Sweet Hostage

I am a prisoner to my own desires. Sometimes this bothers me. It feels like I'm shackled to a corpse and can't break free. At others, I find revelling in my own twisted fantasies to be absolutely wonderful...

All morning I've been entertaining a memory that I would like to see happen again. It was from 1997/1998 when I tried my hand at being Dominant. Normally, I find that being submissive feels far more "natural" to me and it was very difficult to play the other side of the fence... but there were aspects of it that I found delicious.

I love to push buttons; to get reactions. The best way I found to do this was just to unlock my mind and allow me to speak to the dark dreams that had (and have) lingered in those unspeakable recesses. It felt like I was channelling something far greater than myself. The words would come out of my mouth and often leave me dumbfounded. "Where did I think of that? How did that thought get in there?" Not that I wasn't sincere about everything... I was.... I just didn't realize how deep the well was until I started dredging.

Even if I wasn't entirely serious -- I often would say thing just to get a reaction -- I was sincere. How I loved to just flow and hit upon something that my partner might not have ever thought about but that sent shivers down her spine. Or, better yet... something that would make her muscles clench around my fingers as I had them buried knuckle deep in her pussy. I found this to be the most fun -- having her over my knees with my fingers in her pussy while saying all of the nasty things I was going to do to her, or make her do to me.

My first submissive really got off easily with me. Most of them do. I'm not one of these guys who mistakes Domination for "oral sex on demand." I find it to be more of a mental process than even a physical one. Sure... I was very physical with them but I often didn't put myself in that vulnerable position of allowing them to be physical with me. This might be considered silly but I found that distance a good way to frustrate them. Too, I was having fun making their bodies and minds react.

In my history of D/s, I can only say that I've had a handful of people 'serve' me. Only two of them for any long term. And, even then, I've switched with them over the years. I'm looking for a third -- a new submissive who I can use and abuse (which is what they want). I don't feel that switching makes me any less of a submissive. If anything, it gives me a greater perspective on how it feels to be on the other end of the whip. I feel that my times as a Dom have opened my eyes to the challenge of being a Dominant and, for that reason, makes me a better sub.

Moreover... I think that having that outlet is healthy. As I said, I had a lot of thoughts stored in my head that I didn't know were even there. It seems that when I want to take control of my life that I want to take control of others. I often feel like things are out of my control... and that seems to help. Will I find this person? Will I even look? Good questions, bat fans.

Strong Memories

It's been so strange talking to Sybatra lately. She doesn't remember a lot of what we did together while I seem to have those memories burned into my brain. What makes that even stranger is that I tend to have a horrible memory. "I said that?" or "I did that?" are some common questions I ask as friends relate tales of our ribald adventures. But, yet, with Sybatta, I feel as if I could recall every detail from sight to scent to taste without much effort.

Certainly, there are some memories from our time(s) together that appear merely as "flashes" -- various tableaus -- but others are whole. I picture myself on my back in her backyard under a tarp with a dildo in my mouth -- "base side in" -- while she was atop of me, facing my feet, and riding the dildo. I watched her ass go up and down, her asshole winking at me with each stroke. Her hands on my young cock.

The other thing that's odd, when I look back, is that we knew each other for five years but only met four or five times. It felt like her abode was on the other side of the world -- though it's hours closer than she is now. Even though she fulfilled many of my dreams and opened so many "mental doors" for me, it was always a challenge to get to her. Was it that I was trying to be a good boy and remain faithful to my girlfriend/wife? What a coincidence that I met my ex-wife through the same magazine where I met Sybatra!

Would I have had too much of a good thing if I had gotten my fill of her? Could I EVER get my fill of her? I doubt it. She still haunts my dreams.

Sybatra - A Story

I wrote this story about Sybatra (see last post) a few years ago. Some of it is fiction but a lot of it is deeply rooted in fact and our time together. I hope you enjoy!

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I always enjoyed my time with Sybatra. While I always knew my place (she would remind me constantly, having me refill her coffee, fetching her mail, standing whenever she entered the room, et cetera), we would have rather pleasant, open conversations to relax us both before the fun began…

Sybatra was acting a bit out of sorts today, however. As soon as i was allowed in to her abode, on the outskirts of rural cottage, she commanded me to fall and kiss her boots; the signal that our session was beginning. Prostrate, she then commanded me to remove my clothes and sit in her bondage chair. The wood of the chair was a chilling shock to my bare bottom, as was the metal buckles of the cuffs she used to secure my wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of the tall chair. Another, larger belt was then wrapped around my neck and secured to the back. Sybatra gave this one a bit of a tug, choking me slightly to remind me that my life was now in her hands.

