This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
An open letter to Master:
You know, sir, that it is my deep desire to serve you, to please you when I serve and to grow into the sub you want and desire me to be. I am aware that the tasks you've set for me, whether I find them pleasant or not, are designed to further my own admitted goals to serve as you wish. I do not always fulfill them perfectly, and I struggle more with some than with others. But the goal, I believe, is to shape me into a more compliant, more willing, more joyful submissive.
Having said that - I do have personal preferences, and certain ways you use me are more enjoyable for me than others. And were it up to me (acknowledging, of course, that it is not), I would prefer to be used in these more pleasurable ways.
Some of the things I enjoy most - since you asked how I would want Master to use his property - include being blindfolded and bound to the bed, so I can't see what's happening. I like being tied down so I can merely twist and writhe, but can't really move too much. I like it when you use ice cubes, both allowing them to melt & chill my skin, & when you stuff a few of them inside me, letting them melt into pools of cold water beneath me. I enjoy it when you drip hot wax on me, in dribbles & dabs & swirls, coating me as much as possible.
I like it when you bury your face in my pussy (which is your property, obviously, but for the sake of clarity I say "mine," here) & allow me to cum over your tongue. I can feel your fingers digging into my legs, keeping me as still as possible, & my hips try to buck up into your mouth of their own accord. I like it sometimes when you finger-fuck me while telling me not to cum, to hold off until you say .... it's a fine line between pleasure & pain, that denial of release, & sometimes despite my best efforts I can't hang on, & you know this.
I like being allowed to suck your cock, to pull you into my mouth & run my tongue along your shaft, feeling it fill & thicken until it's too much for me to take. I like that even though I gag, you don't get upset, but merely encourage me to keep trying. I like knowing how much you enjoy fucking my ass, also. It's not my favorite position, as I'm sure you're aware, but you take care to make sure I'm ready, & then when it all clicks, I feel your pleasure in your movements, & that's good for me, too.
I like it, sir, when you cup my breast in your hand & pinch the nipple between your fingers. I like it when you bite me, leaving bruises on your property for me to see & admire for several days. I find I don't even mind it when you slap my breast hard enough to leave the marks of your fingers imprinted on the tender flesh. I like it when you tell me I'm a good girl, & you call me your whore. I like being allowed to sit at your feet & lean against your knee. I like it when you run your fingers through my hair & call me "pet."
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
A Day of Bondage
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
So my Master has asked me to detail what I think 3 days of bondage might be like. Hmm. Three days seems a bit overwhelming, to be honest; what I'm going to do is begin with one day, then expand it from there as I can. I am working under a few assumptions, as well: that this experience occurs just between Master and me; that it takes place in a hotel, so that the chance of outside distractions is minimized; and that there will be break time in between periods of intensity, so that I can catch my breath. Master knows that I freak out when I am overwhelmed.
I imagine that as soon as I arrive, Master will begin our time together by having me perform acts of service for him. Usually this involves me dropping all my bags, stripping off my clothes and immediately sucking his cock. As soon as I cross the threshold, I am no longer in charge of my own self. That is as it has always been, so I don't think he would necessarily change that. Anyway, I'd climb on the bed, kneeling next to him, bending over to pull his cock into my mouth. I like feeling his cock on my tongue, the salty tang of his skin, the musky scent filling my nose - though it takes me a few minutes to get used to it, every time. And as I suckle his shaft I can feel it growing, elongating, filling and hardening and too large for me to take. It kills my jaw to open that wide, but I still try, still suck him, still pull him in as far as I can, gagging myself in the process. He doesn't mind, so I keep at it, and he tells me I'm a good cocksucker, and calls me kitten, and I'm sweating and my heart is beating fast, like I've been running.
"Bring my pussy here," he says, and I shift on my knees so that my ass is angled toward him, allowing his fingers to stroke and press and fondle me as I suck him. I often have trouble keeping my rhythm when he does this, because usually his fingers dig into my clit so firmly, harshly, even, that it passes from pleasurable to the edge of painful, and it is hard to keep my mind on just sucking him when my lower half is trying to cringe away from the intense pressure. I have in the past actually pulled away from him to get relief, and he doesn't like it. In fact, I usually get some hard smacks on my ass for my trouble, and then he yanks me back into place and lets his fingers go back to rubbing and digging anyway. He may keep up his actions until he forces me to orgasm, or he may not, whatever strikes his fancy at the time.
When he has decided he's played enough, and that I've sucked his cock for long enough, he will make me lie on my back in the middle of the bed. I imagine at that point he will bring in several implements that he can play with. First, he will bind my wrists together and then tie my hands to the bed, stretching them up over my head so I cannot touch him or reach out in any way. He will settle the bit gag between my teeth, asking me to lift my head so that he can buckle it into place. He'll blindfold me next, so that I cannot see what he'll be using on me, and finally, I think he might bind my feet together - sole to sole, with my knees bent and flat on the bed so that his pussy is wide open and accessible for his playtime activities.
After that will likely come a variety of actions. I imagine he will, at some point, paint my body with hot wax. I almost always have a small white jar candle available for sessions, as we frequently use wax in this way. This, I must admit, is one of my very favorite things. I love being blindfolded when he does this, so that every drip and splash and drizzle of wax is a complete surprise to me. It stings, yes, and it burns a little, yes; but I love it, even when he splashes the wax on my sensitive nipples, even when he drizzles a trail of hot wax over my clit so that it drips down over my pussy. Lord above, but that makes me so very wet. He will often set down the candle after a while and thrust his fingers inside me, finding that I'm soaking the sheets, and he'll usually comment on it, too. I can't help it - every drip of wax makes me shiver, and little sighs and moans of pleasure escape me while he paints my skin. After several minutes of this I'll start squirming on the bed, my body hoping for him to allow me to cum, but of course, he won't permit it so soon, and I'll spend the next however-long-he-says trembling with desire and pent-up need, but being denied release until he decides it's time.
Eventually the wax is used up, and he usually peels most of the cooled, hardened wax off my skin as he prepares to move on to the next activity. I may be blindfolded, but my ears still work just fine, and I hear a metallic clink as he moves around the room. He settles on the bed next to me and begins rolling one of my nipples in his fingers. I know what's coming, and this time it isn't one of my favorite things ..... but he is Master, and he decides, so I try to relax and just go with it. Once the nipple perks up and stands tall for him, he attaches one of the clover clamps to it. Goddammit, but that hurts, and I have to suck in a sharp breath as the tiny teeth dig into the tender flesh, squeezing so tightly. He teases the other nipple into a peak as well, and the chain is cool as it slides across my chest. He attaches the second clamp to my nipple and again, I whimper as it bites harshly, painfully, into the flesh. God, I hate these things, but he says they look pretty. Ugh. They hurt, is all I know, and they never stop hurting. He might even pull the chain taut, pulling on the nipples and raising my breasts into the air. Fuck, fuck, that is so painful, and I whine loudly and moan in pain when he does that. Bound as I am, I cannot undo the clamps, and he leaves them in place while he slides off the bed to retrieve another implement. I am panting, and I am 100% focused on how much my poor breasts are hurting. This is not fun, not in the slightest, and all I can hope for is that he won't make me wear them for long.
He comes back, then, and I feel the bed dip as he again comes near me. His fingers are suddenly sliding over my clit, and I jump at the unexpected contact. That jostles me, and the clamps sway, pulling more painfully on my nipples and I cry out then, shaking, because it hurts so much and I feel my eyes tearing up under the blindfold. I toss my head and turn away from him. His fingers are stroking my clit and sliding into my pussy, and I can feel that I am so very wet. I'm panting again, more harshly, at the sensations warring in my body, the ever-present sharp unrelenting pain in my breasts and the fast-building desire and need to climax burning between my thighs. My hips start to rock of their own accord, and every thrust they make against his fingers jostles the clamps, and I'm shot through with another spear of pain. I moan again, more loudly than before, and I'm saying "ow, ow, ow" over and over again, though the words are muffled by the bit.
Master shifts then, sliding down toward the foot of the bed, and the next thing I feel is his hot, wet tongue and his lips clamping down over my clit. God! I buck up into his mouth and pull on the bonds securing my hands to the head of the bed. And then I shriek, though again, it's muffled by the bit, because that much movement has really jostled the clamps and I feel like my nipples are going to be pinched right off. Despite the amazing feel of his tongue, I'm more focused on the pain, and tears leak from my eyes as I freeze in place. Of course, I cannot keep still, because Master's tongue is still lashing at my clit and the fierce need to cum is beginning to override everything else. He lifts his head a fraction, just long enough to say, "Cum," and lowers his mouth again. In the next couple seconds, I give in, and my climax rips through me. I buck up hard and wail around the bit, because I'm slammed by conflicting sensations - the intense release and pleasure of my orgasm mixed and dampened by the lancing pain in my nipples. I collapse to the bed, softly moaning "ow, ow, ow, ow" in an endless chant, and I toss my head again. Now that the wave of pleasure has passed, all I'm left with is the pain, and I'm not handling it well. Master opens one clamp, releasing the nipple, and I scream because the returning blood flow hurts even more than the clamps did. He releases the other clamp and I shriek again, and now I'm really crying. God damn it, that hurts so fucking bad. I want to roll into a ball and weep, but of course, I can't move, so I just lie there all teary and sniffly and miserable. And I'm not ungrateful - it really was a good orgasm - but it is completely overshadowed by the residual pain I'm feeling.
Master must know what I'm thinking, because he reaches over and touches my shoulder, rubbing it in a soothing way. "Good girl," he tells me. "Good girl." And it helps, a little; I'm still hurting, and my nose is stuffy from crying, but I always crack a tiny smile when he says that. And so I'm able to nod my head, just a little, to let him know I'm OK. I feel the bed move as he leaves it, and I sniffle sharply and grip the bit between my teeth, sucking in a breath around the bit and trying to make myself relax. The pain in my nipples is dulling a little bit; they still hurt a lot, but it isn't the fierce sharp intense pain from earlier, but a deep aching pain. I don't want anyone to touch them, still, but I am relieved to note the pain is abating slowly.
I hear Master walking around, but he doesn't get back on the bed. The next thing I know, I feel a quick sting on my left inner thigh, and I jump - or at least, I jump as much as I'm able in my restrained position. I whimper, both because of the surprise and the way my breasts hurt when I moved like that. Another quick light sting follows, and then I realize Master has taken up the flogger. Lucky me!! I do tend to enjoy the way he wields this implement. I shift again, cautiously, and then I feel the whisper-light touch of the flogger's tails being dragged up my left leg, from my ankle up my calf, up my inner thigh, and then teasingly across my pussy and clit, over my stomach and ending just under my breasts. That felt good, like a caress, and I sigh quietly and tip my head back. Master chuckles, then, and says, "Oh, you do like that, don't you, whore?" I mumble "Yes, sir" around the bit, and am rewarded when he repeats his actions on my right leg. As the tails cross my pussy this time I tremble slightly and whimper - but this whimper is of pleasure, not of pain, and I try to open my legs further, even though I'm already as open as I can be.
Master takes his time teasing me, dragging the tails over my skin again and again, popping me with sharp strokes occasionally, but never in a pattern I can figure out, so each of the sharper blows takes me by surprise and makes me flinch and groan. And gradually I feel the buildup of desire again, my pussy growing wet and my body shivering as my need grows stronger and I feel the desire to cum growing sharper. After long minutes of this I'm trembling, and panting around the bit, moaning more loudly and succumbing to a deep-seated ache of an entirely different kind. Master talks to me, gently mimicking my whining tone as he asks,"What's the matter, kitten? Hmm? Something wrong?"
I shake my head, but I don't know if he's watching or not. No, scratch that - of course he's watching. He likes this, likes to see me losing control like this, likes knowing I've surrendered all of myself to him and his desires. His use of the flogger is driving me out of my mind, though, and when the tails drag over my pussy this time I buck up under it, trying - futilely - to seek release. I feel two quick sharp smacks - maybe I've overstepped by bucking up into the flogger? - and I gasp at the harsh stings, but then I feel the bed dip as Master sits beside me. I can feel the way he leans over me then, his breath hot as it fans over my breast. He murmurs, "Awww, kitten, what's wrong? Does my whore want to cum, maybe?" I'm unable to do anything but whine and pull at the bonds restraining my hands. My body twists as I try to turn toward him, silently seeking his touch and, perhaps, relief from this terrible and delicious feeling of need between my legs. In the next moment I feel him slip two fingers into my pussy, and I moan and my hips thrust up as I try to ride his fingers. "Oh, you are just soaking," he says, and he pumps his fingers in and out as my hips rock. I'm panting around the bit and my jaw is killing me, being forced open for so long, but I don't care, all I care about is the way his fingers are fucking me and I'm desperate to climax. The bed shifts and then I feel his lips close around my left nipple, and I cry out and arch my back, pressing my breast into his mouth. The nipple is still sore, but it's bearable, and oh God, but his mouth is hot and wet, and his fingers are thrusting deep into my pussy, and I can feel my juices dripping down my legs and pooling on the sheets beneath me.
His mouth tightens around my nipple, pulling on it and causing a flare of - not pain, exactly, but it's still rather sore from earlier and I'm feeling it when he sucks on it. But his fingers are fucking his pussy hard, now, and I'm moaning and rocking and pulling at my bonds and trying so hard to ride his fingers, and the discomfort in my nipple is overshadowed by the waves of need rippling through me. He adds another finger, which stretches me wider and is just the littlest bit uncomfortable, but at this point I really don't care, trembling on the edge of orgasm and needing just a little more, just a little, almost there, oh, God, please .... I say that last phrase out loud and he lifts his head and says, "I am your God, aren't I, whore?"
"Yes, yes, yes," I say, though the bit in my mouth garbles the words and I'm panting so hard I can hardly form the words anyway. He latches on to my nipple again and flicks his tongue over the peak, and that's it - my climax rips through me, stealing the breath from my lungs in a loud cry. My entire body tenses, tightens, contracts, my pussy muscles clamping down on his fingers, my hips bucking up in one last thrust, my back bowing up off the mattress. I have no idea how long it lasts; I only know that my muscles are locked and frozen, and I can do nothing but ride the waves of release and pleasure as they flow through my entire body. At last my muscles relax and I collapse on the bed, panting harshly, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. But Master's fingers are still inside me and he begins pumping them one more, fast and hard, and he commands, "Again." His thumb rubs deep circles against my clit and, impossibly, I feel my body responding, another climax approaching even though I feel spent from this last one. My hips begin rocking again, seeking release again, and I bear down on his fingers, chasing the orgasm which is hovering just out of reach. "You're going to cum for your master, aren't you, whore?" he challenges, and I nod my head and say, "Yes, sir, yes, sir," as best I can around the bit. I can hear the squelch as his fingers pump my pussy, it's so wet and his fingers are so slippery, and my juices are coating his thumb as it rubs against my clit, and then all of a sudden, there it is, and I moan loudly and tense as I climax again, not so strongly as before but still quite intense.
It takes longer for me to relax this time, a slower recovery. I'm gasping, gulping in great mouthfuls of air, my chest heaving, my body trembling. Master slips his fingers out of my pussy, and even though I'm so tired, , I still whine in protest at the loss. He chuckles then, acknowledging my whine. I feel him pulling the tape off my feet, and I stretch my legs out straight, working out the muscles. He releases my hands next, then has me sit up so he can unbuckle the gag and then unties the blindfold. I open my eyes slowly, blinking and squinting as my eyes adjust to the light. The charm on my collar bounces against my skin as I move, and I instinctively reach up to catch it between my fingers. I've worn this collar for a long time now and never take it off. Master sees what I've done, and he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his lips turned up in a smirk. Without asking, I suddenly pivot around to lay my head on his bent knee, and his fingers come up to card trough my hair.
"Tired, kitten?" he asks, and there's a hint teasing in his voice. I just nod, my head rubbing against his leg, and he allows me to lie there and rest for a while.
....... to be continued
So my Master has asked me to detail what I think 3 days of bondage might be like. Hmm. Three days seems a bit overwhelming, to be honest; what I'm going to do is begin with one day, then expand it from there as I can. I am working under a few assumptions, as well: that this experience occurs just between Master and me; that it takes place in a hotel, so that the chance of outside distractions is minimized; and that there will be break time in between periods of intensity, so that I can catch my breath. Master knows that I freak out when I am overwhelmed.
I imagine that as soon as I arrive, Master will begin our time together by having me perform acts of service for him. Usually this involves me dropping all my bags, stripping off my clothes and immediately sucking his cock. As soon as I cross the threshold, I am no longer in charge of my own self. That is as it has always been, so I don't think he would necessarily change that. Anyway, I'd climb on the bed, kneeling next to him, bending over to pull his cock into my mouth. I like feeling his cock on my tongue, the salty tang of his skin, the musky scent filling my nose - though it takes me a few minutes to get used to it, every time. And as I suckle his shaft I can feel it growing, elongating, filling and hardening and too large for me to take. It kills my jaw to open that wide, but I still try, still suck him, still pull him in as far as I can, gagging myself in the process. He doesn't mind, so I keep at it, and he tells me I'm a good cocksucker, and calls me kitten, and I'm sweating and my heart is beating fast, like I've been running.
