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I Am an Attention Slut

28 Feb

That’s right, i am an attention slut.  i fully own that – revel in it actually.  My body craves caresses; i love being stroked and patted and smacked on the butt.  You may have guessed that about me.   And maybe it’s just another sub trait.  But today –  

My kitchen is filled with the scent of roses, and my body is still tingling.  The roses traveled better than i expected, carry-on luggage, wrapped in a wet washcloth.  My body –

O, my…

My body’s been rubbed and polished til i feel like i shine.  He stroked my mind too, while He stroked my pussy, probed my head and heart as thoroughly as the wetness between my thighs.  Caressed me with His words as He cruelly tugged and pinched my nipples.

But let me go back – back to Friday morning, back when i thought i was almost ready to get dressed.  Complacently thinking i had plenty of time,  i got an IM from Him. 

“Do you have a blouse that’s low cut and buttons down the front?”  He asks.

i have to run check, but i discover, yes, i do.

“Wear it,” He say.  “No bra.”

“No bra?”  i’m appalled.   “But – but…”  i try to talk Him out of it.   After all, i have a new bra for the occasion – it’s really cute –  puh-leeeeese – i’ll look soooooooo much better.

He is unmoved.  No bra. 

So then i have to scramble around and find something to wear over the blouse that still opens in front but covers the fact that i’m not wearing a bra.  Trying on outfits, running up and downstairs – no time to be nervous.  

At last i find something that works reasonably well.   There is a moment of anxiety at the security gate when i think they might make me take the jacket off, but it passes.

So i get on the plane in my short black skirt, blouse, and jacket.  O, and my off-black thigh hi’s.  Yep, that’s it.  i snatched up a long shawl – a cape-like thing – at the last minute in case i needed to cover myself.

Sigh.

That seems so long ago, when i was still nervous, not sure if the trip was a mistake. 

Now, i would not trade a minute of it for anything.  Not the anxious rush to find the clothes He wants me to wear.   Not the moment in the restaurant when He lifts my skirt, casually rubbing my bare ass.  Not the moments in the parking garage –

After the airport, on the way to a restaurant – He pulls into a parking garage.  i know what He is doing.  He had warned me.  But i had not been sure He meant it.  Now, i see that He does.

He pulls into a dark corner of the garage – the overhead light is out.  There are no cars parked around our space.  He turns to me – “I want you to get out, and meet me in the back seat.  Can you do that?”

i nod.  Yes.

The back seat is almost big enough for me to stand upright, He’s sitting of course.  He puts a sunscreen over the side window so .passing cars can’t see in.  He directs me to straddle Him.   i obey, legs stretched open over His lap. 

He kisses me – many times we kiss –  gently, tenderly, deeply, passionately – til i am warm and comfortable and happily turned on – and then –

“I want you to take your clothes off, and lay over my lap,” He says.

My breath catches – O – He had told me He would do this, but – o, my – but – “Really?” i say.

He smiles, but o, yes, He is quite sure.  

And i do.  You knew i would – He knew i would – and i do, i take my clothes off – well, my skirt and blouse, He lets me leave the thigh hi’s. 

I want your head here,” He gestures, “and your ass here.  i want to be able to reach your ass.” 

And i catch my breath – and for just a moment, i wonder if i’m insane – if i’ve totally lost my mind – and then –

i do it, i lay my body along the seat of the car, draped over His lap.   His thigh presses against my pussy, raises my ass.  He rubs it, gently caresses –

i sigh into it – it seems like so long since i’ve been touched like this – patted, petted, and stroked.  His hands are large, one hand almost covers a butt cheek – he strokes and rubs –  and then –

–  i feel his hand raise, sense it – wait for it –

WHACK!  He brings it down on my butt. 

Mmmmpf. 

And again.  O, my.

And again.

He pauses to rub and caress, then His hand falls again, stinging, heating my skin, making me cry out, making me moan.

“Yes, that’s good,” He says.  “You can make noise here, spanking’s too loud for a hotel room.”

