Life in all its glory

When you have a child, there are lots of things you have to give up.

A clean car, for example.

Or a relationship.

BDSM was the first thing I was forced to give up. It somehow stopped being important as nature took over and my gears shifted into mummy mode.

I did not regret giving it up. It had destroyed my soul in ways you cannot even imagine. The association of pain with pleasure, the lust for harder and more extreme activities that never ends...

It took years to get used to the new way of things and feel happy with my role in life. Just when I had given up on any hope for a relationship, a man arrived and swept me off my feet. (Not literally, of course, as it would take a bodybuilder to actually sweep me off my feet...)

Man was handsome, albeit very cuddly. Man had the kindest eyes and manners I had ever encountered. He spoke in even tones and had a solution for every problem. Faced with his calm nature, I calmed down. My child had never seen me with such a dreamy look in my eyes and a flush on my cheeks and no matter how hard I tried to hide my infatuation with this Man, I could fool no one. And so the Ice Queen fell...

We moved in together and spent the first few months of our relationship in absolute bliss. It was nice being a family and we faced all problems together; supporting and encouraging each other, having lots of fun along the way. He knew about my previous life but did not mind it. If anything, he was fascinated by it and kept dropping hints which made me believe that he wanted to submit to me. However, I was not likely to reopen a closed chapter in my life.

Then the honeymoon period ended. The Man’s work became more and more demanding, taking him away for long periods of time. I had to get used to his long absences. There was always the joy of reunion and lots of amazing sex. He knew how to make my body sing, I am not ashamed to admit it. And it was just vanilla sex, not a hint of pain or humiliation in sight, just sweet lovemaking.

But good things come in small measures. The absences became more frequent and the next thing I knew was that I was struggling again on my own, but had no joy or benefits, because he was always exhausted and I was reticent to make any demands on him.

And so we grew apart until one day the dissatisfaction overflowed and there was no stopping the events that ensued.

We tried to talk about it – at least I did. Man is not very good at dealing with things, you see. His method is to sweep anything unpleasant under the carpet and forget about it. But I kept stumbling over the bulges caused by sweepings. Finally, it was easier to let him go rather than carry on living like this...

---

I haven’t had sex for over six months now.

My car continues to be messy.

I love him still. 

Fleeting thoughts

Clean body, thigh high black stockings, wearing a man's shirt. Pert nipples and a naked pussy aching for one's touch. Do you want her? She is there for you. Docile; eager to please. What is your command?

Why not put your thoughts in a comment BUT be careful: must be the first thoughts that came into your mind when you read this, not something you have laboured over.

Father's Day...

..is creeping upon us. My kid was asking what we would do for Father's Day.  I said we'd send a text message to Dad. Kid asked why couldn't we send a card. Because we don't have his address, I wanted to say, but bit my lip.

He came to see us this week. Stayed one night. Kid was happy but melancholic, too. Confided in me that daddies are meant to live in the same house as mummies and children. 'In an ideal world,' I replied. 'There are many children whose parents are living far from each other.' (A paltry excuse, I know.)

I broke in tears when he was here. We may not have sexual relations or even BDSM relations (after the last impromptu session detailed in the Bitch Goddess) but I care about him and I enjoy his company even if sometimes it is so frustrating to be with him. I feel lonely without him. I feel insecure. The whole world is resting on my shoulders and it is nice when he is around and can carry a bit of the weight.

'Please touch me,' I begged him, 'nobody touches me any more. My skin craves the healing human touch!'

When I was a pro, men came to me with their problems and I offered them a safe place to let their guard down and be vulnerable. I hugged them and stroked their hair and face and spoke to them with a soft, soothing voice and they knew they were safe and loved. You could feel the tension leaving their bodies as effortlessly as the sigh they let out the moment my hands made contact with their body. Nobody touches me nowadays... except for customs officials at airports.

Anyway, Daddy, if you are reading this, happy Father's Day to you. You may not be the best father in the world, but you are the only one we got and for that you are precious.

Happy Father's Day everyone!

Men!

