I never know what is going to tickle your fancy.  I write.  Sometimes I show you a dirty picture or hook you up with (what I think is) interesting linkage.  I rant and rave and even tell jokes or give you the inside dope on the Phone Sex business.  I observe.  I share my love for poetry … and I’m tickled pink that you seem to like it too or at least give it a fair shake before turning up your nose.  I guess you could say that  I get around and you happily hold tightly onto my skirt tails.  And off we go!

But today it’s just you and me, baby:  us or we, he and she.  Reiterating a bit here about the Phone Sex Fantasies and FemDom Adventures I create time and again … for you, me and those other guys.  How about I answer the oft-asked question:  Why all the mystery, Angela?  No face pics or selling pussy pictures and that kind of stuff?  For two reasons.  First, because I believe you’re smart enough to know better.  And secondly, because I don’t try to to cheat you with bought content, nor pretend to be either the oh-so-parochial "Lifestyle Domme" or the "Barely Legal Princess" who happens to have the Lauren Bacall voice.  I don’t have a zillion different personae so that I can cash in on every possible slant of kink.  I am me:  a real girl living my version of the American Dream.  All you really need to know (at least to start out with)  is that I’m not a paper doll, am as normal as you are in your daily life and am experienced enough to bring a sophisticated, informed and somewhat unique (some would say quirky) slant to this Phone Sex thing. 

Besides, I think a little bit of mystery happens to be a very good thing.  Don’t you?

My job — at least the way I see it — is to bring YOUR FANTASY (not your reality … you can get plenty of that by just opening your eyes every morning) to full fruition, at least for the the little bit of time we share together.  Ya know, I don’t always star in the Phone Sex Fantasies I create.   Sometimes I have a minor role and sometimes I just watch the kink unfold and give you the blow-by-blow.  It’s really on a call-by-call basis, with our chemistry creating the game plan. 

So let me tell you about this guy who called a few days back.  It was one of those calls that creep me out so much that I just want to unplug the phone, put on my PJs and watch Turner Classic Movies all day.  So this guy starts out by asking me what I like.  NOT A GOOD FIRST QUESTION!  What I like is not relevant.  Besides, I have enough of an Internet Presence that speaks very clearly to my particular bent.   When someone asks a PSO that question, it’s like he’s forcing her into a pop quiz of sorts, only he is the only one who knows the correct answer and if you are wrong …  HONK!  You lose.  On to the next girl.

So I try to explain that I like a lot of things, but what we come up with together is what will create the real spark.  He presses, I dance and use my wiley charms in an attempt to pursuade him against this line of questioning.  He still presses.  So I tell him a bit more about my experience of working a Phone Sex job throughout my college education and explain how much exposure that gave me to a wide variety of fetishes and kinks, and that I actually do surprise even myself even now with some new or different sexual scenario that will pop up out of the blue and catch my proletariat fancy for a day or week or even a few months until it’s replaced or put on the shelf to be pulled out again at a later date.

Well this guy just won’t give up.  His next question is:  What did you do for real while you were in college?

Now I’m starting to get that creepy-crawler feeling.  Here is a guy who’ve I just met via the telephone, we’ve spoken for less than five minutes, and he wants to jerk his dick to stories about what a slut I was in college?  Fuck that!  He’s a frickin’ parasite, pure and simple.  And while those of you who’ve gotten to know me over the course of a few calls do learn a bit about my personal experiences, this weenie head — who I’m beginning to detest intensely — doesn’t get that privilege.

But I’m a trooper, so I try one last time:  Listen, Mr. X, this call is not about me, it’s about you and what you’re into.

Finally, Dumbo is frustrated enough that he says:  I think I’m going to call somebody else.

And — you betcha — I am mighty pissed:  I think that is an excellent idea.

