Archive for the 'discipline' Category

beyond that door

beyond that door
you are the brick-boy
the silver-tongued hero
you’re the whole shebang, motherfucker!

the hero, the big dick, the maaaan
the big man on campus
the man in the moon
the man to see
the man with a plan

you’re the taker
you’re the shaker
you’re the breaker
you’re the goddamn
candlestick maker

beyond that door
the world is your oyster
beyond that door
your kingdom come
beyond that door
women swoon and flirt and flatter

beyond that door
you are the candy man
the master of your own domain
you kick ass and take names
you are a player, a six-pack punk
every woman knows your name

but that door is closed
closed down, boarded shut, bang-bang
no way out, no where to hide
no where to go
but down down down

you’re on this side now
my side, mendicant man
my turf, toy wonder
you’re in the bosom of the bitch

you’re on this side:
you’re overpriced
and undervalued
and nobody gives two cents
suck it up

mendicant man
you’ve cashed your frequent flyers
mediocre man
you’ve burnt your neon bridges
nowhere man
you’ve spent your sorry wad

you’ll cease that fast-talking spinnity jive
right now (nobody cares)
and shuck that grandiose i-wish-it-were-my-dick tie
(nobody cares)
and lose those boot-cut Calvin Kleins
(not impressed)

get on the floor,
the stone cold floor
on this side of the door
where you belong

In the Corner

rubylipsnailsIn the corner he stands.  Facing the wall, his hands to his sides.  Naked and appearing so vulnerable, so alone.  And you might, indeed, think him a lonely man.  A sad man.  Even maybe a pathetic man.  But let’s take a closer look before we go away with our own first impressions, shall we?

Look, when we try to peer into his eyes (because really, when it’s all said and done, that’s where one can quickly ascertain the truth of a person, isn’t it?), there’s something covering his face.  My, oh, my, is that what I think it is?  Yes, it is.  Panties!  Panties covering the dear boy’s face.  Now what did he do to merit that?

But, wait!  Look at how the crotch of those panties are placed strategically over his nose.   We must get in a little closer.  Let’s just cozy up next to him and see exactly what is going on here.   Goodness!  Looked at how soiled the panties are!  Even from here the scent is quite robust.  The scent of sex, I dare say.  The pungent scent of man-woman sex.  Intriguing.  Quite intriguing.

Now that we are so close, do you see what I see?  Look at that penis sticking out so straight and stiff from his groin.  Hmmm.  A rather small one, isn’t it?  Nonetheless, it’s quivering and bobbing just a bit.  Pity to the poor woman he might try to mount with that silly little thing.  How tedious and utterly boring it would be for her, don’t you think?

Do you hear that?  Coming from the wall of the corner our little mini-meat-man stands against?  It’s muffled, but still exuberant and loud.  What could it be?  Did you see that?  I do believe that puny appendage of his just twitched.  Why, he’s reacting to the moans and groan, the creak of bed springs, the slapping of flesh we are hearing from the other side of that eggshell white wall!  And look at that!  He just took a deep sniff of those panties.  Oh, he did it again.  And again.  Look at that tiny stone pencil of his actually quivering.

Wait.  Someone is saying something from behind the wall.  Let’s listen.

This is what you deserve, you sad excuse for a husband.  Do you hear me, Henry?  Are you smelling the fuck on my panties while I’m getting my next dose of real man cock?  You’re a loser, Henry.  And you’ll stand there in the corner like the sorry dick-wad you are while I fuck this stud.

Oh my!  I think we have our answers.  And, at this point, I do believe we should leave Henry to his moment of bliss.

Don’t Think. Just Obey.

Why he is here, he couldn’t tell you. Even later, the memory will be fuzzy at best: a business trip, an unfamiliar town, a rented car, trouble sleeping.

The bar is nice, the music not too loud, the regulars behaving themselves. He sits nursing his scotch, listening to the three women next to him, catching occasional glimpses of their animated faces in the mirror behind well-stocked shelves. He thinks the one next to him, the brunette, has met his reflected gaze once or twice. Her shoulder has brushed his no less than three times, which isn’t a surprise, given their close proximity. The last time, she’d even turned to smile at him, which he took as a quiet “excuse me.”

