Good Little Boy

The worse thing you can do is fight it.

I get what I want. And what I want is for you to come in my hand like a good little boy.

I know you want that too. I can feel your cock harden in my hand.

So, accept me. Let me in.

Because if you don’t, it’s only going to get harder for you from here on in.

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12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #9: Interlude III: Rite of Passage

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IT comes in fragments now,

Like images reflecting off pieces of broken glass,

Shifting, changing,

The more you move.

 

I remember the bed made up for me on the ground level,

I recall the wooden stairs that creaked so loudly that

When I awoke at the dawn of a new day,

I feared I would wake your house.

 

I remember the bed sat against a window that

Looked into the backyard pool.

I remember the name of the lively dog,

Who would wake me at the light of day.

 

And I remember you,

Tired and yet wide eyed,

Sneaking down the stairs

Dressed in a loose pink night dress that

Barely covered your breasts or your legs.

I remember the way your dark hair curled

Around your eyes.

I remember that look in your eyes,

You had to have more,

You had to see me.

Why else would the dawn wake you?

 

I know we kissed

Heavily

Lovers that had the world

Lovers that forgot time itself

I know you straddled me sometimes

Because I can sometimes still hear your giggle,

Soft and mischevious.

But now I’m old

And time itself has forgotten me.

 

So like fragments,

I have the world

And I have the memories.

I have the memories

And I have the sounds.

I have the sounds

and I have the sights.

 

And I remember,

Twisting the pool cue,

Sliding it deeper,

Hearing the whispered catch on your breath,

Catch on the guttural animal cry

escaping your lips

As you beg me to let you come.

 

It comes in fragments now,

The trembling subsiding,

The breathing slowing,

The waves of sleep surrounding us,

Dream taking over us.

 

Creativity begs torture

Sometimes I don’t mind,

Sometimes I do.

Glass can cut.

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #7: O Holy Night

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The words caught in my throat as you began to slide the strap of your simple yet elegant black dress down your lightly tanned shoulder. We should not be doing this, I thought, standing in the hallway, but your eyes looked to mine in defiance. Something about them said I would do what I want.

 

I was hesitant though. For both of us. After all, we were both guests at your parents’ place and you…your boyfriend was below the bathroom window, sharing a cigar with your father. How could I betray your family? Your boyfriend?

 

We had heard the rumours. All of us had. The stories about him, the way he’d flirt with other women. Had he cheated yet? Did you know? Is that why you’re here before me, one strap hanging on the curve of your shoulder?

 

Two wrongs don’t make a right. Who taught us that? Parents? Teachers? In what circumstance does that saying come up? Probably more often than not.

 

Yet you stood in the bathroom doorway, the stripe of your dyed-pink hair covering your right eye – your ice blue eyes, which looked to me with a glint of playfulness.

 

I shouldn’t have stepped through that door. I should’ve smiled, thought up a polite response, but something pulled me into the bathroom, something that felt beyond my control.

 

You backed up, eyes still focused on me, hands focused on your dress. Your right hand curled under the strap still on your shoulder and slid it down, while you wriggled a little to let the dress fall down. You laughed as you did so. Hell, we both laughed softly in that moment. It was such a cute moment that came out of nowhere, how could you not?

 

When you stood before me in your black strapless bra and black lacy panties, the words caught in my throat again. I had to catch myself from falling to my knees. An absurd image of a man falling to his knees and praying, worshipping came to me in that moment, and being no stranger to absurd images – this seemingly dream-like one being one of them – I let it go.

 

I cannot recall the exact moment I knew I had feelings for you. I suppose it wasn’t something that struck me waking up, it was a gradual thing, something that came to me the more we spoke, the more we reconnected after our lives took a detour from each other.

 

Had you not been leaving the bathroom while I was entering to wash my hands from Christmas dinner – and to check my phone, of course – guilty as charged, maybe we might never had stood there, facing each other as we did now.

 

Were you as nervous as I was to stand there? If you were, I couldn’t see it on your face. You hid it well as you slid your bra off, letting it topple to the floor. As I saw it there, resting in a heap, I felt a stab of panic. What if someone comes here, what if our absence is noted, and you have to dress suddenly?

 

You must’ve seen the panic in my eyes then, for you stepped forward. When you did, I refocused, anxiety leaving my body. I saw you, shirtless. The idea seemed abstract. How was this even possible, I thought, after all these years? Why? How? Is this a cruel prank?

 

When I lost my footing and fell to my knees, you giggled softly. Suddenly I was face to face with your breasts. You were smaller than me, I remembered. 5 foot 3. Of course.

