They go to a caning workshop, sit on the comfortable couch, touching gently, watching the woman in leather deftly wield the instruments, listening intently to her explanations as she demonstrates her craft.

She strokes his puppy head, he shifts closer to touch more of her, she leans into him now and then to whisper about what they are seeing. She had never been so interested in canes, she is not a sadist (she sees him smile at that, a soft, amused 'yes Ma'am' wanting to trip off his tongue, she shushes him and continues...), she is not a sadist, so has never been so much interested in the hardness, the unforgiving nature of canes. This one, though, this boy, has some depth of masochism that she hasn't seen before, she doesn't attract the masochistic boys, but she has one now and she wants to see where she can take him. She watches, and learns.

Later, she has him tied over a bench, bent over, naked and exposed. She touches him gently, he quivers, he is afraid. She leans down to kiss him and she can feel him drawing comfort from her, sucking her courage into him. She strokes his body down, like he is a wild thing that needs calming, then steps back, hefting the cane, getting used to its weight, its length.

She starts softly on his arse, judging the distance, the angle of the strikes, watching the slight marks appear. He lifts up to her, offering himself, it makes her smile. The flick is enough to see a reaction, she holds it lightly, gaining confidence, taking her time, they have all the time in the world.

The rhythm comes easily, she finds her stride. Steady at first, she changes it up, faster, then slow, a few hard strikes in a row, the sound cuts into the room, harsh and sharp. She checks the marks, she whispers to him, she kisses him, he starts to lose focus. "Are you paying attention, boy?" she asks. "Yes Ma'am", he murmers, "While I can still kiss you I am ok Ma'am". She laughs and continues.

Some time later, his arse is a mess, his thighs, his calves show the marks of her enthusiasm also. He squirms away from her strikes, his knees bending sideways as he tries to escape the next hit, he is silent, his face is resting against the bench, a puddle of spit is flowing away from his mouth, when she leans down to him, his unseeing eyes barely register her presence, when she closes in for a kiss he no longer reaches for her. He is high on the pain, he has drifted away from her, he is floating, he has had enough.

She looks at his arse, it is darkly purple-bruised, pulpy, like ripe fruit, she touches it with her fingertips and he moans, she can feel the blood right under the skin, a few more strikes and she would break through to blood-splatter.

She unties him, he gazes at her, surrender and hope, he can barely move, she helps him up and leads him to the bed. "I'm not done with you yet, boy", she whispers. He nods, "Yes Ma'am, I'm glad".
.

Just A Little Taste
Older and Better Than Ever
Good Morning
Your Eyes
MFM: The Student. The Teacher.
Get Me Off
The Club & Introductory Note
Don’t Come
The City
Howl at the Moon
Rimjob
Consumed
The Devil Inside
One of the Greats
Room Service

A Busy Night
Bad Taste?
Protocols
The Illusion of Beginning: Pt 1
“You hit me…”
Reconnecting
Too Many Buttons
Nadia’s Wishing Box
The Mason Jar
So Sexy Boots
Swing Shift Vol. 18 – Safe Sex and Getting Tested
Libido Resurrection Programme™
Check Up
Oh, Baby, Baby
UnderRated: Fucking the Mind
Vixen Invites
I’m Quoted in Time Out NY!
Top Five Tuesday – Euro Studs
She Makes Me Feel Like a Whore
.

I am sunken low and depleted, for reasons, these reasons, those reasons, the other reasons, all of which bore even me. My boy is charming me, being cute and funny and papering over the widening cracks with tenderness.

He writes, bolstering me during the tedious day with email after email full of kindnesses and beauty. He ends one with:

"I miss you Ma'am and again I'm thinking about you sweetheart..."

The 'sweetheart' (sweetheart!) is unlike him, a terrible powerful sweetness, he is wrapping me up to care for me, pulling me into him, petting me gently, letting me know I am ok to rest there against him, small and partly broken and sad. I want to curl up there and try not to cry, I hate to cry, but sometimes a single tiny powerful terrible sweetness will draw it out.
.

dan englishman said...

