Sonnet III for Silver

How can my joy hurt such to make me weep?
Your first words to me at each starting day;
Your last spoken when you stop to sleep.
First in my thoughts, but so very far away

Lithe, love, light and pale as the summer grass;
Clever fast and lusty, gifted in your wit.
Patient with my heart: sharp & frail as glass
Perversity met, matched- as a glove may fit.

My whims & needs as much your fondest treasure
You I may wanton toy, hurt & restrain
& yet you strive to bring me more pleasure
And smile to give your thank yous for the pain.

So if this year’s chances keep us apart
To have you is well worth a heavy heart


I caught myself crying again, while doing laundry. It’s a scary time, with the uncertainty of what might be, between going back to work after sick leave, watching the rather grim situation in the US and the world. But, love is such that, suck or not, I would rather miss him than not have him to miss.

He stoically puts up with my poetry.

The 3 Usual Idiots Trying To Destroy Femdoms

The Threatened, NCB & the Domme Police

I have a person I know in real life, who is both a professional and lifestyle domme. Since there story is theirs I won’t screen shot it, but I will use the situation as an educational anecdote.

They (the dominant) were doing an AMA as part of a friendly FB thing, with a bit of an educational bent, when Chuckleface slides into the comments and starts picking away at stupid shit- whether a drink was domly enough in her video, etc…

This is, if you are a female dominant, just par for the course. True, male doms occasionally deal with someone trying to get into a weird alpha slap fight, but alongside the regular inbox wankers wailing for attention, you get three different kinds of dingdongs: the Threatened, (NCB) Non-Consensual Brats, and the Domme Police.

The Threatened

Among the Threatened, the guys who do it would tell you it isn’t about gender at all, or they would vomit out some sort of biological essential garbage about the body mass differences. The latter is bold of the sex that has their genitals external to their body. These guys actively seek out any claim a woman might have to even limited power or authority to be triggered by it.

Then, like a particularly fragile masculinity based sea cucumber doing a last ditch fear reaction, out comes their misogynistic guts. In effort to take you down a peg or two, they vomit up everything from out of context accusations of being a man hater, moral railings about your Jezebel ways, to the same tired tangle of speculations on your age, physical body, incompetence, etc…

In their mildest form, the Threatened are violently defending their idealized perfect fantasy from icky real women who don’t fit, but most of the time they just feel so socially insecure that they calamatize that any woman who doesn’t bend to them unmask their soft mess to everyone.

Non Consensual Brats (NCB)

NCB think if they piss you off you will “make” them behave. The best meaning imagine they are being seductive and providing enthusiastic consent by being as unpleasant as possible, while the worst lean into their fantasy over you, seeing your feelings as just another tool to get them where they want to go.

This adds a bonus scary problem if you have disparate sizes and physical resistance. While some dommes, by confidence, personality, or being skilled and swole, can safely take town someone either bigger, or sometimes just physically able enough to pose a significant challenge, this puts you both at risk of an injury neither of you planned or wanted to consent to.

This isn’t, of course, the push and pull of a more primal dynamic, or the well established sass of a wanted fight. NCB are not a “bit of spirit” to spice play. Nor are they the healthy ability of a sub to say no at any point. NCB are a relentless push that thinks dominant consent doesn’t matter, and often refuses to acknowledge how much their own consent is actually supposed to power a dynamic.

At their best, NCBs just need a clue, because they don’t realize they are missing a piece of how kink works. However, NCB may even be a sad reminder a sub orientation doesn’t stop you from being abusive, verbally or physically.

The Domme Police

Sometimes, mind you, the Domme Police would tell you a challenge is all about making the dominant prove it, because they feel they are the sacred heart testing scales of truth. Only, rather than your heart weighing less than a feather, it needs to weigh more than a pair of floggers to be pure, and there is no cute crocodile to pet.

“Prove you are a dom” breaks dominants and drives femdom away from bothering. Not breaks, as in makes them submissive, just creates this sour taste in the mouth. They, like the fedoras of yesteryear trying to ferret out fake nerd girls, or a bigot questioning if you are a “diversity hire” operate under the assumption you inherently don’t belong here.

Although less explicitly abusive than the often bordering on incel, glass Alpha types of the Threatened, there’s an implicit destructiveness in the gatekeeping that is no less corrosive. In some ways I hate these people more than either of the first two categories.

Who could blame a new domme, or a tired one, for agreeing they don’t fit and looking elsewhere?

Unlike the overt explicit explosion of the Threatened, the problem with these folks is they are masters of making their illogical challenges a test of your mastery. Their self justification is often just the regulation of fakes, and exploitative types and the more adroit trick others into nodding along in the name of “standards”.

But, if you disproportionately provide the community incentive to a woman to sick around of a velcro dildo, you aren’t the tempering forge heat or the winnowing farmer letting only the strong flourish. You are a cancer on BDSM.

You are not, to wander into other, Northern mythos, Heimdall on the bifrost, guarding betwixt sacred kink and dull, profane vanilla. You are Nidhogger, the dragon gnawing away at the roots of the World Tree, destroying a nurturing growth meant not to contain just kink but the entire connected worlds that we travel in and out from to be part of the whole person and larger community.  

And though you whine that BDSM needs experts and you just want safety and subs to get what they deserve, you are never there when missing stairs need nailing. You don’t tend and water those roots, you gorge yourself while secretly hoping the whole tree topples.

The furious energy the Domme Police expend demanding, testing and frankly preying upon the newer or trying to take (always female) teachers down a peg or two is sometimes even a mark of a more cowardly predator, the mask of the first type I mentioned.

