Month: April 2016

Office Bullies: A Modern Slave Training (Part 2)

Chapter 1 left off with Nick scrambling to please his boss Miss Hart, who delights in setting him tasks where he is doomed to fail and be humiliated. Her dominant female employees are set on taking advantage of him and seeing how far they can push his boundaries.

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Shuffling back down the hall tugging at his tight collar and cuffs, he nearly tripped over a woman who had pushed her chair right out into the corridor and had propped up her foot against the wall, languidly dangling a shoe off her toe, fiddling with a lock of long black hair. She smiled at him, wolflike. She uncrossed her legs and pushed herself off the chair to stand inches from him. He rubbed his neck and studied the carpet.

“Hallo, I’m Moira. I’ll be supervising you now. Miss Hart is too busy so it’s my job to keep you on target.” She pushed past him, turning to beckon him to follow. “But let’s do this first.” In her green velvet pencil skirt, the slit rising curiously high, she shimmered.

Out the door, down a hallway, up some stairs and into the women’s bathroom. He stopped at once and let the door squeak closed in front of him. Moments later it blew open and Moira grabbed his wrist, tugging him in.

She prodded him into a stall. “The lock doesn’t work properly,” she said, and he shrank into the corner of the tiny space when she hiked up her skirt.

“You’ll keep it shut for me, won’t you.” He did as he was told, tightly holding the door with his eyes squeezed closed. She exhaled deeply as her piss hit the water, relieved. “Turn around,” she ordered sharply. He wrenched away to face her straight on.

She grinned in that hungry wolf way and parted her legs, so the rushing noise of her stream echoed off the walls, and whispered, “If you talk to anyone about this, I’ll tell your agency that you wouldn’t do anything you were assigned. I’ll tell them that you were lazy and stubborn…ahh.” she sighed as the stream slowed to drips, and Nick kept his eyes on her, knuckles white from gripping the door shut.

“Paper.” She held out her hand.

They froze at the sound of squealing door hinges and confident heels walking over the tiled floor. One pair of shoes tapping its toe outside the stall, and two pairs of shoes facing each other in the confining cubicle.

“Moira.” said a voice, brusquely.

No reply.

“Moira I know it’s you, we’ve spoken about this.” The voice was rich, silky and German. “You can’t do this on company time. It will be your third offence this month. Shape up and come out now.”

The flush of the toilet, and Nick squirmed out first. He was met with a striking woman, blonde, sturdy and handsome. She looked past him, unsmiling.

“Out now. Be quick.” Moira bumped into him from behind and he stumbled into the statuesque woman. She sneered at the contact. “Who is this?”

“Audra, this is the newest temp we were waiting for, he’s here to assist with the filing for the audit.”

Audra’s face showed sudden interest. “Ah, here to assist is he?” She turned on all the taps and then stood next to Moira, giving Nick a hard appraising look. “And how’s the assistant doing so far?”

Nick started to answer but was cut off with a stony glare. “I wasn’t talking to you, boy, I was addressing my colleague. So arrogant, this one. Thinks he can tell us how he’s doing? Stand up straight, you’re stooping.” Their heels clicked the tiles as they edged closer towards him, closing the gap between them and the wall of sinks.

“He’s doing alright, but I suppose we’ll see as the day goes on.” Teeth glinting, enjoying his visible discomfort, they drew closer. He bumped against the counter. Still they inched closer, their eyes dancing over his body, calculating, judging, their snug pencil skirts and bursting buttoned shirts radiating forbidden heat. They pressed themselves tight against him from both sides and he bent backwards, a jolt running through him as shockingly cold water splashed his back.

They sprung back at his yelp, and were gone from the room.

He looked around wildly, confused how they had disappeared so fast. He spun around to the mirror and saw a dishevelled mess brimming with tears.

Bracing against the counter with all three sinks running he spoke to himself. “What is going on in this place? Am I being bullied? This is unprofessional. I should leave. I should call the agency and ask to be transferred straight away.” He dabbed cold water at his wrists and neck to calm himself, and felt a tightness in his trousers, a stain blooming at the front.

He scrubbed roughly at the stain, dampening the fabric more. “I can’t do this,” he muttered, “I don’t understand what’s happening to me. They’re all so mean but I don’t know if I want to stop…” He stared hard at his reflection. “Get a grip. Think about what you need to do today. Think about alphanumerical order. Paper clips. Staples.” He felt his trousers, no change.

Miss Hart caught him walking stiffly past her office. “Where have you been? You’re paid by the hour. You’ve been gone twenty minutes.”

“I’m sorry Miss Hart, I had to…attend to something.”

The CEO looked down at him and sucked air through her teeth. “Ah. Well, an office full of women does take getting used to. Go get me a nice cup of tea why don’t you.”

“Yes, Miss Hart. Thank you.”

As the water boiled, his prick calmed down. The stain was still there, dark and wet and obvious. He returned to Miss Hart’s desk, silently placing the cup next to her. She took a sip and spat it back in the cup with contempt. “You grimy little speck. You’ve served me swamp water.”

