Dandyland Diaries (7 page)

Chapter 9

So in a roundabout way, we are back to where we had left off. I had just had a successful session with Sam. I was still missing Gavin.

I was so excited with my clean kitchen and my feeling of newly found power that I wanted more. I had hundreds of male submissives from all over the world clamoring for my attention. Some asking me to
use them in any way I saw fit; others wanting to smell my feet; some hoping I could use a good sissy maid. Men asked me if they could be my errand slaves, be my ass whores, be my pain sluts. It was all very overwhelming. All I had to say was, “Kneel, bitch!” and they would.

I had men kneeling in all different corners of the world. I would forget about one and a message would appear, “May I get up, Goddess?” Oh shit! I had him on his knees for two hours! I needed to learn to take better care of my subs. Own
ing a sub is a big responsibility, as I was quickly finding out, even if they were in Saudi Arabia. This is not something to take lightly. You can’t go into this all willy-nilly just like that, having subs kneel on your command. You need a plan. I needed some training myself.

I read and read and read about Female Domination. There are some great books that give the average Jane a fair stab at becoming a super Goddess. I was a focused student. I soaked it in like blood soaks into a… maxi pad? That was bad,
but it was the only thing that came to mind other than the usual sponge reference.

After I had done my homework and had a much better understanding of what owning a slave actually entails, I was much more prepared to actually find one that would suit my n
eeds. Luckily, there was a cute young slut named Mark who was all too eager to get his freak on with a mature dominant woman such as myself. He was in his mid-twenties, shy, and pretty sweet looking.

He contacted me online with the usual first message. “I
think you’re very pretty.” I know you may feel that I am taking a sort of blasé tone to a young man commenting on how pretty I am, but I, just like most women, think they must be lying. Especially if they are saying something about how pretty I am. Have they seen what I look like when I get out of bed in the morning? Can’t they guess how disgusting the roll of fat on my stomach is when I’m sitting down on the toilet? Do they not know how hideous my ass looks when I’m cramming it into a pair of jeans? I mean, seriously… get real, guys. Pretty? Try to sell me something I’m buying. But okay, I can play pretty if that’s what you want.

I sent back a message that read, “Address me properly, slut!” How dare he think he could just throw that compliment out there wit
hout at least asking permission to speak first AND not even attempt to address me with respect? I was insulted. Not really, but I knew my place and he obviously did not.

“Sorry, Ma’am. Yes, Ma’am. I think you are very pretty, Ma’am,” he wrote back. I could
almost feel the tremble in his hands as he wrote that.

“Better. What do you want, slut?” I asked.

Being called a slut in the BDSM world is not the same as being called a slut in the vanilla world. Being someone’s slut in the world of kink is practically a term of endearment. It is insulting, sure, but it is used mostly in a way that indicates that they are yours to be used, and the very nature of a sub is one that wants to be used by their Dominant. It is what they live for. All of their being wants nothing more than to please their Dominant and to be of use to them.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” He wrote, “I want to be your slut.”

I wrote back quickly. “What kind of training do you have, loser?”

“I don’t have very much, Ma’am,” he replied. “I have a little strap-on
training and I am very good with household chores. I would like to be trained by you, Ma’am.”

Ugh… Ma’am. I needed to put an end to that and fast.

“First of all, slut,” I wrote back, “you should always ask a Domina how she prefers to be addressed. You may call me Goddess. Second of all, why would I want to train a loser like you?”

“Yes, Goddess. Sorry, Goddess.” He was shaking in his boots. “I can be very helpful and I am clean, smart, and open to all training.”

“All right, bitch,” I wrote back. “I can see you on Saturday for inspection.”

Now the lovely thing that I had found to be deliciously decadent was the aspect of “consideration” in the BDSM community. When a sub was being vetted by a Dominant, the Dominant would tell the sub when and where to go t
o be considered. It's a critical time in the forming of the relationship and will decide whether the sub is up to the Dominant's standards. If they were, then they were that much closer to being owned.

