Accepting the gag

She rests poised on her hands and knees, such careful thought to her attendant posture. I approach her with the gag and she raises her head slightly. Her mouth opens in silence to accept it. I stroke her back as she purrs against my thigh. I wait for her drool to form and run along the slippery wet round red ball. For a moment I am captive, and for the rest of the time she is mine.

Lisa Lynette Clark: In Need of Training

Again, we are scouring the bottom of the entire notion of celebrity, avoiding the obvious antics (for now) of Paris, Nicole, Britney and Lindsay. This week delivers a fine candidate for celebrity slave training, straight from Google's Zeitgeist volcanic list. Lisa Lynette Clark was released from prison today. Her activity with the 15 year old boy who was friend's with her son was scandalous to say the least. Setting aside the legal and moral issues, I can't help but find arousal in my loins for the whole MILF and cougar fantasy that made both headlines and internet porn legend and dream.

Since she is now free to walk the earth, we would suggest a 5-day stay at the celebrity slave training academy, where she would fulfill the fantasy of every young man who wanted to indulge. Since she was audacious enough to deliver a child while behind bars, we would begin her training as a full-fledged breeder, where we would attach a constant nipple suction device to train her nipples for suckling all the babies she would be forced to have, and then she would endure a strict milking regime, followed by insemination at hourly intervals.

Her offspring would be nursed at her breast for a reasonable period, and then they would be taken to the orphanage for adoption to families who are having difficulty conceiving. We feel there is so much potential for a wanton slut like Clark, and she would certainly fulfill the insatiable appetites of our staff as she was used throughly as a sex toy for our staff and guests.

Humiliation Daze

Items Needed

Sharpie Pen, lipstick, or similar
Timer
Pen and paper
Sex Toys (optional for Day 3)

This is a task to help explore humiliation. Humiliation is a very subjective and personal experience – different for everyone – what might be humiliation to some is not to others. Also, some find the experience to be arousing while others do not. This task is set up to help a submissive discover their own experience with humiliation, and I hope you find it useful. The task will take place over three consecutive days, so when you accept or request the assignment, be sure you can complete it within seven days and you are able to perform for three consecutive days.

Rules:
You must be honest, both about what you choose as your humiliating phrase/words, but also as you keep your record. Any masturbation must be done manually. No toys, vibrators, etc. allowed., except on Day 3. If you feel you are likely to forget your body writing during the course of the day, you may wear a ribbon around your wrist to help remind you. That is optional, of course.

Task:
The first thing you should do is think about what, at the present moment, is the most humiliating thing you could be called by someone else. This should be something that doesn’t hit a limit of yours, but that is something you find to be humiliating and hopefully oddly arousing. Obviously this will differ between individuals. Got it? OK, we’re going to be writing it down…

Day 1:
First thing in the morning, you will kneel naked in the Nadu position for 15 minutes, contemplating the task ahead and the phrase you have selected. You will then write the phrase or words you have chosen on your abdomen with the sharpie pen or lipstick. When you have finished, you will lie on your back with your legs spread wide apart and you will masturbate (manual only, no toys!) to full climax. As you do so, you will also continuously utter the phrase written on your body as you masturbate as if you are speaking to your dominant, saying, “I am your ________ ” etc. Have fun with it and see how many ways you can enjoy what you are for your dominant as you pleasure yourself for them. Pay attention to your feelings as you mark yourself and as you experience the pleasure of your orgasm after you have written your personal humiliation on your body. After you have climaxed, you will not wash yourself, but you will dress and go about your day. As you go through your day, you will keep with you a pen and paper and you will record whenever your thoughts turn to the task or the phrase written on your body. If you think about it all day, that only counts as one time, so be honest with your record. Whenever your mind returns from your daily life to the task or your humiliation, make note and keep track. At the end of the day, you will tally the number of times you have thought about it. Prior to going to sleep, you will again kneel in Nadu position for 15 minutes and you will contemplate your experience during the day. After 15 minutes, you will lie on your back with your legs spread wide and you will masturbate for only as long as your tally. You will also utter the phrase out loud in the same manner as before, again enjoying what you are for your dominant’s pleasure. You may orgasm, but only if you can accomplish that within the time you earned. When your time is up, you will wash your body clean of your writing, and then you will write your report. Your report should include your feelings about the task and the feelings you experienced as you went through the act of writing on yourself, the masturbation and the thoughts you had during the day.

