Last day of the year, Master's game

Master was playing his game one handed.  I was bent over the kitchen table next to him.  His finger was under my robe, on my hole.  He stroked me, fondled me, told me to wait, made me say dirty sexy things to him.   I felt like a thing, an object for him to pet, and I was wrapped up in haze of desire.  Just a little further in, please, please, my cunt was screaming for it, though I was (mostly) quiet, and still his finger stayed on the outer edge.  

He spoke rarely, to tell me what to say, or to comment "You're wetting your panties, aren't you girl?"   Humiliated, burning with that, so easy to humiliate, I said "Yes, Master".   

 "Say it", he said.   I did repeat what he said.

I panted. 
I moaned. 
I wiggled my rear into his hand. 
Whore.

I hadn't been allowed to touch myself that day because he wanted me to be extra horny.  I don't know if not having that one orgasm actually makes a difference, but certainly the thought of wanting to do it but not being allowed makes me want it even more.  

Of course it does. Wanting but not having.  Not being allowed.  

He'd already whalloped me hard with the new slapper a few times. 

Master asked me if I knew what he wanted next.  I had a good guess.  He shifted in his seat and I got on my knees.

I really thought he was going to come, but he kept pushing me back, making me slow down.

He took me upstairs and had me lie face down on the bed for the cane, several canes actually, the misery stick, a paddle.  It was painfully delicious, he made me wait at first and then let me come, and come some more.   I have a definitely sore bum today, between that and the slapper.  

He rolled me over when he couldn't wait any longer, put my legs up over his shoulders and used me for his little fuckhole.   So good to be his. 





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Tomorrow will be a whole new year!  I'm looking forward to many more adventures and deliciousness then!   Happy new year to all of you!   

The Box Dilemma

I came back from shopping with the kids today and there was a box on the front porch.  The kids of course eagerly grabbed it and started shaking it, and wondering what was inside.  

"I'm going to die of not knowing what is in this box!" was the exact wording.

Now, I know what's in the box because Master told me.  It's obviously from The Stockroom because there are no markings on the outside indicating where it came from.  

So... my dilemma.   How to get my present out without telling the kids what's inside or having them die, actually die!, of curiosity?

Make something up, or just be vague and mysterious?

I hightailed it upstairs with my box, closed the bedroom door and opened the package. 

When I came out, I told them it was a lollipop and "stuff for mom".    I couldn't think of anything more creative or at all plausible.  

They lost interest pretty quickly when they started making cookies, but I have a feeling they are going to ask Master what was in there when he gets home.  

(I'm thinking maybe we should have a story to stick to?)

Oh, and I suppose I won't make you all die of curiosity!

Spooning, paddle and belt oh boy!

Master said to meet him upstairs.  He had me lie on my back and spread my legs.  

This is a fun game we call counting down from ten, he explained. 

On zero I will get hit.  

He said I had to count with him.  

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, 0 Whap! with the wooden spoon on my inner thigh.   The next few times he also hit me on zero.  Then he hit me on 5.  Then on 10.  Then on all the numbers in rapid fire fashion. 
I was still trying to keep up with the counting, and if I missed some or faded out he'd start over.   About this point I was getting too squirmy so he tied my hands to the headboard and tied one leg with his belt.  I still had one leg free to kick, but I tried not to move, as much as I could.  

 It went on for quite a while, with whapping on all the numbers, some hard and some soft, and all on the same spot on my inner thigh.  

Then he switched to the wood paddle, still hitting the same spot, and still counting.  Eventually he released my hands from the head board but left the leather strap connecting them.  Then he beat on my tits for a while, but not all that hard.  They are pretty sore and tender already.  

Then he took the belt off of my leg and doubled it. Then redoubled it again.  And hit the same. damn. spot on my thigh.  I could see the belt rising up and falling swiftly, landing on my sore flesh, which was all pink and raised, but after the paddle, it didn't seem that bad. 

 Then he used it on my breasts, and I covered them with my arms, which were still bound but only to each other by the wrists.   His belt came down over and over, it didn't matter that my arms were in the way, he was just hitting everywhere.  (It was pretty hot, this all over the place belting. I kinda love the belt, especially compared to the other two things- paddle and spoon).  

Letting me suck his cock was welcome, a short relief before he started up with something again on my ass- spoon? paddle? 
 --something anyway.  

Then he rolled me over and used the belt on my ass before fucking me.

We had to jump up quick afterward because he really had to go pee.  And I really had to be his pee post in the shower.  Lucky slave, right? 

I have a tiny bruise on my inner thigh.  And a whole lot of new sore spots.  We sure aren't being very successful in this whole 
bruises-for-kaya enterprise, but what the hey, we are having a lot of fun anyway.   

We went shopping for dishwashers at several stores after that, and my thigh was aching the whole time.  He loves to make sad faces at me when I say it is still hurting and say "Poor girl, I promise I'll never hit you again, ever," and then watch my face get all pouty at that idea.  

Then he laughs.  

