Free Dandyland Diaries by D.M. Dewey

pathetic losers can wipe my ass with a hundred-dollar bill. Now give me your fucking money, slut!”
    I signed up for the site and became a member of their community. I chatted with the other Dommes and quickly learned the language of the fetish. The same Dommes were usually online and cha tting about this or that, while a sub or two would try to eek out a word in edgewise. One of the Ladies would snap at them, “Mind your place, loser!” and get back to the conversation at hand. These were smart, funny successful women. Not con artists or users like I had originally thought. They truly got off being treated to things and being showered with gifts and cash. Okay, most of the women were not into conning the men. The owner of the site was quick to identify someone who was there for the wrong reason and would throw them out of the community fast.
    I felt like most of the men on there were more likely to con the women. “Flash me your tits and I’ll send you an Amazon gift card.” Me being the naive one fell for that a couple of times. Yes… I said a co uple of times. What was I thinking? This wasn’t me at all. I wasn’t a money-loving whore who wanted to flash her tits for gift cards! I could tell after a week or so that I was teetering on some trouble if I didn’t bail out now. My self-respect had already been undergoing some permanent reconstruction; I didn’t need to add “whore” to my growing list of professions. To be clear, I don’t think these women who are into Fin Domming are whores, but in the world of BDSM, the Fin Dom is considered the lowest form of existence, the absolute worst. People don’t believe that it is an actual fetish. So again, I am not saying they are whores; I am just saying that because it was not a fetish of mine and I was desperate for cash, it represented a slippery slope for me. I did really enjoy my conversations with these women and felt a loving connection to some of them, and also felt they deserved not to be exploited by the likes of me. So I slithered away and crawled over to another popular site for fellow BDMS’ers. Finally, I was home.
    Okay, I confess… I did try to squeeze a couple bucks out of a guy who liked to be blackmailed, but I had no idea how one goes about blackmailing someone so it was just sort of embarrassing and not very sexy at all. Epic fail.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    “Serving my Goddess, being used and abused by Her, it is both liberating and stifling. No words can describe the control, the addictive energy that She exudes. The suffering is rarely pleasant, yet still so satisfyingly tormentful. Her gaze, a raised eyebrow, Her commanding voice—all designed to make my heart pump stronger and my knees grow weaker. She is soothing and intoxicating. Scolding and humiliating. Carefully nurturing my place below Her, at Her heels. Knowing She is pleased soothes every ache and pain in the world.
     
    While in Her presence, Her power burns through my skin like a hot iron on flesh. It is a necessary burn. Nothing can ever go wrong while under Her mesmerizing spell. Her natural dominance is a guiding light of pure supremacy that only reminds me of where I belong. She never lets me forget where I belong. I belong at Her heels because no other place is more suitable. I am Her bitch.”
                                                                                        —slave

 
     
     
     
     
     
    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