Thoughts and fantasies of a submissive

The other day i was doing my usual prep before a long trip to the wide brown land and reviewing which garments might make the long pilgrimage with me to retirement in my old family home. It's a genial life for these faithful retainers, where they mainly wait til i am back resting before their next parade into the sunshine. But then i remembered all those lovely Insex shoots where the model would turn up and get tied in her clothes before they'd be ripped or snipped from her body. Such a violation,  such a waste. So final. So i thought,  maybe not every garment will make it to the sunshine and rest. Some will stay here where they'll get a far less happy fate, to be ripped from my body to expose my sensitive form, sliced with sharp knives or scissors, to hang in rags and shreds or be discarded in a crumpled mess of fabric. A pile of useless material next to the naked, handcuffed, gagged lump of useless flesh which will also get a less than happy fate. One which will drain

I was just thinking about the times when I've been round at Miss's and it's late and taxi is coming and it's just idle chat before the beep of a horn or buzz of a telephone. So i thought Miss might like to let me dress, shoes on etc, and then march me to the front door to look though the key hole, to look out for the cab. Hands pressed to the door, eye pressed to the looking glass. While she stands behind me, and slips her hands under my coat to squeeze and pinch my fat greedy bottom. Or to slip into my jumper and wrench my tits. I am moaning again, either because I'm still horny and denied, or because I've been seen to already and I'm sore. Either way I'm anxious because the taxi is coming and I'm being roughly treated and it'll be moments before i leave. Miss unzips my fly and grabs the knoblet in her powerful hand. Now I'm really anxious as the car will be here in moments surely. But the nubbin swells treasonously and her rough han

Back from a trip to the Wide Brown Land, and despite best intentions i blogged very little. Now I'm back in the depths of winter i need to get better at just putting things out there, whether they be good or ill. And on that a thought. I'll be getting round to seeing friends again very soon, Miss and Mistress. I have gone too far from their control (in this case literally) and long to be in good company again. I have especially missed the sense of being cherished. Not in the sense of being held tenderly or in any semse venerated, but being valued so much that i will be bound and abused with such intensity that the only emotion left in me, afterwards, will be an overwhelming gratitude and desire to lie happily at her feet.  All other thoughts will have been driven out, along with whatever tears and emissions she wants to inflict on me. This probably just reads as a posh way of saying treat me meam and keep me keen, but it is more than that. I miss being taken to places t

Was thinking about the ends of interactions the other day, along the same lines as contemplating all the girls I've loved before, as the song had it. I say interactions as it's fairer than relationships though some have been, however brief.  In any event contemplating how they may end is an interesting exercise - extrapolating experience to current situations and thinking about how they may end. A case in point,  I've been seeing Miss for many years, with a milestone coming up in December. She's a bit older than me, though I've never asked by how much as a gentleman shouldn't ask and a cad doesn't want to know. As i always joke with her. So i was wondering how it might end. One day she'll retire and I'll reach the age of many of her current clients, retired from work myself but still with urges that smoulder and need treating.  I imagine Miss retired to a nice seaside community, where she blends in seamlessly and where she's a popular fig