And I slammed the phone down.  Yes, I hung up on him, which is something I rarely do.  And you know what?  It felt good.  The only thing better would have been if I could have reached through the phone and put him into The Humbler.   Hmmm … just thinking about it makes me hot.  Maybe even add a nice bit of castration to the mix … that will teach him!

But enough of that.  What I really started out wanting to say is that the fact that you keep coming around, tickles me pink.  And the very fact that you are continuing to stay tuned, call and write means I am tickling your fancy.  Just the way I am — real girl, not paper doll — you get me, appreciate me and even like me.  And that’s my blessing. 

Thanks, guys!

xo, Angela

Showtime

by Porno Person

"Five minutes!" came the warning over the loudspeaker.

"Showtime," I muttered under my breath as I checked myself once more in the mirror. Decked out, head to toe, I was in a second skin of latex. It covered every inch save for my mouth, eyes, and behind. The latex gleamed in the light of the dressing room. I adjusted everything just so and looked myself in the eyes, wondering how the person who looked back at me had gotten into such a strange position.

"Places!" came the voice again. No time for introspection. Time for action. Time to be a "star."

I followed the labyrinthine hallway into today’s set. It was dressed like a prison cell. Inside just a bunk, a sink, and an incongruous padded sawhorse.

There were no lines to memorize. Hell, there wasn’t usually dialogue other than what was improvised. Without having to be told, I bent over the sawhorse, my ass in the air and my mouth held open by the O-Ring atached to the latex headpiece.

It didn’t take long before I was joined by two of my co-stars. They were well-built, their bodies gleamed having been rubbed down with oil. Their faces were covered. I always wondered if I passed any of these anonymous men by on the street, not knowing that they were the ones paid to use me on camera for Her amusement and profit.

She had conceived of this "service" a few months prior. Humiliatingly enough, I was to carry through Her plan — setting up the space, the servers, the secure site — all for her to enjoy seeing me being fucked nightly by a variety of different men while subscribers all over the globe could log on and do the same for $9.95 a month.

She would email in her requests for different scenarios / outfits. Men would apply via the website and, if they were approved and could make it to our studio, would have the pleasure of partaking in whatever fantasy She wanted fulfilled. I never met the men — they were taken care of by our production assistants. I only heard their voices, smelled their sweat, and felt their hands over me and cocks in me.

There was no foreplay, making the website one of the highest rated online. The sex acts started almost immediately.

I felt the hands of one of the men and he ran it over the latex outfit. My ears muffled the sound of his comments but whatever he said was met with agreement by the other man. My peripheral vision blocked, the appearance of one of the men directly in front of me shouldn’t have been a surprise but it still seemed to be. I gasped a bit and he seemed to take this as a compliment about the size of his engorged cock. He stroked it for me, getting it even harder and larger before sliding it into the O-Ring that kept my mouth available.

I tasted the salty sourness of his cock as it pushed across my tongue, all the way to the back of my mouth. I gagged at first and he backed off slightly. He felt my tongue caressing the underside of his cock and fell into an easy rhythm of fucking my face. Meanwhile I felt his friend push the head of his cock against my asshole. Never sure if these men would bother to use the lube provided, I had prelubed my ass with a one-time use of KY Jelly. I was glad I did.

He was rougher than the man fucking my mouth, pushing his cock deep inside, withdrawing, and plunging in again, not allowing me to adjust to his girth at all before he was plowing into me. I cried out, my scream muffled by the cock in my mouth. Tears streamed out over the latex mask and I heard one of them laugh.

Rather than slowing down, they both seemed turned on by my tears. It didn’t take long before the man in my mouth was shooting his spunk down my throat. He pulled out and gave one final squirt onto my latex-clad face. His friend finished a few moments later, pulling out and shooting his load onto my back.

I knew that this would never do. She would be disappointed at how fast these two men had orgasmed. I soon found that I had nothing to worry about as two more men soon joined the fray. They soon took the place of the men who had just finished.

