What Were We Thankful For?

As I noted in my last post, it's difficult to maintain a kink blog when there's no kink.  And kink's been in short supply around here for the past few months.  Sometimes that happens.  Life sweeps everyone up in work, busy schedules, family,  and other stuff (like a menstrual cycle that arrives promptly once a month and stays for seven days....grrrr.  I'm glad Ma Nature shows up, don't get me wrong, but I wish she would shorten her visit by a few days).

Anyway, we usually travel to visit family for Thanksgiving, but due to conflicting work schedules, our travel plans were cancelled.  For the first time in a long while, we spent Turkey Day at home, just the three of us, Master, me, and our college student.

However, the college student had to work during the day.  That meant Master and I had some long overdue, uninterrupted time alone.

Time for kinky stuff.  Early Thursday morning I mentioned something about getting my butt beat. He responded that He was interested in beating something else:  my pussy.  That was fine with me, as that's my favorite kink of them all.

When we found ourselves alone in the afternoon, He tied me to the bed, spread-eagle.  I was nervous, excited, exposed, and did I mention nervous?  It had been a long time since I'd received any pain, especially down there, and I wasn't sure how I would do.

Once He was satisfied I wasn't going anywhere (read: nice tight rope work), He got down to business.  Now remember, this is the Man who does not know the meaning of the term "warm-up." So it makes sense that since my butt never gets one of those elusive creatures, neither does my pussy.

He smacked my poor, tender, freshly shaven skin using a variety of instruments. I couldn't see exactly what He was using to torment me, but they all hurt.  I felt the edge of every single one of them, and I was positive at one point that my pussy lips were cut to bits. (They weren't, but sometimes we 's-types' tend to over-dramatize the moment).

Occasionally He would take a break, caress the skin, slip a finger or two inside to see how embarrassingly wet I was, then tell me, "I think you like this."

Sadist.

It hurt, but it was so very, very, very arousing.  And when He held my lips apart to smack my clit? I died and went to heaven.

Finished with the beating portion of our play time, He brought out the Hitachi wand.  Ever wonder what the Hitachi wand feels like on freshly spanked pussy lips?  It felt like a belt sander.  A. Belt. Sander.

I've never felt pain from the Hitachi---it always feels good.  Not this time.  I tried to wait it out, see if the sensation changed, but it didn't.  So I told Him that it was painful, and not in a good way. Being the good Master that He is, He went and grabbed some lube.  He rubbed it around my pussy, then reapplied the Hitachi, on low.

The lube took away the belt-sander sensation, and it didn't take me long to cum after that.  I was a happy, floaty slave girl, more than ready to suck His cock and return the orgasmic favor.

So what were we thankful for on Thursday?  The return of kink, naturally.

You Want Me to Sleep Where???

Sometimes, or rather most of the time, I find it difficult to keep a kink-related blog current when there isn't any kink going on in my life.  This is not a complaint.  There's been plenty of great sex going on around here the past week (there always is), but nothing that would fall into the kink/BSDM category.

I think the closest we got to anything kinky was last night, when He told me I was acting somewhat entitled, and perhaps I needed some punishment.  When I laughed at this, He suggested that I might have to sleep out in the living room with the cats, rather than in our bed.

After I somewhat facetiously pointed out that He was being rather mean, He relented, saying that He preferred having me in bed with Him, and He would be unhappy if I wasn't.

Awww....I know, how sweet.

So that's about it as far as kink goes.  Life rolls on, and we continue to find ourselves busy and planning for the holidays.  But if anything truly kinky happens, I will write about it.  I promise.

Boo! Did I Scare You?

Here is an update:

• There was a beating!  Three days ago, and it was awesome.  It involved back scratching (the hard kind, where He digs His nails into my skin and it feels O.M.G. so painfully delicious), some hand-spanking, and the use of Thud.  It all hurt so good...so, so good.  And it was followed by orgasms for everyone (amazing! orgasms, I might add), which is icing on the cake...tasty icing.
• We are still busy, so busy these days, and part of the reason is that I've returned to work. And that is a good thing, a really good thing.  My job, while only part-time, is ideal, and while it leaves me tired at the end of a work-day, I get to do what I enjoy doing, and for that I am grateful.
• I am also grateful for Master.  He is awesome in so many ways, and here is one example. Today I ended up working extra hours, which was good.  Unfortunately, I left behind a rather messy kitchen (which makes me a bad slave, I know, I know).  However, when He brought me home, imagine my surprise when I walked into a SPOTLESS kitchen.  And I mean SPOTLESS.  He did the dishes, ran the dishwasher AND cleaned the counters and stove top.  I love Him so, so much.
• And last but not least, Happy Halloween!

Guess What?

No beating.

As in, there was no beating, and there will be no beating.  No matter what I needed, no matter what I wanted...no beating.

Why?

Because we were busy, and we were tired, and then we were tired and busy, and life, real life, has no regard for kinky-needs or butts that need beating.

And, to top it all off, Mother Nature showed up this weekend for her monthly visit.  Right. On. Time.  She is one punctual bitch, and she doesn't have any regard for kinky-needs or butts that need beating, either.

So, yesterday, I kind of had a pout.  To myself...at least I think I kept it to myself---Master may have a different opinion on that, but I tried.  I feel less pouty today, and I will feel even less pouty tomorrow.  And we will again be busy this week, but hopefully by the time the weekend rolls around again, and Mother Nature has departed, we will make time for a little bit of pain.

