I washed my face, I had cum all over it still and the little bit of dried blood that had been on my face from my cut up lips from his teeth. I grabbed a towel and dried off my face, hanging it back up I turned and took a few steps forward until I reached the garbage can by the toilet.
I stripped off my ruined shirt. I doubted I could find all the buttons he had made spray across the room when he had ripped it open, so I dropped it into the garbage in the bathroom. I slipped my skirt off, and set it on the toilet while I undid my pony tail and grabbed the hair brush.
I brushed my long curly red hair and braided it. It fell half way down my back. I rolled my shoulders back, feeling where his teeth had bit into my tender flesh; I examined the bite wound in the mirror.
It was red and swollen and I count see the imprints of his teeth still on my skin. I shivered as I remembered how I felt when he had bit me, and how my body responded. I could feel my pussy growing wet just at the memory, and I slid my hands up my chest to cup my breasts.
I examined myself in the mirror, seeing my pink nipples hard aroused me. I liked how I look, my small pert breasts firm, and even prettier when the nipples were hard. I ran my hands down my soft flat belly, down to my clean shaven girl bits.
My thighs were wet and sticky, I touched my fingers between the folds and brought it up to my nose, smelling my arousal, this is what he smelled, it was musky, and smelled like me, I blushed remembering his words, and stuck my fingers in my mouth, tasting it. Salty and sweet, tangy. I liked my taste.
“What are you doing?” he asked me, startling me, I stuttered, jerking my fingers out of my mouth and almost tipped over, bumping my hip against the counter.
“huh, you scared me!” I said, turning around to look at him, my hand rubbing my hip where I had hit it on the counter.
“Really…. Never would have guessed that.” He chuckled and raised an eyebrow as he looked at me intently, and I blushed at his sarcasm, I knew he had seen me, caught me touching and tasting myself.
I glanced down at the ground, shifting nervously in front of him, naked, while he was still fully dressed.
“Look at me girl.” He voice was deep, and calm and I snapped my gaze up to look at him, I couldn’t help it, he didn’t have to be harsh to make me obey, those calm, soft spoken words were enough to get my attention.
“Yes Master?” I asked him, shivering as I saw the lust for me in his eyes, he still wanted me, I had just sucked his cock, and yet, he wanted me again, I could tell by the way he looked at me, his eyes narrowing as they swept up and down my body. I could feel my stomach tightening with anticipation and desire. I wanted him too.
“You like looking at yourself in the mirror him? Tasting yourself? You really are nothing more than a dirty cunt needing to be used.” He reached out and tweaked a nipple, and I let out a cry of surprise, it hurt!
“Turn around; if you want to look at yourself in the mirror, you can watch me fuck your ass.” I looked at him in horror, it always hurt when he used my ass, but I turned around, obedient, shaking, knowing what would come next.
He shoved me hard on the counter, bending me over, I could hear him unzip his pants, and he kicked my legs apart. I could see his reflection in the mirror, and him behind me, he was stroking his cock, getting it hard. He slapped my ass once, really hard, and the sound of the slap echoed in the bathroom.
I whimpered as he slapped his penis against my soft thigh. He rubbed it against my pussy, soaking his cock with my own juices. I tried to force myself to relax, knowing if I clenched up, it would hurt more going in. I took a deep breath in, and slowly blew it out, focusing on relaxing as I felt his thumb touch the outside of my butt hole.
He wiggled it around, making me feel so dirty, and embarrassed, it didn’t hurt, I actually liked the way that felt, but I knew what was coming next, and I hated the insertion, it always stung, it burned, it stretched, it hurt, and he liked that it hurt me.
I felt him remove his hand, and I was staring at him in the mirror, I was smashed against the counter and I could feel my nipples aching as they were grinded onto it as he pressed a hand on my back to hold me still.
He rubbed the tip of his head against my hole and rubbed the wet slick tip against my tight little hole.
“Relax for me.” He whispered behind me. I could hear him. I tried to do what he wanted, I tried to breath slow and deep, not allowing my fear and panic to blind me to what he was about to do to me.
He slowly inched it inside, wiggling it back and forth, I grimaced, it hurt. He pushed in and then slowly pulled out. Then he pushed in again until I started to relax around his cock. He reached down and started playing with my clit as he slowly slid in and out of my ass. He slipped a finger into my cunt and rubbed a finger on my clit as he double penetrated me against the bathroom counter.
I could see the muscles in his chest flex in the glass as he pushed in and out of my ass and cunt at the same time. His cock and his fingers, both at the same time, were driving me crazy, I moaned and leaned back against him, wanting more, his fingers on my clit driving me insane.
“Please, let me cum” I begged, I could feel it building up, my stomach was clenching and I knew I would cum. I could feel him swelling up inside me, getting turned on by my pathetic pleas begging to cum.
“Yes, you can cum” he told me, as he pounded into my ass, his fingers violent in my cunt, rubbing hard on my clit. I felt myself explode, squirting all over down my thighs and on his fingers. I let out a sob, I was so embarrassed, and I felt him squirt his cum into my ass, completing my misery.
I knew that I would have cum leaking out my ass for the next day or so, a lovely reminder of him taking me on the bathroom counter.
“You dirty girl, you got the bathroom all messy, clean it up and come down stairs when you’re done.” He told me, I lay on the counter, trying to catch my breath, still unable to move from the assault on my poor body.
I could see him wash his cock in the sink, a mere few inches from my face, I averted my eyes, not wanting to see if I got his cock messy or not from his fucking me in the ass… when he was done washing it, he slipped it back into his pants and zipped it up and left me alone in the bathroom.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Dirty Girl -- fiction story.
He walked in the door and I greeted him coming towards him, I wore a brown khaki skirt that was short and barely covered my ass, I had on a white blouse. My long curly red hair was pulled back into a pony tail. I had no makeup and I was bare foot.