He orders his second drink just as the brunette’s two friends move out to the small dance floor. Watching the way their bodies move together, seeing the way they look only at each other, he wonders if they might be lesbians. A slight smile creases his face as his mind conjures an ongoing array of possibilities.

“No, they’re not.”

Lost in the fantasy of two blondes getting it on, he hasn’t noticed her moving closer, but here she is. He smiles, nods, lifts his glass and takes a drink before answering.

“So besides being beautiful, you can read minds too?”

He is surprised, caught a little off guard, when she doesn’t smile back. Instead, she sits back down on the bar stool and lights a cigarette. She stares at him, inhaling deeply. “I can read your mind,” she says through a plume of exhaled smoke. “And it’s a very messy place. Quite undisciplined, in fact.” She reaches into her Dooney & Bourke purse. “But I can fix you right up in no time, make everything all better.”

Her eyes holding his, her hand moves from her purse to place something between them on the bar. He looks down to see a leather collar, its stainless steel studs reflecting the sparkling lights hanging from the overhead above them.

He doesn’t say anything, just shapes his mouth into what he hopes passes for a wry grin, tips his glass, downing the rest of his drink.

“If you need to get drunk to get kinky, you’re not doing it right.”

This time when he looks at her she is smiling. And so he smiles back. “Who said I wanted to get kinky,” he answers, waving to the bartender, this time pointing to both their drinks. “I’m just here for a couple of drinks, a chance to unwind. That’s all, Miss.” She cocks here head, the smile having reached her twinkling eyes. Dark blue eyes, the color of cobalt, he notices.


“Pardon me?”

“What I mean is don’t call me Miss, call me Mistress. Mistress Paige.”

The bartender is serving their drinks, taking away the empty glasses. If he notices the collar, he doesn’t let on. “Don’t worry about the bartender,” she says, “he’s not in this. You and me are in this. Only you and me.” She reaches out, touching his arm, right above the bend of his elbow. She slowly squeezes, until her hand is a fist, bundling his shirt sleeve and flesh into a hard knot. “I’m going to do this to your balls,” she whispers in his ear. Then she flicks the edge of his ear with her tongue. “Mmmm … you taste good.”

He looks into the mirror again, seeing that the blondes are now back, both eyeing him in its metallic reflection. The one on the far right, the one in the cashmere sweater dress, moves her lips, mouthing, “Do it.”

Although “Mistress Paige” is turned towards him and cannot see her friends, she tells him, “Take her advice. Put the collar on. It will better than any fucking sex you’ve ever imagined in your wildest, pedestrian fantasies.”

And he doesn’t know why, but he does. He picks up the collar, turns to Mistress Paige and puts it around his neck. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees both of the blonde’s reflected, knowing smiles and wonders if they will be a part of this. A part of what will happen next.

“No, they aren’t coming with us.”

He is starting to think that she really can reads minds, when Mistress Paige takes a leash from her purse and attaches it to the collar. He opens his mouth, maybe to protest, to tell her she is going to far. He really doesn’t even know what words want to come out of his empty, dry mouth. But she stops him with a finger across his lips, shushing him.

“Don’t think. Just obey.”


She pats him on the head, runs her fingernails down the side of his neck, then curls her fingers under the edge of the collar. He feel her knuckles against his Adam’s apple as she pulls him close. “Now your getting it,” she whispers, looking straight into his eyes. He believes she is right. His world is changing, becoming transparent and shimmering. The blondes, the bartender, even the leather bar stools and flickering bar lights are fading ghosts.

“Don’t think. Just obey,” Mistress Paige repeats herself. He knows what to say, what she expects of him. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy. Now…” she relaxes her grip on the collar, “get down on you knees.” She repeats herself again, “Don’t think. Just obey.”

Don’t think. Just obey. He hears the words inside of his brain, echoing in his bones like a mantra as he lowers himself to the wooden floor. Staring straight ahead through a sea of legs he hears the noise of the bar — the jukebox, the jumbled drunken voices — as if from behind a wall of leaded glass. Don’t think. Just obey.

“Begin crawling towards the door. Do as your told. Now!”

He does what he must. He crawls.

Tagged BDSM · femdom · discipline · domination · fem fatale

Ironing Day


It took you five rings to answer the telephone. Is that acceptable?

