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So I have a very, very specific fetish roleplay that I'd like to live out and I'm hoping FF is the perfect spot for it. I'll detail a good chunk of it below and you can let me know how practical it is: Basically, I'd like to be wrestled to the ground, forced to tap out and then as a punishment for submitting, get taped to a pole or chair in my underwear. Then she can take one of my socks off and force in my mouth (hold my nose to force it in if I resist ) before sealing it inside my mouth with a wrapped around tape gag. I'd want to be across from a mirror so I can see myself during all of this. From there, after watching myself in humiliation for a bit, we can engage in some schoolyard bully antics/ teasing while alternating various gags. For example, this could look something like demanding that I say the alphabet backwards or name 5 cereals while I'm gagged and then ungagging me briefly before say cleave gagging me with a bandana or red ball for the next round. Finally, i'd like to be ultimately blindfolded and left abandoned in total darkness until the clock runs out. To be honest I'm NOT interested in paying for any of that super intense nipple play or whipping or anything super intricate (sorry, hardcore fans) - looking for more of like an adolescent /nostalgic humiliation with these highly specific fetishes aforementioned. I know the "victim" isn't usually supposed to be giving the orders here, so if that's the case, maybe FF is not the right cup of tea for this goal. Otherwise, can we bring this script to life?

Don’t know if this would be considered out-of-bounds. I don't have a "switch" side though. It’s more about an imagined society with a strict Female Supremacy hierarchy in which even a female slave is Lord to any male. FS to me is never about man-hating. It is an instinct I’ve always had that women are just closer to the tuning fork of the universe, inherently wiser, and stronger in the ways that matter. But in this scenario, enforcement can be a bit… rigid. A note for casual passers by. There are some violations of "consent" here. It's a fantasy. Your consent is sacrosanct in this establishment, so don't take anything too seriously. ***** Part 1. Things were off to a very ominous start. Communications were what you'd call "clipped." I hadn’t visited for a while and didn’t grok that this absence might have become an “issue.” "You'll arrive Saturday at 7 sharp." Um, how long are we talking about? "7pm sharp. Don’t make plans.” Do I bring anything or wear anything? "You’re a whore. Dress like one.” Click. Whore? Under the circumstances, I thought it would be wise to keep one chastity key at home in case the tone I was picking up was more than a passing thing and involved key confiscation. I arrived on the dot and was led to the bathroom and unceremoniously pushed toward the door. “Get dressed. 2 minutes.” “Dressed” in Her view meant full slut regalia, slave collar, leashes on chastity device and collar, remote controlled plug inserted, and a street-walking layer of red lipstick. It was not conceivable to do all that in 2 minutes, but I knew better than to say so given the overall tension in the air. I emerged about 7 minutes later and dutifully handed Her the 2 leashes, the remote control for the plug, and 2 (of 3…) keys to my chastity device. “Do you not know how long 2 minutes is?” She tapped her leg with a riding crop menacingly. I looked down as submissively as I knew how and said nothing. This was definitely not the time to offer anything cute or defensive on my behalf. “Face the wall.” There was a sharp tug on the leash to my chastity device. “Spread ‘em.” It was the perp position, and soon was augmented with police cuffs. A chain was run down from the back of the slave collar to hoist my hands so they could not reach lower than the small of the back. “Can you protect your ass this way?” I don’t think so… “Try.” She brought the crop down hard. This was … highly motivating. I strained to lower my hands to stop the next blow. And failed. The crop landed twice more and echoed in the hallway. “Excellent!” The defenselessness pleased Her. I tried a different tack. Mistress, I have an event coming up this week. So, I wanted to ask not to be marked… too much. I added the ‘too much’ because the first 3 stripes with the crop would definitely last for days. She grabbed a handful of my hair and snapped my head back to speak directly into my ear. “Perhaps you should have thought of that before?” She marched me down the hall by the 2 leashes to a locked room. “Kneel, bitch.” She felt my balls for ‘fullness.’ I shudder to think what would have happened if they weren’t full to Her satisfaction, indicating unacceptable sluttiness. Thinking we might be turning a corner in the tension department thanks to my not “cheating” in chastity, I tried a little further self-promotion. I shaved too, Mistress. I was in fact, completely bare under and all around the chastity device. But this did not impress. “Why did you need to shave? You aren’t allowed to have hair on your clit - ever.” I went back to plan A – looking down silently. She removed my lock and threw it in the trash along with my keys. She replaced it with a new lock with a shiny red key. So much for my clever idea of leaving a key at home. “Open.” A pink rubber ball was stuffed in my mouth. A blindfold followed. Suddenly the elevator felt incredibly far away in another world. Finally, She relented. Slightly. “You have forgotten your place in the world. Today, you will remember. Make me proud, little slut.” Speaking being precluded by the ball in my mouth, I nodded vigorously. That there was a path, however thorny, back to making Her proud was a distant spot of light in