Sunday, October 23, 2011

His delicious little whore

She sits by the computer, working. Her head filled with figures and timeframes.

He approaches silently from behind. His hand sliding to the nape of her neck. Clenching slowly his firm grip makes her bend.

The scent of his freshly showered body floats through her conciousness. His hardness presses to her cheek. He turns her, pulling her to him, her tongue tastes him, lips available part to take him in.

He pushes her. Her hot wet mouth slides down his shaft...

It has begun...

Saturday, October 22, 2011

TTWD... this little thing I do

What is it This Thing We Do?
What magic does it hold?
What delight does it encompass?
This little Thing We Do?


This little thing I do brings energy breathless to my breast.
This little thing I do makes me titter like a girlish mess.
This little thing I do washes contrition down my cheek,
and then it makes me whole again, this little thing I do.


This little thing I do is my secret from those who call 'obscure'.
Threatening status quo and women's rights it is supposed.
This little thing I do is understood by many,
the romance of submission, the enduringness of a little she,
is coveted by many though for most is quite rejected.

This little thing I do, it centres at my core,
a thermite explosion,
a bomb of white hot spark burning deep inside me,
this little thing I do.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

running away

Running away last night did me a world of good. I read my book, took a nice meal and some wine.

I was aware of  men around me, they caught my eye, I smiled and went back to my book. I think I would have chatted with someone had they approached me, the mood I was in was dangerous. Did they know my pussy was bare, that my fire engine red panties were thrust deep into my handbag. That under the skirt I wore I was accessible, easily.

Earlier I had received an instruction. I went immediately to the bathroom and slid my panties down. The glass of wine I had consumed encouraged me to touch, I was hot and wet. He was with me in that cubicle..on the little screen in front of me.

'Good girl.. now go back to the table.'

'I think I might come', I text back.

'Not now, later.'

Pouting a little I returned to the table. The texts were hot, sweet and fun. I felt freedom. I had runaway and found myself in a wanton mood. I smiled to myself as I remembered I had no panties on. That anyone around me might at any moment, know the slut in me.

I had taken some dinner, a couple of glasses of wine and read some more of my book while I sat feeling the cool metal chair on my naked thighs and bottom. Later I drove home in the warm spring night air, sitting with my skirt hitched up naked on the car seat and hoping my wetness wouldn't spread to where P would see it.

I came home and was treated kindly. P realising that my tantrum was unusual. Never before had I run away to 'enjoy' myself, to escape things that I just couldn't bare anymore. Later laying on the couch, my head swimming a little from the wine, he noticed I wasn't wearing panties. I had driven home without them. Driving very carefully..only two drinks but I cannot tolerate very much alcohol and I NEVER drive if I have even had one drink. I was risk taking. Not good.

He  asked when I had taken them off? Did I wear panties to work? Was I naked at the pub?  My brat came out. I took back my power..not very submissive but something my mentor said a day or so ago had resonated with me.

'Don't give him control if he can't take it and use it fairly.'

I am paraphrasing but I think that was the gist of it. I had hoped that by giving him control it would encourage him to become the man I need.

My reply to my husband was less than submissive.

'It doesn't matter when or why I did it, it is here if you want to use it..but I'm not going to tell you why!' I said it quietly but affirmatively.  I felt he didn't deserve answers.

He reached over and thrust his fingers into my wet pussy, he got harder and quite rough. I was a bit push and pull but mostly I liked it, wanted it and was surprised by it. When he had finished and I was breathless and horny. He pulled me over his knee and began to spank me with his bare hand (my favourite). The strikes became harder and harder. As he saw me struggling and shrieking in pain he paused between blows and rubbed my arse..so soothing. He never spoke..I didn't know if he was doing it for me or for him until,

'I love the red glow on your skin.'

Those words make me so happy, even proud when he says them. He pulled me up. Standing infront of him, his hand squeezing my bottom and his other my breast.

'I'm going to fuck your arse'.

I had lost my power..

He used me and took delight in it...

...and so did I :)


Monday, October 17, 2011

one step forward..two steps back

Thats about it really. It's all in the title.

P has been quiet, distant, somewhat melancholy. I confronted him. Is there anything I have done, anything between us that is troubling him?

It's ike extracting teeth but I persisted. I can be very tenacious. Sticking like glue. I had a feeling something was troublng him..and I had a feeling it was something to do with me, how I had been acting ..or his perception of how I had been acting.

He has given his permission for me to chat, to discover, to relate in a guilt free way to others in order to explore this thing in me..this submissive self.

