Ten Minute Touch Therapy...

So I found myself home unexpectedly the last two days and, unlike yesterday, our littlest one decided to take a nap. Now, when I say take a nap, I mean my poor slave took the little one upstairs and placed her into the baby jail and let her scream until she finally fell asleep. Not exactly soothing. 

So when the text came that she was down, I went up quickly hoping to capitalize on the moment. My poor slave has been so frazzled the last few days and all that wear and stress showed in her form. Now, last night there was the faintest hope that we would have the chance together. A hope that was, as usual, not fulfilled. I know the slave had intentions, be it bondage and sex or what have you. But today, as she knelt there on the floor looking numbly up at me there was no intent and very little hope, just need. I know how the depression of stress can taint the mind. I asked her what it was she wanted or needed to have. Bondage? Sex? Torment? Being bound and hooded, left without little hands pawing at her or screaming in her ears? 

My slave responded with one word. Well more of an implication of a word that she had used the night before. Touch. Simple moments being reduced to an object in my hands, feeling the heat of my body pressed against her. This was communicated by her burring her head in my chest and remain unmoving. We had little time so I ordered her to strip and get into the bed. Oh fantastic side note, the slave surprised me after a shopping trip last week or so with black satin sheets. Normally, items purchased outside the list sent with her make me raise an eyebrow and often a swat or two to her bum. This, on the other hand was a most welcome treat. Earlier today she had cleaned upstairs and placed these new sheets on the bed. I intend to get a few shots of them, with some lovey garnish of course. I digress. 

Onto the bed she climbed, immediately burying herself into her blanket. I laughed, and retrieved the blindfold from the drawer and a length of rope from the shelf. I pulled the blanket from her and slipped into my bed, caught instantly by the surprising feel of satin against my naked body. Cold but so soft like liquid metal. So delicious. I ordered my slave to sit up and face the other direction as I bound her hands behind her back. The blind fold was pulled over her eyes next, sealing her into a world of feeling and sound. I pulled her down next to me and she fell into my arms, pressing her naked body against mine. We lay like that for a while, entwined, her helpless in my grasp. It was heavenly, an instant of just the two of us. I love the feel of a naked woman, grinding against me without the use of her hands. Making love with every part of her body in the absence of the most prominent appendage of touch. I, of course, had every intention to spread her legs and mine my pleasure from her. My fingers found her wet and hot, an eager tremble coursed through her. Just a perfect moment. 

A moment that ended with the sound of our stirring little one. A depressed sigh in unison is an interesting thing and something that my slave and I share more and more often. The little one's nap lasted no more than fifteen minutes from start to finish and our unity less than ten. However, it helped. We could both feel it. Another brief stimulant to get us through this drought. Now, to repeat this therapy for two or three sessions a day every day and we might just find our selves being okay again...

Public Service Announcement

And now for a word on addictive habits: I do not have many vices. I don't smoke, I don't drink, I don't do drugs and have no interest in doing so. I don't gamble. I don't participate in the destruction of public or private property, and I don't revel in antiestablishmentarianism. Even I have to ask, just what the hell do I do? Am I some kind of straight-laced, white bread, goody-two-shoes? A stick in the mud? Of course not. Despite the fact that my laces, when I have them, are indeed straight (a trait governed by my OCD thank you very much), and I do, in fact, prefer white bread over wheat. And yes, I do have two good shoes (why would I put up with anything less?). And I have, on occasion, been stuck in the mud. 

So where, exactly, do I allow my self to cut loose and exercise the darker aspects of my soul? I'm sure the answer is no surprise to you, dear reader. Sex. That glorious and varied playground of physical and psychological wonderment. The vice that exercises nearly every aspect of the entirety of a person, and provides a development unlike any vice mentioned above. And I am an addict, utterly obsessed.

