my journal regularly for some of my stories, I share them from time to time. Akasha

1/14/2010 6:27:11 AM: I've decided to start another online training at my site - You've been warned! Start date is Feb. 1.  Details are at my site.
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9/25/2009 8:38:43 AM: Space Age Love Song: The Continued Torture of Darian

Darian was brought into the interrogation room promptly two hours later for his next milking. Katrina was ready, still in her slick interrogation outfit, high boots and black gloves. And was she ready for him. She had been thinking about it the entire time, thinking about how this time he would not only be milked into helplessness, but this time, he would please her with his tongue as well.
 
When Darian saw the machine, this time, he struggled. He was dressed only in tight black shorts, shorts designed to stimulate his penis and encourage the increased production of more sperm for his next milking. He was unconscious most of the time, or perhaps he would have tried to shed them. Later, obviously, he would be strapped down while in them, helpless to do anything while they pressed tightly against his erection, keeping him firm, massaging his testicles.
 
Katrina eyed the soldier hungrily. She adored his body; firm, solid, and quite large. His features were so masculine, she imagined that when she finished his milking procedures, she'd send him down to the lab and have him transformed into a true she-male for her pleasure. All of the hair shaved from his firm body, hormones hyper-injected into his cock to shrivel it to mere non-existence and others into his tits to make them bulge and grow almost hourly.
 
Oh, yes, the full transformation of Darian would be a delight. And to see those long, strong legs in high heels, stockings and garters. The thought made Katrina crème in her thong panties under her leather jumpsuit. Indeed, it was a project to consider.
 
Yes, Darian would finish his three weeks of cum-drinking behavior mod, then be sent for a total transformation procedure, with a ball-snipping ceremony at the end, his penis left to be tucked into pink, lace panties for a lifetime.
 
What a perfect fate for this strong, built man, Katrina noted.
 
'Put him in the device,' she ordered. This time, he looked at her with what was a combination of helplessness and anger.
 
'This isn't necessary,' he hissed. But the men did not listen to him, nor did Katrina. In fact, she was busy fancying the idea of making him suck off one of the guards right there; it was another very effective means of breaking a man, she had found. She eyed one of the guards -- a tall, thin, feminine looking blonde with darling locks and sweet cheeks. He looked quite pretty, indeed.
 
She was lost, for a few moments, thinking of Darian having to suck that guard's dick while she watched, the other men holding him on his knees while she swatted the guard's ass and told him, with authority, 'Pump faster. Fuck his face. Come on, shoot it all over his face for me!'
 
And because he was inferior, the poor blondie would have to obey without question.
 
Oh, Katrina was in a mood. She blushed slightly at her own thoughts, turned back toward the machine, and loved what she saw.
 
The men were pulling down Darian's training 'panties' and pushing his crotch into the box.
 
**
 
'You can put his penis in the tube,' she told the men. 'And go ahead and place his balls in the vice, just to make sure he behaves.'
 
Katrina was walking around leisurely this time. She had already unzipped her jumpsuit and was reaching down into her cleavage. She had no qualms masturbating in front of the guards; they were all wearing training bolts on their privates, which mean not only could they not touch themselves to indulge in her behavior, they couldn't even get hard without feeling metal spikes pierce into their privates. They had learned, after months of training, to not even look at a senior officer when she decided to play with her own nipples or start massaging her pussy.
 
Katrina peeled down a bit of her black bra, playing with one of her nipples, smiling, softly, at the sweet prisoner fumbling, hissing, grunting as he was force face down over the horse-like contraption, his privates shoved into the metal box and his wrists and ankles secured.
 
The vice was applied to his balls, but only tightened to the first level. His eyes, already, were closed tight and he was breathing hard.
 
'Start the milking process,' Katrina ordered. She walked over and put a hand to Darian's face. 'You have very pretty eyes, my soldier slave.'
 
'Why are you doing this to me,' he hissed. His voice jerked once when the machine was flipped on, and his cock was sucked into the tube and the pumping began.
 
'Because it is my job,' she said. 'Because you refused to cooperate. And I have never failed to break a man. You will endure three weeks of this, and then you will confess everything, and tell us what we need to know. And then, when we have no use for you, I will send you to our lab, and have you turned into a woman for me.'
 
He hissed, breath escaping his teeth, eyes still shut tight. The words came out in short sputters, his body jerking with the pumping of the machine that milking mercilessly at his cock. 'You…Have…to …Be kidding. Me.'
 
Katrina smiled, reaching down and unzipping the long zipper of her jumpsuit that went from belly button to ass. The one that opened up access to her pussy and asshole. 'Oh, I am completely serious, my pretty one.'
 
And without hesitation, Katrina went around and stepped up onto the machine, around to where Darian's head was positioned, and lifted one leg over to straddle the seat that was above his face.
 
With the rocking of the entire device distracting him, Darian opened his eyes, looked up at her, and saw her smiling down at him as she peeled back the layers of her uniform, used one painted fingernail to peel back the crotch of her panties and reveal her closely shaved pussy. 'Let's see that tongue of yours, now, my slave.'
 
And then she slid down to him, making a tight seal against his face with her pussy.
 
