tagMind ControlBe Careful What You Wish For Ch. 02

Be Careful What You Wish For Ch. 02

All the characters depicted in this story are 18 years old or older.

This is the continuation of 'Be Careful What You Wish For'. In Part 1 Dave Brickman agrees to go to couples counselling with his wife Marion. She thinks he's oversexed and he wishes she would be more adventurous in the bedroom. The therapist starts Marion on a course of hypnotherapy. Dave discovers that the key word 'aeons' puts his wife in a suggestible state and the word 'hectic' causes her to return to her normal condition with only a vague memory of what she had done in between. Dave decides to conduct his own hypno therapy sessions with surprising results.

After they got home from the party, Dave was so keyed up that he didn't get to sleep 'til the wee small hours of the morning. By contrast his wife Marion was gone the moment her head hit the pillow.

Dave assumed that she didn't have as clear a recollection as he did of the whole evening's events.

He had happened to remember the key word that Marion's therapist had used to make her become more open to suggestions. And the blow job she had given him in the car showed just how amazingly successful the hypnotherapy was.

However there had been that cop that had pulled them over and his wife's brazen and effective efforts to get him to tear up the ticket.

All David had really wanted when Marion suggested they get into couples counselling was that she might loosen up a little sexually. He didn't really know if he could handle the wildly amoral animal he had seen her become when left to her own fantasies.

He spent the next few days in a state of total bewilderment.

He called Dr. Von Stramm's office and postponed his appointment. He didn't cancel it. He just told the receptionist who took the call that he needed a little more time to figure out his feelings. He said he'd call and re-book.

Marion on the other hand continued going to therapy twice a week. And the change that he had seen in her since she started the treatment continued.

After a week or so Dave started worrying less about his wife's transformation and more about getting laid.

One night he came home with flowers, another night, with a new pair of earrings. Marion seemed really pleased with these little gifts but when he made his eager advances to her in the bedroom she shut him down cold.

On one occasion she had actually stiff armed him, slamming him in the chest with her outstretched hand and telling him to 'back off'!

Dave's frustration level and sperm back up were both reaching critical mass.

One day, about two weeks after the incident with the highway patrolman, Dave decided there was more than one way to skin a cat.

He called Marion from the office about mid-way through the morning.

He told her quickly about what was going on at work and listened impatiently while she told him about some of her girlfriend's gossip.

And then he said innocently enough...

"You know honey it's been aeons since I made you dinner. Why don't you plan on just relaxing this evening and let me take care of you..." 'aeons' was the trigger word Dave had used the last time that he and Marion had had sex.

Of course he had no idea whether or not the therapist might have changed it. He waited nervously to see what his wife was going to say. It seemed like it was taking her a long time to answer.

But then Marion said...

"I think I'd enjoy that..."

And Dave thought he detected a certain sexy purr in her voice. He was very encouraged. He told her he'd pick up something interesting on the way home and that he was looking forward to their evening.

Marion said..."Me too. See you later hon..." then hung up the phone.

Dave could barely contain his excitement. For the rest of the morning and through the lunch hour his imagination ran wild, picturing all the kinky things his wife might be preparing for their evening.

By two o'clock He couldn't stand it anymore. He told his boss he was feeling fluish and that he thought he'd better go home.

He stopped at the gourmet grocery in the mall just in case he had got it wrong and all he was really going to get that evening was a good meal.

When he got to the house he decided he would surprise his wife. Instead of pulling into the garage he parked half way up the block and walked the rest of the way.

He slipped up the driveway and went in quietly to the kitchen where he put the groceries down. He remained standing there motionless for a moment listening to see if he could figure out where his wife was.

Since he couldn't hear her he thought she might be upstairs in the bedroom.

Well let the games begin he thought as he climbed stealthfully up the back staircase.

But when he stepped into the bedroom Marion wasn't there. Maybe she was out in the back Dave thought. He stepped out into the hall.

Dave and Marion's house was a loft design. The upstairs bedrooms were all in a row and the hallway connecting them looked down on the living room below.

Out in the hallway Dave could hear Marion's voice. It sounded like it was coming from downstairs. She was probably on the phone.

He went to lean over the railing and look but before he did he heard a man's voice. Now that was odd. The TV was in the basement, not the living room. Was there someone down there with his wife. He sort of peeked over the railing.

There were two men in the living room. One was Tom Ryan his neighbour who was sitting on the couch. The other was Mark Harris, another neighbour who lived down the block. Mark was sitting in a chair off to the corner of the room.

Dave wondered why they were both sitting in his living room on a Tuesday afternoon. He remembered that Tom was doing some major repairs to his pool and that Mark was giving him a hand. Mark was a little bit older that John and Dave. But he was a contractor and a really handy guy to have around if you had a job you wanted to get done.

But that didn't explain what they were doing there. And even more surprising to him than seeing this little group assembled was his wife. Marion was wearing socks and sneakers and the smallest pair of cut-off jean shorts he had ever seen. They barely contained her creamy ass cheeks as she paced back and forth between the two men like a cat. Above the shorts she was wearing a tight white tube top with spaghetti straps, beneath which her conical tits were rippling and heaving with every step she took. She obviously wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples were jutting urgently through her little top.

