OPPRESSED MAJORITY (Majorité Opprimée English), by Eleonore Pourriat

wow! this flilm really flips things, and gives U/us all something to think about.

a new kind of liberty and freedom

...perhaps one day in the not so distant future. may W/we all live to see it become a reality.

Domme Cheat Sheet

i love this. i had to re-post it! :)

 from BossyMsBeckys tumbler blog.
the original source is: foryourusemistress

chopsticks apocalypse

my Mistress invited me over to spend the evening with Her two weekends ago. naturally, i jumped at the chance. W/we ordered in sushi and Japanese food. i ordered salmon terriyaki sushi and general tso's chicken. She ordered the vegetable fried rice. i ended up giving Her most of my sushi, but it felt good to do so. :)  it is a pleasure to be permitted to serve Her in these little subtle ways. anyway, W/we both devoured the sushi and the rice and hardly even used the chopsticks!

after eating, W/we settled in to watching a bit of  Netflix. but, the movie wasn't that interesting and i watched as Her attention began to wane and wander. She got up and paced a bit, moving back and forth like a caged animal.fluffing up the thick strands of her brunette hair. i had seen this pattern fall into place before. Her agitation and restlessness usually spawned either something being thrown at me, or broken. generally across the back of my head.

i watched apprehensively as Her eyes seemed to dart across the tiny room searching for it seemed anything. finally, She settled upon something, zeroing in, i watched as Her characteristic smirk became an outright mischievous grin. with quickness and adroitness, She nimbly picked up a pair of the chopsticks and raised them to her eyes. Her beautiful green eyes darted back and forth with foxy anticipation, and it was at this point that i knew this could not be good. She reached down and tossed the other pair of sticks towards me, and i knew that a challenge was in the making.

laughing and giggling she proceeded to poke me from every conceivable angle. it started with my chest and stomach, but i knew in my heart, what Her true target was. finally after being poked so many times, i couldn't let Her win any longer. i clumsilly got off the couch and decided to engage Her in this duel of the chopsticks. but, right away, it was quite obvious that i was vastly outmatched by my skilled and nimble handed tormentress. Her quickness and accuracy were mesmerizing, and each time i raised my hand to block Her parry, She divulged another path to strike at my unprotected body. soon my face was scratched and poked and proded from every conceivable direction. She used Her training in ju jitsu and karate to Her advantage. i was amazed with how much speed She had accrued from only a month of training in Karate. now, i have seen Her use anything as weapon and overcome physically an agressor, but now with chopsticks?  come on? Her speed was infatisimal and amazing. She literally twirled the sticks between Her fingers, laughing and giggling at my demise. i couldn't do anything against Her well thought out blocks and attacks.

reaching over my head She applied an arm lock and then stepping down hard on my foot, locking it in place, She jabbing two of the pointed implements and punctured my neck.

"Mmmmmmmm .. you wouldv'e been almost dead there." She spun around on the balls of her feet and laughed at my confusion. then crossing with an upward slash she dug the sticks into my right cheek. She suddenly got serious then changed.

She laughed with derision, "your almost dead there too."

 then releasing me She waited for my attack again. this time i tried a head on assault. but, a fool hardy and wrong decision. She grabbed my arm again, locked her elbow behind my shoulders and poked me hard in the face three times, scrapping it and digging it in, as She went. the welts were instantaneous. She glazed her hands lightly across my face, then narrowed Her eyes and beckoned me to come for more. not to be outdone, i went low this time, but my lack of experience or skill provided a delightful, clownish performance for Her. stumblisng and fumbling for position i charged at Her like a bull. suddenly, i felt Her knee me sharply in the abdomen hard.  the wind left me instantaneously. wide eyed and gasping i sunk to my knees, but found i couldn't, as She had locked her lithe arm around my neck in a headlock and poked me five or six more times in succession, announcing each time the fatality of each hit!

"Dead here"., using a dagger thrust She again stepped on my foot and drug the chopsticks across the jugular of my neck.

"Dead here."

She grabbed my head by the hair and prepared to go into a knee kicking stance, but instead stabbed me hard under my chin with one chopstick while cutting and slashing the side of my face with the other.

 She giggled and laughed with evil abandon. "Oh you are so dead there." "Probably lost an eye too".

Finally, using Her immense lower leg strength she grabbed my head cupping both her hands behind my neck and pushed it firmly down, then allowed Her legs to finish the lock and hold Me helplessly in place. i struggled and gasped, but Her strong calves would not budge. She grabbed my hair and yanked down hard, exposing the back of my neck to Her view.

"And now to finish you".

i watched confined and incapacitated as She tightened Her gripped and then with three quick thrusts and slashes She playfully pretended to sever and cut the spinal cord . then for good measure She dug down hard poking me several times in different locations with only Her chopsticks. needless to say, it was a humiliating defeat.

"Dead, dead, and absolutely dead ... she chimed gloriously. "i win,  you lose.... again." "Ha, Ha.", She mocked, dancing around on the high arches of Her bare feet.

