One  nice part of my day was a fun new caller this afternoon. . . . → Read More: Puppy Slut Training Phone Sex]]>

Good Evening dear Readers! Finally! The new computer is on my desk, andI’ve spent most of the day re-configuring programs and trying not to scream. I’m just a mini geek, trying to do things myself, no matter how slow going it is.

One  nice part of my day was a fun new caller this afternoon. When someone is brand new to me, the best part is ferretting out their naughty proclivities.

Mistress is The Leader of  The Pack

Like I said, I never know who is going to be on the other end of the line, and that might be why  phonesex is never dull. Today a soft and sweet voice timidly told me his deepest desire, for me to be his Pack Leader and Train him to be a good pup. I tell you dear ones, my new puppy Jack was eager and full of energy.

Scampering around my feet, I put him though his paces and seeing what tricks he already knew. Holding his leash I walked him around the house, teaching him to heal properly and sit like a gentelman.  So pleased with his good manners, I allowed him to snuggle in my lap while I scratched behind his perky ears.

Getting Down To The Kinky Fun

Wiggling and trying to lick my face,  he got on his back and whined those cute little puppy noises, before I noticed his lil boner, and tossed him on the floor. Bad Dog I told him sternly and he put his nose to the floor and his tail between his legs.

So adorabe I thought, a full grown man with his ass up in the air, and nose on the floor – waiting for his Mistress’ Command, quiet and trembling. With a snap of my fingers his looked up at me with his pretty puppy eyes, and I knew he would be a nice addition to my kennel and deserving of a treat.

HUMP! I Commanded.

Before I could even point to the calf of my beautiful leg, he was on it. Wrapping his arms around my waist and head in my lap he began to furiously hump my leg, while I laughed in amusement. Hearing him plead in whines for release and I relented and I gave permission to blow his doggie nut.

HOWL! I Commanded

Boy! HOWL he did, leaving a huge mess of jizz on the kitchen floor that he would hungryly lap up, like a good slutpuppy should. I’m looking forward to our next Training Session, when I’ll be introducing  jackie to the art of Fetching.

My delima is that I . . . → Read More: A Rare Spring Day]]>

Good day dear ones! While I was working on my contribution for the Multi Mistress Blog Post for Tuesday, it somehow extrapolated into a larger piece, than I had intended. That happens from time to time, when the house is quiet like today - nothing blocks my imagination and time just slips away.

My delima is that I must either subject you all to a 2,000 word essay, on the subject of my favorite role play phone sex call – on the 5th or share the first part of the story, without revealing its exact nature.  Hum. Yes, why not let my readers see if they can fathom a guess, from the introduction.

The Introduction To:

Hep Me! Hep Me!

It was one of those rare, late spring days in Texas. A slow drizzle of rain passed over early in the morning, washing down the dusty Lone Star State, and leaving behind a welcome freshness. Staring out at the back garden from my window, I felt as light as the tiny finches, vying for position on the thistle soc.

What to do with such a day, the kind you might not see, for another full year? Scanning the tall Red Cedars, my mind wandered while searching for the blue jay calling the all clear to his wingman- splashing at the edge of the small cement pond. So content there in my own world, I don’t know how long the phone rang, before pulling me away from my day dreams.

Momentarily vexed by the interruption, it vanished instantly when the voice at the other end cooed, “Remember the Alamo?” and I was transported back in time. I could feel the blush creeping up my face, and could say nothing but, “Master?” while my mind raced and memories flooded back. That deep chuckle, and soft mummer of a name I hadn’t heard, since my Training Days, Shadow, set my ass down on the nearest chair.

The years melted away, as old Friends and lovers caught up on life, since my release from Service, more than 15 years ago. The old habits came back, and I found myself answering each question with the same respectful tone that was ingrained in that sweet submissive, we both once knew. Why now I wondered, but didn’t ask, He would eventually get to the point of this out-of-the-blue call, and for now I was happy to be in his presence.

“Will you come to serve, in an hour of need, shadow?”  he asked. I looked around at the contents of my closet, neatly sorted in piles for the yearly purge that had been put off twice already. A light rap on the open door told me the house mouse was awaiting further instructions, but my mind was too foggy to speak. Patiently, she stood not interrupting, but I could see her concern in her eyes, so I muted the phone and told her who had caused the hot red spots on my cheeks.

Her eyes got wide, but she held back any comment, and I laughed. With a smack to her round rump the giggling mousy got busy, as I answered The Man. “My collar is yours for eternity, how can I be of Service?” I rang for the driver, snapping my fingers, I pointed to my suitcases, held up 3 fingers and watched as she began to dance around in a packing frenzy.

