Saturday, January 28, 2017

Another fs01 Arc 8 pictoral reference and a blurb

I realize this is a bit of a spoiler, but I've written a handful of chapters that included Cassandra's "siren" outfit that her and her friends wear on certain occasions and as a group to the fetish club, etc.

I feel a bit guilty in a "typical male" sense whenever I do things like this (or the blatant bi-sexual cuckolding, etc.) but it's tough to keep going with ideas... and it's a lot easier when they happen to fall into my fantasy wheel-house, even if they are typical.

The baseline for that outfit is something along the lines of:

Staying true to me (and how I have written the characters) it is of course, fur-trimmed.  I know that I have described some of the features more than the actual look, but if I (try and struggle) to remember how I have written it, it's probably closest to the far left and then accessorized in various ways to form a completed ensemble.  In my mind's eye it could probably be any of the three.  A key feature of the written version is that it has a removable crotch that allows the wearer to have sex, wear a strap-on, or receive oral pleasure without having to remove the entire outfit. 

I do know that the concept of a "Domme uniform" is something that many newer Dommes find daunting or intimidating.  The fantasy/porn side of Femdom has pretty much established this as black leather or latex, tight fitting, lots of exposure, etc. which doesn't always mesh well with many women. 

I have given a lot of advice to newer Dommes over the years on this subject and I will echo it again here.  I believe that the best "Domme uniform" for her is whatever makes her feel the sexiest, most confident, and most attractive.  Those are some of the feelings that foster dominant feelings and whatever clothing (or lack of) brings about those feelings is the best choice.  This could be a business suit, a certain type of lingerie, a favorite outfit, and so on... it can take any shape and form as long as she feels good about herself while wearing it.

As Cassandra's outfit will likely make an appearance soon I wanted to write more about it.  Since Cass tends to be dominant no matter what she's wearing, this is just for special occasions.

Upcoming writing

I've struggled with inspiration a bit to keep on writing even though I have had the time.
Some of my more recent posts have been just to keep myself going... and it's often easier to rant about something than it is to come up with anything else. 

I will be publishing parts 66 and 67 of fs01 together.  Both are currently works in progress.  I wanted to make sure I had some idea of where the plot was going before finishing 66.  Hopefully I will finish them this weekend.

Thank you everyone that has commented lately on posts.  I know that some new faces have written and that is always appreciated.  I would love to hear from anyone/everyone.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Intolerant of Intolerance

The past few days in dealing with the world I've found myself a bit down on "humanity" again.

Each time I write a post of this nature I tend to draw some comments that question if I am actually not this way as well.  I don't think that I am, but I do have some traits that project the same kind of intolerance.  I am intolerant of intolerance.

I don't reject others based upon sex, race, religion, sexuality, gender, and so on.  I do reject others based upon stubbornly clinging to wanton ignorance, hatred based upon those things I listed above, and certain irresponsible behaviors that really aren't forgivable because there isn't a reasonable reason/excuse for doing them.

I've written before about facing racial prejudice first hand.  I don't know why I get angrier when it's something I witness or hear about that doesn't happen directly to me.

When I was in 6th grade a black family moved in about 3-4 miles away from me.  This was before the demographic had shifted... before a reasonable percentage of the community had become diversified (usually Hispanic).  Within a week of them moving in someone burned a cross in their yard.

The caught the person that did it.  It was an 18 year old white dude that lived in my town.  He was let off easy with probation and some community service because "it was a joke" and he "didn't intend to do any harm." 

Seriously?  Fuck.  I don't see how that could ever be interpreted as a joke.  I don't see any reason why someone would ever do something like that without intending to harm.  Using a symbol of some of the most horrific events of our country's history to inflict terror and fear upon people because they are different... yes... a joke, right. 

My senior year in high school (pre-Columbine), a group home opened up within our district that housed inner-city kids from unsafe homes.  Several of them were black and ended up attending my school.  The city I lived in was on the edge of rural.  The part closest to the city were everything you'd expect from a suburb.  The parts farthest away from the city were farms or isolated homesteads.  One day as we were leaving one of the rednecks approached one of the black students and said "Better watch out, I've got a shotgun in my truck and I might be goin coon hunting after school."

I remember a few of us that were nearby just about lost our shit.  The threatened party was calm and didn't even respond.  When asked why he didn't retaliate his response was simple: "this place is so much better than where I'm from.  I'm not going to fuck that up."

While the threat may have been a "joke," it was quite likely that they actually had a shotgun in their truck.  To this day I still want to kick that kid's teeth in. 

