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!)
Showing posts with label orders. Show all posts
Showing posts with label orders. Show all posts
Saturday, 24 April 2010
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.
Saturday, 6 February 2010
Flipping a Switch
Master and I have both a "vanilla" relationship and our kinky one and both work exceptionally well. Sometimes, however, making the transition from one to the other can be difficult, like changing gears from Neutral to Turbo in one shift. Master, being the devilishly brilliant man that he is, has found a bridge between our two speeds.
He calls it Slave Mode. Simply put, he’s created a version of me that is essentially the same in every way save one: this version is completely servile. All the time. She has no other way of seeing the world other than through the lenses of being Master’s obedient, adoring slave. She has my intelligence, my personality, my memories and my experiences, but over them all is a thick blanket of complete and total devotion to serving Master above all else.
Understand that the regular me is also Master’s slave; I love and obey and serve him as well, and am eager and enthusiastic to do it always! However I will admit that when you’ve just finished a conversation about your normal life it can sometimes be hard to make the shift to a simpler view instantaneously. Now with this new version of myself I can and will make that switch any time Master requires.
And it is a switch. One he can flip like turning on a light.
The Slave Mode version of me is new, but already Master is beginning to train and improve her. His plan is to use the next few months until he can come and visit again to mold her to be the slave he truly wants, so that he can use me any way he likes while he is here without worries about helping me adjust or what mood I might be in. This week he began cultivating such aspects as my always referring to him as “Sir” (though that one might have been mine – I’m not sure.) and teaching me proper positions to know and take by command. The first of such positions he gave me this week.
I kneel before him, preferably naked, with my tits held together and presented to him, my face held up slightly, as if looking up to him, and my knees pulled apart. This pose has the distinct feeling of being presented to him for approval, and when I fall into it upon his instruction I find myself getting wet on instinct. Right now this is the only pose that he’s given me, but we need to find it a name so that when the next pose is provided I know which is which.
So I ask you, my reading public: what should the Slave me’s first assigned position be called?
He calls it Slave Mode. Simply put, he’s created a version of me that is essentially the same in every way save one: this version is completely servile. All the time. She has no other way of seeing the world other than through the lenses of being Master’s obedient, adoring slave. She has my intelligence, my personality, my memories and my experiences, but over them all is a thick blanket of complete and total devotion to serving Master above all else.
Understand that the regular me is also Master’s slave; I love and obey and serve him as well, and am eager and enthusiastic to do it always! However I will admit that when you’ve just finished a conversation about your normal life it can sometimes be hard to make the shift to a simpler view instantaneously. Now with this new version of myself I can and will make that switch any time Master requires.
And it is a switch. One he can flip like turning on a light.
The Slave Mode version of me is new, but already Master is beginning to train and improve her. His plan is to use the next few months until he can come and visit again to mold her to be the slave he truly wants, so that he can use me any way he likes while he is here without worries about helping me adjust or what mood I might be in. This week he began cultivating such aspects as my always referring to him as “Sir” (though that one might have been mine – I’m not sure.) and teaching me proper positions to know and take by command. The first of such positions he gave me this week.
I kneel before him, preferably naked, with my tits held together and presented to him, my face held up slightly, as if looking up to him, and my knees pulled apart. This pose has the distinct feeling of being presented to him for approval, and when I fall into it upon his instruction I find myself getting wet on instinct. Right now this is the only pose that he’s given me, but we need to find it a name so that when the next pose is provided I know which is which.
So I ask you, my reading public: what should the Slave me’s first assigned position be called?
Sunday, 31 January 2010
Careful what you ask for
I still remember the first time that Master mentioned, almost as if in passing, that he was considering sending me off to get my nipple pierced. You know, as a way to show his ownership? I was very freshly in to this new world and still under the adorable impression that what I wanted or was comfortable with made even a tiny bit of difference. Master was kind enough to let me have that one, and for a while I thought that was it on that subject.
But the funny thing was that I couldn’t let the idea go. As he’d done before, and still does, he’d planted a seed and left it there to grow into an unstoppable jungle of wanting to please him. Some months passed and I found myself asking HIM about piercings. He was pleased to have me bring the question back to him, as it showed again how completely he can make me dance, but in the end we moved away from the idea of nipple piercing. Instead we moved somewhere… south.
About 2 months ago I walked down some stairs to an underground door. I went in, signed some papers and threw my heels into a pair of stirrups so that a perfectly lovely stranger could run a very long needle through the skin over my clit. She promised me it would hurt like ever loving hell for just a second and it did that times a million, but then it was over and I found myself the proud owner of a cunt now bejeweled.
That night I lay on my bed, marveling at what I’d done for my Master. My bare, sensitive cunt now had a pair of silver balls sparkling out from it. Not only did the idea of it make me crazy, because I knew I’d have never done it in a million years on my own, but there was the promise of enhanced sexual sensitivity the next time he came to town. The woman who gave me the piercing told me that she’d had hers for a few years and at this point couldn’t even imagine sex without it.
When by myself there are things I love about my piercing. The time each morning where I stand naked in my mirror and see the shiny little silver ball glinting out from my cunt. The days where for some mysterious reason I’m hyper-aware of the jewelry there, and my panties are slick with my excitement all day long. The charming little “ting, ting, ting” sound that rings out when I fuck myself with the glass dildo Master gifted to me long ago. But it wasn’t until Master was here and finally tossed me back on the bed and pumped his incredible cock into me over and over, pushing my clit up to rub against that piercing, that I honestly appreciated this amazing addition to my slavery.
Since leaving my Master has mentioned, just in passing, the possibility of nipple piercings in my future. And then he said this: “Piercings, tattoos… Maybe branding…”
Of course my first reaction was resistance, fear, aversion. So I wonder what door I’ll be walking through a few months from now?
But the funny thing was that I couldn’t let the idea go. As he’d done before, and still does, he’d planted a seed and left it there to grow into an unstoppable jungle of wanting to please him. Some months passed and I found myself asking HIM about piercings. He was pleased to have me bring the question back to him, as it showed again how completely he can make me dance, but in the end we moved away from the idea of nipple piercing. Instead we moved somewhere… south.
About 2 months ago I walked down some stairs to an underground door. I went in, signed some papers and threw my heels into a pair of stirrups so that a perfectly lovely stranger could run a very long needle through the skin over my clit. She promised me it would hurt like ever loving hell for just a second and it did that times a million, but then it was over and I found myself the proud owner of a cunt now bejeweled.
That night I lay on my bed, marveling at what I’d done for my Master. My bare, sensitive cunt now had a pair of silver balls sparkling out from it. Not only did the idea of it make me crazy, because I knew I’d have never done it in a million years on my own, but there was the promise of enhanced sexual sensitivity the next time he came to town. The woman who gave me the piercing told me that she’d had hers for a few years and at this point couldn’t even imagine sex without it.
When by myself there are things I love about my piercing. The time each morning where I stand naked in my mirror and see the shiny little silver ball glinting out from my cunt. The days where for some mysterious reason I’m hyper-aware of the jewelry there, and my panties are slick with my excitement all day long. The charming little “ting, ting, ting” sound that rings out when I fuck myself with the glass dildo Master gifted to me long ago. But it wasn’t until Master was here and finally tossed me back on the bed and pumped his incredible cock into me over and over, pushing my clit up to rub against that piercing, that I honestly appreciated this amazing addition to my slavery.
Since leaving my Master has mentioned, just in passing, the possibility of nipple piercings in my future. And then he said this: “Piercings, tattoos… Maybe branding…”
Of course my first reaction was resistance, fear, aversion. So I wonder what door I’ll be walking through a few months from now?
Thursday, 3 December 2009
Ass Training - my First Challenge
The first, smallest butt plug surprised me when it slid into my tight little rosebud with nary a complaint. I’d been nervous about this exercise and worried that I wouldn’t be able to improve myself for my Master, but there I was with my ass filled for his pleasure. I repeated it every night for the first week, and at the first weekend I was practically smug with how well I had done.
