The mention in My blog of strap-ons and rubbersex brings Me to describe My most recent experience in using My strap-on with a slave.
First, I want you to see Me right NOW! — or imagine Me — clad from head to toe — I love wearing My open-faced hood — in My best, shiniest latex catsuit, fitted so well and so tightly as to make My body seem vacuum sealed from head to toe, unmasking to y-o-u-r eyes even as it covers every peak and valley, every cranny and crevice of My extraordinarily sexy body.
This story was conceived by Goddess Marquesa, and is based on events She experienced
“Humans are social animals.” I know I have heard it before, but I never gave it much thought or understood what it really meant. Until she taught me.
She was on a date with another man when she came into the restaurant where I work. I sometimes wonder if my life would have been different if the seating hostess had sat them at someone else’s station. Probably not. Karmic gravity would almost certainly have brought me into her orbit if she came within half a mile of me. Read more…
“I see your twenty and I raise you one hundred,” I said, throwing six red chips into the kitty at the center of the table. It was a fairly safe bet, but my poker buddies couldn’t know that. They hadn’t seen the three queens sitting in my hand. Not yet.
I had silenced my phone and left it face up on the table next to my pile of chips. It began to vibrate, the screen lit up. I winced as I recognized the number.
“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” I declared to the other players. Rising from the table, I took my phone out into the hallway and put it to my ear.
“Hello,” I said into the receiver, not able to conceal the guilt in my tone.
“I’ve been waiting at the restaurant where W/we arranged to meet for ten minutes,” she answered. The sound of her voice gave me chills. “Why aren’t you here?”
“I’m sorry,” I replied, “I got cold feet. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m playing poker with some friends.”
“No you’re not,” she declared.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“I said you’re not playing poker with your friends. Listen to My voice….you can feel yourself getting very sleepy….so relaxed….”
I don’t remember what happened for the next half hour. My friends later told me that I never returned to the table. I stood in the hallway for fifteen minutes or so, listening to my phone. Then I walked out of the house, got in my car, and drove away without a word to anyone.
“One…two…three!”
Her voice brought me out of trance. I was standing in a living room I had never seen before. The décor was uncluttered and tasteful, the lights were dimmed. She was sitting before me in an elegant upholstered armchair, wearing nothing but black lingerie and black stiletto heels. Her curly blond hair was teasingly mussed, her magnificent legs were crossed to draw my eyes like magnets. Her gorgeous tits thrust upward as if to defy me to ignore them.
Most unsettling were those emerald green eyes. As I looked into them I could feel her burrowing into my soul, just like the first time I had locked eyes with her the week before at a bar by the ocean. I drowned so deeply in those eyes I thought I would never emerge again. In some sense I never had.
“You’ve been a naughty boy,” she said. “No one stands Me up.”
“How did I get here?” I whined, realizing as I did that I was stark naked. Despite my confusion and fear, my cock stiffened painfully at the sight of her and the sound of her voice. Her allure was too powerful to resist. It overwhelmed every instinct I had for flight or self-preservation.
“You drove here, silly boy. How else?”
“Why don’t I remember driving here? Or taking my clothes off?”
She laughed. “I hypnotized you, of course. Yes…I thoroughly entranced you. But even before I entranced you, I had entranced you, isn’t that right, pet?”
I shook my head, too disoriented to cope with riddles. “Look…” I pleaded, “I really like you, but….”
She interrupted me with a loud laugh. “You ‘really like Me?’ Listen to yourself. When we first met you practically turned into a puddle of desire at My feet.”
It was true. I had never felt anything so powerful. I wanted her so badly she terrified me. She still terrified me. I began to tremble, though the room was not cold.
“Look at your cock,” she continued, smirking sexily at my crotch, “the way it has become a tree trunk despite how scared you are. You ‘like’ Me! Get real.”
“It’s just…things are really complicated for me, now,” I stuttered. “I’m not ready for a new relationship.”
“No man is ever quite ready for Me, pet,” she declared. “What you’re ready for doesn’t matter. I told you the night W/we met that I want you.”
I swallowed hard. “Yes…I know…” I moaned. “I was very flattered…”
“That wasn’t flattery,” she corrected me.
“What was it?” I asked, feeling as stupid as I sounded.
“It was a prison sentence,” she explained. “When I want a man, he is Mine. If that isn’t dawning on you by now it will, soon.”
I swallowed hard and squinted about the room, looking for some sign of my clothes. “Please…” I whimpered.
