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Play Party (Part III)

1 Sep

And then we are there.  At the play party.  It looks like any bar – well, if any bar has a spanking post.  And a St. Andrews cross. 

O, my.

Many people are wearing clothes.  Some people are not.  A couple of naked men appear quite comfortable, seated at their table chatting with some other folks.  A woman is cuffed to the spanking post.

 i ’m excited and nervous, thrilled and anxious.  Awkward of course, following Sir around like a shadow.  He introduces me to some people.

Finally, we sit down at a table.  i watch a scene playing out in front of me – in front of everyone – on a raised platform.  The man twrls his floggers like – i  don’t know like what.  A performer?  A cowboy?  i  don’t know.  She submits, struggles, and submits again.  It’s incredibly sensuous.

i am aroused. 

Other things happen around me.  People kneel.  People offer and serve. They laugh and talk and sip drinks. i listen and watch.

Sir talks to some people.  i listen and watch.

 i want to play.  Sir has told me that we probably won’t play tonight, and i  accept that.  But i want to.  

Excitement is all around me.  The air tingles.   i vibrate and tingle in response. 

Such beautiful scenes – i  can’t describe them.  Not today.  Men in chains.  A woman i  had met earlier with her Sir; she is naked now, her body gracefully curled on the floor, her head on His knee.  He strokes her head with one hand.

Then – then – He, my Sir, says… 

“I want to do some rope.  Do you want to?  I want to do a rope dress.” 

Thrilled, i nod.  O, yes, i do want to. 

He says, “We can do it over your clothes.  Or – what are you comfortable taking off?”

i smile.  “Well.  My jacket  thingy.  i’m comfortable taking that off.”  He nods. 

“And – my chemise.  i ’m ok with taking my chemise off.”  i pause.  “And – my jeans.  i’m ok with taking my jeans off.”  Pause again.  “I don’t know about anything else.” 

“That’s fine,” He says.  “But you have to put the shoes back on!”  

“Of course,” I nod.  “O, yes.  Definitely, the shoes go back on.”

 In the small suitcase on wheels, the one i’d pulled in, is Sir’s rope.  Have I mentioned that my Sir is an expert in Shibari,  Japanese rope bondage?   

“Bring me the suitcase, please,” He says.   

Self-conscious, i walk to the corner where we’d left the rope and the bag of toys.  i pull the suitcase back with me.  Awkward, anxious, thrilled. 

He begins unpacking the rope.  i am watching Him, but He looks up – “Go on,” He says with a nod, “Clothes off.”

 Time stops…  but i begin.  My top first.  i fold it carefully and lay it on a chair.  Then – o, what next?   My heart is pounding. 

My jeans next.  But i have to take the shoes off first.  They slip off easily, then i’m standing again.  There is a mirror on the wall behind me.  i can see my face as i unbotton, unzip, and tug the jeans over my butt, slide them down my thighs.  my eyes are bright and excited, my lips curve up.

 i sit to pull the jeans off completely.  Fold them too.  Unbuckle the shoes, slide them back on, re-buckle.  And now –

i stand again.  Raise my arms and watch myself pull the chemise off.   

i am standing in a dungeon full of strangers, in my bra and nearly-see through panties.  The room swims a little, i brace myself with one hand on the table.

O, my.

 My mouth is dry.  He has the rope laid out, is ready to begin.  “Sir,” i say, “May i have some water first?  Before we start?”   

“Sure,” He says, “Go ahead,” and He nods toward the bar.  I gasp.  I look at Him, look at the bar.  i am nearly naked.  People are standing all around the bar.  

“Do you need some money?”  He asks.  

“O. O, no.  That’s ok.  i can wait.”  There’s no way i can walk to the bar in my underwear and get water.  No, i can wait.

And then He starts.

He starts with a loop that’s tied and it lays around my neck, lays on my chest, between my breasts.  Centered just where He wants it. 

Rope around my waist, around my chest.  “Turn,” He says, and i turn, he wraps, and says “Turn.”  i turn again.

 The rope hums as He wraps me.  I make a noise – a slight hiss maybe, catching my breath – and a man next to me nods. “The sting’s part of it,” He says, “part of the rope experience.” 

But it doesn’t sting to me, it wraps me, round and round it goes.  There are knots and more turns and it’s tight between my legs.  Even with my panties, tight against my pussy, tight between the cheeks of my ass.  It is tight around me, holding me snug.  I am wrapped. 

