deeper

I am very tired tonight.

He sent me home with the kiss of the flogger on my skin, strips of leather imprinted across my bottom. His hand and a  small paddle with three hearts on it leaving their evidence of his presence. He has sent me home with the nipple clamps in my pocket. The bite of the clover is a struggle for me. He has sent me home with no instruction, just an insistence that I take them. They jangle in my pocket as I walk (gingerly, though not from what that might imply) to my car.

There have been changes in me the most earth shattering, I have gone from not being able to entertain the word Sir to using it (a lot).

"Yes Sir, No Sir, Three bags full Sir! Jump Sir? How high Sir?"

It almost feels natural, almost. I have lost the ability to call him by his name. I have not been able to use his name for a long time but until now there has been nothing to replace it. (remember..not a 'good' sub).  He gauged me well, he never insisted on Sir, Lord or Master, not like some.

"Call me what you want to call me. It doesn't matter. It will come when it does."

I am feeling a little more of what might be described as 'his girl'. Could it be because the secret tryst is drawing me in. Arse up restrained with a bar fastening my ankles, hands reaching through and back between by legs, you know the position. An under bust corset. Breasts hanging pressed against the same surface my face lay on. Panting. He made me cum with Mr Buzzy. His tongue doing unspeakable things to my exposed arse *shy blush and eyes down cast*. He made me cum  like the roaring forties after begging his permission, calling for Daddy!  The kinky lil bitch comes out to play when unspeakable things done to her body and mind.

property of  photographer (unknown) sourced from the interweb

aftermath

He'll never read this, not here, but I will tell him..


I was exhausted last night.


Today I am very sore...muscles and the sting in my arse.


Cumming so much has left all my muscles reminding me of my adventure.
There are marks, pretty marks. I looked down and saw the red stripes across my breasts and I knew I had walked out of the fantasy to exactly where I needed to be.
I loved cumming, collapsing into you, supported by you, though I tried my hardest to remain standing.

It was great fun..I had soooo much fun. Was it supposed to be that much fun? I feel like a new addiction has begun. I have found my drug. I need it like air, this thing we called submission. I didn't feel particularly sub-like though. I was just having too much fun being cheeky and bratty, though I suspect I paid for it in an extra stroke or two.


My nipples are VERY sore, I had been warned about clover clamps, but I guess I didn't have much choice when all was said and done...OUCH!

I didn't think you were particularly rough. I think you were taking it easy on me. More please Sir. I wonder if you may have been caught off guard by my laughter and ...well frankly sense of  joy and just forgot to be too rough ..lol..it was so much fun though. This kinky little chick also loved the tears. That gammit of emotional places to which you lead me.


I came home and had a bath nursing the sting in my arse and the memories in my minds eye, tears rolled from my eyes from the release I felt. So much attention from you. I felt very selfish.


It was exactly what I needed, where I needed to be and so much more than I expected. Relief in being allowed to let go, and I did let go. Relief in being allowed to be who I want to be, who I am, deep inside.


The picture could have been me. The flogger, the heels, the wriggly lil girl. Squirming, writhing, avoiding. With each stroke the sting became more acute. Then the spank of your hand propelling me forward. Your touch caressing, soothing the sting., wiping the tears from my cheek. 

Thank you...so much x

Sir is not Master

Michael wrote a comment that cut like a hot knife to the core of my dilemma on the last post

Everyone has to find their own balance, but I know my slave/wife Serafina would say this is an example of why an individual can't truly ever serve but a single Dom/Master/Mistress.

When you say that "non-Dom" takes precedence, it should become clear that Sir is a dominant play partner but not truly a Master. By definition, a true Master would always take precedence . . .

At first this comment caused me swoop down, dragging my chin on the ground as the impossibility of what I am searching for sank into my psyche. Michael is very very right and I know it. I have always known it. Somehow I hoped I could experience serving (to use the popular vernacular) a Master-Sir while still honouring my non-Dom.

Nope, can't be done. The best I can hope for is to learn through play. To pretend to serve (that vernacular again). The Master-Sir will be a 'Dominant play partner' nothing more, nothing less. Is this then a reason to risk the happiness of my non-Dom? I broached the subject with non-Dom (who by the way has begun to control the pantie issue with some amount of structure!). On advice from another source (Ty Daddy), I explained to non-Dom that if he was able to really step up, to take the bull by the horns, control the slut by the short and curly's, the delicious little whore would quite possibly not ever feel the need to search for another. His answer surprised me..made me a little hot and again gave me that permission I have courted for a very long time.

'There's something about sending you off to be used, punished by another man who will send you back to me red arsed, that I like...a lot'

I do love it when my non-Dom expresses his kink.

