I'm not big on resolutions, I feel like they are usually unreasonable promises that we make to ourselves and/or others that only last about a month before we realize that we tried to tackle an almost impossible feat.
But I will break down and make one this year....well sort of since this is really my wish for every year. I strive every year to be a more enlightened, tolerant, happy person than I was the year before. This is a big task but there is no promise to do this that or the other in order to prove that I've done it. The only measure is my own, and since I feel that we can always take the opportunity to improve ourselves this is something I feel I can accomplish.
I wish everyone a happy, safe and wonderful 2009. May good things come your way, and if they don't may you handle them with grace and know that you are not alone.
There is always some big debate raging by people in the bdsm world about being 24/7 in this life and those who find that this is impossible and just a really fake designation because no one can be 24/7. I don't mind the debates, I actually find some of the points on both sides fascinating but what I hate to see is the venom and anger that spews from these discussions. What happened to people being able to express their opinions? Why people can't seem to be civil and not take things so personally I can't figure out. I know there are people out there who thrive on drama and need it as part of their lives but geez, is it so difficult to discuss things in an adult fashion?
I have learned over the years not to make statements on public bulletin boards directed at a particular person and to always make comments and statements from my perspective and about my experience. My comments still get taken out of context and people have thought I'm directing negative comments at the way they live. I guess this is all part of human nature, this need to be right or maybe its learned behavior where some people feel they are always being put down and criticized and they can't see that just because someone doesn't agree with you they aren't necessarily against you either. They remain in this fight mode feeling the need to constantly prove a point.
You can see some of this more clearly in the more hot button issues of abortion and gay marriage. Oh there are those who blatantly are against these issues but then there are those who don't agree with them for themselves but really feel that we shouldn't create laws against them. I am not going to express my personal opinion on either of these issues I don't want to get into a debate about that...that's material for a different blog, this one is about my M/s relationship and bdsm so back to the 24/7 debate but those issues give really good examples of what I am talking about. People on both sides are often very adamant about their beliefs often to the point of thinking someone is always against their point of view if they aren't 100% in agreement.
I would never state that my relationship was 24/7 since Master and I don't live together but I do find some credence to this whole 24/7 thing. I know that everyone has things in their life that are outside the bounds of their bdsm relationship, parenting, work (as long as it isn't in a fetish shop), grocery shopping, etc.... these are the aspects of every day life that people use to argue the 24/7 designation. I totally understand that people aren't walking around tied up with gags in their mouths at school conferences. There is a vanilla aspect to everyones life, there has to be unless you live in a bdsm bubble where you never have to interact with anyone outside of the scope of this community.
But here is the catch, for me I have a set of rules that Master has given me. Ways in which I need to keep myself, ways to address him in e-mails etc. In my head I am his slave, this doesn't change when I go to work and I'm the boss. When I hear his voice I (usually) am brought back to this reality.
So do I consider my slavery 24/7? In some ways I believe it is, for me its not just about the ropes, whips, etc to me its a mindset. Master and I still go out and have fun, go to the movies, or out to dinner, run errands etc, like vanilla couples but if I slip up and utter a curse or say something he finds disrespectful, it doesn't matter where we are I will know I screwed up, a look, a tight grasp of my wrist and I remember who I belong to. Even if we are just speaking on the phone there is a tone to his voice when I overstep that sends a shiver through my body and in my head I am quickly on my knees at his feet. In my mind I am owned and Master holds the keys to my collar, a collar that may be invisible to most but to me its there all the time.
While visions of sugar plums were not high on the list of fantasies dancing in my head over Christmas, visions of being bent over and disciplined were. I posted my Christmas wish here because I get shy about asking for things like this in person. (Its a bad habit that we are trying to break but I am still struggling with it.) Luckily Master agreed that it had been too long since his friendly crop had come to play and gave me a post Christmas surprise.
We spent a delightfully low key day together, running a few errands etc, but most of it was spent at his home. For the most part when we are in private I am kept naked although occasionally a pretty pair of panties will be allowed. Master likes to keep me accessible to his whim and I am happy to comply.
At some point during the day while happily worshiping his cock I heard a familiar whistle through the air but couldn't place it fast enough before the sharp sting that followed bit the right cheek of my ass. I gasped (which is hard to do with your mouth full) and then groaned with desire as the crop struck again. I was close to weeping from happiness as he continued his torment, but held back, I didn't want to distract him with my tears.
Being the little slut that I am, I repositioned myself so that I could continue my oral duty and Master had a better line of attack upon my ass, (I wouldn't want it to be inconvenient or uncomfortable for him to discipline me). Master apparently appreciated my position change because I heard the words that make my heart sing when I am in service "Good girl, such a good little slave aren't you?" I'm sure I wiggled in response, my arousal growing. Between the burning heat from his blows and the cock filling my mouth I was in heaven and at that point I couldn't imagine how the day could get any better. That is until he decided to use me as a cock ornament.
I slid down his length, my back to him so that he could continue to redden my ass, while he was buried inside me. My torment grew as I felt him filling me. Impaled on Masters cock, feeling him deep inside me while the crop snapped and bit at my backside was blissful torture. Occasionally Master would run an ice cold glass over my heated flesh making me squirm and cry out from the contrasting sensations. I could barely contain my emotions at this point, reduced to a shivering primal animal. I moaned, tears barely held in check, as I held back the orgasm that kept trying to escape. After what seemed like an eternity Master did allowed me to come several times leaving me quivering, bruised, sore, barely able to think and blissfully happy.
For the remainder of the day I continued to feel the heated tingle of the discipline I had received. It was a delicious reminder of my slavery and continues to be today, and if the bruises are any indication, will be for at least a few more days!
I hope everyone else had their wishes come true, I wonder if New Years has a similar magic to it?
I encountered a discussion the other day about what subs or slaves call their Owners/Doms/Masters/Daddys etc..in public or around family and friends. Most seem to call them by their given names, some avoid it, and some just continue to use Sir or Master. I was completely caught up in this discussion, it fascinates me what other people do. One person brought up that names hold power, that when you hear your name even if it isn't directed toward you, you answer or at the very least turn toward it, I never really thought about that but it's true...well I don't have a very common name so for me when I hear it I'm fascinated to see who might have it too. I guess if you have a more common name like David, Joe, Michael etc.. it might not hold as much sway over you but I honestly wouldn't know.
It made me realize that in the many years (somewhere around 7 or 8 maybe more, I have a hard time pinning down the exact year we met) I have known Master I have never used his name in his presence. I have used it in situations like checking into a hotel where the reservation is under his name or things like that but not if he is with me. It always feels so awkward and strange, it doesn't just roll off my tongue, I often stumble over it. I actually get shy using it and it makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong. I feel disrespectful saying it. I know it's not disrespectful if he says its okay to use it in certain situations but I just have such a hard time with it.
If I need to address him in public I will use an endearment or get his attention by touch before I would use his name, even if that means I have go out of my way to get his attention I will do it. I don't even have him programmed in my phone with his given name, I use his initials. I am okay using his initials. I know its strange that I feel more comfortable calling Master by his initials than his name but I can't help it.
This is totally my hang up. Master has no problem with me using his name in certain situations, in fact he wants me to and I can't. (hold that thought until you read the next sentence) I know it is even more disrespectful not to adhere to his wishes but I just can't seem to do it. I think if I needed to, if I couldn't get his attention any other way I would use his name, but I would try everything I could to avoid it. When speaking to other people I play the pronoun game or find other creative ways to avoid using his name. I've gotten quite skilled at it so far.
Its funny I wonder, at this point if he would even answer if I used his name. He might not even realize I am speaking to him! I'm sure it would sound just as funny to him coming from my mouth as it does to me. So for now I will continue to be creative and keep my fingers crossed that I can avoid situations where using his name to speak to him would be inevitable.
If you are wondering what Master calls me, he uses my name for the most part, often with slave in front of it or sometimes just slave, or slut, it really depends on the situation. My name doesn't shorten to a nickname or anything like that. I've heard that some slaves have special names that their Masters call them, slave names I think they refer to them as, but we have never done this. I know I would have a hard time answering to it a different name. I have a hard enough time answering to my own name! Half the time it takes me a few moment to process that Master is even speaking to me. I'm either lost in thought, half listening or just plain can't hear him (I've got some mild hearing loss due to being stupid when I was a teenager). I can't imagine the struggle to answer to a different name.
Happy Merry Chrismahanukwanzica! (for those baffled by this its a mix of Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanza- forgive me those of you who celebrate the solstice I couldn't fit it in there, but I wish you happiness as well.)
May you receive what you wished for. May you spread some holiday cheer. May your kinky hopes, dreams and wishes come true.
(special thanks to my fetlife friend Poison-baby for the lovely pic)
PS....Please don't forget those less fortunate than you this time of year (and I don't mean the auto industry or the banks.)
