30 Mar 2012

The story of Rouge

In a little café in the centre of Paris, Rouge was sitting a glass of wine in her hand. It was her day off, but she felt lonely and empty. It was about 5 in the afternoon. There were only the owner and a man sitting next to her. He was in a black well cut suit, dark hair and bushy eyebrows. Most of the time he was talking to the owner about his country house in Normandy. The owner would glance at her cleavage, wink and smile. And she noticed she got his attention, but she wasn’t interested in him. The man next to her smelled of money, a lot of money.

Her self-esteem had hit rock bottom. Rouge made her lips as red as possible, as if to cheer herself up with the bright colour. Her makeup impeccable and her little dress showing off as much as she could get away with. The man next to her was big and clearly in his forties. Rouge tried to seduce Him with her usual little games as bending to far forward in his direction or lifting up her butt of her stool when her dress had crept up. But he, to her amazement, ignored her. She felt awful and deeply down, but also impressed by his austerity. She just stayed there and stopped her sensual teasing. Suddenly he turned to her after the owner walked away to a new customer at a table.

‘You girl, remind me of Maria Magdalena, you have love, beauty and I think underneath all that rubbish you are wearing is a sweet girl. That is the one I want to get to know. So why are you so miserable?’

She gave him a crooked smile and she didn’t understand why she was so hurt, but she was. 

‘I am not miserable!’

Her voice sounded like the hissing of a cat. Her face blushing and angry, but feeling ashamed and vulnerable she was hiding behind agression. His blue eyes found hers and he looked at her. His eyes were gentle and at the same time stern. She was impressed and to her amazement he ordered her.

‘Go home, take off most of your makeup and change dress and meet me in Chez Chartier in Rue de Faubourg at 8 o’clock sharp. I will buy you diner.’

She didn't answer paid the bill, angry. The nerve of that man, how could he treat her like that! Ordering her what to wear and how she had to look like. Her high heels stamping on the pavement. Suddenly she wasn't aware of how she walked. She looked over her shoulder and there he was standing in the entrance of the cafe.  There wasn't a smile on his face. He looked calmly and that made her even more furious.

(the story of Rouge is part of The Three Graces, you find in the pages above gradually growing into ... welll who knows what?)

29 Mar 2012

Self discipline

I am responsible
I am an adult
I consent
I give
I want
I need
And I 
Want You
Nothing but You
I need You
I live
For You
Nothing but You!

I make mistakes
I can fail
I can resist
I can be a brat
I can be a creative chaos
But for You
I want to be all
I need to be patient
I need to be open
I need to give
I need to submit
I need You

I am so angry with me
That by now
It makes me laugh
About myself
About my silly self pity
So, I slapped my butt
I pinched my nose
I tickled my side
I plugged my butt
To be fully
And utterly

28 Mar 2012

submission fail

I failed you
in so many ways
I should have
shared everything
I am deeply ashamed
for holding back
for not saying all
for not making
you my priority

27 Mar 2012

the 5 senses

Sensual Senses

Our every day life is filled with the 5 senses: hearing, sight, touch, smell and taste. It is a part of us and we can do things to disable the use. At least sight, touch, smell and hearing are easily disabled. Taste is harder to do. When I started out on this topic with a talk/discussion in JDs it made me realise that especially online we need our imaginations as well. But is it only imagination? Are the senses feeding our imagination?

So comparing to a Real Life (RL) experiences Second Life (SL) may look shallow. Nevertheless all those playing, communicating in SL share common interests and anyone who starts exploring their hidden sexual desires can start with at least a taster here. You do not actually have to go and look for it in your RL. We can experience some of I think genuine true BDSM in SL. It is not all fantasy we really experience control. And all that control goes deep into any individual.
So for me personally there is no division between SL and RL. The feelings I feel are genuine, the experiences I deal with are genuine. And I honestly belief that most of the people I meet are warm, loving and good people, with all the good and bad, and with all the likes and dislikes in them. Except for the few players who like to cheat and deceive. SL for me is a reflection of RL.

So how shallow is SL if we look on what and how do we experience our senses in SL?


