Favorites of the Year 2013

I thought this would be an easy blog post, but HA!

Lil at Submissive Sanctuary wrote out her favorite blog entries of the year, and I thought I could quickly do the same.

However, since I have a memory like a very holey thing that is full of holes, finding my favorite posts involves going back through the whole year of each blog and at least skimming them to find the best ones.  Then try to pick a favorite from those!  

 So, this is going to be a much shorter list.

From Kaya at Under His Hand, it had to be Keep Calm and Take A Shower.   Not only was it incredibly hot and sexy writing, but after my Master read it, he decided that our shower time would be much more pleasant for him if he did it just like Scott.    So, for influential blog writing, kudos to Kaya and I may forgive you some day.   

By Lil at Submissive Sanctuary:
Delicious Torment 
This is just far too hot to be missed.  I love all the elements at play here, with loss of control of one's own body being the most powerful. 


From Master's piece at Down the rabbit hole -- "More Notes from the edge", because "clean hair" really should be a safeword in any rational world. 


This choice is actually a pair of entries, 4 months apart.  This one should be read first--  His Good Girl: Someone Elses Knees.

And then read His kitty, a ball of yard, and me.

Just go read it, that's all.   

And now it is time to get back to work!  I have a long list of things to complete before Master gets home, including making Hoppin John for New Year's, and it is already 7:30.  
Yes, I was up at the buttcrack of dawn this morning.   

Caning and Whipping, and some other things

Saturday night was for beatings.

First the short whip, as I stood braced against the dresser.  Then he had me turn around and whipped my front.  He left some marks on the front of my thighs.  But the nipples hurt the most even without being marked.   My legs trembled when he ordered me to spread.   

The whip fell just above and on my cunt several times before he ordered me to come and stepped forward to catch me.   He laid me down on the floor and tied my wrists and ankles before caning my backside for a long, long time.  It started slow and built up until I was completely in sub space and not even knowing how hard the strikes were anymore.   

He untied me and helped me to bed.  

Sunday started with me making waffles and bacon for breakfast.  I didn't eat any of the waffles- that was purely for Master, since I'm trying to reduce the carbs.   I'm a bacon slut though.  

Later on during the day he took me upstairs and used me to get off in quickly.  As he hopped up, I asked if I could use the vibrator to get off also, and he said yes, as long as I waited for him to leave first.  I don't really pretend to understand this, but I did what he said.  

This morning I was all set to get up and have some coffee when he began cuddling up to me.  I asked if I could get up.  He said yes, but then wrapped his arm over me to keep me in place.   After a bit he said I could get up to use the bathroom, but I had to be back in five minutes. Then he grabbed me by the throat and told me we'd be having some nice tender vanilla sex.    He squeezed a bit and then shifted his grip to my jaw.   Somehow I didn't quite believe him.  And I'm not that into nice tender vanilla sex anyway.     

It didn't take me that long to run and go pee.  I hurried back, and I resisted the urge to also start some coffee brewing as long as I was downstairs. 

And no, it was not nice tender vanilla sex.   It was WAY better than that.  :)

Happy Monday! 

It's Not Here, That's Where

Watching "How I Met Your Mother", I got this idea.  I turned to Master and said playfully,

"Let's fight so we can have make-up sex!"

He said "Shut up, cunt, and behave yourself."

I looked down, "Yes, Master."

Then he said "You're not doing it right, where is the fight?"

I just snuggled up to his shoulder and smiled at him.  I guess I'm not that interested in make-up sex after all.

Quickie

Master beckoned me to follow him upstairs, and as soon as I'd dropped my robe he took the sash and tied my wrists in front of me.   He pushed me to my knees, took a cane and began beating my ass as I sucked his cock.    He was striking hard enough to make me gasp and pull off, then he'd chastise me for stopping.  It was painful and wonderful and amazing.    

 I can't figure out how the cane left big welts on one side but it is the other side that hurt more while I was getting it.  I'm sure I haven't switched butt sides somehow.

While he fucked me I told him a naughty story involving... well, several people and a midnight ambush orgy.

I think he wants to beat me again tonight.  Hopefully.   This is not something the slave gets to know ahead of time, however. 

 

Vanilla, or Not So Much?

Is it karma or coincidence that this is what Master ended up getting from his workplace gift exchange?

I think it is supposed to be a cutting board according to the label, but COME ON!   