Rope around my arms and tight around my legs, sleeves and a skirt, i suppose.  And He is watching me, watching me and making the rope hum as he wraps me.    

Then He is done. 

And i am standing in the dungeon in a dress of rope.

 He smiles.  He is pleased.  “Beautiful,” He says. 

i smile too.  i feel beautiful.   

Then He says, “Did you want some water?”  And He’s digging in His pocket.  “How much is it?”  He says.

 i almost panic – there are people at the bar.  Lots of people.  Here in our little space, almost behind a table, i don’t feel so exposed.  But –

 Can i walk through this room full of strangers?  In a rope dress? 

Of course i can.  i lift my head.  “It’s a dollar,” i say, and, as He hands me the buck, “And something for a tip.”  He adds some change. 

I turn away, but freeze again.  How can i walk all the way up there?   Exposed like this – for real. 

He is watching. “Go on,” He says casually, “Go get your water.”  And He waves a hand at me, dismissively, as if He’s shooing me away.   

i am almost offended.  Hmmph.  He may not think this is a big deal, but it is.  Then –

i square my shoulders.  i can do this. 

 i take a first step toward the bar.  And a second.  My shoes wobble, but just a little.

Those first few steps are hard.  i keep my eyes cast down a little, not wanting to see anyone watching me.  Focus on my steps, on my shoes.  But then –

 There is a woman in front of me.  Fully dressed.  She stops, stands in front of me til i’m close to her.  “Beautiful,”  She proclaims, and i breathe more deeply.  She is talking about me, in my rope dress.

  “You.  Are.  Beautiful.”  Her words bless me; I feel the words hover around me and land. She has anonted me with her words. 

i smile.  i am beautiful.

And I walk to the bar with pride.   

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

You might think this is the end of the story, but o, no.  There’s plenty more to come. 

 Unfortunately, my computer is in the shop.  And will probably be there for another 5 or 10 or 15 days.  So be patient with me.  My computer access is so limited; I can’t even read anyone else’s blogs.  It’ll take me forever to get caught up with youall. 

And I can’t tell you how much I miss you!!!  

aisha

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

Here’s a picture of a rope dress.   But my arms weren’t bound.   And there was rope around my thighs.  i couldn’t find a better picture – if someone has one, send it to me, ok?  And i’ll post it.  Sir D – maybe you can find one????  Because Your dress, the one You made, was lots prettier than this one.

But my bra and panties were much prettier, and i don't have a tatoo

 

 

 

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Play Party (Part II)

30 Aug

{Writing on a borrowed computer, which seems a little strange.}

First, there are classes.  Demonstrations.  A volunteer stands in front of us thirty or so kinky folks, facing us, attached with cuffs to the spanking post.  Her legs attached to a spreader bar, she squirms under the touch of the violet wand.   Yikes. 

 i am fascinated.

But i am still new enough to be fascinated by the idea that i’m in the same room as this many kinky people.  i’ve already met a few of them at the first munch i went to.   But there are more i haven’t met, and i’m nervous and shy, which you wouldn’t think i would be.  But i am.

i am publicly with Sir D for the first time.  We’ve never been around people either of us know before.  And many of these people know Sir D, know that’s He’s dominant.  So now they know that i’m – um, not dominant.  In fact, that i’m – you know.  Submissive.  How strange. 

It turns me on.  Makes me feel more submissive.  Acutely aware of my body, how i feel, how i look, and what my movements mean. 

Sir D is on a panel today, with some other people in the community who are seen as being knowledgable about the lifestyle.  They are showing and discussing the toys they’ve brought.  Some other people go first.   i am mesmerized by the range of toys.  The CBT toys are a new concept for me – cock and ball torture.  Really.  Whew.  i just didn’t know.  

Then it’s Sir D’s turn.   He’s a natural teacher.  Describing  His toys, he gives background, history, hints on where to get them or how to make them.  He’s been doing this a long time, and i’m impressed by his expertise.  O, and by the toys, many of which i haven’t seen before. 

Ok, this blog’s a place to tell the truth, right?  So, just between us – when He was presenting, i was so proud of Him, i was just about beside myself.  And proud of being with Him.  Ok, whole truth, i could have carried a little sign that said, “i’m with Him,” and felt good about it.  (But not a t-shirt.  i have some standards…)

Anyhow.  Enough of that.  The classes were fun and interesting and it was really cool to see that Sir D is a highly respected member of the community.   Not that i doubted it before, but you know.  Seeing it is more powerful.  