Sight seems to be one of the major and most attractive parts of SL. As soon as we open the screen we enter a world of imagination of ‘beauty’ and we can walk, talk, fight and fuck. We entered and constructed an avatar as an ideal impersonation of ourselves. It reflects our ideas of fashion of sexy and how the overall image of the body moves. The outcome of all of this is a puppet on strings that moves in any way we want to make it move. And this reflection we watch, while we sit behind the screen. The avatar has become our means of exercise and our means to feel love, to make love and to dance or whatever we feel like. We like to look at these pixel animations, but it isn’t enough by itself.
We play with Ken and Barbie. Ken and Barbie have sex, one of them is tied up.


We see a collar and a leash. We are bound in a virtual world with our other self. But not only in the other world, most of us are fully bound with all the feelings that come with it. We look at bad animations and even get pleasure out of those. But we can also find places where we can look at actual porn.


We start of to dancing to music, or offering music via systems in SL and while dancing romantically we talk in chat to our partners. Again the sight of the Ken and Barbie dancing fuels our brain and the music sends us the romantic setting. First voice wasn’t enabled so what we heard was set up mostly by music or little soundtracks. In porn related sims we could also hear moaning. In BDSM sims we could actually hear the sounds of the lashing of a whip. It was more and more adding up to the experience of SL, but all still mainly on a distance. Voice was introduced and it opens a new way of communicating. We can hear someone’s voice and experience it as sensual, erotic, sexy. A deep dark voice, a gentle voice or like young girls voice. We can hear if ordered by a Dominant a submissive having an orgasm. So there suddenly RL comes in strong. The two worlds meet. But do they actually meet? It always reminds me of Altman’s movie ‘Short Cuts’.

On the other hand we can go in SL to a movie theatre and watch both SL and RL porn. Which can be quite fun to do with the other significant SL half. The keyhole as a place I know of in SL.


Do we touch? In a sense we do. I always think the typing is touching. But at times playing a scene in SL is like giving that message to my fingers to my brain. The keyboard, the tips of my fingers becoming like sensual tools. As if by touching those I touch the other. I have to act on what I do, or what I am ordered to do. I have to write out the sentences. But I can be ordered to touch myself, inflict pain. Although here I prefer the sound as well. I do like to hear my Masters voice when I do touch. But he prefers to see me when I do. To make sure I am all right when I for example inflict pain. He needs to know if I am all right and the most important thing it is for his pleasure. When we are finished the cruncher comes. I miss his arms to cuddle, a warm body to lean against. That is the time I actually miss him the most, even when he is there with me. The actual touch, the warmth, the love and that total intimacy of body and mind mixing can be done virtually but is missing.

Smell and taste.

Sure when I get aroused I smell myself, I can dip my finger in my vagina and taste myself. It will enhance my virtual experience. I can do it in skype or in any other means and my Master can order me doing it. Great feeling. I can type it out play it and have that full feeling in my body. It is in a sense part of SL.


We do use the 5 senses in SL. Even though sight is the most important part the 5 senses are mainly mixed with our brain. And it always reminds me of the Pavlov experience with the dog. He sees the food and he makes extra saliva as his mouth reacts to what he sees. His brain gives the message and impulse to his mouth to eat. I look in Second life, I read, I feel and my brain sends the message to my body and makes me ready. My labia swell, moist is made and I get horny as hell. With all its shortcomings,  SL is quite the aphrodisiac. And it makes us keeping coming back for more. That and all the emotional additions we type we get addicted. In the end there is no separation between SL and RL. As we feel, we use our senses and all the emotions come with it. And we all know how deeply in love we can be and how it hurts when we a couple split. That is not an addiction. It is deep felt human emotions. We can play. But be careful! We can be hurt deeply. Fortunately it is never the end. Perhaps just the start of the next wonderful experience, which might be better as we get to know ourselves better we do learn always and every time.

26 Mar 2012

analyse me?