"Bring my pussy here," he says, and I shift on my knees so that my ass is angled toward him, allowing his fingers to stroke and press and fondle me as I suck him. I often have trouble keeping my rhythm when he does this, because usually his fingers dig into my clit so firmly, harshly, even, that it passes from pleasurable to the edge of painful, and it is hard to keep my mind on just sucking him when my lower half is trying to cringe away from the intense pressure. I have in the past actually pulled away from him to get relief, and he doesn't like it. In fact, I usually get some hard smacks on my ass for my trouble, and then he yanks me back into place and lets his fingers go back to rubbing and digging anyway. He may keep up his actions until he forces me to orgasm, or he may not, whatever strikes his fancy at the time.
When he has decided he's played enough, and that I've sucked his cock for long enough, he will make me lie on my back in the middle of the bed. I imagine at that point he will bring in several implements that he can play with. First, he will bind my wrists together and then tie my hands to the bed, stretching them up over my head so I cannot touch him or reach out in any way. He will settle the bit gag between my teeth, asking me to lift my head so that he can buckle it into place. He'll blindfold me next, so that I cannot see what he'll be using on me, and finally, I think he might bind my feet together - sole to sole, with my knees bent and flat on the bed so that his pussy is wide open and accessible for his playtime activities.
After that will likely come a variety of actions. I imagine he will, at some point, paint my body with hot wax. I almost always have a small white jar candle available for sessions, as we frequently use wax in this way. This, I must admit, is one of my very favorite things. I love being blindfolded when he does this, so that every drip and splash and drizzle of wax is a complete surprise to me. It stings, yes, and it burns a little, yes; but I love it, even when he splashes the wax on my sensitive nipples, even when he drizzles a trail of hot wax over my clit so that it drips down over my pussy. Lord above, but that makes me so very wet. He will often set down the candle after a while and thrust his fingers inside me, finding that I'm soaking the sheets, and he'll usually comment on it, too. I can't help it - every drip of wax makes me shiver, and little sighs and moans of pleasure escape me while he paints my skin. After several minutes of this I'll start squirming on the bed, my body hoping for him to allow me to cum, but of course, he won't permit it so soon, and I'll spend the next however-long-he-says trembling with desire and pent-up need, but being denied release until he decides it's time.
Eventually the wax is used up, and he usually peels most of the cooled, hardened wax off my skin as he prepares to move on to the next activity. I may be blindfolded, but my ears still work just fine, and I hear a metallic clink as he moves around the room. He settles on the bed next to me and begins rolling one of my nipples in his fingers. I know what's coming, and this time it isn't one of my favorite things ..... but he is Master, and he decides, so I try to relax and just go with it. Once the nipple perks up and stands tall for him, he attaches one of the clover clamps to it. Goddammit, but that hurts, and I have to suck in a sharp breath as the tiny teeth dig into the tender flesh, squeezing so tightly. He teases the other nipple into a peak as well, and the chain is cool as it slides across my chest. He attaches the second clamp to my nipple and again, I whimper as it bites harshly, painfully, into the flesh. God, I hate these things, but he says they look pretty. Ugh. They hurt, is all I know, and they never stop hurting. He might even pull the chain taut, pulling on the nipples and raising my breasts into the air. Fuck, fuck, that is so painful, and I whine loudly and moan in pain when he does that. Bound as I am, I cannot undo the clamps, and he leaves them in place while he slides off the bed to retrieve another implement. I am panting, and I am 100% focused on how much my poor breasts are hurting. This is not fun, not in the slightest, and all I can hope for is that he won't make me wear them for long.
He comes back, then, and I feel the bed dip as he again comes near me. His fingers are suddenly sliding over my clit, and I jump at the unexpected contact. That jostles me, and the clamps sway, pulling more painfully on my nipples and I cry out then, shaking, because it hurts so much and I feel my eyes tearing up under the blindfold. I toss my head and turn away from him. His fingers are stroking my clit and sliding into my pussy, and I can feel that I am so very wet. I'm panting again, more harshly, at the sensations warring in my body, the ever-present sharp unrelenting pain in my breasts and the fast-building desire and need to climax burning between my thighs. My hips start to rock of their own accord, and every thrust they make against his fingers jostles the clamps, and I'm shot through with another spear of pain. I moan again, more loudly than before, and I'm saying "ow, ow, ow" over and over again, though the words are muffled by the bit.
Master shifts then, sliding down toward the foot of the bed, and the next thing I feel is his hot, wet tongue and his lips clamping down over my clit. God! I buck up into his mouth and pull on the bonds securing my hands to the head of the bed. And then I shriek, though again, it's muffled by the bit, because that much movement has really jostled the clamps and I feel like my nipples are going to be pinched right off. Despite the amazing feel of his tongue, I'm more focused on the pain, and tears leak from my eyes as I freeze in place. Of course, I cannot keep still, because Master's tongue is still lashing at my clit and the fierce need to cum is beginning to override everything else. He lifts his head a fraction, just long enough to say, "Cum," and lowers his mouth again. In the next couple seconds, I give in, and my climax rips through me. I buck up hard and wail around the bit, because I'm slammed by conflicting sensations - the intense release and pleasure of my orgasm mixed and dampened by the lancing pain in my nipples. I collapse to the bed, softly moaning "ow, ow, ow, ow" in an endless chant, and I toss my head again. Now that the wave of pleasure has passed, all I'm left with is the pain, and I'm not handling it well. Master opens one clamp, releasing the nipple, and I scream because the returning blood flow hurts even more than the clamps did. He releases the other clamp and I shriek again, and now I'm really crying. God damn it, that hurts so fucking bad. I want to roll into a ball and weep, but of course, I can't move, so I just lie there all teary and sniffly and miserable. And I'm not ungrateful - it really was a good orgasm - but it is completely overshadowed by the residual pain I'm feeling.
Master must know what I'm thinking, because he reaches over and touches my shoulder, rubbing it in a soothing way. "Good girl," he tells me. "Good girl." And it helps, a little; I'm still hurting, and my nose is stuffy from crying, but I always crack a tiny smile when he says that. And so I'm able to nod my head, just a little, to let him know I'm OK. I feel the bed move as he leaves it, and I sniffle sharply and grip the bit between my teeth, sucking in a breath around the bit and trying to make myself relax. The pain in my nipples is dulling a little bit; they still hurt a lot, but it isn't the fierce sharp intense pain from earlier, but a deep aching pain. I don't want anyone to touch them, still, but I am relieved to note the pain is abating slowly.
I hear Master walking around, but he doesn't get back on the bed. The next thing I know, I feel a quick sting on my left inner thigh, and I jump - or at least, I jump as much as I'm able in my restrained position. I whimper, both because of the surprise and the way my breasts hurt when I moved like that. Another quick light sting follows, and then I realize Master has taken up the flogger. Lucky me!! I do tend to enjoy the way he wields this implement. I shift again, cautiously, and then I feel the whisper-light touch of the flogger's tails being dragged up my left leg, from my ankle up my calf, up my inner thigh, and then teasingly across my pussy and clit, over my stomach and ending just under my breasts. That felt good, like a caress, and I sigh quietly and tip my head back. Master chuckles, then, and says, "Oh, you do like that, don't you, whore?" I mumble "Yes, sir" around the bit, and am rewarded when he repeats his actions on my right leg. As the tails cross my pussy this time I tremble slightly and whimper - but this whimper is of pleasure, not of pain, and I try to open my legs further, even though I'm already as open as I can be.
Master takes his time teasing me, dragging the tails over my skin again and again, popping me with sharp strokes occasionally, but never in a pattern I can figure out, so each of the sharper blows takes me by surprise and makes me flinch and groan. And gradually I feel the buildup of desire again, my pussy growing wet and my body shivering as my need grows stronger and I feel the desire to cum growing sharper. After long minutes of this I'm trembling, and panting around the bit, moaning more loudly and succumbing to a deep-seated ache of an entirely different kind. Master talks to me, gently mimicking my whining tone as he asks,"What's the matter, kitten? Hmm? Something wrong?"
I shake my head, but I don't know if he's watching or not. No, scratch that - of course he's watching. He likes this, likes to see me losing control like this, likes knowing I've surrendered all of myself to him and his desires. His use of the flogger is driving me out of my mind, though, and when the tails drag over my pussy this time I buck up under it, trying - futilely - to seek release. I feel two quick sharp smacks - maybe I've overstepped by bucking up into the flogger? - and I gasp at the harsh stings, but then I feel the bed dip as Master sits beside me. I can feel the way he leans over me then, his breath hot as it fans over my breast. He murmurs, "Awww, kitten, what's wrong? Does my whore want to cum, maybe?" I'm unable to do anything but whine and pull at the bonds restraining my hands. My body twists as I try to turn toward him, silently seeking his touch and, perhaps, relief from this terrible and delicious feeling of need between my legs. In the next moment I feel him slip two fingers into my pussy, and I moan and my hips thrust up as I try to ride his fingers. "Oh, you are just soaking," he says, and he pumps his fingers in and out as my hips rock. I'm panting around the bit and my jaw is killing me, being forced open for so long, but I don't care, all I care about is the way his fingers are fucking me and I'm desperate to climax. The bed shifts and then I feel his lips close around my left nipple, and I cry out and arch my back, pressing my breast into his mouth. The nipple is still sore, but it's bearable, and oh God, but his mouth is hot and wet, and his fingers are thrusting deep into my pussy, and I can feel my juices dripping down my legs and pooling on the sheets beneath me.
His mouth tightens around my nipple, pulling on it and causing a flare of - not pain, exactly, but it's still rather sore from earlier and I'm feeling it when he sucks on it. But his fingers are fucking his pussy hard, now, and I'm moaning and rocking and pulling at my bonds and trying so hard to ride his fingers, and the discomfort in my nipple is overshadowed by the waves of need rippling through me. He adds another finger, which stretches me wider and is just the littlest bit uncomfortable, but at this point I really don't care, trembling on the edge of orgasm and needing just a little more, just a little, almost there, oh, God, please .... I say that last phrase out loud and he lifts his head and says, "I am your God, aren't I, whore?"
"Yes, yes, yes," I say, though the bit in my mouth garbles the words and I'm panting so hard I can hardly form the words anyway. He latches on to my nipple again and flicks his tongue over the peak, and that's it - my climax rips through me, stealing the breath from my lungs in a loud cry. My entire body tenses, tightens, contracts, my pussy muscles clamping down on his fingers, my hips bucking up in one last thrust, my back bowing up off the mattress. I have no idea how long it lasts; I only know that my muscles are locked and frozen, and I can do nothing but ride the waves of release and pleasure as they flow through my entire body. At last my muscles relax and I collapse on the bed, panting harshly, my heart pounding furiously in my chest. But Master's fingers are still inside me and he begins pumping them one more, fast and hard, and he commands, "Again." His thumb rubs deep circles against my clit and, impossibly, I feel my body responding, another climax approaching even though I feel spent from this last one. My hips begin rocking again, seeking release again, and I bear down on his fingers, chasing the orgasm which is hovering just out of reach. "You're going to cum for your master, aren't you, whore?" he challenges, and I nod my head and say, "Yes, sir, yes, sir," as best I can around the bit. I can hear the squelch as his fingers pump my pussy, it's so wet and his fingers are so slippery, and my juices are coating his thumb as it rubs against my clit, and then all of a sudden, there it is, and I moan loudly and tense as I climax again, not so strongly as before but still quite intense.
It takes longer for me to relax this time, a slower recovery. I'm gasping, gulping in great mouthfuls of air, my chest heaving, my body trembling. Master slips his fingers out of my pussy, and even though I'm so tired, , I still whine in protest at the loss. He chuckles then, acknowledging my whine. I feel him pulling the tape off my feet, and I stretch my legs out straight, working out the muscles. He releases my hands next, then has me sit up so he can unbuckle the gag and then unties the blindfold. I open my eyes slowly, blinking and squinting as my eyes adjust to the light. The charm on my collar bounces against my skin as I move, and I instinctively reach up to catch it between my fingers. I've worn this collar for a long time now and never take it off. Master sees what I've done, and he smiles at me, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his lips turned up in a smirk. Without asking, I suddenly pivot around to lay my head on his bent knee, and his fingers come up to card trough my hair.
"Tired, kitten?" he asks, and there's a hint teasing in his voice. I just nod, my head rubbing against his leg, and he allows me to lie there and rest for a while.
....... to be continued
Tuesday, August 26, 2014
Anticipation
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
So yes, anticipation - this whore has some time scheduled with Master later this week, and am I ever looking forward to it!
He's already informed (warned?) me that it's likely to be an intense session, and I should be prepared to be very sore and bruised when all is said and done. I have mixed feelings about that ... I like a few pretty bruises to see and admire afterward, but I don't want to be covered in them, necessarily. I do still have the rest of my life to attend to when we're finished. And "sore" can cover anything from that pleasantly achy feeling you get after a good workout, to a deep painful oh-my-god-i-can't-move kind of ache. So I'm not quite sure which end of the spectrum I'll be on.
Master has also stepped up some of my personal training tasks recently, in preparation for our session. In addition to my usual weekly task of wearing a string of 5 beads in my vagina for several hours, and one day per week where I go panty-less, he has instructed me to work with an anal plug on a daily basis. Well, let me tell you - that has never been, and never will be, my favorite thing to do. It took me several days to get past the pain enough to be able to actually seat the thing, and now these past several days I have been slowly increasing the amount of time the plug stays seated. It is not a fun task for me, but I am seeing progress, so I suppose that's good. And Master seems pleased with how things are coming along, so that's a very good thing.
I have been instructed to bring with me a variety of toys/implements, that he may choose what we'll make use of. Included in my collection are a flogger, a rattan cane, 2 anal plugs, a bit gag, candle, clover clamps, clothes pins, anal beads, Smart Balls, a few assorted dildos/vibrators, a bandana/blindfold, and tape. Lord only knows how I'll get all of that packed, but it shall be done, as he has said.
I do not have many details of what to expect, really, other than Master's comments about bruised/sore. I can imagine the way a few scenarios might go, though.
I imagine that as soon as I walk in the room, Master will command me to suck his cock. This is his usual way to set the tone, so I will climb on the bed next to him and take him into my mouth, rolling my tongue along his length, reacquainting myself with his taste, the way he hardens on my tongue, the silky glide of his skin against my lips as I move my head. I will breathe shallowly at first, as his musky scent fills my nostrils, relearning again how to time my breaths with my sucking. His cock will swell and harden, filling my mouth, then overfilling it, so that I struggle to take in as much of him as I can. And I will gag, and choke, and possibly vomit (not my favorite thing), and eventually he will allow me to wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him while I suckle him.
I imagine that at some point he will desire to fuck my ass, and given all the training he's had me do with the plug recently, I imagine that's what he will use to loosen me up for him. There will be lube spread on the tip, and then he will work the plug into my opening, forcing it wider to accept the plug while I rock and whine and grit my teeth, because it still hurts every single time. Once it's seated, he'll probably give me a minute to adjust, then begin moving the plug, pushing it a bit deeper, then pulling it back, over and over, until he feels I've loosened up enough. He likes it when I ride him, so he'll probably have me slick up his cock with lube, or perhaps merely my own pussy juices, then straddle him while he works his cock inside me, and he'll fuck my ass thoroughly.
In another scenario, he may (and I hope he does!) tie me up, binding my hands above my head, and possibly binding my ankles as well. He may blindfold me, too, if he wishes. And then I'll feel the quick hot sting of hot candle wax being drizzled on my skin. I don't know why I love it so much, only that I do, and he often indulges me by making my body his personal canvas, painting swirls and loops and thin or thick lines on my bare skin with the wax. Even when the wax drips on my sensitive nipples, or my even more sensitive pussy, I lie there and whine and whimper and love every second of it.
My body is his canvas in other ways, also; he will bite me, hard, so that bruises bloom immediately. Sometimes he cradles my breast in his palm, then smacks it with his other hand, leaving fingerprints in blues and purples on my pale flesh. I bear these marks proudly, glad to have them later, after all is over, as visible, tangible reminders of Master's ownership and possession of his whore.
He may choose to use the cane, or the flogger. I prefer the flogger, frankly, but as Master chooses, so it becomes. In either case I will likely end up with stripes on my skin from where he has struck me. Don't get me wrong: this is not a violent beating; I don't end up in the ER when he's done. He is not abusive to me. He IS firm, and authoritative, and if he chooses to incorporate this type of activity into our session, then that's what will happen. What I love about the flogger is that it can be both hurtful and sensual, depending on how it's wielded. I love how it feels as it's being trailed along my skin, up over my back, perhaps, or lightly across my pussy and clit. It's delicious.