She laughed again. “Shhh, pet. Don’t fuss or fidget. If you act like a baby I will have to treat you like one.” With this she picked up something that was on the floor next to her chair. It was a baby bottle filled with formula. Holding it up and rocking it gently as one would to show it to an infant, she purred, “This was meant to be a dinner date, after all. If you can’t be a man, I will make you suck your dinner through a nipple.”
She was trying to humiliate me, and it was working, in large part because she was also massively turning me on. She is so goddamn sexy. I could picture myself curled up in her lap, the smooth skin of her thighs supporting my ass, the lush pillow of her breasts cradling my cheek, sucking on the bottle as she held it to my mouth, cooing soft encouragement. The image flooded into my mind involuntarily, and my whole body responded. My nipples became hard. My heart pounded. My cock became even stiffer, which hadn’t seemed possible. A moan of mixed shame and yearning escaped my lips.
She smiled broadly, in satisfaction rather than surprise. She saw everything that was happening inside of me and had expected it all. A gleam of triumph lit her exquisite eyes that made her even more irresistible.
“We’ll see what will go in your mouth later,” she declared, putting the bottle back on the floor. “Come lay across my knees meanwhile and receive your punishment.” She uncrossed her gorgeous legs and patted her lap, summoning me.
“Punishment!?” I blurted, finding my voice despite the mist of arousal fogging my brain.
“Of course,” she beamed, smiling flirtatiously. “You’ve been a bad boy and must learn your place.”
“I’ve never been spanked in my life,” I protested.
“Well, you know what they say…” she drawled, “there’s a first time for everything, pet. In your case I would say it is high time.”
“How will you make me?” I asked, unable to conceal a tremor of fear. “Will you hypnotize me again?”
She chuckled at this. “No, silly. I could if I wanted to, but I won’t have to. You are going to surrender to Me willingly.”
“That’s nuts.” It was a brave statement, but my tone lacked conviction.
“Hardly,” she said. “You gave in to your fear and insecurity and skipped our dinner date because W/we hadn’t seen each other for a few days. But now that you are here with Me you won’t be able to bear walking out My door. You want Me too much. You need to know what I will make You feel…”
She patted her lap again. I began to tremble all over. After a minute of hesitation, I staggered silently forward. Half disbelieving my own actions, I lay down across her lap so that my ass stuck in the air.
“Bad boy!” she yelled, bringing the flat of her palm down, smack! My ass became a swollen mound of pain.
“Aaargh!” I screamed. Smack! Smack! Smack!
I bucked and squirmed. “Shhhh, pet,” she ordered. “Don’t be such a brat! Take your punishment like a good slut!”
The spanking seemed to go on forever. The pain was horrific. I howled and pleaded. But my cock stayed hard the whole time. I was in agony and doubly ashamed (ashamed of submitting to her abuse, ashamed of being such a wimp about it), but I was also turned on like I had never been before in my life.
“Do you want it to stop?” she finally asked.
“Yes! Oh, please yes, stop!” I cried.
“Then call Me ‘Mistress’,” she commanded.
“What?” I babbled.
Smack! She slapped me with double force, making me issue a high pitch scream like a tea kettle. “Call Me ‘Mistress!’” she repeated. “Say, ‘Mistress, please stop.’”
“Mistress, please stop!” I pleaded. When she finally stopped I collapsed like a rag doll across her lap, exhausted.
“Enough fun,” she declared. “Get up, shitrag.”
I began to move, but she slapped me back into place, making me shudder and grunt in agony.
“When I give you an order, you say, ‘Yes, Mistress!’” she instructed.
“Yes, Mistress!” I repeated obediently.
I pushed against the side of the chair and pressed my toes against the floor to rise from her lap, but as I did so the muscles of her thighs closed around my rigid cock and squeezed, pulling me back down.
“What’s the matter, slug?” she demanded. “Do as I say! Get up!”
“Yes, Mistress,” I replied. But when I tried to rise she again clamped her thighs around my cock and pulled me back down.
“Why won’t you move, fucktard?” she goaded, her sexy voice dripping with teasing sarcasm. By now my cock and balls were afire with pleasure, and as she pulled me down again with her gorgeous thighs, I could feel my insides turning to molten rapture.
“Oooooooh….” was the only reply I could summon to her teasing command.
She continued to goad me. At first I wriggled and squirmed in an attempt to obey, but eventually I surrendered to the temptation and simply pumped my hips in time with her thighs, willing myself to explode. I knew I had become a disgusting animal, but I couldn’t stop myself. The feeling of being in her power was too delicious.
As I was about to burst, she clenched her thighs around my cock and stopped my motion. I wriggled and flailed, trying to push myself the last step toward catharsis, but she had complete control.
“Uhhhhh….” I groaned, unable to form words but trying to make her understand how much I needed to release.
