by D. M. Dewey
Dandyland Dairies Vol.1
By D.M. Dewey
“For my sister, who always made me laugh, and my cousin, who gave me the courage.
“To be owned by my Goddess makes a total slave feel completely and totally owned and fills it with as much joy as a slave can feel. Every morning it wakes and gets to its knees, thanking Goddess for owning this slave property. It constantly thinks about Goddess and gets great pleasure from knowing that it is Her property and that it will never be anything else but a very extreme slave ever again to Her and Her alone. Goddess has become its only thought, and it only thinks about pleasing Goddess at all times as it is further dehumanized into Her vision of a perfect slave.”
—33
Chapter 1
When I met Gavin, I was working a very vanilla job making cold-pressed juice. I would go into work, wash organic fruits and veggies, and then watch them get squashed into something wholesome and good for your body. I felt so dirty compared to my surroundings. My job was the perfect juxtaposition to what I had been formulating in my recently kink-awakened mind, and I was feeling far from wholesome.
I had recently begun my life of sexual domination and was going by the name of Goddess SinPlay online. I was, in fact, a budding Dominatrix. I felt even dirtier still with my secret as my boss lectured me on the toxic ways of the non-organic world. Was cum considered non-organic? I didn’t care. “Just press the damn apple and drink the shit and shut the fuck up!” I hope I didn’t just say that out loud.
Everything was new to me, and my journey down the BDSM road was just starting. I’d never actually met anyone in person yet. I had just dabbled in some online play. Basically, I would demand men to do things, very despicable things, to themselves. And they would. A carrot used as a butt plug comes to mind as one of the very naughty moments I’d had online with a stranger. The fact that I forced him eat it afterward was an absolute bonus. I know… gross, whatever. I didn’t tell you to read this book. But I bet you’ll keep reading on.
During the mundane hours between the health lectures from my boss and the endless loads of wholesome fruits paraded in front of me before their mashing demise, I would get little beeps on my phone indicating new messages from fellow kinksters looking for their female superior. The question was always the same even if it was worded differently: Do You want a pathetic sub to play with? But I was picky. I had high expectations about what type of man I would actually meet with in person. And really, that was what I wanted to happen next… some real-time play.
Then one caught my eye. His profile claimed he was a firefighter and a competitive surfer. I have to admit, who doesn’t want to know a hero who can pig dog backside into an inverted tube? The message read: Hi, Goddess SinPlay. You are so beautiful. May we speak? I crossed my fingers in hope and replied: Send a pic, slut. I was very curious about what this fire-surfer looked like, but I hate when I have to ask for a picture. It makes it seem like I gave a shit about them. To make my intentions clear, I'd usually add to the message: I hate ugly sluts. So the burden of proof was on them. I was able to then discern whether they were indeed attractive. And after all, that was what this was all about. My pleasure.
So he did as he was told. He sent a couple of pictures of himself. One the obligatory “shirt off in the bathroom mirror” and one of just his smiling face. That was the selling point for me. He had a sincere smile and great white, straight teeth. Sounds funny, but there are a lot of great faces with teeth like lemon sharks out there. Teeth are a deal breaker for me. Unless they’re quirky teeth, and only then it fully depends on the personality to make that deterrent work for me and become part of his charm. He had tattoos and a pretty fit body, nothing so fantastic that read “I’m obsessed with myself,” but healthy, lean and just plain relatable.
His profile said he had always been submissive to Dominant women. That he believed women to be true Goddesses and superior in all regards to men. That he was born to serve and was happiest at her feet. He also stated how he was very Alpha in his daily life and extremely secure with his masculinity and that he didn’t see his submissive side as weakness but as a way to let go.
So we began to chat. The chats weaved in and out of my lame work hours and began to make them a bit more tolerable. Balancing the harsh demands to this slut with the submissive “yes, sirs” to my boss was somewhat of a challenge, very dizzying, and almost polarizing at times. But I was too turned on to care how one affected the other.
