Archive for November, 2007

Male Slave

Thursday, November 29th, 2007

N–no,” I said, and started cleaning up the mess. When I
was finished, I went upstairs, where she made me sleep at the
foot of her bed, under her heel where, as she had said earlier, I
belonged. For the entire next week, as further punishment for my
attempted rebellion, she forced me to satisfy her with oral sex,
permitting me absolutely no sexual pleasure or satisfaction whatsoever. When she finally did relent and take me to bed with her,
however, she gave me orgasm after orgasm at heights I had never
before experienced, even at her hands, and by the time she had
finished all I wanted was to please her and to be taken into her
body and become a part of her.
We have lived together ever since. Contrary to what she
said that night, she has never tired of me, at least not yet.
And I am content to be the male love toy of my beautiful, Amazonian mistress.

Being Slave Is Arousing

Friday, November 23rd, 2007

I don’t know what hurt the most, the stinging power of her
big hand as it descended again and again with sledgehammer force
against my bare flesh or the realization that I, a grown man,
was being publicly spanked by this beautiful Amazon in front of
all our friends. Regardless, within moments I was screaming and
sobbing with pain and humiliation as I thrashed helplessly in her
steel grip, unable to even slow the tempo of her blows. How long
she continued to spank me I don’t know; all I remember is that
toward the end my body was engulfed in a swirling cauldren of
pain and I was sobbing and begging incoherently for her to stop.
Finally she did, lifting me off her lap and setting me on my feet
only to grip my buttocks again with a single hand that sent fiery
fingers of pain shooting through my body and march me, with my
feet barely touching the floor, to a corner of the room and stand
me there, facing the wall with my nose pushed firmly into the
corner. “For the rest of this night, little toy,” she told me
grimly, “you will stand in this corner with that blistered rear
of yours in plain sight for all the girls to see and play with,
and you will not take your eyes off that wall. Do you under-
stand?”
“Y-yes,” I sobbed. “Whatever you–you say.”
And so for the rest of that evening I stood there, facing
the wall, my nose firmly in the corner, with my pants and drawers
down around my ankles and my blistered rear exposed for all to
see and fondle. And they did, much to my physical and psycholog-
ical discomfort. Finally, after several hours, they left, and
Bonnie came over to the corner to get me. Sliding one arm around
my waist, she picked me up, tucked securely under her arm, and
carried me to the center of the room, where she stood me on my
feet in front of her, my eyes barely reaching to her shoulder in
the six inch heels she was wearing. Cupping my chin in her thumb
and forefinger, she tilted my head back, forcing me to look up at
her. “Now, little toy man,” she said grimly, “you’re going to
clean up this mess starting right now. And when you’ve finished,
I’d better be able to eat off the floor or you’ll get another
session across my knee that will make the last one feel like love
pats. I’ll be waiting for you upstairs when you’re finished, and
I don’t want to have to wait too long. So hop to it!” As she
turned to go, she hesitated. “And by the way, if you ever try to
hit me in public again, I’ll break you in two like the ten cent
toy you are. Any questions?”

Slave hit me

Monday, November 19th, 2007

Bonnie put her hands on her hips, looking down at me.
“Well,” she said quietly, “since you’re being so agreeable, why
don’t you get down on your knees and show the girls the only way
I’ll let you kiss me.”
That was too much. My face burning with embarrassment, I
whispered, “Bonnie, no. Please.”
She laughed and, placing one hand on top of my head, forced
me to my knees in front of her. She stepped forward, straddling
my body with her powerful legs, and then pulled my head up under
her skirt to mash my face firmly into her womanhood. “Open your
mouth, Baby Buns, and show the girls how you give your mistress
pleasure.”
I had no choice. My nose was buried between her legs, and I
couldn’t breathe. As I opened my mouth, my head was mashed up
even tighter into her hairy bush as she gave a deep sigh and then
released me. “That was pretty good, Baby Buns,” she chuckled.
“Any of you girls want to try this with him? If you get his nose
up there just right, it’s almost as good as the real thing!”
At that point something in my mind snapped. With a sob of
frustration and humiliation I spun away from her, rose to my
feet, whirled completely around and tried to backhand her across
the face. Although caught completely by surprise, she reacted
instantly, catching my wrist in a bonecrushing grip and bending
me backward across her thighs. “Did you see that?” she gasped.
“My little toy actually tried to hit me!” With that, she slid
one hand down my back to grasp my belt firmly and lift me bodily
off the floor, holding me at arm’s length like a sack of feathers
while I thrashed about helplessly in the grip of her single hand.
Carrying me to a high chair in the center of the room and
slamming me face down across her lap with a force that took my
breath away, she quickly pulled my pants and underwear down to
expose my bare buttocks. “Boys and girls,” she announced to her
guests, “you are about to witness how a real woman handles a
naughty little man toy who gets out of line.” And with that, she
proceeded to spank my bare bottom with the palm of her hand as
though I were a child.

Shame and red cheeks

Sunday, November 4th, 2007

Beet red, I tried to spin away from her. “Bonnie,
please…” But her hand slid around my hips and forced itself
between my thighs to firmly encase my crotch and again lift me an
inch or two off the floor. And this time her voice had an edge
to it. “Tell Jeannie what you are to me,” she said again. “And
don’t make me tell you a third time.”
My voice quivering with embarrassment, I said quietly, “I’m
your playtoy.”
“My LITTLE playtoy. Right?”
I nodded, looking at the floor. “Yes. Your little playtoy.”
Bonnie chuckled and turned to face her friend. “See? Even
he knows what he is. And he loves every minute of it. Don’t
you, Baby Buns.”
Redfaced with shame, I nodded humbly.