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 www.etsy.com. 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!

Saturday 16 October 2010

Advice from the also lost...

Q: “I didnt realize I was submissive until I was introduced by my current Master. I enjoy my role, but I dont recieve that much attention and there is very little communication since we both have busy schedules. Im debating on asking for my release Any advice”

The first question and it comes at a most coincidental time, as I’ve had my own thoughts about transfer of power recently.

First, I was also totally unaware of my submissive nature until my Master showed me this side. But once I accepted this about myself the feelings overwhelmed me. In only a few short months I found that this was something I’d needed for most of my life; I found a new kind of sanity and confidence from accepting and enjoying this part of myself. I hold firmly to the knowledge that my Master and I will never be apart, regardless of the nature of our relationship, but I also know if we ever stop being lovers I will have to find this kind of dynamic in any other love I seek.

I, like so many subs out there, don’t just enjoy being submissive. It’s deeply rooted in who I am. I need this; crave it. You see it time and time again in the blogs of other submissives – that when their Master is unable to keep them in line, dominate them the way they need they begin to get anxious or even panicky. They rebel or lash out or even throw tantrums and I do the same. There is some sort of mania that seeps into me the longer I have to maintain myself; I count on my Master to keep my brain calm and quiet and when he can’t I begin to panic.

As our vanilla lives have consumed more and more of our time Master has been overworked, overbooked and just plain overwhelmed by his life. I’ve tried to support him in every way possible, and I’ve been as patient as I am able, hoping that he’ll be able to, and interested in, putting me through my paces sometime soon. But I’ve also had doubts – wondering if he’s lost interest in managing me. Or if the work involved with being my Dom (and it is work, subs – never forget that. We have BY FAR the easier part of this gig! If you haven’t thanked your Dom for taking so much time and energy with you lately go and kiss his feet right now! The rest of us will wait…) is still worth it to him. My confidence fades and the ensuing fear sends me thinking about how else I could find the control I need.

I must be very clear here: I love my Master as much more than just my Dom. He’s my partner and my lover and my very best friend and I adore him forever and to the end of the world. I have absolutely no interest in leaving him ever, even if he were to tell me tomorrow that he’s grown tired of the dynamic and wishes an only vanilla life with me.

But I also know that this need he’s found in me will never go away. And so what would I do? How would I stay with him, but also stay sane? I’ve wondered about asking him to release me as his sub so I could find another to dominate me, either now while his life is so busy or ongoing if he’s done with our kink. Someone just to remind me of my place on the floor while I keep my beloved place at my Master’s side. No actual love for this new Dom – only obedience. Could I do this with anyone other than my Master? My submission is so linked to him, I wonder if this would even be possible?

I don’t know that I can give you advice on this question, as you can see I’m just as lost as you, but I know the questions that I’d have to ask in your position: What is the priority for you – your relationship with the man you currently call “Master” or your newly found submissive life? If you wish to keep your relationship with your current Master could you do that while letting someone else dominate you? Could your Master? And though you’re unsatisfied with the current amount of interaction you two get to have, are you willing to go without any Master at all once your current Master lets you go? Because finding the right Dom is as difficult as finding any kind of partner – there’s no guarantee that you’d walk out into the kink world tomorrow and find your Mr. Right (Dom-wise) waiting for you.

I think if you asked yourself these questions and answered yourself honestly you’d at least have the beginnings of an answer to your original question. Certainly there are many people out there who have sub/Dom lives without romantic love. They find people who are not interested in love, only kink or control, and they find a way to combine these sides of their life. My mind boggles at the idea, but if you and your current Master were t honestly look at what you have, versus what you really want, your next step would probably be clear. Good luck!

Does anyone else out there have any answers for this first question? Please fill up the comments!

Friday 15 October 2010

Surprise

Life is too, too full. The more it fills, the less my Master and I have time for play. I know, this is an old song that I’ve played so many times before. The vanilla world sometimes forces the more interesting flavors to take not just a backseat, but to sit in the trunk or run behind, and lately that’s been our situation. With the many new pressures burdening Master my duty now is to be whatever support he needs, and in all things as long as I am doing what he wants I’m happy.

But I still miss our play.

At four this morning my alarm sounded. I’d set it because I’d not been able to stop pining for Master since he’d gone to sleep on the other end of the internet the previous afternoon. I knew that he’d be awake now and hopefully free, so I woke up and reached out to him. The conversation was lovely; I blame my still sleepy brain on having missed any indication whatsoever that Master was in a mood. When I went from lying sprawled across the bed to on my knees, my shoulders dug into the mattress and my finger slipping over my wet slit I wasn’t even slightly ready. Even less so for the feel of his incredible cock plowing into me from behind.

I think I was moaning and gasping before I became fully conscious.

His cock ramming into me shoved my face into the bed over and over, drowning out my squeals. I wondered if anything more was coming, but this morning he was focused; driven. He fucked me over and over, basking in my helpless noises, occasionally chuckling at my pleading for mercy. But he knew I wanted no mercy, and he showed me none. I couldn’t know how long I bounced there, but eventually I heard my voice panting that I needed to cum. He asked me with a sly smile in his voice “do you want to cum?” I think my “Yes!” escaped before he finished the question, but still he asked another question. “Do you need it?” Still I cried out to him.

“Then beg…”

And beg I certainly did. I needed it, I would do anything for it, whatever he wanted, I loved to be used this way, please let me cum… anything that came to my mind tumbled out of my babbling, desperate lips as he never let up on my sopping wet cunt. He let me beg, but he told me no anyway; possibly just to hear my sob at having to hold on longer. I had to be so careful to not lose control – for just a split second I wondered if he was stroking his cock as he played and the image in my mind almost pushed me over the edge. But I was a good girl – I held on as he fucked my cunt and he fucked my mind.

But at last he began the countdown and I knew I was almost at my release. When his warm, thick voice poured the word “one” into my ears I exploded with yelps and gasps and words of thank you, thank you, god thank you…

He always says it was his pleasure. But I know that nobody has the pleasure that I do in that moment.

Sunday 10 October 2010

With Freedom Comes...

So for the first time I am allowed to write whatever I want, without worrying whether it meets to anyone else's expectation. A level of freedom that this blog has not had. I should be giddy with possibility, but I'm not.

As is so often true with those of us of the subbie persuasion, freedom leads to panic. We are a people who are most happy when others are controlling us, so too much freedom is honestly a bad thing.

I've sat down before my blank page a dozen times since my last post, sure that there must be something to share with you guys. After the wonderfully supportive comment from Kara & Jessica you'd think I'd be bursting at the gills with things to tell you guys. At least I certainly thought I would be. Turns out not so much.

So I'm hoping maybe you guys can help me get the ball rolling?

I've created a formspring account -- two, actually. One for me and one for my Master. If anyone out there has a question, now or any time in the future, they can just go to our formspring accounts and ask them. I'll promise you now that I will strive to answer any questions within 3 days of getting them. I cannot make any promises about questions to my Master, but if I can help him get them answered I definitely will.

I cannot imagine a subject that would be off-limits, given the things I've already shared with you guys, but I do reserve the right to NOT answer a question here if I find there is reason. The only rule I'll make right now is anything that seeks to find out who either my Master or I are in our "real worlds". It is important to us both that this side of our world not encroach on the parts that we share with our friends and family and I'm sure I can trust you, my wonderful readers, to respect that. But otherwise I say go crazy!

My hope is not just that you'll provide me subjects for future posts specifically answering your questions, but that the questions you might ask will give me inspiration for future posts of my own. Thanks in advance for feeding the attention slut!

Sunday 3 October 2010

Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes...

As is so often the case in life, things change. Luckily the things that have changed for Master and I are all primarily good – increased opportunities, activities, etc. – but even still it has left us with less and less time to play, or to even focus on the kinkier parts of our relationship. Our needs have been much more for support and nice, vanilla companionship.

Don’t misunderstand – we are still together, I’m still his toy, pet, plaything, slave and he is still my Owner and Master. We’ve begun to plan for his next trip home, this time in December for the holidays, and when he is here I’m very sure stories will come. Even now when we DO get the chance to play together we always indulge. But because it’s not as possible these days I’ve felt bad that this blog has been left sad and abandoned.

