My "Images" (a term I stole from Suki) are short ideas, images,
and sketches originally 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

Messing with minds, cuckold experiences, and other
stuff AKA  More Navel Gazing

Came in to work today (getting too far behind the last few days).
Managed to get some stuff done, w/o much cooperation from the

Also, of course, did some kinky thinking (that goes on nonstop).
Including some more thoughts on "the domme as showgirl" (well,
considerably more than showgirl), the idea of my domme doing
anything she can to keep me aroused when my arousal is the
source of my torment (well, my arousal and things she's done
to see to it that if I'm aroused I'll suffer pain).  Which
has some fun arousal versus fear and pain aspects and which is
fun because I think you enjoy it and what you enjoy is fun for

But it obviously also plays back into my "how can I make it
OK for my domme to be trying really hard to be nice to me and
sexy for me" issue.  There's nothing wrong with the fantasy
of course, and nothing wrong with enjoying playing with the
many contradictions in and paradoxes of wiitwd.  But there
may possibly be something that needs working on, as I've
discussed before, in my "but it's not right for her to try to
please me" thinking.  It's obviously quite OK for my domme
to want to please me and to enjoy pleasing me (if she didn't
enjoy pleasing me and were doing it for some other reason,
like thinking she had to do this to keep me, then *that*
would possibly be a problem (I say possibly because her
thinking "OK, the past three play sessions were very one-way,
with me liking it and him just enduring, and while I don't
go for this "each partner must enjoy equally" BS - I'm
the domme, dammit, I'm supposed to get the more favorable
terms of trade - maybe he does need a little enjoyment
now and as a domme I don't have to care what he wants but 
I do have to attend to his needs, and anyway, it's not like
dressing pretty, tying him up, driving him mad with lust,
hugging and kissing and stroking him, and mutually pleasuring
each other is something I don't enjoy (hmmm sometimes even
I forget how much fun it is to see a man come because I enjoy
so much not letting him come); so, I spend a whole night
doing stuff I like, he gets a night with no pain - ah, well,
just a little, maybe - and he ends up adoring me more than ever
and remembering how grateful he is for my kindness, not dwelling
on that little accident yesterday (I didn't really mean to turn
on *all* the electric circuits at once), and he won't start
regarding my summonses with more dread than joy - I want to keep
him more hopeful at my approach than fearful, not much more,
maybe, but always a little more hopeful than fearful, so, hey
we play soft tonight, what the hell, my electric bill and my
floggers elbow can both use the rest, what's so bad about that ?", 
well, that would be OK)).  I need to be more accepting of that
fact that it's perfectly OK for her to want to please me.

Anyway, old news there.  What's a little new is that I got
to thinking about how she'd be doing all the things that 
I'd order her to do if she were *my* submissive rather than
I hers (well, all the things I'd order when I was in a sensual
and dominant mood and not in a sadistic one).  This assumes
that either she knows just what I like or that what she likes
to do for her lovers is just what I like having done for me,
or maybe both.    Which got me wondering to what extent that
complicates my thinking on this, to what extent seeing my domme
doing the things I would force my submissive to do (well, 
require her to do; "force" is less certain, in the sensual dominant
mood I wouldn't really want to be forcing her to do them, unless
they were things that I thought she would enjoy doing but was
too conditioned as a "good girl" and/or "good feminist" to do
(for example, neither a "good girl" nor a woman with a properly
raised feminist consciousness would dance and strip for a man
(well, actually in another context I might discuss how it's
a woman with an *improperly* raised feminist consciousness
who would refuse to let her body be sexually exploited, one
with a properly raised consciousness would be sure 1) why
she was letting herself be exploited (which is not an inherently
bad thing) and 2) that it was her choice to allow it (in the case
of D&S, she might not have the choice about the dance - in some
cases I wouldn't hesitate to apply severe pain until she complied 
with the order - but that she had chosen to be in that situation
and wanted to under my control; anyway....) as I was saying, that
she wanted to do it but needed to be forced (this is not to say that
I would not at times force her to do things she didn't want to do
- I'd force a woman who was rebelling against standing naked with her
hands behind her head and turning slowly for inspection to get back
in position and turn, slowly, even if I didn't think she wanted to do
it, but that would be if I were either being sadistic or if I believed
she needed a demonstration of my will to make her obey, as sometimes
a sub will).

