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.