He dropped his briefcase by the closet near the front door and stalked close to me; I halted my approach and started backing up. His eyes had taken on a feral glint; his mouth was turned up into an evil smile.
I felt my breath hitch in my chest and my heart start to pound. He was going to hurt me. I could see it in his eyes. I felt my pussy clench at the thought.
He stalked me, backing me up until my back was against the wall, I could feel the hard press of it against my ass and shoulders. He was crowding me; I was cornered with nowhere to go, trapped at his mercy.
He ripped open my blouse with his large dark hands, the buttons popping off and flying across the room.
I gasped as the air touched my warm skin. He left it hanging there, gaping open, my nipples hardening from the cold air suddenly touching them. I had no bra on.
His eyes darkened as he looked down at me, he hovered above me, over half a foot taller, and I felt small next to him, his prisoner at his mercy. He reached down and yanked up my skirt to my waist and saw that I had no panties on.
“I can smell you, your dirty little cunts all wet isn’t it?” He asked me and I blushed profusely. Embarrassed that he had noticed I was aroused just by my scent.
He reached up, grabbing my pony tail in his hand and twisted my hair around his fist. He jerked my head to the side and shoved his knee between my thighs. I could feel myself soak into his work pants and I blushed, knowing he’d feel it.
He leaned down, and I could feel his breath against my throat, right before he bit me. Hard. I bucked against him, unable to move, the pain hurt, and I could feel myself rub against him unable to stop myself.
God, I couldn’t help how I respond to him, I know he likes to hurt me, and I know my body responds to him, pain and pleasure, my body can’t tell the difference. It hurts and yet I felt my stomach tighten up almost like I was about to orgasm. It always embarrasses me.
I felt guilty, for a moment, that I was glad he liked to hurt me, that I could be so weak and powerless against his strength, that he enjoyed treating me like an object, like prey, I could sense the predator in him and I loved the feeling of being dominated. The intense mix of emotions, even after all this time with him.
“Please…” I whispered, unable to help myself, my eyes pleading, I could feel my body aching between my thighs, I rubbed it against his leg unable to stop myself, animal instincts, female and totally at his command.
He bit my shoulder, hard, he was marking me. I shuddered, and felt his grip tighten on my hair. He pushed himself against me, my bare breasts sensitive, I hissed as my nipples rubbed against his suit jacket.
“Slut.” He smiled at me, his expression amused. I shut my eyes, not wanting him to see how humiliated and helpless I felt, how my body betrayed me. It responded, it begged, it rubbed and squirmed, even when my mind was telling it to behave itself. I can’t even control my body.
He angled my head, using his hand in my hair to guide it, and leaned down and raped my mouth with his tongue. I could feel his teeth crushing my lips, grinding against them; I could taste the blood where his teeth cut my lips. I moaned against his tongue, my throat purring as his large tongue thrust in and out of my mouth.
The sensation was too much and I felt my stomach shudder as an orgasm took me by surprise; I squeaked and felt myself gush against his leg. My eyes flew open in surprise, and shock and I blushed. He just smiled at me, that all knowing, evil smile that makes my toes curl when he aims it in my direction.
“My turn cunt, get on your knees.” He stepped away from me, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his rock hard erection and stroked it gently as he looked at me expectantly.
I knew what he wanted; I could see the giant wet spot on his pants where I just came on his clothes. I was still blushing furiously, my face hot with embarrassment. That he could make me cum so easily, I knew I was different than most women. But right now, I didn’t even care.
I fell to my knees before him, my skirt was still wrapped around my waist, my pony tail was a mess, I had wisps of hair around my face where he had yanked them out of my hair tie. I leaned forward and grabbed his penis in my hand, and slowly licked the tip of it with my tongue.
Apparently, that wasn’t good enough, because he grabbed my head and shoved his cock as far as it would go, bruising my lips even more, and making me gag on his cock when he hit the back of my throat. He dug his fingers tightly into my head and face fucked me while I was choking and sputtering on his cock trying to breathe quickly between his thrusts.
He fucked my throat hard, I was gasping for breath in-between thrusts, my eyes were watering and I could tell I had tears leaking down my cheeks. My head hurt where he was griping with his fingers. He fucked me hard, until I felt like I was going to pass out. Then, he pulled out and came all over my face, with a grunt, his cock jerking in spasms. I could feel it jet across my cheeks and lips, I could taste it on my tongue, and I could feel it dripping down my chin.
“Go clean up you dirty girl.” He smiled and patted my head. I got up, obedient, glad that I had pleased him to clean off my face and change my clothes.
He dropped his briefcase by the closet near the front door and stalked close to me; I halted my approach and started backing up. His eyes had taken on a feral glint; his mouth was turned up into an evil smile.
I felt my breath hitch in my chest and my heart start to pound. He was going to hurt me. I could see it in his eyes. I felt my pussy clench at the thought.
He stalked me, backing me up until my back was against the wall, I could feel the hard press of it against my ass and shoulders. He was crowding me; I was cornered with nowhere to go, trapped at his mercy.
He ripped open my blouse with his large dark hands, the buttons popping off and flying across the room.
I gasped as the air touched my warm skin. He left it hanging there, gaping open, my nipples hardening from the cold air suddenly touching them. I had no bra on.
His eyes darkened as he looked down at me, he hovered above me, over half a foot taller, and I felt small next to him, his prisoner at his mercy. He reached down and yanked up my skirt to my waist and saw that I had no panties on.
“I can smell you, your dirty little cunts all wet isn’t it?” He asked me and I blushed profusely. Embarrassed that he had noticed I was aroused just by my scent.
He reached up, grabbing my pony tail in his hand and twisted my hair around his fist. He jerked my head to the side and shoved his knee between my thighs. I could feel myself soak into his work pants and I blushed, knowing he’d feel it.
