This is a piece on some of the Submissives I have known, most of them more than twenty years ago. The names have been changed to protect the guilty. I also altered other elements so they would never be recognised. I had a few minor encounters in the world of BDSM when I was in my teens, however, when I was in my late twenties, I moved to a certain city in Australia where I did my undergraduate degree. It is a hot tropical place, with a large single population, and a reputation for partying and vice. At one such party, I happened to meet a lady, who quietly informed me that she had a very particular fetish, which no-one, not least her husband, was willing to service. Of course, I offered to oblige. I have, incidentally, long given up any ill feeling toward those who might step out of marriage in order to meet their needs. It happens so often, and for the most part allows the marriage to continue, children to be brought up while people are content. The Grey Fox She was a very ordinary looking woman in her mid forties, slightly overweight, with the air of someone who was in complete control of her mind, with intelligent eyes and a sense of purpose. She would visit me, and ring the doorbell. I would be sitting in an armchair, wearing an old fashioned pair of men’s pyjamas (she was very specific about these details), slippers, smoking a pipe (yuck, but I was willing to go along with it), reading a newspaper. On entry, I would silently point at a corner in the room, and she would then stand there, facing the corner, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at me, hidden behind the newspaper with plumes of pipe smoke rising from behind it. After a few minutes, she would lift the front of her skirt and begin to masturbate, and after five or so minutes would orgasm silently. She then thanked me and left the room. The whole event might take as little as ten minutes. She visited me and repeated the exact same performance about once every month for more than three years. There was never any physical contact between us and we barely spoke, except over the phone to arrange a time for a visit. I called her the “The grey fox”; she slipped quietly in, got what she wanted, and slip away. Perhaps a childhood memory which was stirred by the smell of pipe smoke and the rustle of newspaper pages? She did introduce me to friend who also had a particular need which I was happy to meet. The Painted Lady I called her “The Painted Lady”, as this was clearly her fetish. I used to meet her in a very up market bar, which was in a hotel. She was a tall dark red head, with a lean figure, and a sharply aquiline face that could be described as handsome rather than beautiful, an ambitious professional divorcee who was doing well for herself. She would arrive in dressed in a combination of elegance and trashiness, at once an expensive call girl who was past her prime, but still the object of desire of her loyal clientele, combined with a very well off lady who could afford the best, which caused enough of a sensation to attract the attention of all the male patrons of the bar, and eventually the management as well, which caused us to move our venue on one occasion. I would always wear a black suit. She’d sidle up to me at the bar and flirt outrageously, while downing tequila slammers like water. We would then proceed up to a pre-booked room in the hotel, where I would immediately rape her. She liked the idea of enticing the customer, and then playing at being forced into things that she hadn’t bargained for. She liked rough sex, being forced to deep throat and take it in her ass, accompanied with verbal abuse, hair pulling, spanking, breast and face slapping, lots of pushing and shoving, and, although she did not want bondage as such, loved being held down. Her favourite was to be seized face down, with my foot on her head, while I gripped her wrists tightly behind her back, and vigorously sodomise her. Although she, of course, had a safe word, she never used it once, and this went on for a couple of years as well. I moved to another unnamed city in Australia, and was able to regularly attend the one decent club there: “Libertines”, and I had a much better access to the BDSM community. 1984 This was one encounter which was inspired by a work of literature that wasn’t the “Story of O”, or the “Gor” Series, or any of the other standards in BDSM fiction. I met a very literary minded lady at a play party, which ended up with us having a very intense conversation on literature in the midst of a room full of people playing, which was kind of odd. I discussed the lack of real BDSM fiction, and I described my enjoyment of writing. We discovered we had a mutual admiration of the novel 1984 by George Orwell, and she suggested that it could be eroticised in some manner. It was a bit strange going from a deeply serious commentary on the modern world, to a fantasy , play scenario, and we decided even attempting to play an encounter wbetween Julia and O’brien simply was’t going to work, however the setting of a post apocalyptic, futuristic, brutal dictatorship was certainly fertile ground for a very unusual play scene. Her list of must haves were an interrogation context, with the accoutrements of a modern interrogation. She wanted the element of torture, but nothing in any way extreme. I have never been into extreme pain any way and I have never been comfortable with it, but it presented the problem of how to create the scenario