At various points in the past, I have invited a few of my established slaves to write a Guest Blog. For example - https://msemilieoxford.com/2021/06/08/restarting-sessions-and-a-guest-blog and https://msemilieoxford.com/2014/12/21/so-this-is-your-first-time-guest-post. That was partly motivated by my wanting a different perspective – a perspective that my established slaves and potential slaves might more easily relate to. But perhaps that is also an example of my domme style – getting the slaves to do the work?
I haven’t really been blogging about my recent Las Vegas trips - https://msemilieoxford.com/2021/11/15/visiting-las-vegas-again-december-14th-to-20th– although I have quite a few of my Bay Area slaves asking me to do so. They have so much prurient interest…!
But while I was there in December, I saw a new, well qualified slave – who very much impressed me with their devotion. They also seem to have a rather good grasp of language (I think it is a major part of their professional life). So I thought it would be interesting to have them write a Guest Blog for me – which you can read below…
Stay safe…
Ms Emilie
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There’s always a moment. The moment when a Domme exerts her power and authority, which to that point has been latent. It changes the dynamic, sets the tone, propels the scene into motion. And when it is done well, it thrills me. It sends a shiver up my spine, goosebumps break out on my skin, and blood to my cock.
For some, it’s the voice, a sharp change in pitch; from inviting and seductive to commanding and authoritative. One of my earliest Dommes did this, passing from “OK then have a seat” to commanding me to “Strip, now!” in a second.
For some, it’s a gesture. A finger raised and a sharp downward gesture of the hand to indicate i should take my place at her feet. A Domme of the past remains indelibly marked in my mind’s eye when she asked if i was ready and then made this gesture accompanied by the simple but firm statement - “now.’
For some, it’s a physical assertion of dominance, instead of a command to strip, the act of undressing and physically putting him into an exposed or submissive position. A firm hand on the back of the neck to force down the head, the other hand cupping and enclosing on the balls and pulling downward, leaning into him with her weight to bring him down to his knees.
For Ms Emilie, it was the collar.
After a moment to relax and share a glass of wine, to settle our (or at least my) breath and to calm my heartbeat, sitting side by side on the sofa, she reassuringly invited me to undress and lay my clothes neatly on a chair. We had corresponded and talked by phone for weeks prior to the first session, and I wondered how she would assert her dominance. In her photos, she is depicted with a flogger in both hands, and in another pointing her finger, and in another, with a verbal admonition, “I will listen.” I had read the reviews on her website, about how she had structured some of her sessions with others, but I wasn’t sure when the moment would come when she would assert her authority and give me that feeling.
Once I had stripped bare (except for my chastity cage which she had instructed me to wear for one week prior to the session) and stood to face her, she walked slowly around me and stood behind me, close enough for me to feel her breath in my ear. She told me she was going to attach the collar, after which we would be in session and I was to behave appropriately. She told me that this collar had been worn by “hundreds, perhaps a thousand” men she had dominated in the past, and that if I could demonstrate worthiness to her, I might someday have my own collar she would keep for me.
Then she put it on, tighter than I had expected, buckled it and affixed a lock which I heard click shut. I had the shiver, the goosebumps, the shortness of breath and the desire in my balls. I was hers. She then reached around me with both hands, took both my nipples between her index fingers and thumbs, and squeezed hard, reinforcing her control. My breath became shallow and she moved in front of me and pulled me into her body, to settle me but also to control me by pressing her weight against me, telling me not to lean back into her but to accept her control.
And, perhaps to test whether I could be useful, she instructed me to begin to fondle her balls and cock till then tucked carefully in her lingerie.
She led me to the bedroom and instructed me to assume a position on my hands and knees on the bed, from which she assessed approvingly the smoothness of my freshly shaved balls and ass, which gave her a clear surface to brand me her as her bitch.
Although the chastity cage kept my cock from appearing firm, she knew that it was erect inside my body, and she reached from behind and began to stroke the perineum and explain that she could tease and deny me even in a chastity cage. She replaced the small butt plug that I had been wearing with a larger, inflatable one and dilated me …until I had to gulp down my pride and ask her to lessen the pressure.
By this point, I was oblivious to the stream of precum streaming from my dangling and encaged cock, so she put a towel beneath me. And she poured another glass of wine and slowly walked to the front of the bed. She bid me to sip from her cup, and then to begin to nuzzle her bulge with my mouth. The anticipation had ended, the assertion of dominance was complete, and my focus was entirely on the growing bulge in her lingerie and the cock I would worship.
My next memory is of her getting up, after having instructed me for an unknown length of time in how and where to attend orally to her cock and balls, and walking back towards the rear of the bed. In the candlelight, I could see in the mirror her glistening cock, now fully and impressively erect and pointing up at an angle. Just the right angle, I thought, for her to enter my bare ass. She made me wait for it, beg for it, even taking a call on her phone while i begged to be fucked.
I felt once again the tightness of the collar and recognized that I was entirely in her control.