"You belong to me."
Always.
"I'm going to use you..."
Yes.
"...and hurt you..."
Please.
"...and rape you..."
Yesssssssssssssssss.
"...lovingly..."
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
A new game...
his fingers probe my flesh
his words penetrate my mind
my pussy is soaked from his exploration
i give in to the heat spreading from my core
"no...you can't come yet"
i panic momentarily...he's never denied me this
fearing he'll pull away, i fight my release
this is excruciating
his fingers continue sliding over my swollen clit
his mouth hard on mine, exhibiting his control
he tells me to say please, to ask for my orgasm
and i beg
please?
please may i come?
seconds seem like hours before he gives me permission
i'm spent before i begin but i come over and over
thanking him
thanking him for taking away my choice
thanking him for allowing me this pleasure
my knees go weak
he catches me, kisses me, and smiles
he knows he owns me
his words penetrate my mind
my pussy is soaked from his exploration
i give in to the heat spreading from my core
"no...you can't come yet"
i panic momentarily...he's never denied me this
fearing he'll pull away, i fight my release
this is excruciating
his fingers continue sliding over my swollen clit
his mouth hard on mine, exhibiting his control
he tells me to say please, to ask for my orgasm
and i beg
please?
please may i come?
seconds seem like hours before he gives me permission
i'm spent before i begin but i come over and over
thanking him
thanking him for taking away my choice
thanking him for allowing me this pleasure
my knees go weak
he catches me, kisses me, and smiles
he knows he owns me
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Ownership
My first assignment is to write for Thirty how I view his ownership of me, when it occurred, and what I expect from it/him. Honestly, outside of sex, ownership just feels like I'm talking about a car or something...and I definitely don't feel owned in that sense. Possession is a better word...a sexier word. When I'm with him, I feel less owned and more possessed. Do they mean the same thing? Generally, yes.
From Pat Conroy's novel South of Broad: We kissed some more, and when I pulled back, I could feel the loosening and the possession take place.
I relate to those words. I felt it the first night we spent together...I know the moment it occurred. As if a fog lifted, my head and heart opened and I felt peace for the first time in my life. I felt my soul surrender and submit to him...in my bed, his mouth on mine, his hands around my neck...and I haven't questioned it once.
How does he own me then? I am addicted to the way he makes me feel...not just the orgasms. I feel completely safe with him...no fear. I am able to fully allow him to take me out of my comfort zone because I trust him infinitely when our bodies are together, breathing as one. He makes me face my insecurities and self-consciousness, and I don't resent him for it. I'm feeling everything and nothing and it thrills and terrifies me. When he hurts me, the pain is good. As it eases into pleasure, it is even better...like a warmth washing over me...leading to a climax that takes my breath away and pulls me deeper into his possession. I am his to mold as he will.
What do I expect? Safety...protection...openness...trust...affection...instruction...love. And as much of his time as I am allowed...
From Pat Conroy's novel South of Broad: We kissed some more, and when I pulled back, I could feel the loosening and the possession take place.
I relate to those words. I felt it the first night we spent together...I know the moment it occurred. As if a fog lifted, my head and heart opened and I felt peace for the first time in my life. I felt my soul surrender and submit to him...in my bed, his mouth on mine, his hands around my neck...and I haven't questioned it once.
How does he own me then? I am addicted to the way he makes me feel...not just the orgasms. I feel completely safe with him...no fear. I am able to fully allow him to take me out of my comfort zone because I trust him infinitely when our bodies are together, breathing as one. He makes me face my insecurities and self-consciousness, and I don't resent him for it. I'm feeling everything and nothing and it thrills and terrifies me. When he hurts me, the pain is good. As it eases into pleasure, it is even better...like a warmth washing over me...leading to a climax that takes my breath away and pulls me deeper into his possession. I am his to mold as he will.
What do I expect? Safety...protection...openness...trust...affection...instruction...love. And as much of his time as I am allowed...
I will overcome...
Thirty made a comment the other day how he enjoys that we make an effort to turn our fantasies into realities...no matter how deviant they may seem. Recently, I reread a journal entry where I described my "ultimate fantasy." It was written just days after our first night together, and we have since made it a reality on multiple occasions...leading me to wonder what my "ultimate fantasy" could be now. Every time I have described dirty little masturbatory scenarios, he makes them happen. I hope I am able to continue to do the same for him. I do my best...and I feel we have definitely made great progress...