On her head she was wearing a white ball cap with her blonde pony tail swaying out behind her just above the strap. She looked incredibly hot!

Pony tail? Wait a minute. Marion's hair was cut short. Dave looked closer and decided she must be wearing hair extensions. He dropped down to his knees and got closer to the railing. There was little chance anyone was going to see him crouched down like that.

What in the hell was she up to? As it turned out he didn't have to wait long to find out.

Marion slowed her strutting around but kept moving as she said...

"I'm so glad you boys didn't mind coming over for a minute. There was a little something I wanted to do and I hoped you wouldn't mind helping me out...."

"No problem Marion...Whatever you need...Happy to help..." the two men replied, tripping over each other with their responses.

'Oh yeah...' David thought...."I bet I know exactly how you want to help her out!...'

"That's very sweet of you boys. Now I hope you won't think badly of me but I've been having this little fantasy lately and what I really needed was two strong men for me to make it happen. That's why I asked you to come over."

"I know this is going to sound a little unusual but I really think if you're willing to be open minded about this it can turn out to be a win/win situation all around. Because my fantasy is to help you with your fantasies. Alright boys? Ready? Here goes..."

And with that she walked up to John so that she was standing right in front of him.

"Who am I John?..." Marion asked putting her hands on her hips and smiling down at her neighbour.

John seemed pretty puzzled by the question but he finally said..."Why your Marion Brickman, my neighbour..."

"No I'm not John... Look again...I'm Amber Harris, the girl who's been cleaning your pool and cutting your grass forever... I'm Mark's daughter...the little blonde you've been dying to fuck for the last two years!..."

Dave felt himself gasp with surprise as did the other two men in the room when his wife said that.

It was bizarre, but now that she had said it, Dave could see that Marion did look remarkably like the tall blonde who had made a successful summer business out of coming home from college and taking care of the neighbourhood properties. And a lot of that success was based on the fact that all the men in the neighbourhood drooled over Amber when she showed up at their home in her cut off shorts and her tight tops and strutted around their yards mowing and vacuuming the pool. More cars were washed on those days than on any other day of the week.

Of course Marion was older and had noticeably bigger tits than Amber, but with the pony tail and the outfit she did bear a strong resemblance to Mark's daughter.

"Now wait a minute..." grumbled Mark half rising from his chair.

Marion wheeled on him and moved across the room to him swiftly.

"No you wait a minute mister..." she snapped, stretching out one foot and pressing it firmly into the surprised man's crotch. She pushed him back down in his chair like that and put a threatening amount of weight on his balls.

"You just sit there and be good....I'll get to you in a few minutes...Understand?..." Marion demanded, leaning even more heavily on Mark's tender testicles.

"O.K....O.K......" Mark gasped, not believing the scene he was seeing unfold. And neither could Dave.

Marion smiled down on him for a moment longer, took her foot off his balls and puckered a wet kiss at him.

Then she strode back across the room to John.

"Look Marion...I don't know what this is all about but maybe this isn't such a good idea..." John croaked nervously.

"I've seen how all you men look at me when I'm working in your yards Mr. Ryan..." Marion/Amber purred, not paying any attention to John's remark.

"I've seen how you look at my ass..." she said, turning to face away from the seated man. She leant slightly forward so her butt was jutting back towards his face.

"You haven't wanted to get your hands on this and squeeze it?..." she asked, smiling over her shoulder at John. She reached back and gave one cheek a resounding slap. Then she squeezed it until the creamy flesh was bulging out between her fingers.

Dave could see John swallow hard as he ogled the blonde's lewdly offered butt.

Marion held that pose for a moment and then she turned back to him.

" And I've seen how you look at my tits. You know Mr. Ryan, I don't wear a bra on purpose. They jiggle so much more that way and that really gets you hot doesn't it?..." Marion purred, reaching up and squeezing her arrogantly thrusting breasts through her skimpy shirt.

Dave thought he heard a quiet moan come from John.

Marion dropped to her knees in front of him, pushed his knees apart and shimmied in close to his groin. She put each of her hands on the inside of his thighs and started sliding them slowly up towards his crotch.

"If your cock isn't rock hard right now then maybe I made a mistake... Did I Mr. Ryan?... Did I make a mistake?...You really don't want to fuck the little girl who cuts your grass?..." Marion asked, moistening her lips with her tongue as her hands approached the big bulge in the front of John's pants.

Then she had her hands on him, one hand squeezing his erection and the other clutching his balls through his pants.

"That's what I thought!...Then it's settled!...All you have to do now is fuck me!..." Marion purred as her hands began to deftly unfasten the front of John's pants.

"Ahhh!...Geez!...Marion!...Wait!...I don't know..." John groaned,

But Marion reached into his open pants, pulled out his cock with one hand and his balls with the other.

"Let me convince you..." Dave's wife said, leaning forward and sucking the end of his cock into her mouth.

"Oh my Goddd Marion!..."

