Archive | July, 2012

Quotes to Consider

21 Jul

i’ve been reading Audre Lorde quotes again.  They’re fascinating.  i think i’ve posted some before.  Maybe even the same ones, i don’t know.

i post them on Facebook sometimes, but get little response, and i think maybe somehow they belong here, bridging some gap between BDSM and feminism and just being a woman.

i love this one, and i’m not even sure why.  It gives me a feeling i can’t name.

“Some women wait for themselves around the next corner and call the empty spot peace but the opposite of living is only not living and the stars do not care.” 

i can’t tell you what i think it means, but it speaks to me.

This one too:

“We tend to think of the erotic as an easy, tantalizing sexual arousal. I speak of the erotic as the deepest life force, a force which moves us toward living in a fundamental way.” 

When she speaks of pain, it resonates with me.  We work with pain, in our lives, in our blogs.  Learning to embrace it, handle it, channel it, whatever it is we need to do with it, we explore here.  She says it for me.

“Pain is important: how we evade it, how we succumb to it, how we deal with it, how we transcend it.” 

And then she says:

“We have been raised to fear the yes within ourselves, our deepest cravings.” 

And i have to stop.  i feel that inside myself somewhere, and know that it applies to so many things.  Kink, of course, but lots of things.  

“The yes within ourselves.”  What a fabulous ~ image?  concept?  feeling?  i don’t know what it is, but i want to claim it, that yes within myself.

“We must recognize and nurture the creative parts of each other without always understanding what will be created.” 

i think of all the changes in my life, many of which are connected with blogging here, and the nurturing of this community.  

Yeah.

So i’m just meandering through this today, on my way to cook some vegetables, make my world-famous (not)  vegetarian pot pie, and thought i’d share them with you ~ the quotes, that is, not the pot pie, although, if you’re in the neighborhood, feel free to stop by.   

i need  to keep moving here… Saturday night is date night, ya know, and i’m pretty sure that Sir will be in need of some attention. {Happy sigh}  

P.S.  In case you were wondering ~ i resolved the calendar issue.  Thanks for all the input, especially Michelle!!

A New Task

20 Jul

i have a new task.  i need to keep a calendar that He can access so He knows what we’re supposed to be doing when.  

i love that.  It doesn’t sound sexy, does it?  But it is to me.

Of course nothing is as easy as it sounds, and my technology isn’t always compatible with His.  Yes, we’re a mixed household ~ He’s PC, i’m Mac.  

i know there are theoretically easy solutions to this.  i just haven’t quite figured out how to do it.  But i’m working on it.

Now i’m off to do my volunteer thing, which i’ve started doing on Fridays as well as Saturdays.  Good times ahead.

And the Kink Goes On…

19 Jul

Last night, Sir and i met for dinner.  We thought we were going to a restaurant at one end of B-town road, but He got there first and discovered that they didn’t actually have a Hibachi grill.  {Which  ~ i misspelled it as Hitachi grill and He called me dirty girl ~ hmpf.} 

ANYHOW.  He was texting me that where we thought it was, it wasn’t, and asking me where i was, and i told Him on B-town Road, heading south, and all He replied was “Keep heading.”

For a second, i was annoyed, i thought, “heading where?  How will i know where i’m going?”  And then i thought, “What difference does it make?”  So i texted back, “Ok.”  

And He texted back, “Perfect.”

That made me smile, and recognize the submission too.  So what if i drove past the place and had to turn around?  What else did i have to do at that was more important than following directions?  

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

So you would think when i get directions later last night, after dinner, that i would have been able to follow them.  “White shirt, white panties, tie your hair back.  Home in twenty minutes.”

And i did ~ except for the hair.  Which is the second time i’ve neglected to do that.  There were no immediate consequences, which has me a little worried, but no point anticipating trouble.

Anyhow.

While i remedy the hair error, He disappears into the basement, muttering “something I need to do down here.”  

A few minutes later, He directs me to fix Him a soft drink with lots of ice, but He says i have to walk backwards to bring it to Him, even down the stairs.

So i do, slowly and carefully, and He directs me to a chair, with my back to the rest of the basement.  

And the games begin.

Collar and cuffs.  

He says:  You remember what I told you about this collar the other night, don’t you?

me:  {Only slightly panicky} Nooooooo, Sir, what?

Sir:  It’s a magic collar.  Do you remember why??

me:  O, yes, Sir!!  {Triumphant} Because when i’m wearing it, i’ll do anything You tell me to do.  