To be inspected was basically the same thing, but I wa
s not looking for a sub to own. I was just looking for playthings to amuse me. So inspection was a more appropriate term to use. I am not trying to teach you about this lifestyle; I am merely trying to explain how some aspects work so that you can follow along with my story. I don’t want you to think that I’m writing this as an authority or that I feel I have it all figured out. I am really very new to all of this.

“Oh, thank you, Goddess! May I please see you on webcam for a minute to verify?” he wrote.

“I suppose so,” I responded.

So we reconvened on Skype where—POP
!—up came the image of a young man standing at his desk.

“Hello, Goddess,” he said. “Thank you for agreeing to cam verify for me.” He looked nervous and small.

“Of course, slut," I replied sternly. “Let me see your body. Turn around.”

He turned around for me. He was only wearing some black boxer briefs and a smile.

“Now slap your balls five times!” I demanded.

“Yes, Goddess,” he replied. He began slapping his balls as I had instructed. He
winced.

“Harder, slut. That was barely a tap!” I pushed him.

He smacked harder this time and he doubled over in pain and groaned.

“Good boy,” I said. “Now piss off, I have important things to do. I will see you Saturday.”

“Yes, Goddess,” he said, still recovering from the hit.

I clicked off the video call.

Ahhh, Saturday… here you are again, you little bitch…

Mark had asked if he could come at 10:00 a.m. to serve. Jesus, what’s wrong with people? Who wakes up on a weekend morning and immediately wants to get abused? Mark did, that’s who. So I reluctantly got up, showered, and started putting on my clothes. I dragged my seven-inch baby doll heels out of my closet, then sucked in my gut as I took about twenty minutes to fasten my corset. By the way, those things are a fucking pain in the ass to put on. No wonder in the days when it was customary to wear one at all times, a woman needed four people to help her get dressed. I may just have to get myself a handmaiden slut… or a corset with a zipper. I had gotten this full fishnet body suit and it took me about another twenty minutes to figure out how to put that on, and then I realized I should have put it on UNDER the corset. My day was a royal pain in the ass already.

I’m not so sure why I’m always so orner
y when I get ready to see a sub. Maybe it's because I need to get all pissed off for when they show up. It’s also just a lot of work. There’s a lot of shaving, washing, plucking, and styling that’s involved with becoming a Goddess. It’s not easy. Some might say that if I were a true Goddess, then it should be all about my comfort and that I should be wearing flip-flops and sweat pants if I wanted, but I am too vain for that. I wanted to look flawless and fierce.

The hour had arrived for my new slut to show
. I had given him the same instructions as Sam. He was to enter my patio, strip, kneel at the door, and knock.

He walked in my front door. My dog Charlie went ape shit. I forgot to lock it. Damn it! He saw me sitting on my couch, legs crossed and swinging
impatiently with my crop in hand. At least I hadn’t been wrist deep in my nose or something equally horrifying.

He quickly apologized and backed out, then closed the door. Charlie was beside himself and barking up a storm. I heard the patio door being fo
rced open. Okay, now he was on the right track. Too bad he was going to have to pay for that rather large mistake. I heard a timid knock on the back door. I saw Mark, kneeling and shivering a bit, as I opened the door. Charlie immediately pushed his nose up to Mark excitedly.

“Sorry, Goddess,” he said breathlessly. “I got confused.” He started petting Charlie. Charlie, now satisfied that this man was not an intruder, went back to his comfy spot on the couch.

“Get your sorry ass in here!” I yelled sternly.

H
e shuffled into my apartment on all fours. Charlie raised an eyebrow at him as if to say, “Seriously, dude, you are pathetic.”

I told Mark to crawl with his nose to the ground and to follow my crop as I led him to the center of the room. I ordered him to s
tand up so I could inspect him.

Mark stood up, looking helpless and scared. He looked at me.

“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 hi
s 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 yo
ur 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 t
he 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 direct
ions 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 th
eir 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 go
tten 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 wa
sh 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.