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Ooooh, Mistress! That’s big!!

Today I went to Expectations, the fabulous emporium of gay excess, with my Manhooker – a man known for his penchant for large strapons and for the women attached to them. We hadn’t met for a while, so we thought it’d be nice to go shopping for some new cocks to try for size on him (in him?) on the weekend.

We entered the shop and were instantly greeted by the wonderful aroma of rubber & leather that usally impregnates these places. The basement was cavernous, the light dim, the dildos, uncannily arranged on rows of shelves in a small alcove on the left: it looked like a cloistered private chapel in a gothic cathedral, the superhuman rubber cocks standing proud like archangels of Sodom. But this time supportive of its denizens. How times change!

As Manhooker himself noted: “you got to love those gays and their love of ridicuous sized insertables…” Cough! As if only the gays love ridiculosuly big fake cocks!

No, gays aren’t the only people who love large, phallic sized insertables. Phallic women and women with penis envy, like me, find them irresistible. There must have been about a hundred to choose from, from the baby cock size (only a small handful of them hiding shyly behind their bigger siblings), to the man fist sized behemoths and above – several dozen, actually.

So I settled for two: a smooth, black 10″ to re-start Manhooker’s training (he sears he hasn’t been fucked in months, but I’ve heard that story before) where we left it last summer… I then set my eyes and wallet on a thick, cocky, fully balled, rampant 12″ with a 7 1/2″ girth round the base.

I bought them both. They were heavy in my bag and could hardly stuff them in it (no pun). Walked around Shoreditch and went for tea at afashionable new bar, hoping I didn’t leave my bag behind… it wouldn’t have been the first time!

UNDERGROUND: a waterboarding & hostage session

I received him dressd in my favourite leopard print wrap around dress, winter boots and gloves. The lobby were we were meeting, the antechamber to my fearsome UNDERGROUND Cell (which is actually on the top floor , ha), was stylish welcoming, with a comfy leather Chesterfield sofa and a bar. He thought I wasn’t serious, I could read it in his eyes.

We had a cup of tea to warm up in the cold early March morning, it’d taken him some time to arrive to hsi destination: my underground prison cell in deepest East London. Still, all he could see was the misleadingly homely lobby.

He let me handcuff and blindfold him and I gulped my last sip of tea. He said he might need to loo before going up. “Too late”, I replied, “we are going up”

He stumbled on the metal staircase, blind, hands behind his back in steeel polie cuffs. I’d told him to wer clothes I could rip with my hunting knife. I started a soon as he was halfway onto the top floor, prodding him with the tip of the sharp bowie knife, slitting fabric here and there. he yelped like a puppy wehn the metal tip pricked his skin. No blood though.

The room had a clean, white medical area on one side, and a large barred cell on the other. I ripped his clothes with my hunting knife and only when he was completely naked, I turned him round towards the cell and removed his blindfold. The cell was the size of a small room. I kicked him in. He was shaking a little by then, but not much. I tied him up to the cell’s hard cot, his head hanging out of the edge, barely held by a block of wood lower than the bed edge. When I walked in with a bucket full of water and a large, dirty rag, he understood. It was for real.

I’d added the leftovers of our tea to the already not very clean water. I noisily pissed on it, in front of my helpless hostage, to top the bucket up. All that morning tea! The rag on his face and chest wasn’t too clean too, I’d brought my soiled kitchen towels, for realism. He gasped. he gasped even more when i sat in his face to increase the feeling of drowning and lack of air. Attaching the electrics to his shrunk cock & scrotum was agood idea too, unfortunately the electricity didn’t travel to the wet patch. Damn.

Still reluctant to surrender to the demands of the Underground Cell, I untied him and had an idea I’;d toyed with in the past, but never actually carried out: japanese rope suspension and waterboarding? He s after all a strappy, ex’Army lad (or so he claimed). I suspended him face up, on four secure, separate points, his head again lower than his torso.

Waterboarding. It worked. He gasped for air, his chest contrained by his own weight and the rope’s pressure on it. he ave in. he yielded. he surrendered to Feral, militant Female Supremacy. We won! And he’d booked this Underground session for March 8th, International Women’s Day. Wonderful irony, eh?

 

 

To be continued…

Kinky dreams, literally

I have been discussing a possible cuckolding session with a client, a whole bunch of emails coming to and fro on both sides. My main problem is that although I do love cuckolding scenes dearly, i can’t just do with any bloke who offers to be my bull. Ms Tytania only indulges in the more traditional pleasures of the flesh with a small, select number of bulls who also happen to be her partners. It’s not a moral decision. I can’t fuck someone i don’t like respect and fancy. Even for money.