She knew what I wanted without being told. “Beg Me, slut!” she commanded.
“P…p…please, Mistress!” I begged.
“Please, what? Say it, shitrag!”
“P….p…please make me cum, Mistress!”
A long, slender finger plunged into my ass and up my rectum. For a moment I felt probed and violated, but in the same instant I realized that I had just been given what I’d begged for. My world exploded in hot ecstasy.
I had never experienced an orgasm like it in my life. My body bucked and quivered for a full minute before the torrent of semen stopped spraying from my cock. I could hear her satisfied laughter as I drooped over her knees again, spent.
She released my cock from between her thighs and shoved me roughly, rolling me to the floor. I lay on my back and looked up at the ceiling, my mind a blur. “Clean your mess!” she directed, pointing to her shoes. I turned my head and saw that her shoes were covered in a web of sticky white goo. She had milked my cock with expert aim.
“Yes, Mistress!” I assented, without giving it a second thought or offering a moment of resistance. Rising to my hands and knees, I set to work licking my cum off of her stilettos.
“That’s a good pet,” she observed with satisfaction. “That’s a good cumlicking slut.”
When she was satisfied, she reached down and grabbed a handful of my hair, pulling me up onto my knees, facing her. “You’ve had your dinner,” she declared, “let’s seeing what we can find you for dessert.”
She pulled down the fabric of her brassiere off of her left tit with one hand, and drew me forward with the other. “Suck on this,” she ordered, putting her nipple in my mouth. I sucked greedily, my cock stiffening again despite how thoroughly my balls had just been drained. I made soft mewling sounds of satisfaction as my mouth worked, and she could feel my hot tears of shame and joy on her tits.
“Shhh….shhh…it’s all over now, pet,” she cooed. “You’re Mine now…”
The End
A Friend Indeed
…a Goddess Marquesa birthday adventure
We all have friends that we are not so friendly to. Well…maybe everyone doesn’t, but I do. Lots of them. Among women it is pretty common. Some of the women you know put you on your best behavior, others bring out the bitch in you. This is a story about a woman who brought out my inner bitch.
I forget the exact circumstances where we met. Maybe at the hotel by the beach where we go for sunset cocktails some Friday nights. Maybe at a lunch date on a weekday. I can’t remember who brought her into the group. Terry, I think. But I remember my first impression of her. She had just moved to Palm Harbor from California, and had a little bit of a “lost girl” vibe. Trying to find her footing in a new social scene. So of course I made her feel welcome…not. Read more…
General Markov grimaced as he watched the team of special operations analysts file into the conference room. He had suspected that this meeting would be a waste of his time, and everything about the appearance of this team confirmed him in that belief. Though they wore military uniform, nothing about them looked soldierly. They were old, out of shape, and poorly outfitted. The leader of the team, a balding man with a scruffy mustache who looked like he might be an accountant when he was not on active duty, had pinned his insignia to his shirt collar incorrectly.
“Thank you for taking this meeting with us, General,” began the nebbish who led the keystone cops outfit as he and his subordinates took seats around the conference table. “I am Colonel Grodsky, head of Unit 69. We are a special division of Army Intelligence, dedicated to the development of experimental weapons and tactics.”
“Yes, yes,” General Markov grunted, broadcasting impatience. “Get on with your report. A war is going on, gentleman, and as you know our side is not doing well. I have to get back to monitoring conditions at the front.”
Grodsky cleared his throat nervously and picked up a remote control device placed in the middle of the conference table. “All right, General,” the colonel complied. “I will skip the preliminaries and show you the secret weapon my team has been developing.” Aiming the remote control at a large monitor situated along the long wall of the conference room, he called up an image on the screen. It was of a blond woman with luminescent green eyes and a curvaceous figure. She was shown full-body, seated in a basic office chair, but dressed for the bedroom. Her magnificent tits and legs were scantily covered in lacy black lingerie, stockings, and garters. Her shoes were 6” black patent-leather stilettos.
General Markov’s face registered surprise. “Is this some kind of joke?” he barked. “I don’t want to see pictures of your wives or girlfriends. Show me the weapon you say can turn the tide of this war.”
“She is…that is to say, this is the weapon,” Grodsky stuttered. “This woman is an American erotic hypnotist named Goddess Marquesa. After extensive analysis, my team has determined that she is the sexiest woman on earth.”
The General fought to contain his anger. His hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles turned bright red. “Do you mean to tell me,” he seethed, his rage obvious from his tone, “that you called me away from the battlefield in order to share some sexual fetish of yours?”