He brought home a gift for me from the exchange also-- homemade Kahlua, which I love.

After Master's Christmas eve blowjob, I got well paddled with the "cutting board", then he tied me up took the photos of bondage under the tree.   

Merry Christmas!

Merry Christmas!

 

Christmas Eve Eve Miracle

My minor miracle was coming to bed late, thinking that when I saw Master already asleep in bed that I was too late for any recreational activities, and so turning off the lights and lying there in the dark wondering why I had take so long downstairs and cursing myself.  

 Then I felt him staring at me in the dark.  

You know how you can feel them just waiting and watching?  It is almost creepy.

I asked him "Is it too late?" 

"Too late for what?" he said.

"You know, sex."  

"No." he said.

A few heartbeats of silent stillness and then he demanded "Aren't you going to turn on the lights?"

It was rough and rapey-ish, then there was some giggling, and he made a grand finish with a hard caning.  

Fucked

I was puttering around cleaning the kitchen when he called me over.  He wanted to kiss me, fondle me, open my robe.  I eagerly accepted his attention, then he told me to go back to what I was doing, but that he'd want to use me later. 

About an hour or so later, he appeared on the stairs and crooked a finger at me to follow.   In the bedroom he tied me with a rope and a belt, then pushed me down on the floor, on my hands and knees.  He took me then, without preamble,  pulling on the rope harness and the belt around my waist for harder and deeper thrusting. 

He pulled out and rolled me over, had me in some positions that must have come from the Kama Sutra, then he told me to suck his cock while he caned me.  It didn't take long, the caning, but I'm still smarting from that one.  

Then he had me get on top of him and use the Magic Wand as I fucked him.   Choking, holding off my breath with his hand, slapping, pinching... he had one sore and contented slave.




A few minutes of sleepy cuddling, and then, "Get up and make me a sammich".   


It's not just an internet meme here. 

Ummm, ok. Me. A stripper?

Last night Master sent me upstairs to do something during the party, saying he wanted to talk to a friend.  I figured they'd be talking home repairs, but when I came back down the discussion was on lending me out to do some sort of stripper act, and maybe acts beyond stripping, for this friend.   He was talking about bringing dollar bills and asked me what I would do for a dollar.   I smiled and shrugged, looked at Master questioningly, and Master said "You'd be surprised what she would do".

   It was fairly embarrassing, which I think was his main goal, but I'm a little afraid Master was serious, especially if he could find a few more men to do this with us, perhaps at a big event.  Stage fright anyone?   

I'm not sure how I feel about all this.  On one hand, the IDEA is hot, but on the other, about actually doing it? I feel like I might be really awkward.   But whatever Master arranges/decides, that is what I'll do,  awkward and embarrassing or not.  Either way, the idea of being forced into stuff I don't really want to do is what really gets me.  

 
 

Solstice

Yesterday was the longest night of the year, traditionally celebrated with fire to encourage the sun to come back up in the morning. And it worked!  The sun is definitely up this morning, though it is hard to see through all the clouds and snow. 

  Back when I was growing up, everyone in the neighborhood would buy white paper bags, sand and candles and line their sidewalks with them for that one night of the winter solstice.  We'd all walk around and enjoy the sight.    It looked a lot like this:

Luminaria

We don't do that anymore, but last night Master invited a group of friends over (all from the kink community) and we had a big bonfire, starting at sundown (4:21).   Thanks to one of our friends, there were fireworks, and sparklers for the kids.   There was lots of food and hot cocoa, and just a really fun time.  I made a kringler, a traditional Swedish pastry.   After dinner we sat inside and chatted around the wood stove.   I sat at Master's feet and just basked.  

All His Air, How to Please Him

Master took the slip knot tied leather strap from around my wrists, opened it into a wide loop and told me to lean my head down to it.

A clench of fear/excitement passed through me as I obeyed.  He slipped the strap around my neck and pulled it up.

"Is that tight?" he asked.

I nodded, "Yes, Master".   I could still talk.

He tightened it in a few notches.

"Is that tighter now?"   I nodded again, not speaking this time.

He tightened it again.  He might have said some else, but I'm not sure.  
Now all my attention was focused at my throat.
A primal fear of dying was coursing through my brain cells even as my mind told of complete trust in his control and his desire not to harm me.