I miss my friend. I haven't seen my friend for quite some time. Loving yet harsh, I always anticipate our next meeting. I have a love hate relationship with my friend.
I love the way my friend makes my heart beat faster. I love the way my skin tingles in anticipation of my friends touch. I feel a flush of heat between my legs whenever my friend comes to play.
My friend can also be cruel. Sometimes leaving harsh marks upon my body. Occasionally, my friends touch reduces me to tears of joy, of pain, of excitement. Despite this I am happy when my friend is around.
Some will wonder why we are friends and this I can not explain. I think the friendship grew on me. I didn't like my friend at all when we first met but I have come to understand and appreciate the different aspects my friend brings to my life.
Many may wonder how Master feels when my friend is around. I think he appreciates my friend as much as I do. He watches the different emotions as they flit across my face when my friend comes to play. And he loves the way my friend makes me gasp, moan, flinch and scream.
My Christmas wish is that Master will allow my friend to come play again. I will beg if I need to, down on my knees. Please Master, please it's been a long time, bring the crop out of hiding, I miss it so much. The bite and the sting of my friend striking my flesh, I crave it, I need it, I yearn for its touch. I hope Christmas dreams do come true and my friend will come visit very soon.
I don't know what it is about the end of the year that always makes me want to look back. But I've been thinking about how I met Master and how we got to where we are.
There were always aspects of bdsm that attracted me even after I escaped from the hell of a M/s relationship gone bad. ( where it all began ) Even though I was leery of these desires I would find myself seeking aspects of it in my vanilla world. I would find a partner with a little kink in them, someone willing to spank me (just not as hard or as long as I wanted) or pull my hair (again not as hard as I would like) or even tie me up, but much as I didn't want to admit it to myself I think that my early experience gave me a taste for something harder. After these experiences I was often left unfulfilled and upset, thinking that it was the kink that was the problem when the real problem was that it wasn't kinky enough. I needed more.
I began writing, hoping that I could fulfill this inexplicable need I had burning inside me. I started expressing my kinkier side in words instead of deeds. The tight bondage, the whippings, the more aggressive sex, the choking, restraint, the rules etc...unfortunately the more I wrote about it the more I wanted it, needed it. Of course this was the time of the big internet boom, when chat rooms were something new and exciting and kink bulletin boards and news feeds were just starting to become popular. I found a whole new world at my fingertips. My writing had found an audience and among them were a few people that I would consider mentors, guiding me through a sea of information. They looked out for me, talked to me and helped me to discover that a M/s relationship did not have to be the way it had been for me. I was still nervous but I felt I was ready to wade back into the pool. I started chatting and meeting people online but never took it further than cyberspace. In fact I had never consented to even call any Doms/Masters in person until I met Master.
There was something about him that intrigued me. I'm not sure what it was, I can't remember but whatever it was, is still there. It may have been the mix of intelligence and strictness. There was just more to him than just the kink. We could have conversations about all kinds of things. And there was nothing wishy-washy about him. Other Doms/Master even in e-mail would flip-flop on different issues, they didn't have specific rules, they sort of made them up as they went often bowing to my decisions or objections. Master seemed to know what he expected and wanted in a sub/slave and demanded it, he would listen if I objected, think about it and it didn't always turn out the way I wanted. I hated, respected and craved that discipline.
I remember our first meeting, I was so nervous, wondering what I had agreed to. I mean smart people didn't agree to meet strangers they met on the internet who wanted to tie them up did they? I had heard the horror stories of internet meetings gone bad (this was before internet dating was popular so meeting people online was considered taboo). We had been talking on the phone for a while and something told me that things would be okay, so I went with it but I was still nervous. What if he turned out to be a total wack job?
Luckily he wasn't, and that first meeting brought emotions out in me that I thought had been buried for good. When I went home that night I laid in bed and cried. Tears of relief, fear, joy and hope. Relief that I had taken steps to fulfilled needs that had been building in me so long and realizing that they didn't have to be scary. Fear that things would turn out like before. Joy that I had let my submissive side out of its cage in my soul and received amazing rewards. Hope that I could embrace my submissive side in a healthier way and not run from it.
Unfortunately the fear overwhelmed me and I locked my inner submissive away again after a few more meetings. I found it too difficult to embrace this part of myself that yearned for things others considered abnormal. I knew the devastation when a relationship like this went wrong and I didn't want to go back there. I didn't trust myself. I had a bad track record when it came to relationships and I just figured there had to be something I was missing in this one.
Master was understanding and we kept in touch checking in with each other every so often, catching up on each others lives. I think the bond that I had felt when we had first met grew stronger for me during this off period. I still maintained his rules of how to keep myself, I continued to address him as Sir, maintaining my submission to him. It was as if I knew that one day I would be on my knees serving him again in a more physical way. If I am really honest I would have to say that from our first meeting he had captured a piece of my soul and despite not being together I was never really free. There was just something about him that spoke to me. I can't pinpoint it, but thats the only explanation I have for the bond I felt toward him.
I have talked to other Doms/Masters over the years never with an interest in meeting, and referring to them as Sir always felt false and strained. It never sounded right coming off my tongue and I knew that I wouldn't maintain contact with these people. A few people wanted me to call them Master, which never felt right either (I'm not sure why people think they deserve this title from the very beginning) and I would "forget" or call them something else. I think subconciously I knew I already had a Master, an Owner, and these other people were all make believe, a sort of online fantasy role play that helped me explore and understand that the submissive side of myself wasn't "wrong".
Why didn't I just explore these things with Master you wonder. I think it was because of our connection. I think I knew that once I opened that door that it would be hard to close again and as much as I wanted it opened it still scared me. It was easier to be superficial than it was to give in to real emotion. I read blogs, bulletin boards, and occasionally wandered into a bdsm chat but despite it helping me get to know my inner submissive it never really fulfilled me. It did however show me that not all M/s relationships were abusive. I'm sure this helped me to reach a place in my life where I felt comfortable opening that cage door a little wider, which is when I agreed to meet with Master again. I asked him recently if he knew we would see each other again and I don't remember his exact words but it was something along the line of it being inevitable and I would have to agree.
Our reunion was so comfortable it didn't feel strained or awkward. It was like being wrapped in a comfortable old sweatshirt, it just felt so right. Our first intimate interaction upon meeting again was just as powerful as the first time. I still didn't like being on display, and was a little self-conscious because it had been several years and lets face it I don't have the same body I did back then, but it felt natural and right to offer myself to him. His collar may not have physically been around my neck during our separation but it had been there in spirit tethering me to him.
I have no regrets about reopening the door to my submissive side and have found such comfort, joy and growth from my relationship with Master. I don't see my submission as something that holds me back or stifles me, in fact there is an empowerment in it that I just can't describe. I will be forever thankful to Master for taking this journey with me.
We stared out at the empty beach enjoying the peaceful quiet of the morning. The wind pushed the sand making it dance and swirl, the waves crashed upon the shore leaving little trails of foam as the tide washed out. I watched this silent movie from high above, through the window of the hotel room as I lay in bed the covers pulled up to my chin. Master had his body pressed against my back, his arm draped over my waist, his fingers lightly tracing small circles across my belly, my hips, my breasts. I sighed and wiggled closer to him feeling his hardness press against me, a small moan escaped my lips.
Time seemed to stand still as we lay there. Masters hands continued sending little shivers of pleasure down my body, teasing me. Soon the water didn’t really matter, the calmness of the scenery overshadowed by the burning demand to move, to touch, to taste. Master kept me where I was not allowing me to turn or touch him. The ache between my legs grew, but I knew I was at his mercy.
Through my desire filled haze I felt him shift, “Put this in your mouth.” He said his hand twisting in my hair, pulling me around and forcing my head downward. I groaned in happiness and smiled eagerly before opening my mouth to service him.
I stuck out my tongue and licked around the tip of his cock, I was in ecstasy, I had been waiting for this, to taste him, to touch him. Slowly I wrapped my lips around him sliding down his length while my tongue danced around until I could feel him in the back of my throat. His grip on my hair tightened and he held me there, his cock filling my mouth. I moaned and wriggled, soon I felt a tug on my hair as he allowed me movement as he guided my head up and down.
I shifted position so my body straddled his leg, my breasts grazing his thigh, my nipples tightening as they rubbed against the coarse hair on his leg. His movements became more and more forceful. I tried not to gag as he moved deeper and deeper in my throat, saliva pooling in the corners of my lips because I couldn’t swallow fast enough.
It frightened and excited me when he was forceful and rough. I loved the feeling of total helplessness, of being at his mercy, of knowing that he was stronger and I had little choice but to obey. Occasionally my instincts would kick in and I would try to fight back, if he pushed to deeply in my mouth gagging me, I would feel my head try to pull back, my hands would try and push me away but it never really worked. Then I would bring myself back, remembering who was using me this way, and I would calm down relaxing into the sensations. Somehow Master always seemed to know when I surrendered, letting go of my fears, it was like he would wait until that point before he would unbalance me by exerting his dominance in a new would.
