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Looking Forward

20 Nov

He grasps my hair.  Firmly at first, then pulling a little bit harder.  i whimper, not because it hurts.   The feeling brings me to my knees, mentally i slip into submissive mode.

“Miss me?” He asks.

i can’t move my head enough to nod, i gasp, “Yes, Sir, of course, You know i did.”

He releases my hair, smiles, “Good.”

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

i am kneeling, sucking His cock.  My mouth slides up and down, His hands are on my head, setting the rhythm.  Once i’ve got it right, He can release me, let me continue from there.

He is so hard, and i cannot contain all of Him… i focus on my mouth, His cock.  While i’m here, nothing else exists.  i’m here to serve, to please His cock.

It leaves me so hot, so wet – i long to feel Him inside me, His cock filling me.  Want to feel Him slam against me … my legs up, pressed against my chest…want to feel Him pounding me, fucking me hard;

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

“I think you need to be spanked,” He says.

Immediately, my pussy clenches, wet and so hot, i shiver. 

“Get me the yardstick,” He says.

My awareness of my body increases; as i walk to the bedroom to get the yardstick, i’m deeply aware of my movements.  My feet on the ground.  My arms – my arms feel awkward, i don’t know what to do with them.

i know exactly where the yardstick is.  Of course.  My mouth feels dry as i retrieve it from its spot in the corner of the room.

i can’t decide how to carry it, atlhough, with it in my hands, i feel less awkward.  i think, “My thoughts are less focused on my self and more focused on Him now,” but that’s not quite true.  My thoughts are on the yardstick, and i’m aware of my ass, which is a little tingly in anticipation.

As i get closer to Him again, i lay the yardstick across both hands, holding them out in front of me, clearly offering it.  i stand in front of Him, quite close to Him – He could reach out and take it, but He doesn’t.   It takes me a few seconds – and then –

i kneel, still holding the yardstick outstretched toward Him.  i am so close to Him, almost touching Him.

He takes it then, “Good girl,” He says, and –

-i’m overwhelmed, a wave of heat runs through me – o, it makes me shiver and want His touch.  i want to rest my head on His knee, i want to kiss and stroke Him.  But –

“No need to get up,” He says, standing, coming around behind me.  i want to look over my shoulder, to see what He’s doing, but i don’t.

“You can bend over where you are,” He says.  “Put your arms on the chair, go ahead now.”

There is comfort in leaning onto the chair, still warm from His body.  i bend forward, but “Move back a little, get a little farther away from the couch,” He says.  “Open your legs a little bit more,” and He taps the inside of my thighs with the yardstick until i’ve spread them far enough to satisfy. 

He slaps the yardstick against His palm.  i shiver – my mind is blank – there is only Him, and the yardstick, and my quivering body, waiting.

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

Ok, so none of those things actually happened last night.  But any of them could, in just a couple of weeks…

 

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M& M Munch – Part III – The Dungeon

9 Nov

The dungeon is just as i remember it. 

 

Only you have to imagine the people...

 

Mick and Molly are as wide-eyed as i was the first time i came here.  Asking all kinds of pertinent questions about the equipment and protocol, some of which i answer, some of which i defer to Sir D.  At first, things seem ordinary, as people arrive slowly, change in the dressing rooms.

We leave our stuff – Sir has a toy bag, a rope bag, and a bag with clothes;  Mick and Molly have a backpack.  We pile it up on one of the chairs in – in the room with all the chairs. 

“Can you change out here?” asks Molly, “Do you have to use the dressing room?”

“Molly,” says Sir, slightly emphasizing each word, “You can do – anything you want to do,” and he smiles, a slightly wicked smile.

Mick puts on his collar.  It’s a regular leather collar, and it looks good on him.  i think he becomes a little more deferential at that point, not that he hasn’t been all along.  The effect is increased when Molly attaches a silver leash.  After that, he is close by her side at all times, unless specifically directed otherwise.

The dungeon is warm.  Sir changes his shirt and sweater for a t-shirt. 

i am a little warm, and my shoes are a little uncomfortable.  i had brought some jeans and a shirt,  flat shoes and a sweatshirt for after, even knowing i probably wouldn’t be in my clothes too long.   But my feet are uncomfortable, and i’m just a little warm.

“May i change clothes, Sir?” i ask.  He looks at me, looks up and down, pauses, considering.  “No,” He says, “i think i want you to stay in that.”

(My pussy clenches as i write those words.  Why is it such a turn on to do what He wants?)

Molly looks surprised. She looks at me, “Are you going to change?” she asks.

“No!” i say, surprised myself now.  i pause.  “Molly, for now, in this space and time, i mean not at work, but now, i do what He tells me to.  If He said – kneel – i would.  Right now.  No question.  i’d do – anything, really.  Of course i won’t change if He doesn’t want me to.”