So, I agree 100% with Michael's and Serafina's point. I don't like it but i agree with it. Unfortunately not everyone and I am included amongst this unfortunate lot, has had the luck to find the One who is their significant other AND their Dom/Master/Mistress. Ours is a fate that does not hold with it the perfect conditions to 'truly ever serve but a single Dom/Master/Mistress.'

Bill Brandt: Camden Hill

waiting to serve

The knock on the door made her shiver. The hairs on her skin stood erect forced to attention by the goosebumps. She was not cold, He had made sure the fire in the drawing room was roaring.

She stood in corner of the drawing room, waiting as instructed. Her hands were clasped at the elbows behind her back effecting the proud push of her breasts. The curve of her plump hip accentuated her slit separating her bare mound. Her delicate silver collar which she wore daily in public had been replaced tonight by Daddy. Her neck was now ringed with wide heavy leather. An O ring in front at her throat was adorned with a short chain leash that hung between her breasts. Her nipples were pink and matched the blush of her plain full lips. She was visiting Daddy's home, he said she was to be a special treat for his friends. A couple whom Daddy and his wife had cultivated and shared intimate moments.

Daddy's wife Ginny rested on the couch reading a magazine. She was indifferent to the girl as she stood not 10 feet from her. Daddy's girl was an fine piece of furniture, a lamp to light the corner of the room. Ginny never paid too much attention to her husbands girl except when he instructed her to do so. She was more excited about her friends arriving to share the evening Sir and she had planned.

The girl couldn't keep her eyes from Ginny's perfection. She admired the way she held herself. Sir had chosen Ginny above all women to keep and love. The girl loved Ginny for that reason. Everything Ginny did in the girl's eye was perfect. The way she held the magazine in her hand was as expert and gentle as the way she wielded the crop when Sir instructed her to redden his girl's arse. Daddy's girl was nothing but pleased to be submissive to his wife. To hold a place second to his wife made the girl wet and shiver just to think of it. She watched Ginny lost in her magazine, so full of grace and perfect in her submission to Sir. Her breasts were free under the sheer blouse she wore for the evening, her  round pink nipples traced by the fall of the fabric. The girl could see the rose perfection of Ginny's areolar. It made her shiver to be reminded of her lips exploring Ginny's nipples.

The knock on the door pulled her sharply from her reverie. Ginny looked up at their entertainment for the evening meeting the girls eyes. A smile at the corners of her mouth sent a shiver of excitement through the girl, the throb in her pussy had begun.

Daddy entered the room, his commanding energy unmistakable. He walked across the room to his girl. His hand slid between her thighs. "Slick. You are my little slut aren't you? Now go and let our guests in, they have been waiting long enough."

The girl moved to the door, she was nervous, excited and a little embarrassed. She didn't know what to expect, she has never been shared like this before, never on show! She had always been for the private use of Daddy and his wife should he wish it. Now he was opening her, exposing her to his friends, strangers to her. She trusted that Daddy would keep her safe. She trusted that he would never allow her to be harmed. She trusted Daddy with everything. There was a nagging doubt though, this exposure was almost terrifying to her, but the excitement she felt was undeniable.

She opened the door, naked as the day she was born, except of course for the collar, Daddy's collar. Her eyes were lowered. She couldn't look at them, not directly but she could feel the couple's eye travelling over her body. She wondered if she might be touched now.

Daddy moved up behind her greeting his guests. 'I mentioned I would have a surprise for you this evening."

"Mmm. Yes, this is going to be a pleasure!" the male guest said. His wife passed the girl behind her husband, reaching her cool hand out she brushed the girls nipples with her delicate touch and a quick pinch sending a thrill through Daddy's girl.

"Now Darling, we haven't been invited to touch."

waiting to serve  - artist unknown

begging

Hello Sir

I have returned after exercise and showered. I did not dress as requested, and finished some household chores, took breakfast and now ...

I sit on the floor, my legs wide, bent at the knees my feet either side of the laptop, on display for you. This position reminds me of Schroeder as he sits at his toy piano in the Charlie brown series I loved when I was a much littler girl. My breasts hang squeezed between my arms as I type. My nipples a little erect and I'm not really sure if that's the cold or the excitement I feel at the moment.

I feel the chill of the spring air. The sky is blue through the three open windows and the sun is returning after the long winter.

My hair hangs in wet waves to just past my shoulders and I stroke the skin of my bare legs down to my toes and up again to my inner thighs, lingering for just a moment on my displayed pussy. Trying not to be distracted...back to the task at hand! 

Sir

I want to submit.
I need to submit.
I want to bend to you.
Bow to your will.
Please will you accept my submission to you.
To be guided, to be held, to be subdued by your strength, by your calmness and surety.
Please will you to take my control from me to your own control.

Teach, train or mentor me in any way you choose.

Take pleasure from me and in me.