And so it went. These four men were joined later by two others before they rotated and I was being fucked by the man I had sucked off while the one who had fucked me put his cock in my mouth. They all took their turns and, all the while, I knew that She was watching at home.

I wondered if she was watching it on her computer, if she had put it on her television, or if she just left me in the background. Was she watching alone or did she have people over to enjoy the show? I only hoped that there would be an email waiting for me at the end of the night with a favorable review of my performance.

***

I feature the work of Porno Person when I can because, well, he’s just so damned kinky and happens to be a very good writer.  His blog, Prurient Interests, is a veritable smorgasbord of sexual fetish and deviant kink.  PP happens to like me a lot, which kind of amazes me when I look at the women who turn him on (he posts lots of sexy pictures), since I am pretty much just a poor little orphan girl — very white, very middle America, very low key and subtle (except when spinning a dirty yarn.  but that doesn’t really count).

I consider myself blessed.  Thanks, PP.

xo, Angela

Mistress Eva Lordes of the website, Phone BDSM has started a sweet little BDSM community for Mistresses and Slaves, BDSM Sex, so if you have that particular bent, she will welcome you with open arms and perhaps a nice cat ‘o nine tails.  You can touch base and interact with Lifestyle Mistresses, Phone Mistresses, Professional Domiatrixes and a wide variety of submissive types. 

In just a few days time there are already over forty members, but every time I check back that number expands.  You can read member blogs, create your own blog, send messages to "persons of interest" and upload videos and pictures. 

So if you had no plans this weekend, now you do!

*** 

Slip of a Girl has opened up an Amazon Lingerie Shop which features just about every sexy girlie thing you could possibly desire.  And while you are checking out her blog (a must for all lingerie fetishists), note her Tops Spots List (to the right, about a third of the way down) where you can be listed for only $1.00.  She gets great traffic, so it is an absolutely fantastic deal. 

***

Sweat Shop Sissy just got a rave review from Jane’s Guide and I’m sooo jealous: 

Our host at SSS is a cross-dressing sissy and he (and his wife) loves it. His blog is a sort of discussion and play-by-play of their exploration into the world sissification; but he also writes about whatever strikes his fancy, which leads to some very interesting discussion. Additionally, SSS and his wife are avid exhibitionists and he regularly posts pictures of them in various states of dress and undress. Even (or especially) if you think the sissification of men is odd, this site is worth checking out. - Shay 

(And while you”re at it, have you been to Jane’s lately?  The entire site got a makeover a while ago and the new design is just adorable.  ie. The Valentine decor  includes a picture of a heart and key with  "We’ve got the key to your heart lust right here.")

***

Have you visited My Flirt Store yet?  It’s a great little new place where both Phone Sex Operators and Web Cam Girls are  selling a variety of items including MP3s, videos, erotic stories, and naughty pictures.  You’re sure to find some of your favorite gals there:  Simmering Mistress Nicole has a some "must have" instructions for Sissy Boys to download.    Phone Whore Karen (a rather submissive and very naughty young lady) is selling some incredibly hot pictures.  The beautiful and big-breasted Arielle has some sweet tease video and black stocking pictures available.  There are pages of goodies to browse, offered by a bunch of very sexy ladies, so be sure to check it out.

***

I’ve mention this before, but I wanted to remind you about Miss Eve Scarlet’s Phone Sex Node.  It is a free-to-join site for both Phone Sex Operators and Callers.  Blogs, videos and pictures are all free.  That’s a good thing.  And, yes, I am a member.

***

Do you have a hot site that pertains to fetish, kink, BDSM or anything in between?  If so, be sure to get listed at Polyfesishist, which is hosted by our own Submissive Savant, Richard of Down On My Knees.  He doesn’t require a link back, but it sure would be nice if you linked back anyway.  Dontcha think?

***

And, last but certainly not least, if you’re looking for a kinky forum at which to hang your CBT6000 (translation:  participating in meaningful,  intelligent conversation about all things kink) you won’t find a better gang than the people at  Fetish Lore.  The environment is open, sincere, supportive and even downright nurturing.   I can’t recommend it enough.

