Such Delectable Pleasures.

My Ella and I have been separated for more than two weeks now, by the vagaries of our various professions. Two weeks is a horrible time to go without my beloved slave. And it is, if anything, worse for her. She has not been allowed to orgasm this entire time. I’ve been toying with the notion, internally, of simply not allowing her to climax at all unless we’re together. So far, I’ve simply put conditions and rules around her self-provided orgasms: sometimes she must purchase them with strokes of the cane. Sometimes she must submit written requests.

I find it unbearably arousing that she must suffer deprivations while I satisfy my own according to my whim. Indeed, all of her suffering is arousing to me. And given how separated we’ve been, and how eagerly I find my hands grasping for her, I have decided that this weekend, when we are finally together again, she will suffer deplorably for me. And I want her torment to be special.

So, we’ve decided that this weekend’s torture will be concentrated on her poor, neglected pussy. She is to be shaved, and prepped for me. Earlier this week I had her write the word “SLAVE” across her mons pubis in black marker. If the word still lingers, all the better. She’s had a number of assignments this week, including selecting bondage positions and devices she’s hoping to try that she hasn’t yet been subjected to.

And so, when I arrive, she will be carefully and tightly bound. Rendered helpless and immobile. Subjected to humiliations for my pleasure. And I will torture her perfect, pink, delicious, smooth little pussy until she begs me for mercy. And then I will use her for my pleasure. As is my desire. And finally, I will grant her permission for that elusive climax. And if history is any indication, she will contort with illimitable ecstasy until her mind nearly breaks. And then she will thank me for it, breathless and spent and owned.

-The Refined Dominant

A Lovely Present.

The holiday season is upon us, and I am separated from my lovely Ella. She’s with her family, whereas I’m stuck in my hometown, alone. We will be reunited this weekend. I am decidedly eager to see my beloved slave. Especially considering the thoughtful and exciting gift she gave me. She’s such a generous submissive.

Readers may recall Ella’s “New Requirement“. She is required to submit a photograph of herself, naked and appropriately submissive, every day that we are apart. The holiday season is no exception. The punishment for neglecting this requirement is ten strokes of the cane. Now, Ella is not especially fond of the cane.

We were discussing her preferences recently. She asserts that in order of most-to-least-pleasant, the implements with which I punish her are arranged thusly: hand; crop; cane; belt; hairbrush. I was surprised to learn that the hairbrush is such a dreaded instrument of correction. And of course, this list leaves unremarked upon the various kitchen tools used for similar purposes. I have a variety of olive-wood spoons…

Nevertheless, while the cane is not especially high on the list of dreaded reprimands, it is decidedly effective, in more than one way. First, she will endeavor to avoid it through excellent adherence to my strictures. Second, when I wield it – laying thin pink stripes across her gorgeous ass and the backs of her milk-colored, taut thighs – it results in a flood from her sweet little pussy.

I confess. I was thrilled when she neglected to send me that photograph on Christmas Eve. While I obviously may cane her at any time of my choosing, I prefer to allow her the privilege of avoiding the strokes if she can be obedient enough. And so upon our reunion, Ella will kneel and present her ass. And I will subject her to my discipline. And then I will avail myself of her delectable, molten core. As is my right. My privilege. My property.

-The Refined Dominant

Play Party.

Saturday, Ella and I attended our first play party. It was the first explicitly BDSM event I’ve been to, though I’ve been to a number of sex-positive events. For Ella, it was her first exposure to anything of this sort at all. But as you’ve read, she was very excited about it. She had been on semi-orgasm restriction for about 10 days. Meaning, she is required to purchase her orgasms with two strokes of the cane. She elected not to have any, rather than to incur the debt. Which is fine for me. We ensure that my needs are satisfied whether hers are or not. And I enjoy equally her deprivation, or executing her demerits.

So on Friday we bought her her corset, and an extra length of rope for good measure. We did go with the 22″ corset. Forgive me, but I do enjoy having her tightly confined. And my Ella does enjoy the strictures of bondage. We also got her a set of gorgeous black stockings. A pair of brutal patent leather pumps. I hope you’ll agree she’s lovely.


The party itself was very interesting. For the first hour, I allowed Ella to wear her jeans. After that, she was stripped down to what you see above. Though I never did attach the leash. I did, however, pinch her nipples until she begged mercy in public. We watched a fire-show with cupping. There were a number of gay couples involved in complex rope-work. I got to observe some great rigging.

