beneath Her Sneaks ... pleasure and torment

i am happy to say that service to my Mistress has become a daily occurrence, and one that is a definite necessity for me. i must say that i look forward to seeing my Mistress daily; doing Her bidding or just being close to her. it has promulgated a true sense of security and serenity for this fish. i am privy to my Mistress' many personalities and moods. She has become a real person in my life and daily i feel that W/we are learning and growing together. i am many times in awe of Her and the way She takes on the world and lives it on Her own terms. i see the strength she exudes and yet at the same time She is sensitive to the needs and wants of those around Her. i enjoy being in Her world and appreciate the opportunity to be an active participant.

Recently, my Mistress and i were working in Her office. Suddenly, She looked playfully at me and pointed to Her sneakered feet. like the obedient pet that i am i immediately took my place under the soles of Her Nikes. She commanded me to lick the bottom of Her sneakers and that i should do so by probing Her soles with the tip of my tongue. i did so with particular relish. i'm not sure, but i think the pleasure showed in my eyes as i felt the serrated hills and valleys with the tip of my tongue. She pressed in a bit harder and a bit further and rested Her foot on top of my mouth. suddenly, Her cell rang and She picked it up. it was Her Mother!! i tried to get up and slide away, but She would not allow me to. She jammed the sole of her sneakered foot down harder onto my face and began to grind the tread with fervor into my unprotected cheeks. it was painful! i moaned just a little and caught a quick glimpse of my Mistresses' eyes. She opened them wide and glared down at me while applying more pressure with Her right sneaker; flattening my head, i felt the instep of Her deep treads pull, tighten and pinch around the sensitive skin of the eye. it was excruciatingly painful and felt like a cheese grinder was shredding the skin of my face. the serrated edges making mincemeat of my countenance. my vision was distorted and i could only grimmace at the smiling face of my Mistress as She continued to talk laugh while at the same time applying a significant amount of leverage that made the bones of my skull painfully readjust to the pressure.

Her treads bit down hard into my face devouring my tender flesh and leaving little blood trails where the impact ripped and tore at the skin. oh how it hurt and stung! She continued to talk to Her Mother as if nothing had happened at all. She laughed and bantered with elements of small talk while crushing down on the hollow of my cheeks with Her lethal feet. i felt Her flex and release the ball of Her foot while simultaneously curling Her toes inside those sneakers. the motion was like that of sawing and i could not move at all with the force she was now applying to my poor flattened head. it felt as if She was going to bear down and rip my head in half. the pain was quite unbearable and i let out a tiny whimper and a gasp. but, at that moment i knew i had crossed the threshold of disobedience.

i can only imagine the conversation.
"What was that sound I just heard", asked Her Mother.
"Oh, that? That was nothing. Just something You heard from the kids playing outside. Nothing at all." replies my Mistress.

They resumed their conversation, but i can tell that my Mistress is ratcheting my torment up to another level. while holding Her cell in one hand, She gingerly reaches down and adjusts my head so it is level with that of the toe of Her right sneaker. She glares down at me again and then jams the toe of Her sneaker forcefully into my mouth, smiling and talking while simultaneously gesturing with Her fingers to Her lips for me to be quiet. i mumble a bit and try to dislodge Her foot, but She only presses it in deeper and locks my hands to my side with Her other foot to stop their interference. i can feel the serrated edges of the sneaker against my tongue. my mouth is lodged wide open as She presses in further forcing my mouth to open more. i can feel the toe of Her foot almost touching the back of my throat and i feel a gag reflex coming on, but am able to stifle it. my eyes narrow and well up with tears as i feel another gag reflex coming on. this time i choke a gag a bit, but this just gives Her more leeway to further torment. the taste of iron fills my mouth. i am now bleeding from Her scrapping the inside of my mouth with Her hard sneakers. She grabs my head and wiggles Her foot to make more room in my overtaxed mouth. the muscles of my jaws are sore and burning. surely, the next movement forward will certainly dislocate it. i try to look pleadingly up into my Mistresses' green eyes. She smiles knowingly, but shakes Her head. i now can feel the toe of Her foot lodged past my tongue and brushing against my larnyx. i feel faint and things start to go dizzy.

then, just as quickly as the torture began, She clicks off Her cell and removes Her size 8 from my mouth. She takes my chin in Her palm looks me directly in the eye and says.

"When I say be quiet pet, that is exactly what I mean and want. Maybe next time You will pay attention, so W/we will not have to repeat this exercise again." She is quite stern with me and it makes me feel worse. how i hate displeasing Her. it is more than i can bear.

i manage to say yes Mistress and massage my almost sprung jaw. She strokes the side of my face and allows me to rest my head comfortably in Her lap.

"now, don't pout ... go get me a glass of water and lets continue working."
She says while reviewing the files on Her laptop. Her voice is calm and soothing to me.

i move quickly to fulfill Her request. W/we both go back to work and it is as if the incident never happened.

a dominated and kinky holiday to all

hmmm ... i wonder what happened here? did the jolly, old, fat man in the red suit get caught red handed in Mistress' panty drawer, or better yet did Mrs. Claus catch him hanging mistletoe somewhere he had no business being.

or ...

did he put these two Dominatrixes on the naughty list once too often. once would of been enough; Y/you know? it would be interesting to see what happens next. ah well, that is why i have a vivid fantasy life.

happy holidays to all You kinksters out there.
enjoy the subtle delights of this season and everything it offers to being beaten.

as for me, i intend to get smashed.
in more ways than one. *wink* ;-)

fishpaste

a great smother story

this was a story that i found on the "Diana the Valkyries" website written by an author known as Taz who authored the Sarah Surridge Assassin series. it is filled with mental images of asphyxia, suffocation and profound female domination. it left my heart pounding hard and placed me in an aroused state after reading it. i can only imagine the feelings of helplessness and terror the boy felt as his tormentress toyed with him and slowly but deliberately snuffed the life out of him. enjoy, fishpaste

Teenage Beginnings

Gracefully Sarah climbed over the fence to the yard on the other side.
Yes, she was a burglar and a professional one as well. Her targets were
mainly families in the upper middle class, and when she was sure they
had left their home she struck, quickly emptying the house of all
valuables she could find. Sitting in her car she had noticed earlier
this day how the members of the family packed their Volvo with bags
and drove off, apparently to their vacation somewhere far away from
here. Now it was night and time to get to work.

She wore black clothes, consisting of a tight top stretching to contain her
ample
cleavage complimented by shiny black sheer tights and soles, partially
because
it made her less likely to be discovered in the dark and partially because
it made her feel a bit sexy; burglars can be vane too. The job should be
easy,so
she didn't bother covering her face. Her shoulder length shiny blonde hair
melted fine into
the rest of her tanned pretty face. Sarah began picking the lock of the back
door
and succeeded almost immediately. These people were real suckers, from
her inspections of the house earlier she learnt that they didn't even
have a proper security system. It was as if a red carpet had been laid
out for her, she thought and smiled.

Well inside the house Sarah was a bit disappointed at how easy
everything had gone so far. Maybe they didn't have that much to
protect here after all. She sure hoped this wasn't going to be another
dead end job for her. As her mind wandered she went into the kitchen
and was suddenly startled. Standing by the open refrigerator was a
young teenage boy, in the nude, still half asleep and with a big
hardon. Fuck! she thought, there shouldn't be anyone here by now.
Who's he? The boy turned and looked at her, still sleepy and not
completely sure where he was and what was happening.