I don't know why I am wasting my time answering messages in IC. The men say they want to serve me, they want a relationship with me, but when it comes to the crunch they simply haven't got the balls to go through with it. They see me as a fantasy figure, they build all these nice scenarios in their heads and, when I remind them that I am just a normal human being with limits, constraints, problems, dreams and desires of my own, they are surprised and back out.

Why can't men read the text of an advert instead of acting on a visual stimulus? This is meant to be a feminine trait after all! (Women are meant to be guided by emotions whereas men are meant to be guided by logic.) It's so strange.

I knew the last effort was doomed from the start.
He asked me on the phone whether I'd insist that he be kept in a chastity device. I answered truthfully that this kind of activity does nothing for me so I was not interested in engaging in it. 'Oh I am so glad you said that, Mistress,' he replied, but I could tell that he was trying to hide his disappointment. Come on, get serious! How can I keep you in chastity when you live 2 hours away from me and something might happen that necessitates your quick release and anyway what is the point of you keeping a spare key for emergencies (e.g. frozen in an ice cube) where you could simply use it and restore it later?

Anyway, the guy was not honest to himself and me and let it continue for a while, feeding on his fantasies, until I sent him a message that I was ready to see him in person (via Skype) and gave him a list of his rights and obligations. That must have come as a shock to him... for a Mistress to tell him he had the right to change his mind, he had the right to his own time, he had the right to have his emotional, mental, physical, etc needs looked after. It is so in contrast with the man's fantasy about the cruel heartless bitch who uses him without consideration. LOL So he replied that he had changed his mind and I was not the right Mistress for him.

I felt relieved.

Charos and the Contessa

He had visited her before all dressed in black and holding a scythe but she had just laughed at his face. 'Seriously?' she asked, 'is that the best you can do?'

He did not know what to say. Usually the people he would visit would cower before him and plead for their life, but not her. She was different. Haughty. Arrogant. He mentally went through his training manual to make sure he hadn't forgotten a crucial point. No, he had done everything properly. So why wouldn't she comply and die?

'It's not me, it's you,' she said scornfully further undermining his self confidence. 'You are so ... demode!'

'Ex..cuse me?' he stuttered.

'Your outfit. It is too old fashioned. What are you, like Middle Ages?'

He stared at his clothes that had been passed down from generation to generation and still looked pristine. 'This is the uniform. We've all got to wear it. It's the regulations,' he explained.

'Pfft! And the scythe? What good is a scythe nowadays? In such an urban environment? What do you think people would say if they saw me walking down the street in your company?'

He shrugged, not daring to look at her in the eye.

'They'd think you were a lunatic. A man wearing a cape that hides his face and is holding a scythe... does that sound normal to you? All those CCTVs out there they'd sound the alarm and the men in white coats would come and get you. No. I am sorry; I can't come with you.'

With these words she turned her back to him and went back to her reading. Charos stood for a few awkward moments, then sighed and went away. He'd get a lot of grief for this from his superiors but as far as he was concerned, they could do the job if they thought it was so easy.

As expected, his colleagues laughed at him and his boss placed him on suspension pending an investigation. Then when another agent failed to claim La Contessa's life the second time they tried, he was reinstated. 'We'll give her a few more years then go get her, mate, don't worry,' his boss had said.

So now it was a few years later. And he was sent to fetch her. She had no idea he was coming for her. She was out shopping and generally enjoying herself. This time he wore a different outfit under his robes. But again the Contessa laughed at him. 'How is dressing like a rapper going to make me to take you seriously?' she said wiping tears from her eyes, her big belly shaking uncontrollably with laughter.

He pulled his golden dollar sign off and threw it on the ground, mumbling obscenities like an angry cartoon character.

'Listen, lady,' he began, but Contessa raised a warning finger at him. He gulped.

'My Lady,' she corrected him.

'My Lady, my ass!' he swore. 'Everyone's equal in death.'

'I am not everyone,' she countered calmly. 'I will go with you when I am good and ready for it. Not a moment before. And you shall present yourself to me dressed elegantly. I want to go in style. Is that understood?'

He nodded, defeated yet once more. But he would get his way eventually. The Charos crew always did.