But it was difficult to meet people. We were new. While Ella was in an outfit that had echoes all around the room (though no one wore it as well), I did not. I was dressed more for closing a business deal than in the leather-and-denim favored by most of the men there. It’s not my look. I won’t be adopting it. There was one couple there dressed smartly, dominant man, collared woman. But we never got the chance to talk with them. But I suspect that we’ll make friends as time goes by.

However, the thrill that I felt taking Ella out, and showing her off as my own thing, my property, was magnificent. I enjoyed it, even though I felt vaguely uncomfortable in the social situation, and will definitely need more experience. Ella described the feeling of being my thing as very erotic. And when we finally came home, we made love without pretense, and without bondage. Lovers, aroused by the same environment. I her master, she my slave. And each of our desires equally attended to.

-The Refined Dominant

The Next Event.

I am taking Ella to an event on Saturday. It’s billed as participatory theater, which means a play party that’s legal to charge admission to without it being prostitution, I think. However, the event only allows nudity from the waist up. No penetration, etc. Which is just fine by me for our first play party. Perhaps as we engage with the community more, we will be more interested in parties that have more… expeditionary ambitions. For now, we are interested primarily in observation and connections.

Because I have absolutely no intention of sharing my Ella with any other males. Or with any other dominants. The idea of her being touched by another submissive female is not entirely unappealing to me, but it is an area which we are only beginning to discuss, and are certainly not ready to explore yet. If ever. And I am not interested in touching any other persons at all, male, female, dominant, submissive, or otherwise. Ella is mine, and she is only mine. I have no desire for any others. And our arrangement does not extend to any others. We are a pair. Not more.

But, being watched, and watching? That appeals to both of us, right now.

Prior to the event, I will be buying my Ella a corset. We had her try one on recently. She is very petite, and has about a 27″ waist, naturally. The 24″ corset was elegant, and certainly confining. The store we love has them only in even-numbered sizes. So while a 23″ might be ideal, it isn’t an option unless we branch out or have one made. Luckily, the nature of corsets is such that they’re quite customizable.

So, we will buy a corset. And I will lace her into it. And then I will put on my hand-tailored suit. Ella will wear panties and thigh-high stockings with a garter under her corset. High heels. And of course, her collar. And my leash. And we will go and watch, and if it suits me in the moment, perhaps I will bind her to a stocks and crop her there, in public, so that all may see how my obedient slave accepts her master’s discipline.

And then, when we return home, she will serve me in private as she cannot in this public forum. Surrendering up her body for my pleasure, and for hers.

-The Refined Dominant


He binds her in what has become one of their favorite predicaments. Simple. Difficult. Her collar is turned so that the steel ring that normally graces her throat is at the back of her neck. Her leather cuffs encircle her wrists. Her arms rest in the small of her back. He connects the collar to the cuffs with a loop of twine. A small loop. Her arms are hoisted from her lumbar to her shoulder blades.

The position rapidly becomes a struggle. She must lift her arms to relieve the pressure on her throat. Light pressure. It does not impair her respiration. But it is uncomfortable. It is very uncomfortable. And this is far from the sole pleasure of the position. She is utterly, completely helpless thusly bound. Thoroughly confounded in movement, she is nevertheless completely exposed. She can cover neither her breasts nor her ass.

The blindfold ensures she will not know whether her next torment will be applied to those breasts, or that ass. She is desperately aroused. Fear and anticipation build until she feels the rough palm of his hand caressing her cheek. He builds the anticipation slowly. Cupping her breast lovingly. Briefly lifting her elbows to relieve her strain. She can smell his proximity. Her heart seems to quiver rather than beat.

The slicing sound of the crop through the air and the yellow blossom of pain in her breast come in the same moment. She gasps and bites her bottom lip gently. The hand returns. The pain is replaced with the warm pleasure of his touch. Her body floods with arousal. He nudges her knees apart with his foot. Presses the cool leather of his cordovan monk-strap into her dripping pussy. Another blow of the crop lands.

The alternation of blows to her breasts and gentle caresses repeats. How long? She can’t know. A minute. An hour. Finally, he releases her arms from their strictures. And issues his first instruction.

“You’ve gotten your juices on my shoe, slave. Lick it clean.”

