Archive | December, 2010

Not So Kinky This Morning…

11 Dec

Sir and i are back into “it’s gonna be forever before we see each other again” mode.  i remind myself, AGAIN, that this is how it always is for some people.  It doesn’t make me feel any better.  And i’m not complaining, exactly, i’m just saying…

i bought my Christmas tree yesterday, but before i could drag it in the house and wrestle it into the stand, i got called out to a work thing.  So my poor tree is lying forlornly in the grass on the side of the house.    i’m afraid i’m going to have to do a fresh cut on the trunk today.  i can do that with my hand saw, but it’s hard to make sure the cut is straight. 

(And now that sounds like a bad punch line to a gay joke – how many lesbians does it take to…just 3, but you have to make sure the cut’s straight.  Ok, not even remotely funny.) 

And i’m babbling.   

Still thinking about my post yesterday, Ms. Constance’s journal, and the comments on my post, but not in any kind of “organized enough to write about” way.   i have this vague sense that the wisdom of picking a Dom i could look up to would have been helpful for me to recognize way back in my youth in vanilla relationships too.   More to ponder later.

Woke up not feeling real well, debating whether or not to go do my volunteer gig… for sure, the world won’t end if i don’t go.  But it makes me feel like a slacker. 

Sigh.

If i’m going, i need to get dressed and go.  It’s cold out there.  i could crawl back into bed and pull the covers up over me, and be warm and toasty and fall back asleep… 

Ok.  Long underwear and layered up.  Boots – check.  Hat – check.  Gloves – check.  Big puffy coat – check.  If i fall on my back, i’ll look like a big turtle, stuck, arms and legs flailing, and i’ll need someone to flip me over before i can get up. 

Running late, but better late…

And when i come back, after i get my tree in the stand, i’ll come write us a nice kinky fantasy.

To Teach and To Learn

10 Dec

When i kneel in front of Him, take His cock in my mouth – that is the easy part of the relationship.   It’s pure pleasure.  His taste, the feel of Him in my mouth, focusing my attention just there… yes.  Sliding my tongue over Him, the caress of my lips, taking Him into my mouth – cock worship lets me express my feelings readily.  Few words and no second guessing myself involved.  That’s easy. 

i’ve been reading Ms. Constance on fetlife – her definitions of BDSM concepts, thoughts about relationships, and so on.  http://fetlife.com/users/53857/posts    It’s interesting.  She says:

“I had a conversation recently about the importance of vision for a dominant. I use the term in this context as the ability to look at a submissive and see what improvements should be made, to see what should be cut away and how the remaining facets can be polished.”

i had not thought about my relationship with Sir D in that light – and am still not completely sure that it applies to us.  She says:

“I believe training a submissive involves teaching them to be more pleasing, either to me or in general, and it’s specific to each submissive as well as to each dominant.”

i am curious about how that applies – if it applies – to Sir and me.  Last weekend, He told me not to make the coffee so strong, and i’ll remember that.  Is that training me?  i suppose it is, but it feels awfully mundane.  Vanilla.  Yet it is exactly what Ms. Constance means – and surely not all she means.

i’m dancing around what’s on my mind.

Last night, Sir pointed out something i’d done that wasn’t helpful to our relationship.  It doesn’t matter what it was – trust me, He had an excellent point.  He was gentle about it.  Straight-forward.  He sounded disappointed maybe, rather than angry.

i’m very glad He said something.  Even though i regretted not having done it differently, it was enlightening and helpful to discover that He felt the way He did about it.  I wouldn’t have known that if i hadn’t made the mistake first, and if He hadn’t corrected me.

And it made me think about what i learn from Him.  i told Him – and maybe He was uncomfortable with it – that i think He is the first person i’ve been in a relationship with that i actually believed had things to teach me about being in relationship.  NOT that i haven’t learned from everyone i’ve ever known – i have, absolutely, i have.  

So then it sounds wrong, to say He’s a first, and maybe i need to back-pedal some more, but hang with me a minute first.  Let me try to explain.  To myself, as much as to you.

Ok.   Maybe it’s this.  In previous relationships, for the most part, if the other person pointed out something i’d done that they thought was not good for the relationship, it was something that inconvenienced or bothered him.  The house wasn’t clean enough.  i should sit down and watch TV with him rather than doing the dishes.   i was working too much.  We needed more money.  

Do you see what i’m saying?  Whatever he was saying reflected what he wanted at that moment.  i couldn’t trust him to think about the relationship – he thought about what he wanted.  It was up to me to figure out what i needed, what i could give, and what the relationship needed.

Hmmmm – maybe it’s as simple as not having been with anyone who thought about the relationship between us as being an entity in itself.  i don’t know, put that on hold for a minute.  Look at what else Ms. Constance says:

“If, as a submissive, you believe yourself to be the equal of your Master or Mistress, then why are you on your knees in front of them? Why do you, if you believe your intellect, emotions, judgment, and opinions in every way are equal, then why on earth would you accept that intellect, emotions, judgment and opinions over your own?”

and

“You should want to kneel because you believe this person in front of you is more than you are, is an amazing being who inspires a certain amount of awe in you, who is, in fact, capable of doing things that you are not able or willing to do. As a dominant, I may think the same thing, that this is an incredible person who can give this to me, who can kneel in front of me and trust me with their lives, but that isn’t the same thing as believing the two of you are equal within a D/s relationship.”