“Sorry, it’s made how I thought you’d like it -”

“Too much sugar! No milk! Vile boy.” With a flick of her wrist she knocked it over the desk and it splashed everywhere, dripping off the table and beading onto the thick carpet. This was the time to push him over the edge, to overwhelm him to free him.

“Don’t gawk at me you stupid twat, get a mop.”

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In the next chapter, Nick the temp is squashed into a car and driven to lunch with the entire staff. A bizarrely kinky meal shoulder to shoulder with Dommes, he is coerced into service.

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To his right, Helena’s fork fell from her place and clattered under the table. The company quietened and eyes bore down on him. Miss Hart lazily squeezed lemon onto an oyster and slipped it down her throat. She smacked her lips and said, “Helena dropped her fork, Nick. Get to the floor, now. Pick it up.”

He squirmed off the bench and under the table, dark and cramped. He started crawling to retrieve the fork, and a foot touched his back. A heel pressed into his shoulder and then a kick landed square on his arse and a tumult of shoves, pushes and jabs all over his body. He covered his face to make it to where it lay, grabbed it and fought his way out on his knees and elbows, dodging blows from all sides in the dark. Helena’s face beamed down at him and he polished the fork with a corner of his shirt. He offered it up to her and she grabbed it, clutching his hand.

Pony Play: Tally-Ho! The Hunt is On.

I’m always on the hunt for new ways of dehumanizing my subs. Already I am whittling my way through boxes of ginger root in a figging frenzy (it keeps your tail pert and your body hot and alert), and dressing my boys up in new ways, using leather and metal to hobble them, to change their shape into something more creatureish. And I do like a spectacle, giving a chance to win ribbons. So starting this week I am inviting beasts of burden and prize-winning ponies alike for a trot around the dungeon paddock.

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I have a full leather bridle with blinkers and a bit, hard-backed bristled brushes, leather cuffs and reins to keep you in place, and a trusty set of crops and canes to keep you in line. How high can you jump? I am a proud owner and I will put you through the paces to train you to be the most obedient pony. As a reward, I may choose to ride you.

How will you come in first place? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Interview on Consent in Kink

What do I want? Kinky things! When do I want them? As soon as you agree!

You don’t need convincing, coercing, cajoling. It’s so hot when I say “I’m going to chain you to a post, wrap your whole body in plastic, and kick you around,” and you say, “YES! Can we do that right this instant?”

In this interview on The Debrief I talk to Gareth May about big rules and risk awareness in BDSM, alongside Glasgow-based Dominatrix Mistress Megara.

“…you should ask, and everyone, irrespective of gender, likes it when you do. Consent isn’t just for kids. Whether fingering… throat-fucking, anal, heavy petting, pegging, love biting, or hair pulling, the best experiences for everyone involved are only reached by talking about them – so why do adults outside of the BDSM community seemingly have trouble vocalizing the C word? “

Adults Are in Need of Lessons in Consent Too

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Office Bullies: A Modern Slave Training (Part 1)

This erotic fantasy circles around the power dynamics in a female-led corporation. Cruel dominant women find ways of tormenting the new male office temp. Confining cubicles, impossible tasks with tight deadlines, and strict company rules are all designed to break him. The story amplifies my own fetishes of shoes, stockings, golden showers, bondage, and acts of service, which become more and more intense with every chapter. Enjoy part one.

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Rent was due. He could get job interviews, but anxiety tied him in tight fussy knots so he was never called back. He couldn’t even focus on everyday tasks for fear of the looming uncertain future – responsibility was simply too much to handle. Unfocussed, sloppy, incapable. It had been like this for months and he could no longer see his worth.

It was the break-up that had started it, made him realize how poorly trained he was for independent life. She had kept him under her thumb so snugly, and he was at his best when being squashed down. He would have pushed other men into traffic just to carry her groceries home. She could hold him captive in her gaze so he felt he was the only thing she was looking at, that she was ignoring all but his tiny existence.

Then she asked him to take it to the next level, to come with her to a special party, a gathering of like minds she said, where he would truly have no control and be at the mercy of everybody there. With no clue of what she meant, or understanding of her subtle but persistent training, he grew frightened and refused. He couldn’t take that step into the void, to truly give up ownership of his own body and mind. She left him, frustrated and hurt that he couldn’t see he had earned the position she was offering. And now, no partner, no job and soon to be no home, he signed up with an office temp agency.

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It was a bright morning and Miss Hart was walking to work with a bounce in her step. She spotted him from a distance and smirked, pleased with what the temp agency had sent. He was standing outside the locked office, neat, tidy, and nervously fidgeting. The new administrative assistant. She walked closer to the door, keys in hand, noticed he had a shadow of a stoop. That would need to be corrected.

“I’m the CEO here. I hired you. You’re going to help us with the audit today, aren’t you.” she said, deliberately brushing against him to unlock the door.

“Yes, I think so, I’m Nick, so…” She looked directly at him and his lips quivered. It was a thrill to take in his smallness, and she kept her gaze on him till he reddened. This would be so easy. She could already read exactly what would make him squirm, and she hadn’t even put him to task yet. She turned the lights on and smiled to think what a lovely day it would be with this whisper of a man working hard for her.