But back to the matter in the title. I woke up from a series of vivd dreams that featured my sessions, something extremely rare in my dreams. The last one wa sthe most vivid, and it was about this forthcoming cuckolding session. I want it to go ahead, but it;s probing problematic because my bulls work during the day, like most employable people, and wouldn’t be available for a daytime session. So please note: my cuckolding sessions normally take plce in the evenings or weekends.

In my dream, we had hired plush, luxurious big hotel suite for the session (in real life, my studio in East London) is the perfect venue). I unlocked the door to a fabulous, stylish set of room with large windows, balconies and even an indoor courtyard (ah,  the power of dreams!). I unpacked my big suitcase full of dildos, harnesses and strapons of all sizes, colours and descriptions. Including some I’ve recently seen on this weird, but oddly wonderful website: Elypse Art. apart form the fantasy setting, this is all very much how I’ve proceed in the past when playing away. Also, and as I’d do in a session in real life, my favourite toys, and also those in the reserve, would be placed on tops and tables, fo ease of access and reach. So myself and my bull, the one in the dream being actaully the one I hope to have the pelasure of using at this future session, helped me arrange the room for play.

Then it all wen t bit Marx Brothers. While I was snogging and chilling with my lovely bull, getting in the mood for the session and waiting for my cuckold to phone me at the arranged time, the suite door burst open and a group of people marched in. They were a film crew, with cameras, sound booms, busy runners, continuity girls… they marched in claiming there had been a mistake, and that suite was hired for filming. “But I have the right key!”, I protested showing them the key I’d used to get in. “Security in this hotel is appalling”, somebody explained to me. Very enlightening, thanks, but all I could see was a forest of dildos around us. So I ran to cover them with my jumper, with my handbag, with anything at hand. I even pinched one of the male crew’s jacket and while I was flirtingly talking to him to distract him. I put his jacket over a group of tastefully arranged dildos, like a dinner table centerpiece, scooped them in the jacket and sneaked into my bedroom. “You are running away with my jacket”, shouted the film guy I had tried to distract from my theft. I was holding it against my chest, concealing the sex toys. “I won’t be a moment!”, I replied, and then I woke up.

Luckily, my sessions all happen in very discreet venues and could never envision being interrupted or busted like that. But I woke up feeling stressed. Any dream interpreters and shrinks out there, your replies are welcome :)

 

Archives: Minimalist Shibari Suspension

I found these pictures, from a Japanese rope suspension performance I did in London a few years ago. They come from a video that I should edit sometime, but in the meantime, enjoy the stills.

 

Such a Perfect Day: Double Domme, Strapon & Fisting

“The fucking was relentless.  As soon as one dildo was taken away then another was introduced, always bigger, fatter, longer, deeper and pumped harder.  On my front, on my back, on my front, on my back.”