I will break open
I will submit
I will do all
But don't analyse me

I will crawl for you
I will serve you
I will do anything
But don't analyse me

I will use my vivid imagination
I will use all my creativity
I will use all my love and care
But don't analyse me

I will let you control me
I will share anything
I will offer you my submission
But don't analyse me

I will give you my mind
I will give you my body
I will give you my soul
and thrive for your pleasure

25 Mar 2012


there are always times
that the water surface
mirrors it's surroundings
reflecting all its beauty

ripples gently make
the surface dance
when the wind
whips it up

further, higher 
foam appears
a dog showing 
his teeth in anger

protect yourself
when it storms
it will calm down
it always does

the mirror will
be back again 
the rain will tickle it
until you laugh


Not mine
I gave it all to you
this little, precious, lovely flower
of you
to pat, to slap, to lash
the shaven folds
to touch, to pinch, to lick
the petals
to stretch, to open, to kiss
and see
your pearl
to play, to tease, to taste
juice machine
to invade, to thrust, to fill
for your
convenience and pleasure
you order
to touch, to caress, to deny
all yours

24 Mar 2012


I wander through the dark forest
trying to find you
all looks the same
all is changing
a frightening labyrinth
I wished I could hold you
but you are hidden
and I am lost
trees offer solace
cover and protection
you will walk out
whatever path you may take
every maze has a way out
into the open fields
and feel the sun again

22 Mar 2012


'right', said the girl
after a pause
and than continued:
'ofcourse, I will
skydive nude
on my own even
but please, please
my loving Master
I rather have
some training first'
'Sure' said the Master
and whipped 
her into subspace

21 Mar 2012


nothing smells better than Spring air
the soil perfumes itself
pheromones spreading all over
dust the trees clean with fresh leaves
and my body wakes
I close my eyes and smell your scent
softly caressing your neck with my nose
let me taste you, that taste of lips and tongue 
that exchange of no words but tenderness
let us rise form the soil and show ourselves
we are sensual and beautiful
the look in your eyes is enough
and your voice is the final countdown
for me to rise above myself
with every touch
to blossom
for you

20 Mar 2012


Even paradise
can't block
bad memories
only I
can store them
and enjoy

18 Mar 2012

in the dark

And now that I am wakening from my deep sleep I wonder if I am truly awake, because when I open my eyes it is pitch-dark. I feel the covers with my hands, my naked body, the edge of the bed, but I see nothing other than a deep blackness that surrounds me. I keep my eyes wide open to catch the little light that might be in the room but I see nothing, absolutely nothing. I touch my face and feel the scrapes on my back. When I sit upright I suddenly throw my legs over the edge of the bed just to feel if there is a floor. I touch the wall behind the bed. All this is still very disorientating. I step out of bed and I trace the wall with my finger to where I remember the door was. Little steps as I am scared to fall I seek in memory the interior of the room. Bed, wall a corner in the room and there should be the door. I feel its post and find the door handle. But to my shock the door is locked. I stand in this stygian world and hear my breathing getting shallow of anxiety. My fingers are holding on to the handle as if my last beacon in this world. I feel cold but it isn’t cold.

I try to recuperate in my memory. The last thing I know before falling asleep is my Master gently pulling the covers over me.
‘Sleep well, my thing.’ Were the last words he had said to me.
All I could do is nod and tired as I was in subspace and recovering from the scene we just had done. It was intense and he had treated my back with salve and carefully laid me in this lovely soft bed. After a father like kiss on my cheek I heard him walk away and close the door behind him. The last sounds being his footsteps in the hallway.

Slowly I puff through my lips to calm down and seek my way back to bed. I wrap myself in the covers for comfort and lay still to think. ‘I can trust my Master, can I!?’ A little doubt enters my mind. I bite my lip and pull the covers over my mouth trying to breath calmly. In my head I sing a mantra: ‘I can trust my Master, I can trust my Master.’ It calms me. I will wait until I hear his footsteps again. As I relax my ears seem to take in every sound. Is that my own scent? Is it his? But suddenly I am aware of another sound. I am not sure if I am right but it sounds like the regular breathing of a person. ‘Is it true’ I wonder and I keep myself very, very quiet to be certain of what I hear and to my deep shock I realise there is someone in the room!

