My "Images" (a term I stole from Suki) are short ideas, images,
and sketches written for the amusement of and offered as tribute 
to my Liege and Lady.  They were always longer and never so well
crafted as Suki's short masterpieces, and over time, my Images
files began to include various email excerpts and other works
in progress or ideas for works and became more journal than art,
so some juxtapositions may seem odd.

Some of my Images follow.  They are generally cruel and 
nonconsensual and of interest only to sickphuxs, so please 
read no further if such doesn't appeal to you.

The Images are impurely the products of a warped imagination, and
should not be seen as a reflection of the scene, nor should they be 
imitated by anyone not interested in a protracted term as the ward 
of the state.

Steven S. Davis

"Forked Over"

A very short image.  I'm not having much time to develop 
anything very far, I'm afraid.

But it does occur to me that things could be worse (way too
melodramatic; sitting in an office review SOH levels and
forecasts and making redistributions is not really so horrible).

I could have been led, naked and hands tied behind me
and with a ring gag in my mouth, to the middle of a cement 
floor with an O ring in it, and a rope tied around my scrotum 
and passed through the ring and then pulled to bring me to my 
knees, and then my ankles crossed and bound, and left on my 
knees till they were hurting badly, and then had a heretic's fork
applied to I couldn't move my head and then been surrounded 
by men who jerked off until they came in my face and hair and 
were replaced by other men who kept it up (so to speak) until
my face and head were covered in come.

With my Mistress showing no signs of interest whatsoever in
the proceedings, nor any inclination when they were over to
come get me or clean me up or even release me.  Which would
of course be the real horror of the situation, not what she
let them do to me - she had, after all, bet a dollar on the
carrying capacity of an African swallow and lost the bet,
and had to either fork over the dollar or pay in trade - but
that my ordeal wasn't amusing her.

Now, if she'd kicked someone out of the way so she could
kneel where she had a prime view of the action (and made
enough appreciative noises that I knew she was there even
when I was keeping my eyes closed because of all the jizz
on my face), then it wouldn't be so awful.

But her leaving the party and forgetting to come get me,
even if an elaborate mindfuck - FWIW, coming back into the
empty room muttering "I knew that I forgot something", and
picking up the tin she brought the casserole in and walking
out again, that would be overplaying the hand - would be too 
much to bear.


Domme's dilemma

Home soon, to supper and then bed (and then sleep; perhaps after
time to do some research (no time to write much) on the domme's
dilemma: does she have more fun when her toy can stop the pain
but won't (or can't; if she being just a wee bit sneaky when she
tells him he can take the electrified clamps of his testicles
any time he can't stand the pain any more, knowing that she's
going to sadly pout whenever he moves to do so, and that no matter how 
much he may want to take them off, he won't be able to without not
just her permission, which he has, but her approval, which she knows 
he desperately needs, and he'll never be able to take the clamps
off unless she gives him an approving look; her pout will keep his
hands paralyzed), or does she enjoy it more gloating over his utter
powerlessness to anything except endure the tortures she has planned,
as for example when she has him tied so nice and tight to the bench
and first used the violet wand over him, which he can handle, and 
then puts pins all over him, which he can barely handle, but then
when he's get a cock and scrotum full of pins and she brings back 
the violet wand to electrify them, she knows he can't stand that
- just as she knows that he'll have no choice except to endure it.
Less a sign of his love, but still, when she sees the terror in his
already agonized eyes when she stops running her hands lightly over 
the tips of all those needles in him, and stands over him with the 
wand, terrorizing him while reveling in her power and in her continuing
amazement that she can actually do something like this to such a strong
man, well, if the Goddess made anything better she kept it for herself.

That when she finally stops torturing him he'll be so immensely
grateful to her for her mercy, and she'll be able to accept
his efforts to express his gratitude to her for her having
finally stopped doing what was giving her so much pleasure,
well, that's just more amazement for her; she's in heaven and 
he goes through hell and when it's over he tries to reward her 
for her mercy.   She's so glad that the submissive mind is so strange.

