From the Beach to the Lift.

Putting my hand down, I clamp your wrist, I hold it tight, talking into you mouth “stop….stop….not yet…do you trust me?”. Your eyes glisten and blink hard, “yes” whipsered, no exhaled. Pulling you upwards, keeping you close, bodies hard against each other, we stand…”Do YOU trust ME?” “yes” the glistening now wet. “Follow me”.

Holding your wrist I walk in front, leading you, from the beach, your erect cock beneath fabric obvious to the morning beach dwellers and revellers. I tug you along, not looking back, I don’t want to see your face, embarrassed as the people look at this couple. Me pulling you along like a naughty child being made to come in from playtime because he couldn’t play nice…forgot the rules…became too rough as he got over excited.

Continuing along the beach path, I stopped and pulled you to walk infront of me. “Go on this is your locale, take me to your house, take me to the place where you take all the others…take me home” With your pouty mouth and boyish frame you silently slide past me, starting our game follow my lead. I watch you walk in front of me, assured and confident, you know where you are going and know where you have been, you know your stuff, you are a man of the world. As we approach the block, the glass doors to the apartment foyer, I watch your back. I have your back, soon I will have all of you I see your demeanour change, I see the tension, the self concious apprenhension, the weight of my gaze measured by the weight of expectation. I smile wryly as I know you are begining to feel the fear, insecure, rattled by what you think I will do to you, make you do, make you feel. I shrug and shake my head as your discomfort, it doesn’t come from me, it comes from you. MY hand on your shoulder I stop you, you jump, startled at the physical contact, I turn you round to see your beautiful face, you biting your lip as you look at me “Don’t worry, don’t be afraid….all I am going to do is make love to you…how hard can that be…” Smiling, fully, I tilt my head, your troubled anxious face makes me laugh, it is funny, “you’re being silly…come now…take me to your love nest!” Embarrassed at your macho boasting of before, you turn and walk into the marbled cold foyer, clinical pristine and icy cold.
The lift is warm – grabbing hold of both your wrists, my Boy, my beautiful slutty Boy, I pull you close to me and bite your neck, letting go, I force my hands hard up over your cheeks, forehead and hairline, your glasses dislodged and uncomfortable, I push the hair from our face and pull your head back, your wanton slutty mouth eager for my kisses, you melt and submit. I step away, leaving you, back against the lift wall, head back, neck exposed, panting, I know that you are wishing you had breasts so you could really live the heaving breast sensations you are feeling. I grab my non-existent cock and grieve for it, for I want more than anything in the world to fuck you hard up against the wall of that lift, like a dirty wet hungry whore. Making you scream for my cock as I inpale you, trap you, make you take my all. For now we will just have to be satisfied with me having the breasts and you having the cock.


Time in her Clinic.


When alone with a man; him standing before her, she paused and waited. In no hurry she watched and waited. He is all alone, vulnerable and frozen to the spot under her gaze.

She watched and waited for the chinks to appear. Little teeny tiny holes at first. Some continue to expand, growing into fist sized tears, other holes remain small. Like bullet holes of vulnerability in his suit of armour.

She walked towards him looking into his eyes; they are sad, scared, full of shame and confusion. Circling each wound with her finger, tracing the raw edges and feeling the soreness under her gentle touch. She dipped in a finger, touching the delicate person inside; pulling out and tasting the essence of the human that is waiting for her to heal. He flinches and braces himself as she pushed her whole hand in through a large raw wound.

Here together in this room she strokes his pain. She made him feel whole, clean and normal….for a while.
Here in this room there are only her rules, she set the limits, he submits and becomes free. He can be honest and find release. Here in this room there are no secrets, there are no lies, there are no hidden boxes. They are base,  only animals…their true selves.

She dried his eyes and mopped his brow as the exertion of being honest is nearly too much to bear. On opening his eyes he feels everything will be alright, he can function; he can continue…he is at peace for the first time since he last stood before me.
It is time for him to go, she kisses his sweet lying mouth, bending down to lick the edge of each and every wound, pinching the skin together; the wound seals. He is ready to go back and into the world, his friends, his life; knowing that she, the only one who knows all of him and loves him as her own damaged boy.

Socks & Sandals, Christmas Lights and Blow Jobs.


Do you know what…joking aside I actually find socks and sandals attractive! I don’t know if it is harking back to 1970’s porn, Dads on beaches, the Germen men on I have seen on campsites; striding around 100ft tall or maybe it is an aesthetic just too lowly for refined sensibilities; but I really do find it strangely arousing.

I think it is because I love men, I love people – I love their mundane, their ordinary, their banal.

I get aroused at houses that have Christmas lights outside – the male (usually male I assume) has planned, has been out in the cold, has been working hard…getting frustrated, his fingers cold, his cheeks pink from wind and exertion…..for what…to please his neighbourhood? to wind up his neighbours? to please his wife? to escape his wife? to make memories for his children? to remember his children? who knows…but I love him in his endeavours and I really hope that he gets his fair share of blow jobs…but somehow I don’t think he does.

I want my cake, I want your heart.



I want my cake and to eat it, then I want to eat your cake and also save some of your cake for later.

I would also like to have a rummage in your pantry to see if you are saving any other cakes, maybe I shall even buy you the ingredients to make me more cakes – and I want to taste the love in them!

I want your heart on a plate – I will take it and nail it to my own. Using the nails that hung Christ on the cross – these are the nails that I will use. Nails used by mere humans to hammer home the eternal human fear of loss and pain. These are the only nails that I can use, that are worthy of using.