Master has hinted at some possible events, but as I don't know for sure, I won't speculate here. I only know he won't truly hurt me, and that I will endeavor to follow his commands as best I can, for I long to hear his genuine approval, and his softly-spoken "good girl" always makes me smile.
So yes, anticipation - this whore has some time scheduled with Master later this week, and am I ever looking forward to it!
He's already informed (warned?) me that it's likely to be an intense session, and I should be prepared to be very sore and bruised when all is said and done. I have mixed feelings about that ... I like a few pretty bruises to see and admire afterward, but I don't want to be covered in them, necessarily. I do still have the rest of my life to attend to when we're finished. And "sore" can cover anything from that pleasantly achy feeling you get after a good workout, to a deep painful oh-my-god-i-can't-move kind of ache. So I'm not quite sure which end of the spectrum I'll be on.
Master has also stepped up some of my personal training tasks recently, in preparation for our session. In addition to my usual weekly task of wearing a string of 5 beads in my vagina for several hours, and one day per week where I go panty-less, he has instructed me to work with an anal plug on a daily basis. Well, let me tell you - that has never been, and never will be, my favorite thing to do. It took me several days to get past the pain enough to be able to actually seat the thing, and now these past several days I have been slowly increasing the amount of time the plug stays seated. It is not a fun task for me, but I am seeing progress, so I suppose that's good. And Master seems pleased with how things are coming along, so that's a very good thing.
I have been instructed to bring with me a variety of toys/implements, that he may choose what we'll make use of. Included in my collection are a flogger, a rattan cane, 2 anal plugs, a bit gag, candle, clover clamps, clothes pins, anal beads, Smart Balls, a few assorted dildos/vibrators, a bandana/blindfold, and tape. Lord only knows how I'll get all of that packed, but it shall be done, as he has said.
I do not have many details of what to expect, really, other than Master's comments about bruised/sore. I can imagine the way a few scenarios might go, though.
I imagine that as soon as I walk in the room, Master will command me to suck his cock. This is his usual way to set the tone, so I will climb on the bed next to him and take him into my mouth, rolling my tongue along his length, reacquainting myself with his taste, the way he hardens on my tongue, the silky glide of his skin against my lips as I move my head. I will breathe shallowly at first, as his musky scent fills my nostrils, relearning again how to time my breaths with my sucking. His cock will swell and harden, filling my mouth, then overfilling it, so that I struggle to take in as much of him as I can. And I will gag, and choke, and possibly vomit (not my favorite thing), and eventually he will allow me to wrap my hand around his cock and stroke him while I suckle him.
I imagine that at some point he will desire to fuck my ass, and given all the training he's had me do with the plug recently, I imagine that's what he will use to loosen me up for him. There will be lube spread on the tip, and then he will work the plug into my opening, forcing it wider to accept the plug while I rock and whine and grit my teeth, because it still hurts every single time. Once it's seated, he'll probably give me a minute to adjust, then begin moving the plug, pushing it a bit deeper, then pulling it back, over and over, until he feels I've loosened up enough. He likes it when I ride him, so he'll probably have me slick up his cock with lube, or perhaps merely my own pussy juices, then straddle him while he works his cock inside me, and he'll fuck my ass thoroughly.
In another scenario, he may (and I hope he does!) tie me up, binding my hands above my head, and possibly binding my ankles as well. He may blindfold me, too, if he wishes. And then I'll feel the quick hot sting of hot candle wax being drizzled on my skin. I don't know why I love it so much, only that I do, and he often indulges me by making my body his personal canvas, painting swirls and loops and thin or thick lines on my bare skin with the wax. Even when the wax drips on my sensitive nipples, or my even more sensitive pussy, I lie there and whine and whimper and love every second of it.
My body is his canvas in other ways, also; he will bite me, hard, so that bruises bloom immediately. Sometimes he cradles my breast in his palm, then smacks it with his other hand, leaving fingerprints in blues and purples on my pale flesh. I bear these marks proudly, glad to have them later, after all is over, as visible, tangible reminders of Master's ownership and possession of his whore.
He may choose to use the cane, or the flogger. I prefer the flogger, frankly, but as Master chooses, so it becomes. In either case I will likely end up with stripes on my skin from where he has struck me. Don't get me wrong: this is not a violent beating; I don't end up in the ER when he's done. He is not abusive to me. He IS firm, and authoritative, and if he chooses to incorporate this type of activity into our session, then that's what will happen. What I love about the flogger is that it can be both hurtful and sensual, depending on how it's wielded. I love how it feels as it's being trailed along my skin, up over my back, perhaps, or lightly across my pussy and clit. It's delicious.
Master has hinted at some possible events, but as I don't know for sure, I won't speculate here. I only know he won't truly hurt me, and that I will endeavor to follow his commands as best I can, for I long to hear his genuine approval, and his softly-spoken "good girl" always makes me smile.
Saturday, August 16, 2014
Session Notes
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
So yesterday, after RL had interfered for quite a while, Master & I had some time for a short session. And I was grateful for it, truly; a sub needs her Master's time & attention.
He had me begin by collecting the - tools? Toys? Implements? - I would need: my Japanese clover clamps (2), a string of my black anal beads, and my pocket-sized vibrator. I cringed internally when he mentioned the clamps - these suckers hurt, no two ways about it.
Master told me to connect the clamps, left nipple to left pussy lip, right nipple to right pussy lip. This, I admit, was new. I teased my left nipple for a minute so that it hardened, then positioned the open clamp around it, & very gingerly allowed the clamp to close. Oh, oww; I immediately sucked in a great noisy breath as the sensation of pain speared through the tender peak. The clamp on the other end of the chain went on the left labial lip, & again, oww. I repeated the process on the right side, letting loose a whimper as the teeth of the clamp dug into my sensitive flesh. And then I panted harshly through my nose, trying to adjust to & deal with the hurt.
Then Master had me stand. Ugh, oww, again, as the clamps jostled with my movements & the chain tightened & pulled. He loves these clamps, but OMG, I am caught up in how much they fucking hurt. To add to his viewing pleasure, he had me cup my hands under my breasts & lift them so that the chains pulled taut. Fuck, fuck, fuck, oww, ow. Then he had me drop them, quickly, so that they bounced & the chains swung & again, more pain shooting through me. I yelped, I couldn't help it. Dammit.
Now, I will admit that after a several minutes the sharpness of the pain dulls a little. Just a little, mind, but enough that if I don't have to move around too much I can split my focus - the pain is still present & I'm still conscious of it, but I can follow directions. And so Master told me to pick up my little vibe & position it against my clit as I stood there, & to cum while he watched. I turned the vibe on, then requested - & was granted - permission to prop one knee on the edge of the bed. That helped open me up for easier access, thank God, & also relieved some of the burden of holding myself up.
With the little vibe humming in my hand, I eased it between my legs & laid it against my clit. You have to understand, it jostled the clamps with every little movement, giving me a dual pain-pleasure sensation. It hurts like mad, those clamps pulling & biting into the flesh, but the happy little humming on my clit does feel good. Anyway, within a few minutes I did cum, my body bowing forward as the waves passed through me. I was very glad for the support of the bed under my leg. Then Master had me cum again. This one was harder to get to, but I did cum a second time, again bowing forward.
When I straightened, Master told me to fill his pussy. I know what that means - I take the string of beads (there are 5) & insert them into my vagina. He also had me count each one as it disappeared inside me. Given that I had cum twice, there was plenty of natural lube in there to ease their passage, but my hand was bumping against the clamps as I worked, so I'm sure my voice wavered as I counted. By this time I was really gritting my teeth against the pain of the clamps, as it seemed to be getting worse as time went on.
Then Master had me use the vibe to cum twice more, only now I was to cum silently - no noise. Each one was harder to achieve, took longer, didn't feel as good, as the pain was really interfering. And though I really did try, I know a few whimpers escaped me. Afterward my whole body was trembling with the strain of standing so long and having pain affect me. My nipples hurt, my labia hurt, my inner walls were a little sore from contracting against all those beads. I trembled harder, & tears filled my eyes, though I blinked them back, so none fell down my cheeks.
At that point Master told me to remove the clamps from my nipples. I cradled my left breast in my left palm as my right hand grasped the clamp & eased the teeth open. I let out a short, sharp cry then; I swear the damn thing hurts even more when released as it does when applied. I held the clamp in my hand while removing the other clamp, again crying out as fresh waves of pain flooded out from the abused nipple. I stood there, shaking, and Master told me to drop the clamps. OMG. I hesitated for a split second, & all I could think was, Shit, this is going to hurt.
And it did, oh, God, as the freed clamps hit the end of the chain, yanking down on my pussy lips, & I screeched this time. Holy fuck. Tears welled up again & I felt my lips trembling. Master told me to pick up my little vibe and cum yet again. I opened my legs & stroked my clit, but the free clamps acted as weights, swinging on the chains as my body moved & sending constant new bursts of pain through me. It was not a happy orgasm, nor enjoyable in the least, & when my body bowed forward to the bed this time, I stayed there, gulping in air. I know a couple of sobs made their way out of my throat. When I stood up this time Master told me to remove the clamps, which I did immediately, crying out as each clamp came free. God dammit, that hurt.
Master had me sit on the bed, then, with my legs spread so he could see my pussy. I didn't look, but I am quite sure the labia were swollen, with red areas where the clamps had been. He asked if I were a little tender. Ha! A little tender, he says!
But all I said was, "Yes, sir."
He could see that the beads were still in place, all 5 of them tucked inside my vagina. He told me to cum once again, which was a little bit easier than the last time, though still not all that pleasurable, to be honest. I was just tired, & worn out, & hurting. After that, he told me to remove the beads, which I did. They made a wet, sucking noise as I pulled them out, which prompted him to comment on how wet his pussy was. Well, yeah, of course. I held the beads up for his inspection & asked if he wanted me to clean them. He said it was my choice, so, I did. With my tongue. He likes that, & I know he likes that, so even though it doesn't thrill me, I did that for him.
And then, finally I was allowed to relax, & we talked while I was allowed to rest & recover. By the time the session was over, I was feeling better, though still quite tender, & not so weepy.
Still this morning, my pussy is tender. I winced while using the toilet, & again in the shower as the shower scrubby passed over it. But the time spent with my Master was worth it.
So yesterday, after RL had interfered for quite a while, Master & I had some time for a short session. And I was grateful for it, truly; a sub needs her Master's time & attention.
He had me begin by collecting the - tools? Toys? Implements? - I would need: my Japanese clover clamps (2), a string of my black anal beads, and my pocket-sized vibrator. I cringed internally when he mentioned the clamps - these suckers hurt, no two ways about it.
Master told me to connect the clamps, left nipple to left pussy lip, right nipple to right pussy lip. This, I admit, was new. I teased my left nipple for a minute so that it hardened, then positioned the open clamp around it, & very gingerly allowed the clamp to close. Oh, oww; I immediately sucked in a great noisy breath as the sensation of pain speared through the tender peak. The clamp on the other end of the chain went on the left labial lip, & again, oww. I repeated the process on the right side, letting loose a whimper as the teeth of the clamp dug into my sensitive flesh. And then I panted harshly through my nose, trying to adjust to & deal with the hurt.
Then Master had me stand. Ugh, oww, again, as the clamps jostled with my movements & the chain tightened & pulled. He loves these clamps, but OMG, I am caught up in how much they fucking hurt. To add to his viewing pleasure, he had me cup my hands under my breasts & lift them so that the chains pulled taut. Fuck, fuck, fuck, oww, ow. Then he had me drop them, quickly, so that they bounced & the chains swung & again, more pain shooting through me. I yelped, I couldn't help it. Dammit.
Now, I will admit that after a several minutes the sharpness of the pain dulls a little. Just a little, mind, but enough that if I don't have to move around too much I can split my focus - the pain is still present & I'm still conscious of it, but I can follow directions. And so Master told me to pick up my little vibe & position it against my clit as I stood there, & to cum while he watched. I turned the vibe on, then requested - & was granted - permission to prop one knee on the edge of the bed. That helped open me up for easier access, thank God, & also relieved some of the burden of holding myself up.
With the little vibe humming in my hand, I eased it between my legs & laid it against my clit. You have to understand, it jostled the clamps with every little movement, giving me a dual pain-pleasure sensation. It hurts like mad, those clamps pulling & biting into the flesh, but the happy little humming on my clit does feel good. Anyway, within a few minutes I did cum, my body bowing forward as the waves passed through me. I was very glad for the support of the bed under my leg. Then Master had me cum again. This one was harder to get to, but I did cum a second time, again bowing forward.
When I straightened, Master told me to fill his pussy. I know what that means - I take the string of beads (there are 5) & insert them into my vagina. He also had me count each one as it disappeared inside me. Given that I had cum twice, there was plenty of natural lube in there to ease their passage, but my hand was bumping against the clamps as I worked, so I'm sure my voice wavered as I counted. By this time I was really gritting my teeth against the pain of the clamps, as it seemed to be getting worse as time went on.
Then Master had me use the vibe to cum twice more, only now I was to cum silently - no noise. Each one was harder to achieve, took longer, didn't feel as good, as the pain was really interfering. And though I really did try, I know a few whimpers escaped me. Afterward my whole body was trembling with the strain of standing so long and having pain affect me. My nipples hurt, my labia hurt, my inner walls were a little sore from contracting against all those beads. I trembled harder, & tears filled my eyes, though I blinked them back, so none fell down my cheeks.
At that point Master told me to remove the clamps from my nipples. I cradled my left breast in my left palm as my right hand grasped the clamp & eased the teeth open. I let out a short, sharp cry then; I swear the damn thing hurts even more when released as it does when applied. I held the clamp in my hand while removing the other clamp, again crying out as fresh waves of pain flooded out from the abused nipple. I stood there, shaking, and Master told me to drop the clamps. OMG. I hesitated for a split second, & all I could think was, Shit, this is going to hurt.
And it did, oh, God, as the freed clamps hit the end of the chain, yanking down on my pussy lips, & I screeched this time. Holy fuck. Tears welled up again & I felt my lips trembling. Master told me to pick up my little vibe and cum yet again. I opened my legs & stroked my clit, but the free clamps acted as weights, swinging on the chains as my body moved & sending constant new bursts of pain through me. It was not a happy orgasm, nor enjoyable in the least, & when my body bowed forward to the bed this time, I stayed there, gulping in air. I know a couple of sobs made their way out of my throat. When I stood up this time Master told me to remove the clamps, which I did immediately, crying out as each clamp came free. God dammit, that hurt.
Master had me sit on the bed, then, with my legs spread so he could see my pussy. I didn't look, but I am quite sure the labia were swollen, with red areas where the clamps had been. He asked if I were a little tender. Ha! A little tender, he says!
But all I said was, "Yes, sir."
He could see that the beads were still in place, all 5 of them tucked inside my vagina. He told me to cum once again, which was a little bit easier than the last time, though still not all that pleasurable, to be honest. I was just tired, & worn out, & hurting. After that, he told me to remove the beads, which I did. They made a wet, sucking noise as I pulled them out, which prompted him to comment on how wet his pussy was. Well, yeah, of course. I held the beads up for his inspection & asked if he wanted me to clean them. He said it was my choice, so, I did. With my tongue. He likes that, & I know he likes that, so even though it doesn't thrill me, I did that for him.
And then, finally I was allowed to relax, & we talked while I was allowed to rest & recover. By the time the session was over, I was feeling better, though still quite tender, & not so weepy.
Still this morning, my pussy is tender. I winced while using the toilet, & again in the shower as the shower scrubby passed over it. But the time spent with my Master was worth it.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
Ruminations
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
So, wow, it's been a month since my last post here. Hmm. I have been turning a lot of things over in my head in that time, and it has not been a smooth or easy month for either me or my Dom.
I have been unsettled because of the way he wants to ramp up our agreement. He has not been thrilled with me at the way I've been dragging my feet.
Here's the issue: A way long time ago (like, more than 2 years), when I was very very new at submission and had not long been involved with my Dom, he wanted to set up a three-some with another female. And I at the time agreed. He put me in touch with her and we two ladies chatted and emailed and even had a few telephone conversations, and at the time I felt a connection to her and thought I could handle that situation. Well, for reasons only my Dom could tell you, that meeting never happened.
So about a year ago, as things between the two of us were solidifying, he starts talking about bringing in another person again (a different female, someone I don't know and have never spoken to). And since I'm a year older and wiser, I felt strongly that I really did not want to go there. So I argued and fought and said I didn't want to, and in sessions he would ramp me up to the verge of orgasm and then force me to repeat that I am his whore and my body is his to do with what he wants, and if he wants a third party, I will agree. And honestly, trembling there on the edge of cumming, I would repeat the words, and only then would he allow me to cum.
So yeah, he blatantly used manipulative techniques. I see it, I know it, I allowed it.