He leaned down, and I could feel his breath against my throat, right before he bit me. Hard. I bucked against him, unable to move, the pain hurt, and I could feel myself rub against him unable to stop myself.
God, I couldn’t help how I respond to him, I know he likes to hurt me, and I know my body responds to him, pain and pleasure, my body can’t tell the difference. It hurts and yet I felt my stomach tighten up almost like I was about to orgasm. It always embarrasses me.
I felt guilty, for a moment, that I was glad he liked to hurt me, that I could be so weak and powerless against his strength, that he enjoyed treating me like an object, like prey, I could sense the predator in him and I loved the feeling of being dominated. The intense mix of emotions, even after all this time with him.
“Please…” I whispered, unable to help myself, my eyes pleading, I could feel my body aching between my thighs, I rubbed it against his leg unable to stop myself, animal instincts, female and totally at his command.
He bit my shoulder, hard, he was marking me. I shuddered, and felt his grip tighten on my hair. He pushed himself against me, my bare breasts sensitive, I hissed as my nipples rubbed against his suit jacket.
“Slut.” He smiled at me, his expression amused. I shut my eyes, not wanting him to see how humiliated and helpless I felt, how my body betrayed me. It responded, it begged, it rubbed and squirmed, even when my mind was telling it to behave itself. I can’t even control my body.
He angled my head, using his hand in my hair to guide it, and leaned down and raped my mouth with his tongue. I could feel his teeth crushing my lips, grinding against them; I could taste the blood where his teeth cut my lips. I moaned against his tongue, my throat purring as his large tongue thrust in and out of my mouth.
The sensation was too much and I felt my stomach shudder as an orgasm took me by surprise; I squeaked and felt myself gush against his leg. My eyes flew open in surprise, and shock and I blushed. He just smiled at me, that all knowing, evil smile that makes my toes curl when he aims it in my direction.
“My turn cunt, get on your knees.” He stepped away from me, unzipping his pants, and pulling out his rock hard erection and stroked it gently as he looked at me expectantly.
I knew what he wanted; I could see the giant wet spot on his pants where I just came on his clothes. I was still blushing furiously, my face hot with embarrassment. That he could make me cum so easily, I knew I was different than most women. But right now, I didn’t even care.
I fell to my knees before him, my skirt was still wrapped around my waist, my pony tail was a mess, I had wisps of hair around my face where he had yanked them out of my hair tie. I leaned forward and grabbed his penis in my hand, and slowly licked the tip of it with my tongue.
Apparently, that wasn’t good enough, because he grabbed my head and shoved his cock as far as it would go, bruising my lips even more, and making me gag on his cock when he hit the back of my throat. He dug his fingers tightly into my head and face fucked me while I was choking and sputtering on his cock trying to breathe quickly between his thrusts.
He fucked my throat hard, I was gasping for breath in-between thrusts, my eyes were watering and I could tell I had tears leaking down my cheeks. My head hurt where he was griping with his fingers. He fucked me hard, until I felt like I was going to pass out. Then, he pulled out and came all over my face, with a grunt, his cock jerking in spasms. I could feel it jet across my cheeks and lips, I could taste it on my tongue, and I could feel it dripping down my chin.
“Go clean up you dirty girl.” He smiled and patted my head. I got up, obedient, glad that I had pleased him to clean off my face and change my clothes.
the light and the dark
I was sitting here, having a conversation with a friend, when I decided to write this down, maybe so i could come back later and think about it further.
Master is incredibly sweet to me. I have a hard time accepting it. I am spoiled, I am pampered, I am loved, I am treated like a cherished pet. He even pets my hair.
I would not be able to accept this kind treatment, the sappy hugs, wine, cookies, the I love you's... with out the balance of his evil dark side.
I don't feel I deserve to be treated badly, I do however, need to feel his dominance, his dark side, his power and control to balance out the softer side that he showers on me.
I've been able to cuddle better, snuggle, and accept the softer side, the lovey-dovey side better the past year as i've grown more comfortable with the balance.
In order to have the light, I need the darkness too.
I couldn't just have all evil, but I also couldn't have just softness. It would drive me insane, I need the harshness, the meanness, the toughness, just as much as I need him to hold me once in a while.
I may never get into sappy romance, I may never truly appreciate the kind things he does for me the way other women might, but I appreciate that he balances it for me. That he can be both nice, and harsh, and that I don't have to fake enjoyment of one or the other.
I appreciate the wine, and cookies a lot more after he's hurt me, and I know that I have pleased him, I love when he rewards me, I love when he takes care of me, I love when he pets me, and I even like that all that nice stuff he does makes me uncomfortable and feel like lashing out. (emotional masochism at its finest)
I realize, that suffering, and taking what he gives me, in a way is emotional masochism. I had to learn to tie in the "nice" with suffering in order to appreciate it properly.
I hate suffering, I love suffering, and I need a balance of good and evil.
Thank you Master, for knowing me better than I know myself. For teaching me how to see that love can be shown in many different ways, and for always seeming to know exactly what I need. :)
Master is incredibly sweet to me. I have a hard time accepting it. I am spoiled, I am pampered, I am loved, I am treated like a cherished pet. He even pets my hair.
I would not be able to accept this kind treatment, the sappy hugs, wine, cookies, the I love you's... with out the balance of his evil dark side.
I don't feel I deserve to be treated badly, I do however, need to feel his dominance, his dark side, his power and control to balance out the softer side that he showers on me.
I've been able to cuddle better, snuggle, and accept the softer side, the lovey-dovey side better the past year as i've grown more comfortable with the balance.
In order to have the light, I need the darkness too.
I couldn't just have all evil, but I also couldn't have just softness. It would drive me insane, I need the harshness, the meanness, the toughness, just as much as I need him to hold me once in a while.