Sir:  That’s right.

me:  But ~ {a little confused} but i do everything You tell me to do anyway, don’t i??

Sir:  {laughing}  That’s right.  You do.  But that’s not the point here.

He puts his hands around my neck, squeezes gently.  i feel my self slipping into that head space where really, what He wants is all that exists.  

When He’s ready, He turns me so i can see His project for the evening.

He has rigged a pulley.  With rope.  So He can suspend my arms over my head.

Which He does.  Securely.  Almost on my toes, but not quite.

Panties around my ankles then he tucks the shirt up so my ass is exposed.

The canes.  Without the warm up this time, although He pinches my nipple while He’s doing it, and i count, only i lose count and we have to start over again, and it hurts, it really, really hurts, but i want those stripes, i want marks that last.

30, only 30 this time, but it feels like more.

And then He uses something else ~ it has a flapper, like a crop at the end, but it’s some DIY thing He made, and it stings, but compared to the canes, it’s a caress and i’m whimpering with pleasure this time.

Afterwards, He has me lie on the coffee table, pussy up, and He ties my arms down.  Attaches my ankles to a spreader bar, and then, with the handy pulley He’s made, raises them in the air.

Yeah.  Picture that.

He’s quite pleased with His mechanical success, and i can’t help ~ you know, giggling.  Which could have ended badly, only He decides to stuff my panties in my mouth, which is another effective way to stop the giggling.

He attaches the evil canes to my nipples.

While i squirm, barely able to whimper, He makes Himself comfortable in a chair beside me.  Casually, He taps my pussy and inner thighs with His big wooden spoon, while He tells me a kinky story.

And if the rest of the evening is a blur, it’s ok.   It’s a blur of pleasure, replete with vibrating dildos and His cock filling my mouth, His cock filling my pussy, and pleasure beyond time.

This morning, i am still tingling, still tuned in to Him.  He takes the cuffs off my wrists, and His touch makes me shiver.  

“Just because I’m taking these off, doesn’t mean they’re not still there,” He says.

Yes, Sir.  i knew that.

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Luxury Lazing

18 Jul

This morning, my alarm went off, and i hit “snooze,” and Sir curls around me from the back, the way He does, and i scoot my butt a little closer to Him, and sort of snooze.  When the alarm goes off again, i start to get up, and then i think,

“Why get up right now?  It’s not like i’m on a tight time schedule today.  There are gonna be plenty of days again when i am, when i’ll need to jump out of bed.  But not today.”

So i snuggle and snooze for an hour or so, never quite sleeping, never quite awake.  Feel His body pressed against me, His hand around my wrist.

Aaaaaaaah.

“The ache for home lives in all of us. The safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” 
― Maya Angelou, All God’s Children Need Traveling Shoes

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Humiliation

17 Jul

Stumbled across this quote by a poet a friend mentioned to me:

There is a lovely root to the word humiliation – from the latin word humus, meaning soil or ground. When we are humiliated, we are in effect returning to the ground of our being.

Shedding the carapace we have been building so assiduously on the surface, we must by definition give up exactly what we thought was necessary to protect us from further harm. The outlaw is the radical, the one close to the roots of existence. The one who refuses to forget their humanity and in remembering, helps everyone else remember too.

To die inside, is to rob our outside life of any sense of arrival from that interior. Our work is to make ourselves visible in the world. This is the soul’s individual journey, and the soul would much rather fail at its own life than succeed at someone else’s.

~~ David Whyte

i like the idea ~ or i’m drawn to it ~ of our souls being on their own journey that may or may not coincide with where we think we’re going.  

Thomas Moore writes a lot about creating soul, growing our souls, and JM, the amazing analyst, has the same view.  It’s a little bit different way of seeing things, this idea that our bodies exist to support our souls.

i’ve read some blogs lately that were talking about humiliation as a fetish, and trying to figure out why they were turned on by it.  Thought this was an interesting perspective.

On the home front, all is well.  No sub drop {and thanks, Donna, for reminding me not to expect it, self-fulfilling prophecies being what they are.}

Sir and i had a lovely, quiet evening at home last night.  We talked a little bit about the previous evening, rehashed some favorite parts.  He’s already planning future activities, of course.

And He surprised me because He already knows what He wants me to wear to the play party at COPE in September.  Really.  He has it planned out.  

And it involves nipple clamps.  

Sheesh.

No, i don’t think that will be humiliating.  Exactly.  At least i don’t think so.  i mean, that’s not what got me thinking about humiliation.  The quote made me think about humiliation.