Of course, no real dilemma for her, just a pesky choice which way
to enjoy herself today, since whatever she doesn't does to him today
she can do to him tomorrow.  Well, maybe not tomorrow; the toy needs 
some recovery time from either game, and if that means that she's left
with nothing but kissing and cuddling for a awhile, well, she can bear

Fear, or "Domme's Dilemma 2"

But if she did wanted to play sooner, and gave him some
longing looks and sad pouts, well, then...

What choice would he have, when the thing he fears the most is
that he might fail her or disappoint her ?

Knowing that, she'd force herself to show some restraint in her demands
- she knows he can't be trusted to protect himself when even the 
faint thought that maybe she's disappointed in him fills him with
dread and overrides any other considerations, like whether his wounds
are healed enough to play again.

But, of course, she'd still exploit this feature of his sometimes;
too delectable a one not to exploit, and too sweet a means of control.
*She* doesn't need to exert herself with long canings to make him obey,
she just has to practice her look of sadness.  She might once have
fantasized about carefully say "I'm so disappointed... in <X>" (X 
never being him of course, she would never be that cruel), but even 
that much taunting of his greatest fear (well, the greatest fear he'll
admit; behind it is the fear that if she's disappointed in him,
she'll leave him) she'd decided was too much.  But those little pouts
and sad looks, she didn't mind those, and they would instantly make
him obey.

A bigger dilemma for her, really, than which of two fun ways 
to play she prefers, would be the conflict her love for him
and her desire that he be secure, and her enjoyment in his fear
and in the power over him his fear gave her.  Being the one person 
against whom he had no defenses, and the one person who could say 
the thing he most dreaded hearing, being able to destroy him in
an instant with just a few words, this was a huge power and thrill
and one she didn't want to diminish.

And yet... she didn't want him so afraid, and sort of resented
that he could be so afraid of her, and wanted somehow to build
his confidence that she'd adore him no matter what while still
keeping his terror of disappointing her.  It'd be so nice if it
were truly a selfless fear, if all he thought about was her.
But she knew that his selfish interest, his fear of being abandoned,
was a big part of it.  Not all of it, she know he genuinely
wanted her to be happy.  But she also knew the the instant
obedience to whatever she let it be known her desires were 
- if she didn't enjoy giving him orders she'd never need to -
that she enjoyed so much had much of it's basis in that fear
she somewhat resented and somewhat regretted he felt.  Not
that she caused it - she did try to make him secure in some ways,
ways that suited them both, like her frequent statements that he 
was hers and that she would never ever allow him to escape her.
But somewhere inside him was that fear.  She hadn't caused it,
it was within him before they ever met, and sometimes knowing
the depth of it and what it did to him was heartbreaking to her.

And yet... when he leapt up to get her what she wanted even when
it meant the weights she'd hung from his balls would cause him
serious pain, all because of a small pout when he'd tried to
rise slowly and carefully, it was hard not to love that. And
hard not to love him for knowing what she did and how she manipulated
him and still loving her and forgiving her (they neither called it
that - they scarcely ever spoke of it at all - but they both knew
that his forgiveness was what made her able to enjoy being the
bitch, she couldn't do what she did to him and not hate herself
save for the fact that he loved her for it).  So maybe he had her
in as tight a trap as she had him.  And neither of them minded;
well, not very much, but what is ever perfect ?


It's not easy being a sadistic dominant

Some desires can be hard to reconcile with one's
image of oneself as a good person.  Wanting to
hurt one's friends can take some getting used to.
Thinking that you'd like to have someone come visit 
you so you can put him in a cage and make him sit
all day waiting for you and then torture him all night
- well, not all night; from time to time you'd stop
to fuck your lover while your friend watches - yes,
sometimes that does seem a little outside the behavioral
norms of a nice person.

But you're not an evil person for making your visitor spend 
his days sitting in chains inside a metal cage in your basement. 
Nor for rigging the cage with electric wiring, with four levers 
on your desk marked: make him tingle, make him moan, make
him scream, and make him die.  Nor for often using the first
two so he knows that while you are busily working you are thinking
about him.  Nor for using number three once or twice.  Not even 
for thinking about using number four, not even for thinking about 
it a lot; not even for telling him the next day, as you making him 
put his sore naked body, with so many welts and bruises and scratchs
and punctures, back in that hard cramped cage, that you thought 
constantly about pulling that switch, just to give him something to 
think about.

