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"Submission" means she wants to be my good little girl -- she obeys me because she wants to please me, not because of any threat of punishment -- she gives herself to me, to use as I desire, because she wants to be used by me, & because my desire for her is what she feeds on -- she tries to do her best for me because she wants, more than anything, to not disappoint me . . . Submission is what I seek -- the submission of an intelligent, passionate, strong-willed woman...
Personality is much more important than looks, altho I do admit that I have somewhat of a preference for curvy women (size 14+) -- also, I'm looking for RT, not LDR or cyber, so please be in the greater Seattle area or moving here... I'm not seeking casual encounters -- I don't see how "pick-up play" D/s can work &, even if it can, I'm not interested -- this doesn't mean that I expect complete submission right from the start (things can take time to develop) -- what it means is that I'm looking for a woman who is moved to submit to me in response to my own personal strengths & character -- & not just because she's got a submission "itch" & I'm an available Dom to "scratch" it for her...
Extra points for redheads, geek-girls, & pigtails...
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Ladies, I've just got to say something here -- I've been looking at sub-fem profiles for a while now, & I'm seeing some recurring themes that, frankly, come across as downright unpleasant...
Quite a few of you write bitterly about bad past experiences, & there are many of you saying things like "if you're not this or that, don't waste my time" -- I understand that you want to communicate your boundaries clearly, which is good, but so many of you do it in a way that does not make you sound appealing...
See, here's the thing -- if you have a profile here for the purposes of meeting someone, it would be really helpful if your profile content were as pleasant as possible -- now, I understand that it can be very frustrating, maddening even, to recieve inappropriate messages (the most common complaint seems to be email from married men, when your profile clearly states that you don't want anything to do w/ married men) -- but think about it, ladies -- these guys obviously aren't really reading your profile, so it doesn't help to put "NO MARRIED MEN" in all caps, w/ multiple exclaimation points -- all it does is make it look like you can't handle the pressure, that you lack the poise & grace to deal w/ adversity -- is that really the impression you want to give?
Likewise for those of you who use your profile space to go on & on about how you've been dumped & hurt & find it hard to trust -- I'm sure that it's your true feelings, but do you really think it's in your best interests to put that right up there as a Dom's first impression of you? To be honest, it comes across as whiny, bitter, & a little bit self-absorbed -- not the qualities most Doms seek in a sub...
There are ways to set firm limits, w/out sounding caustic -- I think that a lot of you don't want to appear weak or gullible, & I don't think there's anything wrong w/ that -- but don't forget that one of the reasons you're here is to try to ATTRACT that special someone -- if you don't present yourself in an appealing fashion, that someone might just well move on to another profile -- a golden opportunity, missed...
Just something to think about -- I wish you all good luck, & hope you have fun out there...
-Reuter |
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~UNDER CONTROL~
The crack! of leather sounded right behind her and she almost turned to look, but she kept her face turned to the wall, just as he had instructed her.
"Good girl," he said softly, "Hold that pose."
It was hard for her. She was on her knees, legs wide, with her arms behind her. Her thumbs were touching, as were her index fingers, forming a diamond-shape at the small of her back. Her shoulders were starting to ache from the strain of holding them back, and the weighted clamps on her nipples, that he'd just recently attached, sent jolts of pain through her breasts every time they moved, which was every time she breathed. Which was just fine with her.
The leather cracked again, but this time she didn't even start. She just waited --- like a good toy, she waited to be used. He would begin playing with her when he damn well wanted to and, in the meantime, he enjoyed the tremble of her excitement, the scent of her desire.
How does it come to this? A woman, on her knees, eagerly awaiting the sting of leather against her skin, wilfully obedient to every command from a certain man? It's definitely not the norm. There are many people who never have a hunger for control and discipline and leather's sharp kiss. And, among those who do have the hunger, there are many who never allow themselves to follow their desires. And, among those who want to follow their desires, there are many who never find their counterpart, the Other who makes the secret fantasies come to life --- the Dominant for the submissive, the sadist for the masochist.
For everyone who finds their way into the world of their private passions, there is a different path of entry, a different rite of passage. Some awaken to their deviant desires early and inexplicably, yearning for it from the very first buddings of their sexuality. Others come to the realization of their true nature slowly, over the course of years, gradually moving further and further from the conventional norms of sex and relationships until, one day, it becomes clear that a choice has been made, that a lifestyle has been embraced.
For her, it had been sudden and undeniable. She had met him under ordinary circumstances --- a loud dance-club, a chance conversation, a magnetic mutual attraction --- but it hadn't taken long for things to get decidedly extraordinary.