So after a light dinner, last night, Sir let me rub His back ~ His lower back was hurting, not from the night before, but just because.  i massaged with my hands for a while, but then, because it wasn’t just a sensual massage, i got my killer massager and used that.

Here it is:

It’s a serious massager.  i have a number of implements of massage, from the cheap, battery operated ones you slide your feet into to this one ~ and a foot massager of equal power.

Anyhow, this one not only made His back feel better last night, but it still feels better this morning, so that’s pretty cool.  

And then we curled up together, and He played with me, but just for a minute, before we fell asleep.

This post seems kind of disjointed to me.  i might still be a little spacy.  But this is what i’ve got today.  And nothing wrong with spacy, right?

 

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After the Social

16 Jul

After the ice-cream social, which was lots of fun, i thought Sir would take the grandkids home, come back, and we’d spend a quiet evening side-by-side on our computers.  

Usually, He reads the news, or watches a movie, i look at facebook or blog or answer email.  We chat.  It’s lovely.

That’s not what happened last night.  Instead, i get a text:

“You should put on the white shirt.  White panties.  Tie your hair back.”

And then, seconds later:

“Blister your butt.”

Re-energized, i rush off to shave and get ready.

The panties are white, and not sexy, they’re little girl panties, silky material, a tiny bit of lace around the waist, but not bikinis or even cut hi.  

He takes me to the basement.  He has already prepared the coffee table.  There’s a pillow on it, and then the workbench is pushed up to it, a quilt draped over it all ~ it is clear that i will be kneeling on the table, bent over the bench.  

But not right away.

First, He puts the cuffs on.  Collar first.  The wide leather collar, so heavy i am always a little aware of it.  Wrists.  Ankles.  

“Lie down,” He says.  “Go on.  Face up.  Head on the pillow.  Feet right here.”

He binds me to the coffee table.  Arms at my sides, knees bent, feet apart.  i am completely comfortable.  And completely secure.

And then things begin to happen.  i don’t think i can say them in the right order.  i don’t know anymore.

i am still in that space a bit, you know, where it’s all a blur and when He touches me, it’s like electricity shooting through me and i melt and want to touch Him for a long time, and kiss Him and…

anyhow

you know, that head space.

So here are the things i remember ~~

the shoe horn, He used the shoe horn, between my legs, yes, right there, and it hurt but not too much, and on the inside of my thighs too, holding one thigh down so i’m open and exposed, slapping it ~

And the wooden spoon, on my breasts, the back of it landing on my nipples and

He takes my panties, the white panties, and holds them up, “Nice,” He says, and He folds them in half.  i wonder why, i’m watching, all bound to the coffee table,  but He folds them again, and again.   In fact, He rolls them up.   

“Open your mouth,” He says.

What?  i’m ~ i think i still don’t believe it ~ i open my mouth, and He does it, he sticks them in my mouth.  

“Can you talk?”  He asks.

“Mmm” i say.

He smiles.  “The answer is No.  Good.”

They’re not uncomfortable, and i don’t drool, and i think, i don’t have a safe word, or a safe signal ~

but i’m not worried about it at all, i just notice it.

There’s the cane-nipple-clamp thingy, He puts that on, and it’s not too bad because He leaves it unclipped in the middle, He just clips it at the ends, but it’s still intense.

And then He goes upstairs to get something, and i’m alone and He turns off the lights on His way up, and i’m tied and helpless, gagged, nipples clamped, and i think i should be scared but i’m not…

and He comes back with The Phallus.

i’m glad i can still moan and make a little bit of noise.  i whimper and twist and squirm, opening and accepting ~

at some point there’s ice water, dripped onto me ~ i don’t remember when ~ and maybe other things that are lost to me now ~

And then later, much later, i think, He unties me, takes out the panties.  

i have no urge to talk.  i’m glad my mouth is not full but i don’t need to talk.  

i am so deep into submission, i have no will of my own.

He clips my ankle cuffs together, shackled, i could not leave if i wanted to, not that i want to, but ~ He helps me stand and ~

“Kneel,” He says, “Up there, yes, right there ~ on the pillow ~”

and i do, i manage to get up on the coffee table, kneeling and i already know to bend over the work bench, which is higher, so i’m perfectly comfortable, only i think that won’t last long ~

and it doesn’t.

“Count,” He says.  “Count quietly, but don’t lose track.”  

And He starts.

It’s the cane.  Of course.