Bruises for Kaya

Yesterday there was something posted about the rule of the internet being "Pictures or it didn't happen".   

Well, since the bruises I had were really quite small and not photo-worthy Master took that as a challenge last night.

"I'm going to beat you until you have some bruises for kaya to see".  
"Oh shit."  I thought to myself.

He only wanted to use the big spoon, the funnest new toy ever (ha!).  And my ass doesn't bruise that well.  But he kept hitting it for a long time, and hard.  Guess what I have?  Not one single new bruise anywhere, although it really hurt then and it still hurts now.  

Everyone so often, he'd stop and ask me if I wanted him to keep going, because I was crying and whimpering and not enjoying it at all.  "You want to have bruises for kaya, don't you?"   Yes, Master. I can't say no.  I just can't.


Because I'm an idiot, this morning I suggested he might have better luck bruising the fronts of my thighs or their sides, because my ass is, uh, well seasoned.  

So, there are still no pictures.   

Opening Eyes with Gratitude

Do you ever wake up filled with love and light and gratitude?

No, I didn't think so.

Most days I don't either.

Most days I wake up in a coffee deficient fog of vague horniness and need to pee.

Today, however, Master did not wake me up at 5:45 to make him breakfast, so I woke up slowly around 6:30 under the electric blanket I got him for Christmas.  I was in a toasty cocoon of sleepiness, and I just lay there until he came to get me up to do something for him before he left.

In those sleepy half way moments between the two worlds I sent thanks out to God and Whomever, and to Master, for the beautiful Christmas we had.  Maybe there was nothing out of the ordinary, no trip to Cozumel, no family members visiting, no tricking the kids into hearing tiny reindeer on the roof (they are too old and wise for that, but the they go along with the whole Santa thing in the spirit of commercial enterprise).    I talked to my parents. My mom won't be home for another week but they seemed to be in good spirits, considering.  They wished we were all together.  I do too. 

But there was an electric blanket.

And it was warm.

Master said he slept better than he has in a long time, and didn't wake up once.  I'd like to think it was because of how well I satisfied him, but really it was probably the electric blanket.

And there were the wooden spoons I was sent.   The largest of which went straight to the bedroom last night and was used to beat my ass thoroughly before he fucked me. 

I have several bruises (yay!) between Wednesday's ass whacking and last night's, but how many pictures of that do I really need? I already have plenty.
 
Also the cinnamon sweet sticky roll buns turned out amazing and delicious.  Master said they were as good as my mom's, which is a high praise.  It is her recipe.

Yeah, there is a whole lot to be grateful about around here.

And ouch.

He was squeezing my ouchie places.  He said he was being nice by not squeezing the even more ouchie places on the other side. 

"I wouldn't be that mean to you", he tells me.

I might have rolled my eyes.  And possibly snorted in a lady like manner.

Several seconds of torture of the really ouchie places later:  

"Now, what were you saying about me being mean to you?"

"You're always nice to me, Master."

"Yeah. And don't you forget it," he says.

Then adds "Or I'll beat the shit out of you".  

Unexpected Playtime

It's kind of a minor miracle when both kids go to their friends' house at the same time.

I was just starting to make dinner when the friend called and said they could be by to pick kids up in a few minutes.   

After they left, it was only maybe five minutes later when someone knocked on the door.  We live out in the country and don't really get drop by visitors, especially at night, so I was surprised.  When I answered, it was the UPS guy.   I opened up the package right away.  My sister in law had sent me wooden spoons!  I wonder if these will manage to stay in the kitchen?   I have kind of a rule that once a wooden spoon gets used for "other" purposes then its days of cooking are done, so I had complained on FB that I couldn't find any in the kitchen.  

What a nice sis in law.

Anyway, I finished up dinner (spanakopita) and when Master got home he had his salad and a quick bite.  That morning he had forbidden me from playing with myself all day, so I would be more desperate at night.    He teased me, and spanked me with the cutting board, and reminded me to "Wait".   Wait is a cue word that gets me closer to orgasm but not pushing me over the edge.   It was trained by simple classical conditioning.  Like Pavlov.  

He told me to get upstairs, and after a little bit of knockdown and nearly getting raped on the stairs (giggle) I made it up there. 

Stairways are sometimes full of rapey goodness, you know.  

"Strip and get in position". 

 He picked out the loudest toy we have, one that barely gets used because of that - the leather slappy paddle - and applied it to my ass and thighs vigorously.  I jumped around and shrieked a lot.  Then he told me to pick out a toy for him and and wait.  WAIT.   He left for a few minutes.  I debated which toy to pick. 

 A cane?  No, I think he will use those anyway.  The belt?  Ohhh, ouch, maybe not.  The whip?  This was a close one.  I really like it.  But then I spied the dragon tail whip sitting next to the plain single tail whip.  The dragon tail is nice and stingy, but not as painful as the other whip, and it hadn't been used in a long time, so I grabbed it.  We wouldn't want any of the toys to feel left out.   

I knelt with my head on the floor and the dragon tail in an offering position. 