"Call me Amber..." Marion mumbled as she slid further down John's eager tool.

The seated man was squirming with excitement under Marion's oral onslaught. The nasty blonde was bobbing up and down on his pole with avid enthusiasm.

"Nahhh!...Ahhh!...God!...Marion!...Amber!...Don't go so fast...You're gonna' make me...Ahhh!..." John cried.

Amber pulled off his gleaming spire with an audible slurp then straightened up between his legs.

She reached between the couch cushions and came up with a condom in a foil pack.

Staring into John's eyes with a smile on her face, she ripped open the little packet with her teeth.

"You'll have to wear a rubber when you fuck me Mr. Ryan. A young girl has to be careful you know..." Marion purred as she pulled out the little rubber ring, carelessly dropping the empty wrapper on the floor behind her.

She reached out and put the condom on the end of John's cock and then started rolling it down his shaft. She stripped the rubber ring slowly down his length with little up and down strokes of her encircling thumb and forefinger.

Even from his hiding place on the balcony overhead, Dave could see that John's cock was growing to an enormous size under his wife's wicked fondling.

"I made it with your wife last week..." Marion said casually.

"Excuse me?..." John stammered, thinking he must have misunderstood.

"It was last Wednesday. It was really hot and I was working around your pool. You weren't there. Anyway, Ingrid asked me if I'd like to come in and have some iced tea. So I went in but when she headed for the fridge I stopped her and told her that what I'd really like was to sit on her face...."

And as she was casually telling her shocking tale, Marion was shuttling her little hand up and down John's cock in a very exciting rhythm. The condom was one of those lubricated kind so that she was able to stroke him smoothly. She moved her other hand into his crotch and squeezed his balls in her cupped palm.

"Oh my Goddd!...What?...." John gasped in disbelief.

"And you know she never even batted an eye. The next thing you knew we were on the living room floor going down on each other like there was no tomorrow. I'll tell you Mr. Ryan, your wife sure knows how to eat pussy. She had a way of nibbling on my clit while she had two fingers playing around just inside me that made me crazy. She got me right up to the edge and she just held me there for what seemed like forever. "

"I don't believe this!..." John gasped. But it was obvious that Marion's little story was getting to him. He was starting to hunch his cock up through her pumping fingers in counterpoint to her skilled masturbation. Marion went on as if he hadn't said anything.

"After about a half an hour with her mouth on me I was just a puddle of girl soup down there. I can't remember how long it's been since I was that excited. She's such a bitch!..."

"Oh God Amber!...Nahh!...What...what do you mean?..." John groaned. His hips were starting to strain upwards off the couch as his excitement mounted.

"She left me like that and went into the kitchen. When she came back she had a carrot in her hand. And not one of those little ones. It was a big field carrot with a funny bend in the end of it. I asked her what she was going to do with that. But she just smiled at me and said...'Oh you'll see!...'

And then she had that damn carrot up me and she was fucking me with it and it was poking me in all sorts of funny places. And I thought ..'My God she's going to tear me up with that thing!...' But then it got feeling good and I was really getting into it and fucking back onto that gnarly thing. It was all so dirty! She was so dirty! And that's when she made me come. When she got me off I thought I was going to pass out. It was incredible!"

Dave was going crazy upstairs. His wife had to be making all this stuff up didn't she?

"Ahhh!...Nahhh!...Oh God!...How...how did she...did she...get you off?...Unnn?..." John whimpered.

"That was what was so dirty. While she was jamming that carrot in and out of my pussy she stuck her finger up my ass and started twisting it around inside me. Like this..." Marion purred, dropping her hand off John's balls and sliding her outstretched index finger through his sphincter. She didn't stop until her knuckles were rammed up into the crack of his ass. Then she started twisting her wrist around, reaming his cringing butt hole nastily.

"Nahhh!....Ahhhh!...Amber!...Don't!..." John gasped, squirming frantically on Marion's prodding finger.

But the kneeling blonde just smiled at him, working her two hands in time with each other. She added a little in and out action to the finger she was jabbing up his ass while, with her other hand, began stroking his cock a little harder, a little more urgently.

"I know. It felt kind of strange at first but then it started to feel kind of sexy and the next thing I knew I was coming so hard I thought I was going to piss myself. It was so intense..." Marion purred.

And John was going...."Nahhh!...Ahhh!...Ahhhh!..." as he rose up on top of Marion's plundering finger and a creamy torrent of come began to spew into the condom sheathing his tool.

"Yeah!....Like that!...Just like that Mr. Ryan!..." Marion enthused, beating her shuddering neighbor's erection in time with his feverish orgasm.

"Hah!...Hah!...Hah!..." John barked as his loins spasmed frantically. He hadn't been expecting to come like this. He was amazed at how forcefully his balls reacted to every little twist and turn of Marion's finger skewering his ass.

"Umm Yeah!...So much come!...Look at it all!...That rubber looks like it's ready to pop!..." Marion giggled.

And it was true. Even Dave could see from fifteen feet away that there was a big round glob of cream bulging through the bloated tip of the condom. It really did look like it was ready to burst.