I know that a lot of my depression stems from my view of the world and of people.  It does nothing to really help me to feel that way.  I am convinced that I must always be angry and outraged when I should be angry and outraged.  There are certain things I never want to accept or tolerate.  There are certain things that I hope to God that it is never "okay" to allow them to happen.  If that makes me a worse person, I can accept that.   

Thursday, January 26, 2017

Public and Private Selves

I'm writing to unwind after a very long day of sinking in a ton of extra work.  One of those days where exhaustion sets in but the mind won't relax.

Some comments recently got me thinking heavily about D/s, personality, etc.  Writing it out usually lets me gather said thoughts as long as they don't spiral into an unfocused mess...

I think the inner root of submission differs greatly for people.  To some, submission is an action... it is a verb... it is something you consciously do and take on a set of behavioral characteristics that represent this action.

I know in my own case, I view submission as a mindset.  It is a state of being... an adjective... to be submissive.  What it actual feels like to me is a state of vulnerability... trusting and loving enough to relinquish control. 

While these two situations might look the same on the surface, I find there to be a difference at their core.  It is easy to act obediently, act respectfully, and the like... you'll find people every day that behave in this way.  Some are genuine while others put on a mask and fake it.  It is difficult to be vulnerable... when you first do it, it's quite scary... bu that fear brings a rush and that rush can be addictive.  I obey because that is my role... that is my purpose... I act respectfully because that is appropriate when our status is not equal.  In that state of subspace, I can see no other way to exist.

Every day in life we adopt a series of faces.  This is natural when functioning within a societal structure, measuring ourselves against our peers and under the watchful eye of authority figures.  Survival dictates that we adapt in order to avoid creating unnecessary struggles along the way.

In my public state I am an alpha.  Competent, confident, intelligent, often acting with a bit of ego and a chip on my shoulder.  That is the face I show to the world in order to survive.  Inside I am small.  While still competent and intelligent I am no longer confident.  I do not trust my own emotions.  I do not really like who I am and know the best way to focus my energies.  I fear that I will be disliked and unloved.  I am afraid to show that to the world. 

I consider submission to be my natural state.  This is the time I am comfortable baring all.  This is my private self.  There are very few cases where I will allow this to happen... it only happens when someone tells me "I choose you and accept you."  Those words are the key that unlocks me from the prison of my public face and allows me to love freely and openly with all of my being. 

I have known others over the years that are bottoms.  They like the kink but don't want to give up the control.  When they submit, they put on the mask of the role.  A mask that they cast aside when it is done.  In some cases, removing the submissive mask reveals another public mask.  In other cases this yields a true face. 

I'm not trying to judge and say that any one way is the right way, I'm just contrasting differences that I have encountered.  I find it fascinating when I meet someone that has very similar kink interests to me but our masks are opposites.  They put one on and pretend... I take mine off and expose my soul.

I have found over the years that confident, competent, and intelligent lifestyle Dommes are often the most well-balanced people that I ever come across.  They are frequently in control of their emotions.  I feel like the role of dominance in their lives does not hold the same type of polarizing nature as it does in the lives of male subs.  It's almost like the different faces just all coexist together in a state of harmonic balance, exposing that aspect of their persona when it is needed.  You will see kindness, openness, and friendliness existing alongside the sadistic, calculating, cruelty. 

While I am not a fan of public kink-related gatherings, I do have to say it is in comfortable environments with an intimate crowd that knows each other well that this often displays itself masterfully.  It is frequently amazing how those balances work. 

In some ways I wish I could be that way... not that I wish to be dominant, but that I wish I was capable of displaying more sides of myself at the same time instead of this "all in" or "all out" existence that I have with my submission.  Every time I see a Domme exert both cruelty and kindness at the same time, I always find myself wishing that I could strike a better balance between my public and private selves... as I cannot imagine having any parts of my alpha coexisting with my vulnerable submission at the same time.

Tuesday, January 24, 2017

Finding positives

There are times where I look back upon the events of my life and while I can't say that I feel good about the way that they happened, I can say that I do not regret the way that they happened.

It's a lot harder to appreciate things that come easily.  When we painstakingly work and suffer for a goal, the reward feels sweeter in the end.

Would I think that love is as special as it is if I hadn't been starved of it or had every attempt for my first 20+ years fall painfully unrequited?  Probably not.  Every failed attempt taught me to try harder... give more of myself... until I only give my all.  To give all of myself.  Could I have learned that within different circumstances?  Probably not.

