Saturday, 5 November 2011


One of my Master’s new favorite games to play he calls “Gullibility.”  It’s probably one of his most simple ideas really – he puts me into trance and then just tells me that everything that he asks me to do I will find completely normal and not at all strange.  He includes that he can ask questions about how I feel about these things and I will also find that normal.  It will all be reasonable and normal, no matter what.  It’s the playing equivalent of a cop inside my head constantly saying “nothing to see here” while standing by 3 murdered bodies. 

This evening he decided he wanted to play, so he put me in ‘gullible’ mode and asked me, so very nonchalantly, to take off all my clothes from the waist down (which I did without wonder) and then to start rubbing my cunt as he and I talked (which I also did.)  When he has me in this mode he takes great delight in asking things like “and this doesn’t seem at all odd?” specifically because he then gets to hear me answer “no, not at all.  Why would it?” while simultaneously fucking myself. 

“And if someone were to come to the door to, say, deliver a package – what would you do then?” he asked

“I’d go to and answer the door.”  I replied.

“Like this?  Naked from the waist down and fucking your cunt with your hand?”

“Of course.”  And then, as an after thought “but I’d have to shift and start fucking myself with my left hand since I really couldn’t sign with my left.”  Always practical, even when fucking myself in front of a total stranger.

Although I, by design, didn’t find it strange at all to be fucking myself while we chatted I did find it more challenging to keep up my end of the conversation sometimes, as it was still a very hot sensation and therefore distracting.  When I apologized to him for not keeping up my end of the conversation, as I was a little distracted by the nice feelings coming from my cunt, he solved the problem by telling me that for the next while I should just sit quietly and not say anything.  Of course I was not to stop diddling myself – oh no.  So there I sat, my cunt getting sloppy enough by this point that he could probably hear the slurping sound of my finger going in and out, in and out.  I think it was about here where I also began to breath a bit heavier. 

After we’d sat a few more minutes my Master asked how I was doing, and I mentioned that I was doing quite well.  Though I didn’t find it odd to be fucking myself while chatting I did find it a very good, good feeling on my privates.  We talked a bit about how I’d just keep doing this all night long if he wanted (and I would have), even in front of strangers should the situation arise, and from this he asked a new question.  “Sounds like something that a dirty slut would do, doesn’t it?”

Though I’d not have described myself as that up to that moment once I heard his extremely reasonable voice say it I knew that it had to be true:  I was a dirty slut.  Once we’d established that fact he asked for other concepts that came to mind when thinking about a dirty slut.  “Oh, you know,” I started – when in this state I somehow just know that it amuses him to hear me say these kinds of things in a completely average, almost bored or matter-of-fact voice – “a woman who will fuck anybody or anything, and is completely up for anything as long as it is sex.”  As I thought about it a bit more, though, I realized that was just the definition of a slut.  I still needed to account for the ‘dirty’ part.  “I suppose since I’m a dirty slut I will do any disgusting, humiliating thing as well, as long as it means I get to fuck.”  That gained me a little chuckle from my Master, as well as a bit of praise for a solid definition.  But he wasn’t even close to done yet.

“So with that idea in mind tell me what sorts of scenarios that brings to mind.”  I didn’t understand the question.  “What kind of solutions that could provide?” he tried again.  I locked onto his use of the word solution and wondered: ‘what problem were we solving?’  When I voiced this confusion he provided me a solution to solve.  “You’ve been wanting to spend money on a new laptop, and yet money is tight.  Does the knowledge now that you’re just a dirty slut provide a solution to that?” he asked, his voice the very definition of breezy.  But then I knew what he meant and I ran with it.

“Oh sure,” I started, “I see where you’re headed with this.  Sure, it would be a really good way to make extra cash to have me fuck guys for money.”  It felt as though I were the first person to ever have this idea.  “I’m not sure how to go about it, but I’m sure it would be lucrative as hell.”

“And you have no issues with that?” he asked.

“No, that seems like it would be a good solution, like you said.  You wouldn’t mind if I fucked other guys?”  As always my first and last concerns were for him.

