A prophesy fulfilled

I must be prescient. The day after writing “A natural Domme” I discovered what C had planned.

I was lying in bed contemplating an end to seven days of denial and wondering why C was taking so long in the bathroom when the bedroom door opened and a fantasy figure strode into the room. C was taking so long because she was getting changed into full-on, femdom garb.

Now, I appreciate a good cliché as well as the next man but, I can tell you, when a beautiful lady in a black basque, stockings, g-string and high-heeled shoes is standing astride you, it has a remarkable effect on the hormones and general attentiveness.

A stern, don’t-mess-with-me voice asked, “And what exactly are you going to do for me, little boy?”

I’m not going to go into the details of exactly what it was I found I could do for her. Suffice it to say that a good time was had by all. We did discover that high heels are not perfect bed wear, despite what the porn merchants would have you believe. I also discovered that I have rather more of a foot fetish than I had previously thought.

Afterwards C told me she had been looking for a black whip to complete the ensemble. I think that might have finished me off but (ahem) there’s always next time!

Vera Vision Sneak Peek--Playin' Footsie

To be perfectly honest, I hate feet. Something about them just seems dirty and disgusting to me. You wear dirty socks over them and smelly shoes. And sometimes, the smell is indescribably gross. I honestly do not like feet, which is particularly funny since I have a foot fetish.

It all started when I was in college. I was taking a bath with an ex-boyfriend and he was massaging me. Suddenly, he grabbed one of my feet and began sucking on one of the toes. At first, I was disgusted. Dude, do you know where my feet have been? They have been in my Nikes. They have walked barefoot in the grass. They have creepy-crawly germs all over them. Soap and water will just get rid of the funk and dirt.

But as he continued to suck, I was turned on. He was exploring erotic places on my body and mind I didn’t know even existed. My entire body was on fire and I had never been wetter. The way his tongue moved in between my toes made me wonder if he was trying to make me cum because it was a guarantee any minute then. I didn’t have to wait too long for my answer: I came so hard, water splashed out of the tub. My body trembled and it took forever to come down from my high.

So maybe, feet weren’t so bad.

Taken [part 2]

After two weeks of no contact, I felt safe that the man had forgotten me. Walking home from school one day, I laughed to myself, astounded that I had done what I had. I was convinced that he was a predator; I knew I was smart, I felt embarrassed that I had so easily gotten involved with such a man, that I hadn’t picked up on the signs. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, wondering how we knew how to get me so wet, how he knew exactly what to say to get me begging. To really, when I thought about it, completely change who I was. I was definitely not a slut. In real life, no guys even looked at me. I was one of those good girls, who followed school rules and had a below-the-knee uniform skirt. No, definitely not a slut. As I walked along the tennis courts, I suddenly felt smart. Yes, I had been foolish. But I caught myself! I didn’t completely give in. I wasn’t one of those stupid girls who would’ve gotten kidnapped and raped. I was smart.

Suddenly I felt a hand grab me from behind, covering my mouth. Another quickly gripped ahold around my throat, substantially blocking my airway. I tried to scream as I felt myself being dragged towards the connecting fence, the side that was surrounded by thick trees. Glancing around, I saw three more people waiting. I tried to kick and dig my heels in, stop him from moving me, but he just dragged me.

I felt myself start to cry as my wrists were grabbed and quickly cuffed. The man behind me squeezed my throat tight.

Not a fucking word bitch, you understand?

I thrashed around, desperate for air. I shook my head. He moved his hand from my mouth and slapped me harshly, before covering my mouth again. I cried out from shock and pain. I felt hands yanking up my skirt, tearing at my panties. I heard something slicing, and my panties being torn from my body. Fingers quickly pried away from my lips as I felt my panties shoved into my mouth. Some sort of tape was used to fasten in the make-shift gag. My cuffed wrists were quickly yanked above my head, held fast by another set of cuffs linked through the tennis court fence.

A hand roughly grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking my head back and twisting my face towards the eyes of my captor.

Make a noise and I’ll strip you naked and leave you here with my friends, understand?

I felt like I was getting stabbed in the chest as I realised I knew that sneer. I looked at him, tears streaming down my face as I nodded that I understood.

Now slut, you say you aren’t a slut at all, that you’re a virgin. Who the fuck do you think you are, toying with me like that? Do you have any idea what you have done?

I am crying, shaking, unable to break eye contact.

Spread your legs.

I cry more.

Spread your fucking legs, bitch.

He pinches me and forcefully spreads my legs. He instructs me to lean forward and stick my arse out. He shoves his hand up my skirt and roughly grabs my arse. I do as I am told.