Marion continued her skilled masturbation. She sort of rose up on her knees in front of John, smiling as she looked down on him, pounding his spewing dick to make sure she got every drop of sperm from his now aching testicles.

Finally his cock stopped kicking in her little hand and she slowly released the strangle hold she had on it with her encircling fingers. Instead of easing her finger out of his rear hole she snapped it out with a quick flick of her wrist that made him yelp and that caused a final dribble of come to spurt into the already overfull condom.

"I guess you liked my finger up your ass a lot didn't you Mr. Ryan? You should get your wife to do that for you. She's really good at it."

"When she finished me I was really wiped. Then she pulled the carrot out and I just stared at it and said something like...'I guess we'll have to boil that thing to make it go soft...' Ingrid laughed at that and said...'Nahh! I'll just grate it and put it in John's salad!...'

As Marion was finishing her story she was using both hands to pull the condom off John's crimson dick. She did it very carefully, managing to squeeze off the open end of it as she took it off of him without spilling a drop. Then she laid it down on the couch, again being careful not to let any of the come leak out.

She reached in and gave John's ropey cock a warm squeeze.

"Now you behave for a minute. I'll be back..."

Then she turned on her knees to face Mark who was looking completely dazed in the armchair across the room. He didn't look like he was really comfortable with this whole lewd setup.

With her eyes sparkling wickedly, Marion peeled back the spaghetti straps of her little top then pulled the thin material down to her waist, baring her conical breasts. Mark's eyes opened wide as he stared at the two luscious jugs the smiling blonde was displaying for him. Marion twisted her shoulders back and forth, making those swollen orbs sway hypnotically back and forth from her chest.

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tagCelebrities & Fan FictionStoned In Texas Ch. 03

Stoned In Texas Ch. 03

Steve lay naked under a stunningly beautiful naked brunette less than half his age, his cock still resting in her warm pussy. As they both lay there recovering strength, their eyes closed, the thought blaring in his mind was: TAWNEE STONE JUST FUCKED THE HELL OUT OF ME. With that wonderful thought in mind he actually drifted off to sleep for a few minutes.

Steve awoke when his now flaccid penis fell from it's resting place. Tawnee was still laying on top of him, her gentle weight comfortably pressing her soft warm flesh against him. Her head rested against his chest. He felt her breath blowing against his chest hair. The slight up and down motion of her breasts against his stomach. She had also fallen asleep. He put his arms around her and held her until a couple minutes later, she too awoke.

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"Mmm, yes, I think I've worked up an appetite. Better have them bring it up in about half an hour. That will give us a chance to clean up a bit. I want a big thick steak, medium rare, and fries and a salad, Italian dressing."

"Okay. How about a lobster tail to go with the steak? And some wine?"

She kissed him and got up. "Sure, why not? I'll shower and get dressed first." She picked up, not the clothes she had worn earlier, but the bags she had brought with her from the mall and took them with her into the bathroom.

He heard the shower running as he made the call to room service. After his call he sat and listened, imagining. Imagining her skin glistening wet. Soap suds on that strikingly lovely body. The running shower soon stopped and the image of her drying herself with the hotel towels came to his mind. Then he heard the courtesy hair dryer running. When the hair dryer went off he imagined her getting dressed. He wondered what sort of outfit she would wear.

When the door opened he realized his imagination was wholly inadequate. She took his breath away. She came out wearing matching bra and panties in a red and black zebra stripe pattern with red fishnet stockings and red high heeled strap-over shoes. Her hair was up in twin pony tails, one tied with a black ribbon, one with a red ribbon. "The shower is free now." she said, adding "Do you like my outfit?"

"So much so that I don't want to leave the room. But I should shower before dinner." he said. He enjoyed one more leisurely kiss with his guest before taking his turn in the bathroom.

He emerged some time later in a gray on gray robe and only a short time before room service knocked. Before he opened the door Tawnee asked him, "Steve, do you have a camera?"

"A Polaroid, it's in that upper left drawer." He opened the door. The steward pushing the cart was perhaps in his early twenties. He couldn't keep his eyes off the scantily dressed girl who seemed somehow familiar to him.

After he had transferred the contents of the cart, complete with rose in vase, to the table, Tawnee asked, "Sir, could my husband and I get you to take a picture of us, please?" And she handed him Steve's Polaroid and put her arm around Steve.

"Certainly Ma'am I'd be glad to." He lifted the camera to his eye, pointed it towards the shapely, half naked brunette and her 'husband' and said, "Say cheese." As the camera flashed so did Tawnee, pulling one bra cup down to reveal one of her beautiful boobs.

"Just one more, please." She said. So he took one more picture. This time Tawnee again flashed for the photo, this time revealing her other boob.

Steve took the camera from the steward and set the two developing pictures on the table. He handed the young man some cash and said politely, "Thank you very much."

It was three days later that the steward remembered where he had seen 'Mrs. O'malley' before. After closing the door behind him, Steve turned to Tawnee and said, "If we'd given him a choice between the tip you gave him and the tip I gave him, I'd be a few dollars richer right now. Why the two pictures?"

