a touching moment between a Domme and Her sub

the visual evidence of punishment, his compliant and submissive posture. knees bent, head and eyes lowered receiving admonition; hoping for Her acceptance. yet this seems to be the moment forgiveness is offered and accepted. a tender, heartfelt, intimate moment caught between the shutters of the camera.

pulverized, yet tenderized

pulverized, yet tenderized 
by: pescado

do You know my Mistress how my heart aches, when beaten by you?

to feel the swiftness of Your open palm, as it cuts a swath of pain that’s laced.

the return of Your knuckles as they follow through,

and, the devilish smirk upon Your face,

as You watch them redden to spattered, bloody hue.

do you know my Mistress that i can feel the spot,

where Your roundhouse hit my ribs.  

ecstacy almost made my heart stop.

the pain and the impact were almost too much to bear.

it felt as though You ripped it out,

caressed it,

 then put it back, still beating there.

Your powerful kicks, with meticulous skill,

pounded and pulverized my face … I’m swollen still.

the impact and the follow through, of Your fists are such a delight.

after each strike my ears would ring, head dizzily spin, to make sense of the impending night.

You danced around on treads of deadly, pink sneaks,

launching kick after kick, trying to knock out my teeth.

i fell in a heap at Your feet like a crumpled, tattered leaf.

but, You sought to be satiated and needs fulfilled.

there was more on the platter, more blood to spill.

a submission is not full, a submission is not complete, without the shudder of  hands and the trembling of  feet. 

total power over another, can only be gained, by getting inside the skull

and fucking with the brain.

for it is there where fear tastes the sweetest, a metallic taste to the tongue,

the sugary spot where terror and anxiety meet, the threat of a beating begun.  

for the pull of the lead, which is nowhere but in the mind.  

i’m tethered there, wrapped up in Her life, mercilessly attached to Her line.  

                                                                                             

yet, i know in my gut that with each reddened mark,

each speeding right, left, lethal combo that You launched from Your heart.

each slap happy smack and deadly flying kick.

every spring loaded foot, that landed painfully quick.

when You see in my eyes salty, devotional tears,

that pool at Your feet, yet You smile with a leer. 

down my soot stained face, around my bruised, swollen nose.

red streams down Your fist and drips onto my clothes.  

the closeness i feel cannot be replete,

without my face being squashed, under the treads of Your feet.

and then …

do You know, how it feels when You’re through?

like a mac truck has just left after barreling through. 

i don’t want it to end, even though i quiver in fear.

i want to be close, i want You to be near.

as i rest my weary distended head in Your lap,

Your hand tries to straighten my hair with a warm, friendly pat.  

W/we both relish in silence as You return to Your work,

using my head as an arm rest, your fingers click and they whir. 

i trace the deep gouges, You left in my cheek,

then i trace the tread patterns on Your lethal, pink sneaks.

i slump down to the floor with drowsy eyes lay.  close to Your feet, beaten up from O/our rough play. as i sleep in deep bliss, still unaware, Your dark hair passes over my shoulder; You stare. Your nails glaze softly over the frame of my cheek, as i faintly hear You whisper, “Shhhhhhhhhhhhh …  pet, … Now, Go to sleep.”

pescado – 11/25/2014

Her boots

there are few places of obesiance and absolute solace for the male submissive, than that of under his Mistress' boots. i know this, for after what seemed like an eternity, my Mistress has finally allowed me again to be close to Her feet. much to my surprise, She permitted me to assist Her with putting on Her boots. what a thrill it was to be allowed to touch Her foot and to gently guide it securely into it's home of encased leather, and then to watch as the leather sheathed her powerful feet and wrapped itself around Her calf tightly after the characteristic zip.  this is indeed a special place for both my Mistress and i. it is a bond of closeness and amity that is felt by both of U/us. this is an expression of utter devotion to Her, and it is through this humbling, submissive gesture that i can safely admit that because of my dorkiness and short comings, that i belong under the heel of Her boot.

the fact that i am below that of my Mistress, makes this ritual all the more meaningful and relevant between U/us. as the submissive of my Mistress, i delight in the ideal of O/our yin and yang, and it gives me a shiver to have the opportunity to be invited to lay prone at Her feet. i know that my belief in this thinking is fetish oriented, and that it reinforces the caste that is between U/us. however, as Her slave, i know my place, for i worship the very ground that She walks upon whether it be the polished toes of Her high arched feet or the stacked towering heels of Her favorite pair of platform boots. it is under Her feet, that i feel safe, protected and accepted for who i truly am.

an evil epiphany

walking around him, She is light footed on soft polished peds. unbeknown to him, She already knows of his paralyzing weakness and fetish and Her intention is to use it wantonly against him. he watches weakly, his eyes glazed and fastened to Her every subtle movement like shiny, ebony buttons. with a nervous darting expression, he aches as he watches Her whirl and prance about him. Her powerful calves seem to bunch up and split like overtaxed hearts. then sitting in front of him crosslegged, he swallows hard as She rocks and swings Her leg, flicking and curling Her long simian jointed toes. She senses and tastes his ubiquitous fear, and it rouses and inflames the sadist within. his mouth hangs agape and his insipid, dull expression compels Her anxiousness to stretch out, but She savors the moment and holds back, drinking in his confusion and trepidation.
 
"you know, my boyfriend says that i need to find something else to take out my agressions and frustrations on." She slinks behind him and grabs a lock of his hair and yanks the head back forcibly hard until a satisfying crack is heard.the angle is unbearably painful and he struggles to right himself but, Her leverage is too extreme. She looks down into the pools of his languishing eyes smiling, and catches a stray tear with her smallest nail. "Awwwwwwwe, are You going to cry? Are You gonna bawl?" yanking his head down hard She is not satisfied with the faint gurgling sound he is making in his throat. standing up, She lifts Her high arched foot and locks it securely over the overtaxed windpipe. bearing down, Her eyes ignite with excitement as She begins to observe the effects of blocking his airway. his eyes bulge appreciatively. the striations of muscle can now be clearly seen in and around the socket wall. his face is turning a sickly shade of purple and the entertainment is fantastic as She watches the spasms of his tongue move in conjunction to the rhythm of the pressure She applies with Her foot, in the preliminary stage of strangulation.

with a pensive pout She strokes his forhead running Her nails over the pocks, indents, scars and ridges of other past dominating adventures. a spurious grin cradles itself between Her dimples. Her eyes widen with delight as the purple darkens even around the tips of his ears. then just as suddenly as it began, She lifts Her foot and allows for a gallon of air to come rushing in.

he coughs and wheezes uncontrollably while She watches with immeasurable entertainment. "Awwwwwwwe ... i don't want to break You. Well, at least not yet."

standing up to walk She begins a soliloquy,

"tsk ... tsk ... you know, I have broken so many things in O/our house because of my anger don't you?
 i just don't know? what to do? ... what to do ...?" he watches feebily as She stretches out, bends over and touches the sole of each foot, then each curled toe.