And i know – lying there across His lap, naked in the back seat of an SUV, i know i’m in the right place.  i know this is just the beginning of a weekend of heaven for an attention slut.

 So i’m changing what i call Him.  He’s not BR anymore – that was kind of a private joke anyhow, probably amusing only to me.   A while back, He commented on my blog, and He called Himself, “Master of the Revels.”   It’s the perfect name for Him, so from now on, that’s who He is.  MoR for short.

Anyhow – i’m way behind on answering comments on the blog, and reading OP’s blogs, cause i really spent the whole weekend naked with Him and we had lots of other things to do, some of which i’ll tell you later.   And i’ll catch up on everything as soon as i can… 

Hopefully i can do that while the endorphins He stocked me with are still filling my body with warm, fuzzy feelings… 

In a Week…

18 Feb

Last night, BR and i were talking and something happened – i don’t quite know how to describe it – well, ok, i do – last night i was taken in hand.  i don’t mean we suddenly developed  a 1950’s relationship – and don’t expect that to happen – ever.  But He took control, and i relaxed into that quite happily.

You know i love that phrase “taken in hand.”  For me, it conjures images of a firm hand at the reins of a runaway horse, calmly and certainly bringing the horse back under control.   Keeping everyone safe.  Calming the horse too.  And then later, schooling the horse to provide valuable service, to be well-used, rather than running wild.   

It’s funny, because by anyone’s standards, i have great self-control.   But –

We were talking about my anxiety, and He pretty much just said, “Worry time is over, I’m in control now.”  And youall know how it is, something inside me melted.  i felt that promise move through my whole body.

i’ m not worried anymore.  

He said i’d been pushing His limits – and maybe so, but i didn’t realize that was what i was doing.   i think He’d been “giving me my head” to use another horse analogy.   {“not having a contact on the mouth and letting it go where it wants…”} 

And i had been wandering – and getting more and more anxious.   So it feels good that i’ve been taken in hand.

i may not have mentioned this before – BR considers Himself a Master, rather than a”Sir.”  i knew this.  Sometimes, i had the urge to call Him a title of respect, and could have easily called Him “Sir.”  

He was clear that He didn’t want to be called “Sir.”

i’ve hesitated to call Him “Master.”   i wasn’t sure He wanted me to, so it seemed dreadfully presumptuous.  And Master seems so much more intense – i thought i should meet Him before i took that step, if i was ever going to take it. 

Last night, He said i am to call Him “Master”  – that it wasn’t optional.

Do youall know what that did to me?

Yes.  My pussy started throbbing and a shiver ran through me. 

i haven’t felt that way in a while.

It was lovely.

Yes, we both know He’s not actually “my” Master, because that would be a huge committment, and neither of us is ready for that.  But we are trying it on a little bit.

i booked my flight last night.  It’s a done deal.  i didn’t get the “you can cancel and get a refund” ticket, even though there is the remote possiblity that a family emergency could keep me here.   But i’m committed. 

We have a hotel room.   Ok, i have a hotel room – yes, i could still change my mind, and i’d still have a weekend to be there on my own.   But, um, i don’t think that’s going to happen.

He has plans for what toys He’s bringing, some of which He’s shared with me.   i think spankings will be involved. 

i’m not afraid. 

Yes, i will still be cautious, i’ll still do all my safe call stuff.  But it’s going to be fine.  More than fine.

And exactly one week from today – i’ll be there. 

 

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Just making this up…

7 Feb

“Come here,” He says.

Quickly, i do; i stand in front of Him, waiting for the next direction. 

“You still have clothes on,” He says, looking stern.

“Yes, Sir, i do,” i say, “Would you like me to take them off?”

“Yes, slut,” He says.  “I need to inspect you.”

That makes me catch my breath – “O!” but i don’t stop unbuttoning my shirt.  i try to undress gracefully, slipping out of sleeves, sliding bra straps down…  i wiggle out of my jeans, hook my thumbs into the waistband of my panties, working them down over my hips and thighs.

He watches. 