“Well you’d be doing it on my command, wouldn’t you?”  I agreed, of course.  “Well then no, I wouldn’t mind in that case.”

I sat quietly, a constant squelching noise now coming from my wet cunt as I continued to plow in and out.  After a minute I thought to ask him “Wait, so are you telling me that I should?  Did you just command me to do that?”  I wanted to be sure I hadn’t missed a pivotal moment, as I am always eager to follow his commands.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to do so?”

“Well, it will solve the money problem we’ve been having…  Yeah, I guess I do.” 

“Good then.  I’ll go ahead and put the ad in the paper then.  So, what do you think it should say?”  I thought about this a little as my hand continued to chug away in and out of my soggy cunt.  Being the writer of the couple it seemed like I should be able to craft this well.

“Hmmm.  Something like ‘Dirty, disgusting slut available for rent.  Willing to do anything...’ well, I was going to name a few kinds of sex, but I guess that just highlights the ‘slut’ part.  But we need to highlight the dirty, disgusting part, so we should talk about those kinds of things… ‘Willing to do any dirty, disgusting act including…”  There I faltered, my humility rearing it’s head and fighting with the version of me that he was crafting now.  I hemmed and hawed a little here until my Master gave me a nudge, asking what I was thinking.  “I was considering what extreme things I could do, being a disgusting, dirty slut.  Like, I was going to say ‘will do all disgusting, dirty things including anal sex, golden showers and…’ I’m not sure what to include there.”  Master was not going to give me any suggestions – his enjoyment came from seeing what kind of holes I would dig for myself.  I did not disappoint.  “Oh, I guess another good one would be gang bangs.  ‘Will do all disgusting, dirty things including anal, golden showers and gang bangs.  Contact her Master to schedule.’ And then we’d use one of your many email addresses I suppose?”

“Sounds good, sounds good.  And you’re good with fucking several men at once?”  If I’d been able to truly pay attention I would have heard that smile in his voice and known he was luring me down a hole.  But he’d removed me of that attention, and so down the hole I went. 

“Well it seems like that would be something that we’d be able to charge more money for, so that would be a very good idea.  And since I am a dirty slut it’s certainly something I’d do, so…”

Our conversation went on and on like this.  We determined that my worthless body could fetch only a pitiful $50 an hour, and that I’d devote four hours a night to this new side-job, with all nighters being scheduled on Fridays and Saturdays.  Obviously I’d have to give up all the things that normally take up evening hours, and that I’d go ahead and tell my friends and family the true reason that I would no longer be available – that I was going to be fucking strangers for money from now on, since I was a dirty slut.  “After all,” Master reasoned, “you have told me how they always accept you for who you are, and that’s exactly what you are.”  And of course this also sounded perfectly reasonable.

I would collect the money, but as we talked I reasoned that, although I’d like the money for purchases I’ve had to put off, since I was his worthless slave and he my amazing Master really I didn’t deserve any of the money.  That it was much more reasonable for he to get all the money that I might earn.  “Tell you what,” he offered, showing his generosity.  “You’ll get the money and send it to me.  But if you want any of that money for something you can just beg me for it.  Sound right?”  And, of course, it did.

As our conversation continued on and on my Master would periodically ask me to recap what we’d decided so far because it pleased him to hear me tell him, in the most reasonable and measured of voices, how we planned to have me fuck strangers night after night for money that I would send to him and beg for.  How I’d specialize in fucking groups, such as bachelor parties, making sure that each of the clients got several chances to nail me in any hole that they wanted so they’d know they got their money’s worth.  And how I’d do all of this happily to please and serve him because that was my entire purpose in life, and was the thing I most wanted to do.

And all the while I lay on the floor, his voice pouring into my ears from the headphones as my hand never stopped thrusting in and out of my pussy.  We’d talked for so long and my work had never slowed, so by now my poor pussy was sloppy with wet, my hand thick with my enjoyment.  A puddle had formed under my ass as I leaked and leaked, but though I knew I was enjoying the feel of my constant fucking I never thought to question it.  My Master had asked me to do it, and that meant that it made perfect sense to do so.