After I don't know how long, he released the strap, and as he did so, he commanded me to orgasm.  I convulsed in desperate pleasure.  He tightened it again.  

 He was holding the end of the strap up above my head and a little to my left.   Again he commanded me to cum while releasing the pressure on my neck.  Almost immediately it tightened again.   Then one more time again, but this time he loosened it completely, released the strap and switched his grip, using one hand to pinch my nose shut and the other to cover my mouth.  I had very little in the way of calm reserves left now and it seemed only a few seconds before I was shaking my head and trying to get away, to get a breath.

He asked "Is this better?" but it must have been rhetorical because there was no way I could answer with his hands covering me.  I just kept shaking my head.

 When he finally released me I collapsed against him with something like a sob mingled in my orgasmic moan.  

After a few moments of my deep breathing, he asked:
 
"Now that I've given you ALL the pleasures, what can you do to please me?"
 

De-Snarked!

I am not a mean person.  Really, I'm not.  But for some reason Fetlife brings out the snarky side of me.  Perhaps because there are so many clueless people out there who insist they are right despite all common sense.   Some of my best online friends are the snarkiest bitches around.  I LOVE watching them shred some puffed up dude or woman.   Perhaps that does make me a mean person.   Anyway, I was having entirely too much fun making little snarky comments and joining in the shredding.  

Master decided he didn't like the direction I was going.  He told me if I don't have anything nice to say I should say nothing at all.  Be nice.  Help people who ask for help.   

Every time I write a post on FL now I'm reading it over three times or more to make sure I have de-snarked it.  I find myself writing many posts and simply deleting them.   Saying nothing.   Master is getting into my head in an entirely new way the past couple of days.   I'm committed to his desired result of becoming a nicer person, but like quitting any habit, the bumps along the way are sometimes painful as I stifle my snark-filled fingers.   

He has allowed me the outlet of a little bit of private message snarking with my friends, or while talking to him, but I'm to limit that as well.   

 

Why I Love Sucking Cock

Cock worship is part of my submission.  I know some women who have loved it right from the start, from the very first taste.
                                             

 That was not me.

  My submission and slavery involves a lot of internalizing of his desires.  I didn't think of it exactly that way, but I'm coming to that realization.  It is part of becoming internally enslaved.   It is true that in striving to please him, I find that his desires become my desires, his wishes are my wishes.   At least sometimes.   

When he helps me along it goes faster.   

In this case he helps it along by providing me with strokes and reinforcements, often times actual strokes of the cane or whip.   And orgasms.  Lots of orgasms.  

Why do I love cock sucking?  Because that penis belongs to my Master, and because sucking, licking and fondling it is one of the best ways I can please him.  I love the way it is sometimes soft at first, but stiffens in my mouth, I love to look up at him and see his head leaned back and his eyes closed in pleasure.   I love when he commands me to kneel at his feet and pleasure him.   I love when he thrusts down my throat hard and fast and I become nothing but an instrument of his pleasure.  I love when he comes.  I love when he calls me his little cock sucking whore.  I love cleaning him with my tongue afterward.   I love the fact that he makes me do it sometimes until my jaw is sore and my lips are bruised.   It is about power and control and pleasure, all wrapped up in one delicious package.

Because I worship the man who owns me, I worship his cock.  

Hard Limits, srs bznss

I told Master the other day that I was considering making a list of hard limits, including, but not limited to, tummy raspberries and cold feet placed on my warm body parts.

He patted me on the head with a great big Cheshire cat grin on his face and said "Knock yourself out".

Then after I'd written it, he said I didn't have enough, and needed to come up with some more, so here they are:

-Making me cook salmon in the coffee maker.  Never done it, never want to. Because, ewwww.
-Having to chop/fry mushrooms. Forget eating them.  Also because ewwwww.
-Not having a snow plow/snow blower.  Isn't this a must-have for every slave in a northern clime?
-Being taunted with pie. Or donuts. That's just mean.

Why do I get the sneaking suspicion I'm writing a to-do list for him?

Well, that hurt more than I thought.

The morning started with a post-breakfast blowjob. 

After he came in my mouth, he took me upstairs, tied my wrists together and positioned me against the dresser. 

He asked me a question, which I answered wrong, but the next one I got right--

 "Whatever you want, Master". 

 The bullwhip first- now there is a warm up to get you jumping!