"I wanted a souvenir of tonight, and I thought maybe you'd want one too. Unless of course you're married and you're afraid your wife might see it?"

"No, I'm not married. Not now. If I was I wouldn't be with you here tonight, no matter how much I wanted to be. Or if I had an open marriage I'd have told you I was married upfront so we both knew where we stood. And thank you for thinking of a souvenir photo. I'll cherish it" As he was speaking he was opening the wine and pouring it into glasses. He pulled a chair out and motioned for her to take a seat and then sat himself. He lifted his glass and said "To the most exquisite work of art I've ever seen."

She actually blushed slightly at the compliment and replied, "Why, thank you kind sir." Then she asked, "You said you're not married, now. Does that mean you have been married before?"

As they ate the conversation continued.

"Twice, and twice divorced. My second wife is still one of the best friends I have. We get along great as long as we don't live together."

"But you don't get along with your first wife?"

"No. It turns out she wasn't the woman I thought she was when I proposed and it also turns out that I wasn't willing to become the man she thought she could turn me into when she accepted my proposal."

"Well any woman who would divorce you or let you divorce her or whatever, has just got to be nuts." Tawnee asserted. "Any children?" Tawnee ventured.

"My first wife and I had a daughter." Steve knew she'd ask the question if he didn't volunteer the information so he continued "She's a couple years older than you, got married to a very nice man last year. They are much more sensible and emotionally mature than her mother and I were so I think they've got a chance of making it work. She just gave birth to my first grandchild last month. I hate to break it to you," he said, "But you screwed a grandfather tonight. And if, even in fun, you call me Grandpa or Granddad or Gramps or anything like that I'll toss your pretty little tail out of here faster than you can say rocking chair."

"No, I wouldn't call you by any of those." she said and she reached across the table and took his hand, "I need you to know that I'm not here with you tonight because of the difference in our ages, or in spite of it. I'm here because you're nice and sweet, and funny and cute. And I needed to be with someone tonight who was nice and sweet and funny and cute. The fact that you are amazing sexually is just a bonus." She got up from her seat walked over and sat in his lap, put her arms around him and kissed him. He put his arms around her, held her close and returned the kiss with fervor. When the kiss had reached it's conclusion Tawnee said, "I've had enough steak. What I'm hungry for right now is your cock."

She stood up and he followed. Standing together he again took her in his arms and they kissed. His hands each cupped the soft curve of her ass cheeks. She had one arm around his back, the other hand reached down and took his already stiffening cock past the folds of his robe. Her mouth moved from his mouth to his chin and then his neck and down to his chest. The hand holding his cock did not move except to caress and fondle and gently squeeze. The hand that had been at his back came around and untied the sash of his robe, pulled the robe from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her kisses continued down his chest, down his stomach, until she was on her knees, facing his now fully erect cock.

Steve looked down at her. He watched as she licked his cock. She started at the base. Her tongue pressing into his balls sack before going along the underside of his shaft till she reached his arrowhead shaped cock head. It was amazing. Even with her tongue on his cock, her face radiated an innocence, a wholesome quality. As he looked down on that sweetly innocent face her mouth parted and she wrapped it round his cock head. She now had a hand on each of his thighs as she slid her face forward, enveloping his cock in her mouth until her face was buried in his pubic hair. Steve watched as Slowly at first, and then building up speed, her head bobbed up and down, up and down, as she sucked his cock.

"Oh Tawnee, Yes, that feels so good. Oh yes. Oh god yes. Oh god Tawnee Yesssss." he cried out as burst followed burst of cum going down her throat and into her mouth.

"Oh, Steve, you taste so good." she cooed, still kneeling before him, "Would you like to taste ME now, I hope, I hope, I hope."

He took her hands in his and helped her to her feet. "Oh god, what did I ever do to deserve a night like this." he said softly, then he took her face in his hands and looking her in her eyes, he whispered, "Goddess, what did I ever do to deserve a night like this."

Tears welled up in her bottomless brown eyes and she whispered back, "You were nice to me."

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A poetry review.

As I write this, I am sitting in an Italian café in the middle of the city, eating a bowl of soup. I’ve been sick for the last week, and had to cancel a lot of client appointments. This is more for their benefit than mine. I’m pretty vigorous, even when ill, but it gives me a quick temper and I’d perhaps be more harsh than I should be. Paulo’s been a doll. The first few days stuck in bed in the apartment, he ran me soup and orange juice – and of course, being Paulo, another poem. I didn’t appreciate the last one so much. I blew my nose on it, scrunched it up and threw it back at him, before slamming the door. I saw him through the curtains, retrieve the paper and put it in his pocket – silly little deviant.

 It’s sunset, and outside in the park a group of thirty musicians are sitting in a circle under a cloud of pot smoke. Right now they sound a little discordant and unfocused, but I imagine when the pot intake hits a critical mass, they’ll create a good sound.