He smiles, shrugs, “just a preference,” He says.  “Because i can.”  His words send little waves of excitement through me.  i smile, acknowledging His claim.

And then our attention is caught by something else – the couple with floggers, maybe, who use one of the St. Andrew’s crosses for a large portion of the night, the rhythmic sound of floggers adding an extra percussion layer to the background music.  We wander, people’s apparel becomes more clearly fetish wear, and scenes begin to unfold.

Mick has mentioned the matching sorority sisters, and i’ll let him elaborate on that. 

At some point, Molly decides to get more comfortable, and loses the dress, adds some beautiful elbow length gloves.  You can see her picture here.  Mick stays even closer by her side, if that’s possible.  We wander, separating and coming back together, as they explore the dungeon space. 

i follow Sir around as He talks to different people, introducing me often to people i haven’t met yet.   More than one person wants Him to do rope with them during the evening, and i’m relieved that He turns them down.   i hope that He wants to play with me tonight as much as i want Him to play with me.   

We run into some new friends who we’d met at the munch in Sir’s town.  They’re from a considerable distance away and have been camping out in the dungeon all weekend.  It’s fun to see them again. 

A St. Andrew’s cross opens up for use, and Sir asks me how i’d feel about “doing something with flogging,”  and of course i’d be fine with that.  But as we’re saying it, before we move close enough to signal our intention, another couple moves into the space.  The other crosses are in use.

So we settle ourselves near the suspension rig, and i can tell that Sir’s thinking “rope,” so i am too, wondering what He’ll do tonight. 

 

You can see the suspension rig in the far left corner. We're actually sitting in some chairs around the corner.

 

i hope that Mick and Molly are having a good time, i think they are, although i think they would maybe enjoy the COPE event more, where sexual contact is on the menu.   But i hope this will get them well-primed for more intimate activity back in their hotel room.

As the scene in front of us starts to wrap up, i know that i’ll be fairly spacy later on.   So Mick and Molly and i exchange early good-byes – i want to be sure they know how much i’ve enjoyed meeting them and sharing this time.  i mean, really.  If you’d told me a year ago that i’d be writing a kinky sex blog, and that i would get to know some other bloggers who would then step out of the computer to come play with me and my Dom in a dungeon – well, i can’t even imagine what i’d say!

And it’s  been soooo much fun.  i am still close enough to my first time in the dungeon that i can imagine their feelings, as i watch.  Molly is more transparent – her eyes widen, she nudges me, gestures at the sights that interest and amaze, whispers, ‘Look.   What are they doing?” sometimes.  Mick is less expressive, but i can feel him taking notes on it all in his head.

But then – the scene is almost wrapped up, and Sir says, “Get my rope bag, please.”  i bring the wrong bag first, and start to take it back, but He says, “that’s ok, leave it,” so i do, and go back for the right bag.   (Thank goodness, He’s let me take my shoes off a little bit earlier.)

Sir tests the ring on the suspension rig, swinging from it for a moment, before he starts unpacking His ropes.  He calls me to Him.  With just a few words, He moves me into that space where i begin to lose track of the people around me.  They fade away, become background noise, as i listen to Him. 

“I need you to stay aware of your body,”  He says.  “Let Me know if the rope feels too tight, pinches or feels like too much pressure.  Can you do that?”

“Yes, Sir, i will.”

 “Try to stay aware of how fatigued you’re getting.  I want you to try to let Me know a little bit before you get so tired you’re thinking, ‘o, just let me down.’  Can you do that?”  

“Yes, Sir, i think i can.” 

Then – “Kneel,” He says – and i do.  Gladly.  This time, He half kneels with me; He’s at my level.  Commanding all my attention, he talks to me,  pulling me deeper into connection with Him. 

Truly, the rest of the room disappears.  i’m aware of the space directly around us.  Nothing else quite exists. 

There’s a young man we’d met – one of the threesome who’d been camping out at the dungeon – who was wanting to learn rope.  He joins us in the suspension area, and Sir begins explaining what He’s doing as He does it.  i had wondered if this would be distracting, if it would disturb the connection between Sir and me, but instead, the spell is woven around the three of us.  

So i feel the rope, spinning its magic around me, and i can hear Sir describing what He’s doing, and all my senses are focused there.  i remember to pay attention to how the rope feels on me, attending to the sensations so i can tell Him if anything doesn’t feel right. 

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

i had every intention of finshing this today.    Really.  i wasn’t looking to carry it on another day (even though it probably staves off sub-drop.)   But – work is calling my name.  i need to get there early today, not just barely on time.   So i’ll stop here – finish tomorrow, ok?

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Slipping Away – more Fantasy

22 Oct

“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.”   Og Mandino

i’m feeling some submissive angst this morning.  Not for any good reason, maybe it’s the full moon touching me.  Or the highs and lows of my vanilla life. 