“Get on your knees, head down and face the window” He said forcefully pushing me away.
My brain took a few moments to shift gears but I made my way up to my knees, bending forward my ass presented to him for whatever he had planned. My head was turned to the side, as I waiting in anticipation of what came next. I felt him move behind me, sliding his hands over and across my ass a few times making me squirm and then a sharp crack as his hand came down making me jump and turn my head to bury my face in the blankets. My mind started to wander as I thought about what people might see if our room had been lower, or if it had been nighttime, the lights on and the shades open. I shivered with a mix of excitement and fear. He gave me a few more hard spanks bringing me back from my thoughts to the present. I could feel the heat from where his hand had landed, my skin felt swollen and tender.
“Your ass is getting nice and red. Do you have anything to say about that?”
“No Sir, That’s the way you like it.”
His hand came down again, making me wince and groan. “Do you let just anyone spank you?”
He landed another strike, making me whimper. “Aren’t you a grown woman, an executive? Aren’t you in charge?”
“Yes Sir.” I braced myself expecting another strike but it didn't come.
“Then why is this happening? Why do you let me spank you?” He asked.
I relaxed, thinking the spanking was over. “Because you own me Sir, I……” I choked on my words as another blow landed sharply across my ass unsettling me once again. I whimpered and tried again, “I, I am your property, and you can do what you want.” I said slowly.
“That’s right.” He said and I felt his hands grip my hips tightly and the pressure of his cock against me as he buried himself deeply inside me. I cried out loving the full feeling of him impaling me.
He pulled back until he was just barely inside me.
I whimpered and wriggled trying to push him back deeper inside me but he held me fast.
“What’s wrong?” He asked.
“I want you deeper; I love the way you feel when you’re buried deep inside me,” I whined. “please Sir, please……"
I felt the air move but my brain didn’t register what was happening before I felt another sharp sting on my ass, this one much harder than the last. I cried out, tears involuntarily forming in the corners of my eyes.
“Is that the proper way to address me when I am inside you?” He barked.
“No, Sss…Master.” I whispered.
“That’s better, don’t forget your manners. Now continue what you were saying.”
“I….I …please Master, I want to feel you deep inside me.” I begged.
“It’s not really about what you want.” He said as he slowly pushed only the tip of his cock in and out of me, tormenting me.
“No, Ss…Master, I am at your service, whatever you desire, this body is yours.” I answered, hoping that my answers would produce the results my body wanted, needed, craved.
I felt his hands on my hips tighten and I cried out in happiness, pleasure and frustration as he began roughly thrusting in and out of me. My tears flowed freely now, my emotions overwhelmed by the sensations flowing through my body. One of his hands slid down to my mid back forcibly keeping me from raising my upper body, bending me even further in half.
My back ached, and with every thrust there was pain mixed with pleasure from him driving into me so deep and so hard. It felt good to be so roughly used, I felt joy, and happiness, pleasure and pain but most of all surrender. I was his, I belong to him, my body responded to his hands, I was his instrument to play when he desired.
The pressure was building in my body, I held it back as best I could, but my control was starting to slip. I wasn’t sure if he was going to allow me to come but soon that option may be out of either one of our control as I felt my will over my body begin to fail.
Master must have sensed what was happening, and slowed his movement just enough for me to get a handle on my control. I was becoming delirious, primal instincts taking over, as I moved my body in ways I knew would please him. I heard his sounds of approval as I reached back to feel him as he slid in and out of me.
“Come for me slave.” He said and grabbed a fistful of my hair pulling my head back as he increased his movements once again. I had been waiting for those words, “Thank you Master” I cried out. I had been hoping I would hear those words soon and my body shivered and exploded with the first tug of my hair. I screamed and bucked, never wanting it to end. I felt his body tense, his cock thicken, and his body shudder as he spilled into me. We collapsed together on the bed, panting, and spent.
I whimpered when he pulled out, and he chuckled, knowing that I hated that part more than anything, hated the separation that would leave me feeling empty. After we cleaned up he pulled me back into his arms and we resumed watching the waves down below and he resumed running his hands and fingers across my belly, and hips.
He leaned close to my ear and whispered “You’re a good slave, I’m glad I own you.”
I snuggled back into his warmth a smile on my lips. My body was sated and my mind was content. I am owned I thought and the pleasure of those three little words resonated inside me making me happy, content and a little scared, but I pushed the fear away for another day and with Masters warmth at my back, wrapped in the security of my Owners arms I drifted off to sleep.
The streets are jammed, the parking lots full, there are too many people everywhere, I tend to overspend...then again who doesn't at this time of year...especially when you have lots of birthdays thrown into the mix. Life is just jolly and fun. There are company holiday parties to plan, attend and secret santas to join, potluck dinners, and cookies and desserts to make. It seems like December is on warp speed from day 1, its difficult to enjoy it.
I've been having a hard time getting into the holiday spirit this year....not quite sure why. Its only something like 13 days until xmas and my lights aren't hung, a tree is the furthest thing from my mind...well okay it was until about 30 seconds ago when I mentioned it, and I have no idea if I have enough presents and who I missed while out shopping and the thought of going into a store is scary, usually I enjoy shopping, now I just dread it.
There are the hard to shop for on my list...I'm sure you have those, the ones that you just don't have a clue what to get so you keep putting it off. I have a few of those on my list, the ones I am just clueless about. Gift cards, misc stuff they will hate, clothes...who knows. Thats when I usually go out on a limb and try to be creative and hope it pays off.
So why all the talk of the holidays...its just my way of saying sorry I've been so remiss in giving you something juicy to read about. The holiday craziness has left me creatively challenged, and usually away from my computer. But as I sit here and type I feel the creativity creeping back and a little holiday cheer for all may be on its way from my computer to yours. In the meantime enjoy Santa's helper, I'm sure I would if I found her under my tree on xmas morning....of course that means I have to get a tree, but what incentive!
I adore when Master indulges me and allows me to take his hand and run it over my body, across my breasts, down my belly, across my hips and ultimately between my legs. Pushing his fingers inside me, the heel of his hand hitting just at that sweet spot a little higher up, my body responding to his touch, yet its my touch as well, as I am guiding his hand. With my hand on his I guide the movement of his fingers, the speed, the pressure, while he whispers in my ear, egging me on telling me how sexy I look, or commenting on how wet I am. The knowledge that he can feel my body responding to his comments makes it all the more delightful.
Its interactive masturbation, it’s fantasy come to life. He gets to experience what I enjoy, learning the secrets of my body, how fast or slow I like it, how much pressure and where and I get the pleasure of knowing that it’s his hand that is pushing me toward ecstasy. Of course writhing around on the bed moaning is a huge turn on for both of us so as I inch closer to the point of no return, he will occasionally become a little more interactive, but not too intrusive to this somewhat solo exploration, bending close to capture one of my nipples in his mouth, making me arch up off the bed in sweet bliss or pressing his body hard against mine, his hips grinding into my ass, my hips.
That usually does it, the last piece of the puzzle that pushes me past that edge to where I can’t hold back anymore, sending me to the slightly scary place of totally surrender, where there is no control, only pleasure, where my body takes over and my mind is pushed to the side. There is no beginning and no end when I reach this point, I am just raw emotion.
I kneel fully clothed, my hands behind me, my back straight, my knees slightly parted, my eyes focused downward in submission. I feel Masters gaze on me from where he sits across the room. Internally I squirm, under his watchful eye wishing I was naked. It is easier for me to embrace my role as slave when I am naked with a collar around my neck.
When I am naked I am the slave that bows to the will of my Master, dressed I feel in charge, like I am the boss, but this is an illusion, my status doesn’t change with the clothes I wear. I am his slave, dressed or undressed. So I sit, waiting. Waiting and learning. Learning to release my need for control, remembering who I answer to, who I relinquished my control to when I accepted his collar around my neck.
Time passes slowly while the internal struggle wages war inside me.“I am a responsible grown woman, a leader, not a follower; I don’t answer to anyone, they answer to me. I should get up; I don’t need to stay here. He can’t make me, he won’t make me, and it’s not like he is holding me down.” My mind twists and turns with these thoughts but I don’t get up, I don’t move. I stay where I am, on my knees, eyes down. Why?
I do it not because I have to but because I want to. I do it to satisfy something inside me that craves not having to make all the decisions. I do it because there is nothing more freeing than letting go of who you think you are and just being. With those thoughts I stop fighting, relax and release.
Master can sense when I have let go. He stands up and walks to me; I watch his legs as he approaches and shiver in anticipation. He puts his hand on my head and runs his fingers through my hair. “Good girl” he says “Stand up.”
