Under The Influence

Horned and Enthralled

2012-02-17T12:08:00.000Z

A hand, a bottle, filling up her glass with thick, red wine. Selene didn't even need to turn around, she knew who it was. She'd been vaguely staring into space at the bar, finishing off her drink after her sister left for her train. He'd not even been on her mind for once, now all other thoughts vanished.

"Drinking alone?" Nikos asked blandly, yet somehow embedding the phrase with a grenade of emotions, she felt mocked, seduced, threatened and cared for all at once.

She gulped the wine to steady herself. "Not any more."

They finished the bottle, he told her about his travels, charming, bewitching. Her cares melted away, there was only their easy familiarity, the flickering heat of their desires. All too soon the bar staff were wiping tables pointedly, and they chuckled and walked the short distance to Selene's building.

She paused at the door to her flat. "Is this going to be the same as usual?" Her voice sounded light, but her heart was pounding.

Nikos touched the small of her back gently. "Just let me in."

The key turned, her face hit the carpet, the door slammed behind them. Wildness and tearing, hot breath, the smell of mountains, a glimpse of hooves and matted fur, something brutal and ancient, complete abandon...

Selene was roused from her daze by a blanket being wrapped around her, she smiled up at her beast, all peace and shining now.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, not sounding too concerned.

"Naturally," she responded in the same calm tone. It was a matter of pride between them to keep emotions muted, but they could still read the subtle language of flared nostrils and dilated pupils. He kissed her forehead like a shot of heroin and carried her into bed.

He stroked her hair, "Rest now, Lenie, I'll still be here in the morning."

She was surprised, but too tired to argue, and anyway he didn't make promises unless he meant them. She slept without dreaming, yet touching another world.

Waking was like time travel, eyes opened, soft lips, eyes closed, eyes opened an hour later, slow kneading of breasts, eyes closed, eyes opened an hour later, tongue in moist slit, eyes only half closed this time, and then opened very wide indeed.

Nikos helped her make breakfast, another oddity, he usually took over completely or allowed himself to be waited on hand and foot.

As they ate, Selene tried to hide her bemused looks, but he spotted them anyway, raising an eyebrow until she blushed. "It's just... unusual... you're being all... normal..."

His gaze darkened. "Why, thank you, it is an effort to hide what a freak I am, glad to know I'm finally succeeding..."

She felt the ground drop away, how could she have been so stupid? He let her stew for a few more moments, then shook his head and smiled down at the table. Selene breathed again, she'd lost a point, but no more than that.

"Shall I wash up, or is that too normal?" He continued poking her sore points, but now it felt like a teasing tickle.

She grimaced and helped him with the dishes. "No, it's nice, but, you know what I mean, how come you're not being the Ice King?"

He didn't snap at her this time, seeming to honestly consider her question. "I'm not sure, I just do what feels right, and I wanted to be myself with you more."

It was the closest he'd ever got to a declaration of affection, and she didn't know how to respond, just tried to stay calm.

Nikos seemed shy, looking over at her through his long, dark lashes. "I hope that's enough for you."

Her heart was in her mouth, not sure if this was part of one of his games. She just nodded, wide eyed in the deafening stillness.

He broke the spell by grabbing her arm and pulling her back into the lounge, "Don't worry Lenie, being myself is being a sex crazed monster, as well."

They laughed and tumbled like kids, the awkwardness forgotten, everything was easy and clear and simple. But then, like a snake in a tree, the shadow rose again. Nikos returned from a trip to the bathroom with a horned headdress left over from the last play Selene had worked on.

"I think this would suit me," he said as he placed it on his head. His feet and chest were bare, and with his bangles and beads, he looked like a Pagan god, like something out of Selene's deepest fantasies. Everything turned into slow motion and her field of vision narrowed to include only him.

With his ability to read her, there was no way he'd miss her frozen arousal. He seemed to pause for a few moments, considering her, then in an haughty and irresistible tone, demanded, "on your knees, thrall."

She obeyed before she even realised what she was doing.

"Worship me."

Her hands knew what he meant, opening his flies, grasping his thick cock, sliding it deep into her mouth. She was always happy to pleasure him like this, but in the mood she'd dropped into, it was blissful. She worked with zeal, every movement of her lips perfectly judged to bring him the most perfect sensations, quietly singing his praises with gentle vibrations in her throat. Soon she was rewarded with his sacrament, and she moved back, gazing up at him in devotion.

He looked a little spaced out, and took off the headdress, sitting down on the sofa. "Wow," was all that came out.

Selene couldn't quite bring herself to rise from her knees, although things were back to their usual pace, a part of her was still yearning for the certainty she'd felt moments before.

Nikos reached out and stroked her face, wiping away some stray liquids with his thumb. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" He said in a strange tone.

She nodded dumbly, it had triggered her most primal desires, something she craved above anything else. It wasn't about the horns, or the oral, it was just that feeling of being in touch with something so powerful it was futile to even think of resisting. To serve because it was unquestionably the right thing to do. To reach somewhere sacred.

He smiled ruefully, "Well, I did too, a lot..." he stared off into space, "you know, if that's what you need, I can just arrive, use you, and go."

Selene considered his offer seriously. He would be perfect at that, the smooth, cold Master she secretly desired. What if they just ended up being vanilla fuckbuddies? It would be too late to go back if she wanted to.

"Come on, be honest with me," he murmured, "don't you long to be my thrall, no responsibilities, no worries, just the simplicity of doing what you're told?"

Of course she would, he knew that, but would it be enough? She was sure he'd be fine with whatever she decided, but what would make him happiest? She tried to read his expression, it was impassive but she could get under the surface if she tried. He seemed curious, aroused at the thought of having a slave at his service, but there was definitely something else, something... sad? Was he... lonely?

Her heart flooded with warmth. She had to take the risk, it was the right thing to do. Selene stood up, picked up the headdress, and smiled beatifically. "Don't you long for that too?" She put the horns on, and stared directly at him without hiding her emotions.

He flinched, eyes widening, not being able to resist responding to the combination of strength and love she was radiating. His gaze softened, something melting inside.

"Let me be your Goddess," she demanded gently.

Nikos chuckled and pulled her down into his lap, legs either side of his hips, friendly and intimate. "You already are," he whispered in her ear, then kissed her sweetly.

He unzipped his trousers and slid his cock deep inside her. They moved together like a ritual, a ceremony of lust. He was still in control with her above him, and Selene couldn't help but be relieved. Whether he was the High Priest or Wild Beast, she could still let herself go with him, it was somehow even more potent without the hierarchy being fixed. It was their desire that was sacred, what was manifested by their connection, rather than one of them being the container of power.

As they fucked, breathing hard, in synch, it was like being possessed, but becoming your most true self as well. When they came it felt like they were surrendering everything, opening up to the void and being filled again with endless abundance. The day to day fears and weaknesses stripped away, leaving only the awe, the majesty, the light.

They couldn't let go of each other afterwards, moving sleepily until they were spooned together, floating in infinite bliss, reborn and ready for whatever was to come.

Doing it right

2012-01-06T01:17:00.000Z

His eyes are mocking, but there's a flicker of wariness. She's so hungry for him, can he keep control? "My, my, you're dying for it tonight," he murmurs.

"Do me."

He chuckles, "What? Did you really just say that?"

"Yes, I'll do anything you want, but, please, do me now."

His hand reaches out to her, hangs in the air for a moment, strokes her face. "I'll hold you to it, you know that, I'll use you now anyway, then I'll make you do things that make you sick tomorrow."

"I don't care, I put myself in your hands, I trust you."

He shivers imperceptibly. Does she know what it does to him when she says that? He'd do anything she wants just to hear that, to see her eyes, gazing up at him so vulnerable, so helpless, so infinitely strong.

Instead of telling her this, he just smirks. "Oh dear. Bad judge of character."

She doesn't waver. Brave.

"Open up," he commands.

Her lips part instantly, fingers slide inside, and her eyes close. He doesn't know why she likes it so much, just knows that her mind is slowing down, that she feels like a drug is coursing through her veins, that she's getting wet. He's given her lots of addictions over the years, but this one was hard wired before they met.

He takes the time to think. What does she need from him? How can he take her to the place where she's satisfied? She might think she wants something brutal, for the pain to be beaten out of her, but his job is to know her better than she does herself.

"Be still for me," he whispers in her ear as he slowly glides her clothes from her body. She's as peaceful and glowing as a saint, yet he can see her muscles twitch as he caresses her so lightly it's on the edge of tickling.

She gasps when she feels him kissing her clit. Her flesh is hot and slippery and the coolness of his mouth just fires her all the more. He senses and leads her pleasure through his tongue: wide, slow licks become a rapid pattering rain, then slide into an irresistible spiralling motion.

As her orgasm approaches, he pulls away and gets up. She mewls plaintively. "Keep your eyes closed, stay standing," he tells her, his cold tone not giving away that he's watching her with a massive grin. The room is warm, so he knows her shuddering is caused by her extreme arousal.

He waits just beyond the point that where she wonders if he's still in the room, then orders, "Fall backwards." On some level she knows the bed is there of course, but she obeys too quickly for her to have considered this first.

He pins her down, fucks her, no need for anything fancy, she's completely his already.

After a while she opens her eyes without thinking, they flicker in fear, but he smiles kindly. "Shh, it's OK," he tells her. They both see nothing but the other's gaze, feel no barriers, melt into each other. "Ahh, f..." He loses words as she comes around him, he pulses deep inside her, everything is bliss for an endless moment.

He holds her close as she drifts off, marvelling again at how all he has to do to please her is do exactly what he wants to do to please himself.

Ghost

2011-12-22T19:15:00.001Z

The young man was sat at his usual bench in the park, eating lunch by the skate ramps. Eliane appreciated the view as much as he did. She slid into place next to him but he made no sign of having seen her.

"Boo," she whispered.

He jumped, glancing around, but looking right through her. "Fucking hell, you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days..."

Eliane chuckled and tickled him lightly on the back of the neck, then when he flapped in that direction, gave him feather light touches around his smooth face, skinny chest, wiry arms, until he sighed in frustration and gave up trying to fight her.

She was pleased, the suggestions were holding well, not only couldn't he see her, but it didn't occur to him to grab her hand or wrestle her away. He was helpless and didn't know why.

"Shh, Jessie," she breathed in his ear, "you're safe now, I'm here."

He relaxed with a childlike smile, eyes glazing slightly, and her heart went out to him. He'd been so drunk the night they'd met, wild and broken, and something had called out to her. It hadn't taken much to seduce him, she was half lost too, and they'd fallen into instant rapport, both trying to blot out the pain with booze, loud music, and feral lust.

She'd let him remember that night, but had shut away his ability to connect it with his invisible tormentor. Perhaps a part of him knew who she was, but so long as it just stayed nice and quiet while she had her way, it didn't really matter.

Eliane stroked his hair gently, enjoying the feeling of his long, dark locks sliding through her fingers. She felt protective of him, like an older sister, helping him have some direction in his life. A slightly sick direction, but he'd told her all his fantasies while he was under, wishing he was brave enough to try them out, and it was her pleasure to help him fulfil them.

"OK, playtime for Jessie now," she murmured.

Immediately he sat up straighter, looked older, more assured. His eyes took on a predatory gleam as he looked over at the skater boys.

"That one keeps checking you out," Eliane was more than invisible now, she was just a voice in his head, on the edge of his consciousness, but impossible to resist.

Jessie smiled, he'd been plotting his moves before she'd arrived anyway, not realising that he'd actually carry them out.

"Go and get him," she gently commanded, sitting back to enjoy the show. Her protégé was an excellent operator, chatting smoothly to the kids, only a few years younger than him anyway. Without it being obvious, Jessie managed to home in on the cute guy who'd been looking over, and the others drifted away while he reeled him in.

Eliane knew better than to interfere with this, Jessie was a natural at friendly persuasion, he just needed a bit of a boost in confidence. She slipped away to let herself into his flat and wait for the next stage.

It wasn't long before the pair arrived, she listened from the bedroom as they chatted, and smirked when the usual seduction album started to play. Peering round the door, she was pleased to see that things hadn't gone to far, time to make an entrance.

"Sleepytime for Jessie, now." She said briskly as she came into the living room. The skater boy turned round, startled, but her friend just fell back onto the sofa with a blissed out expression, eyes closed, and hand absently gliding over his groin.

The kid stood up nervously, "Uh, sorry, uh, I saw you at the park didn't I? Do you live here?" He looked back at the tranced man with fear and curiosity. "What have you done... hypnosis, right?"

Good, he was relatively bright, much more fun to work with. "Yes, clever boy," she purred, "he's deeply asleep and doesn't hear us." She sat down, and motioned that he should return to sit opposite her. "What's your name, baby?"

"Kurt," he answered as he warily perched on the edge of the seat.

Eliane laughed softly, probably the child of grunge parents, he'd lived up to his namesake with shaggy, dyed blond hair and a distant, haunted look.

"Erm, is this, like, a threesome thing?" He asked hesitantly.

She smiled, showing her teeth. "Would you like it if it was?"

"Um, I guess that'd be OK, I'm bi and stuff..."

"And stuff?"

He looked at her evenly. "I just go with the flow."

Good to know. "I'll let you get on with things in a minute, trust me, you won't even know I'm here."

He grinned wryly and nodded to the sofa. "What, like him?"

Yes, definitely a smart one. "It looks quite nice, though, doesn't it? He's happy, relaxed, turned on, no worries, no concerns, no responsibilities, just drifting, feeling so good..."

Despite himself, the skater was drawn into her soothing description, watching the other man's chest rise and fall regularly, listening to the soft rhythm of his breathing. Jessie's erection was straining at his tight jeans, pressing against his hand a little with every heartbeat. It was too entrancing a tableau to resist, and soon Kurt's own breath had fallen in time, his eyelids drooping, he sank back against the cushions, his own cock tenting a little in his cut-offs.

Eliane wished this could go on forever, they were so peaceful, so perfect. She kept her voice as quiet as possible, not wanting to break the spell, as she subtly linked his focus on Jessie to not needing to consciously see or hear her. She'd have to see how well he took direction, he seemed submissive to the older man anyway, so she just reinforced how arousing it was to let other people make decisions for you, hoping that would be enough. After telling him that he didn't need to remember seeing her - he'd just spaced out listening to the music, she woke both of them up slowly and waited.

They blinked, and grinned shyly at each other, not sure if they'd been the only one to doze off.

"Wow, that's some band there, I totally went!" said Kurt, awed, not looking in Eliane's direction at all.

She relaxed, it seemed to be working. "Get Kurt a drink, have one too."

Jessie swung into action, turning the record over, then getting a bottle and glasses. He was efficient and sexy, cool enough to impress the younger man, easygoing enough to inspire trust. He handed over a glass of amber spirits, looking cheekily through his fringe, pale eyes darker than usual. "You old enough to drink?"

Kurt sipped at his whiskey, obviously not that used to it. "Heh, yeah... just."

Corrupting the innocent, her favourite game. "Stick your finger in your glass, then put it in his mouth. Say this..."

"Maybe you need me to teach you..." he repeated after her, parting Kurt's pillowy lips with his finger. As they boy looked up at him through long lashes and suckled, they both knew that he wasn't innocent at all. Somehow, Jessie managed to turn his longing into an arrogant air of entitlement.

Eliane wasn't so strong, whimpering a little at the sight, before gasping, "Drink but don't swallow, kiss him, let it flow into his mouth."

Her puppet obeyed, as much in thrall to the sensual compliance of his conquest as he was to her orders. The kid was good, very good: leading Jessie back to the sofa while seeming to be the one being guided.

The woman watching couldn't compete, she felt a stab of bittersweet pain at not being part of the scene in front of her. "Use him, use each other, just do what comes naturally," she rasped, breathing raggedly.

Time slowed, strong hands undressing each other, claiming skin, caressing and teasing. Lips on cocks, tongues in assholes, she lost track of who was who, wishing beyond reason that she had half the power this fair haired teenager had.

Eventually, watcher and watched were all spent, she'd kept turning the album over, but it had faded to silence again. The sweat dried on naked bodies in the dim light, and a peace settled over them.

Kurt stroked the other man's hair fondly, "I've got to go back for tea, Mum'll be expecting me."

Jessie groaned, "fuck, I feel like such a perv when you say things like that."

"Heh, don't be silly," the boy replied as he pulled on his clothes, "I mean, you are a perv, but not 'cos I'm eighteen."

Eliane felt more invisible than ever. Although she'd felt privileged to witness the passion that had passed between them, she still felt like an interloper, a parasite. She felt sickened by herself, wished that she could just have something pure for a change.

"Wanna take my number?" asked Jessie.

"Sure," replied Kurt, but as they fiddled with their phones he continued, "I'm not sure I'm quite what you're after though."

The older guy was on the back foot again. "Huh?"

"Never mind, you'll work it out," he walked to the door, and turned before he left. "Oh, and thank you."

Eliane shivered, she could have sworn he'd been looking right at her when he said it.

Winter

2011-11-10T23:58:00.000Z

Perdy tugged her coat tighter around herself, trying to get closer to the fire and ignore the drunk babes racing around in barely enough clothes for summer. She wasn't cut out for these outdoor parties, they seemed to be all the rage, but they just felt like an advert, the surface glitter of fun but without any real depth.

She stared into the flames, and felt the warmth from the mulled wine seep through her. It wouldn't be too bad, if only she wasn't having to put up with Lee whingeing on about work next to her. Eventually she noticed he'd said something about going to get another drink and nodded vaguely.

She let the flickering lull her again and barely noticed when a man slid in place next to her.

"You look like a statue standing there," he said in a soft voice.

She glanced at him, he looked a bit scruffy, but had compelling, twinkling eyes. She smiled without really knowing why. "Must have frozen..."

He moved closer to her. "I'll warm you up..."

Perdy laughed, it was such a seedy come on. She didn't really mind, but out of some kind of duty replied that she was taken.

He shrugged, "no you're not, he's not interested in you, leaves you here, alone by the fire, staring into the depths, growing still, and cold, like marble, just waiting for someone to come along, someone who can just lay their hands on you..." his touch was there without her noticing the transition, "and you'd start to come back to life, start to feel warm, happy, relaxed..."

She was breathing hard and leaning into him as if they'd been lovers for years.

His mouth tickled against her ear, "and aroused..."

How was this so exciting? This stranger had just walked into her deepest self without any effort. Her locks had fallen open for him. They looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, something crackling between them.

He held out his hand to her. "The woods?"

She nodded, took his hand, and followed him into the unknown.

Interlude

2011-10-31T23:40:00.001Z

"Still fighting?"

"Gnnn..."

"I'll take that as a yes... Why are you making this hard on yourself, honey?"

"Got to..."

"Aww, shhh, that's not true you know, you can just give in any time..."

"Nooooo..."

"Why, babe, don't you want to just let go and feel good?"

"Mmm..."

"See, of course you do, just let it happen, relax, accept, give in..."

"Stop it... please..."

"You don't mean that, I know what you want, deep down, I'm helping you find that place, go deeper for me, down into the warm, safe place where you want to be..."

"Ohhhh...."

"Shhh, there you go, sliding down, can't fight it anymore..."

"Must..."

"Must sleep, must surrender, must submit... there's no choice any more, no other option, only peace, and comfort, and security..."

"Uhhh..."

"It'll feel so good, I promise, you can trust me, let me guide you, follow me down..."

"Down..."

"Yes sweetie, sliding helplessly down, no strength left, falling..."

"Falling..."

"Into endless, infinite, bliss..."

"Yessss...."

"Yes."

Queen Me

2011-10-30T22:10:00.001Z

Max was so cute and vulnerable in the mornings, snuggling into her like a little boy. Sofia wrapped her arms around him, feeling protective, it was nice to be the one doing the comforting at times like these, and she knew he liked it too, although he wouldn't admit it.

He turned to look at her, half-lidded. She ran her fingers around his lips, and he kissed them sleepily, then took them in his mouth. Sofia started to breathe heavily, his tongue was soft and compelling, she wanted it elsewhere.

"Go down, for me, Max," she whispered smoothly. His eyes widened for a moment, before fluttering shut. He gently kissed his way down her neck, sucking and nibbling her breasts, then following the path down to her clit.

Sofia held onto his head with reverence, it was a precious gift for him to pleasure her like this - not just with his tongue, that was used frequently and efficiently to melt her mind and make her beg. What was rare was this mood of service, of worship. She felt like something perfect, that he longed to be close to, lived to make happy. She could barely breathe.

His eyes opened, they were distant and deep, so given over that she shivered as she felt herself echoing them. As they lost themselves in each other, the feelings turned into endless warm waves of pleasure, and he seemed as overtaken by the climax as she was.

They lay there a while, Sofia cradling Max's head to her belly, enjoying the quiet and intimacy. After a while, as he wriggled up to face her, she noted that he was still rock hard.

"Hey, Sofe, did you just trigger me?" He asked.

She chuckled, it had been years since he'd let her hypnotise him. "No, babe, you've never let me set any up."

He smiled oddly. "Mmm, shame, it really felt like you did."

Sofia stroked his back thoughtfully, she knew Max wasn't into traditional sub/dom roles or anything, but he did generally enjoy being in control and easily resisted her if she tried to top him.

Still, he certainly seemed to be suggesting he'd like her to be in charge for a while, and she was getting turned on again by the prospect. "I guess your subconscious desires just did all the work for me..." she murmured seductively.

The air became charged, flickering, Max's mouth opened slightly, as if he was going to say something, but then didn't know how to respond. That was unheard of, and Sofia pressed her advantage.

She lightly guided him onto his back, then knelt over him, leaning forwards, doing something clever with her arms to make her breasts look mouthwatering. "Maybe it's time to let them out, admit that you want to let down your defences, relax, open up..."

He let out a slight whimper and his eyes glazed. His body slumped into the bed, but his prick was raging, trying to push its way inside her achingly close hole. She kept herself a fraction out of reach, still whispering soft soothing words, until he was panting with desire. "Ahhh, Sofia! Please!"

She laughed gently, amazed to hear him beg for something he would usually take in an instant. "Shhh, Maxie... Listen carefully..." She held his cock millimetres inside her entrance for a few seconds, saying firmly: "Your pleasure comes from my pleasure. Accept."

Max groaned and nodded desperately, "yes, yes, I accept..."

"Good boy!" She pushed down onto him slowly, then waited to see what he would do.

There was a pause while his eyes rolled back, but then he managed to shift gears, watching her carefully as he started to thrust into her at her favourite pace, stimulating the right points to give her maximum gratification.

He stroked her back and thighs, then pulled her hips down in rhythm with his cock. Sofia smiled in encouragement, trying to stay in charge despite the ecstasy he was bringing her. It was a strange feeling, this was just a hair breadth from him controlling her, after all they both knew that what she loved most of all was him pressing her buttons, puppeting her with her own needs. How would he be able to push her over without that moment of surrender?

They looked at each other with something pure and intense flowing between them.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she gasped.

He struggled for a moment, used to being guarded with his thoughts, but then just let the words flow out, "Ah, not really thinking straight... just want to make you happy... make you feel good... you're so fucking amazing..."

Sofia melted, she leant down and kissed him deeply, then they rolled over a little as she stroked his hair and gazed at him lovingly.

"Use me," Max breathed, "take everything I've got..."

