She had given me the silk slip at my wedding shower, just the thing to tempt my new husband. I didn't know it at the time, but she'd gone to him afterward and told him to think of her whenever I wore it.
I found that out later, much later.
This morning he told me to put it on. He pushed me up against the door and told me what to say. I was to play act being "the other woman" for him. A woman that he never fucked because of his loyalty to me. But if she showed up now, 20 years later, he just might do that because that is the deal now. He gets to do what he wants.
It was trippy, mind fucky, hot and humiliating playing that role for him. I pretended she was kinky too, and asked to be spanked.
I helped him choose a stick from our cane stand and he pretended he'd never done anything like that before.
He made me put in my butt plug and said horrible and humiliating things about how inadequate I was. How he needed someone else to really satisfy him (her/me). How much better she was than me.
We fucked until my cunt and ass were aching. Then we fucked some more. He came and then I sucked him till he was hard again and we fucked even more.
I'm so lucky.
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Intensity of Connection
Sometimes that sexual connection, or scene intensity, is just way over the top. Friday night was one of those for us.
I did all my writing assignments that day, plus one which was private but even more full of complaints than the blog. After I had written everything out I felt much better, which is one of the purposes of my writing, the other being that it is easier for me to write than to talk. I was also a bit nervous about what he would think when he read them.
I sucked his cock as he read my journal entries. I felt apprehensive about what was going to happen next, but he didn't say anything right away. Instead he took the arrow stick and beat my ass as I continued sucking. He put me flat on the bed on my stomach and continued the beating. Instead of trying to handle the pain I took it all inside me and hugged it to my breast. I welcomed it, owned it, cherished it. It was a good pain.
Then he sat on top of me, put on hand in the middle of my back and ordered me to get up and get my butt plug in. I tried to escape while he fucked me from behind, but I couldn't do more than flail my arms and legs uselessly. Eventually I managed to turn over, but it didn't help me get away. He had me pinned so I couldn't escape. He scooted me to the edge of the bed and told me to put my arm down and fall to the floor, see if I could get away. At the same time he gripped my hair tightly so I couldn't squirm out from under him.
Eventually he let me go and I was able to slide to the floor. Not trusting my legs, I crawled across the floor to his nightstand and got the plug. He was following me, so I hurried to grab some lube and shove it in, but it wasn't going easily. He said he could do it for me. I pushed harder, but it wouldn't go. He finally shoved it in for me, and the pain was intense. He rolled me over and fucked me, and instantly I was on the edge of coming, filled with pain and cock thrusting.
As the pain in my ass began to vanish Master made me look at him as he told me the sweetest things. I don't think anything has ever been more amazing than when he told me I'd made all his fantasies come true. I never knew that. It was so sweet I wanted to cry from all the mushy feelings. But I didn't, afraid to ruin the mood.
He made me come once, then a few seconds later I came again without his command. That is a cock sucking offense! For "funishment" he pulled out, stood and made me suck him, thrusting into my mouth and using my hair as handles. I was completely swept away by the euphoria of his roughness. He pushed me back to the floor, fucked me and told me to come again. I came so hard the plug shot out across the floor. Master thought that was excellent! He stopped and told me to get it back in. It was easy this time.
Then he was fucking me again. He was on top of me when, with no warning, he spit on my face. I was shocked. It was unexpected, but hot. I felt out of body, out of space. He told me to come, called me garbage, dumpster, whore, and spit on me again. It was the hottest thing I could imagine.
I came again. This was the first time I'd ever been spat on during sex. There was one other time long ago when we were in the shower. This was more.
I few minutes later he pulled out and came all over my breasts. I was one well fucked sticky mess!
I did all my writing assignments that day, plus one which was private but even more full of complaints than the blog. After I had written everything out I felt much better, which is one of the purposes of my writing, the other being that it is easier for me to write than to talk. I was also a bit nervous about what he would think when he read them.