Lust, that most potent of vices. Driving desire, heightening the senses, altering the perception of time and space. My drug of choice. The high that keeps on giving. I have spent hours chasing that dragon; lost in a multitude of my own scenes, downloading porn videos, reading erotica, sifting through picture after picture on Fet, blogs, tumbler, and favorite sites across the web. I live it every day, when the kids allow. I see it everywhere I go.

Honestly, spending time in public is painful. When I see a pretty little thing walk by and my mind wonders at her talents. I envision rope wrapped around her frame and chains hanging from cuffs around her wrists. Imagining her following at the tug of a leash behind me. I have to look away, only to see another and another and yet more. A sweet misery, and as is appropriate, I have to share with the slave. It's fun to see her reactions and know that she is just as afflicted as I. Together we have moaned our way through many a store, or park... or restaurant... or bank lobby... or... Come to think about it, just about everywhere. Oddly, not at the Department of Motor Vehicles though. But, I digress. 

One of the most difficult aspects of this addiction for me is work. I have a rule, I do not play at work. It causes too many potential issues, too much gossip, and a mess that is not worth it, no matter how delicious or obviously interested or likely a perspective play partner may be. Which is hard, of course, for two reasons. With our kiddos I don't get out much for socializing or play and as such work is really the only place I spend enough time with other people to get a feel for who they are. The other reason is that a friend of mine from the local scene also works in the same building and, knowing my interests, will introduce me to others in her department who share our predilections. Being polite to a fault (I don't even partake in rude behavior as a vice), I smile and talk a bit about their interests, all the while the rule screams in my mind like a siren. Who knows what fun I am denying myself, loosing out on that one vice that I crave, because of that rule? And yet, I still feel it is best to keep it intact... No matter how much it pains me.

Even now while writing this, I am perving pictures on my phone, like an IV drip sustaining me throughout the day. A necessity as without it I am likely to drag my slave up stairs by a handful of hair, bind her in metal cuffs, and relieve my desires with her again and again. A scenario that is well within my purview as her owner but not with regards to our children. And so I am relegated to sating my cravings in what small ways I can, usually multiple times a day... locked behind closed doors... alone. And it is never enough. As my girl tells me, even if we had a whole week without the kids, dedicated to these desires, it would not sate me. Maybe she's right, but how can I be sure until we try?

I have considered pursing a career in porn, but then I just laugh and laugh to my self. It is hard enough at the moment to get a couple of quick snapshots with my phone in the scattered and brief moments I do get to use my slave, never mind the planned and involved scenes I aspire to. Then there's having children. Take your kids to work day would be a nightmare and require years of counseling. Taking my work home with me would result in much the same. As it is, I cannot have friends over for a simple meet-and-bind because of them. Hell, our friends won't even come over for simple gatherings. The isolation of parenthood I suppose. 

All that, and I hardly have the abs of a porn star. Cock, yes. Abs, no. Also, you know what they say, when you take a passion and turn it into a career, it becomes a job and why would I ever want to tarnish such a perfect obsession? So yes, I have considered it. I put that in the same category at the moment as astronaut and pirate as likely career goals at this stage in my life. I do hold some small hope of becoming more of a figure in the kink world, a presenter or what have you. But porn star, not so much. 

So, for now I suppose that I will have to keep taking what opportunities I can and suffer through the withdraws. As our little one ages, I am sure that things will normalize. I was even all set to go down to Denver for last night's Sanctuary club get together, and had the slave not just had her molar removed (see my previous post) I probably would have. That is something I could not have considered just a few months ago and next month I am definitely going. So, there is hope on the horizon, even if only the faintest hint. 

This has been a Public Service Announcment...

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

1, 2, 3 & 4 Monday

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Comfortable in my skin...

Yay! The semester is over, and i am on my second full week free from everything placing demands upon my time. Well. Free from everything but Master. Despite getting off to a strange start to summer vacation, things are looking lovely. Master and i are more at home, relaxed and feeling far less stressed and short-tempered. We feel more connected. 

