Defenseless

For those who haven't noticed, i did regain Master's permission to be on the internet, though i have been swamped with homework, which has put off my explanation far longer than Master intended...

In regards to Master's "Dacryphilia Vs Drama..." -- i basically got too sucked into the distractions Master permits me and failed to abide by His dictation. i put my own entertainment above His orders. Bad, bad, bad!

Dacryphilia Vs Drama...

So tonight I wanted to talk a little about tears and drama. I love seeing tears, I love causing them. Whether it be from physical pain, emotional torment, or fuzzy love, I love tears. Today, jenpet got herself in some hot water, and as I have instructed her to write a post about it when she is allowed free time online again, I don't want to dwell on the specifics right now.

Needless to say she is being punished, and that punishment let loose a lot of tears tonight. No, I didn't cane her bottom... yet. It came from the look on my face as I expressed my disappointment. It came from the nearly two hours she spent alone in the cage thinking about what she did. And it came from the fact that several of her privileges were withheld till further notice. However it also came with some drama and that I do not like.

Little Glass Marbles...

If we could live in the fantasy that fills our hearts and minds, then jenpet would live in a perpetual state of metal restraints and chains, kept in a concrete cell or iron cage until needed to serve any of the infinite desires of my heart.
The realities of life however allow for very little. Even the most basic and practical of matters must, by necessity, be simplified to the utmost.

In our fantasy life, punishments would be a serious matter, punctuated by time for the naughty slave to contemplate the seriousness of her situation, preferably chained by a short length to the wall sharing quality time with the intimate implement of her coming punishment just out of reach yet imposing. The bondage, slow and methodical, each strap inescapably sealing her fate. The infractions laid out, each counted and addressed, her knowing full well the why of her correction. Then the punishment itself, harsh, measured, each strike counted by the girl with tearful sobs. There would be an aftermath, jenpet on her knees, kissing the implement and my feet in gratitude for the TLC (tender loving caning) and the chance to be corrected to become better. Then swept up into my arms to be held and reassured that she is a good girl and that all is forgiven. Ah fantasy, my dear friend and frequently absent companion.

The reality of our punishments are far less impressive. Quick swats taken in stolen moments of the child's naps, a frantic attempt to maintain some semblance of correction for forgotten infractions.
Nothing like telling the slave, "now, you've been a naughty girl."
"What have i done, Master?"
"Oh... you know... that thing the other day... Yeah that." SWAT!

Yet, we find a way. A simple method for marking infractions to be dealt with later? A glass cup filled with glass marbles, one marble for each infraction. Tonight, we had the opportunity to catch up on some of these marbles. With the little one down, we rushed upstairs, quickly bound the girl up, and got a start. Oh there was tearful counting and the loud slap of the paddle. Thirteen strikes to bring the girl back in line and empty the cup.

We do what we can and though its not easy, if it were would it be worth doing?

Denial Reminders....

A slave's life is one of privilege. It is a privilege to sit on furniture, to eat off of dinnerware, to use the toilet, to sleep in a bed, etc, not a right. A slave could just as easily live on the floor, eat off the floor, go in the bathtub or a litter box, or sleep on the floor. The same is true of sex. Orgasms are a privilege, a gift given by the Owner because it pleases them, not a right of the slave for the slave's enjoyment. In this way, a slave should be full of gratitude to the Owner, because every meal, every restful night, every restroom break, every orgasm is a privilege, a gift.

However, eventually we all take things for granted. Sometimes a slave needs to be reminded of their place, of the privileges they are granted and why. The other night, we had need of just such a reminder. As of late, our hectic schedules have provided very little time for the two of us to be with each other. This also means that the punishments for infractions have been piling up for a while. When my girl doesn't receive correction for her mistakes for a while, she gets a little wild.

Finally a night came when we had a chance, and I wasted no time in utilizing it. My slave was quickly stripped and chained to the bed, ass up and ready to be punished. Though, when so much time passes between punishments, the pain threshold dips a bit and each cane stroke across her upturned ass jolts her like a lightening strike. Fifteen stripes later, it was time to roll her over and begin with the real lesson.