Hopefully.

*crosses fingers*

Ask and You Shall Receive...

In yesterday's post, I wondered if posting that I needed a beating qualified as the ever-dreaded "Topping From The Bottom."  As I wasn't sure, I said I would ask Master.

Right after He read the post, I said, "Well, is it Topping From The Bottom?"

His response?

"I don't know...It doesn't bother me, so I guess it isn't."

So there you have it.

By the way, I still need a beating.

Bite the Bullet...

This is a bullet post, because I have lots of little, unconnected thoughts floating around in my brain.

• Master named our new toy "Thud."  For the record, I present this information without comment.
• We fooled around last night, and after He brought me to orgasm, He came all over my face. A good time was had by all.
• Our toy box, which is literally a cardboard box, has exploded all over our closet and I need to clean it up and organize it.  I'm putting this here so that I will, in fact, clean it up and organize it. (It exploded quite a while ago...)
• The other morning, early, Master curled up next to me in bed, ran His hands over and around my curves for a while, then said, "You are a good little slave girl."  Best. Compliment. Ever.
• I am going to get my hair cut.  Master gave His blessing, and I want to cut off about 12-15 inches.  Now I just need to work up the courage to walk into a salon and get it done.  Yes, yes, I have issues with someone cutting my hair, but I am going to do it.  Maybe next week...
• I need a beating.  It won't happen today, but maybe tomorrow.  Yes, tomorrow would be good.  No, this is not topping from the bottom, I mean really, I would never...
• Okay, maybe I would, and maybe it is topping from the bottom.  Or is it?  Perhaps I should ask Master what He thinks.
• I'm hungry.  I'd also like more coffee, but that's probably a bad idea since I've already had two cups.
• This is the last bullet.  I will leave you with this photo of Thud.  It's a little more of a close-up, so you can see what the nylon mesh covering looks like.

Meet the Newest Addition to Our Toy Box...

As I mentioned in the previous entry, today was our trip to The Big City.  It was a bit adventurous, but we visited our favorite BDSM Adult Store and made a purchase.

This is what we bought ("we" meaning Master--He picked it out and paid for it):

I'm not really sure how to describe it.  It's 25 inches long, half-an-inch in diameter, and it has a rubber grip on one end.  The body is covered in nylon mesh, the tip is capped with black plastic, and it weighs a quarter of a pound.  It's heavy.  It looks whippy, and it acts whippy, but upon impact, it isn't.

Oh, and it hurts.  A lot.

Once we were back at home, Master tied my wrists together with some purple rope, bent me over the end of the bed, then secured my arms to the headboard with the ends of the rope.  If you asked Him, He would tell you that He gave me a warm-up before using this new toy on me.  He's correct, if you define "warm-up" as two hand spanks on each ass-cheek.  Enough said about that.

The first few strokes with this new toy were all tip; I'm guessing He was getting a feel for the thing. Since I am nothing if not a helpful slave (hah!), I told Him about this.  I said all the energy was going to the tip.  (It felt like getting punched by little tiny fists, which produces a really strange visual, and I apologize for that.)

He changed His swing after my comment, or maybe He changed His position, I don't know because my face was in the mattress and I couldn't see Him.  However, when He hit me with it again, I no longer felt only the tip--I felt the whole thing.  And it was weird (in a good way) because it felt hard, like a cane, but with a deeper, ouchier pain, pain that lingered longer than the pain from a cane stroke.

It hurt, but I liked it (oh how He will love to read that statement...).  I was hoping it would leave some nice marks/bruises, but all it left me with was a really pink bottom.  Clearly we will need to experiment with this thing to determine how hard He can swing it without breaking my butt.

We also need to name this toy so I don't have to keep referring to it as a "thing."  I made a few suggestions, but they did not meet with Master's approval, so now it's up to Him to name it.

Here's one more picture.  If you know what this is called, by all means leave the name in the comments section.  It will be greatly appreciated.

Remember me?

Once again, I return here to wipe away the dust and save my poor little blog from abandonment. Although to be honest, I never really abandoned this place.  I came here, often, and thought about writing (and it is the thought that counts, yes?), but nothing ever sounded right, so I closed it out and left, only to come back later and the pattern repeated itself all over again.

There were a few instances where The Man poked and prodded and gently suggested I blog, especially after the last beating when He left my ass with a beautiful set of stripes, courtesy of Mr. Cane, but alas, the words did not come.

That was almost three weeks ago.  Sigh. Ah well, I guess what really matters is I am here now, and the words are flowing a little easier today.

While I don't have any recent kinky details to share, I can tell you that we are doing fine. We are looking forward to having the house to ourselves next weekend (our college student will be out of town for several days), and Master wants to take a trip to the Big City and visit our favorite BDSM store.  There's been some talk of purchasing a companion for Mr. Cane, something a little thinner and whippier, despite my insistence that Mr. Cane prefers being alone and does not need a friend.

I mean, really, who knows Mr. Cane better than me?  After all, that cane and I have been intimately acquainted for almost six years...six long years...six long years of wondering why the damn thing won't break or spontaneously combust...

Anyway, a trip to the Big City will definitely give me something to write about, and who knows, maybe I will manage to write something before then.  Stay tuned.

Housekeeping...

After considerable thought, I decided to clean house around here.  The most obvious change is the background image.  This one keeps with the need for purple, but it's a little darker than the previous one.  I think the darker one better fits my mood lately.