It’s funny how being sick makes you appreciate the little things. For example, the warm saltiness of chicken noodle soup. The fragrant steam from a lavender infused bath. Slipping a naked body, warm and sensitive from a while in the water, into clean cotton sheets. The bed became my fortress for a while. I spent a lot of time fantasizing about various things and pulling tarot cards for future tasks. One of my fantasies concerns a certain individual, who completely throws me off balance on an ongoing basis. A friend. I think. The kind of person who says very sensible, clever things, but at the same time stokes my desires (seemingly without trying) to the point that I am quite ineffectual in my daily life, and fantasize about setting upon him on a regular basis. Will I? I certainly shouldn’t. I spend my days teaching my subs discipline and this has all the makings of a very undisciplined situation. Still, I’m perpetually itchy about it. After two days in bed, I’d started getting a little frustrated about both the cold, and the fantasies.

I called my friend, High Priestess Ember. She’s a member of various pagan organizations and a wise woman. Everyone needs a wise woman – she’s mine. Tall and voluptuous, with a booming cackle and electrical green eyes under her raven hair, if I’m ever feeling off, she’ll right me. She’s the kind to call you on whatever bullshit she thinks you’re spinning. Like I said – invaluable.

“Well it sounds like the sexual aspect is pretty important to you right now.”

“Right now…. When is it not?”

“Sex is one way to experience connection, Katia. What’s actually happening during such a sexual experience is a connection to self. You are vibrating with a joy and love that is one with all… true connection.”

“I am vibrating with something. Ugh. It needs to stop.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

“I do… a little. Alright. Alright.”

She laughed again and gave me an exercise for personal sexual magic, that I wanted to share with you. If your Mistress or Master has given you permission to please yourself, this is a good way of connecting intent with sexual energy.

As you masturbate, focus your thought and emotions on some kind of magical intent. In this case, maybe it’s to attract something that has a sexual or intimate connotation to it. As you carry on, focus on the outcome you desire. You can chant a phrase or incantation too that is applicable, repeating it over and over. The idea is to build the energy of your focus and manifestation towards your goal through sexual energy and to send it off at the moment of climax. Afterwards, you can end the session with a simple “So Mote it Be” if you wish.

Let me know if you try this. I’d be interested to hear your stories. Email me and let me know. katiaThornwood@gmail.com

As for me, I’m not sure if it worked. But, it didn’t hurt!

Your Misttress,

Katia Thornwood

Understanding Scarcity.

The principle of scarcity is fairly easy to grasp – you want something more when it is harder to get.

From time to time, a spouse or partner will contact me to spice up their relationship with my brand of dark bedroom magic, and I’m only too happy to assist. Usually one partner is recitent or shy to try domination, and in some senses it’s easy to understand. In life, we tend to be either dominant or submissive in nature. When you’re trying to get your submissive partner to take a more dominant role, it’s not always easy. They might be embarrassed, or terrified of hurting you physically or emotionally. They may have a hang up about BDSM not being a “nice” thing. But you know what’s nice? Ice cream. And too much ice cream gives you a stomach ache and a case of regret. Nice is such a bland word. I don’t know about you, but I like a little unpredictability and passion in mine. There is nothing wrong with bending a boundary now and again, to test its strength. And as the saying goes, “diamonds are formed by heat and pressure”. You know what’s formed by room temperature and stagnancy? Dust. That’s how you get dusty.

I remember talking to my Italian friend, Tina, a while back. She’s been married ten years now to a nice man, but is utterly bored with the monthly missionary position and short foreplay. She confessed to me after coffee:

“I just want him to pull my hair, or spank my ass once in a while!”

I suggested to her she might like to take the lead and dominate him for a while to show him what she’d like by example. She looked over her coffee in shock:

“I can’t just greet him in the bedroom with a bullwhip! He’d think I was crazy, and I’d be embarrassed.”

Yes, it’s true. One does not simply go from zero to pegging: you need to build up to this kind of relationship gradually.

This week I got an e mail from one of my mailing list, V. He told me about his wife, who he adores, and his desire to be dominated by her. He’s dropped some hints, but nothing’s come of it yet. I’m writing this newsletter for his wife, and any women out there who are in a similar situation.

First, as a woman, you need to appreciate your worth. I know this is hard for some of you. Maybe you have self-esteem issues, relationship drama, bad family dynamics or a rough experience of motherhood. Details, ladies. These are all just details. Underneath all that clutter is your power. Find it.

As a woman, you have something men (and some women too) want. Not just the sweet nectar between your thighs, but your soft curves, your scent, your affection and your mind (the dirtier the better). Don’t try to tell me you don’t have fantasies of your own. They are nothing to be scared of – celebrate them and let the little beasties out to play.

We are incredible creatures. The same breasts that hands like to fondle and eyes like to gaze at synthesize food into nutritious milk for our young. Our bodies are the earth where babes grow, and we can obtain that seed from any man, yet we choose our partners. We can create and nurture or terrify and destroy. Our monthly cycle is mysterious and powerful – four seasons in a month – endless cycles of potential fertility. Even our life stages, as maiden, mother and crone hold a different power and promise in each. A woman that knows her own power, even as her face is etched in lines and delicate features fallen, can still arouse curiosity and alarm with well timed words and a certain tone.