If you aren’t a slut, you are a damn good actress. But you are a slut, aren’t you? Your cunt is dripping right now, I bet. Let’s make a deal. If I feel that cunt of yours, and it isn’t completely soaked, I’ll let you go. But if it is – and I know it is – then your arse is in for a punishment, understands? If that tight little cunt of yours is as wet as I think it is, you know what it means, don’t you?

I squirm around, begging my body to not react, praying my pussy isn’t wet.

It means that you are just a slut. Just a cum hungry, fucktoy whore, begging to be used and abused and filled by any cock out there. Are you a slut? My friends think you are. I know you are. And so do you, don’t you? You can feel that little cunt of yours getting all juicy for us right now, can’t you whore?

He has lifted my skirt up, exposing my arse. His finger is slowly trailing down between my arse cheeks. I squirm a little. He moves his hand around to my front, I can feel the heat of his palm on the outside of my pussy. Suddenly, he slaps me hard, right on my pussy. I cry out in pain. He violently shoves a finger inside, and laughs at how wet I am.

Well, what have we got here? I told you you’re a slut. Look at this.

He wipes my juices over my lips and my face. I try my best to wimper and pout. He kneels down and spreads my pussy lips apart. I hear him sniff me, and comment that there’s nothing like the smell of sweet virgin pussy. He tells me to turn around so my back is to the fence. It is a bit difficult with my hands being tied but I manage. Still kneeling down, he spreads my pussy lips apart and invites his friends to come and see. They each come over, inspecting me and playing with my pussy. They dip fingers inside of me, and rub me up and down. I am embarrassed at how wet I am. I start to forget where I am, and begin to enjoy their touch. I am snapped back to reality when I hear him sneer:

Turn around. Arse out. I told you you would get punished.

(To be continued….)

A natural Domme.

So, how are things going chez Captivated Man? Well, we are continuing to play with chastity and orgasm control and, rather to my surprise, C really enjoys it. I asked her how she felt after the initial “you’re a bit of a weirdo” moment and found that she rather relishes control.

C has no problem at all with the denial part of the equation and is pretty sanguine about the pampering, foot-massage, being-fed-chocolates conclusions. If she has a problem, it’s the tease bit. C is not a natural Domme. I say this but then find myself re-considering. Actually, she is a natural Domme, she just hasn’t had the practice.

Yesterday morning (day 5 of denial for me) we were snuggling in bed and I was getting frisky. C has a really nice bod and being pressed up against it was having the effect you might expect. The alarm went and she got up to have a shower. Normally, she would just disappear and return with a towel wrapped around her hair before getting dressed. Not this morning.  She stood at the side of the bed looking at me with a smile on her face.

“Come back to bed for a minute”

“No”

She then performed, what I can only describe, as a striptease. Incredibly erotic, it left me gasping. She finished with a wiggle of her bottom and said, “You can look, but don’t think you’re touching”, laughed and went off to her shower.

Little things can be astonishingly stimulating when you are “denied”. This evening, when we were eating dinner with our son, I suddenly felt C’s hand run gently over my balls. It probably lasted 3 seconds and would not have been noticed by the most eagle-eyed observer but it left me rock-hard for an hour or more.

Since it’s now day 6 and she usually relents within 7 days, I’m hoping for an entertaining evening. Having said that, C was musing earlier about extending denial for two weeks. She looked at my (stricken) face and said that she thought that was too long for me “at the moment”.

“At the moment” is causing me some concern.

Anonymous Complaint Letters By Angry Persistent Men,Women and Children Who Still Don't Use Email dept.

This tragedy-struck and nostalgic British letter of complaint owes its authorship to good compatriot and fellow conman Shone (to which, yours sincerely here has  added a few more notes of mischief.)

The Proprietor

Jagannath Sweets

31/5 Church Road

Jangpura

New Delhi

Sir

Even as you’re thinking hard about the identity of the strange, derelict fellow with a wispy beard who dropped off this letter at your esteemed sweatshop, dare I suggest you drop the idea immediately? Because the very fact that you’re reading this letter means you’re not going to see my face ever again. Don’t be mistaken. This is not a complaint, nor is it a letter of accusation. I’m simply going to apprise you of the sticky situation I found myself in, after having consumed a bowl of your famous, piping hot gulabjamuns. No pun intended here.

Sir, this situation is stickier than Mr. Sticky, the sticky insect sitting on a plate of sticky sugar plums, and having his sticky sticked. Now I’m a big fan of gulabjamuns and consider them one of the best remedies for a certain condition, which we in the circle call “munchies”. And when beset with the said condition, it is not possible to follow social convention while having the jamuns, or anything sweet for that matter. So there I was, stuffing my mouth with the jamuns at a rate faster than I could swallow, mouth dripping with the sugary syrup and mind completely oblivious to a million stares.