Now, rigging something that set off lights 60 seconds before the 
shocks were delivered, so he'd know when he was about to get zapped, 
and using 1-3 often enough for him to know that they work, and at the 
end of the day setting off the warning lights for number four, that 
might be just a bit evil.  And setting up switch 3.5, the one that
hurts a lot more than does # 3 but isn't lethal, and rigging the
lights for 4 to go off when you push button 3.5, maybe that is,
just a little.  And if those lights say "Lethal Shock Ordered 
- 30 seconds to abort or lethal shock will be delivered in 60 seconds" 
and are accompanied by two digital 30 second countdowns, with one 
counting down as he watches in horror... well, maybe that might 
be evil.

But enjoying thinking about it isn't.

Some thoughts on words and phrases.

"pay through the nose"

A comment that caused some mental wanderings.

Whether the following would be a case of me paying through
the nose, or you paying me through the nose, isn't clear,
and probably doesn't matter.

The comment produced three images for me.

One being putting a nose hook in my nostrils and leading me
around and turning/raising my head in various ways. 

Another being an image, or series of images, of being rewarded
with scent, from having a shoe saran-wrapped and taped (saran wrapped
first so as to not risk damaging the shoe; my hair wouldn't
necessarily rate the same protection) over my face, to a small 
bit of hair being clipped and taped under my nose, to a wet finger 
being wiped across my upper lip.

Another one being of me tied to a chair and you swabbing a Q-tip 
in some hot sauce and applying the Q-tip to the inside of one of 
my nostrils, then sitting back happily while I buck and gasp, until 
finally, flushed and sweaty and teary and exhausted, I still there 
still (aside from gasping for air), at which point you get up and 
saunter towards me with another Q-tip, the jar of hot sauce, and
a wicked grin.

And after treating the other nostril and enjoying the show,
sauntering up even more happily, and coating the Q-tip, and
then taking my cock and pushing open my urethral slit, and
moving the Q-tip towards it.



"Demasculinizing" might need some distinction from emasculating.  
Though I suppose it's only to people with a certain openness that 
there would be any difference; the men we're discussing would 
probably regard anything "unmanly" as being emasculating.

I'm not sure what I'd regard as emasculating (aside from the most 
literal meaning).  

Certainly not having to serve or be deferential to women.  Probably 
some sort of combination female supremacist brainwashing combined
with forced chastity of a sort that made erections painful and 
from which there was no relief, where the goal was to eventually 
get me to where I wouldn't have erections any more, or perhaps to 
combine this treatment with conditioning that would only permit me 
to have erections under conditions my dominant specified.  Since 
neither crossdressing nor humiliation is my thing, I'm not getting 
a real clear picture of how this might work, but the idea of making 
my erections too painful to bear save when I'm dressed in a way that 
my domme hoped I'd regard as demeaning so that eventually if I wanted 
release I'd have to accept degradation to do it (learning that I'm
going to have a bloody cock if I get hard when not wearing a tutu, 
for example) is the broad outline.

Most women I'd submit too would not, I think, like this.
Though I can perhaps imagine them enjoying conditioning me 
so that I couldn't get an erection without a butt-plug in place.
An interesting take on chastity belts, one where the belt
(and the insert) was needed for the submale to break chastity.

I'd think this would be very difficult to accomplish, and would
probably require a great deal of denial and a lot of cock
torture to get a man to that point, if it could be done at

I suspect that some women wouldn't really mind terribly if
they did spend a long time denying their sub release, torturing
his cock whenever it became erect when he wasn't butt-plugged,
and inserting plugs in his butt and trying to make him come,
and the training still wasn't complete, so he had to be
routinely strapped across the bench and teased into response
then tortured until he went away, then plugged and teased
until he came.  Repeat this procedure very often (while
taking available means to prevent him from masturbating)
and he might in time become conditioned that the butt-plug 
means release is coming (so to speak) eventually, while
the absence of the plug (and perhaps some words from the lady
(with which on insertion his erections would still be punished))
any erections are going to result in serious pain.  Seems
that it might be possible to condition him eventually to have
a convenient on/off switch for his sexuality, or at least his
sexual performance, and that said switch would be entirely
in her hands.  And if lots and lots of CBT failed to produce
the desired result, well, the process would still be fun.