"W-who are you?" he mumbled, trying to come to his senses.

Shit, I have to think fast, Sarah thought. He'd seen her face and she
couldn't leave a witness here; too much was at stake. She ran to the
boy and wrestled him to the floor, he didn't offer much resistance.
I've gotta kill him, was all she could think as her adrenaline rushed.
Fumbling a bit she managed to put her right, gloved hand over his surprised
mouth whilst twisted his neck to the right as hard as she could,
just like they did in the movies.

Crack!

Something broke in there and he started to wriggle and quiver under
her, his face was screwed up in pain. A perverted part of her enjoyed
kneeling over this rather nice looking boy, watching him struggle with
this. She examined him more closely in the light from the
refrigerator, lying completly on top of him, her face in his with her
shiny blonde hair hanging down around his face.

The kid had a slim hairless body, not too muscular but still athletic
in a way. His face was free from the pimples that seemed to bother so
many teens and was kind of cute, especially his rather long eyebrows
lent him a sensitive and thoughtful look. Thick, dark brown hair.
What a sweet little boy, Sarah thought.

"ahh sorry hunny but I cant leave you..ssssh" Sarah sympathetically
whispered into his terrified eyes whilst playfully biting his nose

She gently ran her hand across the dying youth's chest, feeling him
shiver and twist as the nerves of his body not quite were in contact
with his brain anymore. His eyes were sad and she could guess the pain
and horror he must feel. It turned her on. She was lying lay herself
on top of him, softly stroking his face with her hand. His skin was
smooth and soft. Positioning her lips at his mouth, she removed her hand
and drove in her tongue and began playing with his.

"You're so cute, do you know that?" she whispered playfully into his
ear. He replied with a gurgling sound and she smiled with her big blue eyes
into his very worried ones.

Caressing his smooth skin she suddenly heard a noise behind her. Realising
she had to act fast, she turned back to the boy and savagly chopped his
adams
apple causing him to convulse. Unable to call for help, Sarah quickly rose
and tip toed to the back door and carefully peered out. It was just a cat
using the metal bin to get onto the fence. Sarahs heart was racing and she
took
a deep breath for a moment in relief

She carefully closed the back door and locked it, trapping the boy inside.
When
she returned to him, she was stunned to find he had managed to get his
mobile phone
out with his other working arm and had apparntly dialled!!! His desperate
eyes locked onto
hers as she raced toward him!!

He was trying to speak into the mouthpiece but nothing was coming out, due
to his
collapsed trachea from Sarahs lucky blow. Like lighting, she kicked the
phone out of his hand
and pushed him onto the floor with her left soled foot, as he tried in vain
to grab
for the phone just out of his reach

Sarah simply sat on his face, her sheer tights encased sex covering his nose
and mouth. She sighed contentedly and wriggled her hips, settling down
solidly onto him. Sarah reached down to the phone, sealing him in his
airtight tomb
She could hear someone on the other end and literally held her breath so as
not
to respond, her cleavage rising up. Bringing the phone close to her, she
looked down at the display,
she could see the number he had dialled, '999'

"Hello??..Please respond?" was the monotone emergency operators voice

The boy had desperatly managed to twist his head to the right and gasp in
some
oxygen, his petrified face bright red from the suffocation and tears
streming
down his face. Sarah smiled down at him as she countered his move by drawing
her thighs toghther around his head
,immobilising it and forcing his face deep into her thighs, squeezing his
nose and mouth into her
and once again cutting off his oxygen supply. Sarah had maintained eye
contact throughout
and that was all that was now visable of his face now. She gently pendulemed
her head from left
to right in a 'uh uh' biting her bottom lip slightly, smiling down into his
frantic eyes
whilst at the same time gently pressing the red 'hangup' button on his
mobile phone
keypad using her long shiny red fingernail

"no you dont you Fucker!" she jokily spourted out with a stunning smile

His hands were feebly clawing and sliding uselessly off Sarahs sheer tights
encased
thighs as she turned the phone off and slide it under the fridge. She now
grabbed his
hands and adjusted until she caught his fingers in hers, linking them
toghther

Sarah doesnt say anything as he silently screamed into her, harmlessly
vibrating through
her body. She drags his hands with her and forces them onto her lap, right
into
her midsection so there was no escape, learning forward into the life
sapping facesit,
her shiny blonde hair hangs down around her pretty facia, her big blue eyes
locked
sexily onto his petrified ones staring back, a smirk plays on her face, her
brillant
white teeth beginning to show as his screams become more consistent, Sarah
squeezes
his hands tightly

Another couple of minutes of stifled asphiaxation has him out of air and
left desperately trying
to suck through Sarahs thighs for oxygen unsuccessfully her pretty blonde
eyes still fixed on his
as his lungs screamed for air, he felt his strength ebb of him, and weakly
tried to turn his head,
to avoid her mocking gaze, but her thighs tightened around his head, and he
could only stare
into her beautiful eyes

Several minutes have passed and her young victim is squirming under her
desperate to be free from her
suffocating grip then with a last shudder he lay lifeless under her

Sarah adjusted her grips on his hands from his fingers to his wrists
simultanusly and felt for his pulse..
it was faint and erratic..then parted her thighs ever so slightly to see his
eyes barely open but enough
for him to see her wink at him

"sssh..iss ok babe!" she coyly matter of factly whispered to him

Sarah squeezed her thighs around his face again before taking a deep breath
and looked up to the ceiling,
running her hands through her hair, so uncaring about his situation she
actually forgot she was sitting on a boy
who she didnt even know, broken into his house and had all but suffocated
him to death in her thighs, when she finally
came back to reality before giving an almighty squeeze of her curvy thighs
around his face again
She parted he thighs a little more this time to see if he was really dead,
ready to trap him again in her legs if he was
acting..he wasnt. His face was pale and a look of petrification covered his
facia. Sarah tilted her head slightly almost sympathetically and ran her
hand through his hair, it was cold and wet

She began to wonder who he was; this house was supposed to be empty. Sarah
released
his clammy hands noting them bounce off her black thighs before resting on
the ceramic
cold kitchen floor.

As she closed the refrigerator she noticed a note stuck to its door.
Picking up her flashlight she read it.

Hi Tom!


Too bad you didn't want to come with us to the
family reunion, I'm sure all your relatives would
have wanted to congratulate you on your recent 18th
birthday. Anyway, there's food in the fridge and
we'll be back on Monday. Have fun!