I was still fairly new to speaking to subs and was very strict:
“Address me as Goddess, slave.”
“Don’t speak unless spoken to, slut.”
“Shut up and bow down, bitch.”
But Gavin was game and very tolerant of my barking orders. I liked him immediately.
Upon getting to know one another, we both learned that chastity was a very important part of what we were looking for in a BDSM D/s relationship. The idea of locking his cock up and holding the key unconditionally, only to be released when I felt he deserved, was almost too delicious a notion. Total control over his cock? Yes, please! How was I so lucky to have stumbled upon this little gem of a slut?
So we decided to meet later that night. He said he was taking some college courses and had a class that night but would be free afterward and would love to come up to L.A. to see me. Gavin lived nearly two hours away, but that didn’t seem to bother him. He was aching to be used by me and longed to be in my dominant presence. Who was I to argue with or deny him what he so very much claimed to want? I was excited. Very excited. Maybe too excited.
The only problem was I had no experience and I had no tools to use on him. He was a self-proclaimed pain slut and loved to be punished. But I’d never even slapped a man before. But I was up for the challenge. I went through my kitchen drawers and came up with a wooden spoon, a lemon reamer, a pastry pallet knife, and a cheese grater. Cheese grater? Sure, why not? I could always threaten to use it on his balls.
Then I realized I didn’t know where I would put him once he got here. But then it hit me. I had a large round lounger with a big cushion that I used as a coffee table. Voila! It was as if I'd known its eventual purpose when I'd bought that piece. God, I am so crafty when I need to be.
I felt ready. And I waited. Time slowly passed. And then passed some more. And then I got the text. He had stopped at his parents' house to drop off something and his father was sick. And then it came. The excuse. Goddess, I don’t think I can come to see you tonight. I need to stay with my father while my mother goes out to the store.
WOW, was I crushed! I mean, I had a lemon reamer for Christ sakes, all ready to do something with! So what if I didn’t exactly know what (okay, I kind of did), but I was all set!
Whatever, loser, I replied.
He kept apologizing and whatnot, but I was too disappointed (okay, and very relieved to be honest) to care about his excuses.
The next day, he begged to be at my heels. Dozens of apologies kept streaming in throughout the day of precious juicing. What can I do to show you that I want to serve you, Goddess? he texted.
Hmmmm, what indeed? Get on your knees, bitch, and think about what a pathetic little slut you are. You will bow for twenty minutes and think of ways you can be of use to me, I replied.
Yes, Goddess.
I wrote, Now fuck off, loser.
He replied with a frownie face. Then he was gone. For twenty minutes. A picture came up on my phone of him bowing down on his knees. My panties were soaked. This was too good to be true.
So this was how we played for quite some time. Our schedules didn’t match up for one reason or another. Both of us were busy with vanilla daily duties, but we would be in close contact all day long via text. I would get all turned on at work and daydr
eam about Gavin being bound, helpless, and at my service. We would text dirty things we wanted to do to and for each other. He fantasized about being made to service my pussy for hours as I wrote or watched movies, completely ignoring him except for the occasional crack of my crop on his balls correcting his oral servitude.
Gavin was a fireman, so he worked long seventy-two-hour shifts. I would help him get through them by making him excuse himself and go kneel for me in his room. He would return to work feeling more grounded, refreshed, and dripping from his clit.
Finally, we were both free at home for a couple of hours so we decided to chat on Skype. We were both incredibly excited. I, of course, decided to show up to our chat in the bathroom, lights dim, candles burning and taking a bubble bath. He was dressed, in his bedroom, with his boyish grin filling the screen of my computer. Blue eyes beaming, he laughed, suddenly feeling shy.
I grabbed that moment of weakness and barked, “Something strikes you as funny, slut?”
“No, Goddess,” he replied. “I’m just a little nervous and happy to see you. You look like you’re having a nice time. I wish I was there to help bathe you.”
