Ms. Angela,

I dream of being dressed and performing for you

With pouting, glossed lips to let my slut show through.

My skirt is so short, tight, shiny and wet,

My leash and collar telling all I’m your pet.

Love,  Sissy D.

Me:

bounding you to the bed

nipple clamps applied

anal toy inserted

observing. seducing. taunting.

whispering:

i’m panty-less under my skirt

teasing your cock with my fingers

the edge of a french nail, the press of a finger

then slapping your balls.

one. two. three.

another for good measure

fingering myself

letting you suck my finger

You:

feeling my strings in your hands

i am taut with tension and desire

hungrily reaching for your sweet body

i am crazed beyond words with desire from the feelings in my ass

feeling your moist moist heat

against my thighs as you lay against me

thrusting and squirming against your touch

unable to satisfy my crying need for friction

brought up short by the shock

breathless. voiceless. mindless.

sucking licking slavering

my mouth is insatiable

please o please

fuck my mouth with your hand, my ear with your tongue, my ass with your toy

crazy with lust

Love and respect woman.

Look to her not only for comfort, but for strength and inspiration and the doubling of your intellectual and moral powers.

Blot out from your mind any idea of superiority; you have none.

Giuseppe Mazzini

“You want me to what?”

I was astonished.

“I want you to lock your cock in your cage and FedEx the keys to me. i want you to buy a round trip ticket to Hartford. I want you to photograph your locked cock with today’s or tomorrow’s newspaper in the background. I want you to fly here. I will then meet you at the airport tomorrow.”

“You don’t trust me to behave myself?”

“No darling, it isn’t that at all. If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be meeting you. I just know how excited you’ll be to see me for the first time in the flesh, and I want to see if you can break the cage with your desire.” She laughed.

I agreed to do it, and she was, as always, right on the money. My excitement was palpable, or at least it would have been if I hadn’t been caged in a hard-on preventing contraption she had bought for me just a month previously. So I took my locked package to the FedEx store and mailed the keys to her PO box in Connecticut. I sent the iPhoto of my predicament via email, and drove to the airport. Fear of the TSA proved to be a remedy for the extreme discomfort of the situation, but once I was in the terminal proper my excitement returned in full force. I won’t tell you how long the plane ride was or mention the crying baby because I hardly noticed. All I could think about was meeting her for the first time, and the increasing pressure between my legs.

The pressure behind my eyes during the descent was minor compared to that restrained by the cage not so artfully concealed by my jeans. I tried to check unobtrusively for stains that I was certain were there, but I couldn’t see any without making a scene on the plane. I waited impatiently for the other passengers to deplane and began my journey from seat 23A to what I hoped would be Nirvana. Now as I stumbled down the jet-way I could see her. She was dressed to thrill, and thrilled I was. I could barely believe my eyes as I took her in, long brown hair, bomber jacket, ‘Daisy Duke’ short jeans, thigh-high boots, all framed a stunning lithe body could kill a horny seventeen year-old with lust. She coolly eyed me with her light brown eyes as I approached.

“Well, you must be Joel.” She glanced me up and down with what HR would call ‘elevator eyes’. I felt like a piece of meat for a quick second, then she stepped into me and kissed me full on the lips with a loud smack. “You’ll do, sweetheart. Have a comfortable flight?” The lift of her brows and quirk of her smile told me she new the negative answer already. I was throbbing inside my silicone sheath. In a cruel physical satire of intercourse I could feel my shaft sliding up and down inside the cage, the head tapping the cap of the sheath in time to my heart’s beating.

We quickly found our way to her car and she buckled me in the passenger’s seat with a quick kiss. She then surprised me by blindfolding me. I turned beat red under the mask and could hear her laughter magnified by the loss of sense. I was quickly dizzy and confused about our directions.

The trip didn’t seem to take long. Angela talked about everything from current events to history to fashion until I heard the garage doors going up and then down. The blindfold came off and I discovered we were in her house.

“Strip” she told me, and I did. I was soon standing before her wearing nothing but my silicone cock ring, sheath, and brass lock.
It was then that I noticed her necklace. It was a golden chain upon which hung a small key. The key to my release. She was fingering the key thoughtfully and my hopes were rising in way that my trapped manhood could only envy.

