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

Only Cheating Yourself

This isn’t really erotica as much as some thoughts about submission, honesty and the internet. Oh, and by the way, I’ve got this really great idea for a website…

Sam was looking for a Domme. He wasn’t ready to meet anyone in person just yet but he wanted to experiment with his submissive side. He saw a link to a website which looked perfect.FindMyDom.com promised to match him up with his perfect Domme who would supply him with tasks and punishments via their website.

He signed up straight away and began to fill in the complex form. It asked questions about likes and dislikes including hard limits. It also asked about his schedule, when was he usually at a computer, when was his time free. He waded through the survey determinedly. Finally when he had finished, he submitted the form and was met with a message telling him he would be assigned a domme very soon. Continue reading “Only Cheating Yourself”

What A Dominant Woman Wants To Know

It’s not often I feel the need to write here about someone else’s blog post but today is an exception.

Tomio Black wrote about how his Domme makes him feel. Go and read it.
It’s beautiful. It’s eloquent and expressive. It’s sexy.

Most of all, if I’m honest, it’s how I want to make my boy feel. If I* could make him feel like that, I’d be a real Domme. In many ways that post is everything I aspire to.

In it he says he wants dominant women “to have a glimpse of what they are, and why they are so beautiful, through my eyes.” In doing so he’s captured exactly why submissive men are so beautiful in mine.

*Perhaps I do make Mat feel like that. I don’t know. It would be presumptuous of me to assume his feelings, no matter what I hope for.

Earning On His Own

A sequel to: Earning His Domme’s Approval and Earning So Much More

When his Domme arrived at his door he was not surprised. He got into the car both relaxed and apprehensive, he was hers to use, to whore, after all.
When she turned off the usual road he was startled.
“Where are we going?” he forgot himself so far as to ask.
She looked round for a moment, disapproving, but she did not answer him.
He subsided into shamed silence.

They pulled up at the railway station. She pulled into the pickup zone and stopped the engine.
“Wait here”, she got out and went into the ticket office leaving the so familiar music playing in the car. When she returned she walked to the passenger door and opened it.
“Get out”, she instructed him.
He did as he was asked, not too hesitantly.
His Domme held out a ticket to him.
“Here’s your ticket. You will be met at the other end by a man who will say ‘your Domme sent you’, go with him and provide him with whatever service he requires. Your mouth and your ass are his to use today. I will meet you from the train when you return.”
For a moment he looked blankly at her, confused, before swallowing hard.
“Yes, Mistress”, he would obey her in all things as usual. Continue reading “Earning On His Own”

Keep Quiet And Get Fucked

Keep QuietWe were staying away from home for the weekend. I stood watching him in the morning light. Mat was fast asleep, lying on his side, his legs drawn up slightly, under the duvet.

I retrieved the strap-on from the suitcase and buckled it on. I brought the lube with me as I moved over to the bed. I slipped my hand under the quilt and stroked Mat’s bottom gently. He stirred slightly. I took some lube and applied it to his boy-cunt. He moaned happily and shifted onto his front without being asked.

I climbed over him and slid my big blue cock into him gently. He pushed back towards it, murmuring softly in delight.

Once settled comfortably inside him, my body resting over his. I began to pound into him in earnest. My feet pressing against the foot of the bed for leverage, I could move freely and swiftly.

He began to whimper with each stroke, his face pressed into the pillows, trying unsuccessfully to smother the noise. I slid my hands over his mouth, my head close to his ear.
“Keep quiet and get fucked”, I hissed urgently.
I held him there as my hips moved rapidly, driving my cock into him repeatedly until I released his mouth to let him breathe.

I held him and I fucked him until I came to rest, my body lying on his, my cock buried inside him.
It was the perfect way to start the day.

A Memorable Date

I took my boy away, to a hotel, where we could express our love as we pleased, as we needed to, where we could be ourselves.
I needed to hurt him, to keep hurting him and that is what I did; this poem tells you just how much.

Whipped

Sonnet V – A Memorable Date

Tenderly I at first caress your skin,
You stand, my naked boy, for me to touch.
Then take I up my whips, my cane so thin,
This is love’s kiss; let it be not too much.
Sixty seconds doth each long minute make
But measure we alone in counted blows.
Each stroke requested and with love you take,
Given with pride, we do not care who knows.
Six of the best could never be enough
To show each other just how much we care,
Each stripe upon your skin is not too tough,
When knowing  who it was who placed them there.
And all that love poured out ‘twixt us in pain
Bonds us as owned and owner yet again.

© Caitlin 2013

The Will Of The Goddess

He was a slave. Kept in the temple pens his duties were light, his life simple. Then he had been dragged aside by the slave mistress, locked in a cage and left for two days and nights with nothing but a bowl of water. He had begged for food but she had said he would be fed “when it pleased the Goddess”.

Then two women in white robes came for him. They pulled him out, stripped his tunic from him and took him to a wash room and watched while he cleansed himself under their instructions. When they were satisfied they fastened his wrists and led him away. Continue reading “The Will Of The Goddess”