Metal Detectors and Collars

When i posted about my collar having to come off, i mentioned that once i had an incident with a metal detector and my permanent collar. Now, mine is no fancy eternity collar, no, it is literally a dog chain. It may have even come from PetSmart. i don't remember. Regardless, it's a perfect fit for a dog like me (grin). Master picked a chain that had substantial weight, and i believe the original chain was in the ballpark of 20 inches long; Master agreed to give me a few extra inches, so my chain collar is 16 inches and might weigh half a pound or so. And it's mixed magnetic metals; nickel and steel, probably, but who knows what else?

Over time, i've had more than one errand, including jury duty, that has required me to venture into the halls of the county courthouses. Typically, before i go through their metal detectors, i will be sure to point out that i am not wearing a belt, have any pockets or am carrying anything, but will warn them that my "necklace" will set off the detectors. Typically, i spin the chain to show them that i cannot take it off as it has no clasp. i will, before even going through the detector, tell them that i agree to a wand test after going through the detectors. Generally, they are quite agreeable to my excess information, and have no issues using the wand to confirm that it was indeed the "necklace" which caused the metal detector to issue an alert.

One time, however, when we were part of a large party entering the courthouse, running later than we intended, those manning the front counter and the metal detectors attempted to deny me entrance because it could not be removed. i had attempted to be as polite and courteous with them as i usually do, but these individuals were testing my patience. They had me walk through the detector twice, and sent me back out, twice. Under Master's bemused eye (having already gone through the metal detector), i asked the individuals if they had a pair of pliers on their belts next to their handcuffs. Their response, of course, was no. Eventually, finally, they agreed that they could get the wand out of the cabinet after i set the detector off for a third time.

At which point, the wonderfully kind and cooperative staff told me that if i ever planned on flying anywhere, i would have to take it off to get through the airport. At which point, all patience gone, i responded "Well, it's a wonderful thing that i don't fly, isn't it?"

As it is, i have found myself clutching the chain in my sleep, reluctant to think that we will take it off. But for the little sneaky one who has already become part of our little unit, Master will. She may already have him wrapped around her tiny fingers, don't you think?

Continual Evolution

The story of life is change. Everything changes or evolves. Master and i even change and evolve. It's what people do.

What doesn't change is that every fiber of Master is Master - He is an Owner, my Owner. He's dominant and sadistic. His libido is enormous. Oh, sure, what turns Him on, revs His engine? That shifts a little bit from time to time (He said something about gas-masks the other day - i'm frightened and that turns me on!). But He is always the one who owns me. He cannot turn that part of Himself off, nor has it changed from the moment that i agreed to give myself to Him (for anyone interested in counting, December of 1999 is when i agreed). i suspect that in the back of His mind, He wanted to be my owner much longer than that. What doesn't change is that i am best off as Master's property. i crave His guidance, His ownership. i am better for the kink we infuse into our lives. i am more grounded with the bondage, the pain, the bliss that He gives me.

And yet, we have a family. In fact, our little boy is about to be a big brother, as i mentioned in "Biggest Surprise Present Ever." And so, right now, Master and i, who have become big edge players with heavy impact, punching, kicking, and breath play...are having to subsist on the lighter stuff that makes up our kink.  While bastianado is lovely, it's not the same as feeling Master's heavy fist land against my ribs. Or feel His foot smash against my leg. Or His gloved hands crushing my neck. But we will subsist. It's just like having rice cakes instead of steak.

Master and i are both attached parents. We prefer keeping our young close to us. So the reality is, while i'm pregnant, we must subsist on the lighter forms of play. When our little miracle bundle arrives, it will be at least six weeks before i'm cleared for "sex." It will probably be three months before i'm cleared for "contact sports." So Master and i already are jonesing for our heavy play, but know that for the sake of our little bundle, we will go at least five months before i sport a beautiful black bruise anywhere from anything fun. It's entirely likely that little bundle will be under one of our watchful eyes for at least a year, meaning it will be likely that our play will be conducted in the increments of naps, rather than hours and evenings.

But we know, too, that who we are does not change. He is the Owner, and i the property. We will shift and adjust, making space for the small person who rounds our family out to four, but what drives the deep, dark dreams of our hearts will continue to spiral around our kinks and fetishes. And we'll find a playground for our inner monsters. And down the line, there will be steak.

p.s. sorry for all the steak references. a wonderful kinkster i follow on twitter posted a beautiful food porn twitpic when i wrote this. 

Looming...

This morning, Master and i were both really tired people. We're still both really tired people. Last week His schedule was all mucked up and neither of us felt like we were able to truly unwind. In our tiredness, though, the realizations of how much is about to change were bounding through our brains.

As He was getting ready to head out the door for work, Master said "I suppose we need to seriously talk about taking that off of you, in case we have to go to the hospital early." i knew what He was talking about right away - the chain that is His symbol of ownership. In September, four years ago, Master put a permanent collar around my neck. It has no lock. It has no clasp. It is an eternal loop - a symbol of my perpetual slavery.

i was afraid of it when He put it on me. "What will other people think?" i wondered and worried. i wore a lot of turtlenecks that winter. But no one really noticed. No one asked. No one pointed at it and asked what the hell was up with that curb chain. Some did eventually. (Especially when i got shit about it going through a metal detector. That's a fun story. Maybe i'll tell it later.) i wound up telling people that it was a symbol of commitment if they asked. Most of them didn't ask what it was a symbol of commitment to. One would think that would spark some serious questions; i'm surprised it never has. The chain around my neck has become such a part of me that i no longer care who sees it. i think i wound up throwing away most of my turtlenecks, even. i am no longer afraid of being seen as a collared, chained creature. Because it is what i am.

Most of the links are solid - only one is not. And it is not a weak link. Master has picked me up by this chain He put around my neck. But because of the drastic changes that are coming, it must come off before it is at risk for being cut off of me with no respect, no ritual.

So, sometime soon, Master and i will hunt for the link, and He will take the collar from around my neck, and i will feel naked and vulnerable. i will miss its steady weight, its jingle. Until Master can put it back, anyway.

The hunt for subspace

i was chatting with some twitter friends about subspace a while ago. You know, that elusive place some people say doesn't exist, and others are able to drop into with the first full minute of play? Well, i'm not gonna argue its existence or what it is, or how it comes about (the chemistry of it, i mean) or any of that. Nope. Not gonna.

Because i think it's a little different for most folks.

For me, when i fall into subspace from bondage, i feel floaty and small, protected and fulfilled. i feel like i find subspace easier in bondage. And i don't even have to be particularly happy about the kind of bondage -- just restrained in such a way that i can't move much or go very far. i'll get that floaty feeling from being left in the cage for a few hours. i'll find myself all tiny and contained after i've fought against ropes that i'm not enjoying.

On the other hand, there's the more elusive (for me) subspace from impact play. i love, love impact play -- especially when it's Master's hands and feet. Kicks and punches. Yummy. Of course, i'm learning that i really can enjoy play with single tails, too. But from impact play, i get an adrenaline high. i'm spiked up, though i may be loopy and feel soft and malleable to Master's will. Unless. Unless He clocks those nerves on the outside of the thigh with an epic bunny-punch. And then i'm just a pile of sobby happy goo.

