Happy Friday my Salacious Sluts!


I bet you’re all VERY glad to see a new posting again in this little blog aren’t you? Seriously, where does the time go?

Admittedly, while I’ve always had a heavy tinge of writers block, I realized it’s going to be really tricky to follow-up my last series of entries where I literally held someone hostage and forced them through a deep erotic journey. Honestly….how on earth do you top that? As you can see by the lag in entries, it’s been an impossible task.

Try as I might, it’s going to be a while before I have the time and energy to recap some of the furiously sexy scenarios I’ve indulged lately that come pretty close, so for today – I’m going to fill the gap by updating you dolls to some important new information AND exciting new toys I’ve got in the mix.


First and foremost, after about a decade I’m joining the club and updating my email address.

Was: Victoria.Rage@yahoo.com

New: Victoria.Rage@protonmail.com

It’s about time I switch to the most secure method of contact out there, heaven knows I value our privacy, but it’ll be a slow process as I hunt down and correct all my various outdated forms of communication for an update. I’ll monitor my old yahoo location for the next 6 months, but if you’re catching this message now – go ahead and take a second (right now) to make that shift. I’d hate to miss anything from you.


Secondly, my hours….


I’m just going to shift them a little bit and will now be stopping at 10 pm each night. I’ll till be starting scenes bright and early at 11, but a gal has to have a little ‘me’ time after a long day and I’ve never been much of a night owl when it comes to intense, high energy bdsm. You’ll still be able to get your kicks 11 hours a day, 7 days a week so this isn’t really that news worthy.


Now to the fun stuff….


A serious rubber lover has graced my dungeon with a new double wide latex vac bed from Kink Engineering. The shipping notice finally went out after ages of agonizing patience, but now it’s in the hands of UPS and on the way. I’ll absolutely be posting photos the moment it arrives, but you bet your ass you’re not going to hear much of a peep from me for the first 24 hours. I doubt I’ll even be coming up for air!

(photo from KE site)


Also, for you medical fetishists out there, I have a complete set of authentic Humane Restraints also currently en route.

I know ropes and straps can be tremendously fun and restrictive, but these are truly designed to be firm in the face of a total thrashing meltdown. Hospital grade and the real deal my sweets, you’ll be pinned down, pulled apart and all too easily accessed by my probing hands and toys. For those of you who love photo mementos, these will be excessively stimulating to look back on when fondly recapturing our time together.



I do have a few other tricks up my sleeve, but I’ll save those for another time. For now, consider these breadcrumbs a gift to tide you over until inspiration strikes me again.


If you aren’t caught up, start here first!


Part 1: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/02/blog-post-part-1-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Part 2: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/04/blog-post-part-2-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Part 3: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/07/blog-post-part-3-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/


Part 4: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/12/06/blog-post-part-4-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/


Willing though he suddenly was, my boy would NEVER be able to handle the thick throbbing erection from the trained bull behind him without some serious warm up; this didn’t stop him from begging for it, knowing that his compliance would not only bring him a deep, unexplored pleasure but also favor from the deviant women holding him hostage.


“Mistress, please, what can I do?” He whimpered.


“I’ll tell you what my dear, you are still 3 consumed climaxes from your goal. IF you’re able to take 3 full extractions from this bull using any one of your orifices, I will gladly count them towards you total…but you WILL need to take it, every drop – willingly, gladly and like the sweet little whore you are”, I purred back to him.


He lifted his hips eagerly, riding the air in hopes of backing onto the in enormous cock just achingly out of reach. Instead, Claudette have been discreetly lubricating a selection of dildos, passing me one of my very favorite long black strap ons. The heavy rubber bounced around as she forked it over, helping me fasten the thick leather straps around my hips.


I took my turn first, inching into him slowly, the lace of my dress beginning to tickle the back of his thighs as I applied the most innocent amount of pressure against his waiting hole. Inch by inch, he opened wide to take me in, the vainy cock disappeared inside of him to a chorus of gleeful, panting moans and groans. He must have been so eager for his first REAL enforced bisexual experience, now just moments away.


We had toyed with the idea in the past – often flirtatiously talking about the possibilities, describing scenarios and cheekily coverings the ‘what it’s’ of surprising him one day, but until now we had never moving beyond the fantasy dialog and excited possibilities.


My captives eyes were fixed in the mirror at Devon, his hips writhing back and forth, body straining to take my thick tool as he feasted on the sight of the strapping man to his left. It was only seconds before Claudette made her way to his mouth, forcing her larger cock down his parted lips as we thrusted in tandem to break his gaze.


‘Do you want my husband to fuck you?’ she coyly mused. Her question met with indecipherable dialog as her own girthy dick rammed hard and fast into his mouth. He was obviously hungry for it, taking such big prods into his open holes with nothing but absolute desperate, wild enthusiasm. It’s not a sight I see often, such total abandonment to the moment, but we all knew he had just fully given over to the experience.


Devon had stroked himself into a raging erection, gently gliding Claudette to the side he took her place at his mouth, forcing the enormous throbbing tip into his wet lips. I continued to press In harder and deeper from behind as Devon picked up his own pace, both of us fucking our willing victim with all the intensity of two unbridled perverts tying to literally pound a man in half.


Locking eyes with me, I whispered one of Devon’s trigger words – a word I installed in his subconscious years ago when he was still in training for such nefarious celebrations. It was all too much for him, despite his usual perfect restraint, he released the full load of build up masculine need right into our hostages mouth without more than a few seconds of warning. I pulled away, admiring the panting, sweaty mess that had become of my boy as he swallowed hard.


“Two more”… I mocked….


‘I want them Mistress!’… the words split the air like a razor blade, years of fantasizing and now here’s my slut, wanting more, wanting all of it: real thing in abundance. Devon was already stroking himself up for round two…


He met my boys lips again, thrusting hard and fast with furious anticipation. The second bout is always much harder to reach, but being such helpful and generous women, Claudette and I provided a bit of an unspoken ‘show’ just in Devon’s line of sight. His wife, sweet yet so filthy, was bent over my knee, legs spread wide so the light would flicker off her gleaming slick pussy as I began spanking her perfect ass red. She loves otk punishment and he loves to watch – it was only past the warm up where her little perky ass had just begun to glow before another unannounced release ripped through him, hips shaking, every muscle strained as my boy sucking him dry.


