Tag Archives: bondage

Rope (Part I)

24 Oct

i’m at home again, after going to Sir D’s and the classes, munch, and play party where He lives.  Tried to take a nap.  But i become aware of my body tingling.  i don’t quite know why, but it’s nice, and it’s energizing.  i can’t possibly sleep. 

i guess it’s a buzz.  i am still buzzing.  Not surprising.

Yesterday.

O, my.

i can’t write about it either, not coherently. 

Classes – dungeon safety, and edge play.  i know more about being safe.  More about being not safe.

Munch – food, conversation, great stories.  i wish i could share stories, but they’re not mine to share.  Sir D makes the statement that we agree is the Dom quote of the day:

“It’s just easier to do it my way.”

{Laughing}  Yes, no doubt.  i can attest to that.

Play Party –  O.   Um.  Whew.

There was rope. 

And me. 

And Sir.

i’ll tell the first part. 

We talk about doing an “impact play” scene or a rope scene – i don’t care which we do.  Either one would be lovely.  Sir decides to do rope.

He decides to do a partial suspension.  One leg on the ground, one leg suspended.  That’s  fine with me.

So we’re at the party.  There is a structure for suspension.  Another couple uses it first; we watch and wait.

They are finished.  Sir D goes to the structure – it is up in the front of the room, a little bit lit up.  Not exactly on stage, but kind of.  The frame is kind of  like a swing set frame.  Sir puts a ring on the hook in the middle – like a huge key ring, but much sturdier.

The suspension ring is used for suspending someone using rope, by suspending the ring from somewhere else. Additional rope or lengths of rope then suspend the person from the ring.

.

He puts his weight on it to test it.

The ring has a number of metal, narrow, triangular pieces dangling from it.  i can’t find a picture of what they look like – sorry.

Anyhow.  He attaches the ring to the bolt already set in the wooden structure, and tests the weight, and then He gestures to me, “Come here,”

So of course i do.  i am  already in that head space of heightened awareness of my own body. 

“Bring both my bags up here, please,” He says.

i’m glad to do it.   i go back to our table to get them, and return carrying the one bag over my shoulder, the other is a little suitcase on wheels.  i pull it behind me.  i even remember, when i get to Sir, to push the button on the handle so i can push the handle back in – my first instinct is always just to push hard on it, cause that’s how mine works.

He opens the case, the bag.  Then looks at me, i’m just standing there, watching.  Waiting.

“Kneel,” He says.

i catch my breath – really?  here? O, yes, of course really, and why not here – i don’t think i even ask it aloud.

i kneel.  In the front of the room, in front of everyone.  But i kneel for Him. 

He has my attention.  My complete attention.

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

i think i’ll try again to nap.  i’m sure i’ll be back soon to finish the story….

 

 

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Play Party (Part IV)

4 Sep

So there i am -wearing a black lacy bra, see-through lacy black panties, and a Shibari rope dress.  Making my way to the bar in a crowded dungeon.   And feeling beautiful.

i successfully get my bottle of water from the bartender, and walk back to Sir at our table, walking with my head up this time.  Take a drink of water, offer Him some.  He shakes his head, no. 

 “I’ll be  back in a minute,” He says, and walks away.

i’m left standing by our table.  There’s a mirror behind the table.  If i turn my head a little, i can see the top half of myself.  My torso encased in the rope.  i admire the design.  My lips curve in a half-smile, i look happy.   

 i’m getting a little tired though.  i decide to sit down while i wait for Sir to come back.  Gingerly, i start to ease myself down into a chair – only to pop right back up.  As i bend my legs, the rope between my thighs, the rope that’s already pressed firmly against my swollen pussy, tightens even more.  It makes sitting a really bad idea.  i  stand.

The man sitting next to me smiles.  He says something, i think he says, “Lovely subby.”  Could that be right?  In any case, i just smile a little more.  A woman and a man pass by, nod at me.  “Beautiful,” they say.  

Then Sir is back.  He glances at me.  “Rope too tight to sit?” He asks.  i nod, “Mmmmhmmm.”  

“I thought it might be,” He says, unconcerned.  And then He moves close to me, arms around me for a minute.  Whispering in my ear, sweet words in my ear.  It melts me. He melts me.   i have to put my hand on the table to keep standing, my knees feel weak.  