**
 
Katrina liked this part most of all, because she could recline comfortably back against the chair and play with her nipples, listening to the quiet, rhythmic pumping of the machine at the prisoner's cock, and with her heels planted into the footrests at the top of the device, she was able to control the pressure on his face at her leisure.
 
At first, Darian just kept his mouth shut tight, and even tried to turn away. Katrina expected as much. But she merely closed her eyes, arched her back to stretch and get more comfortable, and ordered the guards, 'Tighten the vice on his ball three notches.'
 
That was enough to get Darian's attention. She smiled, and reached down and fingered his thick dark hair, and she said, 'You stick that military tongue of your right up into my pussy, and wiggle it all around. Keep me entertained, my prisoner. The longer you keep me amused, the more chances you have for some mercy.'
 
Then, Darian started to lick. And Katrina had to grip the edges of the chair, because he was amazing. He licked at her pussy with eagerness, and talent, something she had not seen in some time along these parts.
 
In fact, he was almost instinctual about it. He could feel her thighs tense and twitch, and knew when to add pressure and when to ease off. He licked her as if he loved her!
 
'Ohh, god,' she cooed, writhing in her reclined position, pumping against his face with the rhythm of his tongue. He moaned to her, softly, whimpered almost inside of her, as if to say, 'please, please stop hurting me. Let me please you. I can please you.'
 
Katrina saw stars. In fact, she saw more than stars. She saw moons, and suns, and the lights of heaven. She came so hard, so loud that she startled one of the guards and he jumped and overturned a medical tray that clanged loudly on the floor.
 
That distracted her only momentarily. She blinked back to reality, sat up just a bit, her hair coming out of clips and pins, her chest heaving with her affected breathing.
 
And he knew to back off - no, Darian didn't keep licking. He heard the orgasm, he knew, and he just kissed, delicately, at her pussy, once to her clit, and then to each of her thighs. Even as his cock was being mercilessly pumped, expanded to twice its size, with no hope of cumming naturally.
 
Katrina dismounted. She did so with a bit of a fumbling move, but regained composure immediately. She turned to him, re-adjusting her jumpsuit, but he was looking away, eyes closed. His face was covered with a slick, wet film - yes she had soaked him. Soaked him thoroughly. He licked his lips, she saw, not with disgust, but not with lust. More with a sense of dignity, completion.
 
Reaching for a glass of water, blinking everything back into focus, Katrina cleared her throat. 'Go ahead and insert the probe. Milk the semen.'
 
Darian just clenched his fists, kept his eyes shut, held back a scream through clenched teeth and never even looked at her as they completed the procedure of using the anal probe to stimulate his prostrate, force the cum from him and fill the clear tube with semen.
 
He was breathing hard, exhausted, in pain, when the guard presented Katrina with a clear tube of milky fluid.
 
She waved it away, staring at him with intrigue, intrigue she had not felt in some time.
 
'Freeze it,' she ordered. 'Take him back to his room. I want him back here in 90 minutes.'
 
Katrina watched them release him, struggle to put him back into his training shorts. He was weak, delirious, and only once did he look her way, his face still glistening with wetness. And his eyes were beautiful, and he had surrender in them.
 
But all Katrina could think of was that tongue.
 
And how she would use it the next time.
 
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9/20/2009 5:07:43 AM: This is one chapter of a very long series I dabble in...I actually wrote my first sci-fi bondage story when I was a teenager. It wasn't quite as graphic as this one though..

**Space Age Love Song: Milking of Darian

(c) Akasha - all rights reserved
Katrina sat in her interrogation uniform, thumbing through the files of her current prisoners. Allen and Jacob had been delightful to tease and torture, but she was craving a new challenge.
 
It was then that she came across the file on Darian L. Helton, soldier on the first level. He had been captive for nearly three weeks and had not been cracked. And by his photos, even though his cheeks were bruised and his lip was slightly bloody, he was absolutely stunning.
 
Katrina reclined in her chair, putting a boot up on the desk, stretching out her long legs one over the other. She held the photo up to the light, smiling, and then reached over to her intercom.
 
'I'd like to take a shot at Mr. Darian Helton,' she smiled, browsing through his file. 'I think I know exactly what this man needs.'
 
'And what is that, ma'am?' the formal voice came on the other side of the intercom.
 
'Long-term behavior modification. To break the man, you must first break his spirit, and make him worship all that he used to find disgusting,' Katrina said confidently.
 
She disconnected from the intercom and then leaned over briefly, pondering what tools she would use to torture, humiliate and break this solid, 38-year-old soldier.
 
**
 
Katrina was impressed with Darian's solid frame. He was 6'2 easily, with broad shoulders and a very defined face. He had a strong jaw, nice, steady eyes and a very fine ass.
 
The guards brought him in and she took her time walking around him, looking him up and down. He was in the prisoner garb - loose-fitting sweat pants and a tight fitting white t-shirt. Katrina did not hesitate reaching over and feeling his crotch through his sweatpants.
 
He hissed at her and pulled away, glaring down at her a bit. She pondered putting on her highest heeled terror boots to put her at eye level with him, but knew he would so soon be strapped into the device, that it would not matter.
 
'Do you wish to give me a confession before I begin?' she asked him formally.
 
He said nothing. Darian just stood there, firm, upright, solid. He was indeed a strong willed man. She enjoyed that.
 