She knows she has him.

still limbering up, She continues to taunt and tease him unmercifully.

"he says that I should find a punching bag or something to work out my rage and fury on."
sigh ...

"But, why should I buy a puching bag when I already have something fun and entertaining to workout on? Huh ?... he stutters and shakes his head, trying to remove the dead from his mind.  She smiles with a sharkish grin, each pointed tooth curved upward or downward like a convincing honed blade. "do You know what it is?" Hmmmmmm .... grabbing the lapels of his shirt She yanks them forcibly forward. "Why it's you silly." "you."

Hmmmmmmm?"  patting his cheek softly at first, She then rears back and slaps him extremely hard with a focused follow through that rakes her nails against the side of his face, bringing about a tiny bit of blood..

"Mmmmmmmmmmmm ... closing Her eyes, She laps at the viscous liquid  splayed out against Her finger tips, then traces the red against Her bottom lip.

his heart is racing now, his breathing rapid and well spent, a fine layer of beaded sweat dots his forehead. he struggles to loosen the ropes and the binds which She has him securely attached to. but, hopelessness and  desperation have already set in.

She narrows Her eyes, goes up on Her toes,  clenches Her fists, a thin sharp smile steals across Her lips.

"Reeeeeeaaaaaaady? ... Shall W/we begin?"

to bludgeon, or not to bludgeon?

does an empty beer bottle make a good weapon? well, actually yes if used to properly bludgeon the victim. i know this from first hand. my Mistress posseses the innate and sadistic capability of taking and making any household item into an effective, brandished weapon.  i am well aware of this, as i have been the poor sap and victim of
many of Her makeshift weapons.  during the weekend, She clobbered me incredibly hard with an empty beer bottle early Saturday morning. i tried to withstandstand the drubbing, but after 6 or 7 hits to the face and on the top of the head, i just curled up in a fetal position on the floor at Her feet, and i guess hoped it would stop. as a matter of fact, some of the stubborn lumps remain today under my hairline. i know, because it was incredibly difficult to wash my head and hair tonight. "ouch!" some of those welts are still unbelievably tender. particularly the one at the top of my head."it smarts something awful." there are times when Her forays into my pain are jolting, painful and quick. for as soon as they begin, then they are over. sometimes, too quickly for me. but, not this time. She examined me, hugged me, accepted my submission then grinned dimple to dimple and said ...

"Next time ... W/we'll use a wine bottle."

*gasp!*

kitchen Pugilist

last Friday, my Mistress stunned me with a surprise visit to Her lair, and i was so ecstatic to see Her and be permitted to serve, that i accidently dropped Her keys and clothes She had tossed at me. i do act nervous and kind of weird when She graces me with Her presence, but the truth be told it’s such an incredible rush for me to be at Her beck and call and to be bullied and bossed about as She is so fully capable and aware of.  certainly, W/we are both D/s and i am

anxious to follow that protocol when allowed, but through time and over the years, W/we have also developed into true friends, looking out for one another and not tolerating excessive amounts of bullshit from each other either.  

"I want some food. Make me some eggs." Her hair as well as Her energy was a streak of power and intensity and i struggled at times to keep up. i do though thoroughly enjoy the way She takes charge and keeps me perilously engaged on my toes, even though She may intentionally step on them from time to time.

W/we stood in the kitchen of Her lair conversing about the day's events. Her eyes sparked and flashed, not missing a beat, as She conveyed Her exciting news. Her hands were a blur of kinetic motion as she spun around on Her polished blue toes bubbling with enthusiasm.

"i not only got the job, but got the main fucking part as well!" She strutted around Her kitchen confidently and proud. 

"And that website it took me 3 fucking years to finish ... makes it so fucking easy!" She dipped one long slender finger into the scrambled eggs i was preparing for Her and snagged a piece of scrambled egg. 

"I don't know what the hell I was thinking? Why the fuck it took me 3 years to finally figure this out, I'll never know?" i watched as She threw back her beautiful cascade of  full, black hair. it fell into reckless curls and ebbed behind her shoulders, in rebellious waves. 

the scrambled eggs popped and sizzled, and soon Her kitchen was full of a delightful breakfast aroma of blended toast, eggs, butter and brewing tea.

i continued to banter with Her blissful and unaware. ... Her eyes narrowed and i didn't see the the way She had curled Her fingers, and  knuckled up, or was definitely unaware with the way Her thumb now curled tentatively around Her other nimble digits to form a simple fist. 

"of course they are interested in You" i said continuing to stir the eggs.  "You represent what is known today as a true renaissance Wo ..."

"thaaaawaaack!"

my finishing words of accolade never did leave my lips, but Her balled up fist sure did. i don't  know what happened, except that an exceptionally fast and lethal right cross plowed hard and fast across and under my left eye. in fact, She had decked me so efficiently hard, that my glasses flew off and smacked into the floor.

"Mmmmmmmm ... Now, that's what i was looking for." 

She examined me with a cohesive stare and searched my socket and cheek bone for a lovely reddened knuckle mark .

 grinning and smirking, Her dimples couldn't hide the satisfaction of the moment.  She reached for another finger peck of eggs.

i tried to steady myself on the floor and searched for my glasses which had been smacked right off my face. 

"what did You do that for?" i knew the answer i received from Her could possibly

 be any number of things. but, still, i wanted to find out. 

leaning up against the counter She licked Her fingertips with relish. 

"Do I really have to have a reason to smack You around or hurt you?" She asked pointedly.

"no, i suppose not." still struggling to right myself i couldn't help but have a silly, little grin on my face.

"well, if you must know, it is because i am so fucking, happy today." She stood next to the pan of eggs and watched as i bent down to pick up my missing eyewear.

..."now, set up your laptop and serve Me in the living room."

i eagerly complied, but i must admit that i took a slight detour into the bathroom to view Her emerging red marks. for now, the tingle under the eye was already apparent. would a true black eye appear? i felt around the swelling of the socket and felt the tender, swollen flesh.

as i served my Mistress Her eggs, She stopped me short ...

"Do you suppose that there will be some delightful bruising under there?"

She drank a gulp of orange juice and munched on some toast. "Mmmmmm ... I do hope so. I love a nice colorful bruise."

i crossed my fingers, felt the puffiness under my eye and walked away. 

i hope so to my dear Mistress ... i hope so too.

as i walked back into the kitchen my mind began to dream and wander ...