The less obvious change involves the blogroll over to the right of the page.  Over the past several months I've watched more than a few of the blogs I loved to read go silent. Some announced that they were closing their blogs, others just sort of stopped writing.

I've been debating whether or not I should remove these silent blogs, or just leave them there out of respect for the writing I so enjoyed.  For a while I was content to let them remain, but as of today, no more.  My thought is that the blogroll should be active--not necessarily every-day-type-active, but at least occasionally active...kind of like my blog, ha ha.  I also updated the links for some folks who moved their blogs to different hosts.

"So what's your point?" I can hear you ask.  Well, while I don't have a lot of readers, I do have some who stop by from time to time.  If you are one of those people, or if this is your first time here, and you have a blog, perhaps you would be kind enough to leave a link to it in the comments. I'd love to read your writing, and I'd love to add you to my blogroll.

And that is the extent of housekeeping around the blog.  For today, anyway.

"I Want to Hurt You..."

He took me into the bedroom a few days ago, led me by the hand.  Once inside, with the door closed, I looked at Him.  Did He need some 'attention', I asked, or did He want something more? 'Attention' is our code for a blowjob; 'Something More' is code for...something more than just a blowjob.

There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, and then He looked directly at me and said, softly, "I want to hurt you."

It's difficult to describe how those five little words made me feel.  I suppose it's best to say I swooned a little, maybe even a lot.  Those are the five best words a masochist can hear.

What happened next?  Well, He hurt me, naturally.  A nice long beating, complete with a warm-up to start.  He used different implements,  the paddle, the strap, his hand, and He kept a nice even tempo until my butt was toasty.  He finished with one incredibly sharp stroke with the cane.  It left the most amazing mark on my ass, but sadly we didn't take a picture.  Next time, hopefully.

Yesterday He took me into the bedroom again, but there wasn't time to ask Him what He wanted. He ordered me to my knees right away, and some rough oral sex ensued.  You know the kind where His cock makes it difficult to breath because it's shoved down your throat, and your eyes water and your nose runs?

Yeah, it was like that.

For a little while, it was like that, then He ordered me over the end of the bed.  Unlike the previous time, where He'd been kind enough to give me a warm-up, there was no warm-up.  He went straight to the cane.

Anyone out there know what it feels like to get hit with the cane sans warm-up?  If you don't know, it does NOT feel good.  It hurts like a m*****f*****.

Oh yes, I'd been swooning only a few days previous, but at this moment?  Not so much, in fact, not at all.  He wasn't gentle with the cane, He was serious, intent, and the strokes were hard.  It hurt, a lot.

He had a reason for this.  He wanted to leave stripes on my ass, and according to Him, if He gives me a warm-up first, the stripes do not appear.  M-type logic at it's finest, I must say.  But I digress...

My discomfort, my pain, pleased Him.  It excited Him, and His cock was rock hard.  He took great delight in fucking me after hitting me with the cane, grinding against the welts forming on my ass. Sadists...

Eventually, the pain ended, followed by good sex.  When it was all over, we mused about Mr. Cane, how long we'd had him (five and a half years, to be exact, but who's counting?).  I theorized (read:  secretly hoped) that Mr. Cane would be ready to break any time now, given his age.  I mean, seriously, how long do canes last, anyway?  Master remained unmoved, certain that Mr. Cane will continue to function for many years to come, and if not, then he will quickly be replaced with another version of Mr. Cane.

No matter my love/hate relationship with Mr. Cane, I do love it when Master tells me He wants to hurt me.  Even if Mr. Cane is involved.

Be Careful What You Say...

Tonight I said something to Master, something that apparently didn't sit right with Him.  What I said, exactly, doesn't matter....what does matter is that He took exception to my comment.

Being a little slow to learn, I uttered a few additional comments, and those comments didn't sit right with Him either.

A small amount of time passed...then He got up from where He was sitting and came over to me.  He leaned over me, put His face close to mine, and then He pinched my right nipple hard.   While He pinched, He verbally corrected me for my earlier comments.

The pinching hurt.  A lot.  He pinched so hard I was on the verge of tears.  It takes a lot for me to get to the point of tears, so you can imagine how hard He was squeezing my poor nipple.

When He let go, the lesson was learned.  It may have been learned the hard way, but it was learned.

Please Excuse tranquility's Absence...

Where to start? Let's see...I haven't written in almost two months, perhaps I should start there, give a reason for my absence.

I don't have a reason, other than the mood did not strike me. I didn't feel like writing, so I didn't. Not a great attitude for a blogger, but it's the truth.

Had I felt like writing, I would not have lacked for subject matter. Master and I are doing just fine; there's been lots of spanking/paddling/strapping/caning, with and without bondage, always followed by lots of sex, all of it good/awesome/amazing (take your pick).

Outside of all that, we have a new toy. Or rather, Master has a new toy. It's a small step-stool, very shiney, and very low to the ground. He bought it for me to sit on, and when seated upon the stool, my face lines up perfectly with His crotch.

It's a blow-job enthusiast's dream come true. Just position your slave girlie on the tiny seat, then chose whether you want a regular blow-job or a rough face-fucking that leaves your girlie a teary-eyed, drool-covered mess.

He's tried it both ways, and a few ways that were in-between. He likes them all, I think, although if I had to hazard a guess, I would say that He favors the rough stuff. He is a Sadist, after all. And, He mentioned to me one day, after we'd finished, that it eventually would get "more intense."