My Master sounded pleased, to be sure, and in that way that he does he allowed himself to think almost out loud. His thoughts culminated with a pleased-sounding “hmmmm…"
“What?” I asked. I knew that “hmmmm…” and often such things were opportunities for me to please him even more. And I can never get enough of such opportunities.
“Well, I was thinking of something, but I’d say its too soon.” He was smiling as he said it, and I took the bait like a prize-winning fish.
“Why? What is it?”
“I have a new task for you,” he smirked over the line, “but it would mean speeding up the process.” I should have considered those words longer, given that at that point I’d only just completed a week of training. But in my mind I was sure I knew his thoughts, and I’d already had the same ones. Rather than waiting another week I would go ahead and jump to the next size of ass plug next week. I was sure I could do it, and in fact was eager to feel myself, my ass, stretching to better myself for his pleasure. So with very little thought I eagerly replied.
“Ok.”
“Ok what?” was his careful response.
“Ok let’s speed up.” I smiled myself this time and I knew he heard it. My ego was about to get me into just a little bit of trouble again.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving me one last opportunity that I honestly didn’t deserve to reconsider. “Once I tell you there’s no turning back; you’d have to take the challenge.” And of course didn’t take the chance given me.
“I’m sure. What’s the task?”
“On Monday I want you to wear the ass plug to work. All day.”
This was not what I was expecting. I was sure we were talking larger. Not longer. I’d not even kept it in the entire night, so the idea of all day was… daunting. If not a little scary. But I’d asked, and had received my challenge. I knew I’d have no option to reconsider at this point, so I would have to follow through. And though I was scared, I was also excited at such a lofty goal. And I was thrilled at the idea of amusing him. I knew he loved the idea of my working all day long, my mind never off of the tremendous fullness in my ass simply to please him.
On Saturday night I kept the plug in almost all night long; four hours at least I knew. Again my ass happily took the intrusion, and in fact I’d begun to notice pleasure centers in and around my rear. Each time I shoved the plug deep into myself I had a shudder of intense pleasure for a few minutes following. I didn’t know if it was actual, physical pleasure or simply enjoyment of being invaded only to improve myself. And I didn’t really care.
Sunday night as I spoke to him he asked if I was nervous about the next day. I had been thinking about it all day long and confessed to some nerves. This confession only pleased him more. He told me he knew that I’d make him proud; that he had faith in me. So overjoyed was I by his praise I now couldn’t wait for the next morning, when I would fill myself for him. And so it was that 6am the next morning, as the little, black intruder pushed its way into my ass and settled in for the day, that I felt such a rush of excitement and pleasure as to almost cum.
Each step that day was a constant reminder of him. As I sat at my desk I struggled to think about my work, instead fixated on the never ending pressure from the waist down. The experience overloaded my senses and by lunchtime I was incredibly damp between my legs. I went home for lunch, having been given permission by Master to remove it and add more lube. I allowed my tight little hole a rest while I ate my lunch, but when the food was gone I forced myself onto my back, my knees up over my head and my little anal intruder back into its home. As it slid in the second time for that day my rear took it even more readily. In fact, it slid in smoothly, with little of the normal resistance. And once again I was rewarded with a strong ripple throughout my system, bordering on an orgasm.
I had also realized somewhere during my day that I had a business dinner to attend that night. I spoke to Master about how I would be coming home between work and the dinner to be able to talk to him a while, as well as to remove the plug.
“Oh, but what fun would that be?” he asked, that now-familiar smile still in his voice. I assumed that he was kidding, never thinking he would want me to extend my challenge so far. But as I joked back he made himself more clear. “You are to wear the plug through dinner as well, slave.” As is so often the case in these moments I stuttered some kind of resistance while simultaneously loving this sound of his wicked smile and the idea of pleasing him.
The plug stayed with me as I sat at the table of co-workers, making idle chit-chat and privately marveling at what they had no idea about.
That night I was not required to train my ass. As I came home I changed into pj’s and finally removed the plug. My well-worked behind let out its own sigh of relief as it was finally freed from the visitor. Making it that much more surprising the next day at work when I became aware of a new feeling: I missed the plug. My empty ass seemed sad and unchallenged after a day of being to put to work for the sole purpose of amusing its Master. When I trained that night it was a relief to be filled once again. As it is always a relief to be allowed to prove to Master he made the right choice by claiming me oh so many months ago.
My Master sounded pleased, to be sure, and in that way that he does he allowed himself to think almost out loud. His thoughts culminated with a pleased-sounding “hmmmm…"
“What?” I asked. I knew that “hmmmm…” and often such things were opportunities for me to please him even more. And I can never get enough of such opportunities.
“Well, I was thinking of something, but I’d say its too soon.” He was smiling as he said it, and I took the bait like a prize-winning fish.
“Why? What is it?”
“I have a new task for you,” he smirked over the line, “but it would mean speeding up the process.” I should have considered those words longer, given that at that point I’d only just completed a week of training. But in my mind I was sure I knew his thoughts, and I’d already had the same ones. Rather than waiting another week I would go ahead and jump to the next size of ass plug next week. I was sure I could do it, and in fact was eager to feel myself, my ass, stretching to better myself for his pleasure. So with very little thought I eagerly replied.
“Ok.”
“Ok what?” was his careful response.
“Ok let’s speed up.” I smiled myself this time and I knew he heard it. My ego was about to get me into just a little bit of trouble again.
“Are you sure?” he asked, giving me one last opportunity that I honestly didn’t deserve to reconsider. “Once I tell you there’s no turning back; you’d have to take the challenge.” And of course didn’t take the chance given me.
“I’m sure. What’s the task?”
“On Monday I want you to wear the ass plug to work. All day.”
This was not what I was expecting. I was sure we were talking larger. Not longer. I’d not even kept it in the entire night, so the idea of all day was… daunting. If not a little scary. But I’d asked, and had received my challenge. I knew I’d have no option to reconsider at this point, so I would have to follow through. And though I was scared, I was also excited at such a lofty goal. And I was thrilled at the idea of amusing him. I knew he loved the idea of my working all day long, my mind never off of the tremendous fullness in my ass simply to please him.
On Saturday night I kept the plug in almost all night long; four hours at least I knew. Again my ass happily took the intrusion, and in fact I’d begun to notice pleasure centers in and around my rear. Each time I shoved the plug deep into myself I had a shudder of intense pleasure for a few minutes following. I didn’t know if it was actual, physical pleasure or simply enjoyment of being invaded only to improve myself. And I didn’t really care.
Sunday night as I spoke to him he asked if I was nervous about the next day. I had been thinking about it all day long and confessed to some nerves. This confession only pleased him more. He told me he knew that I’d make him proud; that he had faith in me. So overjoyed was I by his praise I now couldn’t wait for the next morning, when I would fill myself for him. And so it was that 6am the next morning, as the little, black intruder pushed its way into my ass and settled in for the day, that I felt such a rush of excitement and pleasure as to almost cum.
Each step that day was a constant reminder of him. As I sat at my desk I struggled to think about my work, instead fixated on the never ending pressure from the waist down. The experience overloaded my senses and by lunchtime I was incredibly damp between my legs. I went home for lunch, having been given permission by Master to remove it and add more lube. I allowed my tight little hole a rest while I ate my lunch, but when the food was gone I forced myself onto my back, my knees up over my head and my little anal intruder back into its home. As it slid in the second time for that day my rear took it even more readily. In fact, it slid in smoothly, with little of the normal resistance. And once again I was rewarded with a strong ripple throughout my system, bordering on an orgasm.
I had also realized somewhere during my day that I had a business dinner to attend that night. I spoke to Master about how I would be coming home between work and the dinner to be able to talk to him a while, as well as to remove the plug.
