Because I am stupid in love with Himself, and this is how he makes me feel. Happy Thursday, Sir!
This is my new public cuff (and, also, my Christmas present). Isn’t it pretty?
We’ve been looking since before Christmas, trying to find something that was just right.
I didn’t want something typical, something trendy, or something that you can find in every department store in the world.
No, I wanted something unique, something that looked like me, something I could wear every day. Something that FELT like a cuff to me, so I would know, every second that I am wearing it, that I am owned. That I belong to Him. That he is my Master.
Friday, we went antiquing and we found it! The perfect cuff. It’s sterling, it’s solid, it’s lighter than it looks but heavy enough to remind me that it’s there. And Himself says it looks like “me.”
Last night, he told me “this is my mark of ownership.”
And my mark of being Owned.
I am yours, Sir. Always.
anal, Anal beads, B&D, balls, BDSM, Breast, clit, cock, cock worship, cock-worshipping submissive, Cunt, D/s, Dominant, Domination, fellatio, Fuck, fucking, Himself, Kink, Kinky, kneeling, Master, Nipples, orgasm, pussy, Scene Report, Sex, submission, submissive, WIITWD
“You like bouncing against my balls, don’t you.” A statement, not a question.
Mmmmmph? I ask sleepily.
“Especially when my dick is buried balls-deep in your ass.”
Mmmmmph! I say again, a little more awake this time.
“I like it when you bounce your ass off my balls too.”
“I do. And I think I’m going to fuck your tight little ass tonight so you can bounce off my balls. Would you like that?”
Oh, god, yes Sir!
“Get yourself ready for me”
Yes, Sir…what do you want me to do?
“You’re going to fetch your vibrating plug, and I’m going to stuff it in your ass.”
Mmm, yes, Sir…
“Then I’m going to turn it on.”
“And then I’m going to go to sleep.”
I whimper loudly in protest.
“In one hour, you’re going to wake me up by sucking my cock. And when I’ve had enough of that, I’m going to fuck you in the ass. Do you understand?”
Yes, Sir, I understand, I sigh, relieved.
“Good girl. Now go get your toy.” I scramble to the toy drawer and pull out the purple anal bead vibrator.
Is this one okay?
“Is that the one you want?” I nod vigorously while rolling a condom over it. “Then it’s fine. Now, get up here and show me your ass,” he says, patting the bed.
I kneel in presentation, jumping a little when he smooths cold lube over and around my tight hole. He slides his finger in just a bit to tease me, and I thrust back against him, moaning.
“Hmmmm….I think your ass is ready for plugging.”
I make a garbled noise, incoherent and slightly desperate.
The toy nudges against me and I open myself, spreading my legs and thrusting back against it. He slides it in bead by bead, until it’s in as far as it will go. He twists the cap, and the Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz make me jump again. Oh god, it feels so good. I wiggle my ass at him, shivering all over.
“You like that, don’t you, you little slut?” he chuckles.
Oh, Daddy, yes. It feels so good.
“Do you remember your instructions?”
Yes, Sir. I’m supposed to lie here with the plug in my ass for an hour and then I’m supposed to wake you up by sucking your cock and then you’re going to fuck my tight little ass.”
Another chuckle. “Good girl. Let me sleep now.” I lie beside him in the dark, with the toy is buzzing away in my ass. It’s good, but something’s missing….
Sir, is it okay if I get my vibrator out too?
“Yes, you can use your vibrator. But be quiet now and let me sleep.”
Yes, Sir, I whisper.
I play with the vibrator for awhile until my clit starts to really sit up and take notice, and then put one of the nipple suckers on it. It sets my clit on fire, and my pussy gushes. I put the other two on my nipples, squeezing to get just the right amount of suction….ah, that’s it.
I let myself sink into the sensations–the engorgement in my nipples and clit, the vibration in my ass, my dripping pussy while I think about the fact that I am readying myself for my Master, which turns me on even more. My swollen clit is begging for attention, so I rub my massager up against the suction cup…the combination of vibration and suction almost makes me come undone.
I glance at the clock, and….20 minutes? It’s only been 20 MINUTES?? Crap! How am I going to survive another 40 minutes of this?! My clit is so tingly and wet now I can hardly stand it! I flop back down on the bed in disgust and frustration.
My movement disturbs Himself, who rolls over in his sleep and squeezes my breasts, then slides his hand down to my cunt. He pauses briefly when he encounters the suction cup on my clit, making a sleepy, questioning sound before he grabs it and tugs on it. I am seconds from going off like a rocket when he abruptly stops and rolls back over again.
I consider, suspiciously, that he might not actually be asleep, and that he did that just to wind me up a little more. In other words, I think he’s fucking with me. Then I remember…this whole scenario is set up to fuck with me! Right. I almost forgot that in the haze of pleasure surrounding me. 🙂
With 15 minutes left, the suction cups come off. My clit is swollen and exquisitely sensitive, and I start to stroke it.