When Master came back he told me to lean back.  Picture me kneeling, then leaning back on my hands, tipping my head back.  He used the whip all over my front.  Stingy.  Then he got the belt out. 

Snap, snap, snap.

"One of these is going to hit you right on the cunt, slave."

I trembled.    Snap, snap, snap. On my thighs and breasts. It hurt, but not too unbearably.

Then SNAP hard, right on the cunt.  I rolled over, doubled up, and shrieked. That really fucking hurt.  As always.  He told me to come, and there was much more writhing.  

As soon as I could, I got back in position. 

"Do you want another on the cunt?"

"Yes, Master".   Of course I do.  Who wouldn't?  

Now I was really trembling.  I clutched my hands together in front of me and lay on my back as directed with my legs spread.  My thighs kept shrinking together.  He was snapping the single tail on them now.  

"Wider", he said.  I moved them an inch wider.  

"I said, spread your legs wider!"

A few more inches.  Still trembling, like, a whole lot. 

SNAP! On the inner thigh.  Oh!

And then a grazing one on the pussy, which hurt, but not as bad as the belt.  

He looked closely.  "You don't even have a cunt bruise!" 

Sniffle. It still hurts.  But I didn't say anything.  

He rolled me over onto my hands and knees, then began using both the dragon tail and single tail at the same time.  I just breathed.  

Relax. Breathe.  Don't fall over.  Don't try to crawl away.  And don't come yet!  These things floated around my floaty little brain.

When he was done, Master took me to bed, and I sucked his cock while he caned my one hip, as I was lying on my side at that point.  It really, really hurt.  I know I keep saying that, like some kind of whiny ass person.  But it really did.  I have a few little bruises, but it hurt a lot worse than the evidence would suggest.   

In the end he fucked me (so good!), and slapped me, and let me use the vibrator at the same time, and after that I kind of passed out for a while.

It was a great night, and very much a happy surprise!  


And Merry Christmas Eve to everyone!  I hope you all have a great holiday!   

When You Want What You Don't Want

Or perhaps it is when you don't want what you want.

See, there is this thing that my Master wants to do.   He thinks it sounds hot.  He knows I think it sounds hot -- in fantasy.  But I still have all sorts of angst and worries about doing it in actuality.  Especially because he tells me he wants me to do it because he thinks I'll like it.  Because of all the things I do for him that he loves, he wants to do this thing for me.  

That I love in fantasy.  

That I'm REALLY not sure of loving in reality.   

Isn't that just a fucky mindfuck? 

When he puts it that way, like it is a gift for me, then I start having a different kind of angst.  An "Oh gee, thanks but no thanks, you really shouldn't have, really", sort of feeling.   

So I tell him that. 

And then he tells me I'm doing it no matter what.  HE thinks it will be hot.  And whose opinion counts here?  Oh. Yeah.

And it will be the easy way (eagerly) or the hard way (force).  

If I really hate it, I can red out in the middle.  Then he will ruthlessly mock me forever more (this is exactly what he said) for being unable to finish the scene.  I'm just stubborn enough, when faced with that choice, to keep going no matter what, and I'm pretty sure he knows that he has just taken away my choice with that.

As Admiral Akbar would say "It's a TRAP!" 

Also, either way it goes, it will provide him with much fodder for humiliation for eons to come. (Squeee!  Help!  Yay?) Which he is very much looking forward to doing.  

I'm sure this goes against all the rules of the internet Domly Doms, but he has these ways of getting me right where he wants me.

Why is ksst like a writing desk?

Because there is a 'b' in both and an 'n' in neither.


Oh, and this: 

I like a bit of objectification. 

It started out when he thoroughly plundered my holes for his pleasure, and paddled and caned me.  I'm sure there was more than one loud "Fuck!" uttered from me.  

Afterward he played Civ and I became just the mousepad at first, since I was curled up next to him, recovering.  He added "desk" to my repertoire and put the laptop on my back.  My giggling was met with semi-stern reprimands to be still.  Then my ass got probed with the pen.  And some pictures were taken for here, to share.     

Good times, ya'll.  

Also, it made my week seeing that Scott is back to doing horrible, horrible (sexy) things to kaya.  (sidenote- pictures are on Fet). 

Air Tight

Only one was a real cock, though. 

Air tight = all the holes are filled. 

Well, not my nose, but the other three.  

That is what I was on Sunday, and it was FAN-tastic!

His cock in my mouth, the extra large vibrator (not the magic wand, but the big silver one) in my cunt and the butt plug in my ass, it is an amazing feeling.    

Plus he was caning me.   

Last night I asked him to hit me again, and this was after the afternoon session of a medium hard caning which left me sore but unwelted.  He put me over his knee and spanked me until I cried, more as an emotional release than anything else.   He also tortured me with some pressure points.  Just try pressing- hard- straight into a nipple. 

 Ow! 

