I Fucked Him Into Oblivion – A Casual Femdom Moment

Last night, we had sex.

The spontaneous, gross, sweaty kind.

It’s the first time we’ve touched each other in a few weeks. I am kept busy with a new position at work and he has a new schedule he is trying to get used to. Our internal clocks are all askew. We honestly are lucky if we are awake in each other’s company during the day.

So, when subby-hubby woke up at 3:30 a.m. (I was, naturally, still wide awake), and gave me the cutest of looks – you know the one: big dark doe-eyes just begging for your attention – in spite of his sleepiness, I had to join him.

“Shh,” I told him, gently stroking his hair and his cheek. He wriggled aside to leave me space to sit on the bed by his side and cuddle. I climbed onto the bed and began kissing him…

And then I denied him further kisses.

This seemed to start a fire in my husband. All traces of sleepiness vanished.

He made little moans of desire with every denial. Every time my tongue playfully flicked across his lips, he attempted to close the gap between us for a kiss. I teased further, asking him if he was sure he wanted sex… wasn’t he too sleepy? Besides, I didn’t feel like getting out the toys – too much work on my lazy day off. *wink*

“I just really want you right now,” he groaned pitifully.

I grinned and draped myself over the bed playfully, lying on my front and looking back at him over my shoulder as I did so. I wriggled my ass appealingly into the air.

These bad boys are the pjs I'm talking about
These bad boys are the pjs I’m talking about

I was clad in my pink-blue-and-white cotton pj shorts. These shorts have loosened over time. They used to hug my booty deliciously. Wear and tear (and washing them at the wrong temperature, I am loath to say) caused them to stretch out and kind of hang from my waist like overgrown boxers. So, with my ass in the air like it was, he could just barely catch glimpses of my cunt beyond the fabric.

I looked at him invitingly, but didn’t speak a word. A good sub should know what his Miss is thinking before the thought is translated into the spoken word.

I am happy to say that I have trained him very well.

One look and he stripped off all the unnecessary that covered his pale, soft flesh. I backed my but up to his already stiff cock. I allowed him to slip between my thighs, teasingly clenching them, before releasing him again for another mimed stab with his penis.

I played that game for a bit. He grew harder with each twitch of my cunt, hovering just barely above his lonely cock. So I sent him to get me a glass of water.

When he returned, I gratefully took the water and drank some (what? I was thirsty! Sue me). Then I lay on my back, still fully dressed, and commanded him to come to me. He did as I asked.

I raked my nails across his skin

Continue reading


Trial By Fire: A Review of Play Party v. 24

Hello bunnies – I am returned… exhausted, but with a story to tell.

I am aware that my online presence has been wanting of late. It has a lot to do with stuff I’ve had to deal with at home and work… everything from losing my dog to getting disciplined by management. I’m at the end of my rope… and sadly not the good, kinky kind.

So, I decided to take a break from all that crappy, unpleasant adulting stuff, and decided to take time off to attend one of Mistress Hell Kitty‘s amazing play parties. This one was number 24 in a series, though unfortunately the last one at its specific location (due to change of ownership – or so was my understanding of the situation, – the dungeon needs a new venue).

I was a last minute guest.

I had been invited to the event by Mr. Wildcard eons ago. I had intended to attend, but my generosity towards my colleagues at work was taken advantage of, and I ended up scheduled on the evening of the party (a crappy 3 a.m. to 8 a.m. shift) and would have to miss out.

Then, after an awful day on the Thursday where just everything seemed to go to hell in a handbasket, I asked a colleague who owes me a favour if she could help me out. She initially accepted, and so I contacted the event organizers and got my butt on that guestlist. I needed the respite from responsibilities and keeping my shit together as much as I do.

So I was having a normal Saturday which went south very quickly. First off, I woke up late. I was supposed to be somewhere at noon. I woke up at 11:50. Then, what normally takes me a 15 minute drive on the worst of days took an hour (yes, 60 whole minutes) due to construction and stupid fucking #!@%&!!#$@%&! who don’t know how to drive. I ended up being nearly two hours late for my meeting, feeling embarrassed and enraged.

(As I would later tell my husband, traffic is the worst! I was really starting to lose my cool… I was beginning to think that ISIS could go fuck itself; if anyone is going to cause a mass bombing, it’s a person who is rage-quitting being stuck in traffic.)

Then, to make a dreadful day worse, my colleague got back to me and told me my shift was too shitty and she didn’t want to take it anymore. Apparently, I should just bite the bullet and go to work. I told her that I knew this wasn’t the deal of the century, but we had an agreement – and I had helped her countless times in the past, even when I found her shifts were not to my liking. To which the little… urgh! … did not respond for over three hours.

I honestly didn’t know at that point if I should drive myself off a cliff, or run over a pedestrian (I am using hyperbole, but I was still pretty ticked off).