The first orgasm takes me by surprise, hard and fast. I pant quietly, trying to let Himself sleep as ordered, but it’s so hard not to moan when it feels so good!
I rest a minute and then go at it again. The second orgasm is even stronger, and I gasp at the force of it while the shockwaves roll over me…
When it’s over, I realize the plug in my ass in no longer vibrating, and I reach down to find it hot to the touch. Oops–looks like I’ve killed another one! I turn it off and lie quietly, watching the clock count down the minutes…
And then it’s time.
I roll over and squirm under the covers. Himself is facing me, his cock hidden in the crevice between his thighs. I move his leg gently to so I can take him in my mouth…
I love sucking his cock when it’s soft, holding it in my mouth while it grows and hardens, and I whimper with the pleasure it gives me. He wakes slowly as I bring his cock to life with my tongue, and turns on the light so he can watch me suck him. He pushes my face down and I lick his balls enthusiastically. When he pulls me up by my hair to suck him again, my clit throbs with excitement, and I groan as moisture floods my cunt again.
“Ah, my little whore likes that, does she?”
Mmmph, mmph mmph, I mumble around his hard cock. Mmmph, mmph!!
He laughs, then grabs my hair again, pulling my mouth away from him. I mewl in protest and strain toward him, trying to pull his cock back into my mouth, until he gives my hair a little shake.
I look up into his eyes, dark with desire and crinkled in amusement, and smile back at him, feeling suddenly shy.
He order me to turn around, so I pivot and present my rump to him. He turns the vibrator on (apparently I didn’t kill it after all, I just wore it out 😉 ) and fucks me with it. I arch and moan until he growls, pulls the toy out, and kneels up to rub the head of his cock against me. Lust shoots through me and I push back against him.
He’s a lot bigger than the toy, and it hurts a little when he pushes the head in. I gasp and whimper a little, and he pauses to let me adjust.
“Okay now?” he asks me, tenderness and concern mixed with the Dom Voice.
Mmm-hm, I sigh, it feels good.
“Do you want more?”
Oh, yes, please, Daddy.
Please, please fuck my ass!
Then he’s pounding me, hitting bottom (heh) with every thrust, and I’m panting and begging for more, please, more! My arousal spirals up and up and up every time his balls slap against my cunt, the tension building and building as I rub my clit. Then he slams into me hard, shuddering and growling, and I know he’s coming in me, deep in my ass, claiming it, claiming me…and my ass belongs to him and only him, and that thought tips me over the edge into a third orgasm, the strongest yet, my cunt clenching, my ass grabbing his cock and holding tight while I ride out the waves.
Oh god oh god oh god, I cry, I’m coming, Daddy, I’m coming! Thank you, Daddy, thank you, thank you….
Later, satiated and happy, we lie curled together, spooning. “Good wench,” he whispers, nuzzling my hair, as I fall asleep in his arms.
1. Have you ever had sex in three or more positions in one session? Most of the time. At least with Himself, anyway. He has stamina.
2. Have you ever had sex continuously for 1 hour or more? Yep. Makes for a sore but happy wench.
3. Have you ever devoted an entire day to sex and sexual activity (with breaks for eating, etc)? Yes, but it’s been awhile. We’re not as young as we used to be.
4. Have you ever been so loud having sex that housemates/neighbors commented or complained? Does “You know, your voice….carries….” count? LOL
5. Have you ever had your sexual technique/style/skill openly praised by someone? Himself has said, “Oh god, you are amazing.” And also, “Oh my god, you turn me on.” ::smiling proudly::
6. Have you ever written an explicitly erotic story? Yes.
7. Have you ever brought your partner to orgasm using only your hands? Yes. (? Hasn’t everyone done that?)
8. Have you ever licked or sucked on someone else’s feet and/or toes? Licked or sucked? No, not licked…or sucked….. 😉
9. Have you ever had sex with someone you’re not married to? Erm, yeah. Child of the ’70s here…
10. Have you ever had sex with someone who’s married to someone else? Yes, twice, with different people.
11. Have you ever had sex simultaneously with two people—MMF? MFF? Nope. It’s one of my fondest fantasies, though. I’d be happy with either mix. Some day….