As I said, a slave owns nothing, has no right to anything, only the privileges it is granted by the Owner. To demonstrate this, I secured a belt, tightened to the extreme, around jenpet's waist With the belt squeezing down so tightly upon her abdominal muscles, it prevented her from being able to reach orgasm. No matter how long or hard I fucked her, she could not cum. Instead she lay there, hands and collar chained to the bed, waist compressed, legs widely spread, being tortured with constant stimulation and endless denial.

For over an hour I fucked her like this, unable to cum, unable to escape. I asked her again and again, what are you?
"slave, property, object..." she would groan Agonized, she begged me to cum, pleading pitifully. I asked her,
"Why do I let you cum? Is it for your pleasure?"
"No, Master," she would pant, "for you... for your pleasure."
"Does it matter if you get to cum?"
"No Master."
"So I shouldn't let you cum?" I asked.
She groaned. "What ever pleases you, Master."

Finally, satisfied that she had learned her lesson, I released the belt. Instantly, she convulsed and began begging loudly and piteously to cum for me.
I asked her, "What begs?"
"slave begs..."
"It begs?" I asked.
"it begs, Master..."
"For what?"
"it begs for permission, Master... it begs for permission to cum..."
"For what reason?"
"For your pleasure, Master"
Thus, I allowed her to, ordering her to cum all over my cock. Shuddering and screaming, she obeyed. I elicited three more orgasms from my girl before we both collapsed into a sweaty mass on the bed.

Lesson learned... at least until the next reminder...

Those Twenty

Master last blogged about a punishment that i earned myself. Twenty cane strokes, delivered in order earned, for the type of each of infraction. The hardest part about the punishment was the realization, before He even told me what the punishment would be, was that i had really earned it. It was a case of some of the worst behavior in the last few years.

Master told me that i didn't have to blog about the why of the punishment, but i feel that it is important to how i received the punishment, so i am going to go ahead and share at least the basics of it.

In the simplest terms, i rose above the level of property, of slave. i claimed property, i repeatedly told Master what He should be doing, not in the form of a recommendation, but as an order. i let my exhaustion, stress and frustrations run away with me and take me above my station. Master has been extraordinarily understanding and helpful throughout all the stress and lack of sleep over the past few weeks, but even as i was breaking every rule He had already bent for me, i realized it. And even though i realized it, i kept pushing until i had fractured every aspect of the rules.

i had an evening to ponder the actions, knowing that a punishment would be coming (but not knowing what it would be) and that i earned exactly everything it would be. i was so frustrated, because i know that i can abide by the rules we've agreed on to define our relationship and i was feeling that i wasn't living up to the values i want in our relationship. While i was alone, i considered all of that, and even briefly, considered begging to be released because i wasn't sure i could find a way to come back to be at peace with myself as His property. As i considered that, however, i realized that if i did ask, i would be denying my responsibility, the responsibility to behave that i had already agreed to, already chose. And there would never, ever be a way back to wearing His collar.

When Master and i talked, after i had realized that i must own my mistakes that evening, and after He told me how the twenty cane strokes would break down, i didn't think i could make it through. Fear consumed me until the time and opportunity came.

When it did, Master hobbled me with the wonderfully heavy leather hobble, and the strokes came down. Because i'd earned them, and i knew it, i did my best to take them with as much composure and grace as i could. i swear, i thought that the skin split with every stroke. i thought that i really would forget how to breathe in that searing pain.

And that is how i remember it. Hobbled and bound to the bed, trying to have that elusive grace Master always asks me to demonstrate, terrified that the skin on my ass and thighs was going to split and that i'd forget how to breathe. i barely remember hearing His voice during, though i am sure He talked to me the whole time. i was so trapped in the moment, in the pain, that nothing else from those moments is as clear.

It wasn't just the punishment that brought me back to center, to satisfaction with the choice i made to be His slave... But it burned the realization that i needed to own the responsibility of my behavior, that the choice i made to be property, slave, was one of the best choices i could have made for myself. i find happiness inside this relationship, and i want it as much as i need it, exactly as it is. And that brief consideration of begging for release made me realize that i really have everything i need and most of what i want. Though it was unfortunate, going so far off track allowed me to realize that, and the punishment and extra thinking brought me back to center, to be satisfied with what i have with Master. And reminded me that if i felt something was missing, all i have to do is ask.