Part of why I criticize subs taking the courting process lightly, or those that throw away the advances of a Domme is because I simply cannot picture doing that.  Being chosen is the greatest feeling I have ever had.  I felt so very lucky and grateful... the feeling that I had always wanted but never had... like the rest of my life was worthwhile because it led me to this point.

On some level this might seem excessive or obsessive.  I have been rejected in the vanilla world for this... taking my feelings too seriously... wanting for something special to blossom too quickly.  I understand that must scare some.

It seems like it is only in D/s, when a sub is asked to give more of themselves, has my approach been appreciated.  Where loving with my all is appreciated more than feared.  It's the only way I know how to go about things.  I will endure it all to show my love for her.  I will endure it all to make her smile. 

I am broken... but in just the right way... to make this work.

Monday, January 23, 2017

How submissive is too submissive?

I've occasionally heard the phrase, "too submissive."  I've also heard the expression, "not submissive enough."

In most cases these refer to D/s fit, or lack of it.  Oddly enough, I have rarely heard "too dominant" or "not dominant enough" tossed around, except in the cases of the latter being used to describe a reluctant wife or significant other that decides to go along with a husband's desire to turn a vanilla relationship Femdom.

Overall though, this happens to be a judgement that is used on evaluating subs.  While this might not seem fair on some level, it is actually fair within the context of how things work.  The Domme is the scarce resource as well as the one in the seat of power.  It is well within their right to judge and a sub must accept their judgment.

The only thing that I don't really like about those phrases is that there is rarely an explanation to go along with them.  I know in the case where I was called "too submissive," it was rooted in a gut feeling and was meant to describe something that was never articulated to me beyond that.

What do these words actually mean? 

"Not submissive enough" is the easier of the two.  In general, it implies mostly negative traits for a submissive, which may include but are not limited to:
-Selfish focus on fantasy/fetishes.
-Unwillingness to sacrifice or compromise one's ego.
-Unwilling to act obediently or follow directions.
-Unwillingness to be truly vulnerable to a Domme.

Thinking about this list makes it a bit easier to answer the other, but it is still incomplete.  I do not think it is possible for someone to really be too submissive, but I will get to that after I look at what people mean when they say someone is "too submissive" in a negative way.

Here are what I see as being a few of the negative ways the too submissive phrase can be used:
-Too passive.  Requires instructions to do certain things they do not wish to instruct. 
-Submissive at the "wrong" times.  e.g. I want them to be submissive when X, but not when Y, and they are submissive when Y.
-So submissive that the Domme feels obligated to act dominantly. 

What is fascinating about this is that while "not submissive enough" is fairly straight forward, the actual use of "too submissive" is rooted heavily in a person's expectations.  The actual translation becomes: it is not what I expected nor wanted. 

Let's say we work off of the opposites of the examples that I gave above for the not submissive enough usage.
-Too unselfish and unfocused on their own fantasy/fetishes.  OR Too focused on her fantasy/fetishes.
-Too willing to sacrifice or compromise their ego.
-Too willing to act obediently and follow directions.
-Too willing to be truly vulnerable to a Domme.

The main reason that any/all of these phrases seem silly is because I have never actually heard anyone say them, with the possible exception of a "too early on in the relationship" rider added onto each one.  In general I just can't see these as really being interpreted badly.

When viewing it under these terms it seems rather strange.  What is likely actually happening is the person using it is feeling like there are expectations that they have to be dominant in a certain way.  This is a feeling I have run across quite often and understand (it is usually with newer Dommes), but I think it also shows some misinterpretation of an individual being very submissive.

I believe that a submissive that is "completely submissive," is someone that is actually ultimately versatile.  I feel that if someone is completely submissive, it means that the focus of their being has shifted to put the needs and happiness of the one they submit to at the pinnacle of their thoughts and priorities.  If this is the case, then the end result of that is not to be a doormat, but to be the perfect compliment for any situation.  To show personality when it is desirable.  To serve and pamper when that is desirable.  To be a plaything when that is desirable, and so on.  The be what she needs and wants at any time.

I believe in my heart that fulfilling that role requires a sub to constantly change and morph himself as the situation calls for it.  It is not a static, one-dimensional persona or behavior style.  You must be everything.

As this is how my views fall, I do not think that it is actually possible for someone to be "too submissive."  I do wish people would stop using that phrase when it isn't what they really mean.