without the actual pain levels. Electrical play was obviously on the table, but I did not have experience with that, the equipment cost alarming amounts of money and I was somewhat nervous about messing around with something I did not know much about. Help came in the form of a Mistress I knew who loaned me a small hand cranked generator, which apparently came for an old phone. I tested it exhaustively on myself, and found that at best it produced a convincing jolt, but not enough to be called painful. We tried it on her in a non-play situation, and she was happy with it. She also wanted to have her clothes torn from her, and she always arrived with some old and flimsy, clothing, with a spare set of clothes to wear home. The problem is that tearing clothes of can actually be quite difficult, and I made a series of small cuts in the cloth so I could tear them off easily. Fortunately, the house I was living in at the time had a suitable grubby store room at the back, with brick wall covered in water stains and peeling paint. I added a somewhat uncomfortable steel straight backed chair, some heavy rings on the wall and some evil looking handcuffs dangling from the ceiling on a chain. I don’t use handcuffs as they can be quite dangerous. Keys get lost and the mechanism can jam, but they looked good. I installed some powerful bright lights, facing the chair which blinded her, ad reduced me to a disembodied voice, which was good, because I think many Doms forget what a powerful tool a deep authorative voice can be. One of most challenging aspects was creating the sound effects. I put together a quite long looping sound file full of bits and pieces of sound effects pinched from games and movies, industrial clangings and bangings, distant screams of suffering, marching boots, sirens, and announcements over crackly loud speaker systems, which made frequent mention of Big Brother, The Ministry of Love, ordesr to move prisoner 1138 from their cell to interrogation room 101 and so forth. The sound effects played in te background throughout. The whole effect was quite convincing, and over successive play sessions we altered the scenario from a rebel captured and interrogated, a party member convicted of Sex Crime or a prole convicted of smuggling. Eventually we kind of ran out of ideas, and she decided to shift to a more Gorean style, for which I set up a very nice collaring ceremony between us and we happily ventured into other styles and scenarios, but the 1984 thing was quite challenging and fun to do. The Sultan's Slave Through my much wider contacts in the BDSM world, I met a lady with whom I shared undoubtedly the most extraordinary D/s relationship I have had. Initially, she did not have a very clear idea of what she wanted, but I gathered that she wanted to be dominated in a kind of formal, ritualised way. “The Sultan’s Slave” as I called her, was delighted with orientalist painting, and very focussed on the slave girls of antiquity. She was a small woman in her late thirties, with long dark blonde hair, with a classically rounded Rubenesque figure. There was a charming cuteness about her face, and she had a habit of curling the corner of her mouth into a Mona Lisa smile, while half lowering her eyelids in a dreamy, wistful way, whenever she was enjoying pleasure. She had a lovely sweet nature and she struck me as someone who could see through a window in her mind, to her own rich private world of fantasy, into which she could slip with ease. What I did with her may have merely been a backdrop for a whole other experience to which she was the only observer. She was very self contained, intelligent, and deliciously submissive. Dominating her was a delight, as she never tried to create a battle of wills, and in her own way was able to subtly guide events. She also mentioned that she wanted music, and suggested some relaxation music, and a blindfold. I realised she was looking for atmosphere, mood and ambience which harked back to the lost world of harems and white slavers. A sub wanting a blindfold indicates either that they want to eliminate any distraction from entering subspace, or that they want to fantasise and allow their imagination run wild. Initially, I worked on creating the atmosphere of a ceremony for the initiation and subjugation of a harem slavegirl. I lit the room with candles on tall floor standing candelabras, and decorated it with classical furniture and paintings. I wanted music that was more heavy and gothic than simple mood music, so I went for Gregorian chants from the Renaissance. The ritual I developed evolved over time and became more elaborate and sophisticated. She liked suspense, so I would often email her on Friday morning of our weekend of fun, and instruct her to do something which would begin building the tension long before she arrived, such as removing her underwear while at work that day, or buying some trashy lingerie at lunch time and putting it on under her clothing. We would begin our Friday ceremony the moment she entered the room, and she enjoyed this ritual which began with her revealing herself to me, followed by my inspection of her intimate parts. Part of the ritual observance was her shaving which I carried out while she was bound on a low table. I wrote a “marriage vow” styled verse which I would instruct her to repeat, declaring her submission and offering her body for my use, while kneeling before me blind folded and naked. Eventually she learnt