It is easier to ask before then to beg forgiveness and correction later.

Twenty Strokes...

So, my darling slave girl earned herself a nice steep punishment over the weekend. How and why we may cover later. However, the punishment called for twenty cane strokes which I administered earlier tonight.

The way that I handle punishments currently, given the severe deficit in time, is to cuff her hands and feet together respectively and bind them to the bed stretching her out.I place a large, mouth stuffing gag we got from Sub-shop to ensure that her screaming won't wake the child... or the neighbors. So presented, I tell her how many she has earned and why. For tonight's punishment, they were broken down into groups of four or five at a time with a short break for her to regain her composure in between.

I have to say that I am quite impressed with my little slave, she managed to remain composed for the majority of the caning, and even the moments she lost control and flopped about madly against the unyielding bonds were pleasing to this sadistic heart. Though, she did surprise me about three quarters of the way through when she managed to pull one foot loose of our very heavy and secure hobble. Never underestimate the strength of a woman in the throws of blissful agony, or just unbearable pain. I managed a few quick snapshots of the results of the caning about half way through that I will post on my Fetlife profile.

Sadly, as if on cue, as the last stoke fell upon her quivering backside our darling son began crying from the other room. I was unable to get the full result on camera and my planned tender aftercare was instantly reduced to undoing her bonds, ordering her to cuddle up on the floor to wait for me, and to rush out as she tearfully thanked me for punishing her. Such is the life of parent. Oh god... I'm a parent for life! Talk about blissful agony...

Some More Worthy Questions...

Here are some more questions by Florida Dom.

You said you made her beg to cum.
Do you usually allow her to cum when she begs? And how often do you allow her to cum?

Yes, the rule is that she must beg for permission to cum. I don't always let her cum when she does. Many times I'll make her wait five, ten, maybe even fifteen or thirty minutes, teetering on the brink before I'll let her. Sometimes I'll give her a choice between something she really wanted, say being allowed to see while I fuck her or giving me kisses or the like, and cumming.

Like everything in her life, it is a privilege to cum, not a right and she had better beg for it and show some serious gratitude following. I allow her to come quite often as she is multi-orgasmic. An average number of orgasms for her is about six or seven times per fucking. She wanted me to mention that our current record is twenty-one orgasms in a day for her. I like that number.

And you said she's not a willing slave, she said she's a dominated one. How does she show you she's not a willing slave? Does she make you force her to do things?

As for this question, it does boil down to a matter of semantics. We define a submissive as an individual who willingly submits, choosing to obey the wishes of the dominant. If they decide they don't want to do something, they don't have to because they are not bound to their Dom's word like a slave is. Basically the difference for us between a submissive and a slave is that a submissive ultimately has choice and the slave doesn't. Even if it's something they're afraid of or down right, positively don't want to do, a slave has no choice and must do as they are instructed by their owners.

Anyway, that definition aside, when it comes to my girl, she does not identify as a submissive. It isn't that she has an inherent and self motivated need to obey, its that she has a deep seeded and unyielding desire to be forced to obey. It might be a subtle difference to some, but its how we view it.

A good example can be seen in some of the more recent pictures on our Fetlife profile. Earlier that evening I had told her to come over and lick my feet before I went to work. She has a problem with feet, she thinks they are funny looking. She grumbled, slowly meandered over, and barely flicked her tongue over the top of one foot before running off to return to whatever she was doing.

Okay, I thought and went to work. But while I was there I devised her punishment and when I came home at around 2:00 am, I set to work on my devices. I prepared the ring gag, readied a plastic zip tie, pulled out the chain leash, retrieved the riding crop, and pulled my sweaty socks off, all in anticipation of her torment. I clipped the leash to her chain and dragged her out of bed, a rude awakening to be sure. She fell to her hands and knees and I pulled her along to the office. There I tied on the ring gag, bound her hands and shoved her head down to my feet. I then lay a few heavy crop swats across her ass and ordered her to lick.

She was groggy, had cotton mouth, bleary eyed, and had two welts rising on her ass, but still she stuck out her tongue and got to work like a good slave. She gave me a complete tongue bath on both feet up to the ankles, suckling each toe as best she could before I put her on her knees and jacked off into her mouth. Finally I sent her to bed, a happy slave with a mouthful of cum and a stinging backside.
Were she more submissive in character, she would have been more thorough the first time, not having needed the punishment to do it right. At least by our definition and my standards.