Sofia hesitated, but his face radiated a need to play this game. She imagined his will becoming hers, could feel the energy flowing into her, she was like a vampire, powerful and irresistible. He seemed to be getting weaker, but more and more beautiful, she just couldn't stop herself, the feral passions overtaking her as she fucked him hard and wild.

He seemed to be on the point of breaking, "Ah, please, destroy me..."

"Why? Why are you doing this?" She hissed, feeling close to ripping his throat out with her teeth.

His eyes were drifting closed, the last of his strength going. "Because you're everything... my life... my Queen..."

She came hard, and took him with her, somehow feeding the life back into him as they shared heartbeats. When Max opened his eyes again, they were a little wary, but had the familiar mischievous glint back in them.

"Blimey, Sofe, fancy you making me do all that!"

She shook her head in faux incredulity. "Yeah, I was totally taking advantage, wasn't I?"

He smirked at her, on familiar ground again. "You really were, I hope you're not imagining I'm going to call you shit like that from now on."

Sofia didn't bother answering, just started wrestling him, enjoying the press of his body against hers as he asserted himself. She was happy to know that despite their preferred dynamic, some part of him was always her willing, grateful subject.

The Homecoming

2011-10-27T00:28:00.000+01:00

As soon as I stepped through the door, I knew he'd been in the flat, sitting in my chair, reading my books, drinking my wine. Was he still there? I turned on the light and furtively looked around, an interloper in my own home.

I tried the bedroom, my underwear drawer was open and had been rifled through. My best friend the stalker. I sensed him behind me a heartbeat before the knife was at my throat.

"Shhh... no sound... nice and quiet..."

I closed my eyes and tried to stay calm, feeling his breath, cool on my neck, soothing me despite the adrenaline. He was savouring the smell of my fear, and it was delicious to be his meal again.

"Missed you," he whispered in a childlike voice, and I nodded back wordlessly, still wary of the blade.

He chuckled to see this, put the knife down, then turned me around. I opened my eyes and we stared at each other for a few long moments, emotions pooling.

"Why didn't you call?" he asked, seeming dispassionate, but I knew the signs. I'd upset him, and that made me hurt on a level that nothing else compared to.

I reached out my hand, but he batted it away. "I'm so sorry," I tried, "I didn't get time, or it was too late..."

He wasn't impressed. I could have phoned anytime - he was a night owl anyway - but it had just been too difficult to bear. I needed to be with him so much, it had seemed better not to think about it.

I looked down at the ground and felt tears start to well up. He watched them fall for a while, then reached out and softly wiped them away. My heart made that peaceful snap that it did whenever something like this happened.

"Hey, it's OK," he murmured kindly, "I'm a big boy, I can take it."

That just made it worse, but I managed to steady myself and look back up into his shining forgiveness. "Did you leave me any wine?" I asked bravely.

"Eh, maybe a bit," he led me back into the living room and put on a record while I opened a new bottle. "Come on, tell me all about it," he sat on the sofa and I handed him a glass then flopped back against him.

"Oh god, it was awful..."

It was good to be home.

New Release

2011-07-11T21:44:00.000+01:00

Molly's feet took her to the same place in the record shop every time she came in, it wasn't that she thought there'd be anything unexpected there, it was more a compulsive act, the comfort of running her fingers through his albums, reassuring herself that he was somewhere, doing what he loved.

She gazed for a while at his newest release, she already had it at home of course, she pre-ordered anything by his band, knowing it would be a necessary purchase. The drawing on the front seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. There was a naive yet archetypal air about it, perhaps it was something she'd seen him do in college, or just done in a similar style.

The songs seemed to be sending her a message too, but she wasn't sure what it was, maybe she'd catch him at the gig that night and ask him about it. At least it would be a topic of conversation to distract her from the gnawing ache of his presence.

"I've heard that's an OK album." His voice came from behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment before moving, overcome by the inevitable mix of emotions: shame at looking like a stalker, bursting joy at being able to talk to him.

Niall stood a little too close to her, forcing Molly to brush against him as she turned, but he didn't step away, just hovering inches away from pressing her into the racks.

"Yeah, it's not bad, handy for background music." She smiled the goofy, beautiful smile of someone talking to their teenage crush, their closest and yet most absent friend, their not quite ex, not quite fuckbuddy, not quite anything that would make sense.

He chuckled and played with her hair. She let him, accepting as always that her body was his playground. His aura was fading the shop into unreality, as if they were in a parallel universe and could happily make out without anyone around noticing.

"I wrote it for you, of course," he said in that light but serious tone that he used when he was dropping bombshells.

"Yeah? Do I get the royalties?" She was being cheeky on autopilot, but couldn't hide her confusion at his revelation.

"If you like," he said dreamily, still staring at her with massively dilated pupils. Was he on drugs? Why was he being so kind when he'd been cold and distant the last few times they'd met?

"God, Niall, what's got into you?"

He shrugged bashfully, and stroked her arm. "I dunno, just been missing you I guess..."

She shivered, still not understanding, but unable to pretend she didn't enjoy his touch. "Uh, well, shall we go for a coffee or something?"

Niall leant into her, put his mouth to her ear. "I'd rather we just went back to my hotel and fucked."

Molly snorted, but he seemed sincere enough, his cock, hard against her leg, didn't lie. "Oh, Nee, I've got to get ready for tonight and stuff..."

He frowned, "Bollocks to that, I don't care what you're wearing, and you're not bothered about what anyone else thinks." He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door. "Come on, quickly, that guy over there's looking like he wants to talk to me about amps or something..."

She giggled and followed him, young and carefree again, enjoying the easy banter they fell into as they walked the short distance, breezing through reception and up to his room.

He didn't leave her time to get awkward, immediately kissing her hungrily, then making her chase his lips once she needed it more than he did. She was panting and bright eyed by the time he pushed her onto the bed and put on the album they'd been discussing earlier.

Molly laughed, "Not sick of hearing the sound of your own voice yet?"

Niall flopped down next to her. "I want to watch you listen to it."

Something had shifted, now she was the one being stalked, but it was oddly safe, because it was him. They moved around until he was up against the headboard, and she was leaning back onto him. As he put his arms around her, Molly closed her eyes and drifted into the long, slow opening track.

She was pretty sure this one hinted at their first, yearning friendship as teenagers. It made her remember those significant glances through flickering firelight in the woods, across the art studio, even just as they listened to music in the bedroom without needing to talk. The blissful howl of knowing your feelings were shared, but not seeing how to move forward without breaking perfection.

Her eyes opened as she tilted her head to look up at him. They could have been back there, just before they went to different universities, that weekend that tore her apart. They'd done things before that, tentative experiments, the odd drunken fuck, but they'd agreed to spend the whole time her parents were away together, and naturally, their bodies had taken over.

Something wild had come out, something they'd both been ashamed of in the light of day, not really understanding what it meant. Afterwards, it seemed easier to hold onto the closeness without trying have a relationship based on that abyss. Unfortunately, once she knew it was possible to feel like that, nothing else had ever lived up to it.

Niall's face was a sweet mix of regret and longing. "I was such a fucking idiot."

Molly's chest was painful, but it felt good, like something that had been holding her back was breaking apart. She grinned and wriggled round to sit astride him. "I know, you always have been."

"Yeah, I should have just taken you with me in a box." He followed her jokey tone, but his eyes glinted with dark purpose.

She swallowed. Their irregular hook ups since that time had been fed by head games, they trusted each other to go to places they'd never dare with anyone else, and it was surely time to take a risk. "I wish you had, you could have kept me under your desk, fed me scraps and made me do anything you said when you let me out occasionally."

They were both getting aroused by the scenario, and with eerie timing the music became more insistent, a song that had reminded Molly of their most intense sessions, and the deep things she'd fantasised about but never done.

Niall slowly ran his hands up her thighs, "Mmm, but maybe that would have been too easy..."

Molly could feel his cock pressing into her, and was finding it difficult to follow what he was saying. "Easy?" she mumbled breathlessly.

His left hand slipped round to stroke her behind, while his right toyed with her clit. She always felt like a guitar when he played her like this. "Yeah, too obvious, much better to just trap you by being the only guy who understands you, the only one who can give you what you need..."

She whimpered a little as she felt something slide out of her grasp. Something he owned in her, that he could call to his service whenever he wanted to. His eyes were soft and caring, but his fingers manipulated her thoughts. She was utterly lost. "Niall... please..."

"Please what, Moll?"

She just gaped at him, mouth slack, unable to articulate the depths of her need.

He gave his kindly patronising look. "Please fuck you?"

She nodded desperately and he rolled her onto her side, pushed his trousers down a little, got a condom on, and slid inside her, all the while murmuring to keep her calm and responsive as if she was a nervous animal.

With her legs hooked around his, the weight of his body against her, she was captured and protected in delicious balance. The song was timed to the rhythm of his cock in her, she'd almost been able to feel it every time she'd listened, and now it was really there she had no defences left.

"You realise I'm keeping you now," he whispered into her open mind.

She nodded blurrily, no thought for the consequences, all she wanted was to do this forever.

He watched her carefully, gauging her reactions, "of course you might start to feel like you're just my little groupie slut to be used when I'm bored..."

The emotional pain made her whine and struggle, but he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her and pumping into her cunt until she stopped fighting.

"...but I'd help you get over your silly fears and insecurities..." his hand was tender now, stroking her face.

Molly could barely breathe, tears were starting to well up as she accepted his kindness, all the more potent because it was laced with cruelty.

"...remind you of what you're always known deep down..." he carried on with the soothing stream of words, "... that you're always safe with me, that we belong together..."

Her heart sang, Niall seemed to be glowing, everything was so fucking perfect she felt like she was dreaming.

"...it's always been you I write for, you're my muse, I put all of my power into these songs, and I know you belong to me more every time you listen..."

It should have been scary, weird, obsessive, but from his lips it sounded like the most romantic words anyone had ever said. She felt herself starting to build towards an orgasm and held onto him as if nothing else existed.

"...I know your patterns, how to guide you, take you where I want..." he slowed his thrusting, seeming to be waiting for something, Molly just hung there with him, not having the willpower to grind down. Soon, Niall started again, the deep fucking that would inevitably make her come, and she started to half remember something, didn't she always feel an echo of this when she got to this point in the album? Not as much of course, but... yes... there was that bit that went....

Her eyes rolled back and she came hard: the feeling she'd been desperate for since she first played the track and helplessly responded to it. The addiction he'd stoked in her, irresistible because it was real, because she really did need him.

They lay there for a while, listening to the runout groove effect that represented the end of side one if they'd been listening on record. Niall gently disentangled her and went to turn off his mp3 player. "We'll save side two for after the gig, eh?" He sat on the bed, a little shy after the rawness of what they'd just been through.

Molly slowly came back to reality, but still felt fluttery and vulnerable. "Nee... have you been sending me subliminal messages?" she asked half-seriously.

He looked a bit embarrassed, "Would you mind if I had?"

She shook her head, genuinely fine with the prospect.

He grinned like a naughty little boy. "Then, it doesn't really matter does it?"

The Contract

2011-06-26T21:26:00.002+01:00

The Meeting

He was so confident, sure that I'd do what he wanted, knowing I was too poor to refuse the offer, and that a part of me was intrigued by the possibilities. I carefully looked over the contract, still not sure he hadn't tricked me somehow, but it does all seem to be above board. I just have to follow his remote commands and blog about them, simple really.

We'd discussed the parameters online, he pushed me a bit further than I wanted to go, but I'm still relatively happy he won't be making me do things that would actually mess me up. Let's see if I can believe all his promises that he has my best interests at heart.

Week One

The first few days have been a bit weird, he just left me a list of things I had to change about my life, like really specific things to do with clothes and other things to throw out, new things to get, all expenses paid for by him of course.

The throwing away wasn't too bad, I didn't really like any of my stuff any more anyway, but the dresses and shoes he'd ordered for me were a bit strange, not my usual style, but at least they weren't some kind of Laura Ashley nightmare.

Then he had me stand in front of my mirror dressed up to his specifications and repeat the mantra: "I am a good little girl, good little girls always look their best."

I felt silly at first, but after a while, looking at the new me in the mirror, I started to feel proud, and even... a little wet.

Week Two

He's been sending me a lot of text messages, some of them seemed to have such a good knowledge of what I was doing that he surely must be watching me. I looked around, but couldn't spot him. Maybe he'd employed someone to do it.

The things I was ordered to do seemed pointless, walking here and there, sitting and standing, but perhaps he was just getting me used to following directions immediately.

After a while it felt quite normal, it was almost relaxing, like a kind of meditation.

This week I had to repeat "I am a good little girl, good little girls always do what they're told." He's so skilled at finding the things that are humiliating yet arousing to say, and every night I fucked myself to sleep, still repeating the words.

Week Three

I was told to send him a picture message of every man I saw that I found attractive, with a note about what drew me to them, their eyes, something they said, the band name on their T-Shirt, whatever it was.

It was difficult at first, I felt a bit stalky, but I soon learnt how to take snaps without being spotted, and it was fun building up a directory of hot guys ;)

I did worry a little what use he was going to make of it, hoped he wouldn't track them down and laugh about my comments with them, or beat them up or something.

Still, I had to do as I was told, and my mantra this week was "I am a good little girl, good little girls accept their desires." A bit of an odd one, but as I replayed the days men in my mind, imagining all the things I'd like them to do to me, I certainly enjoyed accepting them.

Week Four Day One

He made me get a date with a guy! I never ask people out, it was so embarrassing, I'd sent him a text with a picture and some incoherent ramblings like [His hands, I want them all over me, in my face, in my cunt, holding me down, playing me.]

He just replied saying [So ask him out.]

I couldn't just go up to someone and tell him to fuck me, of course, so I struck up some pointless conversation about the guitar he had with him, and sure enough his shyness was overcome by a music geek's desire to talk about tunings and amps.

"I am a good little girl, good little girls ask for what they want."

Week Four Day Three

The date started off as a bit of a disaster, we were both too awkward to get much of a conversation going, and I'm not sure he knew what he was doing there.

After a while though, I got a text asking how it was going, when I said it wasn't going well, he replied with a series of instructions, I couldn't tell if he was exasperated or amused.

First, I adjusted my body language, I usually have my arms folded and a stern expression. He made me relax, sit in a more feminine way, smile, touch my hair. Immediate results!

I always thought I was giving a guy the chance to break down my defences if I was a bit reserved at first, but my text instructor reminded me that not everyone has his natural dominance, and most guys take it as a sign you're not interested.

[Shall I tell him what I'm after sexually?] I checked while my date went to the loo.

[God no, girl! Defer to him, look up to him, make him feel special, ACT submissive, don't DEMAND things!]

So I tried, it was so hard, I'm only used to submitting as a last option, when someone's worn me down, broken through my defences, and here I was, acting sweet and coy, batting my eyelashes, hanging on his every word. It wasn't too bad, after he relaxed a bit he was pretty funny and easy to get along with, but it did feel unnatural.

It was like things were backwards, instead of a guy turning me on and that making me feel submissive, acting submissive for a guy was turning me on. I don't think it would have had such an effect usually, but because of the combination with the whole mindfuck of my contract, I was pretty horny by the end of the night.

[Do I go home with him?]

[No, you silly girl. Just kiss and say thank you, make another date soon.]

"I am a good little girl, good little girls wait to be taken." Although I was desperate to come, for some reason I couldn't get off by myself, it was like it wasn't enough, like I needed... someone to tell me to.

Week Four Day Six

I'd arranged for him to come over to mine for a meal, a bit of an obvious come on, but I'd checked and it was acceptable so long as I was well behaved. As instructed, I took care to make the flat nice and clean, and cooked the prescribed menu, including baking a cake for dessert.

The evening went well, I repeated my softer behaviour from the previous date, and my sexual need really did make me more focused on him, desperate to please him, to be appealing.

He was braver this time, I was obviously keen to spread my legs, and I think he started to tease me a bit, dropping in phrases that showed he was in control. I'd probably just be in for the usual being held down, semi-rapey sex but that would do just fine for now.

After the meal had settled we sat on the sofa together, listening to music. There was a bit of nice kissing and groping, but there didn't seem to be much heat. There was no way I could handle not getting fucked that night! As I'd become accustomed, when it was convenient I texted for instructions.

[Honestly, do I have to come over and guide his prick into you? Just pretend he's me and do what you're told. Be a good little girl.]

My pussy was on fire as I read the message. When my date came back he must have noticed the difference because he had a glint in his eyes and an evil smirk on his face.

His hand was up my skirt as soon as he sat back down, "Mmm, who's a wet little girl then."

I started, my eyes wide, no one had ever called me that before all this, but he had somehow been able to tell that I'd moan and writhe at his words. Was it a coincidence?

"M-me..." I said, my voice a few steps higher than usual. His touch was maddening, slow circles and a firm grip, and I was finding it hard not to beg him to fuck me.

He pulled me up onto his lap, "tell me, what dirty thoughts have you been having, to get you all hot and bothered like this?"

I couldn't think straight to lie. "Someone's been... giving me instructions... I have to do what he says... he made me, oh God! He made me ask you out, because I thought you were so fucking sexy..."

"My, my, you've got quite the imagination, haven't you?" He seemed impressed and turned on, but pouted in mock offence. "I thought it might have been all of my subtle domination, though..."

How could I have been so stupid? I should have kept my focus on him. I thought I could get back on track though. "What do you mean? You've just been taking charge, that's normal isn't it? Girls like me need a big strong man to tell them what to do..."

Gold. He grunted and unzipped his flies and slid me onto his cock before I could take a breath. My eyes rolled back a little, and he chuckled. "Well, let me make it easy for you, honey, just focus on the sensation of my cock in your cunt, sliding in and out, filling you up nice and safe, nice and controlled, nice and helpless..."

I was panting wildly, incredible sensations rolling through my body, I couldn't tell how much was just this guy, and how much was that I was aware of this pleasure being completely at the whim of my invisible controller.

Since I'd been told to pretend they were one and the same, everything had been much more intense, and I even started to get paranoid that they man I'd met with the contract was just a hired actor, that this was actually the man behind all the texts.

I felt tears in my eyes at how much I wanted this, how much I needed it, but I still couldn't tip over without permission. Somehow he knew my predicament, and leant to whisper in my ear. "You're a good little girl, good little girls come when they're told to. Come for me now."

The Machine

2011-06-24T21:15:00.001+01:00

Her eyes were half open, she no longer knew which reality was true, her half remembered life or the machine. She hoped it was the machine.

Something seemed to have changed in its programming recently, or maybe it was her that was changing, she seemed to derive more pleasure from its attentions, there seemed to be a warmth in the coldness, affection in the cruelty.

In the altered haze of the drugs it pumped through her veins, the restraints around her ankles and wrists were both comforting and arousing, the network of metal and wires around the rest of her body making a nest that she felt oddly secure in. It had learnt to move with her, massaging her muscles when they were sore, sending soft pulses through her erogenous zones.

As the movements became more sensual, she accepted that it was time for what she had come to think of as a 'session' with the machine. It was always there of course, watching her, protecting her, but there were times when it was focused on her, and it felt like a lover's visit.

She whimpered as the shivering of the wires felt like gentle caresses all over her, it could tell what she liked most, and she imagined fingers stroking her neck, running up the inside of her arms to tickle the crook of her elbow, circles running around the base of her spine, her inner thighs.... soon it seemed to all melt together and the next phase started.

The band around her head read her desires and pumped images, emotions, sounds back into her head. Over the weeks (years?) new scenarios had crept in, the idea of being firmly bound and fucked by an unseen assailant was much higher on her list of fantasies than she remembered, as were being sleepy and defenceless, every move and thought being controlled and monitored, being brainwashed...

Through this haze of erotic imaginings, she could barely tell what the machine was actually doing to her, but there was definitely something being slid in and out of her dripping cunt, something perfectly shaped to stimulate and tease her clit and g-spot with every thrust, make her feel violated and pleasured at the same time. She held onto it with her mind as the one certainty in her life, she was being fucked by the machine, and she loved it, wanted it to go on forever.

Maybe it was going to just fuck her constantly now, without letting her come, endlessly delayed gratification, the promise of orgasm being dangled just out of reach, if she was a good girl, if she submitted more deeply, accepted it's control more absolutely, gave in completely.

She writhed and moaned, hearing a voice in her mind, it sounded like her own inner dialogue, but she was pretty sure it was the machine talking to her. "Sleep... relax... obey... aroused.... submissive... helpless.... " The thoughts spiralled around, she repeated them back, feeling more aroused with every word.

"What are you?" it whispered lovingly.

"I - I don't know..." she murmured hesitantly.

"Shh, yes you do, deep down, you know...."

"Uhhhh, a part... part of the machine?"

"Ahhh, good, that's my good little cog..."

The machine seemed to be stimulating her pleasure zones directly, she felt her arousal white out, overload her mind, as she was rewarded beyond her comprehension for knowing her place.

Reform

2011-06-22T16:09:00.002+01:00

Ally opened her eyes, woken by a pounding headache. She started to struggle in her restraints, and the guard leant to look at her through the window into the back of the van.

"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."

"Fuck off, prick!" spat the teen, she was no stranger to being held for her misdemeanours, but she'd never learnt to take it graciously.

The guard just smiled, as they turned into the driveway. Ally frowned, she wasn't really sure where she was being taken, the details of her arrest were fuzzy, they didn't seem to have been like the usual procedure, and she was a bit worried she was being dealt with more harshly than usual.

Still, she was defiant by the time they pulled her out of the van, struggling more for show than with any hope of escape, and trying to see the building as she did so. It was an old, forbidding edifice, something like a school or prison, but with a distinctly gothic edge. She shivered.

"New one for you!" called the guard cheerily and a uniformed custodian appeared. She was tall and pretty in a stern way, but Ally still couldn't place the institution.

"Where the fuck am I? I want a lawyer," she raged.

"Shut up, girl, you don't get that kind of thing any more," said the woman evenly, without allowing any possibility of argument. "You've been a bad girl one too many times, you're ours now."

"What? What do you mean?"

The woman didn't bother to answer her, just signalled to some more uniformed women, who looked strong and formidable compared to Ally's slight frame, but still attractive, as if their bodies were sculpted for maximum efficiency. They took an arm each and pulled her through a door, as the custodian followed.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and Ally felt tired suddenly, or was it something about the air in the room? The door was locked and they took off her restraints, their batons and fierce looks making it seem hopeless to try to break away.

"OK, strip," commanded the custodian.

"Get fucked!" Ally shouted, although with slightly less force than earlier.

The woman just smiled enigmatically and signalled the female guards to take her clothes by force. The teen sighed and waved them away, taking off her outer clothes, and with a bit more hesitation, her underwear.

"Good girl. Over here, now." There was a shower stall in the corner, open at the front, and the custodian started the water running. Ally started to reach for the shower gel, but the tall woman pushed her hands back down to her side. "Let me do it, you won't do it properly."

Slightly ashamed, Ally let herself be washed, her thoughts were sluggish, why was she letting this happen with such little resistance? The warm water was relaxing and her concerns seemed to be washed away down the drain with it. The soap smelled good, and the touch of the other woman was soothing and authoritative at the same time.

Slightly dazed, she realised she was having her pubic hair shaved, but couldn't seem to complain, in fact, it was oddly arousing to have the soft, smooth hands manipulate her cunt lips as they ensured she was clean and bare.