the enveloping darkness. She fastened my slave collar to the bottom of the rack against the wall. The leash on my chastity device was pulled between my legs, over my butt-plug and up to an upper rung on the rack. These 2 maneuvers left me with my face on the floor and my ass in the air. I sensed a flash through the blindfold and heard the click of a digital camera. “I’m sending your picture to Someone. She is your only chance at redemption. Understand?” I nodded as well as I could in my predicament, though the thought of the Someone only seeing/knowing me as a bound, gagged, plugged, chastised harlot with my welted ass in the air was unnerving. “Good girl.” She left. Part 2. After 15 minutes or 4 hours – whatever it was – I felt the jolt of the remote-controlled plug being switched on through the walls. She was returning. I heard a brief scuffle at the door and another woman’s voice. “No, Master, please. Not in front of her.” “Quiet, slave!” There was a slap of flesh. I guessed it was the crop again. The female slave fell silent. I was the “her” She’d referred to. About that…. When I first came to study Their secret society as an anthropological curiosity several months ago, I’d asked if there was any place for males in it. “Of course, pet. But you don’t seriously think you would be one of them, do you?” She laughed at the silliness of it, and continued the thought. “The weak-minded will be brainwashed and feminized. No exceptions. It will be better for your research.” I took offense to the “weak-minded” reference and the implied ease of brainwashing me. But here I am today on my knees in a pink corset and stockings with a foreign lock between my legs…. But, I digress. So, meanwhile, back in the present…. The female slave was led to the frame and shackled to it facing the wall. Her legs were spread so that a spiked heel was under my nose where my collar was fastened. The Mistress released my collar so I could kneel in an upright position. She removed my gag and blindfold as well. She introduced the bound Slave. I did not qualify to be introduced to anyone. “This is my Slave. Slave I. Say hello to Her, whore.” Hello, slave I. Her slap was immediate and resounding, leaving a red handprint on my cheek despite her latex glove. “You will never refer to any woman as ‘Slave’. Including Slaves. You will refer to all women as Mistress or Master.” It took a moment for my head to clear from the slap. Hello, Mistress I. I'm sorry if I was rude. She hissed. “Don’t look at me, bitch.” Clearly, submitting in front of me infuriated the Slave. I looked away immediately, but the Mistress lifted my chin so my eyes were on the spectacular thong-parted ass of the Slave. The Mistress asked her Slave if She 'needed' the crop again. “No, Master.” She was quiet again. The Mistress addressed me. “You will pay a high price for witnessing this spectacle, whore. The highest in fact” Yes, Mistress... I hadn’t chosen to see ‘this spectacle.’ But it was not my place to choose spectacles. Suggesting that it was would have been considered extreme defiance. “Kiss Her foot. Worship it. Kiss your way up Her stockings…” I’ll pause here to add something. The Slave was an absolute Goddess. And, to avoid severe consequences, I had been in chastity a week. My brain was melting…. “Now, kiss Her ass. Kiss my Slave’s ass.” She leaned down and whispered. “You’re worshiping a Slave’s ass. What does that make you, whore?” It was rhetorical. I was whatever She said I was. But I noticed there was no angry welt on the ass I was worshiping. Unlike mine… She freed the Slave from the frame momentarily, spun her around, and restrained her again, facing forward this time. I now saw that the Slave was wearing a strap-on. And, god, She was gorgeous. I couldn’t process it. Everything about Her exuded dominance. We were not peers. But we were both at the mercy of the Mistress. For now. “You know what to do, whore. Suck my Slave’s cock. My Slave wants to cum down your throat. It will be good practice for swallowing your own cum later.” I abandoned myself to the task. Trying to understand always got me in trouble. So I didn’t. “Good girl. Cover it with lipstick. Your lipstick might be all the lube you will be getting from Her.” From Her? But She increased the vibration on the remote-controlled plug and spoke in that hypnotic voice. “You’re sucking Slave cock. You love Slave cock. You need Slave cock. You are the lowest of all whores. A Slave fluffer. A slave to Slaves.” I tried to remember my haughty dismissal of Her casual assurance that I would be easily brainwashed. So long ago and so far away…. Meanwhile, She deepened her mind-control over me. “Stop!” She pulled on the leash between my legs. “What is this?” She pointed with her crop. The ‘this’ was me bulging out of the chastity device as her “Slave cock” mantra was filling my ears. “You got aroused at the sight of a Goddess in bondage? You, the lowest of all whores?” I apologized, but knew the consequences were already set. “That will be 25 with the crop.” “Fifty,” the Slave amended Her. This time the Mistress did not silence Her. The wheel was beginning to turn. “It is Her decision, whore. In fact from now on, everything is Her decision.” Everything? I looked up at Her face for the first time. And there, hanging in the triangle of her cleavage was the shiny red key. The one for the lock I was wearing. For the final time, the Mistress released Her from bondage. Together, they fastened me to the rack. The former Slave pulled the gag into my mouth and spoke softly in my ear. “Fifty. Make me proud, little slut.” Yeth, Mithtress, I slobbered through the gag. She grabbed my hair and jerked my head to Her lips. “It’s 'Master' to you, slave.” She waved the red key in my face for emphasis.