I stand, tears forming in the corners of my eyes not in sadness but in relief, in appreciation. He leans in, wraps his arms around me and kisses me as a tear slides down my cheek. I am happy, I am cared for, I am a slave, yet I am free.
How do you serve when you feel miserable? I don’t mean physically sick, just mentally yucky. It’s tough to want to do anything when you feel depressed. I know I struggle with going to work, taking care of other obligations etc. All I want to do is curl up and hide from the world but if you’re a slave your options to hide away in misery may be limited. A Master can’t force a slave to be happy, no one can actually force another person to be happy, and you might think that expecting someone to serve when they feel this way is cruel but actually it can be quite liberating. It really depends on the situation and the Master.
For me, when I’m sad or depressed my libido suffers, my usually erotic thoughts dry up and I’m lucky if porn would make me wet. So the idea of serving sexually can sometimes be overwhelming, I mean who feels attractive when they have been crying for hours? But somehow my body reacts differently, to the sound of Masters voice. I’m not sure what it is but it’s like I’m hypnotized. I drift to this more calm state, which allows thought that would have made me cringe a moment ago seem not so impossible. It’s not the same level of reaction he would achieve if I wasn’t in this low place but the sound of his voice, the touch of his hand and suddenly things don’t seem as insurmountable and parts of my body that I thought would never come alive again decide they want to play.
Occasionally I will drift back into my head dragging out what made me depressed to begin with and they’re not always easy to push past. I’m sure when this happens I become a distant, and stop paying attention to what task I am supposed to be performing, but a tug on my hair, or a swat on my ass usually brings me back to the here and now.
Maybe that’s the key. Serving makes you live in the now, no past, no future, you have to focus on what is happening in the moment. In pushing everything aside you achieve what some people call “subspace” but what I feel is just a more meditative place that allows you to let go and surrender to either a person or to yourself.
Anyone can achieve it; it doesn’t have to be under sexual or bdsm circumstances. I’ve achieved this sensation alone in meditation, it’s a place where your mind slows down, and you surrender to just being. It’s incredibly peaceful, unfortunately it’s also difficult to achieve when you are wallowing in misery, that’s when it’s nice to have a Master who can ease you into that place without much coaxing. But that can also be a crutch and will eventually stop working. At some point it is up to you to pull yourself back from the edge, and find peace with what is plaguing you, so that you don’t slide back into the abyss.
Life can often be challenging and recently mine has been kicking me in the butt. It seems that I just keep getting hit with one thing after another, sick (hospitalized) friends, manipulative exes that get under your skin, and more - don't worry things with Master are wonderful its the other aspects of my life that are playing havoc with me. Master suggested I "do something to clear my head of all of it". I pulled out a book by one of my favorite authors who usually helps me to see things in a new light and he started speaking to me - since I'm sure I'm not the only one out there who finds life a struggle at times I thought I would share some of my finds:
"The roller coaster is my life; life is a fast dizzying game; life is a parachute jump; its taking chances, falling over and getting up again; it's mountaineering; it's wanting to get to the very top of yourself and to feel angry and dissatisfied when you don't manage it."
"It is necessary to run risks. We only properly understand the miracle of life when we allow the unexpected to happen."
"When we least expect it, life sets us a challenge to test our courage and willingness to change."
"The tests can become harder than one imagined. But they are necessary in order to learn. And each of them brings us closer to the realization of our dreams."
Often, during combat, the warrior of light receives blows that he was not expecting. And he realizes that during war, his enemy is bound to win some of the battles. When this happens, the warrior of light weeps bitter tears and rests in order to recover his energies a little. But he immediately resumes the battle for his dreams"
"I bear many scars, but I also carry with me moments that would not have happened if I had not dared to go beyond my limits."
"Carry in your memory, for the rest of your life, the good things that came out of your difficulties. They will serve as a proof of your abilities and will give you confidence when you are faced with other obstacles."
"Seize every opportunity that life offers you because when opportunities go they take a long time to come back."
"The secret lies in the present - if you pay attention to the present, you will be able to improve it. And if you improve the present whatever happens afterwards will be better too. Each day brings us Eternity."
I tilt my head back letting the water pour directly on my face and down my back. I run my hands through my wet hair. I was hoping the cold shower would help me calm down but it isn’t helping. I keep imagining Masters hands running over my naked body.
I reach for the soap and run soapy hands down my breasts, across my belly.I stop there knowing that if I move further south I will have a hard time controlling myself. My body is burning for Masters touch, his gaze, his attention. I stand back under the spray of the water rinsing myself off and try to redirect my mind to other things. I start making a list of all the things I need to do today, go to the dry cleaner, pick up something for dinner, fill up my gas tank…..beg and plead for Master to release my overwhelming desire. I sigh and shut off the water, knowing that no matter what I do it’s not going to help.
My nipples harden as I step out of the tub into the cool bathroom and reach for a towel. It’s been two weeks since I’ve been allowed to come. At first it wasn’t so difficult, I could distract myself with work, chores, immersing myself in one task or another to keep my mind at bay. But the more I know it’s not allowed the more I want it. The more I crave it. The ache between my legs grows fiercer by the day. I find myself squirming in my chair at work hoping that if I “accidentally” come that it won’t count as a betrayal, a blatant defiance to Master’s demands.
I look at myself in the bathroom mirror. I don’t know who I think I’m kidding, I couldn’t do that. I want to please Master. I need to please Master. I take great pride and pleasure in serving him. Sometimes it can be frustrating but in the end the pain and frustration are rewarded.
I wrap myself in a big fluffy pink robe and wander out to the bedroom to dress trying to think of other ways to distract myself. I stand before the closet trying to figure out what my day is going to be like so that I can figure out what to wear. My mind wanders and I stand there staring at nothing.
“Clothes don’t pick themselves” Master said from behind me.
I gave a little squeal and jumped. I had thought he left. I started to turn around but he grabbed my hair tightly and held me in place.
“Have you been a good girl?”
“Yes Sir.” I said
“Are you sure?” He asked “You were in the shower for a long time.” He pulled me back into his body holding me against him, his other hand untying the sash of my robe, his warm hand sliding over my breasts, his fingers rolling and teasing my nipples.
I whimpered sinking back into him. “I’m sure Master. It crossed my mind to disobey but I didn’t want to disappoint you Sir.”
“You would be disappointing yourself slave.” He said.
“Yes Sir, you’re right Sir.” I said softly, as I lost myself to the sensations his hand was creating in my already heated body.
His hand on my hair tightened as he pulled me upward so I was standing on tiptoe then he turned me and walked me over to the bed. He released me, half pushing, half throwing me so I was bent over the side of the bed. He raised the back of my robe exposing my ass to the cool air. The sting of his hand surprised me, I wasn’t anticipating a spanking and I jumped with surprise.
“Hold still slave” He said.
I tried to hold still as his hand came down hard again on my ass.I could feel the heat forming where his hand had struck me and tried hard not to wiggle. Master knows that spankings turn me on. There is something so naughty about spankings, being bent over, exposed and vulnerable. Every now and then his hand would strike me low his fingers slightly grazing my wetness. I had thought I was excited before but now I was so swollen it was almost painful, moisture was slowly running down my thighs and my breath was coming faster. If he continued I wasn’t sure what would happen. I had never come from being spanked before but then I had never been this aroused before.
Whimpering and groaning I buried my face in the bed. I was trying so hard to stay still but it was becoming more difficult. I was arching my back into his hand, wanting more, needing more. I was completely lost to the sensations.
I hadn’t realized he had stopped his assault until I felt him part my legs, and grab my hips as he impaled himself inside me. I screamed from the delicious sensations that went rippling through my body fogging my senses.
"I need to come Master” I gasped.
“Hold it slave.”
“I don’t know if I can, it’s too much, its been too long. Please Sir, please, I can’t hold back.” I begged.
Master grabbed my hair, “While your begging is nice, you will hold back.” He said harshly. “You are not a free woman, you are owned and you come when I tell you to come. Is that understood?” He asked as he continued to force himself in and out of me the sensations almost painful but I wanted more. I wanted him deeper, faster, harder.
Tears sliding down my cheeks I answered “Yes Master.” The sensations were becoming too intense I was losing my grip on reality and falling further into sensation. My body was betraying me overriding my will and I knew I couldn’t hold back any longer. As if he could sense my point of no return I heard in the distance “Now slave, come now.”
Time stood still as my body convulsed around him, shivers of ecstasy clouded my vision, the nerves in my body were so raw that every sensation seemed magnified tenfold. A simple touch left me whimpering and shaking uncontrollably. I was sobbing; my breath was coming in great big gasps. I felt completely raw and vulnerable, like a newborn experiencing the world outside the womb for the first time. It was too much.