“Oh, but what fun would that be?” he asked, that now-familiar smile still in his voice. I assumed that he was kidding, never thinking he would want me to extend my challenge so far. But as I joked back he made himself more clear. “You are to wear the plug through dinner as well, slave.” As is so often the case in these moments I stuttered some kind of resistance while simultaneously loving this sound of his wicked smile and the idea of pleasing him.
The plug stayed with me as I sat at the table of co-workers, making idle chit-chat and privately marveling at what they had no idea about.
That night I was not required to train my ass. As I came home I changed into pj’s and finally removed the plug. My well-worked behind let out its own sigh of relief as it was finally freed from the visitor. Making it that much more surprising the next day at work when I became aware of a new feeling: I missed the plug. My empty ass seemed sad and unchallenged after a day of being to put to work for the sole purpose of amusing its Master. When I trained that night it was a relief to be filled once again. As it is always a relief to be allowed to prove to Master he made the right choice by claiming me oh so many months ago.
Saturday, 21 November 2009
Smooth like a Doll
“How would you feel about shaving?” he asked me.
We had only been communicating via video for a week or so when the question came. I already knew what he was thinking, and I cringed at the idea. I knew it was not truly an option to say “no” – if he wanted to see the cunt that he’d claimed with less clutter he would, and I was not at liberty to refuse him. Still, I dreaded the idea of trying to shave my cunt. I’d cut myself shaving my legs before, so the idea of such a possibility on my sweet spot gave me a shudder, and not the good kind. Luckily my mind sprung forth with a possible alternative.
“I’d rather not shave, but I would consider getting waxed. Would that work?” Master was happy at this compromise, and told me to go forth and make it so.
The first time I arrived with much fear and left with much less hair. To my relief the feeling of each yank of wax-covered linen was a sharp pain for a moment, but not much worse than removing a bandaid. But what I was not prepared for was how much I loved the feeling and the look of being smooth. I had originally left a runway of tightly clipped hair just above my cunt. Master liked the look overall, but decided he wanted to see me completely bare, totally exposed to him from now on.
Months later and I now adore the feeling of a hairless cunt. When Master tells me to turn on my camera and peel out of my panties I know he will be pleased to see each fold and flap of my pussy completely available to him. At work he can slip me a simple push to make me gush and I feel it pour straight from me to soak my panties. I would not have done this myself, but again Master has changed me and I will gladly stay his fuckdoll with the cunt to match.
We had only been communicating via video for a week or so when the question came. I already knew what he was thinking, and I cringed at the idea. I knew it was not truly an option to say “no” – if he wanted to see the cunt that he’d claimed with less clutter he would, and I was not at liberty to refuse him. Still, I dreaded the idea of trying to shave my cunt. I’d cut myself shaving my legs before, so the idea of such a possibility on my sweet spot gave me a shudder, and not the good kind. Luckily my mind sprung forth with a possible alternative.
“I’d rather not shave, but I would consider getting waxed. Would that work?” Master was happy at this compromise, and told me to go forth and make it so.
The first time I arrived with much fear and left with much less hair. To my relief the feeling of each yank of wax-covered linen was a sharp pain for a moment, but not much worse than removing a bandaid. But what I was not prepared for was how much I loved the feeling and the look of being smooth. I had originally left a runway of tightly clipped hair just above my cunt. Master liked the look overall, but decided he wanted to see me completely bare, totally exposed to him from now on.
Months later and I now adore the feeling of a hairless cunt. When Master tells me to turn on my camera and peel out of my panties I know he will be pleased to see each fold and flap of my pussy completely available to him. At work he can slip me a simple push to make me gush and I feel it pour straight from me to soak my panties. I would not have done this myself, but again Master has changed me and I will gladly stay his fuckdoll with the cunt to match.
Wednesday, 11 November 2009
New tricks...
As I’ve already mentioned, Master is considering how completely he wishes to take me when next we spend time together. So far he’s owned my mouth and my cunt quite fully. However my ass remains rebellious and he’s unsure if he’ll tame it yet as well. Still, wanting to allow him to do whatever he decides he tasked me with preparing myself for his very, very ample cock.
A week ago I went on an errand for my Master. We have a favorite toy store in my city which tends to appeal to our kinds of kink. I went there and spoke to the extremely knowledgeable staff person, explaining to her frankly that I was looking to prepare my ass for an impressive intrusion. By the time we’d covered all the possibilities I walked out with a large bottle of lube and the Trinity Silicone Butt Plug Kit. Three plugs in total, they range from an inch in diameter at the smallest to 1.5 inches at the largest, as well as ranging from 2 inches to 3 inches long. They’re my training wheels and I eagerly jumped on and started pedaling as soon as I brought them home.
Sunday night I began a new, nightly ritual aimed for a very significant goal: to train my ass to take intrusion. Not just to take it, but to enjoy it. To learn to love the feeling of a full, pressured ass. I’ve repeated this training every night this week.
That first night was an amazing experience. Unsure of what I was going to do I made it up as I went along. I lie naked on my bed on a towel and I told my body to relax. Relax. Relax. I sloughed off the pressures of the day and everyday life. I knew I’d have no room for those pressures with the pressure I was about to pull into myself. Once I’d relaxed my body I squirted lube onto my left hand, covering the fingers, and I pulled my legs up, over my head so that my knees rested on either side of my head; my hand slid between the legs and found my tight, pink hole, ready as a barrier to any intrusion. I slipped the lube all around my hole, and after a minute or so I stuck my finger into my ass.
This was the first time I’d ever taken this step. Though I was trying to concentrate on the task of pushing lube down into the hole, I had to stop for a moment and process the feelings. Of my physical body’s attempts to push back; of my rush of pleasure and danger; of the intoxicating idea that I was intruding this way on my Master’s instruction. It was heady and intense. A word that will come back again and again in this telling.
My asshole now well-lubed I squirted more into my hand and I grabbed the smallest butt plug. I honestly looked at it and thought to myself that it seemed almost too easy a goal. Knowing the size of my Master’s cock, I wondered if I should start with a larger size, but decided I would start with the smallest just to be sure. I rolled the tapered point and round bulb around in the lube, being sure it was completely and thickly covered, and then I grabbed the ring at the base and aimed it for my tight little rosebud. And I pushed.
And I pushed.
My body’s defenses are robust, and they are very sure that nothing should going in that out-hole. As soon as the plug passed a certain point my muscles came back to life, trying to close off all access. At this point I had to breathe deeply and remind them all of the cardinal rule: relax. Relax. Relax. And then again I pushed.
To my surprise the muscles listened to me (a first, I assure you!!) and I had not too much resistance. My next surprise was how amazing full my ass felt by just this smallest plug. Pressure starting at the base of my spine and continuing down to the split of my legs, so intense! I lie on my bed, my legs stretched out straight, and I breathed long, deep breaths to once more relax, relax, relax. With time I found it easier and easier to experience this for my Master. But I wanted to do more than experience it. I wanted my body to learn to love it.
I shivered slightly, cold as I was lying naked and exposed, and I let my eyes close and my mind open. I fished around until a fantasy began to form. In my mind I lie on my bed, but with my eyes covered and my wrists bound around my headboard. I waited for some sort of change and finally felt my bed shake – someone else was on the bed with me. Warm hands took my legs and lifted them over my head. A slick, cold finger pushed into my rear, impossible to feel with my ass already so overwhelmed.
I let my fingers slide down to my smooth cunt as the fantasy unfolded. Already my soft lips were slick in anticipation.
I imagined my Master exploring my ass with his finger, but I knew this was the first step toward something else. As if events were under my control (and yes, I know they were) the finger left my ass and something new replaced it. I felt cold and slick and pressure as Master slid something into me. I was only just reacting to the feeling when the blindfold evaporated and I found myself staring into Master’s startling green eyes. At this time I began to fall.