With a smile Sarah took the note and placed it on the kid's forehead.
She began to search the house for items of value, She found his birthday
present, a gold
watch. Walking out to her car smiling. 18 years old, she thought, he sure
looked young for his age. But what a cutie!

how to serve a Mistress

i was in a chat room a week ago among some other male submissives and the subject came up as to what is the best way to serve one's Mistress? we tossed the subject to and fro and i was surprised at the responses i heard. one guy felt that he should not have to serve his Mistress. indeed he felt as if he was doing everything by presenting his body as a living sacrifice to her needs, whims and wants. i pressed him and asked him if She had asked him to do anything for Her. his reply was yes, but for the most part he enjoyed doing the opposite of what was requested, because it "got Her mad and frustrated and in the long run, he received a a more lethal beating". i considered this a sam (smart assed submissive) response and raised the question to myself. how does one serve his Mistress?

i am appalled that some submissives feel that the best way to serve their Mistresses is to do what is minimally required of them. they expect to be spanked or beaten with their bare asses swaying in the air, craving attention for a shitty, half, assed job which should receive no recognition or physical attention from their Mistress.

i am the opposite in this regard. i so enjoy serving my Mistress. i want to make Her life easier and more fluid so She can concentrate on being a more complete person. whatever She asks of me, i do so gladly and willingly. i expect no punishment or beating in return, but i do appreciate the little pokes, kicks, jabs and punches She manages to dole out along the way.

i enjoy being a positive force in my Mistresses life and having the ability to straighten and organizing the world around Her gives me a true sense of serving and creative purpose. i want Her living quarters to be organized, neat and orderly. She should not have to hunt for clothing or vital documents. Her surroundings should be as clean and uncluttered as possible so She may focus on governing and maintaining Her empire.

i appreciate the trust that She has vested in me in regard to serving Her with running errands, buying groceries, or making deposits at Her bank. the level of trust and transparency between a Mistress and Her slave cannot be taken for granted nor underestimated. indeed, i have heard of relationships in which the submissive knows the needs of His Mistress so well that he has developed the uncanny ability of knowing exactly what She requires or wants before She even speaks of it. it is my hope to have that level of communication with my Mistress.

also in terms of service, chemistry between a Mistress and Her submissive is a key element to balancing and learning from one another. the needs of both must be focused upon and considered, but it is the role of the submissive to accept the dominance and jurisdiction of His Mistress over certain areas of His life. hopefully with time, new levels of intimacy can be developed and combined with the submissive willingly giving over to His Mistress new areas of control. She will use these to satiate Her dominant appetite; to subjugate him and then totally absorb Him into Her world as a part of Her that She can not do without.

i believe this to be the penultimate goal of a balanced, superior, female dominated relationship.

ballbusted and thrown in the bushes

i was recently privileged to accompany my Mistress to an Applebees for a late night libation. She had a rough day with circumstances beyond Her control and had a full blown headache. while driving Her home from a meeting i picked up that She might want to relax a bit before facing the rigors of Her household. i made a pitstop to grab some ibuprofen and then we headed inside to Applebees.

She ordered an Applebee's Mojo and washed down a couple of the gelcaps. We/we talked about everything from politics to Her aspirations. it was good to see Her relax, eat some food and continue to taunt me with any kind of available torture device at Her disposal.

several times she deliberately stuck a straw up my nose and doused me with water from it. forks and knives were used frequently to poke and prod me. She giggled mischievously as She probed me for "doneness". eventually, the alcohol and the meds had begun to magnify the effect. She became more brazen and nailed me relentlessly under the table, striking my groin with the strong ball of Her foot and grinding my testicles into jelly with Her heavily treaded sneakers.

i suppose i brought the pain on myself saying.

"Mistress, You just can't hurt me or do anything to me with Your feet. i'm wearing my boots tonight."

She smiled appreciatively, picked up her cocktail and dangled one long finger over the edge of the glass, then with a furtive glance She bore Her sneakered Nikes again full force under the table into my unprotected groin. She locked them there hard, and continued to press. i immediately experienced intense pain and felt like keeling over. the force of Her kick startled me. i began to experience a slight tinge of nausea and it was as if my balls had climbed up into my throat and had taken permanent residence there. i grabbed the edge of the table and hoped that the waves of queasiness would pass. they did after awhile, and luckily She removed Her foot off my crotch.

"don't ever tell me what i can, and cannot do fishpaste." She glared at me while poking playfully with a fork aiming for a nose, eyeball or whatever presented itself as a tempting target.

the rest of the evening was relaxing and enjoyable. with the exception of a poke, pinch or jab. i seemed to have survived the experience.

after paying the bill, W/we headed out the door. W/we were walking by some bushes when all of a sudden She lunged sideways and leaned quite heavily into me while leveraging Her powerful thighs and legs into my side. i had nothing to do but topple and fall into and on top of some privet bushes. what was more humiliating is that She executed this move so effortlessly that it appeared that i was nothing more than that of a flimsy rag doll to topple at Her whim. what was worse was the moment that She chose this humiliating move. there i was, right smack in front of 2 full cars of people. how utterly humiliating!

"oh man!" i heard one of the guys say. "did you see that? She's gonna kick his ass!" i heard one man loudly announce.

"uh huh! man! She opened up a can of Whup ass on him".

they laughed and joked at my suspense and my Mistress did so too saying. "awwww i know i didn't hit You that hard and you looked absolutely ridiculous ... very amusing though for me." She stood over me mocking my physical ineptness.

I brushed off the underbrush from my rear end and made my way to the car. i could still hear their suffocating laughter and manic snickering. it did bother and embarrass me at first to think that my Mistress could easily toss me around, and throw me down at will, but i decided to try to grow from the experience. the important thing was She was laughing, giggling and having a good time. that was all that was important to me. i wanted to serve her and make sure She was content and happy; at least for the moment.

i must include this pertinent afterthought; in that i was overwhelmingly relieved that this little episode did not take place near a steep cliff. whew!

Santa Self Defense Tips

a kick in the balls holiday spoof.

Scissors in CHUCK_s01ep09.flv

a slight painful detour for a one track mind

stating the obvious

as a frail middleschooler i remember being frequently harassed and bullied by kids bigger and stronger than me. many times i was the target of packs of girls who delighted in "scrubbing" me with lipstick and writing sadistic epithets all over my face. of course it didn't help that my Mom insisted that i look like a "poster child for nerd abuse". She insisted that i dress like a dork with "high water" pants and that i carry a briefcase to classes. i cannot tell you the times that i ended up in the trashcan or my head in the toilet after an unannounced beatdown from female and male bullies alike.

my Mistress many times takes me back to those painful memories which have become so ingrained in my subconscious that they are fodder for fetish fantasies. last night She kept me firmly under Her sneaks all night long and then humiliated and poked fun at me by writing and drawing all over my face. i don't know why, but it was healing for me. frequently, i had to duck Her lethal rights and lefts. one of Her favorite sayings when dealing with me is, "you're flinching again fishpaste." "stop flinching or i'll give You something to truly flinch about." With that She balls up Her fist, takes a fighter's stance and in slow-mo launches a powerful and perfectly placed lethal, eye bruising punch into my right eye. of course, my face is also a roadmap from the pokes, indentations and scratches She leaves all over my countenance from Her sharp nails. yet,regardless of the pain, punishment and ridicule i undergo for Her sadistic urges, i also feel the affection and appreciate so much the attention that She so willingly gives.

Happy belated incarcerated Thanksgiving

i have been quite busy serving my Mistress and attending to her needs and wants and have not been able to update my blog. i am not complaining. it has been a fantastic and wonderful week with Her! just wanted to wish all you perverted kinksters out there a wonderful, enjoyable holiday. perhaps one day i will receive a comment in regard to my postings from one of Y/you. ;) enjoy your holiday.