Therefore there are two changes I’m here to announce. The first is that things here will just be more quiet for a while. I will try to come and post when possible, but if time passes between posts please know that it’s not our preference to be absent and you’ve not been abandoned. The second is that the focus of this blog will be widening up some so that a lack of time to play doesn’t lead to even more of a lack of things to write about. I’ve envied some of my fellow subbie bloggers and their ability to write about whatever they want within this vein. Because of how things started here our blog has been limited to telling stories of our dynamic, but with Master’s permission I will no longer be required to run my posts by him, and if there are things about my subbie life that I wish to write about I now have that option. I hope that the additional items will also be interesting to my readers!

I hope that you all are good, and are enjoying your own personal kinks!

Monday 6 September 2010

Spiralling Down

I sensed something was up – there was an edge to his voice. A tension in his tone, but he was making me wait and wonder what he had in mind. The camera was on me this night, and I was wearing the slinky, short dress that he likes. As I sat on the couch, talking about whatever it was we were talking about then, I heard the shift just as the word came from his mouth. “Freeze.”

I came back to myself with a faint image in my vision, like when you look at the camera just as the flash goes off and see that flash the rest of the night. Everywhere I looked I saw the world overlapped by this spiral, turning before me. It distracted me, almost irritating, and I closed my eyes to clear the view. It stayed, and I found myself distracted by something else too… a need.

Master could see I was struggling. “What’s the matter?” he asked. I tried to bury the twinge, but at last I confessed to him that I was feeling a pull from between my legs. I asked him for permission to indulge, and with a smile in his voice he took pity on me. He had me make sure the camera is pointed to where he can see, but he let me touch. And touch I did. One hand stroked my clit while the other wandered from cunt to chest. I stroked and probed, but it was not enough.

I asked Master for permission to use my glorious, blue glass dildo and he once again showed me his generosity and granted me permission. I worked the cold glass into my cunt, then back out, and in a few minutes I’d found a fast, furious rhythm. I fucked myself in full view of the camera, moaning and gasping. Master asked how I’m doing and I purred something about doing so well…

He asked again, and each time I enjoyed finding another naughty response, but the third time I stumbled in my mind a little. I was hot, and horny, but something else. Something in my head was getting… fuzzy. The edges of my thinking was getting slightly frayed, but not enough to keep the need from moving me forward. So I fucked myself on and on, loving that Master could see me doing it.

The fucking, I realize, was causing the fuzzy. Though I wanted to just love the feeling of the hard, smooth pole slamming in and out of me, I was distracted by the way my brain was clouding over. Master could see my struggles and asked what I was thinking, and I tried to explain, but the most I could say at first was that I was getting fuzzy. As I kept plowing into my pussy he continued to probe about what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

The blur over my thoughts became a shadow, and then I recognized what was happening. He was pushing me down again, sliding the true me back down into the hole where I stopped being a participant and became instead a spectator. This was a new facet to our play, and it stokes me up intensely. Once my strong hold on the world starts to slip I know I’m changing – the question is always what will he change this time?

The answer this time comes with the first growl. Master knows that the thought of being his eager, obedient pet, trotting along on my hands and knees at the end of his leash, is one of THE most erotic ideas for me, and lately he’s been generous indulging me here. This night was another gift from him, and the dildo crashing in and out of my cunt pushed my mind further into the hole as his pet took more and more control. Growling and whining and panting I fuck my mind away.

Master asks me repeatedly what I’m thinking and feeling until the words are gone once again, left just with animal sounds and my animal mind. When I can no longer answer him with words he laughs that dark, sinister yet sexy laugh that I adore. I listen carefully over my pants and whines and I hear him stroking his cock on his end of the line. He’s got his happy, horny slut puppy back to play with and play he does. With me, and with himself.

The fucking goes on for a long time, each thrust just moving me further from my mind and more wild in the throes of passion. But at last through the animal fog I hear his voice.

“Open Wide, Cum Slut."

I open my mouth to him and I feel his hot, tasty cum shoot into it. He lets me swallow. He lets me cum, all grunts and pants and barks. And as I cum I come back to him, human once again. But still, and always, obedient to my Master.

Wednesday 1 September 2010

Best Seat in the House

Life is very full. Very busy. Master and I only get so many chances to play, and as with all things it’s up to him to decide when; decide where; decide how. I trust his decisions, as the way his mind works is one of the sexiest things about him. But sometimes the suspense kills me.

One weekend I woke and found he was there. Starting my day with him is one of the perks of weekends; as we chatted and lazed around my guard dropped. I was surprised when, in a split second, I went from sprawled across the bed to on my hands and knees, his hard, strong cock pumping into my cunt. I pushed my mind to catch up; soon I pumped back, enjoying the feeling of him inside me even as his voice fell from the headphones into my mind. I adore the feeling of being fucked by my Master and revel in it whenever he gifts it to me.

But there was more happening here. After a few minutes I began to feel something… shifting? Something in my mind was sliding back, losing some purchase. Losing grip. I groaned and ground back and grunted and… growled. A low, guttural rumble from my chest. Where it came from I couldn’t say, but it sent a shockwave through my already slippery snatch. I was powerless to stop the fucking, fucking, fucking, but I began to realize that this was pushing me toward something.

Master asked me how I was doing and I tried to reply, to use my words. I think I said fine? Good? Something like that, but whatever the word I used wasn’t the important part. It was the amount of work to get a word to come out that I focused on. The further along he fucked me the more my grip on humanity became slippery. I clutched at speech and spit out some word that showed me I was still a person, but almost immediately after my words came the first whine. High and squeaky and beyond my control. And here I noticed that my heavy breathing was coming in shorter, staccato dashes. Fast, quick breaths in and out.

Pants. I said my word, my totem of humanity again even though the lame word came nowhere close to an accurate description of the way he was rocking me. I just needed to hold on to my humanity and this word was how I was sure I could do it. I slammed back against the feel of his cock in my cunt, pushing along my descent, and told him I was fine. And then I growled and groaned and panted and panted.

I felt the hard, hot leather around my neck and the pull of my leash holding up my head. The sound of his pleased laughter sent a warm gush of cream sliding down my thigh and I panted harder and harder. The growls became more primal, and when next Master asked how I was doing the words were gone. I whined instead, the closest way I had anymore to beg him for mercy. I begged for him and he enjoyed my fall away from being his slave, further down to being his pet.

He fucked me and fucked me, and finally he asked if I wanted to cum. I made my animal noises, not sure how to get what I needed, so he gave me a clear command: “Beg.” And beg I did. As my animal rutting continued non-stop I let my desperate, wanton begging whines fill the room and he let me beg for a long time. When at last he told me to cum I let my head fold down onto the bed and growled into the start of the rush. When I heard myself barking into the orgasm I wanted to stop, to quiet, but the need was so much stronger than my pride. I barked and yelped and growled and whined and came and came and came for him.

As I felt the rush I also felt the last of my humanity fall down into a dark hole. From inside this tiny place I could see my world around me, but couldn’t touch anything. I felt this new bitch me around me like a shadow, but I was a voyeur of everything that happened now. I felt myself being my Master’s bitch. I felt the emotions and sensations, but I also felt my human reactions to the humility and degredation, and my inability to do anything but ride along.

In my new bitch form I knelt on the bed, my tongue hanging gently from the corner of my mouth, with my Master’s voice in my ears. My mind, so simple now, lay satisfied and flat. Master commanded me to speak and I barked happily for him. He commanded me to beg and my eager, begging whines flowed out. He called me a good girl and I swooned. At some point I became aware that I was “wagging” my “tail”, so happy to be obeying Master.

“Speak.” Again I barked. He repeated this one a few times, and each time my obedience was instantaneous. There was no thinking – only obeying. When next he told me to beg he included that I should assume the proper begging position. I faltered for a moment, nervous about trying to balance on only my hind quarters, but with a moment’s preparation I tucked my paws below my tits, careful not to block his view of them, and begged again. And my reward, another “good girl”, was the greatest gift possible. Each time he praised me I panted excitedly for my Master; for his pleasure.

Eventually Master brought me back to reality. My legs were slick all up and down from my constant and overwhelming pleasure at being his pet. He let me go, but he let me live these moments, and let me wonder for even just a second whether he might leave me this way, barking and begging for his love and enjoyment. Wonder… would that be the worst thing? Or the best?