Whew.  Interesting stuff, isn’t it?  i am a lot quicker to kneel and pleasure Him with my mouth than i am to see Him as “more” than i am.  And yet-

In balance – in harmony  –

When i talked to Him of this last night, just the recognition that He can teach me about being in relationship, He handed it back to me.  He said that He believed He could learn from me too, or He wouldn’t be in the relationship.  And i hear that, and appreciate it.

But – o, there it is – the aha moment!  i think it’s a learn/teach difference.  i’ve learned – gained knowledge and skills – from everyone i’ve been in any kind of relationship with.  But in my intimate relationships with men, it is a rarity to discover that He has things to teach me – to impart skills or knowledge to me – about being in relationship. 

Does that make sense?  Well, it does to me, and that’s what matters, right? 

It’s not just that i can learn from Him, it is also that He has things to teach me.  i think – my fantasy is – that He takes my awe with a grain of salt so He doesn’t become over-inflated, but still… it’s there – my sense of – yikes – looking up to Him.

You have no idea how odd that feels to me.  And how right.  And, just to bring this full circle, you know it makes me want to –

Kneel before Him, rest my head on His leg.  He strokes my head, tugs on my hair, which makes my pussy twitch  and throb.  Makes me feel soooo submissive.  He allows me to unbuckle His belt, unzip His jeans and…

… free His cock from the confines of His pants – stroke it against my face, my cheek.  Bring it to my lips, touch it with the tip of my tongue.  Tentative – i lick lightly, then more firmly, caressing with my tongue, swirling it over and around the head of His cock.  Feeling Him swell, responding with pleasure, til i can no longer contain Him in my mouth.

i circle the base of His cock with my hand.   Holding Him firmly, my hand and mouth work together, sliding up and down…

 

New Limits

9 Dec
“One extends one’s limits only by exceeding them.”  ~~ M. Scott Peck
 
 
We went out to eat Saturday night, some lovely Thai food , and then we went to the munch.  It was in the basement under a bar this month – the venue we’d been using didn’t keep their commitment to us, so Mr. Michael had to scramble around and find someplace at the last minute.   
 
The munch used to meet regularly in this basement space once upon a time, so it was a little nostalgic for Sir D and other old-timers.  The rest of us were just glad to have somewhere to meet.
 
Of course the party was held in our dungeon, and we headed there after the munch.  A bunch of people went upstairs and had drinks first though.  So there weren’t a lot of people at the play party right off – and no one was actually playing.  Sir and i kept wandering from room to room, but nothing much was going on anywhere. 
 
It was – um, it was almost kind of boring.   Occasionally, Sir actually said, “Ho hum.”  And i was almost afraid we’d  leave.  But instead –
 
– He decided we’d play!
 
So He got out the ropes, and i took off my clothes.  i was delighted, of course, and loved it.  The energy was different than last time – maybe more fun and a little less intense?  I don’t know – it would be hard to capture the difference exactly.  For sure, it wasn’t a better/worse kind of comparison, but it was – different.  Of course.
 
i loved it.  And i think i’m not giving it the attention it deserves, but there is more to tell after – that’s on my mind today.    
 
After – after i was dressed again, and still glowing and buzzed, after the ropes were put away – Sir said, “Do you mind if I suspend someone else?” 
 
i could feel Him wanting to.
 
So of course i said, “No, go ahead.”  
 
Even though just last month the very idea left me feeling devestated.   But i was ok with it –
 
– at first.  And then –
 
as i watched Him getting rope back out, and –
 
– the woman we know from another part of the state and her Dom came over to Sir and – she is absolutely beautiful, and has an amazing hourglass figure and she took off her clothes and was stretching –
 
                                                 – then –
 
– i felt old and sad and lonely.  There were tears in my eyes, and i didn’t want anyone to know, so i went upstairs.  i could still watch if i wanted to, from the balcony, and i did for a while.  But i felt –
        
                         – you know.   Sad and lonesome and not good enough.  And i was NOT going to cry.
 
So i sit on the stairs for a while, where no one can see me unless they happen to walk up them.  And i think.  And think.
 
Last month, at least three women sort of threw themselves at Sir and asked to be suspended.  And at least two men asked Him to suspend the women they were with.   He turned them all down that night – at least partly because He knew i couldn’t handle it. 
 
Do i expect Him to turn down everyone?   forever?
 
i sit and think.
 
He loves doing rope.  i know that.  And at least He’s suspending J, who i know and like, and who i think likes me – unlike some of the women from last month, who looked through me as if i weren’t there.  
 
i think –
 
              – Why am i being so jealous hearted?
 
My heart says:   “Because  –
 
– Because  i don’t want Him to feel connected to other women the way He connects with me – i want to be ‘the special one.’  i want what we have to be special.  i don’t want Him to feel that with other women.”   And for a moment, it feels like my heart is  breaking.
 
And then – sitting there in the almost dark – i realize –
 
                                                it’s ok –
 
        it can’t be the same with them.  Even if He felt the same (and i don’t think He does) but –
 
even if He did –
 
                             they don’t.  They don’t feel the way i do about Him.
 
And maybe i’m wrong.  You know, i don’t know them all, so maybe i’m wrong.  But i think that they want the thrill of being tied up and flying – and i get that.   For sure, i don’t blame them.  It is wonderful, and Sir has a gift for doing it.
 
But i want to be with Him.  Whether He’s tying me up and making me fly, or walking around the dungeon, occasionally saying, “Ho hum,” i want to be with Him.   i don’t even know if He knows that or not – but that’s what makes me different from “them.”  And i know it.
 
So i go back and watch.  It is kind of fun to watch Him, the beauty of it, even from the outside.  It’s still not easy, but i’m ok.
 