He told her what to do, and she did it. Not without thought, but with a deep and sincere desire to please him, that came upon her completely unexpectedly. He didn't try to take control, like some of the more brutish, blundering alpha-males she'd dated before --- he'd simply held out his hand, open, waiting, for her to put the keys of her life in it, and she had. It frightened her, at first --- in fact, it still frightened her, and she hoped it would never cease to frighten her, that giddy edge of controlled spin, swinging out over free-fall, before being pulled back in to safety --- but the desire to explore the territory that had suddenly opened up before her, with his firm hand to guide her, his calm voice to direct her, easily overwhelmed any fear she felt.
She liked to say that he'd taught her to enjoy pain, but she knew that wasn't true. You either have the capacity for masochism or you don't. But it was his desire to give her erotic pain that had allowed her to meet that part of her for the first time --- to meet it and embrace it.
If she'd given it thought beforehand, she would've been unable to follow through. She'd have thought "sick" and "perverse" and "wrong", and social conditioning would've compelled her to get away, as quickly as possible. But the reassurance of his acceptance was so strong, it created a space where she didn't need to consider societal pressures, she didn't need to think about what others would make of it. All she had to do was decide whether she liked it or not, whether she really wanted it or not. And she wanted it. His hands on her flesh, his collar at her neck, his marks upon her skin --- she wanted all that and more.
The leather cracked again, only this time he really made contact, smacking the leather strap, sharp and hard, across her ass. She wriggled her backside, savoring the stinging warmth, and grateful that the waiting was over.
"Please, sir," she murmured, eyes closed in ecstasy, "May I have more, sir?"
His answer was another smack with the strap.
"Oh, thank you, sir! May I have more?"
"All-fours," he ordered quietly, "Over here."
Obediently, she turned away from the wall and leaned forward, getting onto her hands and knees. All she wore, besides his collar, was a corset, stockings, and boots --- in her new position, her private places, her ass and her pussy, were brazenly displayed for his view. She knew that he was looking at her little openings, and she felt exposed and vulnerable and deliciously dirty. The awareness that he was thinking about how he would abuse and use those openings brought a hotness to her face, and she felt her juices beginning to drool from her freshly-waxed slit.
He began to lash the strap back and forth across her ass-cheeks so quickly that she didn't have time between strokes to ask for more --- lightly at first, and then growing more and more brutal. Every time he struck her, she moved a little, causing the weights clamped to her nipples to sway and tug, suspending her between poles of sweet agony at both ends of her body. The slap of leather against her skin echoed in the room for ten minutes or so.
When her ass was evenly red and warm, he crouched down, with one hand on her sacrum, and began slapping the strap against her pussy. With a moan, she tilted her hips, pushing her pussy back to meet the blows. She could hear her own wetness in the smack of the leather.
Without warning, two fingers slid up inside her, curving to caress her g-spot, and she let out a gasp. He worked his fingers in and out, slowly and intently, enjoying the way she involuntarily responded to his manipulations --- his own little finger-puppet.
While he worked her pussy with the one hand, he slid the other hand around underneath her, to tease at the nipple-clamps. She began to shudder and pant for breath, getting closer and closer to orgasm.
Getting her to this point was no trivial thing -- she was an instrument that he had learned to play, by patiently studying her reactions and learning the rhythms of her sexuality. Certainly, other men had been able to get her off with their touch, but none had been able to do it as consistently or quickly as he.
"Oh, sir!" she breathed, her voice shaky with passion, "Please, sir --- may I come? Please, may I come, sir?"
He let her hang there for a moment, while he savored the ache of her desire, the desperate edge of hunger in her voice. Again, there was nothing here that most people would understand. If she wanted to come, why didn't she just come? If she was on the verge of orgasm, why didn't she just let it happen? But this was not what they were doing. There was no direct, linear path to gratification in their intimacy. The common story of boy-meets-girl, boy-and-girl-have-sex, orgasms-are-had, the-end, was not a compelling narrative for them. Not because they were jaded, not because they wanted to be "different", but simply because they knew what they truly desired --- orgasms were delicious but, for them, orgasms were best when had in the context of control and consent, command and obedience, dominance and submission.
"No," he answered her, withdrawing his fingers from her wet opening, "Not yet."
Shaking with effort, she pushed the orgasmic urge down, diverting the focus of her mind away from the excited nerves that jangled between her legs and up her spine. This, too, was difficult for her. So much that he demanded of her was difficult for her, and she loved him all the more for that. How does one express devotion, unless it is tested? Demanding the difficult of her, forcing her to push the boundaries of her limits, was the way he allowed her to show him how willing she was to please him, how far she was willing to go to earn his approval. And, each time they played, he pushed those limits a little further.