But recently he's really been pushing the subject again, and I know he is in contact with someone he may be thinking of asking to be that third party. And I hate it. I brought up that he's asking an awful lot of me, to make myself vulnerable to a stranger, and how do I know this person is clean/safe/discreet? And all he says is, I need to trust him to not allow anything to hurt me. And I cried and argued and fought, and eventually he said, very clearly, that this is non-negotiable. If I want to continue to be his sub, I must do this.
Well. I have been very carefully, seriously considering that. Some days I think that I will be able to go through with it, and be OK. And other days I am convinced that it is totally the wrong move for me, and I will be damaged if I do. Not physically, no; but if I allow a crossing of a personal boundary, how will I feel about it? Will I suffer guilt/anxiety/remorse afterward?
I keep repeating myself to him - At the end of the day, I have to be proud of my behavior.
And I honestly do not know if I would be. And I am not at all sure I want to be without my Dom, either, but apparently this is what my choice is: Participate in the threesome (and more than once, I have already been told), or I will lose my collar. End of discussion.
I do not know what to do.
So, wow, it's been a month since my last post here. Hmm. I have been turning a lot of things over in my head in that time, and it has not been a smooth or easy month for either me or my Dom.
I have been unsettled because of the way he wants to ramp up our agreement. He has not been thrilled with me at the way I've been dragging my feet.
Here's the issue: A way long time ago (like, more than 2 years), when I was very very new at submission and had not long been involved with my Dom, he wanted to set up a three-some with another female. And I at the time agreed. He put me in touch with her and we two ladies chatted and emailed and even had a few telephone conversations, and at the time I felt a connection to her and thought I could handle that situation. Well, for reasons only my Dom could tell you, that meeting never happened.
So about a year ago, as things between the two of us were solidifying, he starts talking about bringing in another person again (a different female, someone I don't know and have never spoken to). And since I'm a year older and wiser, I felt strongly that I really did not want to go there. So I argued and fought and said I didn't want to, and in sessions he would ramp me up to the verge of orgasm and then force me to repeat that I am his whore and my body is his to do with what he wants, and if he wants a third party, I will agree. And honestly, trembling there on the edge of cumming, I would repeat the words, and only then would he allow me to cum.
So yeah, he blatantly used manipulative techniques. I see it, I know it, I allowed it.
But recently he's really been pushing the subject again, and I know he is in contact with someone he may be thinking of asking to be that third party. And I hate it. I brought up that he's asking an awful lot of me, to make myself vulnerable to a stranger, and how do I know this person is clean/safe/discreet? And all he says is, I need to trust him to not allow anything to hurt me. And I cried and argued and fought, and eventually he said, very clearly, that this is non-negotiable. If I want to continue to be his sub, I must do this.
Well. I have been very carefully, seriously considering that. Some days I think that I will be able to go through with it, and be OK. And other days I am convinced that it is totally the wrong move for me, and I will be damaged if I do. Not physically, no; but if I allow a crossing of a personal boundary, how will I feel about it? Will I suffer guilt/anxiety/remorse afterward?
I keep repeating myself to him - At the end of the day, I have to be proud of my behavior.
And I honestly do not know if I would be. And I am not at all sure I want to be without my Dom, either, but apparently this is what my choice is: Participate in the threesome (and more than once, I have already been told), or I will lose my collar. End of discussion.
I do not know what to do.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Master's whore. For real.
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
You need to know, right off the top, that I was assigned a task by Master, and that I didn't like it. At. All. It's one thing to be his whore in bed. It's quite another to be pimped out by him. We disagree, vehemently, about whether that's what he did. I have been told to detail the experience, so that's what follows:
Master told me I was to suck off another man, of his choosing. I was supposed to finger Master's pussy & cum while I sucked & to moan Master's name. And then I was to hold this man's cum in my mouth, to take a photo/video proving it, & then rinse my mouth out - no swallowing. Lastly, I was to recite my 7-stanza devotional 5 times before I went to sleep.
So I approached this person, and basically said to him, Look, I have a request, & it's going to sound odd, but just hear me out. I want you to sit here on this chair & let me suck you off.
I got quite a strange look, I can tell you. But he sat down.
I took him into my mouth & started sucking, rolling my tongue over his cock to get a feel for him, you know? He was not nearly as thick as Master, not nearly as difficult to take in. I started bobbing my head, drawing him into my tongue & pushing him back out. And honest to God, he lasted barely a minute. Barely. I hadn't even touched myself when all of a sudden I had a thin mouthful of cum, so I got up & went into the bathroom right away to record a video of me letting the cum fall out of my mouth. And then I rinsed, & spit, & rinsed again. And before I took myself off to bed that night, I sent the video to Master & recited my devotion as I had been told. Part of me was happy I had followed through, & part of me was horrified.
The following morning Master told me to go cum, & I complied as soon as I got his directive. And Master sent me a message stating that he was pleased with my compliance in this.
But I have been unsettled by this incident. And now he is calling my compliance into question & hinting that he may ask me to do this again.
I spent quite a while that night feeling slightly nauseated by the taste of another man on my tongue, & feeling ill-used, to be frank. I know that the language of BDSM talks a lot about Masters and property and surrendering and giving up all control. When I expressed my sick stomach to Master, he told me to be proud that I had followed his wishes and done what he told me to do. But it isn't helping that much, & in fact, I am still having a hard time with it. He says I am strong, but I'm not feeling like it.
You need to know, right off the top, that I was assigned a task by Master, and that I didn't like it. At. All. It's one thing to be his whore in bed. It's quite another to be pimped out by him. We disagree, vehemently, about whether that's what he did. I have been told to detail the experience, so that's what follows:
Master told me I was to suck off another man, of his choosing. I was supposed to finger Master's pussy & cum while I sucked & to moan Master's name. And then I was to hold this man's cum in my mouth, to take a photo/video proving it, & then rinse my mouth out - no swallowing. Lastly, I was to recite my 7-stanza devotional 5 times before I went to sleep.
So I approached this person, and basically said to him, Look, I have a request, & it's going to sound odd, but just hear me out. I want you to sit here on this chair & let me suck you off.
I got quite a strange look, I can tell you. But he sat down.
I took him into my mouth & started sucking, rolling my tongue over his cock to get a feel for him, you know? He was not nearly as thick as Master, not nearly as difficult to take in. I started bobbing my head, drawing him into my tongue & pushing him back out. And honest to God, he lasted barely a minute. Barely. I hadn't even touched myself when all of a sudden I had a thin mouthful of cum, so I got up & went into the bathroom right away to record a video of me letting the cum fall out of my mouth. And then I rinsed, & spit, & rinsed again. And before I took myself off to bed that night, I sent the video to Master & recited my devotion as I had been told. Part of me was happy I had followed through, & part of me was horrified.
The following morning Master told me to go cum, & I complied as soon as I got his directive. And Master sent me a message stating that he was pleased with my compliance in this.
But I have been unsettled by this incident. And now he is calling my compliance into question & hinting that he may ask me to do this again.
I spent quite a while that night feeling slightly nauseated by the taste of another man on my tongue, & feeling ill-used, to be frank. I know that the language of BDSM talks a lot about Masters and property and surrendering and giving up all control. When I expressed my sick stomach to Master, he told me to be proud that I had followed his wishes and done what he told me to do. But it isn't helping that much, & in fact, I am still having a hard time with it. He says I am strong, but I'm not feeling like it.
Friday, May 23, 2014
Nobody's Perfect, Not Even a Dom
This is an adult blog, containing frank and detailed descriptions of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Some things are drawn from real life, and some are spun from my imagination. Read at your own risk.
So I got to spend some one-on-one time with my Master recently. In many ways - in most ways, it was very good. In some ways, though, I felt it was lacking. And though I don't believe it was my fault, I do take responsibility for it.
Let me set the scene, so to speak -
When we first arrived, Master told me I was going to be his pet. He had me strip, then sit on the floor near him ("Do you allow your pets on the furniture at home? No, you do not."). OK, fine, I'm all right with this. We ate a bit of dinner, me sitting on the floor the whole time. All right. But after a while, the floor became very uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting constantly to try and find a position which didn't cause my legs or my hips to strain or fall asleep. Finally I said that the floor was not comfortable, and Master pointed across the room and said, "There's a chair."
Now what am I supposed to do with that? Was it an order to go sit in the chair, or permission to sit there if I felt I needed to, or merely an observation? I didn't know. I looked at him uncertainly for a minute and then slowly crossed the room and settled in the chair. He said nothing, and there I remained. And I didn't like it. I didn't know if I was in compliance or not, and now I felt uncertain and insecure.
Later on, in session, Master started off by placing my bit gag in my mouth and fastening it securely. He then blindfolded me and secured it with tape. Then he removed my collar. I felt funny without it, but he said it was to protect it, so I said nothing. (In fact, dummy that I am, I thought perhaps he was going to replace it. Silly me.) Next, with my arms down at my sides, he used tape to bind my arms in place. I merely stood quietly, becoming excited at the thought of being totally helpless before him. I do trust him, you know, not to truly hurt me, so even though I felt a little shiver of nervousness, I was mostly quivering in anticipation.
When I was suitably bound, he guided me to lie on my back on the bed, and draw my feet up, soles touching, my knees open wide. I was now completely open before him, all of me laid out as an offering on an altar. And I was excited by it. He commented that he could see me trembling, and I could feel my lower lip quivering, but again, it was in anticipation, not fear.
I felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed beside me. His fingers immediately probed into his pussy and found it already wet and wanting. "You are dripping," he said, his voice husky. I could only nod. Of course I was! I'd been waiting a long time for this!
His mouth fastened over the peak of my nipple as his fingers began pumping me. I arched up in response to the delicious wet heat of his mouth, and was disappointed when he pulled away. He said something about knowing that I like being bitten - or was it bruised? My heart was beating so strongly I had trouble hearing him. I just know that I nodded.
He moved away then, and I heard the jingle of chains scraping across the bedside table. Right after that, I was arching up again, but this time in pain; Master had attached my clover clamps to my nipples. Those things HURT. I squirmed and moaned in discomfort, but my voice was muffled by the gag, and of course my bindings restricted my movement. I panted around the gag, trying to put the pain away. Master's fingers went back into his pussy then, and his voice was both disbelieving and delighted as he commented on just how wet I was.
Taking the clamps off hurt almost as much as applying them, and I know I moaned and twisted when he removed them. Then he sucked one nipple into his mouth, and it was both sore and wonderful. It sounds odd, doesn't it? It felt odd, too - my body responding as he suckled it but also having to contend with feelings of pain mixed in. Very strange.
But he likes to do that with me, mix in a little pain to heighten the pleasure.
He moved away then, leaving me to lie there for several minutes, still bound and in position while he puttered around the room for a bit. I heard his footsteps as he came back, and the next thing I knew, there was a flare of intense heat on my skin. Ah, he'd poured hot wax on me. My body tensed, of course, as I had had no warning, and he continued to dribble the wax down on me, on my nipples, across my tummy, and over my clit til it was well coated. And it was hot, yes, but I loved it, even as I shook and tensed and whimpered at the sting of the mild burns.
And then he brought out a surprise - a flogger. I jumped when I felt the tails trailing over my skin; it took a few seconds for me to realize I wasn't feeling pain. Master varied the touch of the flogger, now slow and gentle, now flicking with sharp stings on my nipples, now thudding firmly on my clit. And I never knew which type of hit was coming next, so I was tense, but I really enjoyed that, too. And Master let me cum, more than once, and that was quite nice, too.
But what happened next really confused me. He flipped me onto my stomach (which I resisted because I was afraid I would roll right off the side of the bed) and then had me pull up my knees, so that my ass was up in the air but my face and shoulders were pressed into the mattress. He then lubed up a set of anal beads and inserted all five of them inside me. I know I was panting, cuz I'm not really a fan of these beads, and I hurt and hissed and whined as he pushed each one inside.
And then he walked away and left me there like that. Granted, he is Master, and so I did not argue or complain, but I was unsure of what to do. He came back after several minutes and helped me stand up, then released all my bindings and told me to go take a shower, but to leave the balls in place. Umm, all right. I came out after my shower and sat on the floor next to the couch. And he didn't speak to me, and I didn't speak to him, and after a while he told me I could take the balls out. OK. So I did. And that was it. And he left my collar lying on the table for the rest of our time together.
And I felt like I'd been left hanging, you know? There was no sense of closure or completion, and simply wearing the balls for the 30 minutes or so that it was didn't seem to have a purpose. I didn't get it.
I still don't get it.
And so this is the thing I must take responsibility for - I didn't ask. I didn't tell my Master that I was feeling wrong-footed and off-balance and unsure. I didn't tell him that I needed more from him in that moment. I didn't tell him that I felt incomplete without my collar, that I felt as though he'd left the symbol of my devotion and commitment lying in a tangle on the table, as though it were of no importance, and that made me feel as though I was not important, either. I merely sat, again, in the chair across the room and kept quiet. And so, because I felt terribly shy and inconsequential, I didn't say any of what was on my mind. And when we parted ways, I had no bite marks or bruises to take home with me, not one single kiss to taste him with, and I had to ask him to please put my collar back on, because he seemed to think it was fine if I did it myself.
So for those reasons, I was disappointed in how things turned out. And I can't expect my Master to read my mind, and I really do struggle with how much can I say and still be submissive, you know? Like, how does one respectfully and submissively say, I really enjoyed the times we were in session, but your after-care sucked? And here we are, several days later, and I still feel unsettled by how things were left.
And it doesn't mean I want to quit, or that I don't enjoy being his sub/slut/whore/pet/Kitten, because I really do. And I hope he keeps me for a long, long time. I just wish I could talk to him about how I feel on this issue, cuz I know that if I keep it buried, it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass. And not in the good way. :)
So I got to spend some one-on-one time with my Master recently. In many ways - in most ways, it was very good. In some ways, though, I felt it was lacking. And though I don't believe it was my fault, I do take responsibility for it.
Let me set the scene, so to speak -
When we first arrived, Master told me I was going to be his pet. He had me strip, then sit on the floor near him ("Do you allow your pets on the furniture at home? No, you do not."). OK, fine, I'm all right with this. We ate a bit of dinner, me sitting on the floor the whole time. All right. But after a while, the floor became very uncomfortable, and I found myself shifting constantly to try and find a position which didn't cause my legs or my hips to strain or fall asleep. Finally I said that the floor was not comfortable, and Master pointed across the room and said, "There's a chair."
Now what am I supposed to do with that? Was it an order to go sit in the chair, or permission to sit there if I felt I needed to, or merely an observation? I didn't know. I looked at him uncertainly for a minute and then slowly crossed the room and settled in the chair. He said nothing, and there I remained. And I didn't like it. I didn't know if I was in compliance or not, and now I felt uncertain and insecure.
Later on, in session, Master started off by placing my bit gag in my mouth and fastening it securely. He then blindfolded me and secured it with tape. Then he removed my collar. I felt funny without it, but he said it was to protect it, so I said nothing. (In fact, dummy that I am, I thought perhaps he was going to replace it. Silly me.) Next, with my arms down at my sides, he used tape to bind my arms in place. I merely stood quietly, becoming excited at the thought of being totally helpless before him. I do trust him, you know, not to truly hurt me, so even though I felt a little shiver of nervousness, I was mostly quivering in anticipation.
When I was suitably bound, he guided me to lie on my back on the bed, and draw my feet up, soles touching, my knees open wide. I was now completely open before him, all of me laid out as an offering on an altar. And I was excited by it. He commented that he could see me trembling, and I could feel my lower lip quivering, but again, it was in anticipation, not fear.
I felt the mattress dip as he sat on the edge of the bed beside me. His fingers immediately probed into his pussy and found it already wet and wanting. "You are dripping," he said, his voice husky. I could only nod. Of course I was! I'd been waiting a long time for this!
His mouth fastened over the peak of my nipple as his fingers began pumping me. I arched up in response to the delicious wet heat of his mouth, and was disappointed when he pulled away. He said something about knowing that I like being bitten - or was it bruised? My heart was beating so strongly I had trouble hearing him. I just know that I nodded.
He moved away then, and I heard the jingle of chains scraping across the bedside table. Right after that, I was arching up again, but this time in pain; Master had attached my clover clamps to my nipples. Those things HURT. I squirmed and moaned in discomfort, but my voice was muffled by the gag, and of course my bindings restricted my movement. I panted around the gag, trying to put the pain away. Master's fingers went back into his pussy then, and his voice was both disbelieving and delighted as he commented on just how wet I was.
Taking the clamps off hurt almost as much as applying them, and I know I moaned and twisted when he removed them. Then he sucked one nipple into his mouth, and it was both sore and wonderful. It sounds odd, doesn't it? It felt odd, too - my body responding as he suckled it but also having to contend with feelings of pain mixed in. Very strange.
But he likes to do that with me, mix in a little pain to heighten the pleasure.
