my legs being freshly shaved and bare, so I selected my favorite open-toed, 3 1/2 inch strappy sandals. Madame went for a more understated mature look, selecting a tight, sequined, low-cut number in French blue, emphasizing her ample curves and deep cleavage. Primped and perfumed, decked out in some of Madame’s most expensive bling, we two girls were locked and loaded for bear.We were the hottest thing going and we both knew it. We entered the limo and Madame brusquely gave Nick our first destination. She ordered him to raise the privacy glass. Nick was to be just another generic limo driver until Madame was good and ready to relieve him of his duties. We rode to the restaurant kissing, holding hands, and giggling all the way. As long as no one else was close enough to hear, tonight I was free to address Madame by her real name. This was a rare privilege, and each utterance gave me the sweetest frisson. Truly a night to remember.

Dinner was lovely, as always. I’m a hopeless shellfish addict, and as she has done many times before, Madame filled me with all the clams, oysters, shrimp, and lobster I could stuff into my greedy mouth. I was allowed to get mildly tiddly on two Scotches and half a bottle of Veuve Clicquot, with each glass receiving but a single, teensy droplet of Madame’s precious golden cordial.

On the way to the dance club we let poor, famished Nick hit the Wendy’s drive-thru for a burger and large fries. He was going to need plenty of fuel to get him through the night we had planned for him. Nick dropped us at the dance club and went off to park and await Madame’s call for him to return.

The dance club was loud, cavernous, and crammed full of milling, young people – some openly ebullient, others standing about, diffidently nursing their drinks and feigning deep boredom. As far as we could see, Madame and I were the eldest patrons there, by a significant margin. It proved no disadvantage.

The imposingly beautiful, middle-aged, blonde BBW bombshell, and her leggy, lissome, equally middle-aged, tranny companion with red, bee-stung lips and big, brown eyes were magnets for attention. While the men hovered from a safe distance trying not to be obvious, the women had no compunctions about showing their interest. The girls repeatedly pulled us both out onto the dance floor, and we all slithered and swayed seductively to the subwoofers’ rumbling pulse. Several bold young women openly suggested that we “get together” after hours. Alas, Madame and I had other plans.

Whenever we overheated from dancing we would retire to the bar, where Madame had a reserved table. Madame ordered oysters for us both, and I was granted the privilege of two more generously poured scotches on crushed ice, each, of course, enhanced with the barest hint of Madame’s well-guarded, secret flavoring agent. I was having a perfectly fabulous time.

Click here for Part 3

About the Author

The Great Escape

July 23, 2018 By Mistress Jane 5 Comments

With the pressures of everyday life and everything that goes with it, people are seeking out more and more ways to unwind and destress. Something to take them out of themselves in the way of escapism. Someone to take control of their mind, body, and soul- whether that be a full on BDSM experience with rubber and all the trimmings or a simple bit of role play and an over the knee spanking.

BDSM has been likened to some adrenaline-driven sports such as skydiving and snowboarding, simply because people are getting the same buzz. See, we’re not so different, are we!

I can only speak from my experiences, all with men. With the weight of life hanging over them, the pressures of work, providing, paying the bills, life certainly isn’t easy. Is it any wonder they try different ways to declutter their minds and rid themselves of the pent up anxiety life has brought upon them?

For some, it is not a sexual journey, but a journey of self discovery and curiosity. I have met many an older gentleman, who in recent years have discovered the internet, found BDSM, and realized that it’s something they want to tick off their bucket list.

Others, have had a yearning for kinky play their whole lives, but never dared ask for it, for fear of ridicule or embarrassment. For some, it is a sexually expressive journey as well as a lifestyle. To others, it is like a drug; they love the high it gives them-like chasing the dragon, always seeking that all time ‘high,’ like an addiction. In short, something they can not do without. Some, are just passers by, thrill seekers who want a brief dalliance just so they can say they have ‘done it.’ They too can get caught up by the BDSM bug, and often find themselves returning for more.