When i am naked, He looks at me, just looks, until i begin to grow uncomfortable.  i want to cover myself, but i know better.

“Spread your legs,” He says.  i do – i spread my legs shoulder width apart – and still He just looks.  My arms and hands feel awkward, i have the urge to cover myself even more.  My naked pussy is so exposed.

“Spread your lips,” He says.  Again, i gasp – “O,” and i obey a little slowly, not totally wanting to open the lips barely covering my hot, wet clit.    But i do, and that thrusts my hips forward a little as i do it.  Then –

“Hands behind your back,” He says. 

And that’s a relief, because now i have something to do with my hands.  My back curves with the movement, my breasts are thrust forward, my ass protrudes, it takes me a moment to balance completely, with my legs spread wide, pussy exposed.  But i know how He wants me, and i try to arrange myself in the way that will please Him.

He is still watching.  He’s leaned forward in His chair, arms resting on His knees, watching intently.   Like i’m under His microscope.   No sign of approval – or disapproval either, so i take comfort from that. 

i can feel my pussy getting hot, and wet, just standing there waiting.  Vaguely, i wonder how that works.  Why does this turn me on, make my pussy throb?

He stands then, and a shiver runs through me.  i want His touch on my body – anywhere, any kind of touch.  

Thumbs brush my nipples, and honestly, my knees feel weak.  i tremble.  He pinches then, fingers grasping both nipples hard, and somehow that stablilizes me. 

It hurts, o, it hurts, and a sound escapes me.  “Mmpf.”  He raises His eyebrows as if surprised, and i swallow hard, holding back the moan.

Releasing my nipples, He slaps the inside of my thighs, and i spread my legs a little farther open.  

He puts one arm around me, placing His hand on my hands, at the small of my back.  Holding me steady, He smacks my pussy.  Lightly first, then hard, again, harder – O!  i try not to cry out, but –

Harder – 

                 – i can’t hold back, a whimper, a moan escapes me… twice more – hard, stinging blows fall between my legs.  Then –

fingers sliding inside me, sliding deep into my pussy –

“You’re wet,” He says. 

“Yes, Sir,” i gasp – His fingers probe – i feel myself climbing – arousal building – O

“Your cunt is wet,” He says.

“Yes, Sir,” i say, squirming a  little more at His use of that word.

“Why is that?” He says.  “Tell me why your cunt’s wet.”

“Sir – ” i say, i can barely talk for the pleasure running through my body, i’m so aware of His hand on my back, over my hands, holding me steady, and the fingers pressing inside my pussy – “Sir – You’re touching me – Your making me hot – and wet -“

But that’s not what He wants, His fingers slow down, “No, slut,” He says, “I want a full sentence starting with ‘my cunt is wet because…’  Go ahead.  Now.”

And i’m moving my hips, trying to keep His fingers moving deep inside me, when He pulls out and slaps me hard – slaps my pussy, “Now.”  He says.  “My cunt is wet because…”

And i gasp – i want His fingers back soooo bad, and i don’t like that word, He knows i don’t like it – and yet –

“My – my-” and i have to force it out – “My cunt, Sir,” and then it comes easily “My cunt is wet and hot because you’re touching it, Sir!  Because You – um, you smacked it, you smacked my cunt, and that made me hot and wet, and then You put Your fingers inside my cunt, and O, Sir, please, can i have Your fingers back in my cunt, please, Sir?”

He’s laughing then, “Good girl,” but “No, I’m not through inspecting you.  I haven’t even looked at your ass.”

He walks around behind me.  i hold my breath. 

“Your hands – put your hands up behind your neck,” He says. 

It takes me a moment to get it, before i can obey, His hand comes down on my ass, hard.  I cry out, shock more than pain. 

“Now,” He says.  “Hands behind your neck.”

i clasp my hands at the nape of my neck, leaving my ass and back exposed.

“Good girl,” and He rubs my ass where i’m sure it’s already turning red.  His hands spread my cheeks, and i blush, i can feel my whole body blushing.