OK, enough diversions.  So, maybe one of my many issues is a certain
degree of confusion when I see my domme behaving the way she would if 
she were my sub.  I of course do understand that it's her right to behave
that way - I've submitted to a switch, after all, and I'm quite OK
with my domme submitting to someone else (though I could not switch
with her, I can only play one way within one relationship).  But maybe
I'd get confused seeing my domme in just heels and hose with her hands
behind her head turning very slowly for my inspection of her body.

Which got me to thinking that my domme might perhaps study all that
I wrote and anything I said about past scenes in which I dominated
in order to have an idea what I'd have a woman do to sensually
please me.  Perhaps without being aware of or intending to exploit
this confusion that I (may) feel at seeing my domme doing such.

Or perhaps she would be aware of and intending to exploit it.
I can see where some women might think it quite fun to keep me
confused (and FWIW if I knew or guessed that she was playing with
my confusion or just having fun playing with me in the "So isn't
this what you like women to do ?  Wouldn't you make one of those
sexy subs do just this ?  If I were not a dominant woman wouldn't
you be making me do this, eh ?  What would happen to me if I were
your submissive and I said "no" when you told me to pose like 
this ?  Wouldn't you be twisting the flesh of my upper arms until
I obeyed ?  If I were a sub you'd torture me to make me do this,
wouldn't you ?  So go on, look, don't you enjoy seeing me this
way ?  Would you like me to shake my tits a little ?  C'mon, you
know you do.  I know you'd give my nipples a vicious twist if
I refused to shake them for you if I were your sub" way, that
would probably cause me less dissonance).

Which got me to pondering some more about my domme playing
with this particular confusion/conflict of mine (I do seem 
to have a lot of them, don't I ?) and about the differences
between what she might do if she were trying to excite me
and what she might do if she were subbing to me (hmmm, if
what she really wanted was to mess with my mind rather than 
get me all hot and bothered she might try ordering me to
roleplay a scene in which she was my submissive, especially
if she stipulated that she wanted to do "prisoner paradigm"
play (where she's not submissive but she's a captive and 
is forced to serve and obey); that would thoroughly confuse
me*), and I was thinking that the aspects that are sometimes
considered humiliation play would be excluded, that obviously
I would be putting my foot on her neck and she wouldn't be 
crawling... which is when it occurred to me that if she were
playing with my mind (or simply trying to replicate what she'd
heard about scene in which I dominated) I might find her
crawling around (which, if she had me tied to/on the floor,
she be quite reasonably able to say was a practical means
of moving around me.

  * - And there are some femsubs who might, reading this, be
      thinking "See, being forced to top when you don't want
      to isn't so fun after all".  Which is of course true,
      but it is of course also true, my friends, that it wasn't
      supposed to be fun for *you* or the person you'd be topping
      just for the lazydom watching and enjoying the mutual
      suffering.  But if you get a smug chuckle from thinking
      that when I finally did imagine it from the point of view
      of *me* having to top when I didn't want to, then it really
      seemed unpleasant, well, good.