Girl beats up superman (animation)

this is an older animation, but hilarious in which a Girl literally uses superman as nothing more than a punching bag or one of those punching clowns. Her leg strength would have to be phenomenal to accomplish this. however, i imagine a skilled gymnast with wrestling technique could pull it off quite easily.

dimples from my Mistress

i recently was summoned to do some work at my Mistresses lair. lately She has called me back to work for Her on a number of occasions. i am always happy and elated to do so. it is such a joy to be able to give Her something back in return for all She has done for me. i recently finished doing some cleaning for Her and was preparing to leave. She gave me one of Her excruciatingly tight bear hugs and was preparing to dismiss me. i looked into her penetrating green eyes and then saw Her mischievous grin. framed beautifully by a long strand of hair and accentuated by her teasing smile was a wonderful cute dimple. I exclaimed, "Mistress where did You get such a cute dimple?" She then grabbed my cheeks and pinched them hard while simultaneously slapping the pink out of them. "Awwwwwww, wouldn't You like to know pet? Hmmmm ... i have a better idea. lets give you some." with that she cupped my head in Her hands and bore down insanely hard with Her thumbs, digging and boring Her thumbnails into the sides of my cheeks. it hurt like hell and caused my eyes to water a bit. "Mmmmmmm" ... She said. now you have a matching pair of dimples too. just like Me." She then booted me out the door and i felt the stinging in the sides of my cheeks. as soon as i got home i rushed into the bathroom to see Her marks. sure enough, there they were. the dimples. perfectly balanced on either side of my face. they lasted well into the week. i got many comments from their sudden appearance. i just calmly said, "i cut myself shaving." so far this has worked.

gives new meaning to the term "lifesaver"

cock Huntress ... he knew She was into edge play, but didn't know how extreme.

*(gulp) he found Her boxing gloves ... a premonition of His imminent beatdown

Vice Squad Vixens: Busted!

unbelievable! can You imagine getting clobbered with some of those backfists!? sheer Femdomme strength and wrecking ball punches! i think i heard his nuts crack after she poped them like water balloons! excellent fight choreography!

lol! have a wicked Happy Halloween all Y/you kinksters!

om Goddess! ... revenge, bonebreaking beatdown, domination, edgeplay, cutting reparte and blood. who could ask for anything more? ;)

Hot Girl Destroys Her Opponent - Click here for this week’s top video clips

Poser Soccer Kick ... i love this!

would of been great to see Her launch his head into orbit with a bit of projectile producing gore, but still an awesome kick!

the encounter ... a run in the park ... chamber a kick ... an unexpected ooki :)

edge play ... a gender reversal of roles and fates ...

can you imagine holding the camera when all of a sudden ...

how in the world does she kick so high? i would be Her kicking bag. She could kick me with Her sneaks. ;) ~sushichum~

Wonder Woman: Top, Bottom or Poly?

There's more to this sexually self-determining super-hero.
Published on September 3, 2010 by David J. Ley, Ph.D. in Women Who Stray

One of the best stories of an empowered, sexually-liberated woman and wife is found not in, but behind, the pages of comic books.

Wonder Woman - sexy and liberated - but not monogamous?
Elizabeth "Sadie" Holloway Marston (1893-1993) married William Marston in 1915. Elizabeth had already completed a Bachelor's degree in psychology from Mt. Holyoke, and then attended Law School at Boston University. Elizabeth worked throughout her life, in the executive administration of a life insurance company, and as an editor of law journals, and lecturer in psychology and law. So where's the sex? The kink? The comic books?

Elizabeth's husband was a psychologist, and inventor of some of the technology behind the polygraph, or lie detector, that measured physiological responses as a way to detect falsehoods. William also once gave an influential interview to one of his female students, Olive, describing that he saw comic books as something important, valuable and new. That interview led to William getting attention from comic book publishers. William later developed an idea for a new kind of comic book superhero, one who would use powers of love, truth and honesty to prevail. At Elizabeth's recommendation, her husband proposed the character as a female, and Wonder Woman (originally known as "Suprema") was born.

Growing up, I had a thing for Wonder Woman. I'm partial to brunettes, and Linda Carter in the '70s was the best thing on television, as far as I was concerned. Funnily enough, my wife (a brunette) says that she loved Linda Carter's role as well, because in the days of Farrah Fawcett, there weren't a lot of brown-haired women being put forth as beautiful, strong and sexy. Wonder Woman became a favorite of my wife, and many other dark-haired young women, who wanted to see themselves as beautiful, without the help of Clairol's Nice n Easy Honey Blonde hair color.

But, imagine my surprise when I found out that Wonder Woman's character had a kinky, sexy, past. No, not on that island of Amazonian women that Wonder Woman hailed from, but in the home of William and Elizabeth Marston. With Elizabeth's consent and support, William brought his former student, Olive Byrne, into their home, where she lived with Elizabeth and William as their wife. William had children with both Olive and Elizabeth, and he and Elizabeth formally adopted his children by Olive.

Elizabeth and William Marston

William was a strong supporter of feminist ideals, and female empowerment. In many of the early Wonder Woman comic books, Wonder Woman encourages women to stand up for themselves, to learn to fight, and be strong, so they don't have to be scared, or depend on men. William also described that while female nature was inherently submissive, the world might be a better place if women ruled the world, and that men love to submit to a strong, powerful and alluring woman.

What sorts of submission went on in the Marston bedroom? Surprisingly, details of this unconventional relationship have never been publicly revealed, and even more surprisingly, the family's privacy has been appropriately respected. Even as they worked and lived in very socially conservative times and places, in the Northeast United States, New York and Boston, this nonmonogamous, non-vanilla marriage was regarded as pleasant and refreshing, though somewhat naïve by peers.

Early Wonder Woman comics were filled with depictions of women in bondage, bound, stripped, gagged and tortured. Wonder Woman ended up strapped-down and tied up in almost every episode. But she always broke free. Wonder Woman's appearance, statuesque, brunette, strong and wearing thick, manacle-like bracelets, is supposedly modeled after Olive. So, it's not hard to imagine that perhaps Olive, who didn't work, and stayed home caring for the family's children, was a "bottom," or submissive, in the relationship. But then, who was the top?

Elizabeth was an independent, take-no-shit woman throughout her life. A delightful article from her alma mater, Boston University, describes her granddaughter saying that Elizabeth often told her, "Angel child, never, never be beholden to any man, ever." Elizabeth was already independent and educated, when she married William. And in fact, though her husband got a lot of glories, his stability seems to have been a bit questionable. He hopped from job to job, and actually was unemployed for many years, the family completely supported by Elizabeth.

William died in 1947, and Elizabeth continued to work until 1958, supporting herself, Olive, and their children, and putting all of their children through college. Olive passed away in the late '90s, and Elizabeth herself lived to be a 100, passing away in 1993. It is this part of the story that almost brings tears to my eyes. This powerful, strong-willed and sexy woman, never bowed down to society, to gender-stereotypes, or to social expectations of marriage, and was the matriarch, caregiver and breadwinner for her entire family, for nearly 50 years. Wow. Now that's wonderful. And she did all this decades before feminism, sexual liberation or equal rights were even on the horizon.

Was Elizabeth gay? Bisexual? Was she a top? A bottom or a switch? Did she live with Olive as a wife, a lover, a submissive, or merely a sister? Did Elizabeth dominate both Olive and her husband? Or was Elizabeth one of those powerful, dominant personalities who gain some measure of peace and momentary escape by being submissive, to Olive or to William during sex? Was sadomasochistic play a part of their lives, or merely a part of William's fantasy?