“Does it make you hot when i smack your ass?” He asks.

“Yes, Sir,” i say, not sure what’s coming next.

“Tell me,” He says.

“It makes me – ” and then i get it, “It makes my cunt hot – it makes my cunt wet – when You smack my ass, Sir.”

“Then I think you should thank Me,” He says, and even though i can hear laughter in His voice, i know He means it.

“Thank You, Sir,” i say quickly.  Quickly because i’ve learned – the hard way – that may lead Him to think He “hasn’t done enough for me to be grateful yet.”  It cost me 10 hard spanks just recently, being slow to respond.

“Bend over,” He says, and –

i hate to – i don’t want to – it exposes my ass, um, my asshole way more than i want, but i don’t delay.  i’m a little off balance with my hands behind my neck, and he holds my breast as i lean forward, helping me stay balanced.

His other hand rests on the inside of my thigh, close to my pussy.  “What’s this?” He asks, His hand gripping my thigh – “you’re all wet here!  What is that, slut?”

“Sir,” i say, “It’s – um – it’s -” and my voice drops, i can’t help it, “It’s me, um, it’s from my – from my cunt, Sir,” and suddenly, it’s ok, that wall inside me breaks open, and i just say it, “O, Sir, it’s wetness from my cunt because you make me soooo hot, Sir.”  And i’m filled with joy because really –

– there’s no shame here – i belong to Him, and of course my cunt is wet, because He wants it to be.  And in that moment, all i want is to belong to Him, to please Him, to feel this rush of delight.  And from deep in my heart, i say, “Thank You, Sir.” 

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

My facebook quote for the day:

“I am here to seduce you into a love of life; to help you to become a little more poetic; to help you die to the mundane and to the ordinary so that the extraordinary explodes in your life.”
~~  Osho

  

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Coping

3 Jan

“Come here,” He says.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed.   We’ve been talking, talking for a long time.  Wrapped in each other’s arms.  i have not cried – almost, a couple of times, and it’s sad enough to make me cry, but i haven’t cried.   i don’t like to cry, you know, and if i’m gonna cry, i’d rather do it alone.

i get up to go to the bathroom, and come back to find Him sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Here,” He says.  Impatient.

i stand in front of Him, naked already.  He slaps the inside of my thighs; i spread my legs further apart.

A nipple in one hand, caught tight between His thumb and forefinger, but not painfully.  

His other hand parts my lips – exposes the inner lips – his finger strokes the hot wetness there.  Spreading moisture on my clit.  His fingers increase the pressure on my nipple, just a little.  i moan, press my pussy forward, seeking more.

And of course He slaps it, slaps me right there, between my legs, not too hard, but hard enough to make me pull back – or try to, because the hand on my nipple isn’t letting me go anywhere.

i moan.   Caught between pleasure and pain – isn’t that how it always goes?

But His fingers slide up inside me, seeking that spot, o -o – 0 YES – over the top He takes me, o, my, that shuddering release, sliding back down…

“You need to be spanked,” He says, pulling His fingers back out of me, switching his grasp to my other nipple.

“i do?” i say, just a bit uncertainly. 

He nods.  “You do.  Over my knee.”

And when i’m slow to obey, He gestures impatiently, tugs the nipple, and then i do, i fold myself over His knee

– feeling very exposed and vulnerable –

             – which i suppose is what He wants anyhow, because then He caresses, caresses and strokes me

for a long time…. and i relax into it, being patted and stroked, and i’m moaning with pleasure, relaxing

when He smacks my ass, not too hard, but hard enough to make me gasp. 

         O – O, my

cause of course He does it again, and again.

i squirm a little, but “Settle down,” He says.  “This is going to take a long time.”

He hand lands solidly, still not too hard, and i do, i settle into it.  He alternates cheeks, strikes high and low, makes sure he’s connecting  with my lower ass.  i’ll feel this when i sit again.

i’m still squirming a little, i can’t help it.  He pauses once, slides His fingers inside me again.  “Wet,” He says, and i can hear laughter in His voice,  feel His smile.  “See, this is so good for you.  You needed it.”