One can only imagine what that will entail.

On Obedience...

Usually, He tells me what He wants/wants me to do, and I do it.  There usually isn't much in the way of protestations, and I almost never say 'no.'   Pleasing Him pleases me, so when He tells me to do something, I just do it, because I really want to make Him happy.

Usually.  Almost.  Until about two months ago, when He asked me to do something that just seemed plain wrong.  Something that was way, way, way outside of my comfort zone.  Something that I just could not see happening ever, no way, no how.  Just no.

What did He ask, you say?

He asked me to cut His hair.

The first thing you must know, is that I have ZERO experience cutting hair.  None at all. This didn't matter to Him one bit.  All that mattered was that His hair had grown too long for His liking, and He wanted me to cut it.

At first I straight out said "No," because I can't cut hair, and the last thing I wanted to do was screw up His hair.  But He didn't accept my answer.  He kept telling me I was going to do it, whether I wanted to or not.

For two whole months, His favorite line of reasoning was, "You shave my balls, so why can't you cut my hair?"

My favorite response was, "No one sees your balls but me.  Everyone will see your hair and know if I messed it up."

No matter, He kept at me, in a very patient, loving way, gradually wearing down my resistance.

Finally, this past weekend, He told me to watch some videos online about using electric clippers to cut a man's hair.  So, I did.  Then, I summoned as much courage as I possibly could, grabbed our electric clippers, told Master to take a seat in the kitchen, and I cut His hair.

It was scary, but I have to say, it turned out pretty well.  Best of all, He was happy with the result; it's nice and short, and it will be cool for the warm summer months.

Obedience is a tricky thing.  Like a dummy, I tend to think I've got it under control. Obedience?  Why it's my middle name, don'tcha know.  However, in this instance, I resisted, and then once I complied, I felt like a fool for saying "No" in the first place.  He knew I could do it, otherwise He wouldn't have told me to cut His hair.  But I didn't listen, and worse, I didn't trust His judgement.  And for that, I am sorry.

Dream a Little Dream of Me...

Yesterday morning, right after we woke up, Master told me about a dream He had. In the dream, He and I were in a bar or restaurant, and He wanted me to leave with Him to go have sex.  I 'playfully' refused His request, in this dream, and this really excited Him, both in the dream and in real life, as He woke up in a state of arousal.

A little while later, after a few cups of coffee, He 'playfully' pushed me up against a wall in the kitchen, and scolded me for teasing Him in His dream.  "You might need a beating later on," He told me.

I didn't think that was fair, as I wasn't actually in His dream, and I started to say as much, but I shushed up when His fingers started to crush my nipples.  Besides, I'm not one to turn down a beating, am I?

The beating came much later in the day, after an afternoon of running errands.  He wasn't nice about it.  There was no ceremony, no ropes or restraints, no warm-up (grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr), just me bent over the end of the bed, while He went straight to the cane.

How cruel is that?  Seriously.  It.  Hurt.  And not in a good way.

And believe it or not, it got worse.  He pulled out the long handled shoe horn (which is not an approved* sex toy, btw), and used it on the sweet spot, and on the backs of my thighs.  Why?  Because He thought the marks it left looked "pretty."

Of course, in between creating welts with the cane and "pretty" marks with the shoe horn, He took the time to fuck me and grind against my stinging skin.  With each thrust I would cry out in pain, and He would moan in pleasure.

He's such a Sadist.

He continued this pattern, beating then fucking me, until I cried.  Once He had my tears, He told me to get up on the bed, and then He kissed everything and made it all better.

When it was all over, He really wanted me to see how the "pretty" mark from the shoe horn looked, so he whacked me on the top of my right thigh so I could easily see.  So kind, yep, that Master of mine is so thoughtful.

Sadly, I didn't really share in His appreciation of the "pretty" mark.  To me, it's an "OMG THAT F*ING HURTS!" mark, and I think it would be a real shame if the long handled shoe horn suddenly, and without warning, disappeared.

However, the saddest part of all is that after all that pain, there are no marks on my backside today.  Not a one.  There should at least be one bruise, or one left over welt, but nope, nada.  And I know when Master reads this, He will tell me, "Well, that just means I'll have to try harder."

Sadists...

*The long handled shoe horn is not approved for use as a sex-toy/implement of pain by the Official BDSM Committee Who Wrote the Rules of Proper BDSM Stuff, which I swear is all real, but Master insists is fake.

A Progressive Master...

Alright, as promised, a real blog post, about real things.  Where to begin...

Last time I shared with you, He'd beaten my ass with His belt.  He's beaten my butt a few more times since then, once with the cane and the leather strap, then again with the belt.  The second beating with the belt was harsher than the first; He left very definite marks, a huge bruise, and, for the very first time ever, He made me cry with the belt. Overall, it was a very satisfying experience for both of us.

Yesterday He suggested we play a game.  When I asked what kind of game, He replied, "Slap the Pussy."  I told Him that I didn't think that matched my definition of what constitutes a 'game,' and He laughed at me.  Apparently it matched His definition, and that's all that matters around here.

So, He played "Slap the Pussy" until the pussy was practically on fire.  Of course, He took great joy in pointing out how wet the pussy was, which, according to Him, proves that the pussy likes to be slapped.  (The truth is that is really does like to be slapped, but I don't want to tell Him that.)