And then – He draws back a little – and i hear – i don’t know how to write it – i hear “SNICK.”  The sound of his knife opening.  He has opened his knife.

O, my.

i know that Sir is not going to harm me.  i know He won’t  cut me.  i do.  i know that.   He won’t.

 So why does that sound send a shiver through me?  A rush of fear.   i feel the sharp tip of the knife press against my skin; i hold my breath. 

The knife caresses me.  Moving in careful strokes along my skin, following the pattern of the rope.  It feels like – you know that moment when you cut yourself, right after you realize you’re cut and a split second before it starts to really hurt?  That’s what it feels like. 

 It feels like He’s cutting me. 

i know He’s not, but even knowing that, i’m sure He is.  Just a little, i think.  i think there will be traces of the knife on my skin, maybe a fine line where He has cut my skin.  i shiver.

i don’t move.

He is watching me, watching my face, and i know that i have moved into a different space.  Ok, call it subspace, but you know, i was already there and this is somewhere else, somewhere more. 

i float. 

It is not an out-of-body experience.  i am not less there.  i am more there.  Totally in my body while He cuts a design, a design that follows the pattern of the rope. 

i know He is not cutting me.

i think the marks, the lines the knife must be leaving, will be pretty.  i am not worried.

It goes on for a long time, and when He is through, He holds me again.  i’m turned on and revved up, i’m drained and weak.  i am – o, i am in that space.  i know – subspace – but that doesn’t do it justice. 

It is the space between this world and the dream world.  Not quite real, not quite unreal.  And while i am there, He says, very close to my ear, “You haven’t had an orgasm in a long time.”  i nod.  i haven’t.  Not in a very long time.  “Would you like to have one?” He asks.  O, yes.  Yes, i would, very much.  i can only nod slowly.  O, yes.

“I think I have something here,” He says, opening His bag of toys.   He pulls something out and holds it up for me to see. 

It is small.  Some kind of small, rectangular thing.  Still not sure what He’s doing; i watch langorously. 

Then i hear a noise – a buzzing – and i  realize – O!   It’s a vibrator.  A pocket rocket. maybe?   And it’s on.

i’m trying to imagine how He’s going to do this -how  will He put it between my legs? – but he slides it in, between the rope and my belly.  Just tucks it in, and of course the rope is tight enough to hold it.   So now the rope is vibrating. 

 Tightly pressed against me, the rope vibrates  between my legs.  Pressed up against my hot, wet, swollen pussy, the rope is vibrating.  Between the cheeks of my ass , vibrating.  All over my body.  O!

i realize that i’m going to have an orgasm, right here in a public dungeon.   In front of strangers.  And i don’t care.  In fact, i’m happy about it.  i begin to squirm a little, trying to get the rope to hit directly on that spot.

O.  My hips are moving, not in circles, but back and forth, almost up and down, trying to get it it right there.  Mmmpf – almost – if i can just –

-people actually stop to watch.  i don’t care –

almost, almost –

yes!!!!!!  o, yes!!!

A lovely, shivering over the top and down –  whew.  O, my.  O.  So much better.

Mercifully, Sir turns the vibrator off.  Ahhhh, yes.  That was so perfect.  Mmmmm.

And His arms are around me as He begins to unwrap me.  Mmmmmm.  O, my.

It takes a long time, i think.  Hours, maybe days.  He unwraps me.  Deftly, His hands pull, holding the tension just right.  The rope slides over my body, again and again, again and again.  Runs through His hands.  He pulls it back to Him, the rope leaves my body, returns to His hands.   It is alive between us; humming again, it lets me go. 

Over and over, on and on it goes.  i stand and watch, He watches the rope and watches me. 

And then the last bit of rope is gone.  Laid in a pile on the table, lifeless for now.

Sigh.

And His arms wrap around me, pull me down to a seat, at last, pull me closer to Him.  i’m cold now, so cold.  i shiver and He holds me closer, and closer.  i curl into Him, seeking His warmth.

He strokes me and pets me and whispers those words i love to hear.  “Good girl.  You did good for me.  Such a good girl.”   Those words that make me purr, that make my pussy clench even now, that send shivers through me just writing them.  Just remembering.