Now I breathe soundless trying to make sure where the sound comes from, I have no clue if it is close to me. But than I feel how a hand locks itself around my ankle. I try to retreat my foot, but I am not strong enough and I struggle in shock. Would I dare to bend forward? No. I am spooked and hold on to one of the big posts of the bed. What the hell?
After a few seconds when I feel I am not going to be hysterical I come to terms with the hand around the ankle. It comes to mind that master might have locked me in and I relax my feet. What ever it is, the power and strength is more than I can deal with. All I can do is give in and simply allow without struggling to the attaching of my cuff to one of the posts. I am not even surprised when also the other leg is attached and the duvet is taken away. I submit when both my hands are tied to the other posts at the head of the bed. Why don’t I speak? The silence, the darkness, all feels rather saintly, feeding my imagination.

I feel a sharp thing travelling my body. Is it a knife? It circles my belly, around my breasts and scratches the aureole and softly pats the upright nipple when found. With all my power I do try to see anything but the effort is useless. Now the knife wanders down again. A hand caressing my legs searching and finding as they travel my inner thigh that soft vulnerable part of me and I am shocked how the knife traces the shaven folds.

Suddenly he hits my vulnerable spot with his full hand. He keeps on hitting me in a steady rhythm. I grasp the shackles and moan of pain. It feels hot and swollen after the hitting has stopped and I know it tinges bright red now. It hurts. It hurts so badly it is wonderful.
Lips on mine, a cheek against mine: Yes I am sure now it is my Master and I smile lovingly. I hear a Zippo and suddenly I see in the dim light his face. A loving smile as he lights the candle and glances at me as the drips of the wax make a pattern on my skin. First around me breasts and covering them in wax, tracing down and he doesn’t stop. 
The hot drops dripping continuously on my skin. Lighting candle after candle and placing candles and gradually the room is lit with that wonderful soft light only candlelight offers. Occasionally he kisses my lips. 
He stops when I am almost fully covered in wax.  I see the candles with all kinds of bright colours; I smell that lovely scent of wax and fire. I have become a colourful Jackson Pollock. He kisses me and whispers in my ear: ‘This is my idea of a full wax!’

I am so happy! I feel hot and I am hot and I even manage to smile.

(thank you pyroman)

15 Mar 2012


What is pornography? I cannot fully grasp it yet and it felt to me I have to do far more research. The definition I found often used is:

Pornography or porn is the explicit portrayal of sexual subject matter for the purposes of sexual arousal and erotic satisfaction

But what is explicit, explicit is clear to the eye of the one looking, reading or hearing. We heard within the discussion that is different for all of us: some males find naked men not erotic at all, while others can’t have enough of them. 

So lets look at something so ordinary as…clothespins.

A picture of a clothespin is simply a picture of a clothespin. A household item we use to hang laundry or other. To those who lack the sexual need to use clothespins as an erotic instrument, it will always be just a clothespin. Most Vanilla’s will not even give it an extra thought while hanging the laundry. Mostly I don’t either, unless……

But for me this simple wooden item can be very erotic an very explicit especially after a scene in which I just used it. The simple information of the feel of it in my hand can add to this sensation. So is this depicted here a pornographic image? In a way it is, like a nipple, a dildo or like the words I just written down. In that sequence it becomes even more arousing. Clothespin, nipple, sends a message to my brain.
So what if I come across a huge clothespin like this one of Claes Oldenburgh, a Swedish-American sculptor, standing in front of the city hall. This majestic piece of art 45-foot-high, weighing 10-ton simply called ‘Clothespin’ is placed near the city hall in Philadelphia, in 1976 and made of Cor-Ten and stainless steel. Knowing the work of Oldenburgh I am quite sure there is no BDSM connotation whatsoever and like the ordinary clothespin, which wasn’t made to hurt anyone in a sexual way. I know that Oldenburg as a famous Pop-art artist didn’t mean this thing to be sexually. He just used ordinary day to day objects and made them into huge sculptures.