Then there was the munch.   It’s in a private room in a restaurant, but unlike the other munch i went to,it’s not very separate from the rest of the diners.  They can see us, but not hear us, and servers are in and out of the room all the time.  So we’re careful.

Again, people know Sir D;  they can make some assumptions about me.  I feel like i’m wearing a big sign that says, “SUBMISSIVE HERE.”  

 It’s a buffet type meal.  Sir D instructs me to fix his His dinner.  i am so nervous, i almost can’t carry the plate.  i pick out His food, trying not to worry that i’m making the wrong choices. 

 We’re sharing a table with seven or eight other people.  i carry the plate back, acutely aware of my body.   Carefully set it down in front of Him.  Smile at Him.  

Maybe it isn’t a big deal. 

 i feel naked.  

And tingly.  And wet.  Which i already am anyhow, because, remember, i’m still deprived of  recent orgasms.  Sigh.

And then the munch is over, and we go back to His house for a few minutes. 

 i change clothes.  “What to wear” has been a dilemna for days  (i know that’s silly, but still.)   So i’d brought a variety of clothes.  

i change my undergarments.  The carefully selected black bra with lace, lifts my breasts and barely covers the nipples.  Black panties, boy cut, but they’re a stretchy, lacy material, so when i put them on they’re practically see through.   Not that anyone’s going to see them, but they feel sexy.

Now, i pick a pair of dark jeans, a black chemise and a short sleeved black – i don’t know what to call it.   Not a jacket, not a sweater.  Just a thing that you wear over other tops.   Kind of flowing, but not too much. 

And that would have been ok, but not very exciting.  However.  There are the shoes. 

I show them to Sir D.  “Too much?”  i ask, certain that He’s going to say ‘yes.’

And he says, “Yeah, probab – i don’t know.  Let me see them.  Go ahead, put them on.  Let me see.”

So i do.

The shoe...

 

“Yes,” He says.  “Wear those.”

“Really?”  i’m delighted. 

“Yes.  i said yes, didn’t I?” a little impatient.

“Yes, Sir, you did!” 

So there i am, a kinky Cinderella, off to the ball…

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

And i’m out of time.  i was just lucky that a friend stayed over last night, and i got to use her computer this morning.  i probably won’t be so lucky tomorrow… but maybe i can get mine working today.   Keep your fingers crossed. 

The best is yet to come.  

Um, pun intended.  {smiles}

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i’m Not…

27 Aug

i’m not reading anyone else’s blogs today.  No steamy, passionate encounters between Mick and Molly, or Sin and her Sir.  No stories from Nilla about cocks and cunts…  i don’t even want to read about Brooke’s NY adventures – well, i do, but not today.

i’m not writing anything that will make me hot today.  No tales that lead to shivers and a wet pussy.  Nothing in anticipation of  Sir D and His dungeon, or the activities for the weekend.  Not a word about tortured nipples or Hitachis.

And i’m not even thinking about spanking.   No way.   Not remembering the slap of His hand against my ass, the feel of Him stroking me inbetween smacks.  The sting of the yardstick, – ohhh – leaving me soooo wet and hot and pleased with my bright red ass.  No. i’m not going to torture myself that way…

…when i know i can’t touch myself, can’t cum, and i’ve got a whole ‘nother day to go before i see Him.   When i already woke up hot and wet,my pussy just begging to be touched.  When  just knowing i can’t do anything about it totally makes me not able to think about anything else.

i did e-mail Him yesterday, just to be sure i had the rule right.  Cause how stupid would i feel if i thought i was on orgasm restriction and i really wasn’t?  Exactly.  Pretty stupid.

Unfortunately, i was right.  It is always 2 days.   He said, “We’re both intelligent people.  I shouldn’t have to repeat myself all the time.”

Yes, Sir.

And just hearing that – knowing the rule is there, and that i please Him when i obey His rule, sends shivers through my body and makes my hot, wet pussy throb.  So much for all my “i’m not’s…”

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

On a whole different note – Mick pointed out that i had made a comment about getting a yardstick at The Fair on my vanilla social networking site.  That garnered an amazing number of comments on the site, which amused me a lot. 

But yesterday, while i was at work, eating lunch in our staff kitchen,  one of the younger women said, laughing, “Oh, and I loved all that stuff you had about the yardstick!  That was great!”  and for a second all i could think was “OMG – she read my blog???!!!  Yikes!” 