Sunday 15 August 2010

Evolution

427 days ago I took a leap. I replied to an email I knew I should delete, and opened a door to a person I knew that I should fear. The first steps were full of excitement and danger and risk and hot, sizzling sex. The steps went down, down, down and constantly curved, so that every moment I came face to face with something totally new. I was so sure that this would be a short trip – that the bottom of the stairs would be the end of the journey.

It wasn’t.

A year after we started down this simple, kinky and ‘completely without future’ path I’m amazed at the changes. Master began this just to have something fun to play with, and I was lead along by my nose from one earth-shattering new experience to the next, but neither of us imagined that it would be long term, or that we’d find more to our connection than the sex and the control. We knew, so completely, we knew what we were getting into, one way or another. Temporary and superficial and a whim. Just a kinky, perverted whim.

And still the days bled to weeks and the weeks folded into months and the months blossomed into more than a year. We’ve preserved the kink and sex and control that was the initial temptation, but to that we’ve added more. Respect (strangely enough, I know) and friendship and companionship… and surprising, tremendous love. Somewhere between the collar and the leash and the trigger phrases that transform me into a toy or a pet I was lucky and smart enough to fall in love with my Master.

The last two posts were highlights of our time together this summer. There were scores of other smaller, but no less heady, kinky delights throughout the visit. But the thing that surprised me the most, and largely lead to the distraction that kept this blog so quiet, was how much I adore, delight in and totally, totally love the man who has owned me for the last 427 days.

I can’t wait to see what the next 427 days has in store for us.

Saturday 14 August 2010

Good Girl gets a Treat

I am many things for my Master, and often he enjoys having me tell him, over and over, what all these things are. The words would fall from my mouth in a kinky waterfall, liquid and languid: “I am your slave, your slut, your toy, your fuckhole…”

Your pet.

Of all my titles, the one that most shakes me and makes me tingle is pet. A few weeks after he first found and claimed me he had me crawling through my home at the end of an invisible leash and the profound impact on my mind, on my libido, on my gushing cunt shocked me. Rocked me. Has never let me go, not since. I loved how low and humiliating that moment had me, simply to please this man. This was a flavor I’d never tasted before, but I have craved it ever since.

Master knows this and I think he holds these moments as rare because of it. He knows that I would do just about anything for this feeling, and that if I am allowed to indulge in it too often it will lose some of its shine. He lets my cravings rage and boil and every once in a while he gives me just a little bite from his end of the leash. This night was one of those moments.

He told me to strip. Wanted me bare and defenseless before him, and I quickly complied. Once naked he put me to my knees, buckling my collar around my neck, my leash already attached to the ring at the front. He turned and walked around the bed, pulling me crawling behind him. Once we reached my designated side of the bed he helped me hop up into it, positioning me where he wanted me before he began to lock my leash to the headboard. I loved the idea of being locked into place, unable to escape despite the fact that escape is always the farthest thing from my mind.

Once locked in place my Master began his own end-of-day process, climbing into the bed beside me. Late was the hour and he had been tired already, so I knew not to expect any more excitement. I lay beside his amazing body, my nipples tingling at the thoughts flashing through my mind, but I was good and didn’t push. Didn’t beg or whimper, didn’t show him my puppy dog eyes. I simply lay there, naked and chained and lightly panting. And just that was enough to bring his amazing cock hard, and his attentions to his eager pet.

He knelt before me, pushing my legs open and spread wide for him, and his hand snaked out, wrapping around the leash where it connected to my collar. He pushed his cock into my cunt, soaked and dripping with anticipation, and began to force himself to the back of my hole. Within a few strokes his movement went from fucking me to pounding me. Hard and deep, lightly snarling as his fist tightened even more at my throat, my collar.

I dissolved into my favorite pet persona as he held my leash and clobbered my cunt. I squealed and moaned and cried out with the passion and a little bit for pity, but I knew from the look in his eyes there would be none of that. And next came his magnificent words.

Like a dirty Disney narrator he told me what I was and what he was doing to me. He called me slut and pet and he pounded away, one hand never leaving the firm grip on my collar and leash while the other twisted my nipples or pulled my ass tight to allow for a harder hit. He fucked me and played with me and put me so perfectly in my place with each word and thrust.

When he finally let my orgasm crash through me I swear I secretly wanted to howl; my inner animal let loose as I look into his deep and evil eyes smiling down at me. I drifted off to sleep with visions of walks through the park on my leash running through my head. Happy to be pleasing my Master.

Thursday 12 August 2010

To Give and To Receive

He had THAT look in his eye. Wheels turning; gears clicking. I asked what he was thinking, and contrary to his normal M.O., he actually told me. “I’m thinking that this weekend we’ll have one full day of submission.” My heart skipped a beat, excited at a whole day to do nothing but serve. Much as Master and I both enjoy our places with each other we find that real life makes it hard to indulge constantly. Nothing like calling someone “Master” in the lunchmeat section of the grocery store to make you feel COMPLETELY conspicuous. But with this announcement I knew Master would be dedicating a whole day to our dynamic. The rest of the week went much too slow for my liking…

The night before our day he tranced me and adjusted my view on the world ever so slightly – he simplified me so that my focus was only on serving. I was still myself, but all the superfluous concerns of the world were quieted – I only concerned myself with whether I was pleasing my Master. I loved this focus; my shoulders were lighter and my smile easier. With this adjustment the world made complete sense, and how often can any of us say that? Master placed my beloved collar around my neck, attached the leash and shackled me to the bed for the night.

I woke a little early and crept out of the bed, careful not to wake him. After serving him a hot breakfast in bed I enjoyed an hour of cleaning the house. A task that would normally be a complete chore was a joy simply because I knew Master would enjoy a clean house. He came out of the bedroom to the couch, chatting with some online friends as I finished the house cleaning, and I beamed with pride as he bragged about his obedient slave, eagerly cleaning around him. To give himself just a little more to brag about, he pulled me to my knees before him, continuing to chat as I slurped hungrily on his cock.

I love to suck Master’s cock, and I love to serve. But the overwhelming pride of that moment, giving my owner pleasure and demonstrating my value all while my mouth was filled over and over with his tremendous manhood was so amazing as to be dizzying. Topped only by the moment when he took my hand and lead me to the bedroom so he could fuck me.

And fuck me he did. Master filled my cunt over and over, building me so quickly to a peak I’d rarely felt. I writhed and whimpered below him, feeling so lucky to be worth his attention. Worth his hands and his mouth and his hard, huge cock. His every touch was a gift; I couldn’t get enough of him. When the orgasm hit me it melted my mind to a puddle of happy, and I lie there on the bed completely conquered. There Master blindfolded me and bound my wrists and ankles to the bed, leaving me to stew in my ecstatic juices. He returned to the living room for a while, and I found the feeling of being left, as though I had fulfilled my purpose; a toy played with and now left, dirty and used on the floor – this only added to my intoxicating feeling of service to him.

After a while I heard Master come back into the room, sitting on the bed beside me. I heard him clicking on his laptop, but soon another sound caught my attention: he stroked his cock beside me as I lie there hoping to be interesting enough to attract his attention again. He ignored me, and that made me even more desperate. I focused my whole dark world on the sound of him stroking himself, picturing him in my mind, wishing I could reach out and touch any part of him. Was the sight of me, naked and wriggling against my restraints, any inspiration for him? Or was I barely an afterthought? His manipulations of my mind, of the way I looked at the world, focusing absolutely everything on him and his pleasure, made my desperation positively tasty. Made it sweet and thick and hot, like a syrup coating me. I panted as he came closer to the edge; as he came closer to me, crawling to my body.

The first warm, salty jet of cum hit my face and I gasped. And moaned. He coated my happy, grateful face with his cum, allowing me to rub his cock over my features before he slipped the tip in my mouth to suck the last drops. Once he was finished he once more left me there, letting the cum dry over my face as I remained trapped on the bed. I sneaked my tongue out little by little to lick the cum off of my lips, enjoying the familiar flavor. But mostly I lied there, still in the dark, happy to just wait for Master to want me again.