Day 2:
You will perform the task as on Day 1, except today you will NOT masturbate after you have written your phrase on your body. You will again keep track of the number of times your thoughts turned to the task or the writing on your body. Just prior to retiring for the night, you will kneel in Nadu position for 15 minutes, then you will lie on your back with legs spread wide and you will masturbate for only as long as the day’s tally. You will again utter the phrase out loud as on Day 1 while you masturbate. The same rules apply – you may climax if that is accomplished within the time period designated by the tally. Again, wash your body clean and then write your report. How was today different from Day 1?

Day 3:
This time you will kneel in Nadu position for 15 minutes and you will neither write the phrase nor will you masturbate. You will, however, continue to maintain your record of the number of times your thoughts turn to the task and/or the phrase or words you have chosen. At the end of the day you will kneel in Nadu position for 15 minutes, then you will write the phrase on your body. Then you will masturbate as before, crying out the phrase as before. You are permitted to climax as many times as the tally for Day 3. Can you meet the challenge? It is your reward as well as a way to engage in the pleasure of your own Humiliation Daze! I hope you had fun and I look forward to your reports.

Special Info:
Nadu:
The submissive kneels before his/her Master/Mistress, head up, chin straight, eyes lowered, knees spread wide open, shoulders back keeping back straight (or arched slightly), breasts thrust outward. Hands lie on her thighs, palms facing upward.

Reports:
Reports for this task are to be made daily (minimum 300 words), as the last act of the day. Reports should detail your feelings throughout the day during all parts of the task. Pay close attention to, and attempt to describe in your report the sensation of humiliation and arousal. Photos are encouraged and desired if you would like to share them.

Safety Considerations:
When kneeling, you can do so on a soft surface, but if you have knee problems you might avoid the task or modify your pose. Also, in keeping your tally throughout the day, obviously you won’t want to do it while driving, so be safe!

017-622-6369

The flight was non-eventful, but the anxiety mounted from the moment she left her home and built in waves of nausea and adrenaline as her voyage drew closer to her arrival in California. Her bladder was constantly under pressure, but she was told she could not relieve herself, and despite her discomfort, she knew she had to obey. She preyed she wouldn’t arrive having already wet herself, but she considered briefly that would please him somehow.

They met on the internet, in a bondage chat room. She knew not what drew him to her, nor she to him, but there was something pulling them together like celestial bodies. She had joined the alternative lifestyle sites on a whim, thinking somehow that her life could become something other than what it was. He had begun to close his vice around her from afar, and she was taken by it—washed away in his control over her life. At first it was just silly things he told her to do—the very first she merely pretended to do, lying to him over the ether of the internet, where truth is malleable and fantasy reigns supreme. But he even explained to her that there was no real pleasure in mere fantasy. She would either do as he said in ‘real-time’ or he would not play with her at all. Then she began to do the things he commanded even he could neither verify nor refute. But she knew he knew. She followed his dictates faithfully, and something began to change in her. She lived now with purpose, oddly granted her through her obedience to his command. This went on for a while, but she began to crave more. And he applied pressure gradually, until they both knew it would come to this.

In the days leading up to her departure from home, arrangements were made at his request. She gave her notice at work. He rented a storage facility where all of her possessions would be stored for the term of her service. She was to arrive with nothing more than the clothes she was instructed to wear—a beige miniskirt that barely covered her ass, thigh-high stockings with intricate lace tops, garters that reached visibly down from that tiny skirt for all to see, a halter top that was tight enough to display her firm nipples at all times, black boots and a black choker with stones around it. And the mark. She’d had to go to a bizarre body piercing place in Red Bank where he’d arranged for her slave registry number to be permanently inked onto her ass cheek. 017-622-6369.