 

I wish I could describe the feelings I had seeing you, not just your breasts you understand, but you. Hopefully this little note to you helps. I’m not sure how much help it will be, but it’s got to be worth something right?

 

I hope I didn’t stare too long. Watching you, I felt like time disappeared, as if the space of the bathroom was outside time and everything stopped as I looked upon you, upon your lightly pink areola and hardening nipples.

 

Your eyes never left mine, even when I knelt. I looked up as you pulled me in, your soft hands tugging at the back of my head gently, and felt dizzy, as if I was on the outside of my body looking at the two of us in that quiet bathroom.

 

I would’ve stood but my legs were weak, I felt frozen in place, in awe as I looked upon you. You just stood watching me as you wriggled again, your hands moving away from my head and seeing to something out of my view.

 

A moment later, you raised your left hand, your crumpled panties in your index finger. With the realisation you were now nude, it’s as if my senses kicked in, absolute. My cock, which couldn’t possibly grow harder, seemed to strain, seemed to ache, with its length. It needed to be free, but that would come later. I had to look upon you.

 

You were trimmed, I had noticed. I thumbed my way across your skin, lightly touching out to your dark pubic hair. You giggled shyly.

 

I didn’t plan what happened next. Yet I found myself lowering my mouth across your bare skin, planting soft and gentle wet kisses, leaving behind a trail of kisses as I moved down to between your legs.

 

I worshipped you then, as I had wanted to for quite some time. Hungrily, tenderly. Savouring every moment, every taste, and every soft sigh from your lips above.

The lips of my goddess.

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #5: Baby, It’s Cold Outside

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My hand is clasped around the chain that clings to her leash, our leash. The one we picked out together.

She stood before me, dressed down in all of the ways; pink splotches covered her nipples where I had smacked her gently moments ago. Her face wears a frown.

She had on her heel boots, the one she wore to work this morning. This much I let her do.

 

Maybe she had a rough day at work, we all have rough days at work, but I did warn her. Gently.

I told her that her sass has no place at the dinner table.

For whatever reason, she chose to ignore that reason.

This act wasn’t a mistake, an error in judgment, no she knew the rules – we went over them by candlelight the night I claimed her in the great storm of 2016. Every detail, every loophole, every reason was covered. If I made a mistake, she corrected me. If she made a mistake, I corrected her. And tonight, well tonight she was at fault.

 

I must admit, when I told her her punishment and a hint of fear flickered in her eyes, there was a little tickle deep down in my cock. My love, ever smart and anticipating, caught unaware.

‘Baby, it’s cold outside’ she said, slipping into her baby girl mode instantly.

‘You should’ve thought of that, my sweetling’ I replied.

 

Her frown as she undressed, lifting her floral dress overhead and tossing it to the floor to reveal today’s underwear – a black strapless bra and rainbow panties, laced with black lace on the outskirts of the fabric – made me grin. I could feel that side coming out of me then. The primal side. The sadistic side. The Master was meeting the Daddy half way and merging.

 

‘Leave the boots’ I said. ‘We can’t have your feet frozen’

She looked at me venomously but I did not relent. A punishment is a punishment, which is the nature of the beast.

 

In silence I fitted her collar around her, the one she wears at home once she slips into her around-the-house clothes, and in silence I led her outside.

 

My heart began to flutter. Would there be people walking their dogs tonight? It was 7-30pm; the sun was yet to set. It was certainly likely.

 

I moved ahead of her, keeping my hand back, forcing her to walk behind me. That was how you kept Dominance with pups’ right? And tonight, she was my little puppy.

 

We turned the corner and began to walk down Lavender Street. Suburbia was quiet. No domestic arguments, no dogs barking or cats fighting. It’s as if the neighborhood knew the punishment as well. Perhaps that was true. If it weren’t by now, it certainly would be soon.

 

I looked back at my little puppy. Her little pixie hair was an auburn tangle, her green eyes fierce and fixed on me. I kept my gaze until she broke it, looking down at her feet. Not something we practiced, but I didn’t raise it at that point in time. I would carry out the punishment before I showed any warmth.

 

With her eyes down, I looked down at her body. They were covered with Goosebumps, prickles all over her arms and breasts. Her small breasts in the moonlight took on an ethereal form. She is my angel, she always will be. I hope she remembers that.

In that moment, I wanted to lower my mouth onto her hard pink nipples. Perhaps my saliva would make her cold but hopefully the warmth that comes from such an action might counteract such coolness.

 

Nevertheless, I strayed my mouth. This was a punishment after all – and I will fulfill it. Around the block, was the full punishment. Nothing more, nothing less.