“Yes, Sir,” i say, and at the moment, i mean it.   But then it goes on…

    …and on – and i’m squirming more and trying to get away, until

                      He takes my arm, pulls it behind my back – and it doesn’t hurt, not at all, unless i try to move away, so i try to stay very still – and He’s still spanking – through it all –

lightly sometimes, harder, and sometimes, He stops and strokes my ass, which is burning hot, stops and pats, slides his fingers between my legs, makes me squirm in a whole different way –

and starts again.   And i moan and whimper and beg Him to stop – until, at last, something inside me breaks open – and i begin to cry.  Tears running down my cheeks.  Sobs.  Quiet sobs, but sobs.

And He goes on – His hand falling over and over on my ass, as i cry and cry and cry.  Until at last, when i am all cried out, He stops.

“Good girl,” He says, stroking gently.  “Good girl.”

He pulls me up then, up and into His arms.  And holds me there.

 

 

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Back in the Training School – Part III

26 Dec

Because only a velcro strip holds my skirt together anyhow, it’s easy to reach behind me and open it when told to.  One simple gesture, and my ass is completely exposed.  As i separate the velcro, i wonder if i’ll ever hear that noise again – that ri-i-i-ping sound, without remembering moments like this.

 “Here,” he says, and i’m quickly bent over his knee, his hand on my butt.  His hand caresses, and i realize, with relief, that this is not a real punishment.  i relax under his stroking hand –

– and gasp as it descends with force, quite suddenly.  O!  Taken by surprise, i am intensely aware of the tingling, burning sensation, that’s not actually unpleasant  His hand is caressing again, and he says,

“What are you supposed to say?”

O!  i’ve been completely distracted by the sensation, and i know better.  “One – thank you, Sir, may i have another, please?”  i say it quickly, afraid i’m already in trouble.

But he laughs.  “That’s better,” he says.  “Pay attention now.”   And i do, remembering the formula for Two, which lands in the exact same spot on my butt as One.  When Three lands in the SAME spot, it hurts.  But – i feel quite lopsided.  The other side of my ass feels neglected.

He’s stroking again.  “Let’s do one more,” he says, “and I’ll let you choose – do you want it in the same place, or on the other side?”

“O, thank you, Sir,” i say, “On the other side, please.”

“But if I do the other side,” he says, “Then I’ll need to even it up and give you three more.  Is that what you want?”

i’m only slightly surprised to hear myself say, “Yes, Sir, please, Sir, three more on the other side.”  

He delivers them with enthusiasm, and i remember to thank him.  After Three, he laughs and says, “Now, one more for good measure,” and gives me a fourth on each side. 

His hand probes between my legs, caressing my pussy, which has gotten hotter and wetter with each stroke.  “You respond well to that,” he says.  “Good girl,” and a shiver runs through me.  His fingers are inside me, and i’m soooooo close to cumming, “Please, Sir, please may i cum?” i say.

And the fingers are withdrawn, a pat and a little push encourages me to get to my feet.  Standing, breasts exposed, back of my skirt completely open, i’m trembling.    “Kneel,” he says –

– and i smile.  “Yes, Sir.” 

Nestling into the space between his legs, i watch him take his cock in his own hand.  He is already getting hard, and i long to touch.  But i wait.

“Do you want this?” he says.  

Without taking my eyes off him, i nod, “Yes, Sir, i do.”

“Ok,” he says, “then you may touch me.  Show me what you know about pleasing with your mouth.”

It flashes through my mind that this is a test – that he is putting me through my paces.  But that thought is swept away by desire to please him.   i don’t know what he likes, but i trust that he’ll let me know as we go along.

The art of cock worship – the delicate exploration of this cock, looking for what he responds to.  The caress of lips and tongue, the hot warmth of my mouth wrapped around him, the harshness of the cock striking the back of my throat…  i try all of these, focusing intently on his response.

i take my time.  i’m in no hurry for him to cum, i want him to enjoy the slow build-up.  i think he does, i hear him moan once, and count that success. 