"i wonder what kind of damage She could inflict on me if She did something big like ... say ... win the lottery or an Oscar?"

if that happened ... i ... just ... might ... not ... live ... 
to tell the tale .

and, that would be effing bliss.

ensnared and captured

art sometimes has the ability to mimic nature, or "real life". take for instance this photograph. the photographer who staged this must of watched the way a spider uses it's spinnarets to encase and entrap it's victim. the bondage here is delicious and the absolute strength, power and finesse She exhibits is breath taking. this is another example of the manner in which FLR and the lifestyle and play patterns of bdsm are latching on and taking hold in mainstream media.

i have only one thing to say. oh how i wish that i could be the fly. ...

interesting. what would leonardo think?

this is a beautiful ad replication of each character detail from the Last Supper, with the exception that the photographer used moddern day Women in pose. it makes one wonder how things would be different in the world today had matriarchy took hold rather than patriarchal religions.

still ... i like it. it is an interesting and controversial piece with some bdsm nuance.

Her phone

happiness is when your Mistress feels that you are so spineless and obligatory that She inadvertently pockets your phone, then forgets and drives off with it. because, taking what once was yours, is now such a totally natural, predatorial response for Her. :)

pushover

W/we sat on the couch and She hammered me with Her next comment.

"I mean I don't know why she feels that way. Do you?" Her ratcheted gaze had me squirming like a bug in the shadow of the heel of one of Her boots.

i moved closer to the edge of the couch hoping to avoid conflict. "i can't imagine her feeling that way." i rattled and prattled away.  ... "i mean she is free to come by and pick up her things ... i'm not threatening in the least". my fidgeting seemed to vibrate the web i was sitting on.

crossing Her legs i watched as She pumped her calf up and down as it bunched then separated into amazing, compact, powerful bundles. each rhythmic pump She initiated made me that much more submissive to Her. the whirl and the twirl of Her long blue polished toes served to remind me of the prone position where i belonged.

"Uh ha ..." Her response was quick and rapier.

then those astonishing,  green penetrating eyes narrowed and seemed to bore holes into my skull.   anxious, jittery and extremely umcomfortable, i sought a means of escape, but knew better than to move without asking permission..

"that's right,  and you and i both know that you are nothing ...

but a mere pushover." ... ouch, that hurt.

i hunched my shoulders and slunk down lower into my seat, for deep down i knew She was right.

but, what exactly is a "pushover"?  the words She chose to direct towards me seemed to always sear and burn with a sweet, vapid, toxicity that had me reeling, faltering, trying to regain my shaky composure. it was as if She innately knew of my every weakness and male fraility. 

 i know i am a beta male, and i guess being a pushover comes with the territory, but i was truly curious as to what the actual defintion of a "pushover" was. what i found out confirmed my niche in the schema as being a bullied and natural target for aggressive and assertive women.

taking the task to lexographers to research the meaning, i started with the most traditional source of defining words; that of Merriam Webster.

Merriam Webster defines the word "pushover"as:

-an opponent that is easily defeated
-something that is easy to overcome or pursue (snap)
-someone who is easily persuaded or influenced

the full definition of the word is:

-something accomplished or overcome without any apparent difficulty
-an opponent who is easy to defeat or a victim that offers little if any resistance to being dominated or overpowered.
-someone who is unable to resist an attraction or appeal (sucker)

what is the history of the word?

in 1906 sportswriter and newspaper journalists used the word to describe a boxer who was clumsy, inept and easily overcome and beaten.

however, it was the synonyms that i discovered attached to this word that communicated to me the direct and true intent of Her meaning.

doormat, jellyfish, namby-pamby, weakling, reed, wimp, coward, milquetoast, mouse, nebbish, nervous, Nellie, pussy (slang), wuss, wussy, sheep

wow ... the power of words ...

my Mistress uses Her words to build, create and reinforce Her burgeoning media empire. yet, She also knows that Her words are also ubiquitous in terms of exerting influence and control over those whom She seeks to manipulate, and dominate.

as such, i am one of those who enjoys the weight of of Her words and the crack of Her sardonic wit. Her words, well chosen and selective bind me to Her service and continue to reinforce my position beneath Her feet.

hard, but affectionate sweet lumps

happiness is being ordered to thoroughly search the car of your Mistress for spare change and then suddenly She clobbers you over the head hard, with an extremely, thick, old candy cane She had somehow forgotten.

"Mmmmmm ...I do like to hurt you." She smirks.

just a funny ...

bdsm in the kitchen.
if only it were so easy ...

a trigger

sometimes the most seemingly innocent things within the realm of a conversation can set off a chain reaction of submission triggers within me. this past week, my Mistress had asked me to ferry some important photographs She had inadvertently left at Her western lair.

"Meet Me at ......... and deliver them to Me after i call you. understood?"

i acknowledged Her instructions and told Her that i would wait diligently to hear from Her. it wasn't long after that She called and W/we met at the agreed upon designated location. i believe She was pleased with my quick response time, as She invited me to have a late night dinner with Her at a nearby diner.

i gladly accepted the offer. i loved to be at Her side, under Her feet, or wherever She needed me to be. sitting at Her table, across from Her as a friend was indeed a privilege.

when it came time to order, i did not have much money, so i chose something which was inexpensive, yet quite yummy and nutritious. " hmmmmm ... i'll have the Matzo Ball Soup and a bagel with a schmear of cream cheese." i relayed this confidently to O/our waiter who wrote down both O/our orders and hurried back to the kitchen. my Mistress ordered a meat marisella dish and a healthy salad with a side of challa bread. W/we both waited with mouth watering anticipation for O/our orders to arrive.

W/we talked about Her upcoming trip and it wasn't long before the food was served. as the waiter placed my soup on the table my Mistress got a coy grin on Her face.

"Hmmm ... I have never eaten nor seen a soup with balls that large before."

 She toyed with Her spoon and twirled it surreptitiously under Her chin. right away i felt a wave of submissiveness wash over me. it is hard to explain, but it was like Her words clobbered me hard, struck me in middle and created this gaping wound or hole that just begs to be filled and satisfied, yet, you know it never will be. your heart starts pumping and beating faster. your throat goes dry and the only place you really want to be at that moment in time is near Her feet, under the table. it doesn't matter if you are in a public place or not. the submission response kicks in and you have no control as to what happens next. a total power exchange transference.

as She gazed at me, i shifted uncomfortably in my seat. it didn't really help that She was seemingly sitting taller than me in Her chair, and the chair that i was seated in sloped down ridiculously low reinforcing my apparent feelings of inadequacy.

"Something wrong?" She narrowed Her eyes and poked one of the plump matzo balls with Her fork.

"it's just that ... i spoke up squeakily, "i don't understand why You are sitting so much higher than me in Your chair."

my Mistress lowered Her eyes then raised them until She locked in on mine.