Our conversation moved on to include my sexy best friend, and the idea that when next Master was in town we should arrange for him to finally put her under his will as well.  Once under his control he could turn her into a slut too, which would double his profits as she also began to sell her body for him.  “Did you make me a slut, Master, or was I already this way?” 

“Oh I made you into a dirty slut.  Before that you were a normal person.  You don’t mind that I did that, do you?” he asked me so casually.

“Of course not.” I replied.  “I was just curious.”  And then, as an afterthought, “And thank you for turning me into this, Master.”

I don’t remember all of the details of our conversation anymore.  I remember that by the end we had a plan that would be bringing thousands of dollars to my Master a week while giving me the opportunity to show what a completely disgusting slut he’d made me, utterly willing to do any low, humiliating, dirty thing any person might ask for.  Once we had the plan well set, including my hearing him typing away on his end, ostensibly placing the ad in the paper as we spoke, Master had me lie back.

“Now I want you to fuck yourself hard and deep, as hard and deep as you can.  You’re going to do that until I tell you to cum.  Do you understand?”  I did, and I did as he commanded.  I have no idea how long I lay there, plowing my two fingers deep into my cunt over and over, a sloppy squelch coming loudly from each thrust.  I lie there, imagining myself surrounded by strange men, each of them cramming their cocks into whichever of my holes they wanted, using me for their enjoyment so that I could obey my Master.  I fucked and fucked until finally I heard him give me that amazing permission.  As I finally came I felt wave after wave of tremendous release, floating down to the floor after all of that and lying there panting and thanking him over and over. 

And then, and only then, did he let me have my full mind back.  I was gullible no more.  At least until the next time he wants to play with me.

Monday, 24 October 2011

Our ABCs of BDSM

As Master and I are coming back to our dynamic we're building much more structure around things, one of the ideas we've both shared is a return to writing. But of course that requires of my Master a constant stream of assignments, and I don't want him to feel burdened. When thinking about how to ease my Master's burden I came up with my own assignment: to build this list of our ABCs of BDSM. Now I know that there are some very classic words that many members of our uber-kinky community would add to such a list, such as "pain" for P or "enema" for E. These are wonderful things for those folks who enjoy them, and I encourage everybody to build their own list in the privacy of their own... doggy kennel... or latex sleep sack... But this list is built around the things that Master and I find hot or titillating.

My thought is that my Master can, going forward, refer to this list for ideas for writing assignments, thereby making it easier for him to keep me ever-improving and ever-growing to better please and serve him in the future. There's a good chance that many of these assignments will end up here, so that you guys can enjoy them too. For now just enjoy this silly little list... (btw, those things in brackets after each word are additional words that came to me for those letters too. because you can never have too much kinky idea fodder!)

Our ABC’s of BDSM:

A. Anal [Ask Nicely]
B. Bondage [Blowjob, Bimbo]
C. Crawling
D. Domination
E. Exhibitionism [Erotic]
F. Fear [Fucktoy]
G. Gag
H. Humiliation [Hair, Hypnosis]
I. Induction
J. Jism
K. Kneeling
L. Licking [Leash]
M. Masturbation
N. Nipple Clamps
O. Ownership [Objectify]
P. Pet [Punishment, Panties, Piercing]
Q. Quiver
R. Rough Sex
S. Spanking [Slapping, Sucking cock, Slut]
T. Tattoo [Tail]
U. Use
V. Vapid
W. Whip
X. Xstacy
Y. Yell
Z. Zealous

Saturday, 22 October 2011

Return the Non-conquering Non-hero

Welcome to Someday!

Just over 6 months ago I walked away from here and at that time it was completely the thing to do. Posts had become few and far between, and there was very little to share with those folks who still wanted to be readers. But with time there have been some changes, and I am going to see if those changes will allow me to come back here and share.