12. Have you ever had anal sex? Yes!!!
13. Have you ever gone out in public while wearing an anal plug? Yes. And turned on the vibrator on command. Makes it hard to concentrate on, you know, frozen peas. Or whatever. 😉
14. Have you ever been told you’re dirty because of the things you say? I have gotten some shocked reactions, yeah.
15. Have you ever gotten really turned on by saying or hearing dirty talk? OMG, yes. Himself is so good at that. “First I’m going to….and then I’m going to…and then I’m going to make you…” ::pant pant::
16. Have you ever had sexual fantasies related to or involving submission, domination, suppression, forced intercourse, infliction of pain, bondage, hot wax, nipples clamps, etc…? Oh honey, yes. That’s the ONLY kind of sexual fantasies I have. 🙂
17. Have you ever been involved in any sexual activities you would describe as kinky? Wait…is that a trick question?
18. Have you ever realized that you are much more sexually open-minded/kinky than most of your previous partners and/or friends? ::laughing:: all the time.
19. Have you ever been part of an S/M roleplay (master/mistress/slave), domination (as the dominant/submissive part), or being victim of pain (such as whipping, caning, hot wax on genitals, nippleclamps/genital clamps etc.)? Mmm Hmmm!
20. Have you ever identified as bisexual–to yourself? to partners? to friends? Yes, yes, and yes.
21. Have you ever fantasized about or practiced orgasm control/denial? Yes. I love it and I hate it.
22. Have you ever daydreamed about sexual activities exceeding what most people consider “normal” sex? ::laughing helplessly:: Lord, yes.
23. Have you ever gotten really turned on by fantasizing about/witnessing gay or lesbian sex? Oh, yes. I find gay male sex/porn to be incredibly hot. Lesbian sex too, in real life anyway, but most professional lesbian porn sucks, since it’s aimed at men. o.O
24. Have you ever tried scissoring? No….but it’s on my short list of “want-tos.”
25. Have you ever performed oral sex on a man? Yep.
26. Have you ever performed oral sex on a woman? Yep! Long time, though.
27. Have you ever received oral sex from a man? Yep.
28. Have you ever received oral sex from a woman? Yep. Again—it’s been a long time.
29. How old were you the first time you had sex? 15
30. Where? The back of a Pinto wagon. Gawd, high school sucked. 😉
31. How many partners? That depends on your definition of “partner.” I’ve had sex with 4 people—3 men, 1 woman. I’ve fooled around with….well, more than that. ::grin::
32. Have you ever practiced BDSM on yourself (bondage, nipple clamps, hot wax, suction, electro-stim, etc etc etc)? Yes. That’s generally how I’ve figured out what I like.
33. Have you had more or fewer lovers than your current partner? Fewer.
34. Have you ever had sex in front of other people? Uh-huh.
35. Did you know them? Actual intercourse, yes, twice, in front of my BFF. Oral or other sex play, yes (long ago) and no (more recently, at sex clubs).
36. Did you like it? More, please!! I am an exhibitionist. 😀
37. Have you ever had a crush on a fellow blogger here on WordPress? A few. There are some really fucking hot women writing here.
38. Have you ever met anyone through AFF, OKCupid, Kassidie, or another site? Had a hook-up through Craigslist once. Hoping to find someone for more than a hook-up one of these days….I need some female energy in my life.
39. Have you ever had an orgasm without any direct stimulation (not counting dreams)? Years ago, shortly after we first started our D/s journey, I had my first hands-free orgasm from Himself coming on my face. It was pretty effing cool. 😀
40. Do you like being called dirty names during sex? God, yes. Himself calls me My slut, My whore, My cum-slut, My wench, My little slave-girl….mmmm. They turn me on and put me in an instant, happy subbie space.
B&D, BDSM, cock worship, Contrition, D/s, Discipline, Dominant, Domination, Dynamics, Forgiveness, Himself, Kink, Making It Right, Master, Punishment, Relationships, submission, submissive, The Journey, WIITWD
Such a short acronym, and yet it encompasses so very very much.
Bondage & Discipline, Domination & Submission, Sadism & Masochism.
When I was young, I knew I was kinky. I liked bondage, giving and receiving. I had fantasies, which I never admitted to my ex (and first lover), about being tied to an altar, fucked by a long line of anonymous men in hooded robes. In another favorite, shared (for many years) only with a BFF when we were both in middle school, I was tied up so that a waterfall hit my clit, forcing me to have orgasm after orgasm. I got turned on by the idea of forced sex, the stereotypical “rape fantasy” that most men (including too many in the BDSM world) don’t understand at all. But somehow, the power exchange inherent in most of those fantasies escaped my conscious notice. I certainly never envisioned anything approaching what I now know to be power exchange, or willing submission.
Further on in life, my fantasies evolved. More things that I never would have found appealing in my younger years began to hold fascination for me. One such fascination was with domination—although I can’t remember fantasizing about being dominated. No, I fantasized about dominating others—a male friend I knew to be freaky brought out a playfully dominant streak in me; but it was a girlfriend who aroused strong feelings of dominance, protection, and control that I’d never experienced before.