We did get off to a strange start, with a few odd trips that kept me from sinking immediately into my life as Master's property, well, that and we were all sick. 

But, our second week has shaped up loverly! 

Round Two

Or, Saturday Night

While this year is full of awesomeness, the schedule that Master and i have been living on, built by the things in our lives, has been extremely difficult. Master has borne the brunt of caring for the little person in our household, and because of school, i rarely get to spend time with either of my boys, and have the least amount of time to spend alone with Master (Whine and Whinge!). It's been very frustrating, for Master and for me.

i sometimes feel invisible (something that's been going around kinky blogs), though Master frequently acknowledges how difficult this year has been for both of us. i know He sees me, sees me struggle, and flounder and loose myself in all the things that need to be done. And worst of all, He cannot fix it, for there is rarely time for us to whisper our goodbyes and lust before we must go about life, and much less time to drop me into the pain, suffering and pleasure that is required to keep both of us level headed.

But this is my spring break. And my time again belongs wholly to Master. And it has been good. Friday night i consumed copious amounts of coffee to stay up for Him, and we had a rocking time (as you can read in His post). Last night required less coffee to find myself at His mercy, and it was an absolute delight. 

Libertating...

As many of you may have read or seen from our pictures on Fetlife, we recently got a Liberator Wedge/Ramp combination set. I have mentioned it in my previous blog entry, but I wanted to talk about our first experience with this awesome set.

Early in the afternoon on Friday the set was delivered. I was so eager for the arrival that I met the delivery man on the porch. It only took me a moment to cut open the box and remove the contents. However, I then had to wait until the girl got home before I could use them ;).

That evening, the heavens parted and a miracle occurred. Our darling child fell asleep moments before the girl walked in the door. As soon as she entered, it was a mad dash to get up stairs and naked. I brought my camera long, as well as a new bamboo cane, also mentioned previously. We placed the Liberator set on the bed and I had the girl get a feel for laying across it. I took advantage of her up turned ass as she lay there and began flicking the cane upon her cheeks. Sadly the girl's back was out of sorts and we were unable to use the cane to full effect, but the girl loved what we managed to do and I even got some lovely shots.

Complexities

i am far from perfect. But, even knowing that, i know that my Master loves me, even though it's not something "required" of our relationship.

Every now and then, what i see as my imperfections cause this cycle of self-depreciation. Tonight, for example - Master and i had the opportunity for a chance to play. i was strapped down, and while Master thumped implement after implement onto the bed, i had no clue what He had planned. When He started it felt like His goal was to wear my skin off through various beatings...from the thud of leather clad hands, to the obnoxious sting of a kite stick turned mini-cane or the sting of His bare hands, i squirmed and tried in vain to escape.

One of the strangest things about being me is my brain and my body are not always in agreement about what is pleasure, pain or any intermingling of the two. Master laughs at me and often ignores my brain while following the cues that my body gives Him. Meanwhile, i'm often frustrated because even though i know i've liked the sensation in the past, i'm not enjoying it in the moment, or even able to find head-space where i can at least cope with it. Tonight was one such evening. While my body was busy experiencing pleasure, my brain jumped from each impact, lurched into a myriad of emotions. When Master was satisfied with the shade of red covering His property from tits to thighs, He turned me over and began again.

And again, my brain and body didn't agree. Even though Master, throughout, had been reinforcing His satisfaction with how well i was doing by telling me i was His good girl, i didn't feel like it at that point. In fact, i was feeling horrible because every four or five impacts on my ass i had one singular thought . . . "i want to punch Him in the eye." During the percussion strikes upon my body when i wasn't concerned with getting my hand loose to punch my Owner, i alternated between guilt at thinking about attempting to hurt my Master, struggling to cope with the beating and searching for the endorphin high to fall into sync with my body's desires...

And i couldn't. i cried from the pain, but didn't achieve a cathartic release.

Master fucked me afterwards, even though i had confessed my horrible thoughts - and it was during the sex that at least a few of those lovely stress reducing tears fell from my eyes...