I hope that helps to give a better view into our dynamic. Thanks for the questions, keep them coming...

Ass Kicker...

So, I have had a great deal of fun with my precious little slave girl as of late. Midday fucks, rigorous bondage, face slapping, ass smacking, nipple twisting good times. Emotionally she has been feeling a bit under the weather given some up coming changes due soon, and what better time for pushing her to her breaking point?

Nothing quite as wild as binding down a seething, growling, messy haired cunt and reminding her that she is nothing but a worthless piece of property, a toy for my amusement, a bitch in my bed, and a slave in my collar while ramming my cock deep into her exposed pussy. I honestly couldn't tell you which was louder, the angry growls or grunts of pleasure, or even her begging like a proper slut to cum all over my cock.

Like I said, fun times. It is also quite a treat to hear her, while panting for breath, thanking me between moist kisses upon my feet for using her and putting her in her place.

Today though, I discovered something that I fully intend to use to full effect starting immediately. I have always had a struggle on my hands when it comes to spanking my pet girl. I know first hand how much of a pain slut she can be, but when it comes to bare handed spankings, she whines and flops like I'm caning her. Now, she has gotten much better at being able to take a caning, whipping, paddling, etc. on her back side over the last little bit, but spanking just doesn't hit quite right. Not to say that I intend to stop as I enjoy it way too much.

So, today, after a wonderful midday fuck, I sent my darling slave into the bathroom for a shower. Being the smart ass that she is, she began splashing me with water. I can't have that, so I decided to boot her butt. A couple of quick snap kicks to her ass and she nearly came. So, the truth comes out. She can't take the snappy little stings that come from spankings or even paddling, but she can take the full brunt of my foot across her ass like a pro! Oh ho!

I've kicked her in the butt before, a quick boot here or there to get her moving, or to correct her when I don't have my hands free. But this is on a completely different level, and never have I been so harsh about it. Now that I know just how much she can take and how directly an ass kicking effects those sweet spots deep inside, oh yes I'm going to be kicking her ass a lot!

So now our dear dear readers, I can clearly envision the scene. My slave bound to a cross. On a near by table lay the implements of torture familiar to all of us; whips, crops, canes, paddles, oh my. And there, in the heat of the moment, with her helpless and exposed in front of all of those people I literally kick her ass. Snapping the top of my foot fast and hard against her plump rounds. All watching as she shudders and quakes, quickly driven to orgasm after orgasm. Her blazing
red ass, radiating heat even at a distance as she dangles from her shackles, panting and whimpering.

Expect video and picture updates about this one, because hey, how often can any of us say that we get to literally kick the shit out of our slaves? I love it!

Screaming into the mattress

May was kind of a rough month. Not because of anything bad, but because Master and i were a bit apathetic about really enforcing our roles. We were doing just enough to say we were doing it, but not much more.

While time is always short for the kinds of scenes we'd like to do, we didn't really put much effort into our playtime being anything other than sex with subtle overtones of BDSM. Which, in and of itself is not a bad thing, but i'll admit, i'm kind of a high-maintenance kind of slave. Not to say that i need lots of time for primping, or that i cost Master a pretty penny, or in the girlie-girl kind of way. But as a slave, i've come to realize that feeling His dominance, either via His sadistic streak or with His boot on my neck, makes me function better.

Granted, i don't need that stuff to mosey on and do what i'm told ─ at least for the most part. But it drives me to do better, reminds me to not be apathetic about what i am.

After a particularly long period of apathy, i think it takes longer for the sadistic message of dominance to really hit my core. So despite the afternoon spent wrapped in sisal rope, i still managed to prove that i wasn't fully under Master's heel.

And i proved it well. Master was, to put it bluntly, fucking pissed at my behavior.

We only have one flogger (for shame, i know, shame), and it is a light thing. There are plenty of falls, but each one is no heavier than the feather of an owl. (Is that a weird, obscure reference or what?) Each fall is just under an inch wide, and they're about two feet long.

i am a masochist, but for some reason, there are some pains that take longer to process, or that are beyond my ability to absorb. Does that make sense?

