Of Smutathon and Prosecco

I am now at home with prosecco and not feeling the drop. I had a fun weekend and if 12 hours writing seemed daunting I did get 8 posts written and my idea, to do a series of short stories each with the title of the Small Faces album Ogdens Nut Gone Flake turned out to be a source of inspiration. I still have seven to write but am brimming with ideas. And why not? This is an awesome album. And since you ask one of the stories will be in Unwinesque gobbledygook.

For these events are for me about much more than raising money although that is really important. In two years we have supported  the campaign against internet censorship and the demonisation of kink that goes with it, rape crisis and ow abortion rights. Remember that there are parts of the British Isles, such as Northern Ireland  and the Isle of Man where women do not have legal access to abortion without having to travel to  Great Britain. We have raised nearly 3,000 pounds in two Smutathons to day. And a thitd will happen next year.

Besides this Smutathon is about building friendships with fellow bloggers and having fun. We drank gin and prosecco, we luxuriated in the hot tub, we ate cake and pizza and croissants and strawberry shoelaces and a host of other gourmet delights. And I danced on the lawn on the rain in my nightie. And we had a host of weird, interestg and inforamtive conversations.

So I am now going to open the prosecco and raise my glass to you all, to Amy who organised it all, to the two Hannahs, to Jayne who flew over from Canada just to be with us, to Livvy, to Olly and Chris.

Cheers guys and here’s to next time.

And, dear reader, if you haven’t donated yet you can do so here 

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.


Check out the other awesome posts here