She released me finally, and i cautiously regained my footing, and retreated to the bathroom.  i was a mess, scratched up and poked, showning serveral injurious abrasions. the most prominent injury was a set of three cross mark welts across the side of my neck and a prominent bloody poke mark in the center of my forehead.

i smiled."i  look like a hindu". i thought.

leaving the bathroom, i had to regain my dignity somehow. i sat on the couch and waited for Her to return then being the stealthy coward that i am i poked Her hard three times in the ass before She sat down. needless to say this was not the smartest thing to do. She turned to face me. looked at me hard, cocked Her fist, then launched a haymaker and punched me hard in the side of the head.

She glared at me, and said, "Do you really want to do that now?"
"Do you really want to start something that you know you can't possibly finish."

i grabbed my ear and rubbed the side of my cheek. the redded fist print was enough to convince me that She meant business, and that playtime was now over.

i cowered into my seat, and sat down. She then sat down next to me pursed her lips then said,
"Awwwwwwwe ... don't pout now, it was fun, but now, it is time for you to do My dishes."

i rubbed my wounds and then obediently got up and did as i was told.
smiling to myself, i thought, "i would hate to see what She was capable of with a butterfly knife."
"nah".
 

my Mistress greeted me today ...

my Mistress greeted me today with a hug and a penetrating punch to the gut.

She ordered me to fold Her blanket, and to sit still. i still get this tinge up and down my spine when She issues a command. i'm not sure if it will ever fade away.  i did as i was told and sat down unaware as to where the events of the evening would take me.

i do not know if She reads my blog faithfully, but when i sat on the floor, there nestled under the end table was a menacing and convincing pair of Her black, bad assed boots; just like i had mentioned and written about earlier in my previous post.

could it be that She read my post, and then decided to have a bit of fun with my reactions by placing Her awesome boots there?  maybe, a secret reward of some type for my years of faithful service? perhaps this is a cruel joke just to tease me, because She knows the awful foot fetish i have about Her feet; particularly with Her sneakers as i have posted before. maybe, i should just eat shit and die. this could all be just my mind diving off the diving board into the deep end of the pool where i will suffocate and drown. a bit melodramatic, but it could be i'm just putting more into this, than is really there. yes, the recent cold, storm and snow. She had to of needed to wear something that was warmer and a bit more insulated than Her Nike tennis shoes. ok ..... ok ..... so yes, that is probably it. but, why is my mind telling me that it could be something more? why? ... why ...?  why? ... my mind began to wander, and soon i was,  but knew i was not ....  i decided to go with the flow of it ... and see where it lead me.

i lost my seat on Her couch, because i had to get up to take a piss. but, it was ok, i sat with my back brushing against the back of Her combat beauties. i imagined what they smelled like, and snuck my hand in the back to feel the thick hard rubber heel and sole. i continued to think about how it would feel to have Her step on my face with those clomping, clobbering boots. scuffing my face until it was red, scratched and bloody. digging Her heels hard into the caves of my cheeks and flattening my nose ever so lightly, so as to make it ridiculously puffy and huge. grinding and bearing down on my forehead with the weight of Her upperbody and thigh. experiencing the ever building pressure, much like that of a grape which is about to implode then  explode...

when it is over, She lifts Her heavy chunky sole off my face, and grins ear to ear with a sense of malevolent satisfaction. there is a characteristic sucking sound as She pulls the treads out of the recesses of my flesh; for they have sunk in deep.

She laughs in derision at the visage of my palid, yet bloodied appearance.

"Hmmmm ... Feeling a bit run over?"
"your face looks like the tread of one of my tires."

sadly, time will not allow me to continue within this fantasy. it is becoming ever later and i must make my way back. the long trek ahead of me reorients me to the vanilla world i am chained and shackled to.

i hug my Mistress, say goodnight, and scrunch down the fantasy deeper into the recesses of that vapor which aches to be once again allowed to be free.

an image of trust

there are days ...

there are days when i want to be owned ...

ploughed down and run over with Her bad ass boots.
the kind with the flesh chewing treads that clomp and stomp over my stretched, yet smiling complexion.

i want to be slapped and clobbered until my face is the perfect swollen and bruised imprint of Her leading hand; Her strong hand. i want to feel the growing ridges and valleys that overlap and bulge to the puffiness of an unexpected, but welcome fat lip.

i want to feel an embrace.  Her arms cradle and slide around my scrawny neck tighten, constrict and squeeze appreciatively. i want to see and feel Her comforting gaze and watch Her grimace then smile as my eyes widen and bulge seeking release from their confining sockets. i want to feel the confining terror of no air and know that She alone could snuff me.

i want to be Her marker boy. my smooth tall forehead the perfect clipboard for Her labels and jibes.

i want to lay my head down and rest on the beige carpet near Her feet and hear Her call me, "pet" ... just like She used to.

i want ...

fishpaste