Under Master’s control I felt myself falling further and further into the very back of my mind. As I moved away from control of my body Master pulled forth the animal from inside me and gave her free reign. From my vantage point the outside world seemed like something viewed from the wrong end of a telescope and I saw myself crawl down to the floor, walking on my hands and knees. Master had clipped the leash to my collar and now took my vacant and eager puppy self on a walk around the apartment.
As this fantasy took hold I let my hands lavish affections on my clit, the abundant juices all around my cunt now spread out to my thighs. My hips bucked up occasionally, and only then was I reminded of my ass still so packed tight. The feeling of the plug in my ass now felt almost easy to my body.
In my mind I continued to see myself heeling at my master’s foot. I moved past the mirror hanging on my closet door and there I realized what my Master had inserted into my ass: a tail. From my round rear there now hung a long, red fox tail. To my surprise the image was one I found… lovely.
I allowed this fantasy to continue until my phone’s alarm sounded, telling me that I’d let my training go the entire thirty minutes. I was amazed that I’d found pleasure for most of that time, and that the intensity of my full ass had become something I not only endured but even enjoyed. This was my first night of training, but now I knew I would succeed in preparing myself for my Master. I even wondered if I would be rewarded for my action with my own lovely tail…
A week ago I went on an errand for my Master. We have a favorite toy store in my city which tends to appeal to our kinds of kink. I went there and spoke to the extremely knowledgeable staff person, explaining to her frankly that I was looking to prepare my ass for an impressive intrusion. By the time we’d covered all the possibilities I walked out with a large bottle of lube and the Trinity Silicone Butt Plug Kit. Three plugs in total, they range from an inch in diameter at the smallest to 1.5 inches at the largest, as well as ranging from 2 inches to 3 inches long. They’re my training wheels and I eagerly jumped on and started pedaling as soon as I brought them home.
Sunday night I began a new, nightly ritual aimed for a very significant goal: to train my ass to take intrusion. Not just to take it, but to enjoy it. To learn to love the feeling of a full, pressured ass. I’ve repeated this training every night this week.
That first night was an amazing experience. Unsure of what I was going to do I made it up as I went along. I lie naked on my bed on a towel and I told my body to relax. Relax. Relax. I sloughed off the pressures of the day and everyday life. I knew I’d have no room for those pressures with the pressure I was about to pull into myself. Once I’d relaxed my body I squirted lube onto my left hand, covering the fingers, and I pulled my legs up, over my head so that my knees rested on either side of my head; my hand slid between the legs and found my tight, pink hole, ready as a barrier to any intrusion. I slipped the lube all around my hole, and after a minute or so I stuck my finger into my ass.
This was the first time I’d ever taken this step. Though I was trying to concentrate on the task of pushing lube down into the hole, I had to stop for a moment and process the feelings. Of my physical body’s attempts to push back; of my rush of pleasure and danger; of the intoxicating idea that I was intruding this way on my Master’s instruction. It was heady and intense. A word that will come back again and again in this telling.
My asshole now well-lubed I squirted more into my hand and I grabbed the smallest butt plug. I honestly looked at it and thought to myself that it seemed almost too easy a goal. Knowing the size of my Master’s cock, I wondered if I should start with a larger size, but decided I would start with the smallest just to be sure. I rolled the tapered point and round bulb around in the lube, being sure it was completely and thickly covered, and then I grabbed the ring at the base and aimed it for my tight little rosebud. And I pushed.
And I pushed.
My body’s defenses are robust, and they are very sure that nothing should going in that out-hole. As soon as the plug passed a certain point my muscles came back to life, trying to close off all access. At this point I had to breathe deeply and remind them all of the cardinal rule: relax. Relax. Relax. And then again I pushed.
To my surprise the muscles listened to me (a first, I assure you!!) and I had not too much resistance. My next surprise was how amazing full my ass felt by just this smallest plug. Pressure starting at the base of my spine and continuing down to the split of my legs, so intense! I lie on my bed, my legs stretched out straight, and I breathed long, deep breaths to once more relax, relax, relax. With time I found it easier and easier to experience this for my Master. But I wanted to do more than experience it. I wanted my body to learn to love it.
I shivered slightly, cold as I was lying naked and exposed, and I let my eyes close and my mind open. I fished around until a fantasy began to form. In my mind I lie on my bed, but with my eyes covered and my wrists bound around my headboard. I waited for some sort of change and finally felt my bed shake – someone else was on the bed with me. Warm hands took my legs and lifted them over my head. A slick, cold finger pushed into my rear, impossible to feel with my ass already so overwhelmed.
I let my fingers slide down to my smooth cunt as the fantasy unfolded. Already my soft lips were slick in anticipation.
I imagined my Master exploring my ass with his finger, but I knew this was the first step toward something else. As if events were under my control (and yes, I know they were) the finger left my ass and something new replaced it. I felt cold and slick and pressure as Master slid something into me. I was only just reacting to the feeling when the blindfold evaporated and I found myself staring into Master’s startling green eyes. At this time I began to fall.
Under Master’s control I felt myself falling further and further into the very back of my mind. As I moved away from control of my body Master pulled forth the animal from inside me and gave her free reign. From my vantage point the outside world seemed like something viewed from the wrong end of a telescope and I saw myself crawl down to the floor, walking on my hands and knees. Master had clipped the leash to my collar and now took my vacant and eager puppy self on a walk around the apartment.
As this fantasy took hold I let my hands lavish affections on my clit, the abundant juices all around my cunt now spread out to my thighs. My hips bucked up occasionally, and only then was I reminded of my ass still so packed tight. The feeling of the plug in my ass now felt almost easy to my body.
In my mind I continued to see myself heeling at my master’s foot. I moved past the mirror hanging on my closet door and there I realized what my Master had inserted into my ass: a tail. From my round rear there now hung a long, red fox tail. To my surprise the image was one I found… lovely.
I allowed this fantasy to continue until my phone’s alarm sounded, telling me that I’d let my training go the entire thirty minutes. I was amazed that I’d found pleasure for most of that time, and that the intensity of my full ass had become something I not only endured but even enjoyed. This was my first night of training, but now I knew I would succeed in preparing myself for my Master. I even wondered if I would be rewarded for my action with my own lovely tail…
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Full, Full, Full...
Master has been so generous with his time this weekend. I’m overwhelmed and oversexed all at once. Tonight we talked a little about something that has come up a couple of times recently: my ass. I have been asking Master if, when he visits me in a couple of months, he plans to take me in all possible places. This would include, of course, my ass. This is a place he did not take me before, but there have been discussions, and I am becoming more desperate to know his decision.
In a manner so typical for my Master, he has not given me a decision yet and won’t for some time. He especially enjoys creating opportunities to make me squirm, and on this question I am certainly squirming. Deliciously so.
Still, I’ve worried about a last-minute decision and that it might not allow me to prepare for him. My Master is not a small man; not at all. The first time I felt him rush into my cunt I screamed out loud. While I grow wet at the very idea of Master filling my ass, I also fear that I will be unable to take him in and I hate any idea of my failing my Master. I mentioned this worry to him last night and he suggested I might want to find a butt plug or even a dilator kit to get used to the feeling, but I did not know if he truly wanted me to or not.
Tonight I asked again if he had made a decision about whether to take me from behind. With his sinister smile he told me he was still considering, and added that he had no plans to make the decision soon. I bit my lip and mentioned again that I hoped to know with enough advance notice as to allow me to prepare my ass for him. Ever pragmatic, he answered my worries with a question: did it excite me to think of sliding a butt plug into my ass? With a tiny voice I told him that what excited me was the idea of doing it to make myself more worthy for him. He smiled still, his eyes flashing in a way that told me he knew what I needed, and gave it to me with three simple words.
“Then get one.”