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

And i have been halfway still in that space all week.   i thought i would crash.  Maybe badly, because the experience was so intense, and lasted for so long.  But it hasn’t happened yet.   Maybe because i haven’t been able to finish writing it til now.   Maybe because Sir has stayed in touch with me so i still feel connected to Him.  Maybe for some reason i can’t even imagine. 

And now (after two days of orgasm denial, of course) it’s Saturday and Sir is coming to visit.   <smiles>  My nipples are hard, my inner thighs tingle in anticipation.  My heart beats faster.

Last week, before i left, when we were talking about naps, i took a shower.  Clean and ready for more, i fling myself on the bed where He’s lying and wait for Him to look up from His laptop.   He glances at me and says indulgently, “What are you doing coming to bed all naked?  Greedy girl!”

And o, my He is so right.  i admitted it then, and now too. 

i am greedy for His touch, for the caress or the slap – i’m greedy for the taste of Him – His mouth on mine, my mouth on Him, licking and sucking His cock, tasting His cum –  greedy for the things we do together, and for the things He does to me.   I am grateful too – grateful for all of those experiences, grateful for all the joy He brings.

   

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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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My Weekend Away, Part II: Into the Dungeon

3 Aug
“In sex, an inner life of strong emotions and vivid fantasies meets with a real person to create a moment of exceptional intensity when life is full and reason is dim.”    from The Soul of Sex, by Thomas Moore*

The spanking bench in the dungeon

 i’m looking at the spanking bench with a little trepidation when He says, “Off – take those off,” and i shiver, pull my t-shirt over my head, slip my shorts off.  i take my time with the bra, turning my back to him to unhook it, turn back to  pull the straps off my shoulders one at a time, drop the bra gently on the floor. 

Then i pause, not sure i want to lose the panties, even though they’re not exactly a lot of protection.  But He gestures, “come on,” and so of course i do, feeling the silk slide down my legs and then they’re off and i am exposed.  i  watch Him intently.

The cuffs are red leather, fairly wide, and i hold out my wrists for Him to strap them on.  They’re soft, almost padded inside, and feel secure.  Then he gestures to my ankle.  i’m still focused on my wrists, and don’t respond immediately.  He pats the spanking bench and, “O, sorry,”  i raise my right leg, place it on the bench so he can strap the ankle cuff on.  Then the left leg. 

i feel very naked.  More naked with the cuffs than before.

“Good girl,” He says.  i shudder, feel my pussy clench.

Then, He pats the bench, “Come on, up you go,” He says.  And i do,  just like before when i had my clothes on, but this time there’s all that leather against my nakedness.  It makes me shiver to remember it, makes me wet just writing it.

The rings in the wrist cuffs barely clink when He attaches them to the bench.  i tug a little to test them; they are securely attached.  He leaves my ankles free.

The blindfold is red.  I notice that before He places it around my eyes,  fastens it in the back.   i appreciate the darkness. 

There is music playing too, i had almost forgotten that.  Hearing and feeling are enough, i don’t need to see. 

i don’t need to see which instrument He selects.    Sometimes He names it for me, “This is one of the floggers.”   He uses the flogger on my ass and then on my back, and it doesn’t feel bad, more like some esoteric massage.   I wriggle on the bench, feel my pussy rub against it.   Mmmmm, nice.

Oher things hurt.  i whimper and squirm, my toes curl and uncurl.   “Mmmpf,’ as it thuds again across both cheeks. “Ahh.  Oh.”

It’s only later that He tells me, “That was the big wooden paddle with the heart carved in it.  But I barely touched you with it!” 

“i know, i know” i say, “i knew even then that you were being gentle, but it still really hurt.  i can’t imagine…” the sentence trails off.

In the moment, kneeling naked, bound, the paddle made a thump on my ass, an impresson on my mind.  And then, “Let’s try this one,” He says, “It stings,” and it does – o, my, it does.  “Breathe,” He says.  i do, and that helps.   He talks me through it, and i see no irony in Him teaching me how to take it.

i know now that was a quirt.

He showed me this later...

And i’m experiencing all these sensations – the stinging, the thumps and thuds – mingled with His hands stroking.  i’m incredibly wet, in a puddle on the bench, when  He says, “you were asking me about the hitachi,” and He’s doing something behind me, something is pressed up against my hot, wet pussy and just the contact makes me moan.  i’ve been squirming, now i’m wanting to back up into this like a cat in heat.  And He turns it on.

