Choices Choices

Today is the start of the football season. Do I watch my team or do I go to a femdom event and catch up with some lovely people I haven’t seen for months. Tell me, dear reader, what do you think I should do?

A post for Sinful Sunday. Click the lips for more Sunday sin.

The Key To His Soul

“Control a man’s cock and you have the key to his soul.”

As I left the hotel and set off in search of a restaurant, I kept repeating this over to myself.  The session had not gone quite as I had planed it.  I was more intuitive and spontaneous in those days.  As I sat in the armchair I was using for a throne, one booted leg folded over the other, observing him with my best poker face, the idea came to me like a flash.

I had never sessioned with Steve before.  He was a little nervous but clearly deeply submissive. After a little humiliation play and an over the knee spanking I saw him get hard. His cock was magnificent, it jutted out ramrod straight, and I could have sworn it was pulsing with anticipation. An idea came to my mind. Such an amazing member needed taming.

“Play with yourself for my entertainment” I ordered him.

He complied eagerly, too eagerly,  so I added

“You are not to come until I give you permission.”

He looked worried by this as he had come quickly to the brink of ejaculation.

There he was to remain. He slowed and stopped.

“Did I say stop? Did I?”

“No Mistress.”

“Keep wanking then.”

“But I am about to come Mistress.”

“Is that my problem? I ordered you to wank and not to come. Get on with it!”

“Yes Mistress.”

I saw fear and anguish in his eyes and felt a rush of sadistic elation as I sat, expressionless, enjoying his torment. He was trying so hard, to obey, tensing his body, contorting his limbs into the weirdest shapes as he fought against his own body, fought out of fear of the punishment I might inflict, or oit of his need, as as submissive man, to please me. And I knew then that he would do anything for release.

But I was not yet ready for that. And I made him suffer for a few more minutes before moving on to my kinky dance class.   At the end of the session I permitted him release. He knelt before me ad came in torrents over my boots, before greedily licking them clean. He had learnt his lesson well.  He understood that release is a reward not a right.  And I realized that sadism is not only about canes and clamps.  Get inside a submissive’s  head and the possibilities are endless.

As it turned out I never sessioned with Steve again. He got in touch a few months later to ask for a session. I replied to say that I was happy to see him but reminded him that he was getting a two hour session with me that, if he went to a professional he would probably be paying north of £200 for.  I didn’t want money but as I would be putting my free time into planning and conducting the session, a small gift would be appreciated, specifically a bottle of my favourite malt whisky.  I never heard from him again.  That, I like to think, is his loss. But if I were to see him again I know I hold the key to his soul.

This is a post for masturbation Monday. Click on the image below for more masturbatory delights.

 

Scratching the Itch to Switch

So what did I get up to on that Monday after Eroticon? I did something I hadn’t done for several years and booked a session with a pro domme. I did this for a number of reasons.  I wanted to explore the dynamic of submitting to a woman as a woman. I had previously played with submissive woman as a top but somehow it never quite worked for me. I had a number of mental blockages that stopped me getting into the headspace. I have always felt more comfortable dominating men. And yet I had watched women play in clubs and seen that the submission of a woman to a woman could be a thing of great beauty. I needed to see if that could work for me.

The other thig was that, reflecting on past experiences, I understood that I had never really experienced a deep subspace. Domspace yes, absolutely and my domming career has given me so massive highs but looking at the deep subspace that our play has sent my slave when a scene has gone really well, I understood that I had never experienced this. I began to question my own approach to submitting in a scene and think about what I was doing wrong that was preventing me from getting into a properly submissive headspace.

So this session was about scratching an itch and something in the way of an experiment. I did my research, sent a detailed e mail to the lady setting out what I was looking for and setting out limits and so on. This all sounds obvious, but I had never before done this I in such a structured and factual manner. That I was able to do this is itself a product of 5 years on the scene as (mainly) a dominant and a lot of play with a range of people. I know myself and I know what a prospective play partner needs by way of information.  We had a telephone conversation and I had a good feeling about the lady. We were, I felt, on the same kinky wavelength.

And so on to the session in the traditional discreet location, in this case in South London. The session worked for me. No subspace and I never felt even slightly out of my comfort zone (and I think being taken a little of your comfort zone is a part of a good submissive experience – it reminds you who is in charge) but this was a first meeting with someone who really knew nothing about me. We learnt a lot about each other, and I will see her again as I think there are good things to build on coming out of the session. Her domming style has also given me a few ideas.

Most importantly we liked each other, and this is massively important.   I did say I didn’t experience subspace. True but I did cry cathartic tears at the end, and she gave me good aftercare.

“Thank you, Mistress,” I said as I made to leave.

“Thank YOU, Mistress,” she replied and we both laughed.

We hugged and I left. I heard the door swing shut. I didn’t look back. But I know I will be knocking on that door again in a few months’ time.

Playing Those Mind Games – A Post for Masturbation Monday

“Play with yourself for my entertainment” I commanded and sat back to watch the performance.

He had a gentle rhythmic masturbation style that was pleasing on the eye. I could see that his eyes were focussed on my stiletto heeled thigh boots, presumably to fuel his fantasies.  I rather liked the idea of a man masturbating to me in my presence. It had never happened to me before.

As he worked away I watched his cock bulge and stiffen. He was now close to coming. So I reminded that I make the rules of this particular game.

 

“Keep wanking but I forbid you to come.”

 

He stopped and looked at me.

 

“Did I say stop? Keep wanking but you are on no account to come.”

 

He resumed his task with obvious reluctance, his movements now slow and hesitant.

 

“Mistress I am about to come.”

 

“I forbid you to come.”

 

“Please Mistress!”

 

“Wank harder and do NOT come.”

 

He looked at me pleadingly and I could see fear in his eyes.  This spurred me on. I was inside his head and I was going to torment him. When I am in this headspace I am a merciless sadist and his evident weakening sharpened my appetite for the kill.

 

“Keep wanking “ I said firmly as he slowed again.

 

He resumed his task. Now on the edge, with the slightest touch likely to bring him to ejaculation, he was in a terrible predicament. He stiffened, he arched his back, spread his legs and writhed and contorted , desperately trying to avoid the forbidden orgasm, and the harsh punishment that he knew would follow any failure to comply with My orders.  I laughed. I felt arousal, not at the sight of his wanking but rather that at his desperation, the mental and physical agony  I was subjecting him to. I was a sadist in full flow and loving every minute.

 

And really my sadism doesn’t need to find an outlet in whippings, floggings or physical torture, much as I enjoy those things.  Mind games somehow take BDSM play onto a higher plane and the satisfaction of getting into a submissive’s head and messing with it is like no other. It is a challenge to me as a domme too, a test of my own creativity and empathy. If I had just half an hour left in my life for a play scene with a submissive man I would leave my toy bag at home. Forced masturbation and orgasm denial it would have to be. The world would come to an end in a loud bang with me enjoying the intoxicating beauty of domme space while my poor submissive would be denied his orgasm for eternity.

 

Actually I am not really that evil. At the end of the session I allowed him to masturbate to completion and come all over my boots before licking them clean. He looked up at me, his face covered in come. In his expression I saw humility, gratitude, but above all, deep, deep joy.

 

 

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