He followed her into her office. She dropped her purse and coat on the floor next to her desk and sat down. He went to the chair opposite. “Did I invite you to sit?” she asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“Not at all, you’re new.” He stood, shifting his feet while she glossed over emails, ignoring him. He was thrillingly still, his only movement a strenuous swallowing as if to prevent a cough or sneeze. His fingers twitched soundlessly. The minutes passed. A sheen of sweat sprung up and beaded on his cleanly shaved upper lip, his eyes fixed on the carpet in front of his shoes. The hum of the lights and the computer droned loud against her quick typing.

Miss Hart finally paused to look up in thought. “Oh!” she jumped. “I’d quite forgotten you were still here. Of course. Follow me.”

He followed her quick spiked heels down the corridor to a desk crammed into a dimly lit corner, boxes of files looming over a chair that swiveled at a drunken angle when he sat.

Miss Hart walked behind him and leaned over, her breath landing warm on his neck. “Nick,” she said in a low voice, “the standards in this place are high. You will probably struggle to match up. I’m going to be hard on you today.” She spoke slowly so the words landed in the right place, “The details are very important. Is that alright, Nick?” He nodded, perched on the edge of the chair, his eyes trained forward.

Then she straightened up and began rapidly explaining how the files were to be marked and ordered, and how much was to be finished by lunch, knowing that when she was done that all he had taken in was her Chanel perfume. She left him to it.

He sweated through the morning, working to make sense of the task with no example to follow and no one to ask. 10:30AM the phone rang at his desk, Miss Hart’s clipped voice slicing through the line, “Are you keeping busy over there?” Without waiting for him to answer, “I have a little errand for you. Scurry down to the cafe across the street and get me two slices of multigrain toast, with raspberry jam and extra butter. On my desk, hot.”

She hung up before he could respond. Fumbling in his pockets, he collected the coins he could and flew down the stairs.

Minutes later, toast in hand, he just avoided being hit by a car to get back in time. He raced up into her office and the paper bag landed on her desk.

She hardly moved but for a disdainful curl of her lip. “Where’s the plate? I don’t eat out of paper bags like a sticky-fingered child.”

“No Miss -”

“Get a plate, Nick.”

“Yes Miss -”

“And a glass of water.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Hurry up. I’m getting bored.”

Watching him scamper off, she had to bite her hand quite hard to stop from laughing. He was perfect, so easy to shake up.

He came back with a glass of water and the toast arranged on the plate, a little sloppy, but edible. He placed them gingerly on the desk. “Not there,” she spat, and pointed. He stretched far over the wide wood desk to place them where her finger was. Her eyes met his and he froze, and her face softened into a smile. Staring straight at him she bit into a corner of toast. Swallowed. “Good. Thank you Nick. You can go.”

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In the next chapter, Nick is pressed into a bathroom between two women. Check back next week for part 2.

“Audra, this is the newest temp we were waiting for, he’s here to assist with the filing for the audit.”

Audra’s face showed sudden interest. “Ah, here to assist is he?” She turned on all the taps and then stood next to Moira, giving Nick a hard appraising look. “And how’s the assistant doing so far?”

“He’s doing alright, but I suppose we’ll see as the day goes on.” Teeth glinting, enjoying his visible discomfort, they drew closer. He bumped against the counter. Still they inched closer, their eyes dancing over his body, calculating, judging, their snug pencil skirts and bursting buttoned shirts radiating forbidden heat. They pressed themselves tight against him from both sides and he bent backwards, a jolt running through him as shockingly cold water splashed his back. They sprung back at his yelp, and were gone from the room.

Tightly Tied: Lust in Bondage

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Watching a man reduced to the floor, crawling towards me on his bound hands and knees, his movements strained and small, desperate to inhale my scent and warmth up close, is in my opinion the ideal way to spend a Tuesday afternoon.

Bondage gives me a sense of rich satisfaction and wholeness, a response to something that deeply invigorates and connects me to my subject. It makes me feel good.IMG_6646

I love the fine, hypnotic tying of rope as much as quickly fastening leather cuffs on and clipping them to each other to twist the body in beautiful agony. From symmetrical art to a tangled mess that binds your body to itself or spreads it entirely open, you are always vulnerable while I have you restrained.IMG_5711 2

Leather restraints have infinite uses, easily and comfortably (ish) snapping you into position, locking you down to my operating table. Cuffed into a hogtie, or dangling from the ceiling, bent at all the right angles for my peculiar amusement.

I lose myself winding you up and slowly, painfully untying you, letting rope first caress and then sear the skin. Rope hums when I thread it around you, the tension and vibration sending signals between us, me the giver, you the receiver. Spider and fly.

I have studied bondage at the Kinbaku Rope Salon in Toronto, and I continue to brush up on my bondage skills attending workshops by Midori and local Toronto teachers. I make use of what’s around me; stockings, zip ties, chains, tape, saran wrap, power cables… abducting you and attaching you to the chair, the hotel luggage rack, the foot of the bed, the railings on the stairs, or to yourself.

Cast off your shackles and slip into mine.

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