"it's because I AM in SO many ways, and that is the way it's supposed to be." i gulped down ... hard and watched as a smile of innate satisfaction slid across Her lips.

She then brought Herself up even higher and straighter in Her chair then broke into the plump matzo ball with a fork.

"you know I do not recall having eaten any balls this big before, ... but I certainly have enjoyed kicking quite a few. She chewed the morsel in Her mouth with firm even chewing.

then washed it down with a splash of water.

"Wouldn't you agree?"

She looked at me innocently and smirked, for She knew exactly how i was feeling. my head was spinning and reeling and for the most part i was done. She had thoroughly and completely gotten inside of my head, kicked me around a bit until i was a squashed, squishy, mushy, submissive mess and now She was ready to leave.

just because i ordered matzo ball soup. *sigh ...*

awesome! amazing! ... but to think ... kind of scary too.

a clip from "Tomcats" 2001- the BDSM date

ok, this is really just too funny to pass up.

you just never know about someone.
it's the quiet ones who you should always watch out for. enjoy! lol!

Tomcats 2001 BDSM date by Funny-level

and i am ... i'm proud to say ...

sometimes, your Mistress just knows you and has the ability to read you so well. it could be like the faded, well read pages of a novel, or a cheap dime store comic book, or She may want to take You apart piece by piece and sort and analyze You like a schematic diagram of a technical manuel. ouch, that hurts sometimes, doesn't it?

but overall, it is the little things that She remembers to do once in awhile that make my heart pump a little harder and cause me to shiver with delight.

i was picking up some food for my Mistress late a couple of nights ago, and it was taking really too long to get from point a to point b in terms of making the sandwiches.

She sent me a simple text message to let me know She was impatient and hungry, but still infused with some Domme affection and a smidge of humor..

Mistress MED

"Hurry up, biiiiaaaatch."

Fri. Sep 5, 2014, 10:01 PM 

Her words caused me to melt ... weird huh?

so, what can i say ...

like popeye always used to say ...

"i yam what i am."

and damn proud of it! :>)

bloody, bruised and beaten by Her soccer cleats

it had always been a fantasy of mine to be beaten to a pulp,

trampled and humiliated by my Mistress while She wore the new Nike soccer cleats that i had given to Her.

one day much to my surprise it actually happened. i had just finished washing dishes, when i heard a loud knocking at my door. i turned off the water in the sink, and opened the door. i remember standing there dumbfounded and astonished. for there She stood dressed in a devastatingly tight and cute sporty pair of "umbro" soccer shorts, shirt and of course Her menacing, pink and violet cleats. 

"Well, fishy boy, aren't you going to invite me in?" i just stood there, scared and frozen. too, dumbstruck to move. i nodded  wide eyed and then opened the door shakily and pensively. in She strode full of bravada and flair, Her long cascade of beautiful black hair was now tied in a neat and compact pony tail. the girth and thickness thereof barely contained in a hair tie.

   SLAP! Her lightning fast palm stung me and whirled me back into reality. then the bullying began as She started whittling me down to size with well aimed jabs, cutting remarks and humiliating comments. it wasn't long until i began to feel terribly inferior and inadequate in Her presence. i watched helplessly as She strode into the family room. She exuded confidence with a predatory air. 

spinning on Her toes She continued to poke holes through my threadbare self esteem, "Mmmmmmm ... i see that you have taken the necessary precautions and removed all breakables. such a good boy." She bolo punched me. Her balled-up fist punched the side of my face hard. then launching a few more She smacked me playfully in the face like a speedbag at the gym. 

laughing with a caustic air, She spun around with hands on hips. and said with mocked intent. "Everything that is ... with the exception of you." i fought a little and tried to retreat, but i hesitated too long as She made a grab for my hair and pulled me down until i was in a rather precarious position. 

"Ohhhhhhhhhh ...  Her lithesome arms snaked around my neck and then torqued down across the side of my face verticaly. yet, the sleeper applied was tight enough to cause me to gasp and gag a little. which was terribly satisfying to my diabolical tormentress. i shuddered as i felt the single stroke of a nail against the side of my face. "Mmmmmmmmmm ..."  she breathed with a sinister delight ... "I'm so going to enjoy beating you senseless."  the spikes of Her cleats traced up and down my shins, making considerable deep red marks where they scratched and gouged into my flacid white flesh.

 then whipping around like a black maned dervish, She launched a hungry stare then started to make preparations for Her play. 

"Go fetch my ball, and make-up bag in the car boy ... And be quick about it," i did as i was told, but i had to steady myself from what had just happened. i grabbed the car door and slid down to the pavement. i just could not stop shaking. my breathing was already accelerated and labored, and my heart felt as if it was about to explode out of my chest into a retrograde orbit. i had to get a hold of myself. but how?  already shaking, scared shitless ... She was just too much for me. i opened the door and found the bag and Her soccer ball. i returned quickly with the items requested.  with adroitness, She grabbed the pink soccerball and lobbed it hard into my unprotected face.  the sound of the smack was solid and pleased Her immensely. i was reminded countless times that She enjoyed the tethered emotive sounds i expelled while She applied my pain and hurt. the ball nailed me squarely on the nose and already the swelling was undeniable and noticable. i watched Her eyes as they widened and rocked with delight. She smacked me hard two more times, grabbed me by the shoulders then pushed me down. i was already feeling vertigo and seeing stars at this point, and only knew vaguely that She was stroking the sides of my reddened cheeks where the imprints of the laces of the soccer ball were already evident . i was already reeling and in shock.

"Awwwwwwe ...did that hurt? ... I'm so sorry ... but maybe if I had a larger more visible target I would'nt have to take it out so much on your poor battered head." tsk, tsk, tsk ... She slapped me playfully. The third time not so much so. "Now, kneel down."  continuing to stroke my cheeks, She reached down and opened a shoebox full of paints and brushes and proceeeded to draw the guidelines and outlines of a soccer ball on my pale protuding belly.

 i have always been amazed at how intricate and focused my Mistress is when observing the details for O/our sessions. like a female Michaelangelo, She went to work rendering the perfect shape of a soccer ball in amazing detail. i quivered and shook as each stroke of Her brush seemed to foretell of my imminent beatdown.

"Awwwwwe you are shaking. i like that you are scared and fearful of what i can do with these." She pointed down to Her cleats with a knowing and hungry stare. 

i gulped down hard at least a couple more times ... She stared hard,  at me, glazed the points of Her teeth with Her tongue, grabbed my chin and continued firmly. 