I felt myself leak at the command. Tomorrow I will go to our favorite toy store and find an anal dilator kit to begin my training. The question settled, we went back to our conversation. We chatted for a while, but I admit my mind was stuck on the idea of this new toy. My Master had pulled out his cock when we discussed my fear of his size, and though we’d been chatting on I knew his cock was still hard. I knew that it was just out of camera range. I knew that his hand was wrapped around it still. This idea I could not push from my mind, and instead it slid down my mind into my body. I began to whimper a little as my hips bucked back and forth, the crotch of my pants sliding over my freshly waxed cunt.
Master heard my pitiful sounds and knew I was losing my control. He could have shut me down, tamed my libido, but instead he let me go; even fueled the fire by allowing me to see his arm moving off camera, thereby confirming my thoughts of his activity. I writhed as I watched him; his beautiful face making my heart race and his rocking shoulder sending ripples through me. He enjoyed my pathetic gasps and moans and mewls, and when I grew too quiet he stoked me again.
“Do you like the idea of me taking you in your ass?” he asked me with a sly grin.
I ground my hand down between my legs again as I answered. “I like the idea of you taking me in every possible way. Making your ownership of me complete.” Hearing these words come from my lips I felt another rush of wet slide out of my cunt. My head spun from this build up of fire. I let my gaze come back to the computer screen and his pleased expression. And his rocking arm.
We spent many minutes just building ourselves up to mutual pleasure, his hand stroking as mine did the same. My noises became more pressing, more desperate and I felt my climax rushing at me. I cried out that I was cumming, and yet Master wasn’t finished with me yet. I’d only barely caught my breath when I heard his voice again. “I will count to three, and you will feel the smallest of the butt plug slide into you. Three, Two, One… Now.”
I cried out as my ass filled, putting pressure on everything below my waist. Knowing Master wanted me to feel this now, simply through his control of me, kept me from coming down from my orgasm high. Seconds later I was already half way toward another climax. I shuddered and groaned and my hips bucked again, but this time each thrust up to my hand clenched my ass muscles, stretched tightly around the smallest plug now filling my ass. This simply added to my feeling of helplessness and ecstasy.
“This is so intense” I gasped out, the sentence coming in bits and pieces. Though I couldn’t get out any more words, beyond pants and pleas, in my mind I boggled at both the feeling of being completely packed down below, as well as being Masters fucktoy to be stuffed as he wishes with simply a suggestion. I twisted and humped and shook, keeping my eyes on Master’s face on my laptop as much as I could. His face told me that he was close to his finale, and I strained to hear his gasps through my headphones over my own cries.
At last I saw and heard him arrive. He groaned and exhaled, bringing me to the very peak of my own crushing climax. More than that, with each breath of his cum I heard I felt a hot jet of cum hit my ass, so sensitive with the fullness. I closed my eyes and imagined being bent over before him, exposed and overflowing at once as his cock splashes my butt with his hot cream.
Generous to me he breathed through the connection “cum.” And I did. Only a few minutes after my last time I was once again clutching the couch as my toes curled and my heart shuddered. He need only ever say the word and I obey. Happily, eagerly I obey. I cascaded down the other side of the eruption and felt the fullness in my ass slip away, another gift from him. Once empty again I discovered I missed it. Missed the sensation of being full there to please only him. But tomorrow I will go and buy the new toy. And I will once again fill myself. For him.
In a manner so typical for my Master, he has not given me a decision yet and won’t for some time. He especially enjoys creating opportunities to make me squirm, and on this question I am certainly squirming. Deliciously so.
Still, I’ve worried about a last-minute decision and that it might not allow me to prepare for him. My Master is not a small man; not at all. The first time I felt him rush into my cunt I screamed out loud. While I grow wet at the very idea of Master filling my ass, I also fear that I will be unable to take him in and I hate any idea of my failing my Master. I mentioned this worry to him last night and he suggested I might want to find a butt plug or even a dilator kit to get used to the feeling, but I did not know if he truly wanted me to or not.
Tonight I asked again if he had made a decision about whether to take me from behind. With his sinister smile he told me he was still considering, and added that he had no plans to make the decision soon. I bit my lip and mentioned again that I hoped to know with enough advance notice as to allow me to prepare my ass for him. Ever pragmatic, he answered my worries with a question: did it excite me to think of sliding a butt plug into my ass? With a tiny voice I told him that what excited me was the idea of doing it to make myself more worthy for him. He smiled still, his eyes flashing in a way that told me he knew what I needed, and gave it to me with three simple words.
“Then get one.”
I felt myself leak at the command. Tomorrow I will go to our favorite toy store and find an anal dilator kit to begin my training. The question settled, we went back to our conversation. We chatted for a while, but I admit my mind was stuck on the idea of this new toy. My Master had pulled out his cock when we discussed my fear of his size, and though we’d been chatting on I knew his cock was still hard. I knew that it was just out of camera range. I knew that his hand was wrapped around it still. This idea I could not push from my mind, and instead it slid down my mind into my body. I began to whimper a little as my hips bucked back and forth, the crotch of my pants sliding over my freshly waxed cunt.
Master heard my pitiful sounds and knew I was losing my control. He could have shut me down, tamed my libido, but instead he let me go; even fueled the fire by allowing me to see his arm moving off camera, thereby confirming my thoughts of his activity. I writhed as I watched him; his beautiful face making my heart race and his rocking shoulder sending ripples through me. He enjoyed my pathetic gasps and moans and mewls, and when I grew too quiet he stoked me again.
“Do you like the idea of me taking you in your ass?” he asked me with a sly grin.
I ground my hand down between my legs again as I answered. “I like the idea of you taking me in every possible way. Making your ownership of me complete.” Hearing these words come from my lips I felt another rush of wet slide out of my cunt. My head spun from this build up of fire. I let my gaze come back to the computer screen and his pleased expression. And his rocking arm.
We spent many minutes just building ourselves up to mutual pleasure, his hand stroking as mine did the same. My noises became more pressing, more desperate and I felt my climax rushing at me. I cried out that I was cumming, and yet Master wasn’t finished with me yet. I’d only barely caught my breath when I heard his voice again. “I will count to three, and you will feel the smallest of the butt plug slide into you. Three, Two, One… Now.”
I cried out as my ass filled, putting pressure on everything below my waist. Knowing Master wanted me to feel this now, simply through his control of me, kept me from coming down from my orgasm high. Seconds later I was already half way toward another climax. I shuddered and groaned and my hips bucked again, but this time each thrust up to my hand clenched my ass muscles, stretched tightly around the smallest plug now filling my ass. This simply added to my feeling of helplessness and ecstasy.
“This is so intense” I gasped out, the sentence coming in bits and pieces. Though I couldn’t get out any more words, beyond pants and pleas, in my mind I boggled at both the feeling of being completely packed down below, as well as being Masters fucktoy to be stuffed as he wishes with simply a suggestion. I twisted and humped and shook, keeping my eyes on Master’s face on my laptop as much as I could. His face told me that he was close to his finale, and I strained to hear his gasps through my headphones over my own cries.
At last I saw and heard him arrive. He groaned and exhaled, bringing me to the very peak of my own crushing climax. More than that, with each breath of his cum I heard I felt a hot jet of cum hit my ass, so sensitive with the fullness. I closed my eyes and imagined being bent over before him, exposed and overflowing at once as his cock splashes my butt with his hot cream.
Generous to me he breathed through the connection “cum.” And I did. Only a few minutes after my last time I was once again clutching the couch as my toes curled and my heart shuddered. He need only ever say the word and I obey. Happily, eagerly I obey. I cascaded down the other side of the eruption and felt the fullness in my ass slip away, another gift from him. Once empty again I discovered I missed it. Missed the sensation of being full there to please only him. But tomorrow I will go and buy the new toy. And I will once again fill myself. For him.
Thursday, 5 November 2009
It's in the Voice
My Master has many skills. Tools to use to make me dance and kneel and perform for him. He told me when first he laid his traps for me that his voice was his medium and I’ve remembered those words many times in the months since. He picks only the perfect words, knowing that each one has its own meaning and not just any words will do what he wants them to.