Then when I couldn't come on command he grabbed my throat, smacked me and pinned me up against the back of the couch. That'll do it.  :) 

He's so good to me. :) 

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We had our Solstice Bonfire Saturday night. I sent my box of memories up with the smoke for my Grandpa.  People asked me how I was doing and I just couldn't answer.  Shhhh, I'm busy compartmentalizing!  I skipped on to another subject and then felt bad about that later.   But I really didn't want to bring the whole group down with my sadness.  I wanted to be happy, and I was.

The fire didn't want to light at first, as the air was pretty damp and Master was opposed to using an accelerant on there.  Eventually it did turn into a nice blaze though, one that burned all night and all the next day too, ensuring that the sun will come up again and winter will end eventually.    

We drank hot cocoa with schnapps or Cow Pie liqueur and ate a lot, and played Cards Against Humanity.    I had made praline candies and the kids made Rice Krispy treats with only a little supervision. 

 There were brats, which I couldn't find the toasting spears for (they got put away somewhere after camp).   Eh, microwave 'em, no problem!   Also, marshmallows were toasted in the fire, mostly for the kids.  I was too full of other food by then to have any.   

People that stayed overnight had breakfast pancakes and bacon cooked up in the morning. It was a lovely time. We are so blessed to have such dear friends.

This morning I'm tired, but I feel like I have never been more in love.   None of this would be possible without my Master. 

Talking About Death

My Grandpa died yesterday.   I hadn't seen him in the last 10 years because of distance and life and reasons, but all my memories of him from growing up were happy.    We always spent Christmas at their house, with my parents driving all night while us kids slept in the bed in the back of the station wagon, to arrive at a beautifully decorated, wonderful smelling (of breakfast) home, usually at sunrise. 

They are not holding a funeral, so I'm working on my own memorial service for the bonfire this weekend.  We'll have people over, but I plan to make it sort of a private ceremony for myself, not a big group announcement.  I have written several pages of memories, long hand, and made a copy, also written out, not on the copy machine.  This seemed important.  I talked to my mom, and she gave me some of her memories to write down also.  My aunt was there also and she had some to add.   I took some of my photos of him and made copies of them.  I plan to put it all in a small box and burn it on the fire.  It is a spiritual thing that I can't really explain.  Fire. Death. Rebirth.  The Solstice.   The fire will be in our garden, giving nutrients to next year's food.  I will keep the second copy of the memories and pictures with my important papers.  

They say men are good compartmentalizers.  But I'm a REALLY good compartmentalizer.  I have one function over here in this side of my brain still working as normal.  And then I have the grief part over here quietly falling apart.  I just want to DO things.   So, this is what I'm working on doing.  

Spread and Trapped: Ecstasy

I stood naked with my hands on my dresser. I could see him uncoiling the bullwhip behind me.   I shivered with fear/anticipation.  This was going to be my warm up.  

The whip licked all over me, from shoulders to calves, sometimes wrapping to the front of my thighs.  It stung but he didn't do it hard enough to cut skin.   Then the belt.  I was so eager for all of it!  
The misery stick as well came out to play.   

He stepped in close, kissed me and then pushed me down to suck his cock.  

By the time he got my arms strapped onto the spreader bar my cunt was dripping and ready.   I was on my elbows and knees on the floor.  He entered me from behind and after a few minutes I tried to raise up to my hands but he commanded "Head down!" and pushed my head onto the floor.   I stayed in position until he pulled out and stood up, when I was peering around behind me to see what he was doing.   Insatiably curious.  

He came back with another spreader bar, attached my ankles to it and resumed fucking me.  I stayed head down until I felt like I needed to reposition and then got up to my hands and knees.  He stopped again, telling me we were going to have to do something more drastic to fix this.  He pulled my arms back between my legs and fastened them to the same spreader bar as my ankles.    Now I had no choice but to press my face to the floor.

 

Ankles on the outside, wrists in the middle

Then he got out the whip.  

 I was spread and exposed and each painful mark of the short single tail reminded me that it could be worse.  He could be aiming it on my exposed butthole or cunt.  

And then the whip reached those tender bits, Gaaaaah! 

 I squealed and screamed.  He wanted me to be loud.  There was no one else home and there wouldn't be for hours.   I lost all sense of time.   He took me again, his with his hand on my collar, pulling it back to choke me, and then with his belt wrapped around my stomach to pull me in hard and deep on each thrust. It was so bloody marvelous.  I came over and over.

Eventually he took off the spreader bar and had me put in the buttplug, then resumed fucking me.    He also paused to take some pictures.  You can see the red marks.  

Already well fucked and not even close to done

When he was done and had come, he told me it was time for the serious beatings to begin.  He gathered up a handful of implements- two paddles- the small one and the long wavy one named Kris- the misery stick and a regular cane, and he tied me to the bed face down.   

Like I said, I lost all track of time, but he sung Christmas carols and this coupled with pain put me in an other worldly, heavenly, seriously subspaced, almost religious place of ecstasy.  Sometimes I sang along with him.  Keeping me tied by the wrists to the headboard, he turned me over to use the misery stick on my breasts.  And got out the magic wand vibrator.  I was still tied down, so he held it up against my clit and made me come repeatedly.   His hand was half inside me.  
After he untied me I guess I kind of passed out for an hour.   