***

So I’ve given you enough to occupy your time and keep you out of trouble over the weekend.  But if you simply must have some trouble, you know where to find me.

xo, Angela

Bottom on Top:  Richard and the Caning

Okay, I gotta tell ya, I've been saving this picture forever, because I think it is just awesomely sexy, speaking to possibilities.  Possibilities?  How can that be, Angela?  After all, there are no naked girls or boys; nor is there anything remotely sexual happening.  And I say to you:  EXACTLY!    The sexual landscape is bare, except for a cane on a nondescript couch.  That's where it starts, where everything begins.  

Can you imagine entering a woman's apartment with her after a first date to see that lying there, so innocently, yet so titillating?  Or being in a submissive relationship and finding that as you walk in the door one night?  What if you were being puppy trained and you crawled into your Mistress's living room to see this?

Now you get it, don't you?  I'm sure you do. 

Well it used to be that Richard, our resident Submissive Savant, would have agreed with any of the three submissive perspectives I just described.  And I'm sure he still would, really, when you get right down to it.  But, my oh my, is he in a mood for experimentation these days, noting in a recent entry that he has separate profiles up at Collar Me … one submissive and one dominant. 

In just such a mood he wrote a most erotic piece…

I dreamt of you last night. More honestly I stroked my cock while I thought of you.

There you were with you wrists bound above your head. My canes cut into your buttocks. First the wooden cane, then the acrylic and lastly the metal one. Your flinched, your breath became ragged but you wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t beg me to stop.

With the metal cane only I moved down to the back of your thighs. Your twitches told me that each stroke hurt. Still there were no tears. Again you wouldn’t beg. I felt like I was eating you. At least eating your pain. Finally I stopped. Sitting on a tall stool I sat near you and let my hands roam across your body. I licked some of your welts hoping to taste what I’d done to your flesh.

I yanked you around. My cane cut into the front of your thighs. You spasmed, you whimpered. Selfishly you never asked for mercy. Tiring I sat before you and planned my triumph.

I thrust my tongue down your throat. I burned with love for your strength as much as I wanted to conquer it.

Your face assumed so many beautiful expressions of anguish when my cane cut into your nipples. But no tears flowed.

Finally I released you. But had you kneel one more time before me. My fingers rifled your hair. I treasured the shudders that still racked your body and your seeming indestructibility.

Finally I raised you up as friend and equal and hugged you tightly to me.

I think I love the last line best of all.  Which is probably what I love about Richard best of all.  His beautiful humanity.

xo, Angela

If you're prick has been naughty, then I guess it deserves a good whipping.  I mean, after all, how else is it going to learn to behave?  It isn't like you can send it to obedience school or make it write a hundred times "I will be a good prick" or send it to bed without any supper or make it stand it in the corner.

I found this lovely piece of naughty artwork at the website, Waldo which features a collection of stories and artist's renderings which have been featured in BDSM magazines, including spanking, gay, enema and fantasy subject matter.  Right up my alley, dontcha think?

xo, Angela   

Bitchy Jones has a lot to say about Professional Dominatrixes and what a crock the whole shebang is. Since I do the Phone Domme Thing, you’d think I would just hate her to pieces. But I don’t. Quite honestly, I think she brings up valid points to which real men looking for real domination should pay close attention. Some random quotes:

