Category Archives: Straight
I’m yet to find the time to do a full write up of the Night Of The Senses event I attended a couple of weeks back, but I’m so desperate to share this photo that I’m just going to post it in isolation, because I love it.
It features Miss Annie Player, whose face I am smiling at, and one Mr. Nate whose hand is exactly where you think it is (unless you think it’s up my bum in which case it’s not exactly where you think it is. It’s on my willy.), and my naked bum.
This photo was taken by the supremely wonderful Holly Revell, who had designed a cowboy-themed photo shoot. Since I had not dressed particularly cowboyly (I was working that night and as such was dressed more like a waiter at a funeral), I thought it best to just be naked. Actually that’s not strictly true. I walked into the shoot half-pissed and very horny, and Holly said “you need to be naked,” and suddenly I was, without really comprehending how I’d moved so quickly from one state of affairs to the next.
Holly is the woman responsible for this shoot, and I’m keen to get myself in front of her lens at every available opportunity. She won an Erotic Award for Innovation that night – absolutely, thoroughly deserved.
It’s rare that I get to be in front of someone else’s camera, so when I saw the opportunity advertised on Erotic Meet, and Annie Player asked me if I was interested in participating on Holly Revell’s DARKROOM photo shoot, my answer was an unconditional ‘yes please’. It proved to be an unforgettable experience.
DARKROOM is an erotic, artistic style of photography developed and used to great effect by the rather gorgeous Holly Revell. Holly is a sweet, generous and very funny – not to mention unshockable – woman, and a talented photographer. I mean, she teaches photography, which means she teaches talented people how to get the best from their talent, which means she’s more talented than the average talented person. So there.Her site is filled with beautiful and provocative images, and you can check it out here. You can follow her on twitter here. (The photo on the right was taken from this gallery.)
The shoot was in the lower floor of the Green Carnation in Soho, which is fast becoming my home from home and I’m happy about that. It’s a beautiful venue and the staff are unanimously brilliant people. I’m familiar with this basement for a number of reasons, some more interesting than others.
I arrived after most, (apart from Josh Brandon, whose lateness was as fashionable as his outfit), made my way downstairs and immediately bumped into Holly.
“Hi”, I offered.
“Hi. Are you here for the shoot?” she asked.
“I am indeed”.
Holly looked me up and down.
“…hmm… good” she said, approvingly.
This little compliment immediately put me at ease, and I smiled.
I looked around the makeshift changing room into which I had wandered, and was surrounded by beautiful, semi-naked people, and then my co-model, Miss Annie Player, emerged in her underwear. My smile got broader. My trousers got tighter.
I opened my bag and unloaded a selection of “props” I had brought from under my bed, and a few more that I had purchased en route including a dog lead I had bought from Pet World. I hadn’t been expecting to wear it myself, but as you’ll see later, I ended up wearing it most of the day –and in public.
Holly gathered us up and sat us in a circle to talk us through the process. We were introduced to some of her regular models, Nate and Martin, and the spirit was high. We joked (well, I joked, rather a lot) and we looked through examples of Holly’s work. She was modest; there was one really striking image and everyone cooed and gasped and muttered “that’s beautiful”, and she responded “oh yeah, I got that one by accident, before I knew what I was doing.”
Then magic happened. She gave us a demonstration of what to expect. Nate stripped and posed in a corner, and Holly instructed Nick to kill the lights. We were plunged into blackness.
We fell absolutely dead silent, the only noise was Holly opening the shutter on her camera. We were hypnotised as Holly approached Nate and flicked on a torch and we watched, afraid to breathe in case we somehow interfered with the composition, as she painted him with light. Slowly, she highlighted his muscles and illuminated walls and furniture around him.