"But, they aren't blood besmirched yet, are they?" She grabbed my head and forced it down to Her feet. "But you will soon change that ... won't you?" i shook trepidaciously and tried to look. but, my nose was now smashed and turned up painfully into the laces and leather of Her cleats. it felt as if it was going to snap at any minute and then my nostrils would tear and follow. struggling to see,  i felt Her green eyed penetrating gaze, as She dug Her nails into the back of my skull and and locked me there ... sniffling and and snorting, the tears were now starting to flow. i felt Her etching my jawline with one single nail until it was abraised and reddened. "tsk, tsk, tsk, boy... Awwwwwwe ... does it hurt? you know, i'm only going to injure you more." 

grabbing my chin She continued to taunt and tease. "Mmmmmmmm ... I want to hurt you sooo bad tonight." i couldn't see, but knew that She had stood up to Her full height. placing a cleat on the side of my face She bore down hard biting into the side of my face while stretching Her arms above Her head.

it wasn't long though before She had settled back to the task at hand. "Now, let Me work on that face, although it is probably futile,... because by the time I am finished with these (giggle), your face will just look like a swollen, squishy piece of meat." She giggled in the low register, which told me She certainly intended to follow through with the threat. i watched with fear as She got close to my face and filled in the positive and negative spaces with balck and white paint.

biting Her lip, She stayed focused on the canvas and it wasn't anytime, before my face was etched, painted and had taken on the appearance of a wild eyed misplaced aboriginal. She grabbed my ears, squinted then a malicious grin spread, framed by Her dimples as She sucker punched me hard in the groin and parlayed that i hadn't suspected "that" was coming. 

''Dick Shot" i bent over in exquisite pain and grabbed my swollen orbs. it felt as if i was going to hurl. She seemed to search my eyes for the fear and terror which fed her maleficent nature.  looking me hard in the eyes and grabbing my ears, She scolded me. 

"Quit your squirming, or the next one you feel will be My cleats squishing and popping your balls into mush. Understood?"  i looked down sheepishly and nodded my head. grabbing my chin She put the finishing touches on my face, then stepped back to admire Her masterpiece. 

"Ohhh fuck, your nose looks too big.  She then released a belly busting laugh which rattled me to my bowels. 

"No matter, by the time I'm finished snapping it and pulverizing it ... you will hardly be recognizable. Now, remove your pants, i still have one... more... special ... place to paint."  i did as i was told, and soon stood quite naked in front of Her probling eyes.  i cowered and tried to cover-up my little member in front of my laughing, soccer Mistress. 

Her eyes narrowed then widened with sarcastic mockery.  smiling fiendishly She said in a coyish tone, "Well, this little thing will hardly be worth any conceivable effort at all. then, tossing Her hair about it was announced ... There now, all complete." 

She smacked me hard across the face once, then again .... then one more time, but this time She hit me so hard that i swear i could see the fiery flames emitting from the edges of Her palms. suddenly, my face started to swell up from the hits. i could actually feel the ridges of where Her fingers had impacted. my face was already red, bruised and swollen.   

"Ahhhhhhhh ... did that hurt?  Maybe a little too hard ... huh? Her voice was high and filled with false caressing and seething with sardonic ridicule. "Ohhhhh ... now that is going to leave a nice mark." She poked and proded the burning swollen tissue until I flinched. 

Then She kicked me hard in the shins and I almost went down, but caught myself. 

"Mmmmmmm nah, ah,  ... Go down for me." Her gaze seemed to burrow and burn into my very essence. She kicked me hard again, and this time I did go painfully down,  rubbing my abused shins.

"Now ... that's better. you, know .... I really like these things. I like what they appear KICK to be KICK capable of KICK." She launched a hard powerful kick high into my back and then dug the cleats into my bare back, scratching and ripping into my flabby flesh.

Then jumping onto my back She really went to work filling my back with aereated holes from each tooth of Her cleats. i grimaced and groaned as She bore down with all her weight. "Whew  ... now doesn't that just feel sooooo gooood? Huh? ... Doesn't it?" She chuckled and laughed at my torture.  then grimmacing and clenching Her teeth together i felt a hard, turbo kick to the solar plexus. but, it was the kidney shots which felt as if they were surely going to rupture. each of Her powerful impacts were certain to be my last and i felt like i was going to black out with each snap and roundhouse She lobbed at my sides.

i was in utter agony. my shins were sore and now my back seemed like it was an inferno. She leaped down playfully and sauntered down to the opposite end of the room. tossing the pink and black soccer ball one handed, She sported a wide toothy grin and glazed the top of Her points with Her tongue. goading me, She said, "So, Are you ready for this? ... "

the ball went down and She faked a few powerful side kicks. i was amazed and stood astonished and spellbound as Her long muscular leg bulged and separated into powerful, convenient, compact bundles. Her calf muscle swelled and seemed subsequently cut like half a diamond and then formed a heart that popped over and out of her soccer socks. the kick went sailing high above Her head, remained suspended for effect, then returned to earth. She did this a few more times, and after each extended stretch took immense pleasure at watching my obvious fearful discomfort with Her flexibility and athletic prowess. 

now, with Her cleated foot fully mounted on top of the soccer ball She suddenly stopped flipped Her pony tail around and growled ... 

"Now ... , get down on those fucking knees. I need to practice some goal shots." i shakily complied and suddenly felt like i was going to wet myself. "Straighten your ass up" ... Her tone was cutting and caustic   "I want to see that potruding belly. It presents itself as a perfect bullseye." i didn't have time to respond before the lethal volleys began. Her potent ball kicks came at me hard and fast, and were like a liquid sting that struck hard and then re-bounded back to Her. i quivered and watched as She narrowed Her eyes, licked her lips and fired another 6 more in succession at my unprotected midsection. After another painful 6 shots, it was evident that the painted soccerball on my belly was just no match for her punched up kicks and returns,  the image was now blended smeared and distorted looking. my stomach was reddened, raw, brusied and swollen. in some places one could see the actual indentations of the threading where the leather ball had struck me quite hard. 

She smiled gleefully and sauntered up on tiptoe towards me grabbing my head and placing it against Her muscular  thigh. She snarled through Her clenched teeth and bounced my head up and down like a soccer ball on Her pumped up thigh "Ohhhhh ... i like ...(bounce)  the pathetic ...(bounce) whimpering sounds ...(bounce) you make for Me. And these cleats you got for Me are just so ... much ... fun ... to use and squash you with, don't you agree?" She picked one leg up and balanced my head gingerly by placing the toe of one of Her cleats under my chin.. 