He pulled away and came over to kneel in front of Claudette’s upturned backside, kissing it, licking it – sticking his tongue deep into her rosy pink slit until her scent covered his face. I pulled her legs open farther and held the back of his head in tight, forcing him against her hot swollen pussy.


My hostage in the background was stiff as could be and riding the air again, having enough time himself to recover and this racy escapade unfolding perfectly in the gaze of the mirror before him, he was like a race hose waiting for a starter pistol. Where did this mountain of willing energy come from?


‘Devon…go fuck him. This is what you’re trained for,’ I issued sternly to my bull.


I know I’m asking a lot, well, demanding really, but men enter my stable for two reasons. To be enslaved to be for a lifetime OR to be an unhindered sexual God. Adonis in human form, always ready, in perfect control, and able to continuously give or receive pleasure until I say otherwise.


His pride taking hold, hearing my words, he dutifully removed his mouth from Claudette’s hot little lips and stood up and stood to mount our squirming hostage.


“Beg for me”, Devon ordered.


“Oh Sir, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you to take me, PLEASE use me, PLEASE finish in me Sir, I need -“ he was cut off by the sharp insertion of flesh opening him wide and immediately as Devon pushed in to the hilt. For a brief moment, I expected a scream – it was hard, abrupt and deep, but before his own rhythm could be formed, out slut began to ride hard on the massive pole inside him. Never have I seen someone so cock hungry, so horny and so happy…. he took every pounding inch, leaking innocent dribbles from his own cock as the onslaught continued.


The tightness and genuine virginity made this all too appealing, everything about the moment and ensuing sensory overload for everyone in the room was too much, forcing Devon and our victim over one final edge… my slut made his ‘consumed goal’ but only on a technicality.


We all collapsed into the floor, undoing straps and downing ice water as our racing pulses settled. Not a single one of us could think straight – 10 minutes of silence passed before a word was spoken.


“Holy fuck”….my captive snapped me out of of my trance. “Mistress, you guys, that was amazing, this was totally amazing”. Claudette helped him to the shower as he continued to unwind praise for years of pent up desire in an instant realization that he had finally indulged such a deep and long held lust.


Claudette and Devon snuck upstairs leaving me to wait for my boy, a bit of merciful separation from the impromptu onslaught was in order.


He stumbled out of the bathroom about 15 minutes later, a bit glassy eyed and worse for the wear but a look of euphoria was painted across him from head to toe. It took a while longer to come down, his sub space raging hard, but eventually giving way to a calm, quiet relaxation as he recollected in my chair. He would make his flight after all; a bit used and worked over, but never happier.


Closing my door behind him way agony, Top drop of the highest level. The bliss of a fantasy of mine fully expelled, I didn’t have the energy to make it upstairs, but instead curled up on the nearest surface. Almost instantly, I drifted to sleep asleep in the warm glow of my red lights, happily…on the dungeon medical table.


I’m interrupting my stream of sexy blog posts just to interject a little calm amidst a bizarre storm…..

Normally, I’m not one to get all flustered by the words of others, but I’ve come across a disappointing phenomenon in the Twitterverse that not only seems common place, but remains totally unchecked, casting a pretty dark idea of the perception of Tops with their bottoms. So much so, that I’ve been asked a few times if “all Pro Dommes” share the same negative mentality.

If you’re like me, you probably follow a lot of kinky people and porn stars; some lifestyle Tops, some Pros, FinDommes and Fetishists. Twitter is rife with content from some of our favorite sexy superstars, but sometimes, you’ll see one particular group continuously raining down the insults in reference to their audience – and not necessarily in a sexy way.

Now, I know that humiliation is a very popular fetish and one that I’ve personally explored with willing partners, but when I see it coming in blanket form from public personalities who represent the BDSM lifestyle and culture in general; I honestly can’t help but feel a bit disappointed – and defensive.

When branded as a humilatrix or something that offers a heads up, I smile and realize the audience that follows is lapping up the sweetly pointed degradation with a smile on their blushing faces, but otherwise, it comes off as crude, harsh and sexist.

While I’m pretty open with my opinions, I would never aim to tell someone how to run their business or how to present themselves, hence why I’m not going to cite specific examples.

Diversity in offerings and personality is what make the selection of internet Dominatrices so enticing; but if you’re new to the scene – and have gotten the impression that people in a Dominant position look down on, or otherwise feel their bottoms are somehow unworthy or ‘less than’, let me assure you that in a very broad spectrum – that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Following a number of people myself, I often see terms like ‘pathetic’ or ‘loser’ reflexively thrown about in reference to their spectators. Honestly, that sort of cruel bratiness when not coming from a humiliation specialist, is often the mark of an inexperienced individual or someone who feels rudeness and Dominance somehow go hand in hand. Obviously, it doesn’t and that’s not an accurate representation of those who hold themselves to a higher standard.

Any Professional Mistress (or Master), needs clients to have a thriving career, it’s symbiotic. In that instance, no visitor is ‘worthless’ (another popular and vile term I’m sick of hearing) without clients, how exactly do those individuals expect to have a profession, or a soapbox in which to broadcast?

All personalities that want to have a slice of fame, need followers to support them. And all lifestylers that want someone on the other end of their whip, will need partners who are confident to place their trust in them to explore the universe of deviant indulgences. You just can’t have one without the other.

As I said in an earlier tweet, if you’ve encountered some of that negativity online and it’s left a bitter taste in your mouth or put you off of exploring kink – just know, those individuals do not represent the majority. I, and every other reputable Top I’m aware of, share the sentiment that it’s vital to love, cherish and adore your submissive partners and admirers. Domination doesn’t come from a place of indifference, anger or blatant disregard.

