Owned

It's the little things....

Like when He reaches for you in bed, grabs a fistful of hair, pulls your head back for a moment, long enough to remind you that you are His, then shoves your head down toward His waiting erection...

Or when He puts both hands of top of your head and forces your mouth down on His hard cock, and keeps you there until you are just about to run out of air...

Or when He pushes you over onto your back, kneels in between your legs, wraps a hand around each ankle, spreads you wide open and thrusts His cock deep into your pussy, so deep that it hurts...

As He impales you over and over, He growls, "Is this what you want?"

And all you can do is whisper, "Yes."

An Unlikely Evil Toy...

Like so many other millions (billions?) of people around the planet, Master and I have been wrapped up in the World Cup games for the past ten or so days.  We have managed to catch almost every minute of every game, with a few exceptions.

Yesterday was no different.  We watched the early match between Russia and Belgium, then settled in to watch South Korea face Algeria.  It became apparent, after the start of the second half of the match, that Algeria had the game well in hand, so we decided to take a soccer break and head into the bedroom for some kinky-sexy-fun time.

After making sure I was up for some rough play, (I was---but He was kind enough to ask because He knew I hadn't felt 100% earlier in the day), He bent me over the end of the bed and pressed Himself against my ass.  His hands rubbed my back, over my hips, across my butt...He moaned, I moaned...just touching felt so good.

Then He stepped away and put His hand between my legs.  He rubbed gently, softly, and oh god, did that ever feel good.  It felt even better when He slapped it...not too hard, but just hard enough to make me jump a little.  He repeated this a few times, then went digging around in the drawer where the ouchie-toys live, toys like Mr. Cane, Mr. Blister, Thud, the pretty paddle I got Him for His birthday two years ago.

But He didn't pick any of those toys.  Nope.  He picked this:

Looks harmless enough, no?  Soft rubber handle, light-weight plastic body, pretty, soft purple feather to top it all off?

Hah!  Guess again!

Oh yes, the pretty purple feather feels wonderful, and ticklish, when brushed against aroused body parts, up and down one's legs, across one's back.  But then there's the light-weight plastic body of the thing.  That's a different story.

Master decided it was very cane-like in design, so He just had to see if it would be cane-like in useage.  The answer is a resounding "NO."  This little guy, so quiet and unassuming, bites. BITES in a big, OUCH, make the slave-girl jump kind of way.

Naturally, this delighted Him to no end, so He put it to good use on my poor sweet spots, setting my poor butt-cheeks on fire.  Once on fire, He fucked me, hard, grinding Himself against my burning ass, His pleasure in causing me double the pain quite evident.  To be fair, I enjoyed it, too. Pain and pleasure mixed together is a heady combination.

We finished things up on the bed.  He brought me to orgasm, which left me a wet, spent mess on the bed, and then He moved on top of me, entered me with His rock hard cock and fucked me until He came.

It was the perfect way to take a break from all of the World Cup action.

Coffee Talk...

This morning, while enjoying coffee together, the topic of conversation turned to gags. He expressed a desire for a ring gag, but He'd also like a spider gag.  Such a predicament...naturally He concluded that it might be best to get one of each, then do some type of 'compare and contrast' testing with them, to see which one He prefers.

Tough job, being the Master.

"It Looks Like a Kiss..."

"Maybe you should write about it."

He said those words as He admired a bruise on my right hip, a bruise left-over from a beating that took place more than a week ago, a bruise that despite it's age, is still very dark and very purple.

"It looks like a kiss," He added.

I looked at it in the mirror, and He was right.  It looks like a dark purple kiss.

However, the point in all of this is His words, not the bruise.  This was the first time in a very, very long time that's He's mentioned the blog, and my response was to sort of shrug and declare that I didn't know what to do with this place.

And I don't, really, which is the reason for my prolonged absence.  I find my writing to be repetitious and boring, which annoys me greatly as our life is anything but repetitious and boring, yet I am unable to convey that through the written word.

But it doesn't matter what I think about this blog, does it?

He likes it.  He likes to read what I write.  So, if He wants me to write, then I will write, because pleasing Him pleases me.

And in case anyone is wondering why the bruise in question is on my right hip and NOT on my right butt-cheek, well, that's because during the beating He decided it would be cool to give me a racing stripe by smacking me on the side with the cane.  Yeah, I know...

See?  Things are pretty much still the same around here.