Dandyland Diaries

by D. M. Dewey

  “Don’t you fucking look at me, slut!” I yelled and slapped him across the face. I was wearing long leather gloves so it wasn’t a stinging slap, but more of a love tap.

  He averted his eyes. “Yes, Goddess," he said. “Sorry, Goddess.”

  “You have a lot to be sorry for, don’t you, slut?” I taunted him, standing just inches away from him. I knew he could feel the heat from my skin on his naked body. I knew he could smell me. I walked around to the back of him and breathed in deeply then let my breath out slowly across the nape of his neck.

  He shivered again.

  “Nervous?” I whispered.

  “Yes, Goddess,” he answered.

  I took my crop and dragged across his shoulders, down along the front of his chest, and down to his quivering pecker. I slapped it lightly with the crop. He tried hard to suck it up, but his gasp gave away his pain. He stood straight, eyes staring down, with hands dangling at his side, not sure of what to do.

  “Kneel for me, bitch, and show me your best bow,” I said as I pushed him down to the floor with my hand on the back of his head. He stumbled a little, possibly feeling off balance from the hit to his manhood.

  “Yes, Goddess,” he answered. He knelt and put his head to the floor.

  “Arms out and hands up, loser!” I scolded, “Hasn’t anyone ever trained you how to properly bow to a Goddess?”

  He stretched his arms out in front of him and turned his palms facing up. “No, Ma’am,” he mumbled.

  “What?” I snapped. I smacked his rump with my crop.

  He jumped. “No, Goddess!”

  “Knees apart and feet together,” I commanded.

  Mark struggled to get his knees together.

  “Knees APART, dumbass.” I swatted at his knees to show him where they should go. I pushed his feet together.

  “Suck your stomach in!” He did and I gave him a pat on the head. “Good, boy,” I praised.

  I let him stay there for about five minutes; I stepped on his hands just to remind him that I was there and watching him. “Okay, you can get up now, slut.” I directed him to the bathroom. “You’re going to wash my dog now.” My tone changed to accommodate my sweet puppy. “Come here, Charlie." He came skipping up all waggy-tailed and happy. He jumped up on me as if to say, “What’s happening now?”

  I gave my new slut specific directions on how I wanted my precious dog bathed. Before I let him get to work, I retrieved another pair of silly panties and told him to put them on. He cooperated without a single objection. I think I actually caught him admiring himself. Note to self: this is a sissy boy and sissies are very useful.

  I guess this warrants an explanation of what a sissy is. A sissy does not mean they are necessarily gay. A sissy is someone who has been stripped of all masculine traits when in the privacy of their own home or their owner’s home. Dominas will often turn their husbands into sissified maids. These men will be kept at home, expected to take care of the daily chores around the house while in their sissy frilly clothes and heels. Their whole purpose is to make the Goddess’s life perfectly pampered and stress free. Oftentimes they are kept in chastity and used as a cuckold.

  A cuckold is someone who is no longer of sexual use to a Domina. He is usually too small and pathetic in the man parts area or the Domme has just gotten tired of his dick. So she finds a “bull” or what’s better known as a boyfriend. The cuck will be responsible for preparing the Domina prior to the date and cleaning the Domina before she has sex. He will then watch as his wife or Domme has sex with a much studlier man, seeing his partner get tremendous sexual gratification from someone better than him. He then is responsible for cleaning both parties up… with his tongue. Yup!

  So it looked like I had a sissy on my hands and that’s okay. I watched him wash my dog with care and painstaking precision. He smiled at Charlie and gave him little messages of praise for being such a good boy. I, in turn, praised my bitch and chatted with him in a non-formal way about what he did for a living and small talk like that. He was a smart guy and very kind, so I enjoyed talking to him.

  When Charlie was sufficiently bathed and smelling like a little strawberry of love, it was time to get down to some very dirty business. I told Mark to go lie down on table. He lay down on his back as I slid the panties down his legs. I bound his wrists to some cuffs near the top of his head and strapped his ankles to the legs of the table. His legs were spread wide apart and he looked shockingly exposed.