I must have passed out or fallen asleep because when I became conscious again I was under the covers, my robe gone and Masters arms wrapped protectively around me. I reached up and touched his arm.
“Are you okay slave?” he asked.
“I think so Sir. I’m not sure what happened. I’m sorry I guess it was just too much, it overwhelmed me.”
“I think you need to be overwhelmed sometimes, being overwhelmed helps you. It forces you to be vulnerable, to face that fear. Your fear of losing control is held too tightly, you need loosen it and release the fear behind and surrender. I can expect surrender from you but I can’t force it from you. I will guide you, show you the path but you need to let go and you have to trust that I will be there to catch you if you need it.” He said.
The tears started running down my cheeks again as I thought about that for a while. He was right. It always amazes me that Master can get inside my head like that. I still have such a hard time with trust. I think that I trust but then when I really look at it I realize that deep down there is a fear that says that it’s an illusion. That to trust means getting hurt. I have always found it weird that Master seems to know what I needed before I do half the time, but I also feel very fortunate. I know I’m beginning to let go, that Masters patience and steady hand are guiding me down this dark scary path, I guess it’s now my job to pry my fingers off the safety line and truly let go and trust that he will be there to catch me if I stumble. I shivered and snuggled closer closing my eyes and sinking into the security of his arms, thinking I’ll get right on tha, tomorrow, my fingers were too raw from the rope being yanked out of my hands today. Maybe they will be too sore to grip it tomorrow.
It was a long and amazing vacation. I saw amazing sights that blew my mind and despite the knowledge that I could share these moments through my camera with Master once I got home, I still had my moments of melancholy. It was bittersweet to be home, back to the day to day grind of work, instead of the laid back schedule I had kept for the last two weeks. While there are quite a few things that make me wish I was still away a reunion with Master definitely made me happy to be home.
I have always found that reunions after an absence can go one of two ways, either you find out that the separation was probably for the best, realizing that all the intimate fantasies you had while you were apart were just that fantasies and the thought of acting on them just isn't there once you are face to face. Or you rediscover what drew you to the other person to begin with. Your heart beats faster, and all those fantasies you had while you were away come to life.
My reunion with Master followed the second category. It was blissful to once again serve as Master's plaything, cock ornament and come slut. It was wonderful to feel his hands traveling over my body, spanking me, pinching my nipples or gently caressing my hip. His breath on my neck as he whispered in my ear, his fingers wrapped in my hair pulling it tight sent shivers down my spine. Taking him in my mouth, made me squirm and whimper with desire. Feeling him inside me was like a little slice of heaven on earth.
Being bound, blindfolded, whipped, cropped, slapped, spanked, choked, photographed naked, or video taped, doesn’t frighten me half as much as the other L word. You know the one; it starts with an L and ends with an e. Even the thought of it makes me quake in my shoes and want to run and hide.
I’m a basket case when it comes to relationships. I try to learn from my past mistakes and I think the last few years have been monumental in my growth but it’s frightening to think that I will get it wrong again. But really what will happen if I do? I’ve learned from the past that I will not disappear, I may fall apart for a bit but I always dust myself off and move forward…the problem is I tend to keep moving forward with the same type of people and need to break the pattern. I keep thinking the next one will be different but then blam something happens and I realize I'm still dating the same person just in a different package. See that is the rational me talking, the brain, the heart is a completely different matter. The heart sits and says “uh uh, no way are you going to get hurt again, I’m going to build this wall here and hide behind it”.
See my heart likes to think it’s in control…sort of like me. I know there are some things in life that we can’t control but that doesn’t mean I don’t still try. I’m a control freak remember? Of course I also question my judgment when it comes to relationships. I’ve been burned so many times it’s scary to let go, relax and just see where life takes me. I have to say Master is extremely patient with me in this regard, he gets this rational tone to his voice and makes it all seem so easy, so clear. Then I hang up the phone and two minutes later I’m in my head again.
My relationship with Master is probably the healthiest one I’ve been in so far. (Which by its very nature may sound absurd but it's true). His personality is much different than anyone else I've been involved with and I think I knew that this relationship would be different and that’s why Master scared me so much when we first met. It freaked me out so badly that I had to back off for a time. Now that I’ve opened myself up again I’m still scared but it’s not the all consuming scariness that I had before.
Before I get tons of e-mail on this let me state that I’m not worried he is going to hurt me physically (at least not on purpose) or anything like that. He gets in my head, and sees me, I find myself opening up in ways that I’ve never done before and that can be terrifying. So its not that I’m really scared of him personally it’s more that I’m scared of him breaching the carefully constructed wall around my heart, leaving it crumbling and me vulnerable. I can sense the cracks in the foundation and I guess this is life deciding it is time to teach me a new lesson about submission. Learning to let go and enjoying the ride, wherever it takes me. Wish me luck.
I have always disliked being on display. I’m hypercritical of my body just like almost every other woman out there, and have found it difficult to overcome the embarrassment of it. I have recently come to a place of acceptance and I am learning to surrender to it. I am beginning to understand the erotic nature of being naked, bound and on display for my Owner.
I know when he watches me, know when he stops whatever it was he was doing and slides his gaze across my flesh.I feel it. I sense his attention and it sends shivers coursing through my body. My heart speeds up, my skin flushes and I feel the dampness forming between my legs
Today I stand naked, my wrists bound above my head secured to a bolt in the ceiling. The rope pulls me up so high I must stand on tip to, my body stretched to its limit. A blindfold covers my eyes; my mouth is stuffed with a ball gag. My arms ache and the muscles in my calves twitch, saliva pools in the corners of my lips. My body is my only measure of the time that has gone by and even still I couldn’t tell you if I have been here for 5 minutes or 30. The air has a slight chill to it, my nipples stand at attention, and my skin is covered in goose bumps. I hear noises around me, sometimes close, sometimes further away. I try not to pay attention to them; I get anxious trying to figure out what Master is doing. I breathe deeply and try to relax into the position, surrender to it.
I lift my leg, and point and flex my foot to take the ache away; I slide it up the other leg massaging the tension from my calf with my heel. Every movement is calculated, I try to keep my toes pointed, try to make sure ever movement is pleasing and sensual. I switch legs and repeat the process, slowly running my pointed foot up the side of my leg, swinging my knee to the side, releasing my hip, opening myself up should he be watching me. When I’ve stretched my legs, I lean my head back slowly, arching my back pressing my breasts forward, my ass out. I shake my head slowly side to side stretching my neck, my long red curls softly brushing my back. When I have stretched all I can I slowly return to position, waiting.
Master likes to watch me shift and move, my muscles tensing and shaking from the strain. When he comes close I feel the warmth radiating from his body. I strain forward willing him to touch me, his body heat searing my flesh, and pooling between my thighs. The desire to be touched sending pulsations through my body that make me writhe in anticipation.
He leaves me there squirming, working myself up. He knows I have a vivid imagination and it doesn’t require much to send it reeling down the path toward orgasm. He enjoys watching this happen, I’m sure he would love to be able to read my mind, to peak into my head and watch the scenario I have picked out.
Then with great care he reaches out and softly runs his fingers down my breast, my stomach, my hip. The tenderness of it almost undoes me, I’m too aroused. Tender was a few minutes ago now I want it hard, I want him to grab me roughly and possess me. But he knows that, which is why he moves slowly, reminding me that I am not in charge that I am here for his pleasure, to take as he pleases. He teases me for a few more minutes and then moves away, I cry out from behind my gag moving forward trying to find him again with my body. My frustration mounts as the moments tick by. I try to surrender into my predicament but I am beyond my capacity to relax, the only release I can think about is focused between my legs.
Suddenly I am yanked backward by my hair, my body pulled firmly against Masters. I groan. He leans in and whispers to me “Is this what you wanted slave?” His other hand slides down the front of my body; he pinches my nipples hard, squeezing my breasts. His hand travels lower and lower, slipping between my legs, sliding through my wetness. I grunt and press my pelvis forward into his hand, my body bucking, pressing the heel of his hand into my clit while his fingers slip in and out of me.
“You’re so wet, you like this don’t you? It turns you on doesn’t it?”
I moan in response.
"Do you want to come slave?”
I groan like an animal in heat my body moving faster.
“Come for me slave.”
I scream from behind my gag and my legs give out leaving me dangling from my wrists. Master releases my hair, and wraps his other arm around my waist holding me up, taking the pressure off my arms while I twist and moan in ecstasy and release.
As my breathing returns to normal, Master reaches up and unties my arms. I collapse against him. He undoes the gag in my mouth but leaves my blindfold on. He carries me to the bed, places me down and lies down beside me. He removes the blindfold and I blink at the brightness of the room. When my eyes adjust to the light I look into his eyes, and he smiles at me.
“Thank you Sir.”
“My pleasure slave.” He answered, wrapping me in his arms.