Master and I are still together -- a fact that is more than a little bit amazing, and something that we both can say we have had to work to protect. However we're still every bit as in love, if not more so, as we've ever been. And a nice bonus I had learned to live without is returning to our lives as we begin again to experiment with our kinky side. We're going slow, as we know that in the past we'd rushed things and created a dynamic that we couldn't maintain, so it's hard to know when we'll have something exciting to report. But for now I'm also going to learn how to share those parts of my life and existence that are less us (Master and I) and more just me. Hopefully there will be some folks who will enjoy that aspect as well.

The future is very unclear, but when it becomes more clear I'll write about it on this blog. Good luck to us all!

Thursday, 10 March 2011

Farewell, Adieu, have a good time!

I’m sure this will come as no surprise to most who might still be reading, but I’m going to ‘retire’ this blog. I can’t claim trauma or catastrophe – things are essentially fine. Master and I are still together and completely in love. But for many reasons too numerous to list and too mundane to detail the kink side of our relationship has faded away, leaving nothing to write about here. For a while I hoped there would be other things I could still enjoy to write about, but I’ve found that coming here just makes the loss of the kink side of my life sad all over again, so I need to walk away.

I’ll leave this blog up for those who come through and want a little titillation. And who knows – maybe someday I’ll be back! But for now I hope the rest of you continue to have a robust, thrilling life of kink and rest assured that I’m reading all of YOUR blogs regularly!!

Wednesday, 3 November 2010

The Elephant in my Mind

I should have seen tonight coming. Master informed me this morning that I was not allowed panties. I was already at work when this edict came, which I foolishly thought might absolve me from the fashion requirement. His response? “Guess you’ll have to do something about that then.” I knew what that meant, and 5 minutes later I returned to Master with my panties bunched into my pocket. He rewarded me with the greatest of praises: “Good girl.”

This pantiless sensation kept me aware all day. Aware of my submission, of my obedience, of my cunt. He added to this constant distraction with words that push, push, pushed me down to the place he likes me. In my head I spent the bulk of my day kneeling at his feet, gazing up at him longingly. When I went to the restroom I discovered I’d soaked through my pants and had simply been lucky that nobody had stopped by to chat yet that day!

By the time I came home the work day had cut into my focus and I’d pulled out of the mindset he’d created that morning. As I lay on my bed chatting with him via Skype I felt very normal; very mundane. I had someplace to be this evening so I couldn’t stay forever, so we chatted about life, love, everyday things. Soon he’d be headed off to sleep and I’d be off to my evening. “Could I see you?” he asked and I turned on my camera.

“Before I go to sleep,” he purred into my ears “you’ll need to show me that you are, in fact, not wearing panties.” My body hummed as I unfastened my slacks, kneeling on the bed so that the camera captured me only from knees to waist. As I pushed my pants down my legs I heard the front edge of that word: “Freeze.”

When I came back to myself I was in the same position with one important difference: my right hand was wedged between my legs. I could tell from the remaining tingle that he’d had me rubbing myself for the camera. I composed myself and then, remembering the importance of permission, I asked if I could move my hand away. He gave me some non-committal approval and I pulled my hand away, sitting back on the bed. Or at least that was my plan. But instead, seemingly in response to my attempt to pull away my hand, I began to fuck myself, my middle finger diving deep into me over and over. I erupted in squeaks, pants, groans as Master, his voice thick with amusement, asked me “What’s going on, baby?”

I tried to speak, but my voice escaped between deep breaths. “You tell me!” I snapped back (clearly too focused on my dilemma to consider what a bad time it was to talk back to my Master.) I gave up trying to control my hand and once I changed the goal my assault on my cunt stopped. “As soon as I tried to move my hand…” I felt like I shouldn’t have to say any more – my situation was obvious, as was the fact that it had to be by his design.

“Yes?” he grinned, forcing me to find the words to finish my sentence.

“I started fucking myself.” I finished, frustrated. “I couldn’t stop fucking myself.” Now I felt trapped – kneeling on the bed, my right hand deep inside my cunt. If I tried to pull it away I knew I’d go straight back to fucking. I’d found the solution, but only part of it. So very trapped. But Master wasn’t going to leave it there.

“And even as you sit there, thinking about what you want to do, you realize that just the simple thought of removing your hand now has that effect, does it not?” As he said it, it became so and my hand went back to work, fucking me furiously. I groaned in passion and frustration. He laughed in response, enjoying the show.