So which one is my subspace? Both. But what they do, and how i get there -- they're vastly different. But then, my subspace isn't the same as someone else's; because it's mine. The adventure is finding it.

Random bits and bobs...

 It's been kind of quiet around here lately. i've been snuggly, Master-Reaper's been creative - always doodling, thinking about His writing, and we've been enjoying being a little geeky by watching Series 1 of the 2005 reboot of Doctor Who. And Star Wars.

There's just not enough time for everything, and well, some things are a little harder to accomplish when there's (nearly) weekly doctor's visits. i'm craving marks, and that's not really something we can indulge right now, so when we do finally get the chance to play, i know it'll be amazing, but there's going to be a little sadness because heavy play has to be put on hold until next year. All of the awesome edgy punching and kicking...it has to wait. The wait will be worth it of course, every moment. But it's kind of hard because i'm all about instant gratification lately.

We are debating on going to the Halloween party at our favorite club. Master laughed and looked at me, asking what i'd dress up as... i think i could definitely pull off pregnant Catholic school girl, and i suggested He go as the principal/teacher sort. <smirk> i was amused. i'm not sure if He was.

We'll see. There are of course, many factors in play. Real life does that. But it makes me happy and comforted when He holds my collar in the middle of the night. It's proof that i am never, ever, any less His.

Ropes & Legs

A few weeks ago, we did a rope video demo to replicate a tie one of our friends on FetLife had seen. Doing the demo was so much fun, and the bondage felt really lovely. It was an interesting process, because for the demo, Master-Reaper tied it on me once before we began recording, took it off, recorded the tie, took it off, and then tied it a third time and took a few photos. Each time, i had the same leg in the tie for about 15 to 20 minutes at a time. i was impressed by it.

The next morning, as we were lucky enough to have the house to ourselves, with munchkin on an overnight, and Master-Reaper and i snuggled for a while, lazily working our way up to getting out of bed. i was feeling playful and sly, and so when Master-Reaper wasn't looking, i took two of His purple ropes downstairs to the  living room. After He'd eaten breakfast, He noticed them, and wondered if He'd forgotten to put them away. When He looked at me, He knew they'd arrived downstairs by other means. i don't play poker for a reason.

Eventually, somehow, through flustered, hot-and-bothered communication, i suggested that the tie we'd demo'd the day before was really comfy, really awesome and i'd like to try it again, on both legs at the same time... (If Master-Reaper turns down an opportunity to play with rope, He must be an impostor.) He decided to start the tie on my foot, as opposed to the ankle, and we cinched it a bit tighter than we had for the demo. Having stripped the use of my legs from me through this tie, it really helped me find that submissive, meek head space. We had really fantastic sex on floor pillows, and then snuggled there, my legs still wrapped in rope, watching one of our favorite shows (don't ask me what, because i don't remember!). It was really lovely, to just lay there, small, helpless, bound, in His lap.

Eventually, Master-Reaper said He wanted to fuck me again, which i thought would be lovely, but i asked if we could go to His bed instead (tender knees, you know!) and He told me He wasn't going to carry me up the stairs. Being my stubborn, determined self, i crawled up the stairs. With my shins bound back against my legs, it made it incredibly challenging, as there was no leverage to push my hind end up to the next step. When we reached the landing at the 14th step, i was panting . . . and dismayed by the height of the bed. Master-Reaper laughed at me, but helped me up anyway.

After, i was incredibly sad that the bondage had to come off. But rope bondage lasting over an hour is very nearly a record for me. And it left pretty marks!

Biggest Surprise Present Ever!

Shock. Surprise. Desperation. Fear. Awe.

All feelings i experienced in the last several weeks. In the course of moments. Every day.

While i never shared the birth story of our kiddo with the kink community, it define(s)(ed) - (as i'm not sure which tense is truly correct with the new information) - my experience as a parent. The birth of our munchkin in 2007 was traumatic for me, to say the least. It wasn't the natural, beautiful, woman-hood embracing experience i'd hoped for. Hence, my hope that Master-Reaper would be satisfied with one child. He was; though both of us often looked fondly at munchkin's infancy pictures and thought of how precious those moments were, how beautiful...

(A brief interjection to comment that my first pregnancy was awesome. i knew i was pregnant before the pregnancy test, i felt pregnant, and it was awesome - i even embraced my "morning sickness" which really lasted all day, and my only significant symptom until the weeks leading to munchkin's birth.)

Four years later, and America's insistence that the only forms of birth control which are readily available without jumping through hoops is abstinence or condoms (both of which i seem to frequently have bad reactions to) led to the events that have caused my emotions to run through cartwheels.

In March, due to the county clinic being overrun and understaffed, i was unable to continue low-dose birth control pills. Because they made me feel awful anyway, i figured this would be a good opportunity to see if my body could self regulate again. (let me just say, i will freely admit that i'm an idiot sometimes.)

i didn't have a cycle that month (when i say i didn't have a cycle, i mean - possibly TMI - there were no signs of ovulation, menses etc.); so i took a pregnancy test, with a negative result. "Whew! Of course, it took Master-Reaper and i years to conceive our first child. i'm sure i'm not going to get pregnant at the drop of a hat," i thought.

i didn't have a cycle in April. i figured it was just because my back was in poor alignment. That'd happened before. i felt absolutely normal, other than my spine running along like a zig-zag.

i didn't have a cycle in May. i figured it was just the stress of finishing school and finding a new place to live more than 60 miles away from the current residence. i felt absolutely normal, other than i wanted to pull out my hair.

i didn't have a cycle in June. i was ill, had the worst fever ever, in the midst of a run of 100 degree temperature days. Our munchkin was sick too. Besides being feverish and disgusted with the flavor of water, i felt absolutely normal, and attributed the missing period to illness (that's happened to me before, after all).

i didn't have a cycle in July. i started having night sweats. i was starting to think that my experience with munchkin's delivery and the birth control had spurred a possible early onset of menopause. "That'd be nice," i thought. "i hate periods!" Beyond the night sweats, i felt absolutely normal.

August freaked me out. i felt normal, but by the last of the month, still no signs of anything remotely like a cycle. So when September arrived, i attacked it with another pregnancy test, so i could take it to a clinic and say "What is wrong with me? Do i have cancer?"

And got a Big Fat Positive.

But.

But.

i didn't feel pregnant. i didn't look pregnant.

Somewhere between late 2012 and early 2013, there will be a munchkin number 2. Master-Reaper and i are . . . Shocked. Surprised. Desperate. Fearful. Awed.

And i'm in love with the little secret, who made their presence known only after the pregnancy test, with a swift and significant jab to the ribs. It's a sneaky and resilient babe, much like its father, and has all the indications of being as healthy and perfect as munchkin number 1. While definitely unplanned, and will have an impact on how often i'm able to attend the local scene (boo), Master-Reaper and i are looking forward to welcoming munchkin number 2 into our arms...