After some time – i don’t know how long – he grasps my hair.  He moves my head, setting a rhythm for me.  From then, i begin to hold that pace, helping him build to a peak.

It is not longer after that – “Now,” he says and thrusts himself into my mouth fiercely for serveral strokes.  i hold on, opening myself, accepting him completely, as he cries out with pleasure.    

His cum has a pleasant taste – i won’t try to describe it, it doesn’t matter, but i don’t mind leaving his cock in my mouth as he relaxes back into an unaroused state.  He’s rubbing my head, which feels soooo good, even though it makes me wonder if he has a dog.  i smile to myself, will he scratch behind my ears too?

It makes me shiver to realize how much like an animal i am, kneeling at his feet.  When he says, “Good job – good girl,” i think i could easily be a dog, and be quite happy with this kind of attention.  But even happier when he says,

“Did you still want to cum?” because

OMIGOSH – YES!! 

I do.  I really, really do.

i manage some restraint “Yes, Sir, please, i do, yes.  Sir,” and i’m smiling like i just won the lottery.  He smiles too, and

– slips his fingers inside my pussy, making me gasp –

i’m still kneeling in front of him, rubbing myself on his hand, making little noises – o my, o my –

and quickly i climb up, up and omigodyesyes – slide into my first over-the-top, shivering, moaning orgasm – only to feel him still pressing himself into me deeper – o- o-

and it continues, pushing me up and over the top again –

           – playing with my nipples with his other hand, o – o – oyesyesyesyesyes – omigod –

he presses me backwards, i’m lying on my back, my legs spread wide, his fingers still probing and pressing – oyes – and then –

i’m cuming again, so i barely notice the other finger – the finger just resting at the entrance to my other hole – the one they have not used yet –

and i’m shaking and moaning as the finger, just one finger – slides into my asshole. 

omigod, omigod – the finger fills me – overwhelmed with sensation, my pussy throbbing happily, clenching and rubbing against his hand, and now this – o, this so invasive finger in my ass – o, i can’t even think at all – i can’t quit moving – O!  O – over the top one more time –

And then –

– it stops.  The movement stops.  Fingers are withdrawn.  My eyes open – i had not realized they were closed.  i’m on my back, knees pressed to my chest, suddenly feeling open and exposed.  He is leaning over me, watching my face.

 i move to put my legs down, but his hands, one on each ankle, keep me in place.  i whimper.

“Good.”  He says.    “Cock worship.  That’s another role at the party.  Have you already had some training?”  i shake my head, 

“No, Sir.”

“Even better,” he says.  “You seem to have some natural aptitude for it.”

i’m thrilled that he thinks so – my whole body quivers with pleasure. 

“Which,” he adds, “is not to say that’s what you’ll do at the party.  It would be highly unusual for you to be assigned to that role for your first party.”

i nod, that’s ok with me – well, not that it matters if it’s ok with me or not – but that’s ok with me too! 

He releases my ankles, lightly slaps the inside of my thigh.  “Get up,” he says – as if i’d been the one holding myself down – which makes me giggle.  He looks at his watch, “You’re supposed to be down in the baths getting ready for dinner, better hustle down there.  If you tell them you were with me, they may go lighter with the consequences.”

i’m on my feet now, and i gasp – consequences?  Why would there be consequences when it’s not my fault i’m late?   That’s not fair! 

i don’t say a word, but i guess my face does, because he laughs – “No, it’s not fair,” he says.  “But life’s not fair, is it?  There are always consequence in life.’

i’m about to hurry away when he says, a note of warning in his voice, “Did you want to thank me before you rush off?” and i realize – o, yes – of course i do – not thanking him would carry its own set of consequences. 

Quickly, i kneel.  He steps forward a little, a hand on the back of my head presses my face against his cock.  i can feel him swelling.   i kiss him and he releases my head. 

“Thank you, Sir,” i say.