Finally he came back, enjoying the sight of his slave with her face smeared with his seed. He removed my blindfold and restraints, and pulled away the changes from my mind, letting me lie there and revel in my morning, but as myself rather than as his simplified slave. Though I thought that I’d slowly come down from the excitement, soon I realize that all of the moments had overwhelmed my libido and I was desperate for a little more pleasure. I asked my Master if I could fuck myself with my favorite blue, glass dildo, and he generously allowed me. As he sat beside me, once again sharing the joys of Masterhood with his online friends, I began to push my indigo toy in and out of me, building quickly to a head. I fell over the edge of the cliff and thanked him and thanked him and thanked him for a wonderful, mind-shattering day. Though I am always his, to do with as he wishes and pleases, it was a special joy to be ONLY his toy. I hope we get to do it again when he comes home for the holidays.

Tuesday 10 August 2010

Priorities of a sort.

There's nothing to say -- I just fell off the face of the planet.

With Master here, we found indulgence to be our watchword. Between building on our amazing relationship, which is stronger than ever, and enjoying each other’s bodies and minds in every conceivable way, we couldn’t pull ourselves out of the fog of happiness long enough for me to write the blog posts that I should have.

Master’s gone back to his home now, and after adjusting to his absence again I’ll focus back on our blog. It’s amazing how much writing about the things that my Master can do to me makes me feel closer to him. So watch this space, first for updates on some of the wonderful things that happened while he was here, and then ongoing. And thanks so much to everyone who continued reading even while I vanished!

Sunday 20 June 2010

Gift

We’d talked about it a few times. Master knew completely how I felt about it – how the combination of the taboo and the utter and complete lack of control combined in this one act to make me shudder at the thought of it. In most relationships you’d expect the man – and especially the dominant man – to be pushing for this, but not with us. I’ve held my breath now for almost six months, wondering if I’d made my Master sufficiently intrigued with the idea that he might give it a try. Wondering if I might, while we’re finally together for weeks on end, feel my beloved Master fuck me in the ass.

There are many things at which my Master is (if you’ll pardon the turn of phrase) masterful; the mindfuck is most definitely one of them. Dangling ideas in front of me like steak before a dog, making me whimper and beg for them. Though he’s talked of ass-fucking, and has even let me feel it in my head, my Master has been ‘on the fence’ himself. The act doesn’t give to him, as it does to some men, that feeling of control. For him the best, most complete and satisfying control is that which he already has over me: total control of my mind. With a turn of some secret phrase he could have me down on all fours, wagging my tail and licking his hand, and so what satisfaction is there to take from the simple, and not entirely unmessy, act of cramming his huge cock into my rear? But he knows that for me it does all the things others might think it would. And as such he’s let me think about the idea of it almost constantly.

Screw that. CONSTANTLY.

On the second full day of my Master’s visit we enjoyed a long, hot shower together. I spent some time kneeling, his cock filling my mouth. The heat between us dwarfed the heat of the water, and that was enough for me. He pulled me to my feet and I thought we were finished with the shower and getting ready to step out, when he spun me around to face the opposite wall and, using his powers over my mind, “chained” my wrists to the wall above my head. At this point I knew something was happening. He positioned me just so, and I felt the tip of his cock sliding between my ass cheeks. My breathing quickened as he put his lips to my ear and whispered all the things I was thinking; that he could do this to me any time he wanted to. That I was his to do with as he pleased. That with but a small bit of extra pressure my ass could be full of him to overflowing.

I knew he was teasing. He was enjoying the mix of panic and lust in my panting. He was reveling in his complete and total ownership of me and of our dynamic. I enjoyed the thought that he still might do it, but I knew it wasn’t coming now. And so as his cock pushed against my rosebud and began to enter me I almost didn’t believe what was happening.

But within a few moments I felt myself stretched and full of him. He had decided that the time to reward me was right then after all.

I gasped and groaned. To both of our surprise some of his thrusts brought loud, almost painful cries from me, but I was quick to assure him I was feeling no pain. It was everything I had hoped for – dirty and hot and completely out of my control. His words in my ear never stopped, proving to be almost the more insidious of the fucking deep inside me, and I lost track of the number of times he had me thanking him for this oh so generous gift.

I hope there will be an encore of this moment – Master was only able to get about ½-way into to me, so large is his size and so unprepared was my ass. I think that my chance at round two is pretty good, given how many times my Master has enjoyed reminding me that he’s already taken me there once. Needless to say, it’s a thought that has filled many, many, many of my dreams and fantasies since.

Thursday 17 June 2010

Vignettes

Two weeks. Today marks three weeks of Master being here, in my state. In my home. In HIS home, where he so generously lets me stay. It has been an amazing blend of hours spent affectionately reconnecting after so much time apart and hours spent kneeling at his feet as he does with me what he will. So busy were we, and so fast did much of the first week go, I won’t be able to give you full breakdowns of each moment, but I can give you a nice narrative montage of some moments I hope I’ll NEVER forget:


Master commands me down on all fours on the bathroom floor the first night he arrives, as he’s decided then and there he won’t wait to take me. He rams into me with all his force, cry after cry rushing out of me whether I mean them to or not, so big is his cock. I clutch at the floor and gush around his cock, and he allows me to cum when he’s finished.


I come home from work to find Master in the bedroom, having enjoyed a most leisurely day off at the start of his vacation. He beckons me into the bedroom and kisses me, but as our lips touch the world flip-flops, and just like that I find myself kneeling, topless, with his cock in my mouth. It is filling my mouth with his hot, salty cum and I suck and suck, working to be sure not a drop escapes. He crooks a finger under my chin and lifts my eyes to his, saying the magic word: “Swallow.” Once I do he has me lovingly clean off the rest of his cock, the tip already spotless.

Master and I are again in the bedroom (this will begin to be a theme) and he removes my mind, leaving me his obedient toy. He has me strip and positions me on the edge of the bed, stepping up behind me and pushing his magnificent cock into me from behind. As I kneel there, open and receptive to him, but without a mind to register my actions or combat his, he gives the commands that allow me to return to the moment, but remembering how it felt to be a toy more than a woman. When the sensations return to me, and the memories, I leak and gasp at the humiliation and eroticism.


Lying in bed, wrapped around each other and enjoying the peace of the morning when once more I find the world has spontaneously jumped. Master now towers over me, his insidious grin sending shivers down my spine as his cock sends shockwaves into my cunt. I moan and grab for the headboard, and I hold on for dear life as my senses catch up with my situation. Another flash and my hands corral my tits around Master’s cock, the tip emerging over and over but staying just out of reach of my eager, outstretched tongue. Master turns me on and off, each time a new position or service of his amazing body, and soon my mind is reeling, beginning to feel more like a toy than a woman.


Just as he likes me.

Thursday 10 June 2010

A Brief Hiatus - A Post from her Master

I realise it has been quite a while since my slave has posted, and I felt I should write a small note to explain the situation. As you know, I am with my slave at the moment and one might have thought that there is plenty of post-worthy material being created. And, in this case, you would be entirely correct.

However, I have decided to take this first week and keep it for ourselves. She will write on the events of this week, have no fear, but for now we are enjoying ourselves with as few obligations as possible. Except of course those she has towards me, but those never really go away.

I hope you all are enjoying reading and rest assured, within a week my slave will have made another post.

Writing this post myself gives me the oppotunity to ask something of all of you; would you enjoy a chance to ask me some questions about our relationship, dynamic, more general questions about D/s or hypnosis play and so on? I know my slave would like it if I posted here occasionally, and I wondered whether you would enjoy such an oppotunity to pick my brain. Let us know in the comments either way.

The Master.

Wednesday 26 May 2010

Distracted by Preparation

Apologies, my people. Many, many apologies. Such a long lapse is definitely without excuse and I can only apologize. I know that there needs to be some kind of punishment from my Master at some point, though the exact time and nature and such is yet to be set forth, but for you, the readers of my Master’s blog, I can only apologize, apologize, apologize.

Would that I had some excellent reason to give you for all this time being too quiet. An unpleasant illness or a family issue or losing the feeling in all of my fingers for close to a month. Sadly the closest thing to a reason I can state is that life has been just too busy. Too busy because Master and I have had lots in our lives of late and the lack of time for real play has lead to a lack of serious inspiration on my part. What’s more, in the next many days there will only be less time, not more, so inspiration will be even more difficult to find.