I may never get into sappy romance, I may never truly appreciate the kind things he does for me the way other women might, but I appreciate that he balances it for me. That he can be both nice, and harsh, and that I don't have to fake enjoyment of one or the other.
I appreciate the wine, and cookies a lot more after he's hurt me, and I know that I have pleased him, I love when he rewards me, I love when he takes care of me, I love when he pets me, and I even like that all that nice stuff he does makes me uncomfortable and feel like lashing out. (emotional masochism at its finest)
I realize, that suffering, and taking what he gives me, in a way is emotional masochism. I had to learn to tie in the "nice" with suffering in order to appreciate it properly.
I hate suffering, I love suffering, and I need a balance of good and evil.
Thank you Master, for knowing me better than I know myself. For teaching me how to see that love can be shown in many different ways, and for always seeming to know exactly what I need. :)
Friday, June 26, 2009
the balance we have
Master and I are very different from each other. These differences are what make us balance each other out and make our relationship work so well. I am very emotional, and he is very logical.
He is masculine, and I am feminine. He is dominant and mellow, and I am submissive and high strung. With him, I am free to be myself and he is free to be himself with me. I can just be who I am and not try to fit into society around me. The character traits I have that come naturally are appreciated in our relationship, and he encourages them. Our personalities complement each other.
I am overly emotional. Master is not. He tends to be very logical and calm most of the time. This allows me to be emotional enough for the both of us, and I don’t have to second guess this part of my nature or try to fake that I am not an emotional person. I can wear my emotions on my face, my heart on my sleeve, and he takes care of the rest.
My being so emotional balances out his inability to be emotional, he is always logical and sometimes, he needs my emotions to balance him out. The balance we have in this way, allows us both to just be ourselves.
He is very masculine, and I am not. I was raised in an uber feminist man-hating household and was taught that being feminine and girly wasn’t always appropriate. That the desires I had as a woman wasn’t always appropriate, that my desire to be a mother, a man’s property, and make him happy was wrong.
It feels good to be able to embrace who I really am, and not have to try to be unisex, or something I am not in order to fit into the world around me. My femininity is a nice compliment to his masculinity. I am free to be a woman and he is free to be a man.
I have a very reactive personality, I respond submissively when the right buttons are pushed, sometimes when I don’t even want them too. My childhood toughened me up and taught me how to hide many of these traits to protect myself. I also had to take the lead growing up a lot and take care of myself and others around me.
I had to not look like a cornered dog in order to survive and I played that part well. Master is very dominant, and he could sense who I was under the tough protective skin I had grown to keep myself safe and alive. Master offered me a safe place to be myself, where I didn’t need to do that, and I was able to shed it and be myself with him. I can submit, I can serve, I can love freely.
I needed a dominant male in my life who could compliment my personality traits. I can submit without fear of being hurt or taken advantage of, and he gets the balance that I offer him to his own personality traits. I am soft where he is hard.
Being in a Master and slave dynamic allows us both to be ourselves. We are very unique and different from each other, and we both bring unique traits to our relationship that add to it rather than detract. We are more because we are together, than we would be on our own as individuals. Our attributes complement each other, and balance them out, leaving us happy, healthy and fulfilled.
He is masculine, and I am feminine. He is dominant and mellow, and I am submissive and high strung. With him, I am free to be myself and he is free to be himself with me. I can just be who I am and not try to fit into society around me. The character traits I have that come naturally are appreciated in our relationship, and he encourages them. Our personalities complement each other.
I am overly emotional. Master is not. He tends to be very logical and calm most of the time. This allows me to be emotional enough for the both of us, and I don’t have to second guess this part of my nature or try to fake that I am not an emotional person. I can wear my emotions on my face, my heart on my sleeve, and he takes care of the rest.
My being so emotional balances out his inability to be emotional, he is always logical and sometimes, he needs my emotions to balance him out. The balance we have in this way, allows us both to just be ourselves.
He is very masculine, and I am not. I was raised in an uber feminist man-hating household and was taught that being feminine and girly wasn’t always appropriate. That the desires I had as a woman wasn’t always appropriate, that my desire to be a mother, a man’s property, and make him happy was wrong.
It feels good to be able to embrace who I really am, and not have to try to be unisex, or something I am not in order to fit into the world around me. My femininity is a nice compliment to his masculinity. I am free to be a woman and he is free to be a man.
I have a very reactive personality, I respond submissively when the right buttons are pushed, sometimes when I don’t even want them too. My childhood toughened me up and taught me how to hide many of these traits to protect myself. I also had to take the lead growing up a lot and take care of myself and others around me.
I had to not look like a cornered dog in order to survive and I played that part well. Master is very dominant, and he could sense who I was under the tough protective skin I had grown to keep myself safe and alive. Master offered me a safe place to be myself, where I didn’t need to do that, and I was able to shed it and be myself with him. I can submit, I can serve, I can love freely.
I needed a dominant male in my life who could compliment my personality traits. I can submit without fear of being hurt or taken advantage of, and he gets the balance that I offer him to his own personality traits. I am soft where he is hard.
Being in a Master and slave dynamic allows us both to be ourselves. We are very unique and different from each other, and we both bring unique traits to our relationship that add to it rather than detract. We are more because we are together, than we would be on our own as individuals. Our attributes complement each other, and balance them out, leaving us happy, healthy and fulfilled.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
trust
When Master and I first got together, I had come from a childhood that had not enticed me to be trusting of people. I was very skittish with people, and didn’t really trust easily. I also tended to worry a lot and tried to be controlling of situations out of self protective mechanisms. Being in a relationship with him that has been healthy and productive has taught me how to trust another human being. I also don’t really worry as much about things as I used too, and it has really relieved a lot of stress of my shoulders.