She dropped the key against her chest and it fell between her breasts.

“You want to stare at my cleavage, boy? I’ll give you something to stare at.”

With that she produced a leash fit for a small dog which she quickly attached to the hoop of my padlock.
Looking over her shoulder as she turned, she quipped “‘Follow’, I wont being saying ‘come’ for a while, yet.” And she gave her leash and my cock a quick jerk. Naturally I followed her inside leaving my dignity and clothes behind.

I was led to a spacious bedroom and made to lie down on a plush bed. My ankles and wrists were soon attached to the foot and head and head of the bed. I wasn’t stretched too far, but it wasn’t restful.

Angela brought a dining room chair over to the bed and set it down just out of reach of my right hand.  She sat down in the chair and began to smile an ever broader smile.

I was confused.  I was scared.  Mostly I was excited.

She left the chair and the bedroom in whirl of motion without a word.  I wondered what was going on, but not for long, for she soon returned– naked save for the chain around her neck and the key dangling between her perfectly formed breasts.  “Watch” was all she said as she reseated herself in the chair.

With that she began to play with her pussy.

I can’t describe what she did because I was soon in a frenzy.  I was trapped and caged and the most exciting, gorgeous, sexy creature imaginable was just out of reach and she was pleasuring herself to orgasm after orgasm.  I don’t know how long it lasted, but it seemed like hours.  I moaned, I begged, I cried, I pleaded, I begged again.

Finally she seemed to notice me again. She slowly inserted her fingers into her pussy one more time and removed them.  She looked at the now slick fingers with a critical eye and smiled a wicked smile.  She leaned out over the bed and wiped her fingers over my upper lip and nose.

“Good night”.

_______________________________________

Written by my beloved Long Distance Chastity Slave, who knows how to make Miss Angela very happy.

He calls me often and obediently … with much reverence and appreciation (right here).

He is cherished.

A particularly delicious report from a favored long-distance slave, who went out into the FemDomme Trenches for a bit of Real Time abuse:

I recently visited a particularly sadistic woman for an evening of overwhelming intensity.

She had not had an opportunity to play in some time, and it had been even longer since she had her claws in somebody that she could really let loose on. After we sat and enjoyed a drink or two, she told me to go to her play room. After stripping I would find a safe in the closet into which I was to deposit my clothes, guaranteeing that I would not run (there was no chance of it, but the psychological effect was intense). I would also find my outfit for the evening within the safe–a hood, heavy collar, ball gag, and cock and ball harness. The ring was particularly wicked as the inside was lined with spikes. It also featured a ring that looked as though a leash could be hooked onto it.

A straight-backed chair sat in the middle of the room with a note saying “wait here.” Properly attired I sat…and sat…and sat. She liked to keep me waiting but she was always worth the wait (much like the divine Miss Angela). I could hear her shoes clicking down the hallway, anxious for when they would stop at my door and I would catch a whiff if her scent, soft but arousing. When she finally came, making her way around me and touching me gently, purring her approval, I was panting with desire.

I felt her attaching something to the cock ring–a rope, I would soon find out–and pulled it up behind my neck and back down to tie it off around the same ring. She then sat on my lap, proceeding to stroke and kiss my neck and chest gently, toying with my nipples. As my moans of delight started to change to heavy breathing I felt her reach for something, pushing on my chest as she leaned back, her hand covering the rope. When she came back up I felt something hard being traced up the rope on my right. She I had no idea what it was so when she told me to take a deep breath and then let it out I was shocked–I felt a hard pressure against my chest, against the rope, and then a piercing explosion answering the mystery–surgical staples.

She knew how much I hated them, of course, and starting in with them before I’d had any real warm-up meant that they would be as painful as possible. Six down each side of the rope, each one an agony. It was all I could do to sit still, through it and I knew I would have a hard time taking anything else. She knew it as well, as she explained, and that was why she was about to shrink wrap me to the chair, pinning my arms to my sides and my back and legs to the chair. She sat back down on my lap, tore off the hood and gag, and gave me a deep kiss, pressing up against my chest as she did. The sight of her gave me strength to endure the pain–her eyes and lips exuding desire. She sat back, locked my gaze, and punched my chest, triggering a wild scream from me and a moan of delight from her. She took her time at first, with deliberate strikes to the length of the rope, enjoying the red stream beginning to coat the inside of the wrap.