Hitachi magic wand massager. Whew. Magic is right

It vibrates, and i whimper and moan, and then He’s in front of me and my mouth is His too, and… O, my.  Really, that’s all i can say.  O.  My.   Well,  also, “Mmmmm…”  and then “Aaaaahhhhhhhh… o, yes,” as i reach that peak and tumble over, shaking with pleasure.

Later, warm and cuddled and held, i realize that He has acted out a fantasy i’ve had for ages.  i’d never shared the fantasy with anyone, and He had brought it to life. 

Thomas Moore says:   “The soul craves such excursions from literal reality, and so it is no mystery that sex is so compelling and satisfying.” *

* i realize that by some definitions this wasn’t “sex,” but from Thomas Moore’s perspective it would be.  i’m going to talk about that too, one of these days…

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My Weekend Away, Part I

2 Aug

i came back home very early Sunday morning and was busy with events and activites til bedtime, so i’ve hardly had a minute to ponder my experiences.  Then i actually slept in this morning, which i almost never do, and with a full day of work ahead of me, there’s not much time now.   

So i’ll start the story the way the weekend started.  With a tease.

Sir D has a beautiful home; with high ceilings, spacious rooms and interesting nooks and crannies.  It was a little intimidating at first – i was afraid i’d get lost in it!    But after a quick tour of the upstairs, i thought i could probably navigate it safely. 

Then He takes my hand and says, “Do you want to go ahead and see the dungeon?”

And of course i do, so we descend into the basement. 

Which sounds like it might call for scary music, only it totally doesn’t.  It’s like going into just about any finished basement.  Carpeted stairs lead to a pleasant living room style area with a futon couch.  So far, so good.

Then i see the doors.  Well, barred entrance.  Metal doors with bars.  Kind of like this:

There are two of them, they swing open and shut like a gate. It's heavy black metal. They scream, "DUNGEON HERE!!!"

We pause at the entrance. 

“I want you to see it from the outside first,” He says.  So we stand on the outside, i put my hands on the bars, and the sensation – i can’t describe it, you’ll have to imagine it.  Cold metal, sturdy and unyeilding, under my hands.   Looking into the dungeon.

In the middle, dominating the room is the spanking bench.  It sits in front of a mirror, which runs the length of one wall.  Gulp.  Yikes.  

“Look interesting?” He says.  i can only nod.  A shiver runs through me, my pussy clenches.  O.  My.

“Ready to go in now,” He says, and we do. 

O.  O, my.  My heart beats faster, there’s too much, i really can’t take it all in.   He shows me some – features of the room.  Just pointing them out.   i bite my lower lip.  O, my.

And then he pats the spanking bench with one hand.  “I want you to try it out,” He says, “with your clothes on first.  Go ahead, put your knee here.”

i feel awkward, intensely aware of my body, aware of each movement i make.  The feeling of the padded leather under my knee, swinging the other leg over like mounting a horse.  i straddle it upright for a moment, which makes me smile.  Then –

He pats the front part, “Come on, your hands go down here, your chin here.  Or you can turn your head… yes.  Like that.”

And i am down on all fours, ass raised slightly.  i can see myself in the mirror.

“That’s good,” He says, sending another shiver through me.  “Can you see yourself naked?  Imagine what it’ll be like naked?”

And i can, omigoodness, yes, i can. 

i’ve got to stop now, much as i hate to.  i’m almost running late for work, spent too much time trying to find a picture that really looked like the entrance to Sir D’s dungeon, and barely got close.  But – better pictures are coming in Part II. 

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Adventures

29 Jul

i’m going to visit Sir D. tomorrow.  It’s a fairly short trip in terms of the drive – about an hour and a half.  But it feels like crossing into a foreign country.

He has a dungeon in his basement. 

Really.

This is the only picture of a dungeon i could find.

Picture of a dungeon, by david shankbone

That was in Wikipedia.  Obviously, i don’t know what Sir D’s dungeon looks like.   I’m pretty sure the blonde won’t be in it.  <giggles>

You probably won’t be surprised to know that just thinking about it makes me – yes, wet.  And hot.  i don’t know if that’s just because i’m really such a newbie or if i’ll always be like this. 

i don’t think we’re going to do any kind of extreme play while i’m there.  Sir D is eminently safe and sane, and if i were afraid, i wouldn’t be going.  But not knowing what we’re going to do turns me on all by itself. 

i thought about that last night, when i couldn’t sleep.   Tried to imagine what it would feel like.  Imagined being aware of Him next to me.   Going down some stairs – He opens a door.  Will there be a wall like this? 