Of course, there’s a time and a place for objectification and brutality, but at the heart of it, those in a position of power should (and most often do) realize that your attention and submission is a gift; not to be taken for granted.

There is no popularity or success of ‘us’ without ‘you’.

If you aren’t caught up, start here first….
Part 1: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/02/blog-post-part-1-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Part 2: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/04/blog-post-part-2-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Part 3: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/07/blog-post-part-3-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Claudette and I sat back, smiling at each other as our prisoner began struggling violently against his bonds. Having finished with explosive force several times already, just the gentle, steady rubber suck of the Venus on his well used cock was clearly, quickly bringing him to the very limit of his pain threshold.
The collection bowl beneath him was finally beginning to fill up a bit at the bottom, still it was only a small pool of opaque white, but it was a definite step closer to his goal. She pulled the dildo from his mouth, so we could better hear his exasperation. He seemed desperate this time, truly and genuinely desperate. “I can’t take anymore Mistress, please take the Venus off me!’ He nearly commanded. I have NEVER heard such a tone in his voice, and it was not something I intended to let slide.
Claudette could see the look in my eyes in hearing such an odd inflection pour out of his lips, she slapped him across the face hard with the dildo in quick correction, I couldn’t help but nearly laugh myself off the table. She gently turned off the machine and begin to untie him… I could hear her whispering vague silent threats as she wistfully detached him piece by piece. Normally, I would say my sweet assistant does not have a dominant bone in her body, but I think when it comes to amusing me and bringing me pleasure, she can do just about anything with Olympic style precision.
I picked up the dog bowl and weighed it, “nearly another full ounce”, I exclaimed from across the room! I was actually quite surprised how much I’ve pulled out of him… I know, he would soon begin shooting nothing but blanks no matter how much effort he began to exude. A man can only handle so much and he was drastically near his breaking point. It is the only reason I gave him an easy “out” of consuming his 8 climaxes instead of reaching a requisite 16; it would be a physically impossible task, but along the way I could enjoy his confidence fade into a deep humiliation.
We helped him down off the cross, ignoring his gratitude and shaky steps as we led him toward the fucking bench. He was just glad to be able to kneel and not have to carry his own weight, leaning fully onto the bench for absolute support. This is normally the point where I’d help him shower, offer him a drink and sit back and bask in the chemical release of hormones with him, but not today…. I cuffed him into the iron restraints, the kneeling position of the bench offered each limb for fastidious restraint. Only his neck was able to move, should he so choose to look up, he’d be greeted by his ever present predicament reflecting back in the glass of a full length mirror ahead.
He slumped his head, Claudette immediately grabbed him by the hair, forcing him up so I could shove the cum filled dog bowl in his face. “This will count as two more”, I smiled. “But do be sure to catch every drop if you want it to be added to your total count. You’re still a very long way off from making either goal, your best hope now it’s just simply catch your rest while we allow it and hope that we’ve come up with some clever tactics to “help “ you.
He lapped up his cum like a willing and very defeated captive, the situation of helplessness was really starting to grow on him. There’s so much less to ‘worry’ about when another is in charge. No deadlines matter, no annoying texts or voicemails were prioritized – nothing in his vanilla life would invade this predicament to help or disturb him; it was just him in the moment – and us.
He nodded off for a quietly, the dog blow long placed back out of sight with Claudette and I casually lounging in my foyer, chatting away and enjoying the moment of silence. It was disturbingly peaceful, fortunately it wouldn’t last long. A very quiet knock on the door roused him from his sleep. His back being towards the door, our little slut couldn’t see who exactly we were letting in despite his straining to catch a glimpse in the mirror. It was Claudette’s husband, my bull, Devon.
Now Devon, how do I describe him? Tall, dark and handsome, an Alpha male with a naughty side and a cock nearly the size of Claudette’s arm. The first time I forced them to fuck in front of me, I was absolutely fascinated; truly they were perfect for each other – just the sight of him undressed caused her to be stunningly distracted. It was almost like an Aphroditic scene, his pants came undone and she was fixated. I loved that sexual power he had over her, often wanting to weaponize that sort of lust and use it on another. I left them to it as strolled up to my kneeling hostage, grabbing a cane on my way.
“I’ll tell you what” I whispered, “I won’t MAKE that big stud in the corner fuck you if you don’t want him to”…I tapped my cane against his ass lightly. “But….should you beg me to make him, I’ll obviously have to stop reddening your ass so I can get out of his way”, I emphasized that last statement with a firm lash across his unprotected ass. He bit his lips, calculating how many I would deliver, would I even stop or would I perhaps just wait him out? Another white hot stroke inches from the last broke his train of thought. “Oh Mistress, please” he whimpered. “Please what?” another crack against both upturned cheeks.
He remained silent, clearly not yet provoked to his breaking point. I lined up my cane and began issuing a flurry of perfectly placed strokes. Instant welts, bright red strips and the flailing of desperate limbs under firm and unflinching restraints. I always thought he loved the cane, though I doubt he’d ever admit it. Being bent over, exposed and punished, it was hot no matter how you look at it, though the pain was inescapable. Still, he raised his hips as much as the bonds allowed, offering me more of his striped backside for abuse. Devon and Claudette slowly came into view, her smile frozen in crimson red lipstick as Devon reached out to feel my hostage’s textured ass. “Mmmm, he’s so warm”, Devon mocked. He lifted his hips higher into his hand.
“Oh god, oh god” my victim now resorting only to panicked and erotic pleading once again.
“Mistress, I think I want him to fuck me…’oh god”!!! Claudette’s jaw dropped, “I didn’t think it would be THAT easy”
He looked up to the mirror just long enough to catch the 3 of us grinning back at him like wolves; condoms and lube already in Claudette’s hand. I unzipped Devons pants, his throbbing erection instantly spilling out, landing with a thump against our boy’s hot flesh.
Everyone in the room, seemed absolutely frozen in anticipation, though Claudette’s eager hands were already wrapped around her husbands huge cock readying it for the tight opening in front of him. There was no way he’d be able to take that off the bat, we’d have to warm him up….
Devon took a seat in front of the bench, directly in view of our pet. He stroked himself lowly and methodically, up and down like a pointed erotic threat. It was memorizing, so much so that the gloves Claudette and I were putting on went entirely unnoticed. We slipped our fingers in gently, one at a time, then both of us, gradually increasing the size, adding fingers until we could both fit two inside him together side by side. He loved this, he was doing all he could to hold still and take it despite wanting to sit back and ride our hands. Devon sat up abruptly, noticing his struggle and brought the tip of his shaft to our prisoners lips. No instruction was needed, he took him deep into his warm inviting mouth – as much as he could, trying to leverage his neck so he could be properly throat fucked. We pounded away on his tight little hole behind in the same rhythm, opening him up like the little whore he was. “Finally a proper fuck toy”, I smirked
….to be continued.
Note: photos during this scenario were declined by some parties, images from this blog have been used from other approved sources.