---

Sorry for my absence but I had an unscheduled appointment with Charos... He's a very persistent lad, I got to give him that.  Many thanks to my friends and acquaintances for their prayers.

Call for artists

I once wrote a story called Puss In Boots. The male character was a prince who had been bewitched and turned into a half man - half cat. He had the ability to stand upright and walk on two legs and articulate his feelings and thoughts, but his body was feline, i.e. covered with hair and he had a tail. I have not made mention of his facial characteristics in my story so they are open to interpretation as long as they hide his humanity.

I was wondering whether someone could bring this character to life - just for fun.

Imagine Puss dressed as a footman. Prior to becoming a footman he made a pathetic living as a highwayman (although a bedraggled one) complete with a feather on his hat and of course ... boots (I have a thing for men in boots... yummy!) Contessa rescued him from the streets and gave him a job.

You could masquerade as Puss in Boots and take a picture of yourself or you could do a drawing. Or if you are good at photo manipulation you could create a make-belief creature using technology. Anything goes!

I am afraid there is no reward for your efforts other than to be featured on my blog along with the story and a link to your website (professional or not) featuring your artwork.

I'd like to put this story up on my blog before the month is out, so if you are interested and have any questions, please get in touch. (At the same time, if any of the stories on my blog inspire you to make a drawing/picture that is relevant to the storyline and you wish it to be considered, feel free to contact me.)

Thanking you in advance

Contessa

The Reluctant Model

Happy New Year! 

And to start it off on a good footing, here is another one of my naughty stories to entertain you. The story is set in London and the main characters are Bob, a 65-year-old painter, and Tania (well what else would I call her?), a mid 30s BBW. The story was first published on another site in 2005.

The Reluctant Model

Bob and Tania met on the Internet through an advert that she had on a sex site. At first Tania did not care much for Bob and found his obsession with pee play disturbing. However, that being a slow summer and him being an otherwise interesting person, Tania agreed to meet up for a cup of coffee.

He picked her up in his white Mercedes, which must have been a relic of his youth. The car was a testament to his artistic nature with wooden beads and artefacts hanging here and there, sketch pads strewn on the back seat, some Polaroids stuck between the seats and an assortment of old cassettes in the dusty glove compartment that was missing its door.

They had their coffee at a nearby café where she felt safe and they talked about various things till he could hold back no longer and broached the subject of his fascination: pee play. Tania did not want to discuss even the possibility of ever doing such a thing. She felt it was disgusting and unhygienic but he baffled her with his remark ‘how do you know if you have never tried it?’ She shrugged her shoulders and glanced around her feeling very uneasy. However, Bob had not made it to this ripe age without knowing a bit about the female psyche, the curiosity and coquetry, so he played his cards right and managed to get Tania to agree to come to his house to look at some of his artwork.

His house was a bit like his car: dusty, untidy and crammed full of artefacts from all over the world. There was a hint of Morocco and India in the lounge and dining room and the studio reminded her of the Spanish countryside with its tiled floor and white walls. There was a big iron bed in the middle of the room with a tall headboard and a low footboard. It had been plainly dressed in blue satin that had been made up in a hurry making it look as if someone had recently been in it. There was a PC on the desk in the corner. Bob explained that nowadays he did most of his work on the PC and showed her some samples. 

‘Did you really do these?’ Tania asked, fascinated by the colours and forms that leapt up from the screen. He nodded content that she appreciated his work.

‘I could draw you, you know. I can just picture you,’ he said and described his fantasy to her.

Tania was thrilled at the prospect of modelling for such a gifted artist. So she let him undress her and position her on the bed. She did not object when he pulled some colourful twisted thread ropes and bound her arms to the headboard. When he bound her ankles to the footboard with similar ropes she felt strangely elated. Her only worry as he set the lights and picked up the camera was that someone might recognise her but he quickly addressed that by covering her face with an orange silk scarf that allowed her to see what was going on but was hiding her features whilst still delineating the curves of her face. Bob took a few pictures that would later help him paint her portrait and kept telling her how sexy and desirable she looked lying helpless on the blue background with the orange scarf over her face.