While Sybatra may have been old enough to be my mother, she managed to maintain an impressive figure. Unlike the Dominatrices of popular myth, she didn't prance about in fishnets and corset. Rather, she resembled a truck stop patron in her coarse denim shirt and flattering jeans. The only leather she wore was her boots which still carried a strong, heady scent. Sybatra displayed a bit more of herself to me, now, as she stood in front of me, unbuttoning her shirt and exposing her bare breasts to me.

She leaned in close to me, allowing me to smell her clean scent. She smelled of roses and peppermint. She allowed her breasts to get close to my open, wanting mouth. I longed to put my mouth on her succulent nipples, knowing that I could provide her with pleasure and, perhaps, see her visibly shudder with excitement as I had witnessed in the past. She said not a word as she moved in closer, the nipple of her left breast just barely brushing my bottom lip.

Finally, she moved in close enough for me to latch my mouth onto her nipple and suck. When I first met Sybatra, I had barely done any "petting" in high school. I was always more than cautious when dealing with the female anatomy. I had never done anything more than kiss a girl's nipples. It was Sybatra taught me, commanded me, to do more than kiss and lick. I sucked, I bit, it often felt like I was practically chewing her nipples. The harder I sucked and bit, the more she liked it. At first, her moans scared me. I thought they came from pain and not pleasure. She was the one who first taught me how interchangeable these notions of sensation could be.

She removed her left nipple from my mouth and replaced it with the right. Her hands gripped the top of the chair; one of her fingers absently caressed my right ear. She leaned in to the left and sent shivers down my spine by telling me that I was being, "a good boy." She straddled my legs with hers, sitting down across from me, and her weight on my legs. She stared at me with a look of self satisfaction on her face. An evil glimmer soon came into her eye as she told me, "I'm going to slap you. I just want to hear the noise." She caressed my left cheek with her palm before pulling it back and striking a blow.

Somehow, knowing that it was coming combined with the fact that I was taking the pain for Sybatra helped keep the tears from my eyes, despite the stinging pain. She repeated the same thing on my right cheek and then gently kissed the red marks that came up. Apparently, Sybatra was in the mood to cause some pain and I was going to try my best to take as much as she could dish out. She liked to push my limits, giving me more pain each time we were together. "It pleases me to hurt you," she would tell me as she watched the tears streaming from my eyes.

Bound as I was, I was powerless to do much more than whimper when she reached down and cruelly pinched my nipples. She looked deep into my eyes as the pain shot through me. She loved reading the fear that my eyes revealed. I was oddly quiet during these moments - while I wanted to scream, she didn't want to hear it. If I was too noisy, she would gag me, lowering the chances that I might have something better put in my mouth.

I kept as still and quiet as I could as she placed the first of many clothespins on me that day. Pulling down a bag from a nearby shelf, she fished them out, one by one, and clamped clothespin after clothespin on my flesh. Initially she put them on my nipples and earlobes. Then she began decorating my hard cock with them. She started at the base, going around and around my cock, attaching more and more clothespins until my sex organ looked more like a porcupine than a penis. With each biting sensation, I would take in a bit more breath. "Breathe," she would remind me.

Each clothespin felt like a tiny, sharp-toothed mouth on my flesh but the intense pain didn't start until Sybatra began clipping more of the wooden torture devices to my scrotum. I tried to keep track of the number of them on my skin as I knew that the pain I felt now would be nothing compared to when they were removed. I lost count after she got about twenty attached to the tender skin of my ballsac. Sybatra ran out of clothespins before she ran out of bare skin to pinch. When she was done, she took stock of her handiwork and began to play me like an instrument - touching, turning, and slapping various clothespins. Each one provided a different sensation, all based in pain. Still, my cock did not falter. Serving Sybatra kept me incredibly aroused, despite the screaming fire of my flesh.