My emotions are torn, split between the excitement of a new adventure and the sadness that I’m not sharing it with you. I may be busy exploring a new land, playing death defying games with new foods, but you won’t be far from my thoughts.
An amazing statue, an awe inspiring landmark is sure to excite and amaze, but next to the thrill of witnessing new things I will be wishing I could share it with you. I know there will be other times, other locations that we can share, but it doesn’t mean I won’t miss you on this trip. How could I not when looking at the faces around me will always bring you to mind.
I know what you are thinking, what you would say, “ Don’t dwell on that”, “You’re going to be so busy you won’t have time to miss me", “You’ll be home before you know it.” The list goes on and on. And you’re right I shouldn’t let these thoughts spoil my trip. In fact I won’t let it spoil my trip but I will still miss my nightly calls, my weekends spent wrapped in your arms.
So I will focus on the positive. The amazing new and different things I will see on my trip and our reunion when I return, sharing my experiences, my photos etc…but mostly I will look forward to a private welcome home celebration that keeps us inside for many delightful, and kinky hours.
The blow landed just below my ass. I felt compelled to move forward away from it but I knew I needed to, wanted to, stand my ground. I leaned over the back of a chair; my back arched my ass pushed out in invitation.
Another blow landed this time higher. The sound was worse than the bite of the leather as it struck me, but with each blow I could feel my skin heat. I could imagine the raised line of welts that were forming on my skin, the redness that accompanied them. Master marking me, his sign of Ownership. Another strike, another crack of leather, I winced this time and pranced in place up on my toes. I felt the heat seep down through my flesh to radiate between my thighs.
I listened to the whistle of the leather as it sliced through the air, trying not to brace for the impact. I had learned to surrender to each blow, knowing that the slice of the leather wasn’t as harsh if I was relaxed. The next strike landed high on my back; I wasn’t expecting it and jumped a little sucking in my breath with surprise.
Master grabbed a handful of my hair pulling my head back while another blow landed on my ass. I could feel the moisture building between my legs and I moaned and shifted from side to side, my nipples hardening. The blows kept coming; I bit my lip my body torn between pleasure and pain. A cool hand touched the lines crisscrossing my body running down over my ass, grabbing my hip. I felt the hardness of his cock as he parted my legs and roughly pushed inside me. I groaned at the fullness of him buried deep within me. My body clenched around him, I had been waiting for this, needing it. His hand tightened in my hair, his hips moved, I pushed back into him, as he rode me hard. “Come for me slave.” He whispered and the world broke apart.
I moaned and bucked like a wild animal, the orgasm ripped through my body clenching and releasing my muscles, I didn’t want it to stop, the intensity of it flowed through me, and kept going. As my body continued to ride the wave of ecstasy he pulled out of me. I cried out, my body still clenching, around the emptiness. I was forced to my knees and his cock pushed down my throat. I could taste my own juices coating him and groaned, hungrily sucking, he thrust quickly and deeply in and out of my mouth, saliva dripped out of the corners of my lips and down my chin as he used my mouth as he had just used my pussy. I felt his muscles tensing, my mouth fill with his release, choking me. His hand was still entwined in my hair, not allowing me to pull away. I gagged but took a few deep breaths through my nose, and calmed myself down as Master’s nourishment slid down my throat, a few drops seeping from between my lips to drip onto my breasts.
He slowly pulled out of my mouth and looked down at me. “Good girl” he said and I smiled. He pulled me up and walked me to the edge of the bed, handing me a towel. I cleaned up and we climbed into bed, his cool body against my warm back, his arms wrapped tightly around me. “Such a good slave, I’m glad I own you.” He whispered kissing the back of my head. I feel asleep a smile on my face, wrapped in Masters arms.
I listen to the wind howling outside, the fallen leaves dancing across the pavement. The cold seeps in through the old walls making the room cold. I slip down further under the warmth of the down comforter but I still can’t seem to get warm. I shiver and move closer into his warmth. He grumbles in his sleep as my cold flesh touches him but he automatically pulls me closer and envelops me in his arms.
I sigh, trying to forget about what woke me. My crazy insecure thoughts and fears always seem to rise to the surface during the night. It’s easier during the day, I keep myself busy, occupy myself with other things but when night falls and the quiet settles over the house they creep around the corners of my mind. Like a mouse seeking out little bits of food my brain picks at the threads of past fears, past hurts, casting doubts.
How can I trust when I have been hurt so many times? How do I surrender these fears to the past? I feel as if I am balanced on a ledge holding on by my fingertips, knowing that I need to let go in order to move forward. I put on a good front, but inside fear eats me up and haunts my nights. He pulls me tighter as if he can sense my unease.
“What’s wrong?” he mumbles sleepily.
“Nothing Sir” I reply.
“Stop thinking” he says and turns my head, gives me a quick kiss and falls back to sleep.
I chuckle to myself, at how well he knows me. A small smile forms on my lips as I snuggle back into his body, my brain quieted for the moment. I continue to listen to the wind howling outside the window but this time it doesn’t sound so scary. The shadows and doubts have been pushed aside and my body relaxes into sleep.
I didn’t think I would be writing another post on how frustrating it is by the judgments of others but it amazes me how petty and nasty some people can be. As bloggers we write to share our experiences our inner most thoughts, stories tidbits of our lives etc... I can’t speak for everyone but I usually enjoy reading the comments people leave. I appreciate all the people who read my words and those that take the time to comment. I applaud those who even if they don’t understand my relationship see the happiness it brings me and acknowledge that while it might not be right for them it works for me and Master.
It’s the people that seem to have an agenda, an insistence that their way is the only way that sadden and befuddle me. Its times when I read comments to posts that tell the writer that they aren’t a “true” or “real” Dom, slave, whatever. Who is anyone to tell anyone else that they aren’t a “true” anything? At times I feel like I’m back in high school.
Wouldn’t it be much more productive if comments were made from the person leaving the comments perspective instead of from a place of judgment or attack. I know when I comment I try to only speak from my perspective, my experiences. I may state how a particular post made me feel but I make an effort not to attack the person who wrote it.
As I stated once before in another post I feel that there are way too many people who hold judgment against those of us who choose to live a kink lifestyle for people who are in the lifestyle to pass judgment on the ways in which we define our relationships. It’s a shame that we all can’t acknowledge that there isn’t a “right” way or a “wrong” way to any of this that it’s really just about what makes us happy. If you’re kink is kinkier than mine and you are happy with it congratulations on finding what does it for you but please don’t put mine or others down. There is enough room in this world for everyone to have their own variation.
I stand before you, your one hand resting lightly on my throat while the other hand gently traces my face, your thumb softly brushing my lips. I watch your face as your hands move over my body and shudder as I see myself through your eyes. I love the way you touch me, the way you hold me, your strength, your guidance.
You spin me around standing me in front of the mirror, your hand still gripping my throat as you stand behind me. I look at myself standing there naked, you behind me fully clothed, the collar around my neck under your hand, and watch as you slowly move your hands over every square inch of my body. Your movements are slow and torturous. There is no rush, no hurry, except for in my head which is urging you on, wanting more, wanting you to take me to fulfillment.
I watch as my eyes turn from clear to glassy with desire, my legs start to shake, and quiver, my breath comes faster causing my breasts to rise and fall in rhythm. I have watched as you teased my nipples to hard peaks, now they are straining forward begging for your attention. I can see the slick wetness glistening between my legs needing your attention.
I’m not sure which I like more, when you are gentle, slow and deliberate or when you are strong, demanding, and harsh. Each has its own unique challenges and rewards. I try to think of other things but somehow you know when my mind wanders and bring it quickly back to the present with a gentle flick of my nipple, a slow circle around my clit or your hand around my neck tightening ever so slightly.
I stand there like this for what seems like hours but is most likely only minutes, my body shaking and quivering, my knees wanting to give out. “Please” I beg, “please Master, I need to come.” Your eyes lock with mine in the mirror. “Keep your eyes open and watch yourself” you whisper to me. I hate watching myself come, I feel so self conscious but I do as I’m told. It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, to keep them trained on my face as you move your hand between my legs. I want to watch you, watch your hands, your face but I know if I do you will stop. So I keep watching myself, my eyes locked with the image in the mirror.
I feel the pressure mounting inside me, I want to move but your hand on my throat tightens warning me to stay still. I moan, and my eyes start to slide shut, as your grip on my throat tightens again warning me to keep my eyes open and locked with my eyes in the mirror. I gaze through half open slits at the girl in the mirror and know she is on the edge. You lean down and whisper to me to “come now” and my back arches as I push my pelvis forward into your hand, and I lean my body back into yours.