Tonight I pressed him for the problem. Well he's not sure is he! He's not sure not just about chat but communication in general. Blog writing. Other creative outlets in which I engage. The more I open up to him the tighter his grip squeezes and crushes. He is pushing me down. Anything ceative, any self expression, he is crushing it. Sometimes I feel I can't breathe. I am wondering, thinking of flight, of stealth, of leaving. Maybe that is going to be the only way. I have tried so hard to be here but I have sacrificed myself for him in a way that is not appreciated. The more I give him the tighter he pulls me back. My wings clipped.....


oh! the drama  queen emerges! I don't often indulge in self pity, but this blog is a journal for me and I must be true to that, I must remember the purpose of the blog..a journal, in secret to write all my thoughts. 

Sunday, October 16, 2011

DD or TTWD whats the difference?

Oh bloody hell..a dilemma! I read Lisa's blog re DD and from here I went elsewhere and onto there..then somewhere else. I had discovered domestic discipline, DD, HoH. I had known all these terms a little but never really investigated further.

There is a push and pull I feel when reading Lisa's story of her adventure with her new friend. On one hand hot, like naughty little girls up to mischief while their HoH's were doing what they do in the daytime. How I remember being that mischievous when I was a much younger girl, well lets face it, I still am that girl.

As read blogs and followed the DD paradigm I began to feel unsettled. Unsettled in the same way I was uncomfortable as I had discovered more deeply the subtleties of TTWD, BDSM and the like. I felt my feminist self straining upwards and my sub began to struggle. I question why the woman in the DD dynamic is always in need of corrective action. The recipient of punishment for transgressions. 


June Cleaver
Yes, damn it, this has made my sub struggle. The path I followed lead me to Learning domestic discipline and the art of the lecture where Clint demonstrates for husbands the lecturing art with a hypothetical..the wayward wife has been ticketed by the police for txting while driving. What struck me though is that surely His wife might not be the only one guilty of such a misdemeanor. Surely her HoH may be just as guilty of such a crime. What stands between HoH and crimes of this nature? Some would say self discipline. But who corrects the behaviour of an errant HoH? Must He just be trusted to always do the right thing? Ah yes..trust again..its key isn't it?
A naive discussion and questioning I know, coming from a direction of just not understanding. As always my questions are not a judgement of those happy couples who practice DD. The questions are for me. They apply to me and my situation. (it's always ALL about me she pouts :))

I don't think I respond positively to punishment. I respond to play (which might look like punishment but never feels like it! :)). Knowing I have pleased Him in what ever way He decides to take His pleasure is the source of my joy. If I have displeased Him or been disobedient, THAT is punishment..His displeasure, His disappointment cuts like a knife and reduces me to tears. I need to feel smaller and littler in every way than a Dom man...in every way. My need to feel that smallness is at the core of my submission. Maybe that's why I enjoy older Dom men. I need to feel the restraint of his hand, of his leather and ropes. I need to feel used, almost abused. I need to see His cruel nature, to taste His strength, His control. Then and only then, I feel His respect, His regard and His appreciation of me.  

Having said that..why doesn't my feminist struggle with that description? Why do I get wet, hot and breathless instead? My sub feels her power when I describe that situation in those words.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

sunday too far away

This title means nothing. Just a thought though it could be that its Tuesday. The car broke down, work is ramping up to that impossible speed, Daddy has been away, though distant geographically anyway and hubby P is not so well these days.

Mummy, partner, worker, lil' girl, princess slut, Daddy's girl and good girl...that's me.

I can see it getting easier, this journey. Clearer. The girl is getting more brave..this week!

To the whip club next! She found a club online and she itches to get there. In another city far away, I asked P if he would come with me. He wasn't sure at first, I could tell even though he never said.

Slowly planting the seed, 'hmmm' (Not too threatening I think to myself). Its hard leading, as many of the sub sisters will attest (and not very submissive says the collective Dom brain in the world).

So, in preparation I have begun to shop for just the right outfit...just in case we book that plane ticket. Pretty princess slut things. In readiness to wiggle her arse.

So many delicious things. Corsets, leather or lace, fishnets, heels, collar & leash. Or naked breasts & bottom. Naked bottom is a must even if it is hidden by a short(ish) skirt, or sheer see through number.

Can you tell I've never been to an event? So how does one dress for a public club where spanking and dancing are encouraged, where tying and titillation is endorsed?

The nerves catch in the back of my throat from all the possibilities that may lay ahead. 

Saturday, October 1, 2011

pinch each cheek hard..

A spring day filled with spring thoughts, BBQs, friends and...

a pinch on the bottom, one per cheek...hard!

I just got a pinch on the bum for a transgression..a reminder he says. It still stings and a rub helps.

Reinforcement for bad memory and to encourage obedience.

So simple and yet so effective.

My body responds in the way it does when His slut comes out.

On a spring day the delicious little whore wiggles her (bruised) arse. x 

Charcoal Grill - Gil Elvgrin