In chains

Ve writes:

Sometimes, I can feel The Ethical Hedonist’s eyes on me. Even if he is not there. Even if we are miles away from each other. I think about what could be, in that exact moment, and what kind of breathing I would be doing. Maybe laced up in a corset, feeling a correction that has been made by strong boning and criss-cross lacing. Maybe feeling the rubber, the second skin rubber that is giving everything and nothing away. Probably, my breathing is a bit different from the one I usually do. Things, and people can have that effect on me, making the clit pound, heart beating life and nerve-endings becoming hypersensitive.
He can stroke the front of my body with hard hands, almost playing over my chest and ribs.
Don’t move or I’ll rip your throat’


And for the first time, I really try hard to obey him when he tells me I am not allowed to cum. Of course I fail. I cum and it is good being his cum-whore.I am not good girl, I am a bad boi, a real one of those that cannot be controlled, one who will never give up my cumming for anyone.

Sometimes, we just don’t have time to play. We fuck a lot, but the actual playing is sometimes trickier to get into life. We have a deal “Don’t make any plans”. It has worked so far. And I know I can always speak to Daddy.

His little boi is growing.  It is not a weird thing anymore, crawl up in a ball at his hairy chest, feeling him stroking my body and being safe. Feeling him stroke my cock and learning me to cum hard.
There has not been any clubbing for a while, much of the same reasons as the blogging has been fairly infrequent.
Being a student, trying to study, be horny, social and balanced is… Tricky to say at least. Having a normal social life and take care of myself is often a challenge, and then add academia to that. I’ve written before about stress –management. At some point I almost wanted to become academia-dommed. Or not. Think about it.

“Boi-whore, write your first draft until tomorrow”

No. Instead I’ve been fantasizing:

We have just paid the entrance to Club Fukk and I’ve been ordered to take down the clothes and sort out the cloakroom-hassle. One of the bags is heavier than usual. Earlier he said it was because he wanted to go back to mine afterwards and stay the whole weekend. I don’t believe him.

“…just wanted to tell you, so there is no misunderstandings….”
“That’s very appreciated, there should not be any problems though…Have fun!”


Standing a in the end of the staircase I can’t hear everything The Ethical Hedonist and the clubowner discuss, except for a small fragment. It makes me curious, as always.

His smile is devious when he comes towards me, slowly walking down the stairs.

‘What was what about?’

‘This’

Seconds after, I am pushed against the wall, face pressed against the uneven surface, arms locked behind my back, clicking metal wristcuffs* on my wrists, everything in one single, smooth move.  A white pillowcase is pulled over my head. He picks up the bag he instructed me to leave out of the cloakroom and without a word he drags me away. Because of the smell, of the music, I know that we are now in the actual club. I try to stop for a second, orientate myself. Without a word he push me through the club, while I try to fight back. I can feel a rough wall against my skin, and I know we have entered one of the small rooms, much like a underground basement.

I have a dress on, a Primark find,underneath very comfortable knickers  and a simple white bra and black ballerina shoes. Nothing special and nothing that can’t get dirty, exactly as he told me.
When he has pinned me against the rough wall I realise why when I hear a ‘click’. The switchblade slowly, teasingly cut holes in the fabric. The Ethical Hedonist tears off the ripped dress, and slowly, slowly snaps the brastraps with the blade. I shake on the inside, trying to stay as still as possible. I hear a second click when the blade is put away. My brain tells me to leave, to run. My legs try, but he wrestles me back.

‘Did you try to run away? Don’t you know I got you now? That you are mine, and you are going to tell me everything you know? Every single little thing?’

Untitled, by Francesca Woodman

He turns me over, push me to the floor, the sticky, cold, concrete floor, the small pieces of gravel against my back and his boot pressing me down, feeling heavy on my chest.

I have something to hide, a piece of information**. Telling him over and over again about the past 24 hours. He is not satisfied, there is something else he wants to know. He will resolve to drastic measures this time.

‘I have many things with me now. People are kind enough even to provide water to this bucket. I pissed in it by the way. Do you hear me? How long time can you stand with your head held down? How long time before you tell me? The knifes are with me, I got electrics…’

The feeling of rope around the ancles, tightening.  Breathing hard, cunt clenches,  my throat gives away a moaning.  The pillowcase makes it hard to see anything, wrists are shackeled, ancles tied, and in between a chain is pulled, puling me into foeutusposition.

‘I could strangle you right here and now.’


Pillowcase is pulled off, a flashlight shines directly into my eyes, canetaps starts to rain over my ass. The look of his boots is blurred, the burning feeling after the cane makes it hurt even more when lying on the cold concrete floor.

He puts down the flashlight, behind my back, making the walls and ceiling into a canvas for shadows. I can see other people standing, their distorted shadows breathing, lowered voices. A small light. A lighter, he draws my attention right back to him again, flip me over to my back, the only thing I see is his face and the lighter he holds in his hands.

Cuffed hands

‘Do you have something to tell me?’

‘Nothing else than I love you’

‘Nice try, but wrong answer’

* Be careful with metal wristcuffs. Skip the ones that you can get for a fiver, they are most likely to lock or get broke. Get proper ones, or heck, first go with restraints in any other  material, make sure that they do not fit too tightly and that the weight of the body is not on the wrist. There is bones there that you like to have in a non- broken mode. Trust me on this one.

** In this case, that information was also my safeword. A really fun way to check how far one can go!

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