He moved away then, leaving me to lie there for several minutes, still bound and in position while he puttered around the room for a bit. I heard his footsteps as he came back, and the next thing I knew, there was a flare of intense heat on my skin. Ah, he'd poured hot wax on me. My body tensed, of course, as I had had no warning, and he continued to dribble the wax down on me, on my nipples, across my tummy, and over my clit til it was well coated. And it was hot, yes, but I loved it, even as I shook and tensed and whimpered at the sting of the mild burns.
And then he brought out a surprise - a flogger. I jumped when I felt the tails trailing over my skin; it took a few seconds for me to realize I wasn't feeling pain. Master varied the touch of the flogger, now slow and gentle, now flicking with sharp stings on my nipples, now thudding firmly on my clit. And I never knew which type of hit was coming next, so I was tense, but I really enjoyed that, too. And Master let me cum, more than once, and that was quite nice, too.
But what happened next really confused me. He flipped me onto my stomach (which I resisted because I was afraid I would roll right off the side of the bed) and then had me pull up my knees, so that my ass was up in the air but my face and shoulders were pressed into the mattress. He then lubed up a set of anal beads and inserted all five of them inside me. I know I was panting, cuz I'm not really a fan of these beads, and I hurt and hissed and whined as he pushed each one inside.
And then he walked away and left me there like that. Granted, he is Master, and so I did not argue or complain, but I was unsure of what to do. He came back after several minutes and helped me stand up, then released all my bindings and told me to go take a shower, but to leave the balls in place. Umm, all right. I came out after my shower and sat on the floor next to the couch. And he didn't speak to me, and I didn't speak to him, and after a while he told me I could take the balls out. OK. So I did. And that was it. And he left my collar lying on the table for the rest of our time together.
And I felt like I'd been left hanging, you know? There was no sense of closure or completion, and simply wearing the balls for the 30 minutes or so that it was didn't seem to have a purpose. I didn't get it.
I still don't get it.
And so this is the thing I must take responsibility for - I didn't ask. I didn't tell my Master that I was feeling wrong-footed and off-balance and unsure. I didn't tell him that I needed more from him in that moment. I didn't tell him that I felt incomplete without my collar, that I felt as though he'd left the symbol of my devotion and commitment lying in a tangle on the table, as though it were of no importance, and that made me feel as though I was not important, either. I merely sat, again, in the chair across the room and kept quiet. And so, because I felt terribly shy and inconsequential, I didn't say any of what was on my mind. And when we parted ways, I had no bite marks or bruises to take home with me, not one single kiss to taste him with, and I had to ask him to please put my collar back on, because he seemed to think it was fine if I did it myself.
So for those reasons, I was disappointed in how things turned out. And I can't expect my Master to read my mind, and I really do struggle with how much can I say and still be submissive, you know? Like, how does one respectfully and submissively say, I really enjoyed the times we were in session, but your after-care sucked? And here we are, several days later, and I still feel unsettled by how things were left.
And it doesn't mean I want to quit, or that I don't enjoy being his sub/slut/whore/pet/Kitten, because I really do. And I hope he keeps me for a long, long time. I just wish I could talk to him about how I feel on this issue, cuz I know that if I keep it buried, it's gonna come back to bite me in the ass. And not in the good way. :)
Sunday, May 11, 2014
The Countdown Is On ...
This is an adult blog, containing graphic and frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. read at your own risk.
And finally, finally, the time for my weekend away with Master is almost here; only 4 days to go, now, and counting.
I need this time, this opportunity to focus on him and to redefine my service. It has been far too long since we've had more than a handful of hours to devote to one-on-one time together.
And I am nervous. Oh, I'm pretty much always nervous before we have such focused time together like this. I tend to imagine what he may require of me, and it usually involves pain. Now, I am NOT a pain slut. I hate pain, I cry, I try to get out of it. So I imagine, and I worry, and then I start to obsess. And it all stems from my own uncertainties do I still please him? Am I submissive enough? Can I overcome my pride/fears/self-awareness and become his perfectly willing whore?
As I see it, he can go from neutral to Dominant in the blink of an eye. It takes me much longer to disengage from all the outside stuff and be the focused, pliable sub/slut/pet that he needs me to be. My brain over-analyzes things.
When I mentioned to him about my nervousness, I told him it's always like that; that I have to step back and put all these things away every time. And he asked me why I do that, as it made more sense to him that I pull them out, deal with them and be done with them.
Well. What a concept.
So why don't I do that? Because dealing with these issues requires me to admit they are a problem, and I can't do that. I can't be seen as less than controlled and put-together and capable and strong, especially not by Master. He needs to know that he can count on my willing service, and if I have issues, my willingness might be called into question. And I can't have that.
But -
Maybe it would be better for me to go ahead and confess my weakness. Maybe by putting my fears on the table, they can be dealt with and addressed and put to rest. Maybe it would be better for me to stop acting strong, work through these things that stunt my growth and actually become strong.
I'll let you know. :)
And finally, finally, the time for my weekend away with Master is almost here; only 4 days to go, now, and counting.
I need this time, this opportunity to focus on him and to redefine my service. It has been far too long since we've had more than a handful of hours to devote to one-on-one time together.
And I am nervous. Oh, I'm pretty much always nervous before we have such focused time together like this. I tend to imagine what he may require of me, and it usually involves pain. Now, I am NOT a pain slut. I hate pain, I cry, I try to get out of it. So I imagine, and I worry, and then I start to obsess. And it all stems from my own uncertainties do I still please him? Am I submissive enough? Can I overcome my pride/fears/self-awareness and become his perfectly willing whore?
As I see it, he can go from neutral to Dominant in the blink of an eye. It takes me much longer to disengage from all the outside stuff and be the focused, pliable sub/slut/pet that he needs me to be. My brain over-analyzes things.
When I mentioned to him about my nervousness, I told him it's always like that; that I have to step back and put all these things away every time. And he asked me why I do that, as it made more sense to him that I pull them out, deal with them and be done with them.
Well. What a concept.
So why don't I do that? Because dealing with these issues requires me to admit they are a problem, and I can't do that. I can't be seen as less than controlled and put-together and capable and strong, especially not by Master. He needs to know that he can count on my willing service, and if I have issues, my willingness might be called into question. And I can't have that.
But -
Maybe it would be better for me to go ahead and confess my weakness. Maybe by putting my fears on the table, they can be dealt with and addressed and put to rest. Maybe it would be better for me to stop acting strong, work through these things that stunt my growth and actually become strong.
I'll let you know. :)
Friday, April 25, 2014
And finally, day 7
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So here we are, Day 7 of my week-long task. Today promised to be the most challenging yet - especially considering that the first thing I became aware of, as I blearily blinked in the early morning sun, was that my body was already was humming. Yes, I woke up already half-horny. Lovely. All right then, so let's get straight to it.
Session 1 took place in my bathroom. I shucked off my pajama pants and perched on the edge of the tub, my knees spread wide, resting on my toes. The first pass of my fingers over my clit had me bending forward with the rush of arousal that spiked through me. One pass. I am in trouble. I bit my lip and started rubbing myself, firm little circles that alternately tugged and pushed against that greedy little nub of flesh. I was surprised at how quickly I was reaching for climax - I was pushing past a level 9 in under 2 minutes, surely. I dropped my feet flat against the floor as my legs trembled, and my free hand gripped the edge of the tub to balance myself. I swayed forward again, letting loose a quiet whimper as my body shivered and I felt my inner muscles contract. I had to stop then, so as not to get too close to cumming. I bowed my head and hoped to God I would survive this day.
Session 2 was very similar - I was upstairs on the couch, again, but kneeling on it with my left arm bent and resting on the top of the couch. My knees were open wide and sinking into the cushions. When I first swiped my fingers across Master's pussy I could feel that I was wet already - and I'd barely even touched myself. I leaned forward and rested my head on my bent arm, pressing my chest against the back of the couch, and began stroking myself. And again, I ramped up to an 8 very quickly, passing on to a 9 in just a few minutes. My breaths became pants and my hips rocked against my fingers as I crept ever closer to orgasm, little tremors shivering through my as Master's pussy grew juicier and trickled over my fingers. I gave my clit one last good firm stroke, and pitched forward as Master's pussy clenched once on emptiness. I gritted my teeth and panted through my nose, feeling like any little movement or even too big of a breath might be my undoing. When I was able to move, my legs definitely felt shaky, and it took much longer for my horniness level to drop back down. Even an hour later, I was still feeling half-way turned on, like a 4 - 5.
Session 3 of the day was a danger zone. I was still at like a 4, and I went back to my bed. I knelt on it and leaned way down, so my upper body was pressing into the mattress with my ass sticking up in the air. When I reached between my legs, my fingers encountered a pool of juiciness which immediately coated my fingers and made them so, so slick. I moaned then, out loud, it just felt so good, the way my fingers skimmed over my clit and slid so freely over my skin. Damn. This session was the first time of the week where I kinda lost track of myself. I didn't think, I just felt, and my body rocked so hard that the bed shook and squeaked. My fingers were heaven and hell, combined, so delicious and pleasurable but yet not enough, never enough. I was definitely a 9+, teetering on the knife's edge, and in my mind's eye my Master was the one fondling his property and driving me relentlessly toward climax, and I writhed on his fingers and thought I'd gladly swallow his cock and suffer the pain of his teeth, and I moaned out loud, "Oh, Sir, yes." The sound of my own voice startled me, as I wasn't consciously aware of speaking, and in that heartbeat I became aware that I was Right There and Going to Fall Over. Oh, shit, shit, shit!! Master will not be pleased! I tore my fingers away and curled them into the comforter, the slick juices on my fingers dampening the fabric. I gasped, and gasped again, and felt Master's pussy tremble and try to contract. I slammed my legs together and fell to my side, curling into a ball and tensing my muscles to try and stave off my climax. It was a near miss, but I did not cum. And let me tell you - it hurt. For quite a while afterward I felt the wetness in my panties and the aching between my legs, and the quivering of my muscles. And I hated it, hated this task, hated having to torture myself like this for days on end, hated the painful result of so much build up and denial.
It took several hours before I was ready to attempt another session. By then I had calmed down, both in body and mind - though not so much in body. I spent the lion's share of those hours still feeling the effects. But at last I couldn't postpone any longer, so back to the bathroom I went. I knelt on one knee on the rug by the tub, planting my other foot to brace myself, and leaned my side against the tub. This way I was plenty steady. I was hesitant at first, too aware of just how close my earlier escape had been. So it was with tentative fingers that I reached down and lightly stroked my clit, testing the waters, so to speak. And yes, there were plenty of waters. It seems my body had not gotten over its earlier experience, and there was a little bit of tenderness when I pressed down firmly. Huh. So not only was I still wet, and still aroused, but now I was a bit sore as well. Great. But Master's will is Master's law, and so I continued on, rubbing myself and shifting my knee over to open up a bit wider. When I felt Master's pussy responding yet again, I bowed my head and bit my lip, letting loose a sigh that was part pleasure and part resignation. Despite my misgivings I couldn't prevent my hips from rocking against my fingers, nor stop my heart rate from speeding up, nor keep myself from feeling more and more aroused. It took longer than the previous attempt - partly because I'd been so tentative in the beginning, I think - but within several minutes I was once again panting lightly and feeling my juices flowing over my fingers, whimpering as my inner muscles clenched and that feeling of tightness deep in my belly began coiling. I continued on until I knew I'd be in danger if I kept going, so with pounding heart and rubbery-feeling legs I got up and half-staggered out of the room.
Slightly less than 2 hours later I was back for session 6. Because I'd been playing so often - and so close to the edge - I hadn't really recovered; I'd spent most of the day feeling wet and ready. And once again, as I squatted and leaned against the wall of the laundry room, my fingers were instantly coated with a goodly amount of slick juices as soon as I reached down and stroked myself. I groaned with frustration and braced my free hand on the wall next to me; this day just might kill me. I grit my teeth as my fingers sped up, driving my level of arousal higher - I reached an 8 within just a minute or so and banged my back off the wall as my hips bucked hard. I moaned at the feeling of desire swirling through me, that all-too-familiar ache coiling between my legs and making my legs feel shaky. My left hand gripped the wall harder as my right hand bore down on my clit, rubbing faster and deeper, need and desire spearing through me in a sharp burst. I tossed my head back and cracked my head against the wall, hard enough that tears came to my eyes and I lost my balance, tipping over onto my left side in an inglorious heap. Ouch. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and laughed, weakly, in between shallow gasps for breath. Like I said - this day just might kill me.
And at long last, after 7 days and 27 separate masturbation sessions, I came to the final time; # 7 for today, # 28 for the week. I settled myself comfortably in a recliner and set it to the fully reclined position, then shimmied my pants down below my knees. I hiked my shirt up a bit, also, enough that I could snake my hand under it and reach my nipples. I eased my right hand down between my legs and started stroking my clit, slowly, languidly, no rush or hurry. At the same time I used my left hand to tweak my nipples, teasing them with the pads of my fingers, lightly pinching them, drawing little circles around them. In just a few minutes, thanks to the dual stimulation, I was feeling highly aroused, past a level 8 and closing in on 9. I sighed and whimpered as my fingers danced and teased, and Master's pussy produced a new gush of slick juices. My hips bucked under my fingers, my nipples were pinched and stroked in turn, and I moaned softly as a new wave of desire flooded through me. My thoughts grew fuzzy as the level of my arousal grew, and I panted and rocked and made the chair squeak in protest. I spiraled higher, building toward climax, my heart racing and my breaths coming shallow and quick. I closed my eyes as my hips bucked up hard, once, twice, a third time, and I knew that if I continued much longer, I would cross the line, and that just would not do. Regretfully, I pulled my hands free, curling them into fists in my lap while I waited for my heart to slow and my breaths to calm. I tugged my pants back into place, and then it hit me - I was done. I had completed the task Master had set for me. I tilted my head back and smiled. And even now, a full hour later, my brain is still a bit fuzzy, and my body is humming with mid-level arousal. I am tired, worn, feeling stretched thin, but I have succeeded.
And that feels good.
So here we are, Day 7 of my week-long task. Today promised to be the most challenging yet - especially considering that the first thing I became aware of, as I blearily blinked in the early morning sun, was that my body was already was humming. Yes, I woke up already half-horny. Lovely. All right then, so let's get straight to it.
Session 1 took place in my bathroom. I shucked off my pajama pants and perched on the edge of the tub, my knees spread wide, resting on my toes. The first pass of my fingers over my clit had me bending forward with the rush of arousal that spiked through me. One pass. I am in trouble. I bit my lip and started rubbing myself, firm little circles that alternately tugged and pushed against that greedy little nub of flesh. I was surprised at how quickly I was reaching for climax - I was pushing past a level 9 in under 2 minutes, surely. I dropped my feet flat against the floor as my legs trembled, and my free hand gripped the edge of the tub to balance myself. I swayed forward again, letting loose a quiet whimper as my body shivered and I felt my inner muscles contract. I had to stop then, so as not to get too close to cumming. I bowed my head and hoped to God I would survive this day.
Session 2 was very similar - I was upstairs on the couch, again, but kneeling on it with my left arm bent and resting on the top of the couch. My knees were open wide and sinking into the cushions. When I first swiped my fingers across Master's pussy I could feel that I was wet already - and I'd barely even touched myself. I leaned forward and rested my head on my bent arm, pressing my chest against the back of the couch, and began stroking myself. And again, I ramped up to an 8 very quickly, passing on to a 9 in just a few minutes. My breaths became pants and my hips rocked against my fingers as I crept ever closer to orgasm, little tremors shivering through my as Master's pussy grew juicier and trickled over my fingers. I gave my clit one last good firm stroke, and pitched forward as Master's pussy clenched once on emptiness. I gritted my teeth and panted through my nose, feeling like any little movement or even too big of a breath might be my undoing. When I was able to move, my legs definitely felt shaky, and it took much longer for my horniness level to drop back down. Even an hour later, I was still feeling half-way turned on, like a 4 - 5.
Session 3 of the day was a danger zone. I was still at like a 4, and I went back to my bed. I knelt on it and leaned way down, so my upper body was pressing into the mattress with my ass sticking up in the air. When I reached between my legs, my fingers encountered a pool of juiciness which immediately coated my fingers and made them so, so slick. I moaned then, out loud, it just felt so good, the way my fingers skimmed over my clit and slid so freely over my skin. Damn. This session was the first time of the week where I kinda lost track of myself. I didn't think, I just felt, and my body rocked so hard that the bed shook and squeaked. My fingers were heaven and hell, combined, so delicious and pleasurable but yet not enough, never enough. I was definitely a 9+, teetering on the knife's edge, and in my mind's eye my Master was the one fondling his property and driving me relentlessly toward climax, and I writhed on his fingers and thought I'd gladly swallow his cock and suffer the pain of his teeth, and I moaned out loud, "Oh, Sir, yes." The sound of my own voice startled me, as I wasn't consciously aware of speaking, and in that heartbeat I became aware that I was Right There and Going to Fall Over. Oh, shit, shit, shit!! Master will not be pleased! I tore my fingers away and curled them into the comforter, the slick juices on my fingers dampening the fabric. I gasped, and gasped again, and felt Master's pussy tremble and try to contract. I slammed my legs together and fell to my side, curling into a ball and tensing my muscles to try and stave off my climax. It was a near miss, but I did not cum. And let me tell you - it hurt. For quite a while afterward I felt the wetness in my panties and the aching between my legs, and the quivering of my muscles. And I hated it, hated this task, hated having to torture myself like this for days on end, hated the painful result of so much build up and denial.