It has been a VERY long time since we had quite this much fun.  Master and I have both missed it. 

Yes, Master

So yesterday Master told the people at his work that I call him Master.  

This is what he said to them, while they were eating the cookies he brought in, that he had ordered me to make, 

 "I told her 'Make cookies for the people at work' and she said 'Yes, Master'. "

0.o

Luckily they think he's just kidding around.  

Clothing and Submission

I've been thinking about this lately.  Is there a relationship between what you wear and how you feel?

I think there is.  But is there also something about dressing up for a special occasion that you don't get when you take to wearing a similar "uniform" of sorts every day, even if it started out being a special occasion outfit.   

I have a special love of long and flowing skirts, which are not practical for farm work or much of anything, really.  I feel more submissive without pants.  

A few years ago, when I was new to being a slave, I had a routine of wearing a skirt most days, or else changing into one right before Master got home.  I think he liked this.  He never said too much about it.  Lately though I have switched back to jeans, or even (gasp!) sweatpants, on days that I don't go anywhere.  He hasn't said anything about this either.  But I don't feel as graceful and "fancy", for lack of a better word, in pants. I will still put on a skirt if we go out somewhere together, most of the time. 

Anyway, I'm just rambling on my changing clothing habits and wondering if I should make more of an effort every day.   I was reading some things on Fet today about Indian Sarees and geisha clothing and imagining being so graceful and well dressed all the time.  Not that I have either of those garment types!

Sometimes if I'm fully dressed when he gets home he'll order me to go take it all off and just wear my robe, for easier access. 

Shit! (not literally)

Master just looked right into my mind, read all my thoughts and frankly, it scares me a little. 

He wanted to come in my mouth and while I knew I would be very happy to serve him and be used for any purpose he desired,  and besides I wasn't getting out of it ...  I still had this little tickle of resistance in my mind that perhaps I'd be happier just sitting around with my coffee doing nothing.   

Not that that was an option. 

Don't tell me you've never felt that way, to the other long time slaves, my friends! 

I wouldn't believe it anyway.

I didn't SAY that of course, and was careful in every single action and look to be as pleasing as possible, and to do everything he told me to do.   I took the laptop up to the bedroom, and was just getting my collar on (the leather one, generally required unless he takes me by surprise) when he came in. 

He told me to get in position, and caned me, and told me he could see my resistant thoughts, though I had done nothing wrong.    I admitted my thoughts, of course, but said mainly I just wanted to please him, which is also true.  It was kind of one of those want/don't want situations.  And then the misery stick came out.   All those little resistant places were smacked the heck out of me.  I was all softened up, compliant and extra-super eager to please. The backs of my calves are especially sensitive. 

This peering into my head though, it is just a little bit scary, no? 

Dirty, Dirty girl.

It started at dinner time.  He nodded at the floor next to his chair and told me "You will kneel here."   He pulled my head onto his lap, just to rest my cheek on his thigh, nothing else.  Yet.  It is a comfortable place to be, and I found myself relaxing into him.

   I had to get up sometimes to fetch more food, make dessert and so on, but I enjoyed my kneeling time.   

After his dinner and tea I went upstairs with the clean laundry, and he came after me.  I didn't hear him being quiet like a ninja and he startled me in the dark, suddenly being there behind me, saying "Don't jump".   I shrieked.  Just a little.  

He locked the door and told me to strip.  He pushed me to the floor on my back and got his head between my thighs.  I tried to squirm away and he told me to hold still.  I wasn't really keen on that, but he was really into the pussy eating last night.  He had to speak sternly to me to make me be still. 

Then Master stood over me and told me he'd like to piss on me.  He pantomimed doing it, but happily for the bedroom carpet he didn't actually.  Yet.  Instead he took me into the bathroom and bent me over the sink to fuck me.  I was so wet at that point I was dripping. He was driving into me so hard it was nearly painful, but so good. 

He stopped and motioned me into the shower stall.  I knelt and got showered by him.  I felt very much like a dirty girl, because I loved it, the feelings of humiliation and ownership and being marked.  He told me to come, and I did, twice.  Then I sucked him as he had said I would.   Good to the last drop.  He left to go back downstairs and I took my time in getting cleaned up in the shower.  

When I was clean and wrapped in my fluffy robe, we watched a movie for a while, then he watched some porn while I sucked him again.  

"Suck it, you cocksucking little whore", his words made me squiggle and squirm and clench.

"Mmmmffffmmmmffftrrrr".  I was muffled.

He took me back upstairs and ordered me to sit on his face.  Master likes this more than I do, I think.  It is a mentally uncomfortable place for me.  But if he wants it, I do it, that is how things work here.  So I sat on him, felt his tongue up in my slit, and after a while it felt so good I forgot about being uncomfortable and just enjoyed it.    He pushed my head down so I was sucking him at the same time.   