Your real power, outside whatever case nature put you into at this moment – lies in your mind. My imagination is the scalpel that cuts deep into the minds of my submissives. By being open and blunt in my speech, with just a little innuendo and teasing, I can extract little threads of their fantasies and wild desires that I can then use to bind them into servitude (give a man enough rope and he’ll hang himself – though I’d honestly rather hang things from him… but that’s me).

Learn to tease. Stoke your partner’s desire by grabbing them wordlessly as they return from work and kissing them passionately against a wall. Then go out and run an errand (or take yourself to the spa!) for a few hours and leave them alone with frustrated desire. Buy a cock cage with their credit card and slip it on them at bedtime before pleasuring yourself. Send a series of increasingly explicit texts to them during a boring company function – shock them and arouse them simultaneously. From my own experience, dread and desire are close neighbours. A little of one, creates a lot more of the other.

Life is short. Dispose with the blandness!

Do let me know how you’ve been getting on. If you’ve not yet signed up for my Premium Program now would be an excellent time to do so.

Your Mistress,

Katia Thornwood

The Importance Of Empathy

This week I had Rick come to visit. Rick is a father of two young children with another on the way. His wife is from England and is a very motherly sort. She is the personification of The Queen of Pentacles in the tarot deck for me. The kind of mother that has a salve for every wound, a snack for every occasion and the positivity to support those around her in whatever challenge they may be facing at the time.

Unfortunately, she is married to Rick – a perpetual challenge. I have faith that we’ll make process, but right now I am trying to lash the selfishness out of him. We just started working together last month, and this week when I asked him how he was doing I think he misheard – because he took it as an invitation to moan and gripe about his wife, Debra. In his ankle and wrist restraints he told me the woeful tale of his wife continuing to breastfeed Celia at age two. Apparently she would let him nowhere near her breasts during this time, and he was feeling unloved and aggrieved about it.

“She wont even let me near them, even when Celia’s not feeding… I feel like she cares more about the child than me, her husband…”

At this moment, I was rubbing his thighs down with oil. Teasing him between the legs with my deft fingers and nodding, as if sympathetically. The truth was, I felt no pity for him. His understanding of pain, this early in our work, was that of a five year old. “I want this – if you don’t give me this, I will sulk about it”. Some men like Rick know nothing of pain, real pain, the way a woman knows it. They play at war, or fight, or fuck, or chase – just to get a small taste of the intensity of feeling that comes at all times so naturally for a woman. We are, after all, the ones who tend the children, who nurse the sick spouse, who soothe the minds of aging parents and have empathy for a world largely broken by stupid men. Despite all this, we are able to continue nurturing, guiding, teaching and keep a smile (though at times, it may be filled with daggers) on our “delicate” faces.

Rick began to moan and writhe within the restraints. Denial of orgasm until I say so is a given, and he had been two weeks (his wife being otherwise occupied). I knelt down before him, playing with the tip of his erection on my nose. Teasing it with my lips. Then looking up and grinning at him.

“You feel very hard done by, I can tell.”

“Mmm… Mistress…”

“Everyone else is getting breasts – why not you? Mmm? Where’s your breast, man baby?”

Rick looked at me questioningly, but continued to writhe, his tip poking my lips.

“What are you, Rick, say it – say ‘I am a Man Baby’…”

“I am a Man Baby, Mistress.”

“Very good. I bet you want someone to suck on your nipples like Celia enjoys your wife’s, hmm?”

“Yes, Mistress… yes…. please, suck on my nipples… like that…”

Silly fool didn’t know what he was asking. How could he? Of course, he hadn’t been paying attention to his wife’s breastfeeding, else he would have known what a painful experience it can be. I remember a few summer’s ago, in Ember’s appartment, watching her feed Lilith as we talked about the Gulabi Gang – a group of brave women in India who set upon sexual attackers with sticks and protect the women in their community. Mid-conversation, a fire truck had pulled up outside, its sirens blaring. Lilith, who was one and a half and pretty mobile, had turned her head to the sound, but not released Ember’s nipple. Without a sheet to cover her (we have seen most of each other, in and out) I could only marvel at how far it stretched. Ember, for her part, dealt with it bravely, mouthing curses but not disturbing her child in any way.

I was going to teach Rick the empathy he lacked in the best way I knew. I pulled myself teasingly up his naked body as he shuddered, licked his right nipple a little, then clamped down with some force on it with my teeth.

But I was not done. I turned my head a little to the right and to the left, taking his pilled nub of elastic skin with me.

“Yeowch, Mistress, what are you doing?”

He was gasping in pain. I released my grip on that nipple and traced my tongue over to the other, as his shallow breaths increased in pace.

“Please don’t… YEOOWCH! OWW! Ginger! Ginger!”

Ginger was the safe word. I released my grip reluctantly, but the rules were the rules.

“Your problem is not with your wife, but your own selfishness, you tiny pricked jackass. Have you heard yourself? Truly heard yourself? You are utterly pathetic, man baby. Your wife is doing the job of nurturing the child you made – your contribution was three minutes of fun – let her do her job. Make yourself useful. Fetch her drinks, watch shows with her, wash her feet and wait on her hand and foot like the goddess she is and the worthless wretch you are.”