For whatever reason, i feel still.  And alone.  

i slip into my mind…

In my fantasy…

i am lying in bed.  My hands are clasped together, attached to my collar, like in Story of O.  i am not chained to the bed – there’s no need for that.  Where would i go? 

My pussy throbs and aches.  i can’t sleep. 

i think back on the day.

When they finish removing the last trace of hair from my pussy, they wash me.  Warm, soapy water – at least it feels slick, as if it has soap in it.  i am still blindfolded.  i don’t know how they do it, with me lying on the table on my back, legs pushed up to my chest.  But they do. 

As they pat me dry, the soft towel feels rough, touching skin that has never been exposed before.

They aren’t massaging me anymore.  Hands grasp my ankles, and my wrists.  I’m not struggling.  i’m listening.  Are either of the men still in the room?

When they have finished drying me, they remove the blindfold.  i blink in the light, having grown used to the darkness. 

There are four women, two on each side of me.  i see that first.  Then the mirror.

It is above me, on the ceiling.  i’m caught by my reflection – my pussy, so naked, so exposed, reflected there.  i close my eyes quickly, but- 

“Open your eyes.”  It’s a male voice.  i don’t know if it’s Jon, who came in after i was there,  or Brian, who was there first.  The voice is firm.  “Go ahead,” is there a hint of amusement in the voice?  “Go ahead and look in the mirror.”

i open my eyes.

Having done that, i can’t escape, i can’t look away.  O, my.  There i am.  Spread open.  Parts of  me i’d never seen before, on display.   i’m humiliated.  And wet, so wet, and not from the water either.  Wet and hot, and despite myself, i whimper.

He moves into the reflection then.  i can see him, standing between my legs.  i think i could die from shame, and i feel my hips raise, i see myself thrusting my pussy forward.  Offering it to him.  O.  What am i doing?

“Look at me now,” He says, and i do.  i can see him, framed between my widespread thighs, and my self, those parts of myself that have just been prepared – for him?  For others?

He is smiling.  “Pretty.”  He says.  “Lovely cunt.”  And i shiver.  He laughs. 

“What a hot slut you are!”  he says.  “I’m going to touch you now.  Touch that hot cunt.  Look at you.  Look at how wet you are.”  And he touches a finger to the entrance of my sex.  Pulls it back almost before i can register pleasure, but it leaves me thrusting, lifting my pussy toward him again. 

He smiles, holds his finger up.  “See how wet you are?” He says.  He puts his finger in his mouth and, his eyes still on mine, sucks it.  i’m dreadfully embarrassed, i want to look away, but i don’t dare.  i hear myself whimper.

“I’m going to touch you,” He says.  “Touch your cunt here,” and he slides his finger between the outer and inner lips, slides it up and down in the slick juice of my arousal.  i whimper, moan, push myself towards him.

He stops.

i whimper.

He laughs. “No.”  He says.  “No cumming.  I’m going to touch you, and you are not to cum.  Do you understand?”

i gasp.  “i – i” and before i realize what’s happening, He has raised his hand, and brought it down on my inner thigh, hard. 

i cry out.

His voice is calm, reasonable.  “I asked you a question.  Do you understand?  Do you understand that I’m going to touch your cunt, and you are not to cum?”

“Ye- Yes, Sir,” i stammer, “Bu-” and O!  The hand comes down on my thigh again.  In the same place.  i gasp, whimper.

“No.” He says, still calm.  “You don’t need to talk.  ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘No, Sir’ are the only things you need to say right now.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, quickly this time.

“Good girl.”  He smiles.  “Let’s begin.” 

His hands begin to stroke and caress, parting my lips, seeking out that sweet spot, O!  O!  How does he do that?  It feels – O!  i whimper and squirm.  How am i supposed to not cum when he’s doing that?  i’m used to struggling, trying to cum.   When i don’t have that much experience with cumming, how am i gonna not cum? 

The women by my head are caressing my breasts.  Gently tweaking my nipples.  That makes it even harder to hold back an orgasm.  He takes me to the brink, right to the edge ~~

~ and stops. 

i cry out – O!  O, please Sir…” pumping my hips, pushing my pussy up.

He laughs, “Do you want to be gagged?”

“O, no, Sir!”   shaking my head firmly, i press my lips together.

“Ok, then.  I’ll let you make noises, this time anyhow, but you don’t need to talk.  Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir!”  Nodding.

And he starts again, his hand between my legs.  He doesn’t penetrate me, although i long for him to, if i were allowed to talk, i’d beg him to.   But he doesn’t.  Again, he brings me to the edge – o, so close, right there ~~

~and stops. 

Mmmmpf.  O. 