Following the formula, he says, “For?” and i reply –

“for teaching me about the party, for letting me suck your cock, for letting me cum – o! and for spanking me.  Sir.”

He smiles, “Good girl.  You may go now.  We’ll talk again soon.”

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Impact Play (cont)

6 Dec

 

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

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

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

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

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

“You can leave the panties,” He says.  

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

 
 
 
 
 

Only fur lined.

 

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

 
 
 
 
 

Near the wall on the left

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

 

 
 
 
 

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

And He starts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

     – and more flogger

                     – and feather duster

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

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

  and then the pain

                   and the pleasure…

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

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

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

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

O!!!!!  That’s one –

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

– and then the third – O, my….

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

O – O – ahhhhhhhhh, yes –

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

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

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

And i guess it is… whew.  It is –

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

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

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

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

Sigh.

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

 

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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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The Beatings Will Continue

12 Nov

Found this as a poster on some basically vanilla website...

“Bend over,” He says.  “Hands on the table.”

i don’t want to – of course i don’t want to.  But my pussy throbs, wet and warm.  i half obey – standing close to the table, bending forward slightly, hands resting on the table. 

“aisha.”  His voice is impatient.  “Do I really have to tell you how to do this?  Take two steps back.”  As i obey, a little slowly, He says, “No, three.  Three steps back.”

And i do, i take three small steps back, but apparently it’s enough, cause He says, “Now bend over.  Elbows on the table.”  

And that stretches me the way He wants me, bends me over far enough that my ass feels quite exposed.  In my heels, I would be too unstable if i were any farther back, but with my elbows on the table, the angle of my body apparently suits Him.   

He lifts my skirt. 

He runs His hand under the edges of my panties; He is toying with me.  His touch fans the heat between my legs, without touching my pussy.  He avoids the wet center of my panties, my dripping pussy. 

i whimper and squirm, pushing my ass back towards Him –

– and He smacks my ass, hard.

“Hold still.”  He says.  “Put your head down on the table.  Hold still.”

O, my pussy throbs and quivers, and i shudder with pleasure as i obey, pressing my forehead to the table.   Holding still.  Waiting.

Then His hands grasp the panties at the waistband, jerk them down over my thighs.  My thighs are fairly close together, He’s able to pull them all the way down easily.   He taps an ankle – i lift that leg so He can slide them off.  When He taps the inside of my leg, i don’t need words to tell me to spread my legs, open them wider.

That stretches me tighter, exposes the cleft between my cheeks, exposes my pussy, which is glistening wet.  He uses one finger to make sure the outer lips are spread as well, and i whimper.  i want to press against His finger, but i manage to hold still.  

“Good girl,” He says –

– and i’m awash in pleasure –

         – just as a hear a whoosh – and the whip falls on my ass, leaving a stinging strip of pain…

and i gasp – O!

         – as another one lands…

MMMMMM – O! 

Sir!  

O!

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

That was fantasy – pure fantasy.  But fun, wasn’t it?  {Laughing}  i should have written that before my shower.

i overslept this morning, as my early to rise friends have already realized…  not because i’ve sunk into the depths of despair – although, i think it was Carl Jung who said:  

“The depth of darkness to which you can descend and still live is an exact measure of the height to which you can aspire to reach.”

And isn’t that what we were saying yesterday in the comments on my post?  Only in reverse  – that the higher we climb, the farther we fall.   There are so many sources with that theme – Kahlil Gibran is one of my favorities, particularly in The Prophet, particularly the one where he talks about joy and sorrow. 

i read this passage to my clients sometimes – and give it to them to take home too, of course.  The language is more difficult than most of them are used to, which is why i read it to them first, because somehow the meaning comes across despite the unfamiliar phrasing.  It goes like this:

“Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter’s oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.”
 