No inspiration, but Master was very clear that I was to return to my duties here, and so I found myself at a loss. I needed to find something to share with you all, but I was mostly aware of how much I need to do now and for the next week+. Preparation to make everything wonderful. Ideal. Utterly and Completely Perfect, and this needs to happen by Thursday June 3rd, because that is the day my Master returns.

Those of you who share my subby side understand the level of pressure when getting ready for your Master’s arrival, especially those of us who live so far from our owners and only get to be with them occasionally. You understand why it was that the spectre of all I want to get done loomed so large in my vision that I couldn’t see anything else around it. I could only see all that I wanted to be ready for him. How much I wanted to make myself ready for him. So much to prepare; so much to make good enough.

I’ve prepared our home for him. Corralled all traces of my two cats so that they don’t bother his allergies. Stocked my kitchen with his favorite foods. Made my bed into our bed once more, with manly coverings and firm and comfortable good things so when he folds me up into the positions that please him he’ll feel at home. Cleaned my patio so that it is ready for when he decides to fuck me out there, forcing me to hold my screams in for fear of neighbors hearing me serve him.

I’ve prepared the outfit I plan to wear to greet him when he arrives after such a long flight. It seems only appropriate that I meet him at the airport dressed in such a way as to show I know my place immediately, and though I don’t want to give away the surprise, I am confident he will appreciate my… creativity. I also plan to clean out the car so that it’s ready should he not want to wait until we get home to show his approval. Or his disapproval. Whatever amuses him.

Finally, how do I prepare myself for him? I’ve cut my hair and painted my nails and will wax my cunt smooth right before he arrives. I’ve stayed fit so that I can satisfy his every demand of me for as long as he would want it. But as the final week rolls along I wonder if I should do more. Should I go back to stretching out my ass so that it’s ready for any time he could want to fuck me there? Should I be fucking my cunt with my dildo regularly so it’s ready for constant use? What should I be doing to be very sure he never regrets his long trip to take his ownership once again?

If any of you, my all too faithful readers, have any suggestions for what I should do to prepare, or for things Master might want to do to or with me when he’s here, we’d love to hear them. We truly would.

Thursday 29 April 2010

What I am Only for Him

By myself I was strong and independent and stubborn and single-minded, with nobody’s desires to matter as much as my own. This independence was something that I adored about myself – bigger balls than most men I knew and though I could walk softly NOBODY had a bigger stick than I. Everyone knew who and what I was. Everyone knew they could come to me to protect them or defend them or make others quake in my wake for their sake. (My love for alliteration apparently maintains throughout.)

I was all of these things. I was also terribly, tremendously, epically and quite notably alone. Whether or not one encouraged or caused the other I could never be sure and now I hope never to have to speculate again.

One day in June, 2009, a man entered my universe and he turned me inside out; upside down; spun me like a sick and demented top.

For him, and only for him, I am obedient. I am meek and sometimes lost and always in awe. For him I love to be malleable. I am easily distorted and occasionally absurd for his amusement. For his amusement I will do anything. To hear that smile in his voice, with a tint of mischief and a shade of minor evil, I would lie down naked on a busy city sidewalk. I would cover myself in chocolate and let monkeys lick me clean. He need only name it and to hear that smile in his voice I would gladly do it.

Gone is the independence. Oh it still exists for the rest of the world, but for him it’s never there. It’s been replaced by panting and tail-wagging and begging for a ‘good girl’. Any task is worth it for a ‘good girl’ – those two words turn my resolve to jelly. Crawling is a small price to pay. If he gives me his foot I cover it with adoring, dedicated kisses to show him I’m his ‘good girl’.

For my Master I am small and precious and hungry and his. All his, and so grateful to be so. So lucky to be the one that gets to be whatever he wants to make me. So eager to please and desperate to be worthy. For the rest of the world I am where the buck stops; where the final word is said; where to go for the answer. As Master’s giddy slave I am where his hand comes to rest, pushing my head down around his amazing cock to slurp it down and beg for more.

I am many new or different things for my Master. I’m so many things in total for the world, now that I have found this other part of myself, and for the first time in my life…

I am whole. But only because of him.

Saturday 24 April 2010

The New Toy

The new toy had been sitting on my bedside table for a while – weeks I think? – but so far we’d not given it a test drive. The plan had been for us to wait for a weekend when we had good, quality time. Time to really play. But the time just kept not happening and here it was Saturday night and I was… eager.

Master had told me to fuck myself with the glass dildo, but I was brave and made a counter-offer of sorts. I asked him if I could finally give the new toy a test drive. I heard the smile in his voice when he gave me permission, adding that I should wear my collar while I did so. To remind me who makes the rules, makes the decisions. I didn’t need the reminder, but I loved to hear it anyway.

Hours later I stripped off my clothing and lifted my beloved leather collar from the toy chest, buckling it snuggly around my neck. The tag stating so plainly what I am jingled from the front. I stretched out on my bed, wincing just a little as I tugged on the biggest buttplug, pulling it free from my rear and dropping it on to the towel by my bed. I pumped another 3 or 4 jets of lube into my hand and rolled the toy round and round in the shimmery goo, coating it completely. As my knees hung on either side of my head I took the toy and pressed it against my rosebud. I’d never rammed something this large into my ass before, but having spent the hour before bed with my largest plug stretching things had helped some. I pressed, then stopped and relaxed my muscles before pressing again. Over and over I repeated the process until the entire thing slid the last few centimeters into place. I lay there for several minutes, amazed at how huge it felt inside of me; how full I felt.

After a few more minutes I sat up, leaning against a pillow and spread my legs. Finding a story to inspire on the laptop I leaned over the side of the bed and pulled into my lap my Hitachi Magic Wand. Though not a new toy – I bought it right before I met Master – I’d never given it a real try. Tonight was the night. The night to play with all the untried toys.

I took the remote control for the new toy, and I turned the dial. Only a little, as I was still nervous about what I would feel. Deep inside me I felt the vibration start. Only a tiny shimmie, but as I turned the knob more the vibrations in my ass grew. And grew. I controlled my breathing and really experienced this amazing new sensation – a vibrating ass plug. A wonderful thing.

Next I took the Hitachi, wedging the wide, round end against my clit and turned it to the lowest setting. I sat and truly experienced being pinched between the dual vibrations, and I closed my eyes. The first orgasm was building before I’d even opened up the story on my screen.

I rode waves of pleasure as the huge, vibrating buttplug whirred inside my ass and the Hitachi Wand constantly attacked my cunt. I moved the Hitachi up to lay on my clit, or down the slit. I’d find a place that shocked my system, and then move the wand to a place just nearby that was even more mind blowing. A second climax built and crashed through, though more subtle than the first. I could see the third lining up to make its appearance.

Oh it lined up, but it refused to arrive.

I fought my way through waves of erotic, amazing tingles, but for the next hour I chased a third, or at that point more accurately named final, climax through the fog that is self-pleasure. I turned the buttplug’s vibrations up to the top speed but it did not get me there. I rubbed the Hitachi up and down my sloppy cunt looking for the right place; for the button, MY button that would turn me and push me over, but it would drift in and out of reach. For an HOUR.

I finished the story and attempted another and finally pushed away the laptop, closed my eyes and imagined that Master sat at the end of the bed, watching me complete his instruction. I imagined him sitting before me, his hand on his cock and that look in his eyes that told me that any pleasure I might be experiencing was only for his amusement. In my mind the wall keeping me from my third gush was all him, enjoying his control over me. Enjoying the look on my face as I kept trying to push myself over the edge. Trying and failing. Few things amuse my master more than watching his toy struggle, and in my mind my current struggle was a gift for him.

With that image I was finally able to crest the wave and come crashing down in a gasping, panting mess. The key to all pleasures, for me, is pleasing my Master. (but a little DP does NOT hurt!)

Sunday 18 April 2010

I Love to Serve my Master

I love, I LOVE, to serve my Master. We don’t have time to play as much as we’d like, but he knows that I need that tug of control; of servitude and he gives me tasks to perform while he sleeps. Because he knows that I love, love, love to serve him. What he may not know as well (or at least might not have before I put it down here) is that the more difficult or taxing or impossible the task the better. If it’s something that brings me pleasure that’s great, but it’s even greater when the pleasure is all for him. If it’s something that I can do I’m happy, but I get a high of unbelievable proportions when its something I can’t do, but have to do anyway. Simply for the pure enjoyment of pleasing him.