In return for this I can offer you longing, I can offer you want, I can offer you craving, I can offer you eternal hunger and yearning. I can offer you unrequited love without the poetic, romantic softening just the harsh reality of “it’s not fair!”

Come with Me.

You kneel before me. Her marks on your body; dribbling the liquid paint that signposted her being there. But, she has gone now, and all that you have left is me and I you. She filled the air, the space, the room. Her suffocating presence enclosed and enveloped us both. But now she is gone.

I sit back and gaze upon you. Your breathing returning to normal, the feeling coming back into your body, you are coming back to reality. The floor now hard under your knees and her tear marks are beginning to become sore as the body fights to heal itself.

Her job is done and you are now healing ; outside-in. My job, however is to take you further, take you to the places that you do not wish to go. In my reality there is no subspace surrender for you; only real life pain, no acceptance, no zone, no atonement for crimes once committed. Just you and I. You, are nearly spent, exhausted and broken whereas for me; my working day is just starting. I am refreshed, energised and aroused.

I sit and watch you uncoil and then recoil, as you realise it has only just begun. Your eyes blinking in the light that shines in from the now open window shutters. You have been safe in your dark world. Your dark world; eyes jammed shut. Your dark world, where you could cope with and expect dark things.

Now, it is time for the light, the reprieve, the rapture of the sun on your back, the rivulets of sweat drying and crisping in her gouges. Together my love, we will walk in the light, I will take you, you will be safe with me…I promise. Or maybe not safe, but safe in the knowledge that now is the time for you to take off your heavy armour, free yourself and then you will fly…fly into the light….Come with me.

“Come with me…Come with me…Now!” Pulling on your chain; you lurch forward from the wrists, the metal bracelets, heavy, bruising but so lovely on you. That blissful feeling of being yanked. “Come with me…come with me now!” I am standing, pulling your chain, your arms out-stretched in front, you clamber to your feet, falling forward and stumbling. That blissful feeling of being yanked into life. I see your erection and know that I am on task.

“Come with me now!” I am walking to the door, only one pair of footsteps on the stone floor; my boots, your naked feet make no sound. On opening the door, turning to smile I see your angelic face. Pale and ghostly, your eyes hollow and sunken; yet you manage to give me the most beautiful smile…you always do and it makes me happy.

“Come with me now!” I pull on the chain, tripping down the stairs you are out onto the gravel. I pull you up and we walk in silence; listening to the birds chattering about their day and the bees gossiping about the Queen. I am kind, I know that I am kind…it feels ok. It is nice to be nice, so I allow you to walk on the grass, I see the relief in your eyes as you step onto the cool wetness.

“Come with me my love” At the top of the cliff we make love, “Come to me my love” The warm sun upon your back, your sticky blood under my nails. “Cum with me my love, before she comes back for you”.

Scent Marking.


When she has finished with you, you are kneeling in the centre of the room. Back marked with her whip, cane and cat, meek and near broken.

Standing behind you, I run my hands over your head, down your neck, onto your shoulders and back, feeling the raised skin, the heat of the welts. Stroking you with the faintest of touches, my icy cold finger tips on your silken skin.

My hands pushing down onto your shoulders, my touch becoming deeper, smooth yet pushing into you, onto you. The heal of my hand into the back of your shoulder my fingers bent, my nails hold you at the front, firm. A massage like no other. The mix of dull ache and sharpness, chronic and acute. Bending my knees, your warmth against my shins, my knee caps pressed firmly either side of your spine, the toes of my shoes at your coccyx.

Putting a hand down under your chin, I lift your head, pulling your face up to meet my gaze, like a beautiful flower turning to the sun. Back bent, curved around my knees, your chest stretched open, your neck; compression at the back, expansion at the front you find it difficult to swallow. I look at your lovely face, your pouty mouth, I bend forward to kiss your lips upside down. Licking the inside of your open mouth, I taste you. You shake as the contorted body fatigues. I release you and you spring forward then upright. The relief is visible on your face and you pant.

Stepping round you, lifting my skirt, I tell you to straighten your legs to the front. Lowering myself on to your cock. My open blouse allows us to be chest to chest, my legs bent around your waist, the heels of my shoes catching the downy skin on your buttocks. Grabbing hold of your scorched back, clinging onto you for dear life, my nails clawing at you as I buck hard from the waist, pulling you into me, harder, I fuck you, I take you, you are mine.

After I am done, I stand and send you back to her, so that she can see what she inspired me to do, my nail marks over hers. Like scent marking, a shot across her bows? Maybe.

How it feels to have three things deep inside.



I have three things inside; The Beast, The Intellect and then there is ME grappling with the leashes of those other two.

It is the ME that is vulnerable.

If I stand behind The Beast or The Intellect then I cannot be touched. They are my guard dogs, my attack dogs, my guide dogs.

Like wolves pulling a sled, I sit tucked up in fur, a frozen Queen wishing to thaw.

I wave at the icy serfs, the starving slaves and the lost changelings who all try to stay close at the entrance of my Kingdom. I call “To the ghosts, the lonely, the needy and greedy – Let them eat cunt!”

Men hitting women, women hitting men – All in front of the children!

It was a beautiful day today and I went to the beach with some friends.

However, we were all having fun and then we had to come away because of the absolutely disgusting behaviour we saw on the sands.

A man and a woman were having an almighty argument in front of lots of children, then all of a sudden the woman hit the man in the head and it went balistic! There was a massive brawl and someone called the Police. This poor Policeman turned up on his own and took his baton to the man, the guy managed to snatch it off him and began assaulting the Policeman AND his wife!

Then out of nowhere a crocodile crept up and stole all the sausages !!