this by heart, and would be punished if she forgot her lines. The ritual of collaring was important for her, as was the attachment of wrist and ankle cuffs. She very much liked the idea of service and, on my orders, would bring me coffee, sometimes cook or clean as I watched, or suck on me. I attached lengths of bright chrome chain from her collar to the cuffs on her wrists and ankles which did not restrict her movements, but would remind her of her position. His was how she dressed for the weekend, sometimes with some “barely there” lingerie, or sheer harem pants which she would choose to please me. Often, she was perfectly happy sitting on her cushion beside me while we watched a movie or read. Sometimes she would quietly masturbate, especially if we were watching porn, although she was forbidden to come without permission. If she put on her blindfold, it was a signal to me that she wanted to be bound, where she would be content remain restrained for some time, private, mysterious and nameless scenes drifting through her mind. She liked “wide open” positions, on her back or face down, usually on the carpet or on a coffee table, within my gaze and was certainly an effective means of enticing me to pleasure her. I would gently begin to touch and probe her, delicately parting her labia and tenderly stroking her clitoris, just enough for the sensation to enter her dreams, but not enough to break the spell. I tiptoed along the edge of her secret thoughts, peering into that great dark, secret forest of unknown sweet pleasures and spicy punishments. I was rewarded with that Mona Lisa half smile. If she squirmed around and perceptibly widened her legs, she was not in her fantasy trance state, and was thrilled by the idea of being taken by me. I would quickly arouse her with purposeful and deliberate manual stimulation, before fucking her, hard and fast. If she did not come I would make it up to her later that evening. Most of our activities were to do with sensual pleasure; however she worked out how to indicate to me that she wanted punishment. In a way, we developed our own “language” of subtle signals and codes, by which her needs and wishes could be met. She could illicit chastisement from me by deliberately causing some mischief. Forgetting to address me correctly or not following a command would result in an immediate spanking and corner time. If she left a chicken bone on the floor the reprimand would be more severe, such as clamps and weights on her labia, or a butt plug, while she cleaned the offending mess, accompanied by swats from the whip. If she did something with deliberate intent, like substituting salt in my coffee for sugar, she was telling me that it was time for a ritualised castigation. From time to time she felt the need to have her limits really pushed. Again, suspense was the key, and I would restrain her on one of the hooks in the ceiling, place the cane within her sight, and go about lighting candles and putting on some dark and threatening music (Soundtracks from horror movies) ,while she imagined the punishment to come. The ritual began with her reciting a verse in which she would admit her guilt and declare that she would accept the correction. I would then detach her and order her to bend over a chair, without any restraints. She would have to maintain the position by her own volition during the discipline. I would then methodically and slowly cane her until I brought her just to within her pain limits, sometimes bringing forth tears. At the finale she would embrace me, thank me, and, surprisingly, would often have very passionate, plain vanilla sex on the floor there and then. The ritual caning only took place on rare occasions, and was always initiated by her with a clearly malicious act. Sometimes I chose to punish her for no reason in particular, other than to intensify some activity I had in mind for later, but the cane was only reserved for those times when she declared her desire for it. She like the idea of being forced to perform while I watched. She was curious about the idea of a “public” performance, but was terrified of performing at the club or introducing any other people into our ritual. By chance, I found a sound effects CD from my radio station days, which had a huge range of applause noises, and with the blindfold, I could simulate a crowd of people murmuring, coughing and applauding in a polite “Sunday cricket match” style when she came or did something particularly erotic. I made a “chastity belt” out of leather, which involved an anal and vaginal plug, and while she was secured with her wrists to the ceiling, put this on her, gradually sliding the twin phalluses into her before securely buckling the device tight. Just as I switched on the vibrators, I began thrashing her ass with the whip. She came almost instantly, wildly bucking her hips, resulting in such exhaustion that she collapsed into my arms for half an hour in order to recover her composure. This became a favourite toy. She was introduced to fisting which, after some initial hesitation, she thoroughly enjoyed. I also made a device which consisted of a heavy metal base, with a wooden pole, topped with a large dildo, on which she was impaled, offering her a lot more movement, and she would then gyrate her hips and slide up and down on the dildo while I either swatted her ass with the whip or played with her breasts or clitoris, encouraging her to move more vigorously and passionately. Tragically, she