It takes a lot of trust to make a Master/slave relationship work. If you can’t trust the person to control your life, or future, it’s almost impossible to submit without a gigantic inner struggle, and doubting everything. Over time, with consistency, and following through, proving the Master is trustworthy and will do what they say they will, a deep level of trust is established. Now, if he says “It’s taken care of” I can just trust that the situation has been handled. I know he will follow through, do what he says, and that I can trust him to take care of me… giving up control, even for little things was hard. (Even such as washing my hair in the shower, little things that people take for granted…) Master will do his best, to make sure things turn out well. It is now easier to just trust him that things will be okay. But it was hard getting there.
It is incredibly difficult to work around someone else’s schedule, or be on their schedule. I may want things done a certain way so that I know its taken care of, and he will make me wait, or do it on his schedule or his terms. He may also decide some of the order of things I want to do things in, is not the correct priority. Accepting his scheduling, and time-frames have been hard, along with trusting that things WILL get done eventually, and I just have to let them go and trust him to do what he says. I still worry a lot, but a lot less than I used too. I do tend to ask when things will be done, because knowing when he will do things helps me learn to trust him because he does it when he says he will, even if it’s not on my time frame.
Master never forced me to trust him, accused me of being bad, or got angry for pestering him with lots of questions and why all the time. He let the trust be established over a long period of time, so now, I really can say, “I trust you” and mean it. The level of trust I have with now, is very deep and often scary. I have never been this close or intimate with another person before. I appreciate the opportunity he has given me, and the patience with which he established our dynamic and relationship. While it can still be difficult to trust people in general, I at least know I can trust him and believe in him
It takes a lot of trust to make a Master/slave relationship work. If you can’t trust the person to control your life, or future, it’s almost impossible to submit without a gigantic inner struggle, and doubting everything. Over time, with consistency, and following through, proving the Master is trustworthy and will do what they say they will, a deep level of trust is established. Now, if he says “It’s taken care of” I can just trust that the situation has been handled. I know he will follow through, do what he says, and that I can trust him to take care of me… giving up control, even for little things was hard. (Even such as washing my hair in the shower, little things that people take for granted…) Master will do his best, to make sure things turn out well. It is now easier to just trust him that things will be okay. But it was hard getting there.
It is incredibly difficult to work around someone else’s schedule, or be on their schedule. I may want things done a certain way so that I know its taken care of, and he will make me wait, or do it on his schedule or his terms. He may also decide some of the order of things I want to do things in, is not the correct priority. Accepting his scheduling, and time-frames have been hard, along with trusting that things WILL get done eventually, and I just have to let them go and trust him to do what he says. I still worry a lot, but a lot less than I used too. I do tend to ask when things will be done, because knowing when he will do things helps me learn to trust him because he does it when he says he will, even if it’s not on my time frame.
Master never forced me to trust him, accused me of being bad, or got angry for pestering him with lots of questions and why all the time. He let the trust be established over a long period of time, so now, I really can say, “I trust you” and mean it. The level of trust I have with now, is very deep and often scary. I have never been this close or intimate with another person before. I appreciate the opportunity he has given me, and the patience with which he established our dynamic and relationship. While it can still be difficult to trust people in general, I at least know I can trust him and believe in him
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Anal sex.... from the point of view of a masochist.
We laid there on the bed, La Blue Girl playing on the TV.
He was naked under the blanket, and I had on a black sweat shirt and sweat pants. It had been cold!
He reached for me, and slid my pants down my legs and pulled them off. He left my sweat shirt on. I guess he thought it was cute. He slipped a hand up my shirt and a hand between my legs and started to play with me.
I could smell his soap from the shower, his dark hair curled around his ears, his strong dark hands reached for me and touched me as I curled up against his side to watch the movie.
He stroked me between the legs, his cock pressing up against my ass, rubbing me. I wiggled against him, I couldn't help it, and the feel of his hard cock was intoxicating.
He eventually flipped me over, and I was wet and he rubbed his penis against my pussy, slipping back and forth before finally inserting it. I moaned and he handed me a vibrator to use on my clit.
He fucked me until I came, clenching around his penis, my face buried in the pillows and on the bed, my ass in the air. He stopped, and pulled out, leaning down and started to lick me, getting me wetter, tasting me, I could tell it excited him to do it, and I was embarrassed. I was so exposed to him; open, unable to hide from his view.
I kept the vibrator on my clit, I knew he was going to fuck me in the ass when he pulled out of me without cumming, and I knew it was going to hurt. It always hurts.
He rubbed my juices from my orgasm all over my ass hole with his cock and slowly inched his way inside of me. I tried to focus on my vibrator, tried to force my muscles to relax so it wouldn't hurt more than necessary.
I shoved a wad of the pillow into my mouth so I wouldn't scream. My free hand clenched the sheets it stung, it burned, and he slowly inched his way inside me. I screamed into the sheets, I begged him not to hurt me. It didn't occur to me to tell him to stop, if he wants to fuck me in the ass, he can fuck me in the ass.
He grabbed my hips and slowly fucked me, I focused on relaxing so it wouldn't sting and burn and hurt so badly. He slipped back and forth inside me, speeding up. All I could think about was trying to serve him, trying to please him, trying not to scream because it hurt, and it was scary, and his cock is too big for my tight little ass.
I think knowing that I was suffering for his pleasure aroused him, he grew even bigger in my ass as he pumped in and out of me, I begged him to cum... I told him it hurt and I screamed into the pillow as he pounded into my ass. It was hard to focus on relaxing, not panicking and tightening up my muscles. I knew if I did that, it would hurt a whole hell of a lot more.