Then he switched to the crop, and beat my nipples and ass until I was shifting around and squeaking. 

There was a flogging, then he struck me between the legs several times with it and told me to cum.  I was dripping down both legs when he turned me to face him and as I raised my bound wrists to protect my face he noticed my arm.

He commented "I see you wrote 'peon' on your arm again."

"Yes, Master, it's a good reminder."

He said, "It is also a fortelling of what will be happening to you soon."

This made me laugh when I figured out the joke, and I kept on laughing until the flogger was stinging my aching nipples again.

He turned me back to face the dresser and whipped me with the short single tail.  I really do just love that thing. So nice and stingy!  He doesn't do it to draw blood, just to sting and leave little red lines. 

After that he laid me on the floor and worked me over with various implements.  I sucked him hard again and he had me on the bed, on top of him, with the vibrator on.

I begged to come.  "Master, can I come now?"  

"Did I tell you to?"

"No, Master".

"Well then, you can wait, slut". 

Oh.  I might have moaned a bit, but I waited.

He covered my mouth and nose with his hand, and held off my breathing as I rocked slowly.  At first it was easy.  Then I started thinking that he was going to let me breath any second, if I could just remain. calm. any. second. I. could. breathe.... no he's not letting go, I could feel my head expanding, and shaking my head to try to get away, but he held on those final seconds while I began to panic.  As he released he told me to cum, and I did with a cry and gasping breaths.

I came over and over, harder and more explosively than I had for a long time, as he kept commanding me to come again.  As soon as one ended another started.

Finally he had me suck him again, all slick and slippery with my copious amounts of squirting, then he rolled me over and fucked me from behind.

As we snuggled under the blankets he asked me if I had been in subspace.

Rather foolishly, I answered "No, you didn't beat me hard enough."  I went on a bit in that vein, then we lay there for another long time before he said it was time to get up.  I sat up.   That was when I felt every part of my backside, and other parts, complaining about being sat on or moved around and realized that if I was just now figuring out that I had been in pain, hmmm, what would explain that?   Oh yeah, probably those endorphin thingies!  

Just goes to show, you can't always tell a subspace when you are in the middle of it!

I made us some lunch, built a fire, and had to pick up the yard where the dogs had found an empty sack and torn it to shreds (a sack that I meant to take to the garbage and forgot about- DOH!).

It was freezing cold kneeling in the shower in front of him, receiving my "pe-on" (at least that part was warm) and then washing his whole body.  I thanked him for allowing me to do that, and meant it, for all the discomforts, because it puts me in my place far below him, and I appreciate that.   Plus the hot water felt simply amazing when he was done and had stepped out of the shower, leaving me to it. 

Mean things?

Master asked me what I wanted.

"I'd like you to do mean things to me."

He asked, "What kind of mean things?"

 I was thinking of things like tie me up, cane me, and whip me.

 NOT things like putting his freezing cold feet on me and blowing raspberries on my tummy!

He's doing this wrong! 

No Matter Which Direction You Look

I actually wrote this last year, but I can't find it in the blog archives here, so I thought I would reprint it.  I originally posted it on Fetlife.    A blog at Submissive Sanctuary today reminded me of this.

-------------------

This evening I was kneeling at my Master's feet, looking up at him. He was looking down at me with adoration, and I was feeling like the happiest slave ever created as he stroked my hair. I started to try to tell him how I felt.

"Master, you know what I love?" and I stopped there, unable to get my words in the right order to express what I felt. I wanted to say how completely I felt like his slave and how happy I was that he could see me that way, at his feet, and be so happy with me.

"I love when you look down on me like that", I said, not quite getting the words I wanted to come out right, but I think conveying some of my feelings to him anyway.

He laid down on the floor and said "Come over here and look now". I was above him looking down at him.
Then he said, "It doesn't matter which direction I look at you from, you're still my slave, bitch."

Then I collapsed on top of him, laughing with joy

A few tidbits

Wednesday morning Mystique messaged me early and asked if I wanted to ride along with her to pick up a rescue dog.  I said I would try, but I had a bunch of stuff to do.

After I called Master to check that it was ok, I managed to get all the animals taken care of, get a pot roast started for dinner, and get a couple loads of laundry done by 9 and head over there.   

