A Pizza Topping You Can’t Order

Mat was feeling slutty. He had been feeling that way for a while and his need was boiling over in him. I should probably point out that I had (originally) no intention of letting him cum that day and he knew it.

Lunch was leftover pizza from the night before. Well brunch really. Actually I mean, despite the lateness of the hour, it was actually breakfast – but pizza for breakfast is good, right?

I’d heated it up in the oven and was offering Mat some but he was initially reluctant. Then he suggested (frivolously) he could spunk on a slice of seafood pizza and then eat it.

Oh, so much, yes.

I gave him a plate with the one remaining slice of seafood pizza (tuna, onion, prawns and double anchovies) and sat back with my own plate of pizza to watch the show.

Mat was feeling slutty. He was naked, wanking his cock and telling me his filthy fantasies. Expressing a desire to suck cock, to be spunked on and to have his virgin cunt raped by an enormous cock.

That fantasy wasn’t enough for him alone, he needed more. He requested permission to use a toy and I granted it. He fetched my big blue dildo and proceeded to fuck himself on it eagerly.

I watched, I ate pizza, I tweaked his nipples and slapped his balls and told him what a filthy slut he was. I enjoyed the show.

He came, like a good boy, on his slice of pizza and then, like a good boy, he ate it up. Grimacing in the aftermath, a pizza almost too salty even for my anchovy loving Boy.

A pizza with a topping you can’t order.

My Own Private Gay Porn Show

Mat wanted cock; more than that, he needed it. It had become a hunger and he needed filling in every sense.

I approved his search for a man, someone who would let him suck his cock and, important to us both, would let me watch. I was surprised how quickly he found somebody, how quickly we managed to arrange a meeting.

We were nervous and approached cautiously. We were looking for someone who was looking for us. Our paths crossed with a man and we walked on.

“If that’s him”, Mat checked with me, “do you want to go through with this”.
“Yes”, I was suddenly more confident, “I do”.

We wheeled round and this time we all greeted each other. Nervously, hesitantly we made our way inside. The location was as described. Comfy chairs gave me somewhere to sit and watch. We kept the lights low but I could see perfectly well.

Mat kneeled in front of the man and began stroking him through his jeans. He looked sideways at me, putting on a show.

Still as I watched he forgot himself as the man in front of him instructed Mat in how to pleasure him, controlled him, fucked his face, used him.
I watched. I told Mat he was a Good Boy, I held his head and stroked his back and then sat back to watch some more. This was sexy and good.

This man knew how to use him, how to speak to him. I felt a tingle of electricity as I watched and listened.
“Some men are destined to suck other men’s cocks, don’t you think?”, he remarked to me.
Watching Mat with his mouth full, eagerly pleasuring him I felt inclined to agree.

When his kind benefactor gave him a face full of spunk I ran my fingers across Mat’s face, feeding it to him, watching him swallow it down eagerly.

This done we all sat back to relax, to chat and to agree that we might indeed like to do that again someday…soon.

 

The Twelve Days of Christmas (My Version)

On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me…

With a Domme (and a sub) who loves numbers, Christmas and various versions of that song how else could we celebrate Christmas but with a little game.

And so, on Christmas Day there was one stroke from the black cane for my submissive.

The next day my Boy was again ordered to lie down on the bed and present his bottom for two strokes from the butter hand (ridged side down) and, of course, one from the thin black cane.

I’ll spare you the elaborate version of this tale to reveal that on the twelfth day there was :

An Uncertain Invasion

Sucking My CockSo many posts start ‘we went to a play party’ but this was our first this year. Yes, you read that correctly. For various reasons formal public play has been missing for a while and that is not good for Mat or for me.

So the result was a trip out to a new event, a new venue and with new people. I was nervous and uncertain and arriving early to a brightly lit empty room with a few people on one side propping up the bar did little to reassure. I didn’t feel like a Domme at that moment and whether Mat responded to that lack, or his uncertainty increased my own I’m not sure but we struggled to find our respective headspaces.