On a recent night I discovered that it is not just his words. It is his actual voice. Not just the syllables but the decibels; the tone and the rhythm and the… who am I kidding. I’d be lying if I said I know how he does what he does to me. With just that voice.
What I do know is this: he melted me to a puddle and walked through me with rain boots using only his voice.
We were talking on Skype about things so very not special. I’d noticed that as he’d grown a little more tired, a little more relaxed, his voice blended gradually into his sexy voice. I pointed it out, because if he wasn’t careful that voice would drag me from our nice, normal conversation to something richer and more desperate. He then brought out a new voice; one I’d never heard before.
This voice. This voice is magic. Dark, vicious magic. With but a thought his new words flowed through the headphones, directly into my mind. The voice was thick and slow, like warm molasses, and coated everything as it flowed. He spoke of nothing. Purposefully so. As I moaned and gasped and whimpered in response to each simple word I heard one new ingredient to the voice: a smile. A pleased, satisfied smile. And he began to play.
“What if I speak of something boring. Like the weather?” he purred, and in response my cunt panted and whimpered. He gleefully melted me with this voice while speaking of umbrellas and snow. I twisted in the bed, my legs rubbing together and stroking my clit with the gyrations. After some minutes I begged to touch myself as he spoke. He said no.
“you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” he oozed, and I told him I would. “You’re going to cum for me while I talk about the weather…” I will, I will cum for you Master. And this was, I knew, a foregone conclusion as each new drip from my headphones trickled down through me; trickled out between my legs; my lips. His talk of rain and heat and absolutely nothing sexy had me soaked. So wet, so hot, so completely out of my control. So completely his plaything. I felt the corners of my sanity begin to curl up under his heat.
But I was stuck. Brought to the brink of his goal but no permission to touch myself and not quite able to complete his order. I begged for help. “Push me…” I moaned through my microphone. “Please, Master, please push me over the edge.” Once again I asked for permission to touch myself; to slide my fingers down into the slick he’d created and do as he’d asked. For him and for me I wanted so very, very desperately to do as he’d asked and cum for him. But I was completely stuck. And still he refused to let me touch myself. He was determined I would cum for him merely from this newly discovered voice.
But the voice could say new things.
“Pinch your nipples for me. Now.” He commanded and my hands shot to my chest, pinching both nipples hard. I cried out from the pain and pleasure. “Can you kneel on the floor by the bed?” came the next instruction, and as I told him I could I was already sliding toward the edge of the bed. “Then do so.” He commanded. I felt so appropriate as my knees landed on the expensive hotel carpeting. A position I take for him often, and one I’ve come to love.
“How does it feel to obey this voice?” he asked. Even just this question boiled my blood and crushed me under its weight; that voice had such control over me.
“Powerful.” I replied. “Amazing. Right.” As he continued to play and I continued to melt my body folded over, my head coming to rest on the floor in front of me.
“What are you?” he asked. This is a question he often asks me, as he relishes hearing me say the words he’s cemented in my soul. The answer is always the same. This makes it no less entertaining to him.
“I’m yours.” I gasped from my heap on the floor. “Your slave. Your pet. Your toy. Your puppet." I whimpered and swooned at those words, feeling them more strongly than ever before. “Oh god, I’m so your puppet.”
“And what am I?” came the next question. Again, a ritual we know well and one designed to please him as I eagerly renew my status.
“You’re my Master. My owner. My puppetmaster.” Again I felt overwhelmed with this new feeling of helplessness and lack of control. “You’re everything.” I finally spilled out. “everything.” As the words fell out of my mouth I rocked back and forth on the ground, my hands beside my head and my cunt throbbing at his control. I felt drops trickle down between my legs from my drenched panties.
“Open your mouth.” He commanded next. I know this well. I know that he has stroked his cock as he played with me, my abandoning my mind and body to his control feeding his pleasure. And now he is close. And when he cums he will fill my mouth with his incredible cream as a reward for pleasing him. I fling my head back up, my mouth opening and my tongue sliding out as is the position he’s instructed for me. The blood rushing to my head again causes a dizzy spell and I barely manage to keep on my knees from the sensation.
But I am only focused on the sound of his breathing, ragged over the line. He’s there. Now I will receive my reward. As I hear him climax I feel hot cream slide down my tongue and land in jets in my mouth. I taste his salty, delicious cum fill my mouth. I feel my own cream gush out in response. I kneel obediently, mouth full and head light, waiting.
“Swallow.” He allows generously. I do. With tremendous joy. And my head collapses back onto the carpet. As I sit there in my heap again the same two words fall from my mouth over and over and over.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”
Here Master returned me to a mind of sanity and we sat and chatted for a while longer. He asked me to describe or explain how it was that this voice could have such an impact, and I tried to explain how it wormed its way under all my defenses, straight to my core. But I’m not sure what words I used or whether they made any sense. The time after this moment is fuzzy for me. Fuzzy in comparison to how vividly I remember kneeling, my head on the carpet and my mind wiped away by Master’s complete and total control.
On a recent night I discovered that it is not just his words. It is his actual voice. Not just the syllables but the decibels; the tone and the rhythm and the… who am I kidding. I’d be lying if I said I know how he does what he does to me. With just that voice.
What I do know is this: he melted me to a puddle and walked through me with rain boots using only his voice.
We were talking on Skype about things so very not special. I’d noticed that as he’d grown a little more tired, a little more relaxed, his voice blended gradually into his sexy voice. I pointed it out, because if he wasn’t careful that voice would drag me from our nice, normal conversation to something richer and more desperate. He then brought out a new voice; one I’d never heard before.
This voice. This voice is magic. Dark, vicious magic. With but a thought his new words flowed through the headphones, directly into my mind. The voice was thick and slow, like warm molasses, and coated everything as it flowed. He spoke of nothing. Purposefully so. As I moaned and gasped and whimpered in response to each simple word I heard one new ingredient to the voice: a smile. A pleased, satisfied smile. And he began to play.
“What if I speak of something boring. Like the weather?” he purred, and in response my cunt panted and whimpered. He gleefully melted me with this voice while speaking of umbrellas and snow. I twisted in the bed, my legs rubbing together and stroking my clit with the gyrations. After some minutes I begged to touch myself as he spoke. He said no.
“you’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” he oozed, and I told him I would. “You’re going to cum for me while I talk about the weather…” I will, I will cum for you Master. And this was, I knew, a foregone conclusion as each new drip from my headphones trickled down through me; trickled out between my legs; my lips. His talk of rain and heat and absolutely nothing sexy had me soaked. So wet, so hot, so completely out of my control. So completely his plaything. I felt the corners of my sanity begin to curl up under his heat.
But I was stuck. Brought to the brink of his goal but no permission to touch myself and not quite able to complete his order. I begged for help. “Push me…” I moaned through my microphone. “Please, Master, please push me over the edge.” Once again I asked for permission to touch myself; to slide my fingers down into the slick he’d created and do as he’d asked. For him and for me I wanted so very, very desperately to do as he’d asked and cum for him. But I was completely stuck. And still he refused to let me touch myself. He was determined I would cum for him merely from this newly discovered voice.
But the voice could say new things.
“Pinch your nipples for me. Now.” He commanded and my hands shot to my chest, pinching both nipples hard. I cried out from the pain and pleasure. “Can you kneel on the floor by the bed?” came the next instruction, and as I told him I could I was already sliding toward the edge of the bed. “Then do so.” He commanded. I felt so appropriate as my knees landed on the expensive hotel carpeting. A position I take for him often, and one I’ve come to love.
“How does it feel to obey this voice?” he asked. Even just this question boiled my blood and crushed me under its weight; that voice had such control over me.
“Powerful.” I replied. “Amazing. Right.” As he continued to play and I continued to melt my body folded over, my head coming to rest on the floor in front of me.