                         ~~Kahlil Gibran
 
 i’m ok today – it’s ok that i overslept, cause i don’t have to be anywhere til 10.  i actually chose to go back to sleep just a little bit before the time i usually get up, and next thing i knew, a couple of hours had flown by.  So i’m more rested and refreshed than usual, which is cool. 
 
i had a lovely conversation with my Sir last night by IM.  It’s always fun talking to Him.  And last night He was particularly patient about listening, and being willing to hear me.  The conversation laid a lot of my anxiety to rest (thank you, Sir…) 
 
i saw on ‘Nilla’s blog that she posted her 500th post today.   That’s amzing dedication! Congratulations, ‘Nilla!!  And thank you – you write the most delightfully sexy fantasies.  i love to read them.   The only thing better than that is when you choose to let us into your real life.  
 
Thank you all for all the support you gave me yesterday.  i was going to say some other stuff about that, but tomorrow’s another day, right?
  
 

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Escape into Fantasy

1 Nov

“It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life.  Where you stumble, there is your treasure.”

~~ Joseph Campbell 

i love this quote – it’s not just the pain/pleasure dichotomy that those of us in the lifestyle embrace.  It’s the idea that there is value in the depths.   That the very point you’re having trouble with is where your treasure lies. 

 
An artist i know did a painting – a small painting – of a dragon, with these words beside the fierce creature:  “Befriend your dragons; we your riches be.”  i love that idea too, and i think the lifestyle embraces some of that.
 
But i like it a lot more when it’s someone else’s experience – someone else’s stumble, someone else’s dragon – than when it’s mine.  {Laughing}   So i’m out of sorts today, just a little bit, and i don’t want to do the psychic work of figuring out what’s wrong and working on it.
 
Sigh.

i’d rather go back to one of my fantasies.  Wanna come too?

i think it’s time for the training school, although Vesta’s done such a wonderful story of a training school fantasy that i hope i can find my own story again!

In my training school, there are both subs and Doms.  The subs, of course, are expected to obey the teachers, and the Doms-in-Training.  But the Doms are expected to live up to high Dom-ly standards as well.    A future Dom doesn’t actually get punished if He fails to meet the standards, but He gets rewards when He does.  So when He falls short, His punishment is not getting rewarded.

Obviously, the subs supply the rewards, as directed by the teachers.  It’s not unusual for a sub’s “punishment” to be a Dom’s “reward.”  But sometimes the training process is rewarding for both of them…

We are in the classroom with massage tables; several of us, paired off with a Dom for each sub.  The subs are lying on the tables.  My hands are cuffed together, strectched above my head and fastened.  i am on my back.  My legs are open, but not restrained.  There is no need to restrain me today.  My hands are cuffed only to remind me that i am not in control.

Today, the Doms are being instructed.  A drawing of a woman’s most private parts is projected onto a screen.  As each part is discussed, the Dom is supposed to find the corresponding part on the woman spread open before Him.  On me.  He will be learning how to make me cum, over and over and over. 

My task is to learn to control my orgasms.  i have to ask permission each time before i cum.  If i cum without permission, of course, i’ll be punished.  But not too harshly, because it’s like a contest.  The idea is for the Dom to make us lose control, even while we work at increasing our ability to wait, to manage our orgasms only at His command.

The instructor points at the picture, “Right here,” He says.  “Right here is the clit.  Find her clit now.”  And Daniel, who is my Dom-in-Training today, carefully slides His finger over my hot, wet pussy, touching lightly, exploring, watching my face. 

i whimper as He finds it.

“There?” He says, smiling. 

“O.  Yes.” i start to squirm, i can’t help it.  He isn’t moving His finger, or maybe He’s barely moving it.  Not stroking me, just the tiniest movement.  It’s driving me crazy.  My hips thrust upwards –

but His finger continues to rest lightly on the most sensitive spot on my body.  No increase in pressure.  He smiles.  “Keep doing that,” He says, “and I’ll add some more to your “punishment.”  I don’t mind,” He says.  “I love the idea of spanking your ass for a long time.”

Of course, that makes me hotter, a shiver goes through me, and i struggle to keep my hips still.  He laughs, and begins to move His finger in tiny circles, still barely touching me, sending waves of pleasure out through the rest of my body. 

i whimper again.

(to be continued)

  

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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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