He stood and had me kneel in front of him.   Taking my robe sash, he turned it into a slip knot and put it around my neck, used the sash as a leash/guide to pull me in and have me suck his dick, still kneeling in front of him.  Then he had the misery stick.   Owchie, it is aptly named!  Just a little wrist flick from him and it is stinging my ass.

Master ordered me to stand while he tied a rope harness on me, then told me to get in position.  He snapped me with his belt, then the misery stick, really hard.  He put me over his knee and then it really came down on me. I whimpered.  I stamped.  I came.

He pushed me onto all fours then and took me.  I was tightened up or something and when he thrust in a shriek I didn't mean to give burst out of me.  The next thrust got a smaller shriek, and then it stopped hurting.  Soon he came and we curled up on the floor.  

And then because I looked a little wistful that we were done already (seriously? I though "already"?  It must have been hours, but it didn't SEEM like hours) he took the misery stick and beat me again.  With Christmas carols this time.

 Then he started shoving his fist into me.

I'm quite sore in the bits region this morning and he said it's because he got nearly his whole hand in there.  It felt soooo good too.  I had even more orgasms. 

When he was done and told me to get up off the floor I was stumbling around looking at the floor in a dazed way, and he asked me what I was looking for.  

"My feet"  I answered, and giggled.  Yep, subspace will do that. 

M/s Flirting

Master messaged me over his lunch asking if I'd written a blog yet today.  Blog, what blog?  I told him I hadn't.

He said "Don't worry, I'll give you plenty of stuff to write about tonight".

Yay?  I think?   

That's the way I like it.

"Beg me to smack you in the face".  

I blink.  This is new.  But I do it.

"Please smack me in the face, Master".   He doesn't.

"More begging, then maybe I will let you come" he says.

I do.  I keep begging.  He doesn't hit me.

"Once I slap you, then you can orgasm, but not until then, do you understand?"

I nod "Yes, Master".  

I am begging again. "Please, Master...",  I want the slap more than I want the orgasm, somehow.    But I know when he does it I will come anyway; my body is conditioned, or my mind, both really. 

SMACK.   He slaps my cheek. I come, soaking everything. 

My head is lowered, but he finds an entry and slaps me again. And again.
My hands start to raise on their own to cover my face.  
Down, hands.
I will those hands back down again, grab the sheets to keep them down.  
Up, head.  
I raise my cheek to him.  I can't, won't, don't want to protect myself.  I'm all his. 

And again.

 

Ow.

It is a good night.  I am sore.  Master, I think, has fallen asleep somewhere, so I'm going to get ready and go to bed.  I got flogged, and hit with the misery stick, and the belt.  And after we fucked, also the leather strap.  I really love the strap.

  Master came twice, the second time all over my chest and face.   Frosted slave.  :)

Cropping Haiku

 Lying on the bed 

Awaiting his instructions,

Open to his will.

Naked, bare, patient

Pain heals, sweetly rips down on

Submission, a fine reward.

He leans over me

A gentle stroke into my

Warmth and dark softness

Master has two crops

Drumming, the music beating,

Reaping my desires.

This is my need, just

Touched by him. His crop pauses.

Flesh, waiting, trembles.

Nothing

I have had a rule since August, that I'm not allowed to answer Master back with "Nothing", especially to the question "What's wrong?" and similar queries.   However this morning I did it again.  Given that I've been doing it my whole life, it is a hard habit to break.  I even thought a second before answering.  I thought to myself "Is something wrong?" and I couldn't pinpoint anything.  So I said "Nothing." He reminded me I wasn't allowed to say that. 

 Ok, maybe I wasn't ecstatically filled with rainbow sunshine and puppydog hugs at the moment, but I couldn't exactly say that something was definitely wrong. 

What is the right answer?

Craving Abuse

Abuse.
Domestic violence.

These things are bad, right?  Nobody wants to be abused.

So how come sometimes I crave that feeling?  Not that I actually want to be an abuse victim, or that I am at all, and I never have been.   
But occasionally I crave the feeling: the fear, the non consensual violence.   And something else besides just the force, but I'm not sure what it is. 
 I sometimes watch one of those movies where the "bad guy" comes home and beats up his wife for whatever pretext he's conjured up.  And I want to BE her.  I want to feel that feeling.  It trips all kinds of wrong and taboo buttons for me. 

That is what I was feeling last night.  Not wanting a spanking. Not wanting a flogging or a sensual experience or a "scene".  But wanting to feel that fear and receive that violence.  I couldn't come out and say it so plainly because I felt ashamed, and didn't want to tell him what to do (that takes all the fun out of this sort of thing, doesn't it?), but I did tell Master (after he gave me "The Look"tm ) that I would like him to be mean to me.

 "Not tonight," I said, "but sometime."  

Last night I was kind of tired and worn out and yet was still craving.  I didn't want just a fun spanking, but something really mean.  I like when he drags me around by the hair, throws me up against things, knocks me down.  I like it when he grabs my throat, calls me "whore" and demands to know what other men I have been fucking.  And I have to tell him. 