• Defining the word, MISTRESS: A word that, if it ever had any erotic potential, has been completely destroyed by the femdom destroying triptych of femdom porn, prodoms and porn-drunk submissive men who write about their SO on their blogs like this, "˜Mistress said we should go to the shops."  Mistress is not her fucking name. Stop wanking and remember she’s a human-fucking-being.
• To WANNABE SUBMISSIVE MEN: You have created a woman repelling space full of unreasonable expectations of female physicality, predatory sexual creepiness, penis fixation (just because you’ve locked it in a plastic cage doesn’t mean you aren’t still letting your world revolve around it) and pay-for-play as an acceptable norm.
• On SEXLESS FEMALE DOMINATION: Why does so much of femdomland act as if being vaginally penetrated is some kind of huge annoying inconvenience to women that we are never going to grant you because,  "oh, you are not worthy."
• On a MISTRESS SUCKING COCK: I would rather suck *his* cock than have him suck a fake cock bolted to me. I *like* sucking cock. I don’t do things I don’t like and I have no desire to "˜get revenge" on men for all the cock sucking I have done. Besides I can suck cock from the top. Really. On my knees and everything. And I prefer that. I prefer skin touching skin. It’s this weird fetish I have for, you know, having my nerve endings stimulated.

So, Bitchy is bitching….and making a lot of sense. There’s a lot more…go see for yourself.

Collectively, Phone Mistresses are all about YOUR fantasy. We aren’t going to do the meet and beat with you. We are Phone Sex Operators, many of us utilizing a variety of identities to cash in on every possible kink, fetish or fantasy that might bring us a buck. We want your money and we want you to call back often. I am always having to remind my callers to get a grip. An ethical PSO would tell you the same.

Unfortunately, not all of my ilk are ethical. One of the things I always harp on–here in this blog and even when kicking ass on the telephone–is that a clear division between fantasy and reality is imperative. Otherwise, you might as well kiss happiness goodbye. I actually wrote a piece on this, Fantasy Mistress: Just a Figment of Your BDSM Desires, for the book, Sex Kitten Presents the BDSM Issue. In which I said:

When the fantasy of being dominated supersedes the reality of life, perceptions are skewed, relationships are handicapped, and growth (emotional and sexual) is stunted. Lovers, girlfriends, and wives are compared to the idealized Mistress and can never measure up. This is not only grossly unfair to these (very real!) women; it reeks of addiction and is a recipe for unhappiness for everyone involved. Ironically, it is the obsession that ultimately becomes the Mistress, a heteromorphic form of self-domination.

Not all men want to actually BE DOMINATED FOR REAL, thank you very much. They want their impossible fantasy, just for a little bit. They are self-aware enough, and perhaps even self-protective enough, to occasionally get their dirty little itch scratched (via a phone dom or a pro dom), and then get back to the business of their everyday lives.

I actually understand wanting a fantasy and not a reality. Because what I get off on by myself and what I get off with a partner are two very different things. But if you’re a guy who thinks you just gotta have the real deal, then you need to be reading Bitchy. She is a real dom…doing it for her pleasure and not for bucks. If she’s going to hurt you, she is going to do it her way. And it is going to make her very hot. That is, dearheart, what true domination is all about. Are you man enough?

xo, Angela

That is if I am the one doing the slapping.

And if it is part of a BDSM/Humiliation fantasy/role-play/scene.

Like I say about a lot of things, Don’t knock it if you haven’t tried it.

You can bet that smacking a whimpering sub, particularly in public, will set the tone immediately and there will be absolutely no argument as to who is boss. And I like being the boss.

And I happen to love humiliation play. Don’t look so shocked. I hate when you do that. Yes, I am smart and sweet and cute and all those nicety-nice adjectives you like to string before your elevated thoughts of me. But, as I once noted, Erotic Humiliation is Not an Oxymoron. (Tell me where you heard that before and get either a 1/2 price call or a free book by a friend of ours.)

What got me thinking about this today was reading our celebrated and esteemed Submissive Savant’s blog entry, Face Slapping as Erotic Play, which was actually an expansion upon an earlier entry, Face Slapping. Seems the original piece was still garnering questions and comments and Richard deemed it less messy to just begin the discussion anew.