“No…please….,” Grodsky protested. “I assure you that my team and I have conducted ourselves with the utmost seriousness of purpose. At first we were simply searching the internet for any form of psychological warfare weapon that could be used to disorient the enemy or break their morale. Only after many months, and upon collecting reams of data, did we determine that the unique sexual charisma of Goddess Marquesa was our best chance of developing an effective weapon. Even then we did not dare to bring this plan to you. We first had special commando units capture Goddess Marquesa and bring her here so that we might conduct carefully controlled experiments.”
“What sort of experiments?” the General asked, his voice still registering frustration, but now mixed with a hint of curiosity.
Grodsky pressed buttons on the remote control. The image on the monitor changed to that of a man. He was huge, towering well over six feet, and broad-shouldered. His sandy brown hair was worn in a severely short military hair cut. He was clad in fatigue uniform pants and combat boots, his shirtless torso was finely chiseled with bulging muscles and criss-crossed by battle scars.
“This is Igor Ivanovich,” Grodsky explained. “He is a thrice-decorated combat veteran and one of the deadliest soldiers in the special forces regiment. He has killed seven men in hand-to-hand combat, two of them with his bare fists. He was the first test subject that we employed in our experiments with Goddess Marquesa.”
Grodsky pressed a button on the remote control, and a video began to play on the monitor:
Godess Marquesa was shown sitting in the same chair from the original still photograph, wearing the same sexy lingerie. She had a magazine in her hands and was glancing at it half-attentively. The sound of a door opening drew her attention. Igor Ivanovich walked on screen, dressed as he had been in the still photo first displayed by Grodsky.
“Nice scars, Lurch,” the Goddess declared in English.
Ivanovich was obviously confused. “Who are you?” he asked, his English accented but clearly intelligible.
“I might ask you the same thing,” Goddess Marquesa answered, “if I didn’t have other more pressing questions. Like: where am I? Why have I been kidnapped?”
“Kidnapped?” Ivanovich echoed.
“Yes, kidnapped,” the Goddess repeated. “Someone slipped a mickey in My drink one night, and when I woke up I was locked in this room. You aren’t very bright, are you? Are you the one in charge of this funhouse?”
“No,” Ivanovich replied. “I am a soldier. I was told only that there is a very dangerous enemy in this room. That I should kill or subdue this enemy if I can.”
Goddess Marquesa raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Oh!” she interjected. “It seems like a lot of trouble to kidnap Me just to feed Me to a brute like you. But…if you are a soldier then I suppose orders are orders….”
Ivanovich stepped forward hesitantly, his whole posture conveying disorientation and indecision.
“What’s wrong?” Goddess Marquesa asked.
“You…you are a woman, and…” Ivanovich murmured.
“And?” the Goddess prompted.
“…and you are…b-b-beautiful,” Ivanovich concluded.
“Yes I am quite beautiful, aren’t I?” the Goddess asked rhetorically. “That’s all right. You don’t have to kill Me right away. You can look at Me for a little while.”
The Goddess stood, thrusting her breasts forward and extending her right leg to give Ivanovich a fuller view of her gorgeous figure. She smiled seductively and traced a line down the side of her right breast with her exquisitely manicured fingernail, slowly circling the mound of her nipple that pressed through the lacy fabric of her brassiere.
Ivanovich froze. A bulge began to rise in the crotch of his uniform pants. His eyes went wide.
“You like looking at Me…” the Goddess intoned, her voice rhythmic and melodious, “You can feel yourself relaxing…easing into a sweet meditation on My body…My body…so luscious…so gorgeous….looking at Me makes you feel sleepy…sleepy…”
Grodsky hit a button and the scene flashed forward. On the screen Ivanovich was on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him in a gesture of entreaty. Goddess Marquesa was standing directly in front of the kneeling Ivanovich, a triumphant smile on her beautiful face.
“PLEEEAASE, Goddess!” Ivanovich wailed. “Please let me touch You! I’ll do anything…ANYTHING you say! I can’t stand it! I must touch you! You are TOO BEAUTIFUL!!! PLEASE!!!”
Grodsky hit another button. The scene jumped forward again. Now Ivanovich was on his hands and knees, his pants pulled down around his ankles. Goddess Marquesa stood behind him, bent over slightly as she jammed something into his ass. As she worked the object in and out of Ivanovich’s anus, he grunted in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His eyes rolled back into his head, his muscles trembled like jello.
“Tell Me how much you like it, shitstain!” the Goddess commanded.
“Oh yes, Goddess!” Ivanovich moaned. “It feels so good. Please don’t stop! Fuck me! Fuck me hard, please!”