Rope Demo #1

Master-Reaper had a friend who asked Him to do a breakdown and explanation of a picture found on FetLife. As Master tends to be mechanically minded, it was easier for Him to record a demo of the process. 

We both had a lot of fun doing this for our friend, and would be happy to do this as requested, for any tie we've done or found elsewhere online. Either drop us a note in a comment, or over on FetLife, and we'll see if we can't demo the tie!

The picture in question was found on Clover's FetLife profile. The model in the photo is Scarlot-Rose, the rope done by WykD_Dave, and the photography by Clover. (Beautiful!)

Sex, Slapping & Sucking.

It's funny how much face slapping has come up lately (on blogs, at conferences, on FetLife, etc), and people either love it or hate it. Personally, i love it. i wasn't sure i would, because it was such a challenge for me. When we started, Master went very lightly, not even really a tap across my cheek. And i flinched -- big time -- it was scary to me! Master worked hard, and slowly, to train me out of flinching from His slaps; i'm sure it was months before He even hit me at a quarter force. From time to time, i still flinch, but most of the time, i'm able to push into the slap, even if it's closer to full force than one of those sweet little taps.

This morning, before the alarm went off at dawn-ish (oh, how i love having everyone on a day time schedule!), Master reached under the comforters and stroked my skin and asked if i was horny. Still sort of sleeping, i pushed back into Him as an answer. Before long, there was snu-snu happening beneath the covers. Warm skin against skin, sometimes momentarily exposed to the chill of the night air still hanging in the room, heavy breathing and hands roaming, tearing at sheets... Just a yummy way to wake up; morning sex before the full light of day overwhelms my senses...yum.

And in the midst of yummy morning sex, Master slapped me. Not full force (awwww), but not those little taps, either... His hand cracking across my cheek repeatedly made me feel loved, connected and owned. They made me feel wanton and beautiful, confident and sure, frisky and active, servile and pleasing...

Master gave me three or four orgasms, and i could tell His back wasn't feeling particularly limber, so as we'd warmed to the point where the blankets were just too much heat, i shoved pillows together and Master's face lit up as He realized that He'd just had morning sex and was about to have a morning blowjob, too.

It was a beautiful, impromptu start to the day. And i hope that Master rides the high of an unexpected, enthusiastic, morning blowjob as much as i am riding the high of His hand whipping across my face.

<3

One Third Married

Master and i have known each other for a long time. We were, as i believe we've mentioned (or argue over - we can't agree on what year we met!), childhood sweethearts. We have known each other more than half of our lives; closer to over two-thirds of our lives, actually. It's insane, and according to more than one person we've talked to, practically unheard of. People gasp when they ask how many years we've celebrated when we mention our anniversary. We laugh. We look at each other like newlyweds. A friend of ours recently commented that they really appreciate the "puppy-love" we have in our relationship, that sense of closeness and cuteness that couples newly in-love celebrate.

Looking back, having passed one-third of our lives together married (and approaching the 13th year of our kinkiness!), i realize exactly how fortunate i have been to find my soul-mate so early in my life and find that despite the different roads we took to come back together, we evolved together, our souls spun in such a way that they are a perfect fit, and as they continue to grow together and evolve together, i am grateful for all of our "sames" and "differents." i am grateful that our branches grow ever more entwined and tangled in each other, supporting the other, and all the needs of the other, while receiving the same support.

We compliment each other in the best ways, and i will forever appreciate His strength, the connection He gives me to a life full of love and blessings. His solidarity, in times where i flounder and grieve, keep me connected and aware of His love. His ability to pull away and seem cold-hearted, too, is something i treasure - those moments in which i can fall happily, helplessly, into the hands of a sadist who appears to be without mercy...(That might be my favorite. ;) At least, sometimes it is.)

All of it, i love. And i look forward, gratefully, to more years to find myself further entangled in His arms, His ropes, His leather, His love.

A funny little note: the friend is kink-curious...

But i'm not sure we've mentioned puppy play around him... 

Yet...

It's In the Bag...

Warning: Breath Play related post, read at your own insatiable curiosity...

A week or so ago, the girl admitted to me that she had been on the edge of asking to be bagged, and would have had we had a chance. I was floored. Breath play being one of my favorite things to do to the slave, and bagging being one of the top three options, I love it. The girl, on the other hand, would normally place being bagged in the same category as being anally raped by a cactus. So for her to willing request it of her own volition and without previous mention... Again, I was floored. 

In the standard cruel nature of timing and child rearing, we have not had so much as an opportunity since she mentioned her interest. That is, until this weekend. Last night, we had a long list of highly enticing ideas rolling around our mutual brains and bagging was definitely on my list. When the child finally went down, we took our chance. However, having such a long list, the opportunity to pull the plastic bag over her head didn't arise during the night. I tortured her, I fucked her, we both felt more like ourselves. 

Still Here...

 It's been a crazy few weeks over here. Beautiful. Strange. Exhausting. Master found a new job. So far, it's something that He really likes, though it's hard for me because they are really strict with security, so He can't text me randomly throughout His shift. He has been kind enough to text me a few times while He's at lunch each day...

During the initial start time, there's only one schedule option, so it has completely reversed our schedules, which has us all yawning early in the afternoon. While we're still stabilizing this (likely temporary) schedule, we haven't had as much Snu-Snu as we'd like, although there have been some truly lovely moments, and reminders left behind on my skin, like a fantastic bruise on my outer right thigh which started appearing as a beautiful green, rather than a typical purple. i've been sleeping leashed and cuffed again, which is also lovely, and most nights, has really reigned in my insomnia (which is both the inability to fall asleep and the ability to stay asleep).

But i've noticed something funny. Back in the days when i was attending college, i always arranged my classes to be as early as possible so that i could be home in the afternoons. i was always out of bed before Master, and always enjoyed taking a moment to watch Him sleep. i only occasionally joked about how nice it would be to lounge in bed while He got up earlier than i.

When Master started this new job, saw me bleary-eyed in the morning as i helped Him get everything He needed for the day and came home in the early afternoon to find me still bleary-eyed, He took pity on me and told me to stay in bed the next two days instead of waking up with Him. i tried, i really did. But sleeping after He has left made me feel uncomfortable, awkward and nervous.

Even though i'm tired, and dragging a bit with this schedule change, i'm grateful because we are able to spend more time together, regardless of it being spent yawning.

Feel the Burn...

So something happened to us that has not happened in... Well, ever as far as I can remember. Certainly not since the very early days of our play. Rope burn. Honest to god, rope burn. Now I have had the girl in literally hundreds of rope harnesses and different bondage positions and I don't remember any of them ever giving her rope burn. I've had her bound in sisal a dozen times at least and still! Pin pricks that bled, but not rope burn. 

This was the culprit harness in question. The best part about this harness in particular was that it was tied on while we were fucking. Every morning when we awake before the kiddo, and we're with it enough, it becomes a race against time. On so many occasions, we'll be in the middle or even just starting to get it on when suddenly there are little eyes at the door. So yesterday, having been deprived of a chance to do anything with rope for a while, and following the very mean admission from the girl that she had actually considered offering herself up to me to be bagged a couple of nights previous, we were in the mood for more than just sex. I made the girl climb out of bed and retrieve two lengths of rope and I quickly set to work. Starting with her arms, I bound them behind her back in an alternate hojojutsu type harness. As opposed to going around the neck, though I love that, I went over the shoulders and back down to the hands. It was quick and highly effective. 