And i didn't punch Him in the eye at the end of it all. Instead, i'm circling this mess of emotion, wondering why i cannot keep my heart, body and mind all of one mind (snort) about what i signed up for when i accepted a life without choice.

With a sore bum.

Delirium

Yesterday did not go at all according to any sort of plan. Master woke up later than He had wanted to. The boy-child woke up sooner than i expected him to. And so the rest of the day was kind of full of unexpectedness. Master and i puttered about, He worked on painting some of His miniatures, i thought about going up to work on my own project to be near Him, but the dishes were calling and it seemed the perfect day to make homemade chicken soup (bestest homemade soup ever, Master said). So that's what we did. It was quiet, and fun, but not at all what Master had planned for the day.

As the day wound down, Master and i began to feel tired, and worried that all opportunity would escape us. The boy-child was ridiculously excited and bouncy (his birthday is coming very soon, i think that may have some influence on the recent over-excitableness), and we were holding little hope in our hearts. Suddenly, i realized it had gone quiet. As we looked into the child's room, we saw that he had tucked himself in (dawwww! Cutest thing in the world!) and gone to sleep after all.

Thanksgiving break...

And it started the right way!

Master and i had somebody watch the little person last night so that we could get some much needed alone time, and we made the most of it.

Not only did Master get some pictures taken that He had been wanting to take or some time now, but we also got to play in the tub for the first time in our new place. Of course, there also had been some marbles accumulating from mistakes on my part, and those had to be dealt with before we could get to the sex...

i'm sure Master will come talk about His table stocks, but as with all the projects He cares about, he had these finished to perfection, smooth and perfectly cut. As Master placed me in them, He asked if my knees would be okay on the floor (recent re-injury of my bad knee makes Him a bit generous with things He might not normally offer), and i believed it would be fine, so i declined His offer of a cushion. my fuzzy, school-fried brain made me believe that i would be able to sit, rather than kneel under the table, so as He shoved it closed around me, i scrambled and realized that, no, the table was higher than i believed, and so with the awkward positioning of my legs, i was almost literally hanging in the stocks. It was an awesome experience, and rather soon, i felt my muscles twitching with exhaustion. When Master was gracious enough to release me from the stocks, i felt so warm and used, and laid on the floor for a few moments before we moved on to christen the tub with some water play.

Now, despite the tub's one downfall (it is blue), it is much larger than both tubs we had at our previous residence. Master tied my hands to my thighs, and looped the rope binding my ankles together through the ropes around my thighs as well, leaving me unable to do more than rock my shoulders up to keep my face out of the water as it rose. As we considered the limited amount of time, Master's impatience won over my stamina, and he shoved me under. Each time he pulled me up, i sputtered, annoyed at my new hair cut because it was hanging over my face, essentially "waterboarding" me while Master told me to breathe. Eventually, Master turned me over, and we tried to submerge my head while i looked at Master. Unfortunately, we'd splashed quite a bit of the water out and it didn't quite work, so Master, being the clever, quick thinker He is, decided that His underwear could prove themselves useful in waterboarding me. Regardless of what Master does, quite frequently the thing that truly "revs my engine" as they say, is control me with His strength. He can be doing the most horrible, awful thing, and if His strength is subverting me, controlling my head, my body, my very survival, i become the lustful, compliant creature He so loves.

P.S. There was caning. Not so fun.

P.P.S. There was also awesome sex. >:)

Maybe i'll get a chance to post about those later.

So. It has been a little too long between my posts. (sadface) Life is crazy, and the life we lead seems to occasionally compound its complexities.

It's highly frustrating to me, sometimes, to be so utterly dependent upon Master for so many things. For example, it's against the rules for me to have any kind of sexual release without His prior permission. For as shy as i still am about things related to sex, it makes it difficult for me to get up the gumption to ask for permission.