What is your first dominant memory? My submissive memory involves a girl next door, both of us too young to be playing anything more than show and tell...her persuading me to go first, manipulates the situation...i give in, show her what she wants to see and she ran off and told her mum what i had done. The bitch. Still brings a smile out remembering the confused, humiliating, angry emotions. Being chastised by her mum whilst she stood grinning....often wondered how she turned out lol

dan englishman said...

Dan englishman - do you have a challenge for us in here? How could we feel what it is like to submit to you? Would be fascinating if you picked a person and set them a task. Jealousy for all the others who are not asked. Terror maybe for the person.

Adrial said...

Have you ever had submissive men not turn up to planned meetings, or turn up enough times to play and then disappear? Are they just liars and fakes?

1. He is just a wanker (literally), whose prime motivation is to fuel his fantasies, so he plays along, but has no intention of meeting anyone
   
2. He is well meaning, but scared silly (I know, a grown man scared? But if he is a newbie, a meeting is the first step towards putting aside an identity that he has been wearing for 20, 30, 40 years and admitting he is not who he has pretended to be for so many years... that's scary stuff) and when the moment comes, he can't do it.
   
3. She has put on a 'bitch goddess' persona, and that works ok remotely, but he actually can't imagine really having a relationship with such a person, in fact he doesn't even really think of her as a real person.
   
4. He realises when the meeting is imminent that the real thing has no chance in hell of being as good as the thing he has built up in his head.
   
5. He is married or otherwise involved.
   
6. He lied about himself in some way (he is younger, older, fatter, skinnier, uglier etc) and will get found out.
   
7. He truly and honestly thought he could go through with it, but panics at the last minute, maybe even making it to the meeting location before he runs.
   
8. If he plays and disappears, it could be that all he wanted was a BDSM version of a 'one night stand', he got it.
   
9. The play was disappointing or revealed a lack of chemistry (i.e. he's not that into her), he can't bring himself to say so, so he disappears.
   
10. The play was great, but there was no clear agreement as to what would happen afterwards, so what she sees as 'disappearing', he just thinks of as going about his life.
    
11. If he's a newbie, it could be that the play wasn't how he thought it would be (not as amazing as it was online/on the phone/in porn etc), which makes him re-evaluate everything he thought he was or wanted, but he can't talk to her about it.
    
12. The play was scary (too much too soon) and he freaks out.
    
13. The play was so perfect (everything he ever wanted and more) and it scared him to face his own nature, he can't deal with the emotional fallout, so he disappears.
    

• He is a liar or fantasist
  
• He is genuine, but is struggling with something and cannot communicate his feelings, so he takes the cowardly way out
  
• There is a mismatch of expectations
  

KitchenGoddess said...

You mentioned somewhere that you found your boy online. I seem to search high and low to no avail and am curious to know how you found him? What made him stand out? How did you know he was one of the good ones?

This is my boy's version of Marking territory, thank you baby.

---

She and I will separate tomorrow morning, so kneeling in the bathtub in front of her, while she showers, I want to be slapped, to get stunned out of the depression I feel already creeping up on me. Sometimes when I am kneeling and move to kiss her body, to slip my tongue into her, she will hold my head and position me just so, in preparation to slap my face, and I now I move to do so, kissing gently, offering her my face, her head and shoulders far above me in the clouds of steam and jet of shower water, a tower the top of which the atmosphere has hidden from me, and with the water in my face and the steam all around I am blind anyway, the inability to see and read her facial expressions, as always, both a source of anxiety and excitement--what is she thinking about up there?--and now I feel her hands guiding my face into her body, feel her positioning my head, my face, in front of her pussy, so that I can barely reach her with my extended tongue, with which I try to find her, search for her, to taste her and to feel her move against me.

But I feel her body relax now, instead, the muscles in her back and legs loosening, I hear her exhale deeply, and instead of the slap--which I thought or imagined was coming--I know now that she is planning on marking me, with her piss, that she is going to piss in my face and turn me into something to be used and something to be hurt without consequence, and my heart starts breaking a little bit because I know that this means she cares for me and wants me even as I know that by pissing on me, in my face, this turns me into a thing, something faceless, something unable to keep or carry a face, and makes my body only an extension of her body.