Love and Femdom

It still strikes me as odd that the "FLR/FLM" crowd seems to announce itself as being loving with such a loud voice.

Honestly I've never even considered a long term Femdom relationship without love, nor could I ever thrive in its absence.

I also believe that this represents the vast majority of people that practice any form of lifestyle D/s.  There are a handful of cases where Femdom relationships are not loving:

1. Informal BDSM play-partner based relationships.  These are when people get together for kink-based activities without a loving relationship.  I do not believe the majority of people really shoot for relationships that don't result in something more serious, I think it just sort of happens when people have trouble finding a compatible fit, sort of like when people date without being in a relationship.

2. TPE Mistress/slave relationships.  These relationships are few few few few few and far between, and out of the ones that I have come across, the majority of them actually began as a vanilla married couple.  The process of reaching this state was a slow evolution that was heavily based upon love.  I would argue that in most cases that reach this point in this way, that there is still a great deal of love, just a change in how each party is respected by the other.  Also in those cases, this is usually a reflection of the evolved needs and desires of each party... and in such, catering to each others' needs is what people who love one another generally do.

Looking at what remains, that is, individuals that enter into a TPE situation with consent from the start.  In these situations, both parties receive what they want, but this can exist in the absence of love.  There is a good chance that after an extended period of time, there are likely strong and meaningful feelings that build, even if they would not be classified as love.

3.  Service roles in a poly-relationship.  Also, this is not really the norm but it is something you see out there now and then.  In the relationships of this type I have encountered, some have a Domme that has the capacity to love multiple subs at once.  Others usually have an alpha sub they love and the extras may or may not experience that on any level.

4.   A business relationship with a professional Dominatrix.  I don't really consider this a relationship in the nature of this discussion but it is worth mentioning.

I can't really think of more styles of Femdom relationships that are common enough to list off, but I consider the loveless types to be a tiny minority in the bigger picture.

Where is it actually common for Femdom to occur in a loveless way?  Porn and fantasy.

So... why would anyone really feel the need to go out of their way to say that the "real way" is to have love involved... when in actuality, that is the more common way when it happens in real life.

The only thing I can think of is security issues when trying to separate themselves from porn, fantasy, professional, and casual relationships.  I don't know, I guess I just don't think it's really something that's amazing... it's just what nearly everyone actually aspires for.

I think for the most part that love is required for most D/s relationships to grow and evolve.  She is demanding and he loves that about her.  He is submissive and she loves that about him.  If it's not mutually desired, mutually beneficial, and pleasurable for both parties, that usually means something is more abusive than consensual. 

I just think the world is a better place when we try to see ourselves as being similar rather than focusing on how everyone is different. 

Sunday, January 22, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 65

Author’s Note: This takes place a few days after Part 64.


I let my thoughts drift while I wait patiently in the living room.  Mistress has gone with Brittany out of state to help her finalize her move. Lisa is coming to house sit. I like Lisa. She is nice and her bashful pseudo-innocence is always cute.

I’m happy that Mistress has bonded with Brittany. Theresa and B have been going out less and less. I have a feeling their relationship is reaching the next level of seriousness. Dominique has been traveling Europe since the ski trip. According to Mistress, Lisa has been heading home immediately after work on most days. Mistress hadn’t spent much time with any of them since the ski trip and I know that her social life is important to her well-being. Having a close friend to spend time with really keeps her spirits in a good mood.

Now that I think about it, it feels like it’s been a very long time since I found myself alone with Lisa. The times I have spent with her have been good, often healing me when I found myself struggling with my feelings and needing the comfort. I’m actually a bit excited.

I hear the front door’s lock turn and open. I hurry to the entryway to greet her. Her back is to me as I enter and bow my head.

“It is good to see you, Miss Lisa.”
“Hello, fur.”

I straighten myself up and watch as she brushes the light bit of snow from her shoulders and hat. My heart flutters for an instant. Lisa turns to me and nods, acknowledging my presence and I’m taken back a bit. She seems different. Her coat, hat, and boots look like they came from Mistress’s wardrobe. She has changed her hairstyle, instead of appearing a bit plain or businesslike it seems a lot more glamorous and fashionable. Her make-up is done up, again a contrast to the woman I am used to seeing.

I approach her slowly and help her out of her coat. The scent of an unfamiliar perfume wafts out from the fur collar of her coat. As she turns towards me I’m a bit surprised. When she visits to house sit she’s usually in a work suit or jeans and a sweater but today she’s wearing an expensive skirt and a very nice blouse that compliments her complexion and figure quite well. I blush a little.