These are marvelous unanswered questions. And they're provocative questions (which should probably remain unanswered), not for the salacious details, but to celebrate the life and success of a wondrously admirable and empowered woman. Elizabeth, with all this delightful kink, is a marvelous role model for the ability to be a sexually self-determining wife, mother, lover, leader, lawyer, psychologist, executive, writer and teacher. You too can live a life of marital and sexual nonconformity, but still be successful, loving, and respected. William might have invented Wonder Woman, and might even have made the character look like Olive, but it was Elizabeth "Sadie" Holloway Marston who lived the life of Wonder Woman, not by fighting crime, but by being strong, unbroken, loving, and true to herself and loved ones.

omg! what a f#%^$g beatdown!

om Goddess! one can only dream ... can Y/you imagine being on the giving or the receiving end? i'll take my chances and receive ;)

squish, squash ... putting the kabosh on those pesky little men!

this photo shop manipulation is amazing of Kim Kardashian working out and squishing the guts out of the paparazzi who have tormented Her so of late. a great Femdomme comment even down to the bloody sneaker tread marks on the gym floor. i had to watch this 2 or three times. enjoy ~sushichum~

Female intuition and multi-tasking ... pass the dunce cap please

upon meeting for the first time i always marvel at the speed of female perceptiveness and intuition. how do they know? how do they know that on the outside we are composed models of respectability, yet on the inside we are with jaws agape, bug eyed slobbering fools, paralyzed by their physical beauty, or stymied by their superior intellect or stopped dead in our tracks by the way they can virtually "walk and chew gum" at the same time. i am blown away by Women and their uncanny, inhuman ability to multi-task.

Recently, i watched an attractive coiffed brunette woman at Starbucks texting, chatting on the phone and surfing the web on her laptop. if that wasn't enough, She then proceeded to remove her sandals, open her purse, take out some nail polish and give herself a touchup to Her pedi all the while reading magazine. it was almost more that i was able to handle, and i could not believe that in and of itself would cause me to go hard.  but, embarassingly enough it did. men do one thing at a time. slowly, methodicaly we git'er done, but most of the time we are left like Wile E. Coyote in a cloud of dust while our wives, girlfriends, or Mistresses sprint ahead doing six things at once to our pathetic one. it is a cruel joke that nature played on men. it is as if women were given 8 arms to our megar two.

oddly enough, there are female Goddesses and diety's who are portrayed with more than one appendage. this is particularly true in Hinduism, where the form and the mind of the woman is celebrated, exalted and considered vastly superior to that of hindu mortal men. one has only to look at the vast collection of video's and movies which openly celebrate and acknowledge the power that women have been given divinely over men. Also viewing the images of Kali, Lakshmi, Durga etc ... one can easily see that hinduism already knew that women were vastly superior and could effectively castrate a man while quieting a crying baby. yikes .../ slice.

it is sad but true. many researcher point out that males use a much smaller percentage of our brains than that of our superior female counterparts. women are naturally wired to live in this technology dependent multi-tasking society. they have done multi-tasking for years and are now supremely proficient at it. from cooking while tending children to writing that accounts receivable report while shopping for her bosses wife's birthday. Women are masters at doing nine or twelve things at once. it is very easy to add control and dominance to the mix in regard to managing and overpowering the men in their lives. women are natural requisite managers from the boardroom, bedroom and dungeon. they know how to crack the whip while at the same time create and initiate a new ad campaign and nurture a wounded friend. always 10 steps ahead of their male counterparts who struggle seemingly to 
men pee+multitasking pics on Sodahead

aim, pee and brush their teeth at the same time. while sad but true, this commentary is something else to ponder... any thoughts on this?

speedbag #2 ... the fantasy

oh to be Her speedbag … I thought … to have my head somehow attached to a swivel. to have my face shaded brown with dark vertical lines drawn as seams. to have the words Everlast or Otomix inked across my forehead. to watch Her put on Her training gloves and take a fighters stance in front of me. pat my face and commence to strike and hit my face with an uncanny rhythm. Left, right, left, right, left, right. She hits and smacks me hard with target driven precision. It stings and hurts at first.i feel my face begin to swell. I feel her fists accelerating and moving from my cheeks up towards my nose. She peppers me with well coordinated punches and I feel my nose begin to enlarge and my left eye close. She is moving faster now and my head is moving at her physical whims. obeying Her fists moving in Her elliptical orbit. My ears are ringing now and I feel the swelling around my right occipital socket swell and bulge grotesquely. i start to tear tremendously. i feel the tears streaming down my cheeks, and now Her punches have become blurs. it is like watching an old fashioned movie with faster and faster shutter speeds. i groan and grimace, but She is not finished yet. She begins to employ the use of Her elbows. I have no navigational control as to where my face lands. I am smacked and the back of my head bounces to hit the back board and then return to do it again. my lips are fat, cut and bleeding the swelling increases until I look like a distorted witch doctor’s enlarged voodoo doll. Numbness in my jaw now sets in as She continues to work my face over, and over. I can no longer see. She has effectively shut down both of my eyes. They are horribly swollen and look like the slits of a poorly carved jack-o-lantern. My head is reeling and I now feel nothing except the constant slap slap slap of Her fists as She rips into my mouth and nose. my head is now nothing more than a vomitous, gore ball. blood and brown goo of an undetermined substance drip up into my matted hair. What was once a head with features looks like a half chewed mangled bloody pustule. blood is splattered and speckled everywhere. Her gloves are stained and bloody, and there is tenderized, gorey, bloody, bits and pieces of me on her face. She smiles and breathing heavy She hangs on my head. blowing a wisp of hair out of Her penetrating green eyes She pats my puffy, bloody face with Her wrapped hand. “Whew!” you were good tonight pet! Damn fucking amazing! She comes over and rests Her head on my shoulder patting whats left of my cheek and poking each swollen area like a chef using her nails to skewer for for complete doneness. “you will have some wonderful marks to remember me by pet.” She throws Her beautiful black hair back back, kisses my forehead and begins removing Her wraps. “make sure You wash these well for me… ok pet” She drapes them over my head and says “such a good speedbag. Now where is that bentadine? Somewhere under all my knots, welts, cuts. scrapes and bruises, i try to smile.

speedbag #1 a memory triggered ...

i did something crazy after work today. i'm not sure why i did it except, that i'm sure it has to do with a very powerful fetish that took me over during the last hours of work yesterday. i was stopping by kinkos to get some copies made and i noticed a kickboxing and boxing gym nearby. from the corner of my eye i could see a svelte young woman walloping the bejeezers out of a speedbag. i craned to get a closer look and from what i could see She seemed to be in her mid 20s or early thirties. long hair tied up in a pony tail, wearing boyshorts and a sportsbra. i gulped hard as i marvelled at the speed, repetition and the control She exhibited smacking the leather. i watched as She smacked the ball very hard and then laughed while she was toweling herself and joking with another women who was working the heavy bag. Suddenly, I felt her eyes hit mine. She gazed right at me. like a scared rabbit i dashed into the kinkos to make my copies. i was afraid of making eye contact with Her again for fear that She might consider me a stalker or worse yet a pervert.

i waited in line to have my special copies made and found myself breathing a bit hard and my heart was thrumming out of my chest.