And He starts again.  Omigod, Omigod, Omigod, and then i’m there – i just am – i’m there, i can’t stop it, and he doesn’t stop and Omigod, i tremble ~

~ up, up over the top, over the edge ~

 and i fall, shivering, tumbling down, sheer pleasure.  Little noises escape me…  my eyes close – o, ahhhhh, omigod.

And then.

i open my eyes. 

And see him.  Standing there between my legs.  Looking – omigod.  Not quite frowning.  Quizzical.  He looks quizzical.

“Well,” he says.  “What just happened here, slut?” 

“Um,” i’m so ashamed, i don’t know what to say, i don’t think i can even talk.  But he goes on, “No, don’t even say anything, slut.  I can see you haven’t learned any self control.”  He shakes his head.  “We’ve got a lot of work to do with you.”

“Donna,” he says, addressing the woman holding my right ankle, “Whatddya think?  Turn her over and spank her?”

“I think so,” says Donna, “This time.  We’ll do ten on each cheek.  Alternating.  Slowly, I think.  Give her time to grasp what’s happening, absorb the pain.”

“Good,” He says.  “Go ahead then.”

And they turn me.  Turn me so that i’m positioned on my hands and knees, shoulders pressed to the table, head down.  Ass in the air.  A hand fisted in my hair holds me firmly pressed to the table.

SMACK – i feel a hand land on my right cheek – O!!!!! O, that stings.  Then –

SMACK – the other cheek.  I can feel heat rising from my ass.  O.  Ten on each side.  How will i take this?  Can i last?

And why – omigod – why do i feel my pussy getting hotter with each stroke? 

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

And why would i write this now, when i actually can’t make myself cum?  {Laughing}  i must be crazy.  And now it’s time to get ready for work…. 

Sigh.  Just one more day.  Tomorrow, i’ll see Sir D.

i can’t wait…  {smiles}

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Thoughts on Submission

15 Oct

Jz did a post on sex, sensuality, and BDSM which tied in (i think) with some things i was already thinking.  In the last week, Sir D has  expressed His dominance in ways that feel new to me.  Ways that aren’t sexual, but still turn me on.  i’ve been pondering it often – driving to work,  falling asleep at night, in the shower.  

Last weekend, on Saturday, Sir said something to me that bothered me a little bit, not so much when He said it, as later, when i got to thinking about it.  Sunday morning, i got up early (as i do) and then i went to church, so i had plenty of time to think about what He’d said.  And put it together with some other things. 

By the time i got home from church, instead of being ready to joyfully fling myself back in bed with Him, i’d taken a couple of mental steps away from Him.  i wasn’t angry.  But i had moved away from Him.  Trying to protect myself, you know. 

i was going to talk to Him, ask Him about it.  i just wasn’t sure how to bring it up.   And before i could figure it out –

– He called me on it.  He knew, He could tell that something wasn’t right.  And He called me on it.

That amazed me.  “Being seen” touches me deeply.  It’s a gift i treasure.

i told Him what was bothering me.  What he’d said.  i expected – i think – to talk about it.  Have a conversation.  A discussion.   i started to say what i thought He’d meant.  I thought maybe He’d listen, then explain.  Instead –

He snatched me up.

It’s an African American phrase, at least that’s where i learned it.  When your child is about to run out in the street, you snatch him up.  It’s both the physical and the fussing that comes after.  When your teenage daughter wants to quit school and go live on an organic farm, of course you’re gonna snatch her up.  It’s not physical anymore, but it may feel like it to her.  At work, i sometimes used to berate myself for things that weren’t my fault.  My boss, a beautiful African American woman with deep blue eyes, would snatch me up in a heartbeat.   She’s one of the few people i’ve known who could do that for me.

But that’s what Sir D did.  He snatched me up. 

i was stunned.

“No,” He says, “you’re wrong.”  Just like that.   Firm and clear.   

“Kneel.”   

i pause, but just for a second.  Consider resisting, but just for a second.  Partly, i’m curious.  Where is He taking me?   Obediantly, i kneel.   Listening closely. 

He explains why i’m wrong.  Calmly, reasonably.  How i’ve taken what He said out of context, over-thought it, and misinterpreted it.  He makes sense.  i know He’s right.  i had done exactly that.   

He says it’s ok for me to question what He’d said.  He is very clear.  Questioning what He’d said isn’t a problem.  But keeping it to myself, over-thinking it, and putting distance between us because of it – that is a problem.  That is not ok.

i kneel beside the bed, and listen.  He is right. 

i apologize.  Say i’m sorry; i won’t do it again.  Say i’ll try not to do it again.  Not the over-thinking and not the distance.

And i know He will forgive me, but He says – He says, “I was going to use this anyhow, might as well make a point with it,” and –

– He picks up the carpet beater.  (You know, i showed you the picture of it.)  i am still kneeling beside the bed.

“Stand up,” He says, “Lean over the bed.”   