“What are you?” he asked. This is a question he often asks me, as he relishes hearing me say the words he’s cemented in my soul. The answer is always the same. This makes it no less entertaining to him.
“I’m yours.” I gasped from my heap on the floor. “Your slave. Your pet. Your toy. Your puppet." I whimpered and swooned at those words, feeling them more strongly than ever before. “Oh god, I’m so your puppet.”
“And what am I?” came the next question. Again, a ritual we know well and one designed to please him as I eagerly renew my status.
“You’re my Master. My owner. My puppetmaster.” Again I felt overwhelmed with this new feeling of helplessness and lack of control. “You’re everything.” I finally spilled out. “everything.” As the words fell out of my mouth I rocked back and forth on the ground, my hands beside my head and my cunt throbbing at his control. I felt drops trickle down between my legs from my drenched panties.
“Open your mouth.” He commanded next. I know this well. I know that he has stroked his cock as he played with me, my abandoning my mind and body to his control feeding his pleasure. And now he is close. And when he cums he will fill my mouth with his incredible cream as a reward for pleasing him. I fling my head back up, my mouth opening and my tongue sliding out as is the position he’s instructed for me. The blood rushing to my head again causes a dizzy spell and I barely manage to keep on my knees from the sensation.
But I am only focused on the sound of his breathing, ragged over the line. He’s there. Now I will receive my reward. As I hear him climax I feel hot cream slide down my tongue and land in jets in my mouth. I taste his salty, delicious cum fill my mouth. I feel my own cream gush out in response. I kneel obediently, mouth full and head light, waiting.
“Swallow.” He allows generously. I do. With tremendous joy. And my head collapses back onto the carpet. As I sit there in my heap again the same two words fall from my mouth over and over and over.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you…”
Here Master returned me to a mind of sanity and we sat and chatted for a while longer. He asked me to describe or explain how it was that this voice could have such an impact, and I tried to explain how it wormed its way under all my defenses, straight to my core. But I’m not sure what words I used or whether they made any sense. The time after this moment is fuzzy for me. Fuzzy in comparison to how vividly I remember kneeling, my head on the carpet and my mind wiped away by Master’s complete and total control.
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
Discipline
So much of what I have written so far has been looking back at significant moments of my new existence. As though I need to explain how I could have come to be who, be what, I am. But now these words are being published to the world and I am aware that I want this to be a place about my current life too. More so even.
Recently I had a day where I woke very… itchy. My servile nature had been boosted the night before and nothing my mind had created overnight had done anything to lessen those feelings. And all day they stayed high. My Master sent me to a business meeting with my panties sopping wet from his teasing of my high.
By the time I was home with him my Master knew that I was rippling with a need for a tightly held leash, metaphorically speaking. We chatted of normal things, as we always do right after work, and I let down my attention and my labido, or so I thought. But at a moment I crossed the room, away from the Skype Camera and my Master, and turned up the thermostat. I had forgotten my place, and my Master was kind enough to notice. And to know that this was behavior that required attention.
When I returned to my seat in front of my webcam his word came strict and short: “Stand.” I sensed that the tone of the conversation had changed DRAMATICALLY. His next commands were just as short and not-so-sweet. “Turn Around.” Of course I did as commanded. “Bend over.” Now I knew what was coming – I had, I realized, done something wrong. It wasn’t mine to know what, but to take the punishment obediently and I tried.
Master had added to me this night a verbal command that, when I heard the word, translated to the most realistic feeling of his hand smacking hard on my ass. It had been playful at first, but now he used this conditioning to make sure I knew I’d been wrong. As I stood, bent with my ass facing the camera, he explained that I had not asked permission to leave my seat, and of course he was right. Now I would be spanked for my mistake. He asked me, with the slight sound of a smile to his voice, how many strikes did I think I deserved?
“As many as Master thinks appropriate!” I answered, hopeful that the answer would please him and, by association, lessen his punishment some. But he knows better and chose a number that was appropriate for the infraction: 10 blows.
I stood and took each one. The feel of his hand, albeit as punishment, was also a glorious sensation. Because it was his. Because it was him doing what I need to become a quality slave for him. When he was finished I was allowed – instructed – to sit. Though no actual hand had touched me, my ass smarted as though it was red and raw. My face glowed with the same bright red from my embarrassment at having overstepped as well as my excitement at being spanked. Master laughed.
As the night continued I found myself pulling on the leash periodically. At the time I thought I was getting caught up in our conversations and forgetting my place. But now I know I was eager for more of my Master’s attention. And he was good to me and gave it. Repeatedly. When he next asked how many strikes I deserved for my second infraction I knew sucking up would not work and I threw out a number. As I knew he would do, he added half again to my suggested number.
By the time our conversation was towards the end he had begun to enjoy my jumping to attention, back-peddling madly any time I thought I’d overstepped and was about to get another lashing. Even though the physical reaction was intense and amazing, I also could not bear the idea that I would need addressing that many times in one night.
My Master is so very good to me. He understands that I want and need him to set rules and enforce them on me, and that his tight grip on my leash, both metaphorically and hopefully someday physically, both excites me and trains me, which I love more than the arousal. I hope that he will never stop finding new ways to improve and refine me. I know I will never consider myself worthy of his attention, but I crave those times he allows me to try.
Recently I had a day where I woke very… itchy. My servile nature had been boosted the night before and nothing my mind had created overnight had done anything to lessen those feelings. And all day they stayed high. My Master sent me to a business meeting with my panties sopping wet from his teasing of my high.
By the time I was home with him my Master knew that I was rippling with a need for a tightly held leash, metaphorically speaking. We chatted of normal things, as we always do right after work, and I let down my attention and my labido, or so I thought. But at a moment I crossed the room, away from the Skype Camera and my Master, and turned up the thermostat. I had forgotten my place, and my Master was kind enough to notice. And to know that this was behavior that required attention.
When I returned to my seat in front of my webcam his word came strict and short: “Stand.” I sensed that the tone of the conversation had changed DRAMATICALLY. His next commands were just as short and not-so-sweet. “Turn Around.” Of course I did as commanded. “Bend over.” Now I knew what was coming – I had, I realized, done something wrong. It wasn’t mine to know what, but to take the punishment obediently and I tried.
Master had added to me this night a verbal command that, when I heard the word, translated to the most realistic feeling of his hand smacking hard on my ass. It had been playful at first, but now he used this conditioning to make sure I knew I’d been wrong. As I stood, bent with my ass facing the camera, he explained that I had not asked permission to leave my seat, and of course he was right. Now I would be spanked for my mistake. He asked me, with the slight sound of a smile to his voice, how many strikes did I think I deserved?
“As many as Master thinks appropriate!” I answered, hopeful that the answer would please him and, by association, lessen his punishment some. But he knows better and chose a number that was appropriate for the infraction: 10 blows.
I stood and took each one. The feel of his hand, albeit as punishment, was also a glorious sensation. Because it was his. Because it was him doing what I need to become a quality slave for him. When he was finished I was allowed – instructed – to sit. Though no actual hand had touched me, my ass smarted as though it was red and raw. My face glowed with the same bright red from my embarrassment at having overstepped as well as my excitement at being spanked. Master laughed.
As the night continued I found myself pulling on the leash periodically. At the time I thought I was getting caught up in our conversations and forgetting my place. But now I know I was eager for more of my Master’s attention. And he was good to me and gave it. Repeatedly. When he next asked how many strikes I deserved for my second infraction I knew sucking up would not work and I threw out a number. As I knew he would do, he added half again to my suggested number.
By the time our conversation was towards the end he had begun to enjoy my jumping to attention, back-peddling madly any time I thought I’d overstepped and was about to get another lashing. Even though the physical reaction was intense and amazing, I also could not bear the idea that I would need addressing that many times in one night.
My Master is so very good to me. He understands that I want and need him to set rules and enforce them on me, and that his tight grip on my leash, both metaphorically and hopefully someday physically, both excites me and trains me, which I love more than the arousal. I hope that he will never stop finding new ways to improve and refine me. I know I will never consider myself worthy of his attention, but I crave those times he allows me to try.