Last night I had a task before me. The night was mine to do with as I wished, but at the end I had a task assigned by my Master: I was to go do my normal workout, and then I was to come home, kneel at the foot of my bed naked save my ankle collar and my beloved neck collar (which is still sporting the bone-shaped tag that says “Open Wide Cum Slut”), state the worshipful chant he created for me the other night and, while I worshipped him, I was to fuck myself with the glass dildo. I was to repeat my chant, and fuck myself, until I came. This was my task. Heaven. Simply heaven.

When he had outlined the task, as he was getting ready to go to sleep, I gave some sort of “Hrmmm…” reply. It was kneejerk and unintentional, but he caught it anyway and asked “Problem?”

“I’ve never fucked myself while kneeling.” I confessed. As I was following up with my promise to do it anyway he told me that if I couldn’t cum in that position he would let me change positions eventually, but that I should still try. I was a little ashamed at having pushed back or confessed any worry that I couldn’t do what he’d told me to do. I serve him; I obey and I knew that whatever it took I’d make it happen simply because it was something he’d told me he wanted me to do.

I placed a pillow on the floor, covered by a towel. I placed the laptop on the bed before me, a picture of my Master on the screen along with a favorite story to prime the pump should I need it. I stripped off my sweaty workout clothes and took my most adored collar out of the toybox, careful to put it around my neck the right way to have the tag face out. Nobody would see me wearing this collar or read this tag, but I wanted to be sure that if anyone did they would see that I am Master’s cum slut. I put on music and knelt down to obey him, my glass dildo still warm from the faucet of hot water. The words came forward.

“This slave belongs to Master. This slut belongs to Master. This cunt belongs to Master. This toy belongs to Master. This thing belongs to Master. Everything belongs to Master…” I said the words lovingly and deliberately, thinking about each one and what they meant. With each level of me stripped down, from person to slave to slut and eventually to toy or thing, I felt a ripple run through me. In a few minutes I knew I was ready for the next step, and I slid my shiny, blue dildo down between my legs, running it back and forth over my pussy lips, being sure to spread any dampness over the whole surface. A few more times through my worship of Master and I was wet enough to plunge the dildo inside of me. As always, the first time felt large and unyielding and I groaned at the intrusion, but as I began to fuck it in and out of my slit the sensation became pleasing, then hot, and then I was in the full throws of the moment.

A funny thing about fucking yourself while sitting up on your knees: your hands get coated in your own juices. Or at least mine did. After about 5 minutes of shoving the toy in and out of my slutty cunt and pledging my worth to serving my Master there was cunt juice entirely coating the dildo all the way to the round handle at its end. More than that, my juices were flowing so strongly that they were down around my fingers and filling the cup of my palm. I’d never seen myself gush so, and yet the climax was very, very far away.

I kept going, repeating my words over and over. I stared into the beautiful face of my Master on my screen and imagined he was there, on the bed, watching me perform for him. I fucked myself harder and faster and occasionally I would see the goal ahead of me, but always it disappeared around a corner and I was left working even harder to do what I had promised I would. And time passed. Much time.

I’d already been ramming into myself and moaning out the never ending words for a half hour when I opened up the story I’d recently found, courtesy of the BDSM Library, and began to read. I was so familiar with the words I’d been saying I was able to read and say them simultaneously, and much as I knew I was going to accomplish this goal I also knew I would need the push. I read and chanted and fucked and panted and my thighs were thick but glistening with my own fountain of fuck juice. My hand kept slipping off of the dildo, so slippery were them from all the goo coating them. I ready three chapters of the story and then grabbed onto an idea in my head and pushed the laptop aside, now closing my eyes and resting my head on the mattress as I worked. The fantasy in my head involved being sold to a stranger and a life of public display for this stranger’s amusement and profit. This idea, coupled with my still nonstop pledge of adoration to be whatever Master desires, pushed me further and I felt again sure I would reach my goal.

And another 30 minutes later I did at last.

By the time I cried out Master’s name and title through clenched teeth and slid my knees together, locking the dildo in place and rocking against it to milk out every bit of my cum, I was truly spent. Exhausted and yet glowing with a sense of achievement. In that moment I felt worthy of his love and ownership; I had done something I knew would not be easy, and I’d worked my ass off to serve him. But it was done and I’d done it, and I’d served him well in the process. I’d fucked myself silly, like the slutty, eager, obedient bit of fuckmeat he wanted me to be.

I love to serve my Master.

Tuesday 13 April 2010

Fantasy Fun

As you know, I’ve spent some time training my ass so that, should he want to, Master can take it freely when he comes back to me in June. At this time he is still making me dangle on the end of the line, desperately curious if he will actually take my ass. I don’t know if he wants to. I only know that I dearly want him to.

I’ve done anal in the past a time or two. I didn’t hate it, but I also didn’t love it. Frankly I was left with the distinct impression that the man who fucked me there had no idea what he was doing, and he certainly didn’t know how to really make the most of the experience. He had no deep, dark insides and he certainly didn’t know about mine. To this day I’ve felt sure that were I to experience it with someone who understood me, and understood the dark places that I like to be dragged by my hair, that it could be an experience both amazing and mind-blowing.

My Master is someone who knows what makes me tick. What makes me squish and leak. He knows that the idea of being fucked in the ass makes my heart race and my cunt drip, and he uses this knowledge to tease me, body and mind. Tonight we were chatting, lovely and plain, when I realized that it was getting late and I’d not yet done my daily pledge of worship to Master. I quickly stripped off my clothing, knelt on the floor before the camera, shoved my tits together and began my chant.

“This Slave belongs to Master. This slut belongs to Master. This cunt belongs to Master. This toy belongs to Master. This thing belongs to Master. This pet belongs to Master. Everything belongs to Master.” At his command I repeated the chant over. And over. And over.

I’d been through the mantra several times, so it was a surprise when I suddenly felt his cock thrust deeply into my cunt as I said the word “slave” again. Each new word sent his huge cock deep into me over and over, and I started to get fuzzy as he fucked me and I babbled away. Next his cock moved and began driving deep into my ass over and over. I love the feel of his cock in my cunt – love it like all the amazing things in the world all at once – but feeling him take my ass so confidently and purposefully not only made me drip, but pant and moan and jump each time. I began to go a little dizzy as he fucked my ass with each phrase. I knew it could not get better than this.

And at precisely that moment I began a new round of my chanting and felt my cunt and ass both full of his cock.

I continued this worship of words until he came, at which point I lifted my mouth into the air and felt and tasted it fill up with his hot cum. As he came he let me do the same, and once he’d given me permission to cum I sat, kneeling and once again my sane, exhausted, floating self, with the last of the feeling of being double-penetrated buzzing in my head. I remembered that I don’t chant for him and worship him each night, despite his having made me sure that I did. I remembered all of the subtle ways he’d changed me as he played. I remembered being so incredibly full of him, no matter that it wasn’t real this time.

I don’t know if Master will make my fantasy come true this summer or not. But he’s giving me much to think about until then.

Wednesday 7 April 2010

Lights, Camera, Action!

Sorry for the delay in posting, friends. Between life being way too much and my creative motivations being a little too little my beloved Master’s blog suffered and that’s just not right. Master has been very kind and there has been no talk of punishment yet, but I expect there will need to be something. The blog is his, but it’s been my responsibility to keep it active. But for now I will focus on being better, and that means a post!

Florida Dom asked a lovely bunch of questions and we’ve covered 2/3rds of them. Here we’ll answer the final few, which were:
“What’s your favorite scene? Do you share scenes with any friends?”
I will first admit that I’d been kneeling and obeying my Master for at least a few months before I’d ever finally learned what a “scene” is in this context. Master and I love to play, and honestly because our interactions are almost entirely online this magical concept of the “scene” is critical for us. In fact, our scenes can sometimes be something so conceptual that they become almost like a dramatic scene themselves, and these are the ones that most excite me.

Something else to admit before I answer the first question: I am someone who is incredibly turned on by humiliation. I mean INCREDIBLY so. The stories that most ‘turned my crank’ for years before I discovered just how wide my crank CAN turn usually contained kink the depth of which would make the Marquis de Sade blush and pee a little.

