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 It’s been replaced by panting and tail-wagging and begging for a ‘good girl’.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.
Thursday 29 April 2010
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!)
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.
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.
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:
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!
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!
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