For her.

"All's right in the world"

My ponderings of late have revealed what may be an odd kink.

An observation of the fact that so many of my fantasies
are about things I do not want to have happen to me, and 
of the way they change as my correspondence changes, have
finally revealed to me what my kink is (as a submissive bottom;
as a sadist things are somewhat different).  My kink is being
in dominant women's fantasies.  

Don't know what the name of this kink is.  I sorta like
TPF (for Third Person Fantasies (me imagining her imagining
someone who looks sorta like me but who's a lot better a
bottom than I)) because I can say that they're a step beyond

It might be the case that if I did this stuff more I might
develop more kinks of my own, but for now it does appear
that I am heavily into being an object of desire and that
what most of my fantasies about things I'd not really enjoy
are, are my fantasizing about my dominant fantasizing about me.

An interesting question is how far I'd go to feed these 
fantasies in a situation when the person I'm currently
imagining as my dominant were actually around to enact
her fantasies (or the fantasies that I dreamed up and
told her so she'd fantasize about me).  Pretty far, I think
(but then, this is "pretty far" as defined by a wimp),
but certainly not as far as my fantasy characters do, since
in my fantasies the woman's pleasurable reactions are very
real but the pain is very distant, more observed then felt 
(a rather obvious thing which finally clicked when I realized
what the fantasies are, not my imagining the event happening,
but my imagining her imaginings (circular enough yet ?
(reminds me of a interesting circular story, Borges's
"The Circular Ruins"))).

But how far, I really don't know.  Recently I began pondering
the idea that I'd like it if my dominant found it annoying when
I was out and about.  It wouldn't drive her nuts, she'd
understand realities, but there was some part of her that only 
felt "all's right in the world" when she had me under her
direct and immediate control, and liking bondage (which I
don't; never did any self-bondage, and bondage per se doesn't
do much for me) this meant when I was closely confined or
strictly restrained (e.g. in a box under her bed (stealing 
from the "Perfect Victim" situation) with loose restraints
(imagining that when I was in the box she'd be especially 
enthusiastic in her lovemaking (which I'd hope was pleasing 
to her SO, who was getting more and more enthusiast sex, rather
than making him insecure or jealous).  And then I got to imagining
that this might be more right in her world the more strictly
and tightly I was restrained.  Anytime she had me in her house
and wearing her restraints the nagging "something is out of balance
in the universe" sense that would bother her any other time
would be gone.  But it was when I was tied down tight that the
her world was really good.  And as time went on she'd like
me more strictly restrained and for longer and longer periods,
so I came to be spending more time being mummified (head
included, which with my slight claustrophobia I doubt I'd
enjoy (and which in RL would be a problem because the encasement
of my head would cut me off from the sight and sound of my Lady's
enjoyment, which is so important to me (but in TPFs, of course,
I can somehow observe/enjoy what my character couldn't see or know
(as in the fantasies in which she locks me up, very cool and
calm and mature, then gets on the phone with her girlfriends
and like a giddy schoolgirl tells them who she has got in her
dungeon (a silly fantasy, made even sillier by the obligatory
part about them all being impressed and envious)).

Being tightly and thoroughly mummified and then tied to a table
wouldn't be fun for me, but knowing that I was making her happy 
and excited would be.  But of course I can't stay so strictly
restrained, a fact that would cast an interesting shape on this
relationship, her happiness would have as a limiter the fact that
as an ethical dominant she couldn't keep me this way for days
on end.  My enjoyment would have the more direct limit that
as the bondage became more and more prolonged I'd become more
and more uncomfortable and I'd want out.  But I'd also feel
guilty about wanting out knowing that she wanted me in.

Doubtless reasonable people would come to some arrangement
that maximized her happiness while also leaving me happy
(as a sub I don't need my happiness maximized - I think
it quite all right if the dominant seeks to increase her
happiness at the expense of mine - but she has to leave
me enough enjoyment that I can be happy or I won't indefinitely
keep going along and when I stop she stops being happy
(hey, it's my fantasy, remember ?).  Even if it did mean
longer and longer periods more and more strictly restrained,
something could be worked out (well, remember, it's a
fantasy about fantasies, so of course it can be).