There had been land-mines, of course --- those few times he had pushed in a certain direction, and she'd found herself unable to go with it, suddenly confronted with disturbing buried memories or overcome with a panic she couldn't name. But, whenever this happened, he had always pulled her close and guided her back to safe places, keeping the trust and security of their relationship intact.
"Love that ass . . ." he murmured, as he stroked the curve of her backside.
She startled, as she felt a cool dollop of lube drop onto her puckered back hole. She knew what was coming next, and she tried to relaxe her anal muscles in preparation. Before meeting him, she'd never done ass-play, had never even considered that she'd do it, in fact. After all, it was something that only nasty girls, whores and porn-stars, did. But, under his guidance, she'd learned that there was a very nasty girl lurking beneath the surface of her psyche, and now she revelled in being his little whore, his little porn-star.
She felt the rounded tip of silicon pressing against her asshole, and then the butt-plug was spreading her open and forcing, gently but relentlessly, inside her --- the almost-pain of stretching muscle and tissue, and then the filled feeling as her flesh closed around the narrowed part of the butt-plug.
"Very good," he praised her, patting her flanks, "Much easier than last time."
She basked in his praise, proud that she pleased him, and proud that she was learning to relax her anal muscles at will. He hadn't yet put his cock in her ass, but it was no doubt soon to come, and she looked forward to being able to give that to him. For the past few weeks, he'd been preparing her, inserting plugs of gradually-larger dimensions, working up to a plug that approximated the thickness of his cock, and that was the size of the butt-plug she'd just managed to take in with relative ease.
He came around to kneel in front of her, so his cock was right before her face. She waited eagerly, like a dog with a treat on its nose, for him to give the order.
"Suck it," he said, and she did, with a vigor that showed how much she enjoyed having him in her mouth.
She noticed that he had a small, silvery rod in one hand, but she had no idea what it was for, until he thumbed a switch on it, and her whole body jerked as a humming vibration shot through her, originating from her ass-hole. It wasn't just a butt-plug --- it was a vibrating butt-plug. A remote-control vibrating butt-plug.
"You like my new toy?" he asked, grinning wickedly.
Oh, god, did she ever.
He switched the vibration off, then on, then off, then on again. Each time it started up, she spasmed and sucked harder on his cock, squirming from the intensity of the sensation.
"I'm thinking you'll have it in, the next time we go out for dinner," he said, "What do you think, hmm?"
She was thankful she was kneeling because, if she'd been standing, her legs probably would've buckled underneath her.
"Yessh, shir," she managed to say around his cock.
"Good girl," he said, caressing her hair.
He had her suck him until he was on the edge of orgasm, and then he pulled out of her mouth.
He shut off the vibration, and went back behind her. She heard him rummage in his toy-bag, and then she felt the cold length of a thin cane laid across both her butt-cheeks. She only had time to take a quick breath, before the cane was pulled away, then instantly brought down, smack! against her ass. He held it against her for a moment, then pulled it away again, only to give her another firm, sharp smack. The cane was pulled away again, and she steeled herself for another smack but, instead, he gave her an unexpected jolt of vibration from the butt-plug.
He played with her for a while this way, going back and forth between smacks with the cane and jolts from the butt-plug, never establishing a rhythm, never letting her know what was coming next, until she was a quivering, moaning wreck.
She felt his fingers slip inside her pussy again, working at her g-spot while his other hand slapped and squeezed the red-striped cheeks of her ass. With surprising quickness, she felt an orgasm overtaking her.
"Oh, sir!" she cried out in a shaky voice, "Please, sir! Oh, please, please, let me come!"
"Come," he ordered in a growl, "Come for me, little fuck-toy!"
Finally given permission, she let the orgasm flow over her, taking her under like a tidal-wave.
"Ohgodyesss!" she squealed, "Ohfuck! Thankyousir, thankyousir, ohgodthankyousir!"
She was still panting and shaking, floating in post-orgasmic delirium, when he grabbed her by the hips and slammed his cock into her wet slit. She felt him clip a leash onto her collar, and then he was pulling her back with the leash each time he thrust forward with his hips. He'd played with her to his content --- now, he was going to use her for his own satisfaction.
He turned on the vibration while he continued to bang her pussy, and she felt herself melting and collapsing even more than before. Down on her knees like a bitch-animal, red-assed, choked and rough-fucked, a vibrator up her ass and his cock plowing her cunt --- she was putty.
"I think you're relaxed enough, now," he suddenly said, turning off the vibration.