Last year I had the pleasure of visiting Japan for the first time. Before my visit, I couldn’t say I was particularly fascinated by bondage. I understood that Japan is where punishment bondage and erotic bondage originated, so I made a point to discover their methodology. I wanted a fresh perspective and hopefully to feel inspired. After encountering the masters at their craft, I was so enamored by it that I’ve decided to take a break from New York to be an shibari expert's apprentice in Tokyo. As a Mistress, I want shibari to be my speciality moving forward. I felt immediately that the subtlety in their approach resonated with my style of sensuality. And more, there is an undercurrent of Zen that elevates it to an intensely aesthetic and transcendental practice. The way these shibari artists elegantly weave webs around their victims is something I would like to incorporate in my own sessions. The tying is an event in itself; there is so much sensuality, sexual tension, and a range of exhilarating emotions from start to finish. There is an immense range of emotion and sensation that rope can give when mastered. I love the idea of how sexually exciting subtlety and suggestion can be, and the Japanese are masters at it. I’ll be leaving April 16. Meanwhile I have been studying my knots and Japanese speaking skills! Also, von Dietz is planning a short visit in Tokyo at the same time as me! It’s her first time. How exciting! Can you imagine what trouble we would cause! We have been taking Japanese writing and speaking classes together so we can wreak havoc all over Tokyo. So excited to embark on this adventure, and more so with a fellow partner in mischief!

Maybe it's due to my time as a teenage goth, but Halloween is still one of my favorite holidays. I'm starting the celebration off with some some holiday-themed fetish pics. Some thematic decorations. . . Everyone in costume. . . Some games to play. . . . . .And the trick-or-treaters who stopped by get a "trick" (. . .or a "treat" depending how you look at it.)

I admire the mastery of bondage, such as demonstrated in the works of Suzuki Rage who hails from Japan. He creates meticulously crafted images of beautifully bound women. I love the asymmetric ties, how he accentuates their forms by framing parts of their bodies with geometric patterns of rope. One limb tied, a bared nipple framed, for example. It's so visually rewarding to go through his galleries. (Which you can find here: http://ropemagic.art.coocan.jp/ ) Which are your favorite bondage ties? Have any other bondage artists to share?

One of the things I enjoy is finding new and creative ways to tie subs up. I've devised a really great way to tie a sub's arms extended straight to the rack so the sub can slide their body from side to side, yet never really escape ( which has proven perfect for tickle sessions .) I also like to tie subs standing up and facing the stripper pole in the pink room, so only their noses touch the pole. I've devised on-the-spot chest harnesses and rope "panties" for subs to wear during sessions. But the one thing I have not done as often is tie subs to the chairs. It is something I have been playing around with and hope to experiment with more. I find this picture pretty inspiring.

Summer is finally here which means going outdoors. Who wants to play the bad boyscout while I play the mean troop leader? (This book probably isn't as fun as I think it would be.)

Long before the days of Grey.. (Ick!) There was The Story of O. A fiery French 50's Erotica Novel by Pauline Réage. The pages of this book set flame to girdles and corselettes across the seas, arousing men and women alike, although not quite dinner conversation material as would be today. As ahead as this was of it's time, other like-minded artist's were quickly in tune to capture it's raw essence. Today, I was dusting off my old copy of The Story of O, when I decided to do a little "re decorating" In need of framed b&w art that embodies true, classic, beauty, in a slightly dark portrayal~ {Thinking 1950's, bondage, Bettie Page, & Irving Klaw, the late, great photographer.} Check it out if you wish, I promise you will not be disappointed. Buxom Dommes and Submissive Dolls, countless compromising situations.. Ohhh decisions decisions..

In case you're looking for a new and different way to prepare a turkey, I stumbled on a few pictures the other day.