However if I look with my eyes I notice it is so majestic it is almost as powerful as a Dominant would I stand in front of it. The whole image, like the actual clothespin is playing with the erotic fantasy in my mind. I see him standing there, legs slightly apart towering over me. My personal and lovely perverted idea is placed into an ordinary art object. But it is my fantasy; perhaps any other submissive or Dominant would not agree. Or even pleasantly worse, you might now be drawn to my little fantasy.
Swedish fashion designer Sandra Backlund used clothespins to construct a ‘collar’, making it in a pretty almost lace like fashion item. There is something about the work of this fashion designer that makes it really interesting or better said intrigues me. Her clothes are not easy to wear and on the pictures she takes, the girls look rather tormented. She says about it herself and I quote: ‘…..Only strong women can wear my clothes because what I design alters the body and the clothes dictate the posture.…..’

An interesting phenomena within this ‘collar’ as I see it, is that most submissives are strong people who can endure a lot. If I look at this picture it springs to mind that it would be a lovely item for a kinky party. The model is standing there in full composure, hands on her back and her face has an almost proud and angelic expression. Making the whole atmosphere quite erotic.
To my amusement, I found another picture, which immediately had affect in my loins. It surely has the ‘Oldenburgh effect’ but there is more to it. Located in Belgium’s Park Chaudfontaine, artist Mehmet Ali Uysal’s installation art seems to be about man dominating nature.

This actually reminds me of the painful feeling of skin pinched. And when I looked at other work of this artist I started wondering about his work as it feels like 'bedroom art' to me. To spice up ones kinky life. I cannot be sure of it of course but I am tempted to ask. Anyway it sure dominates my mind.
The actual act of placing a clothespin is very arousing. Not just to masturbate but it is even better when you are ordered to! Making this beautiful and simple picture a delight to look at.

It is neither vulgar nor nasty, but far more explicit than the pictures above. This lovely, pretty girl simply places a clothespin on her nipple. Her face not exaggerated, but calm and concentrated.
So if we talk very explicit and far more pornographic this picture tells it all. It feels amateur or can be done by professionals but the way it is done is to make the 'act' visible and most of all the idea of arousing others by arousing one self. (or act to be aroused)

The picture is not stylized; it is just the simple act of showing off clothespins clamped on labia. The aroused and protruded clitoris visible and probably the woman either proudly present her self or is being humiliated with the picture for her arousal and the Dominant. This is BDSM at work. It serves its goal both for those who look at it as for the one experiencing it. The Internet is full of these kind of pictures, made by professionals or simply by amateurs. They’re to endorse our slutty horny bodies with all the pleasures of looking and perhaps acting on it. These I call masturbation porn.
However there is a large amount of highly stylized erotic pictures within BDSM, which are both very beautiful to look at and stimulating although the effect is less hardcore. With these pictures you see the camera, the light the model all set in place to make a beautiful picture. The goal is to make art as sensual eye candy.

Some prefer art above hardcore porn. But both have their use and perhaps in a different way. The state of arousal seems to work on what we want, like that some love to be called slut but only when they are very horny. Perhaps it is not all about the difference between arty pictures or actual it is more about the intention it is made and the mind of the one who looks at it.
With the first pictures it is my mind that fills in the details and with the last ones the details are already there. Nevertheless, for me, my own mind and my own body are lovely tools to work with. I choose, or even better, it is chosen for me. It reveals what I like and dislike, it reveals what my Master likes and dislikes. Thus giving us visual tools to communicate, with myself and with him. Some of the images are repulsive others will open Pandora’s box for new explorations.