During many years in the goth scene, I danced around the edges of BDSM. I wore the gear–a collar, gauntlets, a slave bracelet, and fetish boots–because I liked the way they looked; there was no more to it than that. I knew that some of our club friends were into it, and it intrigued me, but not enough to do anything about it. Tormenting my male friend with a real, made-in-england horse crop was always fun and sparked some Domme-y feelings, but beyond teasing him, I never acted on them. There was a boy who clearly wanted to be my slave, which amused me to no end, but again, I never let that go anywhere. And although I still fantasized about bondage I never, never had any submissive urges.
All that changed when I met my husband and Master. When he touched my arm, the night we met, I felt an electric charge. That started a fascination which, months later, finally led to spending our first night together. He was muscular and furry, and very very masculine, and it turned my dial to 11. We talked for hours and I learned about his background, what he had overcome, what he had done for himself, and my respect and arousal grew. The night culminated with my very first experience of cock-worship: the size and weight of him, his scent, his taste, the way he held my head and fucked my mouth, all took me to a place I’d never been before, and I wanted more. I wanted to please him, I wanted to do whatever he wanted me to do, because it felt right, it felt good, and it was fucking hot. It was the kind of passion that I’d always wanted but didn’t think I would ever have.
My life of submission to him began that night.
I loved submission, and I hated it. I reveled in it, and I fought it. I felt so right when it was happening, but at other times I would punish myself for wanting it. Since childhood, I had hated being told what to do. I didn’t want anyone to have authority or control over me. I associated control with the abuse of power, especially in relationships between the sexes. It was very hard for me to change that way of thinking, but eventually I realized that control and domination could exist without taking away my will. That control didn’t mean abuse. That control didn’t mean being hurt. That control could give me power and freedom that I had never known in my life.
Years passed. He tied me up, he spanked me on occasion, he dominated me so naturally and thoroughly that my desire to make it official, to be his sub, became overwhelming. And, finally, I came out. I told him how I felt, and I asked him if he would be, officially and formally, my Dominant. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, I think, because it meant being brutally honest—with him, and with myself—and admitting my formerly unacceptable (to me, anyway) need to submit to him. I was happy and excited when he said yes.
I really thought it would end there. I adored bondage and control, impact and sensation play, clips and clamps, vibrators and dildos—basically toys of any type. But I didn’t want pain, I didn’t like it, it didn’t turn me on. I knew I would never add the “S&M” part of the acronym to my list of interests.
Well. Never say never.
Over the past 18 months or so, we’ve been exploring pain. It turns out that my darling Sir is a bit of a sadist! But that’s okay, since I seem to be a bit of a masochist. Learning what our limits are in that area has been illuminating. He likes to give pain, but not too much; I like to receive it, but not too much. There’s been more sting in our play. He spanks a little harder, for a little longer than he used to. We’ve found out we both get off on nipple, breast, and cunt spanking and flogging. I feel an incredible sense of pride that I can take what he gives me, even if I don’t “enjoy” it the way I do other activities. It takes a little longer, but it can still feel good, it can still get me into that lovely endorphin-fueled sub-space. Adding a little S&M into our own private mix has been exciting.
The one thing we have never incorporated is punishment. Part of this is, I think, because of the way our dynamic unfolded. At first D/s for us was “just sex,” but even when it expanded to encompass most aspects of our life together, we still didn’t go in for rules and protocol. And without rules and protocol, there’s no real need or mechanism for punishment.
Since I started my blog here at WordPress, I’ve been reading about punishment and discipline much more frequently. Sometimes it’s all in good fun (ooh, you’ve been a naughty girl, you’re going to get a spanking!); sometimes it’s a matter of structure and a reminder of everybody’s roles, as in domestic discipline practices. And I found myself becoming intrigued and fascinated with the idea of punishment.
Over the years, I’ve occasionally felt the lack of clear rules and consequences. Our dynamic has been–pretty much, he’s in charge; pretty much, I follow instructions. Occasionally he’s not, or I don’t, and nothing much really comes from that except maybe an argument or his disappointment in me (and my disappointment in myself).
But I’ve realized, over the last couple of months, that I want rules, and I want consequences. I’ve spent a good amount of brain power trying to figure out why I want that. And the biggest reason, I think, is that I fuck myself up. And I fuck us up. It’s not deliberate; I’m not a SAM or a SAS trying to “earn” a spanking. But there are times that I can’t make or let myself submit—EVEN WHEN I MOST WANT TO.