1. Now, despite the desperation on my part at wolfing down the jamuns, I realized a little later that I was not provided with tissue papers. And then, owing to the enhanced state I was in, it occurred to me that there’s never been a time at your sweetshop that I’ve received tissues with the gulabjamuns; or for that matter with any other food item that requires a ceremonial wipe of the hand.

After pondering over the situation awhile, I was forced to bring the matter to the man behind the counter. On being asked for tissues, the man simply pointed my nose to the corner of the shop where they wash the utensils, probably signaling me to wash my hands there. But to my utter horror, I saw utensils in all shapes and sizes, including those similar to the one I’d freshly had my gulabjamuns from,  swimming in water which possessed the colour , consistency and chemical composition of sewerage.

Sir, such visual assault was too much for me. After gathering my bearings, and in a bid to save my olfactory senses from a similar assault, I quickly ran out. But in the process, I forgot that my fingers were still stained and sticky with the syrup from the gulabjamuns.

2.  So far so good. All I had to do was go back to my place and wipe my hands clean. But imagine my plight, of all times, I bump into an extremely attractive acquaintance of mine from my neighbourhood at this hour.  Soon, I was crying out  ‘Oh my woe, spring my tide with the tears of this tragedy of mine and cut off my ears for ye’ , and similar Shakespearean laments.

Now not wanting to waste your time, allow me to fast forward to the situation that brought me the immeasurable agony. Little knowing that my sticky hands had gathered a lot of dirt and grime while on our way back to my room, (and also the fan following of two stray dogs and their humble mother, who had been kind enough to bark annoyingly at me and tug at my trousers for noticing their sickly sweet smell);  I was horrified to find it all imprinted on her lovely white shirt (which enclosed glorious and perfect bosoms under them) while I was trying to take it off. Plus, by now I also noticed some dead flies, or what remained of them, sticking to my palms.

All of this happened so suddenly and it was yet to sink in, when the damsel whose dress I’d just desecrated got up abruptly and gave me an earful about hygiene – she really shuddered to think about the sanitary plight of my privates if such was the condition of my hands. My protests, excuses and pleading fell on deaf ears, and quite validly so, for which distinguished-looking lady of this time and age (the 21st century) would entrust herself to someone who couldn’t maintain the most basic decorum of cleanliness? (However, things like dirt fetishes and excreta fetishes haven’t been included in this discussion.)

Needless to say, I was left shame-faced and with an extremely disturbed psychology; not to mention deprived of some hot “action”. Which is also why this letter has made its way into your hands.

Now I don’t need to stress more on the fact that your gulabjamuns and my plight do share a causal connection, as that much is more than evident. Sure, it was a chain of events that led to the disaster, but one can trace the root cause of all this trouble to a lack of tissues at your sweetshop.  Needless to say, one’s local sweetshop should really be made resonsible for its customers’ need for hygiene, insanity and unrelenting sexual urges.  Therefore, I felt the need to alert you to this glaring slip-up and urge you to take appropriate steps in ensuring an abundant supply of tissues for all your valuable patrons. God forbid anyone should meet the ill-fate I’d befallen.

Yours persistently

Rammstein Pussy song exclusive premiere today

Concerning the content it seems the right place for the premiere LOL- at least it makes one curious, not only because of the eeehm sweet french maid dress LOL :

Rammstein´s  new song *pussy* premiere free and exclusive on visit today

… The preview is hot – and I think you will agree, their clips are great wheather it is ones taste or not…  So let us be curious

Edit1: at 21:55: Oh, that uncensored clipversion is really hardcore… I will reflect if I should let it here or remove this post ^^

Edit2: : I did not remove it but you can see it now only after your age (over 18) is verified.

Wired Pussy with Jade Indica and Ariel x

a little while back I did a shoot for Wired pussy. It had been a while since I had worked with Princess Donna. I must admit that I missed her dearly. She is one of my ( if the THE) most favorite Dom’s to work with. She is wickedly creative and intune with her members’ requests. She certainly did a number on me and Jade. She bascially asked what our limits where and then met us there and then pushed it a little. That’s what I love about Princess Donna. She always meets me at just the right spot in my head to push my limits. We did a lot of cattle proding and torture and something about a fist….LOL

here’s their description:

Ariel X and Jade Indica are two of the toughest and sexiest models around, so Princess Donna gives them no mercy in an all out lesbian BDSM fest. They undress while kneeling on rice, are made to kiss, lick, and fuck each others holes, get whipped with the cat-o-nine tails, shocked with the cattle prod and left to suffer in difficult predicament bondage. All the pain these two sluts endure only adds to the intensity of their orgasms which just keeps cumming and cumming…..Trailer for Wired Pussy