All comments are welcome!

ara charisma

14 Mar 2012


this isn't me
but it could be

this is
my present
I am present
I present myself
to You
I am a present
a willing gift
and represent

13 Mar 2012


it was intens today
so intens, the miles between us
were fading away, so close
our minds blending into
one, all stopped
the time most of all
until we got aware of
the ticking of the clock
ordering us
cruelly to stop
the intensity lingered
on, for a while

11 Mar 2012

the three graces (part 5)

Claudette smiles her body filled with the effects of her actions on the girl and the sound of the Master unloading his freight of built up tension into Rouge with a last roar, almost like an animal in pain. Her cheeks reddish but in someway satisfied although her body seeks a release.  Just as she reaches out to unchain the sweaty and tired Felice she feels something is wrong, deeply wrong. Very slowly she turns her head and sees her Master, his arms folded seemingly relaxed, but Claudette knows him to well to see the boiling anger within him. He just glares with ice-cold rage in his eyes. All their faces directed to him and when he speaks he fills the dungeon with his fury. He doesn’t shout, he slowly spits his words in to the dungeon, despised of what he sees.

‘Such a nice view.’

Than he slowly turns around and walks out, leaving them under a blanket of discomfort. Claudette’s arms hanging limp alongside her body. She feels empty and desolate, she swallows the upcoming tears and aware of Felice’s discomfort she frees her. The Master cuddles the shocked Rouge and looks concerned at the girls. Felice sits on the table and bends forward kissing Claudette.

‘Thank you.’ She whispers very softly in her ear.

Claudette kisses her cheek and holds her in her arms, caressing her as it also sooths herself.

‘Are you ok?’

Felice nods and notices the tears in Claudette’s eyes and gently kisses her indicating with her eyes that she should go up. Claudette doesn’t answer. She can’t leave like that. She feels the responsibility. But the fun they all had is gone and she seeks a way to make things better. The Master takes Rouge by the hand and walks towards them.

‘Do leave if you wish woman.’

He looks concerned, but Claudette shakes her head.

‘We all need to bathe girls! Come and while we are in the bath, I will give all of you permission to speak.’

He slaps Claudette’s butt playfully and follows the girls. The huge relaxing bubble bath is filled with warm water. And the Master sits with the girls surrounding him. He is at ease with the girls just chitchatting and making them comfortable. He takes Claudette in his lap and gently massages her. She enjoys, knowing the next couple of days or weeks will be hard. Her Master is very strict. But this here what happened to her with these lovely girls will stay as a lovely memory.

It is the first time the three girls share a bath, but it is already nothing compared to what had happened in the dungeon. There bodies touch and they are comfortable with it. Although, now and than the girls giggle when a hand touches accidently the more intimate places. Is it accidental or are they just being playful? The Master hears them giggle and finally orders the three of them to gently clean and massage him. The girls give each other a meaningful look and as if they have done this already for years somehow go about their task diligently, softly talking and enjoying. The Masters sits back and relaxes.

Claudette feels restless and asks if she may leave. And while she dries herself she thinks of what all just happened as she sees the girls so playfully and relaxed in the bath; laughing, talking and slightly teasing the Master. His deep voice grinning relaxed. She had never thought of herself she would ever do a thing like this. Something changed and she also knows nothing will be the same. She will return home and her head is spinning with ways how to explain herself to her Master. With a heavy heart she drags herself up the stairs of the dungeon with no clue of what the future has installed for her. The gravity of her disobedience finally dawning to her and also the feeling of loving power she had no idea she possessed.

10 Mar 2012


we talk
about our dreams
our sensual wants
warm feelings

we continue
about finance
the right shirt
food, honey

the best way
to drive
a to b
and back

we talk of love
stables, training
the price of hay
whips, spanking,
paddles, gags
I stop talking

9 Mar 2012


images, moving
I see a woman bound
she is being whipped
God, do I wonder
such a
whipped skin
would I go that far?
her ass spread wide open

nettles, interesting
I need to talk to Meester
collar, clamps...
mmm yes more like it
my body reacting 
Lovely do go on
please to slow
use her, I like it

This girl is amazing
she dares far more
than I ever would
before a camera
pornstar thank you
for what you show me
you are the star
a beautiful star

You teach me 
every time
so much
I learn by 
all the reactions
my Meester sends
me with little
moving presents

my body teaches 
me, tells me
dictates me
my head spins
with images
moving in front me

pornstar you are 
thank you
but the love
the cuddle
the aftercare
is not there
I hope..........just hope

8 Mar 2012

the three graces (part 4)

Claudette’s hair is pinned up loosely, revealing her neck and the lovely earrings she is wearing. In her mind she travels back to the days she was in the dungeon. How she would long for her Master and that when he actually made a visit it never seemed enough; her eyes begging him to stay. But he simply would give her some reassuring words and left.  She had to stay for a month and with no clock or calendar in the Chateau she lost track, as all days would be in the same kind of rhythm.