We had a good time, (couple hours drive each way) and I got to snuggle all the way back with the cutest little tiny dog.   As soon as I picked her up I knew Myst was keeping her.  She is just a love!  A heart stealer for sure.  She is most likely a Papillion mix, maybe with some Pomeranian and Chihuahua.  

She has been letting some of her puppy traits out now, such as stealing socks, piddling on the floor and chewing on fingers, but that is puppy stuff and to be expected.  

------------------------

Wednesday night Master got home late, but we still managed to watch an episode of Breaking Bad (well, one of us did, I fell asleep).   When it was over I crawled into his lap, put on my seductive look and asked if he wanted me.   He said noncommittally, "Maybe, we'll see".

He told me to go get the dogs fed, and as I was trying to get untangled from the couch, blanket and his legs, He opened his zipper and waved his dick at me.   I tried to step over his legs to get past and he grabbed me, with a gruff,

 "Are you refusing a direct order, slut?!"   

Of course dick waving is the same is a command to suck, everyone knows that!   

So I did.  The dogs could wait, evidently.

-------------

Later on I got a hard caning while on my hands and knees on the rug in the bedroom.   

And now I'll end this to go make Master's tea.   :)  'Night All.  

Cock Worship

This looks like a fun little questionnaire!   


1. Does the cock you worship have a name? Would you like to give him one? 

-- Yes.   His name is private, though; I'm not at liberty to share.  :) 

  2. What's the max number of times you've worshiped cock in a 24 hour period? 

 --I have no idea.  Number of times?  Maybe 3 or 4?  I don't really know because I haven't kept track.

  3. How often does cock-worshiping take place?

-- Daily, if he is home.  Or more often than that. 

4. When worshiping cock, do you start with balls? [Yes / No and elaborate please.]

-- No, I start with his cock, then my hand goes on his balls to fondle (or if I don't, he reminds me to do that). 

  5. Do / Can you deep throat?

--Yes, and I love that feeling of being held down on his shaft as far as it will go, even with the gagging and snuffling and drooling and not being able to breathe.   It brings me to the edge of orgasm, in fact.  I will do it without being pulled/held down, but I like the element of force too. 

 6. Spit or swallow? (Yeah yeah, I had to right?)

-- Swallow. Always.

7. What do you focus on when worshiping cock? 

-- I focus on pleasing him, breathing, and switching things around every few minutes, which seems to make him happy.    I'm thinking "Ok, what can I do next?"  I think about my tongue movements, whether to go tighter, looser, more speed, less speed etc.  He is frequently telling me what he wants so I focus on his commands also.   After a prolonged session I'm thinking more about my own soreness, my jaw (which has way more stamina than it used to) or my knees hurting, or my lips being bruised.   Or "God, would you just finish already?"  I know, I know, not so very worshipful there.  

  8. How long is a typical cock worshiping session for you?
 
-- I haven't really timed any of them.  It could be any length of time from seconds to hours.

  9. What is your favorite cock worshiping position?

--Lying on the bed on my side, with him kneeling above but next to me- in that position I can hardly resist coming myself, it is so erotic!     A close second is kneeling on the floor in front of him when he is standing, especially if he is also caning or whipping me.   
10. If you had to give up oral sex, which would you choose - never giving again, or never getting again?
 

-- I want to give more than receive.  
  

Originally from:
Cock worshiping society blog 

Hauling Wood

In the shower, I knelt at Master's feet after soaping his upper body.   He began to aim, and I held my breasts up to him.   

It was cold, kneeling in the tub.  Cold and smelly.  I still felt lucky to be allowed to wash him.  I soaped his legs and feet, his balls, his dick, between his legs.    My butt was stinging from the caning it had just received, and cunt may have still dripped from his deposit there.    (Ha ahahaha- cunt as sperm bank!)

Master mentioned that he needed to haul some wood later on.   

I must have given him a funny look, because he said "Stop thinking in the gutter, slut, I mean firewood!"

But really, truly, all I was thinking about was whether he was going to make me haul firewood in the frigid cold too!  

10 Things

Ten Things about Master and Me

1.  We met when I was 15 and he was 17.

2.   It took almost a year of me stalking/following him around for him to ask me out.

3.  Our first date was to a Monkees concert.  Weird Al was the opening band, and was better.

4.  We first had sex on April Fool's Day.  We were both virgins, and it was painful for me, but pretty good for him (except that he worried about me).   