He finally came inside my ass, both hands on my hips, pressing me down onto the bed, holding me still as he jerked inside me, filling me with his cum. When he pulled out, to go wash himself off, I curled up in a little ball and cried myself to sleep. I always cry after anal sex. It's degrading, it hurts, it's embarrassing, and he likes doing it to me. It's dirty and disgusting, it feels so weird. And, I've always cried after anal sex, and usually after any kind of anal touching if there was insertion.
I will say, that I do think I needed to cry, so I am glad he did it. There are not many things that can make me cry, but anal sex is one of them, and it ALWAYS makes me sob hysterically after it's over.
I have a love-hate relationship with anal sex. It hurts, it makes me suffer, and a part of me really enjoys feeling so dirty and humiliated. I should probably remember to thank him for doing that to me.
He was naked under the blanket, and I had on a black sweat shirt and sweat pants. It had been cold!
He reached for me, and slid my pants down my legs and pulled them off. He left my sweat shirt on. I guess he thought it was cute. He slipped a hand up my shirt and a hand between my legs and started to play with me.
I could smell his soap from the shower, his dark hair curled around his ears, his strong dark hands reached for me and touched me as I curled up against his side to watch the movie.
He stroked me between the legs, his cock pressing up against my ass, rubbing me. I wiggled against him, I couldn't help it, and the feel of his hard cock was intoxicating.
He eventually flipped me over, and I was wet and he rubbed his penis against my pussy, slipping back and forth before finally inserting it. I moaned and he handed me a vibrator to use on my clit.
He fucked me until I came, clenching around his penis, my face buried in the pillows and on the bed, my ass in the air. He stopped, and pulled out, leaning down and started to lick me, getting me wetter, tasting me, I could tell it excited him to do it, and I was embarrassed. I was so exposed to him; open, unable to hide from his view.
I kept the vibrator on my clit, I knew he was going to fuck me in the ass when he pulled out of me without cumming, and I knew it was going to hurt. It always hurts.
He rubbed my juices from my orgasm all over my ass hole with his cock and slowly inched his way inside of me. I tried to focus on my vibrator, tried to force my muscles to relax so it wouldn't hurt more than necessary.
I shoved a wad of the pillow into my mouth so I wouldn't scream. My free hand clenched the sheets it stung, it burned, and he slowly inched his way inside me. I screamed into the sheets, I begged him not to hurt me. It didn't occur to me to tell him to stop, if he wants to fuck me in the ass, he can fuck me in the ass.
He grabbed my hips and slowly fucked me, I focused on relaxing so it wouldn't sting and burn and hurt so badly. He slipped back and forth inside me, speeding up. All I could think about was trying to serve him, trying to please him, trying not to scream because it hurt, and it was scary, and his cock is too big for my tight little ass.
I think knowing that I was suffering for his pleasure aroused him, he grew even bigger in my ass as he pumped in and out of me, I begged him to cum... I told him it hurt and I screamed into the pillow as he pounded into my ass. It was hard to focus on relaxing, not panicking and tightening up my muscles. I knew if I did that, it would hurt a whole hell of a lot more.
He finally came inside my ass, both hands on my hips, pressing me down onto the bed, holding me still as he jerked inside me, filling me with his cum. When he pulled out, to go wash himself off, I curled up in a little ball and cried myself to sleep. I always cry after anal sex. It's degrading, it hurts, it's embarrassing, and he likes doing it to me. It's dirty and disgusting, it feels so weird. And, I've always cried after anal sex, and usually after any kind of anal touching if there was insertion.
I will say, that I do think I needed to cry, so I am glad he did it. There are not many things that can make me cry, but anal sex is one of them, and it ALWAYS makes me sob hysterically after it's over.
I have a love-hate relationship with anal sex. It hurts, it makes me suffer, and a part of me really enjoys feeling so dirty and humiliated. I should probably remember to thank him for doing that to me.
Friday, June 12, 2009
birthday
I will be turning 24 tomorrow... I sit here and reflect back on the last almost quarter century of my life, and realize that I want the next 24 years to be much better than than the previous, and that I am now in a position to pick my friends, and my family and who matters to me, and who gets to be involved in not only my life, but my heart.
My family knows its my birthday, and they didn't even care that it was this weekend. they told me it didn't matter, and it wasn't important enough to matter when there's other people they want to do things with. (and all I did was ask them if they wanted to go to dinner sometime in the near future with me and Master, I didn't even say when, I was going to leave that up to them....I wasn't asking them to pay, I was just asking for their company....)
My grandmother pretty much insinuated that my birthday wasn't that big of a deal, and that I wasn't that important.... ouch.
It really makes me realize that while you can't pick your family, you CAN pick the friends who become close enough to you to become your family.
I guess, my birthday's not that big of a deal to me, but, it did hurt to hear that my family didn't even care enough to wish me a happy birthday.... but when I reflect back on my life, I realize I should expect that by now.
My family stopped having birthday parties for me when I was 10, telling me I was too old to celebrate my birthday with anymore. the last birthday party I had was when I was 18 and I threw it for myself. 2 friends of mine came over for a bbq... and 2 cousins who felt obligated to come. (geez... please, don't feel obligated. I'd rather people WANT to wish me a happy birthday.... not because they feel like they are forced too)
Its not about presents, or cake, or parties... its about feeling like someone cares enough to even notice you exist.
All in all, I just want to thank anyone/everyone who's wished me a happy birthday so far in advance, or who asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday...
And thank you Master, for at least spending time with me on my birthday for the last few years, so I wouldn't have to spend it alone.
My family knows its my birthday, and they didn't even care that it was this weekend. they told me it didn't matter, and it wasn't important enough to matter when there's other people they want to do things with. (and all I did was ask them if they wanted to go to dinner sometime in the near future with me and Master, I didn't even say when, I was going to leave that up to them....I wasn't asking them to pay, I was just asking for their company....)
My grandmother pretty much insinuated that my birthday wasn't that big of a deal, and that I wasn't that important.... ouch.