If you’ve read Crime & Punishment, then you’re already familiar with a really, really good example of this. I get unhappy, or hurt, or angry. I don’t want to, but I do. And then I lash out. I get mouthy, disobedient, disrespectful, and I make us both miserable. And there is always a reason for it: Feeling neglected, feeling unloved or unwanted, feeling that Himself doesn’t want to be my Sir anymore. Getting stuck in my head and thinking about things I want that he won’t do, thinking it means he doesn’t love me, thinking I’ll never get whatever “it” is. Feeling dissatisfied. And sometimes, when that happens, I can just talk to him about it, and it gets resolved. Other times I cry and wail and sob and when he gets me calmed down enough we talk about it, and it gets resolved. But sometimes, nothing works. Or we’re in a situation where I can’t, or won’t, just sit down and talk about it. Or I get into that bad, dark place where I feel like I have to fight and be angry and I can’t stop myself.
That’s it, the big thing: I. Can’t. Stop. Myself.
I get hateful and bitchy and whiny, things that I hate in other people and even more in myself. But when I’m there I’m stuck and helpless.
Probably none of this makes any sense to any of you. Or maybe it makes sense to all of you. I don’t know, all I know is I hate it, and I hate what it does to us.
It happened again Saturday.
I’d gotten angry and hurt in the morning: I misinterpreted something he said, which felt critical and disapproving to me, even though that’s not what he was feeling or communicating. It always puts me into an edgy place, when that kind of thing happens. We went on to have a very good day together, but part of my was holding on to that hurt and just wouldn’t let it go. Then, when we were out Saturday night, he did something that hurt and upset me. I made some snippy comments and refused to open to him or talk to him. I had a good mad on, and I didn’t want to give it up. I insisted I wanted to leave.
Fortunately, he doesn’t give up easily, and he insisted that we stay. After sitting together a few minutes, I was able to figure out how to explain what was bothering me. Although it felt to me like I had a valid reason to feel that way—because, you know, emotions generally feel logical—I knew, objectively, that I was being unreasonable. I was mad at myself for reacting the way I did, for ruining the happy good mood we’d both had before. I was ashamed and embarrassed and I wanted to make amends, but I couldn’t figure out how. Apologizing didn’t really help; forgiveness from Himself didn’t really help. I gradually got back to a better place, but I felt my misbehavior acutely and couldn’t let it go.
That’s my other big problem. I can’t stop myself, and then I can’t let it go. I can’t forgive myself and so I can’t believe that he forgives me either.
I kept thinking about what happened, and what it would take to make it right. And I came up with:
I have talked to Himself a bit about some of the domestic discipline blogs I’d been reading. I’d even mentioned “maintenance spankings” as something I was interested in, to help reinforce our roles. But I’d never outright said, “I want this.” And I’d certainly never said, “I want you to punish me.”
I felt like I needed it, but I was scared to ask.
If he agreed—how bad would he make it? What if I couldn’t take it? I knew failing would make me feel even worse.
If he refused—then what would I do to make it right? And how would I stand the humiliation? Because for me, there is always humiliation in asking for something and being rejected. For me, it’s a rejection of me, not my request. With the self-loathing I was already feeling from the day, I wasn’t sure I could stand any more.
And I was having so much trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that I even wanted this. I was still struggling with the whole “Daddy” thing that had sideswiped me. Wanting Himself—my Daddy—to punish me? Isn’t that…sick? In a bad way?
But I did want it.
And it was important. In fact, it felt like the most important things that had come up for me, for us, in a long time. I needed it to make things right.
So I screwed up my courage, and I did it.
I talked to him again about the domestic discipline blogs I’d been reading, and how I thought it might help me to have that in our lives: Help me to be obedient at those times that I wanted to so badly and couldn’t make or let myself do it. Help me to apologize. Help me to make amends and let it go. Help me to understand that he loves me enough to give me what I need for myself, and for us. Help me to believe that he forgives me when I’ve screwed up.
Then I asked him to punish me—for me, for us. To help me remember who and what we are to each other. To help me get past it when I get stuck, when I can’t do what I need on my own. To make it okay again when it goes bad for awhile.
I’m not talking about a full-on beating, or a scene, I explained. Just whatever you think is right. It might just be 5 or 10 swats with your hand, it might be a hard flogging; deciding the punishment would be up to you.
He didn’t answer right away, and I braced myself. I was so sure he was going to say no. I was trying to figure out what I would say, what I would do when it happened. How I would keep myself from crying and begging. How I would keep from making a complete fool of myself—again. How I would get through the humiliation. Then, finally, he said:
“This is something you really want?”
“And I would pick the punishment?”
Yes, Sir. Although, I couldn’t stop myself from saying, I would prefer that it not involve ice cubes.
He paused again. Then, sternly:
“Go get the crop.”
Relief and joy flooded me. And fear and loathing, because I didn’t think he was going to use the nice slappy leather end on me. That wouldn’t be punishment, because I like the nice slappy leather end.
I brought him the crop and kneeled in front of him on the bed.
