The spa on board is supposedly quite posh and I’m looking forward to having a poolside massage, a few umbrella-laden mixed drinks and not having to worry about anything more pressing than whether I’ve gotten sunscreen in all the delicate areas of my body (how many of you would volunteer for the job of massaging worshiping protecting every inch of my body?). And who knows what trouble I can stir up once we arrive in King’s Port?  It’s an entire island, just ripe for the plucking … using my charms, my erotic voice and my long, sexy legs.  It’s almost enough to make you want to warn them, isn’t it?

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Which brought our conversation around to my favourite subject … strapons and faggots.  Upon returning to the house, I shared my latest acquisition  … a strapon I shall refer to as the Filthy Fifteen.  He’s long, thick and just perfect for lessons in advanced cock sucking technique (you can’t help but deep throat him!), which Ms Hunter has sworn to me she’s going to teach all of her little forced cum eating bitches.  I showed her the special harness I had made for Filthy, so I can keep him erect while riding low against my hips and she offered a few suggestions for adjustments that put him in just the right spot.

However, the evening eventually had to wind down (my filthy phone boys were waiting!) and, as she was leaving I joked with Ms Hunter that she was so mean for leaving just after I’d introduced her to my new strapon.  Her reply to me, while smiling in that secretive little way she has was to look right in my eyes and say “But Ryan … he’s just not big enough!”

She ran out to her car, laughing the whole way down the driveway …

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Some of you are aware, of course, that I have my groceries delivered using a service provided by the store.  It just makes my life easier to be able to shop via my computer and have someone else deliver the bags from the truck to the kitchen (I have an exceptionally evil driveway that is pitched just perfect for sledding … not so much for hefting groceries).  One would think that all their packaging rules would remain the same across the board, yes?  Apparently not.  If you visit the website for this service and you want to order bananas, you have to specify exactly how many bananas you want.  If you type 1 (one), as in ONE bunch … you do not receive ONE bunch.  You receive ONE banana.  I learned this the hard way.  OK, so after a trial and error, one would assume that ALL of their “loose grocery” are packaged thusly … if you want ONE of something, you type ONE.  I wanted bagels.  I’ve had a taste for them for about a week and decided to get some on my next order.  Remember, their “loose grocery” is one for one according to my experience.  I want a dozen bagels … so I typed in “12″ and went along my merry way.  Then I remembered that havoc doesn’t like cinnamon raisin bagels (she’s odd, I know) … so I decide to get her a half dozen plain bagels.  So I entered “6″ and continued along, finally setting my groceries to be delivered the next day, while I was sleeping.  (Another reason I get them delivered … I can sleep through the experience).  So I woke up the next morning, came up the stairs and was greeted with a rather interesting sight.

Now, there are those of us out there who automatically see the “sex” in everything … we are prone to pointing out the obvious phallic symbols in most advertisements, joking about “dirty talk” references in every day conversation.  Some might argue that we go out of our way to find such symbolism in the every day.  Some might even argue that our sexuality is evident in our shopping habits … for example, an Alpha Female lesbian might be inclined to subconsciously order bagels because they are reminiscent of a woman’s pussy.  Warm, soft and tight in the middle … Much in the same way a true faggot might decide to suddenly order creme horns so he can get in some cocksucking lessons?  Of course, I would say this is absolute nonsense …

Because then I would have to admit that I’d actually ordered 72 bagels and they were sitting on my kitchen counter with a VERY confused submissive looking at me as though I’d lost my mind.  Which I haven’t … I just REALLY like bagels … you believe me … don’t you?

So, to recap … The grocery delivery company caused me to pervert my breakfast choice and, I figure by the end of next week, I’ll never want to see another bagel again … I just hope this doesn’t change my sexuality … I really don’t like creme horns that much!