It took several hours before I was ready to attempt another session. By then I had calmed down, both in body and mind - though not so much in body. I spent the lion's share of those hours still feeling the effects. But at last I couldn't postpone any longer, so back to the bathroom I went. I knelt on one knee on the rug by the tub, planting my other foot to brace myself, and leaned my side against the tub. This way I was plenty steady. I was hesitant at first, too aware of just how close my earlier escape had been. So it was with tentative fingers that I reached down and lightly stroked my clit, testing the waters, so to speak. And yes, there were plenty of waters. It seems my body had not gotten over its earlier experience, and there was a little bit of tenderness when I pressed down firmly. Huh. So not only was I still wet, and still aroused, but now I was a bit sore as well. Great. But Master's will is Master's law, and so I continued on, rubbing myself and shifting my knee over to open up a bit wider. When I felt Master's pussy responding yet again, I bowed my head and bit my lip, letting loose a sigh that was part pleasure and part resignation. Despite my misgivings I couldn't prevent my hips from rocking against my fingers, nor stop my heart rate from speeding up, nor keep myself from feeling more and more aroused. It took longer than the previous attempt - partly because I'd been so tentative in the beginning, I think - but within several minutes I was once again panting lightly and feeling my juices flowing over my fingers, whimpering as my inner muscles clenched and that feeling of tightness deep in my belly began coiling. I continued on until I knew I'd be in danger if I kept going, so with pounding heart and rubbery-feeling legs I got up and half-staggered out of the room.
Slightly less than 2 hours later I was back for session 6. Because I'd been playing so often - and so close to the edge - I hadn't really recovered; I'd spent most of the day feeling wet and ready. And once again, as I squatted and leaned against the wall of the laundry room, my fingers were instantly coated with a goodly amount of slick juices as soon as I reached down and stroked myself. I groaned with frustration and braced my free hand on the wall next to me; this day just might kill me. I grit my teeth as my fingers sped up, driving my level of arousal higher - I reached an 8 within just a minute or so and banged my back off the wall as my hips bucked hard. I moaned at the feeling of desire swirling through me, that all-too-familiar ache coiling between my legs and making my legs feel shaky. My left hand gripped the wall harder as my right hand bore down on my clit, rubbing faster and deeper, need and desire spearing through me in a sharp burst. I tossed my head back and cracked my head against the wall, hard enough that tears came to my eyes and I lost my balance, tipping over onto my left side in an inglorious heap. Ouch. I rubbed the sore spot on my head and laughed, weakly, in between shallow gasps for breath. Like I said - this day just might kill me.
And at long last, after 7 days and 27 separate masturbation sessions, I came to the final time; # 7 for today, # 28 for the week. I settled myself comfortably in a recliner and set it to the fully reclined position, then shimmied my pants down below my knees. I hiked my shirt up a bit, also, enough that I could snake my hand under it and reach my nipples. I eased my right hand down between my legs and started stroking my clit, slowly, languidly, no rush or hurry. At the same time I used my left hand to tweak my nipples, teasing them with the pads of my fingers, lightly pinching them, drawing little circles around them. In just a few minutes, thanks to the dual stimulation, I was feeling highly aroused, past a level 8 and closing in on 9. I sighed and whimpered as my fingers danced and teased, and Master's pussy produced a new gush of slick juices. My hips bucked under my fingers, my nipples were pinched and stroked in turn, and I moaned softly as a new wave of desire flooded through me. My thoughts grew fuzzy as the level of my arousal grew, and I panted and rocked and made the chair squeak in protest. I spiraled higher, building toward climax, my heart racing and my breaths coming shallow and quick. I closed my eyes as my hips bucked up hard, once, twice, a third time, and I knew that if I continued much longer, I would cross the line, and that just would not do. Regretfully, I pulled my hands free, curling them into fists in my lap while I waited for my heart to slow and my breaths to calm. I tugged my pants back into place, and then it hit me - I was done. I had completed the task Master had set for me. I tilted my head back and smiled. And even now, a full hour later, my brain is still a bit fuzzy, and my body is humming with mid-level arousal. I am tired, worn, feeling stretched thin, but I have succeeded.
And that feels good.
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Day 6
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So I've made it to Day 6 of my week-long task, relatively intact. I've had a couple close calls in the previous 5 days, and I have spent most of today in various stages of arousal and denial. It hasn't exactly been a fun day.
I started off in the shower again this morning; such a lovely way to begin the day, don't you think? I propped my left foot up on the ledge and braced my left hand on the shower wall, then used my right hand to rub my clit. I stoked myself harder when I felt the excitement start to bubble up, driving myself to a higher level on the horniness scale .... a 7, an 8, a 9. My leg began to tremble but I kept on rubbing, taking myself closer to the edge of control. The fingers of my left hand tried digging into the slick sides of the shower as I hovered on the edge. And then I let my fingers fall away from my body, and stood on trembling legs to finish my shower.
In order to fit in all 6 sessions today, I knew I had to masturbate about once every two hours or so - that's a 12-hour time frame. So the next opportunity was at the office, about mid-morning, in the only bathroom in the building. I dropped my trousers to my ankles and squatted with my back to the wall, then dove in. As I was a little bit slick yet form the shower session, it took just a couple minutes to feel myself reaching toward climax. And let's face it - I've been teasing myself for days now. Days. Of course my body is primed, and hoping to be allowed to feel completion. So in just a couple minutes more, I was hovering too close to the edge for my peace of mind. My hips bucked and my back bumped the wall, once, twice, a third time, and I felt that I was losing control. I stopped then, and noticed my fingers were shaking. I managed to put my clothes to rights and exit, but I felt a bit wobbly.
I left the at noon - hooray!! - and went to the mall to pick up my now-fixed computer. In the mall, I stopped in the restroom, and since no one else was in there, I decided to have my third session of the day. Now, getting one's self off in a public restroom is creepy, and icky, and I felt apprehensive about having someone walk in - even though I was safely ensconced in a stall. By spreading my feet apart, I could hold my slacks at my knees, so there was no danger of them hitting the floor. Ick. My fingers stole down between my legs and carefully slipped into place, stroking and rubbing and swirling, and again, it was only a couple of minutes before I felt myself growing wet and aroused. I kept swaying on my feet as my body rocked and I had to keep correcting my balance (but there was no way I wanted to touch or lean against the sides of the stall), and I hit level 8 almost immediately. Moving on toward a 9 wasn't difficult; I know I whimpered a couple of times and bit my lip to try and stifle my moans. My body bowed forward and I had to take a little step to adjust; I had a hard time standing up as the intensity built and my fingers dug deeper. At last I felt a shudder sweep through me and I knew I was getting too close. I had never ever felt like I wanted to have sex in a public bathroom, but right then I almost would have agreed. I made my escape before I could cross the line. And it took quite a bit longer to settle my breathing this time. It's like, increasing the frequency also increases the amount of recovery time I need. Or maybe it's just that I keep stopping before climax, so my whole body is getting annoyed with me.
I got my laptop back and did a bit of shopping, then headed home. I threw some laundry in and took care of my purchases, and by then another couple hours had elapsed, so it was time for #4. I got all comfy on my bed with my knees bent, my feet flat on the bed, and indulged in a little bit of fun play. I played with my nipples, I made a few teasing passes across my clit and then backed off to run my fingernails along the skin of my legs.I shivered then, and the arousal that built up was both the same and different as before; it was just as hungry, just as needy, but more relaxed, if that makes sense. I suppose it's because I was in a safe place with more time to actually enjoy it. In any case, I felt that I really enjoyed it more than most of the previous sessions. I reached level 9 in short order and wondered how close could I really get? I'd had a couple close calls, yes, but could I get within a hair's breadth and still be able to back off? I didn't know. And I didn't want to tip over and be subject to punishment, either. So I played, and I panted and whimpered and let myself moan out loud, and squeezed my breast and tweaked my nipple, and felt a flare of desire, so sudden and so strong, that my breath caught on a gasp and my heart galloped in my chest. My back arched up and my hips bucked hard, and I gripped the comforter in my fist and held on tight, because for a moment there I didn't know if I could stop. God damn, but that scared me. I froze then, and held my breath and waited, and felt Sir's pussy throbbing and tingling and aching so, so fiercely, and I trembled. I teetered there, my hand fisted in the comforter, my other hand splayed out on my leg, not daring to move, and I wondered if I had called Sir right then, and begged him, would he have allowed me to cum? Probably not. And then, thank God, the pressure eased and I slowly relaxed and began breathing again. That was far, far too close a call. I got up and dressed as quickly as I was able, with my shaky legs and nerveless fingers, and resolved not to push the edge quite so far.
And because it had been such a near thing, I waited several hours before daring to commence with session #5. I steered clear of the bed - too tempting! - and instead chose the couch in the upstairs sitting room. I sat down and leaned back, unzipping my pants and slipping my hand inside. I was still moist, which surprised me; apparently my body had not completely let go of its last brush with climax. Hmm. I slouched back against the cushions and sighed as my fingers got busy and I relaxed into a quiet kind of arousal, a 5, a 6, a 7, then higher to an 8. Oh, yeah, stroke just like that, right like that, and in a handful of minutes I was feeling all revved up again, a 9+. I was wary of skirting too close to the edge, but at the same time, I definitely wanted to get close to it. So I played, and rubbed, and sighed, and then there it was, that fluttering feeling deep in my belly, and my hips rocked and I sucked in a huge breath and shuddered with a not-quite-unexpected full-body arching. If I'd had permission to cum I would have kept going, as I was sure it would have taken only another minute to cross that line. And I wanted to, I really did; having been so very close earlier, and having spent all this week teasing and playing and being denied, I really wanted to finally find release. But having come too close last time, and not wanting to risk punishment, I reluctantly pulled my hand out of my pants and waited for my heart beat to slow and my ragged breaths to even out. One more session to go .... I'm not loving this task any more.
My 6th and final session of the day occurred where my day began - in my bathroom. I knelt on the floor, with one foot tucked under me and the other flat to support me floor. I bowed my head as my fingers found Sir's pussy again, and the thought crossed my mind that I can't keep doing this. My arm twinged as I stroked myself - using it so often has made the muscles sore, believe it or not. I rocked back and forth as my fingers stroked faster, and I closed my eyes and whimpered as the all-too-familiar feeling of desire built deep in my belly. I reached an 8 really quickly, in less than a minute, and then I debated with myself - would it be worth it to deliberately cross the line and end up punishing myself? I hit a 9 then, the ache I felt to cum was so strong, and so insistent, and I moaned out loud there on the bathroom floor in discomfort and need. Yes, I'd crawl across the floor, wear my bit, let Master apply a dozen clothespins to my nipples or pussy lips if only he would tell me it's okay to cum. I writhed on my fingers and twisted on my knee, and pitched forward so sharply I instinctively flung out both hands to catch myself. And then I stayed there on my hands and knees, and sniffled, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes because I was so frustrated, and so tired of putting myself through this. 6 times today - 18 times so far this week - I have stimulated myself to the edge of orgasm, and every one of those times has ended with me being left hanging and having to push down and ignore my body's aching. A couple of those times have been worse than the others, to be sure. I only hope I can make it successfully through tomorrow's challenge.
So I've made it to Day 6 of my week-long task, relatively intact. I've had a couple close calls in the previous 5 days, and I have spent most of today in various stages of arousal and denial. It hasn't exactly been a fun day.
I started off in the shower again this morning; such a lovely way to begin the day, don't you think? I propped my left foot up on the ledge and braced my left hand on the shower wall, then used my right hand to rub my clit. I stoked myself harder when I felt the excitement start to bubble up, driving myself to a higher level on the horniness scale .... a 7, an 8, a 9. My leg began to tremble but I kept on rubbing, taking myself closer to the edge of control. The fingers of my left hand tried digging into the slick sides of the shower as I hovered on the edge. And then I let my fingers fall away from my body, and stood on trembling legs to finish my shower.
In order to fit in all 6 sessions today, I knew I had to masturbate about once every two hours or so - that's a 12-hour time frame. So the next opportunity was at the office, about mid-morning, in the only bathroom in the building. I dropped my trousers to my ankles and squatted with my back to the wall, then dove in. As I was a little bit slick yet form the shower session, it took just a couple minutes to feel myself reaching toward climax. And let's face it - I've been teasing myself for days now. Days. Of course my body is primed, and hoping to be allowed to feel completion. So in just a couple minutes more, I was hovering too close to the edge for my peace of mind. My hips bucked and my back bumped the wall, once, twice, a third time, and I felt that I was losing control. I stopped then, and noticed my fingers were shaking. I managed to put my clothes to rights and exit, but I felt a bit wobbly.
I left the at noon - hooray!! - and went to the mall to pick up my now-fixed computer. In the mall, I stopped in the restroom, and since no one else was in there, I decided to have my third session of the day. Now, getting one's self off in a public restroom is creepy, and icky, and I felt apprehensive about having someone walk in - even though I was safely ensconced in a stall. By spreading my feet apart, I could hold my slacks at my knees, so there was no danger of them hitting the floor. Ick. My fingers stole down between my legs and carefully slipped into place, stroking and rubbing and swirling, and again, it was only a couple of minutes before I felt myself growing wet and aroused. I kept swaying on my feet as my body rocked and I had to keep correcting my balance (but there was no way I wanted to touch or lean against the sides of the stall), and I hit level 8 almost immediately. Moving on toward a 9 wasn't difficult; I know I whimpered a couple of times and bit my lip to try and stifle my moans. My body bowed forward and I had to take a little step to adjust; I had a hard time standing up as the intensity built and my fingers dug deeper. At last I felt a shudder sweep through me and I knew I was getting too close. I had never ever felt like I wanted to have sex in a public bathroom, but right then I almost would have agreed. I made my escape before I could cross the line. And it took quite a bit longer to settle my breathing this time. It's like, increasing the frequency also increases the amount of recovery time I need. Or maybe it's just that I keep stopping before climax, so my whole body is getting annoyed with me.
I got my laptop back and did a bit of shopping, then headed home. I threw some laundry in and took care of my purchases, and by then another couple hours had elapsed, so it was time for #4. I got all comfy on my bed with my knees bent, my feet flat on the bed, and indulged in a little bit of fun play. I played with my nipples, I made a few teasing passes across my clit and then backed off to run my fingernails along the skin of my legs.I shivered then, and the arousal that built up was both the same and different as before; it was just as hungry, just as needy, but more relaxed, if that makes sense. I suppose it's because I was in a safe place with more time to actually enjoy it. In any case, I felt that I really enjoyed it more than most of the previous sessions. I reached level 9 in short order and wondered how close could I really get? I'd had a couple close calls, yes, but could I get within a hair's breadth and still be able to back off? I didn't know. And I didn't want to tip over and be subject to punishment, either. So I played, and I panted and whimpered and let myself moan out loud, and squeezed my breast and tweaked my nipple, and felt a flare of desire, so sudden and so strong, that my breath caught on a gasp and my heart galloped in my chest. My back arched up and my hips bucked hard, and I gripped the comforter in my fist and held on tight, because for a moment there I didn't know if I could stop. God damn, but that scared me. I froze then, and held my breath and waited, and felt Sir's pussy throbbing and tingling and aching so, so fiercely, and I trembled. I teetered there, my hand fisted in the comforter, my other hand splayed out on my leg, not daring to move, and I wondered if I had called Sir right then, and begged him, would he have allowed me to cum? Probably not. And then, thank God, the pressure eased and I slowly relaxed and began breathing again. That was far, far too close a call. I got up and dressed as quickly as I was able, with my shaky legs and nerveless fingers, and resolved not to push the edge quite so far.
And because it had been such a near thing, I waited several hours before daring to commence with session #5. I steered clear of the bed - too tempting! - and instead chose the couch in the upstairs sitting room. I sat down and leaned back, unzipping my pants and slipping my hand inside. I was still moist, which surprised me; apparently my body had not completely let go of its last brush with climax. Hmm. I slouched back against the cushions and sighed as my fingers got busy and I relaxed into a quiet kind of arousal, a 5, a 6, a 7, then higher to an 8. Oh, yeah, stroke just like that, right like that, and in a handful of minutes I was feeling all revved up again, a 9+. I was wary of skirting too close to the edge, but at the same time, I definitely wanted to get close to it. So I played, and rubbed, and sighed, and then there it was, that fluttering feeling deep in my belly, and my hips rocked and I sucked in a huge breath and shuddered with a not-quite-unexpected full-body arching. If I'd had permission to cum I would have kept going, as I was sure it would have taken only another minute to cross that line. And I wanted to, I really did; having been so very close earlier, and having spent all this week teasing and playing and being denied, I really wanted to finally find release. But having come too close last time, and not wanting to risk punishment, I reluctantly pulled my hand out of my pants and waited for my heart beat to slow and my ragged breaths to even out. One more session to go .... I'm not loving this task any more.