Then i remembered – no, she’s talking about the vanilla site, and i started breathing again.  At least i guess she was…

    

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Not Ordinary

26 Aug

 “To think of him in the middle of the day lifts me out of ordinary living.”
— Anaïs Nin (The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1)

i am at lunch, eating in my office today, trying to catch up on paperwork.   Suddenly, i remember the feel of His hand on my nipple.  The left nipple, crushed between His thumb and forefinger.  Instantly, the memory tugs on the line that runs directly from my nipple to my pussy, and i feel heat between my legs.

i’m lying on the bed, on my stomach, stinging blows from the famous yardstick landing on my ass.  He’s careful to strike the “sit spot” more than once. 

Shifting from memory into fantasy, i’m on the spanking bench in His dungeon. 

Remember the spanking bench?

 Blindfolded again.  Ass raised a little, exposed and vulnerable.  “What is this?” He asks; i hear something whistle slightly, it lands with a sharp sting.  “O!”

“i don’t know,” i say, “i don’t know that one!”

“Yes, you do,” He says.   “Here, let’s try it again,” and He does – “O!” but-

“i don’t!  i don’t know that one.”

“Ok.  It’s the quirt,” He says.  “Quirt.  Say it.” 

And i do, even though the word doesn’t want to leave my lips, i say it.  “Quirt.”

and He says, “Good.  How many?”

“i don’t know!”  

He rubs my ass, caresses it, “Breathe,” He says, “Uh huh, that’s it, good girl.  Breathe.”  And when my breathing has calmed, He says, “Ok.  Now.”  Patiently,  “How many do you think it’ll take for you to be able to recognize the quirt next time?”

A huge wave of pleasure runs through me, sitting there in my office, in front of my computer.   Am i going to have to – you know, take care of myself?  Right here?

Back on the spanking bench –

“Five,” i say, reluctantly.  “Five, Sir, please.”

And He is still stroking my ass, and then He isn’t and – “Oh!!  One.  The Quirt, Sir,” i say.   Five times i feel the sting and say it,

“Two.  The Quirt, Sir.”  

“Three.  The Quirt, Sir.”

i’m getting wetter, squirming in my chair.  Fast forwarding the fantasy a little. 

“Good girl.”  He says.  “Do you think you’ll recognize the quirt next time I ask you?” 

“Yes, sir, i’m sure i will,” i say.  my ass is hot, i can feel the heat, and my pussy is soooo wet and hot.  The spanking bench is wet with my juices, i want to rub against it.   Press my clit against it til i cum.

“Do you want the Hitachi now?” He asks.  “Or should we try one more recognition task?”

i smile a little, “Well, of course i want the Hitachi, Sir,” i say.  “But if it would please You to try another one, then of course i want to do that.”

“Good girl,” He says.   Another shiver runs through me.  “Let me think.  Let’s -”

My phone rings.  What?  Someone at the front desk, the receptionist not sure what to tell them, can i come up there?  Sure, yes, sure, on my way…

And i park the fantasy, not sure what He’s going to decide.  Is the Hitachi waiting for me, or the paddle?  Only time will tell…

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

Yes, this is similar to nilla’s post the other day, with my own twists.  i was amazed that she’d given words to a scenario very similar to a fantasy of my own – one i’d had since long before i even knew what anything other than a hand  felt like on my ass.   More of what Mick calls Smut-ergy.

As you can see, i’m apparently over my subdrop.  Sir D was very sweet yesterday, i got a text message while i was still at work, an e-mail when i got home, and then we talked last night.  i also have adventures to look forward to.  Have i mentioned that my Sir is very sweet?  <smiles>

And i just realized – having gotten myself all stirred up writing this post – that if i’m going to see Him on Saturday, then today is two days before Saturday.  Just last weekend,  i agreed that two days is not too long to go without an orgasm before i see Him.   What was i thinking?  That was a lot easier to say when i’d just had a multitude of orgasms.

Thank goodness, i took care of myself last night. 

 

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How to Use a Yardstick (Part II)

24 Aug

All those orgasms and the pussy whipping left me happy and hungry, and Sir D too.  As He points out occasionally, that’s actually a lot of work for Him, and of course that’s the truth.  Strange to discover myself appreciative of His willingness to pussy-whip me, so to speak, and yet, here i am.  Feeling a warm, fuzzy glow about it, really, and i’m not even being sarcastic. 