Then I lay the girl down and sank my member into her, much to her eager desire. While riding her, I continued with the next section of rope. Binding it to the loops around her shoulders to start, I drew it down and wound around her middle a couple of times before bringing it back up the center and tying it off in a sort of handle between her breasts.The sex was fantastic and the whole experience was delightful. I want to explore more into quick bondage that can be completed while using the girl, as often we normally finish a tie before doing anything more. 

Humiliation via Text

With the recent move, we've found ourselves closer to old friends and new. It's been really spectacular, in that many of them are as geeky as we are (and truth be told, a few are deepening our geeky-ness). Another particularly awesome bonus is that a few of them are kink-curious themselves, and most of them are kink-friendly.

On July 31, one of our friends whom we have known for years, celebrated his birthday. His request was boobie pictures. Being the obliging sort, Master confirmed the birthday fellow's phone number when our geeky, kink-friendly friends popped over, and sent a picture of my boobage via text. It was very much like the pink ribbon. It was embarrassing and a bit humiliating, considering among our friends (who were geeky friends before we realized they were also kinky friends) i tend to be rather prudish. After a few moments, our visiting friends began looking at their phones. One looked at me and smirked. Another looked at Master and asked if He'd meant to do that. And i was largely befuddled until the last text arrived in the room, when the third friend exclaimed "Boobies!"

Of course, i nabbed Master's phone to prevent the picture from spreading further by His fingers, but His phone is not set up the same way mine is, so i wound up opening His music files and playing "Control" by Poe. How stunningly appropriate! At that point Master demanded the return of His phone and my face was probably as pink as the (thankfully) absent pink ribbon of doom.

i hope our birthday friend enjoyed the picture as much as it fueled Master's and my enjoyment at one of our favorite aspects of play: humiliation.

Reality, Self-Loathing & Fixing the slave

The last few days have been kind of weird for me. While it has been hot, it doesn't really speak to the internal struggles i've been experiencing. While Master and i definitely are having more time to spend together, and more sex, i've floundered. Becoming anxious, angry, melancholy and frustrated at the drop of a hat, frequently over the smallest things. And the other night, i pretty much flipped my lid because Master didn't come home when i thought (stressing that: when i thought, when i expected) that He would.

In our midnight debate and explanations of what He had thought and what i had thought, i dropped from being angry, frustrated, and feeling forgotten, to essentially being enraged with myself. The inwardly focused rage was awful - i think i hated myself more than i ever have, and i had a huge desire to attack myself physically, to cause injury, to see my own blood. But that lies outside of Master's directives, and worse, i knew if He'd seen me start that, it would hurt Him far more than my frustration and feeling of being forgotten. As i sobbed at the foot of His bed, He asked me if i wanted to keep punishing myself by sleeping on the floor or if i had the courage to ask permission to sleep in His bed.

i managed to pull myself together enough to ask to sleep in His bed, because i needed to know that He still cared about me, even if i didn't care about myself. In His arms, i cried myself to sleep through His whispers of affection and love, that He assured me were always in His heart.

No lie, i slept like shit. Hating oneself does not make for a restful night; i had crappy dreams about everything i had wanted to do at the foot of His bed.

In the morning, we had an approximation of make up sex, which was awesome. It cleared my self-loathing just enough to know that i needed a deeper grounding, and that i was going to be frustrated about it. i asked Master if He would confine me; either cage me or bind me for a while so i could just live in the feeling of helplessness, to find peace in that it is not my say when anything happens.

Master listened to my requests, and came up with a rope harness and binding that really did keep me confined. Even that was a struggle, as i was not a graceful, accepting sort while Master completed the bondage; i pushed His buttons, made Him angry, and then brought all that self-loathing back into play because my ability to clamp down on my negativity was shot. When it was done, He left me alone for a little while, confined, as i had asked. When He came back, i was still rather negative. While bound, completely at His mercy, He messed with me, i don't really even remember all the details other than it involved pain, manual stimulation (which i hate), the GiGi, His fingers deep in me, and His eyes flashing at me with that . . . i don't know . . . angry Domly look, i guess is the best way to describe it . . . When it was done, i was in tears, and He told me when the rope came off, the prisoner hood would go on and the heavy metal manacles would weigh my wrists behind my back.

When the ropes came off, the hood and manacles were waiting for me. i know i was still crying, because the fabric stuck to my tears, and i tried to control my breathing. i don't know how long i was alone, but eventually, the panic won out and i stumbled through the room, looking for the door without sight. Master had stayed very close, because He heard me and was there, moving me back to the safety of His bed. He took me and talked to me, and reaffirmed that my life, and my plans, were at His whim, rather than my own. Reminding me to be patient, to serve and wait with grace . . .

When i came to my senses again, i was cradled in His arms, and couldn't find any bit of self-loathing in my heart as He looked down at me fiercely.

Though i'm dropping hard from our interactions today, i feel safe, grounded, and loved. Another bonus? i like myself.

Prisoner Hood...

A couple of months ago I had the girl choose a swathe of cloth with which to construct a prisoner hood worthy of Guantanamo. I wanted it to be thick enough to block out light but not so thick as to make it too stifling. I gave her the deadline to have it completed before this year's Thunder in the Mountains. So, as fate would have it, my smart-assed slave finally finished the hood in the last days leading into the Thunder weekend.

It was impressively constructed, folded twice and sealed with thick, sturdy seams. There is a draw string sewn into the bottom so that it can be tied tightly around the girl's neck, sealing her off inside. Nearly no light makes it through the bag, even when facing bright sources. And though it is a bit of a labor to breathe, it can remain on for long periods without much concern as to safety. I was quite pleased. The girl did a great job in contributing to her impending and repeated torment. I love slave labor!

Days of Infamy...

At this time, we would like to take a moment to offer our deepest sorrows and empathy to the victims, victim's families, and the family of the assailant in Aurora, Colorado's Dark Knight Rises shooting. Our thoughts go out to our friends in the area who may know the victims or were affected by this tragedy...

The Ethics of Kink...

No, I'm not going to be so presumptuous as to lecture on all aspects or the full range of ethics within the community. I did, however, want to discuss certain things that have come more and more to my attention.


In this lifestyle we live personas, versions of ourselves that are kinky, subby, domly, etc. Even if these things are at the very core of our being and we feel that what we are really doing is stripping away the layers upon layers of societal obligation to become our true selves, what manifests is still a persona. Is there anything wrong with that? No. Am I implying that this somehow implies that people are not living a real D/s relationship? Not in the least. 


What I am saying is simply this. Manifesting the persona of our true selves does not excuse us completely from the social obligation of politeness and manners. I think we all accept that being by nature a submissive does not entitle everyone around that person to then dominate them, right? So why then does it seem that a dominant nature somehow implies that everyone around that individual is therefore inferior by nature? I am Master and Owner to my girl, and at the moment she is the only one to whom I hold those titles. I try very hard not to allow that nature to spill over onto others, in scene or out. I know that sometimes it does, but almost never by intent.