“I am going to punish you now. You are going to get five strokes with the crop for being disobedient and disrespectful today.”
The first strike across my ass brought searing pain, and I cried out. The second made me scream out loud, and the third made me cry. By the fifth stroke, I was sobbing uncontrollably.
He laid down the crop and pulled me into my lap, stroking my hair and my back, holding me close while I cried.
“Do you feel better now?”
Yes, Daddy, I sobbed. Thank you.
“Are you crying because you’re being punished for your behavior, or because it hurt?”
“It’s okay now. It’s all over, and you’re forgiven.”
I felt the most wonderful sense of peace wash over me then. I believed, really believed, that I was forgiven.
He stroked my hair and held me.
When I had stopped crying, he let me worship his cock. I sucked and licked and loved him, thanking him with my tongue and my mouth for understanding, for giving me what I needed, and for making it all okay again.
Thank you, Daddy. I love you.
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When I get back to the room—feet clean, mind confused—I find Himself sitting, still fully dressed, on the edge of the bed. I stop in the doorway, head bowed, until he calls me to him.
I pull off my nightgown and stand in front of him. He runs his eyes up and down my naked body, then points to the floor.
“Kneel.” Then, “Take my shoes off.”
This is one of his favorite things, even when we’re not playing. I like it because it makes me feel so submissive to serve my Sir that way. Tonight, it’s easy—Chucks instead of combat boots—and I have them off in no time. When I’m finished, I sit back a bit on my heels, eyes lowered, waiting.
“Give me your arm.”
He fastens one wrist cuff in place, then the other. Next, he motions for me to tilt my head forward. I pull my hair out of the way so he can buckle my collar in place, and feel myself starting to slip away…He tilts my head up and slides the blindfold into place, then releases me.
As I kneel on the floor between his feet I focus on being his toy–his to play with, to enjoy, to use however he wants, to torture if he the fancy strikes him. I feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into submission and my pussy throbs, hard, thinking about his power over me.
Without warning, he flicks my nipples and I gasp. My head up, more alert now, I wait…there! Another flick. Several more in quick succession, and I start to moan, but he stops. Dammit! I try not to pout: HIS toy. HIS schedule! My patience is rewarded when he starts to strike my nipples lightly with the crop.
smack smack smack
I can feel my nipples standing at attention as he attacks them from all sides, and I moan and whimper and thrust my breasts out as far as I can. He picks up the pace, putting a little more muscle into it now…It’s starting to hurt just a bit, and I gasp again, rocking a little on my heels but still thrusting my nipples out and up.
I stay In position when he stops, panting, until he pulls me toward him. I’m sure I’m going to get his cock in my mouth—but no, not yet. He crops my ass, back, and shoulders: lightly at first, just brushing my skin really, and I start to feel tingly all over. Then the blows come a little harder and faster, and I can feel my skin warming. He stops for a moment and I focus on the heat suffusing me, spreading from the impact points, waiting for the next strike.
I hear a whoosh, and the heavy flogger thuds into me. I feel it all the way through me, in my pussy, my clit, my nipples. He hits me again, and my pussy clenches in response. I moan through a quick flurry of thuds all over the back of my body.
He pushes me back onto my heels, and flogs my breasts. They’re still warm from the crop and the flogger feels so, so good, even—especially!–on my hard, sensitized nipples I lean into it as much as I can.
I peel my eyes open, then remember that I can’t see anything anyway and close them again. Holding onto his legs for support I pull myself upright and sway in front of him.
“Get on the bed.”
I scramble into place, listening to him as he walks around the bed. He tugs me forward a little bit, then clips my leash to my collar. That “snick” makes me feel all warm and gooey inside. I lie down, spread my legs, and lift my ass as high in the air as I can, and relax back into the flogging.
He pauses, and then…
Oh holy fuck, it’s that damn crop again.
[Let me explain something here: I am quite fond of the business end of my crop. You know the slapper, that little piece of leather? The part that’s supposed to make contact with the horse (or sub) flesh? I like that. But the handle, used as a cane, is another thing altogether. That, I hate. Well, I enjoy how it feels AFTER, the endorphin rush, and the spreading heat around the line of impact. But I hate it at the time.
[Does that all make sense? No? Good, ’cause it doesn’t to me either. LOL]
My Sir whacked me hard across the ass with the handle of the crop again. It hurt, I screamed, he chuckled. He did it again, same routine. Then back to flogging, which felt mercifully gentle, and a couple more whacks with the cane with predictable results.
Then, for the second time that night, he noticed my feet.
Oh my holy fucking mother of god.
I can say with certainty that I do not—do NOT—like bastinado. I kicked and screeched and kicked again, fluttering my feet really fast, trying to make it impossible for him to hit them.
Sadly, I did not succeed.