Then she is up – she’s flying – and happy, and loving it.  Sir gestures to her Dom to come closer – to get under her, to get under her on the blanket on the floor.   So they can play while she flies.
 
And Sir comes over to me, where i’m sitting, and pulls me up to Him.  He holds me close, and kisses me, and then i’m really ok.   Really ok, all the way through.
 
He has a gift, and some serious  skills, and He needs to share them.  i don’t know if it will always be comfortable for me, but He always needs to be who He is.
 
So i watch Him take J down – she is clearly having so much fun, and He is too, really.  When she’s down – He picks up a length of rope –
 
 
– and crosses the room to me – wraps the rope half way ’round my neck – circles it around my waist – and pulls me over with Him, under the suspension frame.   Standing in the middle of discarded pieces of rope, He kisses me thoroughly, taking my breath and leaving me smiling. 
 
Then He says,
 
                         with His most charming grin,
 
                                                       “Help me clean this mess up?”
 
i’m delighted to help Him coil the rope, and i learn the right way to do it –
 
               and all is well and right in my world.
 

Feeling Foolish

8 Dec

Not much time to blog this morning – got to be at  work early.  i don’t have time to write the post i’d originally planned, so i’ll just share some quick thoughts.  

Last night, i was talking to Sir and He pointed out that my story yesterday had referenced His conversation with the gentleman at the munch, but not what they’d been talking about.  That threw me for a minute.  He had to remind me that the context of the statement about communication was “topping from the botton.” 

Once He said it, i realized He was right, and that some part of my brain did know that.   And that’s not really important, although it led us to talk about that concept – topping from the bottom – which He doesn’t believe in, because  the top always has the choice.   

His sense of security with being the Dom is reassuring and comfortable for me.  i appreciate it, and {smiles} writing about it makes my pussy twitch.  i’ll never have to worry about topping from the bottom, because He won’t let it happen.  

But what amazes me is how – oblivious i can be around Him.  i started to say “how stupid i can be.”  i’m philosophically opposed to calling myself names, you know, but really.  i miss things.  And i don’t think i’m normally obtuse.  But – for example –

We got in His car Saturday afternoon.  It had snowed a little bit; there was snow on His windshield.  I put my purse on the floor and started to buckle my seatbelt.  He said, “Hand me that brush, please,” gesturing slightly toward the floor on my side of the car.     

i thought, “What does He want a brush for?”  Baffled, i reached for my purse, getting ready to hand him my hairbrush –

     – when of course He meant the big black windshield brush and ice scraper right there on the floor under my purse.

Of course, when i moved my purse, He could reach it, and He did, but i was oblivious to it even being there. 

And that wasn’t a big deal, of course.  But that’s just one small example.  The other night, He asked me to help Him put some rope away.  So i’m happily coiling the rope when He says, “Are you starting with the two ends and looping it like i showed you?”  Or something like that. 

And i say, all in a little panic, “No!  i don’t know what you mean!  You didn’t show me…”  and so He shows me how to fold it over and start with the two ends and then make a loop and pull it taut at the end.  But later i think that maybe He did already show me that, and i just didn’t remember.

So sometimes i’m oblivious, and i forget stuff, and – the other day, we were at the dungeon, it must have been the Friday night munch, which was there this month.   So all the lights are on and we aren’t in the middle of a scene or even building up to one or still buzzed from one.  

“i’m going to the bathroom,” i tell Him quietly, and i walk to the little hallway where the bathrooms are.  There are two little hallways – one of them has bathrooms and a dressing room off it, and i don’t know what’s in the rooms off the other hallway.

So both the bathroom doors are closed – they’re both unisex – and i’m standing there waiting.  Then – suddenly there’s Sir, who says, “What are you doing?”  and i say, “Waiting for the bathroom?” and He says, “Are both the ones on the other side in use?” and i realize i’m in the wrong hallway all together.

Granted, i get lost easy.  We know this.  But really.   How could i not notice it was the wrong hallway?  And He’s perfectly sweet about it, and doesn’t make me feel stupid-er than i already feel.  Which i appreciate – thank you, Sir.  In fact, He makes me feel taken care of (how long would i have stood there otherwise?)

But still.  i feel fumbling and foolish around Him much more than around anyone else i know.  What’s that about???? 

Maybe – maybe it’s like i used to say about my girls when they were teenagers.  i used to say that the horomones raging through their brains actually interupted their ability to think.  That when their brain synapses would normally have been making connections, the hormones put up huge blockades and wouldn’t let the brain waves through.  The hormones would scream:  STOP!  NO thinking allowed here!  Hormones at work!!!!

Maybe that’s the story with me.  Can i blame Him for this?  Remember when i was just thinking about Him and couldn’t even find my way to the grocery store? 

Yeah, that’s what i’m saying.  {Laughing}  i’m pretty sure it’s His fault i get stupid around Him.

And somehow, it’s still ok.  It’s humbling – particularly since i’m a recovering perfectionist.  But maybe it’s good for me.  It – i don’t know how to explain it exactly.  It makes me feel foolish, and i don’t like that, and

                              and-

it makes me feel more real, more human, less – less like i have to be perfect to be ok.  

Yikes. 

That’s pretty amazing, isn’t it?

Entr’acte

7 Dec

On Saturday morning, i have a volunteer thing i do real early, so i don’t have the pleasure of waking Him with my mouth.  Instead, i get up and blog, go do my volunteer thing, and skip having breakfast with the other volunteers to hurry home.  