Listening while waving in the driver, I scribbled down an address to be mapped, handed him the car keys, and told him to bring it around front, I’d be leaving in 10 minutes. With a nod, he took the bags and hurried to the garage, trying to ignore the house mouse chattering after him – fussing that someone had lost their mind, The Mistress NEVER drives.

Tossing a lipstick and apple in my purse, I hung up the phone  promising to do the speed limit, and stopped to take a long, deep breath.

Glancing in the mirror, I wondered if the vision looking back at me would be as pleasing to him now, as it was in the past. Wearing a sheer floral skirt and soft blue blouse tucked in, I turned to look at how the years had changed me. Youthful enough to pass for 40, the legs still turned the old men’s heads, and kept the young ones begging. Slipping on new sling back pumps, I pushed down the tiny kernel of fear that always surfaced, whenever I traveled alone. Silly Mistress, so strong in the face of most anything, except the open road.

The staff gathered at the portico, each trying to convince me to allow one of them to accompany me to San Antonio, but some tasks have to be done alone. To be called to the side of one so cherished, for comfort and care, was an honor I would accomplish without a servant. Sad at the reason for the ride, but giddy to get started, I felt like a young girl, lusty for adventure and ready to serve.

It would be a long drive, but the clear day, a new audio book and the last of the wildflowers, would keep the boredom at bay.

My dear ones sent me off, waving from the curb, and shouting last warnings for my safely and eliciting my word, to call at every stop. It is bound to happen, when loyal servants become worrisome Aunties, wringing their hands and always thinking the worse.

Getting the feel for the machine under me, I tried to remember the last time I drove a car, or took a trip alone. Settled back into the soft leather, an an odd feeling of freedom washed over me.  A feeling I hadn’t known in a decade, because privlage may give and but it takes too.

The hours flew by,and as the afternoon began to wane, pulled off onto a side road, where I could stretch my long legs and watch the sun slowly set over the big Texas sky. Bright orange Paintbrushes and dark Bluebonnets shimmered in the shifting rays and I marveled at the variety of flora spilling out over the wide vista.

The fence wasn’t very high, and the pasture was a temptation I couldn’t resist, so and I hitched up my skirt for a short stroll among the last of the wildflowers. It would be a nice perk me up, before night fell and I’d have to start the last leg of my journey.

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To . . . → Read More: Dacryphilia Cry Me a River]]>

This is the 1st in a series of shared essays, presented by, the Mistresses of LWD. Once a month we will choose a topic of interest to write about, for ourselves and we hope, our readers. This month, Ms Ryan, Ms Danielle, Empress Meredith, and yours truly will be posting, on this first edition.

To keep the discussion fresh and lively, on Friday I will be posting a thread on the free forum, Tease Mania, to allow our members to add their own views, on the subject of, Tears.

When spoken of in medical terms, it is categorized as a mental illness, and called- Dacryphilia, and is also known as, dacrylagnia. For the purposes of this essay, I will be speaking about crying, in a BDSM scene. Next month, we will revisit the subject, when Ms Ryan and I interview Richard Wagner, Ph.D., ACS, and Clinical Sexology, on Talk Shoe.

The subject became really interesting to me when it popped up in a conversation with Ms Ryan, and I began to think back on the times I was the impetus, of the tears rolling down my partner’s face. I began to wonder why I found pleasure and power in pushing those buttons, just to watch the flood of emotions, of a weeping man.

The day is still clear in my memories, the first time, tears were gifted to me by a submissive. There would be many more in his future, but that day, after driving across 3 states to be at his Mistress’ feet, roy came through my door and fell to his knees in tears, and locked my heart to his, in an instant.

Most times when my submissives shed tears, they were brought on with purpose and planning.  I wanted to make them cry. I didn’t necessarily begin the scene with that in mind, and it is usually born of a moment within the scene. You can rarely put your finger on it – when some nuance of body language or verbal cue that screams out – take me there, and bare me nakid.

What else can a Lifestyle Mistress do, but to allow them that special release, to cleanse both body and soul?

You risk tears if you let yourself be tamed.
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
1900 – 1944

From The Mind Of Empress Meredith
Dacryphilia,
Cry Baby Cry

Ms Tara’s Thoughts On
Miss Vivian Tears & The Spankmistress

Ms Ryan’s Views On
How to please your Mistress without saying a word

Ms Danielle’s Observations
Dacryphilia, Tears, and BDSM Scenes

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