On and on it went, with my finger burrowing into me and my body betraying me. I could not NOT think about my hand; about what I couldn’t stop doing to myself. Instead I tried focusing on something else. Nothing could compete with the thought of Master watching me fucking on camera. Finally I found a thought I could focus on completely: my mouth sliding up and down on Master’s cock. I closed my eyes and let my mind drift to kneeling over my Master, filling my mouth with his organ hungrily, and my hand slowly came to still. I fell down onto my other hand on the bed, exhausted. I thought I’d found the solution, and he’d be proud of my ingenuity. My creativity. He’d free me from his trap now. I heard his laugh grow.

“What are you thinking about, my pet?” he asks. I tell him the truth – that by thinking about worshipping his cock I could stop my thinking about my hand. I heard in his voice he was proud of my solution, but he wasn’t about to let me get off that easy. “Very good. Still, you know what you are working so hard to avoid. And really, do you want to stop?” I knew that my cunt was now throbbing from attention. Even when thinking about his cock fucking my face I could still feel the thump of my heart in my pussy. I tried to stay focused by his words pushed my new image back, and gradually my hand came back to life.

Though I could stop things for small windows it wouldn’t last. Over and over and OVER my hand would get away from me and I’d be back to panting and moaning. Soon my symphony of worship included the thick “slurp” of my hand as it plunged into my cunt over and over, my juices squishing out around my fingers. I gave up trying to stop – I’d lost control completely and I could hear how much my Master was enjoying his win. But as I built up speed and enthusiasm I felt myself hearing the edge of the cliff. So I asked, begged him. “Master, can I cum?”

“Not yet.” He smiled. I cried out in dismay. I fucked and fucked, holding myself at bay but I knew I couldn’t hold out much longer. The combination of the feeling of my hand and the feeling of his control; of my helplessness; of my humiliation were getting the best of me. I started to worry out loud.

“What if I can’t stop from cumming?” I asked him. “what if I can’t help it? If I cum without permission? What if I do it, Master?” He held me back with encouraging words for a while, but finally he changed his mind.

“Alright, my dear. You can cum.” I was sure that would be my release. “But you can’t stop.”

“Can’t stop cumming? Or can’t stop fucking myself?” I panted, panicked.

“Well in a way both.” I could hear how amused he was. “You cannot stop latter, and that will cause the former.” He was right, of course.

I let the walls down and fell back on the bed, cumming and cumming. Each wave that crashed over me seemed like it would have to be the end, but then another would follow behind it. And all the while my hand kept cramming into me, deeper and faster and hotter. It was an unstoppable maze of fucking and cumming; cumming and fucking. I have no idea how long he kept me in this puzzle. I was his toy and he enjoyed the playing. I fell into a hole in my own mind, where I could not escape the loop. Things became simple; clear. I need just keep pleasing Master in this way. If I kept fucking myself, my hand and my cunt in view of the camera, providing him the show he desired then I’d need worry about nothing else. I was doing the only thing that mattered in all the world: obeying. Just as I began to fear that he’d leave me this way forever, fucking my mind into oblivion, I heard the words I cherish.

“Open Wide Cum Slut.” My hand never stopped, but now I focused on opening my mouth wide to allow my Master’s cum to fill it. Once he finished cumming he told me “swallow it all down.” And I eagerly did so. I was still swallowing when he said “now you will cum for me once more. Once you’re finished you will return to normal, remembering everything.” This, my seventh and final time cumming, was the most amazing. I cried out over and over as I finally came down from this high. My hand, soaked with my cream, finally stopped moving. I lay there spent. And content. And happily obedient. The way that Master so often makes me.

Sunday, 31 October 2010

Fantasy vs Reality

The submissive blogosphere has been buzzing lately about how one of us sacrificed her hair to show her obedience to her Master. As you’d imagine, the universal reactions have been “Wow, could you do that? I’m not sure I could!” followed quickly most of the time by “Wow, wow, hot.” As you’d also imagine, it’s also lead to some conversations between subs and their Doms. Master and I were no exception.