My friends tease me about it – “Ha – got a man waiting in your bed again, huh?”  they say, “Keeping the bed warm, is He?” and when i blush and laugh, they encourage me to go home.   

i don’t need any encouragement though – i’m eager to get back.  He’s half asleep again, listening to music and dozing.  i strip quickly and slip into bed with Him.

He’s warm.  i’m cold.  i’m delighted to cuddle with Him – well, you can imagine.  He’s just toasty, and i’m chilled all the way through.    He’s a little less than delighted – “you’re cold!” He says, “This isn’t so much fun…” but He lets me snuggle next to Him and suck up all His body heat til i’m warm and cozy too.

Which is only fair, because then there’s His cock, all hard and ready.    Just waiting to be taken care of.   With my hand first, caressing and stroking that length.  Then, not satisfied, i slide down under the blankets.

We know each other well, His cock and i.  i know the ways He likes to be licked and sucked – only occasionally does Sir need to intervene and direct.  Mostly He lets me have my way with Him, which pleases me about as much as it pleases Him.

It’s a lovely way to start the day.  The taste of Him, the feel of Him. 

After a while the blankets weigh on me, i’m warm enough.  i push back the covers and finish taking care of Him, licking, sucking until He explodes in my mouth.

i like to hold Him gently in my mouth after, waiting til He grows completely soft, careful not to overstimulate Him in that sensitive state.

And the pleasures that follow that are just as delightful -well, maybe more so for me.   Then, throughly rubbed, caressed, and satisfied myself, it’s time for a shower…

And the mundane pleasures of the day.  Although – how can it be mundane?  Life is full of sensual treats.  And i savor being with Him.

The night before, i’d said about twenty times how much i’d missed Him, how happy i was to see Him.  Ok, maybe not 20, but i was starting to bore myself with it…  He said, “Sheesh, I’ve been gone a month – I know you haven’t not been happy til now, have you?”

And i laugh – “Of course i’ve been happy while You were gone too – of course i have,” and that is true.   What i don’t have when He’s gone is the “thoroughly petted and pleased, ready to purr,” feeling.   i don’t think i get that anywhere else.

i feel like purring all weekend long.

We have shrimp and grits for lunch- yum!  (No, ‘Nilla, i didn’t make it myself.  We went out to eat…but you knew that, right?)

And then we go to my favorite museum.  New exhibits, which is nice, and – more important – Sir likes it.  A lot.   Sharing pleasure on a whole different level…

Then home and naps and more of that sensual, ready to purr – and then –

time for dinner – and the munch. 

i didn’t tell you about the Friday night munch, where we played games and talked to a bunch of kinky people – and i won’t talk a lot about the Saturday night munch either.  But it is nice that now there are people who greet me with a hug.  Some of them because i’m with Sir D, of course, but some of them for my own sake.

There are new people who don’t know i’m new, and that seems funny and is fun.  One incident from the Saturday night munch stands out in my mind. 

We were standing by a table, talking to a fairly new couple – well, new to the munch.  Sir D and the guy had some connection from years back.  The woman, a slightly prim and proper looking middle aged woman, said she’d only been in the lifestyle a couple of months.  She was taking it all in.

The man was telling Sir D something about what that had gone wrong in past relationships, and said – among other things – that subs he’d been with had not been good at open, direct communication.  To which i said, “Well, ya know, we subs are not always so good at that.” 

And Sir D said, lightly, almost dismissively, “Well, they do the best they can,” and then –

– time standing still – He reaches over – hand in my hair – twists my hair and pulls my head toward Him –

– presses my face against His chest –

sending me into that space where my breath is ragged and my pussy throbbing –

and He says,

“Even if they have to use a blog to do it.”

And i gasp – and He releases me – and i’m totally blushing, my whole body is blushing –

and the guy is still talking, but the woman, the prim and proper looking woman, is watching us intently – she has not missed a thing – and she may not be sure what just happened, but the sexual buzz hangs in the air –

– and she’s laughing, and i’m laughing, and Sir D says to her – “Look, she’s blushing,” about me – and she nods, enjoying my discomfiture, cause o, yes, i am…. and it’s all that much hotter because she feels it too. 

And the memory lingers, partly because it was an unexpected rush that He gave me, and partly because of her reaction, – and yeah, partly because of what He said.  Something to think about, huh?

Is that why i blog?  i don’t think it’s all of it – mostly, i think i blog because it helps me sort through my thoughts.  But a private journal would do that.  Is this a substitute for open, direct communication with Him?  A tool to begin conversations?  Something for me to think about…

Impact Play (cont)

6 Dec

 

“Alice had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid for life to go on in the common way.”
— Lewis Carroll

It’s not surprising if i feel a little like Alice this morning, after an almost magical weekend. 

And ok, so maybe all that angst about whether or not Sir and i would still feel connected was – um, needless anxiety.  But you can’t know what you don’t know, right?

In any case – Friday night – after sushi – and being too late to see a movie – we decided to go to the munch.   We played some games at the munch, and had some interesting conversations, but i want to fast forward on to the play party.   Where i left off last time.

There we are in front of the St.  Andrews cross, and Sir says, “Go ahead and take your clothes off” – so of course i do.  Pants.  Shirt.  Bra.

“You can leave the panties,” He says.  

Then He holds out the cuffs for me to slip into.  They look something like this: 

 
 
 
 
 

Only fur lined.