“You look very lovely today, Miss Lisa.”
“I don’t remember giving you speech privileges, fur. Hurry and fetch me a robe and slippers.”

She shoos me away with her hand. I scurry away processing the difference in her personality. She feels… aloof. I quickly select a robe and matching slippers from the coat closet. When I return I’m surprised to find her standing directly outside. She reaches out with her hands and takes my nipples between her fingers, gently massaging them before giving a gentle squeeze. I close my eyes, moan, and press my thighs together as she continues to play with them. I open my eyes as her hands leave my body and I find her gaze piercing me with a direct stare.

A sly grin covers her face. I feel like that was a declaration statement: “Look at me, I’m not going to blush.”

She extends her arm, mimicking Mistress’s motion, and I gently slide the robe onto her. I wrap it around her body and lift her hair from inside the collar. Moving to her front I cinch the belt around her waist and drop to my knees.

My body tingles as I unzip her boots. They are out of character for her, knee high with sharp heels. The feeling begins to creep in that maybe they aren’t out of character… what I expect from her is for a previous version of her. I gently guide her foot into the slipper and work on the other boot. I can hear her breathing. I recognize that style of breathing. I slide the second slipper on her foot and raise my head, preparing myself to stand.

“Complete the ritual.”

Her voice is cold. Commanding. I lower my head and plant a kiss on her foot, first the right foot, then the left. I raise my head but she stops me abruptly by clearing her throat.

“Like you mean it.”

My soul shakes under her words. The joy fades from my eyes. I lower my head again and firmly plant my lips on the top of the slipper. I press in and place a kiss. I repeat this with the other foot. I keep my head bowed awaiting her instructions.

“Good boy.”

A smile comes over my lips and I slowly rise. She hands me a bag.

“Take this to the kitchen and set me a place. I’ll take white wine to drink.”

I nod and lead the way to the kitchen. At the table I retrieve a plate and silverware and remove the contents from the bag. A box from the colonel. I place its contents upon the plate, making sure it presents itself neatly. The smell causes my mouth to water. I pour a glass of wine and help her with her chair. Normally I would prepare to sit with her but today I know better.

“You may kneel.”

I nod and drop to my knees. I try to avoid looking at her as I hear her savor bites of chicken, mashed potatoes, and her biscuit. She taps her hand on the table and I look up. She holds a small cut of chicken in her fingers before my eyes, pausing before she drops it on the floor in front of me. I quickly bend down and place it in my mouth. I enjoy the flavor as my teeth chew up the tiny bit of meat. My stomach suddenly twists a little, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since breakfast and it’s now dinner time.

This time I keep my eyes focused upward.

“More wine.”

I stand and refill her glass before returning to my spot on the floor. Another tap on the table and another bit of chicken follows. I eagerly scarf it down. A third bit never follows. As I refill her wine again I notice the plate is barren except for the bones and a few bits of skin.
She leans back in the chair and takes a few gulps of wine.

“You may speak.”
“Thank you, Miss Lisa. I haven’t seen you in a while. I hope you have been well.”
“I have been well, fur. After the ski trip my husband finally agreed to move things out of the bedroom and into our daily life. It was an adjustment at first, but since then I’ve just started to run with it and enjoy myself. Your Mistress is quite a positive role model in that regards. Do I seem different?”
“Yes, Miss Lisa.”
“Is that good or bad?”

I pause to reflect for a moment, needing to choose my words carefully.
“I have always thought you are wonderful, Miss Lisa. Now you are a different kind of wonderful.”

Lisa lets out a small and playful laugh before taking another gulp of wine. She smiles as she sets the glass down.
“Cassandra is always so right about everything. Fetch my bag from my car and return it to the living room.”
“Yes, Miss Lisa.”

I rise from the floor, top off her wine, and help her out of her chair before heading to the door. Outside it’s snowing large, sticky flakes as I make my way to her car. I brush the snow off the trunk, open it, and retrieve her overnight bag before returning to the house. I find her in the living room and I place the bag next to her on the sofa.

“Lay on your back.”

I climb down to the floor and turn onto my back. She unzips her bag and begins to dig through it. I feel a twinge of fear rush through me. Out of the corner of my eye I see her hand rise holding a book. I let out a tiny sigh of relief.

“Move closer.”

I shuffle until my shoulder presses against the couch. She sits back and places her feet on my chest. I lie still while my eyes wander. Her perfume lingers. The shine of her black stockings. The feel of her feet on my chest as she wiggles her toes. I’m a bit thankful she isn’t trampling me.