My mouth opens and a low gasping moan escapes my lips. I blink several times trying my hardest to keep my eyes open, watching the girl in the mirror buck and groan. For a moment I forget it is me, fascinated by the sight of the woman having an orgasm before me. When my brain returns to reality, I blush and try to look away but you hold me steady and whisper to me “You’re beautiful and sexy there is nothing to be embarrassed about.” You hold me there a few minutes more then turn me around and wrap me in your arms. I hide my face in your shoulder, embarrassed and tired. You walk me to the bed and hold me until I drift off to sleep.
As I was finishing up my last post I realized that menstruation was another M word that isn't written about much. Its not exactly sexy and who really wants to write about "that time of the month"? But given that I'm a woman this is a pretty big part of my life.
I get bitchy, weepy, insecure, and needy around this time. Not to mention the bloating, not feeling particularly sexy, tired and sometimes just not being in the mood. Given that being a slave is about being in service to one's Master I would think that this is a particularly important part of being a slave. One I would think more people would write about, but I haven't seen it. Maybe I'm just missing it.
I know for me dealing with my emotional highs and lows can be very difficult and I'm sure it's trying for Master as well. I over think things, stress myself out and try hard not to let my irritation at the littlest thing spill over into my relationship with Master. I've been fairly successful at maintaining my temper, not so successful at hiding my insecurities and sullen moods.
Then of course there is the inconvenience of it all. Yeah I could probably take a pill that would eliminate it all together but something about that weirds me out. I just can't justify messing that significantly with a function my body was meant to perform. I know all the doctors say its fine and there are no long term effects but I just don't know if I believe that. So I deal with it and all its inconveniences and despite being shy about it, I will still serve Master sexually even when its that time of the month.
I always wonder how other people handle it. I'm just nosey that way. I know among my vanilla friends this isn't talked about much in mixed company. A few of my guy friends will talk about it, how they don't care, they just get towels, or how there are at least two other holes to fill so its no big deal to them, then there are those who avoid their girlfriends like the plague during that time. My straight female friends would rather eat glass than discuss this with their boyfriends, or husbands...its like the other big secret next to masturbation. Once again something normal but for some reason embarrassing to talk about. I'm not sure I understand why.
My lesbian friends are more open about it, its talked about, joked about, and not made such a big deal of. The big joke is to avoid the string when you get horny (we are a sick group sometimes what can I say). Perhaps its the difference between the sexes...guys just don't like thinking about it, don't want to talk about it with their girlfriends, girls are embarrassed or feel weird talking about it with guys and well among girls we do talk but for some reason don't share. I'm not sure why its another one of those taboo subjects but I'm trying to break the mold.
I wonder what else I'll find that people don't like to talk about.....
I hate when my hormones betray me. I will be perfectly fine, okay with where I am and blam these pesky hormones come up and kick me in the ass. I will cry at stupid TV commercials, take comments the wrong way, feel extremely needy and adrift, snap at this slightest infraction. It sucks.
Add to that the stress of work and home and it’s a recipe for disaster. I try to keep them in check, try to remember that I am reading too much into things when I feel this way but it doesn’t always help. One distracted phone conversation with Master and I will over think my way into a downward spiral. All the old insecurities pop up (maybe they never went away) and I torment myself with doubts.
It’s at these times that I try to listen to Masters voice in my head telling me not to over analyze, take things more at face value. It’s tough though I guess in my past relationships there was always an underlying motive to everything that happened. I would take things at face value only to learn that there was something more going on. After a few blows from the side I learned to analyze everything to find the potential motive behind it. Nothing was done up front, it was always more of a sneak attack, underhanded and passively planned.
Passive aggressive people are probably some of the most mentally hurtful people out there. They stab you in the back so slowly you don’t know the knife is there until half of your blood is pooled around your feet, you can’t figure out where the pain is coming from and you start to feel faint.
Master is definitely not like that, but once you’ve been down that path it’s hard to relearn to trust in what is presented to you. I guess that’s the crux of the problem, trust. Just when I think I finally have it down these hormonal days will leave me realizing that the insecurities are still there, they are just buried underneath the surface waiting to rear their ugly heads. I know these things can take time but it would be so nice if you could just flip a switch.
I listen to the soft mechanical whir of the fan above my head. The temperature must have dropped during the night because the room is cold. The shade bangs against the window frame, blown by the cool breeze passing through the screen. I want to move, I want to close the window, but I don’t. I lay there frozen, curled beneath the down comforter, warm in my cocoon. I reach out to touch the empty space beside me, wishing you were there. I close my eyes and hear your voice in my head, soothing me, reminding me we will be together soon.
I bring my hand back and slide it under my shirt. Imagining my hands are yours as they glide across my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, caressing them. My nipples harden waiting for your lips, my back arches, pressing them forward. They ache with a desire that will have to wait for another day.
I slide my hand down my belly, taking my time to explore the hardness of my ribs, the soft skin of my belly, the cold metal ring in my belly button, the sharp curve of my hip bone. I squirm under my own hand, imagining it is you reaching through the distance to tease me, and stroke my flames of desire.
I slowly slide my fingers over my panties wanting the sensations to last. My hand runs down my thighs, my legs part, my breath comes faster. My fingers graze the damp material between my legs my muscles tense, my hips lift. I imagine your warmth pressed against me, the hardness of your cock crazing my leg, your arm draped across my body as your fingers explore every inch of me, your lips close to my ear telling me exactly what you are going to do to me.
A small moan escapes my lips as I slip my fingers inside my panties, pushing them down, and then softly gliding my fingers through the evidence of my desire. I slide a finger inside myself, my muscles tensing around it, pulling it deeper within me. My body shivers, I slowly slide in and out fanning the flames, bringing myself closer to the edge. My thumb grazes my clit, sending electric tingles of energy through my body. I want more, I need more; I want to feel you deep inside me, filling me, impaling me, and claiming me.
I move my fingers up to circle my clit. I can’t hold back much longer, my body is on fire. I need this release but don’t want the sensations to end. I focus on the burning fires raging through my body, my hips arch, my muscles tense, my breath comes faster. I try to hold back just a little longer but my body has other ideas. White light flashes before my eyes as my body bows and the orgasm sweeps through me. I can feel the muscles deep inside me contracting around emptiness, missing the full hardness of you thrusting in and out of me. Wanting to feel your pace increase, your cock thicken and finally your release.
As my breath returns to normal, and my fantasies subside I am left alone once again. I stare at the empty spot next to me missing you.
Discipline can be very erotic. It has such a negative connotation but sometimes it’s almost like positive reinforcement. Master often mixes the correct behavior in with a discipline that turns me on and I often find the experiences to be quite arousing.
For instance I am still having some trouble with my verbal communication skills. I will get so wrapped up that I forget to verbally respond to Master and just shake my head yes or no. This was a recurring problem this past weekend and seemed only to be an issue when Master was filling my mouth with his cock. I'm not allowed to answer with words, just a sort of "mmhmm"(yes) or "mmm mm" (no). But the other day it was like I was mute.
We were lying in bed, Master was watching the news and I was curled up next to him, his cock in my mouth and he was asking me something. I responded by shaking my head which didn't please him, so he decided I needed a spanking. In between the stinging slaps on my ass Master would reach down and spread my pussy, exposing me, making me embarrassed and aroused at the same time. Sometimes he would just hold me like that, other times he would open me and gaze at my exposed pussy making me squirm. You’d think I’d be over this by now, I mean geez its not like he hasn’t seen my pussy before, I don’t know why this is so different, maybe because it seems so naughty and vulnerable. Either way it makes me wet. I was ordered to continue to suck cock while he spanked and exposed me, asking me questions about this or that, making sure I answered correctly even though I had my mouth full.
I love being spanked and this spanking was particularly hard making it that much more arousing and erotic to me. I'm sure my squirms, wiggles and moans were spurring the slaps to be harder, although Master was in a much more intense mood the other day and everything seemed harder, deeper, and rougher, it was heavenly but that’s a different topic.
When he felt I had learned my lesson he made me sit up, and look at him, which was hard to do because I was so embarrassed by how turned on I was by the whole thing (its one of those weird internal voices that says its got to be wrong to be that turned on by what just happened). Then he had me explain what I had just learned and what was expected of me.
It was in this discussion that I found the key that will ensure my compliance, understanding. If a rule makes sense to me its easier to follow. Not all rules make sense all the time, but this one finally did! I'm not sure how I missed it before but I’m glad I picked it up through my hazy fog of desire. Master loves to hear me moan and mumble when my mouth is full, it turns him on. Duh! Now why didn't I realize that to begin with? Sometimes I can be a little ditzy. Having this knowledge makes me more conscious of answering now, because I love turning him on. I still might get lost in the moment but I think it’s now more a part of my subconscious because it makes sense and allows me to please him which is always my goal.
After our discussion he held me, while I buried my head in his shoulder, still feeling a bit embarrassed by my reaction. Master had his arms wrapped around me, his cool hands softly stroking my burning flesh, arousing me even further, setting the rest of me on fire. Eventually, when it pleased him, he doused the flames allowing me to come in a shudder of ecstasy.