 

 As He fastens them on me, i feel the room begin to fade away.  “Step up here,” He says, “there you go,” as i step onto the ledge at the bottom of the cross.  Here’s the cross i was on:  

 
 
 
 
 

Near the wall on the left

 “Go ahead, ” He says, “Arms up.”  i raise my arms, first my left, then my right.  The ring clinks as he fastens it to the cross.  i am stretched against the cross – kind of like this:

 

 
 
 
 

Only no boots or bra - and i don't have long blonde hair.

 

 He brings the flogger up to my face.  Wraps it around my face; it touches my mouth, caresses my neck.  “Smell it,” He says, and i inhale the leathery scent.  “Nice, isn’t it?” He says.

 i nod, “Yes, Sir,” and my voice is small.  i don’t know if He can hear me.  i know this smell will always bring me back to this moment, stretched on the cross.

Then He moves the flogger.  Grabs my hair, pulls my head back a little.  Shows me the blindfold.  It’s red, maybe leather too.  He slips it over my eyes –

         – and there i am, fastened, bound, blindfolded.

The room and the people were already gone, now there is nothing but me and Sir.  And the flogger.  It looks like this:

 

Leaning close to me, Sir says, “If it hits a little harder than you expect, and you need a moment, i want you to raise your foot – raise your leg so your foot’s off the ground.  Can you do that?  Show me.”

And i do – i bend my knee and raise my foot off the ground.  “Good,” He says.  “Good girl,” and so then i have the ‘good girl’ thrill on top of everything else.

And He starts.

i tried to find a video of flogging, but couldn’t find one that pleased me.  It’s a pretty thing to watch.  i know He had two floggers – i don’t know if He was using them together, one in each hand or not. 

i feel a steady rain of blows on my upper back and shoulders.  Like Molly said when she was watching a flogging, it looks like it would feel good.  And it does.  At first.

After a little bit, it begins to hurt, in the nicest of ways, but still.  And then He changes it – 

        – and it’s canes next, stinging fiercely.   On my ass, too, and just when i think – i can’t – maybe i can’t take any more – maybe i need a moment –

He changes again.  He has a little steel instrument, like a comb, that scrapes over my body.  Not just my back, but my sides.  My breasts.  O!  It hurts – and then

–  it’s the feather duster, and i’m moaning with pleasure now, as it plays over my body. 

And then back to the flogger, the steady rhythm that makes a background noise in the dungeon.  Dimly, i think that He’s hitting me harder now, and it’s ok…  i think it’s ok, i’ve fallen into the steady beat of the blows…

And just as i’ve settled in, it changes again – i don’t know what it is, it stings, it stings – and then He’s pulled my body back from the cross, exposed my breasts, and is tapping there – sharp, sharp stings that make me cry out – O! O!  Several on each breast, stinging a bit even after He’s stopped –

– and maybe the vampire glove is next, with the hint and promise of pain

     – and more flogger

                     – and feather duster

And then the stinging is back – breasts first, then between my legs – O! on my inner thighs – He taps my inner thighs and i whimper – taps my pussy – O – O! 

and so it goes.  Sometimes He caresses – i think He kissed me once – and the pleasure is so intense 

  and then the pain

                   and the pleasure…

And then He is next to me, lightly rubs something against me, on my shoulder, on my cheek – it’s hard, and smooth – and “Do you know what that is?” He asks,

and i shake my head, “no,” i don’t – or maybe i do – is it? Is it the risotto spoon?

Do i say it?  Does He say, “yes, good girl,” i don’t know anymore – but i know it is the risotto spoon and –

“Just three,” He says, “Just three,” and –

O!!!!!  That’s one –

– the second one on the othe cheek – O – Yikes!!

– and then the third – O, my….

Then at last, He is rubbing me, running His hands over my body, and standing behind me – and i hear a sound – a motor running – O, i know that sound.  And then it is between my legs – the Hitachi, of course, the lovely Hitachi.  And i’m rubbing against it, moaning – pushing my pussy down onto it – 

O – O – ahhhhhhhhh, yes –

and so on – you already know what that’s like and writing it doesn’t do it justice anyhow. 

At no point does it occur to me that i’m fucking the Hitachi and cuming in a room full of people. 

Later, i’m telling Him how amazing it was that every time i though something was too much – just as i was on the verge – He’d switch to something else.  He looks surprised, “Of course I did,” He says, “That’s my job.”

And i guess it is… whew.  It is –

It is incredibly sensual, and arousing, and i find myself in a whole new room of subspace –

“But this was not your first time for impact play,” He says, “You’ve been beat on by other guys,” and of course He’s right, i have been, and liked it too – but this – o, my.

When we had finished, when i had cum my last time and He’d unhooked me from the cross, He said, casually, “There’s some wipes  – go ahead and clean it off – just wipe it down every where your body touched.”

And i don’t know why that was so hot – why the idea of cleaning the cross that He’d chained me to and whipped me on – made me even hotter.  But it did, and as i cleaned it, wiped it down, i was in that space where i’m acutely aware of my body, each movement…

Sigh.

It was wonderful.  And then we went home, and fell into bed, with the luxury of knowing we had a whole ‘nother day ahead of us…

 

Pushing My Limits

5 Dec

i was going to pick up where i left off yesterday, with the St. Andrews cross, and taking my clothes off for impact play.  But here i am – Sunday morning – Sir is in my bed drinking coffee and reading – do i really want to do a whole long thing on flogging?  Mmmmm, not so much.

Instead, i find myself thinking about coffee.  Sir doesn’t like flavored coffee.  i do.  So i keep unflavored around for Him, coffee beans that i grind fresh each morning.  i like coffee a lot.  Yesterday, i was up much earlier than He was, made some coffee, but had just about finished it when He got up. 