 

The weather tonight was a cool 16 degrees Celsius. There was a bite to the air and a gentle breeze that traveled up my spine every so often. The primal being within me chuckled at the idea of it affecting my little puppy. I felt strange for the feeling, a pang of guilt hit me, but I shook the thought before it could spread like an illness through my mind.

 

The sweet and heavenly image of her bare ass, pale and covered in goosebumps, brought me back from the darkness – and I found myself smiling.

 

I looked back at her, my little puppy, which cast her eyes down at the ground as she walked along behind me, the chain rattling as we moved.

 

We turned the corner – another right. Just another right at the end of this street and we’ll be back on the street we live in. I’ll turn on the heater; I’ll let her pick a movie.

 

Behind her, my little puppy kept her arms by her legs. Her mound was neatly trimmed. I wonder if I should ask her to style a new design for me. What would she say? How would she feel? Hm.

 

She felt my gaze and looked up at me, and in that moment something seized my chest. What I said about her being an angel, something ethereal, was genuine. But in the light of the dim streetlight, she looked mythical. It gave me chills and I wanted to kiss her there and then. I could’ve very easily taken her, lying her down on what could be the wet grass and slide into her just to hear her deep grunts. Something about that was so….there is no decent word.

 

There came a cough from ahead of us – and my little puppy whined.

With a gentle tug of the chain, she began moving again.

When a woman and man came into view, walking their lab, the woman let out a noise signifying distaste. The yellow lab bounded over to us, eager to sniff my little puppy’s body. For a second, I was eager to let it. But the couple, their faces twisting into snarls in the night, wheeled the lab back and quickened the pace. My little pup and I kept moving.

 

Shortly, we arrived back m out the front of our house, my little pup close behind me, her frozen hands on her body as I turned the key in the door and stepped inside.

 

I ran her a bath, hot but not scalding, hoping it would bring her back into our realm, back into our house.

 

As she slid down into the bath, sighing as steam rose off her mythical body, she whispered low and wavering. I didn’t catch what she said and I didn’t ask her to repeat it, I let her bask in the warmth.

 

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #3: Interlude: Elizabeth II

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Once upon a time, through life’s little journey’s, I sat underneath the ocean and looked above from my safe alcove to see how the water rippled.
Through the spaces of the ages, on a tool designed by men, I found her there.
It was as if time had stood still for me, and had moved for her.

She was timeless
Low light pale skin knee bent nose wrinkled pierced lip puffy nipples
And I had never aged.

Time still and time passed, interconnecting and yet not connecting at all.
Voices through time
Naïve playful welcoming
Now sullen. Knowing. Accepting.
Names once known
now move through the air like
hushed whispers in the night.

A ghost exists, unbridled energy.
A shadow, faint,
behind the tremble of a voice,
behind words empty and alien.

Something stirs,
something primal.
Knowing.
But despondent.
I let the current sweep me away from view.

And where she’s going, I hope there’s someone there to help her.

 

12 Days of BDSM Christmas 2017 – #1: The Little Drummer Boy

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When Vivian pulled into her driveway, she could already hear the sound of it beyond the interior of the car. Drums. Crashing away to a beat she couldn’t place.

She knew who it was instantly: Dave, the rarely seen twenty-something that lives directly across the road from her.

She knew this because he introduced himself as she was trimming the garden out the front of the place she was renting.

He had pulled up in some beaten old white Toyota hatchback and as he moved to check his mail, he thought he might has well ought to introduce himself.

That day was a stinking hot Sunday afternoon, and the only thing Vivian wanted to do was quickly trim the tree to appease the landlord and get back into the sweet, chilly comforts of the aircon inside.

Dave, however, wanted to introduce himself. He did so wearing a boyish grin and baring his row of perfect white teeth, which Vivian found oddly off-putting.

He was new, he said. Wanted to acquaint himself with the people of the neighbourhood. Vivian found herself nodding and smiling on autopilot.

 

Vivian remembered this as she stepped out of the car, locked it and turned to check her email.

On the way to the mailbox, her eyes stopped at the open garage door that led to Dave’s place. The drumming was louder now, rat-tat-tat-rat-tat-rah, crash.

Even from here, Vivian could see the sweat glistening off of his forehead. It seemed to light up from the light in the garage.

Her gaze seemed to catch his attention. In an instant, the rat-tat-tat came to a halt, the cymbals fading out to give way to the sound of banal suburbia. Kids bouncing a ball somewhere, someone mowing their lawn up the road.

Vivian could see Dave smiling from here, he rose from the drummer’s seat and began to head towards her, but Vivian was holding a bag full of Christmas presents for her family – presents bought too soon to Christmas. It was the 18th of December and Vivian did not want to waste a second of her afternoon outside making awkward small talk.