After what felt like an eternity, Holly flicked off the torch and said cheerfully “ok, we’re done” and the lights were turned back on. We let out a collective held breath and laughed at ourselves for being so involved in the process. But it was hard to get an indication of what the finished result would be of what we had seen, so we crowded round the LCD screen of Holly’s camera and could barely believe what we saw. From the darkness, with that tiny torch, Holly had produced this:
It goes without saying that Miss Player and I were excited to get in front of the camera and have a couple of private shots taken. So I’m going to stop the prose in this post ans switch to photos. Read the captions for amusing accounts of what happened. (I haven’t written the captions yet, so I can’t guarantee amusement.) While there were a lot of pictures taken that day, I’m only including those featuring me, because this is my blog, so… err… shut up.
I love this photo, though I recognise we didn’t make the most of Holly’s photographic technique. Instead of being clever with the image, Annie and I – as rather poetic and subversive types – decided to be clever with the content. I’ve kind of established myself reluctantly as a “Dom”, though it pains me to refer to myself as such. So it was fun to be collared, and my lead held by someone in a submissive position. I like the inversion – though I really, really didn’t like wearing that collar and lead out onto the street at Annie’s command.
I love this photo mainly because it gives the hallucinatory impression that I’m spit-roasting Miss Player on my own. But more importantly, I like it because of those little French knickers….
Here are the rest of the finished photos featuring me. Yeah.
However much fun you think these pictures look, I can promise the experience of taking them far exceeded the end result. Thank you to everyone involved.
One of my favourite images of recent months, this captures a moment that’s more sinful than it first appears. This is me and the gorgeous Annie Player, sharing a moment before Holly Revell’s DARKROOM photo shoot. My full write up of the shoot is pending but, if you really want, you can see the two finished photos of me here.
I wrote something quickly during my lunchbreak, and was given the idea to record it rather than simply post it here. This is the result.
The words are below. Sing along.
“Hush pet, hush pet”, the owner decreed
With a softness of tone concealing his ravenous greed.
“Thank you Sir, thank you Sir” said the good little pet
While he reddened her skin and beat away her regret.
“You did well, you did well” he said through his grin
With a sinister tint that hinted his sin.
He’s breaking her will. He’s breaking her in.
Soon will the bribing and begging begin.
Joe caught his breath.
“You were a bad pussy, weren’t you? You didn’t even try to stop me from fucking you. You should be punished for being a slutty little kitty.”
Amy was still on all fours, still with her collar and her little bell, still with her cat ears and the tail protruding obscenely from her recently virgin backside. Her body was quivering from the way Joe had used her, and she found herself unable to reply to Joe’s question. She had done everything she could to please him. Despite being further out of her comfort zone than ever before in her young life, she had not refused sex and not struggled when Joe had first entered her. And yet, that was what she was being punished for. She was being punished for allowing herself to be fucked. She realised if she had struggled, she would have been punished too and the sudden realisation of her own powerless made her totally inarticulate.
She had felt Joe rip his erection out of her battered pussy moments ago and watched wide-eyed as he wasted his sperm on the long, suede tails of the flogger that he had set out neatly beside her before he fucked her. She had desperately wanted his orgasm inside her, and she regarded the cum-sodden whip with envy and confusion. All she wanted was for him to satisfy himself inside her, and she was destined to be disappointed in even that pathetic desire.
But still, she wanted his cum and would take it in any way her new owner would give it to her, even if he had to beat it into her broken skin.
Joe reached out and lifted the large, heavy, soiled flogger, and stood behind his kitten. In his post-orgasmic haze, he was frenzied, his body filled with the rewarding chemicals of sex and urging him on to complete his sadistic ownership of this naïve little fuckpet.
He took the flogger in both hands and, with no warning, no warming up, no comforting and no affection, he lashed it across Amy’s little backside. She yelped agonisingly, and Joe grinned as he watched his sperm settle into the reddening wounds left by the coarse suede. He left a long pause, not to allow Amy to compose herself for the next one, but to make her anticipate the next impact. She had never been flogged before, and had not been bodily prepared for such a vicious bite.
When he saw her getting nervous, glancing at him to see when the next lash was coming, he whipped the flogger round and struck her fully, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and then again, and Amy whimpered tragically with every fresh impact.
Joe stopped, adjusted his position and began to spin the flogger up her thighs, thrashing her vulnerable pussy lips, and Joe enjoyed watching her convulse with pain every time those long suede tongues licked at her pussy.