 I feel settled and happy afterward.   

Now I've been working on how to say it all morning, and am writing it out here for him, mainly, and also for me.  When I get these thoughts they won't leave me alone until I have written them down. 

He teased me that if he really wanted to be mean he'd call me schmoopie schnookums and kiss me gently and promise never to hurt me.  
And then he did just that.   Evil, huh?

But that was just the tease.  

Then came the main course.  He told me to get out of bed and strip.  I had worn a t-shirt (a wife beater- was this subconscious or circumstantial?) and PJ bottoms to bed, thinking (hoping?) we were going straight to sleep.
I started to make a noise of discontent, a moan of "Do I have to?" without actually saying the words, and he ordered me again to get up and strip.   I did. 

"Hand me the paddle and then suck my cock", he ordered.   I love/hate the paddle.   It hurt so good though;  I wanted to come. 
I was whimpering and sobbing around his dick a short time later.  

He fucked me violently, and I struggled.  He slapped me and hurt me with pressure points until I stopped struggling and gave in.   It was violent, and mean, and delicious.  Then he rolled me over and came inside me.  

I felt settled and happy after. 

He'd been planning to fuck me all along, but had been hiding his intentions because, I don't know.   He likes to keep me guessing.  And he does.

Master's Look: KOTW

http://kinkandpoly.com/kinkoftheweek/


All Masters are required to master "The Look" at the uber secret Master school.  They won't tell you about it, because it is super secret, duh!  But they can't graduate unless they can use that look that tells their slave in certain terms that they go to far and they better start back pedaling before their ass is in water hot enough to make lobsters cry.

But this is about a different look. 

Last night we were lying in bed and I wanted to tell Master something, but I didn't know how to say it.  I had to turn the light on and look into his eyes.  His eyes penetrated into me so deeply I thought he might see when was in my mind without me having to find the words.  I know it is a cliche, but I felt so deep in his eyes that I could drown there.  It was the look of knowing, of love, of waiting acceptance, of being open.  He was waiting for me to tell him what I was thinking.  Not just waiting though.  Demanding.  Insistent on not letting any stray bit of me hide.  I tried my best to get it out, and I think I only partially succeeded.   His look held and transfixed me.  I was being examined down to my core.   Held and pinned.

I adore his Look. 

 






 

Kinky Christmas

Last night was our local munch group's kinky Christmas party and then we had some of the people staying over at our house.  It was a wonderful time, and we so much enjoy their company.  I made some sausage gravy and biscuits for breakfast and we sat around talking and drinking coffee all morning.   We are so lucky to have this tribe in our lives. 

A Good Friday Night

  He picked up a stick on his way to the bed.  I automatically pulled down my jeans. 

Teasing him a little, I said "Oh look, you have your stick out." 
And he said "And you have your butt out".
"What a coincidence, don't you think?" I laughed.

The caning was highly erotic, as I was already aroused.  He had me thank him by sucking his dick.  

After a while he asked if I wanted to be fucked.  Oh heck yes.  I begged for it.  He told me to beg some more.  I think I begged really well, very earnestly because I really, really did want it so badly.

But once he started fucking me I started struggling. This time was purely for him, because he likes my fighting and his winning.  Like there is ever any question of who will win.

Then he pulled out the leather strap and whispered in my ear,

"Do you know what bad girls who try to struggle get?" 

My eyes were wide.  I thought I might have some idea, but still I said "No, Master".

I was wrong though.  It didn't go around my ankles or wrists.

He whispered harshly "Bad girls who struggle get the dangerous stuff".   

He put the strap around my neck and pulled it tight.  I struggled more, but the strap only tightened.  He had one free hand to use for creating pain on my pressure points.   He choked me and fucked me and I came over and over.  In between orgasms he'd loosen the strap, but then he'd pull it tight again.  He's put it around my neck before, but never like this, never so tight or relentless.   I loved it.  It was amazing and hot.  

Then he had me get on top and tell him something really good in the way of fantasy.

I actually had one all ready, a fantasy that I masturbated with.   It had multiple slaves, and strap-ons, and me, and Master, and forced ass sex.   Master came,  then he kept on fucking me for a long time, and then he came again, which is pretty darn unusual.    He was extremely happy with his two orgasms, and I refrained from mentioning how many I had (lots).  Thank you, Master. 








 

Anger

Tuesday night we were making sweet, sweet love, I mean, in the middle of a hard fucking session, and he was talking to me.   He said something kind of mean to me and my extreme reaction took me by surprise. I went from pure enjoyment to full blown anger in about half a second.  I don't normally have a bad temper, but he knows me too well, knowing just how to poke me where it hurts.  

I found out later, after asking him, that he said it on purpose to provoke.   Of course.  

He was on top of me, and I hit him a few times on his side, my fist closed, at which he just kind of laughed.  I started trying to push him off of me, but he pinned my arms and kept fucking me.   