We decided to explore the venue (primarily a swingers club). We found a small dungeon, reassuringly dark and with a few pieces of furniture. That space gave me somewhere to relax, the confidence to put my Boy safely on his lead and to start to play.

Still it was awkward, clumsy, nervous and uncertain. It wasn’t until I had my Boy on all fours on the bed and was pounding into him with my strap-on that I really began to feel like myself again.
I had a wonderful time flogging him, in a gently therapeutic (for both of us) way. We enjoyed watching some boys being thoroughly abused, well I definitely enjoyed it. I even just about found time to use Mat’s boy-cunt again before the evening was over.

And so, finally, we went home, to fall asleep in happy exhaustion. Knowing we need to do this again much more often.

Rope And Steel

Rope and SteelD/s has been struggling to find space in my life recently. Of course there are the little rituals that keep our lives ticking over but some things have been missing…and missed. As they become less common the confidence to even try to find them suffers and so begins a vicious spiral.

What a welcome relief then to get away from the limitations of ordinary, everyday life for a little while and have a break. New surroundings and a lack of routine are both things that seem to open up the space for play.

I would have said we were tired, that we needed sleep but when Mat lay back across the bed, naked, just inviting me to play with his body I could hardly resist. I took my dagger and ran it lightly across his body; threatening and gentle. I used the flat of it to tap his balls and I pressed the point of it into his skin until it left a mark. with my hands I stroked his face and tweaked his nipples. I wanked his cock and watched him gasp but I held back from giving him too much pleasure.

After all, we did need to sleep. I took rope and tied it around the base of his cock and then pulling it back between his legs I settled down to sleep still holding and tugging my Boy.

Waking, holding the rope, in the early light was a delight. A pleasure too long missed. My Boy and I, for once, awake together.

I couldn’t resist playing with his body and began to wank him again. I took up my dagger and laid it across his throat with one hand as I pulled him to the edge of orgasm with the other. I let it fade and then enjoyed bringing him to the point of no return. My good Boy, steel across his throat as he bucked in helpless pleasure.

For those precious hours he was my Boy and I was his Domme. Perfect, happy and complete; with rope and steel.

 

In Belgium No One Can Hear You Scream

My Good Boy My boy and I had a weekend away. Now as this was a trip abroad it was filled with sightseeing and adventure but even so we found some time to play together.

We had a sense of freedom, of being anonymous and that enabled us to be far more relaxed than might otherwise be the case.

My boy went out in his collar, the tag peeking through the neck of his shirt, unafraid of who might see (not many people, it was cold and we were wrapped up warmly).

In the hotel I found time to have my boy on his knees, sucking my cock, enjoying the size of it and the anticipation. Then I chose to rape my boy; with no need to be quiet he could surrender to the moment and I could use him without restraint. In return I could demand his cock and I could sing out my pleasure freely (and loudly).

Hotel rules meant that my Boy stayed naked. That he could serve me. It meant he took whatever pain and pleasure I chose and for once I delighted in giving him pleasure. Leaving him shaking and trembling with its intensity (yes, I am a smug Domme and with good reason).

We shared our freedom, our pleasure and our love. My boy, truly mine, for a few precious days.

Sucking My Cock

Do I Need A Safe Word?

My boy has a safe word. Its purpose is to give him a guaranteed way of calling a halt, or just slowing down, anything he has a problem with.
Most of the time he doesn’t need to use it but I feel better for knowing he has the option. It provides a more graceful response than merely dropping out of role and somehow keeps me closer to him through something which otherwise would be a severe disruption to our play.

I have realised though, that as a Domme I have no such option. There is no subtle way for me to express discomfort with a situation. You might think that a Domme has no need of a safe word, after all they are the one in control aren’t they?
Yet I have found situations in which I have felt uncomfortable. I have been fortunate so far in that they have been ones in which I can simply walk away and that Mat has been sympathetic to my feelings. Still, I can imagine scenarios in which I need to call a halt, in which I need comforting and reassuring. Currently I have nothing I can say to signal this.

I guess that doesn’t sound very Domme-ly but I figure even Dommes have a right to feel safe, to have limits and sometimes even get cuddles and cake.
That’s OK right? Or is it just me?