Also the spectacle and the awareness of her own body. Daily and, so to speak, ceremoniously soiled with saliva and sperm, she felt herself literally to be the repository of impurity, the sink mentioned in the Scriptures. And yet those parts of her body most constantly offended, having become less sensitive, at the same time seemed to her to have become more beautiful and, as it were, ennobled: her mouth closed upon anonymous members, the tips of her breasts constantly fondled by hands, and between her quartered thighs the twin, contiguous paths wantonly ploughed.

Pauline Réage
Story of O

abuse him

December 7, 2019

She loved this animal state that gnawed inside her – she knew without thinking about it, that she would abuse him throughout the evening.

In Bondage

December 1, 2019

But he spoke. Holding her by the collar, with two fingers slipped in between the neck and collar, he told her it was his intention that henceforth she should be shared by him and those of his choosing, and by those whom he did not know who were connected to the society of the château, shared as she had been the previous evening.

Pauline Réage
Story of O

sacrificial lamb

November 9, 2019

Once every month he visited the woman who wore a carapace of black rubber and a face-mask. She had a room in her house that she’d transformed years ago into a torture chamber. It was in there she did what she did to him, the things so desperately required to replenish his emptiness. Tied to a solid wooden cross, a sacrificial lamb, his head full of silence broken by the sound of her spikey high heels on the wooden floorboards as she circled him, dragging her shadow behind her like a vast, unappreciated weight. He was all appetite. Soon he’d be filled to overflowing with pain. She laughed and he glimpsed Armageddon in her eyes – So his ordeal began.

Bonsai

October 12, 2019

Her rooms were filled with Bonsai trees. It was her hobby, creating those miniature oaks, elms and maples. She trimmed their roots and crowns keeping the trees small to meet her exacting aesthetic standards.

‘It is an artform,’ she said. ‘They need care and attention – sunlight, water and occasional fertilizing. My next project is to refashion a man. Create a living Bonsai man.’

‘Surely that’s not possible,’ I said, smiling.

‘Yes, it is. Bonsai symbolizes harmony, peace and balance. I will create such a man. He will need much careful trimming to begin, regular pruning. But I can do it. I will do it -’

‘No man would allow himself to be used in such a way,’ I said. ‘Surely you’re joking?’

‘No joke. Consent is not required. Training will take around two to three years, I imagine. And you are already here, bound to my bed. You are a man who pays to visit a professional dominatrix. A man full of unwholesome desires and needs. A man drowning in imperfections. A perfect subject for my experiment…’

Her laughter sounds not quite sane.

‘You must untie me,’ I said.

‘Must I?’ She held up a coil of copper wire in a leather gloved hand. ‘This will assist in bending your limbs into the desired shape. This will all take time of course. But you will experience a great sense of pride, I’m certain, as the first of a new type of man. Bonsai man…’

all night long

September 6, 2019

Two very predatory lesbians put young Caitlin through her paces all night long. She would leave that hotel in the morning an exhausted and sore mess. Thanking the women nicely for her first girl-on-girl bondage experience, she asked could she see them again…and sometime soon, please?

Anon
The Lesbian Teacher

Now I am quietly waiting for the catastrophe of my personality to seem beautiful again, and interesting, and modern.

Frank O’Hara
Meditations in an Emergency

Forced masturbation

January 20, 2019

Last Sunday night they masturbated me so much and so many times that my cock is still sore a full week later –

needing to be manhandled

January 6, 2019

A major part of my kink/submission is needing to be manhandled, put in my place and MADE to submit. It is not all the time but it is certainly a strong and powerful kink for me and one that I get off on. I like the fight; I like the roughness that comes with it, the hair pulling, the biting, the spanking, the bondage, but most of all the need for him to exert his physical superior strength over me. I want to know I don’t have an option; I want my clothes torn, my wrists held and my resistance broken. I want, no, I need him to hold me down and as part of that aspect of my kink I will fight, or sometimes beg and cry and plead for him to stop but if he did? Ha! That thought makes me laugh as I know I would be like…. “Huh? Why did you stop? Don’t stop now things where just getting really interesting.” I would be disappointed and probably very frustrated.

Molly Moore
The Power of NO!

“As a dominatrix you must dominate yourself,” says Catherine. “Otherwise you take the chance of killing someone or doing serious damage, so you have to know your limits.” How far will she go? “Blood is only drawn with initiates,” says Beverly. “It is considered a special mark.”

“I stop at what is irreversible,” Madame says. Except when she doesn’t.

Christian first contacted Catherine in 1986 when he was a beautiful young man of 23. He wanted to meet her, to serve her. One day, some years later, he delivered to her a handsome brown box, lined in olive-green velvet, in which lay an exquisite and unique object. It was a branding iron with a carved ivory handle and the initials of Catherine’s nom de plume, “JDB,” on its end. He wanted her to brand him. She did.

“I fell into my dream,” he says of his relationship with Catherine, “and I have never left it.” Over the course of almost 20 years, the marks faded, and a year ago there was another ceremony, to renew them.

Toni Bentley
The Thin End of the Whip