We are on Skype having a chat when the phone rings. He is expecting a call, excuses himself, picks it up. I stay online and listen to his end of the conversation, waiting for him to finish. I get a little bored and send him an instant message.

“Say ‘horrendous’.”

He messages back, “Yes Ma’am…”

There is a smile in his voice as he continues his conversation. I can hear him stifling the grin as he thinks about it. A minute or so later, I hear him say in exaggerated disbelief, “That’s horrendous!!”.

I giggle like a six year … Continue Reading

I don’t want ‘play’, the pretty, the tools, the toys, the games, the amusement, the cute, the acts, the implements, the controlled, the measured give and take, the things.

I want violence, force and shoving and slapping and tearing at flesh and smashing you to the ground and not giving a fuck about you. I want fear and helplessness and tears and surrender and panic and animal lust. I want growling and screaming and grunting and gasping for breath. I want that fucking violence, that desperation, that grabbing selfish need, messy and passionate and out of control.

I miss … Continue Reading

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 … Continue Reading