So we went out for dinner, had some lovely conversation, came home and relaxed for a while, and went for a walk.  Came back hot and sweaty, ready for showers.  Ho-hum vanilla stuff, but very pleasant.

As i’m getting ready to lie down, fresh, clean and relaxed, He says, “We haven’t even used the yardstick the way it was intended yet.”  And before i can say a thing, He says, “Roll over, come on, on your stomach.”

Of course, i do, roll over, and He says, “Up,” as He slides a pillow under my stomach.  Then i’m lying there, ass slightly raised, totally exposed.

The yardstick is on His nightstand.  He picks it up, whooshes it through the air a couple of times.  He’s behind me; i can’t quite see Him.  I hear Him slap it against His hand.   My pussy clenches. 

“O, yes,” He says, “I think this ‘ll be very sting-y.”  He swings it through the air full force, as if he were batting a ball.  Yikes.  

Then He leans close to me, speaking close to my ear.  “Have you done this before?  i mean, i know you’ve had, what was it?  A belt, right?  But this is going to be different, this is wood.”

And i wish i could think, i’m trying to scroll back in my mind, but in that moment i can’t even think back.  He’s right there behind me, beside me, i can feel Him there and that yardstick right there too,  so i just say, “No, No, Sir, i don’t think i have.”  

And then He taps it gently on my ass, gently marking where it’s going to hit me, and there’s just a little –

-Whoosh – and it lands right across the center of my ass –

“Mmpf,”

and He says, “What?  I haven’t even started yet.”   O, my.

He’s taking His time at first, each stroke landing in a slightly different place, letting the sting fade a little before He strikes again.    “You do redden up nicely,” He says.  He’s covered the lower part of my ass, and i’m whimpering and squriming.   “Wanna see?”

“Yes!” of course i do. 

So i jump up and look in the mirror.  Yes, the bottom part of my ass is  streaked with bright red.  Kind of  amazing.  Pretty.

i’m smiling as i lie back down, as i lay over the pillow, offer my slightly raised ass again.  This isn’t too bad.

And then it is. 

Well, maybe not too bad.  He’s not a sadist, my Sir.  But bad enough that i’m making little noises and He’s coaching me to breathe.  Just as i’m starting to relax into it –

– and what does that mean?  i don’t know, i just know that at a certain point, i want it, i want it to go on, i want to feel it all the way… and at the same moment it’s too much and i don’t know if i can take it… and i want it so much… and at that moment –

– He pauses.  i hear a “buzzzzzzzzzz” and His hand is under me, between my legs and Omigod, the vibrator is right there, pressed against me.  Pressed against my pussy, against my clit, in that most sensitive spot. 

AND the yardstick whacks across my ass.  Again and again.   Faster.  The vibrator buzzes, i grind my hips against it, against the bed.  Aaah, o, yes.  Whoosh, whoosh, the blows from the yardstick cover my ass.  Oooo.  O. Omigod.  Pleasure.  Pain.  It’s all mixed.  Omigod.

And i’m cumming, over and over, in the middle of it all, the pleasure and the pain so mixed, i don’t even know how to tell them apart.  O.

In those moments, i am totally His.   

And then He is done.  i’m drained, laying there in a heap, unable to move.  My ass is stinging, my pussy still throbbing ever so slightly… totally satisfied.   i could almost purr. 

He holds me.  “You did good,” He said.  “Very good.”  His hand is fisted in my hair.  “I’m pleased with you,” He says. 

And i do purr.  Totally content, totally His in that moment.  Mmmmm.

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

The yardstick will have to be kept someplace special.  It’s been too much fun, in too many ways. 

Also, check out Nilla’s post today, if you haven’t already.  

http://vanillamom.wordpress.com/

She writes a piece that’s so much like a fantasy i’ve had.  It’s my follow up fantasy to the one Sir D brought to life without even knowing it in His dungeon.  Amazing. 

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

Sigh.  Ok.  i was going to stop there, but i have a confession.  i skipped a part to the yardstick story.  Well, it’s not exactly about the yardstick itself, but.

Go back to when i was lying there, all drained and content, drifting happily.   Before He told me i did good.  Are you there?  Ok –

i hear a click.

i know that sound.  He’s taken a picture.  Of my ass. My bright red butt cheeks have been captured, ok, not on film, it’s his cell phone camera.  But still.  Digitally recorded forever.