My 6th and final session of the day occurred where my day began - in my bathroom. I knelt on the floor, with one foot tucked under me and the other flat to support me floor. I bowed my head as my fingers found Sir's pussy again, and the thought crossed my mind that I can't keep doing this. My arm twinged as I stroked myself - using it so often has made the muscles sore, believe it or not. I rocked back and forth as my fingers stroked faster, and I closed my eyes and whimpered as the all-too-familiar feeling of desire built deep in my belly. I reached an 8 really quickly, in less than a minute, and then I debated with myself - would it be worth it to deliberately cross the line and end up punishing myself? I hit a 9 then, the ache I felt to cum was so strong, and so insistent, and I moaned out loud there on the bathroom floor in discomfort and need. Yes, I'd crawl across the floor, wear my bit, let Master apply a dozen clothespins to my nipples or pussy lips if only he would tell me it's okay to cum. I writhed on my fingers and twisted on my knee, and pitched forward so sharply I instinctively flung out both hands to catch myself. And then I stayed there on my hands and knees, and sniffled, and tears pricked the corners of my eyes because I was so frustrated, and so tired of putting myself through this. 6 times today - 18 times so far this week - I have stimulated myself to the edge of orgasm, and every one of those times has ended with me being left hanging and having to push down and ignore my body's aching. A couple of those times have been worse than the others, to be sure. I only hope I can make it successfully through tomorrow's challenge.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Day 5
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
All right, a quick recap of my latest task; Master decided that for a solid week I am to engage in masturbation sessions of increasing frequency, to be performed in different locations as prescribed by a list he gave me. As today is the 5th day of the task, I had to stimulate myself 5 times, without ever being allowed to cum. In the 4 previous days I had fulfilled all of the prescribed locations, so today I got to choose.
I started the day off in the shower. I love the feeling of warm water cascading over me, the way it slides down my body, the slippery feel of soapy skin. My fingers stroked my clit just so, as I braced myself against the wall and bowed my back under the shower spray. The water beat against my body as I stroked and rocked and panted, my wet hair plastered to my face. I felt myself pitch forward as I clung to the edge of climax, and after I pulled my hand away I had to stand on shaky legs for several minutes before I could climb out of the shower to towel off. And I cursed Master in the privacy of my head for setting me up like this.
I arrived at work still feeling a little aroused, so session 2 took place there at my desk. I opened my legs as wide as I could while wearing slacks, then leaned back in my chair and let myself play. I was the first one there so I let myself moan and sigh and squirm. I ramped up to a level 8 right away and got a bit carried away, since the slamming of a car door startled me; one of my coworkers had arrived and I hadn't noticed. Oops. I snatched my hand out of my pants just before she opened the door, and sat there trying to look cool and composed despite my pounding heartbeat. I had to wait until she ducked into the hall to clock in before I could zip my slacks back up.
I left work early today and took my malfunctioning laptop to be fixed. After dropping it off, I sat in my car in the parking lot for session 3. It was cool out, overcast and grey, and I jumped a little when my cold fingers touched Master's pussy. I shivered, actually, but my fingers quickly warmed as I rubbed circles on my clit, that little nub of flesh spreading tingles through my body as my arousal built. I propped my elbow on the edge of the window and rested my chin in my palm. I panted through my fingers as I bore down on my clit with my other hand. I passed an 8, then tipped a 9,my hips were rocking steadily against my fingers and I had
the fleeting thought that I hoped the car was not shaking.
I felt myself shudder and wished that Master was there, pinning my hands above my head, his finger stroking me, not letting up until I exploded over his fingers. God, I wanted that.
I drove straight to the fitness center then, my breathing still erratic, my body tingling and Master's pussy aching fiercely in denial, again. My circuit training helped work out some of the tension in my body, and I was panting for a different reason when I finished. But I was still kinda ramped up, and session 4 took place as soon as I arrived at home. I stripped off my sweaty gym clothes, tossing them into the clothes basket, and pulled my white camisole back on. Then I knelt on the floor, my knees parted, and immediately began working my clit. I quickly got back to an 8, as I had never quite recovered from the last session, and leaned down, bracing my free hand on the floor. I felt my hips rock, again, and my heart pounded, again, and I got to level 9 .... and I didn't want to stop. I had spent a good chunk of the day in some level of arousal, and I was tired of being denied over and over. I dropped my hand and sat back up, but I was frustrated and unhappy - and I knew I had one more session to go.
For my 5th session, I chose to be as comfortable as possible, so I laid down on my bed. I like to bend my knees and press the soles of my feet together; that opens me up wide without straining any of my joints. My arm felt tired from being used so much, so I started out slowly, gently, taking time to play and enjoy instead of rushing right to high intensity. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting my fingers rub in lazy circles on my clit. Oh, yeah, that felt good. Mmmm. I felt myself heating up, arousal swirling through me, but languidly, peacefully, no hurry. But yes, there it was, the building of need, level 7, level 8, level 9. I tossed my head and rubbed myself faster, building up even more tension, more desire. I moaned softly then, and bucked my hips up. My arm ached, but I ignored it, being too wrapped up in the waves of desire rippling through me. 5 days of this, of skirting the edge of climax, and I wanted so badly to cum, to fall over that edge and revel in orgasmic bliss. What would I do to be allowed release? I gasped and panted and thought rather recklessly that I might even volunteer to wear a half-dozen stripes from Master's cane, if only he would let me cum .......
but he was not there to ask, so with one last stroke I pulled my hand away, curling into a ball and clenching my hands into fists while Master's pussy ached and throbbed, and I felt shaky and so, so frustrated. Just thinking about the next 2 days made me want to cry. Being horny nearly continuously is not as much fun as it sounds like.
All right, a quick recap of my latest task; Master decided that for a solid week I am to engage in masturbation sessions of increasing frequency, to be performed in different locations as prescribed by a list he gave me. As today is the 5th day of the task, I had to stimulate myself 5 times, without ever being allowed to cum. In the 4 previous days I had fulfilled all of the prescribed locations, so today I got to choose.
I started the day off in the shower. I love the feeling of warm water cascading over me, the way it slides down my body, the slippery feel of soapy skin. My fingers stroked my clit just so, as I braced myself against the wall and bowed my back under the shower spray. The water beat against my body as I stroked and rocked and panted, my wet hair plastered to my face. I felt myself pitch forward as I clung to the edge of climax, and after I pulled my hand away I had to stand on shaky legs for several minutes before I could climb out of the shower to towel off. And I cursed Master in the privacy of my head for setting me up like this.
I arrived at work still feeling a little aroused, so session 2 took place there at my desk. I opened my legs as wide as I could while wearing slacks, then leaned back in my chair and let myself play. I was the first one there so I let myself moan and sigh and squirm. I ramped up to a level 8 right away and got a bit carried away, since the slamming of a car door startled me; one of my coworkers had arrived and I hadn't noticed. Oops. I snatched my hand out of my pants just before she opened the door, and sat there trying to look cool and composed despite my pounding heartbeat. I had to wait until she ducked into the hall to clock in before I could zip my slacks back up.
I left work early today and took my malfunctioning laptop to be fixed. After dropping it off, I sat in my car in the parking lot for session 3. It was cool out, overcast and grey, and I jumped a little when my cold fingers touched Master's pussy. I shivered, actually, but my fingers quickly warmed as I rubbed circles on my clit, that little nub of flesh spreading tingles through my body as my arousal built. I propped my elbow on the edge of the window and rested my chin in my palm. I panted through my fingers as I bore down on my clit with my other hand. I passed an 8, then tipped a 9,my hips were rocking steadily against my fingers and I had
the fleeting thought that I hoped the car was not shaking.
I felt myself shudder and wished that Master was there, pinning my hands above my head, his finger stroking me, not letting up until I exploded over his fingers. God, I wanted that.
I drove straight to the fitness center then, my breathing still erratic, my body tingling and Master's pussy aching fiercely in denial, again. My circuit training helped work out some of the tension in my body, and I was panting for a different reason when I finished. But I was still kinda ramped up, and session 4 took place as soon as I arrived at home. I stripped off my sweaty gym clothes, tossing them into the clothes basket, and pulled my white camisole back on. Then I knelt on the floor, my knees parted, and immediately began working my clit. I quickly got back to an 8, as I had never quite recovered from the last session, and leaned down, bracing my free hand on the floor. I felt my hips rock, again, and my heart pounded, again, and I got to level 9 .... and I didn't want to stop. I had spent a good chunk of the day in some level of arousal, and I was tired of being denied over and over. I dropped my hand and sat back up, but I was frustrated and unhappy - and I knew I had one more session to go.
For my 5th session, I chose to be as comfortable as possible, so I laid down on my bed. I like to bend my knees and press the soles of my feet together; that opens me up wide without straining any of my joints. My arm felt tired from being used so much, so I started out slowly, gently, taking time to play and enjoy instead of rushing right to high intensity. I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, letting my fingers rub in lazy circles on my clit. Oh, yeah, that felt good. Mmmm. I felt myself heating up, arousal swirling through me, but languidly, peacefully, no hurry. But yes, there it was, the building of need, level 7, level 8, level 9. I tossed my head and rubbed myself faster, building up even more tension, more desire. I moaned softly then, and bucked my hips up. My arm ached, but I ignored it, being too wrapped up in the waves of desire rippling through me. 5 days of this, of skirting the edge of climax, and I wanted so badly to cum, to fall over that edge and revel in orgasmic bliss. What would I do to be allowed release? I gasped and panted and thought rather recklessly that I might even volunteer to wear a half-dozen stripes from Master's cane, if only he would let me cum .......
but he was not there to ask, so with one last stroke I pulled my hand away, curling into a ball and clenching my hands into fists while Master's pussy ached and throbbed, and I felt shaky and so, so frustrated. Just thinking about the next 2 days made me want to cry. Being horny nearly continuously is not as much fun as it sounds like.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Day 4
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So it's Day 4 of my weeklong task, and I am beginning to really struggle. I am afraid of what the next few days will be like.
My first masturbation session took place in front of a mirror. I chose to use the mirror in my office rest room, as it's quite large. I watched myself respond to my questing fingers, noting the way my back arched and my hips pushed forward, seeking even more contact. I saw how my skin flushed as my heart beat faster and my breathing picked up. I'm not one to admire myself, but I admit to being pleased with the way my reflection moved and trembled and bucked. I took myself to the edge, to a level 9 for sure, where I knew I would cum if I didn't stop right now. Then I leaned against the door and panted and ached and thought that my legs might not hold me up. Damn.
My second session of the day was in the parking lot of my son's school. I felt a little creepy, to be honest, with my hand in my panties as kids - and a couple of parents - walked past my car. It was warm, and between rain showers, so I had the windows half-way down, and I could hear the voices of those who passed me. My fingers stroked my clit in relentless circles, faster and harder, and I pressed my head back against the seat and bucked my hips up and moaned softly. Definitely a 9+ on the horniness scale. Oh, God, I wanted to cum, I could feel my climax hovering just right there ..... my body shuddered and for one heart-stopping moment I thought I might not be able to stop. Shit, shit, shit. I wished that Master was there, so I could beg him for permission to cum. I was so close it actually hurt, and that deep ache lasted for quite a while.
My third session took place in front of a window. I felt rather uncomfortable about that, truth be told. I'm not really an exhibitionist. But it was on Master's list, so I had to comply. I kept my blouse on, though; there was no requirement to be totally naked. I propped one knee on a chair and leaned one hand on the window frame to support myself. My body was still humming from my earlier session, so it took only a few minutes to ramp right back up to an 8-9 level. My leg was shaking, my arm sore from using it so much these past few days, and my body bowed forward when the first fluttering tendrils of impending climax tingled through me. I would have happily crawled on my hands and knees to sit at Master's feet, if only he would stroke his pussy and grant his whore release. I lifted my head, my breath coming in gasps, and saw a couple out walking their dog on the road in front of the house. My fingers curled into the window frame as I trembled and groaned and throbbed, being denied a third time.
For my fourth session, I had to choose a room that was not my bedroom or bathroom. Since I had laundry going anyway, I chose the laundry room. As the washer spun, I leaned back against the wall with my knees slighly bent, giving my fingers full access. As before, I hadn't yet totally recovered from my earlier sessions, so in just a few strokes I
was highly aroused and building toward climax. I dropped my head back against the wall as my hips rocked and my legs trembled. I quickly passed a level 9 and took a shaky breath as I dared push myself just a little bit further. My body snapped forward and I tore my hand away just in time. I groaned in frustration then; 3 more days of this is going to drive me insane. I curled into a ball on the floor and shook and waited for the awful tension to pass.
Yup, 3 more days ..... God help me.
So it's Day 4 of my weeklong task, and I am beginning to really struggle. I am afraid of what the next few days will be like.
My first masturbation session took place in front of a mirror. I chose to use the mirror in my office rest room, as it's quite large. I watched myself respond to my questing fingers, noting the way my back arched and my hips pushed forward, seeking even more contact. I saw how my skin flushed as my heart beat faster and my breathing picked up. I'm not one to admire myself, but I admit to being pleased with the way my reflection moved and trembled and bucked. I took myself to the edge, to a level 9 for sure, where I knew I would cum if I didn't stop right now. Then I leaned against the door and panted and ached and thought that my legs might not hold me up. Damn.
My second session of the day was in the parking lot of my son's school. I felt a little creepy, to be honest, with my hand in my panties as kids - and a couple of parents - walked past my car. It was warm, and between rain showers, so I had the windows half-way down, and I could hear the voices of those who passed me. My fingers stroked my clit in relentless circles, faster and harder, and I pressed my head back against the seat and bucked my hips up and moaned softly. Definitely a 9+ on the horniness scale. Oh, God, I wanted to cum, I could feel my climax hovering just right there ..... my body shuddered and for one heart-stopping moment I thought I might not be able to stop. Shit, shit, shit. I wished that Master was there, so I could beg him for permission to cum. I was so close it actually hurt, and that deep ache lasted for quite a while.
My third session took place in front of a window. I felt rather uncomfortable about that, truth be told. I'm not really an exhibitionist. But it was on Master's list, so I had to comply. I kept my blouse on, though; there was no requirement to be totally naked. I propped one knee on a chair and leaned one hand on the window frame to support myself. My body was still humming from my earlier session, so it took only a few minutes to ramp right back up to an 8-9 level. My leg was shaking, my arm sore from using it so much these past few days, and my body bowed forward when the first fluttering tendrils of impending climax tingled through me. I would have happily crawled on my hands and knees to sit at Master's feet, if only he would stroke his pussy and grant his whore release. I lifted my head, my breath coming in gasps, and saw a couple out walking their dog on the road in front of the house. My fingers curled into the window frame as I trembled and groaned and throbbed, being denied a third time.
For my fourth session, I had to choose a room that was not my bedroom or bathroom. Since I had laundry going anyway, I chose the laundry room. As the washer spun, I leaned back against the wall with my knees slighly bent, giving my fingers full access. As before, I hadn't yet totally recovered from my earlier sessions, so in just a few strokes I
was highly aroused and building toward climax. I dropped my head back against the wall as my hips rocked and my legs trembled. I quickly passed a level 9 and took a shaky breath as I dared push myself just a little bit further. My body snapped forward and I tore my hand away just in time. I groaned in frustration then; 3 more days of this is going to drive me insane. I curled into a ball on the floor and shook and waited for the awful tension to pass.
Yup, 3 more days ..... God help me.
Monday, April 21, 2014
Day 3
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So today is Day 3 of my latest task, so I was to masturbate three times, in three different places.
Place 1 was at work. I sat in my office chair at my desk and unzipped my slacks. I shifted my legs apart and worked my fingers into my panties. I was so dry at first that rubbing myself was actually unpleasant. That's kind of unusual for me, to be honest. It took a couple minutes to loosen up and get those juices going. I knew I might be in trouble when my finger swirled over my clit just so and my back arched against the chair involuntarily. I dropped my head back and exhaled on a soft groan. Damn. Another few strokes and I tried to open my legs wider, but they were constrained by my slacks. I pulled my fingers free, panting lightly, but wishing I had Master's permission to cum. I definitely reached a 7 on the horniness scale, lol.
Place 2 was at the gym, in the changing room. I had been in touch with Master during the day and received instructions on tweaking my task. I straddled the bench, my pants bunched loosely over my lap, and quickly began to stroke Master's pussy. This was not a time for hesitation or finesse; I was fearful that someone would walk in while I was playing, so I needed to attain my goal quickly. And it worked - in just a few minutes I was squirming, my hips rocking forward, my back arched. I became aware that I was making these whimpering, whining noises, but the tension I was feeling as my body sought release was too much to bear quietly. I wanted to cum, so badly, but Master was adamant that I skirt the edge without falling over, so I forced myself to stop. I slumped forward and gripped the bench with both hands, willing my heart to slow and my panting to ease. Master's pussy ached and throbbed, and I had the fleeting thought that this task is going to kill me. That had to be a 9+ on the horniness scale.