It does not make me any less masterly, if indeed that term could be applied to me in the first place, to step out of the way of someone as they pass by, to open a door for someone if they have their hands full, or let someone go before me on the stairs. Even if that person is someone else's property and clearly lower in status in a hierarchical sense, it does not make me less of a dom to be polite.


Obviously I have a high regard for manners and politeness and I feel that these have suffered within our shared lifestyle. Specifically, as many, many things have, under the pressure to conform to D/s sub-culture stereotypes. 'Oh so-and-so is not a real slave, she has limits,' or 'he's not a real Master, he hasn't attained perfect zen like personal control.' Rubbish. It is paradoxical to assume a persona, even one exemplifying our inner selves, and on the one hand ignore certain social conventions in an attempt to free ourselves while on the other hand conforming to an entirely different, and equally restrictive set of social expectations. 


Be who and what you want to be. Be the type of slave/sub/sadomasochist or Master/dom/sadist you wish. The only definition that matters is your partner's and your own. And remember, just because you may be a very dominant sort doesn't mean that being so doesn't make you any less of a jackass when you are impolite.

Fun with Friends...

As you know, we moved recently to an area where things are a bit better for us. That includes the chance to be closer to friends who share our proclivities. Last night we had two of our good friends over for a chance to play. It was more of an impromptu thing, but we all had a great time.


Our friends, I'll refer to them as M&m (who are not a couple I should specify), have been over before at our old place for an impromptu rope bondage demonstration. I had the pleasure of binding m in a couple of different harnesses on that occasion. Since then I have been looking forward to a chance to do so again. 

M&m have been over several times since we moved in, yet an opportunity hasn't presented itself, until last night. M came over first and I continued my monolog on our time at the big event this passed weekend from the night before. While discussing, I placed the pink ribbon back around the girl's neck and allowed her to lay on the floor drawing and conversing while occasionally commenting upon how cute she looked. It was delightful to watch the effect it had on her, a tremble in her breathing, her down cast eyes, and the shifting in her hips. 

Pink Ribbon of Doom!...

Well, I had intended to discuss a number of fun things we experienced this passed weekend. However, it would seem that doing so might bring us to financial ruin. Alas. I do want to say we had an awesome time!


So instead, I'll talk about our return home last night. I spent some time unpacking the heavy load of toys and implements I had brought with me. Last year we had quite the surplus of spending cash for the shops, though this year we were drastically limited due to the recent move. However we did have a little cash to spend and found few things I just couldn't live without.


While unpacking, I came across this 1.5" thick strip of pink ribbon that I have had for years but never really utilized. I stuffed it into my pocket and finished returning my toys to their home. We live quite close to a good friend or ours and I knew that he was going to come over for a brief visit to discuss the weekend. In fact, he arrived before I had completed unpacking and I allowed the girl to mooch a cigarette from him while I finished (remind me to explain the girl's restriction on smoking at some point).

Fantasy Weekend of Fun!

So last weekend was an event we were really looking forward to. Lots of kinky folks. Lots of fun. Two enormous play parties. Excellent presentations and presenters.

But i can't tell you any more than "We had a awesome time." Maybe i could tell you for lunch the first full day, we met up with two wonderful friends, and had dinner with one of our first kinky friends. Maybe i could mention that we learned a lot about ourselves, though i can't tell you how the insight came about. Maybe i could write about the fact that  Master and i played hard . . . if i didn't mention the event (and maybe i'll do that later).

Because the event requires that we don't write about it. In fact, i pulled down our posts about last year's event, because the seriousness with which they take this "don't write about it" is actually frightening. 

i kind of understand why. The privacy concerns associated with the event are of course, at the forefront of the organizers' minds. No one wants to be incidentally outed. But it makes me angry that i can't talk about what Master and i experienced, or how we played. The event was still awesome. And we'll go back every year they have it. Maybe, in time, we won't have to be afraid to share experiences like this. But today, it sucks.

Today, Master and i are lamenting the lack of air conditioning that we enjoyed all weekend. We're lamenting that the fantasy the event inspires has vanished, and real life awaits. We have, as good friends put it, "con-drop" because the convention is over. (sigh)

Hopefully we'll be able to squeeze in some awesome kinky fun at home to share with you. After all, all these bruises on me are good "starting" points for new play. (grin)

Fluid

The stagnation of our previous home has really become obvious in the almost month we've been in our new location. It's amusing, in a horrific sort of way, looking back, on how much we'd become . . . accustomed, i guess . . . to not having our needs met. But here, now, in the brief time we have been here, we've reconnected in a very deep way. i think (or at least if feels as if) we've had more sex in the last 20 some odd days than we had over the entire summer of 2011. Our relationship is more fluid, more full of life and vivacious once again.

Of course, here has its own new challenges, the balance of activity outside and inside our relationship, for example. We are much closer to people who truly share Master's interests, enabling Him to spend more time fulfilling those needs that i can't always live up to. i'm delighted, of course, but this also sometimes leaves me feeling a bit lonely. But, there have been more amazing moments of closeness, of fun, of sex, of silliness. i've been feeling more playful again, more likely to spark a moment of fun between us. The only unfortunate thing is, we no longer have a real place to store our toys, so they are still living in totes, which makes it an adventure in the dark, when i ask Master if He'd be willing to torture, tease or play with a particular toy, or if He's got a sudden craving to use a particular toy on me... Standing over the totes with the midnight light, moving the smaller totes and boxes, looking for the thing that has inevitably slid to the bottom of the 10 gallon tote that is, of course, on the bottom of the stack of toy totes.

Regardless, the massive amount of sex is revving my engine, and i am very much looking forward to our little getaway to a proverbial island of adult fun on July 13, 14 & 15. We are so excited to return to Thunder In the Mountains. (Plus, i read something about a "Puppy Pit" in addition to the Pony Track at the play party!! Hehehe!)

Awesomeness and suckage

Whew! What a wild, wild ride. We're slowly unpacking only what we need to unpack. We're debating on where we ultimately want to be, although the spot we landed in (at literally the last possible moment) is pretty flippin' awesome - other than the fact that we have no AC or ceiling fans. 

Throughout the move, i did my best to keep up with Master, plugging away, trying to haul in box for box, at least, if i couldn't manage the few pieces of furniture we did bring with us. We're not on the third floor or anything, but a half-flight to our front door, which is alright. But there is a full flight inside - we scored a pretty awesome little town home style apartment. So my knee, long damaged from my gracelessness and pavement, is adjusting. i digress, though. In the midst of the move, i did not drink enough fluids. i let myself get way too hot, way too stressed out, and wound up with a case of heat exhaustion. Master took pity on me and told me to take it easy. So on the days i felt pretty good, i'd do a little organizing, try and improve some of the flaws (like lack of curtains).

And Master and i had lots of awesome sex the first week we were here. i think we nailed 8 days in a row, technically speaking, though a lot of our toys weren't accessible, so it was very verbal, but very awesome and so, so sexy.