O – i want to stop time, i want to freeze the frame and absorb what’s happening, but there is something in his tone.  i stand, and bend over, upper body on the bed, ass exposed – and –

– you know,  – whack – the carpet beater lands on my ass with a sting-y thud, and mmmmpf, it hurts, but i’m not going to complain. 

Two.

Three.

At three, the crosshatching is lapping over where it has already landed – ohhhhhhh!  He doesn’t make me count, but then He says, “That’s 3,” and as the next one strikes – ahhhhhh – ohhhh – “4.” 

And another.  “5.”

He stops.  “That’s enough,” He says, rubbing my ass, which is burning under His touch. 

And it was over.

It wasn’t exactly punishment.  It didn’t feel quite like punishment.  It was – punctuation.     Yes.  It was an exclamation mark at the end of the talk.   It was highlighting the lecture and hitting “BOLD.”

And – o, my – i appreciated it.  (i typed that real slowly – like “am i really going to say this?”)  But there it is.  He touched me in a different way.  Not with the spanking, although sure, that too.  But snatching me up like that.  Um,

Thank you, Sir.

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The Fantasy continues

4 Oct

i am reconciled with my friend, who tells me not to be too hard on myself  (but i’m so good at it!)  And i got a flurry of text messages from Sir last night before i went to sleep, which delighted me.  So i’m grateful and happy, after an afternoon of being just a little out of sorts yesterday.

Now we can go back to my fantasy, which i finished in my mind a couple of times yesterday, a couple of different ways.  Let me see how it works out on paper though.  (Ok, this isn’t really paper, is it?  But you know what i mean.)

We left our heroine (that’s me) on her knees before her Sir, having just admitted that she needed to be spanked.  And having mentioned that “ten” seemed like a good number.

i shiver a little, knowing that His smile means pleasure for Him, but probably not for me. 

“Go get my bag from the bedroom, please,” He says.  “Bring it to me.”  i stand, a little awkward, feeling very naked, but happy to have a task to carry out.   i head down the hallway, trying to move smoothly and with grace.  

The bag is fairly heavy.  i try to carry it in front of me, but it’s awkward, so i sling the strap over my shoulder.  The rough canvas-like material rubs against my skin; the bag bumps my hip with each step.

As i approach Him with the bag, i slow down to take it off my shoulder.  Holding it in front of me for the last few steps, i kneel again, offering the bag.  We don’t have any real protocol for this, but i know He likes to be “presented” with the items He asks for.  Without further instruction from Him, this is my best effort at that…

My heart is full with wanting to please Him.

“Thank you,” He says, taking the bag from me.  He unzips it.  “You said ‘ten'” He reminds me, “But we didn’t decide what to use for your spanking.”  

i catch my breath, a gasp really; this had not occurred to me.  He is  pulling items from the bag.  i recognize the flogger, a quirt, a bullwhip, a paint stick – is that right?  can that be a paintstick?   And a paddle.

“Or,” He smiles, “there’s always the yardstick.  you still have the yardstick, right?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Yes, maybe the yardstick. Bring it to me.  Please.  I just want to see what we’ve got.  Of course, there’s always household items too.  Wooden spoons and such.  But maybe not this time.”    He considers for a moment.  “No.  Just the yardstick.”  Glances at me, as if surprised that i’m still standing there. “Go on,” He says, “Get the yardstick – quickly now.” 

So i move quickly – the yardstick is standing in the corner in the bedroom.  Retrieving it, i kneel close to Him, lay it across my hands and offer it, lifting it up to Him. 

He takes it,”Thank you,” and lays it next to the other items on the floor beside Him.  “Which do you want?” He asks, “Do you have a preference?”

One great mystery of submission – His question shakes me, makes me tremble, even while it sends a rush of pleasure through me, and makes my pussy throb.  My mouth is dry, i can barely speak.  Apparently, all of my moisture is between my legs.  My nipples are hard, aching to be touched.

i bite my lip.  “Sir,” i say, “Um, i don’t know.  i guess – i don’t know – um, not the bullwhip?”

“Did I ask you which one you thought we should use or which one not to use?” 

i start to apologize, “O – i’m sor-” but He cuts me off. 

No,” He says, “That’s ok.  There’s not really room to use the bullwhip here anyhow.”   He puts it to one side, smiles, and tweaks my right nipple (how did He know?) 

i whimper.  O, i need Him to touch me.  More. 

He shakes His head.  “Pay attention now,” He says.  “Which one?”

i look at the array, spread out beside me.  Not the quirt, i think.  That would hurt too much.  Maybe the flogger.  Not the paddle.  That thuddy pain is too intense.  The yardstick maybe?  But that does really sting.  How can i decide?