No, Mistress. I was getting the mail and forgot to take the extension phone with me. I’m sorry.

I am very busy running a real estate office here, Thomas. I don’t have time for your fuck-ups. Two Rings! The rules are clear.

Yes, Mistress.

Have you had your nut juice popsicle?

Yes, Mistress. Exactly at Noon, just like you said. Thank you.

And did you wear your pink sissy bloomers to the mail box?

Yes, Mistress. I think the paperboy saw me. It was very embarrassing.

And the ironing? Have you finished it yet?

I have two more of your blouses to do and that will be it, Mistress.

So the iron is still plugged in, correct?

Oh, Mistress, please, no.

Get the iron, Thomas. Now.

Yes, Mistress.

Are you ready, Thomas?

Yes, Mistress.

Pull your right testicle out of the right leg of your sissy bloomers.


Right now. Do it.

Yes, Mistress.

Now place the bottom of the iron on that testicle, Thomas. Hold it there while I count to three. Don’t dare take it off. And don’t you dare scream.

Yes, Mistress.

One. Two. Three. Are you crying, Thomas?

Yes, Mistress.

Good. Do you think you will answer the phone within two rings the next time I call?

Yes, Mistress. I have learned my lesson. You were right to punish me. I was very stupid and I am so sorry.

Go finish the ironing. And prepare dinner for two this evening. I will be bringing home a guest.

Yes, Mistress.

Ok, I will see you later then.


Yes, what is it?

I love you.

Take Your Medicine: Part 1

“Kerrie Marie, come in here right now.”

You shift in your chair at the kitchen table, staring at the book in front of you. Dee Dee is pissed. And when Dee Dee is angry, she spanks. She spanks hard. You know first hand, because you’ve felt the wrath of her open palm and more than a few of her many implements more than once. And Dee Dee is very angry at Kerrie Marie.

“You might as well take your medicine and get it over with,” Dee Dee continues, “because if you don’t, I will spank you twice as hard.”

Although Kerrie Marie is just in the next room –both you and Dee Dee can hear her soft wimpering– Dee Dee doesn’t go after her. Instead she opens the Naughty Closet as she continues to talk in that subdued tone. Out of the corner of your eye you watch her eyeing the various implements hidden there.

“I think your disobedience today requires a rather special sort of punishment, Kerrie Marie.”

Because the cupboard’s open door blocks your view and you don’t dare act interested, you cannot see what Dee Dee is holding, but you do see the look on her face. The way she bites at the corner of her mouth, the hint of a grin playing around it’s edges: Dee Dee has a new toy and she is going to relish using it on Kerrie Marie’s tight little tush.

“There you are, little one.”

Kerrie Marie is standing at the kitchen doorway, hands behind her back, eyes downcast. Her small breasts, held by the purple spandex of the tank top Dee Dee chose for her this morning, are quivering. Dee Dee has turned from the Naughty Closet and is holding a long, thin wirey thing. She wiggles it and you see that it is actually three-pronged. She smiles at Kerrie Marie.

“Are you ready to take your medicine like a big girl?”

“Yes, Miss Dee Dee. I will take my medicine.”

“Do you see what I have?”

Dee Dee swipes the air with her new toy and it makes a crisp swishing sound. Kerrie Marie’s eyes visibly widen, her long lashes fluttering. She takes in a deep breath, but it catches in her throat, making a sound like swallowed sob.

“Yes,” Dee Dee smiles, “this certainly is a nice addition to the Naughty Closet.”  She looks at you.   “Don’t you think so?”

You swallow and answer, “Yes, Miss Dee Dee.” She winks then turns to Kerrie Marie. Before you can consider the meaning of that wink, Dee Dee is pointing to the counter stool. “Position yourself,” she tells Kerrie Marie.  A silent tear, like ice melting ice on a window pane, slowly trickles down Kerrie Marie’s left cheek as she stands in front of the stool and begins to bend over.

Dee Dee grabs her arm. “Wait,” she says and turns to you with a wicked smile on her face. You feel yourself blushing under her scrutiny. “What do you think,” she continues, “panties up or panties down?” You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Head cocked, Dee Dee continues to look at you pointedly. You know you have to say something.

“Down, I guess,” you say sheepishly.

“I thought so.”