He's not without heart, however.  After hurting the pussy, He kissed it and made it feel better.  Much, much better.  As I lay on the bed in post pain/orgasm bliss, He talked about how much He likes to satisfy me.  He said He imagines there are some M-types out there who might not care whether or not their s-type has an orgasm, but it's important to Him.

I told Him it's a good thing (because I'm an s-type who loves her some orgasms).  Then He pronounced, "Yes, I think I am a Progressive Master."  Then I started to laugh...what a novel concept.  Fortunately He laughed too, so I didn't get myself into any trouble there.

And, that's about it.  You are now all up-to-date on what we've been up to for the past few weeks. Let's hope my muse sticks around this month.  The old blog gets a little dusty when she leaves town for so long.

Still Here....

As the title says, I'm still here.  It seems my muse went on a bit of a vacation around the middle of April.  I think she's returned, but I will know for sure when I sit down to write a proper post tomorrow.

There is plenty to write about; He's been spanking my butt, and other private parts, quite a bit lately.  However, it's late and I'm tired, so I will kindly ask for your continued patience.

Tomorrow, a real post, I promise.

The Sign of a Good Beating...

So, after He read my last post, Master turned to me and said, "What is your preference for getting beaten today?  Not that you really have a preference, but if you did, what would it be?"

"The belt," I replied, without any hesitation.

I like the belt, His belt.  It's brown leather, worn-in just enough, and it's His.  That's a big part of it for me, that something He wears all the time, out in public, is used to bring me pain.  I like that, in a perverse sort of way.

He must like the belt, too, because that's what He used to beat me, true to His word.  He tied me to the bed, and then He applied the belt to my behind until it felt like it was on fire. No other implement does that, creates that sense of heat on my skin.

It was good.  The pain, the heat, it was all good, really, really good.  And even now, two days later, I can still feel it when I sit down.

That's the sign of a good beating.  And one more reason why I love the belt.

Move Along, Nothing to See Here...

Things have been rather quiet around here, kink-wise, and the blame is all mine.  See, last week I pulled an abdominal muscle, and that pretty much put me out of commission for any kinky-freaky-sexy stuff.  Poor Master had to suffer through three (3!!!!!) long days of no sexual contact before I felt well enough to handle the rigors of a blowjob.

Seriously, if you've never pulled an abdominal muscle, take my advice:  Don't do it.  If you have suffered this type of injury before, then you understand the ridiculous pain involved.  And by ridiculous, I mean as in that's how I felt every time I stood up or twisted my torso...ridiculous that movements we take for granted suddenly become excruciatingly painful.

Anyway, after about a week's worth of rest and ibuprofen, I am feeling much better. Sadly, my return to health also coincides with Mother Nature's monthly visit, so unless He decides to beat my butt either today or tomorrow, we are in for another week of no-kink.

Hoppin' Down the Bunny Trail...

Despite my fondness for all things chocolate, the Easter Bunny did not bring me any chocolaty goodies on Sunday.  But I'm not pouting.

Instead of sweets, the Easter-Master gave me a spanking.  While we didn't dye any eggs this year, He managed to color my butt-cheeks pink and red, with some tiny accents of purple, thanks to some help from Mr. Cane.

Not a bad way to celebrate the holiday, even if He did make me cry.

If It Looks Like a Sadist, And It Quacks Like a Sadist...

The other day Master took exception to the fact that I called Him a Sadist in my last post.

"Look at you, writing about me and calling me bad names," He said.

Somewhat indignant, I replied that I'd done no such thing.

"Yes, you did," He growled.  "You called me a Sadist."

Well, yes, I admitted, I did indeed call Him that.  And I was right.  As proof, I submit to the jury the fact that while He was taking me to task for calling Him a Sadist, He was busy pinching my nipples (hard) while He pushed me into the bedroom.

I rest my case.

Dr. Jekyll and Master Hyde

He was so sadistic last Friday, so seriously, seriously sadistic, that I was taken aback yesterday, when He suddenly turned to me and said, "Wanna go have sex?"

It wasn't an order, it was a question, and He seemed like a little kid when He asked it. You know, kinda like, "Wanna go play tag?"

Not being one to pass up on some sexy-time, my immediate answer was, "Yes."

So we went and had sex.  It was very loving, very gentle, and there was no pain involved whatsoever.  Just two people connecting physically.  Really wonderful.  Almost sweet, the total opposite of last Friday.

Until...(you knew there was going to be an 'until', didn't you?  Isn't there always?)

Until, as we lay in the afterglow, all curled up around each other, He said, "Do you know one thing we learned from Friday?"

I let out a sigh, and said, "No, what did we learn?"  I didn't really want to hear the answer, but when your Owner asks you a question, it's best to respond.

"Well," He replied, "You know how I've always wanted to cum on your face while you are crying?  Now we know a sure way to make that happen."

My response was that I vote "NO" on that idea, or some such sentiment, which He laughed off.  I tried to wriggle away from Him, but He held on tight.

"Oh yes, little girl, we have found a way," He said, and I swear I heard an evil laugh in there somewhere.

That's Him, alright:  Doctor Jekyll and Master Hyde.

Moved to Tears...

We played on Friday, although I'm not sure "play" is the right word. "Play" tends to denote fun, and what we did was anything but fun.

For me. It was not fun for me.

Master thoroughly enjoyed himself, however.