Let me submit and serve.

Let me call you Sir, my Daddy, to have me for whatever you see I need.

Let me sit naked at your feet, my head on your knee.

I trust you in all these things.

via imarumblr@tumblr.com
(artist unknown to me, if anyone knows please let me know for proper acknowledgement)

Q&A 2: Doms in my life?

A discussion with a correspondent highlighted and clarified some further self reflection for me...the below is posted with permission

Hello

Your next set of questions..my online Doms? I have had many conversations with what seems like scores of men, but few become longer term ongoing connections. I could easily count on one hand the men who hold a place in my heart. There is one man who has been special and this contact is such a slowly developing one that it is difficult to describe. For the most part I find it is very difficult to find the right man online. To sort the chaff from the grain. I am cautious and this works well to sift out the men who are 'pretenders'. It also sifts out the men who have no patience to wait for me with my caution. So really there have been a very small handful of men who I have called 'Dom' in my life.

This journey for me has only been happening in the relatively recent past, the last 12 -18 months really, and I am very inexperienced. There have been men that I have spoken with, who I have taken learning from but only a very few who have suited me, made me feel that buzz, that thing that makes me want to curl into them and get lost in them.


I spoke with one man very early on. He took his time and was very patient in encouraging me to submit to him. I became quite attached to him but he disappeared quite suddenly and with out explanation. This is a danger of the online connections and as a result I have never actively looked for long term connection online, but if it has happened it is all the sweeter. Due also to my natural caution, I have been quite passive in pursuing further conversations or chats and ongoing online 'relationships'. I will happily stay in touch, but do not pursue men to fulfil the need in me. Having said that if the right man happens along and leads, I will follow.


I have discovered relatively recently that I prefer the Daddy / girl dynamic and I called one man Daddy. This was short lived. He was wonderful but fast with what he needed from me and though he said I was able to give it to him, and more, I never really felt I did. I felt anxious with him, like I was swept into a whirlwind, unsure of the flurry of activity he created around me with his demands. When I confessed to him that I was feeling love for my husband again, he let me go. This hurt a little, but I did not fight it, preferring the natural way of things to play out. Perhaps too I knew he was not right for me.


I have a connection with one man which has been developing over the last year and which is very hard to define. We 'lose' each other due to timezone differences, the vagaries of the Internet, our own lives, work and what I perceived as his disinterest in the beginning. We always come back together somehow and at the moment we have been in contact for a long period.


He is the man I am most connected to. He is the one I would do anything for if he asked it, demanded it (and have so far). He has engaged in D/s lifestyles, but we began in play without any particular emphasis on D/s, though we certainly stepped outside the bounds of conventional vanilla play. We have acknowledged that there is some strange and fundamental connection between us, we are alike. I may not talk with him for weeks in some instances but when he pops up again in some chat site, I know him instantly. In this instance, with this man, there is something unusual which connects us.


At a time when I was unaware of this world (ttwd), he hinted at things, but was really quite unconcerned about names and labels as he led me along this path. He led me further as he saw me investigate and discover these delicious treats for myself. He has only recently used the word 'Master' with me. He is not purely a 'Daddy' and he is not purely a stern task master. He has not required explicitly for me to be 'owned' by him. He has not yet demanded I called him Sir, Master or Daddy. He has not required that I submit to him and him alone. In all these things though I feel completely his. I am his and his alone, though I believe he does not expect this. I feel safe with him. I feel respected, cared for and I feel owned by him. When he did use the word 'Master' for the first time (very recently) in reference to himself over me, it was not a threatening word to me, as it has been up to now. It felt right and I realised I had already known this for sometime. However, he has always given me the freedom to seek out other men, in fact, he requires it and loves that self in me that 'keeps searching' he calls it.


There is one other, who found me through our creative pursuits. He saw in me what I hide from that world in which we both move. In fact, he read me like a book through some art I create and post online. This is an ill defined liaison also. Sometimes, and most recently he has surprised me with his expectations of me, though he knows about the man i have described above. My liaison with him is a most dangerous one. He knows me, though my life outside ttwd. I have always worked to keep these two worlds very separate and he brings them together, both exciting and intimidating.


Of course I feel I can only 'belong' to one man. The man who doesn't demand exclusive rites is the one I feel the nature of 'belonging' to most. I suspect that is because he lets me fly to discover and play, he knows I will always return to him. Others demand exclusivity and because of the nature of online pursuits and my obligations to my husband, I am not free to give myself to someone who demands this. Maybe this will change..I know myself well enough to know that if this ever became physical with either of these two men, I would be completely owned. My heart lives in my vagina, quietly but profoundly.


I have found the final part of your question the most challenging, what do they make me do? I find I am a little shy to describe these things, save to say their demands on me have been and are discrete, not public, as they consider my relationship status and respect and care for that. In that way these men have always looked after me and my family.