Which goes to show that…contrary to what many a wanna-be princess promotes (disrespect and/or disregard for a slave’s intellect and humanity is plantation behavior, not Goddess behavior), being brilliant and being submissive are not mutually exclusive and is why Richard is the official Submissive Savant of Zen Fetish. Just ask Alexandra: Smart submissives make the most reverent and obedient pets. And as Richard notes, “a person can enjoy being humiliated in erotic play space without that bleeding over into the rest of his life.”

Which goes to show that…face slapping as a form of Dom/sub play is more popular than one might first assume.

Which goes to show that…I am neither predictable nor run-of-the-mill and never will be. So quit trying to figure me out. If family & friends, a therapist and more than a few ex-boyfriends cannot manage the task, why should you be so lucky?

Anyway, back to the face slapping.

Yvonne had stopped by and was wondering why a man would enjoy being slapped, which is a perfectly understandable inquiry, dontcha think? Didn’t you have a similar question? Richard, being a submissive man of exquisite desires, responded that, “Surprise: there’s huge psychological impact when you don’t expect it. That fits in ideally with punishment. At times I like being found at fault and chastised.”

I would just add that from a (phone fantasy) Mistress perspective, the psychological impact is, indeed, a thing of beauty. Both Top and Bottom, Mistress and Slave, Dominant and Submissive should be having a heck of a lot of fun when participating in Erotic Face Slapping. Otherwise, somebody has got something terribly wrong.

For me, the experience is on the verge of being intoxicating. And I don’t say that lightly. There is an imagined suspension of safety, of boundaries desecrated that makes it absolutely transcending. I would think a good Domina –phone or real time– would feed off of her slave’s reaction to her slap, upping the ante for both of them.

What do you think? Mistress Sky? HDB? Lyndee? David C.? Mr. Allen? PQS? Mr. Smith? Richard? Mistress V? Puzzler? Is anybody home?

And if you want to read All You Wanted to Know About Erotic Face Slapping but Were Afraid to Ask Richard and Entourage, be sure to follow the above linkage. It is, after all, where the BDSM cognoscenti are apt to be found on any given day.

xo, Angela

Today we finish up Richard’s piece which he’s so generously shared with Zen Fetish.

If you haven’t done so already, be sure to read Part I and Part II before continuing. It’s been interesting reading commentary/reaction to the first two parts, which seems to reflect a bit of confusion regarding Richard’s purpose in writing this bit of “specualtive D/s Fiction.”

But it really isn’t that complicated. As Richard explains (click link to read more): “I wrote it many years ago to give dominant women that I met online a picture of my perception of Femdom relationships.” Anyway, let’s see how this “Imaginary Femdom Encounter” turns out:

Fantasy Mistress: Part III

As I went up the walkway I wondered how she’d test me today. And what the tests proved. And when they’d end. We actually exchanged a fair amount of email before she’d agreed to see me. We shared complimentary appetites: she like to do to men what I wanted done to me (or at least I thought: since I’d never done any of it I didn’t really know).

The door opened for the third time.

“Go to the back yard and wait for me.”

As I did so I wondered if she was going to have me mow or lawn. The fear of something like that dampened my enthusiasm but I couldn’t bring myself to stop now.

She walked out. Dressed in a pullover top, cut-off jeans, and cheap rubber sandals, “flip flops” my mother used to call them. She’d always been dressed casually before but I’d been too hyped up to really notice the actual clothes.

She went over to a pick-nick table made of greenish wood.

“Sit here. Put your right hand’s palm down on the table.”

As I complied I noticed a wooden ruler in her hand.

“You are to keep your hand flat. I’m going to give you ten strokes. If that is too much for you leave and don’t come back.”

I barely had time to steel myself before the first slap hit. But it wasn’t that bad. At first. By the fifth stroke it really stung. My fingers felt like I might not be doing much with them tomorrow but it was almost over. I thought. An eleventh stroke hit me. A twelfth. With the thirteenth she turned the ruler so the edge cut into my fingers.

I yanked my hand away.