I post today’s blog with the permission… well, really encouragement, of one of my closest friends.
A small bit of backstory: a lovely local lady and I were indulging in a very erotic duo with one of her beloved long-term clients.
I can’t begin to tell you how much fun we had, spending several hours putting him in every imaginable pose and violating him in every conceivable way, it was such a wonderful memory, I think I will treasure that session for the rest of my life. When all was said and done, he and I remained on the floor medical room as my lady friend ventured off to the bathroom for shower.
He smiled, watching her slink into the darkness before laying back and turning to me… “She’s so wonderful, I don’t know why she won’t let me take her for a REAL date “… I chuckled a bit, taking it as just a playful joke. I mean, a LOT of visitors often joke about wanting their mistresses to be a larger part of their lives, even if their reality doesn’t quite bend that way; it’s harmless optimism. He looked me dead in the eyes again and asked “do you know if it’s because she has someone in her life already? “
I was a bit shocked, but hearing this inquiry many times before, both aimed at myself and others, the only suitable response was, “perhaps she feels your relationship was perfect as it is.”
I don’t know if he was content with my answer, but it didn’t seem to diminish the smile from his face as we shook off the adrenaline and endorphins.
This scenario, like I said, happens so often, it’s worth mentioning in a more broad spectrum… Consider it just a little refreshing dose of reality about the world of kink, clients and reasonable proximity.
On my own – and very recently, I had a long term client who I enjoy a wonderful rapport with, turn from gleeful to sad when I, in jest, mentioned having a husband. In reality, I don’t have a husband, I had to assure her several times, but the obvious pouts stuck out to me. She herself, married 45 years to a lovely man that she spoke about repeatedly, had often admitted that she was glad to have this safe place to come to for her fantasies, separate from her private vanilla world, and yet – though totally innocent, she was obviously disappointed at the thought that I might be unavailable.
It is human nature to want the person you’re seeing to be available, to be their favorite, to stand out above all others, to be adored, cherished and remembered, but as I reflect back to my friends client, it is important to remember never to press the issue of proximity beyond what your provider allows. It forces us to walk a tightrope of keeping you physically and emotionally happy with us, while not leading you on or hurting your feelings, and protecting anyone we might have in our personal world. What should be a simply, mutually beneficial arrangement, becomes onesidedly complex.
You have to admit, what we do is extraordinarily intimate! For a lot of us, myself included, a little compartmentalization is needed to be so open, day in and day out, with both strangers and kinksters I’ve known for years. Fortunately, most of us overcome over-emotional attachments by simply enjoying the moment and always honoring that we are professionals. We love what we do, but it is an offering. We do not want to invade your personal lives, we are safely in the background, your secret respite – and nothing more. The ‘want’ for more is where it begins to get tricky for everyone involved, but staying respectful of that line becomes easier with time, when the realization settles in that just because you are a client, doesn’t mean you’re not special, we choose to have you in our orbit!
Most of us understand that sometimes, we can by nature, become very attached to the ones we indulge with. But as life can force clients to move, move on, or otherwise fall off our radar – we respect that a deep connection can be terminated any time and for any reason. It’s happened several times to me, and each instance, I know it’s not my place to reach out and find out ‘why’ or if my client is okay when I suddenly stopped hearing from them. By extension, it’s not simply a desire to keep our visitors out of our private lives, there is a reality to be had here and often, it’s a method to protect our hearts.
The simplicity of what you experience with a provider should be just that; simple, erotic and unattached fun.
It can take moments or years to accept this and find security in those words, but they are words to live by. We adore those who can appreciate the beauty in what we are able to share together. Those private moments behind closed doors aren’t just for you….believe me, as someone who is currently spending her day off typing this entire blog for an audience she can’t even lay eyes on – all of this is for us as well.
Part One: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/02/blog-post-part-1-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
Part Two: http://dominasdiary.com/index.php/2017/11/04/blog-post-part-2-pumped-drained-milked-and-abused-in-captivity/
He exited the bathroom with unchecked enthusiasm, bounding towards me as fast as his knees could carry him. He stopped just a foot in front of me, lowering his head to the floor and raising his ass high. I gave no such instruction, but this slutty boy was always looking for a means to display himself to me, or otherwise make every orifice available for inspection and use. The open air must have felt so good on his warm skin, leaving no portion of himself unavailable to my gaze.
Without much hesitation, I began to ceremoniously wrap a thick leather collar around his neck, locking the clasp tightly behind him. I can only imagine how blissful that must feel to any submissive; to knee, expose yourself and feel a collar signifying ownership slip around you; it’s like finding your perfect place in the universe. Goosebumps were already covering him from head to toe as I gave his collar a tug, pulling him to his feet and leading him towards my tall steel cross. His back pressed firmly into the cold metal, amplifying the chills down his spine. It’s rare that I leave him free to see; hoods and blindfolds always punctuated his captivity, but today he’d need every heightened sense at his disposal.
I secured him tight, limbs spread wide apart against the crucifix as his eyes followed my every move. His feet bound with a 4 ft spreader bar between them, hands and arms securely ensnared with endless feet of heavy hemp rope; topping it off, his collar secured rigidly, forcing his chin up and eyes level to stare across the room. The only part of him that was able to budge, were his hips – strong and chiseled, he often liked to thrust and squirm, a sight I deeply enjoyed, but that would be extraordinarily purposeful in the coming moments.
I stoked his cheek, assuring him that I had every confidence in his success today, in fact, I was going to help him to achieve his next goal. The clock ticking away in the background, I fired up my laptop, setting a loop of excessively erotic milking videos. Over the past month, I’ve been saving my very favorites, editing them down to the most climatic and indulgent moments; truly a best of the best in visual stimulation. I leaned my back against him, feel him stiffen against me as we both watched my visual entertainment for just a brief moment. So many shuddering crescendos, flushed bodies and straining muscles, it was truly entrancing.
“I know that this alone won’t get you where you need to be, not without a bit of help”, I giggled.
His eyes continued to follow me to the Venus, I’ve teased him on and off with vague threats to simply leave him attached for hours, always a bluff, but he knew today was different. Even the slow setting was agony; a steady, deep suction caught the tip of his already swollen cock and sucked it deep inside the slick latex mouth. His moans were instant, but this speed – this slow tease – would never be enough. “I’ve already weighed the mouth of this device”, I smiled coyly at him, “and the dog bowl”, strategically placing it below his throbbing predicament. “Anything over the control volume will be added to your total and every climax you’re about to experience, you must ask permission for so I can keep count. Obviously any accidents will be severely and mercilessly punished, so don’t allow yourself to make that mistake.”