“Come on,” He says.  “Make up your mind. What – are you trying to pick one that won’t hurt?”  He laughs.  “They’re all going to hurt.  you know, it depends on how hard i use them.  That makes a lot more difference than which one you pick.  Besides, you should be thinking about what would please Me most, not how to get out of this as easily as possible.”  He sounds – a little scornful.

“O -” i feel myself blushing, it takes a minute for what He’s saying to fully sink in, but i realize He’s right.  Something opens deep inside me, as if a dam has burst.  “O. Sir…” i say, but i can’t go on, i don’t have words.   

“It’s ok,” He says kindly.  “It’s hard, I know that.”  How does He know what i need to hear?   i still can’t speak. 

“I tell you what,” He goes on.  “Let’s do this.  I’ll let you try each one before we even start, so you can make a good decision.  That’s only fair, isn’t it?  you don’t have that much experience with any of these, let’s try them out, and then you can pick.” 

He makes this outrageous suggestion in a most reasonable voice, and i want to protest.  But again, something inside me softens, melts.  My desire to please Him overrules my instinct to protect myself.   i decide if i’m going to do this (and i am going to do it) then i’ll do it with a whole heart.  Fling myself into it instead of being dragged inch by inch.

i raise my head a little.  Breathe. 

He always brings me to this point, doesn’t He?  The point where i stop fighting and surrender.

i look steadily at Him, trying not to let my voice falter.  i smile a little, “Yes, Sir, that’s probably a good idea, to try them first.  i – i don’t have much experience, Sir.”

He nods.  “Good girl.”

And i get that rush, the one i long for.  It is the sun coming out, a rainbow, the warmth of a June day…  i would take a beating to hear those words –

– O – and i’m about to!

He stands, picks up the yardstick.  “We’ll start with this, i’ll start off easy.  Now, let me see, where do i want you?”  He looks around the room, considering, “You know,” He says, “I’m just going to have you stay where you are for now, but turn this way, that’s it, just turn so you’re facing the wall here.  And now, bend over, yes, i want your elbows on the floor and your ass in the air.  Yes.  Just like that.”

And i am positioned, just as He says.  My ass is raised, exposed – there might as well be an arrow pointing to it.  His hand strokes me.  My steaming hot, wet pussy is also totally exposed.   A finger, two fingers, slide into my opening, the slit between my thighs.  

i gasp.  Try to stifle a whimper.   Squirm a little, trying to impale myself deeper.

The fingers are withdrawn. 

i hear movement behind me, a moment’s pause, and “whiffff”  – there is a sharp  stinging across my ass, bridging both cheeks.  “O!” i say.

“That was the yardstick,” He says.  “Let’s try it one more time.  you’ll want to remember what it feels like…”

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

Just for the record, this is strictly my own warped fantasy.  My Sir would never be this cruel. 

Right, Sir?

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More Thoughts on Punishment

26 Sep

i woke up about 3:00 this morning, still thinking about punishment.  And guilt.    i realized that i had intended to mention Sin’s post on punishment in my post last night, but hadn’t.  Yes, i really was lying awake at 3:15  thinking about how her thoughts had started mine, annoyed at myself for not mentioning it.

Which led me to thinking about other things i’ve done that i consider thoughtless.  i can feel bad about them even months later, even if i’m pretty sure that i’m the only person who noticed them.  It’s annoying, and a lingering remnant of the perfectionism that still stalks me.

{Case in point – i still feel bad because i did a post a while back that referenced other people’s blogs, and didn’t use  names or link them back to the blogs.   And i know that i LOVE it when my name pops up in one of their  blogs – why would i not do the same for them?  In my own defense, i thought the post was going to mix the stories up so they weren’t clearly Mick’s posts or Nilla’s or Sin’s and after i’d changed it and redone it about 10 times, i realized i could have attributed parts to each of them, but i didn’t have much time left, and it was in my period of borrowed computers, and i just didn’t.  i really don’t know if anyone thought twice about it, i’m betting if they did, they’ve forgiven me and are over it by now.  At least, i hope so.  And i am sorry – it was thoughtless of me…  There, now maybe i’ll let it go.  See what i’m saying?}

On the other hand, there are probably all kinds of things i’ve done that really have hurt or offended someone that i’m not even aware of.  So how do i sort that out?  It’s confusing.

i may do something without even thinking about you that has some kind of negative effect on you.  You may assume that i was thinking about you, and that i purposely chose to  ignore your feelings, or to stomp on your feelings.  If i hurt you, then am i guilty regardless of whether i meant to or not?  

We try to solve that question by weighing how serious the injury is, whether or not the offender should have known it would affect the injured party, and so on.   Accusations and protests abound.  “How was I supposed to know???” and “You should have known – how could you  NOT know???’  reverberates in the air.   This is the stuff the drama triangle is made of (but i won’t go into that today.)

i try not to do all that when i’m the injured person.   i try to “make the benign assumption.”  To assume the other person wasn’t actually trying to hurt me.  That they weren’t directing their behavior at me.  An e-mail unanswered, a text message unreturned – it’s too easy for me to assume that’s about me.   That the other person is mad at me, or rejecting me, or just doesn’t care.