I sucked his cock as he read my journal entries. I felt apprehensive about what was going to happen next, but he didn't say anything right away. Instead he took the arrow stick and beat my ass as I continued sucking. He put me flat on the bed on my stomach and continued the beating. Instead of trying to handle the pain I took it all inside me and hugged it to my breast. I welcomed it, owned it, cherished it. It was a good pain.
Then he sat on top of me, put on hand in the middle of my back and ordered me to get up and get my butt plug in. I tried to escape while he fucked me from behind, but I couldn't do more than flail my arms and legs uselessly. Eventually I managed to turn over, but it didn't help me get away. He had me pinned so I couldn't escape. He scooted me to the edge of the bed and told me to put my arm down and fall to the floor, see if I could get away. At the same time he gripped my hair tightly so I couldn't squirm out from under him.
Eventually he let me go and I was able to slide to the floor. Not trusting my legs, I crawled across the floor to his nightstand and got the plug. He was following me, so I hurried to grab some lube and shove it in, but it wasn't going easily. He said he could do it for me. I pushed harder, but it wouldn't go. He finally shoved it in for me, and the pain was intense. He rolled me over and fucked me, and instantly I was on the edge of coming, filled with pain and cock thrusting.
As the pain in my ass began to vanish Master made me look at him as he told me the sweetest things. I don't think anything has ever been more amazing than when he told me I'd made all his fantasies come true. I never knew that. It was so sweet I wanted to cry from all the mushy feelings. But I didn't, afraid to ruin the mood.
He made me come once, then a few seconds later I came again without his command. That is a cock sucking offense! For "funishment" he pulled out, stood and made me suck him, thrusting into my mouth and using my hair as handles. I was completely swept away by the euphoria of his roughness. He pushed me back to the floor, fucked me and told me to come again. I came so hard the plug shot out across the floor. Master thought that was excellent! He stopped and told me to get it back in. It was easy this time.
Then he was fucking me again. He was on top of me when, with no warning, he spit on my face. I was shocked. It was unexpected, but hot. I felt out of body, out of space. He told me to come, called me garbage, dumpster, whore, and spit on me again. It was the hottest thing I could imagine.
I came again. This was the first time I'd ever been spat on during sex. There was one other time long ago when we were in the shower. This was more.
I few minutes later he pulled out and came all over my breasts. I was one well fucked sticky mess!
Friday, July 15, 2016
Masturbation Task
After he fucked me quickly this morning, Master said I could masturbate today, but only after I had written a blog of some sort (done!). Also, after getting myself to come I had to write him a private journal entry about the fantasy I had used while I was doing it. I always have fantasies, and they are usually about the same ones. It was actually hard to orgasm while composing and trying to remember a fantasy that I would have to write down later. But I did it! Yay me!
Unbalanced Desire
People often talk about mismatched desires leading to ruin and the importance of finding someone compatible and then being perfectly happy for the rest of your life.
In my experience, this is a crock of poop.
I'm not talking about the drastic cases of one person being vanilla and the other kinky, or when both want to be subs and not Dominant at all, which are major incompatibilities. But when one person desires S/M play at the level of "Oh, that might be fun to do some day soon" and the other person desires it on a level of a crack addict it can be hard when the crack addict is a slave and it hurts to even ask (not hurts in a fun way, either, it hurts in a "just sucked all the fun out of life" way).
I have seen over and over for my friends that there will be times when one person is more desirous or needful of certain activities than the other. I believe it is more typical than atypical. It's going to happen and it sucks. Some slaves don't get played with for months or years. That sucks. I'm incredibly fortunate, I know it and don't take it for granted. Except when I'm in the throws of crack addict level desire I don't feel fortunate. I feel miserable.
Being a slave is stupid. And I say that even when I can't do anything or imagine anything (for myself) other than being a slave. The desires lead me to behave in ways that I am ashamed to admit. They drive me to hate myself and everything around me. It's not fair to the other people, so 99 times out of 100 I curb myself and act like a normal person. Then the one time I don't curb myself, I hate myself and swear never to desire pain again. Pain is stupid. Wanting pain is stupid. Being a slave is stupid. When they don't go together it is doubly stupid.
