Monday, June 7, 2010

“...Nothing Like A [Domme]”

Monday June 7, 2010


Today, just for fun, I'm wearing my leather bustier, trademark fishnets and thigh-high leather boots.

"What if,” Tommy says, his voice, across the phone wires, just breaching the level of whisper, “what if I were tied to a table?”

Already I'm readying the restraints.


“And what if you were the doctor, and you had this orderly?”

I signal to my favorite sub. “Oui, Maitresse," he says. I've taught him to speak French. When we first met he had a facile tongue. But I taught him the vocabulary appropriate to his station. He can do no other than obey.

"And what if he had a really big cock?" Tommy whispers.

There is a world famous domme, her name is Maitresse Françoise When one enters her site, one finds what appears to be a poem, entitled "L'Extase". In it the compleat domme states, in effect, that your desires are her command. "I shoulder the responsibility," she writes.

After all, how can you be held accountable for transgressions you commit under duress, under the powerful spell of a dominatrix? The answer, of course, is that you cannot.


Poor Tommy, strapped to my flexion table (also, and rather aptly, known as a cox table). He can neither move his arms nor his legs.


My orderly holds his head. But Tommy will move. And he cries out.


This will not do.

I order my sub to tighten the head restraint I've had specially fashioned to fit my cox table. Tommy whimpers.


Then I command the orderly to insert the feeding apparatus. He wedges it firmly into Tommy's mouth.

Tommy is able to make only the tiniest of mouse-like noises. This pleases me. I will soon be wet.



I signal my sub. He lowers the cox table. Tommy's head is level with my sub's thigh.

Tommy's eyes look beseechingly at me. This makes me smile.


I nod to my sub. He descends his trousers. I had him wear a green neon thong. His cock is bursting out the side.

Tommy's eyes veer in the direction of my sub's massive cock.

"Tommy," I say, "time for your feeding."

I know Tommy is screaming. But all I can hear are high pitched squeaking noises.

"Maintenant," I say to my sub. He inserts his cock into the feeding apparatus, wedged handily inside Tommy's mouth.

My hand finds Tommy's scrotum. I squeeze his balls together. "Suck," I say, "or lose them."

Tommy knows I'm in deadly earnest.

He can do no other than suck.

Best,

Diane

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