The water from the shower has been spilling on my face throughout, but the tenor of the water in my face becomes now sharper, a bit salty, and she moves her body closer into me, into my face, and I can feel the stream of her piss splashing across my face and down my chest and shoulders before I can open my mouth and help guide the stream into me, which I do, trying to make a seal between my mouth and her cunt so that the extension of her body into mine is complete and unbroken, so that I miss nothing, so that I can BE nothing too. But I find the seal impossible to make and keep, of course, and along with her piss, the stream of it now increasing so that I have to begin swallowing faster and faster, I am also swallowing the shower water as it falls on me, except the illusion in my mind is that everything I swallow is hers, that the water from the shower running over her body, down her face, breasts, stomach and into my mouth is hers, from her, so that I get a quick, vertiginous feeling that I am being entirely filled up by her, the empty, figurative spaces in my chest inhabited by her, so that there is nothing left empty or secret she is not a part of, the water all around and all over me is hers and the blankets of steam are hers and I am completely covered up by her. And I can sense her now moving rhythmically a little bit above me as the stream slows, her pussy rocking into my open mouth just a bit, popping my head back gently, and I break the seal of our bodies willingly now and begin licking into her cunt, trying to slip into her with my tongue as deeply as I can, more methodically now than before, her hands still framing my face.

She has in the past punctured my body with needles, broken my skin with her teeth, and penetrated me with her cock, but it is this moment, a sad moment where I feel broken, somehow worthless and a thing but also much cared for, cherished, it is this moment in which she has finally come inside of me, come in my mouth, come in my face, her piss like come running down my chest, and I have swallowed for her, all of it I could, and I hope this makes me a good boy.
.

Regular readers may have seen this photo of my boy already.

However he is now on show at Male Submission Art, so I wanted to give you a little encouragement to go over there if you aren't familiar with the site.

Male Submission Art aims to focus on "art and visual erotica that depicts masculine submission", and it does so very well, with many many beautiful images of submissive men that are far superior to those we more commonly see in stereotypical scenarios.

As for my boy, well... pretty pretty... *swoon*
.

Sunday again... hello!  I hope you all had a good week.

Before the Q&A, I thought I would entertain you with a short email exchange that goes a way to explaining why dominant women might get kind of fed up with some of the contacts they get on CollarMe or Fetlife or similar sites.  I very rarely get explicitly rude emails (saved from the cock shots by having a practically empty profile and no photos), but I do sometimes get emails from boys who seem to have lost all of their brain cells in what I can only imagine was some unfortunate accident...

random boy:

am searching for a woman that i can give love and also reciprocate... want to hear from u

me:

Hello random boy,

May I suggest that a one sentence broadcast email that is obviously being scatter-gunned to every woman in the world who calls themselves a dominant and which has no capitalisation, uses text speak and does not even have a rudimentary attempt at personalisation is going to fail, oh, 99.9% of the time.

Best of luck with the remaining 0.1%, though I suspect they are probably blokes.

Ferns

random boy:

i dont understand what u are saying

me:

....?

I do like the ones that make me laugh... bless 'em.  And now, to questions!

Yardbird said...

So nice to learn more about you. I don't know why, but knowing you're in your 40s adds so much more depth to your writings, as a woman who has the maturity and experience that you do, your not a 20-something idealist.

My question for you is this: If I were to pass by you, say, at the grocery store or post office or school or on the street, would I see any evidence that you are a dominant woman, is ther any distinguishing characteristic?

Perhaps the question is somewhat rhetorical. I just wonder about that as I see women out in regular life, and I think "hmm, I wonder if she has a crop and strapon at home, and an obedient and happy boy."

Hello Yardbird, I am glad to hear that my maturity has advantages... we happen to be the same age... I'm sure that doesn't colour your opinion one little bit...

As to your question,  I actually don't believe you can 'pick 'em' by certain characteristics, however I think that in my case, you might take a reasonable guess that I am a dominant woman, because in some ways I am kind of stereotypical.  I am tall, confident and opinionated and I wear some fetishy shoes and boots in my vanilla life.  I have also been told by some people that I am a little 'scary' on first meet, so I imagine that an observant submissive might speculate.  Mind you, they might see another woman has the exact same characteristics who is totally NOT dominant...