I stepped away to take in my work, strapped inescapably to my cross and forced to ingest a feast of visual erotic perfection, all while being endlessly sucked and drained by a tireless cock sucking machine. He was already thrusting his hips as forcefully as his bondage would allow, all with no additional satisfaction. It seemed to me that I’ve created a perfect predicament, one that didn’t need such strict oversight, he’d be fine without my supervision for a while…
A soft knock on the back door, in perfect timing, shattered the string of endless moans from my prisoner. He knows very well that I’m friends with MANY kinky people, various Dommes, a few subs, my stable of slaves and perhaps most feared of all, my parade of bulls. He was beyond relieved to see the soft bounce of dirty blonde curls in the distance as my submissive Claudette walked in…..she offered a wide smile and trademark cheerful greeting as she made her way through the dungeon for a better view.  “It’s nice to see you again Mark” she smiled, stripping off her clothes. The last time Mark and Claudette had seen each other, he was buried face first between her tan little thighs. Just the sight of her undressing was enough to increase the furious thrusts of his hips forcing over a climactic edge. The Venus continued sucking away relentlessly as he shuddered and panted.
“You didn’t ask for permission”, I chastised from the other side of the room. He was still too overwhelmed for a response, but his failure was obvious and undeniable as pearly while drips began to leak out of the suction tube into the waiting dog bowl below.
“Hummm, what do you think we should do with this slut, Mistress?” Claudette sweetly asked as she grabbed for her purse. “Maybe since he just can’t seem to control himself, we can show him too much of a good thing?” Her small hands clasped tightly around her favorite black dildo, a monster attachment so large that it hardly fit in her handbag. She pulled it out and began running the massive tip against his face. With instinct, his mouth opened wide to accept her offering, pumping the big fat cock in and out of his mouth at a furious pace. It silenced his painful begging as the post climatic edge began to trial off his orgasm. “Get it nice and wet for me”, she purred, casting a glance for approval in my direction. Ever the voyeur, I didn’t move, I wanted to see her use him, to just have him as her own personal toy for a moment. What I offered in cruelty, she offered in excessive and unimaginable kindness; my non response was enough permission for her, she pulled the thick black cock out of his mouth and leaned back on the medical table behind her, spreading her lovely soft legs apart, she pushed the toy into her dipping pussy. He tried to look away, but the only other vision in his path was the milking video. Closing his eyes would have been safe, except for the soft throaty gasps coming from Claudette as she pumped away.
“She never quite takes long, does she?,” I mocked. I walked up behind her, locking eyes with him I slid my hands across her firm perky tits, taking a nipple in each hand, I pinched hard, sending her over the edge. Her breaths hardly slowed before she popped off the table and jammed the dildo down Mark’s waiting throat. “It’s very heavy, she panted, make sure you hold it firm in your teeth. If that drops from your mouth, I worry how our Mistress might take such a blatant insult”….
She was always looking for an excuse to bring her toys into play….it’s partially what I love so much about having her around. “Let’s give him a few minutes to compose himself, then we will deal with that unauthorized orgasm.”
…to be continued
He hardly moved an inch all night, by contrast, I was wide awake by dawn after an excitable, sleepless evening, constantly peering back to my monitor for any sign of activity.
After an hour of eagle eye waiting, his eyes finally shot open, nature must have called loudly. I got comfortable, settling into a comfortable chair as I watched him instinctively grab for the locked door of his cage, finding it still firmly keeping him prisoner. Did he truly think I had released him in his sleep?
My note was the first thing he saw, his hopeful outstretched fingers reached as far out as the bars would permit to pull it in, allowing his eyes to pour over my cruel words. I’m sure he hoped I wouldn’t start in on him so quickly, but I only had him for one more day and I intended to enjoy every single second of his subjection. He was frantic as he scrambled for the frozen bowl….his only way out was to melt the ice down to the key. I knew this would be exciting if I could just be patient, though fortunately for him, much of it had melted away, but a thick defiant brick still remained a frozen obstacle.
I had only estimated his reach, and much to my amusement, he had to struggle quite a bit to grab hold of the bowl without tipping the water. The brick still must have been about 5 inches thick, so his pathetic attempt to knock it on the side of the cage didn’t yield the breakage he so hoped for. Soaking it back in the frigid water also didn’t make a dent in it.  He reluctantly grabbed the note again, certain I had offered guidance – and hanging his head in defeat, took note of my ‘heat’ instruction and began rubbing the brick frantically across his warm chest. It took him at least a half an hour, though time was endless in my giddy anticipation, watching him go from determined to desperate and finally shivering as he neared success. I do love my petty torments.
It looked nearly melted in half before a final crack against the cage walls snapped the remains, finally freeing the key and my boy from his enclosure. I’ve always heard a blast of cold water was the best way to wake up in the morning, I deeply hoped he would appreciated my thoughtful effort.
I didn’t ring the bell before slipping downstairs, coffee in hand, I just couldn’t bring myself to give him a warning. My dungeon seemed absolutely teaming with energy, smoothed over only by the fresh hot steam pouring out of the bathroom. His shower must have been such a pleasant relief, almost a very human moment after spending the evening like a caged tiger.
His look of surprise to see me as he crawled out of the bathroom melted to a tinge of fear, arousal and joy seeing I had two cups of coffee in hand. I’m never cruel enough to deprive someone of their morning caffeine, but oh how I hoped he knew it wouldn’t be so easy to come by.
He smiled making his way towards me, wanting to offer a greeting, but seeing my note from the corner of his eye, he knew to follow instructions and remain silent. “Your flight is 16 hours from now, I will require as many orgasms by one means or another before I let you go”, I coldly informed him. “16 hours is a very long time, but you will need a nap, eat and to get to the airport a bit in advance…… whether you miss your flight or not, is honestly not my concern. All you need to do, is complete your task and I’ll let you go. If you don’t, well…..
He smiled a bit too wide, confidence on his face, I’m sure it would fade before too long, but in this moment, he was very secure in his ability to perform. I took a deep sip of coffee, and sat his down on the fireplace. A small kitchen scale had been placed out the evening before, I weighed his cup. 14 ounces. “I know you feel like you’ll have no issue completing my task on time, but should you not….there is ONE way to buy your way out”. Instead of total number of completions, we can go by volume….volume which you will ultimately be forced to consume.” His expression finally dropped as I handed him his coffee. Let’s set the bar at four full ounces. 16 orgasms or 4 total ounces, all consumed.
I don’t think he could tell if this was his favorite game ever or something he would deeply dread, but without missing much more of a beat, he realized I was starting at him with an anticipatory gaze. Dutifully he lowered his coffee on the ground and under my watchful eye, began his first of many expulsions. “Every coffee needs cream”, I mocked as he strained to empty himself as much as he could into the hot liquid. It’s no surprise he didn’t last long, not this time…. he knew I loved to watch him.
Before he could gather himself, I snatched the coffee and placed it back on the scale – .05 more. “I’ll keep a tally, but you have a long way to go”…I smiled, handing it back. Drink up my dear, you have a very LONG day ahead.
He begrudgingly chugged it down, a grimace spread across his face, but a deep red flush across every other inch. He drank it all too quick, just as I had hoped. “So eager to get that nasty task out of the way, you didn’t consider the ill side effects of drinking too much too fast”, did you? I smiled, grabbing a roll of package film wrap and ordering him to stand.