It whistles, and lands, and He does it over and over in the same area.  i’m sure it will mark me.

And i’m counting, thinking hard about the number, i don’t want to forget, and

then He asks, and i know, it’s 18, Sir, and He goes on and

~ it’s 29, Sir, and by then it hurts a lot, a whole lot, and at 35, i’m jerking before it lands, twitching, cause i know it’s coming, and i want to avoid it.

“Relax,” He says, and of course, i can’t, but He strokes and caresses until i do and then ~

~ when i am nicely relaxed again ~

Whoosh!  

And it lands again.

YIKES!

42.  We are at 42 when He stops, and i can feel the welts on my ass before He touches them. 

42.

And them i am pleasing Him, with my mouth, and there is nothing else on earth i’d rather be doing.  He gives me a pillow, and i can make myself comfortable, and take my time and 

it is heaven.  

After ~

i am too spaced to think, and He tucks me in bed.  

He tells me the white shirt is mine now, and my responsibility, and i may need to iron it, but He wants it crisp and ready to wear at all times.   i laugh and say i’ll take it to the dry cleaners, but He frowns, and shakes His head. He says when He unbuttons it, He wants to think about me taking care of it, not some girl at the dry cleaners.

Chastened, i know He’s right.

When He comes to bed, i don’t know when, but He touches me, and i am alert and completely aroused, it is like electricity.  i whimper and try to rub against Him, like a cat in heat,

but He only plays with me for a little bit, and then He takes my wrists in His hand and i already know He’s done.  He holds me tight, pressed to Him, and i fall back asleep.

This morning, i am still half gone, still half there in that space where only He is real, and the space between my legs, which belongs to Him, and my heart, which is His too.

i was afraid He did not want to dominate me, and instead He has taken me completely, deeper into subspace than i’ve ever been, lost in longing to serve Him, and i wonder ~

will i bounce out of this, or will He keep me here in this space forever?  Will there be a crashing subdrop?  A slide back into the other side of reality?  

i don’t know, all i can do is trust Him, and trust myself, that we will find the right way for us.

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National Ice Cream Day

15 Jul

Yessss!!

National Ice Cream Day.

AND we’re actually having family over for a picnic/ ice cream social.  Hence, the need for an ice cream scoop.  Which we still don’t have.  But Sir’s getting one this morning, so that’s all good.

Here’s a fun quote:

“I want everyone to throw sugar and cream at each other, then lie about it. I want to attend an ice cream antisocial.” 
― Benson Bruno, Evergreens Are Prudish

But we are having an ice cream SOCIAL, not an anti-social.  

And we planned it before we knew it was National Ice Cream Day.  Either that, or our ice cream social has gone National.    

Lol…

In any case, we’re also having a salad bar, so i have lots of prep work to do.  And people are bringing a dish, so that’s good too.

Here’s another ice cream quote:

“Forget art. Put your trust in ice cream.” 
― Charles Baxter, The Feast of Love

Enjoy your day!

The Grocery

14 Jul

We went out for ice cream last night, custard actually, which was delicious and fun.  On the way home, we stop at a mega grocery, looking for an ice cream scoop.

We find six of them to choose from, but Sir isn’t satisfied with any of them.  He thinks we can do better.  

i think ~ whatever.  In the most respectful way possible.

i do find tie hangars for 1.99 and a lint remover refill and ~ are you ready for this?  Eggies.

They purport to boil eggs without the shell.  Seriously.

You crack an egg, put it in the eggie and seal it up, put it in boiling water, and when it’s done ~ presto, abbra-ca-dabra ~ you have a hard-boiled egg that’s already peeled.

Yes, i now own them.  

Don’t laugh.

i stand there for a long time before i decide.  But i’m actually making deviled eggs tomorrow.  How can i  resist?

Sir laughs when i pick them up.  i say, “i HAVE to have them.”

He says, “O, I knew you were going to get them, I just didn’t know how long it would take you to do it.”

i will let you know if they work ~ unless youall already know all about them and use them?   Or know they don’t work?

Anyhow, while we’re in the ice cream scoop aisle, i move away from Him a bit and am scoping out the possible scoops, when He says, “Look at this!  All it needs is veins.”

i glance down the aisle and see this:

Yikes!

i laugh, but it looks so realistic, i have to take a picture, which makes Him laugh.

i am careful not to “get the giggles,” since He’s already pleased with Himself for finding a sure-fire cure for them.  “Yep, I’ll get out the lube and insert my thumb… that should help you focus pretty quickly.”  This amuses Him greatly, although when i suggest i’d be glad to do the same for Him if He gets the giggles, He is quick to let me know that is NOT going to be an option.

