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.