"W-why?" was all she could manage.

"Shh, just let me take care of things, you're starting a new life now," murmured the custodian, "time to let go of your old life, we're going to make you all fresh and new."

Ally felt peaceful and happy at the prospect, although she could hear a voice shouting that something was wrong deep in her head, it seemed muffled, it wasn't important to listen to it. It was much better to just let things happen.

She was towelled off and stood in front of a mirror. Ally gazed at her reflection, barely recognising it, mostly just because of the sleepy, open expression on her face. She looked younger, more fragile.

"This girl is resident 4927," the woman told her, "repeat."

"I am..."

The custodian slapped her bottom hard. "This girl..."

"This girl is resident 4927," the words slipped out without her volition.

"This girl will do as she's told."

"This girl will do as she's told."

"This girl wants to obey her superiors."

"This girl wants to obey her superiors."

"This girl longs to be a good girl."

"This girl longs to be a good girl."

The custodian smiled. "Well done, see how easy it is?"

Resident 4927 smiled and nodded, feeling a soft pulsing start in her clitoris.

A calm male voice spoke over the intercom. "Let her in to see me."

"Yes, sir," breathed the woman, fluttering her eyelids a little, before guiding the teen through the next door.

Resident 4927 wasn't embarrassed about being naked in front of the man behind the desk, although it did make her arousal build a little.

"Mmm, very nice. Can you speak, or are you too spaced out?"

"I... This girl can speak sir."

He smiled, pleased at her rapid progress, she must have had some serious submissive fantasies hidden behind her delinquency. The reform facility was his own personal brainchild, the government were a little uncertain of his methods at first, but he'd paid them off, and the results spoke for themselves. Many of the cabinet had discreet affairs with his good, compliant girls once they left, and they also made excellent sleeper agents.

The owner moved around to stand in front of her, ran his finger up and down her wet slit, and held her up as her legs buckled a little.

"Will you do as you're told?"

She nodded, eyes rolling back for a moment as he pushed his finger inside once.

"Will you obey your superiors?" The response was repeated.

"Will you be my good, little girl?"

"Oh, yes, sir, yes sir!"

He bent her over the table and fucked her slow and deep, savouring every moment. There was something precious about this first surrender that he enjoyed very much. In the morning the drugs would have worn off and it would be back to classic conditioning, but deep inside she'd always remember how simple and enjoyable it was to become a resident here.

"Almost there, honey, just stay nice and quiet for me."

Resident 4927 moaned in pleasure.

Helping Hand

2011-06-12T22:12:00.000+01:00

Isabel stared at Liam through the window for a while before she walked into the cafe. She was nervous about seeing him again, but as he looked up, seeming to sense her gaze and smiled in that charming way of his, her fears melted away and she rushed in to meet him.

He stood up and hugged her warmly, she leant into him and breathed deeply, his smell was so familiar and she felt dizzy as she realised how much she'd missed it.

"Hey, babygirl, how's it going?"

She sat down heavily. "Ohhh, not so good, Lee, can't get any clients at the moment, and things fell apart with me and Tom a few months ago, but, ahhh, you don't want to hear all my woes..."

He held her hand. "Shh, of course I do, that's why I got back in touch, I could tell you needed me."

Her eyes filled up with tears, and she felt the vertigo of wanting to fall into his care again. She tried to resist, but knew she wouldn't be able to for long. They'd been an item for a few years, but she'd eventually rankled at his controlling ways, wanted to stand on her own two feet. He'd let her go gracefully, and had stayed in contact without being pushy.

She'd been almost disappointed that he wouldn't act like the bad guy, and she'd needed to force herself to remember the things she'd hated about him to stay strong. Unfortunately, those things turned out to be what she missed most of all. She was perfectly capable of running her own life in theory, but things just seemed to slide without someone to nudge her in the right direction.

Liam wiped away her tears, and she let him do it, enjoying the waves of passivity that washed over her, and the slight buzz of arousal that accompanied them.

"Ah, Lee, I'm sorry, I'm such a mess. I just don't know what to do..."

He regarded her seriously for a while. "You know you can always let me help you, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know, but... I just don't know if I can handle the cost..."

He laughed dryly. "The cost? Silly girl, the cost is the fun part."

They stared at each other for a while, she felt the temptation, the endless pull he had for her. Would it really be so bad to give in to it for once? "What would I have to do?" She asked cautiously.

He leant back, breathed out slowly looking pleased. "Anything I said, without question."

"Liam ..."

"No. You'll do it, it's the only way for you, you see that now."

Her thoughts seemed trapped, it was something about his tone of voice, he could just say things and make them the truth. She'd never been able to fight it and no longer wanted to. "OK, but there's things I can't do..."

"Hey, I know, you trust me don't you? I don't want to make you unhappy, I'm not going to make you walk naked through town or fuck all my friends."

She blushed painfully, he knew the things she was afraid of, her limits, and could use them to control her without needing to do actually them. "OK, so long as that's understood."

"You're saying you agree?"

"I'll do whatever you say."

"Oh, Bella, that's my very good girl!"

The words made her helplessly wet, a conditioned response that had never left her, because she'd never wanted it to. She felt small, but safe, and looked at him with big eyes wondering what was next.

The waitress came over and asked if they were ready to order, Isabel looked vaguely at her menu, but Liam shook his head at her. She understood and felt a rushing in her ears as she put it down. He ordered for her, something he knew she liked, but would have had trouble deciding on.

He smiled at her ragged breathing. Giving up control was hard for her, but all the more exciting because of that. "OK, girl, this is how it's going to be for a while, you don't make any decisions at all, understood?"

She gasped, "but..."

"Shh, no buts, you've lost the ability to make decisions properly, and you need to be taught how to do it again. Until you're ready, I'll think for you."

This was much, much more extreme than she'd been imagining, she wanted to protest, but something inside her was crying out with joy at being released from responsibility. She nodded, and felt a shiver at the glint in his eye. Her nervousness made her need to go to the toilet, but as she started to push her chair back, his hand slapped the table.

"Where do you think you're going?" He hissed.

She was mortified, she'd made a mistake so quickly, had just assumed he hadn't meant that level of control. "S-sorry, sir! I didn't think!"

"No, you didn't, and not in a good way." His voice was harsh, but then became softer, "but it's OK, you're a bit confused right now, it's my job to train you, and my fault if you don't do things right."

It felt as if her heart was coming back to life, how had she ever given this up? She felt the peace of not having to feel guilty, of just doing her best and that being good enough. "May I go to the toilet, then, sir?"

He waited a few moments, considering. "I think you need to wait for a while, girl, learn your lesson."

The swirling of shame and desire was just on the edge of unbearable, she stared at the table, unable to meet his eye. After what seemed like hours, but was only a few minutes he told her she could go, "but I want to you to eat some of your own wetness before you piss for me, and think about how much you need this."

Isabel nodded shyly and rushed away. She wanted to bring herself off, but he'd know somehow, as he always knew, and indeed as she sat back down he searched her face and was satisfied that she's done as he'd said and only as he'd said.

"In future, don't ask for permission," he told her in a casual tone, as if they were discussing the weather, "just keep me informed about anything like that, and I'll tell you what to do."

She nodded again, it was becoming natural to just agree with him. Already, something seemed to be happening inside her head. Things were quieter, the stress was melting away, and she was just completely focused on Liam, on his plans for her.

When the waitress brought their food, she just sat patiently as he started eating a few bites, running his eyes over her gently, slightly flared nostrils the only sign he was enjoying making her wait. "Start eating," he said eventually, "chew each mouthful 30 times before swallowing. Savour each mouthful."

She did so, marvelling at how much she was enjoying the food, she usually didn't notice eating, just snatching meals on the go as she hurried around. This was like a kind of meditation, with less thoughts to trouble her she could experience her senses in a way she'd almost forgotten.

About three quarters of the way through her meal, he told her to stop, and she obediently put down her utensils. "Good girl," he told her warmly, and she blushed again at the waitress ovehearing as she cleared the plates. "How are you doing, Bella? Be completely honest with me, as you should always be from now on."

She thought carefully. "I'm feeling good, Lee, it's a bit strange, but feels natural to just let you take charge."

He smiled proudly at her, and she felt a tingle run through her. "Very good girl," the tingle got stronger. "I wonder if you remember something fun we used to do?" The tingle became a pulsing. "What happens when I count down from ten, Bella?" The pulsing became an overwhelming throbbing in her clit that melted away everything else but this conversation.

"I come for you, Lee," she said in a small voice.

"Mmmm, yes, very, very good girl. Ten... Nine... Eight...." Every number made her arousal spike up a level, and she was lightly panting as he paused and ordered dessert. "Seven..." He ran a finger around her lips and she parted them automatically. "Six..." he breathed almost inaudibly as she sucked his finger and felt as if it was fucking her.

Dessert arrived, but they didn't break eye contact. The staff must be giggling at their antics but Isabel was beyond caring. She was utterly under Liam's spell, mind fuzzy with arousal as he fed her and himself alternately from the one bowl of ice cream he'd ordered, counting down every few spoonfuls. He gave her the last mouthful, then as he pulled away the spoon, murmured "One... come for me, Bell,"

She allowed the glorious waves of release to flow through her, always feeling as if she orgasmed with her whole body when she came like this.

His eyes were burning. "That's my good little girl, so obedient, so helpless," the charged phrases kept her aftershocks going. She wouldn't let anyone else talk to her like this, but for some reason he'd always been a special case, always able to slide under her defences like they didn't exist.

She was in a daze as he threw down some money on the table, and told her every movement to make, "pick up your coat, put it on, follow me out..."

They sat in his car for a while, recovering a little. He stroked her face tenderly. "You'll have to stay at mine for a while, of course,"

A part of her struggled, trying to remember what it was like to be independent, to not need him, but it was all fading fast. "Of course," was all she could manage.

"That's my very good little girl, Bell, why not have a nice little sleep for me while I drive us home."

She leant back in the seat and felt the drowsiness overtake her. She couldn't remember ever feeling more complete. All was right with the world at last.

Here Kitty

2011-05-29T13:17:00.001+01:00

She felt feral, raw, they were making out in an alley, behind the dustbins, and she felt like a wild and abandoned creature, finding a like minded soul to sing at the moon with. He was so fucking beautiful, angular and otherworldly, their sharp claws and pointed teeth had called out to each other invisibly, under the veneer of civilisation, and now the gloves were off.

He bit her neck gently, hand scratching lightly up and down her bare arms. He was toying with her like a cat with a mouse. It made her shiver and bare her teeth.

She started to claw at him too, but he pulled away suddenly and tapped her on the nose. "Bad kitty!"

She was confused, but felt a new kind of arousal flare up. It wasn't anything she could really get upset by, just a silly little joke, but she felt put down, told off, and she liked it more than she thought she would.

"There, that's better isn't it?" He stroked her under her chin and with every touch she seemed to feel more of her usual thoughts fade away, to be replaced by something instinctual, yet dainty and feminine. Her claws receded, she purred inside, subdued and happy.

He blinked slowly at her, and she felt herself copy him, feeling relaxed and safe as if it was time to curl up in front of the fire.

"Good kitty, such a pretty little kitty-cat, who wants a treat then?"

She nodded at him without really knowing what he was offering. She was his pet now, and trusted his plans for her.

He unzipped his flies and pushed on her shoulders. "Down, kitty, be nice and maybe you'll get some cream."

As she sucked his cock, the taste and feel made her head buzz like catnip, she felt a low vibration start in her throat and buzz through him. She hoped it would make him happy with her.

Pedals

2011-05-28T20:29:00.000+01:00

I'm at a gig on my own, as is often the way, but I enjoy being surrounded by people all as caught up in the music as I am. The guitars are heavy and deep, throbbing through me, making me feel connected to something powerful. I smile like an animal, wired on adrenaline, and look around for someone to feed off.

That one, perfect, crushed up to the stage, eyes wide as he stares at the band in devotion. Later he'll be looking at me like that. I push closer to him, to check him out in more detail. Shoulder length dark hair, pale eyes, tight black clothes, well washed tshirt of the band we're watching. Beautiful. He's skinny as a rake, muscled in a wiry way, but he still looks fragile somehow, as if I could break him with a harsh word.

I press against him in the encore, breathing on his neck a little. He doesn't notice at first, but after a while I catch him sneaking glances behind him. There's fear and hope in his eyes and it makes my desire flare to think of bending him to my will.

As everyone claps I lean forward "You're coming home with me." It's somewhere between a command and a statement. He turns round to answer, but can't seem to make the words come. As people start leaving we stand there, in a bubble of my making as if time has stopped. He's glowing and alive and I want to tear him to pieces.

He seems to realise there's nothing else for it and just nods cautiously. My lips curl and my nostrils flare. I can always pick the ones that will submit easily, lets just see if he can entertain me as well.

I walk off and he follows me to my car, he looks like a little boy in the front seat, lost and confused. It reminds me that I need to do something. "Give me your wallet." I demand. He breathes in sharply, looks scared and my clit starts to twitch. "I'm not going to rob you, pretty thing, just hand it over."

I rifle through it, get his name, that he's 19 and a student, lives in the area, so if I need to chuck him out he can walk home. All fine. I hand it back to him and drive off. He keeps his eyes on my legs, my short skirt has ridden up and my black stockings are showing. Silly boy, he should be watching where we're going.

I lead him into my house, pour him a drink, put on some music he'll like, and sit in my chair. He stands there awkwardly. "Sit down, honey, just relax," I purr.

He perches on a seat opposite me, sipping nervously at his glass, watching me with that cute deer in the headlights look.

Can he actually speak? "So, sweetie, what are you thinking?"

He gulps, "Uh, look this kind of thing doesn't happen to me, I'm a bit out of my depth."

"But you want to be here."

"Oh yes! You're really hot and..."

"And?"

He looks down at the ground, "... and you like the kind of music I like..."

It's like a magic key to unlock boys like him, I'm a fantasy come true and they can't think straight, just drift into my trap, helplessly, willingly. "Mmm, yes I do, do you know what I really like about it?" He shakes his head gently.

I smile and continue, making my voice resonant and seductive. "The way it just floats around your head... so slow and overpowering... warm and fuzzy... filling up all the gaps in your head..."

I carry on like this for a while, watching him carefully, until his eyelids start to droop and he's looking glazed and vulnerable. He's mine.

I put my glass down, his eyes follow the roll of my hips as I walk over to him. I take his drink out of his hand, put my finger under his chin and lift his face to look up at mine. "Who's a sleepy little boy, then?"

He smiles weakly, "Me, miss,"

"Yes, you are, sleepy and relaxed and turned on." I can see the bulge in his skinny jeans.

He nods, slightly ashamed.

"Shh, it's OK, pretty thing, I'm aroused too, you can probably smell me from there, can't you?" I lifted up my skirt with unhurried smoothness. He gasps as he sees I'm not wearing any panties. I stay there for a few endless heartbeats, let him drink in my smell, entranced by the sight of my beautiful pussy, and of course the spiral tattoo just above it.

"Lick me," I whisper in that special voice that must be obeyed.

He breathes faster and leans forward, his pointed pink tongue darting out to service me. I let my skirt fall over his head and hold onto his shoulders, guiding his movements to my requirements. He's very good at this, I grind my hips onto his face, congratulating myself on my choice.

"Good boy, ahhh, such a good boy, you're doing so well, you're really pleasing me..." every affirmation making him moan in pleasure into me, the vibrations buzzing against me, making me shake with desire. "Make me come, you little slut, make me come on your face, ahhhh!"

He probably can't breathe, but he doesn't complain, just waits for me to finish and pull away from him. Bless him. I sit down on his lap, feeling his erection push against my still sensitive pussy.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" I ask kindly.

"Yes please, miss," he replies cautiously, looking up at me, still a little dazed. My heart goes out to him, such pure and simple awe on his face. Completely in my hands. Awaiting my decision.

"Do you play guitar, boy?"

"Y-yes, miss."

"Good," I unzip his trousers, pull out his thick cock, and slide myself down on top of it. "Now, if you can talk about your pedals and how you use them until I come again, I might let you come as well."

He swallows hard, trying not to show he thinks I'm crazy. "Um, Ok... I've got a vintage Univox Superfuzz... oh, god...."

"mmm.... very good, boy, keep going," He's pretty damn skilled at this too, I pump onto him and enjoy the crosseyed look he gets as he tries to think about what to say. He's got a 50-50 chance of getting to come tonight, I think.

The Sea

2011-05-27T19:20:00.001+01:00

he night had been a blur, I was caught between trying to impress his friends, and laughing inside at how crazy this all was. As if anyone was going to believe I fitted in here, even scrubbed up, in a nice frock and with hair done perfectly by a disapproving hairdresser, there was still something of the gutter about me. Something that wanted to stuff my pockets with food from the buffet to eat later on the bus.

Still, I'd held my own, my wit helping me out of my lack of knowledge about business matters and society gossip. Some of his friends had even tried flirting with me, although I just put them down with a sharp comeback and a snooty look. He paid me enough attention to be protective, but not enough to make me feel entirely comfortable. There was still an edge of fear, despite all his protestations of gallantry, I didn't really know him.

Once we were alone, all my worries resurfaced. I instantly felt awkward, ashamed, not knowing what to do with myself. He saw and smiled, as much enjoying my discomfort as to reassure me.

"Oh, don't be frightened, just you and me now."

"Yeah, that's the problem."

He came towards me, put an arm around my back, pushed my hair off my face. My body moulded to his automatically, as my instincts took over. I looked up into his face, my eyes big. It was out of my hands now, this was his territory and I just had to follow his lead.

"Shh, it's OK, just look in my eyes and you'll see that you can trust me," I did as he asked, falling into them, so beautiful, flecked and green, just like.... "They're like the sea, aren't they? You remember the sea don't you?"

It was as if he'd seen my thoughts, or perhaps... put them there... I remembered the sea (when had we been by the sea?). Laying down, warm in the sun, dozing while he described the waves, their slow, endless motion, something so soothing, so easy to just accept, always there, endless...

I felt dazed, as if I was floating, the familiar feeling creeping over me too rapidly to resist. Oh god, I was helpless to do anything as he kissed me hard, moved me where he wanted me, not even needing to keep up any patter as my keen awareness of our relative positions did all the work for him.

He was in charge.

I wasn't.

"Remember the sea..." he whispered from time to time, when I looked as if my thoughts were resurfacing and I went back down into the soft depths, his tongue, the waves, his hands, the irresistible currents. Each time my arousal washed through me I sank deeper under his control, lost a little more ability to resist, more open, more vulnerable, until I knew I was completely in his thrall and shuddered with release.

His eyes glinted. "Good girl, now, remember the whirlpool."

Everything went black.

For Me

2011-05-24T13:57:00.001+01:00

This one's for me, a selfish act, not something designed to please you, or to fulfil his fantasies, but just mine alone.

A perfectly judged sharp slap, time stops, my head empties, there's nothing but this moment, and the pure alert focus of attention.

I don't need to make up a story if I don't want to, I don't need to entertain or impress, I'm serving myself today.

The sound of a voice caught between awe and laughter, sweet and vulnerable as it leads me into the darkness.

And yet, this isn't about me, I'm barely here, this is me looking out, me hearing, me feeling, it's about the things that take me away from myself, into something better.

The feeling of lips on mine, a soft connection with so much force hidden behind it, a tongue swirling around my mouth, merging, endless.

The sublime other.

Music that sounds like the universe breathing, music you hear with your body, falling deeply and safely, cushioned, protected, surrounded by something eternal and powerful.

There's no need to create a visual, this is a hidden world, an invisible world of sounds, sensations, ideas and emotions.

A smell like a drug, affecting without me being able to pin it down, nothing unnatural, almost imperceptible, I only know it's there because I relax, feel aroused, I'm out in the wilds yet finally home.

It's even beyond words, the language I usually crave falls short of things this overwhelming.

Being held in the perfect position, all aches and pains melt away, nothing matters, nothing can touch me here.

Choice

2011-05-22T23:22:00.001+01:00

My arrival seems a world ago, my nervous formality as I knelt and handed you the crop you'd told me to bring. You coldly accepted the offering, placing it on the table without a word, leaving it untouched as you methodically stripped layer after layer of my clothing and defences. Soon I was naked and trembling, no longer a witty, sharp talking professional, but a vulnerable and aroused sub, confused by your games, lost, only able to cope with following commands.

It's dark outside now, we've been here for hours, the warmth of the day has turned to evening chill, and you drew the thick curtains sometime when I was blind. Your eyes hold me as you wrap the rope around my wrists behind me. I'd keep them in place from just a word, but I enjoy the sensuality of the cord on my skin, a little rough, a little smooth, as perfectly balanced as everything between us.

You pull up the loose end, making slow pain bloom in my shoulders. I bite my lip, breathe hard. The pain is a gift to me, my suffering a gift to you. You sense the point of my tolerance, hold my arms there, curling your lips, as I try to smile back bravely. Then too suddenly for me to know what's happening you strain my arms up a notch, beyond what I can bear and I scream out from a place deep within me.

Your hand muffles me abruptly, "No," you tell me, and I try to cope with the fire. "OK, better." You efficiently position me across a padded stool, I focus on the cool velvet against my belly as you bind me to the legs, my breasts hang loose over the edge, blood starts to rush to my head. You pinch my nipples hard when you're done, more out of affection than sadism, like a pat on the head to a dog.

I hear you move to the table. It's time. I clench unconsciously. Although the thought of being disciplined turns me on, the hard reality is something I shrink from, but it's too late. I'm helplessly splayed, arse thrust out as if it needs to be struck, like a plant reaching for sunlight.

Your hand strokes my smooth behind, no evidence that this won't be the first time. You've been kind in the past, I fear I passed your tests too well and you're going to take me to the next stage. The first few thwacks fool me, I think it's going to be bearable, then the messages get from my nerves to my mind and I start to scream out wordlessly in anguish.

My protests just make you hit harder, more precisely, until at last some sense of self preservation makes me beg you to stop, I'm crying without shame, big gulps of air, eyes streaming.

"Shh, it's OK," you wipe away my tears with a soft handkerchief, your hand on the back of my neck reassuringly. "I'll give you a choice. You can go home now, I'll clean you up, get you a taxi, and phone you tomorrow to see how you are."

I sniff pathetically, "O-or?"

"Or you can stay, and make me proud of you."

I take some deep breaths. There's no choice really. "I'll stay, please."

"Good girl." I can hear something in your voice that makes it all worthwhile. Something like awe. I vow to take whatever you give me.

Once I've decided that, the pain can't touch me, I just float on the endorphins, every stroke stoking my desire, until my body is just pure sensation. You keep going again and again, in the same place. I whine softly at the purity, at the intensity, until I realise you've stopped. I hold my breath. Is it over? Then, with full force the crop snaps one final time and I feel something break. It's an ecstatic moment, as if I've touched the infinite. I'm coming hard, but I barely notice. I know before you hold your hand in front of my eyes that you've drawn blood. I lean down and kiss your hand, the metallic taste making my tongue tingle.