Being the Domme Police, like unsolicited NCB behaviour, is just an effective cover to lash out.

In the example of the guy that inspired this post, the unmasking of his past as a serial harasser in other, non-kink communications was swift (and very public) and the handling by the domme presenting her AMA was able to deal with him with patient skill but…

…imagine if femdoms didn’t have to wade through three different flavours of (usually men but not always) idiots trying to actively make this harder for us?

Polishing Silver

Silver is, among many things, my muse. Lurid and vivid sexual creativity was one of the gifts the fae left for my birth, and love makes me into a better artist.

Every Sunday, minus when he was road tripping to family, or those weekends we managed an in person park picnic, we have Sunday Worship, aka furious mutual masturbation over webcam, aided by teledildonics via the good people at Lovense, and the quieter cooperation of the manufacturers of the Pavlok.

This particular weekend, a Hush was buried in his ass and the app hooked to my phone so he could experience vibrations entirely under my control. I was squeezed into a blue latex number that didn’t just hit him in the fetishes, but punched the target through the wall. It also appealed to me on two axises of desire: my long standing teasing kink (Mercy Maria uses pro-domme work to get herself a reverse harem, I seriously consider stripping as a sexual outlet), and my newly discovered interest in the medium of rubber clothing, itself.

And regardless of the props or where I decide we go this time, my mouth is always spinning out filth: alluring, lewd and descriptive. I’m privately very self critical of my abilities as a hypnosis mistress, but I do have a gift for the erotic gab, and Silver was enraptured at my crooning and storytelling.

The fantasy I almost made Silver hands free cum to last Sunday was telling him about sharing him out to my domme friends. It wasn’t the detail of hands touching, the excess or the cruelties. It was describing him earnestly looking to me, to be sure he was serving them properly, like I wanted. 

It’s that “you endure what they, do but you know it’s all about your Miss” that gets him so bad.

Ultimately Silver is a romantic, in that he doesn’t want to serve any random domme, regardless of having certain aesthetic fetishes. He wants that connection to one person. I don’t think I can fully express how sweet that is.

When he is screaming in mixture of lust and distress because he thinks he is about to cum without permission, well… that’s really gilding the lily.

I am also very big on the intimacy of a singular “person”. I fail at “proper” poly, although I can do some group activities just fine, but the idealized network of loves and separations of relationships in one’s sexuality just… does not work for me. I fall in love and that person is writ large in the sky.

Silver. Silver. Silver. I actually slipped into love more gently than with anyone so far. I am lucky about his amiable patience with my slower roll to “commitment”, but in turn it was not quite the same 2 by 4 to the face that some of the past experiences were, and yet… I prefer coming to love him slowly. I prefer the crush kindled as a certain warm affection that grew and grew until the hearth of my heart was lit bright and hot.

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Friday Femdom Fiction: Gagged, Arched and Edged

“I like it when you suffer for me.”

The gag cinched into the corners of his mouth, doing more to render him muffled than to completely silence the sounds of the whimpers he was making. A slick of lube on her palm, viscous and clinging, made each stroke of her hand glide easy on his cock.

“That’s right, baby. You love being this helpless, don’t you?”

He was completely naked, back bent so he could hold onto his own ankles, a display arch that was marred by shivers and gasps. She could read the desperation in his body: in the way his hips tried to rise to meet her grip; in the way his belly flexed and contracted; his shoulders shifted; and the tightening of the way he struggled to keep himself in the pose.

She knew he wanted to be on display for her, wanted to keep his muscles as flexed and hard as his cock. That was a little vanity of service, an awareness that she found him attractive. She gave the root of his cock a harder squeeze, letting the upwards glide pull her fingers over the flare of the head.

She saw the shine of the wetness at the corner of his mouth where the gagged robbed him of the ability to hold in his drool, and just where his chest met his belly, a thumb print sized drip. Meanwhile, the slit at the tip of his cock offered up a line of pre-cum like the strand of a cobweb.

“You are always such a clean, tidy boy, but, only edged three times and look at you! Losing all control. Filthy!”

She let her thumb brush over that ooze of precum, enjoying the texture and noting the contrast. Her own panties were stained with her desire, seeping through the cotton. There was a temptation to mount him, hilting his desperately hard cock inside her, but she kept her restraint, making him endure.

A few more fast pumps of her hand around his cock and he started looking panicked, building and building. She reminded him not to cum, even as she teased him closer and closer. As his balls began to pull into his body to loose a spurt of cum she smirked, pulling her hand away with a flourish.

“Not yet! You don’t have permission.”

His eyed met hers, pleasing with his eyes, making wet squeaks.

“Not yet. Catch your breath and we start again.”

Fantasies of Taking My Submissive’s Virginity

Relieve him of his virginity
Manga has everything!

Silver is somewhere out in the Midwest doing family things like the caring, good son that he is, but in that time I am entertained by a fantasy of fucking him.

I already told you that he is a technical virgin. The reality of his “innocence” is, of course complex. He builds desire together with me with sophisticated experience because he didn’t particularly limit himself in exploring his kinks, just (in my perception) the complexities of wading through three miles of waist deep vanilla courtship expectations, just to reach a possible opportunity to try an activity that wasn’t the highlight of his fantasies, provided no incentive.

But I like penis in vagina sex, so it’s on the table. Between Covid-19 and some incredibly complex feelings on my side, it hasn’t happened yet. But, not for lack of desire.

He seems extremely interested in losing his virginity now.

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