I tried to maintain some modicum of silence but the pain at times was too great. When I cried out, Sybatra would shush me and carry on. I could tell that she was enjoying it greatly. She got her greatest pleasure shortly when she began plucking the clothespins from my skin. The rush of blood to each little area caused an incredible amount of pain. She plucked them off, one after another, quickly and then slower before going fast again, judging my reaction and enjoying taking me to the edge.

Once they were all removed I was allowed to catch by breath. Sybatra told me that I did a good job for her and that she would give me a reward. It was one of the best she had ever given. She slid her left hand into her jeans and withdrew it a moment later. She held her hand out to my nose and allowed me to smell her scent. It was the second time I had been allowed to take in the scent of a woman and, this time, she allowed me to taste her as well. She rubbed her fingers over my closed lips before telling me to open wide and take her fingers in my mouth.

It was my first time tasting a woman. I had tried performing cunnilingus on my high school girlfriend but didn't get too far before her Catholic guilt forced us to stop. But she was merely a girl. Sybatra was a mature woman and one who me bound and at her mercy. I relished her heady smell and taste. I couldn't believe that I was finally getting to taste the thing I had dreamed about for years. And, as fast as it began, it ended as she withdrew her fingers. The scent and taste remained on my lips a bit longer and I savored it as long as I could.

As I licked my lips, Sybatra released the collar around my neck and wrists. She lowered the back of the chair so that I was now laying flat on my back, my ankles still bound. She bound my wrists to one another over my head before placing a blindfold around my eyes. She told me to open my mouth and stuffed it with something that I couldn't discern. I would find out later (months later when she did the same thing without the blindfold) that she had placed a large dildo in my mouth. I held the base of it tight between my teeth while Sybatra, now free of clothes, mounted the large rubber dong and rode it to orgasm. I was again in heaven as I discerned the sweet smell of her scent and even felt her fingers occasionally brushing my cock but, as naïve as I was, I really didn't know what she was up to, despite the moans and the weight of her body on my chest.

It wasn't until Sybatra orgasmed-screaming like a wild beast-that I had a clue what might have been happening. But, by then, it was over. She removed the dildo from my mouth and reversed it, placing the now-wet end into my mouth, allowing me to feast on her flavor yet again.

I was lost in euphoria, tasting her, my heart in my ears and my eyes blind to the world when I realized that the phone was ringing. I heard bits of a muffled conversation before Sybatra returned to me to say, "I have a special surprise for you."

What could have been more special than everything that had gone before? I couldn't even fathom, I just knew that I was in for another treat. Sybatra released me from my bonds and led me, across her floor, still blindfolded. Here in this odd sanctuary of hers, her cot, her bondage chair, and a footlocker were all the furniture the room had to offer. The walls were sparsely decorated with her odd artwork and the cold tiles of the floor chilled my feet as I moved to her cot.

She had me on my hands and knees on the cold canvas. She ran her fingers lightly across my back. I was startled by an unexpected knock on the door. "Shhhh… shhhh…" she said. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, M'lady," I replied and I meant it.

"Then you just don't worry. Know that what happens here is for the best for you."

With that, she left my side. I strained to hear what was going on. I heard her front door open and close, a cold breeze from outside turned my skin to gooseflesh. There was a bit of muffled conversation and other indiscernible noise. I could hear Sybatra coming back towards me when she said, "Here he is, as promised."

Fingers ran along my back again, but I could tell that they didn't belong to Sybatra. There was a third person in the room (if not more) and they were touching my bare flesh. I could smell the faint odor of leather and thought I sensed after shave lotion. The touch was rougher than Sybatra, more insistent, as if I was being inspected.

A hand grasped my hard cock and gave a good squeeze. I couldn't help but moan from the pleasure it brought. I heard a snort of derision and felt certain that the hands on me belonged to a man. This sent my mind into a tizzy. I had always been self conscious about my body, especially in front of other men. I avoided gym class in high school and any other potentially embarrassing locker room scenarios. I had never been naked and prone in front of a man before, much less one who was touching me. I felt like I wanted to run out of there immediately. If it weren't for the soothing sound of Sybatra's voice, I might have done just that.

"Shhh, it's okay baby. This is something that I want to see. This is something you need to do for Me. You're going to be opened up and taken. Then I will know with certainty that you are Mine." She held my head in her hands. I could feel her warm breath on my skin just about the time I felt a cold, wet finger on my virgin ass. I had read enough in porn magazines to know that lubrication was being applied to my anus and that I would soon be violated; penetrated by another man's cock.