And even if it did mean me getting more and more desperate
- but unable to do anything about it, not even communicate
(well, there *are* the variations where she leaves certain
parts accessible to use as may please her, but since she'd
certainly know by then that the presence or absence of
certain physical conditions is not a foolproof guide to my
state), just hope more and more fervently that she'll soon 
decide it's been as long as I can bear, and that when she does 
let me out she'll be more proud of me and/or happy to see that 
I am well than she'll be saddened about having to bring disorder 
to the universe by releasing me again, so I'll be confronted by 
smiles and kisses and stroking, physical and emotional, when she 
undoes me, not by a sad dom.

Just one who's counting the hours until all's right in the
world again.  And figuring what mutually satisfying uses
can be made of the intervening time.

Some followup thoughts

I certainly know that I don't want to be locked in a Skeffington's
daughter and cramp up terribly while my domme tells me that she
wants me to tell her how I'm feeling, and that when I get to hurting
badly she'd going to gag me so I can't ask to be released, and
that she's going to wait until my tears are flowing freely and then
one hour after that she'll let me go - if she's done masturbating
to my pain.  It's not being badly cramped and in agony that appeals
to me.   It's the idea of her getting off on it so much (especially
since I volunteered for it - but only after a certain fashion,
when it became clear she was going to cry if I said "no" and if
it had to be that one of us would cry I could bear it better if
it were me (well, in fantasy, anyway; I hate hurting my dommes
or prospective dommes - I have, I'm sad to say, several times
(though only once, when I broke up with Nymph, in a way that 
I think I could have avoided; the other times I don't know what
I could have done to not cause the pain) - but I don't know that 
I can honestly say that I'd rather be hurt myself than have my
domme hurt) that appeals to me, and the idea that I'd so central
to what she wants (a rather silly thought this weekend involved
a woman stroking the Skeffington's daughter [1] and telling it "soon
we'll have him").

  [1] In some versions it was modified to allow a small amount of
      of flexing to relieve the terrible leg and neck and abdominal
      cramps it caused - but said flexing caused ball-crushing

I suspect that if I were actually doing any bottoming my fantasies
would become more realistic; it's never having really been in
such terrible circumstances that allows me to enjoy the idea of
them (as well as the focus being not on me, but on the feelings
of the person observing me).  That, and the idea that such supremely
submissive choices is going to win me so much favor from my domme
(but how much favor would I really get if I were cursing her out
and demanding that she release me right this minute, as would
probably happen with those more extreme choices.


I was playing with some thoughts of hypodermic fun earlier

Motorcycle gangs in my area used to have a curious practice 
of trying to kill people with injections of battery acid (why
I have no idea; it certainly would not be overlooked in an
autopsy and it's much less reliable than simply shooting
the victim (and much harder work unless the victim is 
unconscious or tightly bound)).   I'm not sure of the details,
but imagine that when, after some people dressed much better
than real bikers ever dress drag a subject off the street
for a train and then leave him or her tied up for "rush hour"
("that's when the trains come every half hour") and after 
rush hour someone takes a battery and draws fluid from it
(obviously the victim has to know a little about this method
of execution (and perhaps at least as little about batteries
as I do)) and goes to inject the victim in the heart but since
he or she will perhaps struggle a bit, maybe the fluid won't
get into a vein, and if something could be found which creates
a burning sensation w/o doing any real harm (solution of 
saline and alcohol, perhaps) it might make the whole situation
seem real enough that when the victim is held down and an injection
of pure saline goes in a vein, the subject might have a period
of uncertainty about whether he or she should expect to die
(per what I've read, the battery acid has to go to the heart
to kill).  Which some people might consider a fun experience
(and, of course, others would find traumatizing, and some would
consider just cause for killing everyone who had been involved
in doing such a thing to them, so it would help to know the
subject pretty well).


Using BDSM to deal with the day's frustrations might not
perhaps the most noble use of BDSM, but who says every
usage has to be noble ?