She is smirking as she turns back to Kerrie Marie.


“You wouldn’t dare!”

I hoped I sounded cocky, my usual smart-ass self. But, from the look on her face, Samantha wasn’t buying it. Mindy was laughing, watching Samantha as she taunted and teased me. And since I was tied up, there wasn’t much I could do about any of it. Samantha smiled, leaning over my torso, stretching to adjust the leather straps holding my wrists to the bed post.

“You think so, huh?” Then, looking back at Mindy, “Tell him what I was doing this afternoon.”

Because of her petite frame, girlish titties and wispy yellow hair, everybody assumed Mindy was innocent. And she played it for all it was worth. Always wearing tiny tank tops so you could see the hard little buds of her nips through the cotton. And then those wafer-thin sandals, ankle bracelets and toe rings. A lot of the time she even wore her hair in those little-girl braids or pony tails. And the guys ate it up. But I knew better. She was a wicked little thing and dangerous as hell. Now she was looking at me, and I didn’t like that smirk on her face.

“Samantha and I were drinking beer.”

So what, I was thinking and probably would have figured out what Mindy meant pretty quickly if right then she hadn’t distracted me, suddenly pulling up that swatch of pink cloth that went for her skirt and smiling at me.

“Uh, Samantha, honey? Your girlfriend forgot her panties.”

I couldn’t believe what came next. Samantha walked right over to Mindy and knelt in front of her, pulling those small pouty lips apart and putting her tongue right in the open slit. But my cock believed it. Oh boy did it believe it! It was pushing against the zipper of my jeans in no time flat. Of course little Miss Mindy noticed right away.

“Lover boy’s getting a hard-on.”

Samantha was so wrapped up in Mindy’s snatch, I’m not even sure she even heard me. I was starting to get a little peeved. I mean what was the point of all of this? But then Mindy moaned and grabbed Samantha’s head, her fingers pushing through the brunette curls, and started pumping her hips. I wanted loose. Mindy or no Mindy, I wanted some of that action. And Samantha knew it. I’d been begging since we’d moved in together to try a three-way with me. I knew she’d been with girls before we got together, yet she always brushed me off, said she was done with “all of that.” So what was she up to?

“Samantha, come on. Untie me.”

She turned, her hands splayed across Mindy’s pelvis, looking across at me from down on her knees. I thought I was going to cum in my pants, right then and there. Her beautiful, naturally pink lips were smeared with Mindy’s juices. I couldn’t help it. I moaned.

And that is when they knew they had me. Next thing I know they were on the bed crawling all over me, rearranging this, untying that, pushing me here, retying there. I was helpless. And, I’ll admit it, I really didn’t mind. Both girls rubbing up against me as they got me where they wanted me.

Anyway, next think I know, while my left hand is still tied to the headboard, my right hand is now tied to my cock and Samantha is squatting over my cock. Mindy is perched above my head, that smooth open pussy almost dripping on me. I swear her clit was the size of a grape. And I wanted it. I wanted it bad.

“Stroke your cock and I’ll let you get a taste of that,” Samantha said as she lowered her hips down a little. I could see her spread right over my crotch and instinctively squeezed my buttocks and thrust my hips up. She pulled back quickly.

“No, no, no….”

“Please, Samantha, just untie me. Let’s play. Come on, honey.”

“Oh, we’re going to play. We are just going to play my way–not yours. Got it?”

“You heard her. Samantha’s way. That’s the only way you get to cum,” Mindy said, lowering those swollen, moist lips to the very tip of my nose, barely grazing it. I inhaled deeply. I felt my cock flinch in my tied up fist.

“Stroke it.”

Samantha’s voice was stern. She meant business, and I was so hot I didn’t care any more. I started jacking off my meat, feeling the nylon rope tugging at my knuckles and wrist with each stroke. I started moaning and groaning–I couldn’t help it–as Mindy finally lowered that slick, wet, throbbing cunt onto my face. Her slender, hard thighs were pressing in against my cheeks. I felt trapped. But I didn’t want to be anywhere else and began licking furiously, swallowing every bit of juice that ran onto my tongue.

I felt myself riding that wave, could feel my balls drawing up and tightening, when Samantha grabbed my wrist. She didn’t stop me, but slowed my pumping down just enough that I couldn’t cum. I was losing my mind.