He beat her raw with the cum-soaked flogger, until her skin was being to creep open and bruise, and he noted with sinister pride the drying residue of his orgasm being driven into her scratches.
He moved around to the other side of the bed and presented his softening cock to her face.
“Open your mouth, pussy.”
The pussy opened its mouth and Joe pushed his cock into it.
“Do NOT let it leave your mouth, you little whore. Do you understand?”
Amy nodded through her breathless pain.
Joe’s target was different now. He wanted to make her suffer for her sluttery. He pulled the flogger taut over his shoulder, and then brought it down with a heavy thud, directly on top of the butt plug still stretching Amy’s little backside. He felt her speak her pain directly into his cock, so he did it again, now deriving pleasure directly from her pain in a twisted, spiralling loop.
Every time he beat her, the pain caused her to pleasure him, and the pleasure drove him to beat her again, and so on. Her mouth and her squeals stiffened him again, spurring him on to push her as far as she could physically go.
He thrashed her tail without conscience, fucking her mouth all the while. Amy was no longer paying attention, the constant pain blending one moment into the next and leaving her with no sense of space or time. He flogged and whipped and lashed, now with his eyes close, fuelled only the desire to complete her degradation.
“I’m going to cum, pussy. Do you want your cream?”
Amy nodded meekly as Joe reached for her bowl, the little red one with ‘pussy’ printed in gold letter across the front. He dropped the flogger, pulled his cock from her mouth and masturbated right in front of her face.
He pointed his erection at the bowl and quickly began to stroke himself into it. He drained himself in front of her obedient face into her bowl, dribbling lazily into it. When his orgasm began to subside her grabbed Amy by the soft hair and forced her to look him in the eye while he spat into the bowl.
“Is pussy hungry? Are you a hungry little puss?” he moaned.
“Good girl, good slut,” he whispered breathlessly.
He placed the bowl down in front of Amy’s face, and she slowly, pathetically began to lap at the filthy mixture he had prepared for her.
Joe slumped back into the bed and stroked Amy’s hair as she licked up his cum with a contented smile. When she had had her fill and the bowl was clean, she simply, wordlessly, curled up into a tight little ball at Joe’s feet, and fell asleep thoroughly, utterly fulfilled.
Joe smiled down at her, as she breathed softly and slipped into blissful sleep. But always on the back of his mind was that litter tray in his office.
Part 3, ”Training Amy”, coming soon.
I woke up this morning, and amongst all the clutter, this was in my inbox. When it was finished, I realised I had not taken a breath for the full 1 minute and 19 seconds.
Thank you again, Kitten.
Joe heard a meek knock at his door and after a deliberately, torturously long time he opened it and regarded his new pet. Amy was a tiny 22 year old girl with a slim frame earned, he had learned during their correspondence, through years of gymnastic training. She talked about her cat a lot, and that spoke volumes to Joe.
He could immediately see he had been right in all his assumptions about her, he had read her very well. Amy was pretty but not sexy, attractive but incredibly shy. She stood in his doorway with her shoulders tight and her head slightly bowed, her eyes glancing occasionally to her sides and at Joe’s shoes, but never to his face. Her fingers played nervously with each other as she waited for Joe to speak, and Joe could tell she had doubts; she was already ashamed of herself that she was there. Joe stared intensely at her, his stomach knotted with anticipation, eager to exploit her obvious inexperienced nervousness.
He held the door and stood aside without saying a word; Amy slid her tiny 5’2” frame past him and paused in the hallway, awaiting further instruction. As she passed, Joe breathed in the scent of her thick, long black hair that hung in slow, natural curls. The top of her head barely reached the centre of his chest and that inflated his sense of power.
“Wait here,” demanded Joe, coldly.
It was the first time she had ever heard his voice, and the subtlety of his tone made her shrink further still into herself. She wondered if she had made a mistake coming here, to this stranger’s flat. She regretted contacting him; she regretted the split with her loving and sensitive – but ultimately bland – ex-boyfriend. She wondered if there was still time to back out. She heard drawers being opened and Joe’s heavy footprints wondering around another room and thought perhaps she could simply slink out the door before Joe returned. Before she could though, Joe came back and stood in front of her.