"I'm honored to be here for this, and that you're taking this first cock for Me," she said. "This will be the first of many, I'm sure. I love to see men together like this. I won't have you suck him today, but will save that for another time. He's got his cock right on your asshole. Show me how much you want it. Push back on it and fuck yourself."

I really couldn't believe what I was hearing, much less what I was doing as I leaned my body back into the pressure that rested on my anus. Suddenly, I felt myself yield and open to the foreign object behind me. I gasped but didn't stop. I pushed back slowly, stopping every few seconds to allow myself to adjust to the cock that was now in my body. I didn't realize how ragged my breath had become until Sybatra told me to breathe easy.

Having proven myself a bit, Sybatra had me stay where I was and had the unknown man push the rest of himself inside of me. I had no idea how much cock was in me but it felt like I was being torn apart. Before long I felt the rest of his body up against me and knew that he was completely in. This was the part I feared the most, feeling him now remove a bit and plunge back into me. Here I was, still a virgin in the sense that I had never been inside of a woman, but now opened up to a man who was slowly fucking me. I could feel his hot breath on my back and his hands grasping my asscheeks, pulling me back and pushing me forward, using my body for his pleasure.

"Oh, shit yes," Sybatra hissed, taking in the show. "Now for the part you'll really like," she said. With that, I felt fingers around my cock again. I couldn't tell now whose they were, I just knew that they were stroking my cock and bringing me a lot of pleasure. The strokes came in time with the thrusts of the man behind me. Could it be his hand? Sybatra's? I have to admit that I didn't care, I just didn't want it to end. I felt the burning need to orgasm, now, as I was being pummeled by the faceless stranger.

Harder and faster the thrusts came. I wondered what it would feel like to have a man cum inside of me. Would it be like a flood? Would I even tell? Again, I really didn't care much, as long as the hand stroking me stayed on my cock. I began to feel like I was coming to the edge. Soon I heard myself asking Sybatra for permission to cum.

"Not yet," she said. Now it became a bit of a struggle to hold myself back. The thrusts got harder and faster, the slapping of the man's body against my ass filled my ears.

"Now," she said. It didn't take more than a second for the floodgates to open. It felt like I wouldn't stop cumming. Slowly the cock inside of me stopped moving. I couldn't tell if the man had cum or not but really wasn't thinking about much of anything. My mind was reeling from the sensations. Eventually, the cock was removed and-I have to admit-I really missed the sensation of being filled. I knew that I'd have to admit that to Sybatra later on but, for now, I kept it a secret.

I could hear what I imaged being a condom removed from a cock. I heard the man behind me breathing heavily. Knowing that she wasn't talking to me, Sybatra asked, "Did you cum?"

"Yes," came the reply. To my surprise, the voice was completely feminine.

The blindfold was removed and I was told to look over my shoulder to meet Sarah, Sybatra's main submissive. Her hair lay wet across her forehead from the exertion. Again, I knew I would have to ask Sybatra how a woman could cum from fucking a man in the ass.

"The next time, Michael, that will be a real cock. I think you'll enjoy that even more," Sybatra assured me. She had me lay down fully on the cot once Sarah was up and placed a blanket over my spent body. I felt the cold pool of spunk under my belly and realized that this was the first time a woman had ever brought me to orgasm. A smile curled across my lips as I fell asleep for a nap, safe in Sybatra's lair.

The Domme Returns

I recently got an IM out of nowhere from a person that has a huge importance in my life -- though she may not even be aware of it. Sybatra, my first Domme. I don't remember how old I was when I met her. I must have been twenty. I can distinctly remember reading and writing back to her ad the local weekly. She was one of the few allegedly "dominant" women that I wrote to back then who took the time to write a personal note and include a picture -- no immediate demands of cash via a form letter.

We corresponded for a while before we finally met. Via those letters I explored myriad rudimentary fantasies that I had been entertaining for years when I was just a little subby boy.

She lived far enough away that it felt like the other side of the world from my college. I mean, she was local -- but out in BFE. It took too long for me to finally meet her.