'Very well, then,' she smiled. 'But let me tell you, I will not be asking for your information tonight, or even tomorrow. Or even next week. The process that I have selected to - remold you - will take three weeks. And at the end of the three weeks, I will ask you again.'
 
This did not seem to shake Darian at all. In fact, he wasn't even looking at her, he was just staring forward. Katrina found that kind of solid defiance to be incredibly sexy, especially since she knew that eventually he would be crying tears in her hands and pleading for mercy, and also turned into what he despised most - a pathetic, cum drinking whore.
 
'And at the end of those three weeks, you will be a completely different man, Darian Helton,' the tall brunette said casually, walking around close enough to him to brush her breasts around his back as the guards held him firmly in place.
 
'Put him in the machine,' she ordered. She said those words with a clear diabolical flair, and that was the first time his eyes shifted to give her even a glance, and she saw a sparkle of what made her ache in her pussy.
 
Fear.
 
**
 
As the men unlocked the restraints on the device at the center of the room, Katrina lit a long cigarette and ordered the men to strip the prisoner naked. She knew it would take at least ten minutes to lock him into the milking machine, and that would give her plenty of time to enjoy her cigarette and watch the show.
 
She did so while sitting on the edge of the desk nearby, her legs crossed, thigh high boots crossed before him.
 
'Very nice build you have, Darian,' she commented as she saw the shirt and sweat pants stripped from the man. He resisted only a bit; after three weeks in captivity, he knew better than to try to get away.
 
'Before you lock him into the device, bring him to me, I want to see his cock,' she said possessively, pausing to take a long, deliberate drag on the cigarette.
 
This time, he did resist a little. In fact, she found that amusing most of all, because it was as if this man was shy.
 
Oddly, his penis size was not as large as she had hoped. She reached out and took it in her gloved hand. It was limp. She squeezed it a little, looking at it carefully, as the prisoner started to struggle and resist.
 
'Disappointing,' she said. 'But the milking procedure tends to enlarge the shaft at least two inches over time. Consider that an added bonus,' she smiled.
 
Darian hissed at her, 'Don't touch me.'
 
Katrina laughed, lifted her cigarette to her lips and then said, 'Turn him around and bend him over. Spread his cheeks. Let me see what he has down there.'
 
This, of course, humiliated him even more. He fought hard this time, and a third guard had to move into help hold his head down as they bent him over, the guards on either side placing a hand on his ass cheeks and spreading them so Katrina could lean in and see up close.
 
'Very nice. A virgin, I see?' She observed out loud. She had seen enough asses to know what to look for.
 
He was breathing hard, fighting, but did not respond.
 
'Strap him in,' she ordered, giving his ass a light slap of disregard. 'And make sure his balls are in the crusher.'
 
**
 
Of course, this led to more struggling from Darian. Katrina watched, inside burning with hot passion for the large man, as he was forced face down into the large, leather and steel device.
 
The device consisted of a bench that he had to straddle, with each of his ankles strapped down behind him slightly, up off the ground by a few feet. He was then forced over forward, bent down, so his wrists could be stretched down in front and shackled into place.
 
This left his ass slightly elevated, his head pointed slightly down, and his crotch pressed into a large box.
 
The guards immediately went to open the box that held his manhood, but Katrina stood and said, 'Let me put him into the milking tube.'
 
Darian was struggling hard now, but his ankles and wrists were locked into reinforced steel and leather shackles. There was little he could do. His chin was pressed down on the leather padding, blood rushing slightly to his head at this point. His jaw clenched tightly, he hissed breath through his teeth and was starting to sweat.
 
Katrina reached first for his testicles, clenching them in her gloved hand until he gasped in pain. 'I'm placing your balls in a vice,' she said matter-of-factly. 'The purpose of the vice isn't to aid in the milking, but to make you behave if you resist the milking process. Is that clear?'
 
Of course, Darian ignored her.
 
Katrina expected as much, so she wrapped the holding band around the base of his ballsac and then twisted the manual lever until his balls were squeezed tightly between two steel metal plates. And then she cranked it one more level, until he gasped in pain, and she said, 'Is that clear?'
 
Oddly, he did not answer again. She smirked, and inside her belly she felt a tingling; this one would be one that needed to be used in a huge way, and that excited her to no end.
 
She turned the crank again, and saw his balls flattened to just a short space, and this time, he let out a clear yelp in pain, and hissed, 'OK!'
 
Katrina smiled in approval. He had a fine, fine ass she noted, but had to turn away and go back to the box where his limp penis was waiting for its torment. 'I'm going to introduce you to a device we use here for procreation purposes. It allows us to milk men that we find superior in their gene pool, without giving them any sexual satisfaction.'
 
Katrina used both hands, delicately, to position Darian's lifeless cock into a clear metal tube. She pulled the tube up close to his crotch to make sure there was a tight seal, and then locked it down into place.
 
'The sharp pain you feel at the base of your cock is temporary,' she commented, almost methodical in her tone. 'It's an electrode that will completely eliminate your ability to ejaculate naturally, regardless of the stimulation you feel.'
 
Darian did little more than whimper, softly, and she heard him try to hide it. She was in heaven. She could see his face thanks to carefully placed mirrors, and his eyes were shut tightly, his lips pressed together to hold back any sounds.
 