He put the camera down and knelt on the bed. He began stroking her body making her writhe with pleasure. He told her he had a very small cock and would probably not be able to satisfy her via penetration, but if she would not mind, he would try to fist her. Tania was shocked but thrilled at the same time, so she consented.

Bob’s wrinkled old hand touched her privates delicately and applied a good dose of lubricant on her inner labia. Slowly but surely he began fingering Tania’s pussy till he had all 4 fingers in. Then he began twisting his hand causing her to moan with pleasure as his knuckles excited the opening of her vagina. Then suddenly he thrust his entire hand in and she let out a surprised yelp.

‘Are... are you inside?’ she asked with a trembling voice once she was able to speak.

‘All the way, honey. All the way!’

He began manipulating her g-spot until she felt she could handle it no longer. ‘I want to pee!’ she cried in despair, feeling ashamed of herself.

‘Then pee!’ he replied casually.

But of course Tania could not pee, it was just a reaction to having her g-spot titillated. Bob brought her to a screaming orgasm but did not remove his fist after she was done. He kept it inside and continued manipulating her till she came again. Tania was incredulous. Two orgasms in quick succession? That had been a first for her!

Bob wanted her to keep on cumming but she was tired and her limbs were aching from the strain of bondage so he reluctantly pulled out his hand. He removed the silk scarf from her face and showed her his hand. ‘Look what you have done, look at my poor hand covered in your slimy pussy juices!’ he chided her. He then wiped his hand on her crotch and inner thighs.

‘I am going to release your right hand under one condition,’ he offered. ‘You will use it to spread your cunt lips open for me and allow me to piss on your clit.’

Tania nodded, mesmerised by his commanding voice and the entire unbelievable scene that had just expired. Like an automaton, she guided her hand to her pussy and used her index and middle fingers to spread her lips as wide as possible inviting his piss.

Bob unzipped his trousers. He had a hard on. He brought his small cock to Tania’s mouth and asked her to suck him briefly. Tania obeyed without removing her hand from her crotch. She could smell his excitement as he buried his cock deep into her mouth, his pubic hair tickling her nostrils. Then Bob pulled out and got close to her crotch. Rubbing his cock violently, he let out a stream of gooey sperm on Tania’s dark pubic hair.

‘Are you ready now?’ he enquired.

She nodded, still unable to speak. Then she felt a hot stream of pee hit her clit. She was surprised that it did not really feel unpleasant. In fact, she felt turned on by the fact that she was lying there on his bed willingly spreading her cunt lips for him to piss on her clit! And it seemed to go on and on for so long that she felt compelled to rub herself hoping for another orgasm.

When all was done, Bob showed her the way to the bathroom and put the satin sheet in the washing machine. He used some antiseptic wipes to clean the plastic mattress protector and then joined Tania in the bathroom.

‘Have you washed yourself well?’ he enquired.

‘I think so.’

‘Let me see.’

Bob placed his hands between her thighs and opened up her lips. He began feeling her cunt, wanting to make sure that every last drop of cum had been washed off. Tania was jiggling feeling ticklish, so he took a drop of Castile soap and used it in lieu of lubricant. He quickly homed in on her urethra and began titillating it. Tania was breathless and unable to resist. She just stood there in the bathtub, one leg over the side of the bath, her hands holding on to his shoulders, her chin over his white hair as his face was resting on her soft large tits. She felt his finger probing her urethra and it was both enjoyable and torturous. She wanted to ask him to stop but her short laboured breath betrayed her arousal.

‘I want to finger fuck your pee hole,’ he whispered and pressed his finger against it.

Tania experienced a sharp pain, which brought her to reality, and she begged for him to stop.

‘It is all right... Maybe not this time,’ he smiled soothingly at her.

‘Pee for me!’ he demanded and Tania, who had been dying for a wee, managed to let out a hot stream over his open hand. He then used the shower head to rinse her off carefully.

He drove her home and asked when he could see her again. He told her he had lots of pee games he wanted to play with her and lots of new experiences he wanted to introduce her to. Tania smiled sweetly and said she would be in touch. After all he had some erotic pictures of her that she would like to see.

Bob drove away wondering if he would ever see her again. He loved it when they were young and innocent. A reluctant model was always a worthy model in his books!