But then, i felt miserable; my core hurt, my legs hurt, my knees hurt, my head was throbbing, and despite the fact that it was around 90 degrees or better, and i was wearing as little clothing as possible - i got goosebumps and was reaching for a fleece blanket. Master didn't like it.

Father's Day Fun...

Happy Father's day to all the fathers out there! I've never really been one to celebrate most holidays and, aside from a well timed phone call on Mother's day, I tend to avoid them. However, this Father's day feels different to me for some reason. 


Last night, while settling down for bed, the girl began humping my leg and whining pitifully.  Rolling over, I shoved her face into the bed, filling her to the hilt. I hammered her as she shuddered and whimpered and after a series of orgasms the girl begged to be hurt. I love my masochistic little bitch! After a quick break to dig through the totes containing my arsenal of toys, I returned to the bed with my pair of leather gloves and the silver, unconnected pair of clover clamps. 


Mounting her again, I placed the clover clamps onto her tender nipples and continued my vigorous riding. The noises the girl makes when in grips of pain and pleasure are intoxicating. I forced her down on the bed, crushing her clamped tits into the bed as I took my pleasure from her shuddering body. I enjoyed a much needed climax, slapping her ribs with my gloved hands as she screamed into the mattress. We collapsed and slept well all night. 


This morning, as a special treat for Father's day, I was awaken by the girl's hot mouth on my cock. As soon as I was mostly conscious, I rolled over and entered her again. I choked her a little and held my hand over her eyes with my thumb in her mouth, a objectifying hold to use on her while fucking. Again she begged for more, to be hurt and used. Happily, I retrieved the clover clamps and pulled the stocks from the closet. (Having the closet space we do, it is far easier to gain access to the fun bits like stocks and poles and canes than our previous home. A huge benefit!) 


The look of desire and fear on the girl's face was delightful as I returned to the bed. In moments the stocks were closed around her neck and wrists, leaving her helpless. The clamps bit down on her ever so tender nipples and she moaned and sobbed as her tits bounced while I fucked her, unable to prevent the pain shooting through her chest. I slapped her ribs and squished her belly as I pounded her, delighting in her agony. The bitch begged for mercy but I didn't let her off so easily. I left her to deal with her pain as I fucked her to orgasm after shuddering, sobbing orgasm. Finally I came hard into her, plucking the clamps from her nipples as she cried and came. 


It was a fantastic and delightful way to start Father's day and to break in our new place properly.

My friends, allow me to sum up the last few months in a single phrase: Holy Crap Nuggets! There, that about sums it up. So much has happened it is hard to recount it all, so perhaps a vague synopsis will do.


First, the girl graduated college, and thanks to a wild all nighter with a finicky four year old the eve of graduation day, I have hazy memories of the whole thing. Fortunately I also brought my camera to the event so I have pictures to punctuate the haze of my memories, and a video of her graduate class speech.




I am very proud of her, and was very pleased when she returned home after the festivities to fall to her knees and offer me her diploma. The girl earned Magda-Cum-Laud, honor society member, and the respect of her peers and teachers. Most importantly, she pleased her Owner. I had hoped that after years of living through a difficult, conflicting schedule and the constant stress of homework we would now have a chance to more fully enjoy our lifestyle. In some ways we have, though not nearly as much as we both have hoped. 

Another step forward.

Early this month, i completed a journey. Roughly 2 years ago, Master allowed me to return to college, and this time, i actually finished the program i set out to complete. Er. Well, an equivalent program, anyway. (i returned to be a nurse, but frankly, i wouldn't trust me with a needle, and daymares of what i must have looked like in the OR as a patient made me change my mind.) Regardless, i walked across the stage, took that little piece of paper, and as soon as i saw Master, put it in His hands. It was something i worked hard at, for Him, because it was something He allowed me to do for me. His GPA continues to outshine my own, but i came close!!

And while that is done, we are scrambling, desperate to relocate. While i have loved the region in which we live, Master has not been as fond of it, and it is time for a change. We have both been seeking new opportunities in the region we'd rather be, and continue to look for housing. Ultimately, we're very picky. We've been spoiled by the opportunity to rent a full blown house with a full blown yard (cheaply!), and looking at returning to apartment buildings is...well...(sigh). We're determined to make the relocation happen though.

So among the boxes, the house hunting, the barely-still-a-toddler with teenage ideas and behavior, we're still here. Still  squeezing in kinky things. Still stressed out. But moving forward, step by step.

Clash of the Titantically Stressed...

So yes, as we have stated a whole lot recently, it seems our lives are drowning in a sea of stress. A brief synopsis of our situation: an insomniac 4 year old, conflicting schedules (she with the early morning and I with the late nights), work stress, end of the school year and impending graduation, 1.5 months to the big move and still have yet to pin down a place to move to, changing careers and praying it holds, no real chances to play, and the ever present finances. Crazy, I know.


The worst thing we could do would be to turn on each other, and yet it seems inevitable that when people get super stressed they do just that. The girl got herself in some hot water the other day, mouthing off at the most opportune of times: right when I have to go out the door to my accursed job. Needless to say, regardless of the specifics of her tirade, I was in a cranky zone. Which was cemented in place by my very presence at work. For hours I mulled it over in my mind, dissecting every word of what she had said. Like trying to remove a catalyst from a solution during an explosive reaction, I tried and tried to separate the volatile emotions from the underlying cause of her rant. Why would she feel this way, what was making her say all of this? How could she be condemning me over things she had just paid me great compliment on the week before?


When I returned home, I was still livid with her but had a better grasp over the causes and the first rays of understanding started poking through the tempest of my displeasure. The girl apologized profusely and asked if I were willing to discuss the whole affair with her. I refused, knowing that I was still too angry for it to become anything other than a shouting match. I was tempted to chain her to the foot of the bed for the whole night with not but a foot of chain ensuring an uncomfortable and sleepless night, but then she had school the next morning and once again those obligations seemed to supersede my own desires. So I swiftly sent her to bed, tucked her in in my usual fashion albeit a bit cooler in temperament, and left her to cry herself to sleep.

(bleep)

 *sigh*
Master and i don't want this to be a negatively filled space. But...things are...challenging at the moment. There's the daily frustration of tedious and annoying issues that face every family. Our kiddo is a ball of bouncing energy, who is far to smart for his own good (or ours). Extended family struggles. The economy continues to take its toll. There is an open door, or window, depending on one's perspective, but right now, it's really hard for Master and me to remain positive. If one of us is managing to claw our way out from under the dark clouds, then the other is sufficiently dampened by said clouds. The most likely event is that we're both standing underneath the storm on opposite sides. Together, but not close enough for us to dispel the low feelings we share.

We desperately need time together, but there's a level of hustle and bustle that keeps that from happening on a significant level...And despite Master and i making a show in the (semi) local scene in February, we didn't make it in March, nor does it look like April will happen for us either.

i'm wound up and stressed. And i keep sticking my (bleep) foot in my mouth.

i've very nearly got my AA in Master's hands, and that alone has created a bit of hurt in my heart. i keep my head down, do what needs doing, and  am not as student as good as Master was. But i somehow keep getting attention. Good attention. But i don't want it. i just want to do what i need to do and go home. But Master says "I'm proud of you. I want you to do this." So i do it, because i was told to. So why did they not give Master the same attention while He was there? Why do they lavish all of this unwanted attention on me? i don't like it. i really don't.