'Now, I will have to do something about that limp, lifelessly and sadly small cock,' she smiled. She slowly lowered a lever and there was soft, rhythmic humming from the box, as the tube slowly compressed and started to pump at Darian's penis.
 
This was her favorite part, of course. Because no matter how strong he tried to be, no matter how much he shut it all out of his head, Darian was no match for the machine. In a matter of ten seconds, his cock was fully erect, precum dripping from the tip, and pumping inside the clear tube for all to see.
 
Then, he started to struggle.
 
**
 
'You know, you can't get away,' Katrina smiled, walking around to front finally, holding his face in her gloved hands. 'Look at me. Look at me, now, or I will let the vice crush your balls more. The next level is dangerous.'
 
Darian opened his eyes, half choking on his own gasps of frustrated arousal. He was blinking, half delirious at what he was feeling.
 
'I know it feels good,' she smiled. 'But that won't last long. Because you can't cum. Your body won't let you. I can leave you here, feeling it pump, and pump, and pump on your cock, and you will never, ever ejaculate.'
 
Katrina leaned even closer, so her beautiful red lips were close to his mouth. 'It's like getting the world's best blow job, but never being allowed release. Or feeling the walls of a tight, virgin pussy just squeezing and milking at you, only you never lose your erection, and you never get to cum. Maddening, isn't it?'
 
Darian tried to choke back his breath, tried to focus, to do anything, but it was obvious that the machine was getting to him.
 
'This machine will milk you eight times a day, my prisoner,' Katrina said affectionately, stroking his cheek. 'And each time, you will be forced to produce the cum that is building inside of you, but not through ejaculation. Instead, it will be milked from you. You have no idea how painful it is to release your cum without actually ejaculating, Darian. I can promise you that.'
 
'Please,' he said. He was already begging. Katrina felt her heart start to pound. Three weeks of this glorious torture were before her! Three weeks of breaking him down and turning him into her own personal toy.
 
'And best of all,' she smiled, running one long, red fingernail down his cheek. 'You will consume every last drop of your own ejaculate. As part of your training.'
 
The mere thought of it seemed to make the soldier gag. He choked back his breath. He was struggling to speak, to plead.
 
Katrina looked up to the guards that were standing at duty. 'Bring me the anal probe.'
 
**
 
Darian soon realized his torture had only begun.
 
Katrina next checked his cock in the milking machine. Indeed, it was fully enlarged, gorging, looking twice the size it should be. The machine pumped and tugged at it, and she took a few minutes toying with the controls to increase and decrease the rhythm and intensity of the suction, just to watch him writhe and shudder against the frame of the machine, helpless to do anything at all.
 
'Based on the amount of precum you have already produced,' she said, again, with amusement, looking at the milky fluid that was filling the tube already to about a quarter inch at the base. 'I think you must be quite an ejaculator. You shoot quite a load from that substandard dick, don't you, soldier?'
 
Katrina waved a hand to have the guards stand by with the large, metal probe that was on a rolling cart. Instead of taking it, she stood behind Darian, where his ass was slightly elevated and exposed, and placed her gloved hands on his firm, round cheeks. 'Oooh, now THIS is a fine, fine ass.'
 
She began kneading and massaging Darian's asscheeks, while the only sound in the room was his rhythmic whimpers in time with the slow, deliberate pumping of the machine. His back was covered with a thin film of sweat.
 
Katrina enjoyed toying with his fine ass for a few minutes. She indeed loved a man's ass most of all, and she had no qualms massaging and kneading his flesh for her own indulgence as the guards stood ready with the probe that would soon be inserted deep into his hole.
 
'Lubricant,' she finally ordered, holding out her hand.
 
Darian whimpered.
 
'Go around and insert the large gag into his mouth,' she ordered as she squeezed clear lubricant onto her fingers. 'Use the model four, cock shaped gag with sucking control on it.'
 
There was a brief silence. Until Katrina slid a finger into Darian's ass, and he gasped in pain.
 
'You ever sucked cock, Darian?'
 
**
 
Katrina enjoyed watching the guards work the cock shaped rubber, flexi gag into the prisoner's mouth as she lubricated, opened, and loosened up his ass with her fingers one at a time.
 
The gag was strapped onto his head, and then a long tube that came from it was pressed into a control panel a few feet away. A monitor illuminated nearby.
 
'That screen tells me just how hard you are sucking on that cock in your mouth, Darian,' she smiled. 'And right now, it tells me you aren't sucking at all. And I don't like that. I want you to be sucking on it like a good, good little whore.'
 
Darian didn't suck. In fact, he was almost lifeless. Perhaps in some self induced trance, or meditation.
 
Katrina leaned over, fingertips glistening with lube, and flipped the lever on the vice controls. They snapped forward one more notch, and the walls closed in on his precious balls, and his entire body jerked, his back arched and he let out a terrified, muffled scream in the gag.
 
'Suck on it,' she ordered. 'It will take your mind off of the metal probe I am about to shove down your ass to massage your prostrate.'
 
And, indeed, the soldier began sucking.
 
The monitor blinked to life, and she watched the readings, and saw that he was sucking quite hard on the cock, sending the needle up to the red line already. 'If it drops below the red line,' she said calmly, 'I will tighten the vice.'
 