5.  We were in a long distance relationship for the first four years we dated.

6.  We lived together for another two years after that before getting married.  I was 21 when we did get married. 

7.   In spite of our starting so young, our relationship just gets better with time.

8.   One time we stayed in bed to try to see how many times we could have sex in one day.   The record was 8 times (and he came every time).   

9.   I used to say I didn't really like sex and could easily live without it.

10.  I was full of shit.   :)

Silencio!

When it is below 0F outside, sometimes the only thing to do is warm up a heating disk and huddle under the covers for a while. 

Best Thing Ever 

Yesterday I forgot to make the bed, which is always on my list of chores to do, so as I crawled under the crooked and rumpled sheets with him for a little early evening warm up time, I asked if he were going to punish me.   I guess I'd been chattering away all evening at him because he said my punishment would be that I'd have to lie there and cuddle and be QUIET.   Because I'm a lousy slave, and because I had been CRAVING pain all day, I immediately blurted out,

 "That's not much of a punishment!  I like cuddling!"

 He said sternly, simply "You're not doing very well so far."

(Slave's blatant attempt at manipulation = FAIL).   

I bit my tongue on the next reply and cuddled up the way he ordered, with one arm around him.   

A thousand things were running through my head, and it took a serious exertion of will not to say any of them.  Most were completely inconsequential, random thoughts that wanted to come blurting out.   Then I thought of reading my book (he was reading) but I couldn't cuddle properly if I were reading.   So I lay still and quietly, focusing on my mouth not opening.   

He spoke to me a few times, and it was more difficult than ever not to speak, but I didn't have permission yet.

At the end of an hour he said the punishment was done, and he gave me a light swat on the butt.  

I had not expected being quiet to be any sort of punishment at all (I even said so, right?), so I was surprised to find myself feeling very subdued all the rest of the evening.   It is amazing the effect they can have on our brains, isn't it?    
I was no longer craving pain, and I didn't feel like talking anymore either.   When he'd directly ask me a question or there was something I needed to say, I had to practically force the words out.  I wasn't feeling sulky or resentful (well, maybe a little), and I didn't want to seem that way by completely clamming up.  I was feeling extremely subdued.   I have never been punished with "quiet time" before and I really was not expecting it to affect me this way.    

We watched a movie then; afterward he asked me if I still wanted to be beaten.  With conflicting emotions raging briefly through my mind, (Yes? No? Maybe?)  I said yes.

He made me stand up and look him in the eye (I had been prostrate on the ground).  He told me to undress.   I dropped my robe and stood naked and shivering in front of him.  

He reminded me, "The correct answer, the first time I ask, is, 'Whatever you want, Master'". 

  Ugh.  One of these days I'm going to get that right consistently.  Yesterday was not that day.    

He ordered me over to the dresser and started in hard with the riding crop.  When he hit my nipples I twisted and jumped away.  

Since I couldn't hold still, he went to get some rope, tied my hands (now I was shivering more in excitement and anticipation than with the cold), then strung me up to the rafters.   More hard cropping. 
A pause while he took out the bullwhip.  

Standing way back, he snapped it over my butt and the backs of my legs.   Though he didn't use it at full force, it was still quite stingy.   He switched to the shorter whip, and used it on me much harder.  I can take just about every part of me hit with that whip, until he gets to my lower back.  A really hard slash and I'm ready to give up the keys to the kingdom.  Lacking any keys or kingdom, I settled for moaning, straining against the ropes and stamping my feet around on the floor.  

Then, cruel Master that he is, he took out a large feather and began tickling me unmercifully.  I do not like tickling!  I'd rather be whipped.
I was pulling and twisting as much at the rope would allow, which wasn't all that much.  He was laughing at me,  "This isn't so bad, is it?"  

He switched back to the short whip and laid into the fronts of my thighs and cunt.  When it slashed over my nipples it made me gasp in agony.  

"There, that really hurts, doesn't it?  Are you regretting asking for this?"

He tried out a few different canes on my backside before finding the one he wanted- a stiffer rather than springier one.   He untied my hands and led me to the bed.  I was extremely shaky.  I was glad he was holding me up.  I thought he was done, but he placed me in position bent over the bed and went back to get the cane.   After a few more blows, he ordered me to lie flat on the bed.  I squirmed over into position.  