“I said my way, baby, and I mean it. So what’s it gonna be? Huh? My way or no cummy for cocky? You tell me.”

“Answer her,” Mindy said, lifting up. She shoved those slender fingers into her pussy and rotated her hips. “You want more of this? Do you? Do you want to jerk that dick of yours?  Then tell Samantha you’ll do what your told.”

“Yes.  Fuck it. Yes. Just let me cum. Let go of my arm. Just tell me what you want.  I’ll do it, damn it, I’ll do it.”

“Good boy! That’s just what I needed to hear.”

Samantha finally let go of my wrist, then slid up between my legs.  She reached under my knees and started pushing my legs up.  I was so out of it, I didn’t really get what was going on, but then Mindy was wrapping her sticky fingers around my neck, cupping my jaw, me still looking up into that beautiful slit.  I think I was whimpering at that point, watching my pelvis moving closer to my face, seeing my fist-wrapped, dripping prick right there.  Right there in front of my fucking face and I didn’t even care now, because I would do anything to cum.  And the girls knew it.

“Open your mouth and jerk,” Mindy said as her thumbs slid into the corners of my mouth.”

Samantha giggled.  “Go ahead.”  That stern voice again.  “You got your threesome, now you’re going to show your appreciation.”  I could feel Mindy wedging her thumbs, forcing my mouth open.

I started jerking, moaning, bucking my hips, grunting.

“You gonna cum, Jerky Boy?  You gonna swallow your load?” Mindy taunted.

And then there it was, gushing into my mouth, all over my face, down my chin.

I was cumming so hard,  I could feel my curved tailbone bouncing off the mattress, the muscles in my thighs clenching and un-clenching as I humped my own hand.

And I swallowed and I swallowed and I swallowed.

Have You Been a Bad Boy?

“Get to my room, now!”

Martin, hanging his head with the embarrassment of being caught, bent down to reach for his jeans.

“Oh no you don’t!  Just leave them there.”

Turning, he started hobbling in the direction of Tandy’s bedroom, pants around his ankles. Behind him, he could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she followed.

“Now you tell me, little man,” she continued as they preceded down the narrow hallway, “just what you think you were doing in that bathroom. I have warned you, time and again, about touching yourself without permission.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Tandy, I promise I won’t do it again.”

As he turned into Tandy’s bedroom, he could see that the new wooden hairbrush and well-used riding crop were already placed in the center of the bed.

“You know what to do. Get in there.”

He shuffled over to the bed as best he could, then stood with his hands to his side as Tandy moved around him to sit on the edge of the bed, her red skirt riding up to stretch taut across the top of her thighs. He couldn’t help himself. At the sight of her perfect legs, the womanly spoon of her lap, he felt his prick swelling. Tandy noticed and laughed, slowly moving her head head back and forth.

“Don’t even think about it, Martin. Here, put this on, because I am not touching that thing.”

She handed him a thick rubber band, pointedly looking away from his groin area. As he started winding and rewinding it around the base of his cock, Tandy ran her hands across her lap a few times and shifted on the mattress, as if preparing herself.  “I’m so disgusted with you, I might make you wear that rubberband to the restaurant later,” she said, tossing her long blonde hair.  He knew he was going to get spanked and that he was not going to cum.

“Three spankings for you today, Martin, three! One with the hand, one with the rod, and one with the brush. Now get over my lap.”

The rubber band tightly in place, Martin complied, his rigid but useless organ sliding between the softness of Tandy’s thighs.

Tandy rubbed his bottom and cooed, “Such a tender little bottom.  Why, oh, why can’t you behave?”

Staring at the carpet beneath him, hearing her deep intake of breath, feeling her body tense and flex as she raised her arm, he braced himself.

“Have you been a bad boy?”

“Yes, Miss Tandy, I have been a bad boy.”

Then the sharp sting of her hand was upon him.

miss mar

“I’m sending you away for a while. I don’t know what else to do.”

You’d heard Miss Margaret’s car pulling into the driveway, even as your mother started to cry. Sitting here now in the spare bedroom of her summer house, you’re waiting for Miss Margaret, wondering what she is going to do. She won’t break me, you think to yourself.