Which further got me thinking that if she were really
going to mess with me, what she might do is make me watch
her submitting to another man.  Her being sexual with another
man is something I'm quite OK with.  The fact that she submits
to another man I'm quite OK with.  Seeing her submit to another
man, that I don't know about.  Especially if we're talking about
more overt service or humiliation play, as opposed to more physical
bottoming (I have seen my domme bottom, and while it was somewhat
strange, I think it was more from the sense of an intrusion on
intimacy (fear of being an intrusion being another of my issues)
than from discomfort at seeing her beaten (since I know she liked
the beating and in fact came from it); I suspect that perhaps
if I'd been asked to be or had made myself more involved in the 
scene rather than mostly watching I might have felt better about 
it).  Seeing someone else with a foot on my domme's neck or seeing
her licking the sole of his shoe or having to watch her being verbally
abused and pleading for forgiveness would be a much more torturous
"cuckold" experience (not entirely accurate in my case since I've
never actually been in a position to be cuckolded, properly
speaking, but I think that "cuckold experience" can reasonably
be expanded to include those events in which one observes a woman
who is the object of one's desire and devotion being sexual with
another man).  I don't think I'd like it at all, and even knowing
that she wanted the scene and that she wanted me to see it and that 
she wanted me to suffer through it, I'm not sure I could handle it
very well.

I can't actually recall ever reading/hearing about scenes in which 
a woman made a man who desired and was devoted to her watch her being 
dominated by another man, so perhaps, despite the rather severe 
emotional sadism that it would involve, it's not something that many 
people are into or if they are they tend to be quiet about it because 
I suspect it would be more than a lot of people could handle (it is, 
as it happens, one of the classic ways to hurt a man when done to a 
woman nonconsensually).

Thoughts inspired by a story in SSBF

> From:
> Subject: Story hell! This is a wish!! Conversations that make me 
>          shudder!


> "Do you want to do as you're told? Do you think you can? I doubt it,
> you're hard right now and you are under specific orders not to get
> hard without asking permission, right? Listen Sweetie, when I told you
> I wanted to control all of your sexual pleasure and make you dependent
> on me for all of it, you begged me-BEGGED me to make your penis my
> slave. You recall? Did you mean it? I thought so and fyi, I like
> having a penis slave and have no intention of ever giving it up. You
> like that thought don't you? Yes, it would seem so by its response."

Interesting scenario.

Of course, if someone is going to control all ones pleasure,
it would be good if she's someone who liked one to have pleasure.
Submitting to a woman who wants you to burn with need is OK, but
unless she also wants to see you come sometimes, well, that's
a scary idea.

The interesting thing about the above - ah, well, the variation
on a theme that I find interesting; the original scenario certain
had it's interesting elements - is, to me (for reasons that are 
perhaps obvious), what if he dreaded giving up complete control
of his sexual release to her, but he was so incredibly excited
by the fact that she wanted it from him ?

To not be coy, it's emphatically *not* something I want (I quite
like being able to masturbate) and yet if a woman I liked said
to me that she wanted to control my sexual pleasure, that would be
so alluring.  Not her being in control of it, but her wanting the
control (and saying that she had no intention of ever letting
me have control again would be a big, big, turn-on, even if the
idea scared me (as it would)).

I'd never beg for it since I don't want it, but frankly I think
I'd have a hard time actually refusing such a proposition.  I'd
be in a huge dilemma since I would be extremely loathe to ever
promise something I wasn't sure I could deliver and I'd have grave
doubts about this.  And, as I said, it's not something that I really
want, not if it actually is going to mean significant deprival.
Teasing me all night and using the bristles on me as "punishment"
when her teasing was about to make me come despite my resistance,
and then locking me up and ordering me to make her come and then
her drifting of to sleep up against me with her happy and satisfied
and me with no way to get release (and her liking that) a couple
times a week would be OK, if every so often (emphasis on the "often")
she's going to finish the night by taking me out and sucking me
as if she wants to swallow me whole.  But if six weeks at a time
were going to go by w/o release *shudder*

And yet, it'd be so hard to say "no", cause I don't want her to
stop wanting me, and I'd like her to keep trying to get me.

Can submales be cockteases (well, het submales, I suppose a man
can tease a cock quite well (and, of course, there are some men
who like to tie a woman so she can't close her legs and squeeze
and can't touch herself, and then get her aroused and keep her 
that way till she goes insane)) ?   But would it be cockteasing
to not outright refuse a woman's proposition that she take over
control of one's cock while also not actually agreeing to it, to
keep her interested and keep her trying to gain control, because
her wanting the control is a huge turnon while her gaining the
control would be really scary ?