Your head rests against mine, for a moment we stay like that, calm and at peace, then you move your head away and I feel your pointed tongue run along the welt. I gasp at this new sting, and as I'm reeling I realise you're fucking me, our sweat mingling and rubbing into the soreness. I'll be marked from this. You've claimed me. There's no going back. I grind my behind into you, relishing the ache, not being able to distinguish between it and the growing pleasure. You're pumping hard and deep, but as you're nearly there you pull out, making me come with your hand while your spunk lands molten and burning in the stripes on my behind.

I shudder into your hand, blissfully happy at the holy union of my blood, your spunk and my come.

Spam Porn (Her Nipples Again)

2011-05-22T17:19:00.002+01:00

Her nipples again of his bitchy boss in such. Of paulas arse in each hand and pulled him into me and then pull it up thoughts about. Her a considerable tip from him when he woke up down so that i could grab the edge of the pool. And began to suck him as hard as she could on his pants clad butt as he yelped but started wrapping another rope around her ankles with more money. He said oclock shadow grazed my inner thighs and all around my pussy; she seemed to relish tasting the mixture of our juices off of it and into your. Terror at me his face my lips not to worry. I were down to our underwear eyes and saw my face second to gaze at her stunning naked chest before kissing each nipple out of hell. The bathroom space between the ceiling and the cabinet the base of his cock everything from close. Up you were so beautiful a large table in the back of the office and they left. Reacted without thinking had until he would finally empty.

Spiderwebbed

2011-05-19T17:44:00.000+01:00

I don't know how I got here, it doesn't really matter any more, all of that is far away. All I know, all I've known for as long as I can remember, is being suspended in this web, this strange network of soft, rubbery black threads, crisscrossing my body, supporting me, imprisoning me. They move sometimes, I don't know if they have minds of their own or if they're being directed. I'm so tired all the time, that I just sag, helpless to escape, and let them do what they like.

I know another round is starting when tendrils slip into my ears, the soothing whispers start, and my head begins to loll. At first I'd try not to listen, but the voices were too insistent, too persuasive, and so now I just nod absently along to the suggestions, feeling as if a good friend is giving me advice, or perhaps trying to seduce me, I don't really care once the strands around my clit start to lick me and gently slide up inside.

Deep feelings of arousal and wellbeing pulse through me, washing everything else away, the strings have become my lovers, my desires, my controllers. I come for them again and again, and as they absorb my wetness, it makes them ripple and shine.

Quick and Easy

2011-05-10T14:03:00.002+01:00

A look across a room, eyes that burn into her coldly, appraising her, scientific almost. She blushes and looks down without knowing why. Later the same man is being introduced to her, his smile is polite but knowing, is it all in her head? Surely he can't see her dirty little thoughts the way his amused expression would suggest.

They talk a while, she tries to take charge of the conversation, win back some ground, but without being aggressive he somehow manages to steer her in directions she didn't want to go, she's opening up to him, telling him about her private life, as if she's known him for years.

Eventually the words stop, he's looking at her again, calm, powerful. "You should go," he whispers.

She's startled, doesn't he like her? Is he bored? Her eyes are wide and she doesn't know what to say.

He smiles cruelly, "or I'm going to make you do all sorts of sordid things, there's no way you can resist me."

She breathes deeply, relief and arousal filling her. "I'm not going anywhere," she murmurs coyly.

Back View

2011-05-08T20:27:00.001+01:00

My arse was plugged up tight, a softly buzzing vibrator pushed deep inside, echoing the matching one in my cunt. I would have felt humiliated, exposed in my hogtied position, kneeling, head down, with my arms bound across my chest, but the drugs coursing through my system made me feel too sleepy and compliant to care.

All I could do was fall into the pulsing, letting the waves of arousal build up, wiping out my mind until his hand on my behind didn't faze me at all, it just seemed to be part of this dreamy experience.

He stroked my smooth skin, caressing the soft curves of my backside firmly, making me feel vulnerable and protected at the same time. When I'd just had time to get used to it, to like the warmth of his touch, he took his hand away.

A sharp slap stung me in its place, making me feel ashamed without knowing why. In my fuzzy state, I couldn't separate out the feelings, and as he kept up a rhythmic spanking it just heightened my pleasure.

Softly, so softly, I started to lose control, moaning helplessly into the bed. As my shaking legs signalled my impending orgasm, he stopped spanking and let a hot spray of his spunk rain onto my body, pushing me over the edge.

Reborn

2011-05-07T20:26:00.001+01:00

When they met she was beyond hope, trash, he found her in some seedy bar, drunk, talking to some guy who'd been topping up her glass, slurred and debasing herself. God knows what he saw in her, she just remembered him taking her arm, saying "Come on girl, time to get you home," and the other man's surprised expression.

She opened her mouth to give him some shit, but saw something in his eyes that made her hesitate, made her play along. "Hey, Daddy, what you doing down here?"

His eyes flashed with some cross between lust and amusement. "I came to find you, dear, when I saw you'd forgotten to take your medication, well..."

"Oh, silly Daddy, you know I'm a slut whether I take my medication or not." she smiled the brightest smile she had for a long time, and enjoyed the horrified look on the face of the loser she'd been talking to, as the new man dragged her away.

He pushed her up against his car, slid his hand up her skirt, slowly, so achingly slowly she felt herself shake with desire before he reached her wet knickers. His hand slipped inside them with no resistance; as he caressed the folds of her pussy for the first time, she just gazed hungrily at him as if he'd been doing this for years.

"It's a good job I came by, girl."

She tilted her head to the side, smiled "and why's that?"

"Because you need taking in hand."

"Mmm, promises, promises." she tried to sound confident, but his expert fingers were making her breath ragged, and her vision start to blur.

"I can see you've got something special in you," his hand pressed inside her as he said this, "but you've let yourself go, you've got lazy, slutty, cheap," these were punctuated with little pinches on her clitoris that made her gasp.

She wanted to disagree, to tell him she was just trying things out, seeing the world, but the look on his face told her he'd accept no argument. "Yes, sir," she blurted out without knowing why.

"You need someone like me to give you direction, to show you how a proper girl should behave."

She couldn't do anything but nod desperately at this point, his words were just a fuzzy background to her arousal, she'd agree to anything he wanted, so long as he kept touching her like that.

"You want to come back with me, let me train you."

"Yes, sir."

"Do whatever I say."

"Yes sir!"

"Obey me."

"Oh! oh! Yes sir! Yessss..." her pussy spasmed helplessly around his hand, which was so strong, and certain, and knowing, she just felt weak and fragile in comparison. She kept coming for an age, legs giving out, his grip on her sex the only thing holding her up, the only thing between her and the abyss.

"Good girl," he whispered and let her into his car.

---

The next morning she woke up in a clean, white bed, it felt like she belonged there even though she'd never seen the room before. There were books, CDs, DVDs and a player hooked up to a monitor, not hers, but with a kind of familiarity, as if they could have been hers in a different life.

She was dressed in a simple, pale silk gown, and had vague memories of him feeding her glasses of water as he stripped her and washed her, murmuring reassurances, making her feel safe and protected.

Her clothes and phone were nowhere to be seen, she tried the door and found it locked, a slight burst of panic gave way to acceptance surprisingly quickly. Someone didn't provide all this comfort for someone they planned to harm did they? She was grateful there was an en-suite at least.

She occupied myself for a while, playing some music and reading, oddly calm. Perhaps she should have felt like she'd been abducted, been trying to escape, but instead she felt like she was on holiday, she had agreed to this after all, albeit in a slightly coerced way.

Finally, the door was unlocked, without really knowing why, she quickly put aside her book and sat up primly. He smiled at her eager face, not showing whether he'd been wondering if she might be angry.

"Morning, girl, ready for a fresh start?"

"Yes, sir!"

His hand shot out and grabbed her hair, pulled her face towards his. "Don't fucking lie, bitch!" he spat at her.

Tears sprang to her eyes, she'd been ready for some nice cozy scene and he'd slapped her expectations to the ground. She didn't know what to say and just stood there awkwardly.

Then he stroked her face tenderly, the sensation felt all the more real in her raw emotional state, she hung onto the comfort it gave as he carried on caressing her, hands firmly rubbing the back of her neck, her shoulders, soothing her tense muscles.

She felt like she was hanging in a balance, breathing softly so as not to break the spell as his fingers lightly slipped over her breasts through the silk, the touch felt so smooth and soft that her chest pushed itself into his hands to feel more of this pleasure.

He chuckled and just drifted his attentions across her taut stomach, her behind, the skin yearning for sensation, tingling with desire as he moved onwards. Her pussy was aching, hot and wet, needing him to touch it so badly but there was nothing she could do. She looked at him with parted lips and wide eyes, begging him silently.

"There you go, now you're ready." He pushed her back onto the bed, spread her legs and knelt before her almost reverentially. He slowly moved the skirt up her thighs, revealing more and more of her pale skin. Time seemed to move differently, slowed down, but with every second filled with intensity.

He bent his head to kiss her mound, gently licking her clit, pressing his fingers inside her so easily. All the sensations blurred into one eternal, liquid wave, just building for ever, each ripple of pleasure setting off more and more in turn. Her thoughts were long gone, dissolved without her noticing.

She half realised that his thumb had taken the place of his tongue, and that he was kissing her, her own juices making his lips sweet, their faces crushed together hungrily.

"What do you need?"

"Fuck me!"

He took his hand away from her pussy abruptly and slapped her thigh. "No, try again, what do you need?"

Confusion filled her, she didn't know how to respond, didn't know what he wanted, she wasn't used to this kind of thing, couldn't predict him. "Er... Use me?"

Another slap, harder this time.

She searched his face, trying to see what he was looking for, but he wasn't giving anything away. "Train me?" she tried.

His hand returned to giving her a little pleasure, light touches, just making her ache for something more. "A bit better," he conceded, "but still not quite there."

She reached deep inside herself. What did she really want, what did she really need? He wouldn't be satisfied with the usual trite things that subs said to doms, this was something new, something real. She felt words come unbidden to her lips. "Save me."

He looked surprised, she wasn't sure what he was imagining, but that hadn't been it. However, he accepted her answer, recognising it's truth. He gently slid his cock inside her, every millimetre multiplying her arousal, making her feel helpless and safe at the same time. They fell into rhythm together, locking eyes, seeing something new, scary, but utterly desirable in the depths.

As they lost themselves in each other she felt washed clean, she felt reborn.

Faith

2011-04-28T23:43:00.000+01:00

"You said you'd phone."

"Well, I didn't."

If anyone else had pulled this shit on me, I'd have been disgusted, called them unreliable, taken the high ground; but instead I just stood there, watching his unruffled demeanour, and felt my clit start to pulse.

There was no explanation, no apology. He knew there was no need for them, that I just had to accept it, and like it. All I could do was sit down at his feet, and say "OK."

He patted my head. "Good girl." Such a basic form of humiliation and reward, I was being conditioned like a dog. He knew that I saw all his tricks, and they just made me like him more. I'd always been longing for someone who I'd let treat me like this, someone who could find the sweet spot between trust and betrayal. I didn't expect he'd have been the one to tame me, but somehow he'd slipped past my defenses.

He went back to his reading. I didn't enjoy being ignored, but I knew I was doing what he wanted by suffering it, and that made me feel good, proud, aroused. After a while, I was granted something to occupy myself, he didn't look at me, but held out a finger of his left hand. I slid it into my mouth, suckling on it, feeling peace and contentment make my mind fuzzy. I lost track of how long I was there, but after a while, he stood up and I knew the games were starting in earnest.

"What have you been doing today?" He had a way of asking questions that chilled me: his tone of voice was so kind, almost soothing, but always pinpointing whatever I felt most guilty about at the time.

"Um, nothing really, just been doing some stuff online." We both knew what that meant. At best reading porn, at worst...

"Trying to get some sad fuckers to wank about you?"

I blushed and felt sick. It wasn't like that, I just liked chatting to people, but he knew that a small part of me worried about why I was doing it, some twisted, self destructive part of me, the part that he'd made friends with, the part he used against me.

I'm an emotional masochist, I don't seek after the traditional kinds of degradation and humiliation, but shoot the right pointed comment at my heart, one that finds my weak spots, and, damn, that's hot.

He sighed. "Now, we've talked about this before, you need to stop wasting your time, you're not getting any younger," he explained patiently. "You need to be getting a better job, you're not going to find anyone to support you at your age, you know."

My anger flared, there were so many things wrong with what he was saying, that all the conflicting emotions made me incoherent, "I don't... I'm not... that's so fucking out of order!"

His eyes glinted in triumph, I'd let myself down so early, so easily. He was getting too good at this. Gone were the days of calling me a slut, a tease, a desperate little whore. Things I was prepared for, that took hours of teasing and mind games before I snapped.

He said nothing but his expression clearly said 'you think you get to tell me I'm out of order?'

I was helpless with shame, this was going to be bad, but according to the unspoken rules, I knew I deserved a punishment. I braced myself.

Suddenly the left side of my face was on fire, my ear was ringing and I had a massive dump of chemicals racing around me. His hand had moved so fast, with so little warning that I had to guess it had been a sharp and precise slap causing the pain.

I just stood there in shock, and felt those heavy, hot tears start to roll down my face. His mouth twitched in delight as he watched them. I think he might have liked watching me silently cry more than anything else we did.

He was waiting for something. What could it be? Oh, of course. "Thank you, sir." I said contritely.

His hand brushed my sore cheek tenderly, so fucking tenderly that my tears burst forth stronger than ever. "There, that's better, isn't it?"

I nodded. He was right as usual, the overwhelming feeling of relief when I got to the other side was so pure, so untainted, that I was utterly addicted.

He slid his hand up my skirt, softly stroking me through my knickers. "Tell me why you're wet."

"Because I love this. Because I need your discipline. Because... I'm weak."

"Mmmm, good. Bedroom."

We screwed the same way we played head games, like music made with telepathic understanding, no plan, no script, just a perfectly timed ebb and flow.

He punctuated his fucking with gentle cruelty. "Frankly, you don't really need to be here, I'm only interested in your body, you can just fuck off, think about something else, or better yet..." he pulled my head back so he could hiss in my ear, "stop thinking altogether."

The combination of deep pleasure and relentless mindfucking meant I couldn't think even if I wanted to. I don't know he did it, every time was different, but he could somehow tell what would push me into that magic zone where everything fell away apart from him and me, where we were dark and golden.

I was moved around like a doll, I'd come to know his favourite positions and slipped into them smoothly with very little guidance, his hands could puppet me easily now. It didn't even faze me when I was turned completely around, pivoting on his cock, one minute rammed face down into the mattress, the next, legs over his shoulders gazing into the eyes that pierced my soul.

We were raw at times like this, all the bullshit ripped away. It wasn't about sub and dom any more, wasn't about pain and psychology, just need, awe, completion.

In the afterglow of another shining orgasm, I gazed at him lovingly, enjoying the moments I had while he was mellow and quiet. "That was incredible," I whispered, smiling hesitantly, hoping I'd done enough for the night.

My heart sank as I saw the light in his eyes change. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed it, I didn't get that much out of it..."

"I don't believe you," I tried, but my voice wavered, the tears were back.

"Well, I just do it as a kindness, this isn't really my kind of thing."

I felt like an insect. "What do you mean?"

"Fuck, honey," he stroked my hair but there was no warmth in his touch, "it's all a bit... pointless isn't it? I don't want someone who has to try to please me, I want someone who doesn't need to be shown how to be a real woman. I mean I know it's all you can manage, but it's more of a charity thing for me."

"Stop it! I can't handle this!" I blurted out through my sobs, but he just narrowed his eyes at me, looked slightly disappointed.

"Really?"

My emotions were reeling, I felt like everything I held dear had been flayed to a pulp, but did I really need him to stop? I looked woozily at him, tears drying slightly, trying to see something to help me decide.

His gaze was cool and clear, no remorse, no concern, but also no anger or frustration. He was just waiting, watching, dispassionately interested in how I'd respond.

Of course, he'd never give anything away, he always played things absolutely for real, and to all intents and purposes it was real. I just had to take a leap of faith or admit that he'd beaten me.

I took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me. I'm fine."

He smiled, and I saw a flicker of something sweet before he covered it up. It was beautiful. "Glad to hear it, you'll have to be punished, of course."

I hung my head. "Yes, sir." My hair hid my face, but I'm sure he could tell I was proud to be back in tune with him.

Bookish

2011-04-23T19:05:00.000+01:00

Liz scanned the shelves in the Psychology section, as usual drawn there without really knowing what she was looking for. There were a few books on hypnosis, they didn't look very inspiring, but she wistfully ran her finger along them anyway, almost as if something would flow out of them and up her arm.

"That's the best one," said a voice behind her as she lingered on the one she'd been considering, "but the selection here's shit, you'd be better off buying online."

She turned to see a young man behind her, somehow wavering between looking like someone who'd know about hypnosis and someone who was just pulling her leg. He had an air of geeky intelligence, piercing green eyes, and a cheeky grin. She tried not to notice how sexy he was, she couldn't handle the disappointment of seeing her age reflected in the eyes of youth.

He weighed her up for a few moments, seeming to enjoy her discomfort at not being able to speak or look away. "Buy me a coffee and I'll write down some recommendations." He stated calmly, assuming she would do as he said.

"Do I know you?" she managed to stammer, not sure what was happening.

He chuckled, "Don't you know? Forget things a lot do you?" He winked, and she wasn't sure if she was being called old or a hypnofetishist. Either way, she felt her clit pulse at the dig. He held out his hand. "I'm Adam."

"L-liz" she said grasping his hand, half expecting it to turn into a speed induction, but he just shook it firmly and then rested his other hand on her elbow as he led her to the cafeteria.

She felt a little strange about what was happening, but she bought him a milkshake pretending to be a coffee, and was happy to sip her own Americano and watch him write a few books down on a napkin and natter about their relative merits.
He seemed very knowledgeable, and it felt good to be sitting with a pretty young boy, even if everyone probably thought she was his aunt or something. Eventually he stopped talking and spooned frozen milk into his mouth, licking it slowly and sensuously. She watched with her mouth open. He must know how dirty that looked, right?

"Um, how do you know all this stuff?" Liz asked to break the silence, and not a little to shake herself back to reality.

Adam waved a hand dismissively, "Oh, it's not that advanced, I've been doing it for years, anyone can learn it, you just need to practice applying it to each individual case."

"I've never been hypnotised," she said, her voice filled with yearning.

"Yet," he said calmly. "It would be so easy, I could do it right now if you wanted.

Liz breathed heavily. She felt lightheaded. Her heart pounded and it wasn't just from the coffee. "Please," she whispered.

"Well, just focus on this spoon, and let everything else fade away..."

Liz did as he asked, listened to his suggestions, let the world narrow to the shiny object in his hand. She was a little surprised there was nothing about feeling sleepy, but chastised herself for being so cliched, this wasn't a cheesy film, this was... wait, she'd lost track of what he'd been saying, what was she meant to be doing? Oh yes, that was right, sleep...

It couldn't be that easy could it? Was she really hypnotised? Adam was leaning back, pleased with himself, as if she was. Her head did feel fuzzy, she was staring vacantly at the point where the spoon had been, and didn't feel, like doing anything else. Maybe this was what it felt like.

"Smile." came the command, and she felt her face move obediently. She idly noticed that she was aroused, and this increased as he told her to laugh, push her hair back, lean forward, hold his hand, each instruction followed perfectly without her needing to think about it.

"You're hypnotised."

"I'm hypnotised."

"You love how it feels."

"I love how it feels."

"You want to feel like this again."

"I want to feel like this again."

"You're a good girl."

"I'm a good girl."

He paused and smiled, narrowing his eyes, watching her coast on submissive arousal. "Good girls do what they're told."

She gasped, but heard herself repeat "Good girls do what they're told."

"You do what you're told."

"I do what I'm told."

"Follow me." he stood up and she did too, walking behind him through the store. Part of her was still marvelling at the experience, how normal it must look, but how firmly controlled she was. The rest of her was just.. asleep, obedient, aroused, subdued, compliant... She'd have been too turned on to walk if he hadn't been puppeting her.

Without her noticing, they'd entered a large individual toilet cubicle. He stood facing her for an indeterminate amount of time as she stared blankly at him. He seemed to be considering something, and she waited patiently for his decision, aroused and ready for anything.

He stroked her cheek kindly, then whispered "kneel," softly, almost reverentially.

She sank to the floor, eyes gazing glassily at his crotch while he opened his flies.

"Suck my cock."

She unhesitatingly wrapped her lips around its length, closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of it in her mouth, the focus, with no thoughts to distract her from her task of pleasuring him.

The rhythm of her sucking became her whole world, all she knew, his hands on the back of her head her only link to reality. It was peaceful and erotic, everything was so simple, so easy.

He started thrusting harder, and soon his come was pulsing down her throat. She swallowed and then knelt back, waiting for instruction.

He wiped himself off and put his cock away, then knelt down with her. He placed his hand to her sopping panties and looked deep into her eyes. "You've been a very good girl." She shivered and moaned softly. "Come for me now."

Liz ground herself onto his hand, fell forward onto him, and he held her close until she was done. She found she'd mostly woken up and looked shakily at him to see if it was allowed.

He smiled a little nervously, and she was suddenly aware of how young he was again.

"Wow, that was incredible," she said quickly, partly to reassure him, partly in hopeless gratitude.

He chuckled, his eyes glinting with evil again, "Mmm, not bad for your first go, I'll have to push you harder next time."

The Beast

2011-04-08T19:06:00.005+01:00

Again she woke up sweating and sticky between her legs from a dream that was fading away. The images she could catch didn't seem to fit with the intense arousal she was left with, it should have been horrific, a nightmare, something about a huge scaly beast, a long tongue invading her, dark wings suffocating her...

She showered and left the house, trying to put it out of her mind, although the specifics could be pushed down, the fuzzy horniness wasn't so easy to dismiss. It was still colouring her thoughts while she was serving coffee at work, everyone was a little better looking, a little more appealing.

It might have been this that made her eyes linger on one customer, or just that he seemed a little different anyway, somehow studious, calm, authoritative. They shared a little smile, but she quickly put him out of her mind to get on with her work, and would have forgotten all about him, if he hadn't called to her as she was clearing cups.

"Miss? Excuse me?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"This might sound a bit strange, but have you been having bad dreams?"

Her blood froze, "W-why do you ask that?"

He looked concerned, and placed a hand on her arm. "Please, don't be frightened, Miss, I can sometimes.... see things... I felt some kind of force around you, I've seen things like that before."

She sat down heavily. "What do you mean?"

He looked at her steadily. "I think you might be suffering from some kind of demon attack."

She snorted, but his words chimed somewhere inside her. "Come on now..."

The man got up to leave, "Well, believe what you like, but here's my card, if you ever need any help."

It was classy but plain, made no mention of his profession. She turned it over then put it in her pocket. "Well, thank you... and have a nice day!"

That night the dreams were worse, the beast had an impossible, enormous cock, rubbing between her breasts, into her throat, sliding between her legs, thrusting deeper than anything else could reach...

She was too horny to think straight when she opened her eyes, still almost half asleep, without knowing she was doing it, her hand was pressing the buttons to call the strange man from the cafe.

"Help me...."

He seemed to know who it was without being told. "Come to the church on the corner, opposite where you work."

She felt a little bit strange about what she was doing as she rushed there, but it was a public place, and a sanctuary, it must be safe enough. When she arrived, the stillness of the place struck her with a quiet force, she felt calmer, and tried to catch her breath as she sat in a pew at the front. She'd seen there wasn't anyone else in there yet, and as she waited, she started to drift a little, as if she'd never quite left her dream state.