My eye catches a glimpse of the book’s cover. 101 Shades Beiger. It must be part of the series that Mistress was reading and that the women spoke about at the group. Lisa’s breathing abruptly shifts and she rubs her thighs together while I hear the page turn. I smile a bit, she must be enjoying herself. A small moan follows and I feel the pressure of her feet increase, her toe digging into my sternum. Another moan. I feel her wait shift forward and I hear her ruffle through her bag. A faint buzzing sound appears as I hear the pages of the book.

I feel the weight of her feet shift as she opens and closes her thighs. Lisa has grown quite a bit braver. The buzzing continues. I’m surprised when she speaks.

“fur, your Mistress pegs you a lot doesn’t she?”
“Yes, Miss Lisa.”
“Do you like it?”
“No, Miss Lisa, I hate it.”
“What does it feel like?”
“It hurts, Miss Lisa. It’s uncomfortable. It makes me feel violated… helpless… I can’t get away.”
“Interesting.” She pauses and lets out a moan before continuing.

“Don’t some men love it and think it feels good?”
“I think some do, Miss Lisa. If they can relax.”
“Don’t you relax?”
“I can’t relax, Miss Lisa. As soon as something gets close my body just struggles to get away on its own.”
“I can relate to that. I had a boyfriend in college once that wanted to do it doggy style and then put it in my ass. I just wanted to get away but he kept trying to go at it. I kicked him in the face and broke his nose.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Lisa. He deserved that.”
“That was ages ago. So if your Mistress just restrains you, why do you still hate it?”
“It makes my heart hurt, Miss Lisa. It brings up memories that aren’t fun.”
“So why do you allow it?”
“Because it would hurt worse to disappoint Mistress. She usually comforts me when she’s done.”
“So… restraints and aftercare. Got it.”

Lisa leans over and grins down at me. Her hair hangs down, framing her face. Something doesn’t feel right in my heart. I feel her feet press in as she sits back and resumes her book. The buzzing continues and the moans soon follow.

“Miss Lisa.”
“Yes, fur?”
“The new you is exceptionally beautiful.”

Lisa lets out a calm sigh and begins to move her feet around on my torso. Her left foot traces its way down and finds the ridge of my chastity belt. She begins to press harder, sliding her foot forward and back. The pressures digs the seams of the belt into my skin. Lisa follows by moving her right foot upward and rests her heel on my neck. She lets out a moan and presses her foot down, digging the metal inside my collar into my neck and lightly applying pressure to my throat.

“You know fur. Your Mistress gave me permission to peg you. I got permission from my husband as well. ‘Better him than me,’ he said. This will be my first time and I won’t be gentle.”

I feel a pit form in my chest. She drowns out my whimper with her moans. She shifts her foot and I find myself struggling for air.

“Are you scared?”
“Yes, Miss Lisa. Terrified.”
“Good. I never knew it could feel so good to make a sub suffer with anticipation.”

She lets out another moan.
“Are you going to submit to it willingly or do I have to beat you into submission? Dominique has been teaching me how to use a single tail.”

My face contorts in anguish as I frown and close my eyes tightly.
“I will obey you, Miss Lisa.”
“Good boy. Get up, I wish to enjoy your body.”

I roll over and climb to my knees, taking a position directly in front of her. I place my arms at my sides. I look at her knees. I feel distraught. She lifts my chin with her finger and stares into my eyes. Lisa’s face beams… she’s radiant. Her fingers find my nipples and she begins to twist and tease. The scent of her perfume fills my nose and my sex strains against the belt. I let out a light moan.

Lisa leans her head forward, her lips just inches away. My face displays desire. She moves in. I relax myself and close my eyes, ready to meet her kiss. It never arrives. I hear her voice whisper into my ear.

“Naughty boy, as If I’d kiss you.”

She breaks into a full on laugh. I struggle with confusion.
“You know, fur, Your Mistress told me all about your little penis problem. I think it’s cute that you thought I was going to kiss you like you were a man. I’ll never be able to see you that way ever again. That doesn’t mean I won’t find a use for you.”

I swallow as my lip begins to quiver.

“Isn’t that the best a sissy with a useless dick can hope for? Every woman needs a servant. You have a mouth, a tongue, hands, and a hole.”

A wave of shame crashes over me. I want to run and hide. I show my dejection on my face.

“Why so sad, sissy? Have I said anything that isn’t true?”
“But, Miss Lisa...”
“You didn’t expect to hear that from me?”