She places her hands on the floor in front of her. Arches her back, lifting her cream-colored ass into the air, her smooth pink lips peeking between her lean and immaculate thighs. Blindfolded, it takes a moment for her to locate the foot. She can smell herself, now, on its supple leather. Her tongue caresses the horsehide as a shiver of humiliation runs through her, releasing another deluge from her core. As she expected, he takes the opportunity to direct the crop to her upturned ass.

“Well done, my pretty little slave. Now, thank me for your torment.”

“Yes, sir,” she whispers.

She rises to her knees again. Unzips his trousers. His heavy member falls free and she takes it in her mouth. He is supremely aroused. It takes little effort for her to coax his climax from him. She swallows him. He catches his breath.

“Well done, my darling captive,” he pronounces, as he lifts her to her feet and removes her blindfold. “Well done indeed. Now, bow for your audience.”

The room erupts in applause. A waiter brings her a glass of champagne at her master’s indication. She smiles bashfully and takes a modest sip. He leans down into her, kisses her, and whispers into her ear: “I think you’ve earned an orgasm of your own for that performance. Probably.”

-The Refined Dominant

The Interview.

Yesterday, Ella and I attended our first instructional course. It was a demonstration of some edge-play techniques, including breath play. A dominant taught the class with three of his female subs as instructional subjects. Prior to the class starting Ella tried on a beautiful corset that absolutely flattered her already stunning figure. The class itself was two hours long and was very talky. It was sparsely attended, and as a result there was a lot of back and forth with the instructor. One woman, a domme, asked a lot of very pointed questions. To the point that I ended up being mildly annoyed. I wanted to see a class, not hear a conversation. But it didn’t seem to anoy Ella as much. So, here then, is my interview of Ella after the class:

This foray into a public environment was your first as a submissive (or at all!). What are your first impressions?

First impressions, meaning, out in public as your sub? 


It was mostly comfortable. And I think that’s because our interaction really made it so.

You say “mostly comfortable”. What was slightly uncomfortable?

The dynamic of the room being such that at times the attention was focussed on me. And I’m generally not super-comfortable with having attention on me in public. And this is the first time that there was attention focussed on me where it was very clear to everyone in the room that I was your sub. 

Yes it was. You were wearing your collar, and it was locked on. Although with your hair, the lock couldn’t be seen. But when you were trying on the corset, it was obvious to everyone that I was in charge. How was that? Putting on the corset in public, wearing your collar, with your master directing it?

That was…. perfectly comfortable. It was also what made the demo dynamic more comfortable for me.

Meaning it made you more comfortable not to have to be in charge?

That it was clear the relationship between us. And so it rather logical that I didn’t speak up, but instead sat quietly. 

There were a couple of times the other dominant addressed you directly. How did that make you feel? Did you feel like you had to obey him?


Well, good. You only obey me. But what did you think of him as a dominant? Did he seem like he had characteristics that you think of as appropriate for a dom?

Well. You’re the only dom I’ve ever known. He seemed to have a very different style. 

What was different about it?

Hmmmm. Yes. He lacked charisma and the commanding presence that you have. 

You flatter me. But then, a good slave does that. While always being honest, of course. OK. Let’s talk about the actual events. There were a couple of times he struck a slave with his cane harder than I’ve ever struck you. What was it like seeing that?

I’m trying to find the right word. I suppose it made me feel like I wasn’t so unusual. This is a very new exploration for me. And I suppose that sometimes it seems to run counter to the idea of normal that I’ve constructed. Or had constructed. And so then it was, in an odd way, it was almost a little calming to see that type of interaction. 

He had one slave stand on her tiptoes against the wall for a long time. And then had her kneel on with her face on the floor for a long time as well, while he spoke to the class and answered questions. What was going through your head, seeing her like that?

I don’t know that I felt anything particular about that exhibition. You’ve certainly had me in uncomfortable positions for extended periods of time. 

Was it arousing to watch?

Not particularly. I think it was interesting and beneficial to observe some of the interactions. But it wasn’t arousing to me. Were you? 

Impertinent. (You should see her grin, friends.) One of the demonstrations he did was placing a plastic bag over his sub’s head until she thrashed in obvious distress. However, she also very clearly enjoyed the experience, indicating so both by words and body language. How did it feel to see that?

That was more uncomfortable. Because there’s an element of real danger involved, meaning physical harm. But while it was an extreme version of  breath-play that they demonstrated, that is something that I’ve found arousing. 

Yes. We’ve done a little bit of that. Including after the event. You clearly found it arousing (as evidenced by the sluice of liquid between your legs), but also very very intense, so that afterward, we needed to talk about it and recuperate a bit.