Combine that with the fact that there is very little time for me to do anything but the basics of survival between my homework and raising our son, and that results in 1) no time to ask, 2) no courage to ask, and 3) no time to accomplish said release if i was brave enough to obtain permission anyway.

This is not to say that Master doesn't consider my needs. He considers that -- and frequently asks me to cum on command, which i am capable of doing.

Yet.

It. Is. Not. The. Same.

Or really even satisfying. It ramps up the need i feel to be under His boot, be tormented by His hands, His mind, and find myself to be deliciously small and worthless as He fills His needs.

Which is one reason i am perpetually grateful for my Master -- because when we do get the chance, He knows exactly how to go all out. With or without the toys.

When we do get the chance, it is often hard for me to make an accurate accounting of what we did here, on this blog, because my brain is so fuzzed with delight, the animal sense of carnality, that words and congruity are beyond my own capabilities.

Whether He hurts me or is kind to me, i cannot help but be driven to that animal mind, that place where the reality of the world doesn't apply anymore. Whether He delights in my pain, delights in a moment of my (sometimes fleeting) masochism, or if His purpose is to deliver bliss, or anywhere between, or if any of those things become blurred, i lust for those moments. If His purpose is to create useless anger in me, meek subservience, despair or joy, i lust for those times, too. Those moments where i am able to be the carnal creature He has made, the moments i feel completely and utterly at home.

But the in-between times? Regardless if they are a day, or near a month, they are too long, and it makes life feel too cruel. And that is supposed to be His job.

Binge...

We recently posted, I think, about the night we spent in the hotel in early October. That was a fantastic night, filled with some of the best kinky moments in the later part of this year. Even now, as I think back to that night, I get all warm and... "ahem" stiff.

Apart from that one, glorious night, and one quick tit fuck sometime following, the rest of October was a really slow month. The changing of the weather, school schedules, our child, and some other miscellaneous crap kept us from enjoying each other carnally.

That is until last night. The mood was right (no one felt like hammered crap), the time was right (the boy fell asleep), and we graciously retreated to the bedroom for some adult activities (we hauled ass up the stairs, shedding clothes like they were on fire, and crashed into each other in the body slam of lust).

There was no bondage, no toys, no words, just my powerful desire to watch her writhe and cry. I tore at her tits and ribs, dragging my fingernails over her flesh from collar bone to ankle. I punched her stomach, slapped her face, covered her mouth and listened to her gasp. I took her... hard. Using her body to tease and tantalize me until the evidence of my pleasure rained down on her chest and stomach like liquid diamonds.

And then I collapsed, utterly spent and blissed. It almost felt like being possessed, like pure passion and desire consumed me before tossing me aside like a used condom. And I wanted more! So much more! The tears were still running down the side of her smiling face, her breath racing to catch up with her quaking, wet body. It wasn't enough, it's never enough. Even then, laying motionless and gasping myself, I wanted to grab her, slap her ass until it was beet red, shove my cock down her throat until she gagged desperately, and fucked her like a dog until she howled.

That moment passed, but then there was tonight. Coming back from a full day of family activity, the boy fell asleep in his car-seat, the perfect chance to make November more than a once off. Again we rushed up stairs, a little more dignified this time, and toys were retrieved. The metal shackles (recently re-sized to fit jenpet's wrists as they were a little too tight when we bought them over a year ago), the Lelo Gigi (her favorite vibby toy), the new black nipple clamps, and a dildo gag.

First thing was first, I dove right in licking and suckling tenderly at her exposed girlie parts. It is something that I enjoy but don't get to do often, plus her sensitivity tends to fluctuate a bit from comfortably enjoyable to WTF! After letting her hips dance about for while it was time to get down to some business. The cuffs went on, the clamps were attached, and the gag went in. And we fucked, then I flipped her over onto her front, clamps and all, and took her from behind listening to her begging and crying as the clamps pulled free of her nips. Then I came, spraying her legs and the bed.