"Now, lets see what kind of damage I can inflict on your face?"i cringed as i saw Her complexion darken. this was all about business now, and this would not be over, until She was totally satisfied with my submission.  "Give Me the ball again." She commanded.  i was a soaking soggy mess and now utterly terrified of this athletic school girl bully. with much trepidation i handed Her the ball, shut my eyes tightly and waited for the carnage to begin. Her kicks were pummeling, lightning fast and always on target. the soccer ball smashed hard into my face, bounced back and then it struck with a lethal smack into my pointed nose. the pain exploded then seared across my face, and i was knocked off balance by the power of Her blow. 

suddenly, She stopped, shook Her head and then feigned concern. "Nope, nope ... I don't know .... this just isn't good enough ... well at least, it isn't bloody enough for Me. I don't know ... I just ... need something attached to kick really hard into." She continued to act coquetish and then abruptly spun and faced towards me.

" Mmmmmmmmm She purred low in Her throat, strode up to me and grasped my head in her palms. Well, would you look at that ... Her tone was breathless with anxious, yet full of evil intent. "here I am looking for a ball that is attached to something and looky here .." She smoothed Her soft palms over the contours of my face. .... "Yeeeeeeeeees ... a nice, round baby face just ITCHING for a KICKING.  and it is all painted and done up to look like what?  Why it's a soccer ball! Her voice crescendoed into derision. i squinched and cowered and listened furtively. Her voice seemed to drain me of any resistance and it was as if She was experiencing an ultimate evil orgasm. if there was such a thing? 

the bitch slaps came faster in shoeshine fashion as She increased power and intensity of each strike, yet careful to not smudge the paint work She had tirelessly rendered. Her low, gutteral laughter startled me, as if something evil and sinister had awoken inside and was now coming out to play. crouching down, She pinched my chin with Her nails and whispered, "now boy, I'm going to take some nice kicking strikes at your adorable, baby face. and" ... She yanked my hair hard ... and When I am done, well ... you are a big boy... you can fill in the blank. 

Striding confidently to the back of the room, She squared off to face me. "First, a few practice kicks. you can do that, can't you?" i watched fearfully as She took deliberate running strides and launched kick after deadly kick deliberately missing the ball but launching a formidable follow through which seemed to endlessly arc over Her head. 

"Whew, can you imagine into how many pieces your chin would shatter and explode into with just one well placed kick?" She strode confidently up and lifted Her cleated foot up, until the toe nestled itself under my chin. "Can you imagine the blood?" the pupils of Her eyes grew and darkened with manic, delirious delight as i felt Her pump the toe of the cleat back and forth under my unprotected chin. Scratching and scraping the tender flesh underneath. "Mmmmmmmmm ... What if I were to do a round house across the base of your throat?"  She faked a pass to my throat barely scraping my Adam's apple. i felt the spikes of Her sharpened cleats cut and glide across my throat. "Do you think that i could riiiiiiiiip into your throat and or tear into your jugular to make you bleed to death?" "Now ... wouldn't that be your little perverted dream, would'nt it ... Huh?" Her sharpened cleats had skimmed and had left neat, well spaced, tidy bloody lines across my skinny scrawny neck. i reached up and patted my neck and saw the blood soak under my fingernails. "But, lets just have some more fun." She coyly looked at me in my terrorized state and started to walk away. Suddenly, spinning around i watched as She grabbed two strands of thick black cotton rope out of Her box. "Lets make things a little more interesting ... shall W/we?"

grabbing my wrist she quickly lassoed them and tied them neatly with two tidy black knots. She stood up and yanked my head down. "Nothing cut off or turning purple?" i shivered and managed to eek out a no. but, She had already beaten me to the response. "Nothing but your face .... huh?"

then without warning She kicked me hard behind the knees and ordered, "Now, get the fuck down." my out of shape flubbery body had no choice than do as it was told. i came crashing down face first onto the rug in front of Her lovely yet menacing cleated feet. i watched from above as She chambered Her long lithsome leg and then launched

kick after painful kick to my unprotected mid-section. Her cleats struck hard and fast like petrified, bullets. it felt as if She was trying to torpedo them through my stomach and out the other side. i was left painfully breathless and gasping. i longed for the times when the toe of one one of Her cleats would chew it's way up my belly and then retreat, leaving a long bloody scratch. for it was only then that She would stop bend down and sigh at the majesty of Her work. "Ohhhhhhhh ... bloody scratches, so bold, red and colorful. Mmmmmmm ... look they are so pretty." i watched through puffy swollen eyes as Her hands glided across the abrasion, smearing the blood purposely across my protuding abdomen with Her fingertips. 

not satisfied, She stood up over me, sneared and unleashed three more rib shattering kicks to my tortured mid section. Her intended targets were my sides and i felt the growing, searing, painful sensation of my kidneys swollen and bruised, ready to explode. the sick feeling that i felt in my stomach quickly transferred to my throat and i thought for sure that i was going to vomit up the little pieces of organ tissue that She was steadily grinding into meat. i wasn't aware that i was tearing up, but sure enough my eyes were watering and my nose had become distended, puffy and swollen from Her well placed kicks.

grabbing my chin She lifted it up and peered into my slitted eyes. 
" ... your face is going to be so sore, so swollen. Let's see if I can help it expand some more." On your knees ..."  i hesitated and didn't move fast enough for Her. She came behind me and kicked me hard in the back of the leg. "I said, get the fuck down, On your knees!" i had no choice but to comply." She spun around to face me and then slapped me extrememly hard across the face.

i felt like my head was going to snap off from the impact of Her blows. my bottom lip was big, purple and puffy,which delighted the hell out of Her. bending down, She locked Her cleat over the fingers of my hand and again grabbed my chin to survey Her work. poking at my swollen lip, She delighted in probing and pinching the fuck out of it, watching my anguished expression and the different masks of pain that i wore.

then, like a polished athlete, She stood up grabbed the pink and black soccer ball and went to the back of the room. i was instructed not to move. "Hopefully, my kicks won't knock your teeth out, but wouldn't that just be too fun." Huh?"

Her back to business attitude had me quaking and shivering. She kicked the ball hard and it nailed me square in the gut. i was commanded to then return the ball back to her for more kicking practice. "Get up!" She demanded forcibly. "Now, toss Me the ball!" i rolled the ball toward Her and watched as She launched into a powerful stride and then followed through with a lethal, cutting kick. "smack!" the ball slammed into my face and forced my nose upward. i felt a little spurt of blood, but confided in myself that i wouldn't tell Her, for She would find out soon enough.