My first thought is how utterly horrid such behavior from a submale
would be.  Then I wondered a bit, well, she intends to torture and
deny him, to lead him on and cut him off (ah, figuratively), what's
so different about their two games ?  Of course, what would be different
is that he would know what she was doing and would have agreed to it,
if not to specifics, certainly to the nature of the game, and she wouldn't
have agreed to being lead on by him (if that's what he'd doing; it's 
leading her on if he intends to cut her off to hurt her, but if he's
not saying "no" because he likes her attention so much that he can't
say "no" even though he also can't say "yes", well, what is that ?).
Suppose she knows the game, and her game is to use his need for her
attention to keep her in the game as she tries to extract that "yes"
from him, letting him lead her on until the possibility that she might 
stop becomes so terrifying to him that when she does say "yes or no,
boy ?"  he can't possibly say "no" and has to say "yes" no matter how
much he fears the future because right now the present possibility
that she's leaving is too awful to allow.

 "If you haven't said 'yes, ma'am, my sexual pleasure is and always
  will be solely yours to control' before I go out that door, I'm
  not coming back and you're never going to get a word or a look
  from me again", she said as she turned and slowly walked away.
  Did he realize how very slowly she was walking, or how she'd picked
  a place where the sound of each high heeled footstep would resound
  so ?  Even if he did, even if knew that this languid and echoing walk
  of hers was a ploy, could he know whether it was her last ploy.  Was
  she really willing to walk out that door ?  Was he willing to let
  her ?  Could he promise her not only what terrified him but also
  a promise he knew he couldn't keep ?  Does she know he can't keep
  it and accept that but wants him to make the promise and try, or if
  he can't keep the promise, will she abandon him then, and not with
  regret but with scorn ?  An odd game of chicken, played by moving
  apart, but still a quite dangerous game.  She's almost to the door,
  dare she keep going, dare he let her.  She's committed, she wouldn't
  have started that walk unless she meant to keep going if he didn't stop
  her with an agonized cry of "I surrender" before she crossed the
  threshold.  Did she only start her languid slide towards the door
  because she know he would break, or has she really reached the end 
  of her tether ?  Is she walking even more slowly and stepping more
  deliberately as she gets closer ?  Is she desperately hoping he'll
  call out ?  Is there any chance she'll break and stop before he
  breaks and stops her, and if not will it break her heart to step
  across the threshold and can he bear to let that happen to her ?
  And if she does stop, can things ever be anything like they were,
  if she's the one who chickens out ?  He can't bear it if she leaves
  him and forgets him, he can't bear it if she leaves him and her 
  heart breaks, and he couldn't bear it if she stopped because even 
  if she stops they both know they can never go back.  The future
  if he says "yes" he truly dreads but right here and right now every 
  possibility is unacceptable to him and only he can can prevent these
  unacceptable possibilities and there's only one way to do that....

  Consensual, hell.  As if he ever had any choice or chance at all,
  or it's voluntary on his part when he says "Please, ma'am, please,
  come back, I'll submit to you totally and my sexual pleasure is
  yours forever" even though the prospect fills him with terror.

  A stiletto at his throat would be duress.  Those french heels
  going out that door would have been worse than death.  And yet
  in years to come she'll always be able to taunt him, around the
  eighth or ninth week, when she's getting ready to go to sleep
  after being well pleasured by him and well pleased by the sight
  of him bulging against the spikes of his cage and by the sound 
  of his whimpers - sounds that for the first couple years sometimes
  moved her to pity but she's learned to feel no pity for him at all
  and now the only breaks in his torment are the ones she feels are 
  required to keep his lust from abating - that he freely gave his 
  consent to this arrangement.