When I realized what I’d done I wanted to cry. I’d failed and would have to leave. But when I looked at her she looked pretty pleased.

“Don’t worry, you weren’t supposed to be able to take the last one. Once you got past the first ten you’d passed the test. The others were to teach you that no matter what I say I’m going to do I can still do whatever I want.”

“You have one last test. Come with me.” Shortly we were back in the room whose corner I’d knelt in. This time there was a big wicker plantation style chain in the center. She sat in it.

“Come here, may kneel in front of me. Remember you still aren’t to speak.”

So excited I was trembling I did.

“You have no idea how many men want to be where you are now. But they don’t really want it badly enough. They don’t really want to serve.

“The first day you proved you were willing to work for you place in my service. Yesterday you showed enough determination to withstand boredom which was a much harder test. Today you had your first taste of pain. I like hurting men. If you hadn’t been able to take it you wouldn’t be suitable for me. This is your last test.

“You won’t think it hard when I tell you but it will take all of your willingness work work and to keep on even if you get bored or tired.

“I am very, very slow to orgasm. Your last test is to satisfy me with your tongue. You probably think this is a big treat.” She was right about that.

“But it will take longer than you think. If you manage it we’ll do all the things we wrote to each other about. Otherwise, you won’t have made the grade.”

Standing up she pulled off her top and dropped her shorts. She sat back down. Gesturing at her cunt she said “Get to work, slave.”

She was right. It was long. It was wonderful at first. Then it took all my determination to keep going. At the end it was wonderful again. And then I was hers.

***

What this story says to me more than anything is that Richard is most definitely not a wannabe sub. He is the REAL DEAL. And it also tells me that he is truly deserving of the title, Submissive Savant.

In the very near future I will be featuring another “fantasy” penned by Richard. A bit different than this one. Quite intriguing and of interest to more than a few of my callers and readers.

xo, Angela

By Richard,

Submissive Savant to the Stars (er, one Super Nova).

Read Part I

My First Mistress: Part II

She opened the door and put her fingers to her lips to indicate that I wasn’t to speak.

“Follow me.”

We went through mildly snazzy but pretty conventional living room to a side room that I suspected had been a breakfast room. It was completely empty.

She looked me in the eye and I felt a mild shiver pass up my spine.

“Go in the corner,” she pointed, “and get on your knees facing the corner and keep your hands at your sides.”

I complied getting very exciting wonder what she was going to do to me.

“You will stay there until told otherwise. Keep your eyes facing the corner, your arms where they are and your mouth shut. If you decide to stop before told you just leave the house and do not come back.”

I heard her leave the room.

A few minutes passed. Then several. Then I couldn’t guess how long I’d been there. Minutes started to seem awfully long. Sometimes I thought I saw the wall move. My knees were hurting and my ankles were sore.

I started to get mad. This was awfully boring. But I didn’t dare move. I’d hungered to be trained for a long time and she was the first who ever offered to do so.

I might as well have been chained there even if the chains were only in my mind and of my own making.

Finally after an eternity that I later was told was only 90 minutes she was back in the room.

“Get up and face me.” I almost fell and legs were wobbly but I was up in a flash.

Her expression was unreadable. It couldn’t decide if she looked grim, amused or maybe even mildly approving.

“Go but you may come back tomorrow at the same time.”

I left softly shutting her front door.

I’d washed her car. I’d been bored almost to tears. None of it had been even faintly erotic. I could not guess what tomorrow would bring. But looking inside myself I knew that having been forced to conform to another’s arbitrary commands had given me some satisfaction.

But I did wonder how many more tests I’d have to pass.

***

Now this is starting to get interesting, dontcha think? I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Stay tuned for Part III.

Oh. FYI: Richard has yet another up & coming website breaching the waters of WebTopia: BDSM Reference. While still in its embryonic stage, I do believe it will grow up to be quite an interesting addition to the BDSM community. And remember, folks. You heard it here first.

xo, Angela