Yes. Much of which goes back to the internal conflict between what clearly excites me and what I would consider unacceptable in a number of other situations. 

When the event was over, I was preparing to take off your collar for the walk home. But you indicated that you’d prefer to keep it on. Why so?

It simply didn’t bother me to be wearing that subtle symbol of submission in public. 

Are you interested in taking other classes? And if so, what sort?

Yes. What sort? I like the idea of learning about other approaches or types of play. And I am intrigued by the idea of taking a bondage class together. I’d much rather have you tying me up than someone else. 

Well, no one but me is going to be tying you. However, I can imagine that an instructor would need to touch you in order to check my knots, or give personal instruction. Does that sound acceptable?

Yes. Only because I know it would be a very limited and completely professional interaction, not to mention there’s a good chance it’s a female instructor. 

There’s an idea! But you like the idea of being bound by me in public?

With a limited audience.

That does sound fun. However, for the time being, you’re going to have to be satisfied with being bound privately.

That’s certainly satisfying enough. 

Last thing. On our way out, we bought a plastic cane. And I had to give you six strokes for your infractions during the event (forgetting to call me “sir”). You seemed to have a very powerful reaction to the cane. You found it extremely painful, but you also were incredibly aroused. What are your feelings about the cane, really? (She’s smiling shyly and giggling. I should mention we’re doing this interview out at a coffee-shop…)

It’s something I hope to avoid. But. I know it will be incredibly arousing when I do get it as my punishment. 

Ah, yes. And it is, of course, a master’s obligation to keep his slave aroused.

-The Refined Dominant and The Elegant Submissive


My beloved slave and I will be attending our first live show this weekend. A local sex shop, which has rope classes and bondage demonstrations and various general sorts of kink-on-display, is having a live show in which a male dom is demonstrating play with his female sub. Ella and I will be attending. I’m very excited. I look forward to sharing this experience with her, and we’ve already decided that we will do a joint post afterward to discuss our feelings and experience. So look for that this weekend.

In order to make sure that Ella is as excited as I am, she has been forbidden from orgasm until after the event. It’s been several days. To ensure that she is as aroused as possible – and this was Ella’s idea – she will be spanked and cropped thoroughly before the event. Then she will kneel and thank me, sucking me off and swallowing me. But she will not be allowed to come. The wettest I’ve ever seen her was when she was whipped with the belt before going to buy her collar. She wasn’t allowed to come then either.

These are the basic aspects of my Ella’s slavery. She is frequently bound. Always shaven. Regularly tortured. Often denied satisfaction, often overwhlemed with it. She is required to keep me satisfied according to my desires. To receive my cock, my discipline, my punishments, however they arrive. And she is incredibly adept at this. In return, she is cherished and adored. Prized and admired. Protected and owned. Claimed.

And when the event is over, my Ella will, in a fever of intolerable arousal, be driven past pleasure to madness. And I will ride the crest of her desire to my own satisfaction. Again, and again, and again. Until she begs me for the mercy she knows I offer only when I am ready, and not when she asks. This is the love of a master and a slave. Of lovers living in the moment of their ecstasy; partners who choose to surrender and accept the power of their desire a little differently from others, perhaps. But with intensity that few otherwise can muster.

Our love ascends from mystery, certainly. But it is a magnificent mystery.

-The Refined Dominant

A New Requirement.

Because Ella and I do not yet live together (we’re working on it), and because our working schedules are often incompatible, sometimes several days will pass that we cannot see one another. Ella has developed the endearing and delightful habit of sending me pictures of herself in varying stages of undress as she arises, or tends to her ablutions. I have come to anticipate and appreciate these pictures. I’ve received them nearly every day for the duration of our relationship in which we haven’t been together.

Monday, the 21st, was just one such day that we were unable to be together. But no picture came in the morning. Nor at night. An entire 24 hours passed and I did not see the voluptuous curves of my delectable slave. An intolerable condition, as any Dom might imagine. And yet, I had never explicitly required her to send one every day. Individual times, certainly. She knows she must send a picture of herself every time she shaves that I’m not there. (What a perfect little pussy, my dear readers. Pink and slick and clean-shaven…)

So I cannot punish her for failure to send a picture yesterday. But I can make sure it never happens again. I have informed her that she is required to send a nude picture every day we are apart from now on. I have not informed her of the consequences of failure. That she will learn at the same time as the rest of our readership.