So i decided to make some fresh.  i had some new coffee that i thought He’d like.  Well, it took a few minutes to get it going – you know, grinding it, and measuring, and adding water and all.  Not a real long time, right?  But a few minutes. 

The coffee was brewing nicely – maybe a fourth of the way done – when it happened.  He reached for the pot, his cup in hand.   And time stopped for me.

Sir was standing right at the edge of a firm personal limit. 

i worked in a restaurant for years in my youth.  And one lesson well learned is never “gut the pot.”  Right.  Never do what He was getting ready to do.  Stop the brewing process, fill His cup, and put the pot back.  It’s a huge taboo in restaurants because it ruins the rest of the pot.  

So, even now, like at work, when i see people getting ready to gut the pot, i say, in a firm, domly kind of voice, “Stop!  What are you doing?!!  No!  Don’t gut the pot.  It ruins the rest of the pot!”  And i tell the story about working in restaurants, and how that’s absolutely taboo, and then they don’t do it anymore.  (And yes, i can tell when it’s been done.)

Now picture me here, in my kitchen, watching Sir take his cup in hand and get ready to “gut the pot.”  i open my mouth – poised on my lips are the words:

“No!  Stop!  Don’t gut the pot!”

only they don’t quite pass my lips…  Close, but i bite them back.  

This is Sir D.  i can’t yell at Him – i don’t want to yell at Him!   He’s not some extreme Master/Dom “don’t look me in the eyes” kind of Sir, but i’m pretty sure yelling at Him isn’t my best choice.

But i can’t just stand there and watch him commit coffee sacrilege.

He looks at me, sensing my inner turmoil.  “What?”  He says. 

“Um, are you really going to – are you going to take your coffee out of the middle and then put the pot back?”  i ask, feeling that i’m being really polite and restrained.

“Yes.”  He says.  “Why?  Do you have a problem with that?”  He looks surprised – and less than pleased.  He’s still right on the verge of picking up the pot.

“Um, no Sir, well, yes, it’s just …” and talking fast, i explain about working in restaurants and how interrupting the brewing process ruins the rest of the pot. 

He looks at me as if i’m speaking in tongues.  “Are you telling Me not to do it?” He asks.

And i’m backpedaling quickly – “No, no, if that’s what You need to do, You go right ahead. It’s just, um, it’s just…”

“And I thought you made this fresh pot for me,” He says  And i stand by helplessly while He reaches out and guts the pot.  

{Laughing}  It really pushed my limits.  But i took it.  And was kind of proud of myself. 

Until last night, when we’re at the Saturday night munch.   And – i don’t even know how it comes up – i don’t think there is any context – when He says, “And what was that about this morning – when you were about to tell Me not to – what do you call it? gut the pot.  You were going to tell me not to gut the pot, weren’t you?  What’s the deal on that?”   

And it’s so strange, because right there, and even in the morning at home, there is a submissive space in my head that totally accepts that He has the right to gut the pot of coffee any time He wants to.  And, even stranger, i like that.

So i’m laughing as i answer Him, but still – i say quickly,

“But i didn’t, did i?  i didn’t tell You not to, did i, Sir?  i just, i may have expressed my feelings about it, but i certainly didn’t tell You not to do it. “

“That’s right,” He said, “You didn’t, and that’s a good thing,”  and He has His hand in my hair, and i’m blushing, and weak at the knees, and pretty sure He can gut the pot anytime He wants to. 

“You thought we were through with the coversation, didn’t you?” He says.  

i nod, well, as much as i can nod with His hand in my hair, “Yes, Sir, i did.”

“No, i was just waiting for the right time.”  He laughs, “You’re lucky i didn’t wait and bring it up in the middle of a scene, when we’re playing.”

To which i can only laugh and say, “Yes, Sir, i am lucky.” 

So my limits have been expanded, new lesson learned – “Only Sir can gut the pot.”

 

“Impact” Play

4 Dec

“Just step up here a moment,” He says, gesturing to the St. Andrews cross.

The cross in the dungeon here has leather padding where my body pressed up against it.

i am still fully clothed, but i shiver a little as i obey him.  The wooden piece that i stand on is slanted forward just a little, so it tips my body into the cross, just a little bit. 

“Raise your arms – here – right here,” He says. 

I reach for the top of the cross, my arms resting lightly on the wood.  There are hooks in the top of the cross on each side – with my arm fully extended there’s still a gap of six or eight inches.  Fortunately, my Sir has extenders, a hook, chain, and ring device for short girls.   Or {laughing} maybe anyone would need them  – i don’t know. 

We had gone out for sushi.  At “our” sushi place.  But i guess i should go back first.  

When the car pulled into my driveway, and the door closed, i didn’t hear it after all.  i was standing on the edge of the bathtub, attaching a new shower curtain liner.   Instead, i hear a loud knocking at the door – so loud, i’m thinking He must have been using the actual knocker to get that effect. 

i leave the shower curtain half hung – where it stays for the next half hour – and race to get the door.  It is Sir.

My Sir.

He hugs me, and puts His hand in my hair at the base of scalp.  i feel His hand grasp my hair and pull, firmly, moving my head, pressing me close to His chest.  

Sigh.