Early on Master suggested that, using his ability with hypnosis and my emensely suggestible mind, so eager to dance to his tune, we try turn my brains down. I said no. Or I said as close to “no” as I did then, which was mostly to look very obviously uncomfortable and wait for him to ask if I was ok with the idea. Because of my furrowed brow Master let the idea slide, but later he came back to it. I honestly don’t remember now whether I knew where that scene was going that day, but either way in a matter of minutes I sat before my camera giggling and jiggling and vapidly mewling about how much I wanted to suck cock. Anyone’s cock. His cock, of course, but if he said so I would have sucked 10 cocks of 10 strangers picked at random to make him happy.

Master had turned the dial on my intelligence down and down and down until I struggled to spell four-letter words and pouted at the challenge of two plus two. He’d also turned up the dial on my sluttiness, so that I was easier to fuck than a $1 prostitute. But the best part was how these changes changed how my Master dealt with me. Even though I am his slave and he is my Master he normally treats me respectfully. We have decorum between us. But when he reduces me to his brainless, slutty bimbo he also enjoys treating me like one. When I can’t answer easy questions he patronizes me, saying things like “It’s ok, baby, it’s not like a slut like you needs to be able to think.” or “you know I like you brainless, slut.”

And then my cunt gushes in response and I giggle and touch myself and other things a bubble-headed fuckdoll does.

This may not be my favorite scene, but it’s one of them. In the same way that my submissive life is so far away from the way I live the rest of my life this scene is one of the few ways I can get even further from my real life. By letting Master actually transform me it reinforces his control, my surrender, and it makes me feel like every bizarre fantasy that might cross my mind is possible. Some day I’m sure I’ll tell you another one of those bizarre fantasies…

But as much as I love to share my scenes and stories with you, my eager readers, I have no friends with whom I can share this life.

My bff’s know that I’ve discovered a submissive side of myself, but no idea at all the scope of that submissive side. They don’t know that he can hypnotize me, or what things he does when my mind becomes his toy. They don’t know about my collars or my toys or my piercing or my blog. If they knew a tiny fraction of the things that now fill my life they’d fall over dead from the shock. The only friend I have with which to share some things, besides you guys, is a woman who wrote a story on the Erotic Mind Control Stories archive. I was impressed enough the first time that I read it that I felt compelled to write to her and we sparked an online friendship from there. I love having someone to whom I can occasionally gush about some amazing scene or moment, and she shows the level of enthusiasm a good friend should. But other than my mystery friend I have nobody to share my shades of kink with.

Now that we’re into April the questions are officially over, but I’ve really enjoyed answering them so I strongly, STRONGLY encourage others to ask more questions if they have them! And thanks again to Florida Dom for asking such a great batch of questions!

Friday 26 March 2010

The History of my Kink

When last we saw our heroine she’d been asked a very exciting collection of questions from our good friend Florida Dom, and she’d decided to break up the entire group into three chunks. Today we address chunk number two, which we’re calling “The History of my Slavery.”

“And when you started in the lifestyle, did your Master start off slowly and bring you to different levels or just take total control at once?

How young were you when you knew you wanted a Master?”
It would probably be a surprise to many of you to know that prior to meeting my Master I’d been celibate for close to 13 years. That I’d only had one sexual partner before this dry spell. That my level of kink was being happy to swallow and not appalled at the use of the word “cunt”. I had no idea that I was submissive, as most of my life I’d been a Grade A, gold-plated, bulletproof control freak.

My Master saw the truth in me and in my writing and he brought it out of me and showed me what I’d wanted forever and ever and never known until just then. In all honesty he let loose a caged beast that I don’t think either of us recognized, and now we work very hard to keep her leashed and in check, because she craves constant and total dominance and sway. Her cravings are so strong that its amazing to me I’d never heard her before now.

So answering his last question first and his first question last I tell you that I was the tender age of almost 40 when I discovered that I desperately wanted to be a slave; to have my Master. It sort of boggles my mind now to think of all the time I wasted NOT being this submissive slave.

I honestly had to go back and look at some of the early communications between Master and I to know the answer to FD’s first question. From the very first I felt a sexual tension between us and felt that he and I were engaged in a dance of words. I also knew early that he was confident he could have me any way he wanted me, and this confidence was completely intoxicating to me. But I do not remember how quickly he brought me to the first pivotal moment. I think it took only a week or so before he instructed me to, at my place of work no less, go to a private place and kneel. Kneel just because he told me to and I wanted to obey.

I’ve been obeying ever since.

Still, there are levels of trust and obedience and decadence and Master brought me through those levels gradually but steadily. I balked at each new thing initially, such as the fear of having my intelligence altered or of being reduced to a panting, barking animal, and whenever I pushed back my Master let me have my hesitation. He gave me time, knowing that the idea would stay in my mind and burrow down, getting a foothold I would not be able to shake. He would come back around, or sometimes just flip the switch without warning and then enjoy watching me writhe and moan and cum.

I still remember very vividly an afternoon where my Master hypnotized me and transformed me, slowly… oh so slowly… into a well-behaved bitch. I could see him standing beside me, despite his body truly being a continent away, with my leash in his hand as he took me for a most humiliating and astounding walk around my apartment, crawling on my hands and knees. I remember being on all fours in the living room, still beside his hallucinatory form, as the effect of this and the sound of his voice pushed me and pulled me and worked me up and over the sexual peak and I came, whining like the bitch in heat that he’d made me at the moment. I was completely overwhelmed and rocked to my core and wanted to go again and again. And yet only a little while before that I’d rejected this idea outright. But he, as always, knew me so much better than I knew myself. He always has.

Now my trust is such that there is nothing Master could ask or suggest that I would refuse. My obedience is total and enthusiastic and I love it any time Master comes up with a new idea for play. His imagination is one of his sexiest traits. And I know there is much farther than he can take me. I just hope we never stop moving forward.

One last chunk still to come from F.D.’s collections of queries:


Lights, Camera, Action…

Monday 22 March 2010

The "There" Down There, and related questions...

Oh Senor Dom, so many questions!

I considered answering all of F.D.’s questions in a big pile, but there’s so much to work with here! Seems a pity to waste, so I’m breaking it into a few chunks. We’ll call the first chunk:

The “There” Down There…

Florida Dom asked these juicy little tidbits:
“You tweeted that you like to clean the house in collar, slut pumps and ass
plugged and nothing else.

How often are you naked in the house? How
often do you have butt plug in your ass? Do you have just one piercing down
there and are you considering more? Will you ever consider posting photos of
your piercing?”

If the questions had come a few weeks ago I would have been able to honestly answer that I am naked every day after I get home. As you already know I purchased a pair of slut pumps. Since that post I’ve been wearing these pumps every day when I get home from work, especially as I’ve been with Master on Skype. I guess it’s fairly symbolic, but I enjoy the feeling of having a special uniform I wear for my Master to reinforce my position. After a few days of just wearing the shoes I took my own suggestion to heart and began removing all my clothing when I added the pumps. Every afternoon, for a few hours, I would sit or lie here on this couch, my ears full of Master’s voice, my body adorned by my slut pumps and nothing else.

Sadly things in this place got chilly and I got lazy. The last couple of weeks I’ve been good about the pumps (mostly) but haven’t been stripping down the way I should. But F.D.’s question has me wanting to be better and I’m going to go back to stripping to talk to him. Beyond time with Master on Skype I also sleep naked, save my beloved everyday ankle collar, every single night. It helps me for those nights/mornings when Master calls to wake me up and, if I’ve been VERY good, play with me.
There is a post coming going into much more details about my ass and the plugging of same. I will tell you now that I sleep with my ass plugged a fair number of nights. Sometimes because Master has specifically ordered me to do so, and sometimes just because I crave the feeling of improving myself for him.

Right now I have just the single piercing “down there”. I don’t know that there will be any others – this is really more of a question for my Master. (you might woo him to answer for himself if you specifically ask him for it? Hint? Hint, hint?) We have chatted a little here and there about adding nipple piercings, and I’d be lying if I said the idea of being further modified for his enjoyment didn’t excite me. However Master hasn’t had the chance to play with his first piercing as much as he’d like just yet and feels it would be “greedy” to send me for new piercings before he gets to really enjoy what I already got. Stay tuned for further adventures on this one!