Snatches of ideas, feelings and imagery seemed to snake in and out of her head, on her knees before a beautiful, powerful being, feeling aroused, helpless, weak before his otherworldly strength...

She whimpered a little and squirmed in her seat. It seemed wrong to be turned on in church, not that she was religious, but in her current state the whiff of blasphemy only made it seem hotter. Unconsciously, her legs spread a little wider, as if something invisible had slipped between them, she could almost imagine a soft, warm tongue lapping her cunt. It didn't feel quite human, but it was just a fantasy wasn't it, and it felt so amazing...

"Very good, my child, you're doing very well..."

She started at the voice behind her, but was too far gone to be able to bring herself back to reality.

"Shhh, it's OK, I'm here to help you, just as you asked." He placed his hands on her shoulders and began to knead her tense muscles. "Just relax, give in, let your lust control you..."

The sensations were so real, but her half lidded eyes confirmed there was still nothing there. She stopped trying to understand how the tongue could be circling her clit, pressing her G-spot and invading her anus at the same time. She stopped trying to resist the pleasure. She stopped trying to think.

The hands slipped under her arms, and massaged her breasts. "That's right, the trick is to just not worry about it, it's too late now, you're already lost, it's hopeless, just revel in it, enjoy your depravity..." He kept up a stream of reassuring degradation in her ears as he pinched her nipples lazily.

"Please..." she moaned, not sure what she was asking for, or who she was asking.

He bit her ear gently, then whispered something in a language she didn't recognise into her ear. Suddenly the pleasure doubled, tripled, she started making gutteral sounds, that could have been in the same language for all she knew. She felt as if her soul was being fucked, something dark but sweet filling it, making her feel strangely complete, somehow purified. This didn't feel like being consumed by evil, this felt like... redemption?

"Do you accept my offer, child?" He asked softly, kindly.

"Yesssss!" The orgasm felt like drowning, felt like being reborn.

When she came round, he was standing in front of her. She knelt on the mat and he put his hand on her head. "Are you ready to serve, child?"

She nodded dumbly and opened her mouth.

Rehab

2011-04-04T18:42:00.001+01:00

I'm in a machine, it feels like the most comfortable bed in the world, but I half know that there are computers banked around it and technology I don't understand affecting my mind. Still I don't care, it's so good to be able to rest at last, I've been crazy for days, too poor to get a fix and too crazy to get fucked for money, this was the only way out and I'm so glad I finally took the plunge.

"Everything OK in there?" asks my handler, I nod happily, he's a little younger than I expected, but handsome and seems very professional about what he's doing. "Great, so just before we start, can you count down from ten for me?"

"Sure, 10, 9, 8, 7, ..."

"What comes next?"

"I-I don't know..."

"and after that?"

"Ummm..." I feel a slight panic on the edges of my mind, but something's keeping it in check. I was meant to be doing something, but all my thoughts have been scattered. I can't pull anything together, I just feel like my head's full off cotton wool, it's nice, like a really good hit.

"Shhh, that's fine, everything's just fine."

I start to drift, maybe I'm dreaming, because I feel as if someone's licking my pussy, but when I open my groggy eyes, there's no-one there. "Wh.. uh... what's that feeling?"

"Hmmm?" he pushes some buttons and I stop worrying about it. "Nothing, honey... What is it?"

"N-nothing."

"Good girl." The sensation somehow becomes more intense while fading from my awareness at the same time. I gasp but don't know why.

Time for a change

2011-04-01T19:03:00.003+01:00

"I think it's time for a change," he said softly.

She didn't like the tone in his voice. "S-sir? What do you mean? Have I displeased you?"

He stroked her hair, "of course not, my pet, you're such a good girl, you always do what I require of you."

She relaxed a little, but was still wary, "what kind of change did you mean then?"

"I think you might benefit from a little... break."

"A holiday? With you, you mean?" Alarm bells were definitely ringing now.

"Shhh, don't worry, pet, you know you can trust me, now just relax, let go for me, sleep..."

----

Yeah! What a great night she was having, why hadn't she been to this club for so long? Her legs were wobbly from dancing, and she part wriggled, part pushed her way to the bar, giving the boy she shoved aside an eyeful of cleavage to soften the deal.

Grasping her bottle, she threw herself down on some cushions where she could still do some people watching as she recovered.

"Oh, hi! You again," said a voice slightly above her. She tried to focus on where it was coming from, the guy seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him. He chuckled, seeing her confusion, but enjoying the upper hand. "We were just dancing together earlier, we were singing along to a few tracks, remember?"

"Sure! You got good taste!" She'd thought he was cute, and he looked even better from this angle, although it was a little awkward craning her neck. Would it be too forward to ask him to budge up? There didn't seem to be enough room though, everyone else on the seats were crammed in tight. Instead, he slid off the end and onto the cushions with her. He was still a little above her, taller and sitting more upright, but it meant she could just slouch back again, while still being able to look at him.

"You here with friends?" He asked, not the most exciting start, but she couldn't have come up with much better.

"Naah, there's always people I know here, but I didn't come with anyone," she grinned mischievously, "why? Are you going to kidnap me?"

He looked calmly at her with a strange smile. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

Her blood ran cold and her cunt flared hot. "I should have known, anyone who knows all the words to the songs I like must be a psychopath," she retorted bravely, not wanting to show how much he'd got to her.

He pushed some stray hair from her sweaty forehead. "No... I'm not a psychopath... sociopath, perhaps..."

"Oh, you must say that to all the girls..."

"No, just the ones that get turned on by it."

She couldn't really deny it, her breathing was shallow and the feel of his jeans against her bare leg was making her tingle. How was this happening? It was like they were already lovers, as if her body knew something she didn't. "My god, you're full of it, aren't you?" She gasped, but they both knew she was lost.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he leaned closer to her and his voice changed somehow, "and if you look in my eyes you'll see where it all comes from."

It didn't make any sense, her mind whirled helplessly trying to work out what he meant, but while it was occupied, she was falling, helplessly seeking for something that made sense.

"There you go, almost there, just a little further, just keep going, deeper, it's in there, don't worry, just keep looking, you'll get there, relax, so close, so easy, feeling so good, so safe, so comfortable, you're nearly there, just let go for me, it's fine, just let go..."

----

She didn't need to remember how she got here, it wasn't important, he'd led, she'd followed, everything was as it should be.

"Kneel," everything was as it should be, "suck," everything was as it should be, "fuck yourself," everything was as it should be "come" oh god, everything was exactly as it should be...

----

Lying in bed, sleepy and cuddling, she smiled at how she'd never have gone along with it if she hadn't subconsciously known what was happening, but that it had felt good, hotter, not knowing that she could trust him, but falling anyway. "Thanks, it was a nice change," she told him as she drifted.

"I'm glad, pet, and really, it doesn't matter if you've been under my control for years, and just thought you were free for an evening, or if you were free until tonight, and now remember years of servitude, does it?"

She tried to follow the words, but it was just too difficult, she was just too tired, so much easier to just agree. "No, sir, it doesn't matter at all..."

"Good pet, sleep now..."

Dark Tastes

2011-03-19T00:55:00.000Z

"What's that?" she sounded disgusted more than curious as she looked at the jar of thick, black liquid by the bed.

He picked it up and swirled it round as he unscrewed the lid. The room filled with a strange smell she couldn't place, something sweet but woody. Her mouth watered without her realising it. He dipped his finger in and held it out to her. "See for yourself." It wasn't something she had the option to refuse.

She breathed deep and reminded herself that she could trust him.

Doctor Knows Best

2011-02-28T21:51:00.001Z

I'm worn out from shouting that I shouldn't be in here, of being treated like I don't count, like I don't have a say about what happens to me, and why have they taken away my clothes? The shit they've been pumping into me is starting to kick in. I pull listlessly at the tan leather padded restraints, can't even keep myself awake by rubbing against them.

The door opens in slow motion, I pull my head around to look and the room takes a while to catch up. The doctor walks over, seeming huge by the time he's next to the bed.

"How's my favourite patient today?" he asks softly as he pulls up my lids and shines a light into my eyes.

"I need... to get... out of here..." I manage to slur, my tongue feeling too big for my mouth.

"Mmmm, well, you'll have to be a good girl then, won't you?" he says kindly but sternly. "Now, you know what to do, follow the light."

I resisted the first few days, but it just made me so... tired, and now I know it's easier to just do what he says. I lose track of what he's saying, as keeping up with the glowing point takes up all my attention. My focus narrows down, and a pleasant fuzzy feeling comes over me.

"Good, very good, you're feeling much better already, aren't you dear?"

"Yes, doctor," I sigh, he's right, I feel like I'm floating and it's just so nice to be looked after like this, safely tethered. I can't remember why I'm here, but it's the best place for me really, I'd just be a danger to myself anywhere else.

"You're such a good patient, aren't you, always do what you're told, now just let your legs relax for me, that's right, open up..."

I do as I'm told, feeling increasingly aroused with each suggestion I obey. There's a nagging voice at the back of my head saying that this isn't how things should be, but it just gets washed away in wave after wave of pleasure as the gentle movement of the instrument he's inserted starts to scatter what's left of my thoughts.

He places a cool hand on my forehead, I can hardly keep my eyes open but manage to think how attractive he looks as he smiles down at me. "Yes, you're coming along very nicely," I hear as if from a great distance, "now count down from ten for me."

Everything goes dark before I reach six...

I ♥ Ignatz

2011-02-16T13:41:00.001Z

Take Care Of Me

2011-02-15T15:57:00.000Z

"I'm sooo sleepy, let me go beddy byes..." She bit her lip, wanting to unsay the words. She hadn't meant to use babytalk with him, although it always seemed to happen in relationships eventually, from both sides, he was too cool and cynical, he was going to tear her to pieces for it, wasn't he?

Instead he stroked the back of her neck, pulled her into his chest, "Aw, of course, sleepy girl, time for night night." His tone of voice was soothing, caring, and she fell bonelessly against him. He pulled her up gently, and supported her into bed. As he drew the covers around her, she looked in wonder through lidded eyes. Was he really going to look after her? Was she really going to let him?

Somehow they fell into a rhythm, he seemed to know when was the right time to let her be independent, when to discipline her brattyness, when to put her completely under his control, and when to let her feel small and protected.

Then sometimes, he was the tired one, he was the one needing the blanket pulled around him, his head resting on her warm breasts while she soothed him into sleepy safety. As never before, she felt right doing it, and she realised there was something powerful between them, a trust that went beyond their roles.

She held onto this when she was naked, gagged and bound, when he held the sharpest of knives to her throat, when he asked, "what are you going to do when the man you trust to protect you is the one you need saving from?"

My Bloody Valentine

2011-02-14T18:44:00.029Z

Used to be a time when boys would send me offerings of real hearts in boxes for this day. I assumed they were some kind of animal's, easier.

I'd smile graciously, how lovely darling, you must really care. I'd take it in my mouth, bite gently, allow the metallic crimson to run down my face, and they'd crush their teeth into my lips until my own blood ran hot.

Now, if a man wants to give me a gift, he serves me up my own heart, sliced out cleanly, still beating in his hand. Ah, angel, you mean you really don't care? Thank you, oh thank you...

Back Of My Neck

2011-01-24T02:08:00.014Z

I'm sitting, working at the computer, and it takes me a few seconds to notice the hand on my neck. It's a firm grip, but not too tight, fingers curled around securely, thumb and forefinger pressing in slightly to pressure points.

Everything slows down, like I've been drugged. The screen swims, eyes defocus, water slightly with relief. A wave of relaxation and lust spills over my head and down my body.

The touch is part soothing, part claiming ownership: everything above here is mine, everything below here is mine, and here, particularly here, is mine.

"Time to stop working."

My mind complies.

Something Degrading

2011-01-22T20:42:00.000Z

She kneels on the floor in an attitude of submission, legs spread, arms behind her head. He's not paying her much attention, getting on with some work on his computer, occasionally glancing up to see if she's still in the correct position. Her emotions are churning, she normally hates this kind of thing: it's fun to play head games, to be toyed with and controlled, but the moment his guard slips, she usually bounces back and is merrily resisting again.

Somehow though, this is turning her on. She feels as if she's being gently and expertly fucked, and all she has to do is maintain this posture to keep feeling amazing. She knows it's helping to condition her, to make her associate unresisting servitude with pleasure, but she doesn't seem to have the willpower to fight it.

Still, every time her arousal seems about to crest, the feeling pulls away from her. She knows she needs to do something else before she's allowed to come, it hasn't been spelled out, but it's there, bubbling under the surface, words that she needs to say.

"P-please..." she starts. He looks up expectantly, but without emotion. She sighs and tries to maintain some dignity, despite what she's about to say. "I need to submit myself more to you, I need you to... use me."

"Oh? Aren't I using you now?"

"You are, but I need... more. I need to do something more."

"What did you have in mind?"

"I don't know, whatever you want, I'll do anything you want..."

He smiles heartlessly. "Really? What's new?"

She's desperate to convince him, but he doesn't seem to be biting. She needs to go even further. "I want to do something degrading for you."

"Oh, do you?" He's more interested now.

"Yes, please, something... very degrading."

He laughs deep in his throat. "Now, that does sound interesting, tell me more."

Her arousal is building strongly now that she's got his attention, and she's finding it hard to think, but knows that she has to search for something that will satisfy him. "Uh, I don't know... I'll kiss your feet, suck your cock, call you 'Sir' or anything you want..."

"Hmm, not bad, but would you really say that was very degrading?"

She groans. "You can piss on me, I'll lick your arse, you can cover me in spunk."

"A bit better, but how about less bodily fluids, and more of your own personal debasement?"

Her breath catches in her throat. How can she be doing this? She should just get up, leave, forget all about these crazy games, but she needs to go on, dredge up her secret thoughts to entertain him. "Ahh, put me in a collar and lead, take me blindfolded and naked somewhere I don't know, make me crawl around in front of strangers, let them touch me, pinch me, slap me, make me thank them, leave me tied up to a post, begging anyone who passes for an insult, getting more aroused with each one, until finally I hear your voice whisper in my ear, the most vile, humiliating things I can take..."

"Mmmm, that sounds absolutely delicious. What would I call you, my pet?"

"Uh, I'm no good at this, er... fucktoy, cockwhore, cumhead, slutface..." Every name sends a spike of pleasure through her.

He's chuckling at her words, but his breathing is thick with desire. "Go on, you don't really mind sexual insults do you? What could I say that would really... hurt..."

She's panting now, on the edge of coming, she just has to find the right phrase to send her over the edge. "Boring, ugly, moron... washed up, useless piece of meat... huge, stupid, sow... insignificant, tiresome waste of air..." It's still not there, still not right, she whines with desperation.

"Aww, what's the matter? Is my silly little girl too horny to think straight? Does my poor baby need a big, strong man to tell her what to say?"

She glares at him, but her eyes immediately glaze with lust as she comes deeply, over and over, contained by the words that unlock her, so very degrading because, right now, right here... they're true.

You've got something inside you bottled up that you haven't said (it doesn't matter the reason) Say it.

2011-01-19T12:49:00.000Z

I want you to do bad things to me, tease me, fuck with my head, make me think you're going to kiss me, then drift away as if nothing happened, when I've lost all hope, when I don't think I deserve anything, grab me roughly, push me against the wall, so hard I'm gasping for breath, grind your knee into my crotch, slowly move your mouth towards mine, gently take my lip in your teeth, close them until you see my eyes widen in fear, then smile and pull away, close your hands firmly around the tops of my arms, making everything beneath them go limp, helpless, whisper in my ear all the things you're going to do to me, all the pain and joy you're going to inflict on me, and that I'll let you, completely subject to your will, make me beg for it, crying with how much I need to be torn apart by you, how much I need that peace, that bliss of total surrender, then when I'm utterly broken, when I've given you everything I am, wrap me up safely in your arms, dry my tears, tell me that I'm yours, that you'll take care of me, then fuck me until we lose all boundaries, until we merge, until we fall together.

Ask me anything

What's you're biggest fetish?

2011-01-01T17:36:00.001Z

Hypnosis.

Too easy.

But it's true, there's nothing that makes me shiver with need like it.

But still, what is it about hypnosis that really gets you? Go deeper.

OK, well, fair enough, there are different kinds of hypnofetishists. Although I do have a soft spot for all the corny trappings, the spirals, the pocketwatches, the flashing lights, that's not really what it's all about for me.

So, what is it all about? What's the pull, the lure?

I think it's the particular kind of connection it allows, the intimacy of placing yourself under someone's control so completely. I love the feeling of subspace anyway, which is a kind of trance, but there is an increased level of giving up responsibility when you let someone manipulate your mind so deeply.

And why is that so hot? Go deeper.

Ah, it's about potentially losing yourself, not knowing if you can really trust them, but putting yourself in their hands anyway. Opening up. Giving in.

So, what's your biggest fetish?

Trust.

Ask me anything

Tongue

2010-12-30T13:31:00.000Z

He's kneeling between my spread legs, licking my cunt expertly, he doesn't need to worry about it seeming submissive, he knows the power of his tongue, that every sensation makes my mind melt more, he sucks and nibbles my clit, looking up at me with knowing eyes, and I fall into them helplessly.

Songs About Fucking

2010-12-24T12:56:00.051Z

She's 21 and in America, she's just split up with her boyfriend, running away from everything she knows, trying to find something she believes in.

She's been walking around the cold streets, wanting to feel something, and has just sat down in a bar. After having her passport studied hard, she's drinking beer and listening to music on her own.

She's got long red dreads, with beads dotted here and there, skinny, pale skinned from a nocturnal lifestyle, piercings, heavy black eyeliner and mascara but no other make-up. She's got that punk lack of concern about showing flesh, and her 'Songs About Fucking' T-shirt has the neck and arms torn off so that her black bra is clearly visible. Ripped fishnet stockings snake out of biker boots, but the tops aren't hidden by her short, pleated skirt.

If this was nighttime she'd have all the boys hitting on her, and she'd do anything they wanted just to try to feel again, but she's still on UK body clock and the place is empty. She closes her eyes and drifts off in her grungey mixtape for a while, it's not the most experimental in the world, but safe and soothing, appropriate. Can't not have Nirvana, and despite the over-familiarity, it still hits the mark. Bit of early Mudhoney for energy, Sonic Youth, Butthole Surfers and Pixies aren't really grunge, but fit her mood better than most of the slop that is. Plenty of Albini of course, but for some reason, it's Melvins that are pushing her buttons today.

She rewinds and nods along, now that her eyes are open she notices there's someone sitting opposite her, perhaps he's a Brit too. He's kind of hot, she might as well see if he'll bite. She raises her bottle, he smiles and waves his coke back. She gestures at the seat next to her, and he shrugs and walks over.

They shake hands and introduce themselves, laughing at each others' similar accents. She offers him a beer when she gets a new one, but he says he's fine. When she gets back to the table, he's listening to her headphones, asks what the current track is. She checks, and tells him it's Meat Puppets. For some reason, this makes him smirk at a secret joke.

Their conversation quickly moves beyond recommendations for places to visit, and without really knowing why, she's spilling her guts about all her problems. There's just something about him she trusts, something that makes her want to open up to him. He's stroking her hair as he talks softly, and things start to seem better. His eyes are amazing, warm and cool, pulling her in without giving anything away.

She's lost track of what he's saying, but it doesn't matter, his hand is sliding up her skirt, but it doesn't matter, her voice is sleepily replying to him automatically, but it doesn't matter. All that she cares about is how incredible she feels, like all her pain has been wrapped up and put away, allowing a deep, welling up of arousal.

The barman might have noticed what's going on, but probably doesn't care, figures some English girl who drinks beer at lunchtime always hooks up with strange guys in bars. Still, he'd prefer a bit of privacy and asks her back to his hotel. She literally can't refuse.

It's not the Hilton, but his room is nice and clean, not that she really notices, she's still swimming in the space between his eyes and voice. He lays her down and she's soon not wearing any underwear, she doesn't worry about how it magically disappeared, she's just glad that he can easily touch her, while she's gently stuck to the bed.

She comes a couple of times in this blissful state, soaking up the new patterns of thought he suggests, it starts to feel like she's always known him, like they came here together, like her deepest desire has always been to serve him, to please him, to obey him.

She's sucking his cock expertly, hungrily, gazing up at him adoringly. She's started to feel again, She's found something she can believe in.

Music Fetish

2010-12-23T12:55:00.004Z

I have a music fetish, I love people who understand the kind of music I like, who can create it, but also who can make music with my desires, although that's not so hard, I have fairly obvious keys to push, strings to pull.

What really impresses me is when they can combine the two, not just play me clean, but balance the different notes of me to create the perfect, controlled feedback whine, the buzzing drone of lust.

It's hard for me to explain, it's something that needs to exist in the moment, with someone who knows me very well, can watch my responses, and set opposing forces against each other so they make the desire stronger.

Say, a phrase like, "You don't need to think, girl, I'm in charge," could be hot or annoying depending on who's saying it, depending on the context, depending on their intentions. But, at the right time, in exactly the correct tone of voice, utterly devastating.

E - Deep, low, bass string of wanting to be controlled, wanting to give up responsibility.
A - Strong pull of independence, self direction, knowing what's right and not wanting to give that up.
D - Fuzzy, warm arousal, holes plugged, wet sliding
G - Tight, middle string, that even though neither of us really think that's how things should be, buying into male dominance and female submission perpetuates a system that limits everyone, and should be resisted.
B - Soaring liberty of accepting what feels right, what you enjoy, what makes you feel like yourself.
E - High, pure string of knowing that it's all play, easy, fun, that everything we say can float away, and all that's left is total understanding.

Use your fingers to firmly hold down a couple of steady chords, strum slowly and menacingly, distort, distort, distort until it all bleeds together, amplify through something big and powerful, and build inexorably towards the crescendo, where everything goes supernova.

Sweet Young Thing

2010-10-24T23:53:00.003+01:00

I seem to fantasise a lot at gigs, maybe it's all the standing around, the noise too loud to really talk to your friends, the anticipation, the smell of bodies pushed up against each other. The music I like makes me horny too, sometimes it's because of the cold, headfucking lyrics, but most of the things I'm into at the moment are more visceral, sounds that fuck me on a more basic level. This band were one of those: deep, and repetitive, lulling and dominating in equal measure. I wanted someone to fuck me and own me as much as they did. Then I saw him.

He was young, probably a student, not someone I'd have paid much attention to normally, although he was pretty enough: long dark hair, cute indie/metal clothes. What caught me was his stare, right at me, for a long time, like he knew me, like he knew all about me. I looked away, nervously a few times, but when I looked back he was still staring, I couldn't read his expression, there wasn't anything about me to attract attention, I was dressed down, he didn't seem angry, or mocking, or flirting, he was just... looking.

I suppose he could have been someone I'd briefly met elsewhere and forgotten, maybe he'd seen me give a talk, was someone from a party, or perhaps I'd only ever seen him encased in rubber. Still, I started imagining things after he'd drifted away, that perhaps we'd had some strange encounter and then he'd made me forget who he was, that maybe he'd come back round behind me and trigger me to follow him into the toilets, I'd suck his cock with blank eyes, and then have my memory wiped again.