Nestled against Him, a steady tug on my hair, i’m home.  

i feel that even more when He’s sitting in His chair and i’m – yes – kneeling at His feet.  It makes me shiver now, remembering how good it feels.  He seems content to let me kneel there, pressed close to Him.   i want more.

i unbuckle His belt, unzip…  As i write this, i can feel Him in my mouth once again, feel Him growing hard, filling my mouth.  Licking, sucking – greeting His cock, really.  Welcoming Him back.  {Grins} And He’s glad to see me too.   

i’ll skip the details this time – enough to say that my pleasure in pleausuring His cock hasn’t changed during His absence.  And His cock cooperates with enthusiasm. 

Then it’s time for sushi, at our sushi place.  Shrimp tempura, volcano roll, spicy tuna with spicy crab – it’s all delicious.   i’m getting better with the chopsticks, although Sir says something about me doing it “my way,” so i may not be following orthodox chopstick procedure…

 I’m pretty sure it doesn’t look like this when i do it…

So we end up using our fingers anyhow, and isn’t playing with your food half the fun of sushi anyhhow?

After we finish eating – have i mentioned their fabulous mango ice cream for dessert?  Well, even after that, the night is young.  We decide to go to the movies. 

Only – by the time we get there – all 8 movies have already started.   We need a different plan.

O – wait – fortunately, we are still in time to go to the Friday night munch!   

And that’s how i end up, several hours later stepping up onto the St. Andrew’s cross.  Catching my breath as i stretch my arms above my head, reaching toward the hook embedded in the arms of the cross. 

Hearing Him say, “Ok, you can get down now.  That’ll work.  Go ahead and start taking your clothes off.”

Knowing that He would be using the handcuffs with the fur lining, the ones that come with a ring attached to them to hold onto.  The ones that push me into subspace as soon as He buckles them on…

i tried to find a picture of them, but can’t.  Maybe i’ll take a picture of the real ones later on…  In the meantime, the volunteer thing i do on Saturday morning is waiting for me…  so i’ll be back.



Mundane

3 Dec

Sometime this weekend, i’ll hear a car door slam in my driveway, and He’ll be here.  My heart will beat faster.  i’ll smile to myself. 

i think i’m nervous.  It’s been a month since i’ve seen Him.  The last time He was here, it was the November munch, and Mick and Molly were here, and i was so excited i could hardly stand it.  Now those are just warm memories.  And i’m nervous.

i met Him in July.  The 18th of July – the last day of an art exhibit that i’d been involved in organizing.  The weekend had been full of events – poetry reading, a dance performance on Friday and Saturday nights, music, opportunities for people to create art, panel discussions, and films.

Good grief. i had forgotten what an amazing exhibit that was.

And then, Sunday night, when it was all over, and i could have been at home feeling – i don’t know what – let down, maybe, or just satisfied and content?  Well, instead i met Sir D for dinner.   He was the icing on the cake.  The gravy.

Dinner, and coffee, and a movie, and more dinner. 

It feels like ages ago.  Four and a half months.  My life has changed so much.  Munches and dungeons, ropes and fire… flying high.  Crashing hard. 

Tonight or tomorrow sometime, i’ll hear His car door close.  i’ll look out the window – He’ll be pulling His bags – His overnite bag, and maybe the toy bag – out of the trunk.  As i write this, i feel –

– an aching, longing. 

If i picture Him clearly in my mind, i shiver, my pussy clenches.  Really.  When i see Him in my mind, i feel drawn to Him.  It turns me on.  

And i feel sadness too today – maybe just some let-down from finishing “…and then.”  Can you get subdrop from a blog?  {laughing}  i don’t know.  Maybe.  For days, i’ve been waking up ready to write the next installment – excited about getting started.  Today feels blah.  Mundane. 

Not knowing if He’ll be here tonight or tomorrow may be a little blues-y.  It feels like i’ve waited for ever already.  (i know, i haven’t.)  

And  – i almost feel like – like i don’t know Him anymore?.   i know that’s not true.  In the couple of days He’s been home, we’ve talked.  He’s begun to draw me closer to Him again.  And i’m happy He’s coming down.   Very glad.

And part of me is holding back.  Like i don’t know what to expect, or how i’ll feel. 

i want Him to – i don’t know.  i don’t know what i need.  Maybe – 

In my fantasy, i felt so close to Him.   Even though it was a fantasy, and so it wasn’t actually “Him,” somehow it helped link me to Him. 

Today, i know it was just a fantasy, and it’s finished.  The link it created – the link was all in my own head.  He liked the posts, i know that, and that is a little connection, but the fantasy was all me.  It helped get me through the time He was away.  It was fun.  And none of it happened.

That link is not between us – it exists only in my mind.

You know, {laughing} sometimes i’ve done that with relationships too.  Projection, we call it. i’ve projected my own fantasies onto whoever i was with, and then been surprised to wake up and discover i was with a stranger.  

We all do that to some extent.  We can only imagine what we know, so when people behave in certain ways, we make up reasons for it.  Our own reasons, because that’s what we know.   

Here’s an example.  If i see someone step carefully around a bug, i might think, “what a respect for life – what a caring person – he didn’t even want to kill that bug.”   But maybe he just doesn’t like the feeling of a bug crunching under his shoe.   Maybe he doesn’t care at all.

If i hold on to the belief that he’s so caring, and try to explain all his behavior around that belief, i could be seriously deluded.  Not his fault.  My own blindness.  It’s like i made up a person, and was surprised when it turned out not to be him.

Sir and i have only known each other 4 and 1/2 months.  The last month of that, we’ve been apart.  We’ve been together less than a dozen times.  i love being with Him when He’s here.  i think about Him, write about Him,  fantasize about Him when He’s gone. 

i know that He feels something for me when He’s here.  i have no idea what He thinks or feels about me once He drives away.   i know what i hope, what i’d like, what i imagine.  i have no idea what is.   