The Play Party at the legendary dungeon of the glorious Mistress Hellkitty, was no longer on the table for me…

Until my colleague finally took my shift. I had the Sunday off and, thus, could freely attend Play Party #24 after all.

I was jittery and anxious. It would be my first time going to such a very “public” play party. There were only about 60 attendees; but as someone who was only familiar with Miss Pearl’s play parties (which never have more than a dozen guests), I was terrified.

Social anxieties notwithstanding, I didn’t find out I could attend the party (which started at 10 p.m.) until shortly before 9 in the evening. Panic immediately set in!

What am I going to wear?

I may have flailed while asking myself that particular question. I had no ideas, no plans, and I looked like death warmed up (no make-up, etc.).

A fetish outfit?

No good – the ones I have from my modelling days won’t fit my stupidly overgrown chesticles. Besides, I am not sure I fit in any of them anymore. Breasts notwithstanding, I no longer have the lovely figure I had when I was twenty-one.

Pretty and Sexy Lingerie?

Well… yes, sure. But again, I am having a huge brassiere shortage in my dresser. All my bras are C-cups. I have grown to a DD-E cup about three years ago, but have been too broke to properly update my undergarment collection. And god knows that ill fitting bras look awful!

A Kinky Themed Outfit?

Sure – but what?! All my costumes are in boxes. We only moved a little over a month ago! What can I possibly…?

While running through my apartment like a chicken with it’s head cut off, I stumbled on a wonderful find. In my stocking and tight drawer (yes, I have a drawer dedicated exclusively to those – and no socks are allowed in it! – thanks to my job uniform requiring new tights about two-three times a week), I found these:

The dream find that inspired me.

There were completely untouched: unopened and unworn. I had bought them years ago (about two apartments ago), and thrown them in the back of my stocking drawer only to forget all about them. Well, it was time they came out to party too. And, given their appearance, I knew what I would dress up as:

A Circus Ring Master!

I had everything I needed.  Continue reading

Thirty Days of Kink – Days 19 through 21

I have a lot of catching up to do!! *scrambles hurriedly*

So without further ado – the continuation of my Thirty Days of Kink series!

Thirty Days of Kink

– Day Nineteen –

Any unexpected ways kink has improved your life?

Yes, actually. I have been struggling with Anxiety, Major Depressive Disorder, PTSD and some Bipolar Disorder for some years now. Medication and therapy do what they can, but kink plays a very important part in making me feel better.

When I am submissive and get a spanking, it seems to clear my head of all anxieties and only the delicious pain remains. I can stay elated for quite a while after that. I am aware that the adrenaline and endorphin high is probably the cause of it, but it is beneficial nonetheless.

When I am Dominant, I get drunk on the power and control I have over men. It makes me able to move past my negative thoughts and PTSD. Depression usually goes away simply because I feel evil and mischievous. The fact that I feel strong and sexy doesn’t hurt either.

Thirty Days of Kink – Day 17 & Day 18 –

Note: I am sorry for the delay in posting, my naughty bunnies. Unfortunately, real-life-itis has struck me hard this week. I am moving to a new apartment and hardly have any downtime. This is me trying to catch up. I am still alive!

Thirty Days of Kink

– Day 17 –

What misconception about kinky people would you most like to clear up?

A Sweet Moment of Calm

Dominance does not always have to be about sex… Nor is it always about super strong, paddle-wielding control. Sometime, you can have a calm, dominant presence in the quiet of night.

I just had the pleasure of having an extremely sweet moment with my husband. And it was still a Dominant moment, despite being all sleepy nothings.

As per usual, I was wide awake at 4 a.m. My husband turned over in bed. Whether because he woke from a dream, or because the night was absurdly warm, he was awake. Drowsy, sure, but no longer asleep.

He turned to me and, noticing that I was sitting at the edge of the bed, curled up right by my side, head by my lap, like a sleepy puppy. “Could you please give me some pets, Miss,” he said barely above a whisper.

How could I resist such a sweet request? Truth is, I couldn’t. He looked so handsome and peaceful in this state of semi-wakefulness…

So I started petting his hair. He has thick, silky curls that are longer at the top of his head and cropped quite short at the back and sides. I quite enjoyed tangling my fingers in the longer strands and scratching the shorter hairs the same way I pet my cats… He moaned softly, or was it a blissful sigh? Continue reading

Thirty Days Of Kink – Start –

So, I found this neat little questionnaire on another blog I follow: Anonymouskinky posted this Thirty Days Of Kink “meme” and I’ve decided it is a fun way to have a couple of blog posts that aren’t painfully afflicted with Real-Life-itis. Because, sadly, Real Life is currently taking its toll on me. This Dom is very, very tired. I am hoping to get my game back on by the end of the week, but this is some casual blogging fun in the meantime…

Thirty Days of Kink


Dom, sub, switch? What parts of BDSM interest you? Give us an interesting in-depth definition of what that means to you. Basically define your kinky self for us.

I am a Dominant, sometimes Switch.