There were contracts he’d sent via FedEx for her to read and sign. He’d made the point that these documents were completely non-binding and would never hold any legal weight, but they were to be considered to be absolutely binding in the world she was about to enter. They outlined the terms of her slavery to him. She was basically agreeing to become his property for a term of one year. His dominion over her was absolute. She would sign over her body, mind and spirit to him, giving him the authority to do everything for her in return for her service to him. Oddly, he could do anything he wished to her and yet she could terminate the agreement at any time. It was a typical contract for slavery such as this. She also signed papers surrendering her bank account to lawyers who would hold her life savings, a mere $322.23, in escrow until her term was over. He’d also placed a larger sum in another account, which would become hers with interest after her year was up. The sum for her term was $50,000. Other slaves fetched more or less, really, depending on the circles they played in, and the level of training they had received. Lea was untrained, and she was lucky her Master was generous enough to consider her worth anything.

Teacher's Apple

The school was quiet after three. Most of the teachers were gone after classes were let out, but Lea was waiting anxiously. She knew he would walk into her classroom any minute, and part of her was nervous—scared, really. She wanted to be perfect, and she worried he’d see something out of place, something she had forgotten. Part of her was excited, too. She sensed the heated moisture welling between her legs, which was exposed under her skirt because he’d told her she was not to wear panties today.She heard the deliberate clicking of heels outside the classroom. He was coming up the hallway. The adrenaline surged as the moment was upon her. She didn’t dare look up from her paperwork, which she’d been pretending to study for what seemed like hours. Then, the door creaked open quickly. He stood in the doorway, that tall man whose mysteriousness never ceased to enthrall her, to play with her mind as if he’d created the puzzle in her head about him to simply and cruelly toy with her.“Teacher, might I have a moment,” his voice boomed. God, it still made her wet, the sound of his voice. She turned to face him from her paperwork.“Sir?—“ she uttered, barely. This was it. It was happening, just like he’d told her it would.He stood at the desk now, his ashen hair flowing wildly. His black pants streamlined his legs, tapering down to his polished black shoes. He looked so tall as he stood looking down at her. “I am here from the School District. It’s come to our attention that your class is not in adherence to the approved curriculum. I am here to discuss this with you. Do you have a moment?” he said.“Certainly, Sir. I wasn’t aware that…” she stammered a bit, but he’d already interrupted.“Stand up!” he barked. She immediately thrust her body upward, pushing her chair back behind her.“Yes, Sir,” she said. He handed her a bright, shiny red delicious apple, which she took curiously.“I have brought what your favorite student might give you, but it is not to praise you. Put it in your mouth and keep it there,” he told her.“Yes, Sir,” she replied, taking the apple and opening her mouth to place it between her teeth.“Now don’t damage any more than the skin of it, or you’ll pay dearly,” he told her. As she acquiesced with her eyes, he crossed around the side of her desk, approaching her from behind. He sauntered behind her, lingering a bit to savor the moment. And to cause her to be watchful, attentive, scared even. She waited what seemed like an eternity, and then she felt his hands on her. His hand slid up from her back to the nape of her neck, and he quickly, forcefully grabbed a tuft of her hair at the base of her neck and pressed her head down. His foot slid in between her legs and he kicked out so she would spread her legs for him, as he pressed her arms out flat on the surface of the desk.He lifted her skirt over her lower back, revealing her bare ass and her shaved pussy gleamed slightly under the fresh moisture between her supple legs. He reached behind him, grabbing a wooden yardstick from the chalkboard. The first blow landed on the crotch of her upper thighs, where her fine silken legs met the round ass splayed out before him. She winced slightly, not daring to utter a sound. The next blow came before she had time to calculate its arrival, landing above the burning of his first blow. This one nipped the lips of her swollen pussy lips, causing a shudder in her deep in her soul. She closed her eyes and pushed back tears, but she knew that was useless. She would cry before this was over, she knew. She would cry and cum and cum and cry. But she was determined not to damage the apple held in her mouth.The next blows were delivered with precision and accuracy, both to mark her ass and to slap her juicing cunt. Her mouth oozed saliva. Her cunt simmered under the sting of the ruler. He continued to whip her with the ruler, working the same area over and over until her ass felt on fire. His lashes were so strong, she thought. So much stronger that her, she knew. As she received his lashing, she knew that with each blow she was becoming better. Better for him. Better for knowing her sins are somehow being cleansed by her Master. Then, just as he hit her again with it, she came. The surge of orgasm jolted her, or was it the beating she was taking? Tears flowed silently down her cheeks. He marked her again. She was his now. Any resistance or fear or self awareness that had previously distracted her slipped away through her cum, her tears, her burning ass.He calmly set the ruler back on the gutter of the chalkboard. She heard his zipper. Then he was inside her. His swollen cock bursting from his work with the ruler thrust into her quickly, forcefully and with utter command. His hands grabbed at her burning ass. His cock slid in and out of her. His loins slamming against her ass as he parried his cock in and out of her hungry, ravaged cunt. She began to move to meet him, as he fucked her there in that classroom, her reddened ass bucking to engage his cock more. He filled her with his cum with a final deep thrust, and she knew his orgasm was his punctuation mark. She had served his cock, and she felt satisfied, happy. And there was not a mark on that gorgeous, red delicious apple.