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Her body is magnificent in a shiny little pink dress that barely hugs her chest and tucks in against her waspish waist. Long legs twine themselves around his jean covered ones as they dance … they look almost perfect together. You can see the shimmer on her arms as she runs her fingers down his powerful, well muscled arms. The way his chest expands when he inhales the perfume she’s wearing causes your heart to flutter in your chest and you can’t help but admire the way he moves every time those strong hips of his thrust … and that’s when you realize your eyes are glued to him and you’ve forgotten about the woman he’s riding up against. Your cock hardens in your pants as you watch him and you lick your lips, thinking about what it would be like to feel him rubbing up against you that way. The pounding beat of bass in the background only provides a rhythm that you can imagine setting as you taste the sweaty muscles at the side of his neck as he drills you against the wall while she watches you lose your faggot cherry.  Shock registers as your mind draws up the image of you screaming against his neck as he penetrates you. You’re STRAIGHT, for fuck’s sake … guys don’t think about things like that! Real men don’t wonder what it would be like to be the bisexual bitch to a real stud! You try to focus on the woman again … to imagine what it would be like to push HER up against the wall and fucking her mindlessly but all your brain will show you are the images of his cock pushing between your lips as she holds your head down between his thighs. You tremble as you sit there with your friends, trying to play off being a real guy … pretending to be turned on by every chick who walks past. Another beer and you find the courage to turn around … to watch them as they dance together again, this time staring right at you as his hands clench her hips and he pulls her backwards … over and over again.

When they leave the dancefloor, walking right past you and he brushes his hard cock against your thigh … you can’t help it … you make your excuses to your friends and you follow …

I’ll give you what you need … the Softer side of Mean

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“Mistress Ryan, I’m so happy to tell you that I finally did it!  I managed to get my mouth on a real cock and suck off a man!”, he sounded as gleeful as a schoolgirl with her first crush.  I could almost see him dancing in place and squeeing.  I inquired as to how it came about and he told me, in graphic detail, all about Carl.

“Well, Carl is a friend of a friend of mine and we’ve hung out a few times.  He’s always been sort of flirty with me but nothing too bold … Now I know he’s bi and it makes more sense but, at the time I didn’t know what to make of his actions.  Well, anyway, we were all hanging out the night of the Superbowl and we’d had a few drinks … Carl was at the house along with 3 or 4 other guys and we watched the game …”, it was here that we took a little sidebar off into our feelings about the Chastity Bowl, which I will spare you the details of.  Suffice to say, we didn’t have the same experiences and I accept that he’s wrong.  Peyton Manning is the devil, dammit!  … Back to the story …

“After the game, everyone was pretty laid back and just wanted to get home so we sort of broke it all up.  Everyone was packing up and heading out and I didn’t realize it until everyone had left and it was just Carl and I in the house.  Like I said, I’d had a few drinks and was feeling a little … brave.  So when he made some comment about sucking, I couldn’t help it Mistress.  I blurted out, before I could stop myself, something like ‘I know how to suck in a good way’.  Mistress, I was so EMBARRASSED!  Carl just looked at me for a second, like he was trying to register what I’d said and then he came over and stood in front of me.  He put his hand on my shoulder and didn’t even say anything … just started pushing, forcing me down to my knees.

“He smiled at me when I went down and let his hand fall off my shoulder when I was kneeling in front of him.  Mistress, even through his jeans I could tell he was big … I mean, I’d been practicing with the dildos just like you taught me but I didn’t think I’d had anything this big before.  And when the time came for me to actually unzip his pants and take his cock out … Mistress, I couldn’t barely wrap my hand around it … I was so scared, I swallowed hard .. and Carl laughed, saying “The swallowing mostly comes AFTER the cock is in your mouth, bitchboy.”

During the entire conversation, I could hear my little faggot wanne be stroking his dick … and I knew reliving the moments before his deflowering were exciting him, so I stopped him and had him fetch his dildo and some lube.  Once he came back, and he lubed up his dildo so everything was slick … I had him tell me all about taking Carl in his mouth, while I took his ass …

It’s good to be the Queen

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He was a bit less nervous when he called me the second time.  By now, he knew what to expect and had a clear vision of what was expected of him.  I could still hear that quiver in his voice … after all, he was about to once again get faggot lessons.  This wasn’t something most men were raised to think was “cool” or even “sexy” … but for the special few who crave cum as though it were Beluga Caviar.  I instructed him to put the monster cock in front of him as he knelt on the floor … point up  so he had something to aim for … and to take a few practice licks with his tongue against the head of the 2nd cock.  Once he get the smaller of the two dicks nice and wet, he began bobbing his head back and forth on it … taking it a little deeper with each twist of his mouth until he managed to get 3/4 of that faggot stick down his throat.  He gagged a few times but really, didn’t you choke a bit when you were first learning?  I could tell his excitement was getting to be a little too much from the way he was panting between sucks … I could almost see that slack jawed, glazed over look in his eyes as he began to work his cock harder between his fingers.  He was getting ready to cum all over that monster cock … and I whispered in his ear that I was going to make him clean every incriminating drop of cum from that dildo until the back of his throat burned with the taste of cock.