Yet again, it was not enough. Sure I was still dripping cum and she was creamy herself, but I still wanted to pound into her more. We went downstairs for a shower to clean up but my desire would not ebb. So, still dripping wet from her shower, we went back up stairs for round two. I handed her a bullet vibe to work herself back into a nice lather (poor Gigi had run out of juice with our first round) and slipped on a condom. Then I slipped back inside her. She was wrapped in a blanket, always bitching about the cold, which I delighted in ripping away from her periodically. She shuddered and begged and came again and again, and finally so did I.

Again, spent and gasping we fell to the bed. Sleep lurking at the fuzzy edges of our consciousness, drifting in and out. And still, there was that twinge. How I look forward to continuing our binge...

Wake Up and Breathe:

(Warning: Breath Play. We practice Risk Aware Consentual Kink, and Master is CPR certified.)

i never sleep very well, or very long. My record for sleeping in in the last five years (that includes time before my pregnancy) is probably 8.5 hours -- my average is probably about 5.5 or 6. So even everything that came before that lovely morning in the hotel couldn't get me to "sleep in."

Waking up still bound and laying close to my Master felt absolutely wonderful though -- as if i do live a charmed life. Well...i belong to a man who knows the color and tint of my soul, who understands my drives and desires at least as well as i do, if not better...i do live a charmed life. But that morning, i really felt it.

And i moved against Him, kissing His bare shoulder, His lightly freckled skin at the base of His neck, and the beast in Him was awakened. He rolled over me, and possessed me in every way He is able. Gasping from the sorenesses all over my body, from the joy and pleasure of Him using me, the pain of new impacts.

Master paused for a moment and leaned over the edge of the bed to grab something. It crinkled. And even before i saw it, i begged, i whimpered...

But it is not my choice to stop, and it is Master's price for the occasional cigarettes He allows me to have. And all debts must be paid. The plastic goes over my head and i can feel it drive His excitement through His cock in me, and i hate it already. i hate the heat of it, my breath making the bag too warm. In just moments, before He even closes it, it is already too warm for the air to feel fresh. But that morning...that morning there was also rope to close the bag. Panic took hold of my body, and yet the rhythm of Him rocking in me, with me, kept me from doing more than clawing at His shoulder. His blood under my nails, and then air, real air, to breathe, cool, and full of the scent of us...and then the stuffy, hot, plastic...again...and His need driven ever closer to the edge.

And then we're over the edge.

A few more moments, breathing together, sticking together and listening to our hearts race before we had to think about returning to the mundane, before giving up the simple, lusted after Owner and property to the more complex roles of our life...

And it was worth it...We were refreshed.

Unexpected Weapons

Before the big move, Master and i found ourselves with an opportunity shortly after He arrived home for the evening (at a slightly ridiculous hour). Having had most of our toys packed away, i did hope that we could just slide into easy sex where His hands demonstrated the power exchange that always exists between us.

It can be chalked up to stress and anxiety levels, i suppose, that my body didn't respond how i thought it should. i asked to snuggle with Him, to be touched and possessed, and somehow or another, that quietness degraded rather quickly.

See, last summer, we bought tons of those freezer pops for our tiddly. But one bag never got put in the freezer and as we were packing recently, little person found them, ripped open the bag and had been waving them about. Being consumed with the need to pick up everything else, those unfrozen freezer pops remained where they had been left.

So, as i was laying over the edge of the bed, looking at the floor, while Master was doing cruel things to my shoulder because i had been picking on Him in one way or another, and i had the brilliant idea to whack Master with a goofy plastic tube of liquid. Being Master, He cannot be outdone. So He stole it, and we proceeded to have a war with the unfrozen freezer pops. i whacked at Master wherever i could reach, Master whaled on my ass...and it was good.

Then one broke, flinging sticky orange, corn-syrup saturated liquid around the room.

But it was fun.

And the sex was good.

All because of freezer pops.

Happy, happy, joy, joy!