"Mmmmmmmm ... She flipped Her ponytail about and caught the ball perfectly as i rolled it towards Her. tossing it in the air, She replied, "That made a nice slap and i could almost hear the cartilage and the bone separating. Mmmmmm ... that was a delicious sound. Let's do it again."  

i'm not sure if i remember the next volleys, as each of Her powerful kicks hit me square in the face. and i soon was dizzy, a bit naseous and somewhat pale. Her last two kicks slammed hard into my face, smashing underneath my eye. i felt the tell tale tingling sensation begin to develop underneath my eyelids and the eye start to close. I watched fearfully as She strode up to survey the damage. She grabbed my head and and gazed intently at my swollen eye. "Mmmmmm .... awwwwwwwe, looks like someone is not having a  good day at all, and well on his way to having a nice little black eye. But, doesn't that just make you sooooooo fucking happy ... huh?" She launched a series of hard slaps that seemed to spin with fire behind them. the impact seemed to almost tear my face off, and soon i was down on my knees again living the dichotomy of hoping that Her carnage would continue, but also fearing and hoping that in Her zeal to be entertained, that She doesn't totally brutally murder me in the process. 

Her grin was eerily terrifying and Her gaze caused me to tremble in fright. "Hmmmmm, I wonder if I can close the other one. She launched another couple of hard rights and i winced and cried as Her hard knuckles plowed into the soft tissue around my eye. 

i was now a quivering and shaking mess. She stood to her full height and sneared down at me. i looked up at Her like a beaten little puppy, as She placed Her cleats on top of my head and flattened and burried my nose down into the plush of the carpet, "Don't be so pathetic. now Get the Fuck down and kiss my cleats." i tried, but Her leverage would not allow me to move. "Look at that ... She exclaimed, I'm holding you down with just one foot. She laughed caustically. you are sooooooooo my little bitch .... aren't ya?"  i had to admit it. She had total and complete control over me. She could do anything She wanted, and She knew it. Finally, lifting up Her foot, She moved it quickly and placed it underneath my chin. "Now, kiss it!" i did so quickly, but it didn't satisfy Her. She brought the underside of the cleat down hard across my nose then hooked into my mouth with one of it's jagged teeth. i watched weakly as She bore down hard and locked my quivering now serrated and bloody bottom lip with the carpet. the blood flowed in copious amounts and pooled around the toe of Her cleat. my beaten, reddened eyes were now swollen pools of salted tears, filled to the brim and ready to overflow. She undid Her pony tail and threw her gorgeous mane back over Her shoulder. a pout extended over Her pursed lips then tightened into a full mocking smirk. then using the other cleated foot She attempted to scratch Her initials into my unprotected cheeks. after a few more attempts She lifted Her head and suddenly smelled the roast and the mashed potatoes that i had prepared for Her. She bore down hard one more time on my bloody lower lip placing Her foreams askew and across Her pumped up thigh. 

"Well, little boy ... have you learned your lesson to not challenge Me?"  "Get up ... go clean yourself up and finish preparing My dinner." She continued to issue orders.  "Make sure that my laptop and a glass of wine are waiting for Me upon my return. and fetch My phone, I need to make some calls." 

She bent down and in characteristic fashion pinched my ears hard, then pearing into my eyes patted my cheeks and said.

"Now, didn't W/we have fun ..... She stroked the side of my bloody, scratched face with Her nails ... "Hmmmm ...Didn't W/we?" Her giggling was somewhat rhapsodic and comforting.

i looked down trying to contain the tears, shook my head yes and then followed the path as She pulled and squeezed my swollen ear up then kicked me hard like a soccerball into the kitchen. 

"Goal for me ... boy." I win again. 

Now get in the kitchen. i want some dinner." "Then after you do the dishes, you can lick your blood off My cleats." ~sushichum

  


   
  

Repost - Teenage Girl Teaches 40 Year Old Man a Lesson

 Girl Teaches 40 Year Old Man a Lesson

a repost from Mistress Destiny Femdom Forums by Royals 22262 12/18/2004

This is a story that took place about 6 years ago where I totaly manipulated the events to get some foot fun out of it, and it worked. I had changed jobs which allowed for two things to happen. I was now able to have a day off in the middle of the week, and I met a guy Ron who was 5 years older than me, divorced and had 2 teenage daughters who lived with him. I found out Ron liked golf as much as I did, so I thought I'd introduce him to 2 of my other friends and we'd go play as a foursome on a Wednesday in May of that year. We went, everyone got along, though none of us played very well, but it was a good day.

 When we finish Ron tells us that one of his daughters is playing softball for her high school team just about 10 miles from where we were, do we wan't to go watch? We finished our 19 hole beers and headed over there. Lindsay, Ron's oldest daughter was 21, a very lanky 5'9 long haired blonde girl about 120 lbs with nice greenish eyes. She looked a lot like a young Meryl Streep. She was the clean-up hitter for her team, and she and her team had a very bad game. Lindsay went 0 for 5 in a bad 9-1 loss.

 My friend Andy is 5'8 black hair, glasses and 150 lbs soaking wet, not a great athletic specimen. You'd think the way he looks he'd learn to keep his mouth shut, before someone would kill him. He's a very sarcastic guy who happens to enjoy making fun of people. I tolerate him, but most people are easily annoyed with him.

 So, after this bad loss, instead of being nice and supportive, he goes after this girl Lindsay, who he just met and barely knows. He says that she shouldn't be a clean-up hitter, she's not strong enough, and in the field she throws like a girl, and with legs like that she should be able to run faster.

 Lindsay, already upset for having had a bad game is now really upset. Who is this twerp talking to? Andy thinks he's being funny and that his comments may be helpful to her. I see how angry she is and I see an opportunity here!

" Lindsay, are you gonna take that from this four eyed weasel? Kick his ass, show him how strong you are."

 She steps toward him and glares. Now if he had any common sense, he would have laughed this off, apologized to the girl, and maybe offered to buy her an ice cream as a peace offering, everything would have been cool.

 But nooooo! He says, 

"She can't kick my ass, if she took a swing she'd just miss, like everything else!" 

Bad move. It was quick, and smart. Lindsay faked a wide right hook punch that Andy tried to block, and then she lifted her big size 10 right rubber cleated foot and nailed him solid in his family jewels. He went down to his knees immediately. She then kicked him again in the chest with the toe of her hard cleat. He fell on his back like he was shot.

 Ron saw his daughter fully in control, so he let it continue without worry, as he wanted her to kick his ass too. She stood over him, and then started trampling him under both cleated feet one at a time. I now chimed in again, 

"make him kiss your feet and apologize to you."

 Lindsay gets a glow in her eye, and says something that I honestly did not expect, and deffinitely not in front of dad. 

"Great, I love having my feet kissed!"

 She first sits on his stomache and squeezes his 40 year old head between her 18 year old thighs. Sweat poors over his face as he turns red and groggy. 

"Don't pass out on me yet, there's more fun to be had."