After a few good (??) strikes, he went back to the flogging my ass, then my cunt–gently, with lots of thud and no sting. It completely made up for the cane, and gave me the most delicious feeling in my girly parts.
Some uncertain time later (5 seconds? 2 hours?? who knows, I was floaty) he tugged on my leash and ordered me to the other side of the bed. I heard him unzip and leaned forward, eager to take his cock in my mouth, but he pushed my head to the side.
“Hmm, maybe he wants me to lick his balls first,” I thought dazedly; but when I dipped down toward them he fisted my hair and pulled me back up. His cock nudged my right cheek, so I turned a little, thinking “how on earth could he miss my mouth? It’s not like we haven’t done this before!”
“Well, OK,” I thought, “you’re the boss, but really, it’s not that hard to hit the tar—-”
Dick-smacking is a mystery to me. How on earth can that not hurt him? I mean, he was really going to town. If I slapped his dick that hard with my hand he would NOT be a happy man…
Smack smack smack smack!
I felt fluid splash on my face. “Hmm,” I thought, “what’s that now?” I licked the corner of my mouth and tasted cum–salty, warm, delicious pre-cum, spraying wildly across my cheeks from the force of the dick-smacking he was giving me.
My pussy throbbed, hard. Oh, god.
Here’s the second part of the dick-smacking mystery: It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t really feel good either. So why the hell does it make my pussy throb so hard??
I think I may have moaned a few times.
“You like that?”
Oh, yes, Sir, I moaned.
“You’re a good little slut.” I moaned again. “Good little sluts get rewarded.” I started panting, anxious for my reward, which I was sure was finally going to be his dick.
A click, then a sound like a swarm of angry killer bees…
Fuck! The violet wand!
Our violet wand is old, decades old, and it’s noisy. The higher the setting, the noisier it gets, and it was Really. Fucking. Noisy.
No no no no no no no no oh please no….
My right nippled exploded and the air was full of the smell of ozone. I shrieked. He chuckled. (I am starting to notice a disturbing trend here—I shriek, he laughs, and he does “it” again. Why does he even try to deny he’s a sadist??) He zapped me again, then got the other side. I started bouncing, trying to maintain position but still get the hell away from the wand.
….yes, sir, I whimpered.
He ran it down my back (which actually felt quite good), down to my ass, then back to my breasts, never quite in contact with my skin, while I yipped and squealed and tried my best not to move. He zapped my nipples a few more times and laughed when I arched my back up, trying (unsuccessfully) to escape the wand. I was trapped, and he knew it. Zap, zap, zap—back and forth, rubbing gently and then pulling away to let the electricity arc, and me shrieking loudly at every touch.
He moved down my body—sweet relief!!–to my cunt—oh, fuck! He moved it slowly, gently, down my slit, zapping me all the way. He pulled it back a little and let it arc toward my clit.
Back down, back up, then back again to my more, wartenberg-wheel-abused asshole, and—ZAP!!
He laughs,and does it a few more times. He starts to rub it deeper, harder, against my cunt. No more arcing, just the warmth of the glass and a faint vibration…I start mewing and pressing against the attachment. It feels so lovely, this way. He slides it up to my clit, rubbing gently, then letting me grind against it for awhile, and I can feel myself getting wetter.
He moves the head of the attachment down to my entrance and pushes against it, teasing. In a little, back out, in a little again, a little farther each time. I thrust back because oh, it feels good, and there’s no way it can actually slip inside–
Oh hell, it slipped inside!!
I giggle helplessly, thinking, a) wow, that actually feels pretty good!; b) what if it doesn’t slip back out again? and c) holy cow, what if it breaks off in there?!?
Himself seems to have none of these concerns, he just keeps gently thrusting, turning it a little now and then, rubbing Really. Good. Places with it, and it feels like someone with a very tiny little hand is fisting me…mmmmmm. I feel myself turning to jelly.
He runs his hands up my back, and sparks fly from his fingertips. I shriek and giggle, and he chuckles with delight. He plays with his electrified hands for a couple minutes, mercilessly attacking my nipples again, playing with my cunt, rubbing my clit, and probing my asshole.
“I think I’m going to fuck you in the ass now.”
“You have such a nice little asshole, so warm and tight. My dick can’t wait to get in there.”
“I wonder if I can get in there with the violet wand in your cunt? I think we should try, don’t you?”
…garbled, unintelligible speech that translates roughly to “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, Sir.”
Apparently he doesn’t speak garble, because he decides to give it a go.
His fingers rub cool lube against my tight little hole, sliding inside, stretching me to accommodate his girth. It feels good and I buck back against him, moaning as he slides a finger all the way in.
“That feels interesting,” he says, rubbing the edge of the attachment through my vaginal wall.
“Are you ready?”