So, yesterday, my dear Master blogged about the aggravations we're experiencing. He talked about how He's become frustrated with the subtle aspects that we have in our relationship, and how desperately we need time to connect, time to be the sadist and masochist, the torturer and the tortured.

And later that evening, the stars aligned and the door to our play space was open, inviting and child free.

We looked at each other, a bit giddy, and then the primal needs took over. A few whacks with a flogger seemed lacking, but the snap of the bamboo cane Master recently obtained from the sub-shop hit home. Whacks to my ample bottom and thighs got my feet kicking, and Master whacked those some, too. Delicious, that. (i hope He'll cane my feet again soon!) As i squirmed about, Master moved on to the front, and whacks over my breasts and ribs had me confusedly trying to escape and remain still all at once.

As i found myself bound down, Master fished out an inflatable gag along with the ring gag, clover clamps and a few bamboo skewers. After he had gagged me, using the ring gag to ensure that i didn't have the chance to force out the inflatable gag, i found myself buried in deliriously delicious pain as Master carved a word into my flesh with the point of the bamboo skewer.

As Master fucked me (glory!), the clovers bounced about, tightening as they tend to do, while He whacked upon my breasts and ribs with the skewer. It wasn't long before i was struggling to beg His permission to cum. Devious as He is, He refused until i would acquiesce to the butt plug. Four opportunities came and went (have i mentioned i'm stubborn and a little bull headed?) before i agreed.

Of course, the blinding delight soon followed, for Master is true to his word, and orgasms followed, delighting both of us. And, we are, for a bit, content again, Master securely in His place as the cruel, demanding and loving one, and me safely below, subjugated property, adoring the one who owns her with the word "bitch" carved into her torso.

We hope this trend continues!

please, oh, please!

P.S. Remember it's still March...If you have questions, ask us and we'll answer!

Sex and Bathroom Floors

Ah, home sweet home. The comfort of our preferred temperature, provided by the AC and random spray bottles for my water loving Master...

Of course, road trips lead to unique opportunities. Lets say, for example, having sex on the floor of someone else's bathroom.

Master's libido has spiked - actually, i think it does almost every spring and summer. (Is that a male thing or what?) Anyway, that makes going anywhere or doing anything kind of tough for Him. He is definitely more comfortable in His own domain, and frankly, so am i. Sure, i do my best to adhere to the rules as much as we can elsewhere, but being home is being held by Him, becoming just another possession.

Being elsewhere, i know i am His, but it doesn't feel as confining. And sometimes i flounder more than others.

This time, i did pretty well, being outside of His domain. And i have lovely (though fading) bruises on my knees to prove it.

Even though neither of us were terribly comfortable, i knew that Master would be in a foul mood if His pressure gauge continued to rise, so to speak. It was late, and neither of us were sure that we would have time if we waited any longer, nor were we sure of our privacy. Which led me to suggesting He use His cunt on the bathroom floor.

i'm not bragging, but that's kind of a big deal that i suggested it. i am reluctant (at best) to be on my knees on any hard surface because of how badly i have smashed my knee up due to my own clumsiness. A gracefull creature, i am not.

Master did use His cunt, without much consideration, rocking my knees on the linoleum covering concrete, leaving Him free to attempt to relax and get some rest without feeling as if He were going to explode from the pressure of an unattended libido.

Though that didn't last long.

Thank goodness we are home!

Down, right, left and sideways...

In November, December and the opening of January, it seems that everything in our life was any way but right-side up. Not only was our sex life on hold, but my ability to be submissive in many ways was hampered. It was, hellish. Master was on edge, i was on edge, and i didn't know how to make any of it better. It seemed that everything i did threw a wrench in moving towards a more positive head-space, and i was very, very down on myself and who i was.

While things haven't rotated back to upright, exactly, they are moving in that direction. My health is coming back on track, though not without side-effects. i'm finding my place again, seeking that ability to live without question, to strive to be pleasing, to simply submit and obey.