 Just as quick as it came, all the anger was gone, and from his wicked looking smile I could tell he was enjoying my struggle, so I pushed against him some more, as much as I could with my wrists pinned, only now I wasn't doing it from a place of anger.   

He thought the whole thing was incredibly hot, from my anger and struggles to his forcing me to continue over my objections.  He used the R word.  Rape.

Later on I felt pretty guilty at having hit him.  It was ineffectual and not very hard, I guess, but just the thought that I did it made me pretty upset and guilt ridden.  I kept reminding myself that he wasn't mad, that he'd found it hot, actually. 

The next night we talked about it as he was caning me.  Which is not easy at all, to concentrate on having a serious discussion while that is going on, but we don't get that much time alone together so this was my first good chance.   I kept losing track of what I was going to say as I was processing each painful strike. I wanted to ask him if I'd been bad.  He said no, he'd made me mad on purpose to get that reaction.    


My emotions are his to play with, just like my body, of course.     

He told me I don't like it when he tries to make me think I have some of the power, and I agreed.   I don't like it at all.  He reminded me of the obvious, that he has all the power, that I have none.   
This is reassuring.   

Wednesday night's caning culminated in him having me lie on my back and raise my legs so he could hit the backs of my thighs.   There were three or four hard ones, making me gasp and moan, then he waited.  I was getting all psyched up for the next one.   I heard the swish of the cane come down and braced- and he hit the bed instead of me!   He did this a few times until I was silently pleading for him to just hit me and get it over with.    A few more psych out blows as he pretended to be missing me because I was moving out of the way (I hadn't wiggled at all).  Then the for-real strikes on the tender stretched backs of my legs came, and he was done. 

I sucked his cock, and he came in my mouth.  It felt good and right to be used like his hole, and beaten, without getting the fucking that I was craving.     

Plugged again, now with the string

This is the emergency-just-in-case string, in case my butt tries to eat the plug.   It hasn't, but having the string makes me feel better.   

Dirty Hot Sex

Good title, huh?

With all our guests gone, Master was very eager to use me last night.   He started by using my mouth, and caning me as I lay on my side next to him.  He was above me, fucking my mouth until I drooled.  He'd let me come every so often.  He kept threatening to come in my mouth and leave me horny and unsatisfied.  He made me beg for everything, fucking, ass sex, beating, and still threatened to come in my mouth and go right to sleep.  I could tell he was close.   I didn't know if he was being serious or playing with me, but I accepted it with the attitude that I'm his property and he can leave me horny if he wants, it is not up to me.  I did beg very earnestly though, since he liked to hear it.  "Please Master, beat me, fuck my ass, fuck my cunt, come in my mouth."   

Well, which do you want?

Whatever you want, Master.

He caned me again, then tied my hands with the leather strap and let me ride him while buzzing away with my vibrator as he used the really short cane on my breasts.  It felt amazing, especially as he alternated between hitting them and then sawing back and forth with the stick, like playing a cello.  With my sore nipples as the strings.  I came when he told me too, for a long time, and really hard.  

Then he had me roll over and fucked my pussy from behind as he stuck first one, then two, fingers in my ass.   He told me to bite the pillow and be quiet.  I had my usual moment of panic as he started his entry into my ass, but then I bucked hard and his cock slid in.  It felt good for one second then he told me to come.  Everything tightened up in the ass region and I squeaked with sudden pain.  I had to bite the pillow (I was really chomping down on the poor thing until breathing was becoming difficult!) to keep from being really loud.  

When he began pumping me hard it felt really good again, and he told me to put a hand on myself.  When he came he commanded me to orgasm at the same time.  

"Happy Thanksgiving, slave" he told me afterward.  

The Heat

Master's family came to visit for Thanksgiving, then right after they left on Saturday my mom got here.  She'd been down in Texas visiting her dad who is in the hospital (he's 94).   My dad was left home to take care of the animals. 

Things went just wonderfully, as we have some really nice, easy going family members.  The Thanksgiving dinner Master and I cooked together was just delicious.

 Master's family stayed in a hotel (because they weren't sure until the last minute if my mom would be in the guest room) so a few times they took the kids over to the pool there and Master and I stayed home.  We were generally too tired and too full to get up to anything kinky, but I did get a little spanking once as we watched a movie.

It was kind of cold in the house the whole time, although Master had turned the heat up a few degrees for our guests, who all come from south of here.   It was especially cold Sunday when we couldn't build a fire due to some gluing of the insulation rope Master had done on the woodstove that day.

 Sunday night the little kid was complaining that he never got to do anything he wanted, and my mom told him the same old thing we say,

"When you grow up, you can do just as you like in your own house."

Then she turned to me and asked if I ever did any of those things that I wanted to do as a kid but wasn't allowed. 

 I said "Like what?" because I couldn't really think of anything.

"Oh, like turn up the thermostat as high as you want in the winter." said my mom. 

 Master and I just looked at each other and started laughing.

Then he said "No, the thermostat is set at whatever I want it to be." 

Which is currently 60 at night and 65 during the day.   Changing the thermostat without permission is NOT one of my privileges.