He was tall, slender, unsmiling, a little older than she and dressed smartly. He smelled of expensive, woody aftershave. She still hadn’t looked him in the eye, but had certainly noticed what he was holding: in his hands was a pair of pink and black leather cuffs, a tiny pink collar with a little bell in the centre, tiny little cat ears on a hairband and a long, fluffy black cat’s tail with a white tip protruding from a mahogany butt plug. Her eyes were transfixed on it. She experienced feelings with which she was totally unfamiliar; a blend of fear, intimidation, nervousness and excitement. Though she had never explicitly said it, they both knew she had come to him for degradation, for dehumanisation and to forgo her own will in favour of his.
“Strip” said Joe quietly, never taking his gaze from her pixie face.
Amy let her handbag slip from her shoulder to the floor and she began to undo the buttons of her plain raincoat. Joe was keen to see if Amy had followed his instructions.
The raincoat slumped dejectedly to the floor and Amy stood in a black bra, a black suspender belt holding up black stockings and black heels – and nothing else. She had travelled through busy Central London dressed like this and it was the bravest thing she had ever done. Joe guessed, correctly, that she had bought the suspender belt and stockings specifically for this occasion. He guessed, again correctly, that she had never worn a suspender belt before, and that she had never fully shaved before.
Amy was blushing intensely, and the longer Joe stared, the harder she blushed. She drew her shoulders in close, trying to conceal and protect as much of her petite body as possible, and Joe could barely contain how much he adored her already. He fought to keep his composure. As a younger man he would have fucked her the moment he had opened the door to her, but now he was more patient than that. He wanted to enjoy her modesty as long as possible instead of destroy it immediately. He was going to give her everything she never knew she wanted.
Joe moved closer and with his free hand brushed a trail of hair away from Amy’s face, tracing his fingertips down her neck and resting it on her shoulder. The intimacy surprised her.
“Put your hands out,” Joe whispered.
Amy obediently did so still without lifting her gaze to meet his, and Joe fastened the leather cuffs around each of her wrists. Next, he gently raised her head with his finger under chin and closed the little pink collar around her neck. She noticed the word “PUSSY” printed on it in studded diamante gems. He flicked the bell as he withdrew his hands and smiled as it rang out cheerfully. He slipped the ears onto her head. She already looked so pretty; Joe’s heart was melting.
Amy hesitated. She had had no idea what to expect when she arrived at Joe’s; she had trusted him to guide her, but she had not been expecting anything like this. She knelt.
“Good girl. Now go down on all fours and push your hips up into the air.”
Amy lowered her face to the coarse carpet. A draft from an open window somewhere made her feel more exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever felt before. She heard the pop of a bottle opening and managed to catch in the reflection of a glossy door that Joe was pouring lubricant onto the mahogany cat-tail butt plug. She was anxious; she was an anal virgin and had only ever experimented alone. Now she had put herself in the hands of someone far more experienced, far darker, and despite herself she knew this is what she wanted.
Joe knelt down next to her and touched the tip of the butt plug against its destination. He rubbed it against her slightly, moving it in sensual little circles. Amy was breathless; the cold of the butt plug and the feeling of being dangerously far out of her depth was utterly exhilarating and her whole body was alive as she gasped in anticipation. With his left hand he soothed her hair.
“Are you ready to be my pet? Are you ready to be a good little pussy?” breathed Joe, sadistically.
Amy found herself nodding vigorously and Joe began to overcome her resistance, easing the plug in a fraction, then back out, then in a little further, then out, repeating this over and over and pushing the plug in a little more each time, until finally Amy winced as her body suddenly accepted her tail. She breathed quickly and heavily as she became accustomed to an entirely new sexual sensation, and Joe watched her pussy flood with wetness.