The problem with characterisations like that is that they reinforce the stereotypes.  While you may think that you can pick the 'type' (whether it's gays, lesbians, submissives, dominants, bisexuals, anything) using stereotypical traits, you will never even see the ones who are against type, and they may be everywhere... EVERYWHERE I tell you!!

englishmale said...

Hi there......englishmale again....love this way of doing things....my first question is.....I have read your profile from the beginning and it seems to be more erotic stories at the beginning, when you met, how it first happened. Now you seem to be talking less in that style. Do you agree your writing has changed and why would you say this is the case? Question 2. What are you wearing ;)?

Hello englishmale (dan...is that you?),

I have not so much been paying attention to my style over time, but I wouldn't question your observation - it could well be true. I write about what is going on with me and it makes sense that how I write about this relationship would change as the relationship evolves, as it gets deeper emotionally. In that context, the things that inspire me to write become more internally focussed. I *feel* as if I haven't changed how I write, because I write about things that have an impact on me, but I do think that it makes sense if I consider that the energy in a relationship evolves as it grows and my writing reflects that.

As for what I am wearing?  It is coming into summer in Australia... I am wearing a sarong, blue hues and pretty.

dan englishman said...

Sorry yes it is dan - englishman - I have just read back on some earlier posts. If you look back to November 2008, for instance "biting", it comes across to me as scary, dangerous, its like he is their for your physical pleasure, you dont really care for him.....fashforward to November 2009 and it is more about your feelings to him, your love, talk of heart. You love comes across a lot. I know you don't take other men but wonder how you would write about a session with them?

Yes, I see what you mean. I think there are a few reasons for that, some of which I have mentioned above, but I also think that once I have covered a particular topic, there is not much more to say about it unless there is something new in it that particularly hits me hard, makes my head spin, causes that incessant voice in my head to natter at me until I get it onto the page.

I tend not to write multiple stories about the same type of play unless there is something new to say about it. It's not that it isn't as intense or amazing or powerful to me each time, but I won't revisit it if I don't have anything new to say about it.  I am exploring, throughout, how I feel about things, what resonates with me, what makes me go 'oh my god!!', and it is what it is. I don't really feel like I make conscious choices about it.

Now, question 2... If I played with another man, one I didn't care about, I would expect to have pretty much nothing to say about it because I doubt that it would rouse my passion, it's superficial. Whack, whack, kick, slap, 'kneel, boy', smack, shove etc. It would be garden-variety scene talk. I need a deeper connection to get something back.  I really don't do casual play anymore for that reason, haven't done for years.  It would have been quite interesting to me how it would have turned out if this boy hadn't turned me down when I was completely frenzied (silly boy!).

dan - englishman said...

dan - englishman again.......why dont you show more of yourself on here? Other people do the usual HNT but not you? Scared of people discovering you or do you think the illusion would be shattered? Or simply us pervs should get our kicks somewhere else ;)?

am i becoming a stalker?

feels weird having read you so much to be corresponding. you ever talk on msn?

dan! I haven't heard from you in ages! Nice to see you here again.

I'm a dominant woman who writes about things that inspire me. I reveal pretty much everything in my writing. I don't provide pictures because I have zero interest in exposing my face or my body to strangers - it's irrelevant. And yes, as you point out, there are a gazillion places to go to get pictures of half naked women - I don't need to add this blog to make it a gazillion and one. Mind you, IF I were to get all HNT-ish, you would be seeing more pictures like this one because that's what I like...

No, you are not a stalker... you shall have to work on that!

Does it feel weird to be corresponding with me? I assume it's because I am now a bit more of a real person (I am, you know... hello dan...). And yes, I do IM with friends who make it past the machine gun turrets and minefields.

Julian said...

I'm loving the blog, but have a really important and relevant question.

Dannii or Kylie?

Oh Julian, you are so right... that is both important AND relevant, but come on now... Kylie, the gold hot-pantsed singing budgie with her perennial ability to turn up looking like a tiny little drag queen, is of course far far superior to Dannii whose claim to fame is too much botox and the ability to squeal enthusiastically at untalented talent show contestants without displaying a single facial expression...

I am happy to respond to any more questions, just post them in the comments on this thread and I shall put on my best frock, organise coffee, and we can have a chat about it next Sunday.
.