Yes, i already knew that.

Anyhow, i had texted Him earlier for permission for that elusive orgasm from the night before, and He’d agreed.  Later, we’re talking, relaxing after dinner, about the caning He’d administered Wednesday night.

He’d left a couple of marks, and had thought they would linger to the next day, but they didn’t.  He’s going to figure out how to leave a stripe or two on my ass that will last a while, which i want too.

Then He talked about the nipple clamp that fell off, and how He’s no longer going to rely on a subjective sense of whether they’re tight enough.  He explains that objectively He knows if He adds a weighted ring to the dangling chain, He needs to tighten the clamps.

He points out that He’s no longer going to attend to my squeals and little oooh’s and ahhhhh’s, or let that influence Him, but just tighten the clamps so we’re not surprised like that again.  

He tells me all this with an air of reassuring me, as if i’ll be relieved to know the clamps won’t fall off anymore.

Yes, Sir, i’m sure that will be much better.

 Then He adds, “O, yeah, and from now on, when you masturbate, you need to do it in a different room of the house each time.  Let me know as you finish with each room.”
Ok.  That makes me smile.  i can do that… no problem.  But i have a feeling  the games are just beginning.

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What Did i Ask For?

13 Jul

So last night, i was trying to get my iCal to export to google, and the computer wasn’t cooperating {ok, i was doing something wrong} and i tried much longer than i wanted to and still hadn’t succeeded when i went to bed.  i was sleepy and a little cranky.

Sir tucked me in, which He has started doing {ok, i might ask Him to when He doesn’t automatically do it.}  And He went back to finish whatever He was working on.

But He comes to bed a few minutes later, and instead of just wrapping Himself around me and going to sleep, He starts playing with me.  Gently but persistently, stroking and touching, and more, til i’m whimpering and squirming.

i think i’m going to cum, i’m this  } { close ~

~ but i don’t.

So when He’s through with me, i think, “well, i’ll finish what He’s started,” and it looks like He’s going to help ~

~ for about a minute.

Then He says, “Ok, you need to go to sleep.”

i say, “O-o-ooooo, not yet,” with just a hint of question in my voice.  “i won’t be able to sleep.”

“Yes, you will,” He says.

He turns me so i’m on my side, wraps Himself behind me, and takes my wrists in His hand.  Kisses me on the back of my head and says, “Have sweet dreams.”

My mouth drops open in shock.  i can’t believe He’s doing this.  He never does this. i’m sure i’ll be awake for hours.  

Instead, i fall sound asleep and don’t remember a thing until my alarm goes off way-too-early.

This is the beginning of “be careful what you ask for,” isn’t it?

i’m so excited…. 

“I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen.” 
― A.A. Milne

aisha Gets Pouty

12 Jul

All day yesterday, i was excited at the prospect of kinky times ahead.   i was doing productive things all day, but underneath was a simmer of excitement.

At the end of the day, home before Sir, i start cleaning up, getting ready for His arrival. i’m getting ready to put on my favorite shirt with buttons, when i feel a rush of uncertainty.

Why am i getting all tarted up for Him?  He hasn’t told me to.  He hasn’t told me to in a long time.  

No, i just assume this is what He wants.  He didn’t text me during the day or anything.  He didn’t tell me to “wear buttons.”  Why am i doing all this?

What if He comes home tired and isn’t even interested?  What if He meant we wouldn’t have time for dinner because we’re going to work on our digital picture display?  

What if He doesn’t want to be my Sir anymore?  What if we’re just going to have a vanilla relationship from now on?

As the thoughts flash through my mind, each one is more convincing than the one before it.   In no time, i’m almost certain that Sir doesn’t want to be my Dom, much less my Master.

i feel bereft.  i sigh.

Ok, i still care about Him.  We’ll work it out.  i’ll deal with it somehow.

And then, instead of putting on the black shirt with the buttons over the cute panties and bra i’d changed into, i just put on regular clothes.  And go to tidy the kitchen and empty the dishwasher. 

i feel pouty.  What am i supposed to do?  Just assume He wants me to wear that shirt?  He never gives me instructions anymore.  He never tells me what to do.  Why did i even get cleaned up?

Pout, pout, pout.  

i know i’m pouty.  i think seriously about running over here and doing a blog post on how pouty i feel.  i think about what youall would say to me.  i think  you would be sympathetic, and would point out that i need to talk to Him about it.