And then the question about posting a photo of the piercing that I have. Oh, that question. It is one that has often been discussed. Master and I honestly did discuss his taking just such a picture when last he was here with the goal of posting it. We didn’t take the picture, and it’s not an easy one to take on your own. But here’s the thing you really want to know: Would I post a photo of my cunt here on the internet for all to see?

Yes.

And will I do that if Master approves and if he can help me to take that picture when he’s back here in June?

Yes.

My sparkly little cunt with it’s little silver ball and it’s flashy purple jewel. It’s spicy and it’s shiny and it makes me feel more sexy than anything other than Master has in months. The idea of showing it to all of you is all that times 100.

Thanks to Florida Dom for his questions – up next:


The History of my Slavery...

Thursday 18 March 2010

Living the Experience

Jayne asked if I’m able to really “live the experience” and my short answer is no. Followed by a slightly longer answer of no, dammit. And we all know that there must also be a long answer, don’t we?

As you most likely know by now if you’re a regular reader my Master lives far, far away. We get to see each other, when things go as planned, about 3-4 times per year. The rest of the time we interact online, mostly through Skype.

Do we all have the lay of the land now? Very good.

Because of all of these obstacles we don’t live the experience 24/7. I control vast fields and valleys of my life with no reference to my Master at all. The day is too long and too complex to give him the amount of control that I would like. But it is more than that.

Though Master and I met and connected immediately through kink we’ve found a kind of vanilla life as well. We are always aware of our places in this relationship. Always. But we don’t find a need to live those places constantly, so often we have hours of interaction that would seem totally vanilla to anyone who might hear them. We chat and discuss and even debate things on and on. And then when Master gets any sense that I need to be reminded of his complete and total control over me he will toss me on my head and watch me wriggle there.

Take tonight: We sat together for over three hours with no kink to speak of. Wonderful conversations and all but no kink and not even that much sex. But then suddenly he said to me these words: “I think you should look at Skype.” I was looking at other screens and didn’t realize that he’d turned on the camera on his end, but when given the hint I rushed for the button and reveled in the view of his body; his face.

His cock.

He stripped down, getting ready to sleep, and once his shirt and belt and jeans were gone he slid his boxers down, pulled his already alert cock out and began to stroke. And stroke. And stroke. And I watched. And panted. And drooled.

He knew – he always knows – how it wrecks me to see or hear him fuck his fist. So completely in control most of the time it’s an amazing change when I hear him out of control, and I could listen to that all day long. It reduces me to a moaning, whimpering mess and that’s just what I became tonight as he stroked himself and groaned in my ears. This was his way to very clearly remind me that I am his property to play with as he wants any time he’d like. To reiterate how we, in our hearts, always live.

So you ask if I live the experience and the answer is “no”. But Master finds ways to let me live the experience as often as possible. And to remind me how lucky I am to be his.

Tuesday 16 March 2010

To Pierce or Not to Pierce, (that was her question…)

Many thanks to Pickypaws, the first person to reward my shameless request for attention with questioness! She asked a few questions about my piercing, and I’m sure that others have similar questions so I really do appreciate her putting it out there.

First, and most importantly: did it hurt? This was the question I asked the lady who was preparing to pierce me initially. I was lying on the table, feet tucked onto the tiny edge, trying to be brave and cool and stoic, and mostly trying to SHUT THE FUCK UP because I babble when I’m nervous. Just ask both of the people who have tattooed me. For that matter ask my Master – he’s made me nervous for verbal blathering plenty of times and I know he enjoys it when he can see how nervous he’s making me.

But I digress. (see how I do that?)

In mid-babble I asked her to be honest with me – how badly was this going to hurt? She said that she gets this question all the time, and that after years of trying every answer in the end honesty is best. She then looked me square in the eye and told me that it was going to be one of the most painful things I’d ever experience in my life!

For about a second.

But then it wouldn’t hurt at all. And that’s exactly what I found. For the second that the needle pierced the skin it was so painful I could not believe it. Much worse than stubbing your pinky toe or biting your lip or a bikini wax – yes, even the full monty wax – but for just the time it took to actually make the hole. The second she was done poking me it was done hurting. Since then the only discomfort I’ve had is the one or two times when I’ve been a wee bit too rough on that area, and I’m sure it would smart down there with or without my fancy bling.

Once the painful part was over I must admit the piercing itself was a breeze. Not too hard to take care of – the place that I got the piercing is an extremely well respected shop and they give you excellent guidance on how to care for your piercing. It normally takes a couple of weeks to get to a “healed” place but mine seemed good to go in only about 5 days. I had the bar downsized in 2 weeks and now I just get to buy new and wonderful pretty things to wear down there! Just be sure you get a barbell with the threads INTERNAL, not external. Trust me, you do NOT want to be pushing some threaded piece of metal through sensitive skin parts…

The last question that the brave and beautiful (I just have a hunch) Pickypaws asked was about whether I remove my bling when I go to the gyno. I haven’t been since I got the piercing, but I think really the question she’s asking is this: does it embarrass you when the vanilla world sees it? To that I can say NO. I haven’t shared it with any of my friends or family, but really we spend very little time chatting about my naughty bits. But I leave it there when I get waxed and when I DO go to the doctor, whether normal doctor or naughty-bits doctor, I’ll be leaving it in then too. As far as I’m concerned if they’re not embarrassed to stick their face into my areas they certainly shouldn’t be embarrassed if it twinkles back at them!

My best friend is having a pool party for her big birthday this summer, and I realized the other day that this could be a place it would be difficult to keep my bejeweled vejayjay a secret, as I’ll be changing either into or out of a bathing suit in the changing rooms there. I mentioned this to my Master and it was no surprise to me to hear him tell me he quite liked the idea of my friends seeing my fancy fuckhole. (my words, not his, but the gist is the same). We shall see how that goes once July arrives.

Pickypaws, I understand the temptation of the nipple piercing completely. That was the original suggestion that Master made only a few weeks into his having claimed me and though I originally balked at the idea I admit now I find myself thinking about it regularly. I’m more of a fan of the barbells through the nipple than of the rings (and they seem easier to hide in your vanilla life) but just the idea of being pierced in multiple places to show my ownership is an incredible rush. If you decide to do so, and if your owner gives you permission, please do write back and let me know! Maybe you can be the thing that pushes me to finally ask permission too!

If anyone else has any questions please be sure to let me know. This is kind of fun!!!

Sunday 14 March 2010

Q&A

So did you guys know that it’s Q&A month or something? I honestly don’t know what mailing list I need to be on to find out about this stuff, because imagine my embarrassment when I don’t even know about it until half-way through the month! But I’ve got 2 weeks left, so I wanted to at least open up the floor to anybody who has a question.

The last post here was actually in response to a few questions that have been asked. But even still I find it hard to imagine that I’d have any knowledge to share, as I’m new to this lifestyle. Honestly I find myself scouring the blogs out there all the time because each time I do I learn more about myself. I’m probably the last to discover it, but there’s been a really interesting conversation happening over at an amazing blog written by Little Girl. The basic question that was raised was about why people like us like what we like, love what we love, indulge in the things in which we indulge.

What I most appreciated were how many of the people who chimed in on that conversation or were inspired (as I apparently was) to write separately shared the experience that I did: finding this life was a relief and made me feel so much BETTER about myself than I ever had. It was compounded by having met an amazing person who also boosts my ego up constantly and fabulously, but I knew as soon as I let the monster out of her cave that I’d released a lot of personal demons at the same time.

Indulging in this life with my Master has made me feel light and free. I think before this I was carrying around a lot of guilt and shame for the things that I secretly wanted. I found a person who could see this side of me and didn’t recoil, but instead wanted to set it free for me. Wanted to be able to play with me in the ways I wanted to play. At first it was a secret that I finally could share with him. Since then it’s become something I share with you guys, and even sometimes little bits are shared with my best friends. I sometimes imagine that eventually I’ll be so comfortable in my own skin, kinky warts and all, that I’ll be able to tell anybody about it.

But for now I like that I can share it with all of you. As so many others have said in their own avenues, knowing that there are so many others out there who share the strange delights that I do has meant so much to me, and has allowed me to face myself more and more openly and honestly. So if there’s anything about my kinks that you’d like to ask please do. Plus, as an added incentive, if you have a question for my MASTER he's also said he'd happily address them. This is your chance to finally hear from the horse (trainer's) mouth!