Then came the Christmas carols.   Being caned as he sang "Holy, Holy, Holy", and "Adeste Fidelis"?  A unique experience.   Only at our house.   As he varies the intensity, the hardest blows never come at the expected place of emphasis in the songs.  They are always random and surprising. 

After one extended strenuous thumping session he paused and I orgasmed, without command.   It was pretty obvious, but he didn't comment until afterward.  I have no idea how long the rest of the caning lasted, as I was well into subspace then. 

He said I was done, and boy was I ever.
We crawled under the covers.
Then he rolled over and went to sleep. 



 

 



 

Cuckqueen Fantasy

He called me upstairs; told me to meet him in the bedroom.   
First he had me talk dirty to him while stroking his cock, then, pushing my head down, he told me stories:

He is fucking her.   I'm under her licking her and licking him as they fuck.  In another one I'm tied up in the corner in a chair watching, not allowed to participate.  Or we are both kneeling at his feet sucking his cock by turns.  Or he's left me at the party to retire to a bedroom with her.  I can only imagine what's going on.

With each one of his imaginary scenarios I feel the stab of jealousy or ecstasy or longing, feeling pleasure or pain as he wants me to feel it.  The less I am a participant in his fantasy the stabbier the emotional pain gets.  I know I can watch him fuck someone else and not be jealous.  Been there, done that.  But could I watch them cuddle afterward, and not be a part of that, relegated to being furniture in the room, or to only being a clean up service, to see him stroke her and look at her the way he looks at me and still feel happy?   Could I see them go off to a room without me and not feel like crying?   I don't know.   

As I listen to him tell me these things I get more and more aroused.  His cock in my mouth is good.  I suck hard.    He tells me to get on top of him and ride, and as I do he calls out other girls' names, commanding them to fuck him.  

How does that make you feel, he asks?    I shake my head, squint my eyes down against any tears that want to fall, but I ride like crazy.   I'm on the edge of coming.  I beg him to let me come.   Do you like that story, he asks again, does it make you hot?   

"Yes, Master".  I do like it.  I do want that.  I want all of it, the humiliation of hearing all the things he doesn't want to do to me.  

This is the opposite of compersion.  This is the pricking of jealousies, teasing them apart, picking at them until they are exposed enough to stop responding with anything but simple desire.  For some reason it never makes me angry.  I don't own him, he owns me.  I don't get to tell him what to do, that is the very essence of the fantasy for me.    It always makes me hot.   Sometimes it edges more toward humiliation, and other times it is just the pleasure of sharing in an experience with a third person together.   He takes me emotionally, up, down, all over the place as he desires.   
He pinches and smacks me and we come furiously, at the same moment (because he commands me to come as he does), and after a few minutes rest he tells me to suck him again.  He gets hard almost immediately and rolls me over to fuck me from behind.   Ohhhh that is fucking good fucking. 
 

KOTW: Leather

Quotes are from Kinky and Poly: 

 Kink of the Week

Ahhh, the smell of leather.  The feel of it. The sound of it.  Yep, I love it.  Here’s my secret though: all those things don’t make me think about BDSM. To me, leather is about saddles, and horses, and my teenage years – definitely not kinky thoughts!

What do you think about leather, in terms of kink and the enduring symbol of kink that it has become? How did leather become such a ubiquitous symbol of BDSM? 

I have no idea from where the symbolism of leather came.  I do know that I had a leather obsession well before I knew what a kink, a fetish, or BDSM even was.  Like Jade, I can remember walking into saddle/boot shops and walking around sniffing the air.  It just smelled GOOD!  Like baking bread, or rain on the dust, smells good.  It wasn't sexy at first, just sensually pleasant.  Sometime in my mid to early 20s I developed more of a fetish relationship with leather.  My Master had a couple of items that he used on me, and it was the scent and the feel that really turned me on.  One of them was a set of wrist restraints that he had made simply out of one wide strip of leather.  They are far from inescapable, but the idea of being bound was the main thing, as well as the leather.


Do you think it’s overdone, a cliche?

No.  I don't see how there could be too much leather.  :)  Besides, we are helping to support farmers and ranchers, right?  
 
Do you wear, play with or use leather in your kink?

Yes.  If I had a choice I would always chose a leather item over a similarly shaped vinyl, latex or plastic item for play.  I just like the feel and the smell so much more.   Master will often drape his floggers over my face, head and shoulders before, after, or during a flogging because he knows it turns me on. 
 