Darian's eyes, weary, humiliated, remained fixed on that screen, showing him just how hard he was sucking on the large, penis shaped bulb that filled his mouth.
 
**
 
Katrina slowly, carefully inserted the round, thick metal rod into Darian's asshole. His body tensed at first, his sucking dropped off and the monitor beeped a warning, but he immediately started sucking harder with a cautious whimper.
 
She smiled, watching the large rod disappear, inch by inch, into his ass. 'You are about to feel something most men never get to feel,' she said. 'And are grateful for that.'
 
Katrina pondered taking a break at that point - taking a break before flipping the switch that would expand the metal rod, make it hum, and ultimately send Darian's body into a series of convulsions as the semen squirted desperately from his bulging cock, sending him into a wave a pain that could be considered a true anti-orgasm.
 
She considered taking a break to walk around, strip out of her bodysuit and take position at the upper deck of the device. There was a place, up high, where she could sit, sliding right down to make a tight seal against his face, then recline back, and make him service her orally while his torture continued. Or, she could do it face down, with her ass pressed right to his nose and tongue.
 
This was a heavy option for Katrina; she was soaking wet with desire for him. Yet, she knew he was weak, and she was not in a hurry to take the dildo from his mouth as he was showing tremendous potential for long-term sucking.
 
She knew there would be other times. In fact, later on that day, during his second round of the procedure.
 
So instead, she masturbated slightly, opening the flaps under her jumpsuit and using two fingers, which was all it took, to rub and rotate against her hard clit and wet pussy. She did this as she watched proudly the monitor that recorded his desperate sucking on the cock in his mouth.
 
'This is going to hurt,' she warned him. Then she turned a black knob slowly, the knob that controlled the steel rod that was inserted deeply into his ass. The device hummed a little, and he whimpered loudly in pain. It was expanding slightly in his ass, pushing forward, pressing into his prostrate. Then, she flipped a switch, and an electrical impulse shot through the rod, into his ass, and like clockwork, his body spasmed and the little red light came on to indicate that the pumping tube was now being flooded with semen.
 
Katrina leaned over to watch her favorite part; the oozing, squirting of the cum shooting from the head of his swollen penis, which was now turning slightly purple in color from the relentless pumping. It shot much harder than a normal orgasm, because of the electrical charge, and as she predicted, he filled the tube nearly to the top as his body convulsed and he whimpered loudly, painful. Sounds that made her pussy ache even more. What a strong, helpless prize he was!
 
The tube was full of clear, milky fluid. Even as his body twitched, his eyes shut, sweat dripping down his face and the monitor screaming warnings that he had stopped sucking altogether, she gleefully went for the tube.
 
She detached it, ooing at how full it was, and then complimented the soldier on what a good job he did. He was slowly coming back to consciousness, his body still twitching in the bonds.
 
Katrina carried the tube of cum to the monitor that was attached to the cock gag in his mouth, and he watched, wearily, his eyes heavy with fear and exhaustion.
 
'You'll like this part,' she smiled, opening the top valve on the monitor and slowly pouring the cum into it opening. 'You are going to suck your own cum through that dick in your mouth. So get it back up to the levels you were at before. You are going to have to suck pretty hard.'
 
'No --- ' his protests were muffled, but clearly there.
 
Katrina had no intent to turn away from the machine as she poured the cum into the valve, watching it fill to the highest levels. 'Gentleman, tighten the vice on Mr. Helton's testicles. One notch every fifteen seconds, until he starts sucking this down.'
 
The men shuffled into place, and Darian pleaded, what he could, through the gag.
 
Katrina turned to look at him, sealing the lid of the valve, his cum now in the tube that connected the machine to the gag in his mouth. 'Oh, how I look forward to getting to know you,' she said.
 
It only took one level on the vice before he started sucking. One level of the guards tightening the crank, so that his balls were now pressed between two piece of steal just a fraction of an inch apart, now also pulling downward on his sac to add additional pressure.
 
Darian started to suck. He shut his eyes tight, and Katrina watched, two fingers massaging her pussy through the opening on the jumpsuit, as the milky cum traveled through clear tubing and eventually into the gag in his mouth.
 
He choked on it at first, sputtering, gagging. But the minute she turned to the guards, as if to ask for a tightening of the vice, he sucked again, harder, and soon he was milking the fluid eagerly from the tube, over and over again, until he was left sucking air alone.
 
It took nearly ten minutes to complete and for him to drink it all, but he did.
 
When she detached the gag from his face, he still had traces of cum on his lips. His eyes were closed; he was unconscious from exhaustion, emotional torture. Katrina placed to wet fingers to his lips, smearing her pussy juices with his cum and then working two fingers into his mouth.
 
She smiled affectionately. 'I will see you in two hours for your next milking.'
 
And then, she had the guards release him and drag him away.
 
 
 
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3/29/2009 11:01:51 AM: Simply Billy
© 2009 Akasha
 
**
 
Five crisp one hundred dollar bills rest on the faded brown surface of the hotel bedside table.
 
**
 
It’s always the same with Billy. A little over an hour, and few, if any, words are spoken. It’s sixteen steps from the elevator to the room, room 214, his favorite room because he’s superstitious like that.
 