She found the keys in her handbag, stumbled to find the door lock – and turned. Dave was out of the garage as she closed the door behind her.

 

Her black-and-white cat rushed to her feet, meowing about her own day.

“Really?” Vivian asked the cat named Chicago that purred at her feet.

In the back of her mind, she suddenly felt like a crazy cat lady. Her mum’s voice came to her from somewhere in the empty house.

Viv, it’s time to find someone. You’re twenty-seven, you’re not getting any younger.

Vivian shook off the thought; there was no time for that. Dinner had to be ordered, she had decided, and while waiting, she’d wrap presents for the family. She was to make the drive to Sydney next week, when her annual leave kicks in.

 

That was when the knock at the door came, and Vivian froze. That could only be one thing, she knew – Dave. For some reason.

Another knock caused a slight spasm in her body. This was weird, she thought, really weird. Rear Windows-level of weird.

She decided to let it go. Later, she would claim she was in the toilet at the other end of the house. Not her best white lie, but it would do. No one would want to stop his or her business just to answer the door.

Yet she found herself moving to the door. Weirder yet, she found herself opening the door. Something pulled her there, a magnetic charge. Something within her that was curious.

Sure enough, it was Dave. He was standing behind the screen door, his black singlet drenched where the sweat had run.

Vivian felt herself smile, to which Dave smiled at her back — and that was when pain exploded across her temples and her world went dark.

 

 

Ears ringing, head burning, eyes watering – Vivian woke.

With a grunt, she tried to move, but there was a weight beneath her chest.

No, she thought, that wasn’t right, that can’t be right. Vivian was on her stomach against freezing cool concrete.

Cool? She wondered a moment, then something else came crashing into her mind – she was completely nude.

Sensations came flooding to her senses then. She could feel her nipple, hardened by the cool cement, propped up at an angle, scraping the cement beneath her. She could feel her legs, suspended in –

Suspended? Why suspended?

Vivian wriggled on the spot and to her increasing horror, realised her legs were bound together, with some kind of fabric itching at her legs.

The itchiness seemed to spread with her realisation, washing down over her arms and wrists.

Rope, she thought, it must be. It feels like.

Vivian craned her neck to see behind her. She was in a garage.

Dave’s garage. It was almost as if she had forgotten.

What has he done to me?

A door opened from somewhere behind her. Shoes echoed on the floor beneath.

Vivian tried to scream but the gag in her mouth muffled her. It tasted like rubber.

The shuffling of the feet stopped, followed by a click, then the room came alive with the sound of disposable pop music.

 

Vivian wriggled on the spot, to no avail.

“Now…I need you to do something”

His voice was near her ear now, his breath sour.

“And you’re probably gunna want to scream, but I cannot allow that. So, no tricky business, eh?”

His voice sounded young – how young? Was Vivian wrong to think he was twenty-seven?

As he knelt down beside her, he came into her line of sight, wearing that boyish grin he had on his face when introduced himself all those weeks ago.

“And no biting” He said, his voice smooth.

Gently, he lowered the ball gag around Vivian’s mouth –

“Somebo-“ Vivian went to scream but pain shot across her back, stiff and fierce.

Don’t do that, hm?”

Dave’s voice was wavering. “I need this, okay? Just…just do this, or…”

His deep brown eyes looked her in the eye. “That pain will continue, hm?

Vivian found herself nodding. She didn’t know why she felt the need to be silent, she just felt compelled to. The sensation startled her.

 

“Now, suck on these…”

Dave’s hand came into view, clasping his drumsticks, which had the appearance of a terrible rotten yellow colour. Old, they seemed. Ancient.

“Gently” Dave cooed, as if instructing a child.

He slid them carefully into her mouth one at a time. Vivian ignored the taste of sweat that filled her mouth, and sucked on them as was asked. All the while, thoughts of rage swirled around in her head.

Carefully, Dave rotated each stick in her mouth, lathering them up in her saliva.

For what purpose, she did not know, but the unanswered question frightened her.

When she was done, Dave put the gag back into her mouth as he smiled and disappeared out of view, leaving Vivian alone with the pop music. She trembled at the thought of what he had in store for her.

 

Suddenly her body seized in a mix of pleasure and pain as something thin and rigid slid into her. Her legs trembled where they were tied back overhead and her arms began to sting.

The pain that had begun the sensations gave way to pleasure. Vile, unwanted pleasure that defied her thoughts.

Vivian felt her hair drop around her eyes, and she was blinded, unable to remove the strands.