When the door finally opens, Miss Margaret is not alone. Two teenage girls, beautiful teenage girls, and some bulked-up guy–probably one of those weightlifters, you think– enter the room behind her.

“So this is the naughty boy,” the blonde says, “He doesn’t exactly look tough to me. What do you think, Barry?” She looks at the guy expectantly. He doesn’t answer her, but looks at you grinning. You don’t like that grin; there’s something menacing about it. And for the first time, you start getting a little nervous. Miss Margaret sits beside you on the bed. Miss Margaret’s voice hisses at your ear as she suddenly grabs your balls through your jeans.

“Do you know what Miss Margaret does with smart-ass college boys who don’t know how to behave?”

Before you can react, the redhead in the purple dress has pulled out a cord of rope from somewhere and you’re feeling a sharp pinch in your right shoulder muscle. You try to say something, but your words come out thick and slurred. Then everything goes dark.


You are swimming. No, it only feels like you are swimming, lead weight against your waking slumber, pushing you back. Forcing your eyelids against the heaviness you try to think, try to remember. Blurry shapes, movement. Something in front of your face.

“Open your mouth.”

The voice is deep, a man’s voice. Somebody is giggling. Something fleshy, bulbous is pushing against your dry lips. You want to lick them, moisten them, but don’t dare, because somewhere deep inside of you, you know what that something is.

“Rachael, why don’t you tell my nephew exactly what is expected of him.”

Miss Margaret’s throaty voice. The giggling again. One, no–two girls. You remember them, the blonde and the redhead. I need to get the hell out of here, you think. You try to move, feel the tight restraints across your chest and arms, your hips, your spread legs. Something cold, cold metal between your legs. The blonde is looming above you, sneering wickedly. “You feel this,” she asks, reaching between your legs, and you feel the the smooth, cool band of metal tightening around your testicles. She smiles as you moan in pain.

“Now here’s the deal, college boy,” Rachael purrs, pushing your bangs back with her free hand, then cupping your face. The redhead is there now, reaching for your cock and beginning to stroke it as Rachael wraps her free hand around the dick bobbing against your cheek. “You are going to suck my boyfriend’s big, fat dick and you are going to swallow his load.” She moves the head of the cock, a slick bubble of precum teetering from its slit, down the bridge of your nose, across your upper lip. You try to turn your head, but her fingers tighten around your chin as she smears the precum across your tightly pressed lips.

“Either you open up and take it like a good boy, or I’ll tighten this so quick you just might lose these balls.”

She gives the metal device a quick turn. “I’m not kidding.”

Your mouth opens in a groan as Rachael slides the head of Barry’s cock onto your tongue.

“Does our college boy dick-eater have a stiffie, Marla?”

As Rachael forces the prick into the back of your mouth, you hear the blonde and Miss Margaret laughing.

“He’s as hard as a fucking rock.”

And you know she’s right, because despite the shame, despite everything, you are hotter than you’ve ever been.

“That’s a good boy,” you hear Miss Margaret say as you start sucking the dick in earnest.” Now swallow that big load. And when you do, Marla will let you cum. Won’t you dear?”

And you do.

Miss Danielle

“Take it out.”

He had to obey. She was his owner after all. Disobedience was not an option. She’d made that perfectly clear when he’d signed the slave papers.

“You like that thing way too much. It makes you stupid. Do you know that?”

“Yes, Miss Danielle.”

“When was the last time I let you relieve yourself?”

“Three months, Miss Danielle.”

“Go ahead and play with it, for goodness sake. I know you want to. It’s already dripping.”

She watched, bemused, as he tried not to squirm or groan, as he tried to refrain from stroking too quickly. “How badly,” she purred, “do you want that orgasm?”

“Oh, Miss Danielle, I want it so badly. I would do anything, Miss Danielle.”

“Be careful with your words, beloved slave,” she ran her long nails down his arm, then over across his left nipple. He shivered. There was something about her today, something calculating and sinister. It both excited and frightened him.

“I’m considering castration.”

“Oh, please, Miss Danielle”

“Please, what? See what I mean? That it makes you stupid? Speak clearly. Please castrate you or please do not castrate you? What are you trying to say?.”

But he was in the throws of orgasm, his fluid gushing, his member jerking, tears pouring down his face.

“Never mind. You just told me.”