He leaves the deadbolt open so the door doesn’t shut all the way, and I walk in casually and drop my large leather duffle on the floor. The room is disorganized, disheveled, typical of a bachelor; you’d think he lived there, but this tornado was only left behind during a one-night stay.
 
It’s just an Ayres Inn not like the Ritz that I am used to, hell, not even like the Renaissance I use for travel. It’s a simple, messy Ayres room and he’s a simple, messy boy anyway – so I ignore it all, and get to what I have come for.
 
Billy is already kneeling, and he’s already naked. I can’t tell you how many habits I have trained and untrained from him, over and over again, until his meticulous habits become less annoying and more stimulating to me. I used to hate his need for protocol and rules and structure. God knows how such a slob could be so strung out on rules, but that’s Billy – a walking contradiction.
 
Or crawling. Billy crawls to me obediently and on time, greets me with a kiss to the top of my boot. Just another silly ritual that I find kind of needless but it helps in the cock-rock department, so I let it slide. And it gives me time to admire the shape of his back, the tone of his flesh, the outline of the muscles that frame his body.
 
No words with Billy this time. Not that we have anything to say, anyway. Billy’s eyes do most of the talking, or the signals that come with the shakiness of his breath. His fingers curl into the cheap carpet of the Ayres Inn as I bring out the first flogger, then the paddle. If I were not in boots I could feel his breath coming in ragged pants across the tops of my toes.
 
Instead, I just keep beating him, and watching what seems like a gloss appear over the top of the black patent leather. His body is shaking and he starts to collapse, just a little, his shoulders slouching as he tries to find the strength to stay upright for the continued necessary beatings.
 
I don’t beat Billy because I like beating. I beat Billy because I like what it does to Billy.
 
By the time I am finished with the flogger, and the paddle, his body is covered with a thin film of sweat and his cheeks have turned a beautiful sweet shade of pink. His ass cheeks. Without a moment of hesitation, though, I take him by the chin and haul him up to look at his face, to confirm that the cheeks of his face are equally flushed, and indeed they are.
 
It’s one of the finer mysterious of life. How come after the aerobic workout of a ruthless eleven minute beating, he is more out of breath than I am. And clearly he is in better shape than I am, as evidenced by the definition in his arms. He’s the one shaking on ragged breath, his face covered in sweat, and his lips nearly quivering, but not quite enough.
 
“Bitch,” I say, and it ends up being the only word I speak to Billy that day.
 
“Yes,” he agrees, obediently, and of course, that’s the only word he says that day.
 
I slap him, once, across the face, and he stumbles from his knees to the floor, probably more melodramatic than anything. I didn’t hit him that hard, after all. I never do. I just find myself needing to take a swing at him after calling him a bitch. It reminds him of his place.
 
Billy holds still, naked, in his pile on the Ayres floor, as I investigate the contents of my leather duffle bag. It’s always fairly random, what I toss in the bag. Billy never knows, and never is told anyway. I see the clock in the corner of the room, but damn me, I forgot to look at it when I came in, so I have no idea how much time we have left.
 
I take longer than I need to. In my bag. Because Billy’s just softly, sweetly, barely whimpering there, and he’s doing it for my benefit, I think. I hate to use the word “whimper” because Billy doesn’t really whimper – he just makes a sweet sound when he exhales, if he’s in pain, a sound that makes me so incredibly wet. It’s one of the few sounds made by man that makes my pussy literally ache; with every exhale, with every soft trace of the sound, I feel a pounding inside my crotch that makes me want to drop everything in that moment and merely wrestle his head between my legs and order him to use his tongue.
 
Clearly, that’s not part of our agreement.
 
I quiet the aching between my legs by letting my fingers wrap around the familiar, rigid form of the large latex cock. My fingers trace it as I listen to Billy’s breathing settle, and when I peer over at him to see what he’s up to, I realize he’s kneeling forward, close to the ground, his hands behind his head and his face pressed into the carpet.
 
For my benefit, he’s intertwined his fingers. Luckily, Billy remembers these important details.
 
Observing him in this vulnerable pose makes strapping into the harness an even more enjoyable process. Sometimes I make him watch, but this time, I take some pleasure in knowing that he can hear me and must know what is going on, while his face is pressed hard down on the floor. He doesn’t dare look; the beating put him into the perfect frame of mind, the one that curbs his otherwise uppity attitude and strips every last shed of false confidence from his core.
 
I take my time with the buckles and stand close enough so that they jingle where he can hear them. I pull the harness straps tight, deliberate, and see his body tense and flinch at all the right times. Once again, his breathing starts to shake, and I even see the hint of a tremble in his otherwise steady, talented hands.
 
For a moment, it’s very easy to discard the knowledge that he’s quite strong, quite capable and quite desirable to so many women. For the moment, he’s merely a bitch for my amusement, and the aching in my pussy demands that I push him to completion. To my completion.
 
This time, I won’t make him suck my dick, or beg for lubricant. As much as I long to see his eyes water, his cheeks turn even more read as he gags on it, I fear that time has been lost and I really am behind schedule. All I can do is use my boot to kick apart his legs, give him a nudge with the toe of my boot to force him to raise his ass for me, and coat the head of the dildo with the moisture from my pussy and nothing else.
 