Her Master had brought her into the Château. He had given her no clue, but only had said it was for useful training in submission. Only afterwards she had understood that the Chateau was based on the ‘story of O’ She had no idea, but obediently had followed her Master wishes. Claudette is a charming lady, warm and attentive. She is talkative and fun. But here she was suddenly placed into a rigid silence. She simply couldn’t. She was in the confines of the Chateau rebellious. But her rebellion didn’t show. She found the Chateau old fashioned and old school BDSM. But her Master was so much older than she was. He liked the rigid regime and wanted her to enjoy it as well. He was a very strict Master and suffocated her in rules, regulations, discipline and punishment. He still is. She knows that by doing what she is doing now she is breaking one of his rules; no girl on girl.  It was suddenly as if all the rebellion she had felt was coming out of her inner core. Today all the mischief and fun within her, all that gayety she possesses, all the curiosity are coming out at once. As if she wants to brush away the memory of the Chateau and see the fun of it all. She had never ever rebelled to her Master before. But these two women, their beauty, their fun, the liberties they had taken here in the Chateau had amused her and it was as if she broke out of the thick layer of concrete around her. Her submission hadn’t given her freedom; it had given her a prison she felt unhappy in.

But this trick she had learned from Him. She loved it herself. She had once given this as a strong limit and he had always respected it. She would never taste another woman, but to her surprise today she wants to. She wants to give that lovely girl an ultimate experience.

Taken out of her sombre thoughts by the loud roar she just heard, she whispers in the girls ear: ‘Felice, you hold on to these strings now, lay quietly and do not pull the pegs of by moving. I will tell you when.’
Her voice sounds gentle but firm and she notices her arousal when she speaks and looks into her eyes. Both hear the rhythm of the primal ‘pas de deux’ on the other side of the table.

Claudette walks to the table climbing with her small fragile body on it and places herself between Felice’s legs. Caressing them with her warm hand and sees the dew glistening on the beautiful flower. The petals are stretched and slightly moving with every breath of Felice. The wide-open flower is ready for her and she bends forward and very gently tastes the girls honey, actually a very recognizable taste. The scent and taste to her surprise is far better than she ever thought. Very carefully she runs laps with her tongue around the lovely protruding centrepiece of this artefact. Her tongue warm, wet and soft teasing her. She knows as she seeks with her fingers the little cavity and fills it. And very gently moves them seeking the spot she knows so well herself. She notices now and than that the petals are being stretched almost to the limit and hears the soft moans.

The rhythm of the dance beside her and the little noises she hears so close to her ear; a piece of modern music. She slowly continues and the circles become smaller and smaller, now and than touching that uprised knob of desire. As she suddenly sees the pegs pulled tight.  She simply cannot bring herself to deny this girl her orgasm. Her voice sounds gently when she gives her the freedom to let go. And softly starts suckling while she moves her fingers in the rhythm of the dance next to her. Felice’s muscles are flexing, her legs shaking as she gives in loudly arching her back and pulling all the pegs, the sudden pain sending her into a floating orbit. Like a wild animal she pulls the shackles.

7 Mar 2012


Hands cuffed
Attached to the wall
‘Feet apart, steady girl!’
Just a voice
And the caress
Of soft leather
All over my skin
Teasing me
Back, butt
My giggling
‘Don’t move!’
A sudden lash
More lashes
Increasing speed
My moans
Hand warm
A kiss
My neck
Arching back
My arse
Another Lash
Holding me
Lips kissing me
A body
Gently against me
A hand
Between my thighs
‘Good Girl’

6 Mar 2012

words as household tools

After a discussion that I moderated in JDs in second life, I have been doing some soul searching about words, communicating and being a slut. How I please Meester with my writing and how deeply he pleases me with his words, sentences, orders, care and love.
The Master whispered:
"I will call you slut, not because you are one but just so you can live your perverted dreams.
I will call you slut, simply because I want to live my perverted dreams."
She knows.