[Skip some spaces]

Of course, the situation only really lasts so long as she can
keep him in a state in which he can't stand the alternatives,
including that he can't stand the possibility of breaking her 
heart.  If she ever allows him to reach a point where it would
neither break his heart to be without her nor kill him to think
he had broken her heart, then how long will a simple promise 
hold him ?  Humans being weak, probably not long.  To keep him
suffering, she has to keep him loving her.  Which possibly isn't
so dreadful an exchange for the torments she puts him through.

Image: "SM Art"

The man lay naked on his belly on the low, narrow bench, his 
knees on the floor and his ankles in a spread bar which was tied
to a ring in the bench to raise his feet so his soles were facing
upwards.  A rope encircled his waist, holding him to the bench.
For the first hour while his Lady let him wait, hooded and under
an order of silence, his wrists had been tied to the legs of the 
bench.  They had remained so when she pulled over a low, wider
and softly cushioned sofa on which she had lain after removing 
his hood and telling him that his mouth had only one purpose now
and speaking was not it.  After he showed her that he knew well
that purpose, and after she rested a bit, she got up and applied
a two zippers, each of seven clothespins, to each side, carefully
pinch his skin to apply them to as narrow a piece of skin as 
possible, and then had him service her again.  Then after resting 
she rose and, asking him what reward he deserved for his exemplary
service to he, he replied that he was hers to use as pleased her
best and his only reward was to be used for her pleasure.  To which
she said:

"Good answer, boy.  But how would you like me to want to use you ?"

"Wanting to run your tongue over my cock until I come would be
very nice, ma'am".

"Excellent answer, boy !  That would be very nice for you, and
I do like getting honest answers from you.  Honest answers that
show an understanding of your role and your place, of course.

So, boy, you wouldn't like my yanking off these zippers ?"

"No. ma'am"

"But you know they must come off ?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"And you know that it will hurt terribly ?"

"Yes, ma'am"

"Which do you think will hurt more, removing them one
at a time, or yanking them all off at once ?"

"I don't know. ma'am"

"Shall we find out ?"

"As it pleases you, ma'am".

"Cliched answer, but one that it's hard to fault just now.
Well, lets see..." she said as she tied a rope around
his shoulders to further pin him to the bench, then knelt
between his shoulders as she reached down first to one
side then the other, flicking clothespins off him as he
gasped, and them, after the first seven had been removed
from each side, running first her fingertips and then her 
nails over the red marks left behind, before dropping her
legs alongside him and squeezing hard as she took the
left (her left, his right) zipper and gave it a yank, pulling
off all seven in rapid succession and making him shriek and
buck (as best as the ropes allowed), and then as he still
moaned, seizing and yanking off the other set, bringing a
nice scream, and she quickly lay forward and after a quick
nip of her teeth at his smaller head she said "I liked it better 
yanking" and grabbed the zippers on each inner thigh and
sinking her teeth into his ass and squeezing her legs hard
against him ripped them both off simultaneously and rode him
as he screamed and bucked and shuddered under her.

Then she turned around on him and lay across his back hugging
him and nuzzling him and kissing his neck and face as he shuddered
and whimpered under her and as the whimpers stopped and then
the shudders passed and he simply panted under her, her breasts
against his back feeling his deep breaths and pounding heart,
holding against him until his body's behavior was normal again.

And she told him "I loved using you so".

"But I'm not done using you yet" she added, as she slipped
a hand over his shoulder and hung it by his mouth, and he 
kissed it.

Then she got up and took her short, stiff rod (after fondling his short - 
well, in comparison to hers - rod until it was stiff and not quite so
short - and had him count out as she applied 12 strokes to each of his
buttocks, each of his shoulder blades, and the backs of each thigh,
stroking his head and neck during brief recovery periods she allowed
between each series of blows).

Then she lay back down on her sofa and told him to service her again.
Which he did, and after doing so his sole reward was the pleasure
of seeing her curled up and sleeping contentedly.