It doesn’t go very easily.
 
There’s a fine line between stifled, painful humiliation of an ass that’s simple too tight, and real terror or danger of physical harm, and I know Billy can walk that line. Hurting him, for real, simply isn’t an option, but if at any time in our relationship he felt the fear of potentially being hurt, it is now. To say he is tight would be a huge understatement. But with the help of a lubricated condom, my cock finds its way.
 
Fucking Billy from that point is fairly inconsequential, except for the fact that it drives me close to orgasm three times from the mere thrusting, only because I watch him clench his own fingers in his thick hair and try to muffle his cries by biting into the carpet, using all his physical strength to keep his hips positioned and ass elevated, knowing that collapsing on the floor would have serious consequences.
 
He knows I want to ride until I am done.
 
Without my clock as a guide, with no real concept of time, I ride him dangerously close to our cut off time. I visualize the crisp one hundred dollar bills on the brown nightstand table of the Ayres hotel and something inside me aches, a different kind of ache. An ache of sadness, of longing. An ache for closeness.
 
I imagine deep, romantic and sensual kisses that I know will never happen; I imagine the feel of his thick, almost curled locks of hair between the flesh of my finger tips. I imagine the scent of his cologne, closer, as I curl against him in the Ayres bed and listen to his breathing when he sleeps.
 
Such closure is simply not possible. I push those thoughts out of my mind as I feel my emotional release peaking as much as it possibly could, as I look down at him and hear the kind of honest, vulnerable sounds I need to hear to know he’s been pushed as far as he is going. At least for today.
 
I leave him to clean up himself, and listen to the sounds of his ragged breathing as I put my things back in my bag. Billy doesn’t help; we both know that after the act, he needs emotional and social distance even more than I do. I never confess to him my fantasies of curling up in the bed next to him and holding him, allowing him to comfort me as I reconcile my sadistic thoughts and process the token guilt.
 
On the nightstand, next to the ashtray, he’s left a torn page of a calendar with a date for next month circled. I take the paper and fold it in half, sliding it into my pocket; we’ll never talk about it, we just both know what it means.
 
Since this time there’s no words, I say nothing to him before I exit his room at the Ayres Inn. I quietly remove the crisp one hundred dollar bills from my purse and place them next to the ashtray as usual, and force myself not to steal one last glance before I go.
 
 
			_______________________________

3/4/2009 9:49:49 AM:  
 
A Femdom’s Reflections on Strapon Play
© Akasha
 
When I was a teenager, I used to roleplay fucking a man in the ass.
 
At that time, I never really thought I would feel the sensation for real, but I found the mere suggestion of it very empowering. I would have my boyfriend lay face down on the bed, and I'd straddle his back.
 
Kneeing his thighs apart, holding his face down with one hand to the back of his head, I would position my hips in the right place, sneering at him, rubbing my crotch suggestively over his ass.
 
I'd growl, pull his hair, thrust my hips toward him in a rhythmic motion, gaining momentum (and enjoying the pressure and stimulation) until I was slamming into him as if I were the man and he were the woman.
 
The power rush was sensational. Having him face down, holding his face down, hearing the muffled protests. I wondered how good it would feel to be able to have that ability for real -- to really *fuck* a man, to be a penetrator, not a penetratee.
 
I didn't actually think I would know one day. But then again, I was only 16 - I also didn't think I'd develop an interest in leashes and gagging men with my panties.
 
***
I remember the first time I wore my strapon. I modeled in front of the mirror and felt somewhat silly, but very sexy. It has a lot of leather straps and buckles, and can be tightened to fit snug enough to provide great stimulation to the pelvic bone. As a teen, I used to be able to orgasm from a good make out session while rubbing my jeans up against the hardness in my boyfriend's pants -- so you can imagine how stimulating it was to have that added bonus to my upcoming strapon play.
 
I can't say how many times I have modeled my strap on alone or in front of my victims, looking in the mirror, admiring the length and thickness of my new dick, sliding my hand up and down it. Simulating masturbation (I often wonder what that feels like for men -- really feels like).
 
There is nothing like the visual impact of it -- how it protrudes almost lifelike from my body if the lights are dimmed just right, or the room is only illuminated with candlelight. I catch reflections in the mirror and feel like the cock is really part of me.
Just strapping it on gets me wet. It's like a sign of what is about to come -- the power, the total ownership of my victim, the ability to be plunging into his most delicate of areas, controlling every sensation.
 
****
A strapon was definitely not the first thing I shoved into a man's ass. I had experimented lightly with sticking lubricated fingers into my victim's ass during anal-exam fantasies, or just to make them feel violated.
 
I had inserted plugs and various dildos, simulated some fucking sensations. But as I sat there, ramming the dildo in his ass with rhythm, my mind drifted to the more practical, more erotic, more stimulating *for me* option -- having the cock connected to me. Fucking him -- literally.
 
****
There is a difference between the mindframe and objectives when it comes to dildo and plug play vs. strapon play. I can have my victim tied down, his legs up and apart, ass cheeks open to me -- and very carefully and invadingly violate his ass by inserting a dildo or a plug. I can talk to him, tease him, stop and get up and look at him, stop and play with other toys while he has to hold the toy inside of him, testing the durability of his muscles.
 