And some part of my brain knows that’s a limit of mine.  There’s a blog piece on it.  http://beingaisha.blog/wp-admin/post.php?post=59&action=edit  i wrote it.

And i don’t care.  i just want to see the picture.

It’s soooo cool.  My ass is bright red, all over.  Incredibly red.  i love it. i want to post it.  i do – i want to show youall  my thoroughly spanked, bright red ass.  i’m totally proud of it. 

I didn’t know i would feel this way.  i don’t even understand it.  But there it is.  My feelings have  a life of their own.

So in a few short months, i’ve gone from “Pictures?  O, never!” to “A picture?  O, cool, can i post it on my blog?”  Good grief.  Where will i end up????    🙂

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How To Use a Yardstick (Part I)

23 Aug

My body has been saturated with pleasure; touched and stroked, twisted and pulled, carried away in waves of orgasms.   The taste of His cock, the feel of Him still in my mouth reminds me of those pleasures too.    

He was pleased with the yardstick.  i present it to Him, on my knees of course, and He is pleased.

Which pleases me, and makes me hot.  As if i’m not already hot enough  – already wet and needy, panties soaked, pussy swollen.   i can’t seem to keep my hips from moving in little circles.    He notices.

“You’re not trying to rub yourself, are you?” He asks, looking slightly appalled.

“Um, no, well, maybe,” i say, too hot and over-eager to even be embarrassed.

“Well, don’t!”  He says, “NO.”

“O, ok – yes, Sir.”

And i don’t, though i’m about ready to start rubbing against the furniture, but i don’t.  And He calms me, makes me breath, “Back it down,” He says, and i do, but o, i’m just simmering, right there on the edge of boil.

i pleasure Him first.  Undress Him, which feeds my submissive heart, makes me  feel like a harem girl, only the veils are missing.  Serving feels good.

And then, yes, my mouth on His cock, doing what i love to do.  Getting more aroused by the kneeling, Him filling my mouth, His hands in my hair directing.  Giving Him the control, bringing Him pleasure…  it makes me hot writing about it.   i’ll be sitting in a puddle soon.   

And only then, when His need has been satisfied, does He turn His attention to me.  He tortures my nipples with one hand.  Pulling and twisting til i’m whimpering, doing hip circles again, i can’t help it. 

The yardstick – remember the yardstick?  It had come to the bedroom with us.   He picks it up.

i bite my lip.

“Open your legs,” He says.  i gasp.  He says, with a smile, “Hadn’t thought of that, had you?”  i shake my head, no.

“Open, come on,” He says again, and of course i do.

The yardstick stings – well of course it does.  i knew it would, but i hadn’t imagined it stinging my poor swollen pussy.  Yikes.  i squirm and whimper, but i keep my legs open wide.

He stops for a minute, goes to his bag of tools.  Emerges with a crop.  And the Hitachi.  Oooh. 

“Pleasure.  Pain.”  He says, looking from one hand to the other.  i nod, eyes wide, legs still open.  “Or -” He pauses, reverses the order, “Pain.  Pleasure.”  Shrugs, “We’ll see.”

Mmmmpf, this is going to be interesting.

He starts with the crop.  Touches, caresses with the leather tip, ahhh, nice, and – whoosh.  whoosh, again and again.  O, it is pain, but not more than i can take.  Just as it starts to maybe be too much, the Hitachi roars into life.  O, yes!

“Just remember,” He says, “You need permission to cum.  Don’t cum without asking me.  Clear?”

i nod, yesss, of course, i know, o, please the Hitachi, Sir, please?  But i don’t say it.

And then He does, and i’m grinding against it, o, yes, yes, yes, yes – and then it’s gone and the crop is back, and o, maybe that’s yes too.  Raising my hips – o, o – and the Hitachi – o – and the crop – and then both – omigod – omigod – and

“You’re not cumming, are you?”  He says.

“O!  Yes – no – i mean…” 

“Did you forget?”  The rhythm of the crop gets a little faster, a little harder.

“O – yes, almost – O – can i??  May i cum, please?” Desperate, i don’t know what i’ll do if He says no.

But He smiles, indulgent, “Yes, you may.”

And i do, o, i do,  quickly finding that space that takes me up – up – and over the top – ahhh – tumbling down – and back up – yes, again – as the Hitachi does its thing between my legs – o, yes.  Mmmmm.  Mmmmm.

Life is soooo good.

(to be continued)

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Yes, today!