I sat there in disbelief. I couldn’t believe he left. I struggled with my bonds but that only made my condition worse. Despite my anger and disbelief at being left every movement caused my body to betray me. I was still highly aroused, my pussy still wet, my nipples still hard. I stopped moving for a moment, frustrated, trying to fight back the feelings of desire.
Then my temper swelled, he left me here, aroused, helpless and he tells me not to come? What is he going to do if I don’t listen? How will he know? Maybe I don’t want to be a slave anymore, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I didn’t need him. Maybe I should leave.
I struggled again, my anger and inner conflict at war with my slave training. I wiggled and writhed in an attempt to loosen my bonds, or at least that’s what I told myself. I knew it was futile, the ropes wouldn’t come loose, they never did, Master was an expert at tying knots but the movement was bringing me closer and closer to release. As I teetered on the brink on orgasm I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I had avoided looking at myself since he left but now I had no choice. I gazed at my reflection. My eyes glazed over with desire, my body flushed from my struggle. Then I looked closer, at the clamps on my nipples, dried traces of Masters come on my body, my mouth held open with a gag, my arms tied above my head gripping the bedpost and the glimpse of blue between my legs as I slid up and down on the silicone cock filling my pussy.
Who was this girl in the mirror, this slave girl bound and gagged, with the defiant look in her eye? She wanted to be defiant. She wanted to come. My reflection gazed back at me, that defiant and angry slave girl, daring me to do it. This was not the person I was a few months ago who took so much pride in pleasing her Master. I wasn’t sure who she was, I wasn’t even sure I liked her but I couldn’t stop myself. I took her challenge, I gripped the bedpost tighter I was reaching the point of no return; my body was on fire, my breath coming in gasps, my body arching my eyes closed and then, time stopped.
As the orgasm swept through my body, images of my last 3 years played like a movie in my head. The first day I met Master, the 6 months we were apart while I made my decision to stay, the 2 years since I came back. The vacations, the mundane chores of every day life, the quiet moments and the passionate ones; there were very few struggles in our relationship, oh there were a few but they were usually minor, for the most part we were happy. I thought of the comfort I felt in Masters presence, the safety, the love. Was I really willing to give all that up because he wanted me to cut my hours?
Pleasure, heartache, frustration, anger, fear, and shame flooded my head as the orgasm completed its sweep through my body. My body collapsed into my bonds and I started to shake and cry. I couldn’t believe I defied him like that. I didn’t know I was capable of it. I wept at what I had done this unfamiliar person who cared only for herself. This was how Master found me, I hadn’t even heard the door open but the next thing I knew he was kneeling beside me. He removed the toys that filled my body, removed the clamps on my nipples, undid the gag and released my arms and legs from their bonds.
I collapsed on the floor, my body curled in a fetal position as I continued to sob. He sat beside me calmly running his hand through my hair. I pushed him a way a few times but he didn’t relent. He continued to stroke my hair, occasionally running his hand across my back. He shouldn’t be consoling me, I had defied him. I didn’t deserve his comfort. I don’t know when I fell asleep but one moment I was on the floor crying and the next I was lying in bed with Master curled around my body. I started to sink back into his warmth, his familiar scent, his arms wrapped around my body and then I remembered what I had done. My eyes flew open, I stiffened and tried to pull away, but he held me fast.
“Not so fast slave. Where do you think you are going?”
“I….I’m not sure, Sir, I…I just, I....” I stumbled over my words and thoughts, “I don’t know.” I said my body softening in defeat. “I’m so sorry.” I felt the tears forming in the corner of my eyes again.
“Do you want to be released?” He whispered into my hair.
It took me a moment to understand what he was asking. “I thought I did Sir.” I whispered.
“Do you still?”
I thought back on all that had happened over the last month, my struggle with the rules, and my stress over work, my blatant defiance only a few hours ago. Did I still want to be released? Or was I acting out, pushing the limits as a child would in an effort for him to exercise his control over me. Was this my way of proving to myself that no matter what he would still be here, looking out for me, doing what he thought was best for me even when I don’t see it myself? Or was I just so wrapped up in work that I hadn’t seen what I was doing to myself, to us? I didn’t know the reasons I was doing the things I was doing but I knew that I had been making myself crazy for the last month. If I really let myself think about things rationally I knew that Masters new restrictions were in my best interest but who said I was rational? I knew that he didn’t impose rules to be mean, he did them to build structure to our lives, and they weren’t unrealistic.
“I asked you a question slave.” Master said interrupting my thoughts.
“I’m sorry Sir. I…no, no I don’t Master, if you still want me, I want to stay. I’m sorry Sir, I don’t know what’s wrong, and I’m not sure how to fix it.” My words started coming faster, as the tears started running down my face. “I was disobedient today Sir, I came when you told me not to, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that, I don’t want to leave Sir, I want to be here. I need to be here. I’m happy here. Well, if I'm honest, I’m not really happy anywhere right now Sir, I’m not sure what’s going on, forgive me Master, I didn’t mean to ……”
Master put his hand over my mouth.We’ll deal with that later. I don’t want to release you but I won’t keep you if you want to leave. The rest we can work out. My rules remain in place, you are to keep to 9-5 hours and you are to relinquish your blackberry when you come home. You will meditate and get back to your yoga practice at least three times a week. We will discuss this again and your defiance in a few weeks or so. You are overworked and overstressed we need to correct that before anything else can be accomplished. Do you understand slave?”
I felt myself bristle at his words, the defiant woman from the mirror returning but I pushed her back down and leaned back into him “Yes Sir.” I replied.
The first few days were difficult. I didn’t make it home on time and I struggled to leave the office feeling like a slacker by not staying. I tried talking to Master about it but he wouldn’t relent. I felt frustrated thinking about all the work that was piling up that I should be accomplishing. My yoga and meditation practice were next to impossible, I couldn’t focus, my mind kept returning to work but I kept at it, trying to surrender. Relinquishing my cell phone was by far the most difficult though. I was like a junkie needing a fix. The first day Master put it up on a shelf and within 2 hours I was hauling a chair over to try to reach it. Of course I was caught, and the cell phone was then locked in his office. I found myself coming up with unique and comical ways to break in to the office without getting caught which I never followed through with but they occupied a great deal of my thinking. There were moments I found myself sitting on the floor outside the door, leaning against it weeping. I was a mess.
By week the end of week 2 I was actually feeling calmer. I was making it home from work on time, I wasn’t as distracted by the loss of my cell phone when I walked in the door and yoga and meditation weren’t such a struggle anymore. I felt lighter, more at ease. Since I knew I only had a set amount of time at work to get things accomplished I found I was prioritizing better, delegating work and getting more accomplished in a quicker period of time.
At the beginning of week three, I walked into the house at 5pm and went straight to Masters office to relinquish my phone. He was sitting at his desk. I knocked and waited for him to invite me in. When he turned and told me to enter I walked over to him, dropped to my knees at his feet and put my head in his lap. I wasn’t expected to do that but it felt right.
“What’s the matter slave?” He asked.
“Nothing Sir, everything is wonderful. I’m sorry I’ve been so horrible lately. You were right, I was putting too my stress on myself. Thank you Sir, for seeing what I needed and forcing me to take care of myself. Forgive me for doubting you and your motives.”
Master lifted my face up to look at him. “There is nothing to forgive slave, you were not yourself. I take partial blame, I am responsible for you and I should have stopped it long before it got so bad. We will start again, a clean slate. Your past indiscretions are erased, from here we move forward.”
I looked up at him, in disbelief, relief and love; tears started flowing down my face.“Thank you Sir. You are too kind, I don’t deserve….”
He grabbed my chin and slapped me sharply but not hard across the face. “I don’t want to hear that again.” He said sternly “You are a good, loyal slave, you are too hard on yourself. Now go change, we have plans for dinner.” He leaned down and kissed me. A kiss filled with promise and passion.
“Yes Sir. Thank you Master.” I said getting slowly to my feet. I placed my cell phone on his desk and turned to leave.
“You may keep that slave.” He said pointing to the phone.
“No Sir, I don’t think I’m ready yet.” I said and walked out to go get ready for dinner. I smiled as I walked through the house, I felt light, and happy. I practically glided up the stairs thinking about what I could find to wear that would please Master. Hoping that dinner would be short and we could come home early and spend some much needed quality time in bed or in the living room, or the kitchen or….I shuddered as my imagination took over.
In the business world I am an Executive, in my personal life I am a slave. Which is the "real" me? Maybe both.
This blog was started with the consent of my Master to share the dynamics of our relationship with those curious about the Master/slave lifestyle.
I've been writing fictionalized accounts of my life as a slave for many years and have been published in a variety of bdsm magazines.