Meeting her... and serving her... was a mind blowing experience. I feel that I've been sexually submissive my entire life and she was the key to unlock the door to some of those feelings that I kept hidden even from myself. It was like taking a blindfold off -- the initial shock of the light hurt my eyes but how wonderous the world looked once my senses adjusted.

I only served Sybatra a handful of times over the years that she stayed in state. Over five years I served her in person that many times. However, each one was incredibly memorable and each one opened me up to unconsidered possibilities more and more.

So, the reappearance of the lady in my life -- even via innocuous IM -- really brings a lot of joy to my heart. I'm not sure if she knows just how deeply she marked me. She was my first and I still feel her claws (used in a good way) imbedded in my soul. She may have given me up to the world when she left the state but I still feel like she owns a part of me and always will.

Scars

I didn't have sex until I was 20. I lost my virginity in December, 1992, in my parents' basement with the woman I would marry four years later and divorce less than two years after that.

After we first had sex I took every opportunity to have this happen again. Things went really well... for about two months. After that... the shower of sex turned into a light drizzle before it dried up and became a draught.

I blame some of that on my girlfriend (at the time) / ex-wife being insane. A lot of it seemed to come directly from her best friend being dumped by her fiance. That seemed to push my girlfriend/ex-wife off the deep end. Shortly after that we took at trip to Toronto and the weather wasn't the chilliest thing in Canada that week -- it was her response to any advances. From there on, things got worse and worse.

Why did I stay with and eventually marry this nutball? Good question. That's what I've been trying to answer with my therapist(s) for the last eight years. I felt an obligation and a horrible sense that I didn't want to upset her -- and bringing up the strange sexual absense in our relationship upset her mucho.

I wasn't a saint about this. I sought sexual release outside of our relationship even before we were married. This was when I met the woman that would become my first Domme and, after she moved away, I met the woman that would become my first sub. I didn't have sex with anyone but my wife until the early part of 1998. That changed a lot of things.

I had already taken back a lot of the control in my life that I had given up. I started getting my weight back in order, got my career on a better path, and that helped me realize how lousy things had been. When I finally found some kind of sexually gratifying relationship it dawned on me that -- wow -- not only did I want to be happy but I deserved to be happy too! A revelation to someone so miserable, I assure you.

These are the scars that still mark me today.

Forbidden Fruit

I'm a slut. I'll admit it. I love sex and I love to have it with various partners. Each new person brings new challenges, new thresholds, new passions, and new satisfactions. I tend to think of this as being a bad thing -- that I should be satisfied with one partner and never have the desire to be with anyone other than my spouse or to just find one lover outside of my marriage and stick with that. But I can't.

Schedules, for one thing, don't permit it.

Moveover, I don't want that. I like the variety. When I got divorced from my ex-wife I made the prophetic statement that I wanted to go out and sow my wild oats with a "variety pack". "I want to try a black lady, an asian, a latina..." I said, jawing on about all of the different races, colors, and creeds that I wanted to experience sexually. I wanted to be an equal opportunity slut. I'm still working on that today.

I know that part of this need for multiple sex partners comes from my lack of sex with my ex-wife (my first sex partner and, if I was still married to her, my last). Realizing that our sexless marriage wasn't fair to myself and that I deserved to experience the full spectrum of life helped turn me into the deviant I am today.

Once I tasted "forbidden fruit" it was tough to not keep returning to the tree.

Defining Our Terms

Prurient — adjective
1. having, inclined to have, or characterized by lascivious or lustful thoughts, desires, etc.
2. causing lasciviousness or lust.
3. having a restless desire or longing.

I decided to start this blog because I've never felt comfortable with this side of myself, despite what a major portion of my personality it is. What is "it"? It's desire. It's lust. It's my sexuality.

I've always been made to feel bad about my sexual behavior and proclivities. Some of that comes from external sources -- but a lot of it is just internal.

Here's my "declaration of principles" for this blog: I will not censor myself. I will be completely honest about everything no matter how inconsistent I may appear or how hypocritical I may sound. I also will try my best to not give a rat's ass if anyone is reading this or not. I often feel like I'm yelling into a void so why should I want or think I'll get feedback here? I often think of that line from TAXI DRIVER about Travis Bickle being "God's Lonely Man." That's how I feel.

This is the place where I'm going to share my fantasies, desires, and thoughts no matter how dark or scary (to myself) they may be. Feel free to be a voyeur as I break down.