- By cockslut pig Tom.
Having been unable to attend the March Slutathon, Ms Tytania offered me the option of waiting till the next one or alternatively, to book a session. I chose a Double Domme strapon session with Ms Theda and Ms Tytania. Here is what happened…
Walking towards the door at exactly the given time, I still could have backed out but this moth has always been drawn to the flame, or in this case, two flames.  Ms Tytania and Ms Theda would be waiting.  I had talked to Ms Tytania by phone, revealed my kinkiest inner fantasy by mail and this left me feeling vulnerable.  Baring your darkest and deepest places to a Mistress can be a foolish thing. Its the old saying, ‘Be careful what you wish for’.  And I had wished for more than I knew I should.  I knew that Ms Tytania had shared my fantasies with Ms Theda.  This had put me at a double disadvantage.  I had never even spoken or written to Ms Theda and I was only imagining what they had in store for me.  In truth, I did not know, because scripting was never part of it. And I think it never should.  Their blank canvas was to do whatever they wished.  I was handing total control to two Mistresses that I had never met.
In the hallway I was greeted by two smiling faces.  Warm smiling faces, almost giggling.  I knew that whatever was going to happen, that they were really, really going to enjoy this.  I was really nervous but with the adrenaline that I enjoy and crave so much.  I was invited to kiss the hand of Ms Tytania and in turn that of Ms Theda. I was commanded to help buckle Ms Tytania’s stilletto shoes which with shaking hands took a while but was my pleasure.  I took deep breaths to calm myself but little did I know how important those deep breaths would become later on.
My nerves had got the better of me and I stood when I should be kneeling and was forgetting my permissions.  In truth, no groundrules had been laid and I was wobbling like jelly inside.  Ms Theda revealed the strap on that she already wore.  Men are supposed to like their statistics, how fast, top speed, etc while women just like the colour. I won’t bore you with exact dimensions but I will say that it was bigger by far than any dildo I had ever, ever taken.  It was black and fat.  Ms Theda ordered me to suck it.  I could not fit it in my mouth and many have accused me of having a big mouth over the years.  It just rested against my teeth, I could not fit it in.  I was helpless and stupid.  It never even occurred to me that Ms Theda wanted me to take it.  I thought it was just a prop.  She made me lick it because I could not swallow it.  I licked and looked up.  I could see her grin.  Nothing will ever persuade me that she was not absolutly loving the moment.  No actress in Holywood could display such a grin with the menace and pure joy that oozed from her face.  Time to worry, I had begged to be allowed to be a slut and boy was Ms Theda and Ms Tytania determined to make that happen.  We had not even started yet.
I was led into the ‘playroom’.  I stripped as instructed and  got on all fours ready to call the Mistresses back into the room.  This was arranged quickly.  I sensed the Mistresses were eager to get started.  This was not ‘clockwatching’.  This was purely about their lust and thirst.  Now I will tell you my first impressions of the Mistresses that in seconds to whom I was to instill my total trust.
Ms Tytania is simply stunning, warm and so so intelligent.  She made me feel that I would do anything just to please her and not to disappoint her but there was no question who was in charge.  This was her turf and she was running this show as seamlessly as a matron on a well run ward.
Ms Theda has the most wickedly expressive and lovely face.  She gives the impression that she knows what she wants and she knows that you are going to give it.  She was definitly going to push my limits and further than ever pushed before.  And her face was going to show that she was enjoying every second of doing it.
Now individually, both Mistresses are a joy and pleasure to meet.  Imagine how I felt with both but Two and Two does not equal four here.  The sum of their power and imagination together is vastly greater when joined.  They laugh together, they plan together, they bounce ideas together but most importantly they just loved doing the session together.  In a different life I would be proud to call them my friends.
I have read many testimonials and I agree that some moments shared are best kept between a mistress and slave.  But as a flavour I will share a small insight.  On their return I was quickly led to the bench that for the next hour and a half was to to be the place where I would be spitroasted like a pig.  I was even given a buttplug with a curly tail like a pig to warm me up for the hogroast feast that was to be theirs.
The fucking was relentless.  As soon as Ms Tytania’s dildo was taken away then another was introduced by Ms Theda, always bigger, fatter, longer, deeper and pumped harder.  On my front, on my back, on my front, on my back.  Ms Theda especially seemed to enjoy taking me on my back.  She loves to see the faces of ‘the boys she buggers’, contorted, begging for more, begging for less, pleading…
But there was humanity too, whenever the onslaught was at its height I asked for a hand to hold and it was there.  Being fucked relentlessy by Ms Tytania I asked to squeeze Ms Theda’s hand and was given it. I was encouraged and helped at every stage.
When Ms Theda fucked me I held Ms Tytania’s hand, careful not to squeeze too hard.  Despite my predicament there was always respect both ways. Mid session, Ms Theda introduced the dildo was that I had struggled with in the hall.  It was too big to get in my mouth and I thought too big for my arse. I was determined to try.  Ms Tytania distracted me by placing a shopping bag on my head.  Breathing was easy but the darkness was surreal,  I never told her that she had left a shopping receipt in the bottom of the bag.  It is strange that when Ms Theda was plundering my arse with the fattest dildo I had ever taken that I was squinting at the receipt wondering what shopping she had bought.
If the fattest dildo was mid session then what was at the end?  I will not go furthur into that but my ambition was fulfilled by Ms Tytania’s fist. She fisted me effortlessly, introducing her fist and then half of her arm, which she celebrated by wriggling her fingers inside me. This was all acheived with skill, care, trust and respect both ways.  I had gone through a journey to a destination that I had tried to reach many times.
I think that every session should leave unfinished business.  I was exhausted and literally fucked.  The Mistresses must have been exhausted also.  But there was going to be a finale.  I sensed Ms Theda would have carried on all day.  She prepared for the hardest, deepest fuck of the day with the fattest dildo.  Her face said it all.  I called it her ‘Going for Gold’ face. But my exhaustion meant that it must wait for another day.  And that day will come….