At the same time, for sure, i was raised to know that not everything is about me.   My mother probably had 10 different ways of reminding me and my sister of that.   “The world does not revolve around you,” she’d say, “it revolves around little old women, picking up sticks in vacant lots.”  (T.S. Elliot)

So it’s tricky.  Sometimes it is about me – she is mad at me, he is rejecting me.  More often, they’re just not thinking about me.   “We spend the first two years of our life learning that the world revolves around us,” Mom would say, “and the rest of our lives learning that it doesn’t.”

Sigh.

Where am i going with this? 

That’s right.  Guilt and punishment waking me up at 3 a.m.

In the lifestyle – do we  try to negotiate that all out ahead of time?  Is that part of the rules and punishment thing?  But if “He” punishes me because His feelings are hurt, is that necessarily going to make any sense to me?  Wouldn’t that negate the value of my intentions and make it more about His mood?  Which is fine if that’s what we’ve agreed on, but i don’t quite understand it.   And that’s not my situation, so it doesn’t matter if i get it or not.

But it’s not always about intention either.   Let’s say you cut off my arm, accidentally, while swinging your machete around.  And you’re dreadfuly sorry, and you didn’t mean to.  But then you keep swinging the machete around me.  There’s not much point in arguing about whether or not you’re trying to cut off my other arm, i just need to get a safe distance away from you and stay there.   Right?

Sometimes, it’s hard to know how to weigh it all out.   i wonder if Doms and subs use different scales.  Maybe not.  i know it’s easier for me to forgive you than to forgive myself.   Easier to imagine you holding something against me than the other way around.  And – hear me clearly – i’m not sure that’s virtue.  i suspect it’s something to keep struggling against.

But it explains why, now that i think about it, my other template for a punishment fantasy would be appealing to me!   Listen to this –

i’m in the training school for subs, where they also teach Doms how to be Doms.  In this version of the fantasy,  punishment happens at the end of the day.  You – we – the subs – accumulate tokens for punishment. 

Any time i’m disobediant or don’t meet the standards, the person i’m serving can attach a small ring to my collar.  Each ring represents a certain number of ‘licks” and they accumulate throughout the day.  In the evening, there’s a gathering, a relaxation period for the teachers and the Doms in training.  Sometimes there are outside guests as well, who might be considering sending someone to the school, or who just come to enjoy the activities.

If i have been given tokens, i have to line up with the other girls to be punished.  We are wearing…

Ok, you can probably take it from there, if you want to.  Use a cross or a spanking bench or whatever you prefer.  Be sure to include the whole “i have to count and say ‘Thank You, Sir,'” thing.  Have it end with multitudes of orgasms and cock-sucking, possibly at the same time.  Whew.  Ok.  Now, here’s my point:

If they’re keeping track of all my infractions, then i don’t have to.  i don’t have to figure out what i’m guilty of or what i’m responsible for.  And if i get punished every day, and start over with a clean slate – woohooo.  How cool is that?  

And – gosh, i’m really slow sometimes – for some people in the lifestyle, it really is like that, isn’t it?  Not the tokens on your collar, lining up to get punished, though i guess that could happen too.  But handing over the responsibility for figuring it all out.  And…

…i guess that is what i want.   O, my.

But in a fairly contained way.  A really contained way.  Not around my work.  Or family.  Or friends.  Maybe just in the relationship?  And is that reasonable?    Possible?

O, i need to go think about this.  This might really be the TMI post.  Will y’all all be my analysts?  {Laughing} 

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The Power of His “I Want”

23 Sep

“I want you to cum for me tonight.”  His voice is silk.  “Can you do that?”

O.  Yes.

{blush}

 “Can you do that for Me?”

“Yes,  Sir.  i can do that for You.”

{smiles}

 

 

 

 

Thank You, Sir!

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Saturday Morning Kink

18 Sep

i woke up really late this morning – for me – about 7:00.  Sir was still in bed, and i thought i’d get dressed and get coffee, blog a little…  So i brushed my teeth, washed my face, and, as quietly as i could,  trying not to wake Sir, i got dressed and picked up the room key and –

“Where are you going?” asked Sir.  Purely conversational tone.

“Um, to get some coffee, maybe blog?”

“I want you to come back to bed.”

O. 

{Smiles}

Yes, Sir…

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Fire Play (Part II)

8 Sep

So i am lying on the raised platform that’s like a stage in the huge dungeon at the play party.  All around me, Doms and Dommes, subs and slaves, are playing out their own scenes.  Or watching the players.