Maybe it's my overactive imagination or my love of bond movies, but to me there's something amazing about predicament play--situations where through pain, suffering, and discomfort one may 'earn' a reward or avoid an even greater punishment. Part of it is the self-infliction I think, the idea that you're doing this to yourself and no matter how uncomfortable the outcome is, you only have yourself to blame. Either way, I was flipping through some old ebooks and such the other day when I came across a section all about this stuff (called "Passive Torture" in the book, Owning & Training the Male Slave by Ingrid Bellemare). I figure some of you might enjoy the read! ===== Passive Torture If the Mistress wishes to torture her slave with the minimum of effort then one of the following techniques can be employed. My favourite position of bondage is to have the slave straddle a stool on which can be placed a variety of objects designed to make life very uncomfortable. The slave's hands are bound tightly behind his back and his head harness is tied to a hook in the ceiling. Thus he is unable to move off the stool. Objects placed on the top of the stool include: • Triangular wooden block with a narrow flat edge at the top • Cylinder about 10 to 15 cm in diameter • Oversized butt plug With the triangle in place different items can be placed on the top edge. My favourites are; • Double strip of carpet gripper, side by side • Stinging nettles • Soft cushioned pad impregnated with itching powder The top edge of the triangular block is just a little too high so that having both feet flat on the floor is just too painful. In this position his perineum cock and balls are exposed to whatever rests on the top of the block. So to ease the discomfort the slave has to raise himself up on his toes. Time is the big enemy, since eventually his muscles tire and he must adjust his position to relieve the stress. But that causes new stresses and pressures so there needs to be another shift and so on. It creates a downward spiral where shifting position becomes more and frequent whilst his crotch is being assaulted by top of the block. When he gets to the point where he is shifting continuously he is properly 'riding the block'. It usually requires about 30 minutes torment to reach that point and during the build up time it is possible to have some very productive discussion with the slave regarding unsatisfactory elements of his servitude. Once he is fully riding it is virtually impossible to have a coherent conversation since the slave's mind is pretty much occupied in easing his distress. The time I make him ride depends on the infraction being corrected but it is never less than one hour. The use of carpet gripper, nettles, or itching powder is painful torture indeed. But it is very satisfying watching him struggle, legs spread wide, up on his toes. Sooner or later his feet tire and he drops only to find increased torture of the sensitive flesh between his legs. An hour like this is really severe punishment and is reserved for the most serious infractions of my rules or when I am feeling particularly sadistic. But it does no permanent harm and a session makes the slave very penitent. The punishment is made even more severe for the slave if the CBs are removed as there is then no protection for his balls and cock. The great thing about these punishments is that they require very little effort from me. In fact the only effort it requires from me is to make it stop. I can read a book, watch TV, and if the slave is gagged I do not even need to listen to his please for mercy. Another passive torture I set it up with the slave seated on the stool. His bound arms are chained to the ceiling hook and his scrotum to a heavy weight just resting on the floor. If no weight is available then a leg spreader with a chain from his balls to a central attachment point can be used to prevent him from rising. After about 15 minutes I take the stool away. The anguish in my slave's face is clear to see so I replace it five minutes later but with a couple of nettle leaves, itching powder or the drawing pins resting on the top. I then lie back on my bed to 'watch the show'. The slave is faced with two choices: • Raise himself up from the stool to ease the pain in his buttocks and put strain on his thighs and scrotum • Lower himself to the stool, and let the nettles etc. torture his buttocks I first set this up as a punishment because I was dissatisfied with the effort the slave was making when he pleasured me. As I spoke to him quietly explaining exactly what I required from him he became more and more distressed and when I let him down after 60 minutes there were tears streaming down his face. But he dropped to his belly and kissed my feet as I had trained him to do and the fervent desire to please me was like never before. I had the best tongue job ever and that aspect of his servitude improved from then on. He now knows exactly what will happen if I get less than maximum effort from his tongue. This kind of passive torture has now become one of my favourite techniques. It satisfies my sadistic side to watch the slave endure what is extreme discomfort. There is no effort needed on my part, no risk of damage to the slave and I can relax with a long cool drink. I can ring the changes by putting different items of discomfort on the stool and if he is blindfolded he will only discover what they are when his legs tire. A dental gag which forces the mouth wide open is very effective preventing the slave from making any recognisable sound. For the imaginative Mistress the possibilities are endless. =====

I have been quietly following the forum for a while, and it is clear that the ladies of the Fortress are beautiful, and talented in the ways of BDSM. One topic I have not seen discussed is predicament bondage - where you are tied in an uncomfortable position, but any movement causes additional pain. Which of the ladies excel in that type of play and what type of predicament to you enjoy?

Jimmy Choo recently released his Spring/Summer collection for 2014 and it is absolutely breathtaking. My personal favorite being the Keane and Kalmar sandals, which just so happen to be hand-constructed entirely from rope! Look at that handiwork. I may just have to invest in a pair myself!