When Master lays that flogger onto my back with force, instead of letting its own weight do the work, i cannot process the pain. And this time, i wasn't meant to.

While this was punishment for my behavior, i reveled in it, i dwelt in it and i screamed. After every stroke, i screamed, until i thought my voice would vanish. i was sure, as He continued to flog me (for what felt like a lifetime, or at least hours) that my skin, at any moment, would split open.

It didn't.

And when it was over, my back was red, but no bruises appeared on the surface of my back. A few tiny welts remained for a day and vanished.

And yet, though there is now no remnant of the flogging visible, the incident was burned into my mind, and my back is tender to Master's caress.

And i am coming to heel, appreciating the full value of my role.

Obey, Serve & Please

The last few days have been hectic, frazzling and frustrating. i haven't behaved as well as i should ─ repeatedly. Master has been excruciatingly patient as i quibble, argue and resist before coming to what i should have done the first time: obey.

Master has given me a very simple tenant to live by from the start of our journey into our Dominant/submissive merged to Master/slave relationship, and that is to obey, to serve and to please.

That boils down to even deeper simplicity: obey. If i obey, i am serving, and that is pleasing. i know this, i've lived with this simple, innocent "rule" for over eight years. i know it by heart, i understand its meaning and i see it work. i see the delight on His face when i obey without hesitation, i see Him pleased by my willingness to serve and obey. Yet, so often, when i allow myself to become worried by a situation, frazzled or stressed by the world around us, i fail to simply follow that simple, lovely rule.

i have failed to obey.

Master did not, of course, let me get away with the behavior for long. But what hurts, more than the punishment for the misbehavior, is knowing that i couldn't keep one simple word in the fore of my thoughts, that i couldn't follow the simplest part of belonging to my Master ─ i was not obedient. That excruciating patience He does not offer anyone else, merged with the expression of hurt and disappointment in me ─ it all hurts that much more as i am so dissapointed in myself for failing to mind that one word...

i want to do better. i know i can follow that simple, standing order. i can obey. i want to obey. And when i obey, i will serve Him and it will please Him. It is up to me to do better, to obey without question, without complaint. It is up to me to not let the stresses and frustrations of life keep me from trusting Master. And all of that is possible because it comes down to the definition of obey.

"To follow the commands or guidance of; to conform to or comply with; to behave obediently."

That is possible ─ even for me.

Don't mess with my Ranch...

I have to say that it was a truly interesting evening. I thought long and hard regarding what to write about and after much debate I finally decided to just give it up and forgo tonight's entry. However, my darling slave property decided that she would provide me the perfect topic. W/we had had some discussion regarding diner plans. Should W/we order something? A pizza? Should W/we eat at home, perhaps some split-pea soup?... So I ordered some pizza and a salad for my slave.
After two long waits; one for the pizza and one for the very young delivery driver to return with my slave's salad, W/we finally had dinner.


Now, my slave is like a crack addict when it comes to Ranch Dressing. In my opinion, there are a select number of condiments allowed on nearly everything. Ketchup, mustard, maybe a little relish if you really need some tang. However, Ranch is not on that list. You don't ask for a foot-long hot dog slathered in Ranch dressing! Well, apparently some do, but come on! Any way, my darling slave property will slather everything in Ranch; not just coat, but slather. Chicken, pizza crust, you name it! So it shouldn't be a surprise that salads are no different.


There my slave sat, on the floor as per her current punishment, liberally applying Ranch dressing to her salad. Apparently the bottle was getting a little light as for over three minutes she kept choking the bottle trying to coax out every last drop. The unfortunate bottle kept making a wheezing sound as the last of its life's blood was coughed from its gaping mouth, sounding not unlike a dying asthmatic. Understandably, I wished nothing more than to put it out of its misery.


"Enough," I ordered, "put it down."


Now, I have given my slave grief in the past for this rather disturbing Ranch addiction and it still serves as the source of many friendly jibes and counter-fodder for O/our verbal sparring matches. So it was with a great deal of surprise and a rather unhealthy dose of disappointment for me that my slave threw a temper tantrum on the spot. She went off about how she was now relegated to a dry, tasteless salad and that I had, get this, no right to determine how she should eat!