She felt the butt-plug being pulled from her ass, and a fresh spurt of lube dropped onto her asshole, and then his cock slipped out of her pussy and . . .
"Yes," she thought dreamily, "That's it. Use me. Whatever you desire. That's what I'm for."
~Reuter, 2007 |
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~MISSIE BEHAVES IN CLASS~
Missie wasn't paying attention. She was s'posed to be, but she wasn't. Instead, she was twirling one of her pigtails 'round her finger, and daydreaming about her Daddy. Missie thought about her Daddy a lot, which was mostly a good thing, 'cuz she loved her Daddy so much, but sometimes she thought about her Daddy when she was s'posed to be doing other things. Like paying attention.
"Missie! Missie Malloy!"
Missie sat up straight in her seat, her eyes wide. She realized that her name had been called several times already, while she'd been daydreaming about her Daddy's big, strong hands, and the things that he did to her with them.
"Y-yes, Mr. Crookfinger?" Missie squeaked, while she tried like crazy to remember what the class had been talking about last.
Mr. Crookfinger was looking sternly at Missie, and he had his ruler in his hand, which meant he wasn't playing around. Everyone in class had their eyes on her, waiting to see how much trouble Missie was in...this time.
"Well," Mr. Crookfinger said to the rest of the class, "I think we have our volunteer!"
Missie looked around, totally at a loss, while the rest of the kids giggled.
"Come on," Mr. Crookfinger said, "Up here, Missie."
Missie swallowed hard and got out of her seat, nervously smoothing down her short pleated skirt as she walked to the front of the class.
On the blackboard, in Mr. Crookfinger's freakishly neat handwriting, it said "TODAY'S SUBJECT: HUMAN SEXUAL REPRODUCTION", but it didn't help Missie any -- she still had no idea what was going on.
"Oh, if only I hadn't been daydreaming!" Missie thought to herself, "Then I wouldn't be in trouble right now! Why do I always get in trouble?"
When she got to the front of the class, Mr. Crookfinger tapped the top of his big wooden teacher's-desk with the ruler.
"Up on the desk, Missie," Mr. Crookfinger commanded, "On your hands and knees."
"On...on the desk?" Missie stammered, her pink lips trembling.
"That's what I said," Mr. Crookfinger confirmed, "On your hands and knees."
Missie's heart was banging around inside her chest, but her Daddy had always taught her to do what people in authority told her, so Missie pulled herself up and crawled onto the desk.
Mr. Crookfinger positioned her with his firm hands, so that she was facing away from the class. He tucked his ruler under one arm and then, to Missie's stunned surprise, he lifted her skirt up and pulled down her panties!
Missie felt like she couldn't breath -- Mr. Crookfinger was showing her Little Secret Place to the whole class!
With one of his hands on the small of her back, Mr. Crookfinger took his ruler and pointed to Missie's pussy.
"Now, here we have the female genitalia," Mr. Crookfinger began to lecture, "Located at the juncture of the legs, the vagina is the opening through which the reproductive act occurs. While most female genitalia share common features, each female's physiology is unique. In this case, we see genitalia where all that is visible, from the outside, is the labia majora, the outer lips. However..."
Missie took a sharp breath in, as she felt the tip of the ruler pulling one side of her pussy open.
"...parting the labia majora, we can now see the delicate folds of the labia minora, the inner lips, as well as the entrance to the vulva. And, down below, the clitoris, which is the female equivalent to the male penis."
Missie's face was now as red as an apple and, when she tried to swallow, the lump in her throat wouldn't let her.
"P-please, Mr. Crookfinger," Missie pleaded softly, "Please...may I return to my seat, now?"
Missie really and truly hoped that this little presentation was over with, and from now on she was definitely, certainly, promise-on-a-stack-of-bibles going to pay attention in class, every single day.
But it wasn't over.
"Alright," she heard Mr. Crookfinger announce, "Everyone up. Form a line on the left. I want each and every one of you to get a good look at this."
Missie couldn't believe this was happening. She could only kneel there, quivering, while one by one all her classmates went by and inspected her Little Not-So-Secret-Anymore Place.
"Can I touch it?" she heard one boy ask.
Missie recognized the boy's voice -- his name was Adair, and he'd chased her across the play-field and pinned her down and tried to touch her under her skirt before, but she only had to do what grown-ups told her, not dorky little boys, and so Missie had slammed her knee into Adair's crotch, just like her Daddy had taught her, and she'd run away. But now he was going to get to touch her, anyway! It wasn't fair!
Missie tried to wriggle away, but Mr. Crookfinger's ruler smacked down across her bottom.