And today, i’m acutely aware of that.   

Sigh.

i want.

i want Him to take me,

                 to pull me closer,

                                                to make me feel like i’m His. 

i want to – feel safe.  i want to feel safe serving Him, i want to kneel at His feet and feel like i belong there.   To feel assured that He wants me there – me.  That He sees me.

You know, collectively, submissive women may be a dime-a-dozen.  But indivdually, we’re not.  

i’m not. 

i know that…

Verbal touch… and then

2 Dec

Physical touch is so powerful and so pleasant, it surprises me that verbal touch is my favorite language of love.  Maybe that’s because it’s more universal.  There are lots of people we’re not supposed to touch physically.   Or can’t touch.  Verbal touch is always an option.

And i thought it would be easy to write this piece.  Instead, i’m struggling. Looking for words to describe the power of words. 

It’s not about affirmations – you know, the “i’m good enough, smart enough, loveable enough” thing.  It’s not even about validation – recognizing and acknowledging what people are thinking and feeling.  Or – it is both of those things, but not at the heart. 

Maybe after all this, i don’t have words for the words i love…

Back many years ago, when i was doing some therapeutic work of my own, i had a therapist named Dave.  Sometimes i’d be up at 4 o’clock in the morning, writing and thinking, and i’d get overwhelmed with – feelings.  Sadness, pain, grief, despair – you know – that stuff we work on in therapy. 

And i’d call Dave’s office – back in the day, he wouldn’t even know he’d missed a call.  i’d listen to his message, “Hello, you’ve reached the office of…” in his voice.  And i’d feel better.  i wouldn’t leave a message, i’d just listen and feel better. 

Sometimes, i’d call more than once. 

Once, when i 19 or 20, i was talking to my psychology professor, explaining why i hadn’t finished something i’d promised to do.  He looked at me with his kind eyes and said, “You’re really having a hard semester, aren’t you?” – and i burst into tears.  Ten minutes, and a bunch of kleenex, later, i felt so much better.

It was his words that touched me in the right spot – that opened the door for my tears and the healing.

My mother’s voice, saying my name.  My daughter, who still calls me “Mama.”   My friend Ruth, who just has to say “hello” to make me smile.    JM, the amazing analyst, whose voice can also soothe and heal and open the floodgates.  

The power isn’t just the words, is it?  Or – is it that words they’ve already said have built a link, and now just the voice is enough?  i don’t know.

His voice.  Sir’s voice.

i type those words, and get shivers through my body.  He is back from His vacation – well, back in where-He-lives, which is not so far from where-i-live.  We talked yesterday, twice.

{Smiling}

Seeing His name pop up on my phone is nice.  Hearing His voice is even better.   And then the words…  sometimes, i can’t think of what i want to say because i’m just wrapped up in listening to Him.  His voice – the verbal touch – carries so much with it.  It carries –

– the feelings i have where i left myself yesterday, on my knees on a blanket beside the fireplace, ass raised, head down, my hands behind me, opening my self for Him.  My Sir is behind me, His legs touching mine, His body pressed against mine, His cock poised

         – at the entrance to  – o, yes, i’ll say it easily – poised at my asshole – and then…

 i’m holding my breath cause i feel Him push – pushing His cock, which is wet and slippery from my pussy.  Pushing it into, opening me more, more than He already had.  And then –

“Breathe,” He says, and His voice is so normal and gentle that i relax and start breathing again.  And that opens me – and He slides deeper – He is starting to fill me – and for just a second i get a wave of panic again, almost that “sick at my stomach, i can’t do this” feeling and then…

He pulls back a little, it feels like He’s leaving, and i don’t want Him to – i want Him inside me – want Him to take me.  “O – Sir – please…”

“Please?” He says.  “Please what?”  He is poised, inside me but barely.

i know the words, i know the words i want to say, they’re right there – “Please, Sir, please fuck me in the ass.”  i sigh, a sigh of relief, of contentment.  “Please, Sir”

And He pushes forward again, burying Himself deeper inside me.  It stretches me, but i am relaxed and i welcome it, pushing myself back against Him.   i am totally open to Him, as if i have no bones, no muscle.  i belong to Him.

And He fucks me, pushes all the way into me.  i am pinned down, caught, taken, possessed.    Making noises – a gasp, a moan,  a whimper – omigod.   Loving the feeling of being His.

And then – “Touch yourself,” He says.  “Touch your pussy.”  Surprised, i obey, my hand goes to my pussy, my swollen lips, wet and slippery.  i caress myself, rubbing the button of pleasure – rubbing my clit.  And quickly, the feeling begins to build.

The fullness, the sensation of being taken, His cock fucking me, and the tingling, vibrating, rising pleasure and then i am going up – up – all my sensations focused there – between my legs, between my ass cheeks, in those few inches of space – omigod – going up higher – and then –

i am tumbling over the top, crying out, shaking, trembling, tumbling over the top and back down….  crying His name.  

Collapsing, spent, finished, feeling Him thrusting  deep into me, welcoming it, pressing back into Him, wanting Him deeper, wanting Him all – until He is there too – over the top –

                                              and i hear Him cry out, and His cock throbs, and i feel the heat as He explodes inside me.

And then, lying there, finished, drained, complete, His body relaxed as well, weighing on my back, i feel His hand touch my hair, His breath on my neck. 

“Good girl,” He says. 

*****************************************************

Friday i will see Him, just today left in my countdown – and then tomorrow He will be here.  {Smiling…}