However, whatever the reason, these individuals have one thing in common: they all feel a sense of relief afterwards-not relief the scene is over, but a relaxed relief. Some subs are lucky enough to reach a zen-like state known as the ‘zone’ or ‘subspace,’ where nothing else matters at that moment. When they ‘come round’ later on all their cares have gone, as if a huge weight has been lifted, and they feel ready to face the world again, feeling refreshed and recharged.

‘Subspace’ is due to the release of endorphins. I am not a scientist; If you are interested in learning more, click on the link below. It’ll explain it a lot better than I can. https://friskybusinessboutique.com/the-endorphin-levels-in-bdsm/

In the ten years I have worked as a Pro Domme, I would say at least 90% of the men I see feel this way after a BDSM session. It gives these men a brief escape from the ‘norm’- whether it be crossdressing, strap-on play, heavy rubber, cock and ball play, corporal punishment, and so on. For the brief time they have spent with me, they have been able to forget their woes, and enjoy their ‘Pamper Time’ by means of mental escape and total surrender; it makes them feel good. If it makes someone feel good, then I am all for it (as long as it is safe, sane, and consensual).

My clients come from all walks of life. It’s a total myth that they are all high-flying business men. You don’t need to be a person with high stature to be buffeted by life. I have road sweepers, teachers, policemen, you name it. But, they all have that one thing in common no matter what their particular kink happens to be. They are all seeking escapism through kink and/or BDSM.

I consider myself to be in a very privileged position with all my clients, and in a great position of trust. They tell me their troubles, their life story, their worries, woes, and their sexual desires or kinks, which is what has led them to my door. In a way, it’s similar, I suppose, to being a counselor-you have to sit and listen without judgement. I feel that for some clients, BDSM acts as an alternative therapy, that is certainly the feedback I receive time after time.

Maybe we never really grow up. As kids we play-we are cowboys one minute then Buzz Lightyear the next. Maybe the adult playground is pretty similar in that some regress to a safe place in their mind through BDSM and by someone else taking control. Some adults need that escape just as they did when they were young.

A session starts way before entering a dungeon or a scene. It starts when the person seeking a BDSM session finds the Dominatrix or Mistress that appeals to them. They feel that instant rush of excitement, and as their appointment draws nearer they have all the feelings of going on a first date. Then, the door opens, and there The Mistress, the catalyst to their fantasy, stands in all her glory. It is through her that they give themselves over in order to reach that special place, that memory, that feeling, that endorphin high, that escape.

There are many Dominatrices or Mistresses out there. Each have their own personal style and all conduct their sessions differently. You know the old saying ‘always read the label’? Well, this applies in this case. Find a Mistress that appeals to you and your tastes. Read her site thoroughly to check whether she covers the type of session that you have in mind. Some Mistresses cover certain activities that others don’t. So, make sure you read carefully. Once you have found the Mistress that fits the bill, follow her booking procedure, go along, and enjoy the ride.

uk Mistress Jane http://www.mistress-jane.

About the Author

I am Mistress Jane. Based in the Royal county of Berkshire in the UK, and I have worked as a pro Domme for the past ten years. Fascinated by the alternative, the weird, and wonderful-which is what probably led me on this curious path in the first place. First and foremost, I am a service provider. I take pride in my work and the services I offer. I strive to give my clients a fulfilling and satisfying experience. I am a Mistress that likes to fulfill the dreams and fantasies of men. Frown on that you might, but face it, who’s paying!?

I speak what I find, and if life has taught me one thing it’s be yourself, don’t bullshit, or try and be something you ain’t.

I play safe and sane with a smile on my face. I enjoy what I do and welcome like-minded souls. I offer you a sanctuary to explore your desires. My stage is yours and I am ready to direct your play.

uk Mistress Jane http://www.mistress-jane.

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