 She arches her back, tosses her long blonde hair and leans back while extending her legs to the side of his head. She traps his head between her cleats and squeezes. He's now almost out. She lifts her right foot up and slips her shoe off. She reveals a very dirty and extremely sweaty white socked foot. Her foot was very long and narrow and from a distance it seemed to smell like warm smoked bacon with cheddar cheese and vinegar. He could only look at the sole of her sock above his face. She grabbed both his wrists and pulled, while now slowly decending the smelly socked foot to his face. He tried to turn his face, but her foot would follow it where it moved. She forced the foot all over his face, mashing the smell of it into his nose, over his lips, and wiggled her toes into his eyes and through his hair. 

She played and tormented him like a cat with a mouse. With the other foot she expertly kicked the ground with the heel of the cleat, able to remove that foot from it easily. She then placed both smelly socked feet in his face, and he was moaning and grunting under her smelly assault. When she tired of this, she released his now limp wrists, and pulled her right sock off her foot. 

She placed that bare foot next to his left ear. She then went to pull off her left sock. Though he was dazed, he did something interesting. He turned his head to study and look at the pretty bare right foot next to his face, wanting to see what this destructive limb looked like. It was pretty, long and narrow toes painted black with the second toe as long as the big toe but the other three toes much smaller but in proportion to each other. She seemed to notice him starring at her foot, she giggled and let him continue to look at it for a few minutes. 

"Do you think I have a pretty foot?"

 He starred but didn't say anything. She asked again but this time she kicked him in the face with it.

" Yes! I think it's pretty."

 "Well why don't you kiss it then?" 

"Listen, it's pretty, but it really smells bad, please don't make me smell them." 

"Oh, I think you need to smell them, so you know your place. Now be a good little boy and smell my stinking feet."

 She had pitty on him, and went very slow and she was being very gentle and feminine. She lightly carressed his face with her now bare left foot. She then told him to start kissing and that he better be gentle. I watched her black toenailed foot get kissed, licked and nibbled on, and really sucked on completely! I loved it, and Ron was cool with it too. He loved seeing his daughter take care of herself! I loved watching him DOMINATED FOR REAL under her feet.

see a need ... fill a need

there is nothing that i enjoy more than serving my Mistress. there is a certain pleasure that i derive from being able to take care of Her needs and cater to Her wants and desires. simple things like preparing Her favorite breakfast, or making sure that She has a full cup of water always at Her side, especially if She has been out socializing and perhaps imbibed in a little too much alcohol. i also enjoy doing Her laundry when permitted to do so, and lately i have been sewing and repairing Her clothes. my Mistress has an amazing, and gorgeous wardrobe, but because She is a student, on the go and a  model at times on the run, She has a tendency to be hard on Her apparel. i have now made it a point to watch for tell tale signs of wear and tear. this past week i repaired two of Her most beautiful appliqued dresses.

Her long, dazzling, blue, wrap around smock dress had two sizable holes under the arms and Her red applicqued halter dress was all tangled and the satin straps on one side had torn loose. i repaired both dresses by hand and made sure that they were clean and presentable for my Mistress.

my Mistress seemed pleased, and told me that i made Her life so much easier when i was around. i must admit, when my Mistress compliments my work, that i do have a tendency to blush and get a little flustered.  one particular time, W/we were driving back to Her lair in the mountains, when She complimented me three times, i became certfiably flumoxed and subsequently drove down the wrong roadway. She gasped, slapped me, called me a "dork",and  then promptly, boxed my ears,.

abruptly forcing me to pull over, She corrected the error of my mindless sense of direction by driving U/us there Herself. i guess i just am not used to being pummeled with Her compliments.  needless to say, it was a little embarassing and emasculating to be booted out of the driver's seat of one's own car, but, i do like it when She sees fit to let me know that what i do for Her makes Her life all that much simpler and eliminates stress and drama. thank you dear, Mistress. :)

my main point is this, be attentive to the needs of Your Mistress without Her having to ask. surprise Her, and You maybe surprised with what happens afterwards. i'm still nursing a sore throat from an impromptu garroting session. ;) ~sushichum

Your Work (a poem)

one day on the phone, this summer, during a brief conversation, my Mistress had confided to me that O/our D/s relationship had been nothing more than work, or a job to Her. Her jaded words ripped through me like an old, rusty saw and hurt me far more than any whip or curt could of. yet, instead of letting these feelings stew and fester, i decided to follow Her writer's example and set my wounded heart to pen and paper. this poem is the result of that introspection. remarkably, this sudden emotive pustule release was therapeutic and helped me to deal with my feelings of grief and loss.~sushichum

Your Work

By: pescado

so, it was only about work.

all about work You say?

the punching of a time clock

the clicking of a gun

putting in time until W/we were done.

hour upon hour

minute by minute

second by second

just, fucking work … nothing more?

but somewhere between the beatings and the marks

punching that damn time card with reddened purple marks

You became a real person to me.

Someone i could relate to, and Someone to see.

it wasn’t just all about work … don’t You see?

turn off emotion until he is black and blue

nothing more to see here until W/we are through.

scratches, scars and bruises … a Dominant’s delight

left all over me and brandished in the night.

but Your marks that were given all bloody and torn

the swelling, and the blackened eyes i see in early morn.

Your marks may fade, but the roots run deep

the fist marks disappear, but the bonding was complete.

so work, fucking work that is all You can say

nothing more than putting in time to fill the day.

was that all this was? a charade,  a farce?

a momentary indiscretion as you pummel me in the dark?

the heart rings true

no matter what it’s color.

darkened hearts, smash vanilla hearts to bits in bloody palor.

work … just fucking work

laid naked, beaten, and bleeding bare for the truth

for, what was just work to You …

was Your love, to me.

i mean … don’t You see?

Summer, July 1, 2014

thoughts on

this summer has been another one of adjustment for me. those of Y/you that read my blog consistently know that i have not published anything for quite awhile. i was hurt and stymied when i found out that my Mistress had decided that within the boundaries of Her new life, there was no room for me as Her slave. what was worse was that this was communicated to me by Her while She and i were both not in the most lucid of states. What i remember most was how lost i felt when She released me as Her pet and the big fucking, gaping chasm it left in my heart.

however, things have looked up and moved in a positive direction since then.  my Mistress has found that She cannot live without my service, and has praised me multiple times for being a good boy to Her. oh, how, i long to hear and live by those words as they spring so infrequently from Her lips.

this blog has been a thorn and a painful reminder of what had been, and it hurt too much to write what i was truly feeling after my release. i put it on the shelf for awhile and let my true self hammer things out in regard to my emotions and the grief i felt. it is never fun to confront soured human emotions. being a wary fish, my sub consciousness always directs me and guides me. as a pisces, i cannot help but be driven to and fro by that dichotomy.

within the next week or so, i hope to unmask amd unpack these feelings and reveal to Y/you the true healing that has finally begun to take place since these events transpired. perhaps, this vague insight will help other submissives who are feeling a bit despondent after being released.

chin-up my friends. chin-up. ~sushichum