  What happened to poor Mark next was not very important in the grand scheme of things. Let’s just say that he left fully satisfied with a rosy-colored bum and thanking me repeatedly. All I had to do was clip some clothespins to his balls and that was all she wrote. He was done in a matter of seconds, the poor guy. He needed more training.

  Chapter 10

  In the next couple of months, my life became a little off kilter. I felt like I had a giant arrow balloon hovering around my head with the word “Freak” lit up in flashing lights. Everything that I had been doing and experiencing was so against the very core of my being. I have always been a “giver.” I had worked my whole life not to be perceived as a bitch and here I was putting collars on men and yanking them around by their pricks. I isolated myself from my friends a bit and resorted back to overeating to stuff down the guilt.

  Sarah, who now lived just down the road, was exceedingly busy and had been traveling for nearly six months straight, so I hadn’t really seen much of her lately. One day she texted me that she would be giving a reading of some of her work at a local writers' art space. She said she was too afraid to tell anyone about her reading, as she feared she would be a flop. She seemed genuinely scared. I felt so proud of her for doing it and offered to go with her. She politely declined my offer, but after some gentle nudging, we had made plans to go together. It was just what I needed. It was a night away from the subs begging for my attention and it was time I could spend with someone who knew me like no one else did.

  It was a magical evening and Sarah brought the house down in tears with her poem. She had triumphed! I knew she would. We hung around afterward as she received several congratulations from adoring fans and chatted with people she hadn’t seen in years. She had retreated from this aspect of her life and she was welcomed back with wide-open arms.

  I guess this gave me some courage. On the car ride home, we laughed about absurd ideas we had and hysterical situations we had encountered since the last time we had seen each other. I suddenly said, “You know what turns me on? You know what turns me on?”

  Sarah looked at me with the “I’m already agreeing with you because we are like the same person” look.

  “Punching balls!” I blurted. We looked at each other for a couple of blinks of the eyes and then we both burst out laughing.

  “Really?” She laughed as tears streamed down her face.

  “Yep!” I was now laughing at her laughing at me. Did she think I was joking? Oh God… I think she did. “I’m serious!”

  “Ow!” She giggled.

  “I don’t know why I like it, but I do, and I’m having a blast.”

  “I could never hit someone in the balls!” she said. She looked like someone had just punched her in the balls.

  “I didn’t think I could either and now I can’t stop!” I laughed.

  “Are you being safe? Are you okay?” she asked, concerned.

  “I think so,” I replied. I didn’t really know the answers to those questions. I thought I was okay. I was obviously wrestling with all sorts of deep-rooted issues, but I didn’t feel not okay. I had no idea if I was being safe. I was using condoms, if that was what she’d meant, and I didn’t feel like I was in danger.

  “Well, then I think it rules!” She looked relieved. I knew she didn’t like it when I threw things at her from left field. We both continued laughing until we couldn’t breathe and had to pull the car over to regain our composure.

  I think that went pretty well. She claimed she still loved me and she hadn’t
even taken away her magical key to her kingdom.

  Now my real partner in crime was a cheeky minx of a man named Simon, who was very much the guide to the stars in Hollywood. He was fun, charming, generous, and was basically my gay husband. He was up to speed on my online dating stories but didn’t know about the sharp right turn it had all taken. He was always too happy to get a forwarded “dick pic” from me of some dude who was trying to impress me. Sometimes they were really gnarled up knobby lumps—one looked like a green Vienna sausage—but some of them were real prizewinners. I kept those for rainy days.

  We would ride around town in my little convertible, pretending to scoop up any unsuspecting young man with our giant pretend bear claws. We’d drive and spot some cute abductible guy and swish, out would shoot my friend's hand, swiping the air as if to scoop up the lad. So I didn’t think he would have any issues with my “coming out” to him as a Dominatrix.