After she roused herself from this happy sleep, she untied his wrists
and put them in cuffs which she attached to ropes placed through 
rings that were placed high on posts to either side of him, and 
she raised his arms up, after placing on each nipple (it *was* a
narrow bench; fortunately, it was padded, though not particularly
softly so) a tight clamp, the two clamps linked by a chain which
barely allowed the clamps to reach his nipples when passed under 
the bench and which was now pull quite taut and pulling on his 
nipples quite well (from her perspective).  Then she lit a candle
- a hard, long tapered candle - and kneeling on one knee by his head 
put the one end in his mouth and moved it back and forth, telling him 
to suck it well, and kept this up for a long time before she stood
up and moved behind him and taking a squirt pun squirted some very
cold lube onto his anus and slipping on a glove moved it around his
hole then squeezing out some more worked a finger inside him and
moved it around and then withdrew the finger and slipped the candle
into him, slowly working it deep into him, until the dripping wax
was falling on his ass, and then taking a short knife - the sharp
blade of which she softly touched a few times to his cock - she
carefully cut several notches into the candle and then tied a piece
of twine around the candle in the notches before tying the other
end of the twine around his scrotum, and satisfied that the candle 
wasn't going anyplace, she lit another such candle, and played 
with her sharp knife, moving it's sharp blade and point carefully
over the soles of his feet, sometimes touching the point to his cock
and balls, sometimes hefting his cock on the side of the blade,
sometimes quickly running the dull edge of the blade across his cock
and giggling at his start, playing with her two toys until the candle
had burned for awhile and then she began dripping the hot wax onto the 
soles of his feet, enjoying his gasps and the futile twisting of his 
feet and how each became more intense as the dripping went on.  Until, 
of course, the wax covered his feet. At which point she took her knife 
(a different one, though his view made that hard to tell and the two
knives looked very similar, aside from one small decal on the one with
the duller blade) and scraped the wax off his feet, and then off his
ass, taking a stiff brush to rub away the remaining wax from the soles
of his feet before she started dripping the hot wax on them again.

When they were largely covered again, she rose and lit several more
candles, eight more tapered candles in varying colors (she'd not yet 
found candles made from tapir tallow though she'd looked) and several 
wide candles, and as she stood over him she held two tapered candles 
and played Pollock, dripping/flicking wax across her white squirming 
canvas (Jackson's canvasses didn't move, she remarked, but she decided 
that the element of randomness in the small movement of her canvas was 
to be considered a feature), taking different colored candles for
effect and relighting any that went out as she whipped them about
from the flames of the widemouthed candles, in which quite of bit 
of wax was pooling.

When she had achieved her vision - or if not her original vision,
at least something she liked - she studied it from various angles
around him, still dropping some wax on his arms and legs sometimes
for the ambiance of gasps and squirms, until she was sure she
appreciated it.  And then, taking her lead from Tibetan monks sand
painting that the value of art was in the making not the keeping,
she obliterated it, taking the wide candles one by one and emptying
their reservoirs over him, his bellows showing that they hadn't
cooled all that much and that she'd left enough skin bare, covering
over her carefully constructed multicolored creation with one pale
peach (almost flesh-toned) shade, using the last two candles,
dumped simultaneously, to extinguish the candle in his ass and not
exactly coincidently to pour hot wax down his cheeks and over his cock
and balls.

She then lay back to study her newest artwork, her shuddering, grimacing,
gasping slave, until he calmed.

"Well", she said, "someone's got to start the cleanup, and I guess it
can't be you - though I assure you that you'll spend quite some time 
cleaning the wax off the floor and the bench.  I guess it will have
to be me.  Oh, dear, the things I do for art."

After which she rose and began heating a couple pots of oil and setting 
down several very stiff brushes where he could see them. And then she
picked up her very heavy, extremely thuddy flogger, and with a look
of resignation that didn't quite conceal the smile, began striking him
across the back to break up the wax covering him.  With which he was
generally OK, though he did often gasp and occasionally there seemed
to be some aspect of complaint to his gasps, after one of which she
briefly squatted by his face and stroked and kissed him and said, "Now, 
now, it could be worse, dear" as she pointed to the antique she kept
mounted on the wall the head of which had an ax on one side and a pick
on the other.  "Suppose it wasn't Pollacking you that gave me my
jollies ?"