Finally, a training programme? This is where my inexperience has played a fundamental role. I don't know what a training programme looks like, but I have always chosen connections with mature (40 +) experienced Dom men. Men who understand my situation and who respect it. Men who have experience enough not to push in the beginning but to wait for me developing trust, gently encouraging me and pushing when necessary. Men who possess a keen intellect and who can challenge mine. That is exactly why the two men at the present moment have been around for the past 12 months or more and why others have fallen quite quickly by the wayside. They understand the need to build trust first and are not men who assume that because I am on a sub journey, I will lay down and roll over because wear their label 'Dom'. With both of these men however, the journey has been slow and I don't know the future directions to be taken.


Lx

my task

so...

I waited until later that night to do what you 'asked', what you expected.

I crawled into bed next to my sleeping husband. My hand slid down over my stomach, tugging slightly on the piercing in my belly button, over my smooth mound and quite nicely onto my little pleasure button moist with the anticipation of cumming in the dark, silently, for you, not for me, not for him.

Round and round, I wished I could have used my little purple buzzy beast, but the noise and activity was sure to wake him and frankly, I was a little tired, so too much leaping about was something that I wanted to avoid.


I became breathless and very aroused quite quickly, my mind drifting to "Seattle" and white hot thoughts of a man, a fantasy I had been playing with for some time now. In an instant you were there with me, standing over me in the dark, watching my slippery cunt, my fingers working for you. I imagined the silence you stood in, smiling slightly, hard as steel, sniffing the air and the drift of my scent to your nostrils, knowing that I was doing what you wanted, what you demanded, while I lay next to my husband, the man I fuck every day.


My toes began to curl, my legs grew taut as every muscle in them clenched bringing me closer to the edge. So very wet as I imagined you there, heard your voice in my head.


Your smooth voice, deep, strong and so bloody sexy. Filled with confidence in every word you say, not sleazy, just sure of every word you utter. That's half the attraction I think, your voice that can take me to those pretty places, with such confidence, like a play rehearsed a million times. You never stumble over those words. You always know what's coming next. You never appear to feel uncomfortable uttering things that belong better to a porn movie than to my everyday life. You are always present, in that moment, as if you exist for that, to be uttering those words across the distance to me, where I exist only to respond to them. It's all very sexy, potent.


As my head played all these thoughts, something unintentional happened. My husband stirred, rolled toward me and found me pleasuring myself for you, though I believe he didn't see you standing over me and he certainly didn't see your hand resting on my belly, palm pressing on my mound, nor your long fingers splayed down to my clit.


His hand moved to my round ample breasts, flicking at my hard nipples. I felt a little disgruntled at first. Pushing him away didn't seem an option as clearly, I was close to coming. I was looking forward to coming. A silent coming somehow builds more energy for my pussy. Energy unable to escape from my mouth is diverted to my pussy, making my orgasm electric. Then afterwards, slight nausea as I try to catch my breath in quiet, controlled, dizzy, chest heaving, bottom tingling. But now with him stirring it was unlikely I was going to be able to get to complete my task and sleep quickly.


His hand moved to squeeze my throat. He pushed his face into my cheeky, his hot breath on my ear. I felt his hard, hot, cock on my thigh. I knew I was going to be fucked. I closed my eyes, I kept you there, your hand round my throat, your hot breath in my ear, your voice telling me to come, your hand sliding around my clit, so close to coming.


A gush and a hurry, his hand squeezing tighter round my throat, (something I love, the shame of admitting that makes my cunt tingle even now - all those things that nice girls are expected to deny exist in themselves), I came, his hand moving over my mouth, 'shhhh' growled in my ear.


Hardly having time to finish my orgasm, your orgasm, to its conclusion, he flipped me onto my stomach, pushed my head into the mattress, thrust my legs apart with his knee and pushed himself inside so forcefully, I let out a cry muffled by the mattress. FUCK!, that was a surprise! His hands on my head holding me down, his forearms pinning me under his full weight on my back. Pulling slowly out and then in again, gaining strength speed and depth. My agitation at him interrupting my 'task' was dissipating, especially as he had chosen the method I most liked (mind you he rarely chooses any other these days; the genie is out of the bottle).


It became quite clear that at that moment I was lost in his need, I was being used, I was there to serve his desire. Objectification...oh my my. I was still breathless, still dizzy, and being fucked in the most deliciously unexpected way. I smiled into the mattress and wondered at your approval, then, the most primal cry came from him and he collapsed into me...pulling my hair away from my neck, soft lips kissing it gently, he rolled off me, cum spilled from my pussy...gathering me in his arms...my thoughts drifting to you..hmm I don't think this is quite what you expected from me... sleep.