Still kneeling beside her, Joe stroked the long, soft tail knowing that Amy could feel every sensation and every subtly different pressure he applied to it. He slowly pushed a finger into her pussy, making her moan against her will, and moved the finger to her panting mouth so she could taste her wetness. She sucked eagerly, and then burnt with shame at her own behaviour. She was already so utterly under his control; her wetness forced her to confront her own subconscious desire to submit.
“Good pussy,” hissed Joe once he was sure the tail was comfortable. “Follow me. Come on.” Joe rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of Amy’s face and let out a repeated tutting noise, the noise one makes when summoning a kitten. He walked slowly towards what turned out to be an office, and Amy crawled on all fours after him, trying to peek round his legs to see where they were going.
In the room there was a large cream leather sofa with a laptop on the arm and computer screens on a table in front. The rest of the room consisted of a larger glass table, chairs and bookshelves. It was obvious Joe lived alone; everything in the room was set up exclusive for him, by him.
Amy slinked into the room on her hands and knees and looked around, her humanity already beginning to recede as she found herself willingly, excitedly sinking into this character Joe had unexpectedly forced upon her.
“This is your home now, Pussy. Explore,” said Joe as he sat on the sofa in front of his computer and began typing, as though he was already accustomed to her presence, like she had always been his pet.
Amy glanced at him, the first time she had really looked at his face, which looked oddly gaunt and inhuman in the neon glow of the computer screens, and then began to quietly crawl around the room, investigating the books and the decorations, before she spotted a group of items on the floor in the corner of the room. She approached them with suspicion. They comprised a little red plastic bowl with “PUSSY” printed on the side, and to her horror, a litter tray. She realised that Joe was intending to train her.
Her shock was suddenly interrupted by Joe’s voice.
“Ohhh, does Pussy want some milk” he called, almost mockingly, as he spotted her regarding her bowl. Amy made no response as Joe got up and left the room.
He returned moments later carrying a large bottle of milk and he poured it carefully into her bowl. He tutted repeatedly and said,
“There you go, thirsty puss.”
Amy edged towards the bowl. Joe knew that she had not accepted her submission as such; she was beyond that. She was no longer submitting; submission is active. She was no longer conscious, no longer human, and as she lapped the milk meekly with Joe towering over her, she was no longer thinking at all. She had already become a good little pussy.
Joe returned to his computer as Amy trotted about, exploring the rest of the flat. She found the bedroom and stroked her side against the soft bed and mewed a little. She slinked around, her movement becoming more recognisably and comfortably feline with each step. She stroked her face against the curtains and she sat staring out of the window. Joe was in the other room; she could have checked her phone or adjusted her collar if she’d wanted. But she didn’t. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to; it was that those concepts were simply beyond her now. Instead, she dug her fingers into the carpet, yawned and stretched decadently.
An hour or so passed. Eventually, after she had familiarised herself fully with her new environment and had nuzzled anything soft, stroked herself along anything hard, stared at herself in the mirror and quietly licked the back of her hand in a corner, she slinked back towards the office in which she could hear Joe typing. She stopped and sat in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She looked at Joe, who was conspicuously ignoring her. She licked her wrist pathetically as she watched him.
She wanted attention.
She crawled slowly towards Joe and smoothed herself over his shins. He smiled and tickled her ear, muttering “puss puss puss, puss puss puss.” She turned and smoothed herself the other way, this time pausing. She propped her chin on his knee and put a paw on his leg.
“Aw, does pussy want to come up?” Joe tapped his lap, giving Amy permission to crawl up onto it. She curled up in his lap and he began to stroke her hair. She shivered at the contact, and the soft purr she emitted was totally beyond her control. She felt safe in his lap, she felt content. She fell asleep.
She didn’t know how long she had been asleep when she was awoken by him leaning over and typing. She rubbed her head in his lap and noticed his hardness. She would never know, but he’d been hard since he had inserted her tail, and the whole time she’d been on his lap. Joe exhaled with lust as she nudged his erection, and he continued to stroke her hair when she did it again. He’d been patient enough. He needed her right now. He needed to fuck her. Joe motioned to her to get down from his lap, and then led her to the bedroom. Amy stopped at the bed and put her paw on the mattress, looking at him, imploring him for permission to climb on. He patted the duvet and she hopped up.