Two Quick Ideas


Lean down a little more, boy.

That's good.

I'm not going to give you any requirement for
how long you keep that candle in your mouth.
I'll simply say that I'll appreciate your holding 
it there as long as you can, and yes, dear, I'll
appreciate more you holding it longer.  That's
why I added the element of soaking the base of 
the candle in hot peppers.  It was a little too
easy for you just having to hold the candle in 
your mouth and drip wax on your own cock, since 
it got easier after the wax began building up.
This way I know that the burning in your mouth
will get worse even as the pain of the wax abates
and it will be a better measure of your devotion 
to me.

It's not like I'm going to dump you if you don't
manage the ordeal better this time.  But I am
going to consider how well you do in what I do
with you later.  Hold it long enough and I may
allow you to kiss me all over.  Hold it even longer
and I may kiss you all over first.

Keep it steady, boy.  No wasting that wax.
I do know how much you like to wax your cock,
well, here's your big chance.

And the more you wax your cock, the more my lust


 [snip comment about steams coming out of my collar, or perhaps
  my pants]


Fortunately the external display of my state is considerably more subtle.

But the idea is interesting (I suspect I enjoy the idea *far* more
than I would the reality):  My domme walks in and takes me by the 
hand and walks me into the kitchen, smiling sweetly at me all the way.
When there she pushes me into a chair a takes her time tying me to
it. Then she opens my pants and slides a tube into them and tapes
it securely in place, before securing the other end over the spout
of a teapot, which she then starts to heat, and sits back to watch 
as the teapot comes to a boil and the steam starts coming out and
pushing into the tube, and as the boil increases the steam comes
out more forcefully, forcing the heated air down the tube towards
me, at first cooled before it reaches me, but as the pot boils 
away (with her carefully adding hot water to keep the boil going)
the air reaching my crotch is getting hotter and hotter as the air
inside the tub is staying warmer and being driven forwards by 
extremely hot steam and I'm squirming uncomfortably in my bounds
as my Lady smiles.

Awkward positions and blushing wigglies

[ Regarding a friend's awkward and uncomfortable position]

As it happens, dear lady, generally I would
be delighted to know that you were in an awkward 
and uncomfortable position and would be very glad
to think of you so - and I fact I have thought of
you in various such positions - and to imagine you 
staying in said position up until the time when you
remaining in it any longer risked harm to you.  And then
you'd be changed to another equally awkward and uncomfortable
position (but one which strained your body in different
ways) and left in that position for a long time.  

And I wouldn't mind at all if you were blushing brightly
at the awkward and vulnerable and perhaps undignified, 
mayhap even positively lewd position you were in and could 
do nothing about (depending upon your tolerance for certain
sorts of embarrassment).

But I don't want you feeling the way you are feeling now, 
so please do set yourself at ease.

I'd love to scatter your wits in other contexts - I'd love 
to see you utterly disoriented and with no idea at all what 
to do next, certain that any way you turned and anything 
you did - including doing nothing - was going to result
in pain you didn't want and couldn't handle.  Or to
see you so confused between lust and terror that you
had no idea what to do, so frightened that you felt
an overpowering urge to flee and so horny that you
felt an overpowering need for more and the two equally
irresistible forces left you paralyzed and at the mercy
of your captor - and for a woman as delicious as you there 
will be *no* mercy.