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Slave's Collar
Master first mentioned a collar early on, and he enjoyed my reaction, even though he already knew what it would be. I swooned at the idea of wearing something that made me a slave; a pet; a possession so visibly. I began to search the web for the right thing, and even made plans to go out and find something within a week later. But he said no.
"When you get your collar, I will give it to you." he stated, firm as though it went without saying. I secretly felt ashamed for not seeing that on my own. Of course he had to be the one to wrap that leather symbol of my status and his ownership around my neck and buckle it tightly. If it wasn't him that gave it to me it would never mean what it meant.
But that meant that I had to wait for it.
Once the plan was in place for him to visit I renewed my search for the right place to find my collar. Having returned to the Big City there were options now, and I found a place that answered all my desires. It celebrated the shackles of joyous ownership -- I knew I would like this shop.
As it turned out, I loved this shop. Here we found fancy handcuffs all shiny and silver, and special purple tape he could use to display me and bind me in place. And we found my beloved collar. As we left the shop, my face blushing with excitement, I told my Master "I'm now very glad that I listened to you and didn't wear a dress to this shop. Because if I had there would now be so much sliding down the insides of my legs you wouldn't even believe it!" He laughed.
I was naked and sitting beside him on the bed. I'd just finished putting the new toys into the fancy box where I'd hidden our previous purchases. This box had been a lovely find for me -- from the outside it appeared to be an ornate book sitting in the cubby of my bedside table. But inside were lovely toys my master could use to play with his toy. Master pulled the collar from the box and told me to move to the center of the room and kneel. As I stood from the bed i felt my legs already turning to jelly in anticipation and lust.
He crossed to me, 10 feet tall from my place before him, and he asked me what I was. I answered with my now-familiar and beloved litany: "I am your slave, your pet, your toy, your possession, your property, your slut." And what was he? "You are my Master, my owner, my possessor, my everything." He told me that the collar he held was a symbol of these roles, and that whenever I wore it I was to remember this, and remember that feeling. He told me that everything I am and everything I have belonged to him. Save this. This was my one and only possession for me to have and cherish. And as he leaned down, placing the black leather snugly around my neck and fastening the buckle in place, my heart raced and my cunt throbbed and I held my breath in a foolish attempt to stop time there forever.
He stepped back to admire the image, and I let my hands rise to feel the leather in its place. A tremendous smile erupted across my face far beyond my control. At that moment I wanted to wear it forever. He asked me how it felt to finally have something I'd waited for so long.
"Amazing." was all I could say. The word was a shameful shadow of the true feeling, but the best i could find in my mind because there is no word that captures it all. Even now when I slide it on and lock it into place I close my eyes and he's there, looming above me, owning me body, mind and soul. Fulfilling my every fantasy.
"When you get your collar, I will give it to you." he stated, firm as though it went without saying. I secretly felt ashamed for not seeing that on my own. Of course he had to be the one to wrap that leather symbol of my status and his ownership around my neck and buckle it tightly. If it wasn't him that gave it to me it would never mean what it meant.
But that meant that I had to wait for it.
Once the plan was in place for him to visit I renewed my search for the right place to find my collar. Having returned to the Big City there were options now, and I found a place that answered all my desires. It celebrated the shackles of joyous ownership -- I knew I would like this shop.
As it turned out, I loved this shop. Here we found fancy handcuffs all shiny and silver, and special purple tape he could use to display me and bind me in place. And we found my beloved collar. As we left the shop, my face blushing with excitement, I told my Master "I'm now very glad that I listened to you and didn't wear a dress to this shop. Because if I had there would now be so much sliding down the insides of my legs you wouldn't even believe it!" He laughed.
I was naked and sitting beside him on the bed. I'd just finished putting the new toys into the fancy box where I'd hidden our previous purchases. This box had been a lovely find for me -- from the outside it appeared to be an ornate book sitting in the cubby of my bedside table. But inside were lovely toys my master could use to play with his toy. Master pulled the collar from the box and told me to move to the center of the room and kneel. As I stood from the bed i felt my legs already turning to jelly in anticipation and lust.
He crossed to me, 10 feet tall from my place before him, and he asked me what I was. I answered with my now-familiar and beloved litany: "I am your slave, your pet, your toy, your possession, your property, your slut." And what was he? "You are my Master, my owner, my possessor, my everything." He told me that the collar he held was a symbol of these roles, and that whenever I wore it I was to remember this, and remember that feeling. He told me that everything I am and everything I have belonged to him. Save this. This was my one and only possession for me to have and cherish. And as he leaned down, placing the black leather snugly around my neck and fastening the buckle in place, my heart raced and my cunt throbbed and I held my breath in a foolish attempt to stop time there forever.
He stepped back to admire the image, and I let my hands rise to feel the leather in its place. A tremendous smile erupted across my face far beyond my control. At that moment I wanted to wear it forever. He asked me how it felt to finally have something I'd waited for so long.
"Amazing." was all I could say. The word was a shameful shadow of the true feeling, but the best i could find in my mind because there is no word that captures it all. Even now when I slide it on and lock it into place I close my eyes and he's there, looming above me, owning me body, mind and soul. Fulfilling my every fantasy.
Sunday, 11 October 2009
Playing
I don’t know exactly how it works, but I know that Master has control over my mind. Beyond simply the worship I feel for him, he has controls that cut past my thoughts or desires and can change me. I know that he has long been practiced in hypnotism, though he assures me that he’s never done a full induction with me. He tells me he doesn’t need to – I am already so very succeptible to him and desire so much to obey that he need not work so hard.
What I can tell you is how this control feels to me.
With his powers Master plays with me. This is one of my favorite things. He loves fucking me, but even more than that he loves to play. To dream up new and fantastic personalities in which to dress me, or sensations to slather over me, or even something as simple as a word that, in a moment, shuts me off completely.
For me the experience is generally the same from time to time, at least in terms of the set-up. We will be conversing, very normally, and his tone will get an edge. The slightest hint of a smile in his voice. Sometimes I experience a tiny blip, like a blink that lasts a heartbeat too long; other times the change is seamless. Regardless, what happens next I mostly experience as a memory. He makes the changes he wants, and when they change who I am I am gone. Replaced by this new construct.
However my Master is good and generous to me. He always gives me the memory of the experience to enjoy afterward. He knows that I love reliving the experience, especially when he makes me dance and prance for him; a puppet on his strings. I won’t tell you any specifics because each is worthy enough for its own post.
But now, when I say to you that Master played with me, you’ll understand what I mean: he molded my mind or my body to fit a game he wished to play with me. He took away all my controls and did with me as he pleased. He made me his toy.
And I loved it.
Friday, 9 October 2009
Introduction
My master started a blog and told me that I was to write it.
Our initial meeting came from his reading an erotic story that I had written. Within a week of his first email to me I was kneeling for his pleasure and stroking my cunt to orgasm at his command. He had found me, claimed me and I had discovered what had been missing throughout my entire life: ownership. I had told him that I would not call him my master, and less than a week later I gave him that title eagerly.
That was the beginning of this incredible new chapter of my life. And what do you do with chapters? You write them. So master has instructed me to write this blog.
On this site you will mostly read my musings about learning how to be a slave worthy of my Master’s ownership. I love this status he has given me and wish to be the best slave possible; however I am new to this (having only been claimed months ago) and I have an inherintly independent nature. In short: I’m still learning. Master has been patient and generous with me, and I am proud of how far I have come. But as you will see here, there is much for me to learn and accept. I only hope I continue to be worthy of his patience.
In the meantime I will share, as honestly and frankly as possible, the experiences I have under his control and ownership. This is the greatest change of my life and I marvel every day at how lucky I am to have been found by my Master. I will try to share these feelings with all of you. Enjoy!
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