Dungeon Equipment

A while ago, He told me the things that He has in the dungeon.  i don’t remember all of them.  In fact, i don’t trust my memory.  A spanking bench?  A mirror?  Hooks for suspension?  It gives me chills to think about it. 

Fortunately, He hasn’t told me not to touch myself, cause while i’m lying there thinking about all this last night, i’m getting further and further away from sleep.

So i do the sensible thing.  i  begin to touch myself.  i’m already wet, and have been half-excited all day.  A moist finger rubbing my clit, o, that’s nice.  A spanking bench.  O, my.  Tingling between my legs, tensing my muscles.  Rubbing gently, taking the directest route, nothing fancy.  Looking for a straight path to the pleasure of release.   

Thinking about control and letting go.  Sir D’s voice, His hands, his mouth.  The memory of His body.  The mark on my right breast, still there,  faded to a pale yellow.   O, the tingle spreads down my legs, my ass raises slightly off the bed, hips thrusting into the air…  It didn’t take me any time at all to feel the relief –  over the top, and down again, shuddering  with pleasure. 

So, just one more day.  Tomorrow i go to visit Sir D.  i can’t wait…

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And on a whole different note, last night i got a comment from Mick, someone who saw my link on sin’s blog,  http://findingmysubmission.blogspot.com/ .   He liked my blog, and he left a comment, and you have no idea how much that thrills and delights me!   His blog is http://undercontracttomywife.blogspot.com/ and is on my blogroll too. 

I also have a new personal record for hits on my blog in one day – 41.  Having discovered that blogs like sin’s and mick’s get hundreds of hits every day, that may sound a little sad, but still.  It makes me really happy.  🙂

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After the Wait

22 Jul

 i don’t know where to start.  Sated with pleasure, my nipples sore and tender, memories of last night drift through my mind.  i’ll try to pin them down here, but each one connects to another and another…  

Sir D opens his bag of toys and tools.  Floggers, canes, a crop, a paddle – lightly tapping me with each one as i lean over the table watching Him unpack.   “Or I can use my hand,” He says, “Hands are good,” and they are, with my skirt raised, my panties pooled at my feet. 

And the paddle, stinging, each lick followed by a caress, alternating pleasure and pain til it is all pleasure.  I wriggle my ass, wanting more, but He stops.

Nipple clamps, evil looking clamps, and clothespins, but He doesn’t need them, His fingers twist and pinch til i gasp.  “Talk to me,” He says, loosening His grip ever so slightly, “Talk to me.”

“It hurts,” i say.

“Too much?”

“No, no, it’s ok.”  And it is, i’m so wet there should be puddles beneath me.

Like a potpourri of treats, we move on, sampling, testing – until The Rope.  Hemp rope, He says, as He caresses me with it, draping it around my neck, wrapping and tucking and knotting, til quite suddenly He gives a tug and it all tightens – “Oh, my!” i say, surprised.  

And i am bound.  Just my breasts, my upper body, my back.  Bound, not painfully.  Firmly though.   O, it feels like – no, not quite like anything else.  O.

And was it before or after that i tasted Him?  licking and sucking til He moaned, til i knew He was pleased…  Before or after that i knelt?

And then, while i am still bound, He brings out His array of vibrators, small ones, “These are for external use,” He says, displaying each one.  “This one is called a pocket rocket,” He says,  A pocket rocket.  And if you put it here,” tucking it between the ropes around my breasts, “And turn it on, like this,” He smiles, “the ropes will start to vibrate too.”  

And they do, they’re vibrating and i’m tingling, lying on the bed, legs dangling off the side, open, exposing myself to his eyes and touch.  “And,” He holds up another small vibrator, ” If we put this one right here,”  as he places it right there,  “And turn it on…”

The sensation is so intense, i’m whimpering in moments, heat spreading through my legs – i swear my toes begin to curl, i’m not just saying that… and i bite my finger, squirming –

“Don’t!” he says, “Don’t swallow that orgasm!” Then, gently, “Let it go, don’t hold back,” and i realize i am…

…so i begin to let go, and the heat continues to build until i can’t take it anymore…

…and it explodes inside me, shaking me, a true, rock-my-world orgasm – aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh. 