So, Ella, a daily picture, morning or night, completely disrobed, appropriately shaven, and befitting submissive posture. Each day you neglect this task will result, on our next reunion, in ten strokes to the ass, breasts, or thighs. With the cane. Which you will count, aloud, and thank me for. And then, when done, you will kneel before me and thank me for your punishment with your mouth, just as a good slave does.

-The Refined Dominant

The Master’s Duty.

To outward appearances, the relationship between a slave and a master can appear to be about the slave satisfying all of the master’s desires, while having her own sublimated and denied. Providing the master with pleasure while the slave suffers indignity and pain, suffering for her master’s desire and entertainment. And certainly, I don’t want to diminish that aspect. My Ella suffers both pain and denial while pleasing me according to my desires.

But it is the master’s duty to ensure his slave’s needs are met. And that her deep, core desires are fulfilled. Previously unfamiliar with a lover devoted to her pleasure, I work very hard (a literal labor of love) at ensuring my Ella receives many multiples of pleasure for every trial of pain and torture. It is a great delight to see her transported by pleasure, rapt and elated. Whether we are making love on the loveseat, or she is bound for my use on the bed, when she shudders in ecstasy it is her master’s triumph.

My design, when I have her helpless, subject to my will and my whim, is that she feel cherished. I claim her because I want her. She is precious to me. I bind her and torment her because it arouses her. And because it arouses me. I want her to know that she is worth all of the effort that goes into her captivity. When she is kneeling, her hands bound behind her back, her breasts defenseless against my cruel fingers, my instinct – as that of any man must be! – is to take her, plunge my cock into her, and satisfy myself.

But I delay my own pleasure, I delay my own right – a right we’ve together agreed is mine – to satisfy myself this way. I postpone my pleasure so that I may increase my slave’s. Through slow, focused torment and prolonged service. I ratchet her arousal to levels that she has never known, and then finally, after she has begged for me to do so, I satisfy us both together. This is the master’s duty.

The master’s duty is to his slave. That she be cherished, and adored, and loved. That her service and sacrifice be rewarded. That she is rewarded copiously with what she needs from her slavery. This must, of course, vary from slave to slave. What my Ella needs may be very different from what another master’s prize desires from her slavery. But my Ella. She is mine, and I desire no other.

My duty to my slave is simply this: she must know that she is precious. She must know that her suffering elates me. That my desire is not for the game, but for the way it nourishes our souls. That the trust she places in my hands when she is helpless and I am rampant is a sacred and inviolable trust. My Ella knows that she is mine. My own property. And I only acquire possessions of great value.

-The Refined Dominant

The Slave Collared.

So, Friday night, we went to the lovely and upscale little sex shop and leather goods emporium to procure Ella her collar. As I wrote before, she is so petite (her throat measures 31cm), that finding a collar has been difficult. We looked last a few weeks ago, to no avail, at a different shop. I had had my heart set on a lovely collar with a locking loop. But such was not to be. All of the collars with that particular feature were far too large, or had inelegant spikes or studs which reflected neither my sensibilities nor Ella’s elegant charm.

But after many trials, and a somewhat nosy and overly-helpful shop assistant’s intrusions, a lovely, simple red collar. While it doesn’t have a locking loop, the nosy shop assistant did show me how to thread a lock through the buckle and an unused perforation to lock the collar around her neck. It’s not a perfect solution, and I may still have one made at The Collar Factory, just for variety’s sake.


But for now, my Ella looks sublime in her collar, which she’s worn pretty much nonstop since then when we’re alone. I’ll write this week about the reasons I don’t require her to wear it in public. For a girl who’s never worn a collar before, she’s taken to it with alacrity. Even having no trouble sleeping in it. She also discovered its more utilitarian purposed when I tied her cuffs to the collar with a short loop of clothesline, limiting her hands to excursions no further than a foot from her breasts, and ordered her to make the bed. An exciting exercise in domination and forced-ingenuity which left her dripping wet and begging to be fucked.

And now for our big Sunday. We’re going to a fancy-dress event. So before hand, I’m going to tie her up, shave her, torture her, fuck her, and then I’m going to put the other gift I got her this week around her neck: a sapphire pendant on an ultra-fine platinum chain, and she’ll put on her brand new black dress, and I’ll put on my brand new grey suit, and we’ll go to our event. And no one will be the wiser that this elegant and rapturous beauty is my own collared, willing slave.

-The Refined Dominant