“One of the sub bloggers I read was shaved bald by her Master simply because he wanted it that way.” I mentioned, rocking my best nonchalant. “I could never imagine doing that.” He let the silence linger more than a little bit before he answered.

“But the idea is also hot, isn’t it…” It was a question, but it was also not a question. It was Master knowing my deep, dark insides better than I do.

And he was NOT wrong.

Don’t get me wrong – the idea of being bald is not hot to me. Forgetting the fact that I think I’ve got a pretty bumpy head I’ve also got a very necessary vanilla life and no ability to tell a convincing lie. If my Master were to make such a demand on me I’m sure I would ask, nay BEG AND PLEAD, for him to reconsider. But as I did my begging I would also be completely soaked between my legs at the very idea that Master would want to have that level of sway over me, especially for the simple reason that he merely wants it. But for me I’m lucky as I’ve got a Master who has better sense about what is best for me than I do myself.

This is a recurring theme between he and I. My fantasies are deep, dark things that I could never admit to anyone but him. It’s part of the bond that we share that I know he takes me as I am, even though the way I am is so very, very wrong. But I also take extreme relief in the knowledge that Master would never let me take action on any of my more severe fantasies. He has the sense that I lack, and saves me from myself.

But is this not part of every sub/Dom relationship? We give all of our control to our Masters, but also all of our trust. We say to them “I am trusting that you will know both how far to push me, and when to stop.” My Master has showed me a million things in my life that I would never have tried, some of them even after I specifically said I could or would not. He let me have my fear at first, knowing that if he had pushed me then and there I’d have spooked and maybe fled the entire relationship. This was protecting me, but he also knew that it would be best for me to have these experiences eventually and he knew when was the time to give me the push I needed. And now he knows when to pull me back.

Left up to me I’d find myself on all fours, naked and being walked through a local park at the end of a leash just for the humiliating moment of being returned to my right mind in front of strangers as they point and I wag my fucking tail. This would be VERY, VERY BAD and yet the idea of my Master trancing me, transforming me and parading me in public as the bitch in heat he can make me be also makes me drip. But my safety is my Master. This is something he would never do, never even let happen. I adore him for protecting me, even from myself.

At the same time I think a little part of me reads the blog posts about the more intense, demanding Masters out there and wishes I could give my Master just a little push.

So here is my question to you fellow Doms out there who might be reading: What is a fantasy that you've had which even your Dom would never agree to do?

Tuesday, 26 October 2010

When It's This Important Take Matters Into your Own Hands...

Q: “i wonder where you got that leather anklet from, i want something like that for myself but have no idea where to find one.”

You can get the background on this a little by reading the original blog post about my Everyday Collar. At the time I first posted about my beloved collar I tried to decide whether I should provide the name of the artist who made it, and finally decided no. The reason was simply I hadn’t asked her permission to out her as THE place to go for beautiful slave-wear, and this is a customer base I think one deserves to have a say about.

While I can’t tell you the exact artist that created my collar (at least without her permission) I can tell you what I did to find her, and I’m confident that anyone interested in a similar item will have the same luck. The fact of the matter is this: there are a LOT of skilled, talented artists out there looking for someone to give them a challenge and you need only find them!

I highly recommend This is where Master and I began our search. We looked for something ready-made, and there were items that were kind of what we wanted, but not quite. But by searching and finding products (normally neck or wrist cuffs) that we did like we narrowed down the search for who to contact for our specific goal. And one of the things I love about Etsy is that the artists pretty much all like to do custom work!

Once we found someone who’s available products were a lot like what we envisioned we emailed to her asking about what kind of changes she would make to the existing line, and as we suspected she was eager to please. (a girl after my own heart!) We asked about what we wanted, she sent us questions she’d need to have answered and the negotiations went from there.

If you are asking someone to make something to your custom specifications you’ll spend a little bit more. But to me it’s very worth it in order to have something that is exactly what you want. Especially for anything as important as this was to me.

Thanks again for your question and, as always, if anyone else has something to share please fill up the comments!