I moved in close enough for him to smell my perfume and feel my hot skin against his naked back. “So soft and strong, but infinitely better tied up”, I purred, beginning to mummify him in his stoic, militaristic pose.  I took my time, making sure my hair or lips grazed him often, my satin nightgown teasing parts left exposed before finding their way under the tight black plastic bondage. He was comfortable (for the moment) flat on his feet, but the securing lines around him kept him at a rigid  stance. “I’d like to give you 20 lashes of my single tail”, I smiled, “but I’d like you to beg me for them.” He giggled shaking his head….I took another sip of coffee.
“I’m going to leave you here, standing for as long as it takes. Either your posture or your bladder will give out first, but let’s be clear…. eventually, you WILL beg me”.
Grabbing my cup, I turned the monitor towards him and headed upstairs for a shower. I’d hear and see every squirm as I shaved my legs and washed my hair, by the time I got to toweling off to begin my make up, he was shifting frantically in his wrap – but not yet begging. Single tail lashes have always been his Achilles heel; he’s never been ‘broken’ in a session but had some deep desire to one day get there. Pain for him, was that path, but he was a far cry from being the sort of masochist who could request or endure such treatment. It’s such a pity…emotional satisfaction was on the other side of an obscenely painful and humiliating punishment, and no matter how hard he may have wished for it, he couldn’t have one without the other.
With my red lipstick applied, I began to hear his genuine begging, mild threats to accidentally ruin my carpet and all manner of frantic, litanous pleading, but not for the lash. I headed down to him, grabbing my favorite snake skin lash off the wall. He was fixed on it, squirming and dancing as much as his bondage allowed; I’ve never been more amused.
“Which do you find a greater humiliation, I asked…. begging for and attempting to accept the whipping you deserve, or having your bladder fail in all that plastic?” He needed to be pushed to an absolute wall, he had to have no other way around it, before finally he would cave and plead with absolute urgency for my 20 strokes. I wanted him to hear himself….to hear the tone of a defeated man asking for discipline so he could be granted such a given privilege of using the bathroom. All men eventually crack and it was hardly a minute longer before he did, asking not just for 20, but 30 hard strokes for his foolish attempt to out wait me.
I savored it as much as I could, but the lashes went all to fast for me.  I carefully paced them, after each forceful blow, I’d patiently wait for his breathing to slow before adding the next. I wanted it to last forever, for him to absorb this – not just the pain, but the slow breaking down of any semblance of control he thought he might still have. He already knew I wouldn’t stop, but he needed to accept it as well.
Fortunately his plastic bonds didn’t protect him. Lovely studded ribbons of red marked across his back with each deliberate crack of my whip. He’d whimper and shudder, then the soft sounds would be broken once again by another sharp echo of the whip against his waiting back. He would wear these trophies for a week at least…every shift of his starched shirts would graze painful welts and he’d be instantly reminded of this perfect moment.
I cut him down after the 30th, allowing him to crumble humbly on his knees to compose himself and wait for instruction; which I didn’t immediately give until he pressed his lips to my feet and thanked me for his punishment.
“You may go to the bathroom”, I said grinning from ear to ear, “but take your time. When you step foot back into the playroom, it’ll be time to begin your draining.”
Despite my warnings, he crawled as fast as his body could carry him towards the restroom, the black of my dungeon swallowing him up as he faded out of sight….
to be continued….
Let me start by saying, before I type even a single sentence that’s sure to utterly drip with anticipation and erotica; that when I write my roleplays and fantasies, I write them just as much as a lifestyle Mistress as I do a Pro Domme. Some things occasionally skirt a personal or professional line depending on who I’m playing with, but ultimately – everything is consensual.
Additionally, I have every respect for the laws of my state and county: given the grey area that BDSM can occasionally reside in, I’d be remiss to mention that everything I write is for fantasy purposes, and on some potentially boundary crossing issues; I have done privately with people who are not visiting me in a professional capacity.
He had been left alone for a while now, the deep and lovely dark of my dungeon offering him a perfect respite from the onslaught of torment, draining and temptation that had plagued him over the last 14 hours. It must have been a haze for him, long windows of silence with only the comfort of my security moniter to keep me occupied, broken by long stints hooded and tortured by the unending pulse, suction and vibration of my various toys of torture. He loved it, though often sweet and genuine please from freedom were overheard in the late evening hours.
He’d be lying if he didn’t confess to reveling in his predicament; being the very willing captive; his session ended the evening prior,  but I was finally making real on my threat to one day abduct him for myself. No calls for help, no escape – his clothes, keys and wallet all separated from him. The only promise I’d keep, would be that he’d make his flight, and that was still another 18 hours away. The sense of dread and excitement was palpable; this man who I’ve played with for over a decade, was experiencing his lifelong fantasy of being a true hostage; my hostage.
His first day went off just beautifully, he flew in for work, did his little meetings and dreamed about what would happen that evening, as men in blue and red ties droned on about spreadsheets, deadlines and synergy. He was very good at his job, perhaps that’s why he was always so bored at these mandatory check ins. They had nothing to offer him, they were reflexive – even the innovative and perfect solutions he spun were concocted off the cuff, no real effort at all. In life, in his job, he was bored…maxed out at the top of his field and no new horizons to get his pulse racing.
He’d spend the better part of these meetings writing me a list; a filthy and shameful list. I’d always hoped a peer would glance over his shoulder or ask what he was doing, but no one ever dared. It was his “Dirty Thirty”, a mandatory offering he’d place at my feet whenever he arrived at my Palace of Pleasure. He’d always have a tinge of guilt in his voice, knowing his list would derail whatever plans I may have in favor of his preferences, but this….this abduction was my exception.
After totally exhausting him with his own requests, he exited the shower to find the dungeon dark and every personal item missing. I was already upstairs, sipping wine from the comfort of my bed, laptop in place as I spoke to him over the 2 way monitor. He was shocked as I explained his situation, but an obvious smile and throbbing erection gave away any hint of genuine protest.
“I will allow you to rest for a while, my sweet’, I explained, dinner will be served to you in a couple of hours, but first you will crawl in my table cage, lock the door, sleep…. while I allow it.
Within minutes he had passed out cold within the gentle embrace of the steel bars. I’ve never seen someone come down from a scene so hard, his breathing – deep and lovely, as his soft snoring echoed through the empty dungeon. He was thousands of miles from home, no one knowing where he was, all of his professionalism, intelligence and social stature amounting to nothing in this perfect moment, and that helplessness was a freedom for him. I hoped I wouldn’t interrupt him when I brought in his meal and instructional letter; a half bottle of wine and the remains of my dinner served in a dog dish. I doubted if he’d even wake to eat this evening, but eventually – his exhaustion would lift and there he’d find my letter.
Only a small torment this evening, just something to build anticipation while I, myself slept off our playtime.