Nice.  Very, very nice.  Mmmm. 

So content…

But wait – what’s this – He’s pulling out another one – “This one is for external use too,” He says and – o, my – He’s doing it again – and this time i don’t even hold back……

O. My.  Whew.  Ok.

And only then, He begins to remove the rope.  Slowly.   Deliberately.  Watching me while He does.  i watch the rope snake over my body,  feel it chafe my nipples, caress my belly.  O.  O, my.

He takes a long time unwinding, the rope leaving a trail of marks encircling me.  And when He is done, the last piece of rope removed, we sigh.  i feel –

i don’t know how i feel.  i lie beside Him on the bed, pressed close, feeling His warmth.  i drift a little, fading out and back again,  floating a little.  i sigh.  My skin feels – i don’t know.  i don’t have the words for what i feel.

And maybe i don’t need the words, although i always think i do.  Maybe it’s enough this time to lie still,  floating, drifting, feeling…

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Lost in thought

16 Jul

I woke up this morning to discover I was out of milk.  Another American tragedy.  Barely enough left  for a half cup of coffee, and then I had to throw on some clothes and go to the store.

Every day, I drive to work the same way.  In fact, the first part of just about any journey is the same for me, and this morning was no different.  As I drove, I was thinking about some conversation I’ve had lately. 

Even though I’ve had some experience in D/s now,  and have been reading, there are still about a zillion things that I don’t know anything about.   Knife play and fire play for starters.  Japanese rope bondage.  And I don’t think I can know whether or not i’m going to like something until I experience it.  

But it can make me tingle to talk about it anyhow.   Is it the content of the conversation that turns me on, or is it just talking to someone who shares an interest in certain pleasures?

Is there real chemistry involved that makes me tingle if we’re talking on the phone?  Or am I just projecting my own fantasy onto his voice.   And if he’s doing the same thing, projecting his fantasies onto me, then what does that mean about the conversation?

I look up to realize that I’ve taken a wrong turn – as if I were going to work, not to the store.  Giggling, I make a left turn, circle though the parking lot, and head in the right direction.

But talking to just anyone doesn’t turn me on.  So maybe there is some phone chemistry involved.  Of course there’s got to be.

And am I thinking about this because it makes me nervous to think about the possibilities of being with someone new?  If I thought about that instead?  O, my.

I picture dungeons and rope.  Knives and fire.  I picture hands on me, touching gently, touching firmly.  O, my.

But this is purely imagination.  This is just me getting myself worked up.

And I pass the turn going the other way for the store.  Now I’m headed back home.  I laugh out loud as I pull into another parking lot and circle back around.  Going to the store for real this time.  

So I can’t really tell if I’m going to like something til I’m there, right?  Just because I get myself a little aroused, a little wet, thinking about it may not mean anything.  Just because he has a nice voice and is easy to talk to doesn’t mean anything.  Right?

He will not look the way I imagine him, even with a picture, it’s never quite the same.  His hands won’t be what I envision.  That won’t matter.  Do I think there’s an immediate connection or non-connection?  I don’t even know.  Maybe.

I picture us at lunch, talking.  Will he say things that make me secretly squirm?  Already there are things he says that do that, that make me start to heat up.  Beyond that is this vast unknown.

Kind of scary.

Kind of exciting.

Maybe it won’t go beyond a lunch, maybe we’ll share a meal and realize that there’s no chemistry, no spark.

I look up and realize – yes, I know it’s hard to believe – I’ve overshot the turn to the store.  For the third time.   Good grief. 

This time, after I turn, I force myself to keep my mind on where I’m going, and actually make it to the store.  So it’s only now, safely back home with milk, sipping a second cup of coffee,  that I let myself finish that thought.

Maybe we’ll have lunch and that will be it.  Maybe we’ll agree that we’re nice people, and go our separate ways.  Smile and say hi if we run into each other at a munch.

Or maybe that will be just the beginning.   And that possibility makes me wet, makes me tingle, makes me smile.