When I have more time I might better develop the idea of
a man who's been engaged in so much wasted motion that
the idea of just being tied up tight and told reassuringly
by a cooing woman than he doesn't have to do anything at all
now, in fact she's going to see to it he can't do a thing.
And she then proceeds to describe her day, which included
various situations in which she couldn't do anything.  Well,
she could, be she knew it was more prudent to do nothing
and to allow various petty tyrants to strut and appear to
have their way.  And while she knew it didn't mean much 
there was still some part of hear that found having to
sit and endure this galling, that resented the powerlessness
she felt in such circumstances.

And which was why she was especially going to enjoy being
the tyrant ("no, dear, I'm not going to strut for you"
(but maybe at some point she will strut a little within
his view)) and having someone else totally powerless.
Perhaps she'll put a gag in the man's mouth (a penis
gag, perhaps "You know how I like seeing a cock in your
mouth, dear, and when there aren't any organic ones
around, this will do; while we're at it, perhaps you'd
like a cock in your ass too ?  No ?  I didn't think so.
But I'd like one in your ass, dear, and it's what I want 
that matters now.  You just lay there dear, you won't have 
to do a thing, not even suck on it to lubricate it the way
I'd usually make you, I'll lubricate it myself.  Such wide
eyes you have, grandpa; no, dear, not that way, some commercial
lubricant will do you quite well") and then she'll take a 
lucite rod and begin flipping it against the securely bound 
and quite helpless man's shoulder blade, a light and easy
motion, moving it up and down his shoulder blade for awhile,
uncomfortable for him but not really painful.  And then her
strokes stop being spread along the length of his shoulder
blade and start falling repeatedly on a dozen spots, and
it starts getting very uncomfortable.  And then on six of
those spots, and it starts getting painful and he's trying
to squirm away and protect his shoulder but he's too well 
tied and she'd too careful and continues happily hitting those
six spots while taunting him about how he can't get away from
her.  And then on three of those spots and and it's really
very painful and he's mmmphing through his gag and pleading
with his eyes and struggling against the bonds but all quite
futilely as she giggle at his useless efforts and tells him
"there is absolutely nothing you can do to stop this, boy,
no matter how much you may want it to stop.  You are truly
powerless, for you it's not a matter of deciding that you can't
do anything, you really can't do anything at all and I can
do whatever I want".  And what she wants to do is to tap that
rod against just two spots alternately while he squirms and
whimpers, and then to hit just one spot again and again and
again with metronomic precision so he can fully anticipate
each gentle whack, gentle whacks that take so little effort
or energy from her but each one of which is excruciating torment
to him and which cause him to exert himself so hard - so much
harder than he did anytime today when he thought he was working
so hard - but he can't do a thing, he can't move that shoulder
and he can't move his tormentor for all his pleading eyes and
whimpers and clear if muffled pleadings and not even when the
pleading in his eyes is covered by the tears coming from them,
nothing he can do will stop that endless string of taps against
his shoulderblade, that soft relentless tapping that becomes 
such unendurable torture but which he has no choice but to endure.
Up until the time that she decides to stop it, and then hug and
cuddle him.

And then to start on his other shoulder blade.


Let's... assume... that after a paragraph with many suppositions
someone had made a remark about it being rather suppository.

I wonder what punishments would be fair and appropriate for this
punster ?

Something pertinent to the offense.  Many paper cuts to his
penis might be fair[1], considering the offense, but it lacks

  [1] Owwww.  Definitely the "press legs together tight and turn 
      sideways" sort of thought.   Very much a "Please, ma'am, mercy, 
      ma'am, please" sort of thing.  Of course, I'd be hard pressed 
      to come up with an answer if asked "And if a helpless woman 
      were asking for mercy for her breasts would you want me to 
      stop or would you enjoy seeing them cut ?  Makes a difference 
      whether you're inside the ropes or not, eh ?"   I guess my best 
      answer would be that even if I did have a woman helpless and 
      bound with her legs firmly stirruped even I wouldn't cut her clit.