He took me in the bedroom and told me to put on my purple wrist cuffs. Then He placed me where He wanted me, at the end of our bed, standing upright, facing away from the bed. He looped purple rope through the D-rings on the wrist cuffs and tied my wrists to the upper cross bar of the bed frame. My arms were outstretched and tied tight.

This was a different position for me. Usually, when He ties me to the bed, I'm bent over the end of the bed, face down in the mattress. Not this time. I was upright and facing Him. Despite the radical change in position, I remained unaware of what was about to happen. I was fairly relaxed, and my *guess* was that He was going to pinch and slap my breasts and pussy.

And I was right about that. He did indeed do those things.

But after He lulled me into a false sense of security, He slapped my face. Hard. He slapped it more than once. It stung; my face burned. I was stunned.

After the first round, things started to blur. He was everywhere, pinching, slapping, probing (yes, I was wet, which added to my distress), and He would slap me, then pull me close and kiss me, deeply. It was overwhelming.

Perhaps that's why, when He slapped my face in rapid succession for a second time, I started to cry. This surprised me; the tears came on so suddenly, and of course, I tried to fight them.

But He wanted them. Not so soon, as He told me afterward, but He did want them. So He continued. More slapping, pinching, probing, and at one point He pushed me back as far as I could go, climbed onto the bed and shoved His rock-hard cock down my throat.

All of this was followed my more slaps to the face, and at this point, the sobs broke through. Tears flowed, and I cried.

And as I cried, He circled His arms around me, pulled me close, and then He licked the tears that ran down my face. "Your tears taste so sweet," He murmured as He ran His tongue along my cheek. That made me cry even more.

After getting His fill of my tears, He untied me and ordered me onto the bed. He fucked me; He brought me to orgasm, and then I sucked His cock until He came.

Even now, two days later, I am not really sure how I feel about what happened. We've talked about it, about how quickly I was moved to tears, how I felt immediately after (I did not feel like I normally do; no "floating" on endorphins), how He felt about it.

Clearly, I do not like having my face slapped. I don't think I ever will. It's not a type of action/pain that I can eroticise or sexualise. I find it demeaning and humiliating. But at the same time, I don't expect Him to not do it. He likes it; it turns him on. He's a sadist. And He's in charge.

In case anyone was wondering, it did leave a mark on my left cheek. A small, quarter sized mark, not a bruise, but a red-patch. If you didn't know any better, you would simply think that I'd been outside in the cold and my face was wind-chapped.

And yes, the mark pleased Him, too.

St. Patrick's Day...

This pretty much sums up my feeling about St. Patrick's Day:

And I feel it should be noted, that even if do wear green today, I'll probably get pinched anyway.  Seems that Sadists don't play by silly holiday rules.  Hmmpf.

Well Fed...

So about "Steak and a Blowjob Day"...

He did indeed bring home some steak.  Rib-eye.  He cooked it just the way I like it (rare, rare, rare).  It was delicious.

When I finished the last bite, He took my plate to the kitchen for me.

Then He said, "Now you can get your fucking mouth into the bedroom."

That got my attention.

Once I was in the bedroom, I noticed that He'd already prepared a little place for me to kneel.  He'd kindly placed a purple pillow on the floor to make it easier on my creaky knees   (yes, I know, He spoils me.)

So, I knelt in place, He fed me His cock, and we proceeded to complete the "blowjob" portion of "Steak and a Blowjob Day."

The story doesn't end here, though.  There's more.

Later in the evening, He said, "I think we need to be better prepared for the next 'Steak and a Blowjob Day'".

I think my response was, "What??!?"

"Well, I was thinking about it," He continued.  "Since every guy is already getting a blowjob, I think I should get three."

Again, I think my response was "What??!?"  Or maybe it was, "Oh, really??!?"

Undeterred, He explained His thought.  "Yes, three blow jobs.  It would work like this:  Steak and Eggs for breakfast, followed by a blowjob.  A Steak Sandwich for lunch, followed by a blowjob.  Then, Surf and Turf for dinner, followed by a blowjob."

"That's quite a plan," I told Him.

"Yes, it is," He said, clearly quite pleased with Himself.

So, to whomever created "Steak and a Blowjob Day," I hope you don't mind that my Master intends to take some liberties with it next year.

Tomorrow is March 14th...

Tomorrow is Steak and a Blowjob Day.  I'm not sure how this 'tradition' got started, and it's too early for me to go poking around the internet in an attempt to find out.  If anyone knows the origins, feel free to enlighten me.

Anyway, the point of this post is to remind Master that He needs to go pick up some steaks.

Obviously, I will provide the blowjob.

Be Careful What You Ask For...

"I need a spanking," I said softly, right before He walked out the door to run some errands. He paused, looked at me a little sternly, and replied, "What have you done?"

Um, not the response I expected.

So, I said, "Nothing. I haven't done anything bad, I just need a spanking."

Satisfied that I was still His good little girl (hah!), He said, "Okay," and went on His way.

I don't ask for spankings very often. At least I don't think I do. He might read this and spew coffee all over the place, but in my tiny little mind, I usually follow His lead in this area.

But yesterday I found myself thinking about being spanked, and thinking turned to wanting, and I finally I wanted it bad enough to ask for it.

When He returned from His errands, He took me in the bedroom, bent me over the end of the bed, and...

He whooped my butt.

No restraints. No warm-up (no surprise, I know). No pity for my cries of "Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow, ow!!!!!"