[regarding blushing wigglies]

You with the blushing wiggles is a quite lovely image
- especially imagining that you can't *quite* wiggle enough
and you need to very badly so you wiggle even more, knowing
full well that you're being watched and your state enjoyed
and the knowledge that your wiggles are so pleasing and
your need so obvious makes you blush even more but you still
can't help but wiggle harder, even with (or especially with ?)
you sore bottom and nipples being rubbed so hard by your
wiggles; if only you could rub something else just a little
more, if only the ropes let you move a little more that way,
if only your cruel captor would respond to your pleading
eyes and just put his hand their for a moment, wait, he's
slipping out the gag and putting finger fingers by your
mouth, yes, you'll suck his fingers and lube them well, oh,
yes, please, please let him touch you please, oh yes, rubbing
your nipple feels so good, please, please .... no, don't
step back and watch... damn him, stroking himself so, dammit
you need his cock or his hand...damn ropes {wiggle wiggle wiggle}
oh please please you need it so much....damn sadist, rather see
you suffer than let you take him to heaven.... damned dominant
sadist, knows you will take him to heaven but he'll put you 
through hell first....

Thoughts following a discussion of chastity and cockcages.

The idea of perhaps driving to my Lady's place each weekend, being 
caged when away from her but having, on each weekend when I visit, 
the hope that I might be freed and allowed release, is somewhat 
intriguing.  The disappointment when I'm sent home still locked up, 
and great anticipation when I'm uncaged, the immense frustration when 
she sucks my cock for an hour - pausing each time I'm about to come - 
and then locks me up again.  And the great ecstasy when she says I'm 
to be allowed release this week and she takes pleasure in getting me off.

I was imagining a scene after I'd made her come, when she might, after
taking her time to recover, tap my cage with her foot a few times
and then say "Follow me" and walk out of the guest room - stopping to
say "on your hands and knees; heel, boy" and I'd crawl after her with
great anticipation as I realize she's heading towards her bedroom.
When we enter, she tells me to kneel, legs apart, at the foot of her 
bed, as she goes to her closet.  She returns with a box and sits in
front of me on the edge of her bed and takes a pair of shoes from the
box and tells me to slip them on her feet, which I do.

"You like these ?  So do I", she says prodding my cockcage again.
"They do have one drawback, though" she says as she pokes at the
cage with her heel.

"Now, these" she says as she brings out a pair of spike heels
and hands them to me to put on her, "these aren't nearly so 
elegant, and they are rough on the floor, and I hate walking 
in them, but they do have a couple advantages. Here's one", 
she says as she slips a heel through the bars of my cage to
torture the head of my cock until I whimper.

"The other is the way the base of the heel is metal and the top
of it is wood.  This allows me to do some interesting things.
Like what, you may wonder ?  Well, dear, let me show you.  Hold
your hands out in front of you" she orders, and when I do she 
ties my hands together, and then puts a candle in my hands and
lights it, then crosses her leg so her right ankle rests on her
knee.  "Hold the flame to the tip of the heel, boy.  Don't worry,
I'll be fine.  The heat only rises to where the wood begins, and 
the metal won't get hot enough to start the wood to burning."

"But it does get hot enough to be interesting", she says as she
lifts her leg and taps my chest with her heel.  "See what I mean ?
I found that very interesting.  And it can get much hotter as
it stays in the flame longer, as you'll see", she said, gesturing 
from the candle to her recrossed leg again.

And as the night wore on and the candle burned down, the wax pouring
down over my fingers, she'd tap/press/rub/slide the metal spikes
of her heels against/across my arms and thighs and chest and repeatedly
threatened my cock and balls with  them, but never actually used them
there.  Until, after telling me once again to suck on her heel (she
always let it cool enough not to burn me (at least not much) but made
certain the metal I needed to caress with my lips was uncomfortably
hot), she had me hold the candle under her heel for a very long time,
with just a few quick moves to jab me here and there before returning
her foot to it's perch, letting the spike get very hot, before 
moving it towards my cage, and asking me "Do you think I'm cruel
enough to grind the head of your cock under a sharp burning hot
piece of metal ?  Do you think that I love you too much to do this
to you ?  Trying to figure out which answer will offend me the least,
are you now ?  Well, let's see what the answer to those questions is",
she said, as she moved her foot towards my cock and slide the spike
between the bars of my cockcage.