“Yes Mistress.”

“And if I hear a word of complaint about this in future, I’m going to bite off one of your nipples, spit it out and feed it to you, understood?”

“Yes, Mistress! Absolutely.”

Rick looked absolutely terrified. Good. I do beleive he understood though, for the rest of that session I heard no complaint, and I even let him jerk himself off. Of course, I did make him sing a song as he did. As he’s a man baby and man babies cry, I pulled up the lyrics to Roy Orbison’s “Crying” on his phone, and made him hold it and sing, wavering, until he came.

And we’re keeping the name, Man Baby as well. It suits him.

Your Misttress,

Katia Thornwood

The things children do!

Babysitting is not my forte. I generally make it a rule to avoid little undisciplined creatures as much as I can. But I have a tender streak for certain children, one of which is the daughter of one of my submissives, David. His wife is a cool lady, a photographer who works in the city. Sometimes I help out with little Morgana because I’m at a loose end too, and I enjoy her feisty little spirit. Sometimes she worries me though.

This afternoon Morgana had her dolls out. Ken was naked on the wooden table and a Monster high doll with black heels and greeny black hair was brought down hard on his plastic chest by Morgana’s meaty little hand.

“Bad! Bad boy! Ken is a bad boy!”

Morgana is four, and there is no way she knows what goes on between her daddy and I, as she’s never been to the dungeon and we make it a rule never to do anything at his home. But sometimes I wonder if she has a psychic streak, because lately her games have been a little bit close to the truth.

Morgana picked up Ken and threw him down at the floor.

“Ken is stupid! Stupid dumb dumb Ken!”

She cackled wildly. I raised my eyebrow. She looked at me with those giant green eyes that seemed to bore into my soul.

I picked Ken up from his prone position on the floor. Morgana eyed me wondering what I’d do next. I like her little cackle, and knew throwing him back onto the floor would amuse her, so I did.

Morgana then jumped down from her seat and waddled her way purposefully up the stairs, returning with a handful of Barbie clothes.

“We dress Ken up!”

“What a good idea, Morgana. What do you think he’d like to wear?”

Morgana found a pink princess dress with lace trim and then ran off to get her felt tip pens. I knew what she was doing, she’d done it a few times before. Ken was about to get a makeover. I chuckled to myself as she pulled the dress on Ken and helped her get the top off the red pen.

I don’t think Morgana’s cut out to be a make up artist. She’s got passion but very little attention when it comes to colouring within the lines. Maybe it’ll come. In any case, by the time she was finished with Ken, he looked like Stephen King’s IT after a spell in a monsoon. I picked him up and made a big deal of her handiwork.

“He looks… very pretty!”

Morgana smiled and picked up her other doll again.

“Very pretty. Now dollie smash!”

Princess Ken was then repeatedly trodden under the heels of her dollie.

“Katia… you help me?”

“What do you need, darling?”

Morgana dropped the doll and went into the kitchen. I have to watch her because she’s good at finding things she shouldn’t find – mainly scissors and sharp kitchen implements. I opened the drawer she was standing in front of, then looked to where she was pointing. A reel of string, used for the Sunday roast, I presumed. It seemed harmless enough. I gave it to her. She ran off excitedly with it, and then – to my amusement, started wrapping Ken in it.

Like I said, sometimes I wonder what this child knows.


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What's growing like a tree. You can plant a seed that is an oak tree, but you do not understand how tall the tree is going to grow, you do not know how many branches it will have, you don't understand where the nut on the shrub is going to be.

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Prevent selfies far as possible. I know it's the latest thing and they are so easy and convenient to take than to have to ask others to take your photograph for you, but a selfie is similar to a new vanity which can turn off people that are searching for serious relationships. Select a photo that does not look like you if you have to use a selfie. You know what I believe: no duck faces or bizarre expressions shared in selfie shots, so no arms shots which informyou're holding the camera, etc. .

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It was a couple of weeks prior to William brought up the backpage escorts teen Pontbriand of purity. He had been married before and while he'd slipped into trouble with this front in the past, he actually wanted to do things right this time: " God eventually gave me the strength to do things the ideal way. It's wonderful to have a relationship that is not severe from the get- go because of the physical aspect. Ifyou're a man with any little honor, you'll consider remaining in the connection when you should not because of the bodily commitment. " In the lack of sexual pressure, they could construct emotional and intellectual intimacy. Since Megan put it, " I discovered that physical closeness during courtship was quite lust- driven and greedy" She found that in the past, during dating things, struggling. I wanted to enter my union with God being respected. " She was impressed when William spoke of his desire to honor God in their relationship.

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**Remember, it's important that in your written profile, answer sections, and photos, you pepper in" Alpha Alerts" - little signs here and there that convey you are a confident man on the Alpha aspect of this spectrum. Avoid getting labeled a" Beta man" . Anytime there is something which's an Alpha Alert, I have tagged it next to the bullet- point in crimson.


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