It really makes me realize that while you can't pick your family, you CAN pick the friends who become close enough to you to become your family.
I guess, my birthday's not that big of a deal to me, but, it did hurt to hear that my family didn't even care enough to wish me a happy birthday.... but when I reflect back on my life, I realize I should expect that by now.
My family stopped having birthday parties for me when I was 10, telling me I was too old to celebrate my birthday with anymore. the last birthday party I had was when I was 18 and I threw it for myself. 2 friends of mine came over for a bbq... and 2 cousins who felt obligated to come. (geez... please, don't feel obligated. I'd rather people WANT to wish me a happy birthday.... not because they feel like they are forced too)
Its not about presents, or cake, or parties... its about feeling like someone cares enough to even notice you exist.
All in all, I just want to thank anyone/everyone who's wished me a happy birthday so far in advance, or who asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday...
And thank you Master, for at least spending time with me on my birthday for the last few years, so I wouldn't have to spend it alone.
Thursday, June 4, 2009
topping from the bottom
Warning : The following contains ideas that some may find offensive. You have been warned.
topping from the bottom in my opinion isn't something that really exists, you might be a bad slave, but you'd still be owned and be a slave... and if someone is such a destructive force, I don't really consider that topping from the bottom, I consider that something to re-evaluate if the relationship dynamic is even worth it.
Its like my dog. my dog might be naughty sometimes, but it doesn't make it less owned, or less my dog.. it just means I lacked in my ability to train it properly, or I spoiled it to much, let it get away with to much, or didn't train it to behave in a fashion I prefer. Or I didn't make the rules clear, the guidelines I expected weren't put in place, or I was slack on enforcing them... This often allows a dog to get pretty wild.
(of course, you have your dogs, who are pretty much perfect with almost no training, and never does a thing wrong, but in my opinion, I prefer a strong, stubborn dog who takes a lot of energy and work, its much more rewarding to see the final product when they are grown and obedient. but everyone has different tastes, and it really comes down too in my opinion, figuring out what personality type you prefer before selecting a dog...)
I feel similarly about a slave.
It is curious to me, how many people feel threatened by someone trying to manipulate them, or accusing people of trying to manipulate them.
Instead of dealing with the issue.
My dog gives me puppy dog eyes, he nudges my hand and tries to manipulate me to pet him. If I allow this behavior to happen, it doesn't excuse my responsibility that I allowed it, I see the manipulation for what it is.
In my opinion, not all manipulation is bad, not all requests, communication, questions, conversation are intentionally destructive manipulation.
When I try to please my owner, thats manipulation. I am attempting to please him, because I am hoping that I get a desired result by my behavior. -- In this case, its a good thing.
If he doesn't like a set behavior, he changes it....
I guess intentions play a large part in how I see manipulation, not all of its bad... some of its good, some of it makes the world go round... and some of it is bad and self destructive.
I think personally, that most Masters who are self-aware enough to be self-confident and understand how people work, wouldn't be upset or threatened by "topping from the bottom".
I think they'd deal with it, train their slave, work with them, talk, communicate, let their slave learn and ask questions, maybe even allow their slave to test and push buttons while they learn where their Masters "invisible line" is on a subject.
Which is also subject to change at a Masters whim, which often causes a slave to test these lines occasionally... depending on the person, not all slaves will, but some do, and there is a Master out there for those personality types.
It doesn't make them a bad slave, or less of a slave, it just means they need a Master who can understand this, and is okay with it.
I know my Owner doesn't feel threatened by my obvious attempts to pester him or be the puppy dog trying to get his attention. I know that if he doesn't feel like letting me get away with it, he won't.
I know that everything he does, is based on his feelings and moods, so I am allowed to totally just be "myself". The good, the bad.. the naughty. And he is confident enough to handle me, with out feeling like I am threatening the relationship by making suggestions, occasionally speaking out of turn, or by asking if we can do things, or if I can do things....
I personally feel that if a Master cannot see manipulation for what it is, and deal with it rationally, he deserves it.
There are exceptions to everything of course, but I feel that usually, the most often cases of accused topping from the bottom often stem from an insecurity or a lack of communication between the two people in some fashion.
topping from the bottom in my opinion isn't something that really exists, you might be a bad slave, but you'd still be owned and be a slave... and if someone is such a destructive force, I don't really consider that topping from the bottom, I consider that something to re-evaluate if the relationship dynamic is even worth it.
Its like my dog. my dog might be naughty sometimes, but it doesn't make it less owned, or less my dog.. it just means I lacked in my ability to train it properly, or I spoiled it to much, let it get away with to much, or didn't train it to behave in a fashion I prefer. Or I didn't make the rules clear, the guidelines I expected weren't put in place, or I was slack on enforcing them... This often allows a dog to get pretty wild.
(of course, you have your dogs, who are pretty much perfect with almost no training, and never does a thing wrong, but in my opinion, I prefer a strong, stubborn dog who takes a lot of energy and work, its much more rewarding to see the final product when they are grown and obedient. but everyone has different tastes, and it really comes down too in my opinion, figuring out what personality type you prefer before selecting a dog...)
I feel similarly about a slave.
It is curious to me, how many people feel threatened by someone trying to manipulate them, or accusing people of trying to manipulate them.
Instead of dealing with the issue.
My dog gives me puppy dog eyes, he nudges my hand and tries to manipulate me to pet him. If I allow this behavior to happen, it doesn't excuse my responsibility that I allowed it, I see the manipulation for what it is.
In my opinion, not all manipulation is bad, not all requests, communication, questions, conversation are intentionally destructive manipulation.
When I try to please my owner, thats manipulation. I am attempting to please him, because I am hoping that I get a desired result by my behavior. -- In this case, its a good thing.
If he doesn't like a set behavior, he changes it....