"oh had She seen me?" i puzzled.

i reflected on another experience from my youth in which i was soundly thrashed, beaten up and pummeled for what can only be construed to be misunderstood admiration at the corner of feminism awakening and comic book fantasizing. i collided full head on with the fists and kidney punching kicks of a female Bruce Lee. i recalled how i had tried to explain that i had Her raised on a pedestal and that i loved watching her move with fluidity performing graceful katas with unbelievably high kicks and lightning speed chops and punches. but somewhere between having a cut bleeding fatlip from Her formidable punches, to having the stuffing kicked out of me from roundhouse after roundhouse, my noble efforts were bludgeoned and muddled.i found it incredibly difficult to communicate my intentions when everytime i attempted i met Her cute pedicured feet or well manicured fist in my mouth. i ended up speaking in bloody gasps, and bruised gorey utterances which seemed indistinguishable and primative as the indiscernable grunts and groans of a drunk wasted man. i went home a puffy, beaten mess. my eyes blackened, thighs and ribs were black, blue and incredibly sore from constant, continual kicking. looking back, i was grateful that i still had all my remaining upper and lower teeth. i never ventured again to that intersection of femdomme and beaten down avenue. it was too traumatic to relive what happened on that bright sunny April afternoon. yet, following that horrible, humiliating and dominating beating, my submissive state was nailed securely in place by a pair of bloodied everlast pink wraps. I sought for years to soundly bury that part of me. the part which relished being beaten to a squashed cum stain under the fists of a vastly superior physically fit woman. i craved the blood, the pummeling the bruising and the jagged tongue lashings served cold with a heaping side helping of severe male inadequacy. in my vanilla life i wore a thespian's mask. for awhile, this covered the true or perceived persona of the real me. in actuality, i was in complete denial. i truly hungered to be fed, but in reality was starving the submissive man within me.

jumping in ...

hello everyone.  i especially want to welcome both Dominants and submissives to my page.  this is my first attempt at blogging and likewise my first post. i hope Y/you enjoy viewing my work and that Y/ou are able to  take something worthwhile away from studying it and viewing it. i am excited to share and to reflect on what i have learned and experienced in both the vanilla world and the bdsm one. please feel free to comment on my blog and to trackback as necessary.  i look forward to sharing future updates with Y/you. ~sushichum~

sneakered marks of belonging and approval

...as i bent down to straighten the mats on my floor my heart continued to pound. i felt terrible about going behind my Mistresses' back and playing with someone else who i thought could calm the fevers of my fetish. W/we hadn't said much to each other this evening and i could tell that She was highly amused by my obvious physical, shaken state of mind. yet, i was also confused by this behavior. i puzzled as i prepared the living room. my Mistress did not own me nor had She collared me. therefore, i felt like i had every right to go out and play with another Domme. however, i had not counted on the cleverness or intellect of my Mistress. She intended to semi punish me and at the same time reward me for this abroggation against Her. She arranged a session in which i would be be seriously beaten and taken apart by the other Mistress i had seen prior. thinking back, it was uncanny how she toyed with me and lured me in through Her fetish, laced, taunting text messages earlier during the day. i had not known that She had read the account of the session i had posted on the other Domme's web page. yet, it soon became apparent to me what She had in store for this wayward fish.

"well my fish, are you ready for O/our meeting?" She texted. I acknowledged as the plot began to reveal itself through our conversation.

" i want you to know that tonight will be the first time that i will share You with one of my dominant girlfriends." She continued, ..."She is quite skilled at martial arts and is very much looking forward to meeting with you." i feigned innocence and texted ..."gulp ...martial arts?" "expert" i stammered. "yes, my fish and i must say that you are in for one hell of a beating tonight." Her cryptic words sliced through me. She knew! somehow She knew! i suddenly felt queasy and sick to my stomach! i stammered through the texting a bit with "well ah..." She immediately shot back, "Whats that....hmmmmmmm?" i asked her for permission to call her on Her cell. i was happy and relieved that She granted it.

as W/we spoke on the phone i tried bravely to explain why i had done what i had done. i blubbered and whined like any sub who is caught in a cover-up would of. She listened intently, but was altogether too silent. She told me that She had read the post on the other Domme's blog and that She recognized immediately my style of writing. She also knew of my pathetic fetishes and put two and two together. "It all pointed to You my shaking fish." "Now, I am on my way to pick Her up." She spoke matter of factly. "I expect you to serve Me well by being Her ...hmmmm...how shall i say it? vastly inexperienced sparring partner." i knew immediately what She meant. i was going to be fish chum. i was silent ... scared and quite silent. She continued to tick off Her demands. "whats that? ... nothing to say ....awwww ... and here i though you would enjoy this?" Her mocking tone cut me down to size.
well i'm sure that You will be as respectful to Her as much as you are to me. i also expect to be entertained tonight you pathetic, silly fish." i suddenly knew what was about to happen. i asked my Mistress an inane question which the answer in and of itself was quite obvious. 'uh Mistress? about tonight ...." do you think i may need to cover my floor because of ... well You know?" "Whats that you squirmy fish? she spoke sharply back. "in case i bleed a little". She laughed. Not a giggle, and not a chortle, but a loud sarcastic belly laugh... "Oh yes ... there will be lots of blood and i intend to film every last drop. Now get a move on. W/we will be there shortly." *click*

as i bent down to straighten the mats on my living room floor my heart continued to pound. i was working on an over lap and looking towards the fireplace when all

of a sudden i winced in pain. i looked down at my hands. i saw a cute black and violet pair of size 8 Nike Air Pegasus' locked and bearing down on my hands. the pain and feeling of being trapped hurt, but it wasn't unbearable. i looked up into the bright green eyes of my Mistress. She was looking down at me smiling and i think approvingly. "Do you remember giving these to me?" She pointed to Her sneakers. i like them very much. i wear them often." She continued to gaze down at me, narrowed Her eyes and bore down even harder on my trapped hands. i felt the cartilage and bones in my hands shift uncomfortably and i knew that at any moment She could certainly break them and injure them very seriously. i was apprehensive, but somehow felt peace.

yet, at that moment i also knew in my heart that this was a symbolic sign on Her part, that no matter what happened tonight, i held some place of secondary significance in Her life as a submissive. She wanted me to know that without making a big scene. it was quite touching and intimate and memorable for me. She continued to bear down... this time even harder. i now felt the road eating black treads of Her Nike sneakers bite into my skin. my hands began to ache and sting. i stiffened up and my eyes watered. i looked up at Her as a solitary tear welled and ran down my cheek. satisfied with my response She removed the sneakers. upon lifting them up ... deep recessed areas of tread imprintings could be seen on the top of my hands. i struggled to get up. She smiled and said, "There, now that will leave some nice marks" i looked at my reddened, tread, gouged hands, suddenly and without warning i felt myself go quite hard. She gazed down at my embarrassed state and patted my cheek. "That's a good boy pet" as She walked back towards the kitchen, i beamed. this was the first time She had called me pet.

even though i knew i was headed for an excessively hard, violent beat down that night under the hands of another Mistress, i thought to myself. "i will walk through fire for You Mistress ... through fire ... if it indeed pleases You." -sushichum-

in the news 2 news stories of women taking it up a notch

Kicked in the Face by a 22 Year Old Girl
From Femdomme News

Had a great conversation with an amazing 22 year old girl yesterday. I was asking her about self defense and what she would do if she got an attacker to the ground, and she said ``I would stomp on his groin to incapacitate him, and then start kicking the shit out of his face''. I immediately got a hard on and kept asking questions like: `` would you kick him until he was unconscious or dead''?

