Your Art…

October 28, 2017

Practicing your art is insufficient. You must force your way to its hidden secrets. Such knowledge as this can raise you to the divine…

A little Light Bondage

October 28, 2017

bondage illustrated by john willie

Sunday Morning Pastimes

October 8, 2017

True bliss follows a good whipping…

You are going to burn in the lava of my soul…

What is an hour or two of torture among such close and intimate friends…?

Grip hard and rub fast. Faster…!

Was it a dream, or did we really do that to each other…?

The casualties of love lay all around us…

She said to me, ‘What is life for? What’s it all about?’

And I replied, ‘It’s so we can love other people. So we can love…’

Give each other the gift of time…

excitement and dread

September 24, 2017

fetish fun

I visited her every third Wednesday of the month, that strange, hard woman who was my secret obsession. And I always experienced the same sense of excitement and dread as I walked from the bus stop to her home.

She would be there in her spiky high-heels and tight pin-stripe skirt, long legs enclosed in black fishnet, a waiting spider to my hesitant fly.

Why did I visit her? Was it the cruel suede whip? The humiliation? The feeling of warm, oiled, heavy chrome beads being inserted carefully, one at a time?

Or did I simply wish to explore the psychic territory of pain in search of an ultimate, mystical proof of “otherness” in life, at the outer edges of death? Pain, pleasure, delirium and reason – she provided it all. For a price…

Dirty Thoughts
James Claudel

Never leave her hanging around

September 17, 2017

Ok, so I’m strung up nearly standing on my tip toes, naked, while he got out his rope flogger and rubbed it along my body, swatting me as he walked around my body hanging on display, he never really aimed it seemed, he would remind me that i was his property and he would strike where he desired, the knots on the rope flogger bit into my skin everywhere they landed, after about 15 minutes of speckling my body with his marks, he walked out and left me hanging….

Anon
Sorting Lucy

9th September

Ahead of us, a weekend of unusual entertainments. J will be one of our select guests, and will bless our gathering and provide a spell of protection. Her nickname is Witch-Bitch and she will partake of the entertainment on offer.

Erotic delights will abound. Limbs will be restrained, oiled skin caressed; there will be uninhibited intimacy for all, with each of our fantasies very different. Eight guests, close friends, all individuals, all unique –

Here, will be our playground of the wicked. A place of sensory deprivation, masks, leather cuffs, straps and accessories. Here, fingers will tease and torment. Soft sensual voices will be heard and the sound of stiletto heels on the hardwood floor of our playroom –

The submissive moans of a female, following a dominant’s orders; the gentle begging of a hog-tied male, teased to a point where reality appears to collapse in on itself. Our every day personas will melt away. We’ll let go of our ‘to-do lists’, forget deadlines and projects. Instead our minds will focus on the incredible things happening to our bodies –

And it’s not about pain but about experiencing ultimate pleasure through different sensations, about handing over control to another. The mind, after all, is the largest sexual organ of the body.

#

Heavy rain during the night. So loud it woke me frequently. The moor is drowning this morning under a cloud filled sky. What the feck happened to summer…?

Play safe Sunday

September 3, 2017

‘I want to taste your flesh,’ he said. ‘Know your secret pleasures.’

‘I understand,’ she replied, quietly.

‘Do you? Because I love you louder than your demons will ever be able scream – ’

Without uttering another word he taped her mouth. She knew her position was hopeless. She was bound hand and foot, naked, totally at his mercy. Whatever perverted things he desired – sick fantasies of rape and violation. It was all possible now. And she’d given her consent…

He could rip the fucking soul from her body – what had she been thinking?

Then she heard him say, ‘The things I’ll do to you won’t feel that bad. At least to begin with. Best you lay still and let them happen. Don’t think about them. Try to take pleasure from each new experience…In time you’ll become addicted to my little games. Believe me you’ll crave them.’

She wanted to reply, to speak, but she couldn’t. Her head was a mad chaos of fear and passion. She made a series of muffled sounds behind the gag.

And then, God help her, he began.

She felt his hands on her. It was as if nerves in her body were being uncovered – once exposed they would hurt horribly. They would go on hurting all the rest of her life with a pain she’d never experienced before. A new agony let lose in the world. Behind her gag was a muffled cry or shout that she felt would never stop.

He was a cruel man, but exceptionally generous. After each fresh torment inflicted, he would mutter endearments to her.

Julian Paul
The Doll’s House

He was trembling slightly with the humiliation of this situation. He’d removed his clothes as she’d ordered, and now he started rubbing and pulling his cock. He looked down at the floor as he rubbed, blushing, hoping to hell he could cum quickly and get this ordeal over with.

‘I see that thing of yours is nice and hard, eh?’ she said. ‘You’re enjoying wanking in front of me, aren’t you?’

He glanced at her face. She was smiling at him.

‘Keep rubbing it,’ she said. ‘Go a little faster. Tell me when you’re near to cumming.’

‘I’m going to,’ he said, his voice little louder than a whisper.

‘STOP!’ she ordered. She went to a cupboard and took out a pint beer glass. He stood watching her, his cock throbbing and stiff, hands at his side. ‘You cum in this,’ she said, handing him the glass.

He started stroking his cock again, then moved the glass into position with his free left hand.

‘I’m going to cum,’ he said, and he did – almost immediately. She watched, smiling, her eyes intense but hard.

‘Good boy,’ she encouraged him. When he’d finally squeezed the last drop of his creamy spunk into the mug, she said, ‘Now you drink it, yes? Drink it all down – ’

Diana Shreffer
Silent Submissions