And then i say stupid things to Master.

And so i say (bleep) repeatedly, and am going to go have a cry.

Ugh

The last few weeks have been kinda hard. Master and i played hard together when we re-entered the public scene, and then after that, life happened. Life got in the way. Life did it's thing. And Master and i dropped.

In some ways, we still kind of are. We're stressed about some big changes coming up in our little corner of the world (and excited, hopeful and experiencing trepidation), and we haven't had a chance to connect like we really want to. Because life keeps getting in the way, we're both a bit touchy about everything. It's hard.

And we're desperate for a chance to relax and connect on that primal level we love so much.

---
Don't forget, March is Q&A month - if you leave a comment for us here on any recent posts, send it via formspring (Master's formspring box is on the bottom left of this page) or drop us notes on FetLife, we'll answer them here on the blog.

Questions?

 Answers.

March is Q&A month, and my beloved Owner and i will be happy to answer questions! Feel free to ask by posting questions in the comments section, by dropping them in our FetMail, or via Formspring. Feel free to ask them anonymously, as well. :) If you'd like us both to answer each question, or if the question is directed at only one of us, please be obvious about it. Sometimes our brains are a little busy thinking up kinky things we'd rather be doing and don't always make the obvious connections.

We like questions.

An undignified title...

In other words: "squee!!" 

After Master and i attended Thunder in the Mountains last July, we realized (again) just how much we missed being part of the community. When we started out, we were regular attendees of the local PEP (People Exchanging Power), and loved it. We met great people, we had a lot of fun, and we really had the space to experiment with our play. We committed ourselves to finding a way to make ourselves part of the closest local scene again, and this month, we managed to fulfill our early 2012 resolution. The timing all worked out, and though we got lost in our once familiar haunt, we found ourselves at the door.

Inside, we saw familiar faces, and though the traffic and getting lost had left a smudge on our initial moods, watching others engaging in their own scenes lifted our spirits and our excitement and we started looking for a place to play. Master and i really were looking for space to play with the Victor Tella signal whips we picked up at Thunder, and of course, some room for some serious martial arts inspired impact play. It was pretty crowded, so we weren't sure we'd find just the right spot.

It worked out that as soon as Master and i were really ready to get the ball rolling, one scene wrapped up (and was unwrapped - a little rope-pun) and Master and i experimented with the available space. Though many people comment on our pictures over on FetLife about how sexy i am, and many people tell me in person, i admit i have body-hang-ups. Master talked me through them, and pretty soon, i was happily cuffed and Master was whipping away. He started out with the flogger, and though i know it, i don't really remember it clearly. i fell into the scene fast. Nothing remains but the memory of movement, a bite of the tails of the pretty floggers, and Master's gloves. But the Dragon Tongue i do remember; it's pretty red tail biting and "cutting" into my flesh, the way it would lovingly wrap around my ribs to bite the flesh of my breasts, licked around my hips, and landed on my calves. i remember stomping my feet, sometimes turning around to look at Master as the tongue licked at whatever new target i gave Him. i was deep into the sensations of it all. Deep into the energy changing hands between Master and i. He took my pain and devoured it. i took His cruelty and lapped it up.

Even though Master and i have found that i do appreciate the sting of the whips far more than i appreciate more of a thud against me; there is one thud that i cannot get enough of... The feeling of Master using His limbs upon me as weapons. i begged Him to skip the whips, to kick me. As He is ever so kind, He agreed, and re-positioned me so there would be ample room for His intentions. i remember counting two sets of ten, but Master wasn't done with just 20. When i couldn't remember how to keep counting, i was on the verge of good tears. As much as i would have enjoyed crying for Him, i enjoyed what came next at least as much. Now that there was no counting, i was just a punching bag. There was no time to cry, and all i could do was laugh and howl with the joy of the pain Master gave me. Master kicked me, front kicks, side kicks, round kicks...and His fists were a flurry as well. Punches, slaps, and i think i felt a few well placed ridge-hands, landed upon my back, ribs and thighs. my legs crumpled under me as Master used His knowledge of pressure points against me. Left with quivering legs, kneeling upon the floor, held upright only by the cuffs, Master landed a few more blows upon me.

He brought me water (we learned from Thunder...we had it in our scene bag, along with some emergency chocolate and one of my favorite blankets), and we cleared the space for the next players. Initially, i thought i'd want to just curl up somewhere and nurse my sore legs, but once i was following Master i realized that moving felt far better, and we wandered around to watch a few other players.  A good friend, one of our fist friends from the scene, was there and had his claws out. On my already sore body, they were almost like little single jolts of electricity.

Before long, Master and i were set up again, with His jute quickly wrapping around me. There's not a lot from this part that i remember well, either, because i was really just a happy puddle of lovely neurotransmitter goop. Master asked me if i wanted to walk around, but that was pretty beyond my coordination levels, so He bound me down and ripped a couple of orgasms out of my body.

When He'd let me loose, i was pretty quick to bounce back to being frisky, and running away after He'd threatened to spray cold water all over me...

Being there was really, truly great. Fulfilling. We met people, old friends and new friends; had great scenes, connected with our inner Sadist and masochist (well - His Sadist, my masochist) in a way we haven't been able to for a while, and had a grand time indulging in our desires...

It was absolutely, spectacularly, awesome.

The sex at the hotel after the event and the next morning was pretty awesome, too.

And. i who almost never bears marks on my legs, ass or back... Have marks lingering from the event, and a lovely, lingering soreness...

We're seriously looking forward to our next chance!

(taps fingers...)

Gossip, Accusation, Drama

Over on FetLife, there's a thread in some group, (i'm not linking it here, but you can find the link in a tweet from @saynine) which is for victims to post the names of those whom they have played with or had a relationship with, who violated their trust, and abused them. They don't have to post the names themselves. They can send the name and the info to the group leader, who will post them "anonymously."

So there are anonymous comments about so-and-so's behavior, how they abused their victims, or about venues which did not keep players "safe."

And there are people who think it's valuable. To call out those who violated/abused them.

Sure, it'd be ideal for us to know the people we're playing with did their best to respect limits of their play partners. It'd be nice to know for sure if so-and-so really didn't play safe (by whatever definition of that you use when you play or scene).

But these are anonymous comments, and most of the time, as far as i can tell, the named "abusers" are not notified that their names have appeared in the thread.

This is not okay.

This is guilty until, well, someone deletes it and it's forgotten (so, usually, never). This is not even guilty until proven innocent.

This is gossip.

i agree that we should find a way to let other people know about "BDSM-er's" who don't play with some amount of respect for the person they are playing with.

i really don't think that the thread, with anonymous postings, on FetLife is the way. It's a way, but not a good way.

