Free Dandyland Diaries by D.M. Dewey Page A

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