Franken-Sub

It's an obsession but it's pleasin'... Not my words (thanks Hunter), but they seem to be running through my mind lately. As I have been blogging a bit, I have begun a journey online that rekindles my days as an online pornographer. I have noticed that my drive is increased (for sex) and that I am fixated on images of bondage and erotic submission. I can't get enough. My mind is rather consumed with the D/s relationship, and the intricacies it conjures for me. Mind you, I am cerebral. I need to know the why's of things. Perhaps there are lifestylers out there who 'do' more than think. I am not these. I find the meaning of activities and their symbolism important. I also find that it gets in the way, or more creates a mental obsession that causes me sometimes to question my dominance. Why would my mind rule me, I ask myself? You are a dominant, I say to myself. You should have command of your thoughts and feelings. Control. Get a grip. And thus goes the internal dialog... You can decide to dismiss me as a poser, I don't care. I am here to speak openly. If I show vulnerability and you don't like it, that's okay by me. That sort of reminds me of a sub who told me she prefers calloused hands. I haven't done enough hard labor to have them, so I will not be spanking her anytime soon if that is something she needs from her Dom. I accept that I have dominant feelings, attitudes and traits; and that I want to explore a certain type of relationship where I am Master. That doesn't necessitate that I be without weakness, vulnerability, emotion or any other quality that creates an impression on the surface that I am not what I say I am. Anyway...

I have recently begun a rather intimate relationship with a submissive. Very inexperienced, bless her little heart. And I have created a monster.

Franken-Sub is born when a dominant allows too much to go un-checked, and when the dominant refrains from establishing the nature and dynamic of the relationship as well as the parameters and the expectations (with the sub's consent and accord, obviously). The danger I guess is that the dynamic can become a very conventional male-to-female relationship, which I recently had to correct. Conversely, I have nobody to fault but myself. In dealing with one so inexperienced, it is refreshing on some level. There is less of a concern for me in establishing what is already known, what areas need work, and what areas need complete overhaul. That is actually nice for me because there is less pressure and confusion with respect to a sub's previous experience. There is also a refreshing magical quality when discussing kinky things, as if I get to discover or re-discover them for myself. In the same token, there is a challenge to explore her attitudes and fears and resistances that are virtually unknown. As this occurs—as these are uncovered, and as her submission is cultivated, my dear pet develops an emotional attachment that has no outlet beyond her conventional experience, and Franken-Sub is born.

I have to step back and ask myself what I want from the relationship. I have to consider her needs, her fears, her blocks, and so forth. I find, however, a repulsive instinct. I want to control the attachment, to tame it, to channel it in some way away from the conventional amorous attachment that is bringing forth in my pet these responses. I have a feeling I could be subject to flamers and lambasting—that I am in some way calloused in my heart rather than my hands.

The traditional concept of monogamy, I think, gets in the way to some extent. I am married, and my submissive is not my wife. This really precludes the notion common to so many D/s relationships of the One, but is certainly not uncommon—nor is it without the outpouring of morality speeches and criticism. I have concluded from my own life experience, that monogamy is biologically flawed, and society has eroded the true nature of sex relationships. This does not make the act of engaging in a D/s relationship any easier, but it still serves to reshape my views from my experience. I am at the point, I gather, where these feelings, moral propensities and opinions are still developing, and perhaps the monster I have created is me.