Moments later … I did just that.

But I wasn’t done with him … not by a long shot … after all, once you suck his dick he’s going to want to put it somewhere …

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So, what sorts of things have you asked the Jolly Fat Man for this year?  Did those of you with the humiliated penis syndrome wish for a real cock to be stuffed into your stocking this year?  Or was it the faggots that asked for a good stuffing?  I can never keep up …I know all the femmes asked for sissy panties and makeup … Personally, I told the Ho Ho Maker that I wanted a new purse for Christmas … I’ve been in a mood for a big catchall bag that I can put my strapons AND my cell phone into.  And we all know how big MY strapons are …

Here’s hoping that each of you gets exactly what you want for Christmas … and that all of your gifts are under my tree, just waiting to be opened tomorrow morning

Merry Christmas darlings

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His name (unimportant at this point) may as well be yours, for he could be just about anyone.  He’d come to me through a recommendation of another woman … one who was a bit squeamish about delving into realms of forced bi and forced cum eating.  He nervously made an appointment to speak with me … I could almost hear the tremble in his voice when he said that he had no experience but was quite eager to learn … he’d read every story he could find on the internet and had watched so much gay porn, he could practically quote each moan and whimper of the twinks in those films.   Ideally, in situations like these I prefer to start off with a little coaxing … playing with their mouths with a pinky finger, graduating up to their index finger and then making the jump to strapons and buttplugs.  However, this darling little cum catcher was already beyond these coercions … He’d called me fully prepared with a 10″ monster dildo, enough spit to lubricate a car engine and a promise to do whatever was necessary to learn how to take his first real cock in the next 45 days.  I laughed at his eagerness … and told him to hurry up and suck that cock down into his throat …

This was going to be fun …

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Go on … all the cool kids are doing it

Perhaps this is the year you’ll finally screw up the courage to bring your girlfriend to the company Christmas Party and show off how hot she looks in that skimpy red dress (the matching panties are safely tucked away inside YOUR pants … just to remind you of what a panty wearing loser you are for her)?  Will you have the cojones to introduce her to your boss, knowing full well how attractive he is?  Perhaps, if you time it perfectly, you could be spending next Christmas with your ear pressed up against the door, listening to your boss fucking your new wife in your wedding bed!

Speaking of wedding beds, this reminds me of a call I had recently … a call that stands out in my mind as needing to be mentioned.  This particular caller … let’s call him Blushing … was calling to make a confession to me.  He was overwrought with guilt and a need to tell someone about his naughty fantasy.  Apparently, Blushing likes to steal panties from his sisters, his aunts and other women in his life so he can sniff how dirty they are … now this, unto itself is relatively harmless … I have quite a few panty sniffers who like to indulge in the aroma of a well used pair of panties.  No … what sets Blushing off from everyone else is that our little panty sniffer apparently likes to cruise auction sites online and purchase used wedding dresses.  That’s right, our little bitchling can’t get enough of slipping into a fresh, white wedding gown and humping his little stick against the crinoline until he stains that perfect white dress with his panty juice.  He imagines himself walking down the aisle like the Blushing Bride, with cum staining the inside of his perfect dress … hmm, a metaphor perhaps?  At the very least, some pretty strong symbolism …

Ah well darlings … as you know, I tend to go a little crazy for the Christmas season and have already started working on my dinner plans for that night … I’m thinking of doing a ham, with some of my famous mashed potatoes and some rolls …

Who knows … perhaps some lucky boy might get a special cream pie for dessert?

Adieu,

Empress Ryan
~The Dick Domme Nation Life Coach~
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