I enjoy the Switch part because, honestly, I am a sucker for the rush of endorphins and it allows me to release the inner Brat. The Brat is strong in me, but she does not get to come out much when I Dom. She comes out sometimes in my Dominant moments as this very playful, kind of mischievous creature, but she is difficult to control and that’s usually when I accidentally do something that is not all that enjoyable to my sub. So I prefer keeping her in check by keeping her to my submissive moments. She is really fun to release though! I would also be lying if I said I was not a total masochist – see endorphins above.

But why do I associate more to the Dominant side if I enjoy being submissive (and pain) so much? Because if there is one thing I like more than that, it is control. I am a control freak over every last aspect in my life – so much so that when things are out of my control, I fall into Anxiety and get panic attacks. It is a slippery road, to be honest.  Continue reading

Late Night Spontaneity…

I was bored tonight and, as is my nature, suffering of my usual insomnia. My recourse was to both entertain and educate myself by reading the blogs of other FemDoms and reading up on certain F/m sites. Lots of interesting material there, ladies. Once you know it’s out there, you will wonder why you did not explore those avenues sooner…

In any case, the whole kerfuffle of online posts, articles and messages made me incredibly horny and I was in no mood to masturbate. Beside me, my gentleman was happily sleeping the night away, as is his habit. I swear: you just put him in a position that’s remotely close to horizontal and he is out like a light! As a chronic insomniac, I envy that ability.

But that’s a tangent I needn’t elaborate on.

I decided that tonight, I would dominate him without the aid of any ties, cuffs, or whippy items. In fact, I wanted to make him mine through sheer force of will.

I woke him up gently. Rubbing his back and calling his name. No sooner was he awake that I grasped his hair in my and pulled his head back, exposing his neck for me to kiss, lick and bite at will. My hand in his hair made him gasp and pant in that way that is always a surefire way to turn me on.

I took his mouth with a deep kiss, and then another. I stripped him naked and ran my nails down his chest, leaving red trenches in his white, flawless skin. I rolled his left nipple between my index and thumb, and bit down – hard – on the other one. He moaned loudly. But it was nigh on 2 in the morning: I did not want him waking our poor elderly neighbours!

So I slid my underwear from my hips – a grey jersey boyshort; casual comfort – wiggling my buttocks as I exposed them to him. When it was off, I stuffed it in his mouth in lieu of a gag. His expression was delicious. Continue reading

Ruined Orgasms, First Experience

Source: http://dollcenina.tumblr.com/
Image source: http://dollcenina.tumblr.com/
(Originally posted on FetLife, April 19, 2016)

17 April 2016

Last night, the last customer of the evening pisses me off.

Actually, no. That is a gross understatement. He insulted me to the point that I bypassed the “offended” stage and went right into that desperate need of breaking something – potentially many things – to alleviate my anger.

I get in my car and screamed loudly. Traffic. Just great. More screaming, my blood past boiling point.

I get home in a huff. My beloved house husband meets me with his usual puppy-like enthusiasm, craving my attention, but I would have none of that. I do not want him getting injured because of my anger. I undress and parade my naked body before him as I look around for my gym clothes. I need to work out some frustration. Hubby pouts – he cannot join me at the gym. I tell him to clean himself up and be ready for when I get home.

I run off some steam and work up a good sweat for about an hour at the local gym. I do not check my texts or even bother giving my boy-toy news of when I am planning to return. I use the massage bed at the gym for a few minutes… I calm down just barely enough to ensure that there would be no real damage caused to my husband.

Post-workout, I call him up. “I’ll be home in fifteen minutes. Run me a hot bath and wait for me by the door. Greet me on your knees.” And I set off on my short drive home.

He knows it’s me as soon as I set foot into our building. According to my house-husband, I have a particular sound to my step that is unmistakeable. I take my time up to the second floor landing and up to my door. He opens it from inside, kneeling naked, all too willing and eager. Good.

I step into the apartment. “The bath is run, Miss,” he tells me. I extend my arms in response. “Undress me.”

He obeys my request clumsily, trying to take off my shirt first. I click my tongue impatiently. “Is that the first thing we take off when we come in?”

He looks flustered and blushes. It takes him a moment to realise I mean my shoes. He sheepishly unlaces my runners and pulls them off my feet, followed by my socks. Next, he returns to the shirt, knocking my glasses askew as he pulls it off. “Careful,” I warn him. This will be deserving of a thorough spanking later. He moves on to untie my yoga pants and pulls them off, finding himself faced with the darkish hairs of my sweaty cunt. I smile. He had not expected me to be going commando.

Once I am standing skyclad in my hallway, I regally hold out my hand and wait. Wordlessly and well trained, he gently takes that hand and escorts me to the tub. What follows for me is a delightful treat where he washes my hair, my back, my breasts as I command. I clean my nethers myself. Not yet.

He dries me off with a fresh fuzzy towel and I send him to lie on his back on the bed. Continue reading