I guess intentions play a large part in how I see manipulation, not all of its bad... some of its good, some of it makes the world go round... and some of it is bad and self destructive.
I think personally, that most Masters who are self-aware enough to be self-confident and understand how people work, wouldn't be upset or threatened by "topping from the bottom".
I think they'd deal with it, train their slave, work with them, talk, communicate, let their slave learn and ask questions, maybe even allow their slave to test and push buttons while they learn where their Masters "invisible line" is on a subject.
Which is also subject to change at a Masters whim, which often causes a slave to test these lines occasionally... depending on the person, not all slaves will, but some do, and there is a Master out there for those personality types.
It doesn't make them a bad slave, or less of a slave, it just means they need a Master who can understand this, and is okay with it.
I know my Owner doesn't feel threatened by my obvious attempts to pester him or be the puppy dog trying to get his attention. I know that if he doesn't feel like letting me get away with it, he won't.
I know that everything he does, is based on his feelings and moods, so I am allowed to totally just be "myself". The good, the bad.. the naughty. And he is confident enough to handle me, with out feeling like I am threatening the relationship by making suggestions, occasionally speaking out of turn, or by asking if we can do things, or if I can do things....
I personally feel that if a Master cannot see manipulation for what it is, and deal with it rationally, he deserves it.
There are exceptions to everything of course, but I feel that usually, the most often cases of accused topping from the bottom often stem from an insecurity or a lack of communication between the two people in some fashion.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
my priorities
Master first.
Then myself.
Then our child.
The reason for this is simple... master pays for the roof over our head, the food in our belly. I need to take care of him to make sure he can goto work, pay the bills, provide our medical care etc.
Then, I need to make sure I am taken care of, because i can't take care of either of them, if something is wrong with me... Master also makes sure that I am provided for, and our child is taken care of.
A child, is not the same as an adult either. There are some things, that I view differently. My child is very important to me, and will always be important to me, but eventually, he's going to leave, start his own family, and it won't be my job to provide and care for him anymore, but Master will still be here.
My relationship with my Master is my #1 priority. A happy Master and a happy slave... = a happy household.
We have no power struggles, we are both happy, and because of it, our child can tell how happy we are and its obvious that he's a well adjusted, happy child.
My child will some day, move on with his life, move out, and won't need us to take care of him anymore.... but my Master will need me... I can't just put my Master on hold to raise a child, when our relationship will be all thats left when the child moves out. The relationship will always be my #1 priority.
the healthier and the better my relationship with Master, the better our household runs, the happier everyone involved will be.
thats always been my logic for a relationship, marriage, etc. When I thought I was vanilla, I still felt a husband would come first in this manner.
Then myself.
Then our child.
The reason for this is simple... master pays for the roof over our head, the food in our belly. I need to take care of him to make sure he can goto work, pay the bills, provide our medical care etc.
Then, I need to make sure I am taken care of, because i can't take care of either of them, if something is wrong with me... Master also makes sure that I am provided for, and our child is taken care of.
A child, is not the same as an adult either. There are some things, that I view differently. My child is very important to me, and will always be important to me, but eventually, he's going to leave, start his own family, and it won't be my job to provide and care for him anymore, but Master will still be here.
My relationship with my Master is my #1 priority. A happy Master and a happy slave... = a happy household.
We have no power struggles, we are both happy, and because of it, our child can tell how happy we are and its obvious that he's a well adjusted, happy child.
My child will some day, move on with his life, move out, and won't need us to take care of him anymore.... but my Master will need me... I can't just put my Master on hold to raise a child, when our relationship will be all thats left when the child moves out. The relationship will always be my #1 priority.
the healthier and the better my relationship with Master, the better our household runs, the happier everyone involved will be.
thats always been my logic for a relationship, marriage, etc. When I thought I was vanilla, I still felt a husband would come first in this manner.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
sexual service
Part of the service I provide my Owner is sex. It reinforces my role, and position in our relationship, and I see my body as belonging to him to use as he pleases. Viewing sex as a service I can provide has changed my views on sex in some ways... I still enjoy sex for sex, and I enjoy orgasms, but being used sexually, especially when I am not in the mood for sex that hits home with me and I get something more out of it emotionally than I do from other forms of sexual contact.
I prefer to be used often. I want him to use me when and how he wants. It takes on more meaning when I am not in the mood and he is and uses me anyways. It is solely to please him and I get a different kind of satisfaction from knowing that he wants me, and my feelings mean nothing. It’s a very delicious thing to know that you’re desired and wanted, and that it’s a service I can provide him, even if I am not trying to have an orgasm, that it’s just about him.
I enjoy being woken up to sex, I rarely am in the mood for morning sex, and usually half asleep, but it feels good to be woken up and used in the morning, I enjoy touching him sexually, rubbing myself against him and being the sexual being I am with him even when I am not in the “mood” for sex, and if he wants me, he doesn’t have to do anything special to have sex with me other then tell me to spread my legs for him or suck his cock.
I provide many different types of service for my owner, but sexual service is one of the most important to me. My submission is tied into my sexuality, the more he uses me sexually, the more I feel submissive in to him in other areas of our life, the more he makes me yearn and hunger for him sexually, the more I want to please him so he will use me more. This is something only I can provide for him, finding someone to fold his laundry, or clean the house is pretty easy. Sex is something that only I can provide for him since he prefers monogamy.
Sex isn’t nearly as good alone, and I can’t even cum anymore during masturbation (when he allows it) without thinking of him, or him dominating me in some fashion. I like being of use to him, and while sex isn’t everything, sexual behaviors are part of my personality, even when I am not horny, I am touching him, trying to stimulate him by the way I move, the way I react, to get his attention. I enjoy being of use to him in many different ways, but sexual service is one of my favorite aspects of it.
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