He continued:
"I will call you slut because your body reacts in pleasure.
I will call you slut because I am proud of you"
She understands.

He whispered as He looked deep in her eyes:
"I call you slut, when ever I feel to.
But You are my slut! My slut only."
She feels.

He whispered in her ear:
"You are my slut, my lady.
You are my slut and queen"
She flies.

(copyright ARA 18022012)

When I started out to discover and connect with my desire to experience BDSM I roamed the lifestyle sims in Second Life and was at times astonished. I was shocked with the girls I saw walking with cumdumpster on their body. How they openly sucked their Masters cock, the names they were called and that did not object to be called slut. I was amazed and in my mind I was convinced and totally sure that was not my thing at all. Worse even, I looked down on the women who were degrading themselves in my opinion.

Until one day Meester said slut to me and he was the first one who actually reached me when he called me a slut. I was shocked with he effect it had on me and told him that I didn’t want to be called a slut but that he was the only allowed to call me that. He actually probed through my armour without me realising. Others had called me slut and I felt offended. With him quite the opposite happened; I felt it as a praise of my being. He wasn’t even my Master yet, but it stayed with me.

Elder who had commented on my blog already put me on to this, words are also easy to use at home to arouse. Elder said that one of the best household tools are hands. So simple and so right! Humiliating, ordering, praise, punishment don’t have to be a physical act, it can easily be done in words and have maximum effect. Communicating, as household tool is a very good one I thought.

For me the most important part in power exchange is in words, far more important than anything else. It is the bases on which the D/s relation is build. With words we try to understand each other. Communication is an important tool. But better than whipping or play around it. The words put us in our place. It is the order. Obeying the order is essential, but feeling the need to obey is the drive behind D/s.  Obeying rules, finding out how rules help you in your submission is in the end the key, to reach a good relationship.

But words can easily tear things into shreds. Or hurt badly when used to deliberately hurt or used arrogantly. We can become too careful with each other or when we do not see, hear and understand the other any longer. Sometimes goals of Dominant and sub can grow further and further apart. It is nobodies fault when things start to fail.

I remember how the day I was called slave something was marked within me, a deep desire entered into me and left a deep impression.

You can have all the tools in your house to have fun at home. But the right words, the right order, the right discipline and the right time to actually talk things through are essential. And sometimes all fails because I found out that with the Master I was at the time things didn’t match. His words started to fail and my words started to fail. I realized his dreams didn’t fit me; his words didn’t fit me at all. We weren’t communicating because our words weren’t reaching their goal.

Communicating is seeking constantly for balance and sometimes we do not listen to our instinct. So words, expressions, body language are for me the most important tools in BDSM and actually also the best household tools imaginable.

And isn’t the computer the best household tool ever? For words, sentences, virtual lives, research, pornography, kindred souls, friends and whatever else it offers in the lifestyle.

5 Mar 2012


I just came, cheeks blushing
my body relaxed
let me go shopping
simple things
bread, butter, milk
just because I need it

The high heels
the skirt brushing
my legs
the tension of
my muscles
when I walk

I walk the streets
and enter shops
I do feel heavenly
No far more
than heavenly
erotic, I radiate

I came, and I know
this is for You
to show the world
the beauty I possess
how stunning I am
a sensual being

I feel, how my body curves
how my butt moves
I feel elegant
How I wish You
would walk behind me
to enjoy all of me

They may see
they may enjoy
they may desire
and all of it
every inch of it
belongs to Thee

4 Mar 2012


to be released
hurts as hell
but in the end
the key to heal
lays as one
of the pieces
of broken glass
on the floor

It takes time
to search
and picking
up pieces
your skin
every time

place them
in a velvet
little box
until you find
the key
to lock
it all away

time ticks
heals all
the key
to happiness
is when you
open the box
and see
just broken

and hurt



a match

blood red
on my