I shake my head. Her laughter builds, starting softly but growing until she’s holding her sides. My chest tightens as I feel myself shrinking.

“Dealing with my husband this past month has really opened my eyes. The old me was always worried about being too mean. I’ve learned since then that there’s no such thing… as long as it’s true. While my husband is submissive, I still let him fuck me when he earns it. He still CAN fuck me.”

I cover my face with my hands. Why is she saying this? I feel her hands close around my wrists and pull them away.

“You should feel lucky that your Mistress takes on women lovers. I doubt a limp-dick little sissy is much use to her in that role. Without that she’d probably leave you.”

A tear trickles down my cheek. I quietly sob. I can’t contain it and I begin to wail and weep.

“If you have time to feel sorry for yourself you have time to be useful. Suck my toes.”

She parts her robe and slides her stocking tops down to her knees. I carefully remove her slippers and her stockings, sniffling as I go. As my mouth closes around her big toe I gently form a suction and flick my tongue against its pad. She lets out a low moan as the buzz of the toy resumes its work.

My heart feels hollowed out. To dull its ache I focus on the task at hand. Being useful makes me feel better. By the time I’ve worked my way halfway down her foot I can smell her. She moans and writhes as the book pages continue to turn one by one. As long as I am useful I am acceptable. That is the mantra of my life.

Lisa’s words continue to echo through me, resonating upon my deepest fears. I sniffle deeply as I shift to her other foot. If this was Mistress she would have scolded me by now for being distracted. This is not Mistress.

Her foot spasms as she moans deeply, jamming my lower lip against my teeth. By the shifting around in her seat and the smell of her sex I believe that Lisa just had an orgasm. A small bit of regret enters my heart. I normally would have been more focused and aware… and I have missed out on one of the greatest pleasures of my existence. I’m so fucking selfish. I am ashamed.

I embrace the hollowed out feelings. Get me out of my head. Enjoy the glorious privilege of serving and pleasuring a woman. This is, in fact, what I live for. While she is not Mistress, I am here representing Mistress to her. My eyes dry themselves while I turn up the intensity and focus on the task at hand.

Lisa moans deeply, a fluttering cry leaves her lungs. I hear the book hit the floor as my tongue traces down the side of her toe and stimulates in between them. She curses into the air and grips the sofa, I hear the squeak of skin and nails upon its surface. This is how I feel whole. This is how I redeem myself. I feel myself fade away. I become a machine built for pleasure.

She pulls her foot away from me. I do not chase it. I rise on my knees and await instructions. Lisa shuffles forward on the sofa. She leans forward, her face nearly touching mine. Her whisper resounds with seduction.
“That was heavenly.”

Her lips remain, just off my cheek. I feel the warmth of her breath. My mind remains blank as her perfume fills my nose. She doesn’t love me. I exist simply for her pleasure.

“Smart boy. You learn quickly.”

I open my eyes and watch as she digs through her bag and presents a Reverb and harness. She takes it in her hands and glides her grip up and down the shaft.

“I wonder why they make these so much bigger than most men actually are. Have you ever thought about that?”

I swallow hard as my eyes stay fixed on her hands. She shifts her tone to a sultry vibe.
“When I showed this to my husband it terrified him. Does it terrify you as well?”

I nod my head.
“That makes me happy to hear that. I really thought you’d be used to it by now, you know, being used. I mean, even at work where I’m her assistant, Cassandra treats me with respect and cares about my well-being. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to exist to be used… and to not really matter.”

I close my eyes and keep my head down. Lisa lets out a small laugh.
“I don’t even know why I’m worrying about any of this. Everyone knows that feelings only matter if someone else cares about them.”

I feel my spine tingle as a chill runs through me. Lisa scares me. Even if this is a bit of an act these words feel genuine. I retreat inside in an effort to cope.

She extends her hand and caresses the fur on my earmuff.
“Your Mistress spoils you. If you were my slave I would keep you naked and in chains. Clothing is a luxury and unnecessary for someone of your status. I do have to admit though, it takes all of myself control to keep from laughing in your face whenever I see you, so maybe there is some value to dressing you up.”

Her finger tugs the ring on the front of my collar, forcing the spikes to bite into my flesh.
“How does the slave respond to this?”
“I exist to please you, Miss Lisa.”
“Yessssss.” She hisses her ‘s’ at the end.