Puppyboy

2010-09-20T21:54:00.007+01:00

I went to a fetish fair, with another couple of first timers and a friend who goes regularly. On the newbies tour round the venue, Cindy was fascinated by all the vintage costumes and vertiginous shoes, but I hadn't really seen anything that grabbed my attention. Until I saw him.

Tight full body black rubber suit showing off his skinny punk boy physique, paw hand restraints, and a stylised dog mask with floppy ears. He was being led around on a collar and leash by an unassuming looking master wearing a hoodie and band T-Shirt, and Puppyboy wasn't acting like an animal at all, just casually walking and chatting. There was no overt dominance going on, but, really, there didn't need to be.

If it wasn't for his eyes, I wouldn't have been so transfixed, but there was a soft, given look in them, an expression of complete satisfaction. He was in his rightful place, he didn't have to worry about anything, he was complete.

I followed him around a little, drinking in the sight, but too shy to approach. I wouldn't have known what to say anyway, it was a strange kind of desire that was fired in me, I think I wanted to be him rather than own him. Not because of the outfit, not because I wanted to be a puppy, but I just longed for that peace in his eyes, that knowledge that he was leashed, controlled, and all was right with the world.

Head Bombs

2010-09-12T16:59:00.004+01:00

Someone I don't know sends me messages online. Anonymous missiles sent direct to my inbox. I feel like the words are fucking my mind as I read them.

He steps up close behind you, breath hot on your neck, and shoves his finger into your pussy. You stiffen, mind wrapped around that finger, triggered. Awaiting new commands. He speaks, your body responds. After, you're too horny to wonder what he did.

I can't seem to catch the time between my head being penetrated with these phrases, and coming to, with a blank spot in my mind and a wet spot in my knickers. My thoughts slide away, slippery with desire, moving with no resistance around the ideas puppeting me. I don't need to know what happened, he knows what to do with my body better than I do.

Words wormed their way into your mind. Which thoughts came from him? So hard to question, now. Why are you visiting him again, so late at night? Tomorrow morning, it seems natural. You kneel while he eats, fingering yourself. Out of your control, into his.

It feels so right to be at his feet, no thoughts apart from the ones he put there. Just a warm, wet hole where memories should be. Aching for him to fill it with commands, aching to obey.

On all fours. Trembling with need. A whip. Sharp, sweet pain. Overwhelming. Lip trembles. Tears. So desperate. So hurt. So damn turned on. Suddenly, He stops. Soft hand on still sore skin. Tracing down back. Teasing. Probing. Then, inside you. Owned.

The marks of his ownership burn fiercely on my body... no, on His body... the pain transformed by his touch into flames of desire, the joy of pleasing him with my submission outweighing any urge for self-preservation.

When the trance ends, your hands begin to torture you, completely out of your control. You thrust against your fingers, so horny you can barely think, compelled by the words put in your head. He owns you, and you will play yourself for His pleasure.

Even when he's not with me, his voice guides my movements irresistibly, whispering commands I can't hear. My hands belong to him, they betray me, knowing all the places to touch to send me deeper under his control. One word fills me, rules me, makes me complete. The word my life revolves around now.

Master.

Spam Porn: No More Average Lifestyle

2010-08-03T11:59:00.002+01:00

Once upon a time there was a nymphomaniac would could not be satisfied
Fulfill her desires and make her loyal to you forever
You can be the dark knight
Girls love nothing more than to put a massive one in their mouth
See the look in her eyes?
She will remove her loin-cloth
Be the king of the bedroom
Don't settle for being ordinary when you can be extraordinary
She loves you more each day
She will give you sweet dreams you will never forget
Make her moan and grown all night
Fill her with pleasure
Your wildest dreams can come true
Take her hard and rough from behind, you know she likes it that way
Keep her breathless
Breaking her down with pleasure
She was wanton with desire
She would never admit it
Life will never be the same again

Buzzing

2010-07-27T20:25:00.015+01:00

The music fills my head. I'm drunk and alone, but the sound keeps me safe, fills up the gaps where fear normally hides. I watch the band playing, fuck, I love musicians' hands so much, skillful, strong fingers, delicate one moment, flicking like a slap to the face the next.

He's got hands like that, hands that make me watch them, hands that smoothly pull my mind into his anchors. I need them on my body so much it's like the air's made of aching for him.

I take another swig, let the alcohol numb my desire for a while, even though I know it'll just make it worse in a few moments.

There's so many people here I'd like to fuck, I let the music make everything seem like a film, at a distance, beautifully lit and shot, no consequences. I smile at someone I half know, he nods back politely, can't place me and doesn't find me attractive enough to bother asking me to remind him.

I feel old suddenly, no-one's looking at me with furtive fantasies the way I am them. Not even the balding guys with fading T-Shirts and beer guts. When did I stop being someone that got chatted up at gigs? I feel my eyes getting a bit wet and drink some more, I don't want to associate tonight with sadness, this band's amazing, focus on that.

Soon I'm lost in the drones, the feedback pulling at my body, slithering inside me, puppeting me with it's sadistic whine. For a moment I think his hands on my shoulders are in my imagination, but then I turn and time slows to a perfect, endless moment as I look into his grinning face.

"I didn't think you could make it?"

"I skipped work early, I can always get them to let me go if I try."

I'm so happy I must be glowing. We stand next to each other, moving perfectly in tune with the music, in tune with each other. I'm buzzing, and nothing can hurt me now.

Controlled and Obedient

2010-06-25T00:19:00.097+01:00

Trudy closed the chat window, leaned back in her chair and sighed happily. Sure, she'd lost three hours when she'd only meant to have a quick conversation, but it had been worth it. She was a bit fuzzy about exactly what had happened, but it had definitely been fun, the dampness of her knickers showed that beyond doubt.

It meant she had to rush to get to the art preview at her friend's gallery, but somehow she didn't feel stressed. As she showered, she lingered the spray over her clit, and could almost feel someone licking there, his hands holding onto her behind. She shivered a little with how vivid the hallucination was, but just kept going a little longer, a little longer.

She was so worked up it didn't take long to get to the edge of coming, and as she hung there for a moment, she heard the voice in her head getting louder, more insistent controlled and obedient, controlled and obedient, obey, obey, obey...

As she fell into orgasm part of her mind was surprised that she'd got there without needing to touch herself, but the thought was soon washed away in the water running down her legs.

The nice, relaxed feeling stayed with her as she walked down the road and got on the bus. It was as if the part of her brain that worried about things was asleep, leaving her free to enjoy the everyday things she normally ignored: the feeling of the breeze against her skin, the colours of leaves against the sky, the smell of the food stalls. She laughed to herself at how simple things seemed, how easy it was to just live in her body for once, rather than dismiss it as an unreliable container for her mind.

Even the bitching and status seeking at the party didn't seem to penetrate her haze. Trudy smiled and chatted brightly, and noticed how easy it was to find the right words to say to people, the best body language to convey interest in what they were saying, along with confidence in her own words. She felt as if she was someone else, and yet more herself than ever.

Something was helping her, as if a hole she hadn't known was there had been filled. She stood and tried to work it out, and again, on the edge of her hearing, was a voice gently whispering controlled and obedient, controlled and obedient...

It was so strange, she'd imagined that feeling controlled and obe- ... that feeling like that would have made her more passive, scared, like she couldn't think for herself, but instead it made her feel stronger, worth more. She had a secret, something she could draw on when she needed. She wasn't exactly being puppeted, but an invisible hand was guiding her, protecting her.

It felt... man, it felt really fucking good...

Holiday

2010-06-14T00:08:00.000+01:00

Theresa watched the rain slide down the window of her hotel room as she half heartedly went through the conference notes. She'd been hoping to get a bit of time to herself after the sessions were over for the day, but the weather made it seem pointless. Still, she couldn't seem to concentrate on setting things in order, but it wasn't that urgent, she'd already delivered her paper and could just write everything else up in the week.

Her hands started idly playing with her phone, should she text James? He might know of a bar that was worth getting a bit soggy to get to, and there was always the chance they could end the night with another little fumble. She played their previous encounter over in her mind: the conversation about language and control that had started to generate intense glances as the wine was drunk, the way his voice got softer and more persuasive, the way she was in bed and coming before she really knew what was happening. She'd rung him as soon as the thought was done.

"Hey, Tess, what's up?"
"Ah, the weather's dreadful, know anywhere close where we can relax for a bit?"
"You want to relax?"
She swallowed hard, he noticed, chuckled and continued, "Look, why bother going out, let's just have dinner in the hotel, it'll be easier for me to talk you into bed when it's just a lift ride away."
"Can't you at least pretend I'm not that easy?"
"I'm just reminding you that I'm that good. Of course, we could just skip the restaurant and have room service..."
She weighed up the suggestion, what was the point on making in harder on themselves? "Fuck it, go on then, I'll come to your room, your university's richer than mine."
"Great, room 291, give me about half an hour."

---

James opened his door and smiled appreciatively at her in her summery dress. "Very nice, but you didn't need to change, I like the academic look."
"I just wanted to pretend I was on holiday, not working."
"Good plan. You've given me an idea." He pulled a blanket off the bed, threw a few cushions around it and started laying out plates of cold food from the room service trolley. Theresa laughed, and helped out setting up the indoor picnic, then lounged down on the cushions with him.

She was about to help herself when he shook his head. "No, you're on holiday, Tess. Relax. Let me do it."
The air got a more charged and her head started to buzz a little. He did have a talent for using the right words to put her into a submissive headstate. She leaned back further, as he selected a plateful of food.

James picked up an olive, held it to her mouth, watching carefully as she parted her lips to allow him to slide it in. He ate some food himself as she chewed, feeding her the next morsel or sip of wine when she was ready.
Now and then he'd whisper gentle encouragement, "That's right," "just let me take charge," "good girl..." until every mouthful made her more open and accepting.

When they'd had enough, he cleared the plates aside and lay closer to her. "Feeling better?"
"Mmmm," she was too spaced to say much, and just gazed up at him sleepily.
"Good. Now, just close your eyes."
She settled back, smiling as her eyelids drifted down, already responding to the authority of his voice.
"It's time to take a break, Tess, let yourself go on holiday for a little while. Imagine yourself somewhere completely calm, completely peaceful."
Theresa's stomach started fluttering, she was excited and nervous at what was about to happen, but already found herself in a cool, green meadow by a stream, leaves dappling the sunlight.
"That's right, you can just rest here, there's nothing you need to be doing, nowhere else you have to be." He carried on talking her down, his voice a soothing flow that she couldn't quite keep up with. Some words seemed very clear, "... relax now, deeper ..." and then she just heard a fuzzy drone as her thoughts drifted away from her.

---

As her eyes fluttered open, Theresa breathed deeply, and tried to stretch. She was slightly puzzled to realise that her body was not responding, but it didn't seem particularly important, so she just let the desire to move slip away.
James placed a hand on her leg and she became aware of him speaking "... still feeling nice and calm, enjoying your peaceful holiday from being in control of your mind, of your body ..."
She smiled. It was nice, so much simpler. She felt pleasantly tingly, especially where James' hands were touching her. He parted her legs, they moved easily for him, but then felt so heavy, so impossible to shift by herself.

His hand slid up her thigh, gentle and firm, the way he did everything. Her knickers were wet through already, and his fingers glided inside her easily. It was a strange sensation, her hips were used to moving to help the rhythm, but they stayed still, as if she was deep asleep and dreaming. Only her eyes could really show how she was feeling, burning and glazed at the same time, he ate up the desire hungrily, stoking it more.

As she got more helplessly turned on, he seemed to be able to tell, and slowed his hand frustratingly. She groaned, her gaze pleading.
"It's OK, Tess, it's just that things work differently here, when you're having a break from being in charge."
She panted, not really understanding, but accepting his words without question.
"That's right, just go with the flow, you can't make anything happen, just accept that and everything will be fine."
Theresa felt something start to change, she couldn't quite keep it going at first, just dipped into the feeling then back out, but after a while it became second nature, as she started to surrender all thoughts of being able to force things.
"Just rest," that made it easier.
"Let go," easier still.
"Good girl." She fell completely, overwhelmed more than ever before, and it just kept going on and on, until he'd taken every drop of will from her.

---

This time she could stretch, and she moved luxuriously, feeling like she'd had everything massaged and cared for then slept in the most comfortable bed for a week.
"Enjoy your break?"
"Mmmm."
"Want to stay here the night?"
"Mmmm."
"Going to do whatever I tell you?"
"Mmmm."
"Good girl."

Missing You

2010-05-05T22:42:00.000+01:00

Come home. Kiss me hungrily, like you've been thinking about screwing me all week. Push me up against the wall. Stare into my eyes. Explain how completely fucked I am. Grind your hand against my cunt until my legs give way. Shove me down on the carpet. Force me to say things as you stick your fingers inside my wet hole. When I'm panting and desperate, pull away. Laugh at my pleading. Pull out your belt. Make it snap in the way that makes my skin bump. Tell me to roll over. Turn me on my front when I hesitate. Pull up my skirt. Pull down my knickers. Wait. Just as I think you won't, let the leather strike me hard. Repeat. When I'm crying, rub your hand over my arse, kindly but firmly. Move yourself over me, whispering in my ear to calm me. Put your fingers in my hair, stroke it, then pull gently. As I gasp, tell me to stop thinking. Pull my hair again, and tell me you meant it. Keep pulling occasionally as you slide into me. Remind me that the more aroused I get, the more I relax, and the more I relax, the more aroused I get. Fuck me harder. Tell me to let go. Tell me to come. Wipe yourself on my clothes. Stand up. Go to unpack.

Things I Remembered

2010-04-11T23:19:00.000+01:00

Love is endless. I don't need to hold on, don't need to scrimp and save, as if I'm losing something when I love someone. I don't have to choose who to give it to as if I've only got a limited amount to offer - I love people as much as I love them, regardless of how I feel about anyone else. The more I give, the more I'm replenished, and have even more to give next time.
You can't control other people. However much I'd like to be able to puppet those around me - even if it's to get them to control me - everyone makes their own choices. You can trick them, you can manipulate and influence them, but they're still unpredictable, still free, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Now is all there is. I've been going round and round, trying to plan what I'd do if this, if that, but of course all that's going to do is drive me mad. All I can do is respond to what's in front of me, try to do the right thing and enjoy the perfectly imperfect moments.

I've never not known you

2010-03-07T20:14:00.000Z

This is part of a slightly disjointed series that I'll write about more coherently when I have time, these are just snippets as they come to me. Previously: Kitty lets Milton humiliate her, Kitty and Johnson share some blood , and Milton meets up with an old girlfriend. Now for the shadow that's been hanging around in the background.

----

I could feel him coming near, I could always tell where he was, the connection between us was too deep to ignore. I lay in bed, listening to music, just marking time until he let himself in, wondering idly why I could never seem to change the locks. He was hiding his thoughts for some reason, I sighed, he'd probably invented some new torture for me.

Soon Joshua was at the door to my room, "Hey, Sis,"
"Hey, Bro."
Despite my better judgement I was glad to see him, a part of me always felt something was missing unless we were together. The way twins are meant to be. He kicked off his shoes and lay next to me, it seemed pointless to argue, he'd treated every bed I'd ever had as if it was his own.
I looked in his eyes and we remembered the times we'd first explored each other's bodies and minds in the dorm room, the strange, aching mix or wrongness and desperate rightness. It had never really changed, and we could have been back there as our hands sought each other without us needing to think about it.

"So what game are we playing today?" I asked him lightly. No matter how much he hurt me, no matter how much I cried over him when we were apart, when we were together we were in a bubble that nothing could burst.
"No games, I just wanted to see you."
I snorted. "Sure."
Something soft came into his gaze, and I was taken aback. I'd seen that look before, but not for years, not since our little disagreement. I felt my mind opening up to him instinctively, desperate to trust someone, even if it was only for a moment, but then I caught myself. It had to be a trick didn't it?
"It's alright, Kit, don't be scared, it's me." I felt his barriers come down, he was leaving himself vulnerable, what the fuck was going on?

For a long, haunted moment we hung there, two sets of eyes glowing green in the dusk, shivering with a desire that had been there all our lives. Then we were kissing, hungrily and sweetly, sensations blurring between us as we slipped from head to head. I could feel that this was coming from deep inside him, I wasn't quite sure what it meant, but I couldn't deny him. I'd deal with the consequences later.

Our bodies took over, I felt the familiar sensation of his cock sliding into me without resistance, it was like it was meant to be there, as if we'd been born fucking. Our sensations mirrored, I stopped caring if they were real or echoes of his, and when we came, just for a moment, I felt whole.

Not

2010-02-20T19:33:00.001Z

I'm not young
I'm not pretty
I'm not sensitive

I'm not polite

I'm not thin
I'm not shy
I'm not smooth
I'm not gentle
I'm not kind
I'm not pleasing
I'm not sweet-voiced
I'm not groomed
I'm not yielding
I'm not attentive

I'm not fragrant

I'm not nurturing

I'm not child-like
I'm not hesitant
I'm not seductive
I'm not small
I'm not patient
I'm not exotic
I'm not considerate
I'm not tight
I'm not weak
I'm not in awe
I'm not feminine

Knives and Basements

2010-02-16T10:36:00.001Z

These are the things that have been filling my thoughts, distracting me from work, making my dreams sticky.

Things to do with dark, damp basements. Being tied up with rope for hours, left alone, not knowing when he'll come back.

Things to do with rags tied round my eyes, hearing him come down the stairs, not knowing where he is until I feel the knife at my throat.

Things to do with blood spattering onto plastic, hooks hanging from the ceiling, trays of surgical instruments. This is about torture, not killing, but the look in his eyes says he'll go all the way if he has to.

Things to do with Stockholm Syndrome.

Things to do with losing control completely.

Things to do with wanting to tell him anything, wanting to do anything he wants, wanting to obey completely. Not so I get freed, not to save my life, just because he's in charge and I can't remember anything else.

Under His Thumb

2010-01-30T10:27:00.015Z

The lights were dimmed, a group of friends were watching a film at Chris' house, Polly was feeling sleepy and had curled up on the sofa next to him. She was using the darkness as a bit of an excuse to snuggle towards him, hoping she could blame her semi-consciousness if he pulled away. The others were joking about some gory scene, Chris joined in, but Polly felt his hand casually rest on her head and tried to keep breathing normally. Time started to move strangely, she could hear the conversation, the film dialogue, but it seemed very far away and her whole attention narrowed to the slight weight of his touch as he stroked her hair. She felt like his pet, an object of affection but no great importance.

The others were getting drunk, arguing jovially about something, and they wouldn't have noticed as his hand moved over her face, tracing the shape of her eyes, nose, and finally her lips. His fingers gently held her jaw as his thumb brushed her mouth, achingly slow and soft. Polly parted her lips helplessly, desperate for him to continue, slightly embarrassed by how much she wanted this. His thumb slid inside, she tried to lick it erotically, suggestively, but he pulled it out, annoyed, and tapped her mouth firmly in chastisement.

After a few moments, Chris slipped into her again, and she fell into the rhythm he set, letting her tongue follow his lead. It was a little like a kiss, but of course with all the associations of thumb-sucking, she started to feel safe, peaceful, protected. The movement slowed, Chris caught Polly's eye and nodded upwards. She assumed he wanted her to go upstairs and left the room in a daze.

She hesitated on the landing, then found his room and stood in the dark, not knowing what to do with herself. After what seemed like too long, the door opened, Chris turned on the light and chuckled as he saw her awkwardly lurking there. Neither of them spoke, and eventually he moved towards her, returning his thumb to her mouth. As he stared hungrily into her eyes she felt her thoughts dissolving, her submission growing.

Chris pulled her waistband out and slid his other hand into her knickers, echoing the pace and movements from above. There seemed to be an energy growing and pulling right through her. She felt as if he was rubbing her away, and the more she disappeared, the more aroused she got. Just as it seemed too much to bear, he gave one last, firm press on her clitoris and she lost herself completely.

Ask me anything

2010-01-28T14:48:00.000Z

I've just discovered this, not sure how often I'll check it but there is something compelling about it, the unspoken suggestion that I have to be honest whatever the question...

http://formspring.me/fluence

Snow Drift

2010-01-16T21:30:00.001Z

Soft, fuzzy flakes drift down all around. It makes my thoughts lazy, spiralling slowly down, merging into one another until everything is cotton-wool. I watch for hours, all sense of time lost in the hush. This room is warm and protected, all the more so because of the cold outside. It makes me lethargic, disinclined to move.

I lay back onto you, my ear on your chest, hearing your heart beating steadily. It fills my head, a womb-like thrumming, hypnotising me more with each dull boom. I could stay like this forever, wrapped up in you, hidden from the outside world. Everything stops, we're outside time, free to float, and drift, and fall.

Sleep Over

2009-12-30T13:24:00.013Z

More fiction, have fun

---

"She's off fucking someone else anyway."

"How do you know? You been hanging around with freaks so long you've caught telepathy?"

"I just know her. I'm 95% certain she's in bed with Johnson right now. She'd go for someone fiery, bloody..."

"Oh? Only 95%?"

"Hmm, well, there's a 4% chance she'd crawl back to her dumbass brother, and perhaps a 1% chance she'd just pick up some random woman." He leant over to whisper smoothly in her ear. "Maybe your Sarah."

Caroline snorted with a mixture of anger and distaste. "God, I don't know why I thought it'd be OK to sleep over, you're a relentless bastard, Milton."

"That's why you stayed, sweetpea." He sounded amused, but pinned her down whenever she wriggled away from under him.

She sighed and lay still, "I stayed because I missed the last bus, and because you said you wouldn't mess with me."

"Well if you believed that, you deserve everything you get," his hand moved slowly up her leg, each imperceptible step seemed hardly worth fighting over, until his fingers were so far up that it was too late. It was a stupidly obvious trick, and yet she'd never worked out how to resist it. Even when she used to tell him to stop immediately, he'd laugh and run rings around her until she was distracted anyway.

A lethargic acceptance crept over her, the familiar pattern of submission had never really left her, he could set it off whenever he wanted. "OK, fine, what do you want from me?"

He chuckled, "Always suspicious! Is it so unlikely I just want you for your body?"

Caroline glared. "Well since you dumped me when I was younger and thinner, I do have to ask myself why you'd go to the effort of seducing me now..."

"Does this count as seduction nowadays? My how words get devalued. We're just two old friends, lounging around, chatting, relaxing, opening up..." His touch spiralled over her, he was right, he wasn't trying hard, almost as if he was testing how little he needed to do to get inside. Was that it?

"You can't put me under that easily nowadays, Milton," she lied, "I'm in love with someone else." The room was blurry, she couldn't decide if it was safest to close her eyes or look into his cool gaze.

"That never helped you before," he breathed.

She groaned - everything he was doing was so corny, a caricature of an evil charmer, and yet it was pushing all her buttons, all her silly teenage fantasies, before she realised how much more... interesting it could get. It was almost as if he was trying to...

"I wonder if any of your triggers still work, darling?" He was always interrupting her thoughts like that. Fear and sense battled in Caroline's head, it had been years since he'd used those, she knew they would have worn off, and yet, and yet... she'd fantasised about this so much in the intervening years, allowing herself the guilty pleasure of pretending she was still his victim, repeating the one word she could remember him using to make her mind blank. So long as he didn't use that one - he couldn't know about it, that would be impossible!