Some of them are watching Sir D. play with the violet wand, touching me with it, while i try not to squirm.  All my attention is on Sir D.  He has told me to lie still, and that’s what I’m trying to do.  Even while He shocks me, over and over.  

Then He uses His own body as an electric conductor –  when He touches me, the electricity runs through Him and shocks me.  i am fascinated.  i feel a fierce connection between us – the current just as  strong when He isn’t touching me as when He is.

And then.  The wand again.  And a little spray bottle.

i watch.  He touches me with the wand, testing.  It makes a little noise – ttck – a little staticky noise – ttck.

“Lie still,’ He says, “That’s your job now, just lie still.  Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Sir,” i say, a little anxious,  “i will.”

He starts on my arm.  The “Whhft,” of a tiny spray bottle, a cold sensation on my skin.  Then the wand, sparking, sparking – ttck – ttck

 Whoosh – flames! 

Flames on my body!  Growing warm…

“Poof,” His hand slaps down on the flames, and they are out.

O, my.

He does it over and over.  Sometimes i can see the flames.  On my chest, my breasts.   On my nipples, my nipples on fire. 

Sometimes i can only feel it – i know the rhythm. 

Whhft – the cold wet

– ttck – ttck  – tingling shock

–          Whoosh!  The light, the flame

Pause – pause – growing warmer – almost toooooo

Poof!!  The slap of His hand again…

Whhft – ttck –ttck – and Whoosh!  Pause, pause – Poof!  And the flames are gone again. 

Over and over. 

i watch Him with pleasure. 

i am not afraid. 

i lie still. 

Except once – once when the warmth grows half a second longer – and i squirm – and Poof!  Just in time, but –

“Don’t,”  He says.  “If you move, I might not be able to put it out.” 

O.

Lying very still.

It is a new kind of subspace – i have no words for it.  i can feel Him, feel His energy.  He feeds me His energy.  He holds me in a new way.

Like the rope.  The rope is an embrace, a connection, a web he weaves between us even as it leaves His hands. 

Now the electricity sparks between us, holds me to Him.   my body is alive, i sparkle and tingle; and i am very still.  i am very His. 

“Let’s do your back,” He says.  “Do you want me to do your back?” 

“O, yes, yes, Sir,” i say, as He helps me roll over.  my face in the blanket now, the blanket that smells like Him.  i can’t see Him now, but i can smell His scent, bury my face in the blanket, breathing in His presence. 

And i can feel Him.  O, i can feel Him.

Whhft – ttck –ttck – and Whoosh!  Pause, pause – Poof! 

Over and over.

 And then He is done. 

Sigh. 

i might have wanted Him to go on forever.     

He holds me.  Holds me, whispers to me.  Says the things i need to hear.  The words I crave, sweet and gentle, whispered close. 

“Good girl.  You did so good.  Good girl.”  i curl into Him.

Mmmmm.  i could stay like this forever too.

He helps me up.  i feel dazed, a little weak.  Not bad at all, just not fully there.  Well, of course not, i am deep in subspace.  i wrap myself in the blanket, so warm, that smells like Him.  i stay close to Him.

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

Not then, but now, I think about early man.  I think about lightning and fire.  Lightning bolts, huge jagged streaks, landing – sparks – and fire.  Elements so basic, so much power.   

I know there is more, but I don’t have the words.    Not today.  Not yet.

 

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Interlude – Sunday Morning

6 Sep

i love making love to His cock, and Sunday morning, He let me do that.  It was not just a nice blow job.  i could feel Him allowing me to serve His cock.  

My heart beats faster, remembering the taste and the feel of His cock on my tongue, filling my mouth.  Relaxing my throat to let it slide as deep as i can.  O. Yes.  i like that so much – all of it.  Taking my time and just pleasuring Him for a long time before i get serious about taking him up and over, before i settle into the rhythm that will end with Him shooting His cum into my mouth.

And i think i learned more about how to do that this weekend too.  i’m so glad.  i do want to please Him, and it’s easier and more fun when i know how.

i don’t think He knows how much it turns me on to suck His cock.  Especially the way it was before He left Sunday morning.  It makes me so wet.  Leaves me swimming in my own juices.

And it moves me into a particular kind of subspace.   i think i’m still half there as i write this.  As if my self is open – 

– and maybe open because of it all – the rope dress, the fire play, and worshipping His cock.  Fingertips too receptive, skin too sensitive, mouth and pussy yearning for more…

Sigh.

i need to shut it down, shut myself down.  Detach.

Instead, i move through the day slowly, overly aware of my sensations.   Panties rubbing against my swollen lips, moisture pooled so the fabric slides, caresses.

Sigh.

i think i need to satisfy myself, to touch and caress myself til i’m rising, building – up – over the top and down again.    And i can’t seem to initiate.  As if my energy is all receptive – all turned toward Him.

Damn it.

 

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