“I’ll have to remember to thank Cassandra for this. I’ve fantasized about this rape fantasy for years. It makes me wet just thinking about it. I’ve heard this is the standard way that your Mistress ‘makes love’ to you. Trust me when I tell you that this is nothing of that sort. I want you to hurt… to struggle… to scream and cry. I will make sure that you do not enjoy it.”

My body trembles.

“Meet me in the bedroom. Face down, butt up.”
I nod in response. My body moves slowly. I have to will every action to happen as the battle between my brain and my instincts rages on. I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

In the bedroom I take slow strides toward the bed. My heart pounds. My chest heaves for breath. The agitation builds as every nerve in my body screams to run away. I bend at the waist and lay my stomach down on the bed. I spread my legs and reach my arms in the direction of the bedposts. I lie for an eternity.

I hear the door and paces across the carpet. Without a word I feel my ankles being secured to the bedposts. She pulls my hands behind my back and secures them with a lock. I begin to whimper.

“You must be hungry.”
Immediately following her words her hand crams something into my mouth. It takes only a moment for me to realize it is her panties, fresh with her juices. A leash connects to my collar. Lisa hovers at the edge of my peripherals, I crane my neck but I cannot see her. I hear another click and feel a tug on my wrists, forcing them up my back in a painful fashion. An alternating series of tugs between that and the collar leash lead me to believe she has attached a strap to my wrists.

Her hand lifts the back of my dress. The touch of fur grazes my skin. I assume she must have put on a coat or borrowed one of Mistress’s. The sound of lube on silicon reaches my ears. I begin to whimper and sob. The head spreads my thighs and finds its way to my rectum. I shift my hips forward trying to get away.

A pull on the leash keeps me in place and I feel her hand firmly on my back, holding my hands several inches above my waist. The position hurts. I make a feeble attempt to cry out.

The tip applies pressure and retreats. Pressure and retreats. I sense her toying with me. A strong push and I feel her violate me, plunging it deep inside of me. My head bucks back and I scream as the tears roll down my face. She begins to pound her hips against mine, thrusting aggressively. Her breathing shifts to a pant as she grunts louder and louder with each motion. I sob and weep. Helpless. Unable to move. I am a hole.

I am nothing but a hole.

I don’t know how much time has passed. I just know the pain has stopped. A trail of drool beads on the side of my mouth and along my cheek. My body continues to weep and sob on its own. My bottom aches. My wrists ache. My back and neck ache. I hear the click of the locks as she releases my ankles.

“Climb up on the bed.”

Lisa’s tone is noticeably different. I shove myself up and shimmy up with my knees. I feel the bed lurch as she climbs on after me. I turn my head and see her. She wears Mistress’s silver fox coat and hat. She looks like a Tsarina. The coat falls open showing her in nothing but a bra otherwise. Her eyes are red and misty. She rubs one of them with the base of her palm. She presses against my shoulder and I turn away. She doesn’t want me to see her right now.

I feel her body against mine. She must have discarded the strap on. She wraps her arms around me and I feel her shudder and weep into my back.  I gently remove her saliva soaked panties from my mouth and toss them to the floor.

“What’s wrong, Miss Lisa?”
“I don’t know, fur. I’ll be back to the old Lisa tomorrow. I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Keep up this persona. I feel so fucking awful. I feel terrible. I’ve been terrible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at me. I made you cry earlier for my own amusement. I just raped you while you screamed and bawled, struggling to get away from me.”

She presses her face against my back.
“You’re beautiful, Miss Lisa.”
“Don’t say that!”
“But it’s true. You’re beautiful, just as you are.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because it’s true, Miss Lisa.”
“How is that true?”
“Because, silly. It turns me on.”

She begins to laugh between the tears.
“How does Cassandra do it? How does she keep this up without feeling guilty?”
“Mistress used to cry too.”
“What got her to stop?”
“I convinced her it was okay.”

Lisa lets out a smaller laugh that resounds of disbelief.
“Can you convince me?”
“Miss Lisa, today was the most beautiful that I have ever seen you. I think you are becoming a wonderful Domme.”
“Thank you, fur. I still feel like a newbie.”
“You’re so silly, Miss Lisa. Couldn’t you tell?”
“Tell what?”
“Before, I would submit to you because it was Mistress’s instructions. Today, you forced my submission to you with your dominance.”

Lisa hugs me tightly. Her tears have stopped. She still sniffles a bit.
“Miss Lisa.”
“Yes, fur?”
“Please be the new you tomorrow.”
“Yes. It’s beautiful… and I think you could use the practice.”