22 Aug

i wake up this morning immediately aware of my pussy throbbing and aching for attention.  i wonder, can i cum without even actually touching myself?  If i did, would i be in trouble?   Really, it wouldn’t be my fault, would it? 

Not that Sir is big on punishment, at least He says not.  i don’t have reason to know.  Yet. 

Another shiver runs through me, my pussy clenches.    

i refocus my attention.  As best i can.

i went to The Fair yesterday.  i got the yardstick. 

i got it early, cause they said they run out every day (who’dda thought it?) and i texted Him to let Him know i had it.  He texted back “Smiles~~~~” so that was nice. 

i carried it around with me all day  – even though i actually had to go to my sister’s car once and could have left it – with barely a comment from my sister or daughter.   If they thought it was odd, they just let it go.  One of the many reasons i love them!

As i carried it, i occasionally  almost hit someone with it, or felt it slap against my bare leg – and yes, i thought of Him.   Often.

This morning, i woke up wanting so badly, i could rub against the  furniture.   But i’m not allowed to cum yet. 

So i won’t.  Won’t touch myself either. 

i shudder as i think that.  Getting wetter, hotter. 

The yardstick makes a little “wffff” sound when i swing it.  That turns me on too.  i imagine it landing on my ass, and tingle all over.   O, my. 

He could even choose not to use it today –

and my pussy gets wetter as i think that.

It’s the control, that’s what does it.   His control over  me turns me on so much – and i have the yardstick to prove it.

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Two To Go

20 Aug

Two more days til Sir D’s visit.  One more day til the big trip to The Fair, where i’ll acquire a yardstick.  For Him.  To use, um, on me.  O, my. 

 i wonder how and where.  On the bed, lying on my stomach?  Over the arm of the couch?  Over his knee would, i think, be awkward with a yardstick.   But not impossible, i suppose.  And if it sounds like i’m thinking about it quite emotionlessly – O, think again.

But i have other things to think about today, about the yardstick.  You see, i did a preview visit to The Fair today.   But let me start at the beginning.

You remember P, the man i was involved with before Sir D?  And you remember that we parted on friendly terms, and still talk from time to time?   Ok.  Because he knows that i love The Fair, and because he has connections through his work, he was able to get me a book of extremely discounted tickets for admission and parking at The Fair.  So, in addition to getting my family in free, there were enough tickets for me to go a couple of extra times.

Today was the opening day of The Fair, and i was off work all afternoon.  What better way to spend it than at The Fair? 

It was a lovely afternoon.  Weather wasn’t too hot, and i spent time doing all the things my family isn’t interested in.   Listening to bands.  Wandering aimlessly.   Visiting a whole wing that we never bother to go to.  It was lovely.

Just one problem.  About every third person i saw was carrying a yardstick.  Seriously.  i’ve never seen so darn many yardsticks in my life.  What are they all going to do with them?  They can’t all be into spanking, can they?   

Sigh.

It really made me realize that i was actually going to have to find the booth where they give them away, get one, and carry it around with me too.  And i was tempted to do it today and get it over with.  BUT-

– i know that’s not how Sir wanted me to do it.  He specifically talked about me doing it when i was with my family, and carrying it around with me all day.   And really, it’s not about getting a yardstick, even if it is for Him to use, um, on me.   (I keep saying that because it turns me on, you know.  Makes my pussy tingle, all hot and wet.  Gives me little rushes…)

But anyhow,  He could just buy a yardstick if that were the whole point, right?

i know the point is that i’ll have to come up with a rationale for getting a yardstick.  i’ve been practicing in my head.  Casual.  To my sister, “O, you know what?  i want to make sure and get a yardstick this year.  Yes, a yardstick.  i just thought it’d be a good idea.  They come in handy, you know.  When?  Ummmm, when Sir wants to use it on me?”

O, dear.  That won’t work will it?   Fortunately, in my family i’m allowed to have whims and be vague about why.  As long as they don’t figure out i’m trying to hide something.  If they do, i’ll need a back-up confession of some sort.   

Which is another part of the point of the assignment, right?  Look how much energy i’m putting into thinking about this.   Squirming the whole time.

Good grief, if you could have read my mind at The Fair today!  All those couples with yardsticks – i’d look at them and think, “Really?  That’s just for measuring stuff?  You don’t have a fancy tape measure at home?”  And then i’d flash on me, and Sir, and the yardstick and…

And it makes me nervous and excited and... i don't even know what else. O, and hot, yes, it makes me incredibly hot.