  I was right. Simon laughed as I told him all about slaves and boys in my panties and dick slapping. He couldn’t get enough. If you ever want the world to know about your business, just tell your friend with the loosest pair of lips. So within a matter of minutes, I was outed to everyone. I wasn’t upset about it. Okay, I was a little upset because I didn’t give him permission to blast my personal life around to every Tom, Dick, and Harry. I was committed to being true to myself and to the people around me, so I swallowed the initial horrified bit of vomit that suddenly appeared in my mouth and went with it.

  Suddenly I was the hit of the party. All anyone wanted to know or talk about was how I treated my slaves or what I did to them behind closed doors. I had actresses asking if they could sit in on a session and watch because they felt like it was something they needed in their life. And just as suddenly, people started confessing to me their own experiences and fantasies with BDSM.

  I began to realize that I was not alone in my strange new world. Could people even be a little jealous of my change? Probably not, in reality. I was probably more like a train wreck they couldn’t look away from than a sexual hero. I didn’t care, though, which was refreshing. It was who I was and I couldn’t change that, so I owned it. I even gave spanking demos at parties when requested.

  Simon was always giggly when I sent him a text message saying something like, “I need a dog cage big enough for a person.” Or, “How handy are you with carpentry? I need a St. Andrews cross made.” Or just one simple word… “Slaves.” This meant that I was about to venture into a scene and that I would have delicious stories following soon.

  He was usually speechless over the quality of man muffins I would get. Their bodies were all worked out hard and their cocks were even harder. After a while, though, the hard bodies were not enough to sustain my interest. They needed to be able to take a firm hard kick to the balls to make the cut.

  One day my phone chimed. “Hello, Goddess. This is Gavin. You probably hate me for not staying in touch, but I had a family tragedy. If you are still interested, I would love to be at your service.”

  Good things come to those who wait, or get distracted long enough to forget about good things. I had almost completely forgotten about that juicy nugget. Almost. I nearly choked on the coffee I was drinking. He’s back!

  I texted him back. Hi, slut. I don’t hate you. Are you okay? I have a lot of experience with family tragedy if you want to talk about it.

  Thank you, Goddess. I don’t like talking about my personal problems, but I’m all right and I’m ready to be your bitch.

  Are you sure you’re okay, slut? I’m worried. I pushed a little out of sheer curiosity, I admit.

  Yes, Goddess, he replied.

  When are you free? I asked.

  He texted: I can come see you tomorrow if that works for you, Goddess.

  That’s fine, bitch, I wrote back. I’ll text you my address. Be here at 4:00 p.m.

  May I come earlier? he asked.

  No, slut. I have a meeting until 3:00. I took hold of the reins firmly.

  Maybe you could use me as a footstool? he asked.

  I said no! Come at 4:00 p.m. and if I want you earlier, I will call for you earlier. Jesus, Gavin… calm your nipples. He might have been even more excited than I was.

  Yes, Goddess. Did I hear a bit of a pout in that text?

  Stop pouting, bitch! I wrote.

  I’m not, Goddess. Maybe just a little, he replied.

  The next day, I had a lot to accomplish before I met with Gavin. I raced around in the morning doing girly things like getting a pedicure and dying my hair. Then I had to buckle down with my writing partner and write some pages with her. We had been writing a feature-length script together and we were on the final act. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to keep my mind on the task at hand and eventually she excused me from the call, sensing my mind was in a different place. I thanked her and repeatedly apologized for not being more productive. She didn’t know what I had been up to as of late, so I felt guilty for keeping it from her. Don’t worry, I didn’t keep it from her for very long, and she was completely supportive when I told her.

  I got a text from Gavin at 2:00 saying he was close by and would be ready when I needed. He had traveled quite a distance and to avoid traffic, he had decided to try to beat it by leaving hours early. I let him wait. I had said 4:00 p.m. and I wasn’t going to let things get off to a bad start by him getting his way so soon.

  I sent him the instructions regarding how he should arrive at my place. I have kept a strict policy about all subs entering by the back door, naked. He was no exception to this rule. He would see me for the first time on his knees like all of my bitches do.