“Well, aren’t you a good little bitch? I like that you’re already wanting to serve.” With a quick devilish smile, I ordered, “Now take off your clothes and let me see that little clit of yours.”
He quickly responded with a, “Yes, Goddess,” and scrambled to get his clothes off.
I put the pressure on. “I don’t have all day, loser! Hurry up!” I hoped it would heighten his nervousness and make him trip up a little. It did. He couldn’t seem to get his shoes off and struggled with them for what must have felt like hours to him.
“What are you, a dumb fucking cunt who can’t even take off his own shoes?” I looked at him in disgust but laughed on the inside.
“Sorry, Goddess. No, Goddess.” He finally kicked off his shoes and slid off his pants (not wearing underwear) and pulled of his T-shirt. Fuck, his cock was nice, like a really GOOD dick in every way. Pretty, even. Solid. I couldn’t let him know I was happily impressed with it though.
“Let me see your little dicklet, loser,” I ordered. I soaped my body up in total ambivalence, acting like the most important thing in the world at that moment was the washing and caring of my skin. I knew I glistened and looked beautiful in the candlelight. I could see in his eyes that he agreed wholeheartedly. I gently caressed my body, teasing him, and laughed.
“Look at you, slut,” I taunted. “Your clit is all hard and swollen already and I haven’t even said one thing yet. Maybe you don’t have the kind of control I need in a slut. Maybe you are too eager to please?”
“No, Goddess. You just look so beautiful. I can’t help but want you.”
“You like what you see? Are you happy with your Goddess, slut?”
“Very much, Goddess.” He had the most submissive look in his eyes, like I could make him do anything at that moment with just a word.
“I want you to touch yourself, slut. Look at me and touch yourself.” When he did, I could see that he was no longer Gavin the Alpha Fireman… He was gavin the loser sub slut. Even though it was his own hand around his cock, it was my mind that was controlling him now.
“Do you have a dildo, bitch?” I asked.
“Yes, Goddess,” he answered.
“Go get it now. I think you need to give yourself a nice fucking.” I giggled a bit and began to shave my legs as if not to give a shit about what he was doing.
He quickly jumped up and grabbed at a bedside drawer. He pulled out a pink eight-inch dildo. He laughed and said, “It's pink.”
“I can see that, bitch. It just shows me what a big loser you are. Pink is definitely your color.” I snickered at him a little. “Now put your pink cock in your loser ass.”
He obeyed, or at least he tried. “I need more lube, Goddess. May I please get some?” he begged.
I laughed. “I guess so, slut. I suppose even your greedy ass needs a little help taking a nice pink cock.”
“Thank you, Goddess.” He bounced off the bed and grabbed a bottle of lube in no time flat. He greased up his toy and lay down on his back with his ass taking up most of my screen. He grimaced as he began the slow insertion. He stared at the video camera as if waiting for me to show him some mercy. I didn’t.
“Take it, bitch,” I barked, and he did. The toy disappeared. “Now show me how well you can fuck yourself, slut.”
He moaned as he wiggled around on his perch. His cock was as hard as it could get and was now wet with pre-cum.
I wanted him to show me how much he would do for me (as if this wasn’t enough). “Slap your balls five times, slut,” I ordered.
Gavin did… He moaned. “Ow!” he yelped.
“Five more times, slut, since you cried like a little sissy!”
Slap, slap, slap, slap, and slap… He controlled the need to cry out this time. He regained his thoughts and said, “Thank you, Goddess.”
“You’re welcome, slut. See? Don’t you feel so much better for being a dirty little whore?”
He agreed. “Yes, Goddess.” His cock still hard, his hand still stroking, and his toy still in place, he was experiencing some serious sensory overload.
“Do you want to cum, slut?” I asked coyly.
“Would you like me to cum? Would it please my Goddess?”