was promoted and transferred to a large city in the South of the country and, unable to sacrifice her career, all our secret dialects, symbols, messages, codes, poetry, ceremonies and rituals disappeared like tears in the rain. Through the club, I met a few others who were into various styles of bondage, varying degrees of pain and pleasure, or who wanted to role play certain situations, including the teacher / naughty student one (blackboard rulers are had to get these days). I did have total pain sluts who simply wanted to be thoroughly thrashed, whipped or caned, either while bound or not. Dog Girl One of the more interesting was the dog girl. She had a pet play fetish, long before it became popular, expecially in Japan. She was very young, about twenty, with a neat, well proportioned, petite figure. She was Asian / Euopean and has a lovely smooth brown skin, almost eyes. The only way to decribe her was 'cute'. She would arrive at my flat on Friday night, and the session would last all weekend. She would play my pet dog, like the affectionate female lap dog that becomes very devoted to male owners. She did not speak at all, but would nod or shake her head in response to my questions. I would speak to her as if to a dog: 'Who's a good girl? . . who's a clever girl? Aren't you are little cutie'. . . and I must admit, wearing a little pair of black leather 'ears', and her black tail she did look wonderfully cute. When she arrived, she would be stripping off her clothes before she was through the door, and she would remain completely naked for the entire weekend, except for ears, tail, collar, gloves and knee pads. She would be on all fours the entire weekend, and seemed to be perfectly comfortable, but I noticed the balls of her palms, and her knees were becoming very red and sore, although she never complained. I made up a set of pads for her knees out of pvc pipes cut in half, thickly padded on the inside with velcro fastenings. One of the interesting this about this girl was that she was completely ANAL. Her tail was a buttplug with a long fluffy black tail, which remained inserted the entire time, unless I was fucking her ass, or giving her and enema. She adored enemas. She would scuttle toward me with the enema tube in her mouth, in much the same way that a dog will sit patiently with it's leash, telling its owner that it wants a walk, (don't worry, I always kept a second one in the bathroom for her to signal me with, and another for actual use). Sex was very frequent, and she would keep herself thoroughly lubricated. She was very cock orientated, and would nuzzle and sniff at my groin and suck me till I was hard, then would squat in my lap on the couch, or sit herself on the floor facing away from me 'wagging' her tail. Have you seen the way little dogs will lie on their backs with their belly up when they want attention. She did exactly that, which was very, very sexy.She'd sit beside me while I worked at the computer, or she would curl up on the couch beside me while I watched television, and I would continually stroke and pet her. Often she would wrap herself around my foot and I would gently rub her tummy, I would reward her by playing with her pussy and clitoris, but this was the extent of the attention she wanted on her pussy, sex was always exclusively anal. When she wanted to pee, she would whine and whimper at the bathroom door, and I would let her in to pee. She'd squat on the toilet facing away from me and wait for me to wash her pussy. I am not into pee play in a big way, but there is something perversly pleasurable in watching a sub pee. I washed her twice a day in the shower, soaping her thoroughly, washing her hair, and drying her with a towel. She was a very loved pet and she loved the pampering and attention. She would eat on the floor in the kitchen out of a dog bowl. I made food that was easy to cut into bite sized chunks and easy for her to eat without mess. She also drank milk or water out of a bowl. At night she would sleep in her bed, a small matress at the end of my bed, but she would often end up on the end of my bed, or climbing up in the morning. I would often wake with her sucking my cock which was quite delightful. From time to time she would be 'naughty' and do something typically doggy, like tear up a newspaper, or grab a cushion in her teeth and throw it around, which would invite a spanking, or some swats on her ass with a newspaper. She wasn't into pain particularly, this was just an element in the doggy role, which she played to the hilt, with an adorable guilty hangdog look. It was amazing how fast and easily she could get around on all fours, and she reproduced the behavior of a dog very convincingly. At the end of the weekend, she would suddenly 'become human', and we would have a brief discussion about how the session went, what she enjoyed, and how we could embellish the scene. Watching her walk out of the apartment, upright, with clothes on was really weird. All this more or less came to an end when I left Australia the last time, donated all my toys and equipment to the club, and headed overseas on this strange international journey I’m on. I have not had much to do with BDSM for some years, but I keep up with a number of people I am still in touch with in Australia. If I go back to Australia, I sometimes stay with friends from the club and attend a meeting. Being into BDSM in a place like Dubai is like being the only gay Eskimo.