He was rough. And mean. He used the paddle, the cane, and the leather strap. If I tried to stand up, He pushed me back down.

He kept going until I cried. Not little sniffly tears, but big tears, big sobs, snotty nose, the whole nine yards.

Once the tears start, the spanking ends, and sexy-time begins, because what's sexier than a sobbing, snotty slave-girl? (That's a rhetorical question, you don't need to answer that).

Afterwards, as we lay in bed together, He said, "Be careful what you ask for."

Indeed. But I'm glad I asked; it was just want I needed. And I have a beautiful bruise on my right butt-cheek as a souvenir.

A Question About Slapping...

Hooray! Not long after I hit the 'publish' button on the Question and Answer post, I received a question from Master Dream's precious treasure (you can check out her blog here).  This is her question:

Hi,
You mentioned last month that you don't like being slapped in the face.  i struggle a bit in this area as well.

Can you please tell me what goes through your mind and heart when He slaps you in the face?

Thank you so much,

Master Dream's treasure 

When He slaps my face, two things go through my mind.  First is fear.  Fear that it will leave a mark, or cut the inside of my mouth, or damage a tooth.  But all of these fears are irrational; He has never slapped me hard enough to do any of those things, and I know He has no desire to cause permanent damage to His property.  However, those fears play on my mind every single time He does it.

The second thing that goes through my mind is anger.  It's not very slave-like, but a quick flash of anger washes over me as soon as it's done.  It does not last long, and I think it's more of an instinctive response than a truly emotional one.

As for what goes through my heart, I still love Him, and I know He loves me.  It would be wonderful to accept the slap with grace, but I don't see that happening any time soon.  I don't think He wants that, either; I think He likes the challenge.

I would like to thank Master Dream's precious treasure for her question.  If anyone else would like to ask a question for Question and Answer Month, you can post it in the comments, or you can email me at the email address on the right side of the page.

March is Question and Answer Month...

Many of the bloggers I follow (see the blogroll on the right side of the page for some excellent reads) have noted that March is traditionally "Question and Answer Month."  Basically, how it works is that you, the reader, get to ask me, the blogger, about whatever it is you are dying to know about me/Him/us/what it is we do.  If you ask a question, I will do my best to answer as honestly and quickly as possible.

However, in order for this to work, you have to submit a question (that's cuz I failed Mind-Reading 101).  You can do this one of two ways:  you can leave a comment on this post, or you can send your question via email to the email address in the right hand column.  It's not a link--I  use a text box to protect against spam--but if you copy and paste it, it should work just fine.

For those of you who are lurkers, feel free to submit your questions anonymously.  I am a big-time lurker, so I understand your apprehension about "de-lurking."  That being said, I don't get many comments, but I would love to have some interaction with those of you who do stop by here every once in a while.  I really am a nice person, and I won't bite, I promise.

So, let's try this experiment and see what happens.

~tranquility

Another Take on Ownership...

"You should kneel right there," He said, pointing to a spot on the floor.

He unbuckled His belt and lowered the zipper on His jeans as I positioned myself where He wanted me.  His hard cock was out and in my mouth before I settled into place.

He was rough.  He grabbed the back of my head and pressed my face against His groin. His hard-on filled my mouth, and the tip of His cock slammed against my throat.  He made me gag.  He made me gasp for air.  He made my eyes sting with tears.

A not-so-subtle expression of ownership.  I like that, too.

A Subtle Expression of Ownership...

Sometimes when He leaves the house, He pauses at the front door, looks back at me with keys in hand and says, "Want me to lock you in?"

I swoon a little when He does that, secretly thrilled that He wants to lock me in and protect me from the big, bad world (don't worry, our neighborhood is quite safe, I was just using an expression).

Other times He pauses at the front door, looks back at me with keys in hand and says, "I'm going to lock you in." A statement, not a question.

And I really swoon when He does that.  In one simple sentence, He makes me feel loved and owned all at the same time.

A subtle expression of ownership.  I like that.

X Marks the Spot...

This is my 100th post, and no, it will not be monumental or extraordinary.  Like the other 99 that came before it, it will just be another post.

So, let's see...in January I made a concerted effort to blog more frequently, and I was successful.  Then January ended, and so did the success:  blogging ground to a halt.

Maybe January was just too cold for my writing muse, so she packed a bag and headed to Miami or someplace warm.  I don't blame her; I'm over this winter and cold weather. Spring can come along any day now. Tomorrow would be good for me.

As for He and I, we are doing just fine, and lately the sex has been amazing.  Seriously amazing, even when it is of the vanilla variety, it's amazing.

There has been some kinky sex, too.  Two days ago He bent me over the end of the bed and secured my hands to the headboard using a long length of purple rope.  He then proceeded to rake His fingernails across my back, diagonally,so that the red marks left behind formed an 'X'.

When it was over, He told me the scratching had gone on for ten minutes (yes, He watched the clock).  I was surprised; ten minutes seems so long, but in the moment, time seemed to fly by quickly.  Perhaps that's because I enjoy that activity so much.  The pain is much different from a caning or a paddling.  It's deep, it burns, it hurts, and I just float away on it.

Anyway, that's where we are, here at the end of February.  Let's hope my muse returns for March.

Oh, He's a Funny One Alright...