She soon let herself succumb to her desire, taking full swings at my chest and arms, kneeling on my thighs for better leverage at times, perhaps, though more likely to feel my screams against her bosom. When she seemed to tire, either from the effort or boredom with this particular torment, she began to use her nails on me, gouging my neck and shoulders before digging them in around my nipples to get access to them. She raked at and pinched them, sometimes using her nails to pull them to her, playing me like a piano. She looked in my eyes and told me that she could feel my cock–she knew how much I needed this.

She then rose and moved behind me so that I couldn’t see her. I’m always a little upset when I can’t see her both because the sight of her helps me endure and because when she does so it is almost always to get some new item with which to torment me. When she came back around I was expecting a whip or a cane or a truncheon but what I saw was far, far worse. A rubber band. I have found that things that you would never think would be too painful often prove to be vicious. She wound one end around her pointer and middle fingers, placing one on each side of my left nipple and pulled back on the other end–the classic rubber band snap position. She took her time. She found exactly the tension she wanted in the rubber band, but also in my eyes. She licked her lips. She nodded her head with an evil grin. She took her time.Then she let go and my world went white.

It was exactly as bad as I’d feared. She did both nipples several times, taking her time with each one, seeing that I was getting close to tears. She then moved down to my pubic mound, snapping to the left and right of the rope that still waited with the staples, then snapping it a couple of times, mostly for my fear reaction. She looked down and pouted, then started to rub the insides of my thighs. “We forgot all about these, didn’t we?” Snap, snap, snap it went, up and down my thighs leaving angry red welts. She stood up and looked down at me…at my thighs…in my eyes…and retrieved the gag. She strapped it in place and told me that she wanted my chest. My eyes widened in abject fear at what might come next…this made her smile that evil grin again.

I had assumed that she would use scissors or a knife to remove the wrap, but no, she used her finger nails, slashing at me long after the wrap could easily be pulled off. She sat on my lap again, toying with the staples lightly. “So there are two ways we can do this–one is mean and hard and very painful, the other one makes the first look like cotton candy. I just wanted to ask one or two little questions.” She leaned close to me, pressing her body into me as she undid the gag, and purred, “You want to make me happy, don’t you?” “Of course I do.” “You know what I want you to say then, don’t you?” I shrank, my desire and fear fighting for dominance but either way there was only one answer I could give, whispering “the harder one, please.”

“Lounder.”

“The hard one, please.”

“Sell it–I don’t think you really want it. I don’t think you really want to make me happy. Convince me!”

Her gaze was as unyielding as it was unsympathetic as it was passionate.

I crumbled. The tears that emerged would be known for the breaking of a man if it weren’t for the words that came with them, pleading for the harder one, pleading for her to channel every untapped sadistic desire she held and show me how far it can go.”

She complied. Rather than simply pulling one half off with a single tug and then digging the other half out slowly and methodically, she had me sit forward. She used the slack this formed to pull the rope over my head. She produced another rope, using some to tie a ring at the base of my balls, just beneath the spiked harness and the rest to connect with the length of rope now suspended over the staples. I waited for what would come next, not knowing at all what it could be. She heard my anxiety and squatted next to the chair. “Oh, I’m not going to do anything more to you. You see, you’re going to want to straighten up at some point. It won’t be all at once–you’re welcome to try to do that, of course, but I can’t imagine you have the courage for that. You may get to the point that you accept what will happen to you and that inspires you, but at first you’ll just come up centimeter by centimeter and eventually this line,” she tugged at it for emphasis,” will start pulling on both ends. The staples will tear into you with every breath as the spikes in your cock ring cut a line up your junk.”

She left me to make herself a cocktail to enjoy while she waited for me to break.

_______________________

If I were there I would have caught his tears in a champagne flute.

And drank them.

*bats eyelashes*

_______________________

FemDomme Art courtesy of FemDom Artists and the incomparable PolyFetishist, who will always have a piece of my heart.