Of course, a long beating is appropriate to almost any offense, and
works better than many tortures at releasing tension (certainly much 
more likely to release tension than something stressful like trying 
to make many little cuts in a man's cock with sheets of paper)

And probably releases more tension than making a special hot suppository
(something very irritating under a thin wax covering) and inserting
it and waiting for the wax to melt/wear away when you'll get to see
your victim squirming and howling.  Or if a punster's fingers did give
offense, putting bamboo slivers under each fingernail and having him
type out "I shall not make bad puns" as many times as seem required.
Perhaps, if his whole hands be blamed for being so permissive to his 
fingers, the punishment might be preceded by many swift strokes across
each of his palms with a ruler, and then by several sharp raps of
the ruler across the knuckles of each hand.

Or if he still wasn't contrite enough, pulling out (or popping off;
I can't verify this, but per some posts some time ago, to remove
toenails (I assume fingernails work somewhat similarly) you don't
use pliers and yank, you put a screwdriver under and push (foot
would seem a little easier, with the foot and ankle immobilized
so you could push in more easily))) his fingernails and jabbing
the soft tissue under each of them many times with lancets, and
then taping a small bag half filled with hot pepper juice over
the finger, immersing the sore and punctured quicks in the juice 
and giving them no escape once the hand was taped down firmly,
leaving him no way to obtain relief except hope that his apology
- apologies - were sufficient to win him mercy.

A response to commnets on "Pun-ishments"

[snip comment om manicures]

Well, no need for that, but if it wouldn't please you to be sitting
soaking your nails while watching a man soaking his now nail-less
fingers in pepper juice or a cinnamin oil solution (at least until
he moans enough that you show him mercy), well then certainly you
should not have to experience that.   Domme's are supposed to

I actually had been considering some comments about how I didn't
expect that removing fingernails was something you'd do or even
enjoy watching (so I wouldn't expect that you'd enjoy it if someday
between happily torturing and sexually using your submissive you
were offered the opportunity to observe me being tied to a chair
and my hands fitted into wooden gloves that kept my fingers still
while my fingernails were taken out, and while I certainly wouldn't
be enjoying the experience I'd enjoy it even less if you were obviously
distressed at it*), but I'm afraid I went with the "way more than we'd
actually enjoy but conceptually intriguing" idea rather than with 
something you might actually enjoy.

    * - It's a rather nice fantasy actually, seeing a bunch of my
        femdom friends absolutely furious over the way I'd been
        tortured at some party, though again the reality would be
        complex and difficult because it would presumably mean
        they were angry at my domme and that would create serious
        mixed emotions for me.  Hmmm, well, one scenario that
        would work is that my domme had loaned me to a friend
        who had done something quite excessive to me and my femdom
        friends were furious at them both and my domme quite
        enraged when she learned about what had happened (and was
        very solicitous of me and spent much time offering comfort
        (OK, so in reality I'd probaly be hurting too much to
        enjoy the comfort, the fantasy is still nice)).

        Not directly pertinent, but I remember one ASB or SSB
        article in which a woman was taken to a play-party by
        a femdom friend of her master and she was bent over a
        chair at the party and offered sexually as a party favor
        to a man she disliked.  The femsub made enough of a display
        of *really* not liking what was happening that the party
        buzz persuaded the femdom to call it off, but when taking
        the femsub home she made a point of how she was going to
        report the sub's poor behavior to her master, and the femsub
        was pretty badly shaken up by the whole incident, including
        this report to her master, but he supported her.

        Arguably a slave should be able to be offered like that,
        but "should" doesn't have a whole lot to do with wiitwd,
        and if a particular person can't deal with that or can't
        deal with being publicly fucked by a man she'd never 
        voluntarily let touch, then she can't deal with it and the
        master's view that a slave has a duty to protect his or
        her owner's property is the sophisticated slaveholder's view.


Your attitude, boy, has been quite unacceptable of
late.  I'm certainly not having any boy in my service
who doesn't realize how lucky he is to serve me.  If
you're at all resentful of my orders or my impositions 
or my uses of you, you're free to leave at any time.

No, you don't want to leave ?  Well, frankly, I'm not
at all certain I want to keep you.   You're sorry ?
Just what I was thinking, actually, that you're a 
pretty sorry submale.  Be *that* as it may be, it's 
a little late for you to be feeling sorry, you're
obviously not sorry for the Mistress you've served
so poorly, just sorry for yourself for the good thing
you've so thoroughly messed up.