With her eyes beginning to get irritated by the intrusion of her hair, she squeezed them shut.

The drumsticks sliding into her, the object coated in her spit, felt queer inside her.

A thought came to her in her madness of her coating her own finger as she began to touch herself.

When was the last time I touched myself? Was the thought that came barrelling into her mind as she trembled under the sensation of the drumstick working her.

“I’ve dreamt of how you’d tremble” Came Dave’s soft voice. “It was wrong of me to, perhaps, but I did.”

She could hear him take a breath. “It doesn’t compare…how could it?”

Vivian could feel the drumstick stop. Its presence just sitting inside her, waiting to continue, her madly waiting for it to continue agitated her.

When she felt the other drumstick slide into her ass, her face fell against the concrete floor. Pleasure gave way to pain. The ball gag stifled her cry.

Her thoughts fell through her mind as if on fast-forward –

I haven’t done anal not really   I tried experimenting once in my teens but never saw the appeal   I don’t see it now   Why are you doing this?

 

Vivian’s face grinded against the concrete, her nipples dragging along the floor as the drumsticks simultaneously pumped in and out of her cunt and ass.

Pain and pleasure traded places back and forth, sea-sawing between the intense levels.

She could feel her own saliva, the saliva she had coated the drumsticks with (why didn’t you try to scream more?), spill out of her mouth and run down her chin.

It continued to run right down to her breasts, falling down across her nipples.

Vivian so desperately wanted to wipe up her own drool, to ease the sensation of it running down her nude body. She wiggled to try and manipulate its movement to stop.

The act went unnoticed by Dave.

 

Vivian wanted to beg, wanted to plead, wanted to scream a string of vulgar insults, but the gag held her lips in place, her moist lips that started to ache with the twisted position they were with.

I need to get out of here I need to get free I need to

I need to

I need to

Vivian found herself wiggling back against the drumstick in her cunt; she needed to reach her clit. She needed that desperately. The desire surged from within her, threatening to come out full force, tightening her chest.

She was close, she was close, she was so close she could feel a moan come out through the gag when –

 

The drumsticks stopped moving. Everything – her desire, the pain, and the pleasure – it all came crashing to a halt.

Vivian swore through her ball gag, trying to kick her legs back out at Dave fruitlessly.

She could hear him laugh.

“I have to practice”

 

Vivian felt he drumsticks slide out of her cunt and ass, another act that brought her dangerously close, yet so far. She grunted, it came out guttural and animalistic.

When she felt the drumstick slap on her ass once – then again, she flinched.

Rat-tat-tat-tat came the sound of her skin being struck. The pleasure swept through her restrained body. Her cunt was achingly wet.

 

Vivian whimpered, Dave practised. She was his instrument.

The Dominant’s Growl #10

Are you a natural Dominant or are you a learned one? Or both?

I would probably say I began as a natural Dominant, because I can remember it coming to me out of blue during interactions with an old girlfriend of mine.

I had no idea where it came from or why. Well, if I had to guess why, I would say this particular lady was a lady of mischief. And there was resistance there that came out sexually, which – luckily for me – she responded to. If she didn’t, I’d imagine I would’ve caught the train home and listened to some angst ridden metal band that I worshipped as a teen. (Note to self: Is metal an aphrodisiac? Part joking, part curious).

ANYway, the other half would be that I taught myself the kind of Dominant I wanted to be, the kind of partner I would be interested in, and the rules and regulations that I need on my own life to keep me sane.

And I guess I knew I was growing as a Dominant – and as an adult, really – because it suddenly wasn’t just about my needs. I had started to wonder about the needs and mindset of a submissive. I developed a desire to nurture, which is why I repeatedly offer counsel here..

If you’re skimming – allow me to surmise: I started off feeling natural thoughts but through my experience and encounters with submissive women, I learned. I made mistakes and recovered from them.

What have you learned about yourself in the past year that surprises you?

It would be my desire to nurture.

Even as a Dominant, I’m always anxious to make sure my role is keeping things for my kitten well and in tact so that she is happy and fulfilled and loved.

I do this because I’m scatterbrained. It’s easy for me to get lost in my mind, like some sort of weird wonderland labyrinth. And my kitten is kind of this centrepoint of my world that keeps my feet on the ground.

So I guess the more our relationship goes on, the more I’m finding how deep this love runs. It’s like…falling in love all over again and wanting to protect but not protect too much that it’s overbearing.

So to sum it up, I’ve discovered I like to take care of her, and I’ve discovered I like to help others as best I can as well. Which is why I talk a lot about that Daddy side within me. Is that making any sense?