Archive for the 'sadism' Category

My staying-in shoes

January 18, 2010

I have a pair of 4-inch t-strap sandals. They are black, croc-embossed patent leather and have tiny brass studs to add subtle glimmer. They’re vixenish, impractical and absurdly flattering. I have never worn them for more than five minutes. I can handle 3-inch heels pretty well as long as I’m not indulging in too much drink. I can dance in them, even. I have 3.5-inch heels that are less comfortable, but still manageable. I am certain attempting to wear 4-inch heels for a night out would result in more than a few embarrassing falls at best, an injury at worst.

Yes, you can’t run away from a madman (or even just an ordinary jerk) in a pair of pumps. But most of us don’t find ourselves on dates with serial killers. The wrong pair of heels can hobble you, but the right pair will make you strut (perhaps even swagger), define your shape, announce your presence with a definitive click-clack. And, honestly–isn’t there something a little dangerous-looking about that long, slender heel? They don’t call them stilettos for nothing.

I made him lay down on the hard floor. I towered over him, staring down. He looked so vulnerable. I gave him my sole to taste. He’s very oral. I pushed the tip of my heel past his lips and he sucked eagerly. “You’d make a good little cocksucker, wouldn’t you?” I taunted, smiling down at him. He stared up at me, wide-eyed, still sucking. I pressed the sole of my shoe into his cheek and began fucking his mouth a little more roughly. “A good little cocksucker, that’s what you are, isn’t it? A good cocksucker?” He moaned softly.

I withdrew my foot and sat down. I rested my feet on his chest, idly traced a nipple with my heel. He moaned again. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?” I did it again, but pressed down harder, eliciting a soft sound of distress. I smirked a little, “hurts, doesn’t it?” He nodded wordless, still gazing up at me. I began walking my feet up and down his body, digging my heels into his flesh. He writhed, made hurt noises. He was hard and sweating. He was helpless at my feet.

What a good little boy.

We stayed in, but I left the shoes on all night.

Fresh meat

September 22, 2009

I’ve never really been into ‘love-making.’ You know. That tender, kissy, caressing act lit by scented candles and set to tasteful jazz music.


Sex is always more exciting for me when it has a raw, animalistic quality. I like noise, sweat, struggle and exhaustion. I like urgent, wild coupling that almost looks like a fight. I like to use my boy like a piece of meat, to tear and ravage him. I like feeling his helplessness, his lack of resistance against me.

But being tossed around or manhandled has never worked for me. It makes me cranky rather than hot and bothered. Similarly, I definitely prefer being the seducer. I just love making a man weak in the knees. There’s almost nothing I like better than having my way with a sweet, boy-next-door type. There’s just something about truly submissive men…a kind of bashful eagerness that I find irresistible. Especially when they’ve got that cherubic, clean-cut thing going on—it’s so perverse, but it makes me want to…violate them.

Recently, I had a coffee date with a potential boy who fulfills 1-5 of my checklist. He is also really, really wholesome-looking. Total lamb. My predatory instincts were definitely aroused. Toward the end of the date, I was imagining him gagged and bound. I wanted to slap his cute little face. I wanted to hear him beg. I wanted to see him crawl.

I couldn’t help it; I began to stare at him more intensely. I think he could tell what was going through my mind. He started blushing a little.

Hm. I think this could work. We’ll see if he gets all the way to #7. I’m sharpening my claws in anticipation.

Found kink: Descent

September 13, 2009

I know this is kind of wrong, but Descent (2007) has some of the hottest femdom scenes I’ve ever seen.  Completely kicks the ass of most ‘femdom’ porn I’ve ever seen. If you have Netflix, you can watch it instantly. I’ll admit I skipped most of the movie (which is actually mostly about a young woman who is raped by some asshole) to get to the good stuff at the very end.

First there’s a lengthy CFNM scene with the gorgeous Rosario Dawson teasing, dominating and basically getting her rapist (Chad Faust) all worked up into a hormonal lather before blindfolding him and leading him away. This is followed by her chaining him to a bed in some dungeon-y looking place, then violating him painfully with what looks like a baton. Finally, there’s a really long, really hot rape scene starring slab-o-beef Marcus Patrick.

Dawson just kind of hangs out ringside while this is going on. She remains fully clothed and is  pretty uninvolved once the revenge rape is really getting underway, so the focus is definitely on the two men.  Patrick is a remarkable specimen of manhood and Faust has that clean-cut, boy-next-door sort of look I tend to go for. They’re both naked, sweating, grunting and interacting with each other with a very D/s sort of dynamic, very raw. I love how Patrick just fucking manhandles Faust, crooning evil things while giving him a reaming he’ll never forget. The look of fear in the boy’s eyes, his obvious humiliation (when he starts to enjoy what’s happening), his ineffectual struggling against the bonds, and (muffled) screams are all so….yummy.

The one thing that kind of messes with the verisimilitude is that the few times we see Faust’s naughty bits, he’s flaccid…OK, there are a few other things, but whatever, it still works for me!

This is one that’s definitely staying in my queue.