Home Again...Marked

The hardest thing about coming home is falling back into routine. i'm not talking about the routine of being His, but there is a certain pattern that's established for the mundane things, and finding the easy rhythm of that is often difficult for me. It becomes especially difficult for me when the pattern continues to elude me or things fly into the plan and gum up the works.

So it goes though, and i almost always find myself exhausted upon walking in the door of the home i share with my Master. As i attempt to return to the normal schedule of the household, invariably things will come up and change how i expected to deal with the attempt to return to the routine. When they do, i open my mouth and snip without thinking.

This particular trip was somewhat more problematic, as we had been absent from our home for five days, leaving both of us feeling edgy and desperately needing to play (i'm going to say, especially me, but that might not be true), and both of us had less than necessary sleep under our belts. Being good was a bit of a stretch for me - i was full of snipping and clipped statements, agitating my poor Dark One more than He deserved.

After allowing almost 24 hours to fall back into the routine, we did attack the need for play. Well...He attacked it and i succumbed to the attack. He knew i needed to be reminded of what i am (snipping smart-ass-masochist as a slave), and needed to be reminded that we've moved beyond the stages where i am allowed excuses, limits and "i don't knows". Additionally, He fully intended to leave marks on me that lasted longer than the usual period of time (a sad few hours, usually a maximum of twelve).

And about marks...i love them. i really do, but while my (very pale) flesh pinks nicely, or shows little welts immediately following our activities, the signs of play fade rapidly. i am frequently jealous of women who show the marks of their play long after the session has ended. So, i asked Master to push me beyond and make sure that there were marks from some play sessions.

Regardless of my request, He ravaged me. My body begged for a deep breath, cinched beneath leather straps, and my throat fought the pressure of the leather posture collar and my favorite ball gag. i wanted to claw at the sheets as He ripped a clothespin zipper off, beat the insides of my tender thighs and even the soles of my feet with the damnable white plastic spoon. (i swear, i have a hate, love, hate relationship with that thing. It's extraordinarily hard for me to deal with, yet it does leave interesting marks and and is quite painful...hence the hate-love-hate.) His slave was helpless under His hands, and adored the sensations her Master offered to her.

Yes, i did enjoy the pain, the ache...all of it - deeply, i fell away to a place where there is no thought, just the sensation. It is the place where i forget that i have to beg, the place where i struggle to remember the words that He has given me to offer him my orgasms for His pleasure... It is the place where i want to go, where i no longer worry about being "good enough" and where i am safely wrapped in His cruelty (and love, too).

And, the rewards of Master's efforts showed themselves quite nicely as soon as i was able to muster up the courage to stand. For once, there are lovely purple streaks in the skin of my breasts, and even my thighs carry pretty pink welts and faint bruises well after the play session. i was marked by Master's sadism, carried away in a wash of pain, and the recovery has been quite fascinating to me...

i don't often experience deep sub-drop or require oodles of after care, but this session left me (beyond) weeping, (exceptionally) quivery and (very, very) definitely in need of a gentle hand to keep me steady as i moved back into the requirements of life. Even now, if He brushed those bruises or welts, i'd be a puddle at His feet...but He's already said He intends a different focus for this evening...

Time Keeps on Slippin'...

Well now, it has been a while since I posted last. Thus is the nature of my communicative self. I never seem to call anyone nor visit anyone unless made to. Not that I don't have plenty to say, just I seem to prefer a "captive" audience;) Enough with that though.

So things have continued much as they always have; life is nothing if not cyclic. My pet and I have found some time to play recently but much to my chagrin it is no where near where it used to be.

Gone seem the days of seven hour planned sessions that move much like a scripted adventure game utilizing every torture and torment device one can lay their hands upon while moving through one centralized and all important theme. For example, the newly acquired slave girl who has to be broken through the crucible of torments to become a "good girl", or the slave who has serious need of being reigned in and brought back to her place before she gets into real trouble, or any number of terribly wondrous delights. Especially the chance to seriously drive my slave so deep into sub space that her limits can be pushed or even shattered. How I long to have a water play session with her involving hooded dunking! Ohhhhhhhh.

Yet, we have been trying to make the best of O/our time. The other night I experimented in a little asymmetrical bondage (symmetry is a huge thing with me) that turned out to be a hugely successful and enjoyable session, despite its short duration. A week or so before that I involved my slave in a massive head fuck session in which I combined story telling aspects with physical cues and sensations while binding her in a helpless and near total sensory deprived position. she could not see nor touch nor speak (and as a result, taste); she could only hear what I was saying and feel what I wanted her to.

The story went something like this; I took my slave out for the night and brought her back home, bound and blindfolded in the back of the car. she is taken down to the dungeon and is bound to some piece of furniture holding her immobile. I then whip her with my crop and subject her to a number of torments, some only described and others reinforced by real life actions. The best part is when a mythic second slave, who received some random name I neglected to remember, is placed between her legs, invading her with a strap-on in the story while in reality I am the one penetrating my slave (It gets confusing just writing it, but that is why it is a mind fuck). This second slave, is bound and is being taken from behind by me in the story. My slave, who is gagged, must beg this second slave for the chance to cum. (In a later posting I'll explain how my slave can cum when ordered). Here's the trick, she is begging me in reality and though I give her permission, I am doing it from the point of view of the second slave. This messed her up and as I hoped she was unable to cum because it was not her Master who had given her permission. Talk about a mind fuck;)

That night my slave was so hyped up and horny that I was able to whip her throughly with my crop all over her ribs, tits, stomach, and inner thighs and with greater impacts then are normally within the realm of her pain threshold. It was a particularly successful night and one of O/our more lengthy play sessions, having lasted something like two to three hours, putting me way behind in my sleep for the next day but proving completely worth it.

Other of O/our play sessions have been somewhat less dramatic but no less enjoyable. I have a thing for chains and I had the occasion to run heavy chains between my slave's collar and cuffs. The chains all together must have added twenty some odd pounds to my girl and she was reluctant to stand straight. I gave her little choice in the matter and the situation quickly became an impromptu lesson on giving everything she had to obey my orders. The sex was quite nice after that.

Just the other night I bound up my sex slave with a spreader bar behind her neck with her hands tied out to the sides. Then I tied her legs together at the ankles and pulled them up to wrap the rope around the backside of her neck. Thus her legs pull her head forward against
the rope of the spreader bar, choking her. I then took her like this, my bound little ball, struggling for breath and squirming to be fucked harder. she soon passed out, overwhelmed by the pressure and pleasure. I delighted in taking my pleasure from her unconscious body, what a treat.

So despite the lack of time to play these days, W/we still manage to get some time together. Torture and torment have taken an almost rushed or hurried feel recently, but I like to think I can weather it. Now to make time to write about to all of you...

Fortune cookies in bed...

There's something i have to share because i love it...

i'm a sucker for a few webcomics, at least, when i'm not reading other people's blogs or playing on FetLife or taking up Master's time or doing chores or trying to get some painting done or...

Maybe i am going to have to give up a few things, so i have more time to blog myself. But, in the meantime, this is too funny to not share...


The first two not so much, but especially so with the fortune cookie on the right... Violence in bed is exactly what i'm craving!!

i try to remember to visit this comic as often as i can, but sometimes it slips from the list of things i can get done in my free time, so i discover these little gems much later than others...

And, we're still around...but life has been unfortunately busy, and i've taken much of Master's free time with the previously mentioned mentality that is such an undercurrent in my relationship with Master...

So, hopefully, we'll have a nice big entry or two on our latest sexapades soon. Or maybe a glimpse into things He might be planning!