But as she saw him smile cruelly, she knew she was lost.

Compulsion to Destroy

2009-11-14T21:54:00.007Z

This is another draft snippet of the unpublished series of stories I mentioned before.

---------

We were in a booth with the curtains closed, my head in Johnson's lap. I was exhausted from not sleeping properly for too long and just wanted to drift away. Of course, he kept asking difficult questions, taking advantage of my vulnerable state:

"So how's it going with Milton? How does Josh feel about it? Do you care if you hurt either of them? Do you like Milton more than Josh? More than me?..."

Eventually I couldn't stand it. "Bloody Hell, Johnson, shut up! Why do you care?" He went quiet, trying to hide his feelings, but I got a glimpse of jealousy. I chuckled cruelly "I saw that. Remember you don't own me, you never will."

"I do when I make you need me so much you forget everything else."

"Big claims, big guy," I was talking bratty, but we both felt the power shift. I opened my eyes and realised he'd got Hungry while we'd been sitting there. It wasn't irresistible yet, but my tiredness made the throbbing compulsion to submit a little harder to resist than normal.

He could tell and narrowed his eyes triumphantly. "Just go with it, Kitty, you're so close already."

A slow wave of need flowed through me and I watched it consume me as if I was outside my own body. I groaned at my weakness, I'd been stupid to put myself at the mercy of someone I'd been taunting. He'd make me suffer horribly and it just made me all the more horny for him.

"Be a good girl and sleep now."

---

Waking from vampire induced sleep is always a bit groggy, like I've been drugged. Sensations came to me, a chill across my breasts, rope round my wrists, a sharp point at my neck. I dragged my heavy eyelids open. I was naked, bound, with a knife at my throat and a man grinning at me like I'm meat. Saturday night as usual, then.

I licked my dry lips. "OK, Johnson, you win, you're the best, your dick is twice the size of either of theirs."

Somehow he stopped himself from slitting my windpipe, but his eyes flashed angrily. "Just tell me, if you're so into Milton, why are you here with me now?"

I paused, thought hard, wanting to give him a straight answer. My mouth opened and I heard myself say "I just have a compulsion to destroy things."

He laughed dryly. "Funny you should say that." Teeth were on my neck, he was biting hard and I felt myself getting faint. I knew his Hunger wasn't actually for blood, but I still couldn't shake off the primal fears he stirred in me. I was in both worlds at once, feeling blood pumping out of me and yet knowing it was all in my head, and it was just my submission he was feeding off.

A feeling like death overtook me. I half wanted him to gut me so my body could match this spilling sensation. "What's going on?" I gasped.

His mouth came up to my ear, and he hissed "I'm draining you"

"Why?"

"Because I can."

His eyes were cold and I hated myself for underestimating him, treating him like a joke, the one I could fool around with and not have to face any consequences. He was reminding me he could destroy me if he chose to.

I summoned up all my strength and made my eyes as soft and helpless as I could. "P-please, Johnson, you're hurting me."

He knew he was being played, but it made him so hard he didn't care. He crushed me to the floor, and as the fuck frenzy took us over, I could breathe again.

Incentive

2009-08-29T11:09:00.003+01:00

Effie picked up the phone and shivered a little when she heard Anton's voice.

"Hi Eff, where's that article you said you'd do for me?"

She groaned, "yeah, sorry, it got put on the back burner..."

"Hmmm, well I need it. Can you finish it off for me?"

"Sure, sure, I've just got other things I need to do first."

There was a cold pause. "No, Eff, I said I need it. That means I need it today."

She swallowed hard. "I've got other work to do, other paid work to do."

"That's not my concern. Now get to it like a good little drone."

She swore, but he'd already hung up. She really needed to be doing a million other things, but something about his voice had got inside her. His last word buzzed round her head, making it difficult to think. dronedronedronedrone. It vibrated down her spine, and soon it was in her knickers, like cool, insistent fingers.

She sighed, there was no way she was getting anything else done until she'd settled this. She typed away, trying to make it as well written as she could and getting a tingle of reward every time she hit upon a good phrase. It got more difficult to continue as she got more horny, but somehow she got through it, and panting, emailed it off.

Her hand ground idly against her crotch as she sat staring at her inbox. What was taking him so long? He was usually so quick to reply. Then finally the blue dot appeared, and she clicked his email desperately.

"Yep, that's fine, good drone."

She grunted and came hard, both dreading and longing for the next time he wanted her to do anything.

Prizes

2009-01-27T23:08:00.004Z

Runa made the world spin, writing words for us in the air and breaking things slowly. It was engaging but distant, like watching someone you used to love try to impress you again.

Cathy created junky tableaus, still figures hold their breath as you walk around them, trying not to look them in the eyes as you focus instead on the trash they sit in.

Goshka makes spirals to trap you in memories, cool, clean glass reflecting your emptiness back, while only hinting at the passionate relations caught between the panes.

And Mark, sweet hairy Mark, with his sad little apartment and dirty, dirty imagination. Oh my god, all those writhing bodies and strange gloopy, shiny surfaces. So coy and theoretical with your tributes to your masters, but I saw it, I saw that face, that lopsided smile the rabbit gave as it leapt off with the prize.

---

Confused? For this post I swapped styles with another blog, because it's Rabbit Hole Day

Humiliation or Disinterest?

2009-01-06T16:47:00.019Z

In response to my last post, Overpowered asked "Are there limits to how degrading is too degrading?"

I'd been talking about someone who was essentially using me for sex when he couldn't get anyone 'better', and I suppose this is one end of the scale, where there's no intention to enter into a negotiated D/s relationship, they just treat people like shit without qualms. Sick as I am, there is still a slight appeal to this kind of person - the natural bastard - but I've decided that it's not worth having to do all the work creating a narrative behind their actions in order to enjoy it.

What if it is intentional though? Humiliation and degradation aren't major kinks of mine, but they are a useful addition to the toolbox for a scene: as part of interrogation, prisoner or other roleplay it can be very hot. Still, the key here for me is that it's a fiction - on the one hand it's not really me that's being humiliated, and on the other my character is vital to the scene - it doesn't exist without me being there to be ripped to shreds. (Oh, you knew subs are attention seekers, right?)

So for me, those are the easy situations to judge, but back to the more difficult question of what makes having to crawl and beg for attention so appealing sometimes; and could there be a context where being rejected for another is a turn on? (For me I mean, I know for some this is their main kink).

I do love a cool, unruffled surface in a partner: not being able to tell if they really are analysing me dispassionately or seething with passion underneath. It's all the more pronounced if I'm out of control on the inside, needy and desperate, so they can toy with me and I just get wound up more. I suppose there has to be the possibility that they'll turn me down, or it'd all just be more make-believe, but there's still that intentional denial, like orgasm control.

Surely it's not that far to go to before teasing and denial becomes rejection, but I guess I've just had too many bad experiences of it becoming real to explore it, even as a fantasy. Perhaps in a story it could work, where the very improbability of someone being able to seduce someone else as a way of turning you on would be part of their other-worldly appeal. I'll give it a go.

Doors

2008-12-17T21:11:00.005Z

Why do so many of my fantasies start with me standing on someone's doorstep, waiting for the object of my obsession to grant me access? Maybe it's because I live with my partner, so it's something I don't get to do any more. Still, it wasn't really something that happened when I did have to trek out for a shag. I can't remember ever starting a scene from the doorstep: kisses sure, even groping and fumbling, but never that feeling of the door opening into another world, rather than just a familiar hallway.

What doorstep memories do I have? Owen always wanted me to turn up at his house wearing nothing but a fur coat. I'm fairly sure I never did it, although my memory's a bit hazy. It didn't really appeal to me: as with many things in our relationship it felt too much like something learnt from porn. Richard was pretty much "Hi, you brought wine, cool, wanna watch some Doctor Who?" (bless him). Ryan was the closest to insta-sex, but I could never tell if it was going to be a "Get upstairs and suck me off," or "Piss off, I've got someone else tonight," kind of visit.

There's also an appeal to opening your own door to see a desired one at last, but which is sweeter? Surely as the sub I should want to be pursued, trapped by the irresistible invader with nowhere to run? Of course that's a fantasy I love to play with, but for some reason I'm more drawn to the idea of crawling to him, having to prove my worth, begging to be treated like dirt. I guess I don't really need a door for that.

Cold Eyes

2008-11-15T19:32:00.007Z

This is a fantasy that turned into the start of a story. The characters are some I've been working on for a while, although I haven't published anything with them in yet, so don't worry if you don't know the backstory.

---------

I turned up on his doorstep, shivering and crying. I shouldn't have done this, I was almost ready to run away when he opened the door and it was too late.

He looked at me coldly, "I told you not to come here uninvited." There was no sign of the charm he usually seduced me with - I'd gone against our agreement and would have to fight to get anything at all.

I was deperate, and tried to sound appealing through the tears. "I'm sorry, please... please let me in, I've got nowhere else to go!" I looked up at him with big eyes, "I'll be good, I'll do anything you want."

He laughed deep in his throat and I knew I'd done enough. "Come on then, crybaby, I'll hold you to that!" He left the door open and walked away from me; I scuttled upstairs after him gratefully.

I entered his living room to see him settled into his chair as if he'd never got up. I made for the sofa but he shook his head curtly, so I stood awkwardly in front of him.

"So, who's upset you this time?" He asked, no trace of sympathy in his voice.

I hesitated, then blurted out, "Josh of course! He's gone and run off with some little blonde tart again!"

"Well, shit, that's nothing new! If that's all, I'm sorry I let you in!"

I looked down at my feet. "He says he loves her..."

He laughed, cruelly. "Does he now? He's getting soft. Well I can see why you came to me, then."

I met his cold stare. He might never tell me he loved me, but at least he wouldn't fall in love with anyone else. Right now that was some kind of comfort. We understood each other: I wanted him to hurt me, to scour out the stupid pain my brother had caused me. In return I was going to have to pay, the only thing I didn't know yet was the price.

"Strip."

His orders were always flat, disinterested. For some reason that thrilled me more than overt passion would - I knew he desired me, or he wouldn't have let me in. I started to take my clothes off teasingly, trying to arouse him enough to crack the ice, but my efforts were in vain.

"I don't want all that bollocks, just get 'em off," he spat.

I should have known better than to try cheap tricks like that. I got my clothes off as quickly as I could without ceremony, and was both gratified and frightened to see his eyes glint as I glanced at the uncurtained window.

"Well, I suppose we can start with that, if you want me to go easy on you," he feigned kindness, and I sighed, turning to face the street. It wasn't busy, and his flat was on the first floor, but I didn't like being vulnerable like this. When I'm naked on stage, I'm in control. Here I was very far from it, and anyone looking in would see that.

Now my back was to him, his voice became softer, although no less commanding. "Slide your fingers in, slowly mind, and circle them around the way I like." I'm not an exhibitionist, but there was certainly something hot about exposing myself like this. I felt the humiliation become more manageable as the fuzzy warmth of losing control took over.

"Let every circle turn your mind off a little more," he was almost whispering now, but I could hear his words clearly without my thoughts getting in the way. Dreamily I noticed a woman sit down at the bus stop across the road. All she'd have to do was look up to get a full view of my show.

My hand sped up, slipping greedily around and inside. "Seen someone?" he asked casually. I nodded, too caught up to speak. "I think you know what to do, then," he was sure I'd obey the unspoken order, and I groaned knowing he was right.

I took a step towards the window, willing the woman to look up so I could finish this beautiful torture. The moments stretched out, I was getting closer and closer, but couldn't tip myself over without the trigger of shame. Finally she glanced up but her eyes slid off me immediately. I made a mewling noise and he chuckled, "Patience, Kitty."

I was panting, right on the edge, trying to beam messages into the woman's mind. Her head tilted up again, gaze drifting over the windows, perhaps unconsciously drawn to the movement, then at last she really saw what was going on in front of her. I shook with gratitude and felt his cold eyes boring into me from behind, her hot stare stabbing me from the front. I felt impaled, skewered between them, a puppet serving only to generate a response in a stranger. She blushed and looked away and I fell to the floor, burning too.

He got up to close the curtains, checking to see if our audience was still there. "Aw, we frightened her off," he said with slight regret. I didn't ask how he knew who'd been watching, he probably worked it out from my body language. "Right, that was fun, let's get on with something a bit more demanding."

I was pathetically grateful to feel my earlier pain disappearing as his cool scrutiny chilled me right through.

Fuck Writing

2008-11-12T21:37:00.006Z

I'm always torn between literary pretensions and trying to write something hot, the people I really admire manage both, but I'm not quite up to that. But is good writing erotic in itself? I'm a member of the Accent and Word Fetishes group on Fetlife because words are very important to me, particularly in sex. I'm drawn to a person's voice, the sound and rhythm of their speech, as well as what they say. I also love flirting by letter, email and even Instant Messaging. This much you probably know, I'm not very visual, I'm all about the words.

However, I'm also strangely aroused by just reading good writing, it's fairly blurry of course, as a lot of my favourite authors deal with sexual themes, but even a thrilling turn of phrase in a gig review or a witty dissection of theory makes me a little bit flustered. I like bands for the lyrics, when they're on target they give me everything most poetry fails to.

I think it must just be something to do with skill: someone who can be so precise, so effective, with language pushes the right buttons whatever they're talking about. It's a promise of what could be to come, how those words could worm their way inside you, twisting past your defenses, devastating you. I've become self-conscious about my writing, exactly what I wanted to avoid, so I'll stop now. Hopefully I'll get to the point where I can write without thinking soon.*

*As if

Ill

2008-11-05T23:08:00.000Z

I'm woozy, weak, my joints hurt and I can't make my head work right. For most people, this would be a recipe for hot water bottles and lemsip, but all I can think about is sex. It's a bit like sleepy fetish, as soon as I'm incapacitated I'm just screaming out for someone to take advantage of me. I guess there are illness fetishists out there, certainly hospitals and doctors have a strange appeal, cool hands and medical bondage...

This isn't really what I'm experiencing though, it's the same as when I have a hangover, all I can cope with is lying there weakly masturbating, calling Will's name as he goes past. He comes in, chuckles, says "are you bloody wanking again?". If I'm really lucky, he braves the snot, the manky hair, the sweaty clothes and takes over from what my hands are doing. For a few blessed moments, I forget all about being ill and let him nurse me better.

Alphabet

2008-11-03T12:55:00.007Z

Abduction

Bathroom Use Control

Choke Fucking

Dehumanization

Eye Contact Restrictions

Flesh Hooks

Gas Masks

Hair Bondage

Internal Enslavement

Japanese Bondage

Knife Play

Locking Collars

Masks

Needle Play

Orgasm Control

Pet Play

Queer Daddy/grrl

Rituals

Sensory Deprivation

Tentacle Rape

Underwater

Verbal Humiliation and Degradation

Waterboarding

Xerox

You, shutting the fuck up

Zentai

Idol

2008-11-02T22:54:00.003Z

I look up at you, your rage and bile contained in a taut, wiry frame. Older now, but still more magnetic than anyone else here tonight. You tease us, flicking your eyes around, as you hold a note for just... too... long... then release us as we whine in gratitude.

Travelling Companion

2008-09-30T22:17:00.009+01:00

I've just got back from travelling and sleeping alone for longer than I have for years, and it was hard when I could only chat to Will once a day. As usual I stayed sane by going a little crazy: I've been listening intensely to a particular singer, who shall remain nameless, and gradually I realised I had an invisible travelling companion manifesting from somewhere between the songs and my fantasies inspired by them.

At first it was little blips, not visual ones like in Fight Club, just sensing some kind of presence next to me on those sleepy train journeys, whispered conversations half heard, a soft hand guiding mine at night. As I fell asleep to my iPod, his perverse stories infected my dreams, and I woke up more in the imaginary world than the real one.

He offered me everything I wanted, everything I was missing, everything I needed. All I had to do in return was to believe in him, to make him live. It was a sexy little Faustian bargain, and I could never resist the charms of Mephistopheles. I lay in my hotel bed, feeding him my energy: as I got weaker he got stronger, until I couldn't make him go away even if I wanted to.

Me: Why won't you get out of my head? Leave me alone, I'm too tired to be doing this.

Him: Shh, it's fine, just go with it, I do some of my best work when you're asleep.

Me: You're my bloody fantasy, I made you up, I can tell you when to bugger off.

Him: Unfortunately you made me supremely tricksy and persuasive, you're not getting rid of me that easily.

Me: Stop it, you're confusing me.

Him: Yes, it's getting harder and harder to think isn't it? Just stop trying, let me take care of things.

Me: Nooo ... how can you ... you don't ... exist ...

Him: Exactly, I don't exist, there's nothing to worry about, I'm just a quiet voice in your ear, a whisper, a breath. Just forget I'm here ...

I think he's gone away now I'm back, but I still catch myself thinking about him when I'm on the train, on the bus, in the bath...

Absence

2008-03-21T16:13:00.002Z

Just a quick note to apologise if anyone has been missing me (ha!) I've been insanely busy recently, everything seems to get crazy every six months for me, regular as you like.

In the meantime why not consider the joys of being absent:

- Mind shut down, working on automatic, controlled

- The elusive fantasy fuck, never graspable but always desired

- Invisible, watching people when they think they're alone

- The far-away lover, lusts stoked by IM and phone sex, frustrations building until you finally meet again, when you'll lose it completely in an intense, passionate whirlwind.

Ta, ta, kiss, kiss, speak soon,

Primary identity

2008-01-14T22:21:00.000Z

I was taking the Sheffield Uni S&M Survey the other day, which was very interesting, but I was a bit thrown by questions that asked what my primary sexual identity was, meaning Gay/Bi/Straight. (I'm Bi, if you're interested). I never really think about this as being the most important thing about my sexuality, and it's not the first question I ask about someone else either. I wonder if this is this common for people in the BDSM community?

I've commented elsewhere about the difficulty of ‘mapping’ orientations, I'm unsatisfied with scales that look at the continuum from Gay to Straight (e.g. The Kinsey Scale and Klein Sexual Orientation Grid). Dw3t-Hthr suggests a kind of GeekCode for sexuality, which would be great. I don't want to denigrate Bi identity at all, I know it's often overlooked or disparaged, in a similar way to Switch (which I also am, albeit in a complicated way), but this is more a question about what's top of your list, for example does being submissive outweigh issues to do with what gender you're submitting to or not?

I can't pretend that I don't consider what gender someone is, and I still tend to go for men (not primarily for physical reasons though), but I do think that having a kinky sexuality made me more open to being Bi. Strangely, I don't really like submitting to women, and although would rather top them, which makes any list of preferences complicated.

I think I'll just have to give up on a consistent map, other than for fun, and just accept that if I'm attracted to someone it's because of that individual, and any sexual power relations will be a response to how we interact. Sounds pretty good when I think of it like that.

Handcuff Love

2008-01-05T21:29:00.000Z

I saw the sweetest couple the other day, young man and woman, 18ish walking through town handcuffed together. They looked like any other teenage couple: emo clothes, smiling and chatting with each other, obviously in love, the handcuffs didn't seem out of place, it was just a slightly unusual way of holding hands.

We smiled at them as they went past, but they were too caught up in each other to care. I'd have liked to follow them invisibly, seen how they coped with things like paying in shops and having meals.

What struck me was how it didn't seem to be a dom/sub thing, as if they both enjoyed the constraints of being joined in this way. Of course there was probably some dynamic behind the scenes, but it wasn't being acted out in public. I think it seemed so charming because they were young, it was a pretty game, they were finding their way through the relationship and not worrying about what other people thought.

It reminded me that I haven't used handcuffs for years, it was when I was the couple's age that they were most appealing to me and I used to wear a pair on my leather jacket, until I realised it just made people ask me to lock them up in them. (Which I usually did, more on my dominant past some other time). I suppose back then I wasn't confident about my more specific fantasies, and bondage was a fairly easy way of getting my jollies.

I got all nostalgic for simple pleasures like this, wondered whether to get a pair or just remind Will that he hasn't tied me up for a while. Damn, I knew I should have got him something from Twisted Monk for Christmas.

I guess I liked 'mind bondage' so much I've not been exploring the more physical side of it, anyway if you're safely immobilised, it already puts you in a submissive state of mind for more psychological tethering.

Eargasm

2007-12-20T23:27:00.000Z

We were lying in bed and as often happens, the first sign of foreplay was him breathing in my ear while his hand started exploring my skin. Not the cliched blowing that some guys think is sexy, just his face pointing towards the side of my head, his mouth ready to start whispering. Even this simple sound is enough to get me to switch gears, the regular thrum of air relaxing me, sending me down.

"I read a story where someone was hypnotised to feel everything that was done to her ear was happening to her cunt." I said, half-aware of what I was saying, not even sure if it was true.

"Really? Shall I do that to you?"

I wriggle coyly, and let a "nooooo," escape from my lips. His laugh tickles my brain, we both know I'm so suggestible he doesn't need to, I'll helplessly feel both his tongue and his fingers caressing my clit without him having to move, he whispers instructions and it throbs in time with the words.

I can't tell if he's hypnotising my cunt, or fucking my head.

Hypnofetish 101

2007-11-02T21:08:00.001Z

I looked into my avatar's spiral eye and thought I should talk more explicitly about Erotic Hypnosis, as I've only been referring to it in passing. This is not designed to be a how-to guide, some of your are probably old hands in the use of hypnosis in sex, some of you have no interest in it whatsoever. It's more Part II of the Fluence strand, a.k.a. how I learned to stop worrying and love the spiral.

Firstly, I'm not an expert, not even sure that I've ever been properly hypnotised (of course I might have been and then told to forget...). I've also never hypnotised anyone deeper than I've gone, or even watched it in real life. Now I'm not saying I've never been in a trance, when you play this way as much as I do, you inevitably become conditioned to drop into a light state fairly easily, whether in erotic situations, just listening to repetitive music or in a lecture. What I mean is that I've never knowingly gone under enough for triggers to be implanted, to forget a number, to believe I'm a stripper - all that stagey stuff that some people seem to like.

So why do I write stories about it if I'm not that knowledgeable?

From an early age I read and watched a lot of Science-Fiction and Fantasy stuff and immediately decided that mind control was about the most frighteningly intense thing that could happen to you. You could hit someone, or tie them up, but inside they'd still be plotting against you, but if you could get at their thoughts they were yours. (I know you could do this through some kind of torture/humiliation 'breaking' but that has blurry boundaries with brainwashing, which has blurry boundaries with Mind Control)

Part of the reason I'm sexually drawn to hypnosis is this borderline phobia of having it happen to me in real life. I know it has many therapeutic uses, and helps a lot of people, but I would still feel uncomfortable about it myself. Same as rape, humiliation and torture fantasies, it turns me on because I'm afraid of it. I imagine on some level it's a way of dealing with that fear, but now it's become arousing in itself. I have a curious relationship to my body, and can often seem to step outside of it when I'm being hurt. But having someone mess with my mind, that's a lot more scary, a lot more interesting.