Mostly, i'm celebrating the sex. Though i'll admit that my Master's libido far outstrips my own, sex has become an integral part of my needs. It's not the orgasams ─ though i am always happy to be allowed them ─ it's the connection, it's everything He puts into sex. It's not "just" sex. (In fact, i think it might take a long period of abstenence for "just" sex to be interesting to me.) During sex, He feeds His sadism, wakes up my masochistic streak...

And it delights me, it fulfills me.

i love being reduced to nothing more than His little sex-object...

To feel Him steal my breath, give me pain, to fuck me until the only thing i can see are His eyes and starlight...

Ah, sex with Him is pain, bliss, agonizing delirium and pure extacy with a dash of humiliation.

Exactly what i crave, even when i might not realize it's what i need.

Ahh, if only neither of us needed sleep, i think we'd have lovely evenings... i can think of nothing better than spending the wee hours of the evening tangled in each other's limbs, rope and whatever other toys we might have pulled out to satisfy those darker desires that lay within our souls...

Sex slave...

Despite the complexities and utter enjoyment of bondage, imprisonment, involved torture scenes, protracted torments, role playing and the like; it is sometimes easy for me to forget simple pleasures of the basic reality of a sex slave. That is, for her to be available and ready for sex at any moment, any time of day or night. Take today for example...


Upon returning home from a normal cluster-fuck day at work I found my dutiful slave hard at work navigating the treacherous minefield of tax forms, sparring me from the tormenting crap like a good slave girl should;) I gave her a kiss on the neck, a pat on the head, and told her to follow me into the bedroom. With a quick order to strip and present her ass, she was naked and on all fours on the bed in an instant. My probing finger found her wet, warm, and inviting. So, without further adieu, I sank my hard cock deep into the cunt I own and proceeded to fuck three or four screaming, panting, moaning and groaning orgasms out of my little slave before cumming all over her up turned ass.


I think that it says a great deal about the time and training that has gone into a slave girl when she can go from attempting taxes to a panting slut in the space of a single command. Indeed for any woman to be ready, willing, wet, and horny at a moment's notice, eager to be used for her Master's pleasure is, in my mind, something of a pinnacle event and a primary goal of the mental and sexual conditioning of any sex slave. Needless to say, I am very proud of my sex slave...

On the bathroom floor...

You may or may not have noticed my twitterings lately, complaining about a shift in schedule. i also believe i discussed my dislike of change in a previous post. While things are headed back towards "normal", it's not going to be an immediate shift. And it means change again, so that has me on edge, though it will help us bring things back into balance.

And they were very badly out of balance lately. With the sudden shift in schedule, there was very little time for Master and i to spend together...in fact, though we were home together often, it felt like we were living in two separate worlds. Invariably, when i allow myself to become stressed, i become an insomniac, my hair falls out and i loose what little control i have over my tongue.

All of that led to some very poor behavior on my part, and whenever i'm feeling particularly contrite, i feel the need to offer Master a service that, if not His favorite, damn near tops the list... That is, oral sex, which may or may not be mixed with a handjob.

So, feeling contrite, with Master in the shower, i knelt outside the tub, and persuaded Him to relieve some stress and accept a heartfelt apology via a blissful orgasam. When i was permitted to enter the shower to clean the evidence from my chest, He decided that more was required.

There's nothing wrong with shower sex (in fact it's great!), but it is difficult for me, as our shower is tiny, Master is built like a linebacker, and i'm not all that lithe at the moment. But passion ruled, and things progressed. We fucked in the shower, on the bathroom floor pinned between the toilet and the wall, with my head bumping the wall and the floor intermittently, until we progresed back into our room for the sake of space...

i was His rag doll caught up in His strength, His plaything, for His use and felt more grounded in my role as His slave than i have in weeks. i was gasping, covered in our sweat, with my eyes burning and caught in that place where pleasure and pain are one and the same, where breathlessness twitches into bliss.

And i don't want to let that go...