Last night we watched RuPaul's Drag Race on Logo.  During a commerical break, an ad came on promoting a new show on that channel, some type of sex-advice show in which viewers ask a panel of "experts" questions about sex.  The promo featured a man calling in to say that his girlfriend just inserted an Alkaseltzer tablet into her vagina, and he wondered if it was safe.  Then this happened:

me:  What?!?  Why would someone do something like that?!? (seriously dumbfounded by the ad)

Him:  Do what? (clearly not paying attention to the ad)

me:  Stick an Alkaseltzer tablet in their vagina.  (still dumbfounded)

Him:  Because their Master told them to.  (He didn't miss a beat)

me:  Oh, nevermind then, just nevermind, nevermind.....(marveling how I walked right into that one)

Him:  What? (laughing, quite pleased with Himself)

me:  No, it's okay, just nevermind...(heavy sigh)


One of these days, I will learn.  But like I always say, probably not.

Blowjob Logic...

It snowed yesterday.  As I stood at the window in the afternoon, watching the first big, fluffy snowflakes come down, Master came up behind me.  With one hand He reached around and grabbed my left breast, squeezing hard and pulling me back towards Him.  With His other hand, He grabbed my wrist and moved my hand back to His crotch.  He was already hard, even before my fingers began to massage His cock.

"What's happening out there?" He asked, speaking softly into my ear.

"It's snowing," I said, continuing to rub His cock.  A few seconds passed in silence.

Then, He announced, "And now it's time for a blowjob."  The connection between the fact that it was snowing and it being time for a blowjob is still unclear to me, but for some reason it made perfect sense to Him.   However, not being one to argue, I followed along like a good girl as He took me into the bedroom.  Once in the bedroom, I made Him happy.

And that's what happened yesterday.

Slap Happy...

Way back in August of last year, specifically here and here,  I discussed my dislike of being slapped in the face.  Also discussed was the fact that Master does like it.  Quite a bit. And back in August, slapping was "the thing."

Then, in the beginning of September, I became ill.  Kinky stuff, slapping included, fell off the map for a while.   Saying goodbye to slapping did not make me sad.

As I recovered, all the kinky stuff slowly returned.  Slapping did not.  At least, not for a while.

It returned about a week ago (maybe a little more than that, I am not positive).  There have been several quick, light slaps, kind of like Master is testing the waters, to see how I react. 

Clearly I have not reacted in a way that would make Him stop.

The other day He put His hand on my cheek and brought His face close to mine.  "One day," He growled into my ear, "I am going to go ahead and just slap you hard."

Smart girl that I am (not), I responded with, "And then what?"

His answer?  "Whatever I want."

Maybe I'll learn, one of these days.  Probably not.

A Wonderful Day...

It's been a wonderful day.

We slept in, sort-of, if you think 8am=sleeping in late.  We snuggled for a while, warm and cozy under the covers.  Snuggling led to groping.  Groping led to cocksucking.

Next came coffee (for Him) and tea (for me) while we watched some stuff we had DVR'd.

After TV time,  I made brunch.  We had gluten-free banana pancakes and bacon.  It was delicious.  I use King Arthur brand GF pancake mix---highly recommend it.

Post-brunch, we spent some time on our computers.

Eventually, I decided it was time for a shower.

After the shower, He decided it was time for more cocksucking.  I was happy to comply.  He was more than happy to receive.

Now we are all settled down to watch several hours of football.  We have some good football-watching snack type foods and some adult-type beverages to go along with the snacks.

Yes, it's been a wonderful day.

Double His Pleasure, Double My Pain...

Last week Master gave me the first spanking of 2013.  He seemed, from my perspective (which at the time was bent over and face down into the mattress), to focus on the "Sweet Spot."

Again, from my perspective, the "Sweet Spot" is the area where your thighs and bottom meet.  It's the part of your butt you sit on, when you are sitting upright with proper posture.  It's the part of my ass that least enjoys being spanked (but that's beside the point).

The point is, to be specific, hitting the "Sweet Spot" serves a dual purpose.  It's multitasking, if you will, which is efficient.  Master loves things that are efficient.  So, when He first hits the "Sweet Spot" over and over and over, until it hurts/stings/burns/is-on-fire (take your pick),  He gets pleasure (He is a Sadist, after all).  

But then, when He takes a break from the spanking so He can fuck me from behind, He causes more pain to the "Sweet Spot."  When He enters me , His pelvic region meets up with/presses against/grinds unmercifully against the "Sweet Spot."  This in turn causes more pain/moaning/whimpering from the slave girl, all of which provide Him with even more pleasure.

Efficiency...it's win-win for everyone.  Master gets to double His pleasure and double my pain.

Clover Clamps Are No Bueno...

Our New Year started off the right way.

There was rope, slapping in the most sensitive of places, the purple suede flogger, clover clamps, and the Hitachi Wand.

It was great fun, until He removed the clover clamps from my nipples, right after He brought me to orgasm with the Hitachi Wand.  Then it wasn't fun.  It was "Watch the bound slave girl scream at the top of her lungs and start to sob."  The pain was immense, and my reaction was rather intense.

This freaked out both of us.  He was freaked because while He wanted to hurt me, He didn't want to hurt me like that.  I was freaked out because nipple-ectomies are on my hard-limit list.  End result: we both felt guilty and spent the next hour or so apologizing to each other for what happened.

Eventually we moved past it, and by bedtime things were back to normal with Master laying on His back, enjoying the first blowjob of the New Year from His slave girlie.

And, as a side note, should the clover clamps go missing, well, that would really, really, be a darn shame, now wouldn't it?