Now, I have to admit. One of my greatest guilty pleasures in this world is watching a man cum rivers. It is the ultimate turn-on for me. This actually hinders my total control over a man, since once a man cums, he no longer is under my spell. But, I find it such a remarkably sexy moment that sometimes I just can’t help but request to see the sendoff. I get such a feeling of reward from it. As I travel deeper into this lifestyle, I am sure I will understand the great pleasure of denial as well. But for now, show me what you have for me. I will take it as an offering… but I will make you pay for it was well. You’ll see.
So, again the question, “Would it please my Goddess?” The answer was a resounding yes!
“Yes, slut. It would. You will have a countdown from ten. Understand?”
“Yes, Goddess.” He hoarsely replied, his breath jagged from the stimulation he was inflicting on himself.
“Or maybe I will just leave you hanging with a cock up your ass," I teased. "What do you think about that?”
“That is up to you, Goddess.” Damn it! He was too good. I wanted him to beg me to cum.
“Maybe I will make you watch me cum instead.” I started to rub myself for him to see.
“If that pleases you, Goddess. I will watch and wish it was me that was there and making you cum,” he whispered and he stopped handling himself.
“Did I say to stop rubbing your clit, slut!” I scolded. “On the countdown from ten… nine… eight…”
His face was clearly concentrating on that spot we all go to when nearing our orgasm. He licked his lips over and over, his eyes shut. He listened to my count down, trying to stay on task.
“Seven… Six… Five… You want to cum for me, slut?” I teased.
“Yes, Goddess.” His voice was ragged.
“Whose balls are those?” I pushed a little longer.
“Your balls, Goddess.” He gasped between words.
“That’s right, slut. I own those balls. Four… Three… Two…”
His hips begin to shudder and his hand stopped its pumping.
“Not yet, slut. I haven’t given the final word,” I hissed.
“Oh God, please, Goddess,” he cried.
“Ask for it, bitch.” I laughed.
“May I cum, Goddess. Please!” He begged… There it was… the moment I'd been waiting for. He was mine.
“One.”
He arched his back and released the most glorious spurts of spunk I'd seen in quite some time. He convulsed in pleasure and writhed around on top of his pink dick. Squirming to savor every last wave. He opened his eyes and looked to see if I was pleased with his performance.
“No
w eat it, bitch.” I snapped.
He eagerly went to work cleaning up his own mess with his hands and licked them clean with his tongue. Some may feel disgusted by this, but it was how a slut paid for the privilege of not being denied orgasm. It further degrades them and reminds them that they are nothing more than a used whore. This notion makes subs very, very happy. It’s like a child getting a spanking after doing something wrong. Their guilt for having the pleasure was satisfied by the demeaning act. But in actuality, they all really enjoyed it.
I clicked off of our chat without saying good-bye, further sending home the message that I was done using him and he was of no value to me anymore. My phone chirped with an incoming text. It simply read: Thank you, Goddess.
Of course I was now so turned on and sexually charged that I needed to go take a few moments for myself. I thought about his eyes and how they rolled back slightly in his head when I gave him the final count. I thought about his huge load that washed over his stomach. I thought about crushing his balls… Okay, I know. But it seriously did it for me. Insert smiley face.
Over the next few days, Gavin and I exchanged multitudes of sexy messages and naughty voicemails. I would demand him to bow at any given moment and insisted on photographic proof that he had done so. I had decided to buy a chastity device for his cock since I intended to fully own him. He was happy to hear that and felt extremely honored. He felt on the way to being a fully owned slut by a much sought-after Goddess, and this was his ultimate wish.
The day the device arrived in the mail was the last day I heard from him. I texted him a picture of his new cage, expecting an excited, I can’t wait to be at your heels wearing this. But instead, I got nothing.
The next day, I texted Gavin again. Where are you, slut? Everything okay? No word back. I tried once more the next day and then gave up, deciding that if he wanted to talk more, he would. Even if I was feeling something for him, the true state of the relationship was still just based on fantasy and nothing so far on reality. We had never even met. So I was not about to start chasing after him. But secretly, I was very crushed.