Is there something inherently kinky about leather?

I don't think it is inherently kinky, but for some of us it is inherently sensual.   


If you’re vegetarian or vegan, do you object to implements and kink accessories made of leather?

Hahaha!  I'm the opposite of that.  Heck, we raise lamb and eat our own homegrown meat.   Support your local family farms!

 
Does leather have any special significance to you? Do you like it, the way it smells or feels or looks?

Yes, all of that.   I would have a lot more leather around me if I could afford leather couches and leather car seats.  I'm particularly lusting after one of those Australian kangaroo leather bullwhips.  
 
Would you like to share a special memory or fantasy having to do with leather, or a sexy picture? 

Down on my hands and knees, ass raised to receive his cropping, I feel the stinging welts from the beating.  I hear the jangle of his belt buckle behind me as he retrieves it.   I expect to feel the belt strike me, but instead Master is kneeling behind me.  He wraps the belt around my neck.  The leather of his belt slides over the leather of my collar, and feeling my neck constricted, oh holy hell, that is hot.  I stretch back against him, rubbing on him, wanting it.   His cock rubs against my slit, wetting that hole, then he thrusts into me, just keeping a steady pressure on my neck but not actually strangling me as he fucks me slowly at first, slow, hard, and deep in my willing cunt.  

He slides the belt upward then, gagging me with it, holding the ends like reins as he rides me.  He can pull harder now without risking my neck, and he pulls back until the corners of my mouth ache.  I bite down on the belt to protect my mouth, I pull against him and we feel like a connected thing, one solid thing melded into pure pleasure.  He commands me to come and the force of my orgasm buckles my elbows.   My head lowers to the ground, but he pulls me back up again by the belt/reins.   

Then abruptly he drops the belt and shoves my knees out from under me, forcing me flat on the floor.  This is his favorite position to come in, and he quickly rockets into the backstretch. I'm lost in the wild pleasure.  I can no longer speak or think, only grunt and moan.   I'll probably have carpet burn on my face that will be noticed later, but right now I only think of our pleasure.  

Yeah, that is for sure one of my favorite "leather" memories.  

 

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One Slap

"Turn around.

Step closer.

Look at me."

His hand swings back and, unstoppably, before I can blink, strikes my cheek.

"Come."

He catches me as my knees collapse. 
I come, and as I recover  I nuzzle against his chest, feeling warmth, and love, and taking in the scent of him.   My Master.  My Owner.  Although the format is irregular, I think this pretty much illustrates how I feel about faceslaps! It was one of the kinks of the week that I missed.

Antici..........pation

Late at night, walking through the dining room in a bit of a sleepy haze, vaguely complaining of my stomach ache, I walked past Master.  He picked up a piece of wood from the table- it was something he'd been using earlier in the day to repair a door- about 3 feet long and shaped like a corner.    

He had that look in his eyes.  You know the one that just freezes one in place.  I stopped walking.   He brandished the wood.  I turned around and hiked up my skirt, ever the obliging hole.  :)     He ordered me to rotate to just the right angle and:

Whack!  Whack! Whack!  

Hard.  In the same spot.  

He gave me just a little soreness, then sent me upstairs to wait for him.

When he came in I was prostrate on the floor.  He immediately went behind me and stuck his hand between my legs.

"You're getting wet with just the anticipation, aren't you, slave?"

"Yes, Master."

He had me lie face down on the floor and then he caned me.

"Roll over".

I rolled over, parting my robe with my hands at the same time.  Then I couldn't figure out what to do with my hands.   They seemed to flap about with minds of their own.  When he struck my breasts the hands made their way down between my legs.   When he told me to move them ("Get your hands out of your cunt!") so he could hit me there too, they covered my chest.  My legs also trembled and tried to snap shut with each cane strike between them.   

He ordered me to put my hands over my head, and I did with much relief toward keeping the things under control.   Then he used one knee and his free hand to hold my thighs apart.  The blows on my pussy were no where near full strength, and not unbearable, but still painful as they went on and on.   

He played with my mind by doing full strength swings at floor, just inches from my head.  I could hear the swish coming but not see because my eyes were tightly clenched.  Each time I heard that powerful swish I thought it was coming down on me.  

When he laid down the cane and fucked me I was half in and half out of subspace, I believe.  Sometimes it is hard to tell.   I just know it was wonderful!