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.

"Do You Want More Pain?"

"Do you want more pain?"   This was the question the Sadist (Master) asked the masochist (me).  Such a loaded question, asked at such an inopportune moment, seeing as I was on teetering on the edge of an orgasm.  What's a greedy pain-slut to do?  Delay the orgasm while He rains down another round of stinging blows on my already swollen and aching pussy, or fore-go the pain and slip into orgasmic bliss?

Perhaps I should begin at the beginning...see, it started like this:

He took me in the bedroom and told me to lay face-up on the bed, legs spread wide.  Once I was in position, He fastened my wrists and ankles to the bed, leaving me open and exposed.  Satisfied that I wasn't going anywhere, He left me lying there, and went to gather some "toys."  He took His time, and I lay on the bed, bound and helpless, my pussy already throbbing from the anticipation of what was to come.

Finally, He came back to the bed, arranged the items He'd gathered, and moved next to me on the bed.  He was so gentle at the start.  His hand moved softly and slowly along the inside of my right thigh, a really light touch.   His fingertips moved from my thigh to my pussy lips, lightly brushing against the soft, smooth skin.   With a slow, deliberate motion, He teased me as His fingers circled the outside of my pussy, over and over and over.

It was a delicious torture, and it seemed to go on forever.  He swirled His fingers around and around, ignoring my moans and the fact that my hips were raised in a vain attempt to get Him to press just a little harder.  He teased me right to the brink of orgasm without ever parting my pussy lips or touching my clit.  That soft, gentle, teasing touch was all it took, and as I was oh-so-close to cumming, He stopped.

The gentle, swirling touches were replaced by a hard smack as the palm of His hand landed squarely on my pussy.  Once, twice, three times, over and over, all hard, all sharp, all showing no mercy.  The orgasm that had been looming instead receded.  Now my pussy throbbed from the pain of His stinging blows, and He spanked me there until I started to twist against the ropes holding me in place and yelp in pain.

Then He stopped.  Apparently we had reached the end of round one.

While I lay there, trying to catch my breath, He moved His hand back between my legs.  He rubbed my pussy, softly, as if to make it feel better.  This time, however, He parted my pussy lips, His fingers exploring the wetness.

His touch remained gentle, and now He traced soft, slow circles around my clit, and it didn't take long for the pre-orgasmic levels of excitement to return.  Once again, He brought me right back to the brink of orgasm.

And stopped.

He shifted His position on the bed, moved so that he was kneeling next me.  He picked something up off the bed, from where He'd set the "toys" He'd gathered up before we started.  I felt something cool rubbing against my pussy, and I knew what it was:  the long-handled plastic shoe horn.  He loves that thing, because, as He says, it gives great aim.

This was going to hurt.

And it did.  It hurt a lot.  He smacked my bare pussy with the shoe horn for what seemed like an eternity.  He enjoyed Himself, too, because at one point, I twisted my head to the right and I could see He had His left hand on his cock, stroking Himself while He spanked me.

Once again, He hit me down there until I was twisting against the rope, begging Him to stop.  After a few more hits, He stopped.  This was the end of round two, and my pussy felt like it was on fire.

He put down the shoe horn and moved His hand back between my legs.  Yet again, His touch was so gentle, fingers lightly swirling around my clit, teasing my pussy right back to the edge of orgasm.  I was ready to cum.  I wanted to cum.


But it wasn't time for me to cum.  It was time for round three.

He grabbed the shoe horn and landed several rapid shots, right on target, right on my clit.  The pain was exquisite.  And as with rounds one and two, round three continued until I pulled against the restraints and cried out, "It hurts!"

The shoe horn was set aside, and He moved in between my legs.  He commented on how my pussy was swollen and puffy.  This seemed to please Him.  He grabbed another "toy," and once again I felt a cool sensation in between my legs.  When it buzzed to life, I knew it was a vibrator, and He rubbed it over my clit and teased me with it, bringing me right back to the border of an orgasm.

Then He asked, "Do you want more pain?"

And I said, "Yes, Master."

Knotty, knotty...

Time by ourselves this afternoon led to this:

Those are my ankles/legs, bound my some more of Master's handi-work with the pretty purple rope.  My hands were also bound with purple rope and tied to the bed.

After He finished photographing His knots, Master gave me a beating.  He used His hand, the shoe horn, Mr. Blister, and finally, Mr. Cane.

As usual, Mr. Cane made me cry.  He's mean, Mr. Cane...so mean.

But I find it very exciting, having my legs bound like that while He hurts me.  The immobility adds to the sense of helplessness and being at His mercy.  And, having my legs pressed together causes a rather intense physical sensation...very stimulating.

The only drawback to this type of bondage, is that He can't fuck me.  And He likes to fuck me while He beats me...so He removed the rope from around my legs about halfway through in order to have access, so to speak.

To sum things up, I was bound, beaten, fucked, and in the end, rewarded with a huge orgasm. 

Time by ourselves is a good thing, indeed.

He's a Man of His Word, Alright

He was right, as usual.  He surely did fuck me when He got home yesterday.

But before He fucked me, He beat me until I cried.  No ropes to secure me in place, no warm-up, just 0-60 on my ass.  His chosen speed for the day.

Oh I protested and jumped around, not so gently reminded Him that a warm-up would be nice, told Him that I thought I heard the long-handled shoe horn crack and He should stop using it (it hadn't and He didn't), asked where the flogger was (nowhere to be found, apparently, because He never used it), told Him He was breaking several BDSM rules** when He beat my ass with the long-handled shoe horn AND the cane at the same time (that hurt, yeah), and loudly noted each time the cane wrapped around my hips.

I'm really not sure why He doesn't gag me sometimes.

Probably because when He takes a break during the beating, He likes to come around and stick His hard dick in my mouth.  That does tend to quiet me a bit.

However, He ignored my horrific behavior (I admit, it was less-than-stellar), planted His left hand FIRMLY on my back, and beat me with Mr. Cane.  And Mr. Blister.  Then back to Mr. Cane.  Eventually, I kept still and quiet, and after a long while, I cried.

Then He fucked me.  Just like He said He would.

I just love a man who keeps His word.


**There are no BDSM rules, and for some reason, He never falls for this ruse.   In fact, every time I mention the rules of BDSM , He laughs.  Go figure.