Fortunately, i don’t stop to blog, and i am just emptying the dishwasher when He comes home.

We hug, for a long time, as we do.  i am almost ok for a minute, but then i remember that we aren’t going to have a kinky relationship anymore and i’m sad.

i go back to emptying the dishwasher.

He looks at me a little strangely, but just says, “When you finish that,  you can fix me some coffee.”  

i say, “i’ll do it now,” but before i can close the dishwasher, He steps up behind me and grabs my breast, begins twisting the nipple.

i don’t respond as i usually do.  i kind of just stand there.  Inside, i’m still thinking how sad it is that we aren’t going to have a D/s relationship anymore.

He says, “I’m interrupting what you’re doing?” in mild tones.

i say, “No,” and then i realize i have to tell Him how i feel and what i’m thinking, and i don’t want to, but it’s like youall are watching me, waiting for me to do the right thing.  

{Did i invite youall to come eavesdrop on my life?  O, wait, yeah, i guess i did!} 

It’s soooo hard, the words don’t want to come out, but i manage to say, “i’m just in a weird head space.”

He says, “What kind of weird head space?  What happened?”

i say, “No, nothing happened, it’s just, it’s just, i feel weird, it’s stupid, i don’t know why i feel like this…”

He says, “Fix us both some coffee and we’ll sit down and talk about it.”

So i fix His coffee, and mine, which is more of a process than you might think, and when i’ve finished, He says “Put your coffee right here,” pointing to a spot on the table, “And you sit right here,” tapping his thigh, “on my lap.”

So i do, i sit on His lap, and He says, “Now tell me.”

And so i tell Him about coming home and starting to get ready, and i only get as far as “i was getting ready to change clothes, but…” when He interrupts me ~

“But you didn’t know what you were supposed to wear.  ‘Cause no one told you.”

And He wraps His arms around me, and i nod.  i’m thinking that sounds ridiculous, but He doesn’t seem to think so.

He gets it.

And i say, “Well.  You know.  i don’t have rules.  Or routines.  Or anything,” still a little pouty.

He takes over then, gently, seamlessly, but certainly.

The next thing i know, i’m wearing one of His dress shirts, a white one.   You know the kind, cotton, button-down collar, and the sleeves are so long i have to roll them three times.  It feels good, a little stiff and starch-y against my skin.

He takes me to the basement.  

Our basement is full of stuff at the moment, but there’s a clear space in the middle, and He’s put His coffee table there.  It’s covered with a towel.

There’s a towel, doubled over on the floor next to it.

This is not looking good for me.  Or maybe it is looking good, depending on how you look at it.

“Kneel,” He says.  “Mmmhmmm.  Bend over the table.  Yes.  Just like that.”

And He starts easy.  With His hand.  A gentle warm up.

Then a not so gentle warm up.  And i’m squirming and squealing a little.  And He says something ~

omg, i can’t even remember what He says, but it strikes me funny, and i start giggling.  All bent over the table, panties around my knees and i’m giggling.

“Laughing?” He says.  “You think this is funny?’

“No ~ no, i don’t,” i say, but i can’t quit giggling.

And then there’s a cane.

“Maybe this will help you stop laughing,” He says, as it swooshes across my ass.

“Omigod, i’m sure it will!” i say ~ but it doesn’t.  i’m still giggling.

And He strikes a couple of more times, but i can’t stop, i know it’s ridiculous and not even in my best interest, but the giggles win out.  

So He puts the cane down.  “Maybe this will stop all that giggling,” He says.  

i can hear Him doing something behind me, but i don’t know what, til i feel something cold and sticky ~ O ~ it’s lube, o yikes ~ 

and suddenly there’s lots of penetration, all kinds of penetration, and i’m not laughing.  Not at all.

i’m making a whole different kind of noise.  

And He’s laughing.

Once He’s quite sure i’m through giggling, the canes return, and have the intended effect.

Later, much later, we talk about the D/s aspect of our relationship.  He says He’s pleased that i was able to tell Him what i was feeling.  He says He’s been giving me some time to concentrate on the changes in my life, especially the grand baby, but it’s time to change that.

He says that in the next week or two, we’ll establish some goals for me.  A personal development goal and a sexual ~ D/s sexual ~ goal, that He’ll help me work toward.  

He says He’ll give me plenty of rules and structure.

Being the contrary creature that i can be, i’m a little nervous about that now.   After all, i don’t really need rules, do i?  i’m a good girl, i am…

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