Then, I get nervous. I trust him...I know he won't allow anything unsafe...but this is still so new that I hold back. We have a number of ideas in the works. Very hot ideas. And he has his own ideas... My second assignment was to address my fears and what I/we will do to overcome them. I'm not sure if "fear" is the right word for what we're dealing with though. Hesitations? Yes. Apprehension? Yes. Fear? Not so much.
The root of my issues is directly related to my logical side...my rational side...my very NON-submissive side...and then there's the "real" life BS that we have to consider when trying to get time together. So, I resist...and I crave... I fight what he wants while fantasizing about those very things! Yet I continue to try to accept it all knowing that it will just intensify this thing between us. Every line we cross together...every taboo act we perform...every deviant fantasy we turn into a reality...makes it all that much better. And sometimes it is more than I can handle.
So, what will I do? I will follow his lead and accept the role he assigns me. I will take pleasure from pleasing him. I will be open and trusting and believe that he has our best interests in mind. And I will submit...because I want to surrender my whole self to him...because I know he will accept everything I give him graciously and return it in kind.
Then, I get nervous. I trust him...I know he won't allow anything unsafe...but this is still so new that I hold back. We have a number of ideas in the works. Very hot ideas. And he has his own ideas... My second assignment was to address my fears and what I/we will do to overcome them. I'm not sure if "fear" is the right word for what we're dealing with though. Hesitations? Yes. Apprehension? Yes. Fear? Not so much.
The root of my issues is directly related to my logical side...my rational side...my very NON-submissive side...and then there's the "real" life BS that we have to consider when trying to get time together. So, I resist...and I crave... I fight what he wants while fantasizing about those very things! Yet I continue to try to accept it all knowing that it will just intensify this thing between us. Every line we cross together...every taboo act we perform...every deviant fantasy we turn into a reality...makes it all that much better. And sometimes it is more than I can handle.
So, what will I do? I will follow his lead and accept the role he assigns me. I will take pleasure from pleasing him. I will be open and trusting and believe that he has our best interests in mind. And I will submit...because I want to surrender my whole self to him...because I know he will accept everything I give him graciously and return it in kind.
Slut
Slut.
My name is Slut.
Nothing more. Just plain, generic Slut.
But, I’m HIS Whore…HIS Kitten…HIS…and that makes me happy…
My name is Slut.
Nothing more. Just plain, generic Slut.
But, I’m HIS Whore…HIS Kitten…HIS…and that makes me happy…
Friday, January 22, 2010
Assignments
Beyond creating this blog, Thirty gave me "assignments" yesterday...and now my brain is blocked...damn. I am to create two written pieces as gifts to him, a sort of token of our relationship. We can't truly have all of each other due to our other lives, so my words are to be a sort of bind. And I don't want to let him down.
Just his mention of "training" and "assignments" made me feel that much closer to him...that what we have means enough to him to want to make it publicly accessible...and to have something more tangible. Damn the mental block!
The first writing is my take on submitting to him...his ownership of me and, more specifically, what I expect from it and him. The second is a plan for overcoming my fears of some of the activities he would enjoy...though we inadvertently visited one of those yesterday. All of this with a timeline that was shortened as the conversation got deeper. He doesn't want me to take weeks to complete my task, so now I'm worried that the mental block is going to drag this out. Again...damn!
Help!
Just his mention of "training" and "assignments" made me feel that much closer to him...that what we have means enough to him to want to make it publicly accessible...and to have something more tangible. Damn the mental block!
The first writing is my take on submitting to him...his ownership of me and, more specifically, what I expect from it and him. The second is a plan for overcoming my fears of some of the activities he would enjoy...though we inadvertently visited one of those yesterday. All of this with a timeline that was shortened as the conversation got deeper. He doesn't want me to take weeks to complete my task, so now I'm worried that the mental block is going to drag this out. Again...damn!
Help!
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Intensity
He has taken me in so many ways, so many times. This visit he stood behind me, the two of us facing the bathroom mirror, and made me come over and over with just his fingers…making me beg for more. I came until I could stand no longer, and he followed me to the floor drawing out orgasm after orgasm.
Now, we’re in the bathroom and he has me bent over the counter fucking my pussy hard with his fingers. I’m coming again and begging for his cock. I love this part…love watching his reflection as he contemplates his next move… He’s caressing my back, my ass, down to my wet, swollen pussy lips. My head is resting on my forearms enjoying the peace I get from his touch.
Without warning…THWACK!!! The backside of my hairbrush lands suddenly and solidly on my ass! I draw in a sharp breath, totally focused on the growing heat, when another blow falls on the opposite side. I look up quickly to see that devilish little smile on his face…the one that goes all the way up to his eyes, dark and unreadable. A few more blows, followed by him dragging the hard bristles through my pubic hair and along my pussy lips. I am so wet and want him even more.