“You’re a bad little pussy, aren’t you” breathed Joe as he fumbled in a drawer and produced a large, heavy suede flogger. Amy shrank from it and Joe loosened his suit trousers.
“Get on all fours, Pussy,” demanded Joe, now with menace in his voice, and as she did so he laid the flogger out next to her.
He only had to look at her to see how wet she was. He climbed on the bed behind her, and with almost no preparation he mounted her and pressed his erection into her. He plunged it deep into her, stretching her painfully despite her wetness. He held her by the slender hips as he slid ever deeper into her, the furry tail stroking him along his length as he began to fuck his new little kitten.
The butt plug narrowed her pussy making her even tighter then she was naturally; Amy had never been penetrated so intensely. Her moan was a long, unbroken single whine, and the pitch increased as Joe wrapped has hand around her narrow throat.
He gathered speed. His teeth were gritted. He stared with venom at the back of her head while he stroked forcefully into her. He wrapped his other hand around her throat so he was knelt behind her, still fully clothed, pulling her back onto his cock with both hands. Each time he yanked her back onto him, his body pushed the plug into her making her feel utterly full.
He was increasingly brutal with his little pussy. She was lost in a world of feline fantasy. She wanted him to go harder. She imagined a barb tearing at her pussy; she wanted it to hurt. She wanted to be made to shriek like a cat.
“You – bad – little – kitten” spat Joe with every thrust. “You – fucking – nasty – little – pussy – cat.”
Joe’s orgasm was already building in the pit of his stomach.
“I’m gonna cum” he said through gritted teeth.
Amy wanted it. She wanted him to flood her pussy, to complete her degradation, but Joe was not feeling that generous. Instead, he used her pussy to bring him to orgasm, and when he reached it he suddenly ripped his thick erection out of her and with a long, agonised groan, he shot jet after copious jet of thick, hot cum onto the tails of the flogger on the bed next to Amy. He rubbed his cock, his orgasm was colossal, his eyes were closed and he swore as he squeezed every last filthy drop onto the flogger.
Joe caught his breath.
“You were a bad pussy, weren’t you? You didn’t even try to stop me from fucking you. You should be punished for being a slutty little kitty.”
Joe reached for the cum-drenched flogger and held it in front of Amy’s face so she would know exactly what was about to happen to her. Her eyes widened with exhausted anxiety as a bead of Joe’s filthy dropped from the flogger onto the back of her hand.
Joe stood up and moved around to Amy’s petite little backside.
Part 2, “The Cat That Got The Cream,” coming soon…
Lips ajar and breathing low,
She sleeps deep with skin aglow,
With heaving chest,
And rolling breast,
The Lion regards his sleeping Beau.
His teeth are sharp and eyes aflame,
Watching over her tiny frame.
The cats approach,
And tigers broach,
To bite and scratch; her body claim.
Their claws are out and sharp as blade,
Lusting to harm the sleeping maid,
To do her ill,
Against her will,
But she’s not alone and not afraid.
The Lion rises, shoulders strong,
Ready to chase the cats along,
His face clenched,
His muscles wrenched,
His roar ferocious in mighty song.
The cats submit to his terrible sound
And shrink away to safer ground,
Their heads they bow
And with soft miaow
They understand Lost Beau is found.
Overcome, they slink away,
To try again on a stronger day,
When they’re ready,
Their resolve more steady,
They’ll come again to claim their prey.
Beau rouses from her peaceful rest,
The lion licks her neck and breast,
Wet and warm,
On her naked form,
Her body with his mane caressed,
Awake she shrinks in mortal fear,
From the Lion as he sheds a ruby tear,
They lock eyes
While he cries,
The Lion implores her to come near.
In terror Beau makes no motion,
The only sound the distant ocean,
Little Beau frozen,
The Lion’s chosen
To demonstrate his fierce devotion.
The Lion with light caress,
Loosens off her slender dress,
He looks over his hard-won prize,
Adoring the fear struck in her eyes,
And naked he conveys to his cave his young princess.