A few seconds later he began to orgasm spasmodically, jets of cum pulsing from his cock as foam flowed from his mouth and covered his chin.
“Stop!” General Markov commanded.
Grodsky hit a button, pausing the playback.
“Was Ivanovich drugged?” the General asked.
“No,” Grodsky replied.
“Did she hit him with some sort of device? Employ some special martial art hold?”
“No,” Grodsky insisted. “She used only her own sex appeal and hypnotic power. We provided her with no special tools.”
“Where did she get the dildo that she was fucking him with?” the General asked.
Grodsky pointed to the still image on the video monitor. “If you look carefully you can see the chair that she had been sitting in off to one side of the screen. She ordered Ivanovich to brake the leg off of the chair and lubricate it with his own spit, and he obeyed.”
“Surely this is some kind of fluke!” General Markov barked. “This Ivanovich was a strong brute, but weak-willed.”
Grodsky hit a button on the remote. A montage of scenes played on the video screen:
In the first, another enormous soldier was kneeling at Goddess Marquesa’s feet, pleading to be allowed to suck her toes. In the next scene that same soldier was lying on the floor, sobbing hot tears as he stroked his cock, while Goddess Marquesa stood over his prone form triumphantly, jamming her bare foot into his eager mouth.
In the next scene another battle-scarred soldier had been tied to the end of a cot by his own shoelaces. Tears streamed down his face as he begged Goddess Marquesa to continue spanking his bare ass.
In the next scene a different soldier was on his knees behind Goddess Marquesa, who had clearly just finished using the toilet. “Clean Me!” the Goddess commanded, prompting the man to jam his face into the crack of her ass and begin licking greedily.
In the next scene a soldier was lying across Goddess Marquesa’s lap, begging to be thrashed with his own belt.
In the next scene a soldier was cleaning the soles of Goddess Marquesa’s bare feet with his tongue.
In the next scene a naked soldier bucked and convulsed from lack of air as the Goddess sat on his face, his stiffly erect cock showing that he was in paradise even as he began to pass out from asphyxiation.
Grodsky paused the playback again. “All of these soldiers were ordered to kill or subdue Goddess Marquesa if they could. None of them were able to resist falling under her sexual control. This next soldier was not given specific orders about Goddess Marquesa. He was simply told that he would be put into a cell with another prisoner for one night, and that if he had an orgasm before morning he would be shot. This is what happened at 3:00 AM that night.”
Grodsky hit the button to start the playback again. The video showed a dark room. Goddess Marquesa was lying on a cot, asleep, her face turned toward the wall. The soldier was awake, kneeling in the middle of the room, staring at Goddess Marquesa’s ass, trembling. His cock was rigidly erect, he was clearly struggling to maintain his composure. Finally, his will broke.
“Oh, Goddess! Goddess!” he moaned, taking his cock in his right hand and beginning to stroke.
Grodsky hit the button to pause playback. “We told that man’s family that he had died heroically at the front.”
General Markov coughed, conveying a mixture of surprise and embarrassment. The room was silent for a few moments. Finally, the General said, “You have shown that this Goddess Marquesa has real power. But how do we weaponize it? Can she be controlled?”
The members of Unit 69 shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“Ah, yes…” Grodsky said. “That is a problem. We did give considerable thought to how we might control Goddess Marquesa. In fact, we were too focused on that question…you see….we should have been more concerned with preventing Her from taking control of us.”
“What?” blurted General Markov. “What do you mean?”
The door to the conference room opened, and from directly outside a bewitching feminine voice declared, “What he means, General, is that they are not in control anymore, I am.”
Goddess Marquesa walked into the room, wearing the same seductive lingerie that she had worn in the video.
“What kind of game is this?” the General demanded.
“It’s no game,” Grodsky replied. “After spending so much time looking at and listening to Goddess Marquesa, all of us have fallen hopelessly in love with Her. Soon, you will be one of us too…one of Her slaves…”
The soft, rumpled members of Unit 69 moved with startling speed and aggression. They sprang from their chairs and grabbed both General Markov and his bodyguard, pinning them prone to the top of the conference table.
“Look, Goddess! You were right!” Grodsky shouted, pointing to the enormous bulge in General Markov’s pants. “Showing the General that footage has worked as you said it would. Even now, he cannot resist being aroused by Your presence.”
“How dare you lay your hands on me!” the General screamed. “You will all be shot for this!”
“Oh, behave yourself,” Goddess Marquesa purred. “Once you have put the army at my disposal and I have become Queen of this country, these men will be heroes. Now, general…listen to My Voice….you feel yourself becoming sleepy…so relaxed….your eyelids are getting heavy…”
The End