She was amazing and I was not as coy as I thought as she immediately started asking me why I was asking such questions and did I want her to kick me etc.

I told her she could feel free to kick me the same way she would kick the rapist. She responded: `` I'll kick you as hard as you want and I will kick the living shit out of your face, but you have to sign an injury waiver''. She had on clear plastic high heel shoes with her red toenails sticking out. She was gungho saying she always wanted to know what it felt like to kick a guy to death and/or kick him unconscious. I could not believe it as she was real hot and got real serious when she was describing what she would do to the guy.

To make a long story short we went back to my house and she sat in a chair and had me sit on the floor with my head against the wall and she just started blasting my face with her feet. After about 10 minutes my head was spinning and I thought it was over when she said: ``ok, before I really kick your teeth in, lets sign a waiver or something''. I kinda freaked out because she had really kicked the shit out of me already and yet, she felt she hadn't really even started yet!!!

When I declined she called me a pussy and faggot and kinda got mad because she really thought she was going to kick the living shit out of me. We came to an understanding when I offered to suck on her toes. She enthusiastically agreed and bent over the back of the chair and told me to suck on her toes. She wanted to peer on my face but I said no way.

My face is still sore from her kicking.

What modern women want: a beta male

By Kate Mulvey (The Sunday Times)
Tue Oct 7th, 2010

Men are surrendering in the sex war, taking on the supporting role

Last week I went to dinner with an eligible doctor. As we were finishing the main course, I struck up conversation with the owner (Marco) in Italian – I speak five languages. My date nearly choked on his linguini and spent the rest of the date mute. I had committed the worst dating faux pas: I had outshone my suitor.

Yet it would seem I am not the only woman who is wondering whether it is time to hang up her brain and turn into a Stepford Datee. In America research shows successful young women are hiding their accomplishments for fear that their academic achievements and financial kudos will scare off potential suitors.

And it is no different here. Researchers from Aberdeen, Bristol, Edinburgh and Glasgow universities discovered that high-IQ women saw marriage prospects fall dramatically, but men with high IQs had little trouble finding a mate. They found that for each 16-point rise in a woman's IQ, her marriage prospects declined by 40%, but the man's chances of marriage increased by 35% with each rise.

The widespread view is that accomplished women are at a disadvantage in the marriage market because men start out by saying they want a strong, powerful woman and then end up running off with the secretary. I should know. A few years ago my Swiss banker found my conversation too arty and cast his attentions on a lovely Spanish girl who worked in his office.

Should women pander to male insecurities? Self-help guides exhort us to flatter the male ego; don't talk too much and let him make all the jokes if you want him to like you. Well I would rather skewer my eyes out than change my personality.

So what is the answer? Someone has to surrender in the sex war. Should women soften their image if they want to marry an alpha? Since the beginning of time anthropologists have told us women are programmed to seek a mate who can provide for her.

We all witnessed the implosion of the 1980s power couple. As women flexed their shoulder pads all you got were stressed couples who were battling for the same role and trying to find a slot in their diaries for dinner.

But now there is a third way. The second-generation feminists – that is, women in their twenties and thirties – have found a new way to solve the alpha-beta paradox. The 21st century sisters have a terrifyingly clear agenda when it comes to finding a mate. They map out their life plans early: rise to the top of their chosen career, get the smart house, the cute kids and curl up in bed with a loving beta male. The alpha girl doesn't need Mr Alpha to sweep her off her feet and buy her a condo in town; she has enough money to do that herself. She is successful, confident and she wants a caring man who can pick up some of the domestic slack.

Penelope, 34, a high-earning public relations executive, is married to an actor. They are both comfortable acknowledging that the wife is the chief breadwinner. So it makes sense that it is her career that gets fast-tracked. "John is really irreverent and playful and after I have had people kowtowing to me all day, it is nice to be brought down to earth with a joke."

Does he mind playing the supporting role? "I love it that my wife is this go-getting career woman. I have never been into status anyway, so I don't feel emasculated by the fact that she earns way more money than me."

To better understand this role reversal, we have to look at the key social changes in the past 30 years. Since 1975 the number of women entering the workforce has increased by a third and in 2005 one-third of all managers were women. Women are better educated – there are more women with advanced degrees than before – and there are now more female trainee lawyers and doctors than male ones.

This creates a shift in the way women view marriage. With their increased earning power, women are less hung up on the Jane Austen model of finding a providing husband. "Women can choose a man who has charm and looks, instead of going for the grumpy, ugly alpha just because he is solvent," says Penelope. So is this a liberating thing?

For young women this shift in economic power has given them new choices. But what about the men? While it is true that many older men seem stuck with the "man as success object, woman as sex object" idea and would never contemplate marrying a ball-breaking alpha earner, men in their twenties and thirties seem to be redefining masculinity.

Having grown up with successful women such as Margaret Thatcher and Madonna as role models, and with popular culture awash with fantasies of all-powerful women, from Lara Croft to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, men are not so uncomfortable with the woman in control. This value system does recognize the trend of female supremacy, which while not as yet the norm seems to be pointing the way for future relationships.

tonight's recipe: femdom ala fishpaste

the task at hand: how to lure and catch a fish the victim: fishpaste (me) the Provocateur: Mistress ElizaDivine the technique: troll with bait that cannot be resisted or refused. the bait: the future promise of becoming an actual beatdown training model for "superior, physically able and fit Mistresses". the final result: poached fishpaste with almondine sauce and white wine. the door to open communication with this amazing, intuitive and seductive woman: priceless !!!

the dangers of subby fever

submissive fever is a state of mind that many new unseasoned subs experience during a submission. it is most commonly associated with new submissives. however, it can also come about when more experienced submissives end a relationship or even during an intense bonding. during a phase of submissive fever, you may feel a desperate need to have your desires fulfilled. many of the activities in BDSM can be considered addictive and the fever is much like a withdrawal stage. similar to what one would consider from a drug induced state.

for me this fever has been heart wrenching and ongoing. it has consumed most of my adult life even when i couldn’t specifically label it or physically wrap my hands around it. it possibly caused confusion and frustration and perhaps outbursts. i knew there was a need prevalent, but its identity was blurring and fuzzy in my unconsciousness. when i found out about submission and BDSM there was a moment where that need was identified and named. i would have to say that it was at that particular moment when i began the downward spiral into my fevered state.