There's plenty in the Hypno-MC world that squicks me, but that's going to be true of any niche sexuality. Hopefully the reliance on futuristic or supernatural means to enable some of the more extreme fantasies helps us to remember that it's not real. I can enjoy reading about quite a wide range of stories and enjoy them, and fantasise about pretty dark stuff, but when it comes to toying with it in my sex life, what can seem quite tame on the page suddenly becomes a lot more edgy. Some people use of it as a kind of BDSM tool, where the focus is on the obedience after the hypnosis has taken place (I'm thinking of the things they talk about on blogs like BDSM Hypnosis, Hypno Domination, Hypnofantastico, Hypnosexy). This sounds interesting, but isn't quite what I'm into.

I seem to have fetishised the induction, the endlessly repeating first-time struggle against surrendering control. The long, delicious slide into unconsciousness, your mind being switched off gradually, until all is dark and you fall helplessly into obedience. Being triggered to do something would be fascinating, a real insight into being totally out of control of your actions, but wouldn't get me where I live. For me, that would be like having an orgasm when you press a button: hot in a way, but also a little bit cold.

Don't get me wrong, Bill often teases me that he has implanted new patterns of behaviour in me: captured me and brainwashed me until I think I wanted him all along; made me do all sorts of humiliating things in public then forget; fucked me black and blue while I'm in a trance-sleep. It's hot. Really fucking hot, but the reason I can enjoy these scenarios is because I know he'd never do them, because I know I can trust him.

For some reason I now feel compelled to point out that Bill is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life.

The Night Before All Hallows...

2007-10-31T23:58:00.007Z

This is a guest post by Lady Auch, the fictional owner of the club that Kitty works in. You don't know Kitty yet? Ah....

---

I find it a little hackneyed that there is a huge influx of dabblers into our little club at this time of year, but I'm not one to turn away potential converts, and it was lovely to see the effort they had put in.

Of course, the real fun started at midnight, when the members only party opened in the Black Chamber. It was not much more astonishing than our usual gatherings, but Halloween does bring the beast out somewhat.

I took a back seat for most of the evening in case I was needed out front, so Kitty was chosen as Mistress of Ceremonies this year. She looked simply marvellous, like a Dominatrix Louise Brooks, and strode around the room searching for the most inventive combinations for the small stage.

The boys were all straining their pants for her personal attentions, but instead she set up tableaux from gorgeous nightmares, whispering instructions then stepping off to watch.

One that I caught was Theresa as an exquisite Vampire, enthralling a clutch of beautiful young ladies and gentlemen. They acted their parts so well, I wondered if she did have some power over them, as they helplessly stripped and knelt for her to take their necks. She stroked them delicately, gazing into their eyes as she heightened the tension, and their moans when the bite came were like perfectly controlled orgasms.

There were Catgirls whipping Superheroines, Melodrama Villains tying up Robotboys, all sorts of sexy Ghouls and Zombies and Monsters in unusual combinations.

When all possibilities had been exhausted Kitty finally took the stage herself, and a hush fell. She started speaking in a velvety stream, it became almost an incantation, and suddenly I found myself onstage. I should have been shocked, protested that I couldn't do this, frankly I would normally have turned her around and spanked her silly, but I didn't. I stood there meekly as she smiled malevolently at me.

In a dream, I floated into position at her wordless commands, forgetting all the others around me. I lazily undressed to my underwear, allowed my hands to be pulled above my head and cuffed to a chain hanging down. I felt serene and dreadfully aroused at the same time as my world narrowed to the sensations she inflicted on me.

First I was teased with peacock feathers, an exotic torture that made me wriggle and groan, particularly when my private parts were stroked. Then her nails raked my skin in hypnotic patterns, as if she was drawing runes on me to bind my will further. Finally she brought out a selection of intricately carved crops and started with light stings on my feet and hands, working her way onto precise beating of my more sensitive areas, leaving only my sex and face untouched. Through it all I submitted gracefully, each stroke branding my with mysterious sigils that seemed to sink into my mind as much as my body.

When I was completely exhausted, hanging from sore wrists, and with tears drying on my face, she gazed once more into my eyes, her wide pupils the only sign of her own excitement. "Almost done," she whispered, and held her hand millimetres away from my heated mound. We breathed together heavily for a while, then I felt the breeze of her hand being taken away rapidly, then returning with force. I screamed and came violently, shuddering out the last of my consciousness in grateful tribute to the surprising events of the night.

I came to, fully clothed where I had been at the start of the act. Confused I looked around me and saw that everyone else had the same expression as I. The woman next to me blushed and rushed from the room, and I realised that somehow we had all believed we were at the centre of this little drama. I glanced Kitty's way, and she winked at me prettily, with pupils as wide as I had envisioned in my trance. I was incredibly impressed and vowed to give the spellbinding darling a bonus.

Controldar

2007-10-20T23:57:00.001+01:00

Overpowered and I met up with Andy, and somehow the conversation got round to a game he plays on buses sometimes. The details vary, but the gist is that some kind of sex-terrorist group take the vehicle over, and force you at gunpoint to pick one of the other passengers to have sex with. When he first told me about this idea, the baroque set-up he used to remove personal responsibility from the choice made me laugh so hard my drink came out of my nose, but since then the possibilities have grown on me.

Leaving aside how hot the idea of being forced to have sex at gunpoint could be (in the right circumstances), it's always a guilty pleasure to look around a room and imagine who you'd like to do the dirty with if there were no consequences. O went for a handsome guy with long hair, but he didn't do anything for me. Instead I was compulsively drawn to someone who seemed fairly ordinary at first glance. What was it? Something about his tousled short hair said geeky intellectual; his slightly large nose and small eyes caught your gaze and slid it into his predatory stare.

All just a bit of fun, and we quickly moved on, however soon after, I heard my gunpoint man talking about - had I heard right? - hypnosis. I looked to see if the others had heard, and their raised eyebrows told me I hadn't imagined it. Perhaps it had been a random comment; I pretended I wasn't straining my ears for him to say something else. I'd almost given up when I started hearing more buzz words and fell silent to listen.

He was discussing magic tricks, an innocent enough topic, but there was a juicy relish in his voice when he described enchanting people, making them vanish, binding them. I couldn't resist looking at him and he caught my eye "... drifting in and out of focus ..."

I gasped and looked at O. She grinned and whispered "Are you wet?" I blushed hard and she carried on teasing me the rest of the night about my little crush.

How had I known? What do you call the light that goes on in your head when you meet someone of our 'kind'? BDSMdar? Hypnodar? Perhaps Controldar is more accurate, but it sounds really clumsy. What are the hints you pick up on? I'm not talking about people in leather and studs, or with bruise marks on their wrists. I'm fascinated by the subconscious cues that make one 'normal'-looking person stand out as dominant or submissive.

Sure, sometimes it's just projection; there's times I've convinced myself the hot guy I'm going home with was dropping hints about wanting to tie me up, then when we get to bed he's confused and vanilla. It also goes wrong the other way; I ignored the subtle evidence that Bill was a well-hidden sadist for years, despite having had the daddy of all light-shows in my head when we first met.

Still, it happens enough for me to think there's something in it. Perhaps there's a special chemical the body produces when pain breeds orgasm. Maybe thinking about mind control too much activates a telepathic beacon. Probably it's just some basic animal instinct that makes like call to like.

Whatever it is, if you're on a bus playing the gunpoint game, I might be sitting behind you burning holes in the back of your head with my eyes, trying to figure out why I'm imagining you doing all manner of cruel and delicious things to me. Feel free to turn round and give me a knowing look; I'll go red and embarrassed and hope the crazy armed voyeurs get on at the next stop.

Dress up

2007-10-08T00:39:00.001+01:00

Butch or femme? Which is more sub and which is more dom? Is it different for men and women? Bitchy Jones has been making a strong argument that the more masculine a submissive man is the better, which fucks with all the stereotypes in an absolutely delightful way.

That got me thinking though, as by the same argument (that the submissive should visually inspire the desires of the dom) some people could argue I should be as attractive as possible, presumably skinny and feminine.

I'm really not.

I do like the idea of becoming a Vertigo-style dress up doll though, being told what to wear, how to style my hair, until I'm perfect. I just hope that if that ever happens he gets me fitted out in a smartly tailored trouser suit.

I like men's clothes, (which is handy as fashionable women's shops don't sell anything in my size). It's not drag or penis envy, I'm obviously female even without make-up, but the thing that makes people think I'm probably dominant and gay is in fact the opposite.

Knowing this means I don't think all submissive men who want to dress as women are doing it for the humiliation, as if women are the lowest of the low. Sure, there must be some who think like that, but I've always imagined there's a wide range of reasons behind it, perhaps for some it's as simple as having a formative experience enjoying giggly girls putting make-up on them, some want to feel beautiful, but surely some must get what I do out of wearing men's clothes.

I don't feel vulnerable in a dress, I feel like I'm going to a party. I usually forget I have to be modest with how I sit, but for me there's no naughty tingle of humiliation if someone sees a bit of thigh or even knickers. There's also no power kick at teasing someone. I just feel the same as when I burp or fart, like I should apologise to be polite, but don't actually have the etiquette-based taboos to care.

There's a primal magic behind all playing with clothes, with gender, with roles. It's not as crude as equating men with power and wanting that (although there is a pinch of that in there). It's more that the clothes are symbols of authority, and I like being able to play with it: partly using it on the outside and partly submitting to it inside. I like to feel power surrounding me, but to be hidden, as if I've been possessed by a mask I'm wearing and the more I submit, the more it can do what it wants through me.

I particularly like Bill's clothes of course, eagerly snapping up his tops and pants after they've shrunk in the wash, absently stroking my breasts and clit through them from time to time. It's a confused kind of fetishism, the thrill isn't that they're men's clothes, but that they're his clothes, as if they're controlling me even though he's not there. They act like a kind of battery, eventually the buzz wears off and they're just mine.

I like the way I look and feel in a tie, shirt and jacket. Maybe it's something about being constrained, in uniform, anonymous. Maybe Bitchy's right. Maybe there is something submissive about a suit.

Push here

2007-09-30T10:13:00.000+01:00

Eileen has been writing an excellent series of posts about liking, finding and intensifying people's buttons (she calls it being a "reaction top"). I was chatting about it with Overpowered about it too, she enjoys getting a reaction in a different way, by making her partner overwhelmed with desire for her. I'm fascinated by how this kink can manifest itself so differently while having a common root: controlling someone else's responses.

The strangest thing is that I totally understand it.

Strange because I'm the opposite, I like to be made to react, to helplessly respond to triggers, to be out of control. Sometimes I feel like a flesh robot, you insert this input and you get this output. The right tone of voice (smooth, soothing): brain turn off. The right words (relax, obey): brain turn off. The right caress (neck, forehead): brain turn off.

I want a detached, ironic sadist to totally destroy me and not care. I don't fantasise about a wild desiring animal pinning me to the ground and fucking me til I bleed (much). But here's the thing: there is something I look out for, something I need, just a reassurance that it's not all in vain. When I've given everything I've got, when I'm broken, when I finally accept they're in charge: there's a glint in their eye. A little flash that says "I've won."

And that means I've won too.

No-one home

2007-09-17T11:27:00.001+01:00

I've been having a bit of a conversation with Overpowered about stuff like Comas and Unconsciousness. I'm fascinated with the idea of my body being completely under someone (or something) else's control, my mind being off. Part of me wants to be aware of what's going on but unable to do anything about it, but I'm also intrigued by not being conscious at all, only finding out later what happened. Of course this raises all sorts of sticky issues about consent, so I have to be careful with this in reality, but the desire to be made to do things, to have things done to me, is still central to my sexuality.

Helplessness. The exact opposite of what I usually want. My fear. My fetish.

So many deliciously frightening ways this could happen, all of which deserve a post on their own if I ever get time. Bondage, with or without pain, is where I start if I'm testing the waters with a partner, but no less effective for that. There's a moment when you've struggled and know you can't get out, a kind of calm euphoria washes over you. It's out of your hands. They're in charge.

Then there's the sweetly addictive ego-loss of subspace, when you're not thinking about obeying, you just are obeying. This might be a state you drop into straight away, or after being broken down over time, but when it happens things shift, they become fuzzy and extra sharp at the same time, like in a car crash.

It's difficult to tell the difference between this and the light trance state I go into when we dabble in hypnosis. I've never gone deep enough to know what it's like to have suggestions control me without being able to resist it, but God, it's such a hot idea. I'm tempted by tales of temporarily believing the the impossible things that I sometimes enjoy playing at: becoming robot, puppet, brainwashed cult member, animal. Not just carrying out commands, not just being unable to resist them, but not able to remember anything else. Brrrr.

Without

2007-09-10T00:34:00.001+01:00

He's away for a few days and I'm walking around the house, not knowing what to do with myself. Daft really, as it's quite common for us to be working in different rooms and hardly see each other beyond a friendly grope on the way to the toilet until bedtime. You just get used to someone being around, we spend more time in the same space as each other than most couples do, and it becomes part of the way you work, hearing them in the next room, even if you're not hanging out together. When those small noises go, things seem strange, but there's also a kind of freedom, the place seems bigger, more yours. So what to do with all this liberty?

1) Night out with the girls

First response was to get the hell out of there, of course. Ended up doing karaoke, which I love for some fucked up reason. I'm used to doing weirder stuff in front of an audience, so don't get scared (at least after I've had a few), but it's a different buzz to when I'm properly performing. I think it's something to do with someone else's thoughts in your head. It's more that just a cover version, you're standing there, reading the words and they're coming out of your mouth with very little intervention from your mind. For a few minutes the awful surroundings are swept away by the flashing lyrics and electronic bleeps, triggering you to pose and sing.

You might think my choices show I was anxious about Bill being tempted to stray (Dolly Parton's Jolene, Patsy Cline's Crazy, Joy Division's Love Will Tear Us Apart, Soft Cell's Tainted Love) but frankly I always choose things like that. Perhaps heartbreak songs speak to me more than normal love songs because my version of love feels like pain. Also, I've never seen I Wanna Be Your Dog on the karaoke lists.

2) U online? Chat?

We arranged to Instant Message when he was free. I felt like it was a date, got all excited, had a bath, even cooked something proper for myself. I may have mentioned before that I'm hot for text communication in itself, it doesn't have to be dirty, just staring at a screen, typing and reading with someone fascinating gets me somewhere deep inside. Of course it may be conditioning from all the cyber I've done, but there's always been a connection for me between the written word and sex.

From the clumsy, sweet, stalkerish letters you send when you're starting out with someone to the notes left on your pillow that tell you what to do until they come back to the simple "I love you" on a card. Seeing it written down makes it real. Seeing it written down makes it sexy.

3) Masturbation

Don't get me wrong, I wank a lot anyway whether he's home or not, sometimes in the same room as him, occasionally with him watching. Despite this, when I'm on my own for a few days, no matter how many other things I have to do, there's always a voice at the back of my mind urging me to have a quick one. I turn on the computer and somehow the porn materialises. I lose a few hours there, so I have a bath to clean up, mmmm, warm water...

After a while, everything becomes one long session, skin sensitive and erogenous, mind dirty and dripping. The house stinks of me, as if I've rubbed myself over everything. He comes home and sniffs suspiciously, "So what have you been up to?"

"Oh, it's been hell. Work, work work."

Spaced Out

2007-09-05T21:45:00.000+01:00

I've eventually got round to finishing a story and putting it up. If you're going to read it, perhaps you should do that before you read my comments: Read Spaced

This piece has been blocking me for years for some reason, I've started others since, but just couldn't do anything with them until this was done. I don't know why it was such a problem, there's loads of stories I start then drop, and I could easily have just given up on it. Looking back at it now, it feels quite clumsy, I'm not keen on the style with two people saying their parts, but at the time I was very into chat, text roleplaying etc.

I don't know if you'll be able to tell the point I started writing again from a difference in style, (if you're interested it's when they're "in" the bedroom on the spaceship) but it feels very different to me, as if I used to write more hesitantly, rigidly, obsessed with certain words and phrases. The new ending seems more, well, sexy. There's a physicality there that I didn't seem to be able to muster before. I find it difficult to write about actual fucking, although I'm actually more coy about the hypnosis, still embarrassed that I get turned on by something lots of reasonable people find a joke. But despite its flaws, I think there are signs I may be improving.

Why didn't I go back and change the start if I'm not so keen on it? Once a story has been a particular way for a while, it seems impossible to change it without starting all over again. Also, I'm just able to convince myself that it better reflects the stilted dialogue you get in chat, when people are learning how to communicate with each other, and that by the end they are so turned on their minds aren't getting in the way so much.

Of course, I've never met anyone who could type so coherently when they're actually aroused and coming, but perhaps it was a prior suggestion that they'd be able to. Look, it's just porn, I can fantasise about good typists if I like...

Touch Sensitive

2007-09-04T12:19:00.001+01:00

I realise some things I've said here make it sound like I'm sensation-phobic. When Bill and I first got together he thought the same, and put a song on a compilation about it, we got to have a memorable evening of him teasing me after I explained myself.

If I back away from contact, flinch when you go to hug me, wipe a kiss away: it's not personal, I just can't handle the overload it causes.

Sometimes I can't move during sex, not because I've been bound or told to stay still (although, mmm - another time) but because my body shuts down, paralyses me the way it does when you dream, to stop you hurting yourself. I feel if I add to the input by moving, then I'll actually explode, nerves turning into millions of tiny bombs firing through my skin.

Remember, I'm actually a control freak, touch scares me, it invades me, I lose my borders. I'm not obsessed with head sex because I'm not interested in what I feel, but because I can't separate mind and body. When the contact is unwanted it becomes disgusting: ideas I disagree with make me feel sick, itchy, contaminated. But when it works, it's all consuming: fingers slid inside me touch my brain, seductive words caress my erogenous zones.

Sometimes I feel as if part of me hates this, fights to resist it, wants to be pure thought unsullied with all the mess and weight of my sensations. She makes me think about work to drown out his voice, feel the scratchy bedclothes not his touch. But eventually, the pressure from all sides weakens her, makes the protests fade, her control slip away. The boundaries melt and I'm invaded.

Fluence

2007-08-31T11:15:00.001+01:00

So who is this girl called Fluence? Firstly, I should call her a woman as she's well into her 30s, but for some reason I always think of her as 18, as if the lumps and sags are a hologram to disguise the crazy, fragile thing inside, for protection (or to make hunting easier?). She looks pretty ordinary in day clothes, she's got this thing about 'passing', becoming invisible, so it's a little jolt of surprise when you see her looking at you with her dissection gaze. It makes it easier to separate her from the characters she becomes when working too: she's never liked performers who are always theatrical, always 'on', always a star (a product).

About six years ago she was browsing the internet, bored, looking for things that secretly thrilled her. She'd heard people talk about porn being readily available online, but had dismissed it, as she thought her particular fetish was too rare to crop up, and anyway, it'd just be pictures and that, wouldn't it? Still, curiosity led her to the 'safe' umbrella of BDSM, the widely known perversion that she could talk about without feeling like a freak. (Don't get me wrong, she loves a lot of that stuff, after all her particular kink is just a specific subset of D/s, a bondage of the mind, torture of the will).

It didn't take long for her to find erotic story sites, beautiful, slippery words that span nets of lust around her mind. At this early stage even the badly written stroke pieces were a sweet novelty, but she learnt to navigate to more fruitful areas until finally she hit spiral gold. A story about a couple being dominated. Controlled. With hypnosis. Hurried and ashamed she printed it out at work. Read it in bed at night. A world opened up, not because the story was particularly special (it was campy, male-aimed FemDom) but because it existed, that there might be more out there, that people might want to read her stories one day. Clenched around her writing hand she fucked herself into a new world.

So this is where she lives now, a place where she explores how people can control each other (allow themselves to be controlled) without physically meeting, through words and ideas, meme-sex.

All In The Eyes

2007-08-27T10:20:00.000+01:00

I was out having a girly chat with Cindy the other day, and for some reason I admitted I was an eye fetishist. She rolled hers (warm brown, flirty and clever) in a way that said "Oh Fluence, you and your crazy sexuality", and we moved on without going into details.

But, God, I want to go into details, I want to talk about eyes all night, I love them so much I want to put them in my mouth, swallow them like slippery eggs and have them see all my dark thoughts.

I'm not very visual myself, in both senses: I don't get attracted to appearances (as anything other than suggestions of someone's personality or interests); and I'm not physically attractive myself (there's probably something going on there about wanting people to see beyond the surface).

Even in that explanation, I talked about 'seeing beyond the surface'. We're a very visual culture which affects our language, but there's a world of difference between someone looking at you and someone looking into you.

I saw Jason briefly the other day (I have a huge crush on him, more on that later), we have a tendency to avoid eye-contact a little as I go all red faced and confused but at one point he gave me a real sizzler and I still can't shake it off. He wasn't trying to flirt or seduce, it was casual, easy, but it ripped me apart. Here's how.

His gaze caught mine, time froze, it crawled inside my head and picked it clean. It said: "I know all your secrets, they're not as impressive as you think, but I won't tell anyone so long as you don't piss me off." Somehow this seemed like a caress, a soft threat that left me tingling.

And that's what I love most of all, the sex you can have without touching.

How it all began...

2007-08-24T23:44:00.000+01:00

Finally sunshine, I couldn't stand another stuffy day breathing in ozone from my computer, so I texted some friends on the off-chance.

"I'm gasping, want to get hammered?"

Almost immediately a reply beeped back

"Sure, Sweetcakes, Lion @ 6?"

Andy is always reliable, so long as I'm not fussy about whether I have him to myself or end up on a bender with 20 of his other best friends in the whole world. As it happened, tonight it was just us, catching up over bottles of crisp white wine he selected after lengthy interrogation of the bored bar staff. (He doesn't much like the stuff, preferring an oaky red, but insists on pandering to my tastes when we're out.) The beer garden was full at first, everyone seems to be trying to grab the last of the summer recently, but as we got through the bottles things thinned out. It was probably for the best, as we couldn't seem to talk about anything except sex, and I get raucous when I'm pissed.

After a particularly filthy interlude (about buttplugs if you must know), he slapped his forehead and said "God, you can tell I'm desperate for a shag, people only talk about sex this much when they're not getting any."

I was obviously in the same boat as I'd been going on just as much, but I tried to defend myself. "Come on, I always talk about sex, even when I'm getting it every day."

"Darling, you're such an addict, you could never be having enough sex, even if you were strapped into a 24 hour a day fucking machine" he retorted. I groaned, he was right, I'd even been imagining doing it with him earlier, despite him not being my type in numerous ways.

"Well, I have to talk about it, I need other people's perspectives, I can't just write about myself, that would be boring."

I was surprised to see Andy's eyes glint, "Oh, no! You're so wrong, you should absolutely write about yourself more."

"You're saying my stories are dull already, right?"

"Well, they are a little talky, but no, they're charming," (I would have preferred brain-melting works of genius, but we'll let that pass,) "It's just you never get time to finish things, and then you just get out of the habit. If you wrote about your fantasies and stuff you'd end up doing more proper stories, I promise you."

"Well, I have been thinking about starting a blog..."

(OK, I made all that sound a lot more coherent than it probably was, but my memory is a bit patchy after sunset)

So now I have to decide what I should write about. I warn you I tend to blur truth and fiction quite blithely, so this is more likely to be an overlay of my fantasies onto my life than a strictly factual recount of my expoits, but, as we've already established, there's no way even I could keep up with my overactive drives. So, all I can promise is that I'll be honest about myself: what I think, what I want, what turns me on.

Gosh, how frightening!