I let her dig herself a hole for another couple of minutes before I bent her over and gave her ten swats on the ass with the plastic cooking spoon. (On previous posts the spoon has been referred to as the hated little object that hits like a cane, and I assure you that it did this time as well.) Following this my slave was turned back around so she could thank me as she should for punishing her, by kissing my feet. However, she was not done digging just yet. My slave went on to say, rather pointedly, that she has been putting a lot of effort into trying to make sure W/we eat healthy and that by telling her she had had enough Ranch, I was in fact calling her fat. What?! Oh, it gets better... she continued to argue with me! Here is my little slave, already under a week long punishment for disobeying a direct command repeated to her three or more times, and now she was bitching me out for denying her the chance to eat as much Ranch dressing as she wished.


I retorted with how amused I was that I can and will tell her what to eat, what to drink, what to wear, what to say, how to act, how to stand, how to sit, how to suck my cock, et certa. but how dare I tell her how much Ranch to have! I have tried in the past to allow her the choice of what to eat and drink and she was not happy until I decided for her, ordered for her, made her eat and drink what I wanted because I wanted. But Ranch! Oh thats the line in the sand!


I had to laugh. I explained to her that if she felt she needed more, then she could kneel at my feet and beg for more; never is she allowed to tell me that I was wrong to deny her. Also, that anything not required to sustain life is to be considered a privilege, and this includes stand-in condiments. Since her lust for Ranch dressing was what had caused her little pissy fit, then as punishment for her disobedience and severe misbehavior she is subsequently no longer allowed any Ranch, at all, for the rest of the month of April.


You want a line in the sand, bitch? That's mine!...

Rules and Reminders

i've gone and done it again...From time to time, i am quite good at pushing Master's buttons.

Though Master and i have formed a 24/7 relationship that works for us, He's less demanding than many other Dominants i have encountered. There aren't a whole lot of "rules" for me to follow. The directives that i have been given are "serve, please and obey my Master". Pretty simple, right? Oh, sure there are a few actual rules that we live with, including needing to ask permission to leave the room, not sitting on furniture without permission and to always give Him the title of "Master" when i speak to him.

So, why do i feel the need to gripe about how "difficult" He makes it? Why do i always paint myself into a corner when it comes to lashing out at the confines of my submission? Especially considering that as long as i am serving, pleasing and obeying, Master pretty much gives me as much rope as i want? What is it, about Master reminding me to obey His simple directives, that sends me off into a battle of wills that i will never, ever win?

i think i'll never know the answer to those questions. But, i did it again. i lashed out against Master's directives, and was willfully disobedient and obnoxious. Granted, it was something silly, and we laughed while i did it, but Master did tell me, repeatedly, "NO" and yet, on i went...and continued to dig myself a hole by griping about some of the very few rules that Master has lain down for me...for the second time in one day.

SHEESH.

Regardless, for this week, Master has decided to show me how easy i really do have it. Instead of offering Master his title, following every time i speak to Him, i am required to say “my Master, my Owner.” Instead of being able to look at Master, my eyes are to be downcast (i find this one difficult, as Master's eyes are so expressive and beautiful). Furniture is purely off limits...even my computer chair (gaaah!). When Master comes home from work, i am required to offer him the evil, evil white plastic kitchen spoon (which Master calls the “punishment spoon” while i simply call it the evil plastic spoon). For an entire week, i am required to wear a collar – and while this one shouldn't be a big deal (and i'm sure that some would say “WTF?”) i'm claustrophobic and collars often make me feel panicky. Lastly, before i'm allowed into bed, i must passionately worship Master's feet and beg to be allowed the permission to sleep in His bed...

It's only been since this morning, and already, i know i have wracked up a few reminders of my place and my responsibility to be Master's obedient girl.

While i long for the time to be close to Him, and very much look forward to His return home, i am also dreading it. While i do not want time to speed up (there are far too many things that need doing!) i do not know if i can handle this coming week.

i do hope that it will remind me that Master is very kind and generous, and the rules that He has given me are very simple, and it shouldn't be a problem for me to obey each and every one without needless griping.

i am sad. Roles Defining Rules has only existed for about five days, and already i look like a horrible, horrible slave and not much of a submissive.