Browsing the photos here is an education. One thing that I have noticed is that there are those who make the crucial mistake of including identifiable face images, which means they are wide open to blackmail, which does happen here. Another are the photos which include backgrounds of general squalor, piles of dirty clothing, bedside tables cluttered with take-away containers, pizza boxes, beer and coke cans, cascading onto the floor. Selfies taken in the bathroom mirror with a sink covered in sanitary items, and, would you believe, treatments for Candida. For God's sake people, have some class. No submissive is going to be interested in a Dom who lives in squalor and filth, and, as a Dom, I would not be interested in a slovenly, untidy woman. 

COLLARS   The collar thing has just happened out of necessity and just got more and more elaborate. In the U.A.E. there are no sex shops, let alone fetish shops, so we have to make everything ourselves. When I was living in the West, I generally made everything I used anyway because the quality and price were awfull, and I could make a comparable item of much, much better quality myself. I custom made chastity devices, body harnesses and all manner of bondage gear.   Each of my submissives has received her own unique collar, and when I am talking to them and learning their particular fantasies and needs, I always seem to have the design forming in the back of my mind of a collar that would suit them . Sometimes they may be brutally simple and 'dungeonlike', sometimes Gothic and dark, sometimes very feminine and elaborate, dripping with costume jewelry stones and beads. They  always seem to match their personality well. Another angle is that I have been invited to several Collaring ceremonies, and I love the 'Oooohs' and 'Ahhhs' I hear from the people around me when the collar is removed from the box. Afterwards the newly collared sub will then mingle with guests and enjoys a lot of complements. It's very satisfying, and the collar is, of course, the center of everyone's attention at the Ceremony, so I try to get them just right.   I trawl the habidashery shops and find cheap little goodies to make them out of, and build them up around men's leather belts. Bits and pieces are very hard to get. I can buy a gold plated Rolls Royce here, but try getting a simple locking fixture. I don't claim to be any great craftsman either. These things are cobbled together out of an odd assortment of drawer handles, rings, plain leather belts, lace, fabric and fur. I think they look nice, and if something is to be worn by a woman, it should be attractive and feminine, or at least suit her.   I never really thought about selling them either. It started as a little acknowledgement to my submissives, but since I put the pictures on CM, there is so much interest, it's been suggested to me that I should sell them. Collars are kind of special, and I have always felt a bit funny about sullying them with money, but if people like them and are willing to cover my time and costs, I guess I maybe I should. Making a matching set of cuffs would be dead easy. In fact I experimented with a more decorative set of cuffs that had fur lining and lace work, but with lots of shiny bling and D-rings. I though of combining a set of cuffs with some lace gloves, the kind brides wear at wedding except in black. I have a pair of these gloves on order from China and will see if it's feasible.   I have a page on , which allows people to post more photos. The name is the same 'aussieindubai'. I will put up some photos of the cuffs and other bits and pieces.  

HONORIFICS   I use the term 'Dom' and 'Dom' loosely , the same way I tend to regard people who expect to be immediately referred to as 'Master'. I am so used to the eruption of venom when you call one of them something else, it's easier to just call them what ever they want to be called, and be done with it, but it's pretty weird that a Dominant (Dom or Domme), insists that other dominants refer to the as Master or Mistress. Gawd, she's not my mistress and is never likely to be. The same way a Dom expects to be immediately referred to as 'Master' by a prospective submissive on first contact. This is a common complaint by subs. He isn't her Master until she decides he is.      I specifically tell my subs that they must never, ever call me 'Master' untill they actually feel that way about me. In the meantime 'Sir' is fine, and this is only in a play situation. I do train them to use an honorific as it means when they substitute it with Master later on, they are more likely to remember to use it. That way there is a set up for that wonderful, special moment when the sub uses the word 'Master' for the first time, and I know it's not just a word she's been told to use. It means something.

  Humility Leading on from mu last post, one of the most important attributes of a Dom is humility. We don't always get it right. Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes we don't 'read' the messages subs give us, and we push too hard and in the wrong direction. Being able to admit a mistake is vital as we can correct what we are doing and focus on the need of our sub. Being A Dom is not easy. It's hard work, sometimes frustrating and difficult. I have never seen being a Dom as being superior to someone else, least of all a sub, and we are both on the same voyage together, just with different orientations. In fact, being a Dom is a great responsibility, and so much depends on us. There are a lot of guys who just see being a Dom as being able to do anything, and a license to abuse people and generally be an ass. Maybe they should read 'Macbeth'. Power is not a free reign, it's a responsibility, and if it is abused, you will lose respect, as least that of the sub, which spells the end of any D/s relationship.