The key to the table cage was frozen in a giant bowl of ice placed just beyond his food. Having done this before, I knew for a fact that it’d take about 6 hours to thaw down to the key….but if he wanted out of the cage to use the restroom, he’d have to figure a way to accelerate the melting of the ice. Body heat should be very effective and I’m sure, depending on his level of desperation, he could get extremely clever in his tactic. I’d enjoy hearing him audibly talk out a solution, hoping for some obvious easy way out, to no avail.
My note was also kind enough to mention that as his captivity went on, I’d be coming down at my leisure to play with him. Whenever he heard a door bell chime, I intended to join him downstairs in 10 minutes, obviously he’d need to prepare for me. Hood himself, cuff hands behind his back and kneel, head down…
Last but not least, just a cautionary addition; I could see and hear everything… if I give instructions for self torture, I expect them to be completed. If I invite my friends over to play with him while I watched remotely – he would obey. Anything that came over my monitor would be taken as law….if he’d like a steady stream of food, water, sleep and release.
This would be me, at my most generous. He would otherwise be forbidden to speak outside of emergencies, eyes always lowered and fully expected to anticipate my wants and needs. I’d not be so straightforward in the coming hours and should I feel in any way unfulfilled or displeased, he’d be punished swiftly, invasively and to exhaustion.
He smiled widely in the direction of the camera, still to discover my note and predicament, as I fell into a blissful sleep.
 …to be continued
Every 6 months or so, I autopublish a version of this blog as my search continues. You see, as much as I am a Professional Dominatrix, I am also a 24/7 Lifestyle Mistress. In my off time, my heart tends to lean towards the satisfaction found in true, genuine, service and devotion. I don’t think I’d be nearly as fulfilled as a Woman if I didn’t have such a thriving stable of collared and very well cherished slaves in my orbit…it’s really just something I’ve always *needed*..
This time of year always makes me think about those varied proximities a bit more. Perhaps it’s all the impromptu family visits or the time taken to reflect on things we’re thankful for, or maybe its the influx of curious clients and certain long term regulars that begin desiring something a little ‘more’, but I see the world around me as being filled with much more ‘possibility’.
After much thought, I’ve decided that I have the room in both my stable and heart for another full time personal slave. I have several full time devotees and one in training, but with lives outside of me, I often find myself well aware of the fact that my days simply have a little room for diversity.
You would think a woman like me would find satisfaction simply in my profession alone, but there’s so much to be said for the depth of connection in an ongoing BDSM dynamic.
Real life D/s relationships on the surface often look like, and typically need to function as; real relationships.
There has to be compatibility: both emotionally and in the dungeon, and there has to be room in your existence for it, but the pure emotional and physical release that comes from all of those things falling into alignment is positively blissful.
Of course, in publicly noting my intentions, it’s vital that I also make sure a healthy does of reality is served along side so that I’m not bombarded by suitors looking for versions of slavery that is different from what *I* personally am seeking.
My desire is never to build up possibility and dash anyone’s hopes to fulfill a life long fantasy, so I’ll start by painting a picture of the conditions my other slaves operate under, as I suspect any new member of my clan will fall under similar situations.
The very basics…
They don’t live with me: I know that’s the fantasy – a 24/7 life lived with your Dominatrix, always clad in leather and always holding a riding crop, but I’m a realist – I need space and my home is my own. I also believe my slaves need their space too. While it might sound sexy, no one would hold up to having a demanding Femme Domme breathing down their neck 24/7 and I certainly don’t intend on wearing a corset all hours of the day.
They are all employed and all contribute to their Mistress – I say this specifically to draw a line between personal slavery and by the hour visits and dissolve the notion that being a personal slave is a free pass to fulfill your fantasies without contributing back in some way.
I don’t support my slaves financially, but rather, they offer a reliable monthly tribute to help sustain, support and contribute to my ability to practice my craft and offer them a special amount of my time outside of bookings. The time they spend with me depends more on their personal schedules then how much their tributes run with only a small correlation, but how their time is ultimately spent with me, is also decided by me.
Not all time I spend with my slaves involves BDSM – In fairness it’s a 50/50 mix. I like enjoying the full width and breath of life with my supplicants. Sure, I’m going to need plenty of time with them in the dungeon, but I also like going out to dinner, running menial errands, going shopping, going on vacation, catching a movie, a coffee or simply making dinner with them at home. I need a rich dynamic that includes both the sugar and spice of daily living. A mental and physical relationship is just as necessary to me as compatibility in the dungeon.
They all have lives and hobbies outside of me – I’ve never believed that when someone is a slave, their every thought should be on service and submission. Honestly, I’d find that sort of dependency a bit suffocating. One of my slaves races cars and has a boat, another writes apps and works out vigorously, another cycles and enjoys studying medicine and music and the last is has a thriving career and loves to travel. Half are married and the other half not – there’s a variety and texture to their lives that keep them balanced  and I require that sort of personal complexity in any suitor who wants to find themselves in my company. I need things to talk about with you – hobbies to enjoy with you – a life outside of me.
They are all incredibly kind, versatile, thoughtful, generous and not the slightest bit jealous of each other – I’m a nurturer at heart, not prone to drama or conflict. I like slaves of a similar frame of mind, those who don’t feel strained to put someone else above themselves, and to not have constant expectations or demands of what their lives should be like. As individuals, I recognize they all have their own unique wants and needs, and as a Top – I strive to strike a balance so everyone is as happy, content and fulfilled as possible. That said, I couldn’t bring anyone into my fold that would disrupt that balance.
It can be a hard thought for some, that I demand monogamy as a Mistress (as in you can have other sexual relationships or be married, but no other Mistress) while I am free to have as many partners of any form as I’d like, but there are many of you out there who would agree a Mistress is free to do as she wishes and wouldn’t think any other way.
Now, if all of that speaks to you on a deeper level, beyond a passing fantasy or something you might grow out of once the novelty wears off – I’d encourage you to make that known to me. I am looking for life partners here and I know this will take time and patience. Talking about it doesn’t change our dynamic at all, it simply opens a door of possibility.
Logistics being what they are, I tend to choose individuals that I’m already seeing on a professional basis, that’s not exclusive to people I’ve already met, but I wouldn’t encourage anyone to seek me out professionally ONLY because they are hoping that will come to be something *more* in the future.
I can’t force, promise or lead anyone on that a relationship is definitely going to happen, it simply has to be genuine and thoroughly organic.
With those thoughts lingering in the universe, and my very wide net now cast, I start my day with a cheerful optimism that before long, some deeper connections may start to form and my loving kinky family one member stronger.
And of course, if you are drawn to this post but have a question or two, by all means – let’s talk. Perhaps an intimate conversation held in the appropriate atmosphere of my dungeon is needed to help you explore what’s on your mind.