He penetrates me with the silicone brush handle and proceeds to fuck me with it until I’m coming again. “You like that, don’t you?” Do I actually say “yes” aloud, or is it just another word swimming in my head? The handle slides out of my wet pussy and I hear the brush back coming into contact with my bare ass again. I can’t feel anything but the aftershocks of my orgasms though I know I’m going to hurt tomorrow. He likes what he sees…the redness, the welts. He has me walk ahead of him into the living room so he can appreciate his handiwork. I love feeling his eyes on me…love knowing he’s marked me…
Then, he holds me in his lap while we talk. Our nights always seem to be full of these contradictions, but this night is far from over.
Later, I am kneeling in The Chair with my hands on the seatback. He’s caressing my back again, hands travelling lower. I feel his fingers penetrate my ass slowly, carefully. It still hurts…it has been awhile since we’ve done this. His fingers slide out and he starts to push the head of his swollen cock in my tight hole. I grip the chair, lower my head, make little noises, but know better than to resist. I want this, too.
He’s fully, deeply inside me now and starts to fuck me slowly. I hate the moment when I start enjoying this; I feel so slutty. I beg him to call me a whore, and he doesn’t disappoint. The more his words demean, the harder he thrusts his cock in my ass, and the closer I get to coming. I’m screaming and moaning now. I feel my juices sliding out of my pussy and running down my legs as my orgasm builds. The rest of this orgasm is a blur due to its intensity. I recall him turning me around and letting me sit down…his face is out of focus as I try to find his eyes.
“Let me get you some water,” he says. “That was brutal.” But, he’s smiling…
Now, we’re in the bathroom and he has me bent over the counter fucking my pussy hard with his fingers. I’m coming again and begging for his cock. I love this part…love watching his reflection as he contemplates his next move… He’s caressing my back, my ass, down to my wet, swollen pussy lips. My head is resting on my forearms enjoying the peace I get from his touch.
Without warning…THWACK!!! The backside of my hairbrush lands suddenly and solidly on my ass! I draw in a sharp breath, totally focused on the growing heat, when another blow falls on the opposite side. I look up quickly to see that devilish little smile on his face…the one that goes all the way up to his eyes, dark and unreadable. A few more blows, followed by him dragging the hard bristles through my pubic hair and along my pussy lips. I am so wet and want him even more.
He penetrates me with the silicone brush handle and proceeds to fuck me with it until I’m coming again. “You like that, don’t you?” Do I actually say “yes” aloud, or is it just another word swimming in my head? The handle slides out of my wet pussy and I hear the brush back coming into contact with my bare ass again. I can’t feel anything but the aftershocks of my orgasms though I know I’m going to hurt tomorrow. He likes what he sees…the redness, the welts. He has me walk ahead of him into the living room so he can appreciate his handiwork. I love feeling his eyes on me…love knowing he’s marked me…
Then, he holds me in his lap while we talk. Our nights always seem to be full of these contradictions, but this night is far from over.
Later, I am kneeling in The Chair with my hands on the seatback. He’s caressing my back again, hands travelling lower. I feel his fingers penetrate my ass slowly, carefully. It still hurts…it has been awhile since we’ve done this. His fingers slide out and he starts to push the head of his swollen cock in my tight hole. I grip the chair, lower my head, make little noises, but know better than to resist. I want this, too.
He’s fully, deeply inside me now and starts to fuck me slowly. I hate the moment when I start enjoying this; I feel so slutty. I beg him to call me a whore, and he doesn’t disappoint. The more his words demean, the harder he thrusts his cock in my ass, and the closer I get to coming. I’m screaming and moaning now. I feel my juices sliding out of my pussy and running down my legs as my orgasm builds. The rest of this orgasm is a blur due to its intensity. I recall him turning me around and letting me sit down…his face is out of focus as I try to find his eyes.
“Let me get you some water,” he says. “That was brutal.” But, he’s smiling…
New and Scared
This is my first blog. I am full of terror and relief to put myself out there like this...to open up my mind and heart for others to read... After lurking on a number of blogs, I've decided, with the encouragement of the man to whom I surrender myself, to find a way to express myself here.
I look forward to receiving feedback from others who happen to read my thoughts... Many thanks to all who visit!
I look forward to receiving feedback from others who happen to read my thoughts... Many thanks to all who visit!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