  He knocked on the door, at the RIGHT door I might add. Charlie, of course, went bananas. I was all done-up in a dress that’s basically a stretchy tube with cut out holes all over it; the holes peeked and teased the eyes to various parts of my body but covered the naughty parts nicely. I wore the obligatory insanely high heels that make a sub’s mouth water. My makeup was perfectly lined and wicked. My hair was in a high and tight ponytail. With my crop in hand, I purposely stomped loudly to the door and stopped just behind it. I gave him a minute for his anticipation to build, and then I opened the door.

  “Look what we have here, Charlie,” I said to my little buddy. Charlie happily wiggled around Gavin’s face and tried to give him kisses. Charlie was the man, but he gave it up too quickly. “Get in here, slut!” I said sharply to Gavin. Gavin crawled into my apartment.

  Chapter 11

  I was not overly impressed with what I saw, but I wasn’t disappointed either. He wasn’t in the most fantastic shape, even though he surfed every day and fought fires for a living. He didn’t have ripped abs or bulging thigh muscles, but what he had was the most gorgeous of all cocks. It was a prized beauty and it was awake and ready to play.

  I made him kiss my feet for a bit and he did so like his life depended on it. He looked up at me to see if I was pleased. I glared back down at him to make sure he knew I meant business.

  I walked him to the center of the room and made him bow for me. He did it pretty well. I corrected him on his form, however. As I was learning, I realized that I was a stickler about protocol. I wanted to be known as a refined Domina, one that cared about the details and due diligence. I would've loved for Dommes to know that a sub had been trained by me just by the perfect way he moved and served.

  Um, okay… I know that was a weird moment. I got a little carried away there. Now back to Gavin’s exceptional body part. He was bowing with his head touching the floor. I went behind him and started tapping his balls between his legs since his ass was pointed up in the air. Balls are so nice and heavy and they make a really satisfying “thud” when hit just right.

  He gave a little pleasure moan when I hit again. I told him to get up on all fours. When he did, I noticed that his clit was dripping. It wasn’t just dripping; it was running like a faucet. I’d never seen anything like it. “Wow, slut!” I laughed. “You’re dripping everywhere!”

 
“I know, Goddess. I have been leaking all day thinking about being here. My pants are soaked,” he said with a bashful laugh.

  I got out a ball weight from my toy box that was meant to give a nice stretch to his testicles. I used an Allen wrench to fit it properly. It was made of shiny stainless steel and it fit perfectly.

  “Stand up, slut,” I ordered. “I want to look at you.”

  “That feels really good on my balls, Goddess,” he said. “Thank you.”

  I sized him up. In my heels, I felt at equal height with him. His eyes were blue and his hair was shaved very short and very slave-like. He had many tattoos on his body but no piercings. His skin was tanned on his arms and face and light where his wetsuit covered him. His pubic hair was shaved off. I had told him to do that; I hated messing around with pubes unless I was plucking them out one by one. His cock continued to drip.

  I grabbed his cock hard as I stared into his eyes. I could tell he wouldn’t resist anything that I chose to do to him. I pulled down firmly with my hand, seeing if he would flinch. He didn’t. He waited for my next move.

  “Get on your knees, bitch,” I ordered. He obeyed.

  When he was on his knees, I tied his hands behind his back and secured his ankles together. I then tethered them together, putting a nice slight forward arch in his back. I stood in front of him, lifted my barely there skirt, and put my pussy up close to his nose. He breathed in deeply and his eyes rolled back. I grabbed the back of his head and shoved his face into my crotch, daring him to move. He didn’t. He awaited my command.

  “Eat that pussy, slut,” I said as I ground my hips into his face. He licked away while making very “happy to be pleasing” noises. He had no choice but to do a good job. My crop was behind him, slapping his ass when I wanted to correct what he was doing. His pain was my pleasure now. I hit him harder because I knew he wanted me to.

  After about five minutes, I came. I straightened my skirt and adjusted my bra. His face was wet from my excitement. His cock was still just as hard. I untied him.