If i'd ever accused my rapist, i wouldn't have done it anonymously. Just saying.

formspring.me

Ask me questions about Something naughty;) http://www.formspring.me/Masterofslavej

The middle...and the end...

With our first 21 hours whittled away, Master fully intended to make the most of me and our remaining kid-free time. Since i'd been chained to the bed all night, i was feeling a bit stiff, and Master kindly allowed me to get up, stretch and make breakfast - you know, morning stuff. The downside of the second day was the absolute flood of endorphines. my memories regarding the next scenes are very fuzzy and vague. 

Once Master had enjoyed His sausage, egg and Munster burrito and i'd happily scarfed my dry blueberry wheat cereal, Master was ready for the fun to begin in earnest. More rope was applied to me, and i remember loops and loops around my neck, and my hands bound again to my feet as i sat cross-legged. Master used the GiGi on me again. It felt like He kept me bound there for hours, before He took me again.

Master allowed me another shower, and then wanted to put me in the cage again. We'd both enjoyed the extra harsh confinement of it the previous evening that we wanted to experiment a little more with it. Once i was warm again, Master took us upstairs, where he poked fun of me for being excited about the coming torture.  

Instead of head down and ass up in the cage this time, Master had me on all fours (well, as close as possible, given the natural smallness of the cage), and created another clever trap for me. He compressed my breasts with dowel rods on either side, kept me pushed "properly" forward by running a bar across the sweet spot of my ass, trapped my head between two dowel rods for a while, ran one across my back, so i couldn't push up, and two trapped my arms. Where the ass up and head down adventure the previous evening created long lasting fatigue in my hips, legs and lower abdomen, this new cage trap He'd devised created upper torso and arm fatigue (though there was some strain on the legs, it would have taken much longer to build up).

While i was trapped, at His mercy (and feeling oh, so helpless and objectified), Master again took the GiGi out and teased me to orgasm. If one has never experienced an orgasm in a strained, unnatural position - it's like a firework exploding in a steel drum. The reverberations of the big O wash back over you, because there's no way to move the muscles as you might have naturally. i remember being very fatigued and begging to be let out, or have bars removed. i remember Master saying (my favorite) "just another minute" a few times. i also remember i was not graceful, and had a flare of anger at the pain, and Master had to remind me to mind my behavior. 

i was relieved when Master began removing the dowel rods that had held me immobile. Then He demanded that i quickly squirm through the small door and into His bed for His use. i confess, i was sore and sluggish, but after an indulgent 10 seconds or so collapsed in a little heap, i moved as quickly as i was capable of to His bed. He fucked me again, and allowed me more orgasms, though i couldn't spring back up after sex. i was worn out, tired, used up, content and a little sleepy. Master indulged me, and let me lay in His bed, bundled up and covered in sticky.

He came up to remind me that He had to go to work that evening, and because i would be alone, i was to stay naked, work on the blog, was allowed to eat one burrito, and be kneeling by the door when He came home. 

When i finished the first post about what had transpired, i texted Master to ask if i could play Skyrim. He graciously allowed me to play video games while i waited for Him to come home. When He did arrive home, he found me naked, Xbox controller in hand, and semi-kneeling by the door as i had just unlocked it for Him. 

Very soon after He had arrived home, we fucked again, and very soon after that, me and my tired, swollen, well-pounded cunt fell asleep. i think Master played Skyrim before He chained me to the bed. 

When i woke the next morning, we had a scant nine hours left before the return to dreaded normalcy. You know, being not-overtly kinky. And wouldn't you know, my back, on this day of all days, decided that i needed not just lumbar vertebra out of place, but that some thoracic vertebra should be seriously dislodged as well. Laying in bed hurt, sitting in bed hurt, but i tried to be still and quiet so Master could sleep. He woke up anyway. He's either way tuned into me or i am not as quiet as i think i am. Probably both.

He took a bit of mercy on me, and sent me away from bed (after unchaining me) so that i could find something comfortable to do with my back and play Skyrim. (Master spoils me sometimes.)

He slept, and i fapped about in the video game. Not exactly what we'd pictured when we imagined more than 48 hours with the kiddo having delightful fun elsewhere.. But when Master woke up, He asked for a blowjob, so a minor delight was achieved. i continued to play the game for a while. Master read my first blog post, and when i asked what He thought, He threw His pants on the couch and proceeded to fuck me. 

It was glorious, and we loved living the dream, for a few days. (And our little person gave us hugs when he saw us, while we smiled at each other over his shoulder.)

The show begins...

Over the semester break, Master and i have had lots of things to do. Lots. We looked at the list and thought "four weeks should be long enough." We definitely got pretty close. Especially since we managed to score two nights of kid-free time. Even more awesome, it's been two nights in a row. 48+ hours of kid free time, during which, i've been kept naked, as pleases Master, and frequently bound, frequently taken and tortured.

Bliss!

We started off the kid-free time easy, seeing a movie Master and i wanted to see, during which Master infrequently threatened me with the thumb cuffs He was keeping in his pocket. When He wasn't threatening me, He had a firm grip on both my hands and frequently squeezed them in excitement and glee. As we left the theatre and began the trek home, Master slipped the handcuffs out of the center console and slapped them on my wrists, nicely pulling my sweater down to cover them, after which He also added the thumb cuffs. We laughed, i whined about the thumb cuffs, and Master laughed at me. He received some texts from a friend, and while He drove, i read them, and replied through dictation. It was pretty awesome. Then i discovered i could pop my right thumb out of the thumb cuffs. After a bit of joking, i slipped my thumb back in them so Master could snap a quick picture, and then the meanie reached over and squished the cuff down. By the time we arrived home, my thumbs were a bit purple. Master and i planned to play all night - after all, He's been staying up to play Skyrim until 5 am or so - there was no reason we couldn't play until at least that time.

Master graciously allowed me a shower while He rearranged some furniture to make the most of the mid-week "vacation" and when i emerged, wet, slippery and smooth, He said socks were the only clothes i could have - so i put on one of the warmest pairs i have - men's work socks (don't make fun - they are warm and they, too, make me feel small). While we watched one of our favorite TV shows, Master wrapped the rope we'd gotten at 2011 Thunder in the Mountains around me, and i actually was really able to sink into the bondage. Since i've been working on my flexibility, Master got my arms bound behind me in the same position as a monoglove. It was hot, hurt just a little, and i was already feeling small and submissive. With a second chunk of rope, Master bound my feet up and tied them to my hands, creating a deliciously tight hogtie. While i was bound, He teased me with our Lelo toy, GiGi, before allowing me to cum.

When He was done teasing me, He untied my feet and threw the Liberator Flip Ramp i'd won from Eden Fantasies next to my head. That was a deliciously scary sound, because i wasn't able to see what He was doing where i was. Master then ever so kindly (not) picked me up by the chest harness that was binding my arms and threw me on top of the flip ramp so He could fuck me. i was feeling deliciously small and objectified.

Master sent me off to the shower again to clean up (i stupidly have an allergic reaction and swelling after sex, with or without lube, these days), and allowed me to warm up, naked, under blankets, bound at His feet.

It wasn't even nine in the evening yet, and the show was just getting started.