Book cover - Shibari, the Art of Japanese Bondage

 

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Pleasures of the mind

14 Jul

In my vanilla life, things are going so well I can hardly believe it.  I wish I could talk about it here.  I don’t like keeping that life separate from this one.  I am the same person in both worlds; it would be sooo cool to be able to bring them together.

I picture myself bursting out of the D/s closet – wearing a red cape, with elaborately gothic black lettering:  Super Submissvive.  In my red heels, of course.  Under it, I’ll wear black stockings (maybe fishnet?) a garter belt, and a lacy bra that lifts and barely covers my breasts. 

 “Ta dum”  I’ll say, arms raised in a V.  Then I guess I’ll lower my eyes submissively…

Ok, enough of that.  It could happen, but for sure, not today.

In my blog life, really cool things have also happened.  I have been getting more hits on the blog – my current record is 31 in one day.  That just delights me.  And makes me want more.

THEN – I got 2 comments on posts.  You can’t imagine how exciting that was.  For you bloggers who have people comment on your posts ALL the time, that may not seem like a big deal.  But it is to me. 

And really, I would have been happy with that.  But the topper (so to speak) is that Sin, who has an awesome blog called “finding my submission,” added my blog to her list of blogs she likes.  That has kept me doing a little happy dance in my head for days now.    (Thqnk you, Sin!)

It also inspired me to figure out how to do an “Other people’s blog list” myself, and you can see those links over to your right.  It took me forever, so when I finally got it, it was a moment for celebration. 

So it’s not that I’m unhappy.  Or ungrateful.  Actually, I’m bubbling with pleasure,  full of joy that spills over –

– and needs to be shared – intimately.

You know.

i want to be used.  Taken. 

i want to feel His hand smack my ass.  Hard.  Hard enough to leave a handprint, warm and stinging.

i want to feel His mouth on me, hot and wet.  Pulling at my nipple.  Feel the caress between my legs, His tongue exploring.  Making me moan.

i want to feel his hand, firm and strong, wrapped in my hair.  Tugging my head back, leaving my throat exposed.  Making me whimper.

i want to hear him.  His voice, deep and commanding.  Directing.  Ordering.  Demanding.

i want to respond.  To obey.  To please.  i want to offer the caress of  my mouth, my tongue, the back of my throat. 

i want to open my legs, feel Him on top of me, His body pinning me down, feel His cock between my legs, feel Him pressing His way deep into me.  i want to feel Him pounding me, raising my hips in response, meeting each beat til He moans.

And maybe if that was all i wanted, it would be easier to find.  But, you know, i want it all.  i want Him to see me.  To know me.

i want to know Him.  His heart, His mind, His spirit and soul.  i want to hold Him in my heart, and want only the best for Him.  And i want the same for myself. 

i want blazes of passion and nights of sweet tenderness.  i want to kneel in front of Him and massage His feet,  to sit on his lap and be held, to make Him moan and make Him sigh.

i want to be pushed.  i want to have to struggle to obey, to work at taking more.

i want, i want, i want…  Sigh.

This is my call to the universe.  To Him.  Where ever He may be.    i throw my wants out there, like a prayer, and then i let them go.    

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Making friends

8 Jul

I’ve been hanging out on www.fetlife.com.   Going to munches.  Spending some time logged onto a vanilla dating website – cause you know, that’s where I met Sir in the first place.   I’m not looking for “Mr. Right,” at any of these places, just being open to the universe and whatever may come my way.

i am standing in front of a table.  Naked, legs apart.  In my red heels, 4 inch heels, with narrow leather cuffs around my ankles.  A ring embedded in each cuff is attached securely to a platform.    i can’t move my feet more than an inch, can’t press my thighs together.  The platform is raised; the table is lower than my hips.   

 Similar narrow cuffs encircle my wrists.  They are fastened together behind my back, which raises my breasts, thrusting them forward.   My nipples are erect, hard and elongated.  i am exposed, unable to cover my breasts, or my freshly shaved pussy.

I know I need to take my time here.  I’m just meeting people, not really shopping for a Dom.  And I’ve met some nice folks.  People at the last munch I went to were really nice.  And fetlife is great, all kinds of interesting discussions and people’s profiles. and such.

i can hear Him right behind me, almost feel his breath; i can’t see Him.  Not touching me, so close, not touching.  i tremble.

His hand on my nipple, a caress becomes a pinch – o – mmpf.   He pinches harder.  “Does that hurt?” He says.