In my experience, this is a crock of poop.
I'm not talking about the drastic cases of one person being vanilla and the other kinky, or when both want to be subs and not Dominant at all, which are major incompatibilities. But when one person desires S/M play at the level of "Oh, that might be fun to do some day soon" and the other person desires it on a level of a crack addict it can be hard when the crack addict is a slave and it hurts to even ask (not hurts in a fun way, either, it hurts in a "just sucked all the fun out of life" way).
I have seen over and over for my friends that there will be times when one person is more desirous or needful of certain activities than the other. I believe it is more typical than atypical. It's going to happen and it sucks. Some slaves don't get played with for months or years. That sucks. I'm incredibly fortunate, I know it and don't take it for granted. Except when I'm in the throws of crack addict level desire I don't feel fortunate. I feel miserable.
Being a slave is stupid. And I say that even when I can't do anything or imagine anything (for myself) other than being a slave. The desires lead me to behave in ways that I am ashamed to admit. They drive me to hate myself and everything around me. It's not fair to the other people, so 99 times out of 100 I curb myself and act like a normal person. Then the one time I don't curb myself, I hate myself and swear never to desire pain again. Pain is stupid. Wanting pain is stupid. Being a slave is stupid. When they don't go together it is doubly stupid.
Wednesday, July 13, 2016
Busy Week
It's been a busy week. Our younger kid has half day camp, so I spend a lot of time driving him around. The older kid is off to San Diego to visit Master's mom. I drove him to the airport, which was nine hours for me, including the stops (lunch, gas, bathroom, adult toy store, plus being at the airport). I waited in the TSA line with him, but they wouldn't let me go farther than that. I felt like I was having an internal mom-meltdown moment when I found that out. But I didn't yell or fall on the ground or anything. I just had to hope he would not get distracted by his computer and miss his flight or something.
Also, I'm playing Pokemon Go. Basically I have no time left. I didn't get any of my chores done today besides letting dogs out and making dinner.
Also, I'm playing Pokemon Go. Basically I have no time left. I didn't get any of my chores done today besides letting dogs out and making dinner.
Sunday, July 10, 2016
Dancing with a Pole
My random thoughts:
Don't give up your day job. Wait, what day job?
Am I dancing on the beat? I have no idea. I hope so. I better wiggle my butt more.
OMG people are looking at me.
They are smiling. Master is practically drooling. I guess I'm doing ok.
Smile! Look sexy!
Dammit, can I stop now? Does this song never end?
Oh, look, dollar bills! I'm supposed to pick them up in some fancy way but I have no idea how. I shall use my fingers.
Now what do I do with them? Dance around with bills in my hands, that is a "no". Ah, I will give them to Master, but he's trying to give me one too. He wants me do take it with my boobs!
I can do this.
Smile! Try not to look terrified.
I hope I'm not dripping on the stage.
What am I supposed to do with this pole?
Umm, wiggle ass?
Don't give up your day job. Wait, what day job?
Am I dancing on the beat? I have no idea. I hope so. I better wiggle my butt more.
OMG people are looking at me.
They are smiling. Master is practically drooling. I guess I'm doing ok.
Smile! Look sexy!
Dammit, can I stop now? Does this song never end?
Oh, look, dollar bills! I'm supposed to pick them up in some fancy way but I have no idea how. I shall use my fingers.
Now what do I do with them? Dance around with bills in my hands, that is a "no". Ah, I will give them to Master, but he's trying to give me one too. He wants me do take it with my boobs!
I can do this.
Smile! Try not to look terrified.
I hope I'm not dripping on the stage.
What am I supposed to do with this pole?
Umm, wiggle ass?
Friday, July 8, 2016
Current Events
I don't want to write a political blog, but I do have a lot of thoughts on the events of the last few days. Hell, I have thoughts on the events of the last few hundred years.
Instead of writing them here I'll leave you a poem:
what they did yesterday afternoon
by warsan shire
they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
Instead of writing them here I'll leave you a poem:
what they did yesterday afternoon
by warsan shire
they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who use to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.
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