I seem to have lost the power of speech completely by this point. I am thinking “no no no it won’t fit!” but he is hearing “yes yes yes put it in!” So he puts it in.
Surprisingly (to me, anyway), it fits. It’s not comfortable, but it does fit. Who knew!!
However, fitting does not equate to comfort. He pulls back out, then gently removes the attachment from my cunt. It leaves with another little ::pop!:: and suddenly I feel positively spacious inside.
He slides his dick back into my ass, much easier this time. He gives me a moment to adjust and then starts thrusting, gently at first, then bulding up, faster and harder….
“I want you to come.”
“Come for me. I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”
Dutifully, I reach down to my cunt and start playing with my clit. I am soaking wet, and my clit is almost fully engorged. I find it challenging to masturbate while he’s inside me, thrusting—I keep getting distracted.
“Woman! Play with yourself.”
Oh, right! Okay, back to the task at hand…I start rubbing again, focusing a little better this time. It helps that I’m getting closer and closer and my clit is adamant that I continue the process…After a minute or two, I can feel it, getting close, close, close, and then…
I’m cuh…cuh…cuh…cumming! Oh god, Daddy, I’m cuh…cuh…cumming!
The orgasm explodes in my cunt. My muscles squeeze down hard on his cock, buried balls-deep inside me. He rubs across my g-spot with every thrust, and I keep playing with my clit, eking out a few more orgasms. As the last one trails away he thrusts hard a few more times and empties himself inside me. I love the way he pumps, and stops, and growls, and then pumps again when he’s coming…finally he shudders to a stop, growls low one last time, and collapses against me. I squeeze his cock a few times and he chuckles raggedly, still out of breath.
“Woman, stop!” he orders finally. I giggle like a maniac again (orgasms make me so giddy!) but I do stop.
He wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him, and nuzzles my neck.
“You belong to me.”
Yes, Daddy. Always.
It’s playtime, and Himself has me bent over the bed giggling helplessly while he runs the Wartenberg wheel over my ass. I’m not intentionally being disrespectful, really I’m not, but the damn thing tickles! He retaliates by kicking my feet farther apart and attacking with a little more gusto. The giggles continue but they’re alternating with shrieks now, which seems to give him no little bit of satisfaction (the bastard—not a sadist, my ass!). The faster he rolls it across my skin, the deeper he pushes, the more those fucking little pins poke into my flesh and make me squeal. He likes it when I squeal, so he does it some more.
A few minutes in, he pulls my underwear down, kicks my feet apart again, and pushes me back down to the bed. Then he really goes to town—up and down the backs of my legs, over my butt, up to my shoulders and back down again. I’m giggling and gasping and squeaking and starting to slip into a nice, bottomy space when he orders me up onto the bed.
Presenting myself to him always pushes my subbie buttons, and I let out a happy little sigh as I settle into position. That earns me a swat, and then he’s back to turning my ass into a pincushion. He’s never used the wheel this much before, and I am thoroughly enjoying myself, moaning and wiggling and pushing my ass back in the universal sign for “more, please!”
And more is what I got. An unexpected more, a “more” from the “hey, it’s kinda fun to hurt you” side of Himself, who spread my cheeks and ran that fucking wheel across my smooth, hairless, and utterly unprotected asshole. That little trick elicits the first loud screech of the night, which makes him chuckle. And do it again. And again. And AGAIN. Until I’m begging and screaming for mercy and gasping “ouch ouch ouch dammit ouch!!”
Apparently, begging for mercy from a Dom who is happily exploring his sadistic side is an exercise in futility. o.O
The jukebox in my brain starts playing “the wheels on the bus go ’round and ’round,” as the wheel in my Sir’s hand strays down toward my labia. I freeze—no easy task with those pins sticking me!!–because this is not an area of my anatomy where I want to chance an accidental piercing. His evil laugh could give Vincent Price a run for his money and although I am indignant that he’s getting so much amusement out of my predicament, I stay frozen.
He runs the wheel up the crease between my thighs and my cunt a few times; then—carefully, gently—he rolls it up my labia, across my mound, and back down the other side. He repeats this circuit a few times. It feels surprisingly good, and being so utterly helpless makes me want to moan and press back against him; it takes all my willpower to stay still.
With no warning, he grabs my foot and starts running the wheel up and down the sole. I’m really ticklish so I go from not breathing at all to laughing, then screeching again as he runs it along the crease between my toes and the ball of my foot. Up along the arch, and I giggle; back down in the crease, and I’m squealing, and yelling “no no no no no no!”
He drops my foot and steps back.
“Your feet are dirty.”
Well, yes. I’ve been running around the house barefoot.
“You need to go wash them.”
I am boggled: we are in the middle of a scene and he wants me to stop and WASH my FEET.