“O – yes, o, yes, Sir, it does hurt,” i say.  

He releases the nipple.  “Good,” He says.  i close my eyes.

 I was talking to somebody on the vanilla site, he was pretty nice, for a while.  Then I figured out he was seriously vanilla, and I guess we could have been friends, but he was looking for the love of his life.  Which, in retrospect, doesn’t seem as romantic as it did at first.   He was pretty sure I was Her, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t.  You know how that goes.

I did meet somebody else on there who’s pretty clearly a little kinky, and is pretty nice too.  Unfortunately, seems like he’s more submissive than dominant, so maybe we’ll be friends, but he’s not – not – oh, damnit, I almost said something ridiculous like not “The One.” 

There is no “The One.”  There is no “The One.”  I should have to write it 50 times.

He’s speaking in a low tone, close to my ear, i can feel the warmth of His body behind me, feel his breath as he says, “Listen carefully.  I’m going to spank you.  you’re going to bend over the table, so your ass is raised up, and I’m going to spank your ass.  Hard.  Do you understand?”

i can barely speak – “Yes, yes, Sir, i do understand.”

“Tell me.”  He pauses, and says it again, calmly, “Tell me, aisha.  What am I going to do?”

i swallow hard, struggle to force the words out.  “You’re going to – to spank me…”  and i don’t know if He’s going to use His hand or His belt, but i can already feel it. 

“What else?” He says.

“Um, i’m – i’m going to bend over.  Bend over – with my ass – raised up so You can spank me.”   And i can feel it, feel my breasts pressed against the wood, my ass bare and totally exposed, feel my cheeks spread, opening the space between them to his view,   unable to see where He is or what He’s getting ready to do.

“How?” He says.  “Almost done.  How am i going to spank you?” 

And i gasp because i don’t think i can say it, i can’t breathe, but He is right there, so i do, i say, “Hard, Sir.  You’re going to – spank me – hard.”   

His voice is gentle, “And that makes you hot, doesn’t it, my little slut?  Are you hot now?  When I touch you, will you be wet?”

Omigod.  I’ve got to stop this.  It’s just a fantasy, it’s not even real.  Except, you know, I know now that it can be real.  I know that it doesn’t have to be just my fantasy.  Damn it.  Making friends, that’s what I’m gonna be doing for a while now.  Not looking for the man I can’t see, the man behind me, talking firm and soft.  

Omigod. 

Ok, lets see if I can get all Jungian about this.  The man in the  scenario actually represents some part of myself that I need to get in touch with.  Or the woman does.  Wait – they both do.  They’re both just parts of myself.  

This isn’t about me wanting submissive sexual pleasure, it’s about me needing to – um – I don’t know – unite the yin and yang elements in my being?  That sounds good, doesn’t it?  So why does writing my fantasy make me wet?  Damn it.

“Bend over,” He says.  But He helps me, he takes my shoulders and presses me down to the table, carefully. 

{Ok, here’s a problem.  Could I bruise my face when He starts spanking me?  Should He put a pillow under my face?  Maybe I should make it a narrow table so my face isn’t touching the wood.  No, that’s stupid.   See, that’s the problem with fantasy.  I don’t know if I could accidentally bang my head and hurt myself or not.  Ok, let’s be safe.}

He slides a pillow under my face, strokes my hair.  Then He is stroking my ass instead, gently, tenderly.  Caressing me, and even though i know it’s going to hurt in a minute, i melt.  

He says what He often says.  “You know that where ever I touch you gently, where ever I make it feel good, I’m going to make it hurt.  And anywhere I make it hurt, then I’m going to make it feel good.  And the better I make it feel…”  He pauses and i know what i’m supposed to say.   For a second, i don’t think i can, i’m so lost in the feel of His hand between my cheeks, probing.   But i do, i finish the sentence He started, i know:  the better He makes it feel, then.. “the more it’s going to hurt.” 

i am His, in that moment, my ass is His, my pussy is His.  All of me, laid out on the table, waiting for the next caress, the next slap, the whistle of the belt, or the caress of his lips, all of me is His. 

Well, I think I’ve tortured myself quite enough for one day.   In all kinds of ways.  I think I’ll take myself to bed, maybe spend some time with Big Blue, my trusty personal friend.

Good night, youall.

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