So that’s the point of the assignment, i think, and when i’m carrying the darn yardstick around with me, feeling the wood in my hand, having to remember it – well.  You know what i’ll be thinking about. 

And as i write that, i shiver, my pussy clenches…  how easy i am…  It makes me feel

– it makes me feel submissive.  You know, kicks in that whole “just want to please Him” thing.  That’s why i didn’t just run grab a yardstick today.

i want to be a good girl.

Just two more days.

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Countdown

18 Aug

Four (4) more days til Sir D’s visit!  

Yes, i am counting, and wanting and waiting, with maybe a fantasy or two on top of it all.  It’s easier when the end’s in sight.   And i haven’t been complaining either, at least i don’t think i have. 

(Let me go ahead and apologize now to all of you who have truly LONG distance relationships.  i KNOW i don’t have anything to complain about.  i don’t know how you do it…)

But i can be excited now, and that’s soooo nice.  Not only that, He’s given me something to think about. 

We were chatting last night about the State Fair, IM’ing actually.  i love The Fair; Sir D apparently doesn’t so much.  Which is hard for me to understand, but that’s a topic for a different blog, right?   However, He does know The Fair, which is cool.  So He was laughing and asking me what my favorite part of The Fair was – the cows, the mirror defogging stuff you can buy, and so on.  And i was laughing too, assuring Him that nooooo, that wasn’t my favorite part. 

And then.  Then He mentions yardsticks.  You know, the ones they give away.  “At least they’d be handy for spanking,” He says.

“I’d like you to bring me a yardstick,” He says.

And this rush of heat runs through my body.  And my pussy throbs.  O, my.  Is He serious?   Really? 

i pause, unsure what to say.   Pause long enough that he types:

“waiting”

and i think, o, my, feel myself getting wet, as i slowly and carefully type,  Yes,  Sir.”  

Because it sends a rush through me.  I’m flooded with images – searching for the yardstick booth, carrying it around with me, knowing what He has in mind for it… 

Ok, it's just a yardstick. But not in His hands - it becomes much more...

And He knew that – He totally knew what it would do to me.  And He knows that carrying it around with me will keep Him in my mind all day.

And having written it, i’m aroused again. 

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Sensual treats

10 Aug
 It’s not just the orgasms that hold my attention, you know, although they do for sure.  It’s the mind fuck too.  Never knowing what’s going to happen next.  What He’ll actually make me do, and when He’s just teasing.

 Last week, we’d planned dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, where you’re invited to eat Ethiopian style, using their bread, called injera, to scoop up the food with your fingers. 

                   The food’s served like this – you tear off bits of the injera and make a taco-like thing.  It can be messy – and fun.

Midway through the week, i get a text message.  It says

“Shall I make you feed me?”

The message makes me giggle – Sarah, the friend i’m visiting at the time, looks at me curiously, but doesn’t ask.  i can picture Sir, laying back on cushions while i kneel in front of Him, carefully feeding Him.

“If you like” i respond, tickled by the idea.

“I might” He says and all i can reply is “giggles, blushing…” cause i am giggling and blushing, so much so  that i have to say to Sarah, “texting, you know, a friend of mine,” kind of vaguely in explanation.

i think about that as the week goes by, wonder if He’ll really make me feed Him, kind of turned on by the whole idea.  i think i’m quite prepared for it if He does.

But when it happens, when we are in the crowded restaurant, talking, sipping a glass of wine, and He suddenly says, “Feed me,” – O.  There is a moment of heart-stopping, “o, my,” as if everyone will instantly know that i’m submissive.  They’ll know this simple act signals my acceptance of His dominance.  

And then that fades and i know – more importantly – that feeding Him reminds  me that i submit to Him, that i choose to obey Him.  

i become acutely aware of my body, and of His mouth.

Preparing a bite for Him...

It’s not just my hand i’m aware of, my breasts become sensitive, and my pussy throbs.   Carefully, i lift the bite, carrying it to His mouth, offering it…  

…and a moment’s relief as He accepts it, His mouth closing, not quite touching my fingers, ahhhh, yes, nice. 

And for a moment, i’m overwhelmed with desire.  i want to go home and undress Him, undoing buttons and zippers, slipping arms out of sleeves, tugging gently on pants…  i want to lie on the bed and caress Him.  i want to kneel and lick and suck and…

i’m in a crowded restaurant. 

Sigh.

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