"Keep still, young lady!" Mr. Crookfinger ordered, and she had to do it.
Adair's finger traced along her pussy-lips, and then Missie let out a gasp, as his finger slipped all the way up inside her. Without thinking about it, Missie pushed back against Adair's finger, driving it in as deep as it would go. She didn't want to, but she just couldn't help herself!
"What's this stuff?" Adair asked, as he pulled his finger out.
"That's vaginal lubricant," Mr. Crookfinger explained, "The inner walls of the vulva secrete it, in preparation for penetration. It occurs when the female becomes aroused."
"Well, she must be really aroused, then," Adair laughed, "'cuz she's sure got a lot of it!"
The other kids laughed too, and Missie just wanted to die. She was so ashamed, but it was an undeniable fact that her little pussy was dripping with wetness. She wriggled uncomfortably, and was rewarded with another smack from Mr. Crookfinger's ruler.
"I said, keep still!" he barked.
"I...I'm sorry, sir," Missie said meekly, "I'll be good."
"That's what I like to hear," Mr. Crookfinger said, patting Missie's back, "Now, everyone back to their seats."
Missie started to get off the desk, but Mr. Crookfinger stopped her.
"Not you, Missie," he said, "We're not quite done."
Missie's big eyes began to brim with tears. What now?!
"Pay attention, class," Mr. Crookfinger announced, "You're about to witness actual sexual intercourse."
An excited murmur went through the students, and Missie's brow wrinkled. She had no idea what "sexual intercourse" was, but she had a strong feeling it was a lot like that special game she played with Daddy.
Sure enough, the next thing Missie heard was the familiar sound of a zipper being unzipped.
"Here we have the male genitalia, the penis," Mr. Crookfinger said, "Usually in a flaccid state, when male arousal occurs blood flows into the penis, filling the capillaries, and causing the organ to become turgid and erect. It is in this erect state that the penis is best-suited for penetrating the vagina -- like so..."
Mr. Crookfinger positioned Missie at an angle on the desk-top, so that the students could all get a good look at what was happening, and then Mr. Crookfinger's firm hands took hold of her hips. She felt his thumbs pull her pussy open and then, with a thrust of his pelvis, Mr. Crookfinger slid his cock inside her.
Missie was panting for breath, as Mr. Crookfinger pumped his cock in and out of her. Mr. Crookfinger's thingy wasn't as thick as Daddy's, but it was big enough, and nice and long. Mr. Crookfinger took Missie's pigtails in his hands and used them to pull her back against his thrusts.
"The natural goal...of the sexual act..." Mr. Crookfinger lectured to the class, as he banged away at Missie's little box, "is the delivery...of the sperm...from the male testes...to the female ovaries...and, in order for that to happen...the male must attain orgasm...this is achieved by ring-like stimulation...around the penis...that moves from the tip...toward the base...and then back again...the vulvic muscles provide the...ring-like stimulation, and...while the...in-and-out action...might seem repetitive to the...observer, for the participant...it creates an increasing excitement of the...nervous system, that builds toward...the climax . . ."
Missie was squealing and gasping for air, as Mr. Crookfinger relentlessly pounded her pussy. She felt like such a nasty, dirty little girl, getting fucked on teacher's desk while the whole class watched but, at the same time, she had to admit that it was so good to have a big, hard thingy stroking up inside her -- especially after being teased by Adair's finger. Besides, it wasn't like she had any choice. She was just doing as she'd been told.
"And now..." Missie heard Mr. Crookfinger grunt, "...the...male...orgasm!"
Mr. Crookfinger pulled his cock out of her pussy, and then Missie felt Mr. Crookfinger's hot cum splatter all over her ass.
Next thing, the bell rang, and all the kids jumped up to leave.
"Tomorrow," Mr. Crookfinger called to the stampeding herd of kids, "we'll be studying the complexities of the female orgasm. Girls -- don't bother to wear any panties!"
Mr. Crookfinger got Missie down off the desk-top and then, grabbing her by the pigtails, he forced her to her knees.
"You need to clean things up, before you leave," Mr. Crookfinger said.
Obediently, Missie sucked his semi-soft thingy into her mouth and swirled it around with her tongue 'til it was cleaned of all her juices -- plus, she got to taste the last few drops of his cum.
"Good girl," Mr. Crookfinger said with a smile, as he put his cock back in his pants, "You may go now."
Missie got to her feet and pulled up her panties, then collected her books and skipped out of the classroom. When she got home and told her Daddy how well she'd behaved in class, she knew he was going to be so proud of her!
~Reuter, 10.07 |
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| Age: 23 |
| Columbia,
South Carolina |
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