Spare me your pathetic excuses for apologies.  I am
at least glad to see that you didn't attempt to excuse
or, ghoddess forbid, justify yourself.  You want to
remain in my service ?  Yes ?  Even knowing that it's
going to be a very long time before you again deserve
any pleasures or honors from me - right now it's so hard 
for me to imagine there was ever a time I allowed you to
kiss my foot, or to believe that such a time will ever
come again.  Well, we'll see.  Words aren't going to cut 
it, you poor excuse for a boy.  

Strip now.  No talking.  No more words from you, you
just do as you are told and you do it immediately and 
silently.   Hands behind you.  Handcuffs will do for
you, I don't wish to touch you as much as ropes would
require.  Now follow me.

You do at least sometimes have some interesting ideas,
even if usually how to make women suffer - something you've
proven much too good at in my case.  If you thinks tears
are going to to win you any sympathy you're quite mistaken,
that the simple truth hurts is not any great credit to you.
You might recognize this idea.  The pole isn't lined with
jagged metal, as I'm much kinder that you no matter how little
you deserve my kindness.  Just wrapped tightly with a very
thorny vine.  One full of pricks.  Pricks for a prick - and
I don't solely mean your cock.  Now, straddle the pole,
boy.  Now, this hood over you head will do well enough since
you don't rate feeling my fingers while being blindfolded.

It's very simple, boy.  You show me how much you want to 
keep serving me.  You keep walking until you think you've
suffered enough for me, with those sharp thorns and leaves
pulling at your cock and balls.  Stop whenever you think you've
suffered enough.  If it's sooner than I think you've suffered
enough, then you obviously don't respect me enough and you
haven't a place in my service.   If you are still walking
when I think you've done enough penance, well, then maybe
I might consider retaining you.  And if I see some real
dedication to me, well, that might positively influence me.

Maybe.   Maybe I'll just know you realize how little chance
you have of ever getting anything this good again and that
you're desperate not to have to leave.  We'll see.

Now, start walking, boy.  Either down the pole or out my
door.  And my life.

What, boy, did you think that it wasn't going to hurt ?
That I'd use some soft, nambly-pamply vines for your
trial ?   No way.  This is going to hurt you, boy.  If
you want to stay, it's going to hurt you a lot.  Now
walk.  It's OK to make some noise while you walk,
just so long as none of those noises are you asking
for mercy.

I've been much too merciful to you already.  No mercy
for you now.  Just keep those feet moving and keep
that cock and those balls dragging through the bristles.
Till you think you've suffered enough in penance for
your offenses against me.

Walking is accomplished by moving one foot and then the 
other, boy.  If you're stopping, stop.  If you're
walking, walk.

Well, good, you figured out what walking is.

Now that's see how long you can do it.


A response to comments on "Penance".

Some thoughts on "Penance"

It ended up being more verbally abusive than I'd intended, 
partly because it needed some padding since I wasn't going 
to go into the detail of his walk (partly a matter of laziness,
and partly a matter of style; I have come to admire,
especially for erotic writing where individual preference
matters so much, the idea I once heard of a Japanese
painting of a flock of birds which showed an expanse
of sky and the tail feathers of one bird, the viewer
was to imagine the birds that just passed through
that space, and the reader is to imagine his walk
the way she wants to imagine it) and partly because 
he needed to be given strong motivation to do this,
since it's going to hurt so very much.

I forgot to include (or never thought of the best
way to include it) that blindfolding him was done
to keep him from knowing how far he'd walked or
how much farther he had to go, so if he were only
a few steps from the end and was hurting so badly
and so much didn't want to go another step, he
wouldn't know whether he was a step from the end 
or not.

[snip comment about roses]

I've sometimes imagined giving a woman roses,
and telling her to undress, and then placing the
roses all around her naked body and wraping her
in rope to hold the roses (and thorns) against her
bare skin.  Then having various sorts of fun with
her.  Some variations include putting cloth over
the roses, so I can make lay atop her without the
thorns pressing me.

Perhaps you'd enjoy doing that to him, or perhaps
you'd enjoy the floral arrangement created by putting
the roses between his bar legs and applying a crotch
rope to keep them in place.  Perhaps his cock there
amidst the flowers would make for an interesting design.