Using the strapon is an entirely different sensation and mentality -- it is about taking him, using him, and penetrating him with a lust and passion that is not matched by hand-inserting a dildo into his ass.
 
With the strapon, my dick becomes an extension of me, and every thrust of my hips (sexual in nature) equates to a violation of his ass (domination). I can watch the look on his face if I have him on his back, or I can revert back to my schoolgirl position having him face down, gripping the bed sheets or shackles, depending on whether or not I have him locked down.
 
 
*****
Another thing, terribly overlooked in some erotic contexts, is the power of using the strapon for things other than ass fucking.
 
I like masturbating in front of my slave when he is not allowed to. Tying him down and having him watch me alternate between jerking myself off and massaging my pussy, until I cum in an orgasm that simulates his.
 
And he can do nothing.
 
I like making him watch me strap it on, locking the leather straps tight around my hips and thighs, staring into his eyes. Making him watch me lubricate it slowly, moving my hand up and down the long shaft with precision, making it shine with lubricant. Saying, 'You know what I am going to do with this, don't you?'
 
But, I suppose, the second best thing to the actual ass-fucking with it is making my victim get down on his knees, crawl to me, and worship my latex cock.
 
Making him open his mouth so I can slide the tip of it between his parted lips, hands on my hips at first, moving just slightly back and forth. Telling him what a nasty cocksucking whore he is. Making him stick his tongue out and lick -- lick the tip, then to lick down the sides.
 
Finally opening his mouth to accept the full length of me -- all 8 or 9 inches, holding him by the head now, sliding my cock out of his lips slowly. It's glistening now, and I can feel the resistance as my hips move back and forth slowly.
 
It is then that I can reach over with my other hand, feeling down under me, feel the wetness, rub my pussy, soak my fingers while I give myself additional pleasure. Taking those wet fingers and rubbing them on the tip of my latex cock as a little treat for my nasty slave, making him lick it off eagerly to taste how excited he has made me.
 
Fucking a slave in the mouth can be extremely exciting -- especially if I control the deepness, the timing of the thrusts. Holding his head still, holding his chin down to keep his mouth open.
*****
For those thinking about strapon play, both from the giving and receiving end, I do have some practical suggestions -- based on experience, but limited to my own personal experience. So please take it for what it is worth.
 
I strongly suggest for women considering strapon play, or men encouraging their reluctant partners to consider it, that roleplaying be used first. It is important to establish the position and nature of the act as highly erotic and sexy.
 
When I was 16, I was fucking men in the ass in my head. I didn't know it then, but that's what it was. I can easily determine now why using a strapon is so erotic for me -- because at 16, exploring my sexuality, I was mimicking the posture and motions of it while highly turned on, and while stimulating my sexual areas through pressure and gyration -- it became a very pleasurable concept in my head from a young age.
 
Roleplaying allows both people to enjoy the concept of the penetration without the hang-ups, inevitable snags that pop up, and logistics of dealing with objects in extremely delicate human orifices.
 
If both are comfortable with the erotic roleplaying concept, then perhaps it is time to move to the next level, but I strongly suggest not jumping right to strapon play. The woman, especially if she has limited experience with the motions involved in being the *penetrator* (by nature this is not how we are built), attempting it right off could result in problems due to a variety of factors -- going too fast, too slow, at the wrong angle, with the wrong tempo. Moving in ways that she might not have as much control over her thrusts.
 
In order to make it more pleasurable and controlled, she should start with hand-inserting objects into her subject's ass, so she can understand the level of resistance, his tolerance for size and deepness, and the general limitations of the anatomy.
 
Only when she is totally comfortable with that do I suggest she move on -- otherwise, the first strapon experience could be a disaster, and destroy any established eroticism associated with the act.
 
The logistics of this kind of play are covered very well in many other sources. Using a lot of lubricant the first time, going very slow, communicating very seriously during the first trial runs. Do not expect to fuck or be fucked violently and passionately the *first time*. Until a woman is aware of your anatomy, it is not feasible that she become the ravaging Mistress-from-hell with the nasty dick, ready to take you.
 
It makes sense, to me, that the first time with a new partner should be a non-headspace event. That is, there are no roles, you are simply two people becoming comfortable with a new position. Talk about it the whole time, discuss feelings and sensations.
 
Then, the next time, the domina can buckle on the strapon cock with confidence, already comfortable with the positions, the tempo, the measurement and level of the thrusts. That way, it won't interfere with her headspace (sometimes nagging worries can really mess with a woman's control buttons -- there should be little or no doubt that what she is doing is good, is erotic, and is empowering -- not wondering, 'oh no, is this too hard? is this too fast?')
 
There are plenty of times later where the domina can surprise the victim and take him as if it were the first time. I personally enjoy telling the sub that some day it will happen, and he knows he is to resist passionately, desperately, and will be taken ruthlessly against his will.
 
And because I love the act, because it is so erotic and nasty to me, I can strap him down, hold his face down, and thrust my 8 inch cock into his ass with no worries, no wondering, and no hesitation. I can violate him with deep, penetrating thrusts, until his ass is sore and he has smeared the pillow with sweat and tears.
 
The only way that is possible is because of my lust for the act -- and my understanding of the sensations, and patience to do it right.