Koi and I met over a scene with a mutually beloved play partner. Lustful and enigmatic, the chemistry was instant; her vibrance in scene, deep penetrative sexuality and raw intensity for ‘more’ pulled me in to her immediately in a way that can be said for few people. She’s disarming, but effortlessly made my heart beat faster; I can only imagine how the two of us would make you feel while pinned to a bondage chair.

While admittedly, my crush was instant, more so, my respect for this woman left me speechless in the midst of our chaotic and enthusiastic divergence. She is passionate and in every sense of the word, a true Goddess in flesh, making each moment spent with her utterly magical and addictive.

That said, I am SO proud to say after a little flirtation and a flutter of excited emails, this lovely Goddess is now among my available duo partners!!!!




Go ahead and pick your jaws up off the floor.

If you don’t know about her yet (it’s because you live under a rock). A sensual chameleon, both Dominant, submissive and achingly erotic – she’s everything she needs to be as the moment strikes. I have no doubt you poor boys will be left utterly unable to remember your last name’s once she and I are done with you….and for those who are curious about switching yourselves; Koi is the perfect companion to help guide you to those more stern curiosities.


Personally, diverse as she is in her methods, I will always prefer the vision of her in leathers with a thick strap on belted around her perfectly sculpted  hips. In case it was somehow not abundantly clear, women in positions of power are simply what makes the world a better place.




Now, if you’re ready to be turned completely inside out, drop me an email. Let’s see if we can’t make the whole world melt away together.


Disclaimer: Koi is an independent provider, as are all of my kinky cohorts. Her rates, schedule and offerings are self set and available here on her website: https://www.illicitadventures.com/