oh how i wanted it, desired it and needed it. i had to have it and anything i could do to experience fulfillment of that primitive longing had to done. dangerously, this leads to lack of common sense and rational thought, desperation and risky behavior. it is quite common that first experiences done in this frenzy can have a negative or damaging effect on the novice submissive. judgment is blurred, and common sense is tossed aside and the Dominant you are in contact with could seem almost too wonderful. at first it appears they can do no wrong, but sub fever places blinders over ones eyes and muddies the truth of the experience.
my excursion into the world of BDSM led me first to contact Mistresses or Dommes through the phone or via “Talk Sugar” and “Nite Flirt”. So desperate was i to have my submission validated that i would do and give practically anything monetarily to subside and quench the hunger. i soon found that there were Mistresses whose only intent was to drain me financially and of course “Nite Flirt” would stand to gain from my demise. i did this foolishly until a good friend and straight talking Dominatrix told and admonished me to go out and meet a real Dominatrix and experience the feeling of a true submission. i finally woke up to what She was saying and experienced my first initial session with a Domme whom i thought had my best interests at heart and was truly interested in me as a submissive. however, my first session while intense led to other subsequent sessions which were not so tame or friendly. each time i met with Her She would ramp up the pain and intensity. Her favorite seemed to be beatings with paddles, crops, quirts and canes. My last session with Her was quite bloody and much too intense and She did not seem in control as she beat the “holy shit” out of me. She demanded more tribute and took to walloping my backsides up and down with Her favorite cane. i was seriously bruised and bloodied, but could not register complaints as i was bound quite tightly and gagged. upon closer inspection i noticed She had taken out gouges of my backsides flesh. needless to say even after Her heartless explanation, i stopped going to see Her. Her tirades and demands for more money left a bitter taste in my mouth and on my rear end. but, the fever continued to fester and grow. i had to feed it. but how now could i do it?
my point is that the fever never subsides. at least from my experience. it should be monitored and watched cautiously submissive fever can lead to tremendous lapses in judgement and cause submissives to want to overly please their Dommes. this is indeed a dangerous situation and can lead to terrible safety issues. the submissive must learn to verbalize respectfully what his needs are to the Dominant. in particular, insist on safe words before intense play and ask to see the toys and implements which will be used prior to a session. a good Domme will respect those needs and questions. it has been my brief experience that there are good Dommes with adequate training and bad Dommes with insufficient training who are interested in only satisfying their “bloodlust” for pain and torture. a submissive has the right to expect that a Domme is trained with CPR and First Aid and that a certain amount of aftercare is issued upon the completion of a scene.

a submissive may need and want to have their desires met with such fervor that they make the wrong decisions, but hopefully these will not be overshadowed by what is termed safe and what is not. a fever is a natural response to the needs the submissive is discovering. allowing it to take over your other primary goals in life however is dangerous and should be monitored. it is vitally important to establish bdsm friendships in the lifestyle and talk to them when you are feeling an intense surge of desire. while not always possible, try to keep ones demons in check and don’t allow them to carry you away in an ambulance or worse to the morgue. play fun, but be informed and always play safe in bdsm.

jumprope bondage ... a sign of changing times

it is interesting to note that the first triggers for male submission are implanted in elementary or middle school in the sandbox, by the swing set or on the playground. i myself remember being frequently bullied beaten up and tied to the fence by girls who even at that age were beginning to flex their girl power muscles on boys who seemed easy targets. i know, for i was one of them. the confusion and humiliation i felt at being overpowered and beaten by female classmates contributed to my overall feelings of male degradation and inadequacy. there were many times i would come home from school with bruises, rope burns, blackened eyes in a pulverized, disheveled state. my parents were aghast and thought i was being beaten up by the larger bully boys in our neighborhood. i did not have the heart to tell them that i was being pushed around and thoroughly emasculated by a gang of girls who enjoyed beating the snot out of me. for the most part, i suffered in silence afraid to tell anyone and be further taunted and humiliated by my inability to sufficiently defend myself. i did not fully realize the powerful, dominating, controlling hold these pre-female power exchanges and play scenarios would have on my psyche. they haunted me for years, and set in motion, deep seated needs to be controlled and dominated by stronger physically capable women.

with this in mind, is this Hillshirefarm's commercial not a sign of changing attitudes in regard to female domination and female superiority as well?



here is my own personal interpretation 13 to 15 years later. ;)

a key, bolted door, and bloody glass shards

i was watching this movie on Hulu the other night, and it got me to thinking. The Night Porter while certainly a movie ahead of itself at the time for the 1970s, seeks to explore the apparent yet confused relationship between Domme and sub. certainly, it again shows the lack of understanding today's media has in terms of portraying and defining the affection and tenderness which can be the driving force behind these lifestyle choices. for the most part, society is presented imagery which in and of itself is subjective and relies on outdated antiquated notions and stereotypes of what drives a bdsm relationship. in regard to this, things are just much too real. The fire and the passion is too hot. the characters involved are going to explode, incinerate, be blown to bits, lock one another way, engage in a beheading, or summarily destroy one another, going down in flames to their apparent obvious doom and deserving judgement. Most bdsm couples are portrayed as weird, kinky individuals who are on the edge of being serious psychotics or psychopaths with serious mental disorders.

that being said, where is the true representation of what bdsm is in a pure light? why can't W/we see a movie where the characters beat the crap out of each other, get dressed, embrace one another, and then sit down or go out for an enjoyable meal? why can't the film industry make that type of movie?

my Mistress told me in a recent discussion "that W/we are all perverts in some way or another". i agree with that assertion, but it pains me to see that the bdsm lifestyle still continues to be portrayed as a "sicko culture" with serious intimacy issues.

i enjoyed this scene with Charlotte Rambling from the Night Porter. it was remarkably real, and truthful to some of the ways W/we feel as people of the lovely bruise. while she acts confused as to what is happening. her emergence as a Domme is intimate and affectionate as she attempts to communicate Her needs to Her male submissive. the two show raw chemistry and intense passionate understanding as they come to grips with who they have become.

a disturbing dream ...

"A Beautiful Bruise" a vignette of intimacy and fetish

a beautiful story of pain, chemistry and intimacy between a Mistress and Her submissive. enjoy. Beautiful Bruise by Angela St.Lawrence from Blistered Lips “Would you like to come out of your cage for a while, pet?” Hearing his Mistress’s voice at the top of the stairs, Matthew’s cock began to twitch. With each steady, slow click of her heels as she descended the steps, it grew and the restraining ring around his balls tightened, causing the attached butt plug to automatically begin vibrating. Hurriedly, he dropped off the cot and onto his knees, pressing his face to the floor of the cage in supplication, as he’d been trained. “Heel.” Keeping his eyelids lowered, he unbent from the waist to an upright position, bringing his arms down to his sides. Eyes focused on her black leather boots and remaining still despite the rippling sensation of the butt plug, Matthew listened to the key rattling in the lock of his cage. “Well…” “Yes, Mistress Diana, I would like to come out of my cage.” “You do know I am going to beat you, Matthew,” she said, swinging the cage door open. If it weren’t for the constraining ring, he would have lost control, orgasming without permission, just hearing those words from her lips. *** Matthew is again lying in his cot, Mistress Diana sitting beside him. She tenderly runs her fingertips over the welts along his neck and shoulder. Though he tries his best to suppress his tears, they escape, sliding down the sides of his face. “We will have to put some Betadine on these and the ones on your backside later,” she tells him. “I was rather rambunctious with my whip tonight.” Although his body is aching and tender, he answers her respectfully, “Yes, Mistress, if it is your wish.” Reaching to undo his restraining ring, she continues, “Once you’ve healed, I have a delightful new metal and barbed wire baton we are going to try out.” He shudders–both at the thought of future torture and the sudden grasp of her hand around his cock. She begins slowly stroking him. “Would you like to orgasm for Mistress, Matthew?” “Yes, Mistress. Please, Mistress, permit me to serve you with my orgasm.” The rhythm of the stroking becomes more urgent, and Matthew feels his orgasm building. Now he is sobbing. The pain, her touch, his need, it is all too much. He feels her breath at his ear, her hair on his chest, can smell the sweetness of her shampoo. She whispers, “Then tell me who you are, Matthew. Tell me who you are, and I will let you orgasm.” “I am your beautiful bruise.”