Place 3 was outside on my deck. I took a glass of Bailey's and watched the last rays of the sun as they disappeared behind the lake, a narrow strip of sky glowing gold, then pinky-blue, and fading to indigo. So as the houses around the lake began casting their lights to reflect off the water, I reached a hand to Master's pussy once more. It didn't take long until I was squirming and panting and rocking, moaning softly with my eyes closed, my body rushing quickly to release and relief. I was most definitely over a 9 on the horniness scale! Oh, please, please, I thought, please allow your whore to cum ... I thought maybe I would offer to let Master blindfold and gag me, if only he would let. Me. Cum, already. I sucked in a huge gasp of air and wrenched my hand out of my pants, my heart pounding in my chest, Master's pussy so ready for climax that it ached and clenched, once, and ached more. Damn it! I am not sure I will make it through all seven days of this. Even now, two hours later, I still feel achy.
So today is Day 3 of my latest task, so I was to masturbate three times, in three different places.
Place 1 was at work. I sat in my office chair at my desk and unzipped my slacks. I shifted my legs apart and worked my fingers into my panties. I was so dry at first that rubbing myself was actually unpleasant. That's kind of unusual for me, to be honest. It took a couple minutes to loosen up and get those juices going. I knew I might be in trouble when my finger swirled over my clit just so and my back arched against the chair involuntarily. I dropped my head back and exhaled on a soft groan. Damn. Another few strokes and I tried to open my legs wider, but they were constrained by my slacks. I pulled my fingers free, panting lightly, but wishing I had Master's permission to cum. I definitely reached a 7 on the horniness scale, lol.
Place 2 was at the gym, in the changing room. I had been in touch with Master during the day and received instructions on tweaking my task. I straddled the bench, my pants bunched loosely over my lap, and quickly began to stroke Master's pussy. This was not a time for hesitation or finesse; I was fearful that someone would walk in while I was playing, so I needed to attain my goal quickly. And it worked - in just a few minutes I was squirming, my hips rocking forward, my back arched. I became aware that I was making these whimpering, whining noises, but the tension I was feeling as my body sought release was too much to bear quietly. I wanted to cum, so badly, but Master was adamant that I skirt the edge without falling over, so I forced myself to stop. I slumped forward and gripped the bench with both hands, willing my heart to slow and my panting to ease. Master's pussy ached and throbbed, and I had the fleeting thought that this task is going to kill me. That had to be a 9+ on the horniness scale.
Place 3 was outside on my deck. I took a glass of Bailey's and watched the last rays of the sun as they disappeared behind the lake, a narrow strip of sky glowing gold, then pinky-blue, and fading to indigo. So as the houses around the lake began casting their lights to reflect off the water, I reached a hand to Master's pussy once more. It didn't take long until I was squirming and panting and rocking, moaning softly with my eyes closed, my body rushing quickly to release and relief. I was most definitely over a 9 on the horniness scale! Oh, please, please, I thought, please allow your whore to cum ... I thought maybe I would offer to let Master blindfold and gag me, if only he would let. Me. Cum, already. I sucked in a huge gasp of air and wrenched my hand out of my pants, my heart pounding in my chest, Master's pussy so ready for climax that it ached and clenched, once, and ached more. Damn it! I am not sure I will make it through all seven days of this. Even now, two hours later, I still feel achy.
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Day 2
This is an adult blog containing frank discussion of sexual situations
and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So today is Day 2 of my latest task as assigned by my Master. As such,
I was to masturbate twice in two separate locations.
The first location I chose was at a relative's home, where I had been
invited for Easter Sunday dinner. After a leisurely meal, complete with
wine and followed by coffee and dessert, I excused myself to the
bathroom, where I spent 5-6 minutes fondling Master's pussy. The
half bath opens to a bedroom as well as the hall; the door to the hall
was shut but not locked, while the door to the bedroom, as well as the
bedroom door remained open.
At the conclusion of my play, Master's pussy was juicy-wet, and quite
pleasantly tingly. On a scale of 1-10, I would rank my horniness level
at 4; it felt good, definitely left wanting more, but not so worked up that I
was uncomfortable returning to the dinner table. Though it is true that
I could feel some dampness in my panties.
Later in the evening I indulged in a hot bath - one of my favorite ways to
relax. I soaked in my bubbly water for 20 minutes or so, my skin below
the water line a bright red from the heat. And as I soaked, I debated
using that time as my second masturbation opportunity .... I do so
enjoy the sensuous feel of warm water lapping against my skin.
BUT no - Master's instructions said that I cannot repeat a location
until I have exhausted the list he gave me. So, until then, the
bathroom isn't an option. So I (rather reluctantly) hoisted myself
from the tub and drained the water. After drying off, I knew my poor
lobster skin needed lotion, even my breasts, which were red and
itchy from heat and dryness.
I slathered myself with a rich creamy lotion, then wandered to my
bedroom, where I laid on the bed to allow the lotion to absorb into
my skin. And that became my second masturbation session. My
fingers were still slightly slick from the lotion and slid so very
deliciously across my clit as I stroked myself, now pressing deeply
in tiny circles, now glancing lightly in wider strokes. I sighed in
pleasure as ripples of need and desire spiraled through me. I spent
only a handful of minutes in play, perhaps 7-8, but that was long
enough to send my horniness level to a 6 or so, where I was panting
just a little, and Master's pussy was producing enough juices to
coat my fingers.
I would have totally enjoyed being allowed to cum, after that; the
need, while not urgent, was definitely present, and it was not as
easy to just stop as it had been earlier.
This task lasts for a week. I have 5 days of ever-escalating sessions
ahead of me. I can see where this is going to really test me.
and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So today is Day 2 of my latest task as assigned by my Master. As such,
I was to masturbate twice in two separate locations.
The first location I chose was at a relative's home, where I had been
invited for Easter Sunday dinner. After a leisurely meal, complete with
wine and followed by coffee and dessert, I excused myself to the
bathroom, where I spent 5-6 minutes fondling Master's pussy. The
half bath opens to a bedroom as well as the hall; the door to the hall
was shut but not locked, while the door to the bedroom, as well as the
bedroom door remained open.
At the conclusion of my play, Master's pussy was juicy-wet, and quite
pleasantly tingly. On a scale of 1-10, I would rank my horniness level
at 4; it felt good, definitely left wanting more, but not so worked up that I
was uncomfortable returning to the dinner table. Though it is true that
I could feel some dampness in my panties.
Later in the evening I indulged in a hot bath - one of my favorite ways to
relax. I soaked in my bubbly water for 20 minutes or so, my skin below
the water line a bright red from the heat. And as I soaked, I debated
using that time as my second masturbation opportunity .... I do so
enjoy the sensuous feel of warm water lapping against my skin.
BUT no - Master's instructions said that I cannot repeat a location
until I have exhausted the list he gave me. So, until then, the
bathroom isn't an option. So I (rather reluctantly) hoisted myself
from the tub and drained the water. After drying off, I knew my poor
lobster skin needed lotion, even my breasts, which were red and
itchy from heat and dryness.
I slathered myself with a rich creamy lotion, then wandered to my
bedroom, where I laid on the bed to allow the lotion to absorb into
my skin. And that became my second masturbation session. My
fingers were still slightly slick from the lotion and slid so very
deliciously across my clit as I stroked myself, now pressing deeply
in tiny circles, now glancing lightly in wider strokes. I sighed in
pleasure as ripples of need and desire spiraled through me. I spent
only a handful of minutes in play, perhaps 7-8, but that was long
enough to send my horniness level to a 6 or so, where I was panting
just a little, and Master's pussy was producing enough juices to
coat my fingers.
I would have totally enjoyed being allowed to cum, after that; the
need, while not urgent, was definitely present, and it was not as
easy to just stop as it had been earlier.
This task lasts for a week. I have 5 days of ever-escalating sessions
ahead of me. I can see where this is going to really test me.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
7 Days
This is an adult blog and contains frank discussion of sexual situations and
BDSM themes.
So Master has assigned his sub a new task, which is really a series of tasks to
be completed over the next seven days. I am to detail each day's task as a
journal. Today is Day 1.
The task for today was to masturbate in a location chosen from a list of
approved locales. Given that each day's task builds on the previous day,
I chose to start off simple.
The location I chose was my bathroom, door unlocked. I stroked myself for
about 5 minutes, long enough to start feeling all turned on and needy, but
as I am not allowed to cum without Master's express permission, I stopped
before I felt too close to the edge.
So now Master's pussy is wanting to be filled, and I have a little bit of an
ache due to the denial, but it isn't too bad yet.I would judge my "horniness" level at around 3. I foresee having more
complex issues and feelings before this week long task ends.
BDSM themes.
So Master has assigned his sub a new task, which is really a series of tasks to
be completed over the next seven days. I am to detail each day's task as a
journal. Today is Day 1.
The task for today was to masturbate in a location chosen from a list of
approved locales. Given that each day's task builds on the previous day,
I chose to start off simple.
The location I chose was my bathroom, door unlocked. I stroked myself for
about 5 minutes, long enough to start feeling all turned on and needy, but
as I am not allowed to cum without Master's express permission, I stopped
before I felt too close to the edge.
So now Master's pussy is wanting to be filled, and I have a little bit of an
ache due to the denial, but it isn't too bad yet.I would judge my "horniness" level at around 3. I foresee having more
complex issues and feelings before this week long task ends.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Breathing Room, More or Less
This is an adult blog, with adult content, and it may contain detailed discussion of sexual situations and BDSM themes. Read at your own risk.
So anyone who's been reading this blog knows I am on a journey to discover my submissive self, to explore my sexual desires, limits and curiosities, and to find out how to balance all these sides of myself.
Sometimes I am more in tune with what I need, and sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own skin. And I don't always know what's going to trigger that stranger reaction.
Like this week, for example - my Dom has said that I am to follow a more healthy lifestyle, meaning, I am to incorporate a regular exercise routine and a more healthful eating style into my daily schedule. And that seems pretty simple, doesn't it? Just eat better and get some exercise. Add to that, it was a directive given to me by my Dom, so of course, as his sub, I am to do what I'm told.
And yet I have really been struggling with this. I did pretty well with my food choices for the first week or so, and then I started to slip a little - and then I was slipping a lot. I just thought, Well, I'm keeping my calories at about the right amount, so what does it matter if those calories come from potato chips, or a fast-food sandwich (hey, I skipped the fries), or a packaged meal? I rely heavily on box mixes and frozen foods - I have a regular office job, a son at home who needs to be picked up after school a couple times a week, and three dogs. I don't have time to spend hours cooking every night - nor do I have to energy or the desire, frankly. I'm not someone who loves to cook or finds it relaxing or whatever. No. I want to come home, throw something together, eat and be done with it.
Part of my new task-to-become-habit includes keeping a daily food journal, online, so that Master can access it whenever he wishes to check on my compliance. (That was an experience in itself, as I'm not really tech-minded and it took me a while to get that diary uploaded correctly.) However, once he reviewed it, he was not happy.
Here's where the "I don't know my trigger" part comes in. He wasn't horrible to me or anything, just really blunt and stern, but I felt smaller and smaller and less and less valued as he took me to task, until I became frustrated and kinda talked back to him. Umm, that's not a good idea, really, but once I opened my mouth this torrent of frustration and stubbornness and feelings of being overwhelmed came pouring out. And once I admitted to feeling so out of control (an odd thing for a sub, maybe, but there it is) then I started feeling uncertain about my own worth - like, if I give up control of even the basic things like food choices, doesn't that make me helpless and incapable of caring for myself? What kind of illness in me can't even make good food choices? I'm intelligent; I know an apple is better than chips, that simple foods cooked at home are better than fast food. I KNOW this; but I wasn't acting on it.
And don't even get me started on exercise! I hate it, hate it, hate it. I've done the gym thing three times, in three different cities, and each time I'm just miserable, so I stop going. And I was fighting Master about that, too. Good Lord, I flat-out told him I would not be a good candidate for this, and that I'll most likely fail. He was less than thrilled with me, to be sure.
So where did all of this stubbornness come from?? Why was I choosing to fight about this, which really is such a simple thing to do for Master? It's not like he was asking me to do anything which could hurt me; on the contrary, by following his guidance I would experience an improvement in my overall well-being. So why?
And then I figured out that by accepting Master's word in this, by giving him control of such simple tasks as what I eat and how I exercise, I am more completely surrendering my own will to him, placing myself even more fully under his care and control, taking another clear step along the path toward more total submission. And THEN I realized that I do this almost every time he asks me to give up more of myself to him (and that that is why I get flustered; I still struggle with the "what becomes of ME when I have completely surrendered?" question).
So then, as I always do, I need to step back and take a couple days to process things and work through my issues, and then I can put aside the doubts and the fears and continue on. And that's what has happened this week, also; I needed a bit of time to come to terms with what it means for me, and then I am able to move forward and be content. I'm back on track with my food, and while I'm not loving the idea of exercise sessions, I'm not whining about them anymore, either. I think I will be able to fulfill Master's commands, now, and benefit from the improvement in my physical health.
So anyone who's been reading this blog knows I am on a journey to discover my submissive self, to explore my sexual desires, limits and curiosities, and to find out how to balance all these sides of myself.
Sometimes I am more in tune with what I need, and sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own skin. And I don't always know what's going to trigger that stranger reaction.
Like this week, for example - my Dom has said that I am to follow a more healthy lifestyle, meaning, I am to incorporate a regular exercise routine and a more healthful eating style into my daily schedule. And that seems pretty simple, doesn't it? Just eat better and get some exercise. Add to that, it was a directive given to me by my Dom, so of course, as his sub, I am to do what I'm told.
And yet I have really been struggling with this. I did pretty well with my food choices for the first week or so, and then I started to slip a little - and then I was slipping a lot. I just thought, Well, I'm keeping my calories at about the right amount, so what does it matter if those calories come from potato chips, or a fast-food sandwich (hey, I skipped the fries), or a packaged meal? I rely heavily on box mixes and frozen foods - I have a regular office job, a son at home who needs to be picked up after school a couple times a week, and three dogs. I don't have time to spend hours cooking every night - nor do I have to energy or the desire, frankly. I'm not someone who loves to cook or finds it relaxing or whatever. No. I want to come home, throw something together, eat and be done with it.
Part of my new task-to-become-habit includes keeping a daily food journal, online, so that Master can access it whenever he wishes to check on my compliance. (That was an experience in itself, as I'm not really tech-minded and it took me a while to get that diary uploaded correctly.) However, once he reviewed it, he was not happy.
Here's where the "I don't know my trigger" part comes in. He wasn't horrible to me or anything, just really blunt and stern, but I felt smaller and smaller and less and less valued as he took me to task, until I became frustrated and kinda talked back to him. Umm, that's not a good idea, really, but once I opened my mouth this torrent of frustration and stubbornness and feelings of being overwhelmed came pouring out. And once I admitted to feeling so out of control (an odd thing for a sub, maybe, but there it is) then I started feeling uncertain about my own worth - like, if I give up control of even the basic things like food choices, doesn't that make me helpless and incapable of caring for myself? What kind of illness in me can't even make good food choices? I'm intelligent; I know an apple is better than chips, that simple foods cooked at home are better than fast food. I KNOW this; but I wasn't acting on it.
And don't even get me started on exercise! I hate it, hate it, hate it. I've done the gym thing three times, in three different cities, and each time I'm just miserable, so I stop going. And I was fighting Master about that, too. Good Lord, I flat-out told him I would not be a good candidate for this, and that I'll most likely fail. He was less than thrilled with me, to be sure.
So where did all of this stubbornness come from?? Why was I choosing to fight about this, which really is such a simple thing to do for Master? It's not like he was asking me to do anything which could hurt me; on the contrary, by following his guidance I would experience an improvement in my overall well-being. So why?
And then I figured out that by accepting Master's word in this, by giving him control of such simple tasks as what I eat and how I exercise, I am more completely surrendering my own will to him, placing myself even more fully under his care and control, taking another clear step along the path toward more total submission. And THEN I realized that I do this almost every time he asks me to give up more of myself to him (and that that is why I get flustered; I still struggle with the "what becomes of ME when I have completely surrendered?" question).
So then, as I always do, I need to step back and take a couple days to process things and work through my issues, and then I can put aside the doubts and the fears and continue on. And that's what has happened this week, also; I needed a bit of time to come to terms with what it means for me, and then I am able to move forward and be content. I'm back on track with my food, and